Reviewed by Jill Kamil In reviewing Ahmed Sedky's Living with Heritage in Cairo, I am reminded of the many questions I have asked myself -- or posed to others -- over many years, concerning the deficiencies -- should I say apparent lack of planning -- behind the restoration and/or conservation of historically important zones in Egypt. I speak in particular of Luxor, Aswan, and Old and Mediaeval Cairo. Was there a philosophy behind the decisions being made, I asked. Who was making them? What was the incessant talk about "facelifts" in reference to historical or archaeological zones, when what it really meant was that they were being cleared of the living fabric for the ever-growing tourist market? Who, I asked, was behind the erection of the pseudo-Roman walls in Old Cairo, or the superficial beautification of the frontages of the buildings in Muezz Street and elsewhere, presumably in the belief that this would make them more palatable to tourists? And why was interaction with local people not encouraged when it was clear that there could be no meaningful conservation of historical zones without commitment to preserve the framework, which touches equally on history, architecture, and residents. Without doubt some areas are over- populated, but by stripping them of what gives them character, and taking foreign visitors to tour-approved restaurants and encouraging them to make purchases at tour-guide- approved commercial outlets, is to lose the very spirit of the area. I noted that whenever there was a press report of an area being developed as an "Open Air Museum" -- whether Giza, Fustat or Fatimid Cairo -- what it really meant was that the local population was being systematically moved out of the area. I asked (in articles in Al-Ahram Weekly and in PowerPoint presentations) whether this was really necessary. As Nawal Hassan, chair of the Association for the Urban Development of Islamic Cairo, pointed out during a Cairo symposium in 2002, "Thousands of families' livelihoods will be affected by the plan to seal off the mediaeval city and turn it into an open-air museum. Wholesale and retail shops will lose their clients if they have to reach their destination on foot or from perpendicular streets." She added that tourists anyway showed little interest in mediaeval buildings with newly-stuccoed walls, marble panelling applied to the interior of mediaeval courtyards, mashrabiya windows that looked newly fabricated, and cobbled streets paved with tiles. Foreign visitors, she declared, wanted to explore "the heart of a living city 1,000 years old, with its still dynamic population". I have keenly followed the praise and the criticism of archaeological and conservation practices in Cairo, and have tried to understand the strategy behind decision-making. I have joined others in my concern for the monuments, the people, and the long-term effects of pedestrianising Al-Azhar Street, and diverting traffic underground through a tunnel running its full length. And finally I came to the conclusion that there was in fact no integrated planning and development programme; and that decisions taken at "the highest level" were considered final and tended to overrule the views of all lower strata of power and public opinion. This, of course, begged further questions: Why was the historical and cultural integrity of historical sites being compromised, and by whom? By the heads of districts under the control of the governor of Cairo who receives direct orders from the presidency? By the Waqf authority, who owns most of the deteriorated buildings in historic Cairo? And what part did the SCA, the Supreme Council of Antiquities, play in the whole conservation scenario, or was it under the direct control of the Ministry of Culture as I suspected? Where did the planning of highways fit into the picture, not to mention the distinction between "polluting" and "non-polluting" workshops? Then I receive this excellent and insightful book for review and it answers my every question. Living with Heritage in Cairo fully explains the concepts and processes influencing area conservation of Egypt's capital, the commercial and industrial centre since the end of the 19th century with the highest concentration of mediaeval monuments in the world where traditional lifestyles continue until today. Sedky identifies the causes for the lack of an integrated study of Egypt's capital, which he describes as "heavily state- sponsored". He confirms what has become ever more apparent with the passage of time -- that local communities are neglected "in favour of the priority of development for tourism", and that "a clear national system, such as laws or guidelines for urban heritage management" is lacking. Sedky refutes the officially declared reasons as to why historic Cairo suffers its mixture of "deterioration and inappropriate conservation" -- shortage of money. He clearly outlines the obstacles affecting the planning and implementation of heritage conservation and adds that, when certain essentials that are lacking are remedied, funds will become readily available from many sources. Sedky, who has taught environmental design and conservation at King Fahd University, and who is currently an urban management consultant for major development organizations in the Middle East, writes clearly and unemotionally. He explores the current situation in Cairo, and compares it with what is happening in other parts of the Arab world which resemble its historical context, notably cities in the Fertile Crescent, Syria, Jordan and Lebanon. To revitalise and conserve, he stresses, depends on understanding the forces that created a city in the first place: the pattern of streets, its domestic architecture, its commercial and manufacturing activities, all of which form the bulk of historical heritage. I have followed the pros and cons of restoration projects in Egypt, and so let me -- in order to place the worth of Living with Heritage in context -- give you one example of a restoration project that aroused admiration on the one hand, and horror on the other. I refer to work carried out on the Mosque of Gamaleddin Al-Ustadar in Fatimid Cairo, on which a fierce debate ensued ( Al-Ahram Weekly, 30 August 2001). Historians and archaeologists strongly criticised what they regarded as "shoddy" work, and more than 30 archaeological experts, university professors and writers addressed a petition to Mrs Suzanne Mubarak objecting to the techniques and materials used in this, and many other monuments in Cairo. This was also the view of many of them and was approved by several international committees, and he claimed that some of the signatories of the petition were not qualified to evaluate the work, let alone judge the competence of the UNESCO experts who were in Cairo to check all restoration. But Hosni's statement did not lay the matter to rest because the petition described rehabilitation projects in Fatimid Cairo as not only poorly planned but implemented in contravention of the Venice Charter of 1964. It suggested, moreover, that contracting companies had little experience with the fine art of restoration; and that the authentic fabric of many buildings was being discarded and replaced with replicas. The media loves a controversy, and accusations of incompetent restoration continued to make headlines in the Arabic press, month after month, until finally a Cairo Symposium brought together UNESCO experts, archaeologists, restorers, architects and urban developers from all over the world. The aim was to evaluate historic Cairo's conservation effort and remedy past errors. It was also hoped to place the historic zone under a unified body, as opposed to several ministries and government- sponsored organisations, all of which tended to work at cross purposes. Just before the symposium I met Gaballa Gaballa, then secretary-general of the Supreme Council of Antiquities (SCA). He was far from optimistic. He pointed out that various ministries were governed by law and unlikely to change. In defence of the work the Minister of Culture Farouk Hosni insisted that the restoration was carried out according to the latest techniques delegates with whom I spoke afterwards, and who regarded collaboration between many ministries and government- sponsored organisations as a near impossible endeavour. So what happened? Were past mistakes remedied? Sedky provides the answers. He points out that after President Hosni Mubarak pronounced the revitalisation of historic Cairo a national project and gave it his support, many other departments and organisations from different ministries and institutions started to claim an official role. This necessitated the establishment of a coordinating body, and, given the absence of an urban heritage management unit, a Ministerial Committee (with the governor of Cairo as its head and delegates representing all the ministries involved in revitalising historic Cairo) was formed in 1997, to report to the prime minister and coordinated by the minister of culture. An Executive Committee was also formed, "to ensure the implementation of the strategies to enforce the legislation and guidelines produced by the Ministerial Committee, which was supposed to be the venue where the upgrading strategies and the bureaucratic structure, legislation, and national guidelines were to be produced." Yet, Sedky points out, this committee met only once. Nominally it still exists, but only its executive committee is still active. Sedky writes that the task of defining the effective actors involved in area conservation in Cairo after the 1992 earthquake was not an easy one. It revealed the fragile state of many monuments. When the Revitalisation of Historic Cairo Project became a matter of national presidential concern, many organisations and institutions were encouraged to search for a role in it regardless of their competence. To select the most "influential actor", a list was assembled giving various organisations, institutions and individuals effective roles in various projects. Upon reviewing the list later, in 2001/2, Sedky noted that it had been expanded. The list of "chief actors" had grown. It is tempting to list them all, no fewer than 12, but suffice it to say that they fell into three categories: The "N" or national interest group, the "W" or world interest group, and the "U" or users' interest group. The main actor? The Cairo governorate, headed by the governor appointed by the president. He controls all technical, legal and administrative departments. Sedky writes: "The actual role of the Cairo governorate is that of facilitator, monitoring and supervising the implementation of the already confirmed and accepted strategies and schemes produced by the Ministry of Housing and its other planning consultants, the chief of which is the GOPP [General Organisation of Physical Planning], an independent public entity under the jurisdiction of the minister of housing and reconstruction". He adds: "To the governor, historic Cairo is predominantly a site of investment potential in the tourist industry which can open up venues for employment in the field." And he further makes mention of the fact that the governor's staff "does not have real awareness of the significance of the architectural and urban value of historic Cairo. On the contrary, he continues, "it is regarded as an area that needs to be 'civilised' through the improvement of its appearance so as to maximise its economic development for tourism." The International Cultural Tourism Charter ratified in 1999 specified the strengthening of links between culture, economics and tourist development "through detailed strategies and integrated planning". It emphasised that development or upgrading for tourism should aim to alleviate poverty through local training and employment programmes, "while at the same time respecting the nature and character of different areas and so avoid