reclaiming space and identity: heritage-led regeneration in palestine

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Reclaiming space and identity: heritage-ledregeneration in PalestineNasser Golzari a & Yara Sharif aa NGArchitects , 62 Park House, London, UK , N4 2LSPublished online: 13 Feb 2011.

To cite this article: Nasser Golzari & Yara Sharif (2011) Reclaiming space and identity: heritage-ledregeneration in Palestine, The Journal of Architecture, 16:1, 121-144, DOI: 10.1080/13602365.2011.547022

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Reclaiming space and identity:heritage-led regenerationin Palestine

Nasser Golzari, Yara Sharif NGArchitects, 62 Park House, London, UK N4 2LS

Introduction

This article provides an insight into our attempts to

find ways to enact spatial change within the

current Palestinian/Israeli conflict, with our aim

being to heal the violent fractures caused by years

of Israeli occupation. Working in collaboration

with Riwaq1—a leading NGO dealing with architec-

tural conservation in Palestine—on the regeneration

of the historical centre of Birzeit (an important uni-

versity town just north of Ramallah) has become a

key investigative method for us to explore the

spatial potential of old historic areas to help recon-

struct Palestinian cultural identity. This experience

has also added a new dimension to our process of

research by architectural design, since it shifts

debate towards a practice-led approach. Being

involved in a ‘live’ project such as that for Birzeit

has expanded our role within critical architecture

practice: an approach which we believe is urgently

needed to deal with the kinds of social and political

realities found in their most devastating state in

places such as Palestine.

Being critical in architecture is often stereotyped

as being ‘negative’, and sometimes it can even be

dismissed as merely a ‘luxury’ for developed

western countries, as Fraser2 points out. Following

the argument put forward by Fraser, we agree that

critical architecture practice needs to become an

urgent and vital part of redevelopment in Palestine:

a country without many basic resources and still

living under a state of enforced occupation.

Where, then, can a critical form of practice be

developed? Regrettably, it is the traditional cultural

heritage that is now viewed by some Palestinians

as a ‘luxury’ that Palestine apparently cannot

afford to think about or deal with at this moment

of political duress. As a result, it remains one of

the buried areas of potential which are currently

left on the margins to decline and fade away,

despite its obvious value and importance for every-

day Palestinian life. Only a few organisations like

Riwaq are arguing that the protection of cultural

heritage can become another tool to make a differ-

ence for Palestinians in their struggles against occu-

pation, and in their assertion of the right to self-

determination. Indeed, it is what Riwaq describes

as ‘being political by being a-political’ that brings a

unique dimension to its work. Even within the

current political crisis it is managing to make power-

ful statements through heritage conservation, as a

tactic against the deliberate destruction of Palesti-

nian cultural identity and memory. Riwaq’s activities

represent another mode of what we would describe

as ‘soft urban resistance’ that can engage within the

Palestinian cultural landscape and help to mend that

which has been fractured (Fig. 1).

The regeneration of Birzeit’s historic centre thus

becomes an experimental project to explore what

can be done, using limited resources, to cultivate

possibilities for change in Palestinian towns and vil-

lages. We regard this as a crucial ‘shift’ in design

approach. Heritage architecture in this context is

no longer seen as a passive act to prevent

change, rooted in Romantic values, as is so

common in countries like Britain; rather, it can be

a dynamic form of resistance and change that not

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only engages with built urban space, but also

leads to greater self-sufficiency in the use of

resources to create sustainable communities. As

we describe it elsewhere, our stated goal is that

of ‘Acting as avant-garde in practice by being

“rear-garde”.’ 3

The contribution we have made through NGArch-

itects, as partners with Riwaq, in designing a new

urban strategy for Birzeit is an attempt to explore

and redefine the concept of ‘heritage’ on the

urban scale, breaking away from conventionally

static beliefs associated with the conservation of his-

toric buildings. Riwaq has now expanded this prin-

ciple into a truly ambitious plan to reconstruct fifty

‘villages’, most of them in the West Bank, but with

a few also in the Gaza Strip, which will be explained

below. Riwaq’s overall strategy is intended as a pol-

itically radical approach to conservation, one which

can pinpoint and collect together ‘invisible’ frag-

ments of change. For the regeneration process to

be enhanced, and given the role the ordinary Pales-

tinian community has historically played in shaping

its built environment, it means that the local cultural

context—with all of its social networks and everyday

habits—has to be regarded as the key resource for

economically and culturally sustainable commu-

nities. In the current situation, for any practical

design interventions to be productive they need to

be based on the local context and its ‘invisible’

layers of everyday life. Only this can point towards

sustainable yet silent forms of spatial resistance,

less confrontational than the usual political

responses, but able to bridge the otherwise large

gaps between the different networks and matrices

that Palestinian people have to operate within.

These invisible fragments already exist as part of

the more creative forms of Palestinian resistance;

indeed, even now they are silently drawing new

creative lines on the map, and it is these which we

are trying to weave into our plans for community

development.

This essay will first introduce briefly the challenges

that Palestine faces in terms of addressing its cultural

heritage. We will then outline Riwaq’s ‘50 Villages’

concept, which aims to protect and regenerate his-

toric centres in Palestinian rural areas. Our discussion

will refer specifically to the regeneration strategy

currently being enacted in Birzeit, since this project

is in effect the starting point and testing ground

for practical engagement with current realities in

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Reclaiming space and

identity: heritage-led

regeneration in Palestine

Nasser Golzari, Yara Sharif

Figure 1. Searching for

spaces of possibility

(drawn by Yara Sharif).

