The earthquake and the grief and sadness that followed it in the long desert nights were a bitter and profound experience. It happened at a time when nearly the entire city and its economy were destroyed, and the people of Bam found themselves truly alone. Only because of the previous volcanic disasters had the nation experienced such loneliness and sorrow, but this time the cultural, artistic, and human dimensions of the loss were immeasurable.
Beyond material and physical damages, what must be discussed is what we, as a people of history, are going to do, and what we will make of this catastrophe. Faced with such events, we must ask ourselves: what sort of a nation are we? Do we possess the capacity for an intellectual and principled response? The answer to this is a measured test of the quality and character of a society. It can be examined from two sides: the governmental, official side, and the social, humanitarian side.
The duty of the society of architects and architecture must be examined from the perspective of its role in this arena. On the governmental and institutional side, the most urgent matter is that the government must use this disaster as a catalyst to review the regulations and building codes of the country, assign experts to examine them, create incentives for earthquake-resistant architecture, and turn this catastrophe into an opportunity for advancement.
The collection of buildings that had been built in the sprawling desert city of Bam reflected important considerations: the coordination of architecture with the climate, the use of local materials and mud-brick building techniques, and the replication of patterns that were proportionate to human scale. The loss of Arg-e Bam and the historic fabric of the city represents not merely the destruction of old walls, but the annihilation of a continuum of life that had persisted for over two thousand years.
With the destruction of Bam, we are now compelled to think about what the priorities should be. The initial response — shelter, food, medical care — must give way to long-term thinking about reconstruction. The question is not merely how to rebuild, but what to rebuild, and whether we can create something that honors the memory of what was lost while serving the needs of the living.
There are, inevitably, comparisons to be drawn with how other nations have responded to such disasters. Japan, Turkey, even our own country in the aftermath of the Manjil earthquake — each provides lessons. But Bam is unique in the scale of its cultural loss. The citadel, the old city, the gardens, the qanat system — these were not merely old structures but a living testament to human civilization in one of the harshest environments on earth.
As architects and urbanists, we must insist that reconstruction be guided by principles, not expedience. The people of Bam deserve not merely shelter but a city, not merely walls but architecture, not merely buildings but a built environment worthy of their history and their future. Let us hope that from the rubble of this ancient city, we can build something that future generations will look upon with the same sense of wonder and continuity that we felt when walking through the old streets of Bam.