How to Cite: García Ramírez, William. "Deconstruct to reconstruct: Architectures facing decolonizatio". Dearq no. 36 (2023): 64-86. DOI: https://doi.org/10.18389/dearq36.2023.08
How to Cite: García Ramírez, William. "Deconstruct to reconstruct: Architectures facing decolonizatio". Dearq no. 36 (2023): 64-86. DOI: https://doi.org/10.18389/dearq36.2023.08
William García Ramírez
william.garcia@javeriana.edu.co
Department of Architecture,
Faculty of Architecture and Design,
Pontificia Universidad Javeriana
Tearing down, demolishing, and denying are actions that are typically associated with decolonialism in architecture. These practices share a conceptual similarity and have another common denominator: the use of the prefix “de-”. This prefix typically signifies “the reversal of a situation, in a different one that precedes it” (according to the Royal Spanish Academy [RAE] 2023). Deconstruct or deform is also used to express a completely different action: “the revelation of something hidden or unknown” (RAE 2023), as in “unveil” or “denounce.” The double meaning of this prefix, which pivots between deconstructing and unveiling, or better, between dismantling and revealing, explains one of the main logics that drives decolonialism in architecture: deconstruct a fact to discover and create a new truth. Therefore, decolonialism in architecture does not form a canon of “decolonialist architectures,” but instead configures a panorama of decolonizing practices based on the conviction that deconstruct is the first step to creating something new.
Deconstruct to reconstruct: Architectures facing decolonization showcases six projects carried out on three continents that use their actions to deconstruct narratives, question facts, and expose spaces to reveal another vision that challenges these narratives, facts, and spaces. Decolonialism in architecture provides a discursive platform that welcomes and amplifies discussions about the relevance and validity of certain hegemonic narratives in the socio-cultural history of countries. This platform configures a panorama of decolonizing practices in the field of architecture, where deconstruct is the guiding principle that leads to three particular intentions:
This aspect constitutes one of the most visible lines of action of decolonialism, mainly in traditional public spaces of cities, and specifically in the monuments that occupy such spaces. Here, at the intersection of a representative urban space, an emblematic image or symbol, and the manifestation of a protest, broad sectors of society have found an opportunity to put an end to a colonizing message or narrative. This action implicitly raises questions about the identity values that must represent a society and that therefore must be reflected in public spaces.
Due to their inquisitive and critical nature, these performative actions alter the original meaning of these public spaces by modifying the symbolic figures and statues that occupy them, annulling, parodying, and/or transforming the representations of power that have colonized the territory. These actions are based on the paradox and absurdity of publicly exalting the figures of people who have led or committed acts against the population, ranging from genocide to slavery. This is exemplified by the toppling in 2020 of Edward Colston's statue in Bristol, England or the transformation undergone at a square in La Paz, Bolivia where the statue of Queen Isabella the Catholic was converted into the figure of a Chola woman (2020) (Figure 1).
Due to the spectacular radicality of these transformations, but above all, because of the message that they connote, these actions have transcended from the urban space to the media, spreading widely and forming the most visible face of decolonialism today. This is the case of the parodic transformation suffered by Los Héroes monument in Bogotá (2021) (Figure 2). However, the transformation of these statues does not always involve criticism; on the contrary, these interventions can also allude to the vindication of past values from a contemporary aesthetic, as with Jorge Eliécer Gaitán's statue in Bogotá, Colombia (Figure 3).
Figure 2_ Plazoleta Gaitán (Bogotá). Bronze statue of Jorge Eliécer Gaitán, covered with the colors of the Colombian national flag, Bogotá, 2021. Source: William R. Garcia.
Figure 3_ Los Héroes monument, intervened by citizens amid 2021 protests in Bogotá. Original project: Angiolo Mazzoni and Ludovico Consorti (1952). Equestrian statue of Simon Bolivar by Emmanuel Fremiet. The monument was demolished in 2021. Source: John Farfán Rodríguez.
It is one of the most ambitious approaches of decolonial practices, because beyond claiming a narrative of the past, its action or work aims to reverse a current situation, considering it equivocal and harmful to the city and society. That is why the projects and actions framed in deconstruct to reverse aim to recover and restore an original situation or fact erased or eliminated by a subsequent architectural intervention, with which this original narrative was suppressed. In Svetlana Boym's terms, it is a form of “restorative nostalgia”, a particular way of people relating to the past, whose action emphasizes nostos, that is, a return to the past, to reconstruct and recover a lost fact. In an applied sense, this decolonizing action aims to undo an urban or architectural development of the city to restore an original narrative, reversing and, therefore, recovering for the present an urban-architectural situation of the past that was believed lost.
