Preface
The premise of this book is that the preservation of the built and natural world is complex and will require new collaborative and interdisciplinary approaches. While this might seem obvious, I selected the word monumental partly to suggest the enormous effort needed to preserve the world’s tangible and intangible heritage; the book presents cultural, political, technological, economic, and ethical and moral dimensions of preservation. It has been obvious for a long time that the preservation of our heritage cannot rest with preservation professionals alone. We are now at a critical juncture in the world. Civil wars, cybercrime, terrorism, global warming, and decreased government support have put our heritage at perhaps greater risk than at any time since World War II. This moment requires us to think about preservation in the broadest possible contexts.
Throughout this book, I look at particular monuments such as the Bamiyan Buddhas, the Vietnam Memorial, and the Book of Kells to illustrate the many issues that underlie preservation. For example, the Taliban blew up the Bamiyan Buddhas in Afghanistan in 2002; debates are still taking place over whether and how to preserve the remains and also the memory of the Buddhas. When the Vietnam Memorial was still under construction, in the 1980s, visitors started leaving behind symbolic and often ephemeral objects at the site, which the National Park Service continues to preserve, despite the complexity of doing so. Volumes of the Book of Kells have occasionally been lent to other countries under the strong protest of the Irish who believe that this priceless work should never leave the country. In the digital realm, electronic heritage may disappear soon after it is created because not all institutions or countries have the necessary infrastructure in place to preserve it. These are just a few examples of the many dimensions of preservation that this book addresses.
An American example of how contentious the preservation of monuments can be has come to the fore since I wrote this book. It has to do with whether and how to preserve the monuments of the Confederate States of America that broke away from the United States over many issues but primarily over slavery, which they supported and which led to the Civil War. Today, with a divided country and many people supporting hate groups that defend the old Confederacy, the existence of these monuments has caused pain, animosity, and riots. On June 17, 2015, Dylann Roof, a self-proclaimed white supremacist, murdered nine African Americans during a prayer service in the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina. Roof later stated that he had hoped to start a race war. On his website he posted images of himself with the Confederate flag, which has become a symbol, for some, of persistent and potentially violent racist hatred. In fact, the flag, which has flown over many public and private buildings in the American South, has been the source of a great deal of contention. Soon after the murders, the South Carolina legislature voted to remove the Confederate flag that flew in front of its State House. On July 10, 2015, the flag was removed. Other towns followed suit by removing their own Confederate flags. Debates ensued over whether all symbols of the Confederacy should be removed.
Opinion polls conducted over the past fifteen years have repeatedly shown that for some white Americans, the Confederate flag represents Southern pride, while for African Americans and others, the flag represents racism.1 So while the immediate, horrified reaction to the Charleston murders was to remove Confederate flags—and in some cases monuments—two years later, feelings are still divided. But something else has happened. The current U.S. president, Donald Trump, has been tepid in his rebuke of white supremacists and they have felt emboldened. The statues have become their symbol. At the recent and violent “Unite the Right” rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, August 11–12, 2017, white supremacists demonstrated on behalf of keeping a statue of Robert E. Lee, president of the Confederate States of America, and himself a symbol of slavery and divisiveness.
Professional associations are calling for thoughtful approaches. The American Historical Association believes that while Confederate monuments should be preserved, historical context is needed.2 The American Institute for Conservation of Historic and Artistic Works recently issued a “Position Statement on Confederate and Other Historic Public Monuments,” in which they state that “while recognizing the right of society to make appropriate and respectful use of cultural property, the conservation professional shall serve as an advocate for the preservation of cultural property.” That includes the services of conservators, who can assure the maintenance of monuments, or their safe dismantling and relocation.3
Carolyn E. Holmes, a professor of political science at Mississippi State University, believes that Americans can learn from approaches that other countries have taken in coming to terms with tumultuous historical events. South Africa’s recent debate about monuments that preserve the memory of white minority rule there is instructive. Whereas in the 1990s, the South African government removed some statues of apartheid-era leaders from city parks and government buildings—and gave them to heritage organizations—today they use a different strategy. The government is constructing new monuments and placing them alongside old ones.4 Criteria have been developed to determine which of the old ones should continue to be displayed in public places, and which should not—and also how to present the context of the monuments so that they need not engender negative feelings and public displays of anger. We can also learn from Berlin, where there are many monuments that confront the world wars and post-WWII division. This book concludes with a chapter on how the Germans have come to terms with memorializing their own history.
The problems of the past that have affected society with respect to cultures and emotions, laws and desires, greed and hatred, and other such powerful forces are still with us, and will be so forever. How we have dealt with them, and continue to deal with them, are subjects of this book.
I mention legal challenges only in passing, because the subjects covered here are broad; different types of laws pertain to the situations described. Applicable laws may be local, national, or international. Many types of legal issues are identified ranging from copyright to human rights. The full array of laws related to preservation could indeed be the subject of a separate book.
