Deconstructing Tbilisi

The Asian-European city beloved of poets, painters, and travelers is fast disappearing under the eyes of city and state authorities. by Natia Jokhadze 29 October 2003 TBILISI, Georgia--Cut by the gorge of the Kura River at the foot of Mount Mtatsminda, Tbilisi is a city where nature takes an active role in town planning.

Georgian King Vakhtang Gorgasali founded the city, they say, near a hot spring he came upon while hawking in the forest (tbili means warm). It was Gorgasali who transferred the seat of power in the fifth century A.D. from the ancient capital Mtskheta to Tbilisi.

The king had good reason to settle here. The site in the narrow river gorge was easily defended, yet close to trade routes running East and West. From these beginnings the fortress expanded and became a town. In the sixth and seventh centuries, Tbilisi became the hub of the country’s secular life, and its people's spiritual needs were served by the Anchiskhati Basilica, Sioni Cathedral and other notable churches. Ancient Tbilisi survived more than 40 onslaughts. One can hardly recall another town devastated so many times by invaders, only to rebuild itself again and again.

Today the architectural and urban heritage of Tbilisi is again on the edge. The old street network is vanishing, the old landmarks and old scale of the city are disappearing, incongruous multi-story buildings are overwhelming old districts, historical facades are being demolished by private owners. All this lay behind UNESCO's decision two years ago not to enroll the historical center of Tbilisi on its vaunted World Heritage List.

New construction is needed, without question. Nearly three-quarters of the city's buildings are considered damaged. The earthquake that struck the city in April 2002 hit the old quarters especially hard, damaging thousands of dwellings and putting even greater pressure on the city's inadequate housing stock. The demand has been met through the construction of new apartment buildings, often of low quality, inappropriate form and color, and lacking the proper permits.

The process of is accelerating, but it has been going on for many decades. As the city center developed rapidly in the early 20th century, the city’s Asian face was forgotten and the historical core went into decline. Old districts emptied as most who could afford to move headed for the new peripheral housing estates.

Many apartment houses built during Stalin's time and shortly after are still in good condition. But their prices are high compared with the concrete blockhouses built later--especially in the 1960s, when the so-called khrushchevki were thrown up to satisfy the growing demand for housing. During the Soviet period, urban planning often followed ideological guidelines. By applying the "bulldozer method," urban renewal took place on the rubble of the past.

The past 12 years have seen the city return to the historical core. Decades of neglect left the old districts in perilous condition, but the setting had been conserved. Old Tbilisi became the arena for "New Georgians"--the intelligentsia, the political elite, and artists. Despite the ravages, prices even for ruinous flats took off and have kept on rising.

What are the new city-dwellers buying into? Tbilisi still preserves many traces of the past in its urban landscape, especially in districts such as Kala, Narikala, and Abanotubani, where narrow alleys crowded with small houses cascade down the slopes beneath the old citadel. European influences have long blended with the Asian character of the city, especially from 1801 when Georgia was united with the Russian Empire. Tbilisi became the administrative center of the province, undergoing a transformation from medieval town into bourgeois city with fashionable Western architectural styles. As the city’s population grew, neo-classical structures sprang up in new districts such as Sololaki and along Rustaveli avenue, now a major artery communicating with the heart of the city.

Little-known abroad and long neglected by Soviet-trained scholars for its association with bourgeois culture is the city's Art Nouveau period. Georgian Art Nouveau did not ignore vernacular styles. Many buildings of the early 20th century feature Europeanized facades facing the street and Georgian wooden balconies at the back.

Tbilisi's architectural heritage enjoys, in principle, legal protection. A protected zone in the historical center of the city was established in 1985 but has been widely ignored. In 1992 the government issued a decree on housing privatization. It applied the same rules to all flats throughout the city, irrespective of historical or architectural value--thus, in effect, tossing all housing of whatever merit into one marketplace dominated by private capital.

The plight of the city's urban heritage is not helped by lack of clear direction from city and state authorities. The chief city architect has oversight over all new construction, but in recent years few have managed to hold this job for very long. Just over a year ago, the minister in charge of urbanization and construction, Merab Chkhenkeli, resigned after an illegal building scandal. Fines for breaking ground without proper permits or building without an approved design are quite low, generally less than $1,500.

Civic groups actively campaign against inappropriate construction in the protected zone, but the rising demand for new flats and rising prices are powerful engines of change. In 2002 there were 100 would-be buyers for every 80 flats on the market, a construction company executive told the American Chamber of Commerce. The housing market is attractive to wealthy Georgians, in part because other investment opportunities are few, said a banker quoted on the chamber's website.

The architectural schools of the city teach the esthetics and philosophy of Antonio Gaudi, but the advance of the tasteless goes on.