Is it important to preserve architectural heritage? It is much easier and perhaps cheaper to build modern structures than to maintain or renovate crumbling old buildings. Modern architecture allows for more utilitarian construction. New houses, shelters and warehouses are more spacious, at times taller and flashier than old ones. Partly for these reasons, the architectural heritage of the city of Lahore is being razed to make way for new structures. Visits to the Walled City reveal that more and more old buildings are being demolished at a dangerously fast pace. Paradoxically, more artwork depicting the old city is cropping up at fancy eateries and cafes in the suburbs. The actual number of old buildings — those tall, somewhat claustrophobic old houses, ancient arches and woodwork in balconies, the occasional plaque bearing the name of the first residents — is decreasing rapidly. Possibly in the near future, if you’d want to see the ancient Walled City, you’d have to reserve a corner table at a chic restaurant in the uptown. It is easier to preserve the Walled City in murals than it is to protect the old structures enclosed in the vicinity from Bhatti to Akbari Gate. Look up old pictures of the city and you will learn why it was called the city of gardens. In fact, literature from even the 1970s is replete with references to the Mall as the thandi sarak (cool road). Despite the oppressive heat that holds sway from April to September, the Mall, owing to the great number of trees on both sides of the median, offered some respite from the weather. Now, it’s probably hotter there than on other roads because of traffic clogs. On a parallel plane, the literal concretisation of Lahore is fast reaching its nadir. You’ll find concrete bridges, passes and boulders in many places across the metropolis. It’s a city in which open space is shrinking, literally and metaphorically. For more and more people, you need more vehicles and more construction. Old spacious abodes are bought, torn down, carved up and then resold to obtain high profits. Jewels of a bygone age ignominiously dispatched to oblivion on a frequent basis. The intellectual openness that the city was once known for — the vociferous gatherings at the Nasir Bagh, the political and literary discussions at the Pak Tea House, the thoughtful debates of the leftists, the anti-status quo poetry meant to rouse — has been receding as if to complement the increasing physical congestion and architectural degradation. Heritage is supposed to embody culture. Since buildings have survived from the past, they reflect the times in which they were constructed. In the context of Lahore, they testify to Hindu and Buddhist presence. Furthermore, there is a tomb from the Mamluk age, many Mughal monuments, Sikh constructions, and finally the pervasive architecture of the British Raj. Through edifices from these eras, we get to physically see the past. This is a unique experience that has no alternative. Pictures and computer graphics cannot capture the presence of the past the way ancient buildings can. These structures also tell us about the people who made them, the people who occupied the land before we did. In this way, we learn about ourselves. Or at least we are supposed to. But at most of these sites you find deposits of human excrement, trash, drugs and paraphernalia emblematic of utter disregard, in fact almost hostility towards history. Perhaps the more pertinent question here is what good would it do to preserve the heritage of our ancient cities. In the context of Pakistan, people routinely vandalise whatever physical heritage they can get their hands on. Moreover, historical sites don’t seem to be serving any tangible purpose. For a number of reasons that this country makes global news, there aren’t many tourists lining up to visit the Shalimar Gardens, the Walled City or the Chauburgi monument. Cash inflows from tourism cannot amount to much. Some of these heritage sites might even be hindering business expansion and development work. The Chauburgi, for one, is poised to block the view of the new-elevated track being constructed for the Orange Line Metro Train. To protect architectural heritage, there has to be a sensibility that runs deep. There has to be an ability to appreciate the importance of abstract ideas like culture, history, and aesthetics. That is difficult to cultivate in places where the immediate and the everyday are more pressing concerns. Where a general atmosphere of lawlessness prevails. In such places the monetary route from a little to a lot is open to those who retain undocumented sources of income and scarce regard for procedure. The few laws that exist to regulate the flow of capital are poorly, if ever, implemented. Resultantly, business thrives, especially the kind that involves construction and real estate. More concrete, less green. More gloss, less heritage. The writer is lecturer in English Literature at Government College University, Lahore. He may be reached at sameeropinion@gmail.com