Σάββατο 11 Μαΐου 2013

Culture wars: why attack heritage?

German soldiers and civilians give the Nazi salute as they burn books in May 1933 Nazi book burnings targeting 'non-Aryan' publications were a common sight across Germany in 1933
The flames from the book bonfires burned high as the words of the intellectuals, the innovators, once committed to paper, disappeared forever. 

Everything that has been built up, cultivated and grown, will be destroyed and disfigured, after which mankind will have to begin all over again”
Anne Frank
The events of 10 May 1933 - when German students gathered in Berlin and elsewhere to destroy more than 20,000 volumes of work considered 'Un-German' - represented not just a physical attack on the books but an ideological strike by the Nazi regime.
As works by Ernest Hemingway, Helen Keller, Sigmund Freud and even Albert Einstein were among those condemned to the bonfires, Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels declared: "The era of extreme Jewish intellectualism is now at an end..."
Yet the actions of those present were not original. Throughout history, culture has been subject to attack.
As Czech historian Milan Hubl once said: "The first step in liquidating a people is to erase its memory. Destroy its books, its culture, its history.
"Then have somebody write new books, manufacture a new culture, invent a new history. Before long the nation will begin to forget what it is and what it was.
"The world around it will forget even faster."
But the outrage felt, combined with the military might of those opposing it, meant the Third Reich was unsuccessful in its bid to quash all cultures bar its own through whatever means it saw fit.

Meanwhile, in China...

Emperor Qin Shi Huang
Historic novelist Sam Meekings explains why China's first emperor, who died in 210BC, also advocated book burning.
Emperor Qin Shi Huang not only had countless books burned, but he also had hundreds of scholars buried alive.
Previously, there had been many different schools of thought on living a good life and having good government, but afterwards the choice was basically do what the emperor said or suffer the consequences.
Burning books helped make comparing the imperial system with other ways of living almost impossible, and so limit any threats on the authority of the ruler.
Centuries later, Chairman Mao Zedong achieved something similar: during the Cultural Revolution it was impossible to question the legitimacy of his role and his decisions, or properly scrutinise poorly thought-out policies.
"Cultural cleansing is often an aspect of ethnic cleansing or genocide," says author and heritage consultant Robert Bevan.
"It's not just about murdering a group, but about removing their right to be in a place, their touchstones and evidence of the history of their occupation. It is enforcing a sense of group not belonging."
Although the Nazis were unable to completely execute their plan, there are others who have been far more successful.
Built and nurtured by the Abbasid dynasty in the 8th and 9th centuries, Baghdad's Bayt al-Hikma (House of Wisdom) contained more than 18,000 volumes of translated classical works from all around the world. It was an intellectual powerhouse attracting the brightest Islamic scholars.
In 1258, when Genghis Khan's grandson Hulagu spearheaded the Siege of Baghdad, this library was among those targeted and destroyed. The Mongol leader had called on the caliph to surrender but when met with refusal, his anger saw no bounds.
It is said that the waters of the Tigris River were stained black because of the ink flowing from the manuscripts thrown into it, and red from the blood of the scientists and philosophers who followed.
The fall of Baghdad set Islamic science studies back many years.
When Iraq's cultural heritage faced attack again in modern times, there was international law in place to protect cultural interests around the world.
Unesco is among several bodies set up to protect heritage, while the Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict specifically sets out what is and is not acceptable.

