What does it mean to brand a city in a country where transformation is fast, ambition runs high, and governance is centralised? For Abdulrhman Alsayel, these aren’t abstract questions. As a Saudi urban strategist and researcher, he has spent years studying Riyadh’s evolving identity—from its early ‘Humanizing Cities’ initiative to the headline-making megaprojects reshaping its skyline today.
In this conversation, Abdulrhman shares insights from his doctoral research at Erasmus University Rotterdam and reflects on the deeper tensions facing cities like Riyadh: how to balance spectacle with substance, and how to ensure branding is rooted in daily urban life—not just grand designs.
This interview is part of The Place Brand Observer’s special edition on the Places and People to Watch across Africa and the Middle East—available here this November.
Abdul, Riyadh has gone through a dramatic transformation in recent years. How do you see the balance between global ambition and local authenticity playing out in the city’s brand?
Riyadh’s brand today is built on a fundamental paradox: the pursuit of becoming one of the world’s top ten economies by 2030, while carrying a deep local memory shaped by decades of “humanization” policies that placed people before infrastructure.
On the one hand, its global ambition is embodied in transformative megaprojects such as New Murabba and the Mukaab, and in hosting landmark events like Expo 2030 and the 2034 FIFA World Cup. These interventions are designed to dramatically reposition Riyadh’s image at an unprecedented pace—what our research describes as dramatic rebranding—in sharp contrast to the gradual pathways followed by cities like Barcelona or Amsterdam.
On the other hand, Riyadh’s strength lies in its local grounding: the legacy of Prince Abdulaziz bin Ayyaf’s humanization agenda, the growing demand for walkability, spatial justice, and protection of identity. This local dimension anchors credibility and prevents the city’s brand from drifting into a mere “promotional bubble” detached from everyday realities.
The central message is this: Riyadh’s global success depends on translating its flagship projects into lived local experiences.
If massive parks, shaded boulevards, and international spectacles are integrated into the rhythm of daily life, the brand will resonate globally because it is genuine locally. But if spectacle outweighs substance, credibility risks will remain regardless of the scale of investment
You’ve studied place branding in highly centralised systems. What do you see as the main strengths and risks of this model, compared to more participatory approaches?
Centralised systems of place branding, such as those found in Saudi Arabia, have undeniable strengths. They can mobilise resources at scale, ensure coherence across sectors, and move at a pace that few participatory systems can match. This ability to align investment, infrastructure, and regulation under a single narrative is particularly powerful in contexts of rapid transformation, where time is perceived as a strategic asset.
Yet, the very strengths of centralisation also reveal its vulnerabilities. A top-down narrative, if not calibrated, risks drifting into imagery that is ambitious but detached from lived realities. Without mechanisms for feedback, everyday concerns—accessibility, affordability, social inclusion—may be overshadowed by the pursuit of iconic projects and global visibility.
Participatory approaches, by contrast, bring depth and legitimacy. They may be slower, but they weave local voices into the brand’s DNA, producing narratives that are more resilient because they are continuously tested against real life.
The future of effective place branding, I believe, lies not in choosing one model over the other, but in bridging them: a strong central hand that sets vision and pace, complemented by structured avenues for community, SMEs, and civic actors to inform and refine that vision.
This is where the conversation naturally leads to the idea of humanising place branding. If traditional branding focused on projecting a competitive image outward, humanised branding asks: how do these narratives reflect the daily dignity, inclusion, and aspirations of the people within?
The shift from branding as spectacle to branding as lived experience is what will ultimately determine credibility.
The ‘Humanizing Cities’ initiative, first launched in Riyadh in 1997, has since spread across Saudi Arabia and beyond. What do you think has been its most enduring impact?
The most enduring impact of the Humanizing Cities initiative is that it transformed what began as an urban policy experiment into part of Riyadh’s brand DNA.
Launched in 1997 under the leadership of Prince Dr. Abdulaziz bin Ayyaf, and supported by King Salman as Governor of Riyadh, the initiative broke away from the car-oriented, efficiency-driven paradigm of the oil boom era. Instead, it reinstated the human scale as the true measure of urban success: walkability, shade, safety, cultural continuity, and the dignity of everyday life. It was not just a technical correction but a cultural narrative, redefining what it meant for a Saudi city to be modern.
