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Preamble

Benjamin Disraeli said that great cities are “…some great idea. Rome represents conquest; faith hovers over the towers of Jerusalem; and Athens embodies the pre-eminent quality of the antique world, art.”


The evolved planning landscape underpinning Karabakh's revival is about a big idea of Smart Cities and Smart Villages and of an era of renewal that may, ultimately, reverberate around the world and shape 21st century nation-building.

When the destruction is total, when it is complete, where do you start? Throughout history, earthquakes have rattled cities to rubble, fires have burned them to ashes, and wars have reduced mighty metropolises to utter ruins. Jerusalem has been destroyed and rebuilt numerous times throughout its history. Rome was sacked and rose again on multiple occasions.

Troy, located in modern-day Türkiye, famously rose and fell during the Trojan War and its aftermath. The ruins of the latter are now a popular tourist destination. When it came to Karabakh, when it came to Armenian assailants, nothing was sacred. Like the historical examples of Jerusalem, Rome, and Troy, Armenia had maintained a choreographed combination of cultural and physical genocide, attempting to transmute the ethnic composition of an entire region.
These were not random acts of atrocity but formed a coherent, integrated politico-religious strategy. And went even deeper than that.

The culture of Azerbaijan combines a diverse and heterogeneous set of elements that developed through various influences. Visitors to Baku must walk the stony streets of a romantic Old City, imbibing a palpable sense of identity, including the country’s lively, symbolic dances, delicate miniature paintings, exquisite hand-woven carpets and advanced theatrical and cinematic productions.

Inhaling that wealth, it is easy to forget that, for a generation, Armenia openly sought to extinguish that identity. Yerevan’s effort had catastrophic consequences for the country’s historic endowment. Genocide aims for the annihilation of the identity and existence of a specific group that is delivered in the language of history. Yerevan sought to subsume Karabakh into a broader pan-Armenian narrative.

Hundreds of historical monuments and cultural institutions — including museums, libraries, archaeological sites, and ancient fortresses — were destroyed, plundered, or misappropriated.

At one point, a silver handbag looted from the Lachin Museum of History was auctioned by Sotheby’s and sold to an unknown collector for $80,000. [I]

That artifact was just one of the countless cultural treasures removed from the region. Other museums, such as those in Kalbajar and Lachin, also suffered sweeping losses, with thousands of irreplaceable items reportedly ransacked or disappeared. [II]
They were not the first invading forces to ransack cultural endowments as a tactic. Polish lawyer Raphael Lemkin, who invented the term genocide, emphasised this in his definition: “…a coordinated plan of different actions aiming at the destruction of essential foundations of the life of national groups, with the aim of annihilating the groups themselves.” Having campaigned vigorously to raise international outrage against atrocities in Axis-occupied Europe, Lemkin passed away in August 1959.

It would be decades before the crime he worked to highlight was joined in our collective consciousness by another misdeed — cultural genocide. Since then, there have been several treaties on the theft of cultural property, including the Hague Convention and the UNESCO Convention. With the occupation ended, it is incumbent on Armenia to return that war booty. International law had brought forward the principle of restitution of looted cultural wealth. Articles 7 and 13 of the 1970 UNESCO Convention established a legal mechanism.

Despite these checks and balances, it is apparent that international law is being defied. Another example of this is the ancient Bamiyan Buddhas and objets d’art in the National Museum in Kabul and the Herat Museum. Others include the destruction of cultural and religious heritage in Bosnia and Herzegovina, the forced removals of Aboriginal children in Australia and Canada, and the case law of the Inter-American Court of Human Rights about Indigenous and tribal groups’ cultural destruction.

Across Karabakh, there was also a determinedly religious aspect to the whirlwind of destruction. It is challenging to know which example to highlight, but it may perhaps be best summarised through the defiant housing of pigs in many of Karabakh’s mosques. Swine are considered unclean and impure, both in the Quran and the Bible. Around the world, religious extremists have used that to defame Muslim communities, such as a 2012 incident when a pig’s head was placed at the door of a Malaysian mosque, and in 2020 when a severed head was hung on the Turkish-Islamic Union’s Faith Mosque in the southern German city of Vaihingen. These isolated incidents taunted Muslims. In Karabakh, occupying forces went much further, defiling mosques and challenging the norms of religious pluralism.
The Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property and a host of international laws frame the prohibition of attacks on cultural property. In Karabakh, there was an unchecked, widespread onslaught on religious and cultural buildings. Amid a smörgåsbord of crimes, one may focus on the 6th century Albanian Agoglan cloister and the 14th century Malik Ajdar tomb in Lachin. Monuments of global importance include the medieval Khudafarin bridges and Bronze Age Niftaly mounds in Jabrayil. By systematically destroying monuments, adapting architectural features and undertaking fauxarchaeological excavations that removed elements contrary to their alternative version of history, there was a systematic effort to scrub Azerbaijan from the landscape. Simultaneously, during the occupation, Armenia attempted to purge the inconvenient story of the Caucasus Albanians.

