Historical Loss
<font class="project_article_title"><p><font face="Verdana">Historical Loss</font></p>
<p><font face="Verdana">Nestled among Beijing’s high-rises and highways, somewhere in the urban sprawl, are quirky little alleyways and courtyards left from a time bygone. Some say they get in the way of development, so out they go. What is left?<br/>by Caroline Wang and Lily Wang</font></p><font face="Verdana">
<p><br/>What image does the word ‘Beijing’ conjure up in your mind? The answer will probably be the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, Tian’anmen Square, unique alleyways and courtyards, to name just a few. Yet you will probably be shocked when you set foot in this fast-developing capital at how similar it looks to any other metropolis in the world. Changes in the city’s skyline and its rate of urban expansion are alarming. And the hutong—small chess-board-like alleyways that used to be an integral part of Beijing’s urban fabric—is on the verge of being exiled into oblivion. </p>
<p>Statistics show that in the year 2000, the total number of hutong was 1,200, a sharp drop from the 3,600 ‘famous hutong’ and numerous other unspecified hutong recorded in 1949, when the People’s Republic of China was founded. According to Zhang Wei, an ardent advocate of hutong preservation and the founder of www.oldbeijing.org, as of the end of 2006, the number of intact and deteriorating hutong totalled around 500. Numbers have continued to drop: from the end of 2006 to the present day, an average of one hutong per day is being effaced from the map of Beijing. </p>
<p>The importance of hutong lies more in the role it plays in the life of ordinary Beijing residents and the city’s history than in its function as a link within the city’s transportation network. The word ‘hutong’ was originally used to describe the passageway between tents in the Yuan Dynasty. They have been around longer than the city of Beijing. Old Beijing was built on the basis of the capital of the Yuan Dynasty and for over 800 hundred years, the hutong stood witness to great changes. With ruins of the Yuan capital’s city walls now buried under the Second Ring Road of Beijing, the hutong have become the last remnant of the ancient capital. But as bulldozers pull down these old bricks and tiles, Beijing will gradually lose the hutong and with it, part of the city’s identity; and the ancient capital of Yuan will forever sink into the depths of dust in history, existing only in stories. </p>
<p>Urban development vs. preservation<br/>There have been arguments over whether the demolition of hutong and traditional style courtyards to make way for new developments is right. A lot of hutong and old buildings are dilapidated, disorderly, dense and lack civic infrastructure due to poor maintenance, neglect and additions built over the years. Some buildings are even potential threats to the lives of the residents. This has led to a strange cityscape: modern high-rises stand alongside these urban slums, a gaping hole of social inequality and a prime target for old-city area redevelopment. </p>
<p>The area within the Second Ring Road accounts for only 6 per cent of the city yet carries 25 per cent of the traffic flow. To alleviate traffic congestion, new roads will be built. As hutong and old buildings seem to stand in the way of improving the living standards of residents and boosting the economy of the old city area, the demolition of hutong—for the planned Customs Museum, more roads, tourism development and commercial and residential estates—seem well justified. Yet the question is how to strike a balance between the need for development and for the preservation of heritage architecture. </p>
<p>Lu Zhou, professor and vice dean of the school of architecture at Tsinghua University, introduced two categories of hutong protection. One is the protection of architecture with historical and cultural significance, such as residences of historically important personalities; the other is the protection of the urban fabric and structures with traditional features, such as the hutong and courtyards of the common people. As the famous architect Ieoh Ming Pei once said, traditional style courtyards are the signature architecture of Beijing and China. Preservation should be done by district, not by single and separate buildings. </p>
<p>The 2004-2020 Beijing city master plan states that the old city should be protected as a whole and that massive demolition and construction should be stopped. Measures for the Protection of the Historical and Cultural Landmarks of Beijing include hutong and traditional style courtyards in its protected list. Although these regulations set the bar for preservation, most of courtyards and hutong are not labelled as important historical sites and there are no laws or regulations on how to protect them—even buildings with great historical and architectural value have been levelled by bulldozers. </p>
<p>The lack of a single authority in charge of the old city preservation further complicates the issue. The State Administration for Cultural Heritage is in charge of the protection of cultural relics, while the preservation of historical and cultural sites falls within the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Construction. Though the Beijing municipal government has designated 25 historical and cultural districts in the old city for protection, the absence of laws and specific regulations leaves many loopholes to be exploited. </p>
<p>“I’m racing against time,” said Ye Jinzhong, a senior photographer and expert on hutong and traditional style courtyard protection, “But I still can’t catch up with the speed of demolition.” He used to think buildings with ‘protected’ labels and public support would not be torn down, so he would pass by the residences of historical figures and ancient buildings several times without taking photos. “Seeing the empty spaces, wide streets and modern skyscrapers in places I was once familiar with, I always feel pangs of remorse: we’re destroying our own roots.” Until now, it seems economic interests have prevailed against ambiguous regulations and the appeals of preservationists. </p>