Over time, the vocabulary of humanization—public squares, Eid celebrations, shaded streets, improved streetscapes—was institutionalised in municipal budgets across the Kingdom and later elevated into national policy through the Quality of Life Program under Vision 2030. Today, we see its imprint in major projects like the 135 km Sports Boulevard, Roshn integrated communities, and neighborhood revitalisation schemes. In each case, infrastructure is framed not merely as functional, but as social and cultural.
Its deeper legacy, however, lies in shaping Riyadh’s urban identity. Humanization provided the city with a moral compass and a narrative that distinguishes it: Riyadh is not only a city of megaprojects and giga-events, but also a place that dignifies public space and places human life at the heart of its brand. This is where humanization becomes branding—it endowed Riyadh with a story that is globally attractive precisely because it is locally authentic.
Yet, like any powerful idea, humanization carries the risk of drift. When reduced to cosmetic beautification rather than lived transformation, it loses credibility. When invoked as a soft cover for projects that neglect justice, equity, or inclusion, it becomes a façade rather than a compass. In such cases, humanization risks turning from a paradigm shift into a packaged slogan—exportable in image but empty in practice.
In short, the most enduring impact of the initiative is twofold: it gave Riyadh a living brand rooted in human dignity, but it also left us with a philosophical challenge—to ensure that humanization remains a compass guiding the future of cities, not just a postcard narrative sold to the world.
With mega-projects like Diriyah, New Murabba, and Expo 2030, Riyadh is clearly competing on a global stage. From a place branding perspective, what will determine whether these projects succeed in shaping a lasting reputation?
Megaprojects, by their very nature, project ambition. They broadcast national confidence and attract global attention. Yet history shows that their enduring reputation is not forged on opening day, but in what happens the morning after—when the crowds leave, and residents return to their daily routines.
For Riyadh, the question is whether Diriyah, New Murabba, and Expo 2030 will remain standalone icons or become woven parts of the city’s living fabric. Three dimensions will determine this outcome:
- From icons to fabric.
A project like Diriyah may shine as heritage reborn, and New Murabba as futuristic spectacle, but their true value will depend on integration. Are they stitched into existing neighborhoods, linked to public transit, and supportive of local economies? Or do they stand as glittering islands? The difference is between a living city and a curated theme park. - From events to everyday life.
Expo 2030 will be a moment of extraordinary visibility. But when the pavilions close, what remains? Lasting impact comes when sites host the ordinary: schools, clinics, cafés, pocket parks, and public squares where daily life unfolds. Without this everyday tissue, projects risk repeating the fate of Songdo or Masdar—impressive in scale, but strangely hollow. - From design to climate.
In Riyadh, climate is not a backdrop—it is destiny. Shade, airflow, water, and rhythms of use will define whether these projects are inviting or hostile. Green Riyadh’smillions of trees, for example, will only matter if planted where people walk, wait, and gather, not just in ornamental belts beside highways. Comfort is the precondition of credibility.
As the Daily Urban Dose essay argues, the true megaproject is invisible: it is the city itself. Sidewalks shaded by trees, seamless bus-to-metro connections, welcoming public spaces—this connective tissue turns bold ideas into lived places, and places into homes.
If Riyadh can invest the same ambition in its connective tissues as it does in its icons, these megaprojects will be remembered not just as monuments of wealth and ambition, but as the foundations of a truly global—and genuinely human—city. If not, the risk is an archipelago of marvels: dazzling to the world, but failing those who live among them.
For other Middle Eastern cities looking to strengthen their brands, what lessons from Riyadh’s experience would you highlight?
Riyadh’s trajectory offers lessons that go beyond branding as communication; it shows branding as urban governance and identity-making. Three lessons stand out:
- From oil to identity: grounding brands in policy.
Riyadh’s shift from a resource-driven growth model to an identity-driven urban vision underscores that successful city branding cannot be an afterthought. It must be anchored in policy frameworks—whether humanizing cities, quality-of-life programs, or heritage preservation—that align place identity with governance priorities. This linkage between brand and policy makes the narrative credible, not just aspirational. - Humanization as brand DNA.
