The 'shadow' of an island
The ABC report was
titled: The ‘floating’ island that has refugees terrified
– see:
https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-04-12/rohingya-bhasan-char-floating-island-bangladesh/10900998
(and below). It was an informative article presented as a series of
slides integrated into the text. In the beginning of one paragraph
there was a surprising link – architectural drawings: see -
http://www.atlantahousingltd.com/Project/BHASHAN_CHAR_REH/Detailed%20Drawing-9-12-17.pdf
One cannot recall
another news item that ever included a reference to attached
architectural drawings. Usually the architect barely gets an
acknowledgement, let alone any mention of the detailed drawings. What
was this about? The PDF was opened, and there was what looked like a
set of working drawings for the refugee accommodation – the Bhasan
Char Rehabilitation Centre - proposed for this ‘temporary’
island that apparently first appeared in 2002. Each sheet was
formally presented, titled, described, signed off, complete with the
usual notes, e.g. ‘COPYRIGHT; DO NOT SCALE; DRAWN BY; SHEET NUMBER;
etc.’
Note the suggestion of the swastika in the plan form
The set of documents
looked just like every other set of architectural working drawings,
but . . . : one felt uneasy. Even though it was a presentation for
the project rather than a set of working drawings, the documents
looked as complete as working drawings might. This was accommodation
on a new island that was said to have appeared in part in 2002. Since
this time it has grown in area, and is now a variable mass of silt
barely metres above water level, crisscrossed with drainage channels.
It is to be home for over 100,000 Rohingya refugees. It seemed
incredible that this might be so. What on earth might these folk do
on such poor land? It looked like a prison. Why had the author
included these drawings? There appeared to be some latent comment
here about architecture, the solution: dare one include the word
‘final’?
One sensed some
degree of silent protest if not complaint. Might it be something to
do with professional responsibility? One approaches architecture with
a degree of positive delight; hope: we look at drawings with a
feeling of intrigue, perhaps seeking revelation; but here one is
perusing plans for, at best, uncertainty – seemingly detention
given another name: rehabilitation. The dictionary describes
this term as:
rehabilitation
/riːəbɪlɪˈteɪʃ(ə)n/
noun
- the action of restoring someone to health or normal life through training and therapy after imprisonment, addiction, or illness."she underwent rehabilitation and was walking within three weeks"
- the action of restoring someone to former privileges or reputation after a period of disfavour."a posthumous rehabilitation of the activist"
- the action of restoring something that has been damaged to its former condition."the rehabilitation of the mangrove forests"
There was an oddity, something strange about the professionalism and the outcome; the ambition: the thinking that shaped the project. Behind all of this careful documentation were hours of thought and reflection, discussions defining decisions on proposals to shape this outcome that sought to relocate over 100,000 people into a settlement on a pile of Himalayan sludge, the future of which remained unknown. No one seems to know if the island is permanent, stable land. Studies already show how fluid the island mass is, literally in the monsoon season when it is expected to flood.
There appeared to be
something askew here. One cross section of a Family Unit, (for 16 –
25 families), could show the typical diagram for thoughtful, caring
ventilation flowing through the roof structure, but the plan
suggested a different lack of concern with simple, ordinary, everyday
habitation.
One expected
professionalism to carry some degree of responsibility for positive
outcomes, such are our habits; but here we see an architectural
office with branches in Dhaka and London, putting out thorough and
considered detailed documentation for accommodation to be constructed
on behalf of the client, the Bangladesh Navy - a project that raises many basic questions. Is there a Hyppocratic
oath in architecture, even a latent urge, that says, Do no harm?
The strategy as described in the news report was to relocate the
Rohingyas to this recently formed place, 100,000 of them. The present
circumstance in the existing camp was apparently becoming overcrowded
with half a million people. The concept seemed reasonable, but the
idea of any future reality beyond incarceration appeared unlikely on
a newly-formed island that looked so precariously remote, no matter how good the
documents were.
The social situation
appeared awkward at best; seemingly impossible to be anything but a
forced settlement onto a no-man’s land, a land for no man: and it
had all been designed by architects. One thought of the German Reich
architects and engineers. The drawings looked strange in their
strictly formal presentation and delineation that superficially
looked no different to what one might expect of any set of
architectural construction drawings, here shown complete with the
standard graphics illustrating landscaped courtyards with trees,
lawns, and pools, in a manner that might delineate a holiday resort.
Looking at the plans
in more detail, one was astonished to see forms suggestive of the swastika being
used in this context. Was this deliberate? Did the architects care?
