"Less is more" is a call to restore consideration for thoughtful simplicity.

Dr. Alaa Al-Tamimi – March 24, 2025

I have always been intrigued by the famous architect Mies van der Rohe’s saying: “Less is more.” At first glance, the phrase may seem contradictory, but at its core, it expresses a comprehensive philosophy of design and planning—one that applies not only to architecture but also to how cities are built and how life within them is managed.

Among the cities most in need of this philosophy is Baghdad—a city that, for centuries, has witnessed a blend of urban genius and haphazard improvisation. Today, it stands in urgent need of regaining its functional simplicity and urban spirit.

Baghdad has long suffered from a complex organizational and technical structure that has burdened it—from its uneven road networks to the overlapping responsibilities between the municipality and the governorate, and its decaying infrastructure that weighs heavily on both the residents and the local government.

Applying the “less is more” principle in this context means focusing on the most pressing urban issues in Baghdad—such as uncontrolled horizontal sprawl that consumes agricultural land and increases dependence on automobiles, thereby worsening traffic and pollution crises.

Baghdad does not need further expansion; it needs revitalization of its urban center, a carefully calculated increase in population density in key areas, and the promotion of the “compact city” concept that shortens distances and brings life back to neighborhoods.

With sidewalks encroached upon and a scarcity of public spaces suitable for walking, Baghdad has lost much of its social and interactive spirit.

Applying this philosophy in Baghdad means rethinking its streets to become more pedestrian-friendly—not only by removing cars and commercial sprawl from sidewalks, but also by developing proper walkways, creating bicycle lanes, and linking Baghdad’s neighborhoods through an efficient and integrated public transportation system. This includes allocating special lanes for buses and public transport vehicles, all while focusing on Baghdad’s architectural identity.

The pursuit of foreign architectural models, the construction of skyscrapers, and the random imitation of global styles have stripped some neighborhoods of Baghdad of their original character.

If the solution lies in a return to architecture inspired by the local environment, then simplicity here is not just aesthetic—it is an urban identity that resists fading away.

Baghdad needs flexible and clear urban planning. What hinders its development is not the lack of laws, but their complexity and contradictions, and the absence of a unified urban vision.

Transitioning toward simple, transparent urban planning that allows space for creativity and local initiatives may unlock the city’s latent energy and channel it into intelligent reconstruction.

I conclude by saying that Baghdad is a city meant for living—not just a stopover. At a time when climate and economic challenges are mounting, Baghdad cannot afford to stay on the same course.

The “less is more” philosophy is not a theoretical luxury—it is a call to reshape the city into a place of life, interaction, and belonging.

The Baghdad we aspire to is not a closed museum, nor a chaotic cluster of towers, but a simple, flexible, and profound city—like the river that runs through it.