The destruction of the West Flemish city of Ypres, Belgium, caused by the violent battles of the First World War, sparked an intense debate on urban reconstruction strategies. The disruptive consequences forced the government to provide a rapid, large-scale response while choosing between preserving the past or ambitiously embracing the future, thus following the main discourses among urban planners of that time. Beyond this emergency phase, however, more in-depth questioning about national identity and people’s sense of place arose, which translated into embraced or rejected architectural styles and urban planning proposals. The interplay between remembering and forgetting exhibited divergent urban planning proposals, which made the decision on how to rebuild the city difficult, delaying the reconstruction process. Since opinions on what to remember rely on people’s personal sense of remembrance, the spatial translation of how to remember requires a multi-layered approach where spaces for memory, such as memorials, cemeteries and monuments, and memories of places that relate to experiences in the everyday life of the residents, intertwine. When the spatial translation of these spaces for memory and places to which individual memories are attached is unbalanced, it might counteract the residents’ recovery while hindering the restoration of their broken journeys. This article elaborates on how this spatial translation proceeded within the reconstruction of Ypres, known as ‘the city of peace’, where the war memory became part of the identity of the place, which up until today attracts many international war tourists.
This article has been peer-reviewed through the journal’s standard double-blind peer-review process, where both the reviewers and authors are anonymised during review.
During the First World War, the formation of the ‘Ypres Salient’, a bulge around Ypres (Ieper) on the Western Front, transformed the peaceful Belgian city into an international battleground (
The international war scene (claiming almost 600,000 victims from more than 100 different nationalities)
This article introduces the role and meaning of spatial memory in picking up the thread of everyday life after a devastating disaster to enable the ‘restoration of broken journeys’
The notion of spatial memory as approached within this research can be found at the intersection of memory studies and architectural and urban planning studies. Although the field of memory studies, expressively expanded since the French sociologist Maurice Halbwachs defined the concept of ‘collective memory’
The reconstruction of Ypres is studied within this dual conceptual framework as places in the city, both those with official heritage value and the everyday places. Together, they shape the collective and individual memories that were given a new indelible layer after the war.
To analyse the reconstruction of Ypres (
The future of the city was discussed in international conferences that can be summarised in four proposals, each offering a different spatial translation of past representation.
The second proposal was represented by the then so-called ‘modernists’ who wanted to use the
However, the ideas of modernist architects, including a proposal by the Belgian architect Huib Hoste to rebuild Ypres as a modern industrial city, whether or not with the preservation of some iconic ruins as a memorial site in the centre, never received a sympathetic hearing, which resulted in a reduction of the modernist ideas to a couple of garden cities outside the city centre.
The third proposal gathered the defenders of an identical reconstruction, supported by the residents, local government (with René Colaert as Mayor) and city architect Jules Coomans. The latter had already completed detailed notes on the reconstruction of the city in April 1915.
Although accepted and, according to official reports, carried out as such, the idea of an identical reconstruction should be taken with a grain of salt. Rather, the actual reconstruction is an almost identical reconstruction of the pre-war spatial configuration, reusing the street pattern, albeit slightly modified, and embellishing the architectural typologies to remember Ypres as a
The rupture with the past was healed in a nostalgic reflex as a yearning for a familiar living environment in a wounded society. In this way, Ypres was rebuilt upholding the image of a historical, region-specific town, being a certain beautification of the past.
The regionalist influences, which were strongly present in Belgium on the eve of the First World War, left their mark on the reconstruction. Referring to the regional building tradition with local materials and local construction methods, regionalism carried at first no political or ideological connotation.
