Intensities, Part 2: Erased Histories
اتبع الرابط لقراءة هذا المنشور باللغة العربية
In Part One of this essay, I described some of the alienating spatial changes that I observed during a recent visit to my hometown Baghdad after nearly two decades of absence. I wondered whether the city's historic center was similarly altered and whether this was serving politically motivated agendas. In Part Two, while navigating the streets of the old center and recalling events I uncovered about Iraq's foundational years, I could not but notice resonances between those and the Baghdadi youth uprising of October 2019 that occurred in a nearby district. The current neglect of key historic buildings and the resulting erasure of the histories they embody deprive today’s youth of narratives that would inspire them to uphold their demands for a future free from sectarian divide and foreign interference. What was at stake then and how people fought for it holds hope for the country’s future.
Figure 1. A specialist bookshop in Al-Mutanabbi Street is the only source for many university students seeking academic references, Baghdad, 2021. Photograph by Sana Al-Naimi.
Figure 2. The historical Souq al-Sarrajeen retains its charm despite nearby bombings, Baghdad, 2021. Photograph by Sana Al-Naimi.
Upon arriving at the historic book market of al-Mutanabbi Street, I was pleased to see it had kept its centuries-old status as the leading destination for intellectuals and students despite post-2003 bombings. After finding the book we were seeking in the organized chaos of the famed specialist bookstore, a stroll in the thriving Souq al-Sarai and the historical Souq al-Sarrajeen offered a glimpse of the familiarity I had been longing for (figures 1 & 2). It was here that we often came as architecture students to purchase material for our work. What was novel this time was the abundance of souvenirs for sale. Most were a nostalgic nod to popular culture icons: they were clearly aimed at the Iraqi diaspora, including people who never left the country but are feeling far removed from it. The most interesting souvenirs are those depicting the men and women who participated in the Baghdad youth uprising of October 2019. Young people from all backgrounds enthusiastically buy these souvenirs in support of an act of resistance that united them (figure 3).
Figure 3. Souvenirs in support of the 2019 youth uprising. They are found in most shopping areas including the trendiest of malls as is seen in this photo, Baghdad, 2021. Photograph by Sana Al-Naimi.
Once the clashes of the 2019 uprising reached the heavily fortified Green Zone, the then prime minister was forced to resign. This was seen as a triumph, but many argue little has changed since then. The global pandemic’s impact compounded the sense of frustration among the youth as their struggle was cut short. The Green Zone still retains its infamous reputation as the site of sectarian political wrangling and foreign interference. So here I was, heading towards al-Sarai, or the “Old Green Zone” as older Baghdadi intellectuals sarcastically call Baghdad’s old center.
According to the Iraqi architectural historian Sharīf Yūsuf, the al-Sarai, meaning palace or government building, was built in 1802 by the Ottoman governor of Baghdad, Sulayman Pasha, to replace an earlier governmental building.[1] Successive Ottoman governors renovated al-Sarai over the following decades; particularly interesting is the use of brick from the medieval Abbasid wall for the renovation in 1870 by governor Midhat Pasha.[2] The name “Al-Sarai” is specific to one building but is also commonly used to refer to a wider area, including al-Qishla (the old Ottoman army barracks with its clock tower), Bait al-Wali (the house of the governor), and other ancillary administrative and military buildings (figures 4 and 5). The area itself pre-dates the Ottomans as is evident from the existence of important medieval buildings like the nearby Abbasid Palace (probably constructed during the late Abbasid period (1175-1230) ) and the al-Madrasa al-Mustansiriyya (completed in 1234). Baghdadis today know little about when these buildings were first constructed and often mix up their names.
Figure 4. Image of Baghdad’s historic center. Key: (1) Al-Rasheed Street (historic names: Jadat Khalil Pasha and New Street); (2) Al-Haydar Khana Mosque; (3) Al-Madrasa al-Mustansiriyya; (4) Souq al-Sarai and Souq al-Sarrajeen; (5) Al-Mutanabbi Street; (6) Al-Qishla (the old Ottoman army barracks with its clock tower); (7) Al-Sarai; (8) Al-Sarai Mosque (also known as King Ghazi Mosque and Jadid Hassan Pasha Mosque); (9) Bait al-Wali (the House of the Governor); (10) The Abbasid Palace; (11) The River Tigris. Google, ©2021, Maxar Technologies. Annotations by Sana Al-Naimi.
