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DOI: 10.1177/1359183506063021 2006 11: 189Journal of Material Culture

Martin HallLandscape

Identity, Memory and Countermemory: The Archaeology of an Urban

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IDENTITY, MEMORY ANDCOUNTERMEMORYThe Archaeology of an Urban Landscape

MARTIN HALL

University of Cape Town, South Africa

AbstractUrban landscapes are both expressions of identity, and a means of shapingthe relationships between those who inhabit them. They are palimpsests inwhich buildings, street layouts and monumental structures are interpretedand reinterpreted as changing expressions of relations of power. The urbanlandscape of the Cape of Good Hope started with the establishment of aDutch East India Company outpost in 1652, was restructured by the Britishafter 1795, and gave form to spatial segregation in the apartheid years. Morerecently, aspects of these historical landscapes have been reinvented asentertainment centres in the experiential economy. Differing ways ofunderstanding these mixes of physical form, identity and recollection eitherlead to closure retrospective celebrations in the interests of dominantinterests or to challenge: countermemories that look for contradictionsand uncertainties, keeping open the discourse of identity and relations ofpower.

Key Words apartheid colonialism entertainment identity landscape memory space urban archaeology

Urban landscapes are an expression of identity and also shape theidentity of those who live in them. An appreciation of this recursiverelationship is central to Barbara Benders work, and has been exploredin a rich strand of urban studies that includes Lefebvres theoreticalconceptualizations, Sojas urban studies, Daviss influential writing onLos Angeles, Harveys urban geography and a growing literature oncities as entertainment destinations (Davis, 1990, 2000; Harvey, 2000;

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Journal of Material Culture Vol. 11(1/2): 189209Copyright 2006 SAGE Publications (London, Thousand Oaks, CA and New Delhi)[DOI: 10.1177/1359183506063021]www.sagepublications.com

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Lefebvre, 1991; Soja, 1996, 2000). Such studies question simple notionsof heritage and rather seek to establish the relations of power that areserved in the formation of urban environments, and the interests thatare served by privileging some part of a historical fabric, ignoring others,and rediscovering the past in different ways.

In this article, I explore this theme of identity and memory in CapeTown (Figure 1). Cape Town is a good case study because it was estab-lished comparatively recently in 1652, by the Dutch East India Company and has had a history written in starkly defined identities, shaped firstby slavery and later by racial segregation (Bickford-Smith, 1995; Ross,1983; Shell, 1994). Indeed, the significance of this palimpsest of urbanforms for contemporary, post-apartheid, identities is far from settled. In

J o u r n a l o f M AT E R I A L C U LT U R E 11 ( 1 / 2 )

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FIGURE 1 Jacques Bellin, Cape Town in 1764.Petit Atlas Maritime

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what follows I interpret this complexity by means of the archaeologicaldevice of mapping three layers, each with its own cultural form: the Capeshaped by early Dutch rule, the mobilization of heritage in the closingyears of apartheid segregation, and the discovery of heritage as enter-tainment in the contemporary Cape.

GRID AND GARDEN

After several years of indecision, the Dutch East India Company (VOC)established a garrison at Table Bay in 1652, intended to victual the fleeton the long voyage from the Netherlands to Indonesia, and back. As withthe early colonizers of Spanish South America before them (Fraser, 1990),the minor VOC officials and officers sent to the Cape of Good Hope hada standard template in mind for an orderly landscape.

The surviving records reveal the pragmatics of this design (Hall,2000). There was a four-point earth fortress for the garrison. Over thenext decade, buildings were put up as needed: a house for the Companysgardener, a blacksmiths shop, a horse mill and a lodging house,converted from a disused sheep fold, and some houses (Thom, 1952,1954). In order to meet the remit to provision the Companys fleets, afirst group of nine men and their families released from Company serviceto farm along the Liesbeeck River. Farming required labour, and in 1658the first two shiploads of slaves arrived: 228 captured by the Companyat Dahomey, and 174 (mostly children) taken from a Portuguese slaver enroute from Angola to Brazil (Armstrong and Worden, 1989).

Conformity with notions of orderliness required the establishmentof property rights and an appropriate, formal, layout for the emergingtown. No written plans have survived, although in 1660, the Companyssurveyor was instructed to be kept conscientiously at his work ofmaking maps (Thom, 1958: 293). Comparison with contemporary Dutchcolonial landscapes in Indonesia, Brazil and North America (ManhattanIsland) shows a simple, generic grid of streets and enclosed plots (erven),so Pieter Potter the VOC surveyor garrisoned at the Cape accordinglylaid out an orthogonal grid around a large, open square to the west ofthe existing fortification. This grid defined erven of sufficient size forcarrots and other garden produce, as well as for keeping pigs (Hall,1991a; Thom, 1958: 1268).

This grid of rights-of-way dustclouds in the long, dry summermonths and quagmires trampled by pigs and cattle in winter was aframework for a nascent culture of public spaces, ascribed value andauthority through naming. While Olifantstraat was a concession to localcircumstances, Heerenstraat and Heerengracht recalled the cities of theNetherlands, and the high culture of Amsterdam and Den Hague (Hall,2000).