jeopardising its cultural and social values." However, because of Egypt's current heavily state-centred political system, in which the government dominates the strategies for planning and implementing all and every project, local communities are neglected in favour of the national priority for the development of tourism. And the result is that, in the words of Sedky: "Official long-run gains are sought through beautification to attract tourists, but the planners neglect the short-run gains essential for the local communities." With no integrated strategy, no charter, no general outlines, not even a system of urban regulations, there is naturally conflict among institutions and even departments. Not surprisingly, mistakes have been made. For example, the governor ordered the removal of the clothing stalls in the Al-Ghuriya area close to the mosque of Al-Azhar to give a "civilised" look to the area while pedestrianising it; and he ordered the removal of the traditional pottery industry and its historic kilns from Batn Al-Baqara on the fringe of Al-Fustat near the Roman-Byzantine fortress in Old Cairo, without any consideration for the fact that the industries had traditionally been located there. Likewise, the structural integrity was not recognised along Al-Muezz Street where the guild division distinguishes Arab-Islamic mediaeval urbanism. These examples, and others, are described by Sedky and criticised in no mean terms. "The governorate does not even show respect for authenticity," he writes, in reference to the special quality of historic areas like Darb Al-Ahmar, which is "endangered by the southern access project energetically promoted by the governor to absorb the pressure of traffic from Al-Azhar Tunnel..." And, above all, he criticises the "civilised" look favoured by the governorate, "and its insensitive eagerness to pedestrianise Al-Azhar Street" which has led to the "crippling" of the clothing and textile trades. Is it all the fault of the governor alone? No. The governorate is directly involved in urban upgrading; it deals mainly with traffic problems; it constructs roads, highways and the like. It does not define the boundaries of heritage zones and designated areas. It acts merely as a facilitator for the decisions of the Executive Committee mentioned above, and, as already made clear, there is a lack of specialised legislation for heritage management in Historic Cairo. At the risk of repetition let me again quote Sedky: "There is no integrated managing unit to produce, supervise, and update the upgrading plans while coordinating with the different actors and involving the governorate in the Revitalisation of Historic Cairo Project." Ironically, in the one so-far successful project in the mediaeval city, that the Friends of the Environment and Development Association (FEDA), the governorate was not involved. FEDA is an NGO funded by the Swiss-Egyptian Development Fund. The governorate approved the project because it was grant-supported and would not place any financial burden on the government. Focussing on the Gammaliya district, one of the most endangered parts of historic Cairo, FEDA decided to upgrade the environmental quality of the area and safeguard its traditional crafts. On this project Sedky notes: "The area's character and significance are made and envisaged through the people of the area," and "as a potential venue for investment and development through use of the urban voids and gaps and dilapidated structures." Having written several articles about FEDA ( Al-Ahram Weekly 18 July 2002; 1 January, 2004; 25 September 2008) and its project of sustainable development as a community-based plan of action, which falls neither under UNESCO's project to preserve the historical and cultural monuments of historic Cairo, nor under the organisation for the upgrading of the Fatimid and Islamic districts of Cairo, I was pleased to see how favourably it was covered by Sedky. He lauded the implementation of area conservation without any jeopardising of the historic environment; the fact that Wekalet Kahla, a vast ruined and derelict area, was cleared of debris and upgraded to house non-polluting workshops (successfully transferred from the Al-Rabea area opposite the mosque of Aqmar. and thus minimising air pollution and congestion in the heart of the mediaeval city), and he described the area as one realistic project with a long-term goal for its protection in mind. Last month was earmarked for the official opening of Al-Muezz Street in the heart of Islamic Cairo. A great deal of effort went into the preparation of this main artery of the walled city of the Fatimids, where selected historical buildings have been restored in the area stretching from Al-Azhar Street to Bab Al-Fotouh. Debris was cleared from the newly-paved road; buildings still derelict were white-washed; and, in the usual manner of things in Egypt, potted plants were placed along the route. For months the media prepared us for the event. Articles were written ad nauseum about the "revival and restoration" of the "one-time vibrant heart" of the Fatimid city. It was proudly declared to be "the beginning of an ongoing programme to renovate and preserve all Egypt's Islamic heritage". All was ready for the trio comprising Mrs Suzanne Mubarak, Minister of Culture Farouk Hosni, and SCA Secretary-General Zahi Hawass, who usually attend such events. But they failed to turn up, so the official opening did not take place. This begs other questions, but I shall not pose them here. Let me merely stress that in order successfully to revitalise and conserve areas of historic importance, the forces that created them in the first place need to be understood: the pattern of streets, the domestic architecture, and the commercial and manufacturing activities. Is it too late to change the philosophy regarding the protection of historical zones from one of open air museums to one of sustainable development in its every sense?
