The architecture of memory: Rebuilding the Middle East

Symbolic violence, cultural devastation and destruction of memory are some of the aggressions which have been bestowed upon the Middle East over the past 200 years. Architecture has become a victim of the conflict just like many of the people from these war torn areas, a bystander, with limited power in the face of modern weaponry. However, when we think about architecture and the built environment, we think about the enduring elements. Obscured by this solidity or by the continuous backdrop that it provides to our lives, little attention is given to the way in which a place recovers its culture, heritage and memory in a post-conflict scenario. What fragment of a city’s memory does the destruction of its built patrimony take away? How can the ‘spiritual’ essence of the place, the genius loci, the element that Kevin Lynch and more recently Jan Gehl, analysed in a pursuit for the authentic city, be brought back?

The historical reconstruction of Poland after WWII, Bosnia and Croatia after the Bosnian War, Lebanon after the Civil War, and the 2006 Israel-Hezbollah War reflects that cities cannot be erected overnight. After the 1995 Dayton Accords, Bosnia was a country at peace but in pieces. Separated both regionally and culturally, those returning to their villages, towns and cities found themselves with little to remind them of the days before the war. During the conflict, Sarajevo’s National and University Library was purposefully destroyed along with many of its documents. In Mostar, the destruction of its old bridge connecting the West and East side of the city added a new barrier within a divided city. Once the war was over, the rebuilding was instigated by the people on the ground, through the reconstruction of religious institutions, community centres and most importantly homes. In this sense, the process can be a symbolic one for both sides of the conflict. It can be seen as a way of cementing a violent division within the built environment or as the revival of spaces. Therefore, the question arises of how much needs remembering and reliving, and how much needs to be forgotten while looking towards the future? There are dangers which can be associated with both memory and forgiveness. An understanding of the purpose of destruction needs to arise from the interrogation of factors which have taken place or are taking places during the conflict. Was the purpose of destruction to forget, erase the memory of a place or was the architecture a casualty of the war?

Poland won its independence in 1918. The period which followed was marked by a pursuit for preserving the heritage and taking its architecture to higher levels. However, as a result of WWII, the centre of Warsaw was vastly destroyed by the severity of the conflict. While the initial reconstruction started with architectural monuments, castles, churches and streets, the plan was taken one step further under the Soviet regime and the entire city centre was brought back to its pre-war looks. Although understandable, as the Poles and the leaders were driven by a need to reconnect to their heritage, there is little credit to be given to the new ‘Disneyland’ developed in the centre of Warsaw. As millions died during the war on both sides, millions more were left wounded or without families, and a significant part of Polish culture changed. History moves forward continuously and the complete restoration seemed like a step back, pretending that nothing had ever happened.

Daniel Libeskind mentioned during a TED Talks, in regards to the World Trade Centre site, that the reconstruction of such spaces is difficult, there is money, politics, and most importantly the memories. Although the reconstruction, in the case of Warsaw, is a direct response to the desires of the Nazi regime to erase a culture and destroy a nation, I believe that the power of the people to endure, as well as to thrive after such a conflict could be better represented through progress, modernity and growth, as opposed to returning to the old. Elements of the city which emphasise its character will always entail discrete touches to be preserved in ‘mint’ condition but the rest needs to be allowed to grow organically and become a canvas for future generations. As happened in many other cities including Sarajevo, the rebuilding of memory is tougher than the rebuilding of a building and another aspect impeding its success is the region’s political system.

One thing which must be remembered is that politics is about the city, from Politika in Greek which means ‘affairs of the city’. An excellent example of political agenda playing a big role in the post-conflict rebuilding of Beirut. The Lebanese Civil War took place between 1975 and 1990 after which the government initialised a reconstruction plan. In 2006, hostilities commenced between Israel and Lebanon, at which point much of the country’s economy was destroyed and Beirut found itself again in need of foreign financial intervention for the reconstruction process. While the post-war restoration in both cases was swift and aimed at rebuilding the main lines of communication between and within cities, there were also projects which looked briefly at ensuring that the civilians were appropriately housed. However, the site which received most of the financial investment from ‘the East’ was Beirut city centre. The area was cleared and transformed into a new set of shiny shoes for the city, shoes which very few could afford. The architecture manifestation brought back some of the Ottoman and French colonial motifs while infusing the city centre with modern elements of urban design and mobility. The downfall of the process was its focus on high-end stores which would attract only the wealthier part of the population with much of the program focusing on attracting tourist spendings. The prime minister at that time found a way to appoint his own construction company to complete most of the rebuild, using his influence to drive the competition out and recoup the benefits for himself.