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the West Bank. The intention is to show how

architecture and politics can be merged to create a

collective strategy of empowerment, and how this

can build upon invisible ‘fragments of change’.

Why heritage?

Heritage in its broader meaning is associated with

inheritance, with handing something from the

past to the present generation. However, is not

only the past, it is also about the contemporary

activities, meanings and practices that we draw

from the past to shape our future.

In retrospect, the changes that took place in the

Palestinian landscape were relatively minor until

1948, when, following the initial formation of the

Israeli State, hundreds of villages were completely

destroyed and indeed erased from the map for the

purpose of Israeli occupation. Later on, after the

1967 War, further dramatic urban change came

about in Palestine through even more destruction

of historic buildings, along with a widespread

policy of land confiscation and development

zoning. It was not only the land that was contested;

so too were the materials for building. Stone has

ever since then become a political tool under

Israeli occupation to create a sense of false identity

and supposed ‘roots’ to the land: stone is thus

both a subject and a cultural currency to be

fought over. This policy has been manifested in

part by erasing Palestinian historical centres and lit-

erally ‘stealing’ stone—as well as other traditional

architectural elements—for use in Israeli-controlled

areas, including the illegal settlements. Such

aspects of Israeli policy of spatial occupation have

of course been widely written about by other

commentators like Nitzan-Shiftan, Weizman and

Benvenesti,4 so we will not explore them here.

However, it is also right to point out that another

key change that has affected Palestinian villages as a

result of Israeli occupation has been the type

of ‘westernised capitalism’—as described by

Jubeh5—which has been imposed on the popu-

lation. It is this destruction of traditional economic

structures which has most greatly affected the per-

spectives, beliefs and needs of Palestinian people:

altering, crucially, their lifestyles and day-to-day

practices. Their relationship with the land and to

constructed space has changed gradually, especially

since the 1993 Oslo Peace Accord, which has played

such a major role in re-shaping the Palestinian/Israeli

map from within6 and in transforming the fate of

Palestine’s historic centres.

This impact of the ‘post-Oslo’ period has created

fertile ground for capital investment in the Palesti-

nian economy (notwithstanding the relative

squeezes on financial flows following the two intifa-

das7). Today, with the advent of so-called ‘economic

peace’ between Israel and the Fatah-controlled

West Bank region, finance is again pouring in. Con-

struction has become one of the biggest sectors for

new investment, raising the price of (relatively

scarce) land on the one hand, and increasing econ-

omic inequality and class barriers on the other. There

is an emergence of a small but definite upper-middle

class of Palestinians in the West Bank who are not

surprisingly also trying to sustain their power base.

Today, the pressure of building investment com-

bined with the shifting boundaries and fractured

map caused by Israeli occupation is dramatically

reshaping Palestine’s cultural landscape.

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Riwaq’s ‘50 Villages’ programmeDue to these intense political and economic forces,

the situation is that historical centres now form

less than 1% of the total built-up area in Palestine.

While the remaining collections of old buildings

are often cited as a key representation of Palestinian

national and cultural identity, in truth they mostly lie

abandoned and in an advanced state of decline:

destroyed both by Israeli bulldozers, strategically

intended to erase such traces of Palestinian identity,

and by Palestinians, who seem happy to replace the

old dwellings with higher-rise, concrete-framed

buildings that can accommodate an increasing

population within the limited areas available.

Rural areas are those which are suffering the

most—socially, economically and spatially—given

their critical location on the Israel-controlled map.

They are left in a constant state of ‘temporariness’.

But in our view there are also positives to be

found even in this desperate situation. For as

much as economic and political factors add to the

fragmentation of land and society in Palestine, the

situation also offers a lot of potential through the

creative networks which have been set up in order

to resist and survive. It is precisely for this reason

that we feel that architectural focus should be

directed upon the contested rural areas of Palestine,

and it is why Riwaq is pursuing a more aggressive

approach to protection and regeneration of these

settlements through its ‘50 Villages’ programme.

Ever since its establishment in the early 1990s,

Riwaq has had the clear aim of sustaining the his-

toric buildings and urban centres in Palestine, in

spite of often terrible odds against. Its role has

gone through different phases, beginning with the

protection of single historical buildings, then the

wholesale recording and documentation of the

built heritage, followed more recently by a series

of projects for the ‘preventive conservation’ of

entire historical fabrics in West Bank towns and

villages. However, the sheer urgency for critical

architectural thinking and action, prompted by the

political and social conditions in Palestine today,

has propelled them into a self-reflective process.

