Credits: Mohammad Gharipour

Introduction

In the contemporary Middle East, bureaucratic and corporate interests seem to have become the primary drives of architects. Global capitalism, rather than being an accommodating element, is often portrayed as an inevitable consequence driven by the economic self-interest of a newly conscious consumer class.¹ In capitalist societies, the value of architecture tends to be defined not by its spiritual, intellectual, or emotional content but by its economic worth.² This economic environment has influenced the psychology of architects, whose bureaucratic or organizational personalities compel them to submit to an economic power system for money and prestige.

The globalization of markets has been a powerful economic, political, and cultural force. However, in prioritizing economic growth at any cost, this form of global capitalism has begun to deteriorate from within.

Following World War II, the availability of building materials and technologies that standardized fabrication and construction spread to countries in the Middle East. Native and foreign architects explored a variety of approaches and new forms to express emerging functional needs. Alongside economic progress and shifting socio-cultural and geopolitical contexts, contemporary architecture in this region faced the challenge of developing a distinctive character that combined the heritage of regional building traditions with the demands of modern society.

This evolution included the creation of new building types, the use of innovative materials and technologies, and the revival of Islamic building traditions adapted to growing industries and urban infrastructure.

In this age of pluralism and global capitalism, Middle Eastern architecture has become tremendously diverse, defying any simple generalization. While architects in the region do not appear motivated by universal stylistic labels, and questions of style as predetermined icons seem outdated, the retention of regional identity remains a vital concern.

By applying a universal framework, this paper examines regionalism in contemporary Middle Eastern architecture.

What is Regionalism?

In contemporary society, culture is complex and diverse to such an extent that no critic or architect can consistently address all of it. Amidst such pluralism and nostalgia, architects must seek new styles.³

As a response to the neglect of local cultures in modern architecture, critic Kenneth Frampton introduced regionalism as a strategy of resistance in 1977. He argued that the survival of rooted cultures depends on their capacity to reconstruct their traditions while appropriating foreign influences, both culturally and civilizationally.⁴ Regional identities can temporarily resist the maximization of profit and efficiency.⁵

Frampton’s concept of critical regionalism—distinct from vernacular architecture—was an avant-garde approach grounded in local or regional architectural principles. It emerged during the early 1980s as a reaction to the rising postmodern movement. In Towards a Critical Regionalism, Frampton explained how architecture can be modern while reconnecting with foundational sources and participating in universal civilization.⁶

This approach advocates adopting modern concepts for their universal and progressive qualities, while respecting the geographical context. To differentiate from postmodern historicism, Frampton proposed emphasizing topography, climate, light, tectonic form, and sensual qualities rather than scenographical or visual ornamentation.

Regionalism in the Middle East

Long before Frampton’s theory, local architects had already explored regionalism through the use of historic elements, forms, and materials. However, regionalism received limited attention mainly because of the public’s fascination with European and American architectural models.

Economic development and the rise of international construction firms after the 1970s accelerated the importation of modern architectural forms from the West. The use of steel, concrete, and glass became symbols of progress and prestige in cities, often devoid of critical discourse on modernism’s implications in the region. Ironically, early efforts to localize modern architecture were rooted in modern movements that were largely uniform from Turkey to Egypt.

Turkey, physically and culturally closest to the West, especially due to Atatürk’s modernization efforts in the early 20th century, experienced a pivotal period in the 1960s when Western International style coexisted alongside revived nationalistic architecture.

For example, the Turkish Historical Society Building (1966) by Turgut Cansever, inspired by Ottoman madrasa courtyard plans, features a large three-story atrium surrounded by interior spaces arranged around intricate trelliswork that poetically distributes natural light. Exterior walls are constructed from massive local stone resting on pilotis.

Modernization in Turkey and Iran was almost synchronous, as their rulers, Atatürk and Reza Shah—close allies and friends—shared ideas about foundational reform. In the 1960s, Iranian architects began to revive Iranian identity for modern life. Notable examples include the Museum of Contemporary Art in Tehran (1976), where regional symbols and spatial organization are integrated into the plan, and the Shushtar New Town Housing Complex by Kamran Diba (1974–1978), which creates spatial dynamics between living units and a series of narrow outdoor courtyards, elements inherited from traditional Iranian cities and towns (Figures 1 and 2).

In Egypt, Hassan Fathy was a pioneering architect whose focus on community issues through the use of traditional and classical forms was sometimes criticized by his peers as too conservative. Nonetheless, Fathy’s style and emphasis on local values influenced a new generation of architects who were also engaging with Western architectural movements.

With the rapid growth of urban centers during the 1970s, one significant project in Cairo was Abdelbaki Ibrahim’s Center for Planning and Architectural Studies (1979). Ibrahim combined modern construction technologies with traditional building concepts—such as scale, layering of volumes, spatial organization around a central courtyard, and the use of local materials—to revive historic Islamic architectural traditions within a modern urban framework. Although the building does not feature signature historic elements like arches, domes, or vaults, it embodies traditional values through its proportions, construction methods, and sensitive response to local environmental and cultural conditions.

The last decade of the 20th century saw major economic growth in urban centers, which in turn created a demand for new architectural expressions by both local and international architects. During this period, public projects in Syria, such as the Azbakiya Commercial Complex (1980) and the Syrian General Insurance Company Building (1984), combined modern formal sensibilities, materials, and structural systems with traditional principles—incorporating central courtyards and gardens as integral components of their spatial configurations.

The Aga Khan Award for Architecture, established in 1977, has been a strong advocate for regional projects in developing countries. This prestigious award has recognized numerous initiatives across the Middle East, Africa, and Asia that embody Islamic identity within the built environment while responding thoughtfully to their local socio-economic contexts. Spanning a diverse range of building types—from religious structures and social housing to contemporary high-rise developments—the award celebrates projects that innovate modernity while preserving cultural identity.

Rather than simply replicating historic precedents, the award highlights designs that reinterpret and enrich tradition within a contemporary framework, thereby imparting new meaning to the people and cultures they serve. Geoffrey Bawa, a recipient of the Aga Khan Chairman’s Award, stands out as one of the most successful regionalist architects in the Islamic world. Bawa developed a distinctive style of tropical regionalism, drawing upon traditional elements such as cantilevered floors, stepped roof pavilions, fountains, and asymmetrically arranged low-rise pavilions organized around courtyards (Figure 7).

Conclusion

A wave of rapid economic growth fueled by rising oil prices has created significant opportunities for international architects and construction firms in the Middle East. However, ongoing economic and political instabilities have introduced a sense of discontinuity, impermanence, and irregularity to the region’s development. Despite these challenges, the market remains the most influential factor shaping architecture in the area.

The recent decades’ economic expansion, commercialism, consumerism, and intensifying global capitalism have made the Middle East an ideal testing ground for architectural creativity. Concurrently, the digitization of design processes, the influx of international architects, and increasing investment in construction projects have obscured a clear architectural progression. The homogenization of architecture since the 1960s contrasts sharply with the rich diversity of the region’s cultures and societies. This tension between the global capitalist drive toward uniformity and the national desire for difference has complicated architectural practice.

