Ruin Preservation and the Etzel Museum

When we first presented our idea to study ruins, our advisers immediately warned us not to try something like the Etzel Museum in Tel Aviv. So what is this "infamous" building, which appears on the cover of White City, Black City as a metaphor for all that is wrong with Tel Aviv's hidden agenda?

The museum is designed within the ruins of a building that once was part of the Menashia neighborhood outside of Jaffa. It was designed by Niv, Schwartz & Schwartz, and completed in 1983. The only other remains from Menashia is a mosque. The neighborhood was conquered in 1948 by Etzel, a right-wing Jewish militant group from before the State of Israel. The ruins were primarily cleared, leaving only these two buildings.

The idea to turn this ruin into a museum arose in 1976, as a monument to Etzel members who died in the conquest of Jaffa. In a 1984 edition of Architecture in Israel, the architects explain that while visiting the site, they found a lone building which drew their attention.

"On the spot we suggested that it would be the site for the monument, to be used as a living museum that would explain to future generations both the story of the battle for Jaffa and the story of the Menashiya neighborhood, which was alive but is now gone, as it has made room for Tel Aviv.
...The uniqueness of the building is not its architecture but rather its power of survival, which allows it to be used for preserving the memory of the place. "(p.3)

In describing the design principles, the architects explain that they wished to freeze the ruins in time, and they wax poetically about the ruins and how they have been ravaged over time by the sea winds. However, they then epxlain that they want to introduce a glass box into the ruins to form the new museum. They felt this would not be intrusive and would allow the ruin to remain a ruin, and that the old and new would melt together.

In White City, Black City, Rotbard writes that this is the ultimate expression of his thesis. A Miesian glass box, set in the ruins of an Arab neighborhood, illustrates his point that Tel Aviv's pure white persona is a fraud. (p. 235) It should be noted that Rotbard follows this up immediately with an anecdote about Hitler's architect, Albert Speer, which is interesting but unrelated, and seems only to have been included to insidiously draw a parallel between the museum and fascism. (p. 237) Still, Rotbard sums up the oddity well, writing:

"In a strange way, the building makes use of ruins and ruin aesthetics in order to cover up the destruction and hide it. The building says the truth about the killing of Jaffa but in the same breath it also lies, when it uses the drama as "architecture" and "environmental art."

From my standpoint as a ruins researcher, I can understand why the architects thought this would work and would be nice symbolism, but I also understand why it falls flat. As in so many cases, the ruins here have been ruined. Had they been left alone, they truly would have been powerful. If a memorial had been built nearby, it could have been a tremendous space. I even feel like if the glass box had been built outside the stone walls, it would have been better. But instead what happened is that they stone walls have been robbed of their ruin-beauty and left sterile. This is particularly true on the back-side of the museum. In the front, the ration is perhaps 75% stone and 25% glass, and this proportion is at least palatable. Furthermore, the stone has enough detail to distract the eye and make the glass fall into the background. But in the back, we simply see too much of the glass - it is too dominant, too jarring. From a preservation point of view, there is a clear distinction between the ruins and the new museum. But from a ruins-preservation point of view, different rules apply. The intrusion of new, blatant walls to the ruins take away from the aesthetic and make the symbolism collapse. The ruins become a veneer, rather than the essence of the place.

Ruins in White City, Black City

Babel is one of the few Israeli publishing houses that deals with architecture. It both translates existing works from other languages, such as Learning from Las Vegas and Towards a New Architecture, and publishes original works in Hebrew. One of the co-owners of Babel, Sharon Rotbard, is a studio adviser in Bezalel and has authored two books. Two years ago, Rebecca and I were in Rotbard's studio, where we, along with Yiska Katz, produced egg crate architecture.

Rotbard's first book, White City, Black City, touches on the subject of ruins. The book discusses how Tel Aviv gained a reputation as a "white city," which refers both to its supposed concentration of Bauhaus architecture and its ideological purity, having been built on a clean slate as the first Hebrew city. Rotbard points out many inconsistencies with this view, and contrasts the mythical view of Tel Aviv with a hard look at the concurrent development of Jaffa, the ancient Arab city next to Tel Aviv. Rotbard writes that Jaffa was systematically displaced and dismantled by Tel Aviv. This image of a "black city" contrasts with the other vision of Tel Aviv.

There are a number of things I like about the book. Firstly, I've found that many Israeli books of this type are remarkably un-scholarly. It is quite common to find information repeated as fact in multiple books, only to trace the footnotes and find that all secondary sources lead back to a single, questionable reference that is itself a secondary source and has no footnote. I found it particularly welcome that White City, Black City brought a number of primary sources, such as writings of Ben Gurion or Herzl. Secondly, Rotbard does a good job of pacing, and intersperses his thesis with interesting anecdotes, such as the marketing of Jaffa Oranges (p.245). This makes the book interesting and highly readable. I read through it in a week, and normally it takes me a month to finish a book of this size in Hebrew. On the downside, there were a number of paragraphs in which radical left-wing ideas are thrown in as if every sane person believes them, but this is practically to be expected in Israeli academia.

