Al-khirba: Building Renewal While Preserving Community Value
The following text, “Al-khirba: Building renewal while preserving community value,” is an excerpt from L.E.FT Architects’ book At the Edge of Where God Built (Akhir ma ‘Ammar Allah): Language, Concepts, Islamic Architecture (Figure 1). L.E.FT, a bilingual practice run by Makram el Kadi and Ziad Jamaleddine and positioned between Beirut and New York, explores the ambiguities of Arabic spatial terms to generate alternative spatial models and programmatic relationships. The book’s analysis is framed by the dual spatial and temporal meanings of the term akhir (end or last) in the Arabic idiom that inspired the book’s title. Akhir’s ambiguities highlight how translation can be used to interrogate the geographic boundaries and historical periodization that shaped the typological classification framework applied to Islamic architecture. Investigating these edges reveals overlooked socio-religious spatial practices that persist outside canonical models and continue to shape the built environment.
Figure 1. Book cover. Ziad Jamaleddine and Makram el Kadi, At the Edge of Where God Built: Language, Concepts, Islamic Architecture (Actar, 2026).
The book is organized around five key Arabic terms that are grounded in the Islamic geography of the Middle East and North Africa and appear across L.E.FT’s work: mataf (the space of circumambulation), jami (the space of the mosque), riwaq (a courtyard’s colonnade), dar (domestic space), and khirba (a ruin). Each chapter articulates the meanings of one term. A cultural document (drawing, artwork, literary text) is analyzed, allowing the term’s diverse spatial characteristics to become legible and suggesting a means for understanding practices such as ritual, prayer, reuse, and public and private gathering beyond the conventional typological models. This is followed by a selection of L.E.FT’s projects that exhibit facets of these characteristics. Through case studies, theoretical reflections, and project analysis, the book reframes Islamic architectural practice beyond the fixed typologies that have historically defined it. Instead, it proposes a multifaceted approach to understanding the breadth of Islamic architecture’s contemporary manifestations.
Al-khirba: Building Renewal While Preserving Community Value
Figure 2. Downtown Beirut Landfill, Beirut, Lebanon. A site of multiple khirbas: discarded Roman columns, invasive shrubs over the stalled development of the landfill, lonely light posts, and partially occupied luxury towers in the background. Photo by Bahaa Ghoussainy, 2023.
The Kaʿba, the sacred object at the center of Makkah's Mataf, has a history that spans millennia.[1] Over time, its footprint has changed, undergoing continuous upgrades and repairs. Less known are the instances of total or partial destruction that the Kaʿba has experienced, during which it remained a khirba—a state of ruin—before being reconstructed. The contemporary built environment is full of khirbas, often invisible to the modern eye: abandoned buildings, archaeological ruins, industrial relics, and other remnants of the past (Figure 2). Unlike rigid conceptions of the “historical monument,” the khirba is flexible, resisting binary interpretations. It embodies both the past and present, old and new, and connotes the sacred, historical, spatial, and material. The khirba retains a latent capacity to hold value for the community while adapting to a range of possible futures.
In L.E.FT’s work on the Beirut Exhibition Center, Room Extension, and the Bard College Center for Human Rights and the Arts, the khirba provides a critical framework for understanding how deserted or decaying sites and structures might be reinvented to serve contemporary needs without erasing their historical significance.
Al-khirba, Takhrib / Tarmim, and al-Athar
The khirba is commonly understood as a building or site in a state of ruin. This physical state may result from destruction or vandalism during conflict or warfare, or from natural disasters. Alternatively, it may occur through neglect, desertion, or abandonment when a building is deemed no longer useful. Even prolonged neglect may cause the khirba to exhibit signs of violent ruin, as it becomes dilapidated or overtaken by wild vegetation. Regardless of its physical condition, an unused, abandoned, or boarded-up building is already considered a khirba. Two derivative verbs are closely associated with this process: takhrib (to sabotage, vandalize, or destroy) and tarmim (to restore, renovate, or rebuild). Takhrib refers to the process of transforming a site into a khirba, or ruins, while tarmim, represents its inverse—reconstruction, restoration, renewal, or rehabilitation of the khirba.