Moreover, recent sociopolitical and cultural movements have propelled the region into an age of complexity and contradiction. Contemporary architecture in the Middle East is no longer a monotonous or universal phenomenon. Yet, the current chaos of stylistic pluralism reflects less cultural diversity than architects’ egocentric approaches and the region’s social and economic complications.

What then is the future of regionalism in the Middle East, and how can it be supported by decision-makers? A genuine commitment to regionalism requires a deep appreciation of local and regional values, traditions, and architectural elements alongside advanced technology, materials, and techniques. Critical regionalists, as Kenneth Frampton described, were originally modernists fluent in modern architectural language. Any contemporary solution inspired by regionalism must embrace the complexity, diversity, and pluralism inherent in the region’s cultures.

Contrary to modernist ideals, architects now recognize that there is no utopia or magic formula for architectural perfection. Success depends on a thorough understanding of contextual issues, which demands dynamic dialogue among architects, planners, communities, and users—an engagement largely neglected over the past sixty years in the Islamic world. Therefore, the challenge is not the absence of regulations or codes, but rather their implementation and the lack of public participation.

At the same time, efforts to innovate and create ‘new’ architecture must be coupled with initiatives to preserve the ‘old.’ The rapid development of new urban areas has resulted in the demolition of numerous historic buildings, underscoring the need for development plans to include strategies for preserving and rehabilitating old buildings and historic urban neighborhoods.

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References

1. Reinhold Martin, Utopia’s Ghost (University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, 2010), p. 27.
2. Suzi Gablik, Has Modernism Failed? (Thames and Hudson, London, 2004), p. 49.
3. Collin Rowe, “Introduction to Five Architects (1972),” in Architectural Theory: An Anthology from 1871-2005, Volume II, edited by Harry Francis Mallgrave and Christine Contandriopoulos (Blackwell Publishing, 2008), pp. 400–402, p. 400.
4. Kenneth Frampton, Modern Architecture and Its Critical Present (London: Architectural Design, 1982), p. 77.
5. David Kolb, p. 165.
6. Kenneth Frampton, “Towards a Critical Regionalism: Six Points for an Architecture of Resistance,” in The Anti-Aesthetic: Essays on Postmodern Culture, edited by Hal Foster (Bay Press, Port Townsend, 1983).
7. Mohammad Gharipour and Anitha Deshamudra, “Contemporary Architecture in the Middle East (1900 – 2000),” in Cultural Sociology of the Middle East, Asia, and Africa, edited by Orlando Patterson (New York: Sage Publishers, to be published in 2011).

Published in 2A Magazine# 26, Winter 2014

Credits:

Nader Ardalan ,Graduate School of Design Harvard University

Introduction:

Learning to manipulate clay, stone, marble, and wood, man penetrated their properties, and his techniques gave expression to his aspirations toward the divine. In architecture, environmental harmony was known to the Chinese, the Indians, the Greeks, and others. It produced the temples of Karnak, the great mosques of Islam, and the cathedral of Chartres in France. Hassan Fathy

In the course of human cultural and scientific development, we can identify five transformational phases of history to the present.2 From the Paleolithic and Neolithic we evolved into the phase of the Classical-Traditional cultures of the great religions. In the last five hundred years we have gradually transformed into the Scientific-Technological phase and have now reached a threshold where the dominance by science and technology under the control of modern corporations and their reign of quantity and material consumerism is now threatening the very existence of life on earth.3 Yet, we are still hesitant to awaken to the fact that for a species to remain viable, it must establish a niche for itself that is holistically beneficial both for itself and for the well being of its surrounding context.4 This “beneficial niche” needs an attitudinal change, a transformation to what some have termed an emerging Ecological Age that will succeed the Technological age and foster a deep awareness of the sacred presence within each aspect of the universe and man’s integral part in this web of existence. 5Caught between the traditional past of religious beliefs and the yet not fully formed and comprehended new cosmology of the next Ecological phase of human consciousness, human being sexist in a transitional situation that is precarious and yet full of potential. Traditional Abrahamic religions have taught that the Divine is transcendent to the natural world; there fore they hold that we must negate the natural world as a locus for the meeting of the Divine and the human. This makes the conception of the natural world as merely an object to serve man’s material needs and this attitude has led to the plunder and near destruction of the natural resources of the earth by contemporary society.6 In Islam, this tendency is some what mitigated since man’s responsibility toward the natural environment evolves from his role as God’s Khalifa(inheritors or vicegerent) on earth. In this regard the Quran says, ‘He is that has made you inheritors in the earth: if, then ,any do reject, their rejection (works) against themselves’.

The Hadiths frame this responsibility within the two principles: unselfish utilization of natural resources and preservation of the natural balance as good stewards of nature.8 However, even these worthy cultural precedence are mostly not heeded in contemporary thought and action by decision makers in the Middle East

Perhaps, the social revolutions being experienced around the world and most recently over the last two quarter generations in the Middle East, highlighted by the recent “Arab Spring”, are testaments to the material pressures of a world that has multiplied to seven billion population and we are now 50% urbanized; water and food supplies have become increasingly more scarce; issues of income discrepancies, unemployment, financial crises and civil injustice characterize a growing number of contemporary societies. Faced with these daunting, disruptive forces, we seem to have no common ground visions or functional cosmology to guide us to viable solutions. Yet, at no time in history have humans had such access to the vast qualitative and quantitative knowledge made available to us that could discipline and generate sustainable new directions for a noble human survival

Within this panorama and the limits of this article, my interest is to focus on one pivotal question related to the future of our urban built environments. In particular, the question is: How can holistic approaches to ecological spirituality inform and influence the form and life patterns of current and future cities in the Middle East? What is the potential of the city to spiritually uplift the human spirit, contextualize and symbolize our shared “human condition,” accommodate inclusive communal activities and rituals that give meaning to our lives, and provide connections to knowledge and understanding of the transcendent dimension of existence in architecture and the urban setting?9 Perhaps, one way to do that is to look at positive examples in the past and elicit key design principles; observe the shortcomings of this subject in the present; incorporate the vast new knowledge available to us about ecological urbanism and then proceed to suggest what innovative design paradigms might help produce the sustainable city sublime of the future in our region of the world? What have been the holistic environmental, social, cultural, economical forces and urban design policies that have produced the sublime places, the beautifully vital cities of the world and the architecture that we cherish and are transformed by?

Once we have explored and understood the elements of such transformative places that produce in us a sense of “wondrous awe” and integrated them with new criteria of ecological spirituality, we may proceed in the next phases to study how these considerations, as basic principles, might help produce the city sublime of the future and rehabilitate our existing cities. Within the limits of this short essay, might it be possible to gleam some lessons of what has been the role of spirituality in the more memorable and beautiful built environments of the Middle East? What are the highlight ‘spiritual’ foundations that have given birth, sustained, made grow, and (when lacking) caused the death of cities in this region over the last ten millennia?

