China’s historical sites are fast disappearing in the face of rapid economic development.

 

 

There is no room for nostalgia in economic development.  At least that’s what’s been happening to China and thousands of its historical buildings and sites for the past thirty years.

 

China’s rapid development is such that, between 2011 and 2013, the country used 6.6 gigatons of cement, more than the entire amount used by the U.S. in a span of 100 years.  All that cement has to go somewhere.  And thus, ancient temples, tombs, courtyard homes, villages, and other heritage architecture have given way to new structures: high-rise buildings and roadways, new towns built upon old towns—all of them adamant in their steel-and-concrete reincarnation.  Before you know it, development has spread to neighboring towns, forcing them to abandon their traditional rural character and adopt a shiny new urbanized mode.

Very steadily and surely, China’s architectural past is being replaced at the expense of economic growth.

 

Alarming Rate

To be fair, not all historical buildings have fallen victim to real estate development.  Natural disasters such as earthquakes and floods have also played their part in some of the wreckage, as have man-made activities such as illegal mining, tomb-raiding, etc.  For the most part though, it’s the economic boom.

Sadly, according to Li Wei, secretary to former Premier Zhu Rongji, most of these redevelopments are simply attempts to stimulate GDP.  In an interview last year, Li Wei reported that in the last decade, around 900,000 historical villages have disappeared, an average of 250 villages a day—all in the name of redevelopment.  New construction spurs economic growth by driving real estate prices, creating new jobs, and introducing new markets.  More importantly, local officials profit from the new construction.  In contrast, old buildings cost the local government for their maintenance.

A Guardian article had also covered the case of the disappearing historic sites back in 2009, following the resumption of China’s nationwide survey to document its heritage buildings in 2007.  Previous attempts of the survey done in 1965 and in 1982 were never completed.  By the time the 2007 survey resumed, around 30,000 of the items on the 1982 list were already gone.  This dramatic loss has been described as being worse than during the Cultural Revolution, wherein only movable relics, not entire temples, tombs and buildings, were willfully destroyed by rebels.

Aside from real estate interests, historic sites are also being redeveloped in the name of cultural tourism.  In a paper tackling the sustainability of China’s heritage sites, Dan Liao noted that “tourism development and cultural heritage management have an awkward relationship.”  Tourism generates revenue which can be used for the preservation of those sites.  However, over-commercialization can lead to eager renovations of the old historic buildings, often at the expense of sacrificing cultural authenticity and the environment.

 

To Preserve or Not to Preserve

Given the extent of the loss, it can be argued that preservation campaigns isn’t very popular in China.  In other countries, a lowly historic woodshed or even an ugly, stern-looking Brutalist building are likely to have mighty defenders willing to fight against all plans of their demolition.  In New York, advocates of historical preservation take the matter seriously, even holding online campaigns to save various historical buildings in the city such as the Rizzoli Bookstore.  A bookstore may pale in comparison with a thousands-year-old temple, but it still holds an important place in the collective consciousness of many people, especially as books are now in danger of being replaced by digital versions.

That’s not to say that Chinese people are indifferent.  Some have actually opposed the new fervent constructions quite stubbornly.  There’s even a name for them: dingzihu or nail house, homeowners who refuse to budge and give way to new constructions despite government compensation.  A simple Google image search will turn up plenty of these ill-fated houses, which as their label implies, obstinately sticks out in the middle of their new, seemingly alien urban surroundings.  It’s a sad little ugly mess, but very symptomatic of much larger things.

It’s been said that building preservation is the highest act of recycling.  After all, so much waste and carbon footprint goes into new construction.  Even USGBC-LEED has recognized that salient fact, with its emphasis on building reuse and historic preservation.

On the one hand, preservation isn’t just about clinging to nostalgia; it’s a form of respect, too, for the way of life of our ancestors.  Relics can be photographed and uploaded online for posterity, but there’s simply no substitute for a historical site or a building.  A building’s potency comes from the fact that one is physically standing in front or within the structure, as height and breadth, light and space, lines, angles and curves all work together to immerse the admirer.  And always, one will have the pervasive awareness that this building has withstood the test of time, shaping a culture’s history and narrative.  No, there’s no photographic substitute for that.

And that’s why the world was shocked when IS militants ransacked historical sites in Iraq as a righteous act of cleansing.  You can reconstruct such sites, down to the last brick, but it’ll never be the same.

 

State of Flux

In his upcoming photo book, Metamorpolis, French-Polish lensman Tim Franco captures images of Chongqing in China, one such city rapidly losing its traditional character in the face of urban development.  In fact, in 2010, the Chinese government encouraged migration to urbanize Chongqing’s rural population, with more than 1,300 people moving into the city daily.  Farmlands, ancient and historical buildings, and other cultural landmarks have all given way to new construction.

And so Metamorpolis shows us the state of flux of Chongqing as it transitions from rural to urban.  There are stark images of long-time residents clinging to their traditional way of life juxtaposed against the urbanized landscape.

In spite of it all, there are positive outcomes to this urbanization.  According to Franco,

“As a Westerner walking in the city you are very quickly shocked by the amount of traditional architecture and old buildings being destroyed, almost like erasing signs of the past. But when talking to the people who lived in very poor conditions in some of those buildings with little access to electricity or basic heating, you understand why they are welcoming the transition to high rise building.

“As ugly as they may look, they offer them a new level of comfort and a feeling of modernity. A feeling of becoming part of Chinese growth and not being left behind….

“To be very honest I am very impressed by how the people in China learn to adapt. It seems whatever happens and whatever the difficulty, they always find a way to adapt, create small business and communities. Even though the city is growing at an incredible speed, every part of the city seems active.”