Hall: I D E N T I T Y, M E M O RY A N D C O U N T E R M E M O RY

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This first urban landscape of the Cape was further reinforced by theelevation of the initial earthen fortress to a stone-built castle of a designconsidered appropriate to a bastion of civilization (Figure 2). Construc-tion of the Castle was prompted by the outbreak of the second Anglo-Dutch War and concern that the sea-route to Batavia was at risk. VOCauthorities in Amsterdam accordingly sent instructions to the Cape thatthe earthen Fort of 1652 should be replaced (Hall et al., 1990).

Begun in 1666, Cape Towns Castle took a decade to complete, poseda host of construction problems, and was never used to defend the settle-ment. Indeed, it is unlikely that the Castles fortifications could havewithstood enemy action. Similarly the Castle moat was more of a shallowditch than the deep and impressive defensive feature intended (Hallet al., 1990). But both the VOC in the Netherlands and the commandersof the garrison saw the value to the Capes symbolic landscape. As theCouncil at the Cape noted in a resolution:

think of the wonder of the achievement, to have set down upon savageshores in the middle of the 17th century, 6000 miles away from Europeancivilization, with but small ships for transport, landing in a dangerous baywithout harbour a fort carefully designed, built of the best material andworkmanship, with architecturalenrichments of a quality whichhas never been surpassed in thecountry surely a wonderfulachievement. (Masey, 1909: 62)

Others made the same point. In1677, at a time when damage tothe western bastion was a matterof general concern, a visitor to thesettlement wrote that the Castlehas 5 strong bastions made ofexcellent dressed stone, thickwalls, and a good moat towardsthe Table Mountain on the land-ward side, so that with a garrisonof 3 to 400 men it can boldly lookany enemy in the face (RavenHart, 1971: 1989).

Possession of a stone-builtCastle, and a grid of streets namedfor the cities of the Netherlands,constituted an urban landscape ofsome substance a place to betaken seriously. This was marked


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FIGURE 2 The Castle, Cape Town.Photograph: Martin Hall

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in the oration written to mark the inauguration of building work at thenew Castle site in 1666:

Thus more and more the kingdoms are extended,Thus more and more are black and yellow spread.

Thus from the ground a wall of stone is raised,On which the thundering brass can no impression make.

For Hottentots the walls are always earthen,But now we come with stone to boast before all men,

And terrify not only Europeans, but alsoAsians, Americans and savage Africans.

Thus holy Christendom is glorified,Establishing its seats amidst the savage heathens.

We praise the great director and say with one another,Augustus dominion nor conquering Alexander,

Nor Caesars mighty genius has ever had the gloryTo lay a cornerstone at earths extremest end! (Gray, 1989)

Ritual events reinforced the full articulation of such public placesand spaces. Dutch colonial authorities promulgated sumptuary laws inan often-futile attempt to enforce a tight connection between status andits material signifiers. Batavian regulations applied to the Cape, andnumerous clauses sought to regulate the use of carriages, livery, parasols,mens clothing (including buttons, silk shirts and shoe buckles), womensdress and the number of slaves permitted in a retinue (Taylor, 1983).Local discretion in the application of Mossels regulations was allowedin the outer offices of the Indies, and in July 1755 the Council at theCape issued regulations that emphasized and modified some aspects ofthe Batavian code. Members of the Council were allowed carriages, butwithout coats of arms, gilding or liveried drivers, all of which werereserved for the Governor. Only Council members were allowed to havetheir clothes embroidered and lace edged trappings, and the wives anddaughters of those below the rank of undermerchant could not use largesun umbrellas or have their clothes seamed with silk. Clothes worn byslaves must be entirely plain and without cuffs or collars of anothercolour (Hall, 2000).

Public spaces and sumptuary signifiers of status came together inmajor ceremonies. Here is an account of a funeral procession throughthe streets of the Cape settlement towards the end of the period of theVOC administration, and first published in 1785:

there may be as many as 16 hired bearers who are each provided with blackcrape bands, button holes, white gloves and a citron . . . The bier and the


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coffin are covered with a white cloth and over it is placed a pall of blackcloth with silk fringes. The sexton usually acts as undertaker and marshalsthe funeral procession. He walks in front of the coffin, which is carried outof the house of death on the shoulders of the bearers, but, after proceedingsome fifty paces, the coffin is lowered and a short halt is made to permit theformation of an orderly procession of mourners according to the precedencelist that had been decided upon. The mourners follow slowly two-by-two.(Mentzel, 1925: 123)

This constructed urban landscape was seen as a stark contrast to thewild, uncivilized continent stretching away to the north. As the colonistsintention of expanding into the interior became apparent and tensionsalong the frontier with Khoikhoi pastoral communities increased, thiscontrast became more accentuated in Company records and visitorsaccounts. The colonizers believed the Khoikhoi to be semi-human, andcalled them Hottentots (Figure 3):

in the early records one finds a repertoire of remarkable facts about theHottentots repeated again and again: their implosives (turkey-gobbling),their eating of unwashed intestines, their use of animal fat to smear theirbodies, their habit of wrapping dried entrails around their necks, peculiari-ties of the pudenda of their women, their inability to conceive of God, theirincorrigible indolence. (J.M. Coetzee, 1988)

For their part, the Khoikhoi had known about explorers and traders from Europe for more than half a century. The Goringhaicona tribe, andits chief Autshumato, had long acted as an informal agent of trade atTable Bay, and Autshumato been taken some 20 years earlier to theJavanese port of Bantam by the British, where he had learned someEnglish (Malherbe, 1990). The contemporary Khoikhoi view of Euro-peans status as humanity or otherwise is unrecorded.