““By erasing the distinction between historical (archaeological sites) and contemporary (abandoned buildings) khirbas, we can posit both as equally valuable.””
Because abandoned historical structures tend to decay over time, the athar, here meaning a historical archaeological ruin, is often referred to as a khirba. Indeed, the latter term has become a convention in the naming of many archeological sites across the Middle East, preceding the name of the site, such as Khirbat al-Mafjar, an Umayyad-period palace complex in the West Bank. The linkage of the khirba and archeological sites offers a potentially useful temporal destabilization. By erasing the distinction between historical (archaeological sites) and contemporary (abandoned buildings) khirbas, we can posit both as equally valuable. This perspective might suggest that deserted modern buildings hold the same “historical” significance as archeological sites, incentivizing their preservation. Conversely, it suggests that archeological sites also may hold the potential for reuse, much like modern khirbas, opening them to transformation and adaptation. Historically, archeological ruins were often altered over time by surrounding communities, a practice that stretched well into the early twentieth century. Today, several Middle Eastern villages, such as Khirbat Selm in South Lebanon, have evolved from khirbas and still bear the name. The conception of historical khirbas differs from the often “melancholic” modern understanding of monuments or ruins, whose value is tied in their connection to the past and requires strict restoration, freezing them in time and preventing adaptation.
Our cities and landscapes are dotted with a spectrum of the khirba—historical and recent, collapsed or still-standing. They include evacuated, deserted, or vacant buildings, war-torn and destroyed structures, and archeological sites.
The Khirba-Prone Site of the Kaʿba [2]
In 2023, Saudi artist Nasser Al Salem presented an installation titled Holy Limits at the Jeddah Islamic Arts Biennale (Figure 3). Located in the Biennale’s “Hijra: Migration” section dedicated to the holy site of Makkah, the piece portrayed the sacred object of the Kaʿba as a dynamic building form. Al Salem traced the historical evolution of the Kaʿba across the exhibition floor drawing on accounts from historians such as ninth-century Muslim scholar Abu Al Walid Al Azraqi (Figure 4). The artist outlined the changing forms of the Kaʿba using a calligraphic technique to illustrate the minute but significant shifts in the building’s footprint. These outlines revealed how the Kaʿba’s recognizable contemporary square massing was developed over time, from an elongated form to an irregular plan. The installation also revealed that there was a time when the semi-circular space of the Hijr Ismail, which today is bracketed by a short, curved wall defining its northwestern face, was completely within the Kaʿba’s form. Adjacent to these calligraphic outlines, the Biennale’s curators installed one of the Kaʿba’s original ornamental golden double-leaf doors, providing the dynamic, two-dimensional composition with a fixed and identifiable three-dimensional historical reference.
Figure 3. A detail view of Nasser Al Salem’s installation Holy Limits at the 2023 Islamic Arts Biennale in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, showing the overlapping historical footprints of the Ka'ba's north corner. Photo by the artist.
Figure 4. This plan diagram by artist Nasser Al Salem of his Holy Limits installation (2023) depicts a palimpsest of the historical footprints of the Ka’ba. Courtesy of the artist.
As Al Salem’s installation demonstrated, the Kaʿba, known in the Islamic tradition as the “ancient house,” has never been a static artifact.[3] Over millennia, it has undergone numerous upgrades, renovations, and reconstructions. It has endured military attacks, such as the siege of Makkah in 692 CE, and natural disasters, including torrential floods in 1630 CE (Figure 5). Each event partially or completely destroyed the Kaʿba’s walls, marking moments of khirba and necessitating a process of reconstruction. Historical accounts describe changes to the height of the Kaʿba’s walls, which once reached seventeen meters, double its pre-Islamic proportions and approximately four meters taller than their current 13.1-meter stature. At one time, the Kaʿba had two sets of ground-level entrance doors; today, the door is elevated two meters above the ground, likely as a response to recurring flooding, suggesting that the Kaʿba floor may have been raised over time. Additionally, the building’s flat roof was added during reconstruction work in 608 CE indicating that, several years before the birth of Islam, the Kaʿba was an open-air structure with a defining outdoor space.
