In terms of architectural taste, I may not like the architectural style of the Palace of Justice in Kuwait City. But it is undeniable that it has become an architectural landmark that carries weight in the collective memory and shapes the spatial identity of Kuwait City. Here I bring to mind the Italian architect Aldo Rossi (1931-1997) and his idea of an “urban artifact”.
Rossi wrote: “Architecture in the city means two different things: first, the city as a massive man-made object, a complex work of engineering that grows with time; second, limited but essential aspects of the city, are the urban artifacts.”
Rossi introduces the concept of an “urban artifact”, which includes buildings and spaces that survive over time not for a functional advantage, but because they concentrate collective meaning and become indispensable monuments, such as mosques, markets, and public squares, elements of resistance, which survive demographic and economic change and even physical destruction because they are centers of collective identity. It allows society to remember who it is and where it came from. Rossi’s concept of a “site” that focuses collective memory has a particular resonance in the Gulf; the historic souks in Kuwait, the old yards (Baraha) in Bahrain, and the towers of Qatari coastal villages are sites where the community’s identity is physically symbolized. Its destruction during an era of oil-age urbanization, in Rossi’s terms, represented the destruction of collective memory and the dismantling of the infrastructure of identity.
The Palace of Justice in Kuwait is a delicate test case for us. Designed by Scottish architect Sir Basil Spence, it was opened in 1986 as part of the state’s policy in the 1960s and 1970s to establish a Kuwaiti-themed architectural modernity! Due to its size, location, and historical value, Kuwaitis interacted with it in different circumstances, adorned it with the national currency, and received decades of the state’s legal memory, becoming the center of a collective identity that went beyond its practical function.
However, the Ministry of Justice recently announced the decision to demolish it, a decision that goes beyond being an administrative decision, as it represents a deliberate dismantling of one of the few spatial anchors that link the modern judicial institution to its founding history. More seriously, the decision comes in the absence of a technical opinion that the building is liable to fall, and it also violates Article 12 of the Constitution, which obliges the state to preserve heritage, and Article 17, which protects public funds, as it is estimated that the demolition of a building with a current value of approximately fifty million Kuwaiti dinars constitutes a direct waste of public estate.
From the perspective of urban development, the demolition of the Palace of Justice enshrines a “culture of demolition”, which reduces the treatment of aging buildings to their replacement rather than periodic maintenance, even though the cost of maintenance is much lower than the cost of demolition and reconstruction, and despite the fact that the replacement empties the site of its historical layers.
On the other hand, if the Ministry of Justice believes that the building is no longer practical or useful for its current operations, then it can be put up for investment, and the private sector should study its rehabilitation for other uses, so that it can become a hotel, a market, a bank headquarters, or even a museum or a public library!
The demolition decision comes in the context of a series of demolitions that inevitably apply to other modernist buildings of the same era, from the Kuwait Airport designed by Kenzo Tango to the Central Bank building designed by Arne Jakobsen, all of which are urban artifacts that are subject to the same fate unless an explicit national policy is adopted to protect modern architectural heritage.
