A lighted model of the Freedom Tower is displayed in front of a large photograph of lower Manhattan at the unveiling of the Tower's revised design, 29 June
© AFP/File Stan HondaNEW YORK (AFP) - Four years after terrorists in hijacked planes reduced the twin towers to rubble, the site remains little more than a giant hole in the ground -- a gaping rebuke to planners and politicians alike.
"The death of a dream" was how the Wall Street Journal summed up the situation in a recent editorial.
From its very conception in the traumatic and emotional aftermath of the September 11, 2001 attacks, the reconstruction effort has been dogged by false starts, competing interests and empty political rhetoric.
On July 4 last year, Independence Day, in a ceremony laden with patriotic symbolism, New York Governor George Pataki laid the cornerstone for the "Freedom Tower" -- the soaring centerpiece at the heart of the master redesign plan.
"Let this great Freedom Tower show the world that what our enemies sought to destroy -- our democracy, our freedom, our way of life -- stands taller than ever before," Pataki said.
Since then, not only has work not started but the tower has had to be completely redesigned after the New York police pointed out in May that the building would be vulnerable to a truck bomb attack.
That such a fundamental fault was not addressed earlier was testament to the large number of agencies, groups and individuals who have a large stake in the redevelopment project but often diametrically opposed agendas.
Display of the proposed World Trade Center Cultural Center (L)
© AFP/LMD Corp/HOThe main players include the Lower Manhattan Development Corp., the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, the Department of Transportation, the New York Police Department, site leaseholder Larry Silverstein, Pataki and the families of the 2,749 people who died at the World Trade Center.
Somewhere in the middle of this bureaucratic jungle stands architect Daniel Libeskind, whose master plan for reconstructing Ground Zero was chosen after an international competition in February 2003.
At the time, Libeskind said he was humbled by the responsibility. But humility swiftly became humiliation, as he found himself increasingly marginalised and his original design changed almost beyond recognition.
The call to rebuild, which had resounded before the smoke cleared from the smouldering rubble of the twin towers, was always couched in debate over what to build, with some seeing a site of remembrance, others a future place of work and still more a symbol of rebirth.
Libeskind's first blueprint met with public approval but was nixed by Silverstein because of its lack of leasable office space.
Silverstein brought in his own architect, David Childs, and a new plan was unveiled in December, 2003, after much bickering between the two designers which required Pataki's personal intervention.
The police warning in May forced a third trip to the drawing board and a transformed Freedom Tower model with a bomb-resistant 200-foot (61-meter) high base, draped in a reinforced mixture of stainless steel and titanium.
Construction is now slated to begin early next year.
"I think of the whole process as an elaborate forward tumble," said Philip Nobel, author of "Sixteen Acres: Architecture and the Outrageous Struggle for the Future of Ground Zero."
Donald Trump presents 18 May a nine-foot model of his proposed Twin Towers II
© AFP/File Timothy A. Clary"There never was a moment of sobriety where wise men and women sat in well-lit rooms and decided what should be there in a kind of responsible way. I mean, it was always clean-up," Nobel said.
"And it started from the very first moment the site began to be actively designed; it was always cleaning up from the last mistake."
Earlier this year, brash New York property tycoon Donald Trump entered the fray by unveiling his own Ground Zero design and dismissing the existing plans as the "worst pile of crap architecture I've ever seen."
Trump's offer found few takers, but his scoffing appraisal of the way the project was being managed struck a populist chord.
Mirroring the debate over the form of the Freedom Tower has been an equally acrimonious dispute over a proposed cultural complex that will house a permanent memorial to the September 11 dead and a museum.
Some families are particularly unhappy with what they see as plans to shift the focus away from the victims by incorporating exhibits on slavery, the Holocaust and global human rights issues.
"Nobody is coming to this place to learn about Ukraine democracy or to be inspired by the courage of Tibetan monks," said Michael Burke, whose older brother, a firefighter, was killed when the twin towers collapsed.
"They're coming for September 11."
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