Today the Kaʿba’s average dimensions are twelve meters in length and eleven meters in width. The base of the Kaʿba is surrounded by the Shadharwan, sloped marble blocks that mediate between the sacred structure and the historical foundation on which the Kaʿba rests. The foundation, which extends sixty-six centimeters beyond the current walls, delineates a perimeter space that once belonged to the interior of a previous configuration. Pilgrims believe that leaning into this shallow space is nearly equivalent to stepping into the actual interior of the Ka’ba, itself a unique and rare experience. Similarly, entering the semicircular space defined by the Hijr’s short wall, which was once part of the Kaʿba’s interior, is likewise regarded as stepping into its historical space. The Kaʿba's solid black granite walls do not delimit the pilgrims' experience of the sacred structure’s interiority.
Figure 5. A depiction of the flooded pavilions of the mataf (circumambulation) precinct, and the last remaining corner of the ruined Kaʿba following the inundation of 1630. Eyüp Sabri Paşa, “Illustration showing the quiet Ka’ba due to water flood entering Masjid al-Haram,” from Mirat ül-Harameyn (Mirror of the Two Sanctuaries) (Kostantiniye: Bahriye Matbaası, 1883–1888), 328–9.
Holy Limits challenges the perception of the Kaʿba as a fixed object. The overlapping contours of its shifting footprint, extending back prior to the birth of Islam, reveal a history of cycles of partial or total takhrib (partial or total destruction) followed almost immediately by tarmim (reconstruction and reconfiguration). These layered traces challenge the Kaʿba’s identity as a stable object possessing an authentic or “ideal” geometric form. They question assumptions about its floor and ceiling, its height, and the relationship between its interior and exterior. The hanging golden door installed next to Holy Limits, a 1944 reconstruction of a previous door, reinforces Al Salem’s message. The dynamism of Islam’s most sacred and “ancient” object demonstrates how the particulars of the Kaʿba’s form have always been secondary to its ability to meet the spiritual needs of Muslim communities., The Khirba-prone site has generated multiple Kaʿba structures, thereby suggesting that this “ancient house” has neither a single origin nor a final, definitive form.
A Dynamic Architecture with Fixed Values
In his study of building practices in nineteenth-century Cairo, the architectural historian Alaa El-Habashi distinguishes between a building's wazifa and it. He argues that within the Islamic waqf legal framework, a building’s wazifa (use or function) could change over time to continue providing manfa‘a (utility or benefit) to the community based on emerging needs. The history of the ruin-prone sites discussed in this analysis could be understood through a similar framework of value. Despite their newly adopted functions or renewed formal configurations, they maintain their benefits for communities.
The reinvented khirba may change in form or size without needing to adopt what the architectural historian Françoise Choay calls an “orthopaedic” model of restoration, in which new parts are carefully differentiated from those that are assumed to be “original.” Nor does the khirba need to exhibit physical incompleteness or wait to be occupied by newer additions. Across its iterations, the Kaʿba is always the complete sacred object, continuing to perform its intended role and maintaining its spiritual value through tarmim—its repeated restorations and reconstructions.
““The dynamism of Islam’s most sacred and “ancient” object demonstrates how the particulars of the Kaʿba’s form have always been secondary to its ability to meet the spiritual needs of Muslim communities.””
The continuous cycles of upgrading and functional expansion of the khirba do not imply a programmatic open-endedness or limitless flexibility of use. As al-Azhar mosque-university’s form evolved, its identity as a “center of knowledge” became more established. Although largely replaced by "modern" educational institutions in the mid-twentieth century, informal, even if modest, educational programs continue to take place in al-Azhar’s open riwaq. Both the Kaʿba and al-Azhar sustain their relevance and provide spiritual or utilitarian benefits to their communities. The “modern” versions of these buildings do not appear radically different from their “historical” versions, even if they seem newer. An unbroken continuity connects the khirba’s past with its present, despite the changes brought by modernity.
