The Aga Khan Award for Architecture: Unveiling the Jewels of the Built Environment in the Developing World

People including main stream professional architects sometimes wonder about the reason of or the need for architectural awards while questioning their validity: Are they necessary? I would say yes. Awards are critical; they validate the achievements of professional architects while making their contributions more widely acknowledged by the public, hence promoting excellence in architecture. Some awards recognise the extraordinary lifetime achievement of an architect
and others praise projects of virtues that offer guidance for changing the status quo toward a positive change. The Aga Khan Award for Architecture (AKAA) continues to centre its interest on these three areas.

In essence, the Aga Khan Award for Architecture-AKAA addresses contexts in which Muslim communities have substantial presence and, in my view, it has contributed at the physical intervention level and at the architectural thought level in the whole developing or non-Western world. The Award's concern and impact is not only expressed in the conservation of architectural heritage or revitalisation of deteriorated communities or stylistic and symbolic interventions. It is about the enduring values of architecture in creating physical and visual manifestations that speak to their communities, relate effectively to their users and their economic and societal realities. In this editorial, I reflect on selected aspects of Award and its contributions.

What is the Aga Khan Award for Architecture?
Established in 1977 the Award is not a typical architectural prize. It aims to identify and reward architectural concepts that successfully address the needs and aspirations of developing communities while addressing the multi-faceted aspects of the built environment; these range from contemporary innovative designs, to social housing and community developments, to adaptive re-use and conservation, landscape design and city re-development. The Award is presented in three-year cycles to multiple projects with prizes totalling up to US$500,000. A unique aspect here is that unlike other architectural awards, it recognises all parties involved including clients, design and planning teams, stakeholders and users.

While it is important to shed light on the process of how projects get awarded, I reflect on some themes under which the major contributions of the Award become more perceptible. These themes continue to represent explicit concerns of the Award while posing themselves on the worldwide map of architectural and urbanism discourse.

A Rigorous Review Process
The process of rewarding a built project is one that undergoes a rigorous jury and review procedures. A new committee is formed with each triennial cycle to establish issues of interest; thematic direction with reference to current concerns. The Steering Committee selects an independent Master Jury appointed for each Award cycle. As a result each cycle introduces fresh thinking for intervening in the environment. The appointed Master Jury selects the Award recipients from the projects it reviews.

Two important aspects of the selection process of Award winners are important to note. On the one hand, the jury is pluri-disciplinary and brings members from fields such as history, engineering, philosophy, architectural conservation and contemporary arts, as well as practicing architects, landscape architects and urban planners. Typically, the Jury reviews the submissions enrolled through the nomination program. They examine the documentation of each project and select approximately twenty-five to thirty projects. During the project short-listing process the boundaries between these disciplines are crossed through discussions and interpretation, thereby leading to advancing architectural discourse.

Secondly, a deep sense of vertical knowledge is involved. Technical reviewers conduct on site assessments to gain textual and visual information about the projects before presenting the results of their visits to the master jury over an intensive week to 10-days jury sessions in similitude to workshops and different from typical jury settings. This process is unique to the Award; no other award program in any part of the world appoints on-site reviewers. On-site technical reviewers bring their expertise to the table coupled with their first-hand observations about the practical realities of the built project and the context within which it was created. In essence, the typical norm in most other award juries rely heavily on photographic images of built works and their selection is based only on their collective vision-sometimes hallucination-of what architectural excellence is about.

Tending Architecture, Taming Urbanism and Enlightening Intellectual Discourse
Over the past three decades, 95 projects from the developing world have received the Award, with other credited projects. In its 10 triennial cycles, it has generated vibrant debates at all levels. The Awards' monographs, written and edited by thinkers, have had a great influence on architectural discourse. Over 25 conference and seminar proceedings were published pointing to how architecture makes the ideals, values, and beliefs of Muslims tangible, causing its input to how urbanism can be controlled to be more reactive to its socio-cultural context evident through upgrading, revitalisation, re-development, participation, and appropriate technology among others.

Not only has new architectural thought resulted from the Award's events and publications, the concerns it supports became integral components of worldwide debates on contemporary and historical architecture. At the international level, the architectural community has become more familiar with issues like social architecture, participation, squatter settlements, environmental and cultural impacts; these were neither celebrated and supported, nor respected and recognised by main-stream architectural practices. At the local level, a dialogue was fostered between professionals, academics and decision makers on crucial progress issues that have usually been of concern to one group but rarely to the other two.

The Chairman Award and the Enduring Values of Architecture between Hasan Fathy, Rifat Chadirji and Geoffrey Bawa
The fact that creating architecture is a complex process that requires talent and critical imagination coupled with a deep interpretation of people and their environments, necessitates a holistic understanding of six elements - people, technology, beauty, time, place and cost - and how they interrelate, to produce a meaningful environment. Such an understanding is reflected in the Chairman Award, which has been awarded on three occasions in 1980, 1986 and 2001.

Hassan Fathy, the Egyptian architect, artist and poet, received the 1st Chairman Award in recognition of his lifetime commitment to architecture in the Muslim world. He perceived that a connection could be made between the continuing viability of mud brick construction and the desperate need of Egypt's poor to be taught once again to build a shelter for themselves. Rifat Chadirji, the Iraqi architect, critic and teacher, received the 2nd Chairman Award. He was able to strike a balance between the givens of the time and heritage as is evident in his work in Baghdad, searching for an appropriate contemporary architectural expression that synthesises elements of the rich Islamic cultural heritage with key principles of 20th Century architecture

Geoffrey Bawa, Sri Lanka's most prolific and influential architect, received the 3rd Chairman Award in 2001. His work has had a remarkable impact upon architecture throughout Asia and has been praised by connoisseurs of architecture worldwide. Bawa was able to express the mixed influences that characterise Sri Lanka: Indian neighbours, Arab traders and European colonists. Thus, his architecture is a delicate blend of tradition and modernity, East and West, formal and picturesque while also addressing the dynamic tension between culture and nature.

Expanding the Scope of Architectural Practice
Right from the beginning, the Award set the stage for expanding the scope of architecture. Architecture went from being understood only as a built artefact to being viewed as a holistic intervention approach integral to development efforts. This is evident in Indonesia's Kampung Improvement Program and Citra Niaga Urban Development, both of which received the Award in 1989. Another example is the Indore Slum Program in India, which received the Award in 1998. Typically, these projects do not qualify for most architectural awards as, it is claimed, the issues they address are of little or no concern to architecture. This tunnel vision of architecture is opened up through an understanding of architecture and its role in the community by recognising the concepts adopted in these projects.

The Kampung Improvement Program is an excellent example of a government-assisted, self-help community-planning program that manifests a wider scope of architectural practice. It provides three levels of infrastructure: paved access roads, bridges and footpaths; water supply, sanitation and drainage canals; schools and health clinics. These improvements are threaded along existing rights-of-way, with little disturbance to the existing housing. The Master Jury of the first cycle argued that this program improved the living conditions, fostered the integration of the informal sector into the city's economy and encouraged individual initiatives to improve housing.