The book raises a number of interesting and compelling points about ruins, particularly in the Israeli narrative. Early in the book, Rotbard makes the point that the destruction or preservation of a building is a way of writing history:

"The decision to destroy an old building, to build a new building, or to preserve an existing building, sets what will be forgotten, what will remain and what is worth remembering." (p. 15)

When it comes to ruins, this is true as well. A decision to leave ruins, rather than bulldoze them, sets in action a certain historical memory. In many ways, this is even more powerful than deciding to rebuild a building or replace it. The ruin is actually a super-powerful way of reinforcing memory. One of the lasting impressions I took from the book is that ruins can be very important reminders of the past. Only once a building is completely removed it is "out of sight, out of mind." In Jaffa, this seems to have, for the most part, been the goal. Rotbard describes the destruction as complete, going as far as saying that it was more thorough than the destruction of Hiroshima and Dresden (p.191. Comparing destruction is an interesting sport, but it takes a certain mindset to make a claim such as this.) The point seems to be that removing buildings completely leaves no historical record whatsoever. In contrast, leaving ruins gives a remarkably good historical record of a particular past event or process.

The most relevant section of the book begins with the chapter titled "The Large Area" (השטח הגדול). This refers to the large section of the old city of Jaffa that was left in ruins after 1948. Most of the buildings in Old Jaffa were destroyed, while others were given to new immigrants to inhabit. In 1961, a decision was made to rehabilitate this area and turn it into a tourist site/artists colony. This is seen as a further act of erasure of the history of the city, with only Crusader and Napoleonic remains displayed, as a type of exotic ruins that one would find on a grand voyage. (p.239) This is certainly the vibe in old Jaffa today. I would have to agree that, as someone who visited the site as a high school student, the architectural record does not attempt to tell the story of displaced Arabs at all.

Another section of the book, which deals with the Etzel Museum, will be dealt with in a later post.

The Giving Tree and Reuse of Ruins

In Deserted House, a poem by Shel Silverstein, we looked the imagery that Silverstein used for ruins. Another of Shel Silverstein's stories, The Giving Tree, is also relevant to our research. The story tells of a relationship between a boy and tree, who love each other and play together during childhood. As the boy grows, the tree gives him more and more: her apples to sell, his branches to build a house, his trunk to make a boat. Finally, as an old man, the boy returns, and the tree is sorry that she has nothing left to give. However, it turns out the the boy only wants a place to sit, which the tree can provide.

We've been talking a lot about the "life-cycle" of a building, and how most buildings can be renovated, reused, reconfigured etc. as a normal part of their existence. Some historical preservationists may choose to freeze a building at a certain point in time, to prevent further changes. However, this is an unnatural act. Rather, a normal building would continue to evolve. It may also continue to decay. At a certain point, the building passes a point of no return, a threshold beyond which it is a ruin and is no longer an active building. However, even as such, it can still continue to serve the needs of mankind.

Buildings are built to serve our needs, both as individuals and as communities. Like the tree, they can be used and reused. Even as a ruin, they can continue to serve a purpose.

Archaeology and Historical Preservation

The field of Historical Preservation is in many ways an offshoot of Archaeology. Archaeology was certainly one of the early inspirations, but as Historical Preservation developed, it created its own methods and grew apart from Archaeology. In dealing with the preservation of ruins, we have in some ways returned to this kinship, and have been keeping archaeological practice in mind when thinking about preservation.

When archaeologists excavate, one of the primary concerns is to record the provenience of each artifact discovered. It is of vital importance to know the stratum of each item, as stratigraphy is the key to understanding a site and the only way to understand which items were contemporary with each other.
There are two main types of techniques for excavating, which allow the archaeologists to go layer-by-layer. The first creates deep cuts but retains sample berms that reveal the stratification, and the second peals back one layer at a time. One of the most common methods is the box grid, which:

"seeks to satisfy both vertical and horizontal requirements by retaining intact baulks of earth between squares of the grid so that different layers can be traced and correlated across the site in the vertical profiles. " (Renfrew and Bahn, Archaeology: Theories Methods and Practices, 108)

Essentially, a part of the site is set aside to help give archaeologists a method and model with which to piece together history.

A similar archaeological method relates to what percentage of a site gets excavated. Today it is widely recognized that an excavation should only dig a percentage of a site, leaving some area intact for future explorers. This ensures that in the future, when new and more precise methods will undoubtedly exist, enough of the site will exist for investigators to use these new methods.