Figure 5. Bank of the river Tigris (Dijlah) and the clock tower of al-Qishla, Baghdad, 2021. Photograph by Sana Al-Naimi.
The British Army marked its capture of Baghdad from the Ottomans in 1917 by raising the Union Jack over al-Qishla’s clock tower. By 1920, and upon realizing that Britain was unwilling to honor its promises of full independence, an uprising that spread across villages and cities from Basra in the South to the Kurdish areas in the North, forced the British government to change its plans for direct colonial rule.
Influential Oriental Secretary Gertrude Bell--the traveler, archaeologist, and policymaker--played an important role in devising the plan for installing an Arab government under British tutelage as a means of pacifying the uprising and prolonging British control. Following the planned formation of a provisional Arab government late in 1920, the slow evacuation of the al-Sarai by the British military and their families started. The al-Sarai had to be seen to be handed over to an Iraqi government, even though the Iraqi ministers would be shadowed by British “advisers”. Bell was also central in convincing the-then colonial secretary Winston Churchill to back Prince Faisal, son of the Sharif of Mecca, to be crowned king of the new mandated Kingdom of Iraq. The coronation happened in the courtyard of al-Qishla on August 23, 1921. Bell personally facilitated turning several rooms in al-Sarai into lodgings for the new king.
Despite the shortage of space to accommodate all the Ministers and advisers, by the time the Iraqi Monarchy was established, Bell had managed to secure a room for herself in the building as a nucleus for a museum.[3] In a highly symbolic convergence, al-Sarai housed Bell’s Iraq Museum, King Faisal I of Iraq’s divan (royal audience chamber), and right below it, Government Architect J.M. Wilson’s office.[4] The three powers shaping the new nation’s past, present, and future were thus assembled physically, if only for a short while, in al-Sarai.[5]
Ominously enough, during the first year of King Faisal I’s reign, a catastrophic flood of the River Tigris caused the collapse of the southwest wing of al-Sarai. Very few documents are available in Iraq about this partial collapse and due to visa restrictions, accessing the British Archives to reconstruct the event is nearly impossible for Iraqi scholars. Notably, according to British Army maps and aerial photos of Baghdad taken soon after capturing the city in March 1917, the al-Sarai government building had a completely different layout to the current one (figure 6). It appeared in the archives as a vast building with a fully enclosed spacious courtyard (figure 7). A photo taken on the Proclamation Day on November 11th 1918 confirmed the existence of a large enclosed courtyard as evident from the crowd formation and the position of the photographer in relation to the historic dome crowning al-Sarai’s gate (figure 8).
“The three powers shaping the new nation’s past, present, and future were thus assembled physically, if only for a short while, in al-Sarai.”
Figure 6. Extract from: City of Baghdad Ed No 1(06.06.17). (1) Footprint of the al-Sarai before the flood; (2) The current footprint of the al-Sarai in red; (3) The al-Qishla building and clock tower; (4) Al-Rasheed Street, originally called Jadat Khalil Pasha and renamed New Street by the British; (5) The al-Haidar Khana Mosque. Source: The National Archives- WO 302/547. Annotations by author.
Figure 7. Extract from City of Baghdad Mosaic of Air Photographs showing the center of Baghdad in 1917, shortly after its capture by the British. (1) Footprint of the al-Sarai before the flood; (2) The current footprint of the al-Sarai in red; (3) The al-Qishla building and clock tower; (4) Al-Rasheed Street, originally called Jadat Khalil Pasha and renamed New Street by the British; (5) The al-Haidar Khana Mosque. Source: The National Archives- WO 302/550. Annotations by author.
Figure 8. Peace Proclamation celebration held at the al-Sarai governmental building. Bell marked the photo to identify key personnel, November 11th, 1918, Baghdad, PERS_B_016, The Gertrude Bell Archive, Newcastle University.
A dramatic description of the flood scene, including the image of the king’s divan being carried away by the river, appeared in a condemning Daily Mail Inquiry report written in 1922 by Sir Percival Phillips. He intimated the fragility of the British-backed monarch’s legitimacy among Iraqis. Coffee shop talk among the locals, according to Phillips, was: “God orders that his Divan be pulled down; his throne flung into the river. Yet he stays on!” Phillips used similar condemnations as proof of why the British presence in Iraq was pointless and too costly for war-fatigued British taxpayers.[6]
Perhaps the most disturbing reaction for King Faisal I to hear was a poem by the prominent poet Ma’ruf al-Rusafi.[7] Al-Rusafi had been appointed to a role in the ministry of education in al-Sarai with the help of Bell; most likely a measure on her part to control his pen.[8] After the collapse, and after passing through al-Sarai’s domed gate, Al-Rusafi was stunned to find the river in front of him instead of the building. Upon seeing the devastation, he spontaneously composed the following couplets:
A royal court or a lump of mortar or a king
Surrounded by brats!