From Restoration to Sustainable Urban Conservation
Efforts for restoring or reusing old religious or cultural structures have been recognised by the Award, including a large number of projects such as Darb Qirmiz Quarter, Egypt (1983), Great Omari Mosque in Sidon, Lebanon (1989) and Al Abbas Mosque, Yemen (2007). These projects are noted for their sensitivity in treating buildings as living fabrics and in creating a partnership between local and outside skill. The idea of restoration has also been expanded to include sustainable urban conservation efforts, in projects like the conservation and /or rehabilitation of Sidi Bou Said, Tunisia (1980), Mostar Old Town, Bosnia and Herzegovina (1986), Asila, Morocco (1989), Bukhara (1995), New Life for Old Structures, Iran (2001), Shibam, Yemen, and the Walled City, Nicosia, Cyprus (2007). These projects present strong messages on ways in which old cities should be reintegrated into new ways of life.

Although architectural and conservation efforts are in essence technical, they represent socio-cultural and socio-political acts. This is apparent in the rehabilitation of the Walled City of Nicosia, which saw close collaboration between the project's Greek Cypriot and Turkish Cypriot participants. In this respect, the Award is promoting peace, tolerance, plurality and the fusion of cultures.

Sustainability and Ecological Architecture
Since the Rio summit in 1992 and the emergence of "sustainability", the award swiftly began to recognise projects with sustainable design strategies. The classic example is Menara Mesiniaga, the IBM headquarters, in Subang Jaya, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, which received the Award in 1995. It is a high-tech, 15-storey corporate showcase on a convenient and visually prominent corner site. It is a result of Kenneth Yeang's ten-year study of bio-climatic principles in the design of medium-to-tall buildings. Its tri-partite structure consists of a raised "green" base, ten circular floors of office space with terraced garden balconies and external louvers for shade. It is roofed by a spectacular sun-roof, arching across the top-floor pool. The distinct columns that project above the pool floor support solar panels. Further reducing the energy use of a naturally cooled building are sun-screens and air-conditioning. The tower has become a landmark. Again, this is a powerful message that speaks to the developing world on the value of integrating sustainable design approaches to multi-story structures.

Sustainability has driven other projects like Datai Hotel, Malaysia (2001) and Moulmein Rise Residential Tower, Singapore (2007) to emphasise ecological approaches to architecture. While Datai Hotel is described by a successful reaction to nature, topography and vegetation, the Moulmein Rise Residential Tower adopts many forgotten low energy strategies like orientation, overhangs, shading and perforation and cross ventilation. Also, instead of treating users as identical, the design responds to the psychological needs of users, manifested in the modular system's flexibility to allow varied units to house diverse needs while simultaneously addressing personalisation and individuality.

Socio-Cultural Aspirations and Special Populations
Needs, wants and aspirations of local communities were addressed by many winning projects since the early eighties. These include the upgrading of Hafsia Quarter in Tunisia and Ramses Wissa Wassef Arts Centre in Egypt (1983) to Demir Holiday Village in Turkey and East Wahdat upgrading in Jordan (1992). The significance of these projects lies in the cultural and socio-economic impacts they have had on their communities. It is unfortunate that these issues remain at the periphery of most architectural practices, which in turn may be seen as the reason why the Award persists in addressing them.

A wide spectrum of awarded projects offers lessons on how to treat specific segments of societies including children, the poor and the under-represented. School projects in poor communities like Gando Primary School, Burkina Faso (2004) and Rudrapur School, Bangladesh (2007) have been vital contributions recognised by the Award. They address local architectonic constraints, instill optimism, instigate delight and initiate learning and progress in unfortunate conditions. Projects like the Cultural Park for Children (1992) and SOS Village in Aqaba (2001) present other manifestations of pleasant and attractive settings amenable to children's needs. Hospitals serving under-represented populations, like Kaédi Regional Hospital, Mauritania (1995) and Lepers' Hospital, Chopda Taluka, India (1998), have also been recognised by the Award for their efficient and effective use of local materials and traditional building technology while treating patients in a pleasant setting.

Between Exploratory Novelties and Multiple Modernities
The Award recognised two important facts; the first is that the Muslim world, occupying a large geographical area, enjoys unique wealth in its cultures and societies. Some projects were awarded not only for their social, cultural and environmental impact, but also for echoing a unique visual identity of a locality and a deep analysis of elements and symbols inherited from the past. These include the National Assembly Building of Bangladesh (1989) and Al Kindi Plaza in Saudi Arabia (1989). Also, The Nubia Museum in Egypt (2001) and Olbia Social Centre in Turkey (2001) embody conscious endeavours in this respect, exhibiting the multiple faces of modernity throughout the Muslim world.

Supporting innovation and fostering the blend of advanced technology in construction systems with local expressions continue to be a key aspect of the Award since its first cycle. The Award recognised projects such as the Intercontinental Hotel and Conference Centre, Makkah (1980) and Hajj Terminal in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia (1983) for their novel approaches in addressing the active link between the technology of the time and tradition. More striking is the credit for innovation at smaller scale manifestations including the B2 House in Ayvacik, Turkey, which embodies a sense of merit and a progressive approach in recognising its physical context, and the Royal Netherlands Embassy in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, which consciously and poetically merges elements of Dutch architecture with its environs.

This look back at the Aga Khan Award's contributions to architecture and urbanism in the developing world has instilled certain aspects and issues that continue to be supported by the Award. There is still much to be learnt from these and other projects not mentioned here, a lot to be measured, explored,
analysed and assessed. By analysing the Award's publications and the projects it has recognised with a critical eye, the lessons they contain will be revealed.


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An expanded version of this editorial appeared this month in Issue 3 of MAGAZ magazine, Cairo, Egypt under the title of The Aga Khan Award for Architecture at a Glance: Glimpses of Three Decades of Contributions to Architecture and Urbanism in the Developing World.

Acknowledgements: Thanks are due to Farroukh Derakhshani, Director of Aga Khan Award Procedures for his insights in developing this article. My thanks go to Karen Stylianoudis for providing all the necessary materials for developing this article.
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Ashraf M. Salama
Architects for Peace July 2008

Reflections on Brazil

The following editorial is a reflection on my time spent in Brazil in 2007, during which 
I was a university intern, attended the Architecture Biennale and participated in a regional conference of architecture students.

The Sao Paolo Architecture Biennale is held in alternation with the more famous and longer-established Art Biennale. In 2007, I attended along with students and staff from the Universidade Estadual de Maringa at the close of my internship in the Department of Architecture and Urbanism. The theme of the exhibition was “Architecture: the public and the private”.

