Ideas on what constitutes the historic environment move with the times under pressure from our political masters, academic advances and grass-roots opinion. The means to present and manage this slippery resource evolve in response, usually with a time lag between public appreciation and effective stewardship. We are in such a hiatus at present as old values and systems are challenged and new approaches are in development. Ten essays by some of the leading ‘heritage academics’ (and a couple of practitioners) provide a forensic examination of attitudes to the historic environment and heritage and pose fundamental questions about the philosophy of protection and presentation. The context for the debate is provided by the democratization of heritage. The process is by no means complete, but it is both encouraged by government and, apparently, unstoppable. The genie was released from the bottle by Power of Place, a survey of public attitudes to the historic environment. This told us that the overwhelming majority of people value the historic environment highly, but it emerges that their historic environment is not restricted to sites and landscapes identified by experts as of special interest: it is recognized that we live in it and move around it in our everyday lives.
Most of the essays in this volume have something to say about the definition of ‘heritage’. For Laurajane Smith, this is a process by which values are transmitted rather than buildings or landscapes. Peter Borsay provides a fascinating history of changing attitudes to the Georgian house, surprisingly to modern eyes recognized as heritage only very recently after a century and more of vilification and disregard. The use of heritage for political ends is studied through David Lowenthal's examination of how museum collections have been presented, and Lisanne Gibson demonstrates that history and identity in Queensland are celebrated through a corpus of commemorative art that is heavily weighted towards the portrayal of the powerful, leaving women and indigenous people with the crumbs from the table.
The central issue in the essays is the role of different agencies in defining heritage. Our systems of recognition and protection have been based on the views of the expert elite. Democratization has changed the scenery, and this is most evident in the cultures and landscapes of the recent past. Existing systems of recognition and protection do not, however, reflect wider views of significance. The situation is perverse: Pendlebury, Townshend and Gilroy show that, even when recognition is given to some sites, such as the Byker estate in Newcastle (listed at Grade II*), the accolade is seen as descending from the skies and fails to capture local views of what makes a place important. Peter Malpas, in his study of ‘housing heritage’, suggests that the story behind the fabric may be more important than the fabric itself. Much that is popularly held to have cultural significance may be impossible or impractical to protect: Walton and Wood, in their study of renewal in Blackpool, ask whether the ephemeral evidence of the British seaside resort should be protected. The same issue applies, in even greater degree, to street art and graffiti in Melbourne described by Tracey Avery.
What can we, as a society, do to acknowledge the new broad definition of the historic environment (or cultural landscapes, a preferred term for some authors)? John Schofield points to the gap between conservation legislation and the new plural views on what is of value. There have been encouraging signs that recognition should be given to this wider vision: the Burra Charter, Avery and Gibson tell us, advocates the involvement of local people in decision making, but they also show that this rarely happens. English Heritage's Conservation Principles comes in for attack, for it is seen as putting the expert view before that of the wider community. Peter Howard describes the four established roles of the expert – invention, authentification, contextualization and education – but the question today is how to complement these by a genuine engagement of a wider constituency. Howard says, simply, ‘leave it to the locals’, as, without individual support, heritage cannot be managed. Others (Avery and Gibson) advocate community debate to capture values and to determine whether or not to protect sites. It is the practitioner among the authors, John Schofield, who puts forward the most comprehensive range of approaches: local lists, plaques and markers, character assessments to identify the values attached to whole landscapes rather than to points within them, and broad engagement with the definition of research priorities can all play a part in better representing popular values. He concludes that ‘The time for elite heritage has long passed, if it ever really existed at all.’
The ideas contained within the essays reflect the academic debate swirling around the conservation profession. For the urban historian, the main interest of the book may lie in the discussion of the evolving views of what is regarded as the historic environment and of the uses made of heritage for purposes of identity and promotion. It can be recommended as an excellent and stimulating account of the latest thinking on the subject.
