A community of flood memories living with(in) the riverine landscape in ayutthaya 2

2. Literature Review Everything has already been said, just not yet by everyone. - Morris King Udall 2.1 Overview Since St. Augustine’s musings on memory and time, memory is often conceived as a mental record where traces of the past are stored and occasionally called forth, or remembered (Jedlowski, 2001; Manning et al, 2013). However, this notion of memory has been challenged by social scientists – geographers included. Arguably, the liberation of memory from its ‘mental encasement’ (Casey, 2000: 145) is a by-product of the undeniable affiliations between memory and space. As Schnapp’s (1006: 24) emphatic metaphor states, ‘memory needs earth in order to survive’. Yet, spaces are not simply stores of memory, but opportunities (Crang & Travlou, 2001). This chapter reviews works by geographers highlighting the various connections between memory and space, with a focus on environmental hazards such as earthquakes, tsunamis and floods. I argue that the majority of these works are influenced in some ways by Halbwachs’ (1992) concept of collective memory and Nora’s (1989) influential lieux de memoire. While this body of work has thrived – and is still thriving – I identify two lacunae in the literature they have engendered. Firstly, there is an over-emphasis on commemoration by the nation and its associated politics. This has resulted in the neglect of the everyday, banal, but no less important, forms of memory. Secondly, these works mostly ‘rest on a discursive understanding of memory’ (Della Dora, 2008: 218) and consequently, consigned the past as a radical other to the present (Nora, 1989). Next, I posit that recent developments in cultural geography – the turn towards practices and the material, or the ‘more-than-representational’ – have provided us with new theoretical tools to address the aforementioned issues. Relatedly, understandings of ‘landscape’ have since departed from the iconographic and representational propounded by the ‘new’ cultural geographers of the 1980/90s. 14 Often drawing on works by Tim Ingold (1993; 2000), many geographers are now paying due attention to the activities within the landscape as it unfolds. More than a static object apprehended by the eye and mind, the landscape is a lived phenomenon through which various (more-than-human) subjectivities unfold, intersect and interact (see Ingold, 1993; Della Dora, 2007; Wylie, 2007). This chapter argues that the lived landscape is an active archive of the past, present and future, where memory is central and alive. I conclude the chapter with a conceptual framework which considers the central role of memory for those living with(in) the riverine landscape of Ayutthaya. 2.2 The geographies of memory (…thus far) While the memory literature is replete with spatial metaphors, most scholars neither acknowledge the politically contestable and contradictory nature of space, place and scale, nor examine the ways that social memory is spatially constituted. Till (2003), Places of Memory, pp. 291 Karen Till is right to claim that memory studies as a discipline is riddled with spatial metaphors - scholars have long likened memories to cities (Gilloch, 1996), architecture (Eco, 1986), maps and cartography (Brokmeier, 2010; Radstone & Schwarz, 2010; Murakami, 2012). Moving beyond metaphors and motivated in part by Maurice Halbwachs’ (1980: 140) claim that ‘every collective memory unfolds within a spatial framework’, geographers have convincingly argued that all memories have a geography as they are often constructed and located through particular sites and social environments (Halbwachs, 1992; McDowell, 2009; Alderman & Inwood, 2013). Thus, memories are never truly personal – instead they are narratives and stories trimmed, transmitted and learned by the collective through the spatial and the material (Halbwachs, 1992). Simpson and de Alwis (2008), for instance, write about the ruins of Adhoi, Gujarat following an earthquake in 2001. The silence and ruinous aspect of the village reminds viewers of the devastation and loss brought about by 15 the earthquake. Through this, the disaster is remembered in the Gujarati – and also the national - collective consciousness via a specific representation of the past anchored on the material ruins of Adhoi. Subsequently, this memory may be further institutionalized and transmitted through social interactions (Jedlowski, 2001). Therefore, to understand the genesis and articulation of collective memory, we have to pay attention to the ‘space we occupy, traverse and have continual access to, or can at any time reconstruct in thought and imagination’ (Halbwachs, 1980: 140). In other words, places and landscapes are enduring material anchors to the transient nature of distant memories caught in the flow of time. These spatial anchors, however, are not