When Aisha first walked into the architecture firm’s open-plan office in central London, she felt a familiar sense of unease. It wasn’t the kind of anxiety that came from not knowing her craft—she had top credentials, had led university design teams, and had interned at prestigious firms. No, this was the slow, invisible pressure of being the only one. The only Black woman in a room full of suits. The only one who spoke up about neighborhood displacement. The only one who noticed how rarely projects factored in accessibility beyond just “wheelchair ramps.”
Years later, when her firm began participating in the B.E. Inclusive initiative, things started to change. Her voice was no longer an outlier. It became a catalyst.
The renewed Memorandum of Understanding (MoU), signed in 2025 by eight of the UK’s leading built environment institutions—including RIBA, RTPI, ICE, RICS, and others—did more than just restate good intentions. It created a cross-institutional movement. One that had already begun transforming the workplace experiences of professionals like Aisha, while also reshaping the way entire communities are represented and served.
Three years earlier, when the first MoU was signed, few could predict how much momentum it would generate. Back then, the idea of equity, diversity, and inclusion (EDI) in the built environment still felt like a policy initiative—good on paper, slow in practice. But small actions began to ripple out. Internally, it meant rethinking who was being hired, mentored, and promoted. Externally, it shifted how planning consultations were conducted, how urban spaces were imagined, and how buildings responded to the needs of real people—not just theoretical users.
In cities like Leeds and Glasgow, community-led workshops have become a standard part of the design process. A development once proposed for a former industrial site in Manchester was initially met with fierce local resistance. The residents, many of whom had lived through decades of disinvestment, weren’t just angry about a new apartment block—they were angry about being ignored, yet again. It was only after the developers partnered with a local cultural trust, hired translators, and ran informal storytelling sessions in community centers, that the tide began to turn. The final plan included public green space, retail leases for local businesses, and a mural curated by local schoolchildren. It didn’t just go forward—it was celebrated.
Stories like these matter, not just as anecdotes but as templates for how to do things differently.
Professionals like George, a construction site manager in the Midlands, have witnessed this transformation in real time. “We used to just build,” he said. “Blueprints in, concrete out. Now we talk to the community, ask questions, rethink our plans. I had one lad ask me why there weren’t more benches in the play area—said his nan gets tired watching him play. We added benches. He thanked me every day for a week.”
Small change, big impact.
Meanwhile, in design education, the shift has been even more dramatic. Professor Lina Arshad at a London-based university has redesigned her entire syllabus to focus on inclusive design practices. “My students learn to interview wheelchair users, co-design with migrants, and simulate how a space feels with visual impairments,” she said. “They’re not just becoming better designers—they’re becoming better citizens.”
The institutions behind the MoU know that words alone are not enough. That’s why this partnership is action-oriented. From policy audits and inclusive procurement to salary transparency and intersectional leadership programs, each institution has committed to concrete measures. For example, RIBA has embedded EDI metrics into its annual awards assessment, ensuring that shortlisted projects not only meet aesthetic and functional benchmarks but are also evaluated on inclusiveness.
At the same time, RTPI has launched a mentorship network connecting seasoned planners with students from underrepresented backgrounds. Dr. Victoria Hills, Chief Executive of RTPI, recalls mentoring a young woman from a working-class neighborhood who had never met an urban planner before. “She told me she thought cities were just ‘made by the council.’ Now she’s training to become one of the people making those cities.”
But beyond the offices and studios, the true power of this movement is felt in the communities themselves. Consider the case of Ahmed, a visually impaired father in Birmingham, who for years struggled to navigate a busy intersection near his daughter’s school. After months of emails to the council went unanswered, a local planning team—retrained under new EDI guidelines—finally listened. The redesign included textured paving, sound signals, and simplified signage. “It’s the first time I felt like the city saw me,” he said.
Inclusion isn’t just a moral imperative—it’s a design challenge.
The built environment has long reflected the priorities of those who control it: from lofty facades signaling power, to tight, winding streets that exclude wheelchairs and prams. But the shift happening now is more than just cosmetic. It’s ideological. It’s architectural. It’s financial. It’s structural.
Take the case of a regeneration project in Croydon. Initially pitched as “high-end residential units with retail below,” it failed to secure community support. But when the development firm re-engaged with local stakeholders—this time including young people, single mothers, and the elderly—the vision changed. The final blueprint included a community kitchen, modular workspaces for local entrepreneurs, and an intergenerational playground designed with neurodivergent users in mind. The success wasn’t just measured in occupancy rates—but in birthday parties, small business launches, and family picnics.
Justin Young from RICS summed it up well: “We’re not just building places—we’re building belonging.”
None of this would be possible without institutional alignment. The 2025 MoU doesn’t just restate values. It commits each signatory to transparent self-assessment, shared reporting, and accountability mechanisms. It’s about holding the mirror up—not to shame, but to grow.
And yet, challenges persist. Smaller firms, especially those outside metropolitan hubs, often lack the resources to hire dedicated EDI officers or conduct annual audits. That’s why the larger institutions are offering toolkits, free training sessions, and cross-institutional mentorship. The aim is not perfection, but momentum.
The path forward is clear, even if it’s not always smooth. As Janet Young of ICE noted, “The infrastructure of tomorrow can’t be built with yesterday’s assumptions.” Her organization is now requiring all project proposals to include a social value impact statement—something that used to be considered extra, now mandatory.
The next frontier? Recruitment. Many of the institutions are now working with primary and secondary schools, running “Built by Me” campaigns to inspire children from all backgrounds to consider careers in architecture, engineering, surveying, and planning. These aren’t just brochures—they’re interactive workshops, site visits, story-led lesson plans, and hands-on design challenges. Children are being told: You belong here.
By the time the next MoU comes up for renewal, the hope is that “inclusive” will no longer need to be said—it will simply be felt, in every meeting, every drawing, every beam and brick.
Until then, the work continues—one building, one community, one brave conversation at a time.