The Biennale takes place at the Parque de Ibirapuera, naturally inside a building designed by the darling of the Brazilian architecture scene, Oscar Niemeyer. As an architect travelling in Brazil, it’s easy to fall into a sort of Niemeyer pilgrimage. Admittedly, that name composed a significant proportion of the sum total of my Brazilian architecture knowledge prior to my trip, and my expectations were not wholly confounded. It seems that almost every city that takes itself seriously has a piece of Niemeyer; a determined advocate of social justice whose vision has splintered and congealed in monuments scattered all over the country. After celebrating his 100th birthday in December last year, he is apparently not only alive and kicking but still coherent in television interviews and indeed still designing; certainly a force to be reckoned with. Yet I found something unsatisfying about seeing his work up close; something that began to dawn on me somewhere between his eponymous museum in the form of a giant eye in Curitiba and the space-ship like Museo de Niteroi perched spectacularly – if somewhat incongruously – on a rocky coastal outcrop just outside of Rio de Janeiro. True, the manipulation of concrete into breath-taking, curvaceous forms is no mean technical feat. What bothered me was that, while the architect has waxed lyrical for years about social reform, his buildings remain surprisingly tight-lipped on the subject.

Still, in a country so fraught with contradiction, it is perhaps unsurprising that Niemeyer has seduced the nation with his rhetoric but failed to deliver the goods. It is very difficult to generalise about Brazil; the size of the country and indigenous as well as colonial influences have produced distinct regional differences that manifest themselves in speech, music and cultural traditions. Perhaps the only thing that can be safely asserted is the intrinsic presence of contradiction. As an intern at the UEM, I became aware early on that the university system itself is predicated on contradiction. In theory, public universities offer free education. Fantastic, I thought. In reality, all prospective students must sit a comprehensive entrance exam (at each university applied for), whether applying for biology or theatre arts. Passing is really only feasible for young people who have attended private secondary schools or who paid for one or more post-high school years at specialised preparatory schools, meaning that wealthier families end up with free education, while those who can’t afford the upfront preparation costs only have the option of the ongoing costs of the private system. Among public university teaching staff, dissatisfaction with low salaries is widespread, and regular strikes place students at risk of missing semesters.

Not surprising then that university reform should be one of the items on the agenda of the students involved in the FENEA – National Federation of Students of Architecture. The culture of student meetings bringing together universities throughout the country is not exclusive to architecture, but it certainly seems that architecture students have plenty to say. For a start, the name of the course is Architecture AND Urbanism – and this encompasses landscape architecture, urban design, planning and interior design – suggesting that the relationship between the design of buildings and their wider context is established from the outset. Back home, the tendency towards specialisation has generated a myriad of independent built environment disciplines – which can then be dressed up as streamlining services and providing opportunities for collaboration and multi-disciplinary engagement, but risk operating in isolation from one another. The FENEA holds annual conferences at regional, national and Latin America wide levels during which projects are presented, workshops held and relevant issues debated. They are run entirely by students. There is a big element of fun involved; Brazilians like to celebrate and there’s no doubt that drinking sessions and parties motivate plenty of students to take part. This seems to fuel scepticism among students who aren’t involved, with rumours of corruption and mis-use of funds within the student movement. Even so, it’s clear that the organisation required to make these events happen is formidable and more impressive given the already sizeable workload that is the lot of the average architecture student. The organising students are committed to the content of the conferences, politically-minded, articulate and passionate. At the very least, the conferences foster connections between students from different universities and different regions; something that seems to have been strangely absent from my own education, where there was barely a sense of a student community within my own faculty, let alone interaction with other schools in Melbourne.

Student activism is not limited to the FENEA. The non-profit-organisation Um Teto Para Meu Pais (A Shelter for my Country), which has spread from Chile throughout Latin America, started out in Brazil in 2007 almost entirely under the direction of volunteer students from various disciplines at the University of Sao Paolo. The premise is relatively simple: a three stage plan to assist struggling communities in regional and urban areas. Stage 1: constructing a new house for one family, based on a relatively crude model – 5 x 8 metre, one room, pre-fab timber box with two wooden shutters and a door. Stage 2: implementation of training and development programs within the community. Stage 3: construction of long-term, custom-designed complex based on identified community needs.

Currently only stage 1 has been executed in Brazil. The scale of the pre-fab model is such that one can be erected by a team of 4-5 unskilled volunteers in a weekend. Male family members usually help too. It’s hard work. The volunteers stay overnight in the community and alcohol is banned, so unlike the FENEA meetings, there’s no partying incentive. Social consciousness
Signs of this active student scene were disappointingly scarce at the 2007 Biennale. With the exception of a tertiary design competition and some research projects, the host nation’s contribution to the exhibition seemed to focus largely on the professional world. There was of course the ubiquitous section devoted to old Oscar’s imminent birthday, but the rest of the exhibition came across feeling something more like a commercial expo than a critical representation of contemporary architecture and urbanism in Brazil. It is true that the Brazilian government of late has embraced the spirit of progress and perhaps this was simply reflected in the skyscrapers and resorts on public display, while the political and social awareness I had seen demonstrated by student groups must have constituted the ‘private’ part of the theme (so private as to be, in fact, almost invisible). I found myself asking what happened in the transition from the academic to professional world? Was there an organised professional body to provide the platform for dialogue that is available to the student population?

Discussions with students seemed to suggest not, and there was certainly no evidence of such a thing at the Biennale. Perhaps there is more at stake for practicing architects in the real world than for 20-somethings who can argue about the social capacity of the architect during the day then samba the night away. Certainly that seems to be the case here in Australia, where professional reputations and client retention can discourage political involvement.

So Niemeyer, now 100, continues to churn out concrete masterpieces in the name of the greater good, but will he be around for the 2009 Biennale? One wonders who will take the baton from the radical idealist who brought Brazilian architecture to the world stage. It’s unlikely that there is another master designer waiting in the wings, but there are many passionate voices willing to fill the void; to act on unrealised social values and perhaps transcend the concrete legacy that Brazil continues to present to the world.

Meanwhile, back home, a student congress is scheduled to take place in Canberra in 2009. It is being promoted as the first such event to take place since 1981. 28 years is a long time between drinks. Let’s hope there’s a Brazilian on the organising team.

Eleanor Chapman
Architects for Peace, June 2008

development architecture, Mongolian style

The May editorial is comprised of some of my reflections on development work which may be of interest to - and prompt discussion among - AfP readers. I am now in the ninth month of a placement in a Mongolian Construction College in a poor peri-urban area. I have extended this piece based on a response from Ceridwen Owen, below, and welcome further discussion.


My role as 'architect teacher trainer' in Ulaanbaatar is broad; to develop the architecture staff, students, curriculum and profession. The work is part of a VSO project to develop secure livelihoods, and aims to develop construction jobs, which would help more Mongolians to live above the poverty line. (see UNESCO report). Mongolia’s economy, in transition since 1992 from socialism, has been developing, but environmental problems, unemployment, poor literacy, alcohol abuse, and often inadequate sanitation and infrastructure all remain as large problems for the construction sector. Construction professionals and teachers however, seem ill-prepared - or disinclined - to tackle these medium and long-term issues. One of the 'developmental' attractions of the project is that I am also able to work flexibly with stakeholders - without a full load of formal teaching hours, which would potentially only do a Mongolian construction teacher out of their job. Instead I try to work side-by side with teachers, despite the considerable language and resource challenges.

