Heritage and Identity

The heritage of a group or community plays a major role in establishing and maintaining a sense of identity, pride and self-worth. Recognition of heritage and group morale often go hand in hand. Excluding or marginalizing a group’s heritage can have the effect of marginalizing the group, and reducing their sense of pride and identity. The heritage of any nation, as it is defined and regulated, and at least partially managed and financed by the national government, should be inclusive.[1]

The position which Graeme Aplin takes on the issue of minority heritage and marginalisation in the conclusion to his 2002 work  Heritage: Identification, Conservation, and Management is commendable, even if its expression carries problematic terms. If we are to achieve a sound theoretical basis for the application of heritage management then it is important to understand and be wary of the complexity of the terms we use, and the values or meanings often implicitly associated with them.

To this end, the following discussion shall consider the nature of heritage and how it plays a role in the formation of identity and pride within a group. What exactly is heritage and what difficulties does it present? An answer to this question shall be explored through a reflection on the Port Arthur Historic Site (PAHS), as within this example can be observed changing ideas about what constitutes heritage, the ability to openly confront a dark past, and the difficulties created when the present left a violent and indelible mark in 1996, in a place that otherwise was carefully frozen in time.

In turn, this will allow a greater appreciation of the importance of heritage to minority groups, especially those that perceive themselves as being threatened by assimilation into a dominant culture. This part of the discussion will focus on the issue of indigenous heritage in Australia, and indentify the many challenges that must be faced in order for it to be managed sensitively.

It is tempting to consider history and heritage as having a relationship as simple as perhaps ‘two sides of the same coin’. Yet while both deal with the past, the differences are much stronger and more complicated than saying that history has to do with recording and understanding the past, and that heritage is the objects and buildings that have survived from the past. While it is true that these things can be considered heritage, just as important is the understanding that ‘a people’s cultural heritage is also reflected in non-physical forms such as music, dance, drama, folklife, unwritten languages, scriptures, prose, poetry.’[2]

With these more nebulous aspects in mind, it is relatively easy to appreciate the difficulties that surround managing or making policy for these forms of heritage. Some, for example like language, might only be kept alive through practice, in which case they are just as much a part of living culture as they are heritage. [3]

Graham et al see the origins of heritage ‘in the tastes and values of a nineteenth-century educated elite’.[4] The nineteenth century was a time of rapid and dramatic changes and upheavals. Changing modes of production and social relationships gave rise to a yearning for a simpler and romantic past and a need to preserve its grander elements. Often heritage in this sense was valued for its aesthetic qualities rather than its role in an objective history of the past. An Australian example of this can be seen at the PAHS, in that

fifty years ago Australia’s convict past was not celebrated, nor were the sites associated with it. The name ‘Port Arthur’ was actually expunged in the late nineteenth century, and the town was renamed Carnarvon in the hope that its convict past would similarly disappear.[5]

Rather the site had become a sort of Arcadian parkland by the sea, with some of the original cottages converted for holiday-makers. If, as Trotter argues, ‘history is about knowing the past, warts and all, while heritage is about celebrating the past’,[6] early visitors to the PAHS may have found little in its past to celebrate. This in itself illustrates that there is little in the concept of heritage which is objective. From a physical manifestation of Australia’s ‘convict stain’ and shameful history (at this time a shameful history that still did not include acknowledgement of the poor treatment of minority groups or indigenous peoples), the site has since become one of Australia’s top ten most visited attractions, and attended by 90 per cent of tourists who visit Tasmania.[7]

This number of tourists demonstrates both the importance of heritage to tourism, and the importance of tourism to heritage. Heritage can be seen as a resource that takes several forms; economic, social and political. It can be exploited for financial gain or simply to sustain its management. It can provide educational and social experiences. And it can contain implicit political messages. It is for all of these reasons that Aplin insists that ‘heritage is both contested and culturally constructed, which inevitably makes it a highly political topic and one with a scarcity of clear-cut definitions or answers.’[8]

