Exile from Aleppo envisages a democratic rebuilding of his city
A Syrian academic, whose own family home in Aleppo has been destroyed, works on a project envisaging the eventual rebuilding of the ancient city.
Al-Hakam Shaar (r) and his colleagues exchanging thoughts over a Soviet-era map of Aleppo © UNHCR/Zsolt Balla
Al-Hakam Shaar grew up in an old house in ancient Aleppo, lovingly renovated by his father who was passionately interested in heritage and architecture. Now, after seven years of war in Syria, the house lies partly ruined and Al-Hakam, living in Budapest, can only hope it might one day be restored.
Al-Hakam, 32, is not just indulging in nostalgia for his old home. He is a research fellow on a project at Central European University (CEU) in Budapest to collect detailed information about Aleppo, which could one day be used to rebuild the UNESCO world heritage city.
The Aleppo Project is both a virtual city for displaced Aleppians and a forum for discussion on how it could recover.
“After the Second World War, places such as Warsaw Old Town were rebuilt down to the last detail, using old plans and maps,” says Al-Hakam. “Why shouldn’t we be able to restore Aleppo in the same way?”
The Aleppo Project started over three years ago with seed funding from the Carnegie Foundation in New York. Working under acting director Professor Martin Kahanec, Al-Hakam and another research fellow are assisted by two interns. Unlike other refugee and migrant support programs in Hungary, which are either suspended or in question because of punitive new taxes, the Aleppo Project continues to thrive.
“It may seem premature to talk about reconstruction but the earlier we start thinking about the process, the more successful it is likely to be.”
The focus is on refugees eventually returning home. “We are trying to involve the displaced in discussions about rebuilding,” says Al-Hakam.
He acknowledges how difficult this will be. Aleppo, which had a population of three million, has been heavily destroyed in what Aleppo Project founder Robert Templer calls an “urbicide” (killing of a city). It is now controlled by Syrian government forces, with Russian backing.
Research suggests that 72% of people who fled Aleppo would return if peace was restored | © UNHCR/Zsolt Balla
In the absence of a comprehensive peace, rushed reconstruction could cut out former owners and residents. And the cost will run into billions. Nevertheless, the website proclaims, the time to start considering the future is now.
“It may seem premature to talk about reconstruction but the earlier we start thinking about the process, the more successful it is likely to be.”
In their office in downtown Budapest, Al-Hakam and interns Connor Kusilek, 25, from North Carolina and Abduhalim Albakkor, 28, from Homs in Syria pore over a Soviet map of Aleppo from the mid-1970s. “You can see all the sports stadiums and high-rise suburbs built around this time,” says Abduhalim.
Al-Hakam guides us through the website. As well as heartbreaking photos of old palaces before and after bombing, there are blogs on aspects of Aleppo life, from bazaars to cocktail bars. Connor has written about the rescue efforts of the White Helmets. And there are surveys and questionnaires, seeking the opinions and memories of Aleppians who might otherwise feel sidelined.
One questionnaire asks them to remember in detail which shops and even street sellers operated in different parts of the city. “Aleppo has whole streets devoted to particular trades. There was one hill with 10 tailors on it,” remembers Al-Hakam.
Al-Hakam Shaar (r) explaining to fellow researchers which parts of Aleppo were the worst hit by the siege © UNHCR/Zsolt Balla
In another survey, involving 1,000 respondents, attachment to the city was clear. In answer to the question, “Do you think you will return to Aleppo?” 72 per cent answered “Yes”.
“It is one thing to have surveys but it would be irresponsible to rebuild without the presence of these people on the ground,” says Al-Hakam. “Rebuilding has to be democratic.”
His own return to Aleppo, even for a visit, is unthinkable at the moment. Al-Hakam came to Budapest via Turkey in 2015, slightly ahead of all the refugees who passed through Hungary that year and with a visa to do academic research. The rest of his family is scattered in the US, Canada, Germany and New Zealand.
“I remember literally plastering the walls with my own hands. I hammered and chiseled in the bathroom and for this Dad gave me 10 US cents additional pocket money.”
He last saw his family house in 2014, just before rebel-held east Aleppo was barrel-bombed and fell to the government. The 19th century house, known locally as Shaar House, was opposite a bakery, near Qadi Askar Square.
The house had been the pride and joy of Al-Hakam’s father, Ahmad Adib Shaar, a former general in the Syrian army who foresaw the civil war and eventually left his country. He died in the US earlier this year. Adib Shaar had developed his passion for old architecture as a student in Canterbury, England. When his seven children were growing up, he moved them from a block of flats in modern west Aleppo to the rambling old house in the ancient eastern part of the city.
The Shaar House before and after the bombing. Image courtesy of Al-Hakam Shaar
“It had six rooms,” Al-Hakam recalls. “Dad renovated it with love and we all helped. I remember literally plastering the walls with my own hands. I hammered and chiseled in the bathroom and for this Dad gave me 10 US cents additional pocket money.”
Now a third of the house is a pile of rubble; the rest needs thorough renovation and redecoration.
“I would work on it with my own hands all over again,” says Al-Hakam. “I can so imagine myself doing that. But I wouldn’t want to do it without my siblings. After all, our father left the house to us all.”