inert and the sites of memory are not simply historical references and signposts. Nora (1989), inspired by Halbwachs, argues that spatial anchors must be purposefully consecrated and symbolically scripted for remembering. Thus, sites of memory – lieux de memoire - are inscribed with specific narratives based on the needs of the present. They are ‘consciously situated to connect or compete with existing nodes of collective remembering’ (N. C. Johnson, 1995: 55). The deliberately constructed lieux de memoire are defined in opposition to the spontaneous, unreflexive environments of memory - milieux de memoire - where memory was unselfconsciously and meaningfully experienced, lived and practiced (Nora, 1989). With the onset of modernity, Nora (1989: 12; Till, 2003) asserts that the latter no longer exists, and all we have are ‘shells on the shore’ - superficial external signs and scaffoldings of deritualized memory that have come to represent the past. In turn, the lieux de memoire possess normative power as they shape and cast legitimacy upon certain representations of the past, and at the same time reaffirm the veracity of those narratives (Hoelscher, 2003; Della Dora, 2008; Alderman & Inwood, 2013). Despite the problematic binaries and rigid teleology - culminating in the ‘death of true memory’ – which underpin Nora’s writings (see Schwarz, 2010; Rothberg, 16 2010), the lieux de memoire is highly influential in geography’s memory work. The socially-constructed nature of the lieux de memoire is congruent with the way cultural geographers have perceived the power of landscape since the 1980s. Landscapes are since perceived as visual representations of space imbued with symbolic intentions and ideologies; what they reveal and/or obscure, thus, legitimize and reproduce the very power structures and hierarchies that produced them (see Cosgrove, 1985; Cosgrove & Jackson, 1987; Duncan & Duncan, 1988; D. Mitchell, 1996; Cresswell, 2003). Likewise, geographers have always maintained that sites of memory are distinctly social and political projects, through which certain facets of ‘the past’ are manipulated and rendered ‘common sense’ by elites. Furthermore, these selective ‘pasts’ are also often invested with emotional and moral meanings in order to bolster nationalistic ideologies and needs of the present (N. C. Johnson, 2005; Edensor, 2005a; Rose-Redwood et al, 2008; Jenks, 2008; Miller & Bunnell, 2011; see also Nora, 1989). Nora’s and Halbwachs’ influence are especially pronounced when we consider geography’s primary analytical approach to memory. Imprints of lieux de memoire are observed as geographers critically interrogate normative iconographic forms and commemorative stages, notably ‘monuments, memorials and museums’ (Miller & Bunnell, 2011:4; see also K. Mitchell, 2003; Till, 2003; N. C. Johnson, 2005; Legg, 2007; Dwyer & Alderman, 2008). Geographers question the essentializing power of these iconographic forms in obscuring and forgetting a plethora of other memories and narratives, and the social and historical processes that constructed them. Thus, generally, geographers seek to unpack the problematic relations perpetuated and embedded within these mnemonic landscapes and institutions. Returning to the monumental ruins of Adhoi, Simpson and de Alwis (2008: 9) deconstruct the ruins as romantic ‘illusions’ of Gujarati devastation and loss – Adhoi was an atypical village of summer homes of wealthy residents from Mumbai; they 17 were mostly uninhabited at the time of the earthquake. The poorer, inhabited villages were reduced to rubble while Adhoi was left standing. The destruction of Adhoi was the result of the pillaging of building materials after the earthquake, as reinforcements and compensations were difficult to come by – a facet of the Gujarat earthquake story silenced and under-represented. Milan Kundera has famously claimed that ‘the struggle of man against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting’ (1982: 4). Despite the normative nature of the lieux de memoire, and their attempts to exclude and ‘remove the clutter’ of alternative memories, the latter not remain silenced (Edensor, 2005a: 831; Legg, 2007). The values assigned to the sites of memory are open to contestations and these sites are often subjected to re-interpretations by various groups. Therefore, memory is overtly political not only as an aforementioned tool of dominance, but also as a vehicle of struggle and resistance. More often than not, questions of cultural identities and group consciousness underlie the struggle to remember and to be remembered (Jenks, 2008; McDowell, 2009; Erll, 2011). This is especially the case for large-scale traumatic events – such as armed conflicts or environmental disasters - which ‘tend to leave an imprint on group consciousness and eventually translate into a dimension of cultural identity’ (Miller & Bunnell, 