A conversation about architecture, borders and security with Latvia Pavilion’s curator Liene Jākobsone

At the Venice Biennale, the Latvian Pavilion turns the spotlight on borders and defence: in this interview curator Liene Jākobsone reflects on how the militarisation of Latvia’s Eastern border not only reshapes the physical landscape, but also redefines the way communities live, perceive security, and imagine Europe’s collective future

Entering the Latvia Pavilion at the 19th Architecture Biennale is immediately bound to give the viewer mixed feelings. It certainly did for me. Unconcealed by the playfulness of the giant neon yellow inflatable cheval-de-frises, the theme of war is immediately apparent. In fact, in an almost unpolitical edition, the team behind the Baltic country’s pavilion decided to go all in. The Pavilion tackles issues such as security infrastructure and the raising threat of war, that have been at the heart of public discourse in the country since the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022.

“What does it mean to live on NATO’s external border in times of geopolitical conflict?” the architects and curators ask. Latvia has certainly been learning a lot about that recently. Among the falling certainties we have been dealing with in the past decade, the perception of security is surely one of the most significant. An issue that – especially when it begins taking concrete form – has much to do with the physical space and how we design and inhabit it. In Latvia, “work is underway to strengthen the physical borders of the country to prevent a massive military attack by land,” already impacting the lives of communities who live along the border, as well as feeding into the general war narrative we see rising across Europe at a fast pace.

Landscape of Defence, by SAMPLING and NOMAD architects is a rear window into how territories and communities actually transform when militarisation switches from abstract discourse, vague and distant threat or politicians’ speeches to factual reality.

We spoke to architect, designer and researcher Liene Jākobsone, who co-curated the Latvia Pavilion, about the project, its genesis and reception, but especially about what a local story with global impact tells us of the world we live in and all the certainties we seem to have left in the twentieth century.

Let’s start at the beginning. Can you please tell us about the genesis of the project, how was the idea first born and how did it develop? When did you know that this was the right theme to present at the Biennale?

Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the fortification of Latvia’s Eastern border has frequently been covered in the Latvian news, alongside other defence-related topics. We feel that, at this particular moment, national security is the most pressing issue in our country. Furthermore, this is a topic that could have both international and local significance – there is a discourse to be presented at the Biennale, but in the meantime, this is an opportunity to raise awareness of our concerns in Latvia as well. While the militarisation of a border may seem quite abstract to most people, for us architects it is a process that has a considerable impact on the physical environment. This is the focus of this exhibition.

From your perspective, how are Europe's Eastern borders changing? And what about the perception people have of them? How does this redefine a sense of space, if at all? And the way we perceive the urban space more specifically?

The border has been physically altered – a continuous fence with barbed wire is installed. This is doubled by a patrolling route and anti-mobility obstacles are laid out or stockpiled in various places along the border. Furthermore, the access to the borderland – the 2 km-wide strip of land along the border – has been considerably limited, and the access passes that need to be issued by the Border Guard are mostly being denied, unless there is a clearly defined and important reason for anyone to visit the area.

The inhabitants of the borderland, especially those whose houses are in the direct vicinity of the border, have mixed feelings about this new infrastructure. On the one hand, they realise it protects them from illegal migration, but on the other, they doubt its effectiveness in the event of a military attack. Also, the perceived security is traded for limited privacy, as the amount of surveillance technology on site has increased noticeably. Along the border in Latvia, one cannot speak of an urban context. These areas are sparsely populated with scattered houses and homesteads that are poorly connected to one another and to inland towns and villages. Paradoxically, the fortification of the border makes this area even more isolated due to restricted access and the fear that comes with militarisation.

What is, in the project, the role of maps and mapping?

Maps, plans and other types of drawings are the standard tools used by architects. We have chosen to use this medium because we are presenting this story at the Architecture Biennale; other media might be more suitable for other audiences.

The map was also an effective way of showing the scale and impact of militarisation. We depicted an area approximately 30 km wide along the eastern border, which is referred to in military documentation as part of the defence line. However, we also included the civilian infrastructure on this map, showing how people and territory are affected by militarisation. This is something that defence specialists rarely consider.

How was the project received? What further reflections did making it public raise, if any?

To be honest, I was quite concerned about how this exhibition would be received because the topic is so controversial. It was great to see that most visitors reacted extremely positively, praising us for engaging with a politically loaded question and for presenting it in such a playful manner. I realised that using this international platform – the Biennale – to raise awareness of the challenges Europe is facing now and in the near future was the right thing to do.

Why is it important for a project like this to be presented in a context like the Venice Biennale? What did you observe in the conversation going on in this year's edition in general and what did you feel your contribution was?

I think that architectural discourse needs to include a wide range of aspects. While the social and environmental perspectives have recently received significant coverage, the political aspect of architecture and the impact of geopolitics on the built environment, and vice versa, are not commonly discussed. Sometimes it even seems that architects are delusional in thinking that architecture is somehow apolitical, when in fact it has always been extremely ideologically loaded, intentionally or not. Like any other professionals, architects are trained to view things in a specific way and to discuss certain conditions while disregarding others. Their reading of defence strategies can provide insights that others might never consider.

In relation to this year’s Biennale conversation, I believe our proposal highlights the importance of the global-local relationship in developing our collective intelligence. The exhibition illustrates the impact of global geopolitical events on a local community, as well as the way in which this relatively small community takes responsibility for defending common European values and territorial integrity.

Do you think there are alternative ways of designing and organising space other than militarisation? How do you think a militarised aesthetic and organisation of the space contribute to the general perception of security and our chances to achieve peace?

I think there needs to be an interdisciplinary conversation about how to defend national borders in the least harmful way possible. This should not only be considered from a military perspective. There is certainly no one-size-fits-all solution, as it is a highly site-specific issue. It is this close relationship with land and territory that drew our attention to this topic. However, our ambition was not to provide answers or solutions, but rather to raise awareness of issues related to the militarisation and fortification of our borders. Our aim is not to question the necessity of these fortifications, but to initiate a public debate and highlight the extreme complexity of the situation. Our perception of security in relationship to the military safety measures is the most disputable aspect. Conversations with people living close to the border revealed that visible military infrastructure tended to instil fear rather than provide reassurance. At the same time, we must remember that in urban European contexts, we are constantly surrounded by outdated military infrastructure which, however, we do not perceive as such. Consider medieval castles, defence walls and specific urban planning solutions, for example, which are often romanticised and have become tourist attractions that define the charming character of many European capitals. Which shows that perceptions are continuously changing.

How can the architectural conversation around borders inform and impact the way we build our shared space?

This conversation reminds us how fragile our wellbeing and comfort are, and how quickly they can be lost due to reasons beyond our control. It reminds me of the situation during the outbreak of the Coronavirus – it also made us seriously reconsider the built environment, its sustainability and its adaptability. In Latvia, we are now building physical infrastructure along the entire eastern border for the first time in history. This became necessary very suddenly and was realised hastily. But how long will it be needed for? What might happen afterwards? These are questions that we cannot answer yet, but the threat of shifting national borders in the 21^st century makes us reconsider things that we previously took for granted as unchangeable.

LINK

About
Latest Posts

Matilde Moro

Westminster Journalism graduate with an MA in Human Rights Justice and Social Cultures, freelance Journalist focusing on art, culture and social issues.