Safeguarding Afghanistans dan urban heritage
THE CHALLENGE OF SAFEGUARDING AFGHANISTAN’S URBAN HERITAGE
The cities and towns of Afghanistan have long been hubs of commercial, social and cultural
activity, as well as sites on which political and military rivalries are played out. Traditional urban
bazaars, community mosques and merchant homes serve as physical markers of the ebb and flow
of their historical development. Most Afghan cities have witnessed repeated cycles of investment
and destruction, as they are looted and laid waste by rivals, only to rise from the ashes under a
new regime whose control in is challenged in turn by others who demolish or transform the
legacy of their predecessors. While the violent overthrow of rulers was somewhat less common,
this process of urban transformation during the 20th century became an important projection of
an image of a modern Afghan state. It is on the urban landscape that similar visions of progress
continue to be played out to this day, although the wholesale transformations that are now under
way risk destroying important traces of history. The challenge for Afghans today is to find a
balance between safeguarding what is left of their urban heritage and enabling appropriate
processes of development.
Since 2003, Afghanistan’s cities have seen significant increases in population and a surge in
private investments. This recovery comes after a prolonged period of conflict that resulted in
destruction in some cities and a general lack of development and stagnation. At the core of some
cities that are now recovering - Kabul, Qandahar, Herat, Ghazni, Balkh, Kunduz among others stand areas of historic fabric that provide evidence of their past, both above and below ground.
These ‘old cities’ generally comprise an area, once ringed with defensive walls, with distinct
residential and commercial quarters, on whose bazaars many inhabitants depended for their
livelihoods. The population of these quarters fluctuated, depending on their fortunes or need for
protection. In the case of Kapisa, Ai Khanoum, Jam and Bost, which were of less strategic and
commercial importance to succeeding generations, the settlement was eventually abandoned.
A brief overview of urban history illustrates how resilient cities have been, and the vital role they
played in the political, economic and cultural development of Afghanistan. Among the earliest
identified towns, dating from between 4000 and 2000 BC, are at Mundigak near Qandahar, and
Dashli near Balkh. By 500BC, due perhaps to changing patterns of trade, Qandahar was the
primary settlement in the south, with Balkh and other settlements developing in the north. In
329BC Alexander conquered Balkh and, during his military campaigns, strengthened the
defences at Qandahar and Herat. He may also have laid the foundations on the banks of the Amu
Darya river of Ai Khanoum, a city then developed by the Bactrians who inhabited the site until
around 145BC.
It was further south at Kapisa, where the Kushan dynasty built their summer capital, and where
in 1939 archaeologists excavated a range of fine objects that reflect the wealth and taste of the
court of Kanishka. With direct control in an area between Balkh and Qandahar, he wielded
political influence much further afield. In-fighting after Kanishka’s death disrupted trade and
fragmented Kushan power, enabling the nomadic Hephthalites to invade and destroy cities and
sites of worship across the region. Kapisa seems to have been abandoned, but Bamiyan soon
recovered and prospered from a resumption of trade and the passage of pilgrims.
The advance of Arab armies from the west in the 7th century saw Zaranj and Bost develop as
garrison-towns. During the early period of Muslim influence in the region, the urban centres fell
under various principalities, with Samanids in Balkh, Hindu Shahis in Kabul and other rulers in
Qandahar, Bost and Ghazni. This changed dramatically in the 10th century, when Sultan
Mahmud of Ghazni conquered Kabul, Bost and Balkh before moving on to raid India. Wealth
generated from booty seized during these raids enabled Ghazni to become a centre of culture.
Mahmud also developed a summer capital at Bost, whose triumphal arch gives a sense to this
day of its grandeur. The massive, sumptuously-decorated palaces that members of the Ghaznavid
court built along the Helmand river reflects their refined tastes and prosperity.