2011: 9). Thus, geographers are also interested in these alternative memories – or ‘counter-memories’ – which subvert the normative narratives of the lieux de memoire. Griffith’s (2014) work on the connections between the deliberate flooding of the Tryweryn Valley In north Wales and Welsh nationalism exemplifies such political struggle for memory. The valley was flooded by the Liverpool Corporation in 1965 in order to supply water and electricity to Liverpool. The community of Capel Celyn was inundated by the resultant reservoir, and its inhabitants displaced. The event and the reservoir are generally remembered as ‘necessary’ for ‘the progress of the nation, the United Kingdom’ (Cunningham, 2007: 629). However, beyond the placid façade 18 of the reservoir, subversive and informal modes of memorial – especially graffiti and poetry – for inundated villages alters the landscape, ensuring that the loss of the Welsh communities is not forgotten. Over time, these physical and symbolic lieux de memoire for the flooding of Tryweryn became emblems of Welsh nationalism against the ‘perceived oppression of the Welsh people by English and British institutions’ (Griffiths, 2014: 452). Such geographies of memory are very much part of human geography’s radical and moral traditions. These researchers are committed to exposing injustice and uneven power relations. Apart from understanding the world, they seek to change it and work towards ‘socially-just futures’ (see Till, 2008: 109; Margalit, 2004; Rose-Redwood et al, 2008; Alderman & Inwood, 2013). While the ethical commitments of this body of work are indeed commendable, the scholarship is not without flaws and shortcomings which may limit its ethical agenda. 2.3 Lacunae in the current geographies of memory Firstly, Nora’s lieux de memoire explicitly engages memory as commemoration at scale of the nation, and many geographers have also adopted the nation as their analytical ‘collectives’ (see Azaryahu & Golan, 2004; Legg, 2005). Understandably, with some exceptions (see section 2.4), memory work in geography has largely conformed to this conceptual scale and model. According to Hoelscher & Alderman (2004: 348), the Politics of memory is typified by their intersection with the ‘politics of national identity, racial conflict, public planning and historic conservation, social mobilization and activism and the heritage tourism industry’. Empirical research related to commemorations and memorials sites in specific cities or regions, and/or of specific social groups, often draw on broader questions and politics related to national identities (see N. C. Johnson, 1995; Hanna et al, 2004; Desforges & Maddern, 2004; Till, 2005; Jenks, 2008). Aware of the dangers of romanticizing counter-memories (Legg, 2005), geographical work on memory transcends the binaries of ‘elite’ and ‘popular’ memory to recognize the various internal conflicts, 19 micropolitics and negotiations among planners and advocates of sites of memory and counter-memory (see Forest & J. Johnson, 2002; Hoelscher & Alderman, 2004; Fenster, 2004; Legg, 2007). However, these writings have largely remained subsumed under the framework and scale of memorials and commemorations by, and of, the nation. Furthermore, despite some geographers’ - notably Tolia-Kelly’s (see 2004; 2010; see also Hoelscher & Alderman, 2004: 352; Atkinson, 2007) – attempts to recalibrate the focus from iconic and commemorative lieux de memoire to everyday, material modes of memory, issues around ‘national identity’ are continuously reified. Therefore, it is safe to say that many geographers have been persistently entrenched in the search for the ways ‘national’ identities are constantly (re)characterized and (re)fashioned by various politicized processes of memoryplace-making. This methodological nationalism and the related emphasis on commemoration in geography’s memory work reflect the state of memory studies outside the discipline (della Dora, 2008). I share the recent concerns raised against the seemingly ‘stencil-like’ and additive nature of memory-work: ‘we add yet another site of memory; we address yet another historical injustice’ (Erll, 2010: 4; also see Liddington & Ditchfield, 2005; O. Jones & Garde-Hansen, 2012). Caught in this epistemological rut, geographers may be unable to engage the multiple potentials of memory beyond the limited, though important, fields of territorial, ethnic/racial and national collectives and formal realms of commemoration. Jones and Garde-Hansen (2012: 22-3; also in Lorimer, 2005: 87) allude to this problem as they write about the apparent neglect of the ‘unresolved remainders of memory’. These are the seemingly insignificant, transitory memories of everyday life in the home, the neighbourhood and other spaces of social life, which are no less imperative in co-constituting various identities and intersubjectivities. Additionally, with