This
zone of the city, which was until the beginning of the Twentieth century a
largely agricultural land filled with orchards, gradually dissolved into an
urbanized extension of the city, which lacked nevertheless some of the
important elements of urbanization: proper infrastructure, public parks, public
spaces, etc. The remnants of the agricultural past are still visible in some of
the small-scale alleys that constituted small roads between different
plantations, as well as in some of the typical agricultural houses that dotted
the landscape.
It
is well-known of course that this particular ‘suburb’ of the city, was the
point of contact between two distinct communities, very similar at the social
level, yet different in their ideological and confessional make-up. It is for
this reason perhaps, that the first spark of the civil war was ignited in this particular
zone of the city. What followed was a long period of intermittent wars, which
froze certain parts while allowing growth in others, coupled with severe destructions
along the dividing ‘green line’. Following the end of the war and the return of
order, a booming real-estate market at the beginning of the new century led to a
wave of uncontrolled growth that now threatens to dislocate certain people and
change the character and morphology of the different neighborhoods. What was
very interesting to discover, and disturbing as well, during the field study
conducted by students in this studio was the level of fear of the ‘other’ that
still persists in the collective memory, albeit at different levels. It was
also quite clear that on one side of the Green Line, a certain paramilitary
presence was felt, despite the appearance of normalcy, while on the other, a
certain feeling of abandonment or withdrawal from the public sphere was more
pronounced. The Green Line in fact, still operates as some kind of
psychological barrier, invisible but present, between two different worlds.
While
architects most of the time long for an ‘ideal’ state of order and harmony, it
was not really in our intentions to pretend that certain urban interventions
would necessarily change the socio-political condition that had developed over
decades. Yet, following the social and urban analysis of the zone, most of the
students in this studio chose to propose ‘idealistic’ projects that would
attempt to bridge the ‘invisible gap’ between the two areas, while some were
more content to propose interventions that filled a realistic need within one
of the two main neighborhoods. The result of this studio was an assemblage of
different proposals, which, in the unfortunate condition of urbanism in Beirut,
would remain on paper. In other countries, some of these proposals may well
catch the interest of the local population, and may lead in some cases to
serious efforts at realizing some of them.
However,
the important lesson that we continue to project through this final year studio
at our school, is that architectural projects, in and of themselves, without a
deep grounding in the socio-political reality of a certain time and place, and without
an understanding of the morphological transformations within a certain zone,
remain an individual expression at best, and a superficial one in most cases. The
importance of architecture is fundamentally linked to its embodiment in the
‘corpus’ of the city, and consequently in its natural attempt at resolving some
of the inherent contradictions that exist within its urban fabric. The current
transformation of the city is a grave reminder that the dissolution of the
urban fabric can only lead to the aggravation of the social and political
problems, and not, as the great advertisements covering new construction sites
seem to pretend, to lead us to a ‘paradise on earth’.
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