The Berlin Palace (or Stadtschloss) is a revealing example of decolonizing practice. The building combined the typologies of a medieval castle and a Renaissance palace in its architecture of dubious lineage. This motivated Frederick III, King of Prussia, to hire the architect Andreas Schlüter to transform the building according to the baroque ideals of that time. The palace remained that way until the mid-twentieth century. During World War II, a part of the palace was destroyed by fire in 1945, and in 1950, the then German Democratic Republic chose to completely demolish it. The communist authorities at the time were skeptical about preserving a testimony of Prussian imperialism in the heart of the city and opted to construct the so-called Palace of the Republic in its place. Architect Heinz Graffunder designed this project as “a palace for the people,” housing theatres, art galleries, and cafes. While its ascetic and modern architectural style was a clear repudiation of the elitism of its predecessor, it became the site of all the great celebrations and banquets of the communist elite.
This case illustrates how an architectural icon of the monarchy was erased and replaced by another icon of communism, under the guise of restoring the role of the people as the leader of the nation—instead of the monarchy. This overlaid one narrative of history over another. However, after German reunification in 1989, the Palace of the Republic was closed to the public due to the presence of asbestos used in its construction, leading to intense debates about the building's future. In 2003, the German parliament took the unusual decision to rebuild the stereometrics and baroque facades of the original Stadtschloss to convert it into a museum [known as the Humboldt Forum]. The architectural competition for this project, held in 2008, was won by architect Franco Stella. This approach exemplifies a strategy in which the original architectural features were reversed and restored, effectively deconstructing a building that, in the view of a reunified Germany, had usurped the original historical fact (Figure 4).
Figure 4a_ Humboldt Forum in construction (2012-2020). Source: Stiftung Humboldt Forum im Berliner Schloss.
Figure 4b_ Berliner Schloss (1415 -1950). Source: J.G.B., Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
Figure 4c_ Palace of the Republic (1973-1990). Sourcee: Jörg Blobelt, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
Throughout history, some architectural interventions have inadvertently attacked the cultural and landscape values of a city, and their consequences regarding historical memory are lamented today. Therefore, the act of deconstructing these works to reverse their impact is a way of recovering lost and hidden memories of the city through new interventions in urban spaces. In short, these are urban-architectural projects that aim to revive the city's memory, lost due to a past intervention that is now clearly inappropriate. An example of this decolonialist approach can be found in the hundreds of kilometers of viaducts and elevated highways that have been demolished in different cities around the world, making way not for automobiles (a private mode of transportation), but for pedestrians (a public mode of transportation). Expensive investments that were once considered a great success and a magnificent advance are now seen as aggressive interventions that alter the landscape and quality of life.
Therefore, one of the main intentions of this decolonialist strategy is to recover fundamental essences, on which the memories and origins of the city are sustained, in tune with contemporary values, such as environmental sustainability and respect for history. Thus, this type of practice constitutes a way of understanding the contemporary city, based on the transformative power of deconstruction to reverse a historical event.
During the 1940s, following hygienist guidelines and with the desire to create a “modern” city, Bogota erased one of the most characteristic landscape features of its historic city center: the San Francisco River. This led to the channeling and paving of most of its surface. For almost half a century, the river ran silently under the street pavement, until 1990 when architects Rogelio Salmona and Louis Kopec designed a pedestrian promenade to recover the river's presence through successive channels over the old riverbed. In Salmona's words “the paved curves of Avenida Jiménez de Quesada silently invoke the buried San Francisco River or Viracachá, as the first inhabitants of Bogotá (the Muiscas) called it, which means the glow of water in the dark” (Fundación Rogelio Salmona 2000). In this context, the 2000 project managed to partially reverse the paving and disappearance of this tributary, and thus recover the silenced and invisible memory of the river. From this perspective, deconstruction to reverse constitutes a decolonialist practice that opens a redemption opportunity for cities that have suppressed urban-architectural values from their history (Figures 5 and 6).
Figure 5_Canalisation of the San Francisco River. Source: Courtesy Fondo Luis Acuña - Museo de Bogotá, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons
Figure 6_ Jimenez Avenue Environmental Axis. Proyect by Rogelio Salmona and Louis Kopec (2000). Source: Haakon S. Krohn, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
In general terms, colonizing actions tend to use works of architecture to highlight or exalt facts and narratives that aim to consolidate a hegemonic truth in the city and public consciousness. However, colonizing actions can also use architecture to deny certain narratives that are deemed harmful and uncomfortable for those in power. Deconstruct to reveal focuses on cases where denying constitutes a form of colonizing history and thought. These cases are confronted through decolonizing projects that aim to reveal uncomfortable narratives and facts that have been deliberately hidden by those in power through research and/or architectural projects.
Forensic Architecture is a non-governmental research organization that investigates human rights violations and engages in decolonizing action. Their approach involves deconstructing stories and narratives related to such violations and revealing facts that have been denied or intentionally hidden by governmental, military or police powers, using architecture and design tools. Forensic Architecture is both a mode of forensic research and a field of academic knowledge based at Goldsmiths, University of London.