When Aplin uses the term ‘culturally constructed’,[9] he is referring to the fact that although heritage is concerned with the past, it is created in the present. Every decision that is made with regard its management – such as what to preserve, how to preserve and interpret it, and why – are all answered with reference to the values of the individuals and groups who must make these decisions. These values might almost always reflect the values, self-perceptions and preoccupations of the wider society. ‘Heritage… says a lot about who we think we are, as the things we save from change make certain ideals real and reinforce our identity.’[10]

Heritage is concerned with the preservation of a past that is no longer directly accessible and at best may still only continue in the memories of some individuals. Yet I would argue that heritage can tell us more about where we have come from than it can tell us about who we are, or where we might be going – although admittedly this may reflect the relative youth of European settlement in Australia. We might believe that as a society Australia has inherited the values of its early colonisers and immigrants – mate-ship, self-sufficiency, a fair-go – and we hear this often. There is however a tendency to only remember those values that are still acceptable today. Our collective memories are a part of heritage, a part that is shaped by the stories we tell.

Andrew Newman argues that museums and galleries (often the repositories of heritage) play a role in individual and community identity and that ‘this contribution appears to go beyond simple validation of identity and plays a role in its construction. How this occurs is a complex process that may be related to memory.’[11]

Heritage professionals then, need to approach the interpretation and display of objects and stories carefully and with sensitivity to their audiences, particularly when it comes to difficult events or periods in the past. ‘Individuals use museums and galleries in ways that respond to their own and their group’s needs. The stories that curators want to tell might not be those that the visitor or participant in a project takes away.’[12]

Are we, for example, able to display the PAHS with pride because we have as a society accepted this dark and inhumane aspect of European settlement, or is it because we do not feel a direct link between ourselves and the society that produced the convict penal system? If it is the latter, and we accept the argument of Graham et al that ‘preservation and restoration freezes artifacts in time whereas previously they had been constantly changing’,[13] does the act of preserving the PAHS help to make it recede into an ever more distant past? How does the 1996 massacre at the Broad Arrow Café fit into the story of the PAHS? Is it connected to the earlier history or is it an aberration, and at what point does it become part of the history and heritage of the site?

Heritage is not so much a window to the past in that it allows us access, but rather a still image constructed from an imagined past, however objective that imagining purports to be.

When an indigenous people is colonised by a foreign power that wishes to create a settler society in the ‘new’ land, a rift is created between the indigenous people and the new arrivals. I perceive a deep and potentially irresolvable conflict with regard to the history and heritage of European settlement in Australia and the indigenous experience of this. Is there a single story that could be told that would satisfy the role of heritage in creating identity, pride and a sense of self-worth for both groups?

Aplin argues that ‘while heritage of all groups should be sensitively dealt with, indigenous heritage is often the form that is most removed from dominant groups and governments and also most under threat.’[14] If so, must it be the majority who tells the more humbling story?

I would argue that in Australia’s case the dominant culture must be just as prepared to humbly face its dark past as it must be to include indigenous culture in its wider story. We may not be content with telling two separate and seemingly conflicting stories, but we must recognise difference in valid readings of history, or risk forsaking the potential of history and heritage as means of critical enquiry in helping us to understand how our identities have developed.

One means of Australia including Aboriginal heritage is through tourism, through both indigenous initiatives and partnerships with non-indigenous tourism operators. Trotter explains that ‘some Aboriginal people are critical of tourism because tourism programs focus on traditional culture, tend to ignore cultural differences and construct a pan-Aboriginality in place of cultural diversity as well as acting as a form of exploitation.’[15]

This sentiment is echoed by Aplin, when discussing how  ‘minority heritage gains its significance from being part of a living culture and way of life.’[16] There is a danger here of constructing an image of indigenous heritage and culture as something antiquated and needing preservation for it to survive, when in actuality it is one of the oldest surviving living cultures. As such, it does not so much need protection from the passage of time as it requires the freedom to exist and continue to develop.