This was not, however, to last. In the 12th century, Alauddin – also known as ‘Jahansuz’ or
burner of the world – laid waste to both Ghazni and Bost. His successor Ghyasuddin expanded
the Ghorid empire, investing in Jam, Herat, Balkh and Bamiyan. Along with smaller settlements
and the irrigation systems on which they depended, these cities were again destroyed in the early
13th century by Mongol armies under Genghis Khan. The case of Herat illustrates how this
destruction also provided opportunities for renewal. Under the Karts, Herat was one of the first
places to recover from the damage wrought by the Mongols, but this work was subsequently
undone by Timur. His youngest son and successor Shah Rukh then went on to transform Herat
(and Balkh) into centres of intellectual and artistic activity, of which the mausoleum of
Gawharshad and the shrine of Khwaja Parsa are testament.
Kabul, which Babur occupied in 1504, was the springboard for military campaigns into India,
where he laid the foundations of the Mughal empire. Being more of a gardener than a builder, it
was on the landscape that Babur left his mark in Kabul and elsewhere in the region. While
Afghan cities continued to benefit from trade and investments, especially to mark the visits of
subsequent Mughal rulers, India was the main focus of their attention. Kabul remained little
more than an outpost, while the inhabitants of Qandahar found themselves caught between the
rival Mughal and Safavid empires, whose ruler Nadir Shah occupied the city in 1738. It was in
Qandahar that the Sadozai Ahmad Khan emerged in 1747 as leader of an Afghan entity.
The centre of political power in this domain shifted when his son Timur Shah moved his capital
to Kabul, to escape internecine strife. He continued to struggle with unrest across his domains
through his reign, as did his successor Zaman Shah, who contended with rivals in Herat and
Qandahar. Zaman was unable even to complete the brick mausoleum that he commissioned for
his father, and which stands to this day in central Kabul. The ensuing power-struggles between
the Barakzais and Sadozais were played out in Kabul, Ghazni, Qandahar and Herat, while Balkh
and the north remained largely under the control of the Uzbeks.
Kabul was the primary stage on which the next stage of Afghan history was played out, when in
1839 the British ‘Army of the Indus’ marched (via Qandahar) to overthrow Dost Mohammed.
The British military cantonment - now the modern suburbs of Wazir Akbar Khan and Sherpur was in 1841 overrun by disaffected Afghans, obliging the occupying force to retreat towards
Jalalabad, along which route most were massacred. In response, during a punitive raid eight
months later, the British destroyed an important landmark and source of prosperity, Char Chatta
bazaar. Again in 1897, during the British occupation of Kabul, the historic citadel of Bala Hissar
was leveled to avenge the murder of the Resident. As a British witness noted at the time: ‘we
have left our indelible mark at Kabul’.
It was Amir Abdur Rahman who, after assuming power in 1880, left his mark on the capital by
constructing the Arq palace outside of the long-established bounds of the city proper. As well as
being one of several residences for the Amir, this complex represented the seat of an assertive
(and paternalistic) central government. In adopting more explicitly foreign models for his palaces
in Kabul and elsewhere, his son Habibullah pursued a new phase of the cultural exchanges that
have long characterized Afghanistan’s built heritage.
Habibullah’s son Amanullah embarked in the 1920s on a more ambitious attempt at cultural
exchange when he laid out in the south of Kabul the quarter of Darulaman, where new public
institutions were to be clustered. The familiar cycle of development and destruction continued,
however, and the ruins of the Darulaman Palace serve today as a monument to Amanullah’s
reformist vision, which eventually cost him the throne. Also now in ruins, the ostentatious villas
and public buildings that he built in the summer resort of Paghman presaged the garish modern
villas that now vie for attention in the suburbs of Kabul and other Afghan cities.
From the 1930s, an altogether broader transformation of Afghan cities gathered pace. Having
repaired the damage sustained to Kabul during the overthrow of Amanullah and the brief reign of
Habibullah Kalakani, the new ruler Nader Shah commissioned many public buildings and
oversaw the creation of new suburbs. In 1948, as part of measures to modernize the capital, the
municipality (the first to be elected) cut a swathe through the old city to create the commercial
boulevard of Jade Maiwand, whose modern facades concealed the dense historic fabric behind.
A similarly ambitious act of urbanism saw the historic quarter of Mazar-i-Sharif tidied during the
1960s into a new grid-plan with the shrine at its centre. By contrast, with the focus of
development primarily on their outskirts, the historic quarters of Herat and Qandahar survived
largely unscathed, and their bazaars continued to be important in commercial life.