There are very few printed or institutional resources for architectural education available in the Mongolian language, while literacy problems and poor teaching facilities also provide barriers to teaching and learning. The Russian materials and teaching methods commonly used between 1924 and 1989 are now particularly outdated, and English and German language materials (Chinese language materials seem to be culturally taboo) are often even more inaccessible, both financially and linguistically. A quotation from 1989 I read today was a sobering reminder of the after-effects of the Soviet 20th century.

"'They told us we lived in a socialist paradise', the worker said bitterly. 'But the soviets dumped their obsolete equipment on us, and every one of them lorded it over us as experts. Even the Russian truck drivers were experts - who got paid three times more.'" ('Ulan Bator May 1989' (sic) in Jasper Becker 1992 The Lost Country; Mongolia Revealed )

Becker's report of conditions of gaols in 1989 was horrifying. But also the demotivation and aid dependency of organisation still in transition, remains worrying. As a 'foreign expert' and volunteer, I constantly feel I need to draw attention to developing the capacity of local people; teachers, architects, students. Not just "telling about my experience" but trying to develop with people in collaboration.

Yesterday, with a translator, I asked a second year group what they had learned in first year. "The column, the corinthian column." Was it relevant in Mongolia? Students need to learn about art and design, they said. Later, some students expressed concern about the calculations necessary in building technology lessons, and the lack of 'artistic freedom'. They also wanted to know about the pathways to qualification in foreign countries. I assured them that some concerns about the ability of their teachers to "deliver" were also percieved by students in other countries. We discussed some projects, drawn, surrounded by lush vegetation in empty landscapes, but actually meant to be in cities.

The architectural community of this country, which has been in transition from communism since 1992, seems somewhat disconnected from world standards and communication. The elusive Arkitektorjdiin Kholboo (Mongolian Association of Architects) seems to be “dormant”. Gradually the Mongolian Architecture page on Wikipedia is being improved. It is in English, inaccessible to those students mentioned above.

Yet I believe some of the work I have undertaken (what VSO calls skill sharing) has developed the confidence and literacy of architecture teaching staff. Since I have been training here, two teachers have moved on to better-paid jobs. The curriculum is rarely referred to consciously; although it remains on file “at the Ministry”, teachers apparently measure student progress largely by perseverance. I try to demystify the odea of curriculum development.

Soon, the first cohort of diploma students will complete their fourth year. Of these, none to whom I have spoken seems to have been remotely aware of 'the' one Mongolian architecture textbook (Bat-Od, 2005, 2007), let alone basic texts used internationally, like FDK Ching’s ‘Form, Space and Order’, the US Architectural Graphic Standards, or Neufert’s ‘Architects’ Data’ (in 18 languages). Building and planning codes may exist, but are only vaguely known, and seem to be poorly controlled. Physical accessibility to buildings and streets for people without disabilities is difficult enough, but independent living for people with disabilities is almost unheard-of. I have worked with the Mongolian Wheelchairs Citizens, but the teachers have no time or interest. Small steps.

On the other hand, potential exists for future development in the secondary and tertiary Ger districts, (informal settlements beyond those scheduled for replacement by apartments), as well as in the much anticipated new social housing, and in commercial development, so often 'outsourced' to foreign experts and cheap Chinese labour.

On the positive side, there is life in Mongolia beyond work. The apparently barren and dirty environment is not yet as badly polluted as many places, and there are some freedoms in the nomadic tradition. Many people seem to enjoy more time with their families and better access to locally grown food than in the UK. Teachers work long hours, but do not seem stressed. They are concerned about air quality - comparable with London's before the Clean Air Act of 1956 - and about transport congestion, in the oversubscribed capital. Many people I meet would like to contribute to Mongolia’s development without having to go abroad, as so many young people and absent fathers have done in order to earn more money. Mongolians love their culture and customs, and many are rediscovering indigenous music, history, arts, medicine and even calligraphy.

As I prepare for the final few months of the placement and set objectives for the remaining work, I am increasingly comparing this place with others. My young Australian niece, on seeing my photo of a Ger on a verge, asked, "What happens if you put your house on the footpath? No-one can get past.."

As I walk to work I see people collecting their water and I think of her comment upon seeing the Ger district with its urbanscape of felt rooves. "What is that, a circus or something?"

Greg Cowan

Architects for Peace, May 2008

Hi Greg,

Thanks for your editorial - what an incredible experience!

As someone also working in tertiary education in architecture it is particularly interesting for me. I'd love to know more about the architecture school - how long has it been in existence? How many students? Is the course still modeled on the Russian system? What does the curriculum consist of - any similarities to the Australian model? What are your key objectives for your last few months there and will anyone be continuing in your position after you leave? At the University of Tasmania we work on a project with fourth year students every year based in some remote and unfamiliar context to them (not necessarily a developing nation, but that is frequently the case). Might be interesting to do something as a collaborative student project in the future?!

I had a look at the Wikipedia page for Mongolian architecture and it seemed to relate primarily to the traditional yurt. Do you have any references/names for contemporary Mongolian architecture/architects? What does 'the' one Mongolian architecture textbook contain? How many of the teachers at the school are actively practicing architecture as well? It is encouraging that you say that many students are interested in continuing to work in Mongolia on graduation rather than move to more lucrative jobs overseas. Nevertheless, I can appreciate how difficult it is to develop a local architectural culture without access to good resources (both global and local) that are accessible both physically and in language. Obviously not a problem that can be 'solved' overnight, but with a long term vision towards this end it seems that at least first positive steps are being taken.

Is there much work that focusses on understanding and documenting the traditional buildings and spatial practices of the Mongolian people? As an aside, there is an excellent organisation in India called the Vastu-Shilpa Foundation built around Balkrishna Doshi's architecture practice in India. They have done an incredible amount of research into local vernacular buildings such as the pols in Ahmedebad as well as investigating in detail the use of space in urban slums through a series of beautifully illustrated books.

I hope we will be able to see more of your work over there when you return through the Words forum at Architects for Peace.

Regards, Ceridwen

Dear Ceridwen

Thanks for your response to the editorial - I will respond here briefly and update the blog. This college started operating in 2004 as a vocational college and skills training centre with help from GTZ (German Agency for Technical Cooperation) and with about six hundred students and forty staff is now working towards producing its first architecture graduates, with four year diplomas. The college is a privately funded one, established with the aim of addressing the undersupply of skilled Mongolian workers in the construction sector. In the case of this partnership, VSO is specifically addressing the vulnerable occupants of Ulaanbaatar’s peri-urban areas (informal settlements), where many people have relocated in the last few years to find urban work after the demise of their rural / herding businesses, due to climate and other factors. Although it will move to emphasise rural centres in future, the work is part the Secure Livehoods programme in Mongolia, which is training and capacity building as part of the ongoing transition from socialism to market capitalism.