the boundedness of the commemorative framework, it is almost impossible to draw attention to spontaneity 20 and excess, which so often accompany memory and remembering. Liisa Malkki (1997: 91) has written about the spontaneous collectives – or ‘accidental communities of memory’ – which emerges from accidental sharings of memory and transitory experiences. Such spontaneous collectives bring together people from different, ‘more publicly consecrated collectives’ like the nation or a certain social class, who in the ordinary courses of their lives will probably never meet (Malkki, 1997: 92). While these memories are not publicly commemorated and memorialized, they can powerfully (re)shape identities, and also affect ways of living with(in) the landscape. The commemorative framework not, and cannot, address issues of spontaneity because it is predicated upon the assumption that unmediated and lived memories no longer exist in modern societies (Nora, 1989; Kritzman, 1996). This is the second flaw in geography’s memory work. As memory takes on a symbolic, or discursive, order, it becomes overly presentist. Geographers motivated by Nora’s work operate on the assumption that memory has little connections with the past; instead, it is motivated and created primarily by concerns and politics of the present (Nora, 1996; Schwarz, 2010; Forest & J. Johnson, 2002; Dwyer, 2004; Dwyer & Alderman, 2008). Therefore, the past is defined as a ‘radical other’, to be represented and narrativized by actors of the present. Memory of this nature is not lived, but learnt. As Robert Musil (1987: 506) muses, ‘nothing in this world is as invisible as a monument’ – these pedagogical memories ‘cast in stone’ and articulated through nationalistic parades and ceremonies are arguably divorced from the routines of everyday life. Yet, when we consider memories beyond commemoration, memories are constantly in an un/conscious state of enactment. They are embedded in the repetitive gestures and unreflexive routines of our mundane every day, and often coalesce in nondescript architectures of the home, neighbourhood and city. Also, monuments of historic or aesthetic importance not 21 always trigger the same ‘deeply-felt emotional response’ as memories in and of modest homes and neighbourhoods (da Costa Meyer, 2009: 179). Hence, memories are never simply represented or cast in stone, but are also practiced in everyday life, and form the fabric of human life (Sturken, 1997; O. Jones, 2011; O. Jones & GardeHansen, 2012). In this way, the past is not simply a ‘distant, immaterial realm’ which has come to pass (Deleuze, 1988: 56). Instead, it continues to be spontaneously lived and practiced in the present. 2.4 ‘More-than-representational’ memories in a lived landscape At the heart of the ‘more-than-representational’ critique of representational approaches is the ‘retreat from practice… creating deadening effects on an otherwise active world’ (Cadman, 2009: 356; also see Lorimer, 2005). The representationalism of the (no longer) ’new’ cultural geographies supposedly rendered inert all that ought to be most lively (M. Rose, 2002; Lorimer, 2005). Relatedly, the ‘new’ cultural geography’s engagement of landscape as visual representation or text is also increasingly questioned by a loosely defined coalition of ‘more-than-representational’ geographers. The ‘landscape as text’ approach offers a nuanced understanding of the act of reading any landscape, and the possibility of critically deconstructing meanings and uneven power relations which underlie the landscape. However, this perspective overemphasizes the power to subvert the meaning of the landscape through its reading without necessarily providing a space to change the landscape itself through practices (N. C. Johnson, 2005). Geographers have also questioned the detachment that the ‘landscape as text’ perspective entails. Mitch Rose (2002: 461) likens this detachment to ‘pyramids… babel-like summits design[ed] to lift us out of the on-goingness of life.’ It is ironic (and perhaps a little naïve) to believe that the way to understand our creative involvements in the world is through removing ourselves from that world (Ingold, 1995). Thus, there have been calls to rescale our positions from the without to the within: to approach the landscape as a lived 22 phenomenon in order to apprehend and appreciate its rhythms, fluxes and becoming (Ingold, 1993; Cresswell, 2003; della Dora, 2009). The same critique can be extended to the majority of memory work geographers have been doing thus far. Recently, memory work in geography has been (re)invigorated by emerging interests in the ‘performative and relational aspects of remembrance’ alongside the more conventional investigations into the spatial politics of heritage and memorialisation (DeSilvey, 2010: 492; della Dora, 2008). Informed by the ‘more-than-representational’ turn in cultural geography, these works question and uncover the more-than-human (Edensor, 2005a; DeSilvey, 2007), more-than-textual (della Dora, 2008; 2010; Crang & Travlou, 2001) and multi-sensual (Anderson, 2004) aspects of memory. While these works continue to explore the roles of landscape and material objects in terms of memory and remembering (see O. Jones, 2011; O. Jones & Garde-Hansen, 2012), geographers influenced by the ‘more-than-representational’ turn are keenly questioning the ways in which memories are enacted through the material specificities and unfolding of the landscape, instead of being merely anchored on the landscape. ‘More-than-representational’ geographers – despite being situated in a field of differences – are united in the belief that what constitutes the ‘social’ and the ‘political’ need to be disrupted and further expanded (Lorimer, 2005). With this comes the (re)focus on locally-situated interventions in the world. In other words, the seemingly unremarkable everyday is reconfigured as significant and productive. Thus, the ‘social’ takes shape and gains expression in shared experiences, everyday routines, transitory and yet affective encounters and embodied movements, through their ‘flow, fluidity and repetition’ (Cresswell, 2003: 270; Lorimer, 2005; Waterton, 2013: 67). Lorimer (2005: 84) further argues that by paying due attention to these, geographers can move beyond the ‘established academic habit of striving to uncover meanings and values that apparently await our discovery, interpretation, judgment 23 and ultimately, representation.’ Turning our attention to the ordinary is to recognize that it makes critical differences to our experience of the landscape (Thrift, 2004). In light of this, a key move towards understanding memories as ‘more-thanrepresentational’, as I have hinted above, is to re-situate memory in the context of everyday life and lived landscapes, away from the spectacular and/or iconic landscapes of (counter)commemoration. This shift has been pre-empted by social scientists outside the discipline of geography. Most notably, Raphael Samuel (1994) in his Theatres of Memory, argues that by respecting the depth and richness of lived experience, and extending public memory beyond museum studies and the heritage industry, memory-work can encompass a broader range of practices. A far livelier, multiple and imaginative sense of memory persists in undervalued, mundane spaces (Edensor, 2005a). The spontaneous and lived aspects of memory hint that memory is not ‘dead’. Instead, memory is very much alive and part of the active becoming of the world. This can effectively alter the concept of ‘collective’ memory. Instead of being a set of, often national, narratives which is articulated and subsequently accepted or contested, collective memories are living practices and the materialities with which these practices are entangled. As living practices, memories are always in-motion, repeated and at the same time varied through repetitions (Deleuze, 1988). Paying due attention to these mundane living practices – such as home-making, workings of an organization, storey-telling, image-making and circulation – the landscape can be approached as an active archive. This approach disrupts the neat lines of the past/present/future as multiple pasts are enacted, or to use Deleuze’s term melded, simultaneously and interconnectedly with the present in the lived landscape. In this case, the landscape is also approached as a process rather than an object. It is a meshwork of activities and rhythms constantly unfolding and evolving, instead of a fixed site for interpretation (Ingold, 2006; Couch, 2010). The 24 living practices of memory are enacted at the nexus of the individual and larger collectives of different scales, such as the family, neighbourhood, and village. Focusing on the liveliness of the everyday also encourages geographers to rethink memory not as a zero-sum game, in which ‘one person’s memorial is perhaps a symbol of another’s oppression, defeat or loss’ (Simpson & de Alwis, 2008: 6). Rather, memory is constantly practiced, experienced and articulated through an integrated network of sites, events, actors, collectives, representations and morethan-human subjects, which may initially appear unconnected. In this case, memories are not simply experienced internally, instead, they are creative forces distributed across various bodies. Memories of this nature speak to the importance of relationality and agency - concepts often stressed upon by ‘more-than- representational’ geographers who engage with post-phenomenological ideas. The unfolding and emergent landscape is also perceived as relational – as it may bear traces of other, earlier, experiences (Crouch, 2010; also see O. Jones & GardeHansen, 2012). Correspondingly, thinking about memory in terms of networks requires an expanded notion