The contrast that was drawn between the colonial landscape ofcivilization and the barbarism of Africa is further illustrated by 17th and18th-century attitudes to horticulture and its outcomes. The Dutch EastIndia Company had never intended to expand the settlement beyondTable Bay and had believed that intensive cultivation European style would be all that was required to provision the fleet. Consequently,the grid of streets encompassed a large area for fruit and vegetables tobe grown. This was known then as today as the Companys Garden.Visitors to the Cape, in their accounts that were published and plagiar-ized in Europe as part of the expanding knowledge industry of colonial-ism, often drew a comparison between the geometric regularity of thegarden and the wild and untamed nature bearing down on the colonyfrom outside the grid of its streets (Hall, 2000).

Georg Meister, for example, who visited in 1677, described thegarden as protected around with thick quickset hedges, beside which a


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wall a rood high and amoat half a rood widewere under constructionwhile I was there, onthe side of the so-calledDevils Peak, which willin time be continued allaround. Inside its wallsthe garden was rich infruits and flowers, withmany fine double laurelhedges a good pikes-length high and 2 to 3 ells thick, which are dili-gently kept to their shapeyear in, year out withshears or other sharpcutting-irons on longhandles. The hedgesenclosed regular plantingbeds,

divided and bounded, in part with rosemary which is cut at the due seasonlike our current-bushes, in part with hyssop and sage, which I thought anoddity in this so large and long garden. Besides these the most excellent andnever-sufficiently-praised tree- and ground fruits are to be seen there,brought from the Indies. (Raven Hart, 1971: 1989)

Father Guy Tachard drew out the comparison between the avenues . . .as far as the eye can see, of citron, pomegranate and orange trees,growing in the ground and protected from the wind by thick and highhedges, and the untamed landscape beyond, a land that seems the moststerile and horrible in the world (Raven Hart, 1971: 2767). FranoisValentyn, in an account first published in 1726, made the same compari-son, turning from Table Mountain, barren and rocky, everything thatis horrid and frightening to the very fine and delightful arbours roofedwith foliage, where one can long sit hidden from everyone and whereNature and Art seem to have brought together in unity all that can givepleasure (Valentyn, 1971: 107).

Early Cape Town was, then, a system of spaces that coded power ina landscape: the grid of streets positioning and enclosing the Castle,Company Gardens and houses and smallholdings of the burghers andtheir slaves, and the landscape of Table Mountain and Africa beyond,seen by the colonizers as wild, threatening and the defining opposite ofcivilization. This system of spaces in turn served to articulate expected


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FIGURE 3 Man and Woman at the Cape of GoodHope. First published 1677.African Studies Library, University of Cape Town

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public behaviour, strongly directed by status and gender (Hall, 2000).Behind this landscape, enabling and enforcing its imprint, was theviolence of colonization and the direct imposition of physical compul-sion. This is captured in the fate of Estienne Barbier, who led a minorrebellion by a group of colonists who were discontented with theCompanys restrictions on their own violent exploitation of theKhoikhoi. After being pronounced guilty, Barbier was

bound upon a double wooden cross that was used for those condemned tobe broken on the wheel; first his right hand and then his head were struckoff with a hatchet; he was then quartered and his entrails buried under thegallows, while the head and hand were nailed to a stake which was set upin Heer Straat, a road that leads from the Castle to the interior. The fourquarters were sent into the interior and fastened to stakes which were setup in the districts. (Mentzel, 1919: 117)

TRANSITIONARY CELEBRATIONS

This first colonial landscape the period from the first settlement inTable Bay in 1652 until the first cession of the Cape to the British in 1795 went through all the complex processes of construction and decay,celebration of depreciation, that render urban environments complexpalimpsests of history. The British, for example, were appalled by theDutch lack of taste, and discovered in Table Mountain the sublimity ofromantic nature, rather than evidence of barbarism (Hall et al., 1993).The Castle was ornamented with balustrades and wrought iron, andCape Towns streets were supplemented by all the accoutrements of highVictorian colonial style (Bickford-Smith, 1995). The baroque architectureof Dutch Cape Town still very evident in the lived landscape wasdenied in the popular consciousness of place. As Raphael Samuel noted,

memory is historically conditioned, changing colour and shape according tothe emergencies of the moment; that so far from being handed down in thetimeless form of tradition it is progressively altered from generation togeneration. It bears the impress of experience, in however a mediated way.It is stamped with the ruling passions of its time. Like history, memory isinherently revisionist and never more chameleon than when it appears tostay the same. (Samuel, 1994: 10)

This complex relation between the physical environment and theconstruction of meaning and identity is well captured in James Fordspainting, Holiday Time in Cape Town in the Twentieth Century, exhibitedin the Standard Bank building in March 1899, and seen by some 5000people at a fee of one shilling each (Figure 4). Fords genius was to depictan urban landscape that denied the past, reinforced the present withina particular political frame, and predicted a prosperous future. His image


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of the city made him an instant celebrity. In the artists words, his picturedepicted 438 figures . . . thousands of buildings and numerous sugges-tions for the improvement of Cape Town (Hall, 1992a).