Key Principles of Transcendent Cities

From these brief glimpses into some of the most sublime cities of the Middle East, several key characteristics emerge—insights that may inform principles for achieving greater urban transcendence in our future cities. They also offer possible strategies for revitalizing existing urban fabrics, many of which have succumbed to phenomenal and spiritual decay.

A critical question arises: Can the current surge of religious movements in the Middle East foster a renewed spiritualism, or is that potential being overshadowed—perhaps even suppressed—by the forces of radical fundamentalism¹⁵?

The Structure of Being

In traditional worldviews, human understanding leans toward a mode of comprehension that embraces both metaphysical and phenomenal interpretations of life. This dual understanding deeply influences perception, beginning with the individual’s situational awareness within the cosmos.

In this framework, cosmic space is perceived as an externalization of macrocosmic creation, which is in turn understood as analogous to the microcosm of the human self. This worldview—rooted in Hermetic philosophy and absorbed into Islamic metaphysics—divides the structure of the universe into two interrelated realms:

• Zahir (the outward, phenomenal macrocosm)
• Batin (the inward, hidden microcosm)

Each of these realms is further subdivided into three primary levels of being:

1. Jism – the body
2. Nafs – the soul
3. Ruh – the spirit

This tripartite model reflects a sacred cosmology that traditionally shaped urban form, spatial awareness, and spiritual symbolism in transcendent cities¹⁶ (see Fig. 6).

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Orientation in Space

In a structured cosmological space, traditional man possesses a clear sense of direction and belonging. His understanding of orientation is not arbitrary but rooted in the natural order—anchored by the heavens, the rising and setting of the sun and moon, the rotation of stars, and the movement of prevailing winds. These celestial and environmental phenomena make the otherwise infinite nature of space both measurable and meaningful.

The six cardinal directions—north, south, east, west, up (zenith), and down (nadir)—form a primary coordinate system by which all of creation is situated. Within the Islamic worldview, this cosmic structure is further enriched by the daily orientation toward Mecca for ritual prayer, transforming spatial awareness into an act of spiritual alignment¹⁷.

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The Sense of Place and Sustainable Urbanism

Once cosmic order is perceived, the interpretive mind seeks a reflection of that order in the regional landscape. Place-making begins with responding to the natural environment—from distant mountain peaks to river valleys, ocean vistas, or desert plateaus. These settings become part of a site’s Genius Loci—its spirit of place—which guides the urban form, density, texture, and key visual axes.

Though Middle Eastern bioregions have definable geographic limits, their identity is also shaped by mythic and historic self-conceptions. This bioclimatic cultural identity can inspire a new spiritual ecology—not only for emerging urban centers but also for the retrofitting and healing of existing cities.

The most profound challenge lies in shifting from an anthropocentric to a biocentric norm of progress, where cities harmonize with their environments and metaphysical meanings.

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Ancient Origins and Cosmic Consciousness

Cities founded in ancient times often appear more deeply imbued with cosmic consciousness. Perhaps this is because the founding motivations of early builders were shaped not only by strategic or defensive needs, but also by a mystical participation in life. They designed cities that resonated with universal order.

But what of the new cities—those that will emerge as humanity urbanizes at unprecedented scale? With global population expected to surpass 9 billion within the next 50 years, and more than 60% living in urban centers, the imperative is clear: new cities must offer more than just functionality—they must offer meaning.

Modern astronomy and cosmology—from the Big Bang to the expanding universe—could offer fresh narratives to guide contemporary urban form. Historically, great cities have served as abstract projections of human worldviews inscribed onto the Earth. From the ritual landscapes of Göbekli Tepe, to Elamite Choga Zanbil, Ecbatana, the circular city of Baghdad under Caliph al-Mansur, and Herat in 12th-century Afghanistan, cities often expressed the conceptual structure of the universe as understood in their time (see Figs. 7, 8, 9).

Their purpose was to manifest tawhid—the metaphysical principle of divine unity. Yet within this unity, the contemplative mind recognized multiplicity: the harmony of many within the One, and the presence of the One within the many. This philosophy shaped the dynamic and rhythmic urban geometries of cities like Shiraz and Isfahan during the 16th century¹⁸ (see Fig. 10).

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A New Urban Vision

Can a renewed macrocosmic consciousness—one that respects the metaphysical and ecological dimensions of life—help shape the city forms of the future? Can this vision also scale down to accommodate the microcosm of the individual, the intimacy of the family, and the shared life of neighborhoods?

The cities of the past suggest it is possible. The challenge before us is to bring that transcendent vision into contemporary urbanism, creating places that are both cosmically inspired and human-centered.

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Sacred Paths, Places of Religion & Pilgrimage — Places of Knowledge

Without exception, the selected cities mentioned above each shelter one or more sacred sites—shrines, sanctuaries, or religious places of pilgrimage. The sanctity of their spirituality permeates not just these sites, but extends throughout the urban fabric, infusing key places with meaning and resonance. Sacred pathways and historic pilgrimage routes often weave organically through the city, forming a spiritual skeleton that continues to shape their physical and metaphysical presence¹⁹.

Over time, many of these cities have also become centers of knowledge, housing institutions of academic and spiritual learning. This has given rise to vibrant student life, endowing these places with a sense of artistic, intellectual, and social vitality. The presence of wisdom traditions coexists with contemporary education, producing cities that are as reflective as they are dynamic.

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Urban Space, the Public Realm, and the Paradise Garden — Pedestrian and Human Scale

One of the defining features of the cities cited is the positive and vital concept of space. These urban environments are not shaped merely by form or monumentality, but by the quality of spatial experience itself. The idea that space should lead form is central to their design logic.

Dense urban fabrics—such as those seen in Isfahan, Iran—are punctuated with public spaces that celebrate the pedestrian scale. These include linear bazaars, open plazas, and public gardens, all designed with human proportions in mind (see Fig. 11). They are walking cities—organic, lived-in environments animated by conversation, music, and movement.

Urban structures typically range from two to four stories, composed of courtyard-centered volumes, shaded passageways, and serendipitous vistas, often anchored by symbolic buildings of architectural quality. These spaces foster a deeply human and sensory experience of the city.

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Multicultural, Integrated Communities — Political History and Economic Vitality

Another common trait of transcendent cities is their openness to multiculturalism. These are cosmopolitan environments where people of different faiths and ethnicities coexist, shaping rich and diverse cultural tapestries. This pluralism may hint at a deeper, shared foundation of spirituality that transcends individual doctrines—a quality essential to the sublime city.

These cities are not cloistered or monastic; on the contrary, they often pulse with artistic, sensual, and civic energy. Many have served as seats of political power or regions of strategic influence, and most maintain thriving economies characterized by markets such as the Souk or Bazaar. A notable example is the Khan el-Khalili market in Cairo, a historic commercial hub still vibrant today (see Fig. 12)²¹.

Quality Architecture

One profound definition of architecture is that it is “the process of creating Archetypes.” In contrast, other definitions often result in the production of mere buildings, which, when visualized as part of a pyramid of values, occupy the lower rungs of quantity, far removed from the apex of qualitative and aesthetic excellence.