Riwaq realises that newer, more experimental

approaches to design and planning are required to

embrace all the available social, cultural, economic

and natural resources. As a result, different concepts

have begun to be applied to the regeneration of

Palestinian historic centres in the past few years,

but what remained lacking was a wider strategy

by which to frame them. This is what has now

been formalised in Riwaq’s programme to regener-

ate the settlements most at risk. Realising that it

would be extremely difficult to deal with Palestine’s

entire built heritage—which according to Riwaq’s

register8 comes to about 50,320 historic properties

in 422 sites across the West Bank and the Gaza

Strip9—instead, a list of fifty key villages was ident-

ified by Riwaq as a national priority. Regenerating

those villages will nonetheless lead to the protection

of almost 50% of the historic buildings still existing

in Palestine.10

Thus the ‘50 Villages’ initiative is loaded with the

potential to generate new patterns of life within the

wider context of the West Bank, specifically by

viewing the historic fabric as rural and suburban

‘bridges’ to overcome the isolation enforced upon

inhabitants by Israeli occupation. It also becomes a

way to explore ideologically the concept of cultural

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heritage and its possible linkage to conditions in the

larger urban centres such as Ramallah, Hebron or

Nablus. Riwaq’s new approach can be seen as a pro-

lific source of ideas, especially in the absence of any

legal framework to protect old buildings in Pales-

tine, and is an important step in formulating and

realising what before was only an impossible dream.

Birzeit Regeneration Plan

ThechoiceofBirzeit, awell-known university town just

to the north of Ramallah,11 as the test case for the

’50 Villages’strategy was based on its pivotal location

in the West Bank and its close relationship with sur-

rounding towns and villages—not least Ramallah—

all of which makes it a good representation of prevail-

ing conditions in Palestinian rural areas.

The name Birzeit translates into English as ‘the

well of oil’, referring to the olive-oil wells used by

local inhabitants which still exist there today.

Birzeit, like many Palestinian rural villages sur-

rounded by cascades of olive-tree terraces, was his-

torically an agrarian society that relied primarily on

olive cultivation as the main source of livelihood.

And as in most towns and villages located in the

central highlands of the West Bank today, Birzeit’s

historic centre consists of typical traditional rural

architecture in clusters of one- or two-storey

residential houses, with shallow domed roofs blend-

ing naturally with the rolling landscape (Fig. 2).

Despite the cultural and aesthetic richness of many

of its buildings, the old centre of Birzeit has fallen

into a chronic state of disrepair; it is sparsely popu-

lated at the moment, except for some modern con-

crete-frame-with-block-work houses added into

the fabric in an ad hoc manner. There are also

insufficient roads or services infrastructure for the

few families living there.

Our project with Riwaq for Birzeit exemplifies the

conceptual shift from the conservation of single his-

toric buildings to a more extensive strategy of regen-

eration based on creating better habitation and

renewed commercial activity for the historical

centre, linking also to the wider regional context

of surrounding towns and villages. The design con-

sciously attempts to create a shift in Riwaq’s work

where we overcome current problems in Palestine

by setting out a complete social, economic and

physical framework for regenerating old Birzeit.

Unlike a few previous cases, which would have

dealt with the conservation of buildings without

relation to the bigger context, or viewed it from a

‘cosmetic’ perspective only, the direction here is

more towards creating a sustainable community

that is armed with social and environmental aware-

ness, and which can commit itself to the site regard-

less of the volatile conditions imposed by Israeli

occupation.

Changes in thinking about Palestine’s built

environment are currently taking place on two

levels: first, the legislative level at which general

guidelines and by-laws have now been prepared

for adoption under the umbrella of the Palestinian

Ministry of Local Government and secondly, the

level below that at which Riwaq and NGArchitects

are focusing on the strengthening of local commu-

nities as a visible manifestation for reusing historical

centres. Working on these two levels is crucial to

achieving a sustainable and responsive strategy

that can rebuild fractured communities as well as

places. Hence in our (Riwaq and NG) Birzeit

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designs there is an emphasis both at the scale of the

street, with its patterns of daily customs and habits,

gradually reaching up to address issues that operate

at the regional/national level. Our approach has

been to negotiate the 1:1 of bodily scale in terms

of project details, and feed these into our thinking

at the scale of 1:10000 to relate to the wider

context.

The regeneration strategy for Birzeit therefore

started by us putting some critical questions onto

the table for discussion. How could we create

a balance between protection, development,

comfortable habitation and aesthetic values?

What is there to protect in the historic centre

and, above all, how can we regenerate it?

Should one promote a relocation of business

investments? Should we perhaps try to enhance

cultural tourism? Did we really need iconic build-

ings or distinctive architectural features to regener-

ate the historic centre of Birzeit? Extensive

debates, and indeed disagreements, took place

with local participants about the best approach.

To aid with the design aspects, we set up an inter-

disciplinary team of consultants consisting of

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Figure 2. Historic

centre of Birzeit (Riwaq

photographic archive).

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leading architects, planners, environmentalists, the-

orists and economists from Palestine and abroad

(which we have named the ‘Think Net’). The rich-

ness of their input helped to link all of these initiat-

ives together into a new design matrix that was

eventually ready for testing and making on site.

Our design vision for Birzeit’s historic centre began

with a detailed analysis of conditions on the ground.

Birzeit is a relatively small town with a population of

only about 5,000 people,12 and the effects of strong

‘edge’ developments around the town, plus the com-

petition for population with larger urban centres like

Ramallah and the ever-shifting presence of Israeli

checkpoints, have caused the marginalisation of its

old centre. Being located—as indeed are most

other West Bank rural areas—in land generally classi-

fied by the Oslo Accord as ‘Area B’ (ie, nominally at

least in the administrative control of the Palestinian

Authority but controlled militarily by Israel), com-

bined with complex issues of ownership of old build-

ings, has pushed the historical centre even further

down the list of priorities. The outcome is chaos

created by the deliberate destruction of old buildings

and rampant unorganised extensions inserted clum-

sily into what has been left.

