There is an indispensable connection between architecture, war and memory.
Memory is defined as, “the ability to acquire, process, store and retain information.” It is indispensable for learning, adaptation and survival. It is also what ties us to our sense of place, our cultures and where we come from. The term Genius loci, “the spirit of the place” was used by the Romans and the geographically/architectural concept of a “sense of place” both refer to the experiential and expressive aspects through which we perceive and interact with different locations. Architecture itself significantly contributes to the creation of a sense of place. As Hannah Arendt argues, “the reality and reliability of the human world rests primarily on the fact that we are surrounded by things more permanent that the activity by which they were produced.” The destruction of one’s environment, therefore, can lead to the loss of one’s collective memory and consequently have a disorienting effect on one’s life and connection to a place.
Throughout history, the destruction of architecture has accompanied the triumph of one civilization over another, as a form of oppression, or resulted from deliberate attacks on buildings and cities. These attacks have symbolic power in their own right, which is why strikes against them have been favored by terrorists when there is no direct military gain. The impact of September 11th stands as a personal testament. The twin towers not only symbolized New York City, but also represented the economic position of the United States. Their collapse had an immediate and profound effect on both the American and global psyche. Similar attacks on places of collective importance have occurred worldwide.
“The belief that the destruction of the physical fabric – as distinct from human lives – has the capacity to demoralize is immensely strong.”
During WWII, carpet bombing campaigns were extensively carried out by both the Allied and Axis powers on cultural and civilian centers aimed to undermine citizens’ morale, and shatter their resilience. In Syria and Iraq, many of its ancient structures were deliberately demolished by ISIS as part of their campaign to erase pre-Islamic history. In Tibet, countless monasteries and traditional Tibetan homes and buildings have been demolished in a forced attempt to exert control over Tibetan culture and identity. The built environment and our architectural heritage is intricately connected. Architecture is the tangible expressions of a culture’s values, beliefs, traditions and way of life.The process of rebuilding after destruction due to war or attacks raises complex questions.
How do we rebuild after that which has been destroyed?
In the case of the World Trade Center, a new tower was rebuilt as a symbol of hope for the future, while its height of 1,776 feet serves as a historical tribute and remembrance of the past. The two lost buildings’ footprints were transformed into a memorial, preserving the memory of the event and the lives that were lost. Like phantom limbs, we can imagine the towers as they once stood, yet their absence remains as an enduring presence. “How much to commemorate and remember and how much needs to be forgiven and forgotten?” “Memory and forgetting are roped together forever; rebuilding whether carried out by perpetrators or their victims, can also serve to mask the past: erase the gaps, the voids, the rumination that bear witness to history.”
How does one rebuild?
What should be rebuilt?
Do you rebuild as once was?
Is rebuilding necessary?
There are no easy answers, and the choices made will reverberate through generations, influencing what endures in collective memory and what is forgotten.
These questions are ones that I hope to explore while I work on my thesis for the next year.
*all quoted material is cited from the book The Destruction of Memory: Architecture at War by Robert Bevan
Very interesting