Cities that have nurtured what is both beautiful and good—in Aristotelian terms—radiate a subtle elegance. This elegance is not the product of material extravagance, but rather the essence of their conception and realization. In such cities, proportion, the use of numbers, and geometry serve as mathematical expressions of deeper, timeless truths. These elements aim to recall the Archetypes—whether through the Platonic “world of hanging forms” or the Islamic concept of Alam-i-Mithal, the imaginal realm of perfected forms²².

The Hermetic traditions of alchemy offer further insight for the architect. They provide metaphysical and symbolic guidance for the transformation of matter—from basic heaviness to elegant lightness—through the disciplined and conscious use of symbols, colors, geometry, and mathematics. These principles are often embodied in sacred landscapes, such as the Paradise Gardens of the Islamic world.

A compelling example is the 19th-century Bagh-i Eram in Shiraz, Iran, where geometry, symbolism, and aesthetic intention converge to create a spatial experience that transcends the material (see Fig. 13).

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Transcendent Symbolism

Traditional man possesses an innate propensity for symbolic expression, a tendency deeply embedded in both Persian and Arabic languages and cultures. In Persian, one may say a person has Ham-dami—an inner resonance or sympathetic connection with the batin (hidden or inward) qualities of creation.

Within traditional metaphysics, symbols are regarded as theophanies—manifestations of the absolute within the relative, phenomenal world. These symbolic forms, though sensible and perceptible, point toward a deeper metaphysical reality. They are not human inventions; rather, *“man does not create symbols, he is transformed by them.”*²³

Philosopher Thomas Berry notes that traditional man lives in intimate communion with the depths of his psychic structure, a state that contrasts sharply with the rationalistic orientation of modern Euroamerican consciousness. As Berry writes, *“We have so developed our rational processes, our phenomenal ego, that we have lost much of the earlier communion we had with the archetypal world of our own unconscious.”*²⁴

Supporting this, Pulitzer Prize–winning biologist Edward O. Wilson, in Consilience, explains that the human brain tends to condense repeated experiences into symbolic concepts. These mental abstractions, which he terms memes, are neural activity patterns that represent the core units of culture. His research shows that people are naturally drawn to environments that resonate with their inherited symbolic inclinations. As Wilson asserts:

*“The message from geneticists to intellectuals and policymakers is this: Choose the society you want to promote, and then prepare to live with its heritabilities.”*²⁵

Similarly, in The Faith Instinct, Nicholas Wade traces the origins of spiritual longing as a genetically hardwired instinct—a survival mechanism rooted in the evolutionary past. Even in today’s increasingly secular societies, faith and the spiritual impulse remain vital forces that continue to fortify the social fabric²⁶.

Psychologist Carl Jung also emphasized the timeless power of symbolic forms—including mandalas, circles, Pythagorean geometries, colors, the Ouroboros, and mythic archetypes such as heroic figures, natural elements, and the Earth Mother. These symbols, he argued, are ever-present in the collective unconscious, waiting to be awakened by those who have *“the conscious eyes to see.”*²⁷ (See Fig. 14)

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Concluding Observations

Such, then, is the nature and framework of this quest: to shift our cities and their architecture away from a machine-inspired, functionalist aesthetic toward a more cosmic, ecological, and spiritually inspired design approach. The resolutions to these values and aesthetic questions remain elusive, yet they offer profound inspiration for more meaningful answers that touch both the individual soul and collective humanity.

“When you become the pencil in the hand of the infinite,
When you are truly creative… design begins and never has an end.”
— Frank Lloyd Wright²⁸

To truly address the key issues of sustainability and realize the highest aspirations of contemporary art and architecture, a common ground must be found. Without it, new architectural creations lack a sense of place, become environmentally unsustainable, and appear as alien intrusions upon existing civilizations. This identity crisis is palpable throughout the cities of the Middle East, particularly within the rapid urban expansions of the Persian Gulf region.

Instead, the momentum of this new, resurgent urbanism urgently demands design solutions that harmonize with both nature and culture.

“Every advance in technology has been directed toward man’s mastery of his environment. Until very recently, however, man always maintained a certain balance between his bodily and spiritual being and the external world. Disruption of this balance may have a detrimental effect on man, genetically, physiologically, or psychologically. And however fast technology advances, however radically the economy changes, all change must be related to the rate of change of man himself. The abstractions of the technologist and the economist must be continually pulled down to Earth by the gravitational force of human nature.”
— Hassan Fathy²⁹

To restore cultural identity, we must begin with a cosmic, systemic awareness of the context of human existence—both on the tangible, phenomenal level and the less tangible, cultural level. We need to understand the particular worldviews of indigenous civilizations, the Genius Loci (spirit of place), and the optimal ecological fit between cities and their natural context.

The mandate of good design is to elegantly realize this holistic vision in physical form. Such an approach offers a vital methodology for reconciling the profound worldviews of traditional civilizations with the demands of contemporary urban life.

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References

1. Steele, J. Architecture for the Poor: The Complete Works of Hassan Fathy (1997)
2. Bronowski, J. The Ascent of Man
3. Ellul, J. The Technological Society
4. McHarg, I. Design with Nature
5. Berry, T. The Dream of the Earth
6. Ibid.
7. Ali, A.Y. The Holy Quran
8. Bukhari, I. Sahih al-Bukhari
9. Harvard University Symposium YouTube DVD titled: Urbanism, Spirituality & Well-Being (June 2013)
10. Mann, C.C. “The Birth of Religion: The World’s First Temple,” National Geographic, Vol. 219, No. 6 (June 2011)
11. Polz, Daniel C. “Thebes.” In The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt
12. Ardalan, N. Blessed Jerusalem
13. Burckhardt, T. Fez, City of Islam
14. Ardalan, N. / Bakhtiar, L. The Sense of Unity
15. Nasr, S.H. Islam in the Modern World: Challenged by the West, Threatened by Fundamentalism, Keeping Faith with Tradition (2010)
16. Ardalan, N. / Bakhtiar, L. The Sense of Unity
17. Ibid.
18. Ibid.
19. Barrie, T. Spiritual Path, Sacred Place: Myth Ritual and Meaning in Architecture
20. Ardalan, N. / Bakhtiar, L. The Sense of Unity
21. Raymond, A. The Great Arab Cities in the 16th-18th Centuries: An Introduction
22. Ardalan, N. / Bakhtiar, L. The Sense of Unity
23. Nasr, S.H. Introduction to Islamic Cosmological Doctrines
24. Berry, T. The Dream of the Earth
25. Wilson, E.O. Consilience
26. Wade, N. The Faith Instinct
27. Jung, C.G. Man and His Symbols
28. Geva, A. Frank Lloyd Wright’s Sacred Architecture
29. Steele, J. Architecture for the Poor: The Complete Works of Hassan Fathy (1997)

