Emmanuel Velivasakis was born in Heraklion Crete and came to the United States for university studies where he received his bachelor’s and master’s degrees in civil/Structural Engineering.
He served as a Managing Principal with the Design firm “Thornton-Tomasetti”, where he had the unique opportunity to participate in the structural designs of some of the World’s tallest buildings, including: the Petronas Twin Towers in Kuala Lumpur, the Taipei 101 Tower in Taipei, Twain, and the World’s tallest 1000+ meters tall “Jeddah Tower” in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, and the rehabilitation of the Dome of the U.S. Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. After the 9/11 terrorist attack of the WTC, he personally directed the multi-disciplinary WTC technical teams to ensure the safety of the Recovery Teams. Lastly, he was the Structural Engineer in Calatrava’s Team for the St. Nicholas Shrine at Ground Zero.
His love for the land of his birth Greece, and particularly Crete, is evidenced by his active involvement with various Cretan-American organizations since his early college days. He has served as President of the Pancretan Association of America for two consecutive terms, as well as President of the World Council of Cretans.
He has received numerous recognitions for his professional and civic activities, including Archon EFTAXIAS, of the Ecumenical Patriarchate, Gold Medal of the Order of Phoenix by the Hellenic Republic, two (2) Diamond Awards by the US Consulting Engineers Council, for the 9/11 disaster response, and the seismic upgrade of the Istanbul Intl. airport. Currently, he and his wife share their time between their homes in Dunedin, FL, Scarsdale, NY, and Heraklion, Crete. He enjoys taking care of his small vineyard and olive grove in Crete.
What motivated you to write Climbing the Peaks of the World? Was it more to record milestones or to reflect on the meaning behind them?
That’s a very thoughtful question — and one that gets to the heart of what Climbing the Peaks of the World represents.
The motivation behind writing it wasn’t only to record milestones or career achievements, though those naturally form part of the story. It was, above all, an act of reflection — a way to look back on a long journey that began in a small Cretan village and led to the highest summits of one’s profession and life.
The book seeks to capture the inner climb as much as the outer one — the thoughts, doubts, and values that shaped each step. It’s about understanding what truly lies behind success: perseverance, solitude, faith, the influence of heritage, and the search for meaning in one’s endeavors.
In that sense, it’s more a philosophical memoir than a record of accomplishments — a meditation on how the external peaks of the world mirror the inner peaks of the soul.
The book seems to weave together engineering, faith, culture, and diaspora. How do you balance the technical / professional aspects with the more intimate, emotional ones in the narrative?
A beautiful and perceptive question — because that balance is indeed at the core of Climbing the Peaks of the World.
The book moves between two dimensions that have always defined my life: the precise, rational world of engineering and the deeper, human world of faith, culture, and memory. I tried not to separate them, but rather to let them illuminate each other. Engineering, after all, is not only about structures of steel and concrete — it’s also about vision, persistence, and harmony, the same qualities that shape a meaningful life.
So the narrative alternates between the technical and the emotional, between the “how” and the “why.” A bridge, a tower, or a project becomes a metaphor for building endurance, connecting cultures, or spanning distances — both literal and spiritual. The immigrant’s experience, the devotion to one’s roots, and the quiet dialogue with faith give depth to the professional journey, turning it from a record of work into a story of becoming.
How do you use metaphor and narrative to connect your early childhood in Kamarioti, Crete, to major works and projects around the globe?
That question touches the very thread that binds the book together.
In Climbing the Peaks of the World, metaphor and narrative act as bridges between two worlds — the humble soil of Kamarioti and the vast, modern landscapes where great works rise. I use the imagery of climbing, building, and light throughout the narrative to link the simplicity of my beginnings with the magnitude of the projects that came later.
The rocky hills of Psiloritis, for example, become a symbol of endurance and aspiration — the first “foundations” upon which every later structure was built. The childhood experience of watching stones, wind, and sky in Crete evolves, through metaphor, into the discipline of understanding forces, balance, and resilience in engineering. Each project — whether a bridge, a skyscraper, or a cultural undertaking — becomes another “peak,” but the path to it always traces back to that same Cretan hillside.
So the story is not just a journey across geography and career, but a continuous thread of meaning — how the child who gazed at the mountain learned to see structure and spirit as one, and how that early wonder shaped the way he would later build across the world.
Among all the projects you describe — for example, the restoration of the Capitol dome, your involvement with Ground Zero, work in Saudi Arabia, etc. — which do you consider turning points, and why?
A wonderful and profound question — because each of those projects marks a distinct summit, both technical and personal. Yet a few truly stand out as turning points.