The first non-profit in Karabakh was the Heydar Aliyev Foundation, an organisation headed by First Vice President Mehriban Aliyeva. From its home within the iconic Heydar Aliyev Center in Baku, the foundation realises the universal ideas of the nation’s eponymous leader. It has grown into a cultural, health and education tour de force. Arguably, there is no more potent element to Heydar Aliyev’s legacy than, having saved Azerbaijan from collapse, a generation on it is his son who achieved the dream of restoring territorial integrity. Therefore, there was a certain circularity in that, at the very moment of Karabakh’s return to the fold, in many cases, one of the first civilian boots on the ground were those of the Heydar Aliyev Foundation.

In November 2020, Smithsonian Magazine reported that UNESCO Director-General Audrey Azoulay had proposed that the United Nations carry out an inventory of the most significant cultural monuments in the area, which was “a prerequisite for effective protection of the region’s heritage.” [III]
UNESCO remained mute during the long occupation years, allowing free reign for a cultural blitzkrieg.
Strangely, Azoulay and UNESCO remained mute during the long occupation years, allowing free reign for a cultural blitzkrieg. Given that failure, the Heydar Aliyev Foundation stepped into the void while the Paris-based cultural guardian opted to look away. After almost two decades of cataloguing Karabakh’s cultural heritage from historical records, photographs and first-hand accounts, as well as mapping buildings, town squares, monuments, and cultural places, the Foundation possessed an institutional memory of the region.

In late 2020, Heydar Aliyev Foundation’s operatives would follow the now well-known trail of ‘Monuments Man’ Daniel J Kern and art restorer Karl Sieber back in 1945. Like them, Azerbaijani curators raced into liberated lands, defying prevailing dangers to mitigate further damage to cultural wealth. Wellpreserved national identity, culture and unwavering values are inherent to national identity. For Karabakh, a renewed sense of identity will create a confident society that is proud of its achievements and more resilient in facing future challenges. The challenge ahead also lies in Karabakh’s resilient and regenerative reconstruction in physical terms. From Carthage, Alexandria and Palmyra, in the wake of a disaster, what next is a conundrum that has faced city planners throughout history? In his paper, Catastrophe and Reconstruction in Western Europe - The Urban Aftermath of World War I, highly regarded historian Pierre Purseigle recorded:

The invasion of Belgium by the German army in August 1914 brought industrial warfare to the urban heart of Europe. Marching through its densest and most urbanised country, the German forces turned towns and cities into battlefields. Liège, Namur, Louvain, Charleroi, Mons, Antwerp, and then Ypres: for most contemporaries in Western Europe and beyond, the names of these cities punctuated the unfolding story of the conflict. The shocking devastation visited upon the cities of Europe by industrial warfare, the particular form of urban victimisation it brought about is perhaps enough to consider World War I as an urban catastrophe. [IV]
Just a few years later, that same continent faced a similar task: transitioning from cataclysm to reconstruction. In the aftermath of World War II, the international community faced the daunting task of rebuilding nations and rehabilitating displaced populations. During that period, we witnessed unprecedented global collaboration and the emergence of innovative ideas in urban planning and social reform.

The historical trajectory of post-war recovery reflects a collective commitment to reconstructing societies, fostering economic development and addressing the pressing social challenges of widespread destruction. The United States’ timely move saved Europe from imminent economic ruin and laid firm foundations for economic growth. By 1950, trade within Western Europe had recovered to its pre-war volume, two years ahead of expectations. By 1951, European industrial output was 43 per cent greater than before Adolf Hitler’s aggression.

Such efforts have not always been as successful, and our worst moments have not always been manmade. ‘What next?’ has been an all too apparent question in more contemporary times. It faced those trying to rebuild Haiti after a devastating earthquake in 2010 and, before that, in China following the Sichuan earthquake. Indonesia faced the same questions following the tsunami of 2004, with the city of Banda Aceh almost wiped from the face of the earth. For America, it was Hurricane Katrina, a Category 5 Atlantic hurricane that extirpated New Orleans and surrounding areas.

Some nations have proven enduringly resilient. Throughout history, Japan has learned to be reborn and learn lessons from every devastating experience it has endured. After 1945, at the end of World War II, it had to be almost completely rebuilt and reinvented.

That nation suffered an earthquake and tsunami on March 11, 2011, that laid waste to large areas of the country’s eastern coast. Because of Japan’s history and experience, the government boasted a Reconstruction Agency that coordinated recovery work. Their success in overcoming that latest cataclysm also derived from being a collectivist society. The nation’s people work together in times of national trial.

In more recent times came February 2023’s magnitude 7.8 earthquake in southern Türkiye, near its northern border with Syria. It was dubbed “the disaster of the century” by President Recep Erdogan. [V]

That crisis also provided an acute test case of how different nations may approach a devastating convulsion. Where Erdogan marshalled his country’s assets and led a remarkable resurgence, regions of Syria remain a devastated wasteland until the present day. As for Azerbaijan, it was only amid the dying embers of the Patriotic War that it was possible to grasp the desolated vistas of Karabakh. While the region was not traditionally an industrial hub, its cultural and economic significance was undeniable. The scale of devastation it endured parallels Purseigle’s description of war-torn European landscapes from over a century ago.