With their sights set firmly on ‘modern’ urban development, Afghan planners and bureaucrats
came to regard these quarters as fit only for wholesale transformation. The principal tool for this
was the ‘master plan’ which, in Kabul in 1976 envisaged the densely-packed traditional
buildings and labyrinthine alleys replaced by rows of multi-storey apartment blocks set amid
public parks. Fortunately, there was neither the political will nor the resources to realize this
vision of modernity and the surviving historic quarters were left to further decay. With many
homes subdivided and only very limited investments in public services, living conditions
deteriorated to the extent that these areas were routinely dismissed by municipal officials as
‘slums’. In Kabul in 1978, anti-government agitation in the old city provided a useful pretext for
further roads to be driven through, destroying yet more traditional property. Even where there
was no direct threat, Afghan planners who worked with Soviet advisers seemed to be at a loss as
to how to deal with historic neighbourhoods which, on the master-plans for Herat and Qandahar
from the late 1970s appear as a blank space.
The reality, however, is that these neighbourhoods remain vibrant. It is here that migrants seek
affordable quarters in decaying traditional homes, where craftsmen continue their trades and
where trade is conducted in chaotic bazaars. It is here too that an urban narrative is kept alive in
the beliefs and legends associated with historic shrines and sites. The layers of history extend
underground; the simple process of digging a trench to repair a water-main in the old city of
Herat is likely to turn up fragments of pottery, marble, or sections of clay water pipes.
Despite the efforts at transformation by planners and their foreign advisers, Afghanistan was
unique in how much of its urban heritage survived - albeit in a degraded state - until the early
1990s. Several old cities, including Herat and Qandahar, suffered direct damage during the
1980s, but the conflict largely deterred public or private investment, which spared the historic
quarters from the kind of ‘redevelopment’ which might have taken place in more peaceful
circumstances. The transformation of the historic quarters of Lahore (Pakistan) and Meshed
(Iran) are examples of the impact of ‘normal’ urban development during the 1990s when, by
contrast, most Afghan cities experienced a form of conflict-induced stagnation.
Kabul was an exception, however, when between 1992-4 it was the focus of intense interfactional fighting that caused widespread damage across the city, and resulted in the looting by
mujahideen fighters of the National Museum. As they battled for control of the strategicallylocated old city, these fighters indiscriminately destroyed homes, bazaars, mosques and shrines.
It took years for war-damaged historic neighbourhoods to be de-mined and for the process of
resettlement and reconstruction to begin. Those owners who did invest in repairs did so
cautiously, using traditional forms and materials, but much of the old city remained in ruins.
Little changed when, in 1996, the Taliban occupied Kabul and urban residents found themselves
in a state of suspended animation, in both political and economic terms. As had been the case
during the mujahideen era, there were few public investments and, with many property owners in
exile, the historic quarters continued to decay.
Following the flight in late 2001 of the Taliban from major cities, a gradual process of recovery
began. Over time, with the return of refugees and in-migration from rural areas, urban
populations grew significantly, creating an intense demand for land and housing, whose value
soared. Almost without exception, Afghan cities have witnessed a dramatic urban sprawl, with
much of the new development on the outskirts. Given the commercial potential of central
districts, where the historic quarters are situated, developers have turned their attention to these
areas. It is indeed ironic that, having in part survived a protracted conflict, these quarters have in
recent years faced the very real threat of being destroyed by money.
In Kabul in 2003, a presidential decree prohibiting all new construction in the old city ostensibly to safeguard the area - had little impact on the ground and developers continued to act
with impunity, acquiring and demolishing historic property for ‘redevelopment’, often in
collusion with municipal officials. Parallel efforts to develop and enforce regulations aimed at
protecting the historic fabric and ensuring appropriate processes of development fell victim to a
turf-war between municipal and ministerial officials - a situation that has proved very useful and
lucrative for property speculators.
