The cabinet has never been discomfitted by accusations of philistinism. It is perhaps the mark of a true philistine if the members of an official body do not suffer even a little pique when they are so described. The late Mrs Jagan apart, the present incumbents in government have rarely demonstrated any sensitivity to this country’s heritage or to aesthetic considerations related to that heritage (unless, of course, it was connected to PPP party history or the late Dr Cheddi Jagan). But this time, they have really outdone themselves, even by their own none too exacting standards. Their latest excursion into the realm of tastelessness and incongruity – if not actual eccentricity – is to site an intelligence centre in the grounds of Castellani House.
There are two issues here of course. One is what kind of an intelligence centre this really is and whether there is need for it, and the other is the matter of where it has been located. The first issue will not be explored here, but where the last-mentioned is concerned, it was Mr Harry Hergash writing in our edition of February 10, who succinctly outlined the arguments as to why building something of this kind in proximity to the nation’s leading centre of arts and culture is quite inappropriate.
However, Mr Hergash made a mistake in one regard: the public had garnered the impression that this project was still in the design phase, and he too proceeded on that assumption. Unfortunately, the structure appears to be well underway. Situated close to the building where the nation’s art collection is housed, an awkward edifice of concrete blocks – not yet complete – with a garish green roof is plainly visible from the road. Given its unappealing contours, its startling lack of harmony with its setting and its murky purpose, it is hardly surprising that the obscure forces in government responsible for its erection did not want to make its presence public before they really had to.
The unsuitability of the location apart for the moment, one still has to wonder which architect lent his skills to a creation quite so lacking in inspiration and so utterly at variance with the historical and cultural environment. But then again, perhaps it wasn’t an architect at all, and the project was simply handed over to one of the government’s favourite construction entities – such as those whose aesthetic skills were honed repairing the sea wall or some other solid, utilitarian construction.
Having said all that, of course, the plans both in relation to location and design would still have had to be passed at some official level. So exactly which genius in the City Engineer’s Department or the Central Housing and Planning Authority, one wonders, allowed themselves to be steamrolled into approving this protuberance within the Castellani demesne? Or were they simply not asked for approval? And exactly what was the National Trust doing when the plans for this noxious addition within the grounds of an acknowledged heritage site crossed their desk? Did they object and were ignored? Or were they simply not asked either? And then there is the Ministry of Culture. Did no one there object to this foolishness, or again, were they not told? Surely that cannot apply to the Minister of Culture himself; so what did he say when the matter came up in cabinet – or are we to understand that it did not come up in cabinet? So who, exactly, passed the plans for this extraordinary building and is it really true that nobody, but nobody, in the bureaucratic sequence (assuming there was one) raised an objection?
Castellani House is one of the two last surviving intact buildings designed by Cesar Castellani, the talented Maltese architect, who was responsible for the design of so many public edifices at the end of the nineteenth century, and whose work provided Georgetown, in particular, with so much of its aesthetic character. That work is now sadly diminished. The Sacred Heart Church has gone, a victim of the carelessness of the Catholic Church; the Palms has gone, a victim of the disinterest of the PNC government; and the old New Amsterdam Hospital is about to go, a victim of the unconcern of the PPP government. While the PPP is not destroying Castellani House as such, it is destroying its context, its cultural impact and its ambience (to use Mr Hergash’s word). This elegant building with its graceful lines and understated formality is now overwhelmed by the vulgar squatter at its side, whose almost luminous green roof glares with all the unabashedness of a lighthouse beacon at the area around.
Is this the same government, one muses, that seeks to have Georgetown inscribed as a World Heritage Site? One can only infer that in fact this notion has been abandoned altogether, and we are now committed to creating a capital which has all the appeal of a small, concrete mid-western town in the US – no character, no individuality, no identity, no history, and absolutely no aesthetics. It was certainly not what the late Mrs Janet Jagan had in mind when she arranged for Castellani House to provide a home for the national collection, and encouraged its use as a centre not just for the visual arts, but for culture in general.
And is this the same government, one asks, which seeks to promote a tourist industry – an industry which notoriously is sustained by culture, history and art? One is forced to the conclusion that that objective too is nothing more than hot air, and that Minister Manniram Prashad can safely go back to sleep in the certainty he is not required to do anything meaningful in terms of his portfolio. Mr Hergash, for example, pointed out in his letter the incompatibility of having a tourist (cultural) venue and an intelligence agency occupying neighbouring spaces. “How will [the] security [of the intelligence agency] be maintained without impeding the access of visitors to Castellani House?” he asked. He went on to enquire whether visitors would have to “undergo security checks, and, if so, is this likely to deter them?”
If it is that the government thought that the presence of the intelligence agency would provide security for Castellani House, the reality is definitely the other way around. If the agency ever became a target – and while one hopes that era is at an end, given the country’s history one can never be too sure – then Castellani’s pine boards would be at high risk. Do those who sit in government over us have any idea of what it would mean to this nation to lose its artistic patrimony? Do they have any conception whatever of what a disaster that would be?
One can only hope that the artistic community, the cultural community, persons out there in the wider community as well as the diaspora, will raise their concerns, so the government understands that art and culture might mean nothing to them, but they do have resonance among the electorate. One presumes it is too late unfortunately, to remove the offending building altogether; however, its more egregious characteristics can perhaps be mitigated, and its function can be altered. The intelligence agency should be housed elsewhere, and some cultural use should be found for the intrusive structure. Where this is concerned, there are various possibilities, but perhaps it is for the public to put forward their suggestions.
In the meantime again, the people would like to know exactly how the decision was taken; what process did it undergo before being approved; who ultimately, was responsible for it; and who passed the designs. Having committed cultural sacrilege, it is the least the government can do.