In Ypres, except for the widening of some streets, whether to emphasise views on the main monuments or to improve traffic flows, the street pattern remained considerably faithful to the pre-war spatial configuration. Furthermore, logistical and financial chaos was blocking innovative urban planning proposals: a Belgian law to restore damaged belongings to their original state
The influence of Jules Coomans, who was involved in the reconstruction process up to the scale of the street furniture, cannot be underestimated. Emphasising monuments with skilful perspective views and preserving the irregularity that characterised medieval cities, Coomans strived for a revaluation of the glorious past:
If it is essential to revive, in their primitive splendour, using the materials scattered on the ground, our ancient monuments which characterise the most beautiful period of our glorious past, it is no less necessary to concern ourselves with the same interest in our private architecture. Our ancient dwellings form, in fact, around our large public buildings a decor that our ancestors created with such taste and which all our efforts must strive to maintain. Let us reform the chain that connects us to the past and, remembering that our architecture is the synthesis of our local history we would like to reread it both in our old houses from the Middle Ages and our constructions from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The elevation façades we have designed can be adapted to the variants of the plans annexed to this note. It seemed sufficient to us to determine the exterior perimeter, forming the front-to-street alignment, without indicating, for each of the buildings, the interior distribution; this can, however, vary according to the particular convenience of the buyers.
Residents thus had free rein in the design of their homes, since the cooperation of an architect for works requiring a building permit had only been compulsory in Belgium since 1939.
According to the system implemented in most of our ancient cities, the streets are traced without any search for apparent regularity; even the parallels between the axis and the line closed by the facade of the buildings are rarely maintained. In plan, the raised edges of the sidewalks, of modern construction, correct this irregularity for the part of the road reserved for rolling and facilitating the construction, use and maintenance of the pavement. While considering the needs of the building, hygiene rules and the comfort of the residents, the roads in the regulation always show an originality combined with a picturesque and artistic appearance.
The question arises as to what degree of collectivity the image of the past has been created since mainly the elite classes persisted in this regionalist reconstruction. Both the modern urban planning proposals and the beautification of the past glory aim at a utopia of an idealised society. They are both forms of imagination, albeit each with a different interpretation. At first, the decision to rebuild the city as it was before its destruction seems to be a truly bottom–up wish, as claimed by the residents. The Westhoek region was completely razed; some residents could only recognise their village by a sign in the vast muddied landscape. All were confronted daily with the consequences of the war, from the invisible threat of unexploded ammunition to frustrations with the administrative burden that delayed reconstruction, while longing for a familiar living environment. Therefore, returning to a familiar surrounding seems natural in the fragmented post-war chaos. With everything familiar taken away, there was no scope for experimentation as the community yearned for the ordinary routine of daily life. Reclaiming the city, as an expression of their identity, provided a stable foundation for the revitalisation of society. This was supported by the local government rather than by an establishment of higher government. On 20 March 1920, a petition
We want the city to remain as it has been since its existence, with the street pattern and appearance of the time. We will respect the ruins of our great pompous buildings; our grandchildren will make the necessary decisions about them later. But in the meantime, we want to rebuild our residential cities where they stood, where our parents and we were born, where we grew up and where we have known love and loss of life. Ypres is the Fatherland of all the ‘Yperlingen’, just as Belgium is the Fatherland of all of us. It is up to no stranger to drive out the former inhabitants on the pretext of turning the city into something artistic. The sense of beauty may be pursued, but never when it must be done at the cost of the ruin and exile of thousands of domestic families. Therefore, we ask that the designs that intend the destruction of ‘what is so close to our hearts’ should be rejected. It is to Ypres as it always was, neat, quiet and artful, that we want to return and not to a city unknown to us.
This statement suggests that the residents themselves were the greatest supporters of an identical reconstruction; they wanted to go back to what existed before with the full intention to ‘restore’ their ‘broken journeys’. The question arises whether this petition was indeed written ‘in the name of all classes of the population’ since the delegation consisted of white men from the upper-middle classes. As the indemnities from the government were mainly directed at private property, workers and peasants who had been tenants were not involved. The contribution of these silent voices, such as the working classes and women, is barely included in the narrative of the reconstruction today.