Thus, according to Aplin, ‘even when the majority government is keen to officially recognise minority heritage as part of the national heritage, this can only be successfully achieved with the full cooperation of the primary owners of that heritage.’[17] There are many examples of cooperation, joint management and consultation in Australia with regards Aboriginal tourism and heritage, and this is something that needs to continue in order to avoid the danger identified by Linda Richter, that ‘in some cases, it may be more infuriating to be included if one finds the interpretation unacceptable.’[18]

The idea of including minorities in a national heritage can be celebratory, but also potentially assimilative. There is a suggestion of a need for wariness of this when Aplin argues that ‘national heritage is sometimes used by a government or dominant group in society as a concept to legitimise the state, to help define it, and to advance individuals’ identification with it.’[19] This can be observed in Australia’s use of a citizenship test requiring applicants to answer questions considered important for Australians to know. This sort of civic nationalism can be inclusive, but only to the extent that individuals are willing to subscribe to the values therein. Does it also mean that those who are born into Australian citizenship implicitly support these values?

How do we pin down the values of a nation? Are they manifest in those differences that some tourists travel to experience? The values that heritage can represent are generally the values of those making the decisions about the preservation, interpretation and managing of heritage. If the presentation of heritage is seen to be inclusive and sensitive it indicates that those responsible for its management share those values.

All this suggests that it is not possible to attempt to manage heritage objectively or dispassionately, but perhaps only to present it from several subjectivities at once. There is as much danger in concentrating too much on the negative and shameful aspects of a group’s history and heritage as there is in glossing over it entirely.

Bibliography

Aplin, Graeme,  Heritage: Identification, conservation, and management, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2002.

Graham et al., ‘The uses and abuses of heritage’, in Gerard Corsane (ed.), Heritage, Museums and Galleries an introductory reader,  Abingdon, Routledge, 2005, pp. 26-37.

Newman, Andrew, ‘‘Social exclusion zone’ and ‘The feelgood factor’’, in Gerard Corsane (ed.), Heritage, Museums and Galleries an introductory reader,  Abingdon, Routledge, 2005, pp. 325-32.

Pearson, M., and Sullivan, S., Looking After Heritage Places: The basics of heritage planning for managers, landowners and administrators, Carlton, Melbourne University Press, 1996.

Richter, Linda, ‘The politics of heritage tourism development’, in Gerard Corsane (ed.), Heritage, Museums and Galleries an introductory reader,  Abingdon, Routledge, 2005, pp. 257-71.

Trotter, Robin, ‘Heritage Tourism’, in Norman Douglas et al (eds.), Special Interest Tourism, Brisbane, John Wiley & Sons Ltd., 2001, pp. 140-63.

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[1] Graeme Aplin, Heritage: Identification, conservation, and management, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2002, p. 352.

[2] Makaminan Makagiansar, The Work of UNESCO: Protection or Plunder? Safeguarding the future of our cultural heritage , p. 9, quoted in Robin Trotter, ‘Heritage Tourism’, in Norman Douglas et al (eds.), Special Interest Tourism, Brisbane, John Wiley & Sons Ltd., 2001, p. 143.

[3] Trotter, p. 148.

[4] Brian Graham et al., ‘The uses and abuses of heritage’, in Gerard Corsane (ed.), Heritage, Museums and Galleries an introductory reader,  Abingdon, Routledge, 2005, p. 29.

[5] Michael Pearson and Sharon Sullivan, Looking After Heritage Places: The basics of heritage planning for managers, landowners and administrators, Carlton, Melbourne University Press, 1996, p. 170.

[6] Trotter, p. 154.

[7] Pearson and Sullivan, p. 170.

[8] Aplin, pp. 27-8.

[9] Aplin, pp. 27-8.

[10]Aplin, p. 15.

[11] Andrew Newman, ‘‘Social exclusion zone’ and ‘The feelgood factor’’, in Gerard Corsane (ed.), Heritage, Museums and Galleries an introductory reader,  Abingdon, Routledge, 2005, p. 331.

[12] Newman, p. 332.

[13] Graham et al., p. 31.

[14] Aplin, p. 140.

[15] Trotter, p. 156.

[16] Aplin, p. 142.

[17] Aplin, p. 143.

[18] Linda K. Richter, ‘The politics of heritage tourism development’, in Gerard Corsane (ed.), Heritage, Museums and Galleries an introductory reader,  Abingdon, Routledge, 2005, p. 264.

[19] Aplin, p. 16.