Introduction

Over the past decades we have watched the widespread destruction of conflicts slowly move into the urban environment. The wars -which for many centuries were fought on fields located miles from any settlements- now appear on the streets of cities as residents watch buildings, monuments and spaces become as much targets as those structures holding the weapons. Thus, in the wake of these urbanised conflicts, the extent of the impact includes as much the cities and towns, left unable to function, as the human casualties and the

survivors, for whom the urban landscape needs rebuilding.

The immediate, and most obvious, reaction to this occurrence is to attempt to develop a plan for reconstruction as soon as the conflict subsides. This often follows an innate desire to see the return of homes which Sultan Bakarat identifies in determining the two basic needs for human recovery following conflict. These are: • To reaffirm a sense of identity and,

• To regain control over one’s life.

How though can the residents, the people of a nation, expect to find a sense of identity when a reconstructed city is returned to them unchanged, after years of war, when they themselves have changed so much? Therefore, this work intends to explore the notion that for Aleppo, one of the oldest cities in the world, and currently amidst the Syrian, reconstruction is neither the best nor the only option for approaching this war-torn city.

For the past five years, Aleppo has been at the centre of the Rebel/Syrian Army conflict with the division running through the old city (Fig.2). As these frontlines have moved over the years, the whole city has been engulfed with much of the city’s infrastructure now under the Syrian Army’s control (South Front, 2015) and little domestic architecture left untouched. This has resulted in the mass migration of residents from both Aleppo, and Syria, with many reportedly selling their properties to fund their movement into Europe. With the news that 52% of those questioned in the 2015 survey of refugees by the Berlin Social Science Centre, would not return to Syria whilst Assad is in power, the question for the future of Aleppo is, who will return and what will they return to? (Pasha, 2015)

Moreover, it is important to remember that if, and when, these refugees do return to the city, they will likely be subject to the severe class and religious divisions further dividing

Figure 2: Map of the current situation in Aleppo as of February (2016). Red represents the Syrian Army, green the Rebel forces and yellow the Kurds. (2016)

Figure 3: Map of road blocks in and around the city of Aleppo that change as frontiers move. (2013)

6 the city. Whilst the student uprising of 2011, quickly transformed into rebels factions, -supported by many of the working class- attacking the Syrian Army -supported by middle class groups- the escalation of the conflict, and the involvement of other parties, including the Kurds, Iranians situated in Northern Syria, and ISIS, the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria, has seen the growing division of Sunni and Shia Islamic sects. Furthermore, whilst inter-state conflicts often end with national unification against the opposition, the intra-state nature of the Syrian conflict will, most likely, leave the nation affected by social, ethnic and religious tensions extending far beyond the end of any gunfire. Therefore those looking to help rebuild this nation need to be watching for a lull in the fight -rather than the unguaranteed end of the war- to begin their work.

Moreover, it was only in 2007 that the Aga Khan Trust for Culture, a group of private, international and non-denominational development organisations, finished 5 years of extensive restoration work in Aleppo. With the considerable cost of that project and the projected cost of reconstructing the city estimated to be in ‘$100 billion’ (Cambanis, 2015) is the restoration of the city a feasible option, or can, as Layton suggests, the establishment of Bakarat’s identity be grounded in a more modernist drive towards the future (Layton, Stone, & Thomas, 2011). This places emphasis on the process of reconstruction more than the final result. (Gamboni, 1997)

Whilst most of the damage to the infrastructure and everyday architecture of Aleppo is a result of the ongoing conflict, during 2014 the iconoclastic terrorists of ISIS were responsible for the intentional destruction of 27 ‘key structures and locations’ deemed to be heritage sites in Aleppo, and the damage of a further 113, including ‘great damage’ to the ancient citadel of Aleppo (Unitar, 2015). In 1944 Raphael Lemkin proposed the notion of ‘Cultural genocide’, describing the deliberate destruction of a culture’s objects as an attempt to ‘liquidate’ that culture by implementing a ‘year zero,’ where the intangible memories of the people have no tangible object on which to attach themselves. However, Adrian Forty states that ‘memories in the mind [cannot] be transferred to solid material objects’ (Forty, 1999) and that the built environment is but a prompt for a community’s memories. As such, even the smallest alteration can affect what is recalled. Therefore a city does not need to be destroyed for a community to forget their attachment to it, it simply has to change at a pace faster than the creation of new memories. As such, Bevan is pertinent in suggesting that ‘the destiny of [a group’s] representative architecture is an excellent indicator of whether

genocidal intent is present’ (Bevan, 2006), one of the many reasons why the actions of ISIS are now considered to be war-crimes. However, this intentional destruction of culture

heightens the awareness of a community’s associations with the built environment, and often the destruction of ‘structures of signification’ and ‘systems of symbols’ (Geertz, 1993) does not cause the ‘nation to forget what it is and what is was’ (Kundera & Hubl, 1979) but rather an ‘intensification of allegiance to the group reflecting a desire for preservation’ (Bevan, 2006), with many post-conflict communities seeing the revival and creation of old and new cultural traditions.

The decision to study Aleppo enables an interrogation of these associations within the present period assessing whether the historic processes that have been in practice within the post-conflict periods of other cities are in anyway relevant to Aleppo’s needs today. This will also work hard to examine Bevan’s damning statement that ‘restoring architecture can never resolve conflict’ thus helping to critique the common belief among many aid organisations, at least until the mid-2000’s, that ‘Culture Must Wait’, demonstrating that, not only can architecture help to temper unresolved altercations, but that the process of rebuilding a city can, itself, be a healing exercise.

The collective work of humanity, since at least the Agricultural Revolution twelve thousand years ago has been to surround ourselves with things more permanent than the activity by which they were produced so that the next generation may remember where they came from (Arendt, 1998). However, will the people of Aleppo, if they return when the conflict subsides, want to remember what they are and what they were? And despite the withdrawal of Russian forces earlier this year, with no end in sight for the conflict, it is near-impossible to understand the situation on a first hand basis. So is there anything we can say?

The analysis of each of the following three historic precedents allows a critical consideration of what has been done in the past, highlighting the major issues considered relevant in post-World War II reconstruction and that may be considered relevant today in Syria. For this, only time will tell. But in the meantime, many different groups are thinking about what measures could be taken for reconstruction.1 In this limbo – of seeing the city of Aleppo destroyed, knowing that reconstruction will need to play a major part in its future, but also looking at a world that looks increasingly to the private sector and its

1 The parties include organisations such as UNESCO and the World Bank, but also extends to countries such as France, Spain and Italy who have suggested expanding their programs from Lebanon into Syria. There are also innumerous private organisations.

8 accompanying financial gain – it is worth analysing the successes and failures of previous post-war reconstruction, and then to consider to what extent they might be used in Aleppo? The Old Town of Warsaw in 1945-1950 is the first obvious example, exploring the relevance of exact reconstruction in a post-conflict scenario, particularly with regard to the issues of memory. Such concerns will play a pertinent role in the consideration of Aleppo’s future, noting its proximity to the recent reconstruction work by the Aga Khan trust. The case of Mostar after the civil war in the former Yugoslavia (1992-1995) cites the importance of community involvement, especially if the international community has a role in rebuilding a city, and with little access on the ground currently in Syria, this study is more than worthwhile. And finally, downtown Beirut, rebuilt as the Solidere project after the Lebanon Civil War (1975-1990) warns of the issues surrounding privatisation and development, especially potent as Syrians raise funds to emigrate by selling their homes, most commonly, to developers. (BBC, 2015)