A similar situation has played out in Herat, whose old city was until recently one of the bestpreserved examples of historic urban fabric in the region. It was for this reason that in 2006
UNESCO agreed with Herat municipality and others on measures to safeguard the character of
the historic fabric by restricting the height and volume of new structures and specifying external
finishes. These guidelines have however rarely been enforced, and demolitions and inappropriate
construction continue largely unchecked in the old city. As in Kabul, property adjoining
vehicular roads seem to be the most sought-after by developers who generally construct multistorey concrete ‘markets’, often excavating two floors underground and thereby destroying any
archaeological remains. In what was left of the old city of Qandahar, a similarly-destructive
process of commercialization has taken place, while the bulk of the historic part of Charikar was
recently ‘redeveloped’ with official sanction. Given the pace at which Afghan urban centres are
growing, and the destructive nature of the transformations that are taking place, time is clearly
running out for the surviving historic fabric which, as the brief outline above illustrates,
represents an important part of the country’s heritage.
The challenges in addressing this situation are multiple. The relevant legal provisions in the 2004
Afghan Cultural Property Law are vague and only state that ‘modification of the structure of a
registered monument of historic and artistic value is prohibited, without the authorization of the
Ministry of Information and Culture (which)...makes proper arrangements for the protection of
such monuments (Article 12). As long as the law only applies to ‘registered monuments’ – it has
proved difficult to get areas of historic fabric designated as such – it is clearly not an effective
deterrent to the kind of destruction that is taking place in Herat, Kabul and other cities.
Both the 2004 National Urban Strategy and the urban component of the 2006 Afghan National
Development Strategy draw attention to the need for protection of urban heritage, but more work
needs to be done on developing effective programmes to address the legal, technical, economic
and social issues in a coherent manner. Government entities that are responsible for safeguarding
built heritage have limited resources and capacity, although they have facilitated externallyfunded urban conservation initiatives such as those implemented by the Aga Khan Trust for
Culture and Turquoise Mountain in Kabul and Herat. The modest investments made through
these community-based NGO projects have resulted in the conservation of dozens of historic
properties, training of craftspeople and improvements in living conditions in recent years. These
achievements will however remain ‘islands’ in a sea of uncontrolled construction without an
effective legal and administrative framework in which to operate. And any laws and regulations
will only be useful if they are enforced; presently government officials show very little
willingness to stand up to powerful interests engaged in property speculation in these or other
urban areas. Municipal officials can be forgiven for turning a blind eye to illegal demolition or
construction in historic neighbourhoods when the ‘permissions’ obtained by developers bear the
signature of senior civil servants in Kabul who publicly lament the loss of Afghanistan’s built
heritage.
Even before the senseless damage inflicted by the Taliban on the Bamiyan Buddhas, there was a
good deal of hand-wringing among Afghans about the loss of their cultural heritage. Most
accounts of the fate of the National Museum in Kabul tend to dwell on the damage inflicted in
2001 on objects considered by the Taliban as idolatrous, but gloss over the fact that the
systematic looting of the collection in 1993/4 was in fact carried out by Afghans, who in many
cases sold stolen objects on to foreign dealers. It is intriguing how that this ‘narrative of loss’ has
also come to prevail with regard to urban heritage, with officials and politicians tending to
portray themselves as helpless bystanders in an inevitable process of ‘development’. It is
particularly ironic that this destruction is taking place during a period of prosperity for many
Afghans, who arguably have the choices denied to previous generations.
What are these choices? Perhaps the most important is for Afghans to acknowledge that the
ongoing process of urban transformation will, unless checked, irrevocably destroy an important
part of their history. Despite the fact that the inhabitants of historic quarters are often marginal
and poor, and therefore have few choices, many have a strong attachment and are protective of
the environment in which they live. Their voice needs to be heard by the officials who presently
make decisions on their behalf, and who in many cases seem set on a path of wholesale
transformation. If they choose to adopt development approaches that are compatible with
safeguarding, Afghan planners and urban managers can draw on the experience of cities
elsewhere in the region that have grown and prospered while retaining their unique historic
character in certain quarters. The choice facing Afghan political and professionals leaders is
between acting soon to protect their old cities or standing by as they disappear under
characterless concrete. If the next generation of Afghans is to inherit a nation that is alive, todays
citizens need to rise to the challenge and ensure that their culture, of which historic mosques and
shrines, bazaars and merchant homes are an important component, remains alive.