In the case of Iraq, Afghanistan and Lebanon, funds from ‘the West’ were directed towards a political reconstruction, ensuring that righteous leadership will help the country progress. Much can be added in terms of international relations here but focusing on architecture, it can be argued that although noble and well intended, these niche gestures of naive nonchalance are not contributing much to the empowerment of communities. The reason for this being due to the time it takes to implement such projects, leaving the country in a state of stagnation while waiting, in many cases, years, for the rise of honourable leadership. However, the impact of architecture can determine changes to happen much quicker if not at the top level, at least at a community level. This is due to the ways in which communities can become involved in the design and maintenance process. In this way, people are able to assist, through local knowledge and identifying community needs, increased wider community support, integration of project and, further down the line, with the sustainable management of outcome. The empowering process, above all else, builds resilience which in turn leading the recovery of identity.

A more recent project in London, by Fluid Design, initiated in 2004, dealt directly with a community in pursuit of a historical character for their neighbourhood, South Acton. In collaboration with English Heritage and in direct contact with the residents, the study looked at proving a historic backdrop for future regeneration projects by bringing to light details of how the neighbourhood came to have its present form. Through building analysis, documentary research, oral history, historic research and analysis, the project assisted South Acton in identifying areas of significance and importance to the local community.

Participation and collaboration projects such as these will not serve the purpose of delivering a physical manifestation as a conclusion. They do not act on behalf of the community and do not serve as plans for regeneration projects. They focus on the history of the place and its memory, on its character and the way in which people feel about spaces and places within their local environment. As the project itself specifies ‘[the study] provides a strong impression of life as lived in the area and might be of use to those involved in the process of change in considering proposals.’

Therefore, I believe that the rebuilding of the Middle East after the war is an international issue and we should use this opportunity to build resilience and empower the communities in war-torn areas. Funds and assistance will be required while regional economies recover and countries such as Syria, which were developing countries will now have to work harder in order to reach that level again. Over the years, architecture schools in Europe, Asia and America have recruited many talented students as people fled their homes and entered new countries as refugees of war. What if their knowledge could be harnessed at this moment in order to lead future change in the Middle East? What will be destroyed and what will be kept is more than a matter of what can be afforded. When we analyse the entire situation, this reconstruction, I believe, goes well beyond how much money can be put together in order to fix the physical damage. It will be a technological, architectural, political and cultural platform for expanding on ideas, which for years have only been looked at on paper.

Perhaps Masdar City is only the beginning in a long line of smart cities. However, not a smart city built from scratch but a technology driven city with history and character. A city built on a bedrock of history. It may or may not be something impossible to achieve in a post-war country as an all-encompassing solution. When I think about certain ideas promoted by BIG, I see the opportunity for a new chapter of architecture and planning arising by combining existing parameters and new developments in architecture, computation and smart technology in order to ‘produce’ a new space for the future, while commemorating the past. In Aleppo and other regions of Syria, architecture monuments have been 3D scanned and digitally archived. Urban damage is being mapped, quantified and analysed in order to provide data on what can be saved and what will require demolition. A city which uses alternative power sources and adopts a pedestrian orientated philosophy can lead to a cleaner, more sustainable way of future developments. A city which resembles the house of Kevin Flynn from Tron: Legacy could be something which will emerge from the ashes. A place where the history and tradition, the memory and sensation is combined with the precise, mathematical, information driven, in order to achieve a harmonious balance. A balance which delivers closure through the clear celebration of memory. The memory of the war, of things long gone or of those which are no longer with us.

This scenario is viable and we have the means to achieve it. There is much work being done across the world for situations such as these by people who know what it is like to have your way of life disturbed by the demise of memory. This would not be another ‘test bed’. It can represent the accumulation of the past 20 years of technological, architectural, engineering and political achievements. An area as fragile as the Middle East cannot, or better yet, should not be spoiled with the mistakes of the past. There is an opportunity which emerges after centuries of conflict, at the expense of millions of lives, local and global, who have fought and died and whose memories are embedded in the fabric of the remaining cities. It is this fabric which will become the legacy that we leave in the cradle of our society.