In July 2022, Russia’s Lieutenant General Alexander Volokh, who headed the military commandant’s offices of Fuzuli and Khojavend as late as 1991, was interviewed about his first return to the area. “I have dreamed of going back to Fuzuli for 30 years to worship the places with which I have so many memories,” he recalled. “But, the closer we drove to the district’s centre, the town of Fuzuli, the more destruction we saw on both sides of the road. The sight of the city razed to the ground caused me to feel very sad. Everything was destroyed, everything was mined, and hills and plains were overgrown with 20 years of weeds, where once thriving Azerbaijani villages were looted. Destroyed and looted Azerbaijani cemeteries. The occupiers purposefully destroyed all traces of Azerbaijani presence. I had very sad feelings about destroyed vineyards. I saw how and with what diligence the Azerbaijanis cultivated them before the occupation. And now hundreds, thousands of twisted poles stand orphaned. It’s a real graveyard of vineyards. Only a bandit can come and destroy everything and, lastly, mine it. [VI]

Volokh’s mournful comments reflected my own experiences. This author visited Banda Aceh and New Orleans and can state from personal experience that the scale of the obliteration witnessed in Aghdam and Fuzuli was comparable. In places, the profuse physical losses rendered swathes of the region nothing more than a barren wasteland, rusting barbed wire and water-filled shell holes providing a backdrop to the scorched hell of towns and villages that had been systematically eradicated.
Interview with Zahid Huseynov, Former military officer of the Azerbaijani Army, currently employee of ANAMA
Former soldier Zahid Huseynov, now one of Azerbaijan National Agency for Mine Action’s project leaders in the field around Aghdam, perhaps summed this up best when he observed: “The situation left behind by the enemy looks like the Great War or World War II had been fought here. [VII]

Early on November 10, 2020, after a military capitulation, Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan announced on Facebook that he had agreed to a cessation of hostilities effective immediately. Azerbaijan’s civil authorities began cautiously picking their way through unseen minefields as the guns fell silent.
It was only then that the extent of a systematic pulverisation became apparent. Scenes from fallen cities across the region were nothing short of apocalyptic, with urban landscapes reduced to haunting remnants, widespread infrastructure damage and cities left in ruins.

From Shusha to Lachin, decades of chronic occupation-era deconstruction and underinvestment had been exacerbated by a scorched earth policy. All this had transformed a once vibrant human ecosystem into a swathe of eerie and desolate landscapes. Streets lined with historic buildings were reduced to rubble. Once bustling neighbourhoods lay in ruins. Majestic landmarks that had stood for centuries, bearing witness to a rich cultural tapestry, were hollowed-out, skeletal remains. Towns and villages had been levelled. Images of the charred skeletons of buildings, twisted metal and rubble-strewn streets were emblematic of a post-liberation apocalypse.

What next for Azerbaijan is neatly summarised in the words of one of Britain’s foremost statesmen. “A great city,” declared twice Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, “…is the type of some great idea. Rome represents conquest; faith hovers over the towers of Jerusalem; and Athens embodies the pre-eminent quality of the antique world, art. [VIII]
The revival of Karabakh, its cities, towns and villages, would be about a big idea, one of an era of renewal that may, ultimately, reverberate around the world and help shape 21st-century post-disaster thinking.

Across Europe and swathes of Asia, many cities have been substantially reshaped during the post-World War periods. Some 70 years after World War II, we are beginning to assess whether the lessons of those reconstruction efforts have merit today and questioning decision-making from that era. Coupled with the demands of the 21st century, plans for Karabakh would have to be framed to include a Smart Economy, Smart Environment, Smart Government, Smart Living, Smart Mobility and Smart People. In approaching this, Azerbaijan had sought glimpses of solutions that had been applied worldwide to adapt methodologies that would harness the ingenuity of its nation’s engineers and architects and combine this with the wisdom of local artisans and customs to create sustainable solutions.

But where to start? There were plenty of options to consider. For example, the William J. Clinton Foundation’s reconstruction plan began at the centre of Haiti. Reconstructing Port-au-Prince’s central market rebooted the local economy and created employment. That project also provided on-the-job training for hundreds of locals, who moved their skills into a broader effort to redevelop Haiti at large. [IX] What is abundantly clear, however, is that the Caribbean nation never recovered from that disaster, despite some $13.5 billion in donations and pledges, according to Los Angeles Times estimates. [X]

While there are multiple factors to that failure, the weakness of Haitian public institutions and disorganised international response certainly contributed to a mosaic of issues. These manifested with the 2021 assassination of President Jovenel Moise. By 2024, the nation is spiralling deeper into gang violence, which, even now, threatens to bring down society and government and lead thousands to flee their homes.

The pitfalls and potential failures in mass redevelopment are clear. Another fine example comes from the United States. In the wake of Hurricane Katrina’s flooding, money surged into New Orleans. The Federal Emergency Management Agency provided nearly $20 billion to help Louisiana recover from Katrina and Rita. Yet, as the Massachusetts Institute of Technology reported: ‘…in many critical ways, the rebuilding process has failed the citizens of New Orleans. To date, the laissez-faire approach to rebuilding has inhibited the pace of recovery and has heightened inequality — much of it racialised — in the city. Across the city and especially in the most devastated areas, the promised ‘cranes in the sky’ are few and far between. Literally and symbolically, these sites of recovery, rebuilding, and renewal reveal the failure of government to provide the most basic services to city residents. [XI] The spectre of failure has, it is clear, stalked many international redevelopment efforts.

