Drowned History: Hasankeyf and the Ilisu Dam

Episode Narrative

In the heart of the Middle East, where the Tigris River has carved its path through the landscape for millennia, lies Hasankeyf — a town rich in history, a tapestry woven from the threads of various civilizations. This settlement, with roots stretching back to the Mesopotamian era, has long been a cradle of culture, with its ancient stone structures standing as silent witnesses to countless generations. Yet, as the world progressed into the late 20th century and beyond, Hasankeyf found itself at the center of a devastating conflict between heritage and progress.

In 1991, a pivotal moment arose with the publication of "Tribes and State Formation in the Middle East." This seminal work delved into how tribes have played a crucial role in shaping regional architecture and urban development. Such insights carried profound implications for towns like Hasankeyf, where the blending of tribal histories with architectural forms spoke to deeper narratives of identity. The same year, Julian Thomas's "Rethinking the Neolithic" sparked conversations about the importance of the past, reverberating through discussions on heritage and architecture that would echo into the contours of the future.

As the dawn of the new millennium approached, other Middle Eastern cities, like Sharjah and Doha, saw the rise of urban regeneration projects. These efforts sought to balance the relentless march of modernization with the preservation of historical identity. However, while cities modernized and transformed, Hasankeyf remained an emblem of historical endurance — a reminder of what was at stake amid the rush to conform to a rapidly globalizing world.

Yet looming on the horizon was a storm of conflict. The early 2000s marked a shift in regional dynamics, where Iran and Turkey's military strategies impacted urban environments and architectural contours. The concept of "forward defense" became pivotal during this time, as security concerns seeped into the very foundation of development projects in conflict zones, reshaping how communities engaged with their landscapes and histories.

By 2010, the narrative surrounding architecture was further enriched by Nasser Rabbat's exploration of medieval Egyptian and Syrian structures in "Mamluk History through Architecture." He revealed how architecture held stories of cultural and political significance, just as the stones of Hasankeyf spoke of glory and tragedy through the ages. Such recognition of the intrinsic value of architectural history became ever more crucial as the Syrian conflict erupted in 2011, transforming regional security dynamics. Not only did the brutal warfare lay waste to cities, but it also threatened the very fabric of cultural heritage — a phenomenon that would resonate far beyond the battlegrounds.

During the turmoil between 2014 and 2017, the Islamic State's deliberate destruction of cultural heritage in Mosul ignited an international outcry. The ruins of history lay strewn in their wake, and the world faced moral and ethical dilemmas over the preservation of cultural legacies. In this environment, movements arose focusing on post-conflict restoration, bringing attention to the cities on the brink of erasure. The imperiled beauty of Hasankeyf could not escape this tragedy, as modernization and militarization cast long shadows over its ancient stones.

As the dust started to settle on battles long fought, 2016 saw the launch of the UN Urban Agenda, emphasizing the significance of both tangible and intangible heritage in sustainable urban development. As cities strived to balance progress with preservation, the need for conservation strategies became palpable. Architectural practices re-framed, as new methodologies, including archaeological surveys, emerged to document the invaluable histories of sites like Khirbet al-Khalde in Jordan. Safeguarding such treasures became not merely an act of preservation but also a poignant affirmation of identity in a region where memories were at constant risk of being submerged beneath the tides of change.

In the latter part of the 2010s, Qatar's Msheireb Downtown Doha project underscored a commitment to sustainable tourism and cultural heritage preservation. Yet, while cities were looking to the future, Hasankeyf faced an existential threat in the form of the Ilisu Dam. This monumental infrastructure project promised electricity and economic growth for the region but at an unfathomable cost — the inundation of Hasankeyf beneath the waters of the river it depended on for life.

As the 2020s unfolded, the conversation surrounding architecture flourished with the advent of technological advances like Building Information Modeling and LiDAR. These tools allowed for detailed documentation and conservation of historical structures that might be swallowed by the relentless march of modernity. Yet, for Hasankeyf, the clock was ticking.

By 2021, As-Salt City in Jordan was inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage List, a move that highlighted the diversity of cultural heritage flourishing amidst the specter of modernity. The recognition of Msheireb Museums in Doha as guardians of traditional Qatari architecture reinforced the importance of cultural narratives in contemporary urban landscapes. Each acknowledgement echoed across borders while Hasankeyf watched from the brink of erasure — a reminder that history does not yield easily.

In the following years, regime changes, particularly in Damascus, continued to alter regional alliances affecting architectural developments and preservation strategies across the landscape. As 2022 dawned, a study on Erbil emphasized the connections between built heritage and community well-being, suggesting that architecture is not merely stone and mortar but the embodiment of a people’s aspirations, fears, and histories.

Amid these challenges, those who turned to the past found strength in what remained. Urban memory began to reemerge as a concept crucial for revitalizing historical places. The very stones of Hasankeyf, though at risk of being submerged, symbolized a struggle for identity and continuity in the face of relentless change.

In 2023, the exploration of architecture at the At-Taqwa Great Mosque in Southeast Aceh spoke of a fluid dialogue between local and international influences. Simultaneously, the National Museum of Ras Al Khaimah became a vital site for showcasing historical and ethnographical materials, underscoring the ongoing battle to preserve traditional architecture against the ever-inviting allure of modernization.

As the world prepared for the future, the Ilisu Dam continued its advance toward realization. The earth trembled with change, yet hope lingered in the air. What would remain of Hasankeyf’s legacy? As its stories faced the encroaching waters, questions about cultural preservation, identity, and the morality of progress loomed large.

By 2025, the ongoing efforts across the Middle East aimed at integrating traditional architecture with modern urban development were a testament to the resilience of culture amidst adversity. Yet for Hasankeyf, a silence was descending — a mausoleum of memory beneath a rising tide.

As we reflect on this drowned history, we are left pondering a crucial question: What is the cost of progress when the stones of our past are silenced forever? Will we remember? Will we listen? Will we learn from this moment, a cautionary tale echoing through time, or shall we allow the river to take our history, leaving only ripples behind?