The city, cherished as a nostalgic souvenir, became the storyteller of past glory. The war memory claimed its space as a new protagonist translated into ‘spaces for memory’, such as memorials, cemeteries and monuments, which nestled themselves into the pre-war urban fabric. Ypres struggled with this unsolicited, newly assigned function of memory landscape since different opinions about what to remember caused many discussions: returning residents and visitors, such as former soldiers, widows or war tourists, had divergent expectations of coping with ‘memory’. On the one hand, returning residents, who remembered Ypres as a vibrant city, wanted to forget the destruction of both their material and social living environment. For them, the war was not over since they were confronted with the consequences of it daily. The residents could not envisage any mental or physical space to remember the past with the symbolic load of commemoration. On the other hand, widows and veterans, who had a familiar environment back home, aspired to connect a personal past to a larger macro-historical narrative.
Since what is remembered depends on who remembers, the spatial translation of how to remember requires a multi-layered approach where spaces for memory intertwine with memories of places linked to experiences from pre-war, war and post-war times to please all actors. This stratification of memory is a complex phenomenon to translate into the urban fabric that complicates and consequently delays urban reconstruction processes.
In the immediate post-war years, the intangible loss was turned into pride by creating spaces for memory that materialised the moral duty to show gratitude for the war deaths. The unveiling of a monument paid the debt and was often the local event of the year. As a sacral duty, it was expected to transcend political connotation, although all too often it brought conflicts and private interests to the surface. For example, on 27 June 1926, the unveiling of the monument commemorating Ypres’s war victims (this is one of the only memorials for civilian victims), civilians and soldiers went down in history as ‘the Ypres fury’.
And the gendarmes drove their horses deeper and deeper into the crowd; women, children, elderly people, no one was spared. And while the gendarmerie trampled the Flemish Old Warriors and the defenceless people under the hooves of their horses, people sang in [the] choir to commemorate, in front of the armoured official gentlemen: ‘It is Peace, it is Peace.’
Since then, the monument has been called ‘the Ypres fury’, prompted by the Flemish press, which denounced the brutal action of the security services.
Such commemorative monuments could be read as official heritage, being part of the ‘commemorative infrastructure of modern society’.
Recent studies by the National Trust have scientifically proven that people feel strongly connected with places. They examined the responses of the brain to analyse the meaning of places to people and it appears that meaningful places generate a significant response in the areas of the brain most commonly associated with emotions.
Contrary to conservation-led approaches, the spaces for memory and everyday heritage can be changed or replaced through the agency of the people and their societal needs. Mosler states that ‘acknowledging the everyday practices of the residents and the relationship between the social interaction of place and the heritage assets plays a key role in the place-making process.’
However, the dichotomy between spaces for memory and memories of places does not intend to illustrate a black-and-white approach, since spaces for memory also have an everyday life. In Ypres, the war memory is part of the city’s identity and its commemoration became part of the daily experience. At 8 p.m. daily, for instance, the Last Post
The perception of memory and its translation in the urban fabric develops and changes over time, depending on the interplay between remembering and forgetting. The spatial translation of the stratification of memory, affected by spaces for memory and memories of places, complicates and delays the reconstruction processes after a disaster such as a war. When the agency of everyday heritage is ignored in the reconstruction process, a place might become alienated and the sense of belonging disappears. The memories attached to this place become distorted, which might result in destruction that threatens to be more disastrous than the war itself.
The Friends’ Ambulance Unit was established by members of the British Religious Society of Friends (Quakers). Trogh, ‘Impact of the First World War’.
Gezelle,
In the twelfth century, the cloth industry brought Ypres to prominence and the city played an important role in international trade, along with Ghent and Bruges. As a result of this success, the Cloth Hall of Ypres, one of the largest non-religious gothic buildings in Europe, was built in the thirteenth century.
Ieper in Cijfers, ‘Demografie – Ieper’.