The central building in Holiday Time in Cape Town is a copy of theParis Opera House and the memorial in the foreground is based on thememorial to Sir Walter Scott. The future was imagined as overwhelm-ingly neo-gothic, its people clothed in contemporary styles: tight-waisted,high-collared dresses, sailor suits and buttoned boots. This future wasalso one of triumph for British colonialism. On display as the SouthAfrican War began, the painting was dedicated to the expected arrivalof the Governor-General of UNITED South Africa (original emphasis),and Joseph Chamberlain, Paul Kruger and other public personalities areto be seen standing, together with a dancing bear, on the waterfront. Thecavalry have abandoned their chargers for bicycles, while the RhodesianPavilion is inscribed as a gift from Cecil Rhodes on his marriage day (aparticular irony, given more recent debates about Rhodes sexuality).

At the same time Holiday Time in Cape Town is a painting of limi-nalities and absences. Cape Towns underclass, predominant demo-graphically in 19th-century Cape Town, is represented on the edges ofthe canvas, for instance by the few raucous, mocking and sensuouswomen who watch from the far right of the picture. Also notable is the


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FIGURE 4 Holiday Time in Cape Town by James Ford.Izeko Museums, Cape Town

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overwhelming absence of any reference to baroque Cape Town the18th-century city of the Dutch East India Company which had becomesymbolic of Boer nationalism. Paul Krugers place in the parade ofnotables comes with the assumption that political unity would be accom-panied by the destruction of its signifying architecture (Hall, 1992a).

The 20th century, of course, was not to turn out in the way thatJames Ford imagined it. The South African War promoted a revival ofAfrikaaner nationalism expressed in language, architecture and symbol-ism and, in particular, the rediscovery and reinvention of 17th and18th-century baroque design. From the turn of the century onwards when the Arts and Crafts Movement in Britain encouraged the discoveryof a Cape vernacular through the purification of Afrikaans as alanguage and the election of the National Party in 1948, white SouthAfrica rediscovered its cultural origins in an early colonial style ofsymmetrical facades, ornate gables, thatched roofs and white plasterwalls offset by bottle-green woodwork and window shutters. CapeMalays the descendants of slaves classified as Coloured in apartheidssystem were associated with plain, plastered and flat roofed terracehouses along cobbled lanes, while the Castle, through a multi-yearrestoration plan by the Department of Public Works, was stripped of itsBritish-era modifications and re-presented as a mid-18th-century cele-bration of VOC colonialism. A public retro-chic of baroque-styleshopping malls, service stations, electricity sub-stations and new housingcelebrated the calm, oak-shaded days of a bygone era (Hall, 2000).

A passage from a popular cookery book, published in 1977, illus-trates this well. Along with recipes for rissoles in vine leaves andwatermelon preserve, we are told that the Cape of yesteryear was aplace of homely civilization:

With a fine instinct for what was harmonious, the people both at the Capeand in the Boland adapted the architectural styles of their original home-lands to local conditions and created their stately Cape-Dutch houses . . .Houses and outbuildings were erected with thatched roofs and thick outsidewalls so that fruit and grain might be preserved within their cool interiorsand the highly prized Boland wines might mature there to perfection. Intime these estates became the homes of an established and prosperouscommunity consisting of farmers whose backgrounds were Dutch andGerman as well as French. (R. Coetzee, 1977)

Given this hype, it is not surprising that the closing years ofapartheid generated Samuels emergencies of the moment, symptoms(with the opportunity of retrospect) of a disintegrating culturalhegemony that accompanied political and economic trauma. SouthAfricas definitive moment was to come in early 1990, when NelsonMandela walked from a prison outside Cape Town. But as it happened,


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the three previous years saw a cluster of colonial anniversaries: the thirdcentenary of the town of Paarl (1987), the symbolic heartland of thewhite Afrikaans language, the 150th anniversary of the Great Trek(1988) when Dutch settlers declared their cultural independence fromBritish colonial rule, the third centenary (1988) of the arrival ofHuguenot refugees from France, and five centuries since the Portuguesefirst made landfall at the Cape, opening up the colonial sea-routes to theIndies (Hall, 2001).