Similarities
There are few similarities to Australian curricula. I was familiar with the latter as a lecturer and examiner with the Architects Accreditation Council in Australia (and their National Programme of Assessment – NprA). Here at CTC, there is a ‘foundation studies area’ and theory and practice streams running through the degree; these ostensibly cover areas such as history and culture, building technology and design. As you suggested, the basis is ‘Russian’ insofar as the curriculum model has been adopted apparently unchanged based on what senior teachers studied under the Russian and state system – building engineering - and then filed away out of sight and out of mind at the Ministry of Education. My interest is to encourage ownership of the curriculum among staff in order that they may initiate ongoing processes of curriculum review.

Links
The international links are very limited, even with Russian colleges and universities, although the University of Science and Technology architecture degree has some forms of cooperation with Japan, Korea and Austria. Vienna University of Technology’s faculty for the study of ‘Non-European architectures’ has established some basic cooperation and there have been some staff exchanges in Europe. There appears to be little encouragement from the profession however, beyond the participation of dedicated semi-volunteer architect-academics.

Wikipedia and Research
As mentioned, the English language Wikipedia page is in draft form, but focuses primarily on history and the traditional Ger (Russian – Yurt). Research such as that I saw at B V Doshi’s Vastu-Shilpa Foundation in Ahmedabad on vernacular and informal architecture forms is aspired to by someone like Purev-Erdene Ershuu. Ershuu is chair of the Centre for Architecture and Design Research at the Mongolian University of Science and Technology, and sits on the Mongolian Architects Association steering committee, however despite the support of international NGOs JAICA and KOICA and Professor Erich Lehner’s above mentioned Viennese Institute, he appears to be almost alone in his work. One hopes that the resources can be developed, and that even recent local literature like A. Bat Od’s 2007 “Architecture..”
(Mongolian) will be noticed. The latter book comprises four sections – the first section, drawing, scale, measurement and technical information systems; second section, practice, sources of planning, building elements, and dimensioning standards; thirdly, classifying housing building types, analysed in detail (from Le Corbusier to SOM, Hejduk, Niemeyer, and Bart Prince); and fourthly, energy efficiency and technical details of materials.

Although it cannot be comprehensive, this book in Mongolian is more transparent to me than any of the curriculum notes or hand-written private teaching outlines I have seen here. In my remaining time at the college, it is one of my aims to pursue a process of developing teaching outlines and techniques. Importantly I will aim to inspire interest in the content and delivery of lessons, by our undervalued and underpaid teachers, who often spread their time thinly between teaching and construction.

Regards, Greg

From Urban Acupuncture to the Megapolis

For some time I have been interested in the notion of ‘urban acupuncture’. To my knowledge there is no specific body of literature that defines this concept. It is a term that I first heard used at a conference concerning a design approach for a project in India and I regret to say that I have now forgotten the name of the presenter and the details of project. A few years later I find myself returning to this concept in both my practice and teaching in relation to the design of urban environments. My simple definition of urban acupuncture is a design approach that proposes minimum intervention for maximum gain and focuses on connections and settings of social interaction rather than objects. For me it is very much grounded in earlier seminal works such as Rowe and Koetter’s (1978) ‘Collage City’ and Christopher Alexander’s (1975) ‘The Oregon Experiment’.

Rowe and Koetter position themselves in opposition to the grand vision of the ‘master plan’ arguing, “total design can only mean total control” (1978:283). They believe that a ‘final’ and ‘complete’ solution cannot be identified; everything is conjecture, a hypothesis based on particular value judgments and the available ‘facts’ to hand. The danger is that grand utopian visions of urban planning are presented as value-neutral and ‘true’. They suggest that there is never ‘sufficient information’ available to construct an ideal formulation of the future, but we must still act. Our best course of action is to approach urban design as a form of ‘bricolage’ or the recycling of meanings and forms through multiple and diverse means. Urban design thus requires imperfect and incomplete visions created from within rather than grand visions transplanted from without.

Christopher Alexander also argues that urban design should be conceived as a slow process of evolutionary change rather than as a totalitarian ‘quick fix’. In the ‘Oregon Experiment’ he sets out a series of six principles that comprise a generic approach to urban design as a series of ‘local acts’ based on ‘patterns’ derived from participatory design. The implementation of the design is focussed on principles of ‘piecemeal growth’ and ‘coordination’ combined with a process of ‘diagnosis’ in which the health of the built environment is continually assessed on an annual basis.

Urban acupuncture adopts a similar premise. It seeks out the ‘diseased’ places of high urban capacity and inserts catalytic ‘needles’ to stimulate (not dictate) the development of diverse activity. Teddy Cruz, an architect working in the border towns of San Diego and Tijuana employs the concept in his work to create hybrid programs of community housing and services in under-utilised and leftover pockets of the city. As he describes it, “The goal has been to achieve maximum effect with minimal gestures, to take existing patterns of use as a point of departure, and to develop urban solutions with enough persuasive force to change obsolete planning policy and zoning regulations” (Cruz 2005). One of his projects, ‘Living Rooms at the Border’ for Casa Familiar, a local advocacy group, integrates 12 flexible affordable housing units, a community centre and offices, a productive garden and shared communal space. On a site originally zoned for three housing units, Cruz has negotiated the increased density by framing it as ‘social choreography’ rather than ‘bulk’.

Perhaps the most well known exponent of the concept of urban acupuncture, however, is Jaime Lerner, ex mayor of Curitiba in Brazil. For Lerner, the focus of urban acupuncture is on small-scale interventions that can be undertaken within short time frames, producing an immediate and catalytic effect. Under his leadership, Curitiba saw the implementation of a series of highly successful social, educative and urban infrastructure initiatives, many of which have inspired further initiatives in other cities.

At a recent conference in Melbourne, Eco-Edge 2, the former mayor of Bogota in Columbia, Enrique Penalosa, spoke passionately about the transformation of his city through the implementation of initiatives such as the ‘Transmilenio’ bus service based on the Curitiba model, pedestrian streets and urban greenways. At the same conference a series of speakers discussed the urban transformation of China where the Government plans to construct 400 new cities by 2020. The scale of this urbanisation is unprecedented. As Neville Mars, Director of the Dynamic City Foundation in Beijing, noted, it is equivalent to the construction of Europe within 20 years.

In this context, what models of urban design are appropriate? Do principles of evolution, local acts, piecemeal growth and diagnosis have any place in such situations? Frankly, this physical and temporal scale of urbanisation terrifies me. I have no answers, and yet immediate consideration of this issue seems paramount. The consequences for global sustainability are potentially enormous. Indeed, in answer to the question ‘what is the biggest contribution Australia can make to sustainability?’ posed in a discussion session on Government initiatives at the conference, Peter Davidson of LAB Architects simply stated ‘help China’.