As the spaces we inhabit determine the course of our lives, in late 2020, Azerbaijan found itself with a crucial challenge: to overcome sometimes canonical urban planning around the world. Success or failure would determine the entire generation’s trajectory for future generations. United States President John F. Kennedy stated: “The Chinese use two brush strokes to write the word crisis. One brush stroke stands for danger, the other for opportunity. In a crisis, be aware of the danger – but recognise the opportunity.” Kennedy was slightly off the mark in his translation, yet the principal stands. Instead of hand-wringing over the scale of destruction, Baku had concluded that there was opportunity in the future. It was an opportunity to be seized.
Elbay Gasimzade, Chairman of the Azerbaijan Union of Architects, observed that, on a global level, what appears to be an inherent failure of post-disaster planning meant Baku was required to pursue a fundamental revision of what was thought possible. He also pointed to what was at stake: the very future of Karabakh and Azerbaijan. He also noted that there was a broader consideration. [XII]

Cities worldwide comprise some two per cent of landmass but account for 70 per cent of global GDP, over six per cent of energy consumption and 70 per cent of greenhouse emissions.
Interview with Elbay Gasimzade, Chairman of the Union of Architects of Azerbaijan

Coupled with that, the United Nations estimates that roughly one billion people are living in slums. That number will rise to two billion by 2030. Considering these facts, Gasimzade perceived what was indeed at stake. If Haiti represents an abject failure, the jury is still out on New Orleans, and results of other globally significant rebuilds have proven decidedly mixed, Karabakh represented a fresh opportunity to provide a coherent template that can enrich humankind’s post-disaster responses.

Creating a sustainable economy in a resilient city and region represented only part of the quest ahead. The administration in Baku would seek to avoid the pitfalls of contemporary experiences and instead replicate the 1950s and 1960s high tide marks when Rotterdam and Coventry embraced modernist architecture and the latest concepts in urban planning. Rotterdam and Coventry showcased the transformative power of innovative design in rebuilding societies. The challenge was to rebuild from the ground up, embracing Karabakh’s deep history and culture while imagining and constructing a new and more inclusive society and economy that works better for current and future generations.

Visionaries like Le Corbusier and Jane Jacobs revolutionised urban design, advocating for innovative solutions that harmonised infrastructure development with social well-being. Experts like Yona Friedman have proposed other radical solutions. There is no universal answer. What suits one country may not apply in another. Yet, as Anar Guliyev, Chairman of the State Committee on Urban Planning and Architecture, pronounced, there is a determination to reach for the foremost principles of modern urban planning, emphasising functionality, aesthetics and community engagement. [XIII]

Guliyev’s organisation represents a keystone in the Karabakh process. The overarching task of reconstruction is laid out in a comprehensive urban planning document, the General Plan for the Liberated Territories. Publicly accessible through the State Committee on Architecture and Urban Planning website, this is a cornerstone. Balancing immediate requirements with long-term planning and development with conservation ensures that Karabakh is not just rebuilt but reborn.

Highlighting infrastructure and connectivity, environmental and cultural stewardship, and holistic and resilient development, that document serves as a foundation for everything that follows, providing guidelines and a vision. Central to the intent is a meticulous zoning strategy for residential, commercial, agricultural and protected uses, which is particularly significant for integrating existing residential areas into broader redevelopment frameworks. This approach mitigates the social disruptions often associated with large-scale reconstruction.

It is a document that will resonate long into the future. That was ensured by the March 18, 2021, Presidential Decree on Urban Planning Management in the Liberated Territories. [XIV]

Map of the General Plan of the liberated territories


Photo: Website of the State Committee on Urban Planning and Architecture of the Republic of Azerbaijan

That temporarily assigned the State Committee strategic oversight on urban planning and construction. That included authority to manage aspects of land use and construction, issuing permits for building construction and operation, ensuring compliance with urban planning requirements, and registration in the State Register of Buildings.

The March 2021 Presidential Decree represented a significant component within a broader strategy. Centralising authority for urban planning and construction within a specialised entity ensured a coherent and well-regulated process. Centralised management is viewed as crucial in maintaining consistency in planning standards. It prevents haphazard development, underscoring safety standards and environmental sustainability. Additionally, it recognised that a transparent regulatory environment provides a platform for investor confidence.