Given such uncertainties, the empowerment of

local citizens was clearly an important issue for our

design proposal. But empowering who, and for

what reason? To relate to the local community, we

felt that any architectural interventions needed to

celebrate the daily habits and rituals of the

inhabitants who contribute most to the identity of

Birzeit’s historic centre. This suggested a strategy

for visible and invisible changes to be gently

embedded into its historic fabric, and into people’s

everyday lives, while offering a clear sense of

continuity at the same time. A dialectic process

between theoretical research and social engage-

ment with the local site offered us new and different

readings of the Birzeit map, not least in terms of

accepting aspects of spontaneity and change if

these can be seen as contributing to a more sustain-

able lifestyle. Hence, many of the somewhat ugly

concrete extensions have been transformed in our

eyes from being dull concrete boxes that damage

the environment and need to be demolished, to

potential sources of livelihood that can introduce

new values into the urban space: whether as an

informal meeting place for coffee, or children’s

tree-house, mechanic’s garage, bike repair shop,

or even just a convenient corner for gossiping

(figs 3,4).

Our design proposal, now in process on the

ground, introduced a new angle. Messy leftover

spaces that were once disregarded are suddenly

seen as key generators of social dynamics which

need to be celebrated and encouraged. Many of

these leftover spaces were thus identified and

located on our evolving map of Birzeit. While they

might not possess great meaning on their own, we

conceive of them as essential ingredients to create

urban and social links between the old historic

centre and its surrounding context. To help to

uncover new ways of reading the place, the tech-

nique of social mapping was used to record a spec-

trum of ‘invisible’ moments, using these to plot

social activities and emotional responses onto the

site. Given that social mapping is a relatively new

investigatory method in Palestine, the experiment

in Birzeit has not always proved easy; our main

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challenge has been to get others to appreciate

specific activities or observations as signs of dynamics

in the site, not as minor aspects with no meaning.

Our effort has been to read the activities of

inhabitants as a significant if largely unseen

social network, and to emphasise their role. As has

been noted by Mitchell during similar work in

Kosovo:

. . . none of the activities mapped have meaning

on their own; it is the matrix of these activities,

the networks that make them alive the key tool.

It is the collectiveness of these activities that

gives the town its meaning.13

The act of plotting invisible activities onto the map

of historic Birzeit led to the identification of

dynamic spots to assist the design. The bike-repair

shop, for example, that was created by Ameer and

his brother Amjad, is one of the dull concrete

boxes which can suddenly be seen as special and

as a crucial ‘organic’ element. Their building is no

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Figure 3. A tree-house

located in the periphery

of the historic centre,

and initiated by local

inhabitants

(photograph by the

authors).

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Figure 4. An informal

bike repair shop made

by local children

(photograph by the

authors).

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longer an ugly room to be removed; after all, it is

their dream, their hiding place and a key spot that

brings local children together. But perhaps, if it

were to be carefully reproduced and relocated,

then it might encourage even more children to

come back and use the historic centre. The route

taken through the site by girls on their way to

school, the bakery rooftops, the clusters of gossipy

neighbours and many other moments are all poten-

tial networks that might be spread further across the

historic centre (Fig. 5).

The focus in our approach is thus to celebrate the

ordinary, ensuring that it is seen and made special,

in the sense to which Hamdi refers.14 This also

brings an entirely new dimension to the reading

and alteration of urban space. We have needed to

‘slow down’ our design process to observe these

day-to-day habits, incidents and narratives: plotting

and relating them back to a programme of activities

to create a more sustainable historical centre. What

is remarkable is that these moments, often little

fragments which are almost too small to be

noticed, possess a unique state of invisibility, but

yet if pulled together within a programme they

can contribute immensely to the regeneration of a

place. Our approach is therefore much less about

confrontational design interventions, and more

about celebrating ‘normality’ and bringing it gently

to the surface.

The design for Birzeit’s historic centre

Our team’s work on Birzeit has consisted of a thor-

oughgoing process of research and data collection

carried out since 2007 and covering a wide range

of social, cultural, architectural, economic, legal

and planning issues. This research, amplified by

the process of social mapping, was then overlaid

onto the map to suggest a programme for regener-

ation. The actual design work was carried out in

parallel with a series of collective events and projects

organised with the local inhabitants of old Birzeit as

a means to create dialogue, build confidence and

uncover even more about the potential of the site.15

In our design proposal, two main linking routes

were proposed through Birzeit’s historic centre;

these two routes are seen as backbones stretching

across the site and connecting it out to the rest of

Birzeit and the surrounding villages. The two

routes were chosen for their geographical and his-

torical importance, based on the findings of our

social mapping, which had indicated certain ‘given

lines’ on the map. One is named provisionally as

the ‘Trade Route’, given that it contains the main

trading and commercial activities in the historic

centre, while the other is the ’Caravanserai Route’

(it includes the oldest building inside the historic

centre, a disused caravanserai dating back to the fif-

teenth century).16

These two routes already between them contain a

number of key activities which currently generate

daily life in Birzeit’s historic centre, such as the

bakery shop, internet cafe, mechanic’s shop, hair-

dresser, mosque, Christian church, Rozana Commu-

nity Association, as well as other residential and

public spaces. We have then proposed further

social programmes at an urban scale through

specific activities and design interventions to take

place along the routes. These new interventions

are located in what we refer to as ‘urban pockets’,

again identified by mapping the little fragments of

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activity. The focus in the design is hence primarily on

the regeneration of public spaces and associated

buildings in old Birzeit, not least as a convenient

way to avoid the otherwise highly complicated

issues of private ownership if one tries to make

changes to ordinary buildings (figs 6, 7).