of what constitutes ‘the political’. Mitch Rose (2002) further asserts that merely understanding the verticalities of power relations without considering the assemblages in the horizontal plane upon which they rest is inadequate. Considering the latter, one must then focus on ‘new kinds of cultural and political engineering founded upon particular knowledge and understanding of affect’ (Merriman et al, 2008: 194). Understandably, many ‘new’ cultural geographers perceived the shifting focus to the meshwork of the mundane, and agency in the everyday as a break from engaging with very real and often hierarchical issues of politics, injustice and power (Merriman et al, 2008: 193; Cresswell, 2012: 98). Others have raised related concerns regarding the apparent lack of engagement with the more traditional modes of subjectification along the axes of class, gender and identity (Lea, 2009; Cresswell, 2012). These anxieties, though not unwarranted, may be 25 overstated. The increasing emphasis on relationality is an attempt to question the ways the more-than-human contribute to the practice, maintenance and solidification of various socio-cultural categories. Furthermore, considering the assemblages of objects, technologies and practices is not equating agency with equivalence (Lorimer, 2005: 88), lopsided power relations still exist. It does, however, allow us to consider ‘the political’ that goes beyond the strictly vertical idea of domination. Finally, it may appear that more-than-representational geographies have been set up in opposition to the ‘representationalism’ of cultural geography’s landscape school (Lorimer, 2005: 84-85; Cresswell, 2012: 99). This is especially the case for more-than-representational geographers working on ‘precognitive’ or even ‘noncognitive’ practices such as gestures, habit and dance (Thrift, 1997). However, memories as practices are also about choreographies, and thus, closely tied to meanings and the discursive. Representations of the past can also have affective (after)lives, and are ‘put to work’ as they are able to influence behaviours and practices. Thus, some argued that the former ‘enables’ the latter, even when the discursive is unknowingly or instinctively performed (Gregson & G. Rose, 2000: 434; Larsen, 2005: 421). However, representation itself is a lively and undetermined act, because it is, too, partly ‘borne of the performativity of the living’ (Crouch, 2010: 13; Cresswell, 2012). Through practice, meanings and representations are also redefined and altered. Thus, it is perhaps impossible to say when representation stops and practice begins, vice versa. 26 2.5 A conceptual framework: memories and living with(in) a riverine landscape Figure 2.1: Conceptual framework of the thesis Ingold (1993) reflects that the rhythms of human activities in the landscape resonate not only with those of other living things, but also with a host of other rhythmic phenomena. These phenomena are part of a complex and unsettled world, alive with process. Thus, the capacities for humans to act and to produce are dependent on the ‘coming together’ and the ‘constitutive forces’ of things – human, more-than-human, living, non-living – and their various rhythms and routines (Braun, 2008: 670-671; see Bingham, 2006; Deleuze & Guattari, 1987). In other words, living in the world is not simply acting upon it. Rather, it is to move along with it, responding to the various more-than-human rhythms. Thus, it is crucial to feature non-humans in the stories we tell from the start, as ‘part of the collectivities which human life is constituted’ (Braun, 2008: 670). This conceptual understanding of our place in the world signals a departure from the modernist divide of ‘nature’ and ‘culture’ into discrete systems, in which ‘nature’ was a passive recipient of action, to be ‘constructed’, ‘tamed’ and ‘controlled’ (see O. Jones, 2009: 310-312; Greenhough, 27 2010: 37-38). The modernist divide underpins the technocentric and technocratic emphasis of many flood management schemes endorsed by various nation-states – including Thailand - today. The above diagram is a graphic representation of how this thesis is framed (Figure 2.1). Adopting Ingold’s (1993; also see Whatmore & Hinchcliffe, 2003; Braun, 2008; O. Jones et al, 2012) perspective, this thesis subverts the divide: the rivers in Ayutthaya are mobile entities, with their own affective agencies. The season flood pulse, represented by the dotted blue lines, is an important rhythm in the lived landscape of Ayutthaya. The pulse, ironically, is occasionally accentuated by anthropogenic activities and attempts to ‘manage’ the river, resulting in larger-than-usual floods. Living under the influence of this riverine rhythm, memories of flood events are constantly operating at the fore/background of everyday life. Flood memories, in this case, are relational and spontaneous – they