This organization makes architecture its medium and its message because, through the construction and use of the discipline's tools (physical and virtual models, 3D animations, virtual reality environments, and cartographies), researchers can reconstruct specific acts of violence to discover hidden facts. For example, the Palace of Justice siege in Bogotá (Colombia, 1985), the disappearance of Ayotzinapa's students (Mexico, 2014) or the fire at the Ali Enterprises textile factory in Karachi (Pakistan, 2012), illustrated here. In these cases, it was possible to reveal a hidden narrative by discovering aspects, situations, and truths that contradict the official discourse, revealing to the world a truth unknown until now (Figure 7).
Figure 7_ An on-the-ground view of the Ali Enterprises factory floor, as recreated in Forensic Architecture's 3D model. Source: Forensic Architecture, 2018).
The 2018 open competition for the design of a memory and reflection space to be built on the site of Pablo Escobar's former home (one of the world's most notorious drug traffickers) illustrates how power can colonize historiographical narratives through architecture. According to the competition guidelines, the objective was “to select the proposal that creates a public space that best embodies a place for remembrance, that encourages reflection on the past and solemnly pays tribute to the brave” (Sociedad Colombiana de Arquitectos 2018).
Although the guidelines explicitly mention the need for reflection on the past, the contest's parameters worked against this goal by avoiding any direct allusions to the past:
DETERMINANTS FOR THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE PROPOSALS
Local population and political leaders want to transform the dark past, that is part of Medellín's history, thus building a comprehensive narrative that recognizes and values the memory of the victims for symbolic reparation and reconciliation.
The decision to rewrite history and confront the paradigms of the so-called “narco culture”, with its fictional narrative and false heroes (movies, series and novels), aims to build a collective story of what really happened, exalting other references that put an end to the apology of crime and violence, to generate a culture with values that promote solidarity, transparency and trust in the other (Sociedad Colombiana de Arquitectos 2018).
It is evident from these determinants that despite initially alluding to an “integral” narrative, this really portrayed a partial narrative that “recognizes and values the memory of the victims”. It forgets that there are no victims without a victimizer, that every historical fact has causes and consequences, and that focusing the story on only one of them (the victims) automatically promotes the denial of the other (the victimizer). In general terms, the basic principle that sustains memory spaces is to counteract the forgetting of facts, while making stories more complex and recognizing both victims and their families. Paradoxically, in this competition forgetting is promoted by amputating parts of the narrative, prohibiting it, forgetting that there are no consequences without causes, and that omitting these causes creates a vacuum in the process that gives meaning to the story. Above all, memory is a process, not a fact. In the words of Maurice Halbwachs: “... the key to the city lies not in memory as permanence, but in history as becoming” (quoted in Gorelik 2009, 17).
For all the above reasons, it is worth mentioning a project that was submitted to this contest. Its authors recognized the negationist bias involved in telling a half-hearted story and proposed to maintain the structural skeleton of the building as a ghostly presence in the new project. In this regard, they argued:
The city's efforts to build a new narrative away from the label once held as “the most violent city in the world” are notable. However, this also implies making the stories of the recent past practically taboo […] To hide this history means ignoring the fate of more than one hundred and thirty thousand people affected, who between 1980 and 2014 were direct victims of the conflict in the city. It also means hiding the reasons that led the city to experience its darkest hours and the reasons why even today activities related to drug trafficking survive in the city. Hiding this history means removing the content from the places where the events took place, erasing the voices of the victims, their resistance and capacity not only to survive but to transform their reality (Taller Síntesis 2018).
This proposal, which did not win the competition, highlights the need to recognize all the protagonists of the conflict and avoid focusing solely on the victims in the history of drug trafficking. It does so through an architectural project that highlights the tensions that characterized this drama in Colombia. The park, place of memory and the ruins of the Monaco building are eloquent traces of what can never be again (Figure 8).
Figure 8_ International Public Competition of a Preliminary Architectural Project for the Design of a Memory and Reflection Space, Medellín 1983-1994. Taller Síntesis project (2018).
* Curatorial project of research-creation, based on the results of the project ID 9021: Análisis de las memorias descriptivas, políticas de gobierno y planimetrías en las bienales colombianas de arquitectura: Arquitectura estatal [Analysis of descriptive reports, government policies and planimetries in the Colombian Architecture Biennials: State Architecture]. Sponsoring institution: Pontificia Universidad Javeriana (Colombia).
1 For an extended versión of this and other case studies cited here, please consult the article “Revisionismo histórico en arquitectura, en el intersticio de los siglos XX y XXI: Reivindicar, rescatar o negar una memoria” (Garcia Ramirez 2021).