Archaeology and Heritage
This chapter introduces the three major case studies in the book – Aleppo, Mosul and Tadmor-Palmyra – and examines the narratives we have created about destruction relating to these places, both in the deeper past and the present. I show that some of our narratives around destruction and change in the past relating to Aleppo and Mosul often do not take full account of the impact these would have had on those living with those changes. Instead, we seem to hide those impacts behind an emphasis on continuity and longevity. In the case of Tadmor-Palmyra, however, we see a rather different situation where the trope of destruction seems to have stuck to the city, even when the archaeological evidence seems to point to other kinds of change. In the accounts of what happened to Mosul, Aleppo and Tadmor-Palmyra from 2011 onwards, I tease out the different trajectories of the conflicts in these places and the modes and motivations for cultural heritage destruction. These add nuance to the kinds of ‘bad guys v good guys’ narratives that we often see in the media and instead show the complexity of what happened to the people and cultural heritage of these places.
Here we look at a range of different architectural approaches to the issue of cultural heritage destroyed in conflict and examine how these both seem to fetishize the past and can develop overly prescriptive approaches that are built on Western scientific knowledge production. I provide a deep-dive into the architectural competition run through UNESCO to rebuild al-Nuri Mosque in Mosul. I show that there was potential for this competition to have been more beneficial to the people of Mosul that might have imbued the project with the collaborative spirit that would ensure its success and the complex’s (re)incorporation into the daily lives of Moslawis. Here the master’s tools have decidedly not been successful in dismantling the master’s house. Some of the unsuccessful competition entries, however, demonstrated much-needed creativity and vibrancy, together with collaborative care and attention towards local communities and stakeholders. These included consideration of pressing climate issues, wellbeing and memory.
Here we look at various creative responses in visual media to issues around the ownership, destruction and reconstruction of cultural heritage in Iraq and Syria. In all cases the artists have responded with sensitivity and humility, always considering how their works relate to the people and communities in Syria and Iraq. They take up activist positions to probe more deeply into the histories and complex networks of relationships that have wrapped themselves around both Syrian and Iraqi cultural heritage. They demonstrate powerfully how ghosts can work in practice to destabilise and challenge the status quo. In so doing, the works looked at in this chapter frequently point to ways of conceptualising heritage reconstruction that may be more beneficial long-term to the needs and wellbeing of Syrians and Iraqis, wherever they may currently be living their lives.
This chapter is an opportunity to explore some of the potential reasons behind the knee-jerk responses to demands for reconstruction that may be rooted in misplaced assumptions around the fixedness and unchanging nature of our built environment. I argue that reconstructions that leave no space for demonstrating that change has happened may be akin to zombies. By refusing to acknowledge change, however painful, such projects may, albeit unwittingly, be entrenching trauma responses and feeding into repressed memories. The author proposes instead that we take a two-pronged approach. First, we need to pay more attention to the research into PTSD and traumatic memory to help us find solutions that are grounded in proven practices of recovery from trauma. Second, the author offers the metaphor of ghosts to give us the conceptual space in which to pause, reflect and process before moving headlong into solutions that may do more harm than good.
What should we do with heritage damaged in conflict? Instead of succumbing to the tempting response of ‘reconstruct it, just as it was!’, British Iraqi archaeologist, Dr Zena Kamash, invites readers to think first and foremost about what might be most beneficial to the local communities of Syria and Iraq. Charting a path through the colonial histories of, and into the trauma of war in, Syria and Iraq, this book examines the projects and responses currently on offer and explores their flaws and limitations, including issues of digital colonialism, technological solutionism, geopolitical manoeuvring, media bias and community exclusion. By drawing on current research into the psychology and neuroscience of trauma and trauma recovery, as well as inspiration from artists and creative thinkers who challenge the status quo, readers are encouraged to reflect on how we might use heritage to promote healing and wellbeing for Syrian and Iraqi communities. In so doing, this book asks us to envisage gentler, ethically driven ways to respond to heritage damaged in conflict that recentres people, and their hopes, dreams and needs, into the heart of these debates.
The chapter starts with a reflection on the author’s positionality, especially as a British Iraq archaeologist, and how this influences key themes that run through the book regarding who heritage reconstruction is for, the limits of heritage reconstruction, heritage preservation and consensus seeking. This chapter includes several reflections that may seem provocative, perhaps even heretical, to a reader who has been digesting a Western preservationist paradigm most of their life. The author invites readers to reflect on their own positionality and how they are responding to the ideas presented here. The chapter ends with an overview of the histories of colonialism, Orientalism and nationalism as they relate to cultural heritage in Syria and Iraq.
In this chapter we look at heritage reconstruction projects from a range of different sizes and budgets that have been proposed for Aleppo, Mosul and Tadmor-Palmyra, and explore the biases inherent in the proliferation of projects around Tadmor-Palmyra. The motivations behind these projects varies as does the quality of the outputs. Common issues in nearly all the projects looked at here are: the privileging of Western, scientific forms of knowledge and technology, leading to technological solutionism coupled with digital colonialism; a lack of local agency; confusion over making available versus making accessible with particular problems around language provision and digital inequalities; and issues around how funding is deployed. In amongst these, however, there are also some glimmers of good practice that focus on ethics, local inclusion and sustainable approaches to heritage reconstruction. These begin to give us hints at alternative modes of practice that we will look at in more depth later in the book.
In this chapter we explore a selection of community-driven projects and consider how these co-created projects might bring about feelings of hopefulness, self- and collective-efficacy and wellbeing in ways that are more powerful than a standalone reconstruction. Where tech is being used, we can see that it is possible to use it in ways that do not fall prey to assumptions of technological solutionism and that can be driven by ethical practice and the needs of the communities involved. Projects such as these give me hope that a different way is possible, one that will use cultural heritage creatively and meaningfully to promote peace, repair social bonds, develop respect and understanding, move on from past hurts in ways that are healthy, and help people build thriving lives that feel safe, hopeful and dynamic. The book ends with a series of recommendations and guidelines about heritage reconstruction, including outlining a consensus process to ensure that any projects meet the needs, wishes and hopes of local communities.
In this chapter we analyse the biases that are visible in the media attention towards certain places, especially Tadmor-Palmyra and demonstrate how narratives have been selectively manipulated to tell very particular stories about the conflicts in Syria and Iraq and their impacts on cultural heritage. Looking in depth at some of the media narratives and the imagery that accompanies them reveals that some of those narratives are driven by wider geopolitical agendas and propaganda machines. Overall, there is a general lack of care being paid to the people affected in these conflicts and, by extension, how heritage reconstruction might support those people as they work towards healing.
The Hill Fight of the Korean War constitutes an important chapter of the formative military conflict of the mid-twentieth century where the South Korean and other UN forces confronted the Chinese and North Korean forces. Currently, it has become a vital site of contested memory, especially in relation to the growing contest of power between the United States and the People’s Republic of China. Describing South Korea’s recent initiative of missing in action (MIA)/killed in action (KIA) accounting activities on these old battlegrounds since 2000, this article looks at how public actions concerning the remains of war are intertwined with changing geopolitical conditions. This will be followed by a reflection on the limits of the prevailing art and technology of war-remains accounting.