Together, these generated a plethora of interest in the Capes culturallandscapes. The Paarl celebrations, for example, included costumedhistorical plays and the burial of a time capsule containing contempor-ary memorabilia, to be opened in the year 2087. In his address at theceremony, President P.W. Botha expressed his conviction that religiousliberty and the Afrikaans language would make the nation safe for thenext 100 years. For their part, the descendants of the Huguenots stageda costumed landing in Table Bay from a 17th-century style cutter, awagon journey to Paarl and then on, all in period costume, to Huguenotfarms in the area, where there were large and bucolic family reunions(Hall, 2001).

The official mark of the Great Treks anniversary was a replica oxwagon that was intended to wend 3000 km between Cape Town andPretoria, taking part in events at towns along the way. But in the eyesof dissident Afrikaners, the government had already sold out to com-munist agitators and miscegenation. They organized their own festival,comprising 13 mechanized and symbolic wagons that would take twomonths to converge on Pretoria, when 200 bearded men would ride intothe city on horseback where, in the words of their leader ProfessorCarel Boshoff, they would lay the foundations for a new movement ofnationalism.

Celebration, always notable for the exclusion of the heritage of blackSouth Africans, graduated to farce in the events planned to mark the firstPortuguese arrival half a millennium earlier. The official ceremonieswere to have been particularly elaborate, and had started with theconstruction of a replica caravel in Portugal which was to sail to MosselBay discreetly assisted by an on-board motor where it would bebeached as the centrepiece in a museum precinct of restored 18th-century homesteads. The events, it was frequently stressed, were non-political. However, the Cape Town Municipality organized a rival set ofcelebrations, Cape Festival 1998, for which the replica caravel stoppedoff in Buffels Bay, on the Capes south-eastern shore, where Dias wascommemorated in a period costume pageant and the erection of a replicaPortuguese padrao.

The cause of this squabble between competing troupes of costumedcelebrants was the sultry threat of racial tension and violence. Despite


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the celebration of unity, harmony and civilization, South Africa was bythis time ruled under a seemingly-permanent State of Emergency (theprovisions of Internal Security legislation had to be eased to allowoutside gatherings of trekkers and conquistadores, otherwise banned).Consequently, a single bizarre incident had the force to divide the Diasquincentenary. The beach at Mossel Bay where Dias had landed wasreserved for white bathers, and a coloured Cape Town clergyman, theReverend Pieter Klink, was told to leave when he took a swim with hischildren. In consequence, the principals of Mossel Bays 12 colouredschools announced that they would boycott the celebrations. The MosselBay celebration went ahead all the same, with the Khoikhoi on the beachplayed by enthusiasts with boot-polish blackened faces and PresidentBotha again offering hope for a harmonious future. Not mentioned wasDiass reception 500 years earlier: he had been met by hostile Khoikhoi,and several men had been killed in their hasty retreat to the boats (Hall,2001).

COMMODIFICATION

A decade of democracy has brought a changing economic order andgrowing conformity with the cultural forms of the Anglophone world.In this respect, Cape Towns early landscape is again being rediscovered,but in ways different from both the nationalism of the earlier 20thcentury and the desperate celebrations of the late 1980s. This newerorder is a manifestation of what has been termed the experientialeconomy (Hannigan, 1998; Pine and Gilmore, 1999; Sagalyn, 2001).

The bridgehead of the experiential economy in South Africa coincidedwith a substantial increase in the scope and capacity of the internationalentertainment and heritage industry, marked by huge projects such as theurban regeneration of cities such as New York (Hannigan, 1998; Sagalyn,2001) and the renaissance of the Las Vegas Strip (Gottdiener et al., 1999).The South African foundation for this new approach to leisure was SunInternationals Lost City, opened in 1992. This established a local infra-structure that has been deployed in subsequent projects and whichprovided a platform for the substantial increase in resort developmentthat followed the reorganization of authorized gambling prompting anumber of large-scale international partnerships with substantial capitalinvestments (Hall, 1995, 2005; Hall and Bombardella, 2005).

By 1996, the Lost City had become something of an icon, widelypromoted and distinctively branded. In addition, the ethnographictheme had been extensively exploited, with a host of ethnic villages thatoffered tribal dancing, sorghum beer, beadwork and carving. An alterna-tive was to look to Africas colonial and subsequent history, with enter-tainment complexes based on the buildings and streetscapes of 17th,


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18th and 19th-century towns. In this, Cape Towns GrandWest Casinooffers a new interpretation of the past, projected into the future a fittingmultimedia successor to James Fords extravagant canvas at the turn ofthe previous century (Hall and Bombardella, 2005).

GrandWest appropriates an eclectic mix of images that include earlyDutch settlement, grand colonial and Malay traditions. The casino andentertainment complex has four design themes, each of which empha-sizes an aspect of local heritage. But the only part of GrandWest thatfollows a conventional line in the presentation of heritage is the row ofexternal facades the 19th-century buildings and the replica of theVictorian Grand Hotel, where the historic faade recreates an era longsince forgotten in the modern metropolis of 21st Century Cape Town(Sun International, 2003. See Figure 5). For the rest, GrandWest is a cele-bration of derived culture, picking up a mlange of themes that havemarked the various reinventions of Cape Towns urban landscapethrough the years.