To kick off the regeneration process through a

pattern of ‘small changes’, Riwaq has already

repaved and identified/renamed all of the main

routes,urban pockets and key buildings within thehis-

toric centre. They have done this by drawing on exist-

ing narratives collected on site to associate places with

their history, thereby attaching the new changes with

local meaning. This initiative attracted widespread

attention from the local population, who were

closely involved in collecting narratives and choosing

the names for their neighbourhoods. ‘Hosh Kokab’,

or the lemon tree courtyard—as some now call it—

is, for example, specifically associated with a previous

owner of that house; its name comes from a lady,

called Kokab, who became famous for a passionate

love story that caused a major conflict between two

local families around fifty years ago.

The impact of such activity is already leaving its

imprint on Birzeit’s historic centre; ever since the

tiling work began on the two new routes, the

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Figure 5. Map

identifying the location

and type of the informal

daily habits that

generate life in the

historic centre of Birzeit

(drawn by the authors).

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sense of urban space has gradually become more

formalised and the old centre is already hosting

more visitors. Locals find it more convenient,

clean and safe to use the space during the day

and night: especially children and women, who

are now unconsciously creating their own new

social centres and meeting points. The initiative

has also begun to attract a few institutions and

investors who can suddenly see the hidden poten-

tials of the site. In this way, more demands and

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Figure 6. Conceptual

map showing the

approach toward

regenerating the

historic centre of Birzeit,

with two main routes

connecting the historic

fabric (drawn by the

authors).

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ideas about how to use the public space are emer-

ging (Fig. 8).

One of the big challenges in working with historic

buildings is of course to ensure that the conservation

work and design interventions respond to the chan-

ging needs and contemporary lifestyles of the com-

munity affected. Any changes have to provide the

necessary services and facilities required for the

twenty-first century, albeit without compromising

the architectural and cultural value of buildings.

This implies greater thought about design issues

and functional requirements that simply did not

occur previously. Conservation cannot be a passive

form of preventing change; indeed, if its aim is to

make a difference through the reuse of built heri-

tage, then it is impossible to dissociate the concept

of conservation from the political and social

agenda. It involves issues that go well beyond the

usual perceptions of just ‘dealing with the historic

and artistic work of the past’17, or of ‘keeping build-

ings as close to its original condition as possible for

as long as possible’. Indeed, conservation in its

proper sense is a transformative and creative

process, and needs a more adaptable and modern

definition to ensure that it tackles the ‘change of

values in contemporary society’18.

The danger facing Palestine today is that both

‘regimes’—whether the Israeli occupiers or the

wealthy elite amongst the occupied population—

are dismantling slowly the social values and mem-

ories embodied within old historic centres. This is

exactly why protecting Palestinian cultural heritage

has to aim far beyond preserving just the image of

a place. It can only acquire social value by giving

each member of the local community an active

role once more. Likewise it is crucial for the design

team to ensure that the identity and memory of

the site is kept alive, since it is not only through

the violent destruction of heritage that such identi-

ties and memories are erased—as Bevan19 points

out—but also through careless rebuilding of archi-

tecture which is then lost. Therefore, within Birzeit

we have attempted to suggest interventions which

do not deny or erase the frequently messy, so as

not to end up ‘faking the past’. This entails a

closer attention to conservation and design

decisions, as can also be seen in the relatively

more tolerant attitude to modern interventions in

older buildings in recent years.20

Furthermore, the current Birzeit experiment aims

to create examples of readily accessible building

techniques which can then be easily implemented

by local builders and residents across Palestine,

again to ensure sustainability. This has to be one

of the key tools for building a new social

network—‘the network of the self-built’—wherein

residents can be actively involved in upgrading

their properties to respond to changing needs or

uses. In this sense, the renovation of a building

named ‘Rabi Attic’ (Eliyyet Rabi) in Birzeit’s historic

centre, which according to local residents was pre-

viously the traditional guesthouse in the town, pro-

vides a starting point to test the new conservation

approach. A project is currently underway to

convert this three-storey building cluster, with its

serene courtyard, into the Municipal Services

Centre for Birzeit. It is based on a mixed-use pro-

gramme initiated by the municipality to support

small-business initiatives and keep the building

active throughout the different seasons, whilst also

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helping to train local inhabitants in how they can

adapt and sustain their own houses. The new

Municipal Services Centre is already becoming

another key meeting point, whether as a gathering

point for local artists or as a students’ study area.

Whether the building is open or closed, local chil-

dren can still find their way into it by climbing over

the rooftops. They have managed to claim the

place and use it in the best way possible (Fig. 9).

Our work in progress in historic Birzeit also aims to

reconfigure a typical dwelling as a prototype model

where people can physically experience what can be

done by simple modifications and extensions to

existing buildings to improve the environmental

qualities. Responsive, yet largely invisible, alternative

environmental technologies and design interven-

tions are being introduced to one of the old

houses to demonstrate how to save energy and

enhance thermal comfort. Additionally, we are

looking—with help and support from the ‘Think

Net’ team—at ways to raise consciousness about

the need to reduce waste and to recycle more

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Figure 7. Proposed

strategy and

interventions.