This number has recently been adjusted by The List of Names, a scientific count of all fatalities in Belgium during the Great War conducted by the In Flanders Fields Museum (IFFM) in Ypres. The project started in 2011 and resulted in a count of almost 600,000 victims from 116 different nationalities, a number that includes 25,923 Belgian civilian fatalities, five times higher than the long-assumed 5,600 deaths. The numbers indicated were collected in January 2024 but the count is still ongoing. The List of Names was part of the GONE WEST remembrance program 2014–18 whose aim was to share and collect information with and from its users:
The term ‘broken journeys’ can be found in Jackson,
Halbwachs,
The link between memory and space has been studied in works such as Ruskin’s
Lynch,
Rossi,
Boyer,
The word ‘palimpsest’ derives from the Greek
Kansteiner, ‘Finding meaning’, 181.
Rossi,
Rossi,
Kansteiner, ‘Finding meaning’, 190.
The population's frustration often refers to the administrative mess that delayed reconstruction. Their voice can be found in historic newspapers such as
Conferences such as the conference in Den Haag (the Netherlands, 1914), the Town Planning Conference organised by the International Garden Cities and Town Planning Association in London (UK, February 1915), the founding of the Comité Néerlando-Belge d’Art Civique (the Netherlands, 1915) or the
Proposal from Winston Churchill during a meeting of the Imperial War Graves Commission on 21 January 1919. Dendooven, ‘This is holy ground’, 99.
The law on the compensation for war damage was published in the Belgian official journal (23 October 1918). Baillieul, ‘Recht op herstel?’, 24–5.
At a conference on 14 July 1919, the Battle Exploit Memorials Committee and representatives of the Belgian government decided to preserve the ruins of the Cloth Hall and the Saint Martin’s Church as a
In this sense, we can say that these international debates on
Dendooven, ‘Het terrein effenen’, 81.
The urban proposal for the modernist garden city
A draft of the ‘Note sur la voirie urbaine’ (17.04.1915) is preserved in the City Archive of Ypres, Jules Coomans, F03_161. The notes were published in Boulogne-sur-Mer in 1916.
Smets et al.,
Smets et al.,
D’Hiet, ‘De industrieterreinen te’.
Viérin,
Smets et al.,
Liefooghe, ‘Beauté de l’ensemble’.
Baillieul, ‘Recht op herstel?’.
Dendooven, ‘Het terrein effenen’, 86.
The original text is handwritten in French, taken from the City Archives of Ypres, Coomans, F03_00161(2), p. 11. Note complémentaire à notre rapport du 5 novembre 1915, translated into English by the author:
S’il est essentiel de faire revivre, dans leur splendeur primitive, en utilisant les matériaux épars sur le sol, nos anciens monuments qui caractérisent la plus belle période de notre glorieux passé, il est non moins nécessaire de nous préoccuper avec le même intérêt de notre architecture privée. Nos anciennes habitations forment, en effet, autour de nos grands édifices publics un décor que nos ancêtres ont réalisé avec tant de goût et au maintien duquel doivent tendre tous nos efforts. Reformons la chaîne qui nous relie au passé et, nous rappelant que notre architecture est la synthèse de notre histoire locale, nous aimerons à la relire tant dans nos vieilles maisons du moyen-âge que dans nos constructions des XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles. Les façades en élévation que nous avons conçues peuvent s’adopter aux variantes des plans annexés à la présente note. Il nous a paru suffisant de déterminer le pourtour extérieur, formant l’alignement front à rue, sans indiquer, pour chacun des immeubles la distribution intérieure; celle-ci pouvant, du reste, varier suivant les convenances particulières des acquéreurs.
‘Wet Op de Bescherming van Den Titel En van Het Beroep van Architect (Law on the Protection of the Title and Profession of Architect)’, Pub. L. No. 1939022050, 20-02-1939 1942 (1939).