Published in 2A Magazine# 26, Winter 2014

Credits to: Michele Lamprakos

More than 200 years have passed since French savants documented the ancient and medieval monuments of Cairo, and more than a century since European conservation practices were introduced throughout the Middle East/ North Africa region, under formal or informal colonial rule. Initially, the focus was on individual buildings: mosques, schools, fountains, and other structures that made up the fabric of everyday life were reconceived as “monuments.” Around the turn of the century, the object of conservation broadened, to include wider urban areas. In both Europe and its colonies, conservation provided the counternarrative to modernization: from Haussmann’s évent rement of Paris in the mid-19th century to modernist plans for Arab medinas in the 20th, invasive strategies provoked a reaction that would ultimately lead to the notion of an “historic” city distinct from the modern, and worthy of protection. Today, the old cores of many European and American cities have been gentrified, excluding lower and middle income populations. In contrast, the medinas of the Middle East and North Africa continue to be the province of the poor- despite efforts in some places to “clean them up” for tourists. What relevance does heritage have for residents of these old cities – many of whom, as recent migrants, may have little attachment to them? Do the countless projects conducted by the World Bank, UNDP-UNESCO, and other organizations under the rubric of “conservation-in development” bring any benefits to those who live in the historic centers – beyond the promise of tourist dollars? Once the heart of vibrant urban cultures, these old districts were neglected by colonizers and abandoned by modernizing elites in the 19th and 20th centuries. This marginalization has continued: today “historic areas” are no more than tiny islands in sprawling mega-cities. Given the many pressing problems of cities, heritage usually ends up low on the priority list – except when funding is offered by international donors. When donor interest and funding dry up, the projects often end.

At the same time, our focus on historic cities has blinded us to the countless villages and rural landscapes that are depopulated or abandoned – the flip side of rampant urbanization. Are these not also “heritage” What does heritage mean to the youth of the Arab world? Critics have portrayed heritage as a tool of the state, a guarantor of national identity – and hence, of the status Michele Lamprakos holds a joint appointment in the Architecture and Historic Preservation Programs. Trained as an architect and an historian, she is interested in the historical layers of buildings and cities. Her geographical focus is the Middle East and the Mediterranean world. Professor Lamprakos began her career as a development worker in Egypt, where she managed a project to revive the cottage silk industry in the Nile Delta. Through this work she developed a deep interest in material culture and the role it can play in transforming people’s lives. This led her to the study of architecture and later, architectural history and historic preservation.33A second project, the restoration of the Wadi Hanifa wetlands in Saudi Arabia, is being cited as a model for sustainable development in the region.2 This 120 kilometer watershed had historically provided sustenance for Riyadh and other communities along its banks. But with the rapid growth of the capital in the 1970’s, the wadi fell into neglect – its ecosystem virtually destroyed by over-exploitation, waste-water, dumping, and encroaching development. The Arriyadh Development authority, working with architects Buro Happold and landscape architects Moriyama & Teshima, developed a project to rehabilitate the wadi. Over a period of ten years, the project has transformed the wadi into a verdant green space and public park – a rare phenomenon in this part of the world (figure 2).Fig 1. Conservation of Darb al-Ahmar, Cairoquo and stability. What will heritage become, in an era of revolution? We will not find an answer in the rather worn opposition of “cultural identity” and “globalization” – since the young protestors of the Arab world have forged their identity on a global stage.

Given these conditions – poverty, marginalization, revolution – what does “heritage” mean today? And what relevance can it have for the future?

There seem to be two major trends. The first continues the curatorial approach of 19th century conservation that focuses on the careful restoration of monuments, and façade and streetscape improvements. The problem is that these restored, often sanitized, places do not have the same impact as their counterparts in Europe and the US. They generally fail to attract local elites, and they offer little to poor residents. Indeed, they often alienate the poor – imposing unfamiliar norms, and disregarding local life and livelihood. In the end, the focus is tourism – a precarious wager in times of political and economic instability. A second trend is less common, but more hopeful. This approach sees historic areas in a holistic way – not only as physical fabric, but as living environments. Here, the curatorial approach is checked by the need to revitalize: to upgrade infrastructure and housing, sustain local economies, and build on local resources and skills. This approach is not new, but it seems to have fallen out of favor in the 1980’s – particularly in World Heritage Cities, which proliferated at that time and where the curatorial approach tended to rule.

Over the course of the last decade, a number of projects have attempted to revive an integrated approach to historic cities. Like their predecessors, they have upgraded physical infrastructure and restored select monuments.

But their aims are wider ranging, and their strategies more diverse. The conservation of Darb al-Ahmar in Cairo was part of a larger, ambitious project undertaken by the Aga Khan Trust for Culture and other agencies and local partners.1 The most visible result of the project was the creation of a park on the landfill outside the 12th century Ayyubid Wall – intended as an amenity for the adjacent neighborhood and the wider city. The project included the restoration of the wall and the rehabilitation of the neighborhood: it restored several important monuments, improved streets and public space, and supported the community through various services and programs.

A remarkable aspect of the project is the treatment of the Ayyubid Wall itself.

For centuries, houses have been built adjacent to, and on top of the wall, using it as a kind of armature. An Egyptian antiquities law required that these houses be removed, and that a non ædificandi zone be created on each side of the wall. But project managers argued that the houses were part of the historic context of the wall: it was essential to keep them in place, in order to keep the community intact. Their view prevailed, and the houses were rehabilitated one by one – moving “wet zones” like kitchens and bathrooms away from the wall, so as to minimize damage to the stonework. As a result, the wall has become a kind of living monument (figure 1).

A second project, the restoration of the Wadi Hanifa wetlands in Saudi Arabia, is being cited as a model for sustainable development in the region.2 This 120 kilometer watershed had historically provided sustenance for Riyadh and other communities along its banks. But with the rapid growth of the capital in the 1970’s, the wadi fell into neglect – its ecosystem virtually destroyed by over-exploitation,wastewater, dumping, and encroaching development. The Arriyadh Development authority, working with architects Buro Happold and landscape architects Moriyama & Teshima, developed a project to rehabilitate the wadi. Over a period of ten years, the project has transformed the wadi into a verdant green space and public park – a rare phenomenon in this part of the world (figure 2).

Dams have been built, the landscape has been restored, and archeological sites along the banks have been conserved and interpreted. Most impressive, perhaps, is the innovative bio-remediation facility: designed of natural materials and sensitively integrated into the landscape, it captures and cleans urban wastewater, harnessing it to produce aquatic plants and fish that further purify the water. This is an act of both environmental and historical restoration – reconnecting the city of Riyadh to the resource that gave it life.

A third project, the conservation of the old town of Shibam in the Hadhramaut region of Yemen, is one of the few projects to address a persistent problem in conservation: how does one conserve an entire historic town?3 Treating conservation as an elite activity – requiring outside experts and prohibitive costs – seems particularly unsuited to the Hadhramaut, where mud building continues to thrive and evolve.

Sponsored by GTZ 4, government and quasi-governmental partners, the Shibam project started a dialogue with local builders, craftsmen, residents, and officials to develop a strategy for conserving the town and to build a consensusregarding conservation standards, based on traditional practice. The program that emerged was multi-faceted: it provided subsidized micro-loans to both owners and tenants and built on local expertise, by working through existing apprenticeship networks.