When it comes to Historical Preservation, we believe these practices point to another potential model. Preservationists most often seek to return a building to a certain time period, which in a sense destroys the historicity of the building. Rather than knowing precisely what is original, we have a mix-up of new and old. We think that it should be common practice to leave portions of a building untouched, in a way preserving it's true state without contamination. Then if a future person wants to know the original paint color of the building, or plaster, or wall section, it is still around to be found. Alternatively, part of a building can be renovated, while another part can be left to continue its natural decay.

Christchurch, NZ: A City in Ruins

Yesterday, the 22nd of February 2011, a large 6.3 magnitude earthquake hit Christchurch, New Zealand. Christchurch is the second largest city in New Zealand. The buildings and streets of Christchurch had the feel of a lovely, picturesque 'Kiwi' country town, much of which has been destroyed by the recent earthquake. The streets are frighteningly different today, seen in the ruins of what is left of many of the once beautiful buildings of Christchurch.

Ruins of Gaddafi's Compound

Current events occasionally connect to our topic of research. Right now, Muammar Gaddafi is #2 in google trends, due to the unrest in Libya that may (hopefully) lead to a revolution. Gaddafi seems unwilling to go, and just recently the AP has been reporting that he stated "I will die a martyr" rather than leaving peacefully. In this latest video address, the Washington Post reports that:

Wearing a brown turban and cloak, Gaddafi spoke from a bombed-out building that was struck in a 1986 airstrike by U.S. and British warplanes in retaliation for the bombing of a Berlin discotheque by Libyan agents.

In a similar article, the Jerusalem Post elaborates, saying that the building was left in disrepair as a sign of defiance. You can see a video of his address, with the building in the background, here.

Some background: In 1986, President Reagan authorized Operation El Dorado Canyon in response to the bombing of a Berlin discotheque. One of the targets was Gaddafi's residence in the Bab al Aziziya compound, but Gaddafi was tipped off by the Maltese Prime Minister and fled the building with his family before the attack, escaping. The site was chosen as a target for symbolic reasons. Joseph Stanik writes in "El Dorado Canyon: Reagan's Undeclared War with Qaddafi" that

"Bab al-Aziziyah (the splendid gate) was the nexus of Qaddafi's political power structure. The two hundred-acre compound was enclosed by a fifteen-foot wall, it was guarded by Soviet-made tanks, and the area was honeycombed with underground bunkers. In addition to barracks for his personal security services, the compound contained communications facilities, military staff headquarters, the house where his wife and seven children lived, and the Bedouin-style tent where he received visitors."

He also described that in the aftermath, New York Times reporter Edward Schumacher visited the compound and found eight large bomb craters . Bombs came close to the ceremonial tent and to the residential area, blowing out doors and windows, collapsing ceilings, and generally wreaking havoc. The attack was recorded on tape, and apparently was far more dramatic than the actual damage caused, "turning a mediocre damage assessment into a dramatic strike against terrorism." in the words of David Martin and John Walcott.

On the first anniversary, tours of the bombed residence were held as part of the Libyan commemoration. U.S. News and World Report wrote at that time that the ruins "have become a shrine to the colone's political endurance."

The idea of leaving a building in ruins as a commemoration is not new. This has been done both by the attackers, to show their domination, and by the victims, to show defiance and as memorials. It's surprising that the head of state would choose to live in a ruin to prove this point, but I guess that's the kind of guy Gaddafi is, the same type of guy who would insist on living in a tent when visiting New York.

Ruins of Lifta

Lifta is an abandoned Arab village at the northern edge of Jerusalem. It sits on the site of ancient settlements, but was a living village up until 1948. Since the founding of Israel, there has been a question what to do with the remaining architecture of Lifta, with plans ranging from preservation to bulldozing. In 1965 many abandoned Arab villages were bulldozed, but Lifta was not.
In 2005, the magazine Architecture of Israel reviewed the master plan of Kertesz-Groag Architects for Lifta. Though I won't go into the details of the generally negative review, I found two interesting points in the article, written by Ami Ran.

• First, Ran writes that "One can still sense in it the way of life that was halted in the start of the last century." It occurs to me that this is part of the special magic of ruins. While reconstruction and preservation tries very hard to bring a site back to life, it often falls short of the magic that ruins possess. Somehow a site that is returned to a moment in time feels like a museum - somehow fake - while a ruin feels genuine and captures, or rather, retains the spirit of the past.
• Secondly, Ran quotes Yochanan Mintzker as writing that three possibilities exist for Lifta: complete destruction, partial reuse, or preservation as is. Of these three, the last is the most preferable. However, as we have pointed out on a number of occasions, a fourth possibility is not preservation, but rather, letting the buildings continue in their current state without intervention. The case of Lifta is specifically susceptible to this treatment.
  

