ABSTRACT
Global media coverage of the destruction of the Mostar Bridge in 1993 powerfully reminded the world about the impact war and conflict can have on sites of historical, religious or architectural value. Indeed, not since the Second World War and the widespread destruction of Europe’s cities has so much attention been paid to the destruction of the built environment and the enterprise of its reconstruction. For Barakat (2005b), this ‘reawakening’
occurred because the Balkans conflict became ‘a personalized war’ for the Western media as it took place in a region where Europeans and North Americans took their holidays. Paralleling, and interfacing with, this renewed media interest has been a steadily evolving heritage discourse – both in academia and policy – that has sought to grapple with the difficult relationships between heritage and episodes of war, genocide and armed conflict. The 1954 Hague Convention on the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict remains the definitive mechanism and point of reference for safeguarding heritage sites threatened with destruction. Its widespread ratification, of course, has not prevented buildings, sacred objects or artworks being damaged or destroyed. The Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem or Babri Masjid in Ayodhya are two notable examples of the many places that have become the focal point of inflamed hostilities or tensions in recent decades. In reflecting upon the challenges such places pose, Bevan (2006) and Chamberlain (2005) illustrate why creating effective strategies for protecting cultural heritage sites during times of conflict remains a difficult and sometimes illusive problem. The threats of destruction or desecration are not the only challenges war poses to the heritage community. Equally problematic is the ‘commemoration’ of past atrocities and other difficult histories. Prolonging the memory of oppression, injustices or the loss of lives has long been the responsibility of the memorial or the preserved symbolic structure. Indeed, while the popularity of this genre perhaps reached its zenith in the aftermath of the First World War, parks, walls of honour, statues, museums or iconic ruins endure as universally adopted devices for capturing – or indeed in some cases invoking – a national or personal memory. Invariably these spaces or structures are set aside from the everyday; demarcated as sites of reflection, contemplation and peaceful tranquillity (Beazley 2007; Kirshenblatt-Gimblett 1998). Enduring debates surround the effectiveness of material culture as lieux de mémoire. Forty and Küchler (2001), for example, point towards the role forgetting plays in the process of commemoration. Robert Bevan’s (2006) book The Destruction of Memory also provides us with a historical panorama of such themes. As Bevan reminds us, the loss of memories caused by the destruction of architecture can in fact sometimes be an essential step towards reconciliation and the reduction of hostilities. In these studies we begin to see one of the two themes that dominate academic analyses addressing the relationship between heritage and episodes of war and conflict. Reflections on memory form part of an ongoing conversation about the value of destruction and restoration at the symbolic level, and the impact of such efforts on group identities. Operating at a more technical ‘fabric’-based level, other heritage studies have discussed the legal dimensions of heritage protection and the merits of different conservation ‘philosophies’. Given the sustained attention given to the symbolic level, it is not surprising to find that academics, along with planners, consultants and
architects have all concentrated on sites pertinent to ‘collective identities’, to use Stanley-Price’s (2007) term. The restoration of mosques, temples, statues or bridges is often seen as a powerful metaphor for a wider socio-cultural restoration. Moreover, projects undertaken in Bosnia, Sri Lanka and Cambodia have shown why a sensitivity towards the various symbolic values communities impart on sites is absolutely vital if reconstruction is to be used as a positive tool for reconciliation (Wijesuriya 2007; Winter 2007). Whilst not denying the validity of such efforts, Ascherson (2007), however, suggests that the attention given to sites of ‘collective identity’ is somewhat misplaced. He argues there is very little evidence to show that collective identities are actually dissolved or undermined through the destruction or deliberate attacking of symbolically important sites. He states ‘assaults on group identity through cultural destruction, in short, very seldom work’ (Ascherson 2007: 22). Writing in After the Conflict, Barakat (2005b) builds upon this idea, arguing that greater attention needs to be given to the reconstruction of everyday structures, ones that combine functional and cultural importance. For Barakat efforts to protect or restore domestic residencies can be a highly effective tool for creating a sense of personal security and local ‘ownership’ over a post-conflict reconstruction process; both of which, he suggests, are critical factors for successful intervention programmes. Refugees from Afghanistan and Palestine who keep keys for decades are also cited as an example of the important role played by the home as a marker of memory and cultural continuity. Similarly, within his analysis of the restoration of the built environment in post-conflict societies, Zetter claims domestic housing is of paramount importance for re-establishing a sense of socio-cultural security (Zetter 2005: 156). In shifting the attention away from structures that symbolically capture or project a collective identity towards structures like domestic housing, both Barakat and Zetter place great emphasis on understanding the connections between the built environment and their surrounding social, institutional and political contexts. This is deemed crucial if interventions targeting the physical infrastructure are to operate at multiple levels and achieve multiple ends. Indeed, Zetter’s focus on housing is underpinned by a concern for addressing the economic and social security rights of citizens. In harmony they suggest, however, that this is rarely achieved due to the emphasis given to technocratic approaches. As Zetter states:
By focusing on lower order deliverables and measurable outputs – e.g. contract completions, costs per housing unit, buildings restored – physical reconstruction projects have frequently failed to address or measure progress towards the ‘higher order’ objectives which they serve such as reintegration, social and civil society development, economic needs and strategies for peace.