In effect, the project normalized conservation – recasting it in the familiar terms of maintenance and urban management. At the same time, it recognized local expertise and skills as “heritage” (figure 3). Unlike the old notion of patrimoine – the cultural property of state actors, managed under curatorial protocols – these projects attempt to define heritage relative to the values, aspirations, and resources of particular communities. In contrast to expert plans based on international standards and “best practices,” this approach requires a deep understanding of local contexts, cultures, and languages. It requires an interdisciplinary team, working closely with local groups and institutions; it is inclusive, incremental, politicized – and as a result, it’s inherently messy. But these qualities, in the long run, may achieve results that are truly sustainable. And such results will, perhaps, make heritage matter.

Published in 2A Magazine# 26, Winter 2014

Credit to:

Hussam Salama, Ph.D
Assistant Professor
Department of Architecture and Urban Planning
Qatar University
Hussam.salama@qu.edu.qa

Introduction

During the last decade, many cities in the Middle East have experienced dramatic forms of urban change in response to the new world order and what is referred to as “globalization.” Global flows of capital, people, and knowledge and information began to reshape the economic, social, and political structures of cities across the region. These flows were not necessarily imposed by the new world system. In fact, many major Middle East cities have been investing in projects that have the capacity of triggering these flows to their local contexts. The quest for a top ranking “world city” have dominated urban development in the region (see Friedmann 1986). Priority was given to projects that can intensify global flows. Airports, financial centers, education and media cities, spectacular museums, and mega shopping malls are all examples of these projects, which I refer to as “places of global flows.” These places have the capacity of hosting agglomerations of global flows and facilitating their transmission to the local context. They became core urban components in most of globalizing cities in the Middle East. They are currently playing a very critical role in shaping urban transformation in the region. These places pose challenges to local socio-cultural and economic structures. They also offer opportunities for development and advancement. Places of flows are actually accelerating and intensifying the interaction between the local and the global, creating landscapes of contaminated cultures (see Appiah 2006).

During the last decade, many cities in the Middle East have experienced dramatic forms of urban change in response to the new world order and what is referred to as “globalization.” Global flows of capital, people, and knowledge and information began to reshape the economic, social, and political structures of cities across the region. These flows were not necessarily imposed by the new world system. In fact, many major Middle East cities have been investing in projects that have the capacity of triggering these flows to their local contexts. The quest for a top ranking “world city” have dominated urban development in the region (see Friedmann 1986). Priority was given to projects that can intensify global flows. Airports, financial centers, education and media cities, spectacular museums, and mega shopping malls are all examples of these projects, which I refer to as “places of global flows.” These places have the capacity of hosting agglomerations of global flows and facilitating their transmission to the local context. They became core urban components in most of globalizing cities in the Middle East. They are currently playing a very critical role in shaping urban transformation in the region. These places pose challenges to local socio-cultural and economic structures. They also offer opportunities for development and advancement. Places of flows are actually accelerating and intensifying the interaction between the local and the global, creating landscapes of contaminated cultures (see Appiah 2006).In this article, I propose an analytical framework in order to develop a better understanding of the role of places of flows in shaping the urban structure of globalizing cities in the Middle East. The model dissects the urban structure of the city into groups of “places of flows” based on type and scale. Firstly, I identify four types of places of flows: 1) Places of capital flows such as financial headquarters and business centers; 2) Places of people flows such as tourist attractions, foreign labor districts and airports; 3) Places of goods flows such as ports and shopping malls; and 4) Places of information and ideas flows such as information technology headquarters, international schools and universities

Secondly, I categorize each type of these places into:

1) Micro places of flows which are small hubs that connect a local context to the global domain. They perform individually and spontaneously with minimum regulations. They also don’t feature any forms of coordination. Homes, offices and cafes exposed to global flows of information via internet and satellite channels fall under this category.

2) Intermediate scale places of flows, which feature more intense agglomerations of global flows than micro hubs. They perform in a relatively more regulated and coordinated manner and are usually run by institutions or organizations.

3) Mega places of flows, which are hubs that host very intense and massive scales of global flows. They are usually very specialized and regulated. Besides, they require huge investments, which make them a key feature of rich cities. Explicating the dynamics of these different types and scales of places of flows is crucial for the understanding of the urban condition in globalizing Middle Eastern cities. These places currently play the major role in shaping the social, economic and political structure of these cities. They perform as hubs that attract and host agglomerations of global flows and transmit them to the local context. In the following section, I discuss briefly the nature of these places of global flows, their types and scales.

Scale of Places of Flows	Type of Places of Flows
	Places of Capital Flows	Places of People Flows	Places of Information and Knowledge Flows
Micro Scale	– Small Businesses	– Small businesses – Small tourist attractions	– Homes – Small offices – Internet cafes
Intermediate Scale	– Financial enterprises – Business headquarters – Shopping centers – International chains – Commercial districts	– Tourist destinations – Recreational Facilities – Hotels – Foreign labor camps and ethnic enclaves	– Educational and research institutions – Libraries – Museums
Mega Scale	– Financial Cities – Stock exchanges – Free zones – Ports – Mega shopping malls	– International airport – Mega shopping malls – Spectacular iconic buildings	– Media cities – Education cities – Information technology parks

Places of Global Flows

In order for capital, people, goods and information to move to a city, there must be places that have the capacity of transferring them to the local context. These places invite global flows to the city and trigger its globalization. Different types of flows can overlap in the same place. In other words, a single place can host multiple types of global flows.

A-Types of Places of Flows:

1-Places of Capital Flows:

The revolution of communication and information technology has accelerated and intensified the movement of capital across the globe. It facilitated transnational trade and communication between sites of production and those of consumption. It also allowed the relocation of corporate offices far from manufacturing sites. This has led to the emergence of new forms of concentrations or what Saskia Sassen calls “production complexes” (Sassen 1995). The movements of capital between cities demand the presence of places such as international banks, stock markets andfinancial headquarters poles of transactions, the production and consumption sites. The quality and quantity of these places indicate the scale of capital flows to the city and its role in the global economy

2-Places of People Flows:

As noted by Smith and Timberlake (1995), “the world system is constituted, on one level, by a vast network of locales that are tied together by multitude of direct and indirect exchanges” (Smith & Timberlake 1995). In the case of global flows of people, these ties include modes of transportation that facilitate the movement of people and hubs that host their agglomerations. Places such as airports, seaports, highways and train stations facilitate human mobility. They contribute to what Donald Janelle (1969) describes as “space-time convergence” or the diminishing time needed to connect two places due to the advancement of transportation technologies (Janelle 1969). Hotels, resort areas, tourist attractions, and immigrants enclaves are all examples of nodes of agglomeration that host flows of people. These capacity of these places determine the scale of human flows to a city.

3-Places of Information and Knowledge Flows:

Unlike people, information can move from one place to another in enormous speed. Through the Internet, satellite channels and other modes of digital communication, information can penetrate local boundaries and territories. As the case of other types of flows, information requires the presence of places that have the capacity of hosting and transmitting its flows to the local context. In the early phasesof globalization, flows of information and knowledge were spontaneous and occurred on individualistic levels through internet and satellite channels. However, these forms of exchange were gradually institutionalized and managed by organizations and institutions. Knowledge economy hubs, media cities and education parks are examples of these institutionalized places of flows. They play a significant role in intensifying information and knowledge flows to the city.