Jolyon Leslie, Kabul 27.9.2012
The cities and towns of Afghanistan have long been hubs of commercial, social and cultural
activity, as well as sites on which political and military rivalries are played out. Traditional urban
bazaars, community mosques and merchant homes serve as physical markers of the ebb and flow
of their historical development. Most Afghan cities have witnessed repeated cycles of investment
and destruction, as they are looted and laid waste by rivals, only to rise from the ashes under a
new regime whose control in is challenged in turn by others who demolish or transform the
legacy of their predecessors. While the violent overthrow of rulers was somewhat less common,
this process of urban transformation during the 20th century became an important projection of
an image of a modern Afghan state. It is on the urban landscape that similar visions of progress
continue to be played out to this day, although the wholesale transformations that are now under
way risk destroying important traces of history. The challenge for Afghans today is to find a
balance between safeguarding what is left of their urban heritage and enabling appropriate
processes of development.
Since 2003, Afghanistan’s cities have seen significant increases in population and a surge in
private investments. This recovery comes after a prolonged period of conflict that resulted in
destruction in some cities and a general lack of development and stagnation. At the core of some
cities that are now recovering - Kabul, Qandahar, Herat, Ghazni, Balkh, Kunduz among others stand areas of historic fabric that provide evidence of their past, both above and below ground.
These ‘old cities’ generally comprise an area, once ringed with defensive walls, with distinct
residential and commercial quarters, on whose bazaars many inhabitants depended for their
livelihoods. The population of these quarters fluctuated, depending on their fortunes or need for
protection. In the case of Kapisa, Ai Khanoum, Jam and Bost, which were of less strategic and
commercial importance to succeeding generations, the settlement was eventually abandoned.
A brief overview of urban history illustrates how resilient cities have been, and the vital role they
played in the political, economic and cultural development of Afghanistan. Among the earliest
identified towns, dating from between 4000 and 2000 BC, are at Mundigak near Qandahar, and
Dashli near Balkh. By 500BC, due perhaps to changing patterns of trade, Qandahar was the
primary settlement in the south, with Balkh and other settlements developing in the north. In
329BC Alexander conquered Balkh and, during his military campaigns, strengthened the
defences at Qandahar and Herat. He may also have laid the foundations on the banks of the Amu
Darya river of Ai Khanoum, a city then developed by the Bactrians who inhabited the site until
around 145BC.
It was further south at Kapisa, where the Kushan dynasty built their summer capital, and where
in 1939 archaeologists excavated a range of fine objects that reflect the wealth and taste of the
court of Kanishka. With direct control in an area between Balkh and Qandahar, he wielded
political influence much further afield. In-fighting after Kanishka’s death disrupted trade and
fragmented Kushan power, enabling the nomadic Hephthalites to invade and destroy cities and
sites of worship across the region. Kapisa seems to have been abandoned, but Bamiyan soon
recovered and prospered from a resumption of trade and the passage of pilgrims.
The advance of Arab armies from the west in the 7th century saw Zaranj and Bost develop as
garrison-towns. During the early period of Muslim influence in the region, the urban centres fell
under various principalities, with Samanids in Balkh, Hindu Shahis in Kabul and other rulers in
Qandahar, Bost and Ghazni. This changed dramatically in the 10th century, when Sultan
Mahmud of Ghazni conquered Kabul, Bost and Balkh before moving on to raid India. Wealth
generated from booty seized during these raids enabled Ghazni to become a centre of culture.
Mahmud also developed a summer capital at Bost, whose triumphal arch gives a sense to this
day of its grandeur. The massive, sumptuously-decorated palaces that members of the Ghaznavid
court built along the Helmand river reflects their refined tastes and prosperity.
This was not, however, to last. In the 12th century, Alauddin – also known as ‘Jahansuz’ or
burner of the world – laid waste to both Ghazni and Bost. His successor Ghyasuddin expanded
the Ghorid empire, investing in Jam, Herat, Balkh and Bamiyan. Along with smaller settlements
and the irrigation systems on which they depended, these cities were again destroyed in the early
13th century by Mongol armies under Genghis Khan. The case of Herat illustrates how this
destruction also provided opportunities for renewal. Under the Karts, Herat was one of the first
places to recover from the damage wrought by the Mongols, but this work was subsequently
undone by Timur. His youngest son and successor Shah Rukh then went on to transform Herat
(and Balkh) into centres of intellectual and artistic activity, of which the mausoleum of
Gawharshad and the shrine of Khwaja Parsa are testament.