Allah was enraged by its dweller
Hence that court crumbled fast.[9]
The poem spread like wildfire. The symbolism of divine wrath upon the king who sided with a non-Muslim power causing the collapse of the royal court became a powerful spatial omen that empowered oppressed voices to speak. The King’s rule was shaky; he was trying to manage an impossible balance between his Pan-Arabist ideologies and the asymmetric power relations of which he was part. Like the first year of King Faisal I’s rule, the first century of Iraq’s existence as a state has been scarred by discontent, unrest, and foreign interference.
“The symbolism of divine wrath upon the king who sided with a non-Muslim power causing the collapse of the royal court became a powerful spatial omen that empowered oppressed voices to speak.”
While contemplating these forgotten narratives, I approached the al-Sarai government building. It is not open to the public, but I entered the grounds after stating to the armed guards that I am an architect, a title that sparks instant reverence, especially if you happen to be a woman. I was finally there but all I could see was an abandoned, dilapidated shell (figure 9). How would al-Rusafi describe this poignant scene now? Only the beautiful dome crowning the al-Sarai gate stood there defiantly, but for how much longer?
Figure 9. The al-Sarai governmental building suffers neglect with its spaces exposed to the elements, Baghdad, 2021. Photograph by Sana Al-Naimi.
It was hard not to see the parallels between 1920 and the 2019 youth uprising against institutional corruption and the country’s post-2003 political system (al-Muhasasa al-Ta'ifia). The latter is based on sectarian quotas, which only reifies divisions. The call in 2019 for unity and sovereignty was momentarily mollified by the resignation of the prime minister; similarly, the 1920 uprising was pacified by the installation of an Arab king. In both cases, real sovereignty and political unity was far from accomplished despite the token political change. The partial collapse of al-Sarai during King Faisal I’s first year of rule re-ignited people’s anger and encouraged silenced voices to speak then. What would happen I wonder, were the youth of today aware of the historical significance of al-Sarai? Can this building, now in an even sadder state, spark a renewed demand for a country free from sectarian divide and corruption?
NOTES
[1] “Al-Sarai” has different spellings in English including al-Serai, al-Saray, el-Sarai, and is also referred to in some sources as Baghdad's Government Palace and Baghdad’s Sarai.
[2] Sharīf, Yūsuf. Tārīkh fann al-‘imārah al-‘Irāqīyah fī mukhtalaf al-‘uṣūr. Dār al-Rashid lil-Nashr, Baghdad, 1982. 569-575.
[3] Werr, Lamia al-Gailani. “Gertrude Bell in the Archive of the Iraq Museum.” In Gertrude Bell and Iraq: A Life and Legacy, edited by Charles Tripp and Paul Collins. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017, 275.
[4] Smith, C. H. Lindsey. JM: The History of an Architect. Plymouth, Clarke, Doble and Brendon, 1976, 5.
[5] Al-Naimi, Sana. “Architecture and Urbanism in Twentieth Century Iraq: The Enduring Legacy of Gertrude Bell.” Newcastle University, 2018.
[6] Sir Percival Phillips was a Special Correspondent during WWI. He was commissioned by the Daily Mail to “investigate on the spot the fact” of the country’s occupation. Phillips, Percival. Mesopotamia; the “Daily Mail” Inquiry at Baghdad. London: Associated Newspapers, 1922, 55.
[7] Oral history recounts King Faisal I meeting al-Rusafi and expressing his sadness at what he said in this poem. There is strangely no reference to the flood or the collapse of the al-Sarai in connection to this conversation.
[8] Yūsuf ʿIzz al-Dīn. Shuʿarā al-ʿIrāq fī al-qarn al-ʿishrīn. Baghdad: Maṭbaʿat Asʿad, 1969, 77.
[9] This poem is still recited in Baghdad, although no connection with the flood and partial collapse of the al-Sarai is recalled. Translation to English by Sana Al-Naimi.