B- Scales of Places of Flows:

1-Micro Places of Global Flows:

Micro places of flows are small places that have the capacity of connecting the local context to the global domain. These places host relatively mild magnitude of flows. They perform individually and spontaneously with minimum regulations. They also don’t feature any forms of coordination. Homes, offices and small retail spaces exposed to global flows via internet and satellite channels fall under this category. These places represent the micro units of the networks of hubs that host agglomerations of flows in the city. They mainly rely on basic means of digital communication and are usually developed by individuals

.In the era of globalization, micro places of flows play a significant role in the development of a network society. They allow global flows, mainly of information and ideas, to penetrate most of the political, social, and cultural boundaries. Micro places of flows form the basic infrastructure that exposes societies to new ideas and free open sources of knowledge. They represent an important indicator of the degree of connectivity of a society to the global domain.

2-Intermediate Scale Places of Global Flows:

Intermediate scale places of flows feature more intense flows than micro ones. Business centers, governmental headquarters, universities, hotels and shopping malls are examples of this category.15These places host agglomerations of flows in a relatively more regulated and coordinated manner. They are usually run by institutions and have the capability of filtering flows in order to serve specific interests and intentions. These places act as nodes of concentrated flows within the fabric of micro hubs. They are crucial for cities aiming to become part of the global economy. Intermediate scale places of flows are usually developed by governments or corporations. They feature higher more advanced modes of communication than micro places. These places are essential for knowledge based economies. Their presence encourages transnational corporates and talented professionals to relocate in the city.

3-Mega Places of Flows:

Mega places of flows host very intense and massive scales of global flows. They feature concentrations of activities that focus on connecting the local context to the global domain. Financial, education, science and media cities that have been emerging in many cities in the Middle East are examples of this category. Because of their huge cost, these places are usually developed by governments and non-profit organizations. They require huge funding which make them a feature of rich cities. Many globalizing cities in the Middle East have been investing in mega places flows in an attempt to push development and economic progress

Mega places of flows are very specialized in the types of flows they host. They rely on best experts, intellectuals, scientists, researchers and professionals to manage communication between the local and the global. They follow the highest international standards and usually feature an overlap of flows of capital, people, and information and knowledge.

	Developer	Control and Regulation	Specialization	Cost	Penetration of the Society	Nature of Flows
Micro Hubs	Individuals	Least	Not specialized	Low	Large numbers, high penetration	Very spontaneous
Intermediate Scale Hubs	Government, Private sector	Average	Relatively specialized	Average	Average penetration	Educational, economic and business oriented
Mega Hubs	Government, NGOs	Very strict	Extremely specialized	Very High	Focus, limited penetration	Very advanced and Specialized forms of flows

Conclusion

This article presents an analytical model that can contribute to a better understanding of the nature of globalizing cities in the Middle East. In the era of globalization, places of flows are becoming a major urban component in cities aiming to become part of the new world order. These places play an important role in shaping the relation between the local and the global. Their presence significantly influences the social, economic and political structures of cities. These places have the capacity of triggering substantial flows of capital, people , and information between the global domain and the local context

It could be argued that this intense exposure to global flows opens venues for globalizing cities to achieve rapid development and advancement. It allowed an open access to knowledge and information. It also empowered developing economies to compete in attracting global investments. However, these flows also pose challenges to the urban sustainability of cities in the region. Global flows have triggered the emergence of economic, cultural and social enclaves that contrast dramatically with its urban contexts. This has created significant forms of polarization and segregation. It raises critical questions regarding the sustainability of the urban condition in these globalizing cities and their ability to maintain socio-political stability in the future. Understanding the dynamics of places of flows and their role in shaping the urban structure of these cities is crucial in addressing these questions.

Published in 2A Magazine# 26, Winter 2014

Introduction

The traditional form of cities in the Middle East has been intimately intertwined with water, a resource on which the very life and survival of these cities rely upon. For instance, in the medieval Arab Cities, or Medinas, the water network composed of public fountains, ablution basins, wells, mills and sewage systems, are enmeshed with the urban fabric, often guiding its form and growth. Conversely, in arid regions of the Middle East such as Saharan oases, sophisticated system of underground channels (Quanat) coupled with reservoirs and irrigation canals (Seguias) have been developed to both sustain the agricultural landscape of the oasis and secure water to the population. Today, the situation has changed. Amid the expansion of arid zones, large per capita water demand and a natural lack of freshwater2 , Middle Eastern cities are facing a looming water crisis. Yet, urban form, landscapes and buildings often treat water infrastructure as a de facto, static entity, which falls within the realm of the engineering disciplines. In fact, the conventional infrastructural model for water is based on a centralized network both providing tap water and collecting and treating wastewater. In this model, the role of water infrastructure vis a vis the design of cities, buildings and landscapes remains immutable, while in parallel, water technologies are flourishing at each scale, from moisture sensing at precise points in space and time to modeling of complex water systems at industrial, urban, regional, and planetary scales. Hence, this parallel tracks between the engineering and design disciplines are disallowing not only the rethinking of new built environments and their water infrastructure, but also a smart retrofit of existing cities and urban regions which have been unable to address waterrelated flood, drought, and pollution hazards.

What this essay would like to argue is that the co-option 9 of water infrastructure by the design disciplines, namely architecture, urban planning and landscape architecture, will reveal new ways to conceive the future of built environments in the Middle East, namely by increasing efficiency, reducing cost and limiting environmental impact. This redefinition is characterized not only by the integration of water infrastructure and supporting innovative technologies with designers’ creative and analytical processes, but also by embracing an expanding definition of water including sewage water, saline water, fog and ambient humidity. Two innovative projects of different scales, one set in Fez, Morocco and the other in Sanaa, Yemen, will illustrate the potential for Middle Eastern cities of such an approach towards water infrastructure.

Infrastructure and the design disciplines

Within the design disciplines today, the term ‘urban infrastructure’ encompasses a multitude of different elements ranging in scales and typologies from national energy systems, regional transportation networks, electric grids to domestic water pipes. Interestingly, all these various typologies share the legacy of the discipline of engineering and the discourse on networks from Saint Simonianism3 to Large Technical Systems theories4 , whose underlying goals were performance, efficiency and interconnection of immaterial and physical networks for the collective wellbeing. Furthermore, infrastructure has been a pervasive theme in 20th century architectural discourse in its definition vis a vis the City. Indeed, the integration of mechanical systems including HVAC, electricity and heating and in a lesser degree plumbing, have been part of a recurring debate in the 20thth century in the architectural academe. This debate wavered between the camouflaging or celebrating of the innards of a building. For instance Le Corbusier famously hated tubes and painstakingly hid them in his buildings, while Reyner Benham’s full heartedly embraced buildings’ mechanical systems to the detriment of the rest. Similarly, Renzo Piano and Richard Rogers exposed on the façade of Beaubourg colorful pipes, each referring to a mechanical function.