emerge out of one’s messy encounters with the more-than-human, and through mutable processes like storytelling and image circulation. These memories, in turn, bring riverine rhythms into the center of the unfolding social life in Ayutthaya. I approach this co-constitutive relationship via the concept of ‘community’. Transcending the more established forms of ‘community’ based on village structures, class relations and ethnicity; I argue that the (much) larger-than-usual flood of 2011 resulted in the emergence of a community of flood memories (adapting Malkki, 1997) in Ayutthaya. It is practices and actions of remembering that give form to this community of flood memories. Through banal, individual-yet-collective forms of remembrance, inhabitants of Ayutthaya are reclaiming the ‘forgotten’ paths of the river and precipitation (see O. Jones et al, 2012). However, this is not to suggest that the ‘community’ is permanent or without differences (more in Chapter Four). Instead, despite and through various multiplicities and differences within, this ‘accidental’ community finds form and is continuously (re)made via multiple engagements with past floods. 28 As hinted above, the community emerges as the lived landscape is transformed into an active archive of flood memories. Contrary to the staticity and fixity associated with ‘archives’ (Taylor, 2003), movement, circulation and change are characteristics of the active archive. Mundane and at times, conflicting practices of remembering, such as image production and circulation, storytelling and the persistent preservation of material signs of floods, are enacted in and through the landscape. These practices and encounters often have lasting affective, emotional and multi-sensual resonances and thus, the past is constantly lived in the present (Chapter Four). As flood memories are closely interlinked with the lived landscape, floods are not simply ‘forgotten’ as the waters recede (De Vries, 2007; also see Sugimoto et al, 2010). Privy to the ‘more-than-representational’ geographers’ concern with relationality and networks, I pay close attention to the way lived memories are enacted along multidirectional topologies of actors, and through various social spaces of the home, neighborhood, hospital and temple. While the active archive espouses a semblance of coherence – several patterns of remembering emerge - it is really about the excess, noise and clutter (Edensor, 2005a; Hetherington, 2013) often overlooked in official commemorations of environmental hazards. In and through activities within the active archive, a nebulous ‘unsettled riverine’ imagination of the landscape emerges (and is still emerging). Secondly, flood memories within the active archive are also productively utilized in responses towards the rhythms of the river. The capacity to live with riverine rhythms, and the resilience to future flood events are closely tied to the memories of past floods (see Krause et al, 2012; Massie & Reed, 2013). In this case, the archive is not mere a repository for the documentation of the past, it is also actively utilized to anticipate the future. Moving beyond the ‘vulnerabilities’ paradigm, this part of the thesis also address how everyday memories can inspire hope and shape aspirations towards living with riverine rhythms in the future (see Appadurai, 29 2003; B. Anderson, 2006; Chapter Five). I pay attention, again, to actions and practices - the rhythms of the river are effectively incorporated into the everyday lives of these people through an assemblage of objects, technologies and practices: homes are being altered, informal sharing and evacuation networks are being established and certain behaviours are being promoted in case of future floods. Thus, I heed Nuala Johnson’s (2005) call to understand how the lived landscape is never static, and is always in the midst of being productively modified through practices. Furthermore, it is through such practices that the small politics of the everyday are being played out. Political actions – struggles to intervene in the world and enact changes – take place at all scales. In Amin and Thrift’s (2005: 232) words, there is little advantage to ‘make a distinction between little and large politics’. In Ayutthaya, for many, being able to ‘live normally’ with floods are just as important as the ongoing political struggle against the supposed ‘tyranny’ of the Shinawatra regime. Thus, this thesis looks beyond the beyond the strict verticalities of political domination and control, and instead, turns to the seemingly prosaic spaces and practices of the home and everyday routines, and the formation of new social relations based on flood memories. Hence, I understand the mundane everyday a realm in which important actions towards a more decentralized response to floods and riverine rhythms in Ayutthaya emerge. These practices generate a form of community-based governance without government - a situation in which the state plays minimal role in the modifications of the landscape and the preparations for future floods. 