My interest in the many aspects of preservation stems from personal and professional involvement as well as my readings in several fields. In chapter 2 I connect my experiences in Dublin (in the 1970s) and Moscow (in 1991) to my long-time focus on the cultural, political, and social aspects of preservation. Those experiences showed me that conservation and preservation concerns could take place well outside of cultural heritage institutions, in the streets, in war zones, or in public forums. I wrote an essay that explored some of these ideas and it became the catalyst for this book.5 My awareness of these challenges was further developed after the American invasion of Iraq in 2003. From 2004 to 2011 I worked with colleagues to train Iraqi librarians, archivists, and educators in the Middle East. I have not included that experience in this book; however, in chapter 4 I focus on Syria as only one example of the kinds of problems that now exist in the Middle East.
While my professional activities have broadened my personal perspectives, David Lowenthal broadened my intellectual ones. When I first read The Past Is a Foreign Country (recently “revisited” by him)6 over twenty years ago, a new approach to thinking about preservation opened up to me. I had so focused my attention on the technical and professional literature on conservation and preservation that it never occurred to me that a preservation narrative could be so seamlessly woven into history. It changed the focus of my research. Recently reading Lowenthal’s 2015 version of his work, I am newly impressed by his erudition.
This book is divided into six parts: Context, Cultural Genocide, Approaches to Preservation, Information or Object?, The Greening of Preservation, and Enduring, Ephemeral Preservation. Chapter 1 in part I introduces the book and explores the concept of monumentality in detail. It presents a schema for preservation that relates to the themes in the rest of the book. Chapter 2 presents case studies: the lending of two volumes of the Book of Kells by the Irish for an extended exhibition in the United States in the 1970s, and the taking down in Moscow, in August 1991, of statues of former communist leaders. (The statues were later placed in an area known as “Fallen Monument Park” and “Muzeon Park of Arts” where they still reside.) The studies show how different cultural attitudes play into preservation strategies.
Part II concentrates on cultural genocide. Chapter 3 focuses primarily on one person: Raphael Lemkin, whose groundbreaking work as a jurist during World War II led to the codification of the United Nations Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide in 1948. Lemkin coined the word genocide. Chapter 4 looks at a contemporary example of genocide and cultural genocide: the ongoing war in Syria. The chapter provides the historical context for understanding this war and describes current preservation initiatives.
Part III, Approaches to Preservation, looks at two activities that facilitate preservation: collecting and documentation. Chapter 5 highlights some notable collectors who had a strong commitment to preservation—and who collected objects that might have disappeared but for their efforts. Chapter 6 examines the role of Richard Nickel in preserving the work of the architect Louis Sullivan. Most of his papers are at the Art Institute of Chicago, and the architectural fragments that he salvaged from the buildings—in some cases, as they were being torn down—have been distributed (and sometimes preserved) all over the United States.
Part IV, Information or Object?, considers core issues in preserving originals and surrogates. Chapter 7 explores the dynamic between originals and copies and how it affects preservation decision making. Chapter 8 proposes new approaches to preserving digital heritage. Both chapters show some ways in which views about preservation are still evolving.
Part V, The Greening of Preservation, consists of one chapter (9): “Sustainable Preservation.” It proposes that the preservation of the built environment shares many issues with that of the natural environment. The chapter begins with John Ruskin, who, in lectures about storm clouds, wrote about pollution, and about the preservation of architecture. The chapter traces some developments in the environmental movement as well as in historic preservation.
Part VI, Enduring, Ephemeral Preservation, explores themes that have been addressed in the first nine chapters, but with a slightly different spin. In chapter 10, I revisit an article that I wrote in 2007 called “The Paradox of Preservation.” I reconsider my earlier piece and differentiate between paradoxical and complex situations. Both call for creative strategies. And finally, “Epilogue: Berlin as a City of Reconciliation and Preservation” appraises the ongoing reconstruction of Berlin and the city’s approach to creating monuments and memorials. It shows the importance of public engagement in such monumental preservation activities that have been ongoing since the end of World War II. Berlin is something of a preservation laboratory in its efforts to preserve the past while keeping a steady eye on the future.
I have drawn on just a few of many examples that could have been selected to illustrate my points. This book does not attempt to draw lessons and case studies from all parts of the world. Instead, I have focused primarily on Europe, Australia, the United States, and the Middle East. Time and resources have limited me, though there is much to be learned from Africa and from Asia, as well. I have made it a point to include a wide international swath of preservation activities in the journal that I edit, Preservation, Digital Technology & Culture. I invite readers to consult it.
The Monumental Challenge of Preservation was written for heritage professionals, students, and scholars in all disciplines that share an interest in preservation. Its goal is to inspire discussions about—and strategies for—preserving our heritage.
To accomplish this, the book touches on a number of complex and multifaceted subjects. No one person can have expertise in all of the subjects covered here. Although I have sometimes stepped outside of my own comfort zone in covering such diverse topics, I hope that The Monumental Challenge of Preservation will be a catalyst for wide-ranging discussions and new collaborations.
Michèle Valerie Cloonan
Williamsburg, MA
2017
Notes