Blue Shield

Blue Shield outside the Vukovar Museum in Croatia
The 'Blue Shield' is the symbol used to identify cultural sites protected by the Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict.
It is the cultural equivalent of the Red Cross. But its use can lead to unexpected consequences.
Patrick Boylan says during the Yugoslav civil war (1991-1999) there was one instance when the Yugoslav National Army went into Osijek, eastern Croatia in 1991, rotated their tank - that was not under attack in any way - through 360 degrees and put shells into buildings emblazoned with the blue shield.
"The shield is supposed to have the same legal status as the International Red Cross yet the attackers simply did not care."
"There has been a realisation, now conveyed through legal instruments, that cultural heritage is extremely important," says Roni Amelan from Unesco.
"It's not just important to the group that is the custodian of it, but we have to have a commitment to the cultural heritage belonging to all of us."
Ahead of the first Gulf War (1990-1991), allowance was made to protect key sites. "The Pentagon set up a top level international advisory body which identified pre-historic, historic and Christian sites. Every effort was made to secure them," cays cultural heritage expert Patrick Boylan.
But US defence strategists "misjudged" the whole situation ahead of the 2003 Iraq War. Boylan says those in charge of US defence strategies expected the Iraqis to welcome their invasion of Baghdad and disposal of Saddam Hussein - and ignored heritage and military planning experts.
That was compounded when US and Polish forces set up base on the ancient site of Babylon in 2003, once home to one of the 'Seven Wonders of the World'. The area had already been damaged by Saddam Hussein's attempts to build on the site as a way of "associating himself with the kings of the fabled past".
It was not a deliberate attempt to extinguish culture but the US acknowledged it needed to help fix the mess it had helped create.
But when something is considered to be of high value to the international community, it can, at times, make it even more of target.

Turbulent Tudors

Thomas Cromwell
During Tudor times King Henry VIII sent his chief advisor Thomas Cromwell on a mission to disband and strip monasteries, priories, convents and friaries in England, Wales and Ireland of their assets.
Not only was he in need of money to fight the foreign wars he had embarked upon, almost bankrupting England, it provided him with another attempt to attack the Catholic religion which once reigned supreme in the country.
The 20th Century saw a significant increase in deliberate attacks on symbols of cultural identity, says Boylan, "often mixed up with the rise of nationalism".
In 2001, the Taliban shocked the world by deliberately blowing up the giant sandstone Bamiyan Buddhas of Afghanistan.
At the time the Taliban said the statues, built in the 6th Century, when Bamiyan was a holy Buddhist site, represented idolatry and did not fit in with its version of Islam. The group said: "It's not a big issue. The statues are objects only made of mud or stone."
The rest of the world did not agree. The Taliban later defended its actions, saying it had been outraged by offers of money to protect the statues while Afghanistan was in dire need of humanitarian aid.
The Taliban said the group's scholars had made their decision after telling UN relief officials: "If you are destroying our future with economic sanctions, you can't care about our heritage."
"Often an attack on monuments is an attack on group identity and culture. It is as if the larger conflict is posited between two cultural elements. They try to destroy these iconic identities, " Vince Michael of the Global Heritage Fund says.
But as well as those who will attempt to destroy art, there will be those who will risk their lives in order to protect it.

Attacks in Syria and elsewhere

Image provided by Aleppo Media Centre AMC shows the damaged Umayyad Mosque without the minaret, background right corner, which was destroyed by the shelling, in the northern city of Aleppo, Syria, Wednesday 24 April 2013
In 1944, diplomat Sir Harold Nicholson said works of "major artistic value" had to be treated in a special way: "It is to my mind absolutely desirable that such works should be preserved from destruction, even if their preservation entails the sacrifice of human lives."
As Islamist militants fled the historic Malian city of Timbuktu earlier this year, they set fire to a library containing thousands of priceless manuscripts containing thoughts on religion, law, literature and science. The caretakers of these ancient documents resorted to a tradition that has worked for centuries - taking them to family homes and storing them safely - no matter the risk.
And much like the guardians of Mali, there were those who opposed the Nazis' accumulation of cultural heritage - whether the intended destination was the planned Museum of an Extinct Race, or the book burning pyres or even the concentration camps where those who differed from the perceived Third Reich ideal were sent.
They risked their lives to ensure that the past was not destroyed.
Most of Timbuktu's ancient manuscripts were moved to safe locations and were not destroyed, as was feared.
Among them is Anne Frank and her attempt to document what it was like for a young Jewish girl to have to face persecution during WWII. Her diary is considered to be one of the most important records of an attack on cultural heritage.
And although she died before it was published, her thoughts remain poignant:
"There is an urge and rage in people to destroy, to kill, to murder, and until all mankind, without exception, undergoes a great change, wars will be waged, everything that has been built up, cultivated and grown, will be destroyed and disfigured, after which mankind will have to begin all over again."

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