Kabul, which Babur occupied in 1504, was the springboard for military campaigns into India,
where he laid the foundations of the Mughal empire. Being more of a gardener than a builder, it
was on the landscape that Babur left his mark in Kabul and elsewhere in the region. While
Afghan cities continued to benefit from trade and investments, especially to mark the visits of
subsequent Mughal rulers, India was the main focus of their attention. Kabul remained little
more than an outpost, while the inhabitants of Qandahar found themselves caught between the
rival Mughal and Safavid empires, whose ruler Nadir Shah occupied the city in 1738. It was in
Qandahar that the Sadozai Ahmad Khan emerged in 1747 as leader of an Afghan entity.
The centre of political power in this domain shifted when his son Timur Shah moved his capital
to Kabul, to escape internecine strife. He continued to struggle with unrest across his domains
through his reign, as did his successor Zaman Shah, who contended with rivals in Herat and
Qandahar. Zaman was unable even to complete the brick mausoleum that he commissioned for
his father, and which stands to this day in central Kabul. The ensuing power-struggles between
the Barakzais and Sadozais were played out in Kabul, Ghazni, Qandahar and Herat, while Balkh
and the north remained largely under the control of the Uzbeks.
Kabul was the primary stage on which the next stage of Afghan history was played out, when in
1839 the British ‘Army of the Indus’ marched (via Qandahar) to overthrow Dost Mohammed.
The British military cantonment - now the modern suburbs of Wazir Akbar Khan and Sherpur was in 1841 overrun by disaffected Afghans, obliging the occupying force to retreat towards
Jalalabad, along which route most were massacred. In response, during a punitive raid eight
months later, the British destroyed an important landmark and source of prosperity, Char Chatta
bazaar. Again in 1897, during the British occupation of Kabul, the historic citadel of Bala Hissar
was leveled to avenge the murder of the Resident. As a British witness noted at the time: ‘we
have left our indelible mark at Kabul’.
It was Amir Abdur Rahman who, after assuming power in 1880, left his mark on the capital by
constructing the Arq palace outside of the long-established bounds of the city proper. As well as
being one of several residences for the Amir, this complex represented the seat of an assertive
(and paternalistic) central government. In adopting more explicitly foreign models for his palaces
in Kabul and elsewhere, his son Habibullah pursued a new phase of the cultural exchanges that
have long characterized Afghanistan’s built heritage.
Habibullah’s son Amanullah embarked in the 1920s on a more ambitious attempt at cultural
exchange when he laid out in the south of Kabul the quarter of Darulaman, where new public
institutions were to be clustered. The familiar cycle of development and destruction continued,
however, and the ruins of the Darulaman Palace serve today as a monument to Amanullah’s
reformist vision, which eventually cost him the throne. Also now in ruins, the ostentatious villas
and public buildings that he built in the summer resort of Paghman presaged the garish modern
villas that now vie for attention in the suburbs of Kabul and other Afghan cities.
From the 1930s, an altogether broader transformation of Afghan cities gathered pace. Having
repaired the damage sustained to Kabul during the overthrow of Amanullah and the brief reign of
Habibullah Kalakani, the new ruler Nader Shah commissioned many public buildings and
oversaw the creation of new suburbs. In 1948, as part of measures to modernize the capital, the
municipality (the first to be elected) cut a swathe through the old city to create the commercial
boulevard of Jade Maiwand, whose modern facades concealed the dense historic fabric behind.
A similarly ambitious act of urbanism saw the historic quarter of Mazar-i-Sharif tidied during the
1960s into a new grid-plan with the shrine at its centre. By contrast, with the focus of
development primarily on their outskirts, the historic quarters of Herat and Qandahar survived
largely unscathed, and their bazaars continued to be important in commercial life.