In the tradition of heritage destinations in general, this is promotedas an improvement on reality:

this superior family entertainment complex has, as its main theme the richarchitectural heritage of the Western Cape . . . With all this beauty and stylethat surround this larger than life gaming and entertainment complex, nowonder, the rest of the destinations in South Africas fairest Cape seems justa little smaller once youve been to GrandWest . . . GrandWest Casino andEntertainment World is a recreation of historic Cape Town . . . From the


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FIGURE 5 GrandWest Casino, Cape Town, external faade.Photograph: Martin Hall

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impressive old Post Office building and the Grand Hotel to the streets ofDistrict Six, GrandWest Casino and Entertainment World is both a step backin time, and a leap into the future with smart-card gaming. (Sun Inter-national http://www.suninternational.co.za)

GrandWests Fort of Good Hope comprises outer, stone walls andramparts, a moat and cast iron balustrades lining a paved walkway. Aperiod tall ship is anchored in the moat: an obvious impossibility, sincethe moat was never more than waist-deep (Figure 6). Rather than arecreation of the Fort itself, the moat, balustrades and paved area aremore a reference to the mid-1980s restoration of the subsequent Castle.Similarly, GrandWests 18th-century gables are an interpretation of theWestern Capes well known architectural tradition, rather than an attemptto produce historically-accurate replicas. Although there are gables bothbaroque in the style of the earlier 18th century and neo-classical in thetradition of the first years of British occupation GrandWests shoppingarea and food court sport a range of other architectural motifs as well.Again, GrandWests allusions are more to Cape Dutch interpretations thanto historical sources to the shopping malls, electricity sub-stations, fuelstations and holiday houses that have, over the years, appropriated aderived style of their own (Hall and Bombardella, 2005).

The District at GrandWest takes up the creole, Malay style that iscelebrated as Cape Towns distinctive heritage. This heritage has beenwidely romanticized the subject of watercolours of quaint urban life,racial stereotypes of charming drunkards and benign gangsters, carnival,historical novels and a musical. GrandWests The District takes up thesethemes, with an architecture straight from a hotel room painting, theclichs of washing lines, street signs and fading posters. Two muralsreproduce the most common representations of Cape Coloureds flower

sellers, and minstrels.Again, then, The Districtrefers to derived imagesof heritage, rather thanclaiming historical verisi-militude. As representa-tion of the past, it standsin marked contrast toCape Towns District SixMuseum, widely known


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FIGURE 6 GrandWestCasino, Cape Town,external wall, moat andship.Photograph: Martin Hall

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as a community project that preserves the memory of the devastationin the name of the apartheid Group Areas Act (Rasool and Prosalendis,2001).

Rather than attempts at accurate reproductions, GrandWests Fort,Cape Dutch precinct and Malay area are more replicas of replicas, result-ing in an overdetermination of the obvious. As such and like the LostCity GrandWest makes a claim to a popular, derived historical vernac-ular, rather than to archival authority. GrandWest claims to be a recre-ation of historic Cape Town, but those consuming its cultural productsare not expected to take such a statement literally. They are ratherinvited to participate in a knowing game, a send-up of a region that takesits heritage too seriously, and that needs to learn to let its hair down andhave fun.

GrandWest is a South African vanguard of a worldwide trend in anew form of heritage destination. As with similar developments else-where, each has a number of definitive characteristics: the investment ofmultinational capital, the engagement of specialized companies, workingacross several continents, that integrate a range of design, developmentand management services, the combination of the primary attractors ofshopping, movies, restaurants and gambling in one complex, advancedsurveillance and policing that excludes those without money to spendand ensures a high degree of internal security, a strong organizing themethat links together all aspects of the complex as a single concept, and anurgency to attain uniqueness through scale, the quality of the simulation,location and message (Hannigan, 1998). Such heritage destinations are,in turn, part of a wider genre that includes wildlife parks, shopping mallsand urban regeneration projects that seek to create heritage enclaves thatreclaim the city as a tourist destination for suburbanites. Together, theseare the bourgeois public spaces of the new millennium.

Such heritage destinations are complex and sophisticated develop-ments that seek to meet exacting standards. These standards, however,are not those of historical veracity or traditional architectural integrity.As buildings, they are large, air-conditioned sheds with faades on theoutside and props within. Their measure is their ability to entertain toorganize performances and create simulations that engage their visitorsin the dialogue of the pin-ball game, virtual reality simulator or success-ful show. As entertainment centres, they play to individual experiencerather than to a mass audience. Their operators have little interest inmatters of public history or heritage as education their objective is areturn on their investment. In pursuit of this, the primary purpose ofthe historical facades and simulated street scenes is to surprise anddelight as they draw visitors into the heart of their world, and theultimate individual experience of the jackpot, or a lucky spin of theroulette wheel.