Many of the architects and urban designers speaking at the conference proposed alternatives to the mono-functional thinking and urban sprawl that seems to underpin much of the urbanisation in China. Xuemei Bai, Senior Scientist at CSIRO Sustainable Ecosystems, also noted how the wide-reaching control and influence of the Chinese Government can quickly be turned towards more sustainable practices in a way that is inconceivable in Australia. The interest in environmental initiatives certainly exists as demonstrated by the proposed construction of the world’s first ‘eco-city’ with a zero emission target on an island offshore from Shanghai. Nevertheless, I think the complexities of social sustainability in the city will be harder to come to terms with. As Neville Mars noted, the physical transformation in China is a consequence of an equally fast-paced cultural shift from the ‘collective dream’ of communism to the ‘scattered dream’ of the market. The dreams have barely had time to take root in the mind before they are becoming a physical reality.

Maybe the slow evolutionary process of transformation of these urban environments will take place as the dust begins to settle and the megapolis has been constructed and occupied. New patterns of social networks and spatial practices will emerge and the city will adapt and be adapted to accommodate them. Whether the modern ‘planned’ city is flexible enough to adjust to these shifts is more questionable. Furthermore, the constructed urban fabric will inevitably influence this process of social transformation since both places and people exist in a state of dialectical tension. It seems therefore that some tentative, imperfect and incomplete visions need to be put on the table now.


References

Alexander, C. (1975) The Oregon Experiment, New York, Oxford University Press

Cruz, T. (2005) “Urban acupuncture: a San Diego firm sees new possibilities for healing the housing crisis”, Residential Architect, Jan-Feb 2005. Viewed 05/04/08 at http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m0NTE/is_1_9/ai_n15956823

Rowe, C. & Koetter, F. (1978) Collage City, Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press


Ceridwen Owen

Architects for Peace, April 2008

IDP Camps in East Timor

Those who have followed the fortunes of independent East Timor in the years since its violent separation from Indonesia in 1999 will no doubt have been dismayed by events of the last eighteen months. Tensions within the armed forces escalated into several violent confrontations including the murder of a group of unarmed police by renegade members of the East Timorese army. Civil society all but collapsed. Police disappeared from the streets, schools and universities shut down, entire government departments were deserted, shops were boarded up and the nights were filled with looting and arson. Shocking as these events were in themselves, they gave rise to an even greater calamity as a dramatic rift was opened in Timorese society, splitting communities along ethnic lines and resulting in 100,000 people fleeing into rural areas and makeshift internally displaced person (IDP) camps.

Camps sprang up all over Dili, East Timor’s capital. There was a clear preference for institutions operated by the Catholic Church—schools, convents, seminaries and churches themselves. In one convent school 13,000 people crammed inside the gates each night, sleeping along corridors and porches, under trees and tarpaulins and occupying every conceivable space. Another 10,000 people squeezed into the car park opposite the main United Nations (UN) compound, a camp sheltering many families of Timorese UN staff. In the days following the arrival of Malaysian and Australian peacekeeping forces in late May 2006, informal camps were established wherever facilities were being protected by soldiers. Tens of thousands of people set up temporary shelter in the park across the road from the port, in the grounds of the national hospital and in open fields adjacent to the airport. A month after the commencement of the ‘crisis’ (as the events were known locally), more than 60 camps had been formally registered by the Timorese government.

Conditions within all the camps were very difficult. There was insufficient space; shelter was improvised and inadequate; food was in short supply because all the shops were closed; people were required to carry water; and toilets were generally shared by several hundred people and regularly broke down. A sense of despair accompanied the physical conditions. People were unable to go to work and children were no longer attending school. Those sheltering in camps spent each night in fear of attack by violent gangs and often woke to learn that their house had been burnt or looted. The camps appeared to be such a difficult environment in which to live that those of us supporting the humanitarian response expected them to disperse as rapidly as they had appeared. We expected that restoration of order by the international peacekeepers would facilitate people returning home in a matter of weeks and that all the major camps would be emptied by the onset of the wet season in November. Although most of the smaller camps have now closed, the larger camps have not. Now, eighteen months after they were spontaneously established these camps are firmly entrenched in Dili’s urban landscape.

Several government proposals to close or relocate camps have faltered in the face of complex motivations for families to remain. Humanitarian agencies continue to provide food to registered IDPs encouraging ongoing involvement with IDP camps; government efforts to rebuild homes burnt during the violence have replaced only a small number of the houses lost; ethnic tensions remain in many communities preventing families returning to their homes even if they were not destroyed; and insecurity of title to land discourages many families from carrying out their own rebuilding efforts (most land title records were destroyed in 1999 and their are often disputes over conflicting Portuguese and Indonesian era titles). The camps present a seemingly intractable problem for the government and it would not be surprising to see people living in tents in the hospital grounds or in the park across the road from the port a generation from now.

From an outsider’s perspective (in my case, that of a foreign humanitarian assistance worker) the camps appear such depressing and unpleasant places to live that one might expect them to have closed long ago without any government prompting. I worked with Oxfam in a dozen of the camps for several months, helping to improve access to water and sanitation, so I knew the physical condition in many camps well. I worked extensively with Timorese camp managers and liaison staff and so also knew something of the management and political structures in operation. I had never spent the night in an IDP camp, however, nor visited one socially so I knew next to nothing of how a resident might view their life there.

An Australian colleague provided me with an insight into the residents’ point of view. She lived with a Timorese family in the Metinaro IDP camp for several days at a time and invited me for a visit. Her host family’s house in Dili had been destroyed and they had built a small palm-leaf hut in the Metinaro camp along with thousands of other families. The roof and walls were constructed from woven palm leaves and the floor was compacted earth. In contrast to nearby Dili, there was no electricity or running water. Up to ten people lived in the family’s two small rooms. When I arrived I was welcomed in and offered coffee. Chairs were improvised from up-turned tins, formerly full of UN-funded protein biscuits. As we drank our coffee and chatted away, life for this family went on around us and they explained why they remained in the Metinaro camp rather than return to Dili. A friend had offered them accommodation in a spare house in Dili but the family was unsure how they might be received in the neighbourhood. Having had their house and possessions destroyed in 1999 and then again in 2006, they were very reluctant to put at risk the few things they had managed to save or acquire again. They also noted that it had been expensive to buy the palm leaves used to build their hut in the IDP camp. They felt they had built up a stake in the camp that they didn’t want to walk out on. I was surprised to see the family living reasonably happily in what I had thought were the wretched condition in the Metinaro IDP camp. It had been difficult to see past my urban Australian perceptions of ‘home’ and understand why this family might choose to crowd into the dirt-floored, windswept, palm leaf hut instead of the modest comfort of their friend’s house in Dili. My visits to IDP camps to ‘help’ people had not provided me with any insight. Only by visiting the camp residents socially, on their terms, had I began to understand why people might chose to remain in the camp.