The indenture, one of several decrees issued during that period, recognised that it would empower Azerbaijani to forge on with its quest alone. The international community’s absence was notable despite the benefits of a permanent, lasting peace and the impact of dynamic regional development across broader Eurasia. Some $13.5 billion was ploughed into Haiti. Some $20 billion was invested in Louisiana. As illustrated by World War I, World War II, the Balkans, the Indian Ocean Tsunami and others, multi-lateral efforts have sought a course correction. Another fine example of this is provided by a May 1999 US Aid report, Bosnian Reconstruction Programme. [XV]

That hailed the Dayton Peace Accords and subsequent civilian peace implementation and noted that peace continued to be important to Washington’s strategic and economic interests in Europe. Just as illuminating is the $5.1 billion in international funding that US Aid estimated to have been invested in that effort. In February 2024, the United Nations estimated that Ukraine’s recovery and reconstruction would ultimately cost $486 billion over the next decade. [XVI]

Without cohesive international support for Azerbaijan’s reconstruction effort, it is clear that the South Caucasus nation will have to go it alone to reach its lofty goals. So that is what President Aliyev’s administration resolved to do. Responsible for driving this transformation, one discovers the future of Build Back Better on the State Committee on Urban Planning and Architecture website. Forged by the Karabakh Regional Architecture and Urban Planning Department, this illustrated regional and city master plans, each emphasising growth inward and upward. Guliyev noted that the success of these plans will, ultimately, come from being developed through engagement with stakeholders, especially IDPs. These represent a linchpin to how the future of Karabakh will unfold. Guliyev spoke the language of future trends in urbanisation, climate change, and technology shaping a complex landscape. He explained how Azerbaijan has sought to accelerate pre-existing trends and brought new ones to life. [XVII]
Interview with Anar Guliyev, Chairman of the State Committee on Urban Planning and Architecture of the Republic of Azerbaijan
Interviewing Guliyev, it is clear that, even as the smouldering ruins of liberation were still being contemplated, Baku had grasped the potential to shape the better, more liveable cities of the future, seeking to create hyperlocal environments based on mixed-use real estate, changing mobility habits, accelerating digital-first services and spurring the move to sustainable living and resilient infrastructure. Resident-centricity will define the cities of the future.

Today, cities such as Aghdam, Fuzuli, Khojavend, Shusha, Khankendi, Gubadli, Zangilan, Lachin, Khojaly and Kalbajar, among many other smaller settlements, are being rebuilt or renovated using detailed, targeted masterplans either approved or underdevelopment.
This mitigates the social disruptions often associated with large-scale reconstruction, maintaining community stability.
Master plan of Shusha
Master plan of Agdam
Master plan of Fuzuli
Master plan of Zangilan
Master plan of Jabrayil
Master plan of Kalbajar
Near London’s Paddington Station, one can reach into the defiant, phoenix-like effort that is underway in a surprisingly humble suite of offices. Here, Marcelina Zielinska, an architect with a reputation for soaring degrees of master planning and the design of complex mixed-use developments, catalysts for urban regeneration, weaves her magic. As a director at Chapman Taylor, she served as team leader on a project that took the historic Shusha from the postoccupation apocalypse. The big names in Zielinska’s industry have a mixed track record. No city is perfect. Some urban centres around the world face severe challenges, such as chronic congestion, inadequate infrastructure, and the long-term consequences of poor planning, leaving millions to contend with these issues. Numerous examples illustrate how complex urban environments can fall short of expectations despite ambitious designs.

From Songdo in South Korea to Lavasa in India via Egypt’s unnamed new capital, many nations still attempt to construct modern urban settings. How hard could it be? Reconstructing Karabakh’s metropolis from scratch would not be like playing Minecraft or SimCity. Yet, examples of failure from around the world arose from pompous architects, a lack of vision and bureaucratic impediments. Azerbaijan would look to avoid the pitfalls that have plagued so many urban regenerations. In many ways, that pushback began with the region’s most iconic city. And the nation’s iconic leader.

“I declare Shusha to be the capital of Azerbaijani culture. The city of Shusha deserves that. I think that it can be considered not only the cultural capital of Azerbaijan but also of the entire region,” stated President Aliyev in January 2024. [XVIII]

His addresses since liberation have underscored a desire to ignite a developmental revolution and reach for the future. President Aliyev’s words represent the collective power of his people. And their collective dreams. His statement in Shusha represented a challenge. Able to create projects of an extraordinary scale from concept to completion, Chapman Taylor’s body of work includes Xiong’an New Area and Wuxi Xiyan Lake in China, Jeddah’s Airport City in Saudi Arabia, Mui Dinh Ecopark in Vietnam and Liverpool Waters in Britain. When it comes to Shusha and Karabakh, after winning a bid to take on responsibility for the jewel of Karabakh, Zielinska speaks of a catalysed opportunity for the creation of unique human-centred development, more inclusive, more diverse, more sustainable and more competitive, making tough decisions, and creating more robust and more diverse foundations for the future. [XIX]

With vast experience, Chapman Taylor possesses a nuanced understanding of diverse factors ranging from historical context to social dynamics, weaving insights into contemporary strategies.

Along with Shusha, this author reviewed the ambitious redevelopment plans for Aghdam, Jabrayil, Fuzuli, Zangilan and others. They are forward-looking, futuristic projects that will serve as preeminent agents for synchronous development. Each is designed to create modern, sustainable urban environments that balance economic growth with cultural preservation, environmental stewardship and community well-being. They reflect a commitment to rebuilding a vibrant, resilient, liveable region, honouring its rich history while embracing future opportunities. Reviewing these detailed outlines, I was reminded of Aristotle, who commented: ‘A great city is not to be confounded with a populous one.’
The likes of Shusha and Aghdam will indeed never count among the planet’s biggest metropolis, but they will be at the vanguard of 21st-century living.