The original text is written in French, taken from City Archive Ypres, Coomans, F03_00161, p. 9. ‘Note sur la voirie urbaine en réponse à la dépêche de Monsieur le Ministre de l’Agriculture et des Travaux Publics en date du 12 mars 1915’, translated into English by the author:
Suivant le système réalisé dans la plupart de nos villes anciennes, les rues y sont tracées sans aucune recherche de régularité apparente; même le parallélisme entre l’axe et la ligne fermée par le parement des immeubles est rarement maintenu. En plan, les bordures relevées des trottoirs, de construction moderne, redressent cette irrégularité pour la partie des routes réservée au roulage et facilitent la construction, l’usage et l’entretien du pavage. Tout en tenant compte des besoins de la bâtisse, des règles de l’hygiène, du confort de l’habitant, la voirie accuse toujours dans l’ordonnance une originalité alliée à une allure pittoresque et artistique.
The petition came partly as an expression of great dissatisfaction with the slow progress and administrative mess of the reconstruction. The reconstruction plan, designed by the city architect Coomans, had already been approved in 1916 but appeared to be missing from the ministry at the end of 1919. In February 1920, newspapers reported that the plans had been stolen. One month later, the letter was sent to the king and the request bore fruit: the principal approval for the reconstruction plan followed three days later. However, the official approval was delayed until March 1921. Dendooven, ‘Het terrein effenen’, 81.
The original quote is written in old Flemish and translated into English by the author:
Wij willen dat onze stad blijve zoals zij sedert haar bestaan geweest is, met hare straten en haar uiterlijk van eertijds. De puinhoopen onzer groote praalgebouwen zullen wij eerbiedigen, want onze kleinkinderen zullen daaromtrent, in latere tijden, die noodige beslissingen te nemen hebben. Maar ondertusschen willen wij onze woonsteden heropbouwen daar waar zij stonden, waar onze ouders en wij zelf geboren werden, waar wij groot geworden zijn en waar wij de genoegens ende smarten des levens gekend hebben. Yper is ‘t Vaderland der Yperlingen zoowel als België ons aller Vaderland is. Het staat aan geen vreemdeling de oude bewoners er uit te verjagen onder voorwendsel er iets kunstigs van te maken. Het schoonheidsgevoel mag wel nageleefd worden maar nooit wanneer het moet geschieden ten koste van den ondergang en de ballingschap van duizende huisgezinnen! Daarom vergen wij dat de ontwerpen die de vernieling bedoelen van ‘t geen ons zoo nauw ter harte ligt, zouden verworpen worden. ‘t Is in dat Yper zoals het steeds was, net, stil en kunstig, dat wij willen terugkeeren en niet in eene voor ons onkennelijke stad.
Butaye, ‘Tekst van het aanzoekschrift’, 2.
Meire, ‘De tijd der traagheid’, 291.
Meire, ‘De tijd der traagheid’, 294–5.
Following reports from the regional newspaper
Meire,
Shanken,
Shanken,
Smith and Waterton,
Smith,
Gantois, ‘Built heritage’, 1; The National Trust, ‘Why places matter’.
Mosler, ‘Everyday heritage concept’, 778.
Atkinson, ‘Kitsch geographies’.
Mosler, ‘Everyday heritage concept’.
Pendlebury,
Lefebvre,
Proctor, ‘Reclaiming the ordinary’.
Viérin,
Mosler, ‘Everyday heritage concept’, 790.
Gantois, ‘Built heritage’.
Mosler, ‘Everyday heritage concept’, 782.
Westhoek Verbeeldt, ‘Ieper: Snoepkraam Ameel-Descamps’ [Ypres: Candy Stand Ameel-Descamps] HEU008508778,
The ‘Last Post’ is played by buglers as a tribute to the fallen soldiers of the Great War every evening at 8 p.m. under the arches of the Menin Gate in Ypres.
Shanken,
Hoteit, ‘War against architecture’.
Not applicable to this article.
Not applicable to this article.
The author declares no conflicts of interest with this work. All efforts to sufficiently anonymise the author during peer review of this article have been made. The author declares no further conflicts with this article.