From the perspective of urbanists and cultural geographers, the relationship between water and urban space can be understood by the emergence of what Matthew Gandy coins “the ‘bacteriological city’, defined by features such as new moral geographies and modes of social discipline based upon ideologies of cleanliness”.5 This model is based on a technocratic and rational model of municipal managerialism, which echo the modernist vision of city as a living, metabolic machine. By the 1970’s, this model failed to be implemented by most cities that ended adopting a more diffuse, fragmentary and polarized urban water technological landscape, in which public interest came second to stakeholders’ and in which designers had little to no involvement.

It is only recently that the integrative co-option of infrastructure by the design disciplines on a multi-scalar level has taken place; a trend heralded by Rem Koolhas’ seminal 1994 essay “What Ever Happened to Urbanism” (1994), by MVRDV’s Farmax (1998), the work of Charles Waldheim on landscape urbanism (2006) and the publication Architecture as Infrastructure (2010) to name a few. This expanded agency of the architect has been further exacerbated by the ‘sustainable design’ buzz whose advocates aspire to efficient and low footprint infrastructure. Most recently, the boom of innovative sustainable cities and neighborhoods in the Middles East, such as Foster’s Masdar and Xeritown by X Architect, has spurred the rethinking of urban infrastructure, including wastewater and drinking networks; thus enabling new grounds for cross breeding between different infrastructural systems.

If theses projects rethink urban infrastructure as a legitimate ground for investigation and action in order to sustainably transform the city, rather than take infrastructure as an immutable foundation. While the physical, economic and social impacts on the metropolis and its landscape are brought to the forefront, what is still under-studied is the place of technology associated with these new infrastructural models. In fact, while infrastructure armatures are used as platforms for design innovations and speculations, often their related technologies are taken as add on components rather than assets with synergetic capacity. Therefore, the intersection of water infrastructures with the design disciplines would profit from converging the modus operandi of water technologies for collecting/ converting/ distributing with their position within different water networks models, either existing or new.

In this new paradigm, water technology could best described in Heideggerian terms, as it considers its simultaneous role as a “techne”, a know how/ system of practical knowledge, and a “poiesis”, “a way of bringing-forth or revealing not in itself”6 , but in the designer. In other words, technology is about the “action and the reflection-in-action”.7 This dual definition is even the more relevant for addressing water technologies, since water, unlike other technologies such as heating, cooling or electricity, is a tangible, sensual resource strongly reminiscent of nature in the collective imaginaries

Case Study 1: Vena

The first illustrative example of this new approach to water infrastructure is Vena, a free standing device which collects, stores and provides water to off the grid users in the city of Sanaa, a city facing a sever water crisis. Indeed, Yemen counts a mere 125 cubic meters per capita; a number much lower than the average for the MENA region (1,000 cubic meters per person which is the point at which a nation is bracketed as being water poor.)

Developed by Ore Design + Technology, Vena rethinks water infrastructure as an autonomous system, disengaged from a centralized controlling core, and relying only on its vapor collection mechanism to provide water to users. In fact, Vena leverages high temperature differential in arid climates to trigger the condensation of relatively cooler vapor found below ground. The thermally conductive central copper cable stretches up the entire length of the structure. It unravels a network of densely arranged filaments, which penetrate through a perforated stainless steel tube, thus exposing the cooled surface area of vapor condensation. External ceramic discs protect the internal systems from heat gain and evaporation, while channeling prevailing winds. A ceramic enclosure base funnels condensation into the well. For example, at 30 degrees Celsius with 60% humidity, a cubic meter of air contains 18 grams of water.

Architecture & Art As the temperature of the copper filaments decreases by 5-15 degrees Celsius, 35% of the vapor condenses and drains into a cistern or a well. When deployed across the urban context of Sanaa (fig.1), Vena pole like structure support street furniture and are connected to collective water reservoirs. These reservoirs provide water to the city dwellers and could be either directly connected to dwellings or directly accessible.

The Vena network not only supplements the scarce water resources of Sanaa, but also acts as a catalyst for a new type of public spaces, in which water collecting mechanisms are on display, hopefully raising awareness towards water conservation. At last, by creating an autonomous, heterotopic water infrastructure, this project embodies a new typology of resilient water infrastructure: if one of its unit fails, it will continue to perform.

Case Study 2: Fez River Project

Unlike Vena which imagines a new way to collect and store water, the Fez River project by Bureau E.A.S.T. improves and retrofits an existing, conventional centralized water infrastructure, and simultaneously investigates the programmatic opportunities offered by newly introduced water technologies. In fact, the project simultaneously restores a polluted urban river and addresses issues endemic to aging medieval fabrics in the Middle East such as the scarcity of public open space, overcrowding, the contamination of natural resources, the destruction of places of cultural and historic significance, and a weak economy. Working with the RADEEF (City of Fez Department of Water and Power) and through a detailed analysis of the medina and its broader urban and ecological context, the project choreographs a phased implementation strategy in which measures for enhancing water quality becomes both the locus and agent for addressing both the social and economic concerns of a city. The project works at two scales – the city scale and the site scale. At the city scale (including both the Ville Nouvelle and the medina), the project is a master plan with recommended measures for improving regional water quality. Depending on soil geomorphology, levels of water pollution, adjacent urban fabric and ecological systems, different rehabilitation tactics are purposefully located, such as canal restorers, constructed wetlands, bank restoration, and storm-water retention ponds. At site scale (parcels within the medina), the project is three critical interventions strategically phased to enhance water quality, remediate contaminated sites and create open spaces. While daylighting the northern part of the river, the three interventions also take advantage of vacant sites to reestablish its connection with the city fabric. The intervention at the Rcif will link a major transportation hub with a riverbank pedestrian circulation system while filtering storm water run-off (fig.2.) Coupled with a constructed wetland, the intervention at the Andalous site will offer a playground. Finally, the intervention at the soon to be defunct and highly contaminated Chouarra tanneries will provide residents and visitors with a new regional botanical garden and an institute for cultivating new designs and technologies related to an already existing but stagnant leather industry. The overall effect is a project that elevates rivers and their decontamination technologies to a form of urban infrastructure with the potential to stitch disjuncture between the needs of a twenty-first century population and the preservation of a unique urban form.

Conclusion

By integrating water infrastructure and their associated technologies within the design process of Middle Eastern cities, these two case studies highlight the salient roles they could hold beyond collecting, storing and distributing water, namely: generating public spaces, spurring awareness for water conservation and fostering urban renewal. Furthermore, the renegotiation of water infrastructure along the development of old and new cities generates a resilient urban model, reminiscent of Kevin Lynch’s ‘Good City’: “open, accessible, decentralized, diverse, adaptable, and tolerant to experiment.”

However, if this approach appears promising to advance a sustainable future for Middle Eastern cities, most of which are located in arid to hyper arid climates and suffer already from water scarcity, it is not a panacea. It will not be effective if not coupled with users’ education and most importantly, with the establishment of effective and legitimate forms of urban governance and policy. At the wake of the Arab Spring and its political changes and renewed agendas, we can only hope that such pressing concerns will be given a priority.

Published in 2A Magazine# 26, Winter 2014