The Humanizing Cities initiative transformed Riyadh’s brand from an image of expansion and modernity into one centered on dignity, sociability, and everyday life. For Middle Eastern cities, the lesson is clear: the most powerful brands are not created through spectacular projects alone, but through designing for people’s lived experiences.Humanization becomes the moral compass of branding, ensuring that identity is felt by residents before it is projected to the world. - Balancing spectacle and substance.
Riyadh’s giga-projects illustrate both opportunity and risk. They can elevate the city globally, but only if they are stitched into the daily fabric—schools, clinics, shaded sidewalks, transport connectivity. Otherwise, they risk becoming archipelagos of marvels. The lesson for other cities is to pursue iconicity with humility: branding must reconcile global ambition with local belonging.
In short, Riyadh teaches that a city brand is not a slogan but a contract: between citizens and policymakers, between heritage and innovation, between local authenticity and global visibility.
Middle Eastern cities can strengthen their brands not by imitating skylines, but by cultivating policies, practices, and spaces where residents genuinely feel at home.
Looking ahead, how do you see Riyadh’s identity evolving over the next decade — and what risks should brand leaders be most mindful of?
Riyadh’s identity over the next decade will likely evolve as a dual project: on one side, a bold ambition to position itself as a global metropolis; on the other, a struggle to ensure that this ambition translates into a lived, credible identity.
On the positive side, Riyadh is rebranding itself around three pillars: economic diversification beyond oil, environmental sustainability through initiatives like Green Riyadh, and architectural transformation through giga-projects such as Diriyah and New Murabba. Hosting Expo 2030 and the World Cup will further cement its visibility as “the world’s choice.”
Yet the real test will not be in the scale of these icons, but in whether their impact is felt in daily life—through shaded sidewalks, accessible transport, and inclusive public spaces.
The risks are equally significant:
- Over-spectacularization.
Giga-projects may deliver stunning imagery, but if they remain detached from residents, they risk turning Riyadh into a global showroom rather than a living city. - Spatial inequality.
Concentrating resources in the capital could deepen divides with secondary cities, producing a one-city brand that sidelines the richness of the wider national identity. - Erosion of authenticity.
The pursuit of global recognition through iconic architecture and mega-events risks flattening local culture—the very element that gives Riyadh its distinctiveness. - Speed without depth.
Rapid, shock-style transformation can produce impressive images quickly, but without long-term governance and citizen buy-in, the brand risks being superficial and fragile.
Philosophically, Riyadh faces a fundamental question: will it define itself through its power to impress, or through its capacity to embrace human life?
If the city leans too far toward spectacle, it may end up with an image without soul. But if it balances global ambition with local depth, Riyadh could emerge as a global laboratory for a new kind of urban identity—one that tells its story not only through architecture, but through the dignity and vitality of everyday life.
Beyond your professional work — is there a place in Riyadh that personally inspires you or reflects the essence of the city for you?
For me, the most inspiring place in Riyadh is not one of the new mega-developments, but the historic core around Qasr Al-Hukm. With Souq Al-Zal, the gold market, and the maze of Muqayliqiya, it is a district where the textures of daily life—commerce, greetings, encounters—still animate the streets.
What makes this place profound is not just its authenticity, but its symbolism. This was the seat of power where the Saudi state was consolidated; in many ways, it is where Riyadh’s story as a capital truly began. Walking through its alleys today, especially as it is reconnected to the city through the metro, you sense both continuity and renewal: a place where history is not a museum piece but a lived reality.
Philosophically, Qasr Al-Hukm offers a counterbalance to Riyadh’s brand of grandeur. The city is often known for its towers, malls, and iconic symbols—even license plates as markers of prestige. But here, identity is measured differently: in shaded courtyards, intimate markets, and human-scale encounters that echo the spirit of Arab-Islamic cities. These spaces remind us that credibility in branding does not come from spectacle, but from places where people see themselves reflected.
To me, Qasr Al-Hukm is Riyadh’s quiet compass. It whispers that a city’s true brand is not only in what dazzles the world, but in what endures for its people. If Riyadh can carry this spirit forward—balancing its global ambition with the rootedness of places like Qasr Al-Hukm—its identity will not just impress, but inspire.
Thank you, Abdul.
Connect with Abdulrhman Alsayel on LinkedIn.
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