The note identifying offices in Dhaka and London made everything
sound properly and thoroughly professional. There was an eerie feel
about the whole presentation that suggested that the format of
architectural drawings itself held no ethical rigour beyond the
ordinary rules of communication: there seemed to be no connection
between the graphic technique and the message, that could be
anything. Is this what CAD does, or was it because one is not used
to seeing drawings of grim projects like this that appeared to aim
for maximum numbers in minimal space, being apparently careless of the actual lived experience? Was not overcrowding the reason for the move? Why
was this island selected if not as a punishing threat that appeared to carry the clear message of hopelessness? The eye usually found more things
to delight in than this set of drawings offered, but the competence of the submission could be admired. The whole project seemed to reek of
suffering, presenting a scheme framing impossibilities, giving the impression that it held a
deliberate disregard for the many occupants, while, at the same time,
drawing standard beds and bedside furniture, as though the space
might have some humanity as a hotel/motel might. What was the tension
here?
Architecturally the
effort looked totally professional; it was almost surreal in its
defiant rigour; but it defined this strange collection of basic
places for people to exist in, to occupy, as if life, its
congregation and social interactions didn’t matter. One has
seemingly become more used to seeing forms that are more subtly
responsive to being. Did any of those documenting this development
ever give one thought to the people who might have to live on this
island of silt? Are the buildings raised on concrete stumps because
someone knew that the island covered with drainage channels will
flood? How might life go on then? What might the people do here?
As an Australian,
one can only hope that the world has not been inspired by Australia’s
handling of refugees seeking to reach this southern hemisphere land
mass. These poor folk seeking our help have been bundled off to
centres of incarceration, detention centres on Manus Island and Naru,
and told that they will NEVER get to Australia. At least Australia
names them correctly, sadly without any shame - the places are for detention. One wonders which
architects designed the accommodation on these islands for the
refugees. It is not a circumstance that Australians are proud about,
but governments are deaf to pleas, “Please!,” when their authority and power are threatened.
Has the Bangladeshi
government defined this settlement for the architects to document; or
has this ‘presentation’ been a promotional thrust at getting the
job? Has the architect’s task merely been to draw up the proposal
for the contractors to construct? Looking at the Mukta Dinwiddie
MacLaren drawings leaves one gobsmacked as the head shakes from side
to side. What on earth is going on? Drawings of Hitler’s gas
chambers and concentration camps come to mind.# Do architects have to get involved in this
work? Does this participation use the bank robber’s logic: if I
don’t do it, someone else will – therefore I do.
A closer look at the
drawings revealed the furnishings illustrated with standard graphic symbols, as though it might be any cute interior; but here the room
is for a family that shares cooking facilities at one end of the
building, and toilets at the other, with other families, reportedly 16 to 25 of them. The
functional model looks something like a camping ground, but this is no
recreational enterprise.
One has been trained
to think about architectural developments with some degree of love
and concern, holding an expectation that these might be seen in the
outcome. Is it this clear lack that leaves one dumbfounded, baffled
by the swastika-like pattern, and by the observation that so much care can be put into the
documentation for the place people have to inhabit, while apparently
offering less thought for the people themselves, their experience.
There is little wonder that The ‘floating’ island . . . has
refugees terrified. Is
it this latent terror that
lies embedded in the design for
an island of unknown futures
that leaves one hollowed
out, gutted, astray, wondering about man’s inhumanity to man?
What
really is the architects’ role? Is
it satisfactory that we can design impossible cities? One
supposes that
someone has to - or do they? It is interesting to talk to architects who
design prisons: they do give
thought to the lives they are making place for; they show some empathy. It has been described
in detail how the prison is seen, thought
of, as a small city or town;
and how
the experience, e.g.,
of sitting in a cell might be altered by natural
light and a little greenery.
One struggles to see how any little bit of joy might come from being
on this indefinitive island
of sludge that looks as
though it can only
convert hopeful lives
likewise into a
desperate
quagmire
exuding despair.
THE REPORT
The ‘floating’
island that has refugees terrified
A
disappearing island, cyclone season and 100,000 Rohingya refugees
with nowhere else to go. What could go wrong?
By Elise Thomas
‘A prison for
the Rohingyas’
Maung Maung Soe, 23,
is one of more than a million Rohingya Muslims who’ve fled Myanmar
and sought shelter in Bangladesh since mid-2017.
The UN have said
their persecution in Myanmar may amount to genocide, but now, Maung
Maung Soe has a new fear.
As early as
mid-April, the Bangladesh government hopes to begin transporting some
100,000 refugees to the flood-prone island to ease pressure on its
overcrowded camps at Cox’s Bazar.
“We Rohingya are
so worried about the government’s plans,” says Maung Maung Soe.
“Bhasan Char will
be like a prison for the Rohingya.”
Photographs, footage
and architectural drawings hint at how the refugees will live.
It looks as though
each family will share a 3.6 metre by 1.2 metre concrete room with
barred windows in a “family house” designed for 16-25 families.
The roughly 64
people in each “family house” appear to share two kitchens and
one toilet block.
Family houses are
grouped in clusters, sharing a cyclone shelter between them.