30 [...]... collective memories are living practices and the materialities with which these practices are entangled As living practices, memories are always in- motion, repeated and at the same time varied through repetitions (Deleuze, 1988) Paying due attention to these mundane living practices – such as home-making, workings of an organization, storey-telling, image-making and circulation – the landscape can be approached... everyday are being played out Political actions – struggles to intervene in the world and enact changes – take place at all scales In Amin and Thrift’s (20 05: 23 2) words, there is little advantage to ‘make a distinction between little and large politics’ In Ayutthaya, for many, being able to ‘live normally’ with floods are just as important as the ongoing political struggle against the supposed ‘tyranny’ of. .. part of the thesis also address how everyday memories can inspire hope and shape aspirations towards living with riverine rhythms in the future (see Appadurai, 29 20 03; B Anderson, 20 06; Chapter Five) I pay attention, again, to actions and practices - the rhythms of the river are effectively incorporated into the everyday lives of these people through an assemblage of objects, technologies and practices:... agencies The season flood pulse, represented by the dotted blue lines, is an important rhythm in the lived landscape of Ayutthaya The pulse, ironically, is occasionally accentuated by anthropogenic activities and attempts to ‘manage’ the river, resulting in larger-than-usual floods Living under the influence of this riverine rhythm, memories of flood events are constantly operating at the fore/background of. .. past floods 28 As hinted above, the community emerges as the lived landscape is transformed into an active archive of flood memories Contrary to the staticity and fixity associated with ‘archives’ (Taylor, 20 03), movement, circulation and change are characteristics of the active archive Mundane and at times, conflicting practices of remembering, such as image production and circulation, storytelling... of the performativity of the living (Crouch, 20 10: 13; Cresswell, 20 12) Through practice, meanings and representations are also redefined and altered Thus, it is perhaps impossible to say when representation stops and practice begins, vice versa 26 2. 5 A conceptual framework: memories and living with (in) a riverine landscape Figure 2. 1: Conceptual framework of the thesis Ingold (1993) reflects that... approached as an active archive This approach disrupts the neat lines of the past/present/future as multiple pasts are enacted, or to use Deleuze’s term melded, simultaneously and interconnectedly with the present in the lived landscape In this case, the landscape is also approached as a process rather than an object It is a meshwork of activities and rhythms constantly unfolding and evolving, instead of a. .. knowledge and understanding of affect’ (Merriman et al, 20 08: 194) Understandably, many ‘new’ cultural geographers perceived the shifting focus to the meshwork of the mundane, and agency in the everyday as a break from engaging with very real and often hierarchical issues of politics, injustice and power (Merriman et al, 20 08: 193; Cresswell, 20 12: 98) Others have raised related concerns regarding the apparent... storytelling and the persistent preservation of material signs of floods, are enacted in and through the landscape These practices and encounters often have lasting affective, emotional and multi-sensual resonances and thus, the past is constantly lived in the present (Chapter Four) As flood memories are closely interlinked with the lived landscape, floods are not simply ‘forgotten’ as the waters recede... Transcending the more established forms of community based on village structures, class relations and ethnicity; I argue that the (much) larger-than-usual flood of 20 11 resulted in the emergence of a community of flood memories (adapting Malkki, 1997) in Ayutthaya It is practices and actions of remembering that give form to this community of flood memories Through banal, individual-yet-collective forms of . questioned by a loosely defined coalition of ‘more-than-representational’ geographers. The landscape as text’ approach offers a nuanced understanding of the act of reading any landscape, and the possibility. Paying due attention to these mundane living practices – such as home-making, workings of an organization, storey-telling, image-making and circulation – the landscape can be approached as an. material (Halbwachs, 19 92) . Simpson and de Alwis (20 08), for instance, write about the ruins of Adhoi, Gujarat following an earthquake in 20 01. The silence and ruinous aspect of the village