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materials, as well as other demonstrations that

architectural design which engages with day-to-

day cultural practices is also the most responsive to

climatic factors. Above all, this is intended as a pol-

itical reaction to current Israeli policies which are

draining the Palestinian landscape of water

resources and such like. Our intention is to find

alternative ‘invisible’ ways for inhabitants to

become less dependent on having to buy water

and electricity at inflated prices from Israel; they

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can only achieve this by being more self-sufficient in

such matters (Fig. 10).

Now, as part of the regeneration strategy to

encourage more activity within the historic centre,

Riwaq in collaboration with Birzeit University is

looking to move some of the university services

back to the old centre. Another key part of the regen-

eration concept is the provision of affordable

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Figure 8. View of the

main commercial route

of Birzeit’s historic

centre during the work

in process (photograph

by the authors).

Figure 9. The

municipality centre and

the public space in front

hosting one of the

activities organised by

the design team

(photograph by the

authors).

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housing, some of which could be in the reuse of

abandoned buildings, but also allowing for new

development on the northern fringes. Relating the

regeneration of Birzeit to other Palestinian urban

centres is a crucial factor in creating new networks

that can operate when needed to in order to resist

Israeli occupation. As a result, the notion of cultural

tourism is being explored to link Birzeit with the

wider region. Our two proposed thematic routes in

the historic centre are thus envisaged as extending

and connecting to the other ‘50 Villages’ in Riwaq’s

programme. This collective process aims to celebrate

the festivals and culture of the area, again drawing

on the historical narrative’s history of places.

Some proposed routes would for instance link

Birzeit with the agricultural terraces of Jifna,

famous for its seasonal plum-picking festival, or

with Taybeh and its local beer industry. This project

is being further developed to include what Riwaq

calls ‘The 19th- and 20th-Century Architecture and

the Spaces in Between’ (Fig.11). This three-year

project is being carried out in partnership with

several Mediterranean countries, namely France,

Italy, Morocco, Palestine and Tunisia. The aim is to

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Figure 10. Detailed

design interventions

exploring ‘invisible small

changes’ that can

improve the

environmental quality

of historic buildings.

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investigate and promote the more modern heritage

in rural Palestine by setting up tourist trails which

will highlight the nineteenth- and twentieth-

century architectural heritage of the region.21

Beyond the ‘50 Villages’

The physical interventions we are designing for

places like Birzeit are only one component in the

regeneration strategy. Riwaq has been particularly

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Figure 11. A thematic

journey through

Palestine’s troubled

landscape (drawn by

Yara Sharif).

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assiduous in promoting its new vision.22 The starting

point for the publicity process was the 53rd Venice

Art Biennale in June, 2009, working with the

support of the Palestinian artist and organiser,

Khalil Rabah. The subject of Khalil’s work at the

Venice Biennale celebrated the ‘50 Villages’

concept through a series of lectures, discussions

and presentations:

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Khalil Rabah’s presentation at the Biennale is an

account of the restoration work undertaken in

50 Palestinian villages by the Palestinian architec-

tural NGO, Riwaq. His aim is clear: ‘Riwaq has

created an opportunity not only to investigate

the trappings of our visual and cultural codes,

but also to look at ways to reconnect isolated

and walled Palestine to the international art

world’23

Later, the 3rd Riwaq Biennale in Ramallah, from 12–

16th October, 2009, drew in a large international

audience. Artists, social theorists, planners, archi-

tects, environmentalists and many others joined in

a series of journeys to the fifty villages, as well as

other disparate locations, as a way to reflect upon

the fractured territory of Palestine and to uncover

its potentials. These journeys were conceived as

one of a series of networking activities between

the villages in Riwaq’s overall programme, offering

them opportunities to create dialogue and new

visions.

Many key issues are still to be thought about,

negotiated and resolved. For instance, the building

of vertical extensions to historic buildings in Birzeit’s

historic centre is still rejected by some of the team

members, despite the pressures of limited land and

financial resources. But for us it could be another

viable tool if organised as part of a suitable design

programme. The issue is not just about conservation

aesthetics, but about how to build a lively sustain-

able community that can allow for extended families

to live in the historic centre. Because social relation-

ships imply an acceptance and recognition of the

role of everyone, a town needs to be able to

develop and expand without creating too much

conflict. We believe therefore that the historic

centre of Birzeit should be seen a collage that

reflects its different layers, while we as initiators

should merely organise and sustain them: even if

this means accepting a new concrete room added

onto a rooftop.

After all, if architecture doesn’t provide a fitting

stage on which the locals may perform, then it will

not get far before it collapses. As Mitchell24

expresses it: ‘. . . we do not want to run into

danger with aesthetics, to live with a beautiful

person who has little to say.’ At a time when Pales-

tine is facing such hardship in the political and econ-

omic spheres, the ‘50 Villages’ concept can make a

qualitative addition to local networks. Just as we as

architects are looking for spaces of possibility, we

equally need to think and look for social networks

of possibility to sustain these spaces. Working with

a local NGO like Riwaq thus paves the way for

endless possibilities of spatial resistance that could

be achieved in Palestine, based on ‘critical’ practice

that is incorporated into design. Through the regen-

eration of old Birzeit, concepts and ideas are being

born, while others are being questioned, tested

and sometimes excluded. It is the process of

making new spaces and new places that shifts the

work on the Birzeit development plan to a new

level, since it is about dialogue in relation to spatial

investigation. The hope is to re-imagine a strategic

stitching and healing of the regrettable fractures in

rural and urban settlements.

