Chorus discussants: Sarah Baker, Mark Stokely, Lolly Lim, Lisa Donovan, Alexandria Hartley

Sarah Baker: The idea of "Neutral Space" was one that jumped out at me from these readings. The Kabbani reading addressed neutrality in two ways. The first was the notion that any designs for post-war public spaces - especially those located on the former "No Man's Land" or "green lines" - should strive to be neutral designs. The author's contention is that by creating neutral spaces, all sides of the conflict will be able to use that space and that it will be a healing place for celebrating both unity and diversity. I was really bothered by this contention. It seems that creating neutral spaces could be the most dangerous thing to do in a post-war environment. Any neutral space that is unclaimed by a subgroup, will be essentially 'up for grabs' due to leftover feelings of sectarianism from the war. Many subgroups might have a claim over this space, and leaving it as a public space could lead to more violence. In other words, equally strong feelings from two or more sides do not cancel each other out to create a neutral place, but they do create a conflicted, and potentially dangerous place.

The second time neutrality came up was with regards to creating appropriate monuments and reconstructing urban fabrics in the midst of old urban battle lines. The author blamed the government for failing to identify appropriate symbols that represented the Lebanese people as a whole. He laments the "neutral geometrical shapes" that have dominated the rebuilding process. These styles are neutral, in that they don't use or promote symbols or styles that are particular to any one faction, but, the author contends, they don't really say anything at all. They also replaced archaeological monuments that once represented all Lebanese. It seems like the movement towards neutral architecture suggests that no one knows quite what to do with architecture after just a physically and socially destructive conflict. Returning to the old symbols doesn't seem like an option, as the country has been changed permanently, but finding new symbols is a difficult and extremely delicate task.

How does one create neutral, non-divisive architecture that still says something about the culture, land and history in which it exists?

Mark Stokely: While doing these readings I was confronted with a question that I’ve been wrestling with most of this semester. That is, who is in the collective that is involved with collective memory? If collective memory is a memory of a group, how is this group defined? Formed? Or are there even any boundaries to these groups. I’m actually pretty excited to end the semester on the topic of Beirut because I feel like these questions I’ve been thinking manifests themselves in this conflict.

Makdisi starts out by discussing the sudden end of Lebanese history in 1946 and problems arising in trying to write a new history. With all the various factions given a voice in deciding the history, and more importantly a veto power, the new history is very short. This conflict in trying to decide a collective memory is similar to the causes of the civil war itself, these conflicting identities. It’s clear that these groups can not form a collective memory.

In Dahdah’s reading, the question of the identity of Beirut comes up in a different way, but still deals with the question of collective memory. He asks, “What constitutes ‘ancient Beirut’ and what is great about its ancientness that must be projected into its future?” He brings up this though in a discussion on the identity of a city in an aesthetic nature, explaining the difference between Ruskin’s urban “fabrics” and Sitte’s design principles. My questions, in relation to Dahdah’s, is how are these “fabrics” of principles created and who creates them? If these many factions accept these fabrics, how do they at the same time sustain completely different memories?

I think my questions are summed up best in “On Collective Memory, Central Space and National Identity.” The author asks, “How much –and what- of the past needs to be retained or restored? By whom and for whom?” I guess my final thought is, if a collective memory is made up by a collective of people, how do you define this group, or is it even possible to do so?

Posted at Apr 22/2009 10:48PM:
Alex H: Looking at what Mark said, about who creates the collective memory, defining the group and if it is possible, my instinct reaction, especially after reading the Makdisi article is no. We make jokes that history is written by the victors, and all books conflict each other, maybe not in the academia world in grammar school and such, but definitely in printed articles and literature. thsi is because poeple have different opinions, and will never agree. So the thought that the Lebanese were going to have representatives from different groups of the country come together and write a history "collectively" comes to prove that people will never agree on how to look at the past, especially if collaborating on how the entire country/world will then perceive that history. so i agree that when the "wound is still soft," you will never be able to objectively create a collective memory.

In the "spaces of post war beirut," the idea was talked about the Garden of Forgiveness, and vision created by Alexandra Asseily. thsi idea of hers was to create a space open to all, not being "clouded" by politics, hate, religion, etc. and to "reconnect with their collective city memory," and become a hybrid city once again. and be "neutral" just as Sarah talked about. Is this a good idea? This was a design competition won hosted by Solidere in 1999. Do you think a park will always enduce peace and serenity, people in a city that has gone through such torment. Will it bring some peace to the Beruitians? I dont know, it just got me wondering that if will serve the purpose it is meant to bring, and why or why not?

Lolly:One of the ideas that i found most fascinating within the readings was the concept of masking the lack of a unified history/coherent narrative by using the history of the past. Makdisi addresses this concept as he discusses the postcards pre-civil war which illustrate Beirut in its glory days, before being torn apart by war. This act only prolongs the lack of historical processing and documentation of the events that occurred which only become blurrier with time, as first hand accounts become more scarce or foggy, and structures and landscapes that serve as physical evidence of the war’s damaging effect undergo further degradation or are vandalized.

Although Beirut has yet to produce a cohesive historical account of the war, attempts have been made using fragmented bits and pieces of evidence. Pictures, for one have been amassed, but such a medium can be dangerous, as Makdisi states, for history becomes “an aesthetic object” with emphasis placed on the aesthetic category of the image as opposed to the “genuine” history. This begs of the question of how “genuine history” can be produced in and of themselves. One would imagine that photographs, snapshots of reality, are as objective representations of the historical past as there is possible. However, even photographs are embedded with irony, mockery, and personal bias. For instance, photographs of the Berlin Wall after the end of the Cold War feature wall peckers chipping away at the wall and hundreds of people sitting triumphantly on top of the wall in celebration. These photographs soften the formidable presence of the wall, and viewed in isolation provide an incomplete document of the wall and its history.

If photographs can be subjective, written accounts and first hand interviews are all the more so. So once again, how can an objective history ever be created? Especially in Beirut where the exercise of processing the war and recuperating from its destruction has yet to have been overcome, and the city as a whole is still suffering from “collective amnesia”?

Face of War Pervades New Beirut Art Center New York Times July 6, 2009. Thanks to Lyndsey for pointing this article out.