My Australian colleague has been living in remote parts of East Timor for several years. As in the Metinaro IDP camp, this often requires living in close quarters with a family, sharing a bed with two or three others, living without a toilet, running water and electricity—all the things that those of us living in places like urban Australia might consider basic necessities. Despite that, she says that she feels better/happier/more at ease/more connected living in close communities in East Timor than she does at home in Sydney or Melbourne. As we discussed this concept, we struggled to find just the right adjective for the quality of life she experienced. I might have chosen ‘more at peace’—peace in a broad sense and entirely relevant to those of us at Architects for Peace. The built environment in the Metinaro IDP camp is an important element in providing ‘peace’ for the families still living there. Not for what it so clearly lacks—running water, electricity, roads, sanitation, services—but for what it boasts—security, ownership, self reliance, opportunities for hospitality. This experience demonstrated that for those of us looking to build peace, and not just structures, there are lessons to be learnt and experience to be drawn upon wherever people are living.


Matthew Bond
Architects for Peace, March 2008

"What's War/Peace - Construction/Destruction got to do with Architecture?"

"What's War/Peace - Construction/Destruction got to do with Architecture?"
Watch any news channel or listen to any news station you will find floods of issues and concerns that refer to human-made destruction caused by conflict and war. Architects and Urbanists seem to join the public in just watching or listening…! Can they have a say? I doubt it. Can they intervene? I am not sure! Can they play a positive role? I hope they do!

This editorial is deeply rooted in the mission of Architects for Peace that simply involves the promotion of peace from architectural, cross-cultural, sociopolitical and socio-economic perspectives. While it might be seen as an article more than an editorial, it attempts to consolidate a number of issues typically oversimplified by the global professional community. In very recent discussions, however, the issues of War, Peace, Destruction, Post War Recovery and their correlation to architecture and urbanism are starting to gain momentum toward shaping a new body of theories or cases on destruction and their underlying applications in terms of recovery efforts. While this is not new, it indicates that architects and planners have important roles to play in this context. Here, I reflect on such a relationship within the scope of some selected writings.

Is Destruction Needed?
The history of architecture and urbanism tells us much about how to design and erect buildings; it typically exhibits the way in which specific cultures lived, expressed their identity, and mediated their environment. However, if we blindly and slavishly followed its basic assumptions, there would be such a huge number of temples, mosques, churches, houses, and all types of buildings that it would be almost impossible to find a place for one more building on earth after millions of years of building buildings and of accumulation of civilizations. In recent years, a new assumption is emerging to shape some new understanding that is "that history of architecture should involve the destruction of buildings as it involves the building of buildings." Some argue that building requires a preceding incident of destruction, a spatial void without which it would not be possible to build new buildings. Interrogating this assumption might be an exhaustive task that needs in-depth investigation.

The Syndrome of Celebrating Destruction!
The preceding assumption goes along the recent issue of VOLUME magazine, where issues of migration and displacement, ‘warchitecture’ and ‘post-warchitecture’, 'counter-heritage', 'cultural interventions' and 'post-conflict reconstruction' strategies are debated. On the basis of what is displayed in terms of construction efforts in different cities such as Kosovo and the southern part of Beirut one would infer that such an assumption is tested and proven valid as Ole Bouman in the introductory statement of VOLUME puts it "…there is a strong correlation between destruction—the unbuilding of cities—and the construction of buildings." Strikingly, Bouman introduces the issue by saying that "…Volume explores the less discussed creative sides of destruction, a realm where architecture and design play an important part…" Here one would wonder if destruction has a creative side, and in what terms. While this issue of VOLUME addresses reconstruction efforts …again one would wonder why destruction is emphasized. And why don't we say 'creative reconstruction efforts.'… Is this for marketability or publicity purposes? Or is it meant just for introducing a new term or buzzword that increases the confusion of the public on the value of architecture and of what architects do? It is bothering to see how the term 'destruction' is ‘celebrated' and very irritating to see its mere acceptance as the 'price of progress.'

Is this 'price of progress' a new face of an old coin? In the wake of the industrial revolution, humankind developed destruction tools and techniques in parallel to the development of different means of industrial production, transportation, simply for progress, civility, and for raising living standards. True, the result was a new way of life. Sadly, it had its severe negatives because while industrial workers lived and died in poor conditions, mines, and slums, the political elite prospered...lived and died in palaces. Many countries were not satisfied with their own growth and needed more resources…, in the process of satisfying those needs…wars were a deterministic result…some were escalated to world wars while others were regional or local. In all cases, architecture…the ultimate form of human material culture was the victim, apart from the sad reality… the loss of millions of lives.

The current claim that societies are now more civilized led to accepting the preceding facts as part of our daily discourses is surely believable. Yet, celebrating 'destruction' leads one to confidently say that many are enticed by the ethics and aesthetics of destruction as a source of regeneration and inspiration, while the enduring values of human culture are oversimplified. And so, the basic fact that human civilization has evolved over time is forgotten and under the slogans of progress, wealth, advancement, quality of life… you name it, many traditional towns are destroyed, many cities are losing their identity, and environments are continuously damaged/degraded. These are not necessarily the results of wars, but of human actions and choices, in essence—of violent actions against architecture and cities' built form. This is not all — the tale of human evolution is being interpreted by many as a deterministic violent history without which human race cannot progress. However, some hopes exist where anthropological research shows that human evolution has essentially to do with creative, constructive, and peaceful activities. In this respect, I refer to the great Arab historian—Ibn Khaldun—the founder of urban sociology—who says "History is the story of human achievements in construction."

A word of caution arises in this context as wars and conflicts involve not only destruction but building too… nevertheless, not all building acts are positive. This is manifested by highway blocks, fences to segregate, isolate, contain… Perhaps East-West Beirut blocks, Bosnia-Serbia-Croatia blocked borders, the segregation wall between Palestinian Territories and Israel, the famous Berlin wall, and even the walls enclosing gated communities around the globe, those are all negative building acts. Robert Frost, the American Poet, in his famous Poem: Mending Wall reminds us of offensive building acts when he says: Before I built a wall I'd ask to know... What I was walling in or walling out... And to whom I was like to give offence.

Wars and Architecture/Reconstruction: 6 Decades of Efforts and Discourses
Reflecting on some correlations between wars and architecture, I refer to three publications that have received very little attention, if any at all. They—while remarkably delineating the amount of reconstruction efforts that have taken and are now taking place around the globe—dramatically indicate a strong correlation between the acts of wars and violence and the acts of building and reconstruction. Notably, while these three publications were developed over a little more than a decade ago, it is evident that they reflect reconstruction efforts since the end of the WWII.

An important publication titled: Reconstruction of War-Torn Cities, edited by Jad Tabet was a result of an international conference organized jointly by the Order of Engineers and Architects in Lebanon and the UIA-International Union of Architects, and took place in 1997. Reconstruction of War Torn Cities encompasses a considerable number of articles that analyze and debate different experiments and experiences in reconstructing cities and villages. Evidently, the correlation of war and architecture is not new, as exhibited in those articles that articulate the experiences of rebuilding London, French cities, Russian cities, and Warsaw after WWII. Other articles delineate that such a correlation was sustained over the past sixty years, those that address reconstruction efforts in Vietnam, the Greek part of Cyprus during mid 1970s and Mostar and Kampala/Uganda during the late 1990s. A common feature in all cases is that all of these efforts are basically preceded by colonial or civil wars.