<p>Renovation: damage in the name of preservation?<br/>The hutong that survives demolition always gets a new look. Old run-down doorways are pulled down, replaced by imitation antique doorways smelling of pungent fresh paint. Renovated beauty is only skin-deep: only the houses on the side of the roads are fixed up. A new layer of mesh windows is added above the old windows; walls are smeared with a layer of cement and lines are drawn on the cement to imitate brick patterns; a coat of antique brick-coloured paint is applied; uniform fake copper lion-head doorbells replace old ones; dragons which used to be exclusive to royalty become common ornaments. The ‘antiquity’ is nothing more than a gaudy patch on a drained cultural tradition—the houses are still on the verge of tumbling down. </p>
<p>FuturArc visited the renovated Nanchizi hutong area next to the Forbidden City, an area intended to be the model for hutong renovation but ended up being an awkward failure. Two-storey ‘modern’ courtyards contrasted with old, superficially renovated, traditional one-storey courtyards. A resident of the new courtyards told futurarc the unit layout was not optimal: 10 households were crammed in the same courtyard and the relationship between neighbours was not as tight as in the old style courtyards. Residents in the old houses also had a lot of complaints: “The new houses completely block out the sunlight into our old courtyards; the old sewage system is congested, when it rains the whole house will be flooded.” An elderly resident who had been living in the old houses for several decades said, “I don’t want to move out, our neighbours are like family; I hope the government can help improve the infrastructure here, our sewers are blocked, we don’t have gas lines…” </p>
<p>Professor Lu thinks the first task in hutong conservation is to figure out which ones to preserve. The government and society should invest in thorough researches in the historical and cultural value of every single hutong. In the meantime, before these researches are carried out, it is necessary to slow down the pace of old city redevelopment. </p>
<p>He further explained that like any other heritage relic, the essence of hutong lies in its locales and authenticity. All the famous old restaurants were moved from Qian Men area to their new home in Houhai. But they would never be the same without the lifestyle and social structure they had in Qian Men. The Long Fu Temple hutong renovation failed because by moving to a new location, the grassroots culture lost its vitality along with the soil on which it used to thrive. During FuturArc’s visits to renovated hutong areas, it became clear that most of the residents moved there from other places in Beijing, even other cities. The owners of old houses had to settle for apartments outside the Third or Fourth Ring Road because the restitution money they received from the government was not enough for a place in town. Without the old residents, the real hutong were dead. Their successors were wider and lined with the parked cars of house owners; few residents were seen in the alleyways, chatting and sitting leisurely in the sun, which used to be a common scene in hutong. </p>
<p>Zoning: the way out?<br/>In the opinion of Ye, Beijing’s urban plans should focus on the modern, high-rise development beyond the Second and Third Ring Roads, while keeping buildings in the old city within the Second Ring Road low. There is no need for new courtyards; architects have plenty of room outside the old city to design modern architecture. Right now the planned urban area in Beijing is about 1,050 square kilometres—16 times larger than the 62-square-kilometre old city area. All the elements needed to execute the 1950s ‘new district development and old city conservation’ plan envisioned for Beijing by famous architect Liang Sicheng have fallen into place, Ye said. “Why do we have to rip the old city into pieces?” When heritage relics become artefacts, do their values stay the same? </p>
<p>There is a way to balance the interest of urban development and conservation, commented Zhang. According to him, hutong are a sustainable source of tourism revenue. By keeping the authenticity of the old city intact, tourists can savour the real hutong and the rich culture and tradition behind them. People need to understand the idea of conservation. Professor Lu proposed that schools have courses on customs and culture, making the stories of hutong known to the public. He also added that more research should be done on the value of hutong, instead of on its appearance. </p>
<p>Professor Lu pointed out a drawback in applying the zoning approach. To some extent this plan would be feasible, but it is unrealistic to build a new town in order to preserve the old city. The coexistence of development and conservation should be based on its suitability with population size and social structures. As more migrants pour into Beijing—developing urban sprawl—zoning is hardly the solution: on one hand, in order to check urban sprawl and protect the environment, there is the need to increase the city’s density; on the other hand, in order to preserve the old city, there is a need to branch out to new districts, to accommodate the increasing population. The controversy goes on. </p>
<p>Ye argues that to protect the old city as a whole, unified laws and regulations should be enacted, without giving preferential treatment to any developers. A little loophole will unleash the flood of encroachment, which will engulf the whole old city. </p>
<p>What kind of fate will befall the ancient hutong and courtyards? An old resident asked Zhang why he took photos of the mess left after a demolition. He gave a resounding answer, “I’m taking photos of this for your grandchildren.” Hopefully this generation does not witness the demise of hutong and ancient architecture—that they will be here for future generations and not just in the memories and dusty pages of a library book. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>1 Ruyimen the normal gateway in Beijing’s traditional courtyards</p>
<p><br/>2 New couplet on the doorframe makes a contrast with the old one, photographed in Qunzhi Alleyway (demolished)</p>
<p><br/>3 Aerial view of Dajipian</p>
<p><br/>4 Tearoom interiors in Hanjiatan hutong</p>
<p><br/>5 Gate pier serves not only as a doorkeeper but also as art in traditional courtyards, photographed in Dayangyibin hutong (demolished)</p>
<p><br/>6 Sculpture on the eaves in Jinxiu hutong</p>
<p><br/>7 A corner of Dongxiejie</p>
<p><br/>8 Siheyuan, photographed in Zhuanta hutong (demolished)</p>
<p><br/>9 Covered corridors connected each room in traditional courtyards, photographed in Menduan hutong (demolished)</p>
<p><br/>10 Jiajia hutong</p>
<p><br/></font> </p></font> 好，就是得花工夫读会儿。
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