With their sights set firmly on ‘modern’ urban development, Afghan planners and bureaucrats
came to regard these quarters as fit only for wholesale transformation. The principal tool for this
was the ‘master plan’ which, in Kabul in 1976 envisaged the densely-packed traditional
buildings and labyrinthine alleys replaced by rows of multi-storey apartment blocks set amid
public parks. Fortunately, there was neither the political will nor the resources to realize this
vision of modernity and the surviving historic quarters were left to further decay. With many
homes subdivided and only very limited investments in public services, living conditions
deteriorated to the extent that these areas were routinely dismissed by municipal officials as
‘slums’. In Kabul in 1978, anti-government agitation in the old city provided a useful pretext for
further roads to be driven through, destroying yet more traditional property. Even where there
was no direct threat, Afghan planners who worked with Soviet advisers seemed to be at a loss as
to how to deal with historic neighbourhoods which, on the master-plans for Herat and Qandahar
from the late 1970s appear as a blank space.
The reality, however, is that these neighbourhoods remain vibrant. It is here that migrants seek
affordable quarters in decaying traditional homes, where craftsmen continue their trades and
where trade is conducted in chaotic bazaars. It is here too that an urban narrative is kept alive in
the beliefs and legends associated with historic shrines and sites. The layers of history extend
underground; the simple process of digging a trench to repair a water-main in the old city of
Herat is likely to turn up fragments of pottery, marble, or sections of clay water pipes.
Despite the efforts at transformation by planners and their foreign advisers, Afghanistan was
unique in how much of its urban heritage survived - albeit in a degraded state - until the early
1990s. Several old cities, including Herat and Qandahar, suffered direct damage during the
1980s, but the conflict largely deterred public or private investment, which spared the historic
quarters from the kind of ‘redevelopment’ which might have taken place in more peaceful
circumstances. The transformation of the historic quarters of Lahore (Pakistan) and Meshed
(Iran) are examples of the impact of ‘normal’ urban development during the 1990s when, by
contrast, most Afghan cities experienced a form of conflict-induced stagnation.
Kabul was an exception, however, when between 1992-4 it was the focus of intense interfactional fighting that caused widespread damage across the city, and resulted in the looting by
mujahideen fighters of the National Museum. As they battled for control of the strategicallylocated old city, these fighters indiscriminately destroyed homes, bazaars, mosques and shrines.
It took years for war-damaged historic neighbourhoods to be de-mined and for the process of
resettlement and reconstruction to begin. Those owners who did invest in repairs did so
cautiously, using traditional forms and materials, but much of the old city remained in ruins.
Little changed when, in 1996, the Taliban occupied Kabul and urban residents found themselves
in a state of suspended animation, in both political and economic terms. As had been the case
during the mujahideen era, there were few public investments and, with many property owners in
exile, the historic quarters continued to decay.
Following the flight in late 2001 of the Taliban from major cities, a gradual process of recovery
began. Over time, with the return of refugees and in-migration from rural areas, urban
populations grew significantly, creating an intense demand for land and housing, whose value
soared. Almost without exception, Afghan cities have witnessed a dramatic urban sprawl, with
much of the new development on the outskirts. Given the commercial potential of central
districts, where the historic quarters are situated, developers have turned their attention to these
areas. It is indeed ironic that, having in part survived a protracted conflict, these quarters have in
recent years faced the very real threat of being destroyed by money.
In Kabul in 2003, a presidential decree prohibiting all new construction in the old city ostensibly to safeguard the area - had little impact on the ground and developers continued to act
with impunity, acquiring and demolishing historic property for ‘redevelopment’, often in
collusion with municipal officials. Parallel efforts to develop and enforce regulations aimed at
protecting the historic fabric and ensuring appropriate processes of development fell victim to a
turf-war between municipal and ministerial officials - a situation that has proved very useful and
lucrative for property speculators.