Hurricane Katrina

On August 29, 2005, Hurricane Katrina hit the southern Gulf coast of the United States and caused severe destruction. New Orleans, LA was hit particularly hard, and 80% of the city was flooded. Five and a half years later, there are still people living in temporary accommodations. The U.S. government made the decision to rebuild New Orleans, and a study was carried out to decide which parts to abandon and which buildings needed to be elevated.

In a recent news report, the AP reported that 43,000 residential properties are sitting abandoned in New Orleans. Every night 3,000 homeless people squat in these house. Another video, produced by National Geographic, shows the impact of the storm on Southern Mississippi University.

Shel Silverstein's Deserted House

This is the first of two posts on Shel Silverstein. Silverstein wrote books and poems for children that often had adult themes. He performed many of his works publicly while accompanying himself on the guitar. His first big job was working as a cartoonist for Playboy, where he produced the material for his first book of original material, Uncle Shelby's ABZ Book, which is hilarious.

"H is for hole. See the hole. The hole is deep. You can bury things in the hole. See the toaster. You can bury the toaster in the hole. See the car keys. You can bury the car keys in the hole. See grandma's teeth. See daddy's shoe. See mommy's diamond ring. Oh-oh - little sister sees you burying things in the hole. Maybe she will snitch on you and you will get a licking. What ELSE can you bury in the hole?"

Or, my personal favorite:

"O is for Oz. Do you want to visit the wonderful far-off land of Oz where the wizard lives and scarecrows can dance and the road is made of yellow bricks and everything is emerald green? Well, you can't because there is no land of Oz and there is no Tin Woodsman and there is NO SANTA CLAUSE! Maybe someday you can go to Detroit."

But that is besides the point. His other most famous books were The Giving Tree, which will be a subject of a later post, and a series of books of children's poetry, including Where the Sidewalk Ends.

In the latter, the following poem appears (p. 56):

ENTER THIS DESERTED HOUSE

But please walk softly as you do.
Frogs dwell here and crickets too.

Ain't no ceiling, only blue
Jays dwell here and sunbeams too.

Floors are flowers-take a few.
Ferns grow here and daisies too.

Whoosh, swoosh-too-whit, too-woo,
Bats dwell here and hoot owls too.

Ha-ha-ha, hee-hee, hoo-hoooo,
Gnomes dwell here and goblins too.

And my child, I thought you knew
I dwell here... and so do you.

Here is a link to the audio of Silverstein reading the poem himself. The poem is accompanied by a black and white ink sketch of a house falling to ruins.

I suppose one could read many things into this poem, and a simple search will turn up all sorts of theories. But in our context, it seems clear that he is expressing the idea of vanitas.

More British Building Ruins, and the Discovery of Rubber Stores

Today we discovered the remains of two previously unidentified British buildings and classified an entirely different type of building, unlike the Stonehenge Sheds.

First of all, we identified the remains of site 32 on the attached map (which shows the Ras el Ein base overlaying the current map of Rosh Ha'ayin). All that remains of this building is a concrete platform with a brick apron around it. On the Ras el Ein map it is labeled S.16, meaning it was formerly a Stonehenge Shed. We do not know when this building was leveled. It is one of two sites that we have found in which only a platform remains. (The other is site 31, or site #95 in Sasson's list).
More excitingly, we identified a British building north of the current city limits of Rosh Ha'ayin, along Highway 5. This confirms our belief that Highway 5 runs along the route of the former Ras el Ein road. This building is in quite poor shape, though it is still being actively used as a garage and seems to have undergone minimal alterations.
What surprised us most about this building was that it did not have the iconic curved profile that the Stonehenge Sheds have. At first we thought this building's roof may have been altered, but upon further consideration we felt it was original. Then it occurred to us - perhaps this building was labeled differently on the Ras el Ein map? Sure enough, instead of having an S.x number, it is labeled R.3. According to the key, this makes it a former Rubber Store, and it makes sense that this building looks different that the others.

Once we had this piece of information, we realized that we had seen another building with a similar design - site 29 on the map. When we rechecked the Ras el Ein map, we noticed that this building was also labeled as a Rubber Store - R.2. (site #93 on Sasson' list). Thus we feel we have convincingly shown that a third type of building existed in Ras el Ein - the Rubber Storage building. It should be noted that there were two other R buildings on the map - R.4 next to R.3, which we did not see and may have been demolished, and another that once stood on Mantzura Street- site 11 on the map, or R.1 on the British Map. We will have to recheck this neighborhood to see if it is still standing.