The restoration of the U.S. Capitol Dome was one of them. It wasn’t only a matter of engineering complexity or national importance; it was also a dialogue with history and symbolism. Working on that structure — a living emblem of democracy — taught me that engineering can also be an act of stewardship, a way of honoring the past while ensuring its endurance into the future.
Another major turning point was my involvement at Ground Zero after September 11. There, the work transcended design and construction. It became a moral and emotional endeavor — a collective effort to heal a wound, to transform devastation into remembrance and resilience. It was perhaps the most human project of my life.
Additionally, my contribution to the Structural Engineering study and the reconstruction of the Saint Nicholas Church at Ground Zero in New York, in collaboration with my dear friend and great architect Santiago Calatrava, was for me a project of honor and profound responsibility. For it symbolizes, for us Greeks — and especially for the Greek Diaspora — far more than just a church. It represents rebirth from the ashes, at the very place where the destruction of September 11 left an indelible mark on world history. It stands as a visible sign that faith, memory, and hope can overcome terror and darkness.
For us Greeks of America, it is our spiritual beacon, illuminating the values of Orthodoxy, Freedom, and Resilience. At the same time, it is the “Parthenon of the Diaspora,” because it symbolizes the link between ancient heritage and the Greek spirit with modern history, projecting the contribution of Hellenism in the heart of New York and throughout the World.
Finally, my work in in China, the Arabian Gulf and other parts of the World, opened a broader horizon — not just geographically, but spiritually. It made me realize how engineering can connect civilizations, how bridges and towers can serve as silent ambassadors between peoples and cultures.
Each of these projects, in its own way, represents a “peak.” Not merely for what was built, but for what was understood: that behind every great work of structure lies an invisible architecture of values — perseverance, humility, and the universal language of creation.
You studied and then built a career in engineering in the U.S. How did your roots in Crete influence your decisions, values, and the way you approach projects internationally?
Beautifully framed question — it goes straight to the heart of the book’s emotional and philosophical dimension.
My roots in Crete have shaped everything — not only my values, but the very way I perceive the act of building. Growing up at the foot of Psiloritis, I learned that endurance, honesty, and respect for the elements are not abstract virtues; they are ways of surviving and creating. The Cretan landscape — harsh yet luminous — teaches you to build with care, to listen to the land before you touch it, and to measure progress not just in height or scale, but in integrity.
When I came to America, I carried those lessons with me like tools in an invisible bag. They guided how I led teams, made decisions, and treated every project as both a technical and moral endeavor. And as my work took me across continents — from Washington to Riyadh, from New York to Athens — those same Cretan values became a quiet compass. They reminded me that no matter how advanced the technology or how vast the ambition, the essence of engineering remains the same: to serve humanity with skill, humility, and heart.
Being part of the Greek diaspora community, in leadership roles (e.g. with Cretan associations), how has community service, cultural identity, and giving back shaped your professional path and worldview?
That’s an exceptional question — and one that captures the deeper current running beneath the technical and personal layers of Climbing the Peaks of the World.
Community service and cultural identity have always been inseparable from my professional journey. From my earliest years in the Greek diaspora, I saw that success acquires meaning only when it’s shared — when it uplifts others and honors one’s roots. Serving in leadership roles within the Cretan, Hellenic and Orthodox communities reminded me that our heritage and orthodox religion are not a possession to display, but a responsibility to continue.
Those experiences also deepened my sense of connection. Engineering teaches us to build bridges of steel and stone; community life teaches us to build bridges of understanding and solidarity. Both require the same discipline, vision, and trust. Whether restoring a historic landmark or organizing a cultural initiative, the underlying goal is the same: to create something that endures, something that serves others.
In that sense, giving back to the Greek-American community — preserving our traditions, supporting education, promoting Hellenic and Orthodox values — has not been separate from my career; it has been its moral foundation. It shaped my worldview, reminding me that true achievement is measured not only by what we build, but by what we give back to the people and ideals that built us.
In closing, my book, Climbing to the Peaks of the World, was born not out of a need to record achievements, but out of a desire to understand my own journey — to illuminate it with thought, to weigh it with emotion, and to share it with truth.
Through my writings, I tried to take the reader along the paths leading to high summits, through personal essays, speeches, memories, and experiences — all fragments of an entire life. My life — devoted to the pursuit of dreams, to creation that leaves a mark in time, and to the power of perseverance and consistency.
Within the pages of this book, I have sought to share the difficulties, challenges, and triumphs of my ascents. Each “peak” is deeply intertwined with a story of faith, creativity, and dedication — standing as a symbol of humanity’s constant effort to rise higher, to transcend its limits, and to leave behind something that endures through time.
As Nikos Kazantzakis reminds us: “Never accept the limits of man! Break the boundaries…”
*Interview by Athina Rossoglou
TAGS: LITERATURE & BOOKS | READING GREECE