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COUNTERMEMORY

The urban landscape, then, is recursive. It is shaped by expressions ofidentity and, in turn, shapes the formation of identity. As such, culturallandscapes are inseparable from their political and economic contexts.Thus, in its earliest years as a settlement, the landscape of the Cape wasformed within the mercantile economy of the Netherlands. The layoutand naming of the grid of streets was both a local ordering of spaces anda set of references to the Dutch cities that were the hub of a newly-established world system of trade. Later, the Victorian architecture ofelaborate plasterwork, wrought iron and colonial gothic was oneexpression of a colonial style system that was to be found in Sydney, NewDelhi and the Caribbean. The apartheid city had its own distinctivedistribution of spaces as racial segregation was written across the land-scape. And the entertainment destinations of the contemporary worldare constructed to a tried formula that makes them familiar environ-ments whether in Las Vegas or at the Cape of Good Hope.

An archaeology of such urban landscapes necessarily uses metaphorsto simplify and categorize. The metaphor of the layer captures somethingof the accumulating palimpsest of meanings: the pre-colonial landscapeof the Khoikhoi overlaid by the initial stratum of the Dutch East IndiaCompany street grid, overlaid in turn by British Victorianization and thenby the apartheid structure of the white city. An alternative metaphor isthat of the gaze (Urry, 2002): the way in which a person looked out overthe city. In this metaphor, a Dutch East India Company official looking atthe Castle in 1720 would see a mark of Dutch authority and sea power.A British merchant looking at the same ramparts in 1860 would see ascruffy and irrelevant anachronism. A government minister looking at theCastle in 1960 would see a mark of the superiority of white civilizationin Africa, while a government minister taking in the same prospect in1994 would see victory over oppression. An entrepreneur in the enter-tainment industry, appraising the Castle in 2004, would see a potentialconference centre, or perhaps a themed casino. As Lefebvre recognizedspaces, buildings and other objects which have been monumentalizedoffer each member of a society an image of that membership, an imageof his or her social visage (Lefebvre, 1991: 220).

Looking at the relationship between the urban landscape and theconstitution of identity in ways such as these directs us to absences:the slaves whose labour was critical to the day-by-day reproduction ofthe Dutch East India Company settlement, the underclass at the edge ofJames Fords canvas of Cape Town, the legislated exclusions of formalracial segregation. As Lefebvre has also noted, the recognition effect ofspatial forms the concept of membership effects a social consensusin which repression can be metamorphosed into exaltation (Lefebvre,


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1991: 220). Hence the intense, introspective cultural work of the closingyears of apartheid, when the costumed re-enactments marked out ofbeaches, landfalls, streets, buildings and ancestral places as a landscapeof entitlement and exclusion. Exaltation of heritage was heightened by asocial and political context in which the violent repression of themajority of the countrys population required an unwavering socialconsensus by a small minority that their entitlement to power was vali-dated by over 300 years of history.

Metaphors freeze, for the purposes of comprehension, an interplaybetween landscape and identity that is constantly mobile, challenged andchanging, driven by Samuels emergencies of the moment. The enter-tainment industry understands this, and here the appropriate metaphoris neither the layer nor the gaze, but the video game. As theorists of thefourth economy (Pine and Gilmore, 1999) have noted, the entertain-ment industry succeeds with the illusion that the individual is control-ling a simulation that is better than reality. In its external facades,GrandWest has used the archival photographs of 18th-century CapeTown buildings to create full-sized replicas that are both real, in thatthey are accurate in every detail, and an improvement on the original(in that they are clean and restored, presented as their architects wouldhave wanted them to be, without the inconvenience of dirt and decay).Similarly, The District replicates in close detail objects from the collec-tions of the District Six Museum, authenticating the casinos theme. Butthere is no attempt to pretend that this is District Six. The visitor iswalking into a simulation, and is invited to praise the quality of itsillusions. In South Africa today, as in other parts of the world, one canbecome a tourist of full-scale landscape illusions: of GrandWests simu-lated Cape Town, of Johannesburgs simulated Tuscan village at Monte-casino, at Gold Reef Citys simulated gold rush Johannesburg, of asimulated East African bazaar near industrial Vanderbijl Park, and of animagined urban past at the Lost City (Hall, 2005; Hall and Bombardella,2005). The challenge for all these new urban landscapes is the illusionof being somewhere else. GrandWest is not the successor of the heritagemovement, with its insistence on restoration standards and accuracy, butof those who celebrated the Capes first entertainment destination theCompany Garden where, in Franois Valentyns words, one could longsit hidden from everyone and indulge the senses in this place whereNature and Art seem to have brought together in unity all that can givepleasure (Valentyn, 1971: 107).

