'Familiarity breeds contempt’ has been one of those school textbook lessons, complete with a moral story to hammer home the point, as with most proverbs. But, evolution has had an impact on some of the lessons we once learnt. ‘Honesty is the best policy’ was another. But is it anymore? Try being honest about anything at all and, before you know it, your honest statement could irk someone somewhere, and have you fighting court battles for the rest of your life.
So how can we rephrase these adages for contemporary times? ‘Familiarity breeds immunity’? For, isn’t that what seems to be happening to most of us? The news of a war breaking out shocks most of us at first. We follow the news by the minute, then by the hour, before gradually allowing it to become a footnote in our busy life. The outrage subsides, concern wanes, and soon, casualties become mere numbers.
Consider the current war in Iran. Remember how, more than six months ago, the Strait of Hormuz was a hot conversation topic, as if to make up for geography lessons we did not pay attention to in school? And now, even as the bombings continue, we have clearly moved on. Unfortunately, what conflicts do to art and heritage, especially when battles are prolonged, is rarely spoken about. Houses can be rebuilt and landscapes reclaimed, but damage to cultural heritage is often irreparable and irreplaceable.
In the 2026 Iran war, the toll on heritage sites has been immense. Threats to Iran’s cultural heritage had loomed ever since hostilities began. In 2020, President Trump famously announced that 52 cultural sites in Iran had been identified as possible targets, corresponding to the 52 American hostages taken in 1979, a threat that was widely condemned. Although these sites have not been directly targeted in the current conflict, collateral damage has resulted in serious losses to artistic heritage.
The Golestan Palace, one of Tehran’s oldest monuments and a UNESCO World Heritage site, bears testimony to Persian artistic achievement, with its exquisite painted ceilings and shimmering mirror mosaics. Airstrikes damaged the palace, shattering ceilings and windows. The Chehel Sotoun Palace, dating to the early 17th century and renowned for its delicate craftsmanship and wall paintings, has suffered damage to its fragile interiors. The Falak-ol-Aflak Castle, a massive stone fortress that once stood guard over its surroundings, sadly could not protect itself from modern missiles, with its museum destroyed and parts of its stone walls crumbling. Even prehistoric sites such as the Khorramabad Valley, with caves once inhabited by Neanderthals and Homo Sapiens, have not escaped the harm.
More than 130 museums and sites have reportedly borne the brunt of this war, adding to the cultural devastation inflicted through conflicts across history. When a civilisation’s memory is reduced to dust, no reconstruction can bring back what was lost. Perhaps, that is the uncomfortable truth we have become too familiar with. Heritage does not belong to the country in which it happens to stand. It belongs to all of us. No leader, however powerful, should have the moral authority to erase it to satisfy an inflated ego. May familiarity with destruction never breed apathy!