Azerbaijan is offering a template for the future. Introduced by Guliyev, they are meticulously organised to create well-balanced urban environments. Each is structured into distinct zones for residential, commercial, industrial and public services use. Central areas are typically designated for mixed-use, integrating commercial and residential spaces to promote vibrant, walkable communities. That zoning approach fosters a cohesive urban structure that supports efficient land use and enhances the quality of life. One prominent focus is the integration of green and recreational spaces. Parks, natural reserves, and other recreational areas are spread throughout. These are essential for promoting physical and mental well-being and are crucial to environmental sustainability.

We encountered blueprints where analogous infrastructure and connectivity intersect. Each conurbation is served through considered road networks and transportation corridors. They include provisions for public transportation hubs and logistics centres that encourage mobility, sustainability and convenience. Each intersects with an overarching emphasis on economic growth, with zones allocated for industrial and commercial activities strategically situated to stimulate economic development, attract investment and create jobs.

Integrated into broader urban structures, it ensures that economic activities are seamlessly incorporated into broader development. Guliyev emphasises creating diverse and vibrant residential areas, thoughtfully distributed housing options and providing quality spaces in proximity to essential services. Mixed-use areas, where people can live, work and play within the same area, enhance liveability, reduce commutes and foster community. Environmental sustainability represents a foundational element. Each city’s design considers the natural landscape, and development minimises ecological impact and natural features like rivers, hills, and forests integrated into urban design.

Measures for sustainable water management, energy efficiency and waste reduction are inherent. With an overarching theme of sustainability and resilience, each is designed to be adaptable to future challenges, including population growth, climate change and economic shifts. Integrating sustainable practices into every design aspect — from infrastructure to housing and green spaces — ensures long-term viability. Some 25 centuries ago, a Greek philosopher and polymath opined that the fortunes of a city are not related to the size of its population but rather to its distinguishing features. Aristotle highlighted the rule of law, economic development and quality of life as crucial elements that made a city great. It is apparent that Azerbaijan’s 21st-century plans embrace those wise Aristotelian concepts.

A newly constructed residential complex. Shusha, Azerbaijan.


Photo: The Azerbaijan State News Agency

Working toward that dynamic, with her passionate commitment to providing modern design, Zielinska dubbed Shusha a “special” project to work on. Another exceptional element she has baked into the project remains restoration. Cultural preservation is a key priority. Almost every city in Karabakh features a dedicated Memorial Complex and Victory Museum. These will conserve ruins and other significant sites and offer reminders of the region’s history and resilience while providing spaces for education and reflection.

These are totemic of a nation that has long been viewed as acollectivist society in the sense that solid loyalty is shown to familial and social groups and to a feeling of being a tolerant culture. During the occupation, Shusha, in particular, but certainly the wider Karabakh, was subject to a sustained attempt at cultural decimation. The historic city endured a protracted, corrosive occupation-era funk, subjected to chronic underinvestment and low-quality, unplanned construction. Against that backdrop, there had been enduring efforts to scrub its Azerbaijani character.

The University of California’s Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians defines the destruction of cultural heritage as the ‘violent efforts to remake the world in another image’. [XX]

Formulating a revival of the historic Azerbaijani character of the region, Zielinska and her team were informed by a wealth of documentary evidence. Just as urban history is essential to make sense of the occupation experience, it was equally central to efforts to understand the post-2020 transition. For decades, the nation’s various ministries, the Heydar Aliyev Foundation, the Baku-based National Archive Department and other domestic entities had systematically documented the past, preparing for a moment when the future is shaped. Their vast collections of written records, film and photographs would be fundamental to capturing the very nature of Shusha as it once was. Using this material as a baseline, Zielinska’s team laboured in the belief that each town or city has its personality. Losing Shusha’s character in a hurried or ill-considered rebuild would in itself have been a cultural crime, fundamental, she explained, being “the way streets and squares are laid out, their shape and size, their place in the urban landscape, their position about rivers and other natural features, how they relate to monuments and the symbols of the past, and so on. [XXI]
Historical reconstruction was required to emphasise preserving cultural heritage. It emphasised restoring cultural landmarks, documenting historical narratives, and promoting cultural diversity to foster resilience and a sense of identity in reconstructed urban spaces. Chapman Taylor’s mandate included adopting innovative technologies and green practices to create urban spaces that are not only functional but also environmentally sustainable. Baku pledged to prioritise environmental and climate concerns during this improvement process and committed to net zero carbon emissions in the territory by 2050. This is an enormous commitment, perhaps unique in the Azerbaijani context, one of reconstructing an entire region. Aligning these aspects correctly embraces various disciplines, from archaeology to town planning, sociology and civil and political history.

That is how one should approach the fundamental reconstruction of a conflict-shattered city and region. Yet, that is only part of a complex and confounding story, one that has challenged development experts the world over for centuries and to the present day.
Aydin Karimov, Special Representative of the President of the Republic of Azerbaijan for the Shusha district, explained that societies around the world are often confronted with a yawning gap between wartime expectations and post-war realities.