Building on the invisible fragments of change can

be portrayed as changing the nature of the Palesti-

nian/Israeli ‘spatial game’ from that of table tennis

to chess, if one takes the ironic description by a pro-

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minent left-wing Israeli journalist, Amira Hass:

‘Palestinians play ping-pong while Israelis play

chess’.25 This time around, it is the Palestinians

who could be the ones playing the more complex

spatial game, if cultural heritage can indeed be

used as a tool for silent resistance.

Putting the fragments back together

In Palestine, even the definition of built heritage

remains blurred.26 Different attempts have taken

place over the past two decades to rediscover the

meaning of the term (a problem that is not only

limited to historic buildings but also to landscape,

music, handicrafts and food). Such efforts, as

Bshara27 suggests: ‘Demonstrate both the willing-

ness to re-write history, incorporate new findings

and the fact that the concept of heritage is changing

rapidly.’ These new readings of urban spaces, build-

ings and even individuals who embody important

historical values, despite their relative newness,

open up a huge web of possibilities when reading

the Palestinian landscape. Refugee camps set up

since the 1948 relocations are just one of the

examples, since they represent a stark demon-

stration of what heritage might be seen as: not for

its physical value as such, but for its historical impor-

tance. Indeed, the uniqueness of such phenomena

extends the very meaning of refuge into that of an

involuntary permanent residency, as born out of

emergency.28

In a different sense, Yasser Arafat’s old resi-

dence—now his memorial in Ramallah—is another

example of what represents contemporary architec-

ture built on top of ruins, yet its value stems from the

historical and political meaning behind the figure

that once lived there. Examples such as these

demonstrate what might start to be included as an

integral part of the cultural landscape, and which

could possibly turn these structures into a state of

‘normality’. Likewise, the Israeli Army checkpoints,

the hidden routes used by Palestinians, impromptu

markets at the side of roads, depleted stone quar-

ries, and many others—if not yet regarded as a

key part of Palestinian culture—could well in

future be added to the litany of built heritage. In

other words, everyday life will witness a change;

what people have been fighting against on the

basis of destruction of urban character could in

turn be our next target to protect, simply because

something represents a specific social, historical or

political memory. Bearing this idea in mind, the pos-

sibilities for extending Riwaq’s network of ‘50 Vil-

lages’ become endless.

And as much as this is painful to admit, we can

imagine the day when we will be discussing

whether to include an Israeli checkpoint or an

Israeli settlement—or even more dangerously, a

rapacious housing development like Rawabi29—on

the list of Palestine heritage. Once one enters into

the cultural aspects of heritage protection, it is

almost bound to lead to the most unexpected of

end results. Here we need to keep in mind Edward

Said’s call for the re-affirmation of ‘the power of

culture over the culture of power’. If we can do

this, then we believe that built heritage in Palestine

will be on the right track.

Acknowledgements

We owe deep gratitude to Riwaq team members for

being treated as part of their family—especially

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Farhat Muhawi and Suad Amiry—for the productive

time we spend discussing, thinking and doing. There

is a big thank-you also to Professor Murray Fraser for

his feedback on this paper, and for his constant

support and indeed involvement in our work.

Notes and references1. Riwaq is a non-profit organisation based in Ramallah

that was set up with the aim to protect and develop

architectural heritage all over Palestine. It was

founded in 1991 by Suad Amiry, a well-known archi-

tect and politician, as well as the author of several

remarkable books.

2. M. Fraser, ‘Beyond Koolhaas’, in, J. Rendell, J. Hill,

M. Fraser and M. Dorrian, eds, Critical Architecture

(London/ New York, Routledge, 2007), pp. 32–9.

3. N. Golzari, ‘Negotiating Heritage under Conflict’, in

Urban Space, V2 (Summer, 2009), p.72.

4. Benvenisti, M., Sacred Landscape: The Buried History

of the Holy Land since 1948 (Berkeley, University of

California Press, 2000); Weizman, E., Hollow Land:

Israel’s architecture of occupation (London, Verso,

2007); Alona Nitzan-Shiftan, ’Seizing Locality in Jeru-

salem’, in, N. AlSayyad, ed., The End of Tradition?

(London, Routledge, 2004), pp. 241–4.

5. N. Jubeh, ‘Fifty Villages. . .and more: the protection of

rural Palestine’, in Geography, 101 (Riwaq, Catalogue

published for the 3rd Riwaq Biennale by Riwaq V. 1,

2009).

6. Further to the 1993 Oslo Peace Accord, the West Bank

as well as other parts of Palestine have been divided

into different zones which further contributed to the

fragmentation of the map. ‘Areas A’ are under the

security and administrative control of the Palestinian

National Authority (PNA). This includes most large

cities in the West Bank. ‘Areas B’ are only under the

administrative control of the PNA, and it is this type

in which most rural areas are located. All that is left

over between the villages and cities is designed as

‘Areas C’, which are under complete security and

administrative control by the Israelis. This has resulted

in limited and disconnected cantons in Palestinian

built-up areas.

