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SEPTEMBER 8 , 2000 VOL. 26 NO. 35 | SEARCH ASIAWEEK Treasure the Past Asia needs to preserve its architectural heritage When World War II ended, the Poles, working from old plans and photos, meticulously rebuilt historic central Warsaw exactly as it was before it was flattened. But after Tokyo's devastation by firebombing in the same conflict, no effort was made to recreate the city. Hong Kong suffered relatively little physical damage from the war, but what architectural heritage it possessed was largely swept away in the rush to develop property during its boom of the 1980s and 1990s. The old Jai Alai stadium along Manila's history-laden Taft Avenue survived the Battle of Manila — but not its latter-day battle with the mayor of Manila. He ordered it demolished to make way for a new courthouse. From these examples, one might easily conclude that the preservation ethic in Asia is weak. Asians, of course, are not entirely insensitive to their own historical heritage. Many of the region's world-class monuments — from Cambodia's Angkor Wat and Indonesia's Borobudur to the Forbidden City in Beijing and the Golden Pavilion in Kyoto — are still standing, though they have not always escaped the ravages of war, natural or man-made disasters and neglect. At least they have not been torn down simply to make way for a new shopping mall or a grand apartment complex. What Asians find harder is to see enduring value in some of the newer or less celebrated, yet historically significant, buildings in their midst. There are reasons for this. In Tokyo's case, repeated earthquakes and fires have given residents a strong sense about the futility of preserving old buildings, which would only be swept away in the next conflagration. As a result, the city has few authentic edifices that date back even to the 19th century. It may also be that outward appearances do not constitute the essence of the Japanese identity. Moreover, many Asian countries may argue that during their struggle against poverty in recent decades, not to mention the region's 1997-98 financial crisis, they have better things to spend money on than preserving old buildings. But the nub of the issue is surely judicious prioritizing. The Poles were hardly wealthy when they decided to rebuild old Warsaw, yet they found the resources to do it. Another reason for neglect may be that so much of what constitutes Asia's recent heritage is colonial. It evokes an era that many people would prefer to forget. Indeed, some of the region's most prominent cities, such as Hong Kong, Singapore and modern Shanghai, were essentially founded by Europeans. Would Malacca be considered for listing as a World Heritage City without the Dutch, or Macau without the Portuguese? Even the Jai Alai building, constructed in 1940, was in many ways a monument to the Philippines' 50 years "in Hollywood," as the American occupation era is sometimes called. A few years ago, the South Koreans tore down a historic building in central Seoul without shedding a tear because it had been used as the palace of the Japanese governor general during the occupation period. On the whole, though, Asian conservationists should not be deterred solely by any edifice's links with colonizers. The imperialists are all gone now, and the region's nations have long been independent. If a building is historically relevant and architecturally distinguished, it should be a candidate for preservation. Singapore did not balk at maintaining and renovating the famous Raffles Hotel, named after the city's founder, Englishman Stamford Raffles. And should Filipinos tear down Manila's Intramuros fort because it was built by the Spaniards? If they did do that, their country would lose not only an architectural gem and a piece of its history, but also a magnet for tourists. A case exists, too, for preserving structures with even darker pasts, such as opium depots or perhaps Pol Pot's torture chambers in Cambodia. They could serve as museums to remind and to illuminate for future generations what their forebears suffered or struggled against. Optimists hope that the demolition of the Jai Alai building, against considerable opposition, will become a turning point. If so, it would not be the first time that a losing campaign to save one structure provided the impetus for conservation movements to grow and press for preservation laws. Grand Central Station in New York might not have been saved, had not its magnificent rival, Pennsylvania Station, been torn down in 1963. And the demolition of London's Euston Station was the catalyst for much of the preservationist movement in Britain. Now more than half a million buildings are on the protected list. In France, it was only after Paris's 19th-century Les Halles market fell in the early 1970s that people took conservation seriously. These days, there is much hand-wringing about the corroding influence of globalization on local cultures. Yet many Asian communities are still happily destroying their own heritage in the name of progress. Without a broad social commitment to studying, preserving and understanding the past, it may be left to political leaders to dictate what should be remembered and what shouldn't, handing a potentially dangerous power to those who dominate the present. That would be a bit like allowing George Orwell's Big Brother to interpret or rewrite history. The past is a nation's foundation and belongs to everyone. It should be sensitively preserved and regularly re-examined. That cannot happen if Asia's cultural heritage continues to disappear at a fast clip. Write to Asiaweek at mail@web.asiaweek.com
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