Another important publication is entitled At War with the City, edited by Paola Somma, 2004. This book assembles a collection of essays that investigate the relationship between war and the city in a comprehensive manner. It goes beyond the case study logic and aims at improving planners’ and designers’ ability to look at and interpret different reconstruction scenarios. Presenting reconstruction as a sociopolitical planning activity, several planning schemes are presented with reference to the economic and social contexts within which they are developed. Notably, reconstruction of Saigon south is linked to emerging new housing typologies; the reconstruction of Sarajevo's Town Hall and library is linked to issues that pertain to memory and identity; the metaphor of looking at Beirut as 'Hearth' is questioned; the strategic urban planning of the Gaza strip is analyzed within the limits of blocked roads; Fragmentation, commodification, and reintegration, are socio-physical aspects explored within the scope of reconstruction efforts in South Africa, Mozambique, and Rwanda. Again, this round of articles in At War with the City, which is published seven years after Reconstruction of War Torn Cities, corroborates that there is a sustained interest in investigating the relationship between war and architecture/reconstruction.

Addressing the specific case of Kabul, Babar Mumtaz and Kaj Noschis have co-edited the seminar book of proceedings on 'Development of Kabul: Reconstruction and Planning Issues.' The book addresses how decisions about housing, transportation, and infrastructure needs are made in an ad-hoc and urgent manner. Discussing the necessity of a consolidated urban planning approach toward the development of the city led to the belief that a typical master planning approach seems not to be favored by the majority of the contributors to the book. The editors argue that the idea of a general Master Plan seemed too much "a reminder of planning practices issued from offices that do not dare nor want to be in contact with the realities of a fast-moving urban fabric such as that of Kabul today." The existing Master Plan of Kabul-developed by the Russians during and after the Soviet Union’s Invasion of Afghanistan has a somewhat ambiguous status, but is currently utilized by the Municipality in considering building permissions and spatial decisions.

Some Lessons Learned – Issues for Continuous Investigation
In light of the above three publications some important issues arise in connection to the roles architects, urbanists and planners could play; some can be looked at in terms of open-ended questions that truly need continuous investigation, while others may allow us to openly debate the re-construction delivery after catastrophes. I briefly reflect in the following context on four major issues.

The first issue concerns itself with 'constructing' and 're-constructing.' Should we reconstruct a destroyed city exactly as it was in order to keep its image in the memory of its inhabitants? Should we build a better environment conceived on the basis of new planning standards? There are specific choices that can be addressed in practical terms. For example: whether to preserve the traces of old transportation routes and land parcels or develop new ones more suited to a city's developmental needs. These choices are often dictated by the pressure of events, urgency or the pace of development. They can be governed by reference to specific urban models, value systems, or cultural codes that reflect the general interest and the prevailing social conditions.

Another issue pertains to the element of utopianism inherited in mass reconstruction of cities. Can we still see destruction caused by war, violence or conflicts as an opportunity that enables new aesthetic values or planning standards to emerge? If we have to preserve the memory of the past of a city, which past should we refer to? In this respect, one may assert that many of the destroyed cities represent an accumulation of different historical eras. The third issue is a terminology related one. Reconstruction can be seen as an ambiguous term which Paola Somma sees as a pretext for struggle and the settlement of scores between local power bases. As well, one would add, it can be manipulated by external interests that typically ignore the needs of those who are most seriously affected, or address them only superficially. In many cases, such interests deal with reconstruction as an exercise in financial techniques utilizing cost/benefit analysis methods.

The fourth issue is social in nature where, after wars, emphasis is placed upon reconstructing the physical environment. However, the transition from the state of war to that of peace involves political, social, economic and cultural processes. Here, the question of whether reconstruction is just getting society—as it was before the war—going again. How are the upheavals of social disorder caused by war perceived? Underlying this issue 'participation' comes in as a determining factor in healing the social organization, creating dialogue between different actors: politicians, decision makers, architects and planners, and the people they are to serve typically in an urgent manner.

Warchitecture! Theorizing War and Architecture
Evidently, the six decades of debating war recovery construction efforts addressed cases, experiments and experiences, and practical solutions; recently however, the relationship between war and architecture is theorized. In a very recent article entitled "Warchitectural Theory" by Andrew Herscher an attempt is made to introduce a new term 'Warchitecture' where such a relationship is addressed in theoretical terms. In drawing relationships between war, architecture, and culture, Herscher states that "The foundational opposition organizing most discourse on war and architecture is that between violence and culture. Before it is targeted by violence, architecture is located within the domain of culture…violence, by contrast tends to be located outside the domain of culture and defined as a phenomenon that destroys that culture…" Perhaps, this reminds us of what happened and still is happening in Iraq where destruction of cultural artifacts is manifested as a result of sectarian conflict produced by war. One would refer here to architecture as a cultural index that takes different forms in different civilizations and political settings. Again, how to protect that index from destruction is in essence a crucial question. Herscher ends his article by suggesting that warchitectural theory accommodates the work of those actors called architects and the product of those activities called constructive, and the range of actors and processes involved with architecture. By this only we "…can do justice to the social facts that could or should concern us."

Final Word
In closing, I argue that wars followed by immediate recovery construction efforts have a lot to do with architecture. Going beyond the very physical world, there are multiple roles architects and planners could play, including mediation, interpretation, and collective decision making on reconstructing war-torn cities. The questions of war and peace, social equity and disruptive justice in war-torn countries should not be seen as abstract concerns anymore. It is not about seizing business opportunities, it is not about seeking opportunities for establishing new sets of planning standards, it is not about introducing new physical masks for expressing power, it is not about establishing means for covering up the harsh realities of inequity and injustice that plague war-torn societies. It is simply about healing the processes of human, societal, and cultural evolution.

Ashraf M. Salama
Architects for Peace, February 2008


Notes

1. My reflection here is partly based on two visits, the first was to Beirut in November 1999 to speak at a regional conference on Recent Architectural Trends in Societies in Change organized by the AUB-American University of Beirut, and the second was to Bosnia and Herzegovina in October 2000 to take part in the International Jury of the UN/UIA Urban Planning Competition on Revitalization of Sarajevo. As well, recent responsive publications on the topic are utilized where indicated in the text.
2. Please refer to these sites for a complete table of contents of VOLUME titled "Un-built Cities" April 2007
http://www.archis.org/email/newsletter_Volume11apr07.html
http://www.archis.org/volume/Volume+%2311/?id=4
3. Ibn Khaldun on Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ibn_Khaldun
4. Tabet, J. (ed.) (1997). Reconstruction of War Torn Cities, UIA and the Order of Engineers and Architects, Beirut, Lebanon.
5. Somma, P. (ed.) (2004). At War with the City. The Urban International Press, Gateshead, UK.
6. Mumtaz, B. and Noschis, K (eds.) (2004). Development of Kabul: Reconstruction and Planning Issues. Comportements, Lausanne, Switzerland.
7. Herscher, A. (2008). Warchitectural Theory, Journal of Architectural Education, Vol. 61 (1), pp. 35-43.