He paid tribute to the process underway in Shusha, noting a nuanced understanding of diverse factors ranging from historical context to social dynamics, weaving historical insights into contemporary strategies. Karimov emphasised an erudite effort to involve citizens in the planning and decisionmaking processes, understanding IDPs’ needs and aspirations. [XXII]
Interview with Aydin Karimov, Special Representative of the President of the Republic of Azerbaijan in the Shusha district
This participatory approach fostered a sense of ownership. Ultimately, this will underscore the success of The Great Return. Anar Guliyev returned to the theme of interdisciplinary approaches enriched by historical insights, stressing that they are indispensable in navigating the complexities of urban reconstruction. Targeting this, the nation could call upon the expertise of the likes of Chapman Taylor, while various multi-lateral agencies offered technical expertise.

While some international organisations have seemingly declined the role they willingly undertook elsewhere, there were other sources of knowledge. The concept of villes-marraines, or sister cities, has underscored the emergence of trans-local connections that foster cultural exchange, cooperation and mutual support. These extend beyond just governmental ties, fostering connections at the community level and highlighting the importance of shared experiences.

Cities with a history of overcoming challenges can serve as mentors, sharing their lessons learned, expertise in reconciliation and practical strategies for sustainable development. Those fraternal ties may take decades to foster, yet communities worldwide have reached out to establish fraternal connections. Shusha has twinned with Gyöngyös in Hungary, Erzurum and Kayseri in Türkiye, Turkistan in Kazakhstan, Veliko Tarnovo in Bulgaria and Novi Pazar in Serbia. Fuzuli has the same arrangement with Corum in Türkiye, while Lachin has established a twin city relationship with Irpin in Ukraine. Other emerging cities across Karabakh are in advanced discussions that will create similar ties.

By integrating lessons from the past — successes like World War I and World War II, along with failures like Haiti and Afghanistan —contemporary efforts may adopt a holistic approach that addresses the diverse needs of affected communities. This will ensure Karabakh becomes resilient, sustainable, and culturally vibrant. Connecting the lines between history and interdisciplinary collaboration provides guiding principles for crafting urban reconstruction that is not merely about rebuilding structures but nurturing thriving, resilient communities.

With her vast experience across global projects, Zielinska noted that the process for Shusha included optimising the urban layouts during reconstruction and restoration, bringing together fields such as history, urban planning, sociology, and economics. The synergy between history and interdisciplinary collaboration emerged as a guiding principle, embracing health services, cultural, sporting, and other public service facilities and strengthening an ecological vision. [XXIII]

Baku’s administration positioned itself to capitalise on the opportunities presented in the Great Return.

One million IDPs watched on. And believed. Despite the complexities, one of the most astonishing aspects is the speed and efficiency with which this national effort mobilised government agencies, the private sector, IPDs, and the population. Policies have been honed to create employment opportunities, foster entrepreneurship, and attract investment, contributing to the overall socio-economic resilience of Azerbaijan and the South Caucasus.

In the 1960s and 1970s, Hungarian-born French architect Yona Friedman had a few ideas to share. In his 1974 book Utopies Réalisables, he offered the combined viewpoint of an architect and a refugee. It was indeed utopian, mobile architecture in which people were not tied to a place but plugged into an infrastructure and could move their demountable housing as required. It was a kind of anti-architecture, the spatial city as a centre point of ‘mobile architecture’. Friedman’s revolutionary ambitions were not bound by history and tradition. However, his scheme never really gained traction.

Friedman passed away in February 2020, less than a year before the Patriotic War. He always praised the idea of people’s architecture and believed that “it is the responsibility of architects to design structures that can be inhibited for the widest range of individuals and purposes”. He would, therefore, surely approve of the dynamic process now underway in Karabakh. Across the region, as Start Cities and Smart Towns spring up, thousands of miles of roads and railways are laid, and new airports are readied to serve Renaissance-era tourism and business incubators, it is clear that this era demands a multifaceted and principled approach, embracing comprehensive planning, community engagement, cultural preservation, economic sustainability, infrastructure development, security, and international cooperation. Out-of-the-box, shrewd thinking is driving and shaping the rise of Karabakh. A transformative process is underway.
Back in the climate-neutral smart village of Aghali, we witnessed that stunning transformation in practice. From buildings reduced to rubble and boobytrapped with landmines to a smart management centre, agricultural services offices, a sewing factory, fruit gardens, a family health centre, a kindergarten and a secondary school with a capacity for 360 students. Every building has been delivered with fibre insulation, electrode water heaters, solar panels and other green technologies. The ruins of a former agricultural outpost have been transformed into a modern settlement. Aghali, as an Azerbaijani template for Smart Cities and Smart Villages, is framing and determining the outcome of a new era.