Lefebvres concept of the recognition effect, in which the monu-mentalizaton of landscape enables repression to be redescribed as cele-bration, points to the inherence of contradictions in these culturalconstructions. Identifying such contradictions is an effective way ofdigging down beneath the surface of the illusion. For example, there are


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inconsistencies in 18th-century cuisine at the Cape which triangulatewith the archaeological record to imply fear and uncertainty about therole of slaves constantly present, essential to the reproduction of thecolony, but an ever-present possibility of violence (Hall, 1992b). Thissame ambiguity can be tracked through early 19th-century images of theCape where the representation of the fisherman emblematic of a now-emancipated underclass presages the liminal figures in James Fordscanvas (Hall, 1991b). Later again, there are contradictory representationsof Cape Coloured culture, accentuated by the Group Areas Actremovals of the 1960s and 1970s, that sought to cleanse the city for whiteresidential and business use (Hall, 2001). For South Africas new enter-tainment destinations, contradiction can be given symbolic form in thebarbed and electrified fence. All entertainment destinations mustpromote themselves as carefree places where deserving visitors come torelax, reap the rewards of their success, wander, spend, eat and gamble.But all depend on high security to achieve this; access control, armedguards, closed circuit television, electrified perimeter security. The fencethat surrounds every entertainment destination keeps out a majority thatis too poor to be inside, and is believed to be pressing constantly forviolent and unauthorized entry. Unless continually denied or disguised,the image of the fence negates the illusion of the carefree life inside.

Such ambiguities, fissures and contradictions further substantiateLefebvres insight into the meanings of social space:

social space contains a great diversity of objects, both natural and social,including the networks and pathways which facilitate the exchange ofmaterial things and information. Such objects are thus not only things butalso relations. As objects, they possess discernible peculiarities, contour andform. Social labour transforms them, rearranging their positions withinspatio-temporal configurations without necessarily affecting their materiality,their natural state. (Lefebvre, 1991: 77)

Given this, what urban landscape can be imagined for a future CapeTown, a repeat of James Fords project, looking into the 21st century,reclaiming the city from the malls and the entertainment destinations?If such a project is to avoid the closure of monumentalization, recog-nizing the significance of contradictions in countering the repression thathas been the prevailing characteristic of this urban landscape throughthree centuries and more, then it must be what Svetlana Boym hastermed reflective, concerned with historical and individual time, withthe irrevocability of the past and human finitude. Re-flection suggestsnew flexibility, not the re-establishment of stasis. The focus here is noton recovery of what is perceived to be an absolute truth but on the medi-ation on history and passage of time (Boym, 2001: 49). Boym calls thiscountermemory which thrives on blemishes in the official narrative of


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history, an alternative way of reading by using ambiguity, irony,doublespeak, private intonation that challenged the official bureaucraticand political discourse (Boym, 2001: 62).

An urban landscape of countermemory, then, would emphasizecontradictions, seeking to keep discourse open as a public sphere of chal-lenge and counterchallenge appropriate for a city that is still marked byinequality. Here is one story, still to be inscribed in Cape Towns publicspaces of names and monuments. One who watched as the Dutch dugout the ditches of their first fortification in 1652 was Krotoa, a relativeof Autshumato. As the garrison sought to trade with the Khoikhoi,Krotoa came to play a pivotal, and complex, role (Malherbe, 1990). Insidethe garrison, she became Eva maid to the Commanders wife andinterpreter. Back on the other side of the frontier, Krotoa was a womanof substance. In the words of the Dutch chronicle: Like her sister andbrother-in-law [the chief and his wife] she was, according to nativecustom, mounted on an ox as if she were a lady of quality instead oftravelling on foot with the rest (Thom, 1954: 373). Krotoa herselfmarked this transition appropriately, changing costume as she movedbetween the colonial world of the fort and the settlements of her Khoirelatives, a gesture by no means lost on the Dutch:

Towards evening they thanked us politely and gratefully in good Dutchwords for the presents they had received. They then left. When Eva reachedthe matted hut of Doman, also known as Anthonij, outside the fort, she atonce dressed herself in hides again and sent her clothes home. She intendedto put them on again when she returned to the Commanders wife, promis-ing, however, that she would in the meantime not forget the Lord God,Whom she had come to know in the Commanders house. (Thom, 1954: 343)

Krotoa, now baptized as Eva, was married to minor VOC official,Pieter Van Meerhoff, in 1664, in a ceremony in the fort (Malherbe, 1990).Van Meerhoff was soon killed on a beach in Madagascar, where he wasleading an expedition to capture more slaves for the Cape. Destitute, andreviled as a drunkard and prostitute by the same town burghers who hadwitnessed her marriage a decade earlier, Krotoa died in the winter of1674. Nevertheless, she was a Christian and so she became the firstperson to be buried in the new Castle. The Companys journalist at theCape used the opportunity of her death to offer a philosophy. Noting thatshe had been transformed from a female Hottentoo almost into a Nether-land woman, the diarist observed that her subsequent debaucheryproved that nature, however closely and firmly muzzled by imprintedprinciples, nevertheless at its own time triumphing over all precepts,again rushes back to its inborn qualities (quoted by Malherbe, 1990: 51).Krotoas story is but part of a complex web of countermemories, ofcultural landscapes still to be claimed and written.


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MARTIN HALL has written on the early farming communities of SouthernAfrica, the early Zulu Kingdom and the comparative archaeology of coloniallandscapes and cities. He has been Professor of Historical Archaeology at theUniversity of Cape Town, and is currently Deputy Vice Chancellor. Address:Office of the Deputy Vice Chancellor, Bremner Building, University of CapeTown, Rondebosch, 7700, South Africa. [email: [email protected]]


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