7. The First Intifada is a key historical period in 1987–88,

which marks the first Palestinian uprising against the

Israeli occupation. The Second Intifada took place in

2000 and is also called the Aqsa Intifada.

8. Riwaq’s National Register, completed during 1994–

2003, is the only national registry in Palestine to docu-

ment historic buildings all over the West Bank and the

Gaza Strip.

9. Gaza has preserved its historical fabric, yet it has not

been included as one of the fifty historic centres, just

as all other major cities in the West Bank, which are rela-

tively protected by the awareness and efforts of their

locals, like Bethlehem, Nablus and Hebron. Jerusalem

is also a special case, being included as a World Heritage

Site, ’ironically’ from the Jordanian mandate.

10. F. Muhawi, ‘I have a dream; Riwaq’, in Geography,

101, op. cit., p.33.

11. Having an understanding municipality, as well as

Birzeit University and a socially conscious local commu-

nity that appreciates the quality of the historic centre,

are other key factors for choosing Birzeit. Also, Riwaq

has carried out a few conservation projects in and

around Birzeit, and this also helped to facilitate com-

munication and set up the basis for the ongoing work.

12. The population of Birzeit is estimated according to the

last census carried out in 1997 by the Palestinian

Central Bureau of Statistics.

13. M. Mitchell, Rebuilding’s Community in Kosovo

(Wales, CAT Publications, 2003), p. 19.

14. N. Hamdi, Small change: the art of practice and the

limits of planning in cities (London, Earthscan, 2004),

p. xix.

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15. This included preventive conservation for fifty historic

buildings and public spaces in different parts of the his-

toric centre, and conservation work to one of the

buildings to be used as the Municipal Service Centre.

Additionally, Riwaq and the local municipality have

managed to raise funds to provide new infrastructure

and paving for the main public spaces and routes

inside Birzeit’s historic centre.

16. The ‘Caravanserai Route’ has a national value given

that it was once part of the famous caravanserai

trade routes linking Palestine with the rest of the Med-

iterranean region. It is the only building protected by

the current antiquity law, as it dates back to the fif-

teenth century.

17. J. Jokilehto, A History of Architectural Conservation

(Oxford, Butterworth-Heinemann, 1999), p.290.

18. Ibid., p.295.

19. R. Bevan, The Destruction of Memory: Architecture at

War (London, Reaktion Books, 2006).

20. This viewpoint spans from Ruskin’s views about restor-

ation right up to modern conservation philosophies

which form the basis for a critical process for the defi-

nition of what is to be conserved and how.

21. Another phase that will assist the regeneration

process in Birzeit is the design of the main four

entrances to the historic centre and some selected

‘urban pockets’ along the routes. This is being

helped through a design competition set up with stu-

dents of architecture at Central Saint Martin’s in

London and at Birzeit University, in collaboration with

UNESCO. The outcome will lead to an actual design

intervention that can improve the quality of life and

assist in the regeneration and development of the

old quarter.

22. Other activities involved the participation of a number

of university students from different parts of the world

in design workshops, as well as summer school pro-

grammes, all to contribute towards the process of

regeneration and the process of thinking about Pales-

tine’s built heritage.

23. http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2009/jun/

13/art-theatre (accessed 27.10.09).

24. M. Mitchell, Rebuilding’s Community in Kosovo, op.

cit., p. 19.

25. A. Hass, ‘Israel withholding NGO employees’ work

permits’, Haaretz (January, 2010), ,http://www.

haaretz.com/hasen/spages/1143854.html. (accessed

21.01.2009).

26. Apart from the aforementioned draft legislation for

the protection of cultural heritage in Palestine,

which, however, has not yet been endorsed by the

Palestinian legislative authorities, it will work to

protect any item of cultural heritage by recording it

in the National Registry. The draft law refers to cultural

heritage as historic buildings or historic sites which are

at least fifty years old. This date was used as a refer-

ence point to include all that which has existed up to

1948. The process is accumulative and later amend-

ments will also be introduced to cover a lot of more

recent architecture.

27. K. Bshara, ‘Preserving the contemporary: Palestine

refugee camps—from destiny to destinations’, in

Geography, 101, op. cit., p. 39.

28. Ibid.

29. Rawabi offers an example of where big-name architec-

tural offices have been brought in to take part in

designing a whole new district to the north of Ramal-

lah in the name of ‘economic recovery’: a curious strat-

egy when it is estimated that more than 70% of

Palestinian historic centres lie abandoned. Regardless

of the reason behind the project, or how it is being

advertised, the layout of this new development does

not differ at all from any of the imposed Israeli settle-

ments now occupying the hilltops of Palestine. If any-

thing, it reflects a confused identity falling apart under

the umbrella of modernity. We think the best term to

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http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2009/jun/13/art-theatre

http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2009/jun/13/art-theatre

http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/1143854.html

http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/1143854.html

describe it is that given by David Harvey, in that it is just

another example of competition for ‘capital accumu-

lation’ through which the economic logic of power is

trying to move culture and identity on its own terms.

See, for instance, P. Schouten, ‘Theory Talk #20:

David Harvey on the Geography of Capitalism: Under-

standing cities as polities and shifting imperialisms’

(2008), Theory Talks website (accessed 20.10.09).

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reclaiming space and identity: heritage-led regeneration in palestine

Documents