Aghali does not lack energy or hope. Shusha and Aghali are among the epicentres of a transformative national project. Reconstruction is not framed through the old paradigms of buildings and roads but energy, environment, sustainability and agriculture. Deforestation has been reversed, replaced by a landscape of reconstruction and innovation. Hyper-modern tractors are visibly working largescale plots of farmland. Unmanned machines hunt for Armenian landmines. Wind turbines and solar arrays will eventually dot the horizon. These sights are astounding when set against a nightmarish landscape of rampant devastation. Unflagging energy is apparent, pressing forward at the frontiers of reconstruction.
RECONSTRUCTION:
FROM RUINS TO RENAISSANCE


For nearly three decades, Karabakh’s cities, villages, and cultural landmarks lay in ruins - monuments of a forced exile, erased history, and systematic destruction. What was once a vibrant, thriving region became a desolate landscape, stripped of its people, heritage, and infrastructure. The scars of war ran deep, etched into the fabric of its towns, mosques, cemeteries, and fortresses. Yet today, Karabakh stands on the threshold of an extraordinary revival, a renaissance fueled by tenacity, innovation, and an unwavering commitment to rebuilding a homeland worthy of its past and future.

The comprehensive reconstruction of Karabakh is not merely about restoring what was lost; it is about forging a future that embraces sustainability, technology, and modern urban planning, while respecting the region’s cultural and historical identity. Cities that were reduced to rubble have been transformed into meticulously planned smart urban centers. Roads, railways, and airports reconnect the region with Azerbaijan and the world. Green energy projects harness Karabakh’s natural potential, laying foundations for an environmentally sustainable future.

One of the most striking examples of this rebirth is Shusha, the cultural heart of Karabakh. Long celebrated for its role in Azerbaijani music, literature, and art, Shusha was not merely occupied. It was deliberately desecrated. Today, it is being reconstituted with the reverence it deserves. The mosques that were vandalised, the homes that were left to crumble, and the historic sites that were neglected are now central to a revival that honours the city’s enduring historical roots. A metropolis that once echoed with the sound of tar and kamancha is being renewed, ensuring that the rhythm of its cultural life beats once more.

In Aghdam, once referred to as the ‘Hiroshima of the Caucasus’ due to its utter devastation, a visionary urban project is beginning to take shape. The city’s master plan includes green zones, modern infrastructure, and innovative housing solutions that will redefine how people live and work. The restoration of its Juma Mosque – once defiled and used to shelter livestock – symbolises the triumph of heritage over destruction. The city, long reduced to a shell, now represents a beacon of what thoughtful and determined reconstruction can achieve.

Elsewhere, projects such as the Zangilan smart village, the newly built Fuzuli and Zangilan international airports, and the restoration of the historic Panakh Ali Khan Imarat complex in Aghdam illustrate the nation’s commitment to a holistic approach to rebuilding. These initiatives do not merely focus on bricks and mortar, but prioritise livability, economic sustainability, and cultural regeneration.

The renaissance across Karabakh is also a moral endeavour, a powerful statement against the cultural erasure that took place during the long occupation years. The Armenian subjugation was not only about military control - it underscored a systematic attempt to erase Azerbaijan’s presence from the region. Yet, as Karabakh rises from the ashes, the resilience of its cultural heritage is undeniable. The return of displaced families, the reopening of schools, and the restoration of religious sites reflect not merely a physical rebirth but a profound and enduring reclaiming of identity.

While Karabakh’s renaissance is driven by national will, it also provides lessons for the world. Reconstruction here is not just about recovering from war; it is about setting new standards for post-conflict redevelopment. The region’s transformation into a model of smart urbanism, green energy, and cultural restoration demonstrates that destruction, no matter how profound, can be countered with vision and determination.

As the cities and villages of Karabakh are rebuilt, they stand as monuments to resilience. The echoes of war are gradually being replaced by the hum of construction, the laughter of returning families, and the music of a culture that refused to be silenced. Karabakh is no longer just a story of loss. It is a testament to the enduring spirit of renewal, a land reclaiming its past, while boldly embracing its future.

Photo: The Azerbaijan State News Agency

Amid the ruins left by decades of occupation, new infrastructure and modern buildings signal Aghdam’s transformation from devastation to restoration, embodying the defiance of a land reclaiming its future, May, 2024.


Photo: Lyokin Photography

As the first international airport ever built in Karabakh, Fuzuli International Airport serves as a gateway to the region, facilitating connectivity and symbolising the rapid reconstruction and socioeconomic development of the region, October, 2021.


Photo: Azerbaijan Airlines, Darya Derkach

Emerging from the ruins of the past, Aghali in Zangilan is the first smart village in Karabakh, integrating modern technology and sustainable living to welcome returning residents after decades of occupation, May, 2022.


Photo: The Azerbaijan State News Agency

Revitalised after decades of occupation, the village of Sus in the Lachin District showcases modern infrastructure and sustainable development, welcoming returning residents to a energised and thriving homeland, May, 2024.


Photo: The Azerbaijan State News Agency

Built to the highest urban planning standards, new residential buildings in Jabrayil offer modern, sustainable living for returning residents, marking a new chapter in the region’s reawakening, October, 2024.


Photo: Global Media Group

Marking a new era for the region, Zangilan International Airport now connects Karabakh to the world, with the Azerbaijani flag proudly waving over liberated lands after decades of strife, September, 2022.


Photo: Azerbaijan Airlines, Lyokin Photography

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