‘There are a
lot of rumours flying about’
Mozammel Huq, the
head of Bangladesh’s Cabinet committee on law and order, has
rejected concerns expressed by UN human rights experts who visited
Bangladesh in January.
“It is up to
Bangladesh to decide where we will keep the refugees,” he told the
AFP.
State Minister for
Disaster and Relief Management Md Enamur Rahman told the Dhaka
Tribune in March that Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina had requested the
relocation of 23,000 Rohingya families to Bhasan Char by April 15.
“Housing, power,
communication, healthcare, storm surge protection, cyclone shelter
centres and every other facility is there”, he said.
More recently,
Foreign Minister AK Abdul Momen told the Dhaka Tribune the government
wasn’t sure when it would be possible to relocate the Rohingyas and
if they would even be willing to go.
Many aspects of
Bangladesh’s plan remain unclear, both to humanitarian workers and
the refugees themselves.
“Refugees are
finding out through the media like everyone else, and there are a lot
of rumours flying around about what might happen,” says Jessica
Olney, a community engagement consultant working in Cox’s Bazar.
Mr Quinley says the
Rohingya are terrified of moving to the isolated island.
“I have been told
by refugees that they would rather die than move there.
“They’re worried
about flooding, and lack of freedom of movement. Once they’re on
the island it will be very difficult to get back to the mainland,
especially during monsoon season.”
Isolated and
dangerous
Bhasan Char’s
environmental risks and isolation are a dangerous mix. It is likely
that any major flood event or cyclone would be accompanied by rough
seas and bad weather, making the island inaccessible by boat or
helicopter for days at a time and also potentially cutting off
communication channels.
It’s unclear how —
or where — enough food would be stockpiled for 100,000 people
during a sustained period of isolation, or what would happen if there
was contamination to the water supply. The camp is expected to depend
largely on rainwater collection and underground tanks. There are
concerns the underground tanks themselves could also contribute to
destabilising the island.
A feasibility study
commissioned by the Bangladesh government found the island was
flooded by 1-1.3 metres of water during high tide in monsoon season.
The study welcomed
the refugee relocation plan “as Bangladesh is a land scarce
country”, but did not recommend that Bangladeshis should live there
after the refugees leave, saying the island should be used for crops
and fisheries.
For Maung Maung Soe,
this is concerning.
“Bangladesh has a
big population, so my question is why the Bangladesh people haven’t
moved there?” he says.
“If Bhasan Char is
safe for living on, why won’t Bangladesh’s people go?”
Bangladeshi
authorities insist the camp will be protected from the sea by the
flood defences being built by British company HR Wallingford.
“HR Wallingford is
continuing to provide ongoing consultancy for the development of
Bhasan Char,” the company said in a statement.
“This includes
design advice on coastal defences which would ensure long-term
stability of the island, including resilience to the effects of sea
level rise.”
The company did not
respond to specific questions about whether they had conducted any
independent assessment of the flood risk, what sized waves the
embankment was expected to protect against or whether any measures
had been taken to protect against erosion or subsidence.
A ‘dead island’
In a statement, the
UN said that it “appreciates the Government’s efforts to seek
alternative locations” for refugees to live, and that it is in
discussions with the government over protection and operational
issues which should be considered before the relocation takes place.
A spokesperson for
UNHCR did not provide answers to specific questions about whether
UNHCR had conducted any independent assessment of the habitability of
Bhasan Char for the number of people who would be moved there under
the plan.
The UN statement
emphasised that relocation must be an informed voluntary choice.
The Bangladesh
government says that relocation to the island will be done on a
voluntary basis, but a leaked document seen by Reuters shows the
World Food Programme has been asked to help select families to move.
Bangladesh’s last
attempt to encourage voluntary movement of refugees, in that instance
back to Myanmar, was accompanied by the presence of the army, police
and paramilitaries in refugee camps.
“I worry that the
‘voluntariness’ that the UN speaks about could turn into coercive
consent and Rohingya will be left with few options,” says Mr
Quinley.
Maung Maung Soe
witnessed the last attempt at voluntary relocation.
“A few months ago
when the Myanmar government and Bangladesh government tried to deport
the refugees to Myanmar, some Rohingya drank poison and tried to kill
themselves,” he says.
“I’m afraid it
could happen again if they try to make people move.”
According to Maung
Maung Soe, the government has been telling refugees that if they go
to the island, they will be given cows and paddy fields, and 50,000TK
(about $845 AUD) per month.
There is no sign on
satellite imagery of preparations being made for farming, or how the
farms themselves would be protected from Bhasan Char’s volatile
environment.
THE ISLAND
THE ISLAND GROWTH & DEVELOPMENT
One is reminded of Alcatraz Island
"There are a lot of rumours"
“I have been told by refugees that they would rather die than move there."
“They’re worried about flooding, and lack of freedom of movement.
Once they’re on the island it will be very difficult to get back to the mainland, especially during monsoon season.”
# CONCENTRATION CAMP DRAWINGS
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