A similar situation has played out in Herat, whose old city was until recently one of the bestpreserved examples of historic urban fabric in the region. It was for this reason that in 2006
UNESCO agreed with Herat municipality and others on measures to safeguard the character of
the historic fabric by restricting the height and volume of new structures and specifying external
finishes. These guidelines have however rarely been enforced, and demolitions and inappropriate
construction continue largely unchecked in the old city. As in Kabul, property adjoining
vehicular roads seem to be the most sought-after by developers who generally construct multistorey concrete ‘markets’, often excavating two floors underground and thereby destroying any
archaeological remains. In what was left of the old city of Qandahar, a similarly-destructive
process of commercialization has taken place, while the bulk of the historic part of Charikar was
recently ‘redeveloped’ with official sanction. Given the pace at which Afghan urban centres are
growing, and the destructive nature of the transformations that are taking place, time is clearly
running out for the surviving historic fabric which, as the brief outline above illustrates,
represents an important part of the country’s heritage.
The challenges in addressing this situation are multiple. The relevant legal provisions in the 2004
Afghan Cultural Property Law are vague and only state that ‘modification of the structure of a
registered monument of historic and artistic value is prohibited, without the authorization of the
Ministry of Information and Culture (which)...makes proper arrangements for the protection of
such monuments (Article 12). As long as the law only applies to ‘registered monuments’ – it has
proved difficult to get areas of historic fabric designated as such – it is clearly not an effective
deterrent to the kind of destruction that is taking place in Herat, Kabul and other cities.
Both the 2004 National Urban Strategy and the urban component of the 2006 Afghan National
Development Strategy draw attention to the need for protection of urban heritage, but more work
needs to be done on developing effective programmes to address the legal, technical, economic
and social issues in a coherent manner. Government entities that are responsible for safeguarding
built heritage have limited resources and capacity, although they have facilitated externallyfunded urban conservation initiatives such as those implemented by the Aga Khan Trust for
Culture and Turquoise Mountain in Kabul and Herat. The modest investments made through
these community-based NGO projects have resulted in the conservation of dozens of historic
properties, training of craftspeople and improvements in living conditions in recent years. These
achievements will however remain ‘islands’ in a sea of uncontrolled construction without an
effective legal and administrative framework in which to operate. And any laws and regulations
will only be useful if they are enforced; presently government officials show very little
willingness to stand up to powerful interests engaged in property speculation in these or other
urban areas. Municipal officials can be forgiven for turning a blind eye to illegal demolition or
construction in historic neighbourhoods when the ‘permissions’ obtained by developers bear the
signature of senior civil servants in Kabul who publicly lament the loss of Afghanistan’s built
heritage.
Even before the senseless damage inflicted by the Taliban on the Bamiyan Buddhas, there was a
good deal of hand-wringing among Afghans about the loss of their cultural heritage. Most
accounts of the fate of the National Museum in Kabul tend to dwell on the damage inflicted in
2001 on objects considered by the Taliban as idolatrous, but gloss over the fact that the
systematic looting of the collection in 1993/4 was in fact carried out by Afghans, who in many
cases sold stolen objects on to foreign dealers. It is intriguing how that this ‘narrative of loss’ has
also come to prevail with regard to urban heritage, with officials and politicians tending to
portray themselves as helpless bystanders in an inevitable process of ‘development’. It is
particularly ironic that this destruction is taking place during a period of prosperity for many
Afghans, who arguably have the choices denied to previous generations.
What are these choices? Perhaps the most important is for Afghans to acknowledge that the
ongoing process of urban transformation will, unless checked, irrevocably destroy an important
part of their history. Despite the fact that the inhabitants of historic quarters are often marginal
and poor, and therefore have few choices, many have a strong attachment and are protective of
the environment in which they live. Their voice needs to be heard by the officials who presently
make decisions on their behalf, and who in many cases seem set on a path of wholesale
transformation. If they choose to adopt development approaches that are compatible with
safeguarding, Afghan planners and urban managers can draw on the experience of cities
elsewhere in the region that have grown and prospered while retaining their unique historic
character in certain quarters. The choice facing Afghan political and professionals leaders is
between acting soon to protect their old cities or standing by as they disappear under
characterless concrete. If the next generation of Afghans is to inherit a nation that is alive, todays
citizens need to rise to the challenge and ensure that their culture, of which historic mosques and
shrines, bazaars and merchant homes are an important component, remains alive.
Jolyon Leslie, Kabul 27.9.2012