Figure 6. Interior photograph of L.E.FT’s Beirut Exhibition Center. The hangar structure of an unused children’s museum was relocated and transformed into a gallery space for regional Arab artists. Photo by Joe Kesrouani, 2012.
Reconceptualizing and Expanding the Space of the Khirba
Although often considered lost over time, the khirba’s rich material history retains fixed meaning and value for its community despite accumulated layers of physical alteration In this chapter, the projects designed by L.E.FT engage with this understanding of the khirba, illustrating how fixed values persist over time and transform to provide cultural, educational, and environmental benefits for contemporary users. L.E.FT envisions a renewal of buildings on these sites to show both “deference to the past” and the accommodation of “the needs of the present.”[4] By reimagining the attributes of the khirba through the projects included in this chapter, L.E.FT highlights the isolated, neglected, or forgotten spaces, structures, landscapes, and communities that dot our cities and villages.
Figure 7. View of the delicate reflective façade of L.E.FT’s. Beirut Exhibition Center and the rough terrain of the surrounding landfill. Photo by Joe Kesrouani, 2012.
One project, the Beirut Exhibition Center (2011–2018), transformed an unused warehouse structure, formerly part of a children's museum, into a contemporary art gallery for Arab artists, thereby preserving its cultural value (Figure 6). The building’s reflective exterior serves an additional chronicling function. The structure was relocated to the downtown Beirut landfill, a site composed of civil war refuse, building debris, and archaeological material, and reclad in delicate, corrugated aluminum. This new façade recorded the site's material history, as dust and debris from surrounding construction activities left visible scratches on its surface (Figure 7).
Figure 8. Map showing the Room Extension site inscribed in the context of its urban and landscape histories. Included are the residual network of trees and their hosting institutions, and bilingual literary historical accounts of the landscape. Source: Hassan Hallaq, Bayrut al-maḥrusah fī al-ʻahd al-ʻUthmani, Al-Dar al-Jamiʻiyah, 1987. Drawing by L.E.FT, 2022.
Figure 9. L.E.FT’s Room Extension is nested in an interstitial space in the dense urban fabric of Beirut’s Clemenceau district. The design embraces the residual stone pine tree. Photo by Bahaa Ghoussainy, 2022.
Another project, Room Extension (2022), occupies a residual urban site featuring a single pine tree. The tree was once part of an expansive pine grove corridor located on the outskirts of historic Beirut. With the city’s modernization, this green corridor was diminished, leaving behind isolated pockets of trees trapped in the backyards of historic houses and new buildings (Figure 8). Rather than disregarding the tree and further marginalizing the landscape from the city’s architecture, the design proposed a light structural canopy that extends beyond the required footprint of the sunroom to embrace the tree. The canopy spatially integrates the pine tree and reclaims its ecological performance. During the winter season, pine cones from the tree are collected to heat the room (Figure 9).
In both projects, the definition of the khirba is expanded beyond the scale of the building to encompass contested territories, such as the landfill on which the Beirut Exhibition Center sits. The definition also extends to include the relics of historical landscapes in the Room Extension project, which references the trees growing in the domestic gardens of abandoned houses in a historic but neglected Beirut neighborhood. The concept of the khirba is broadened beyond its traditional building-centered definition to help us reimagine our built environment in its totality.
Citation
Ziad Jamaleddine, “Al-khirba: Building Renewal While Preserving Community Value,” PLATFORM, August 3, 2026.
Notes
[1] Al-Mataf: circumambulation space around the Kaʿba in Makkah. See Chapter 1.
[2] This subheading is a partial translation of O’Meara’s usage of the “ruin-prone object” of the Kaʿba. Simon O’Meara, The Ka'ba Orientations: Readings in Islam's Ancient House (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2020), 79
[3] “Ancient house” (al-bayt al-‘atīq) is the reference to the Kaʿba in the Qur’an.
[4] In his critique of preservation discourse, Jorge Otero-Pailos asserts that it “has come to be associated with a sort of deference to the past over the needs of the present.” Jorge Otero-Pailos, “Experimental Preservation,” Places Journal, September 2016.
