By Jeffrey Levin

The desire to visit historic places is as ancient as civilization. Nearly three and a half thousand years ago, Saqqara, the site of Egypt's first stone pyramid—then already a millennium old—was attracting a considerable number of visitors. Among them were a number of scribes who engraved their reactions in hieroglyphics on the walls of Saqqara's chapels. More than one wrote that he "found it beautiful..."

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Compared with the tradition of tourism, the concept of managing and maintaining historic sites seems utterly modern. But the Egyptians, in fact, had a strong reverence for their past. Repairing, restoring, and maintaining ancient places of importance often occupied the minds of pharaohs. At the end of the 15th century B.C.E.,Tuthmosis IV ordered the sand inundating the Sphinx at Giza cleared away so that the ancient figure could be restored. Over a century later, Rameses II had his son Khaemwaset organize the restoration of certain structures in Saqqara.

If Egyptian civilization, whose dynasties spanned 3,000 years, had paid no attention to the care of ancient sites, one wonders how many fewer of those remarkable places would be left to us now.


A Conservation Issue

For decades, the mandate of conservation has included not only a broad spectrum of objects—fine art, historical, and ethnographic—but also sites and monuments. Sites, like movable art, are a part of our cultural heritage. Their presence helps define the historical character of a community or nation. In those societies where the link to the past through cultural traditions remains unbroken, many historic sites "live" through centuries of continuous use. In every society, sites and monuments contribute to an appreciation and understanding of the past, and a sense of historical continuity.

Sites are also rich in information. Unfortunately, this is not universally recognized. As GCI Special Projects Director Neville Agnew notes: "The actual significance of historical sites and the information which they convey are somewhat remote from the public mind generally. I don't think it's something that leaps out and hits the public unless it is communicated. Certainly it's something that should be communicated—the inherent information that is locked into materials and the context of the site itself."

Because their environment and security are not easily controlled, sites and monuments are more vulnerable than movable cultural property. Climate, vandalism, neglect, natural disasters, and indifference all contribute to the degradation of a site. Often when an archaeological team completes its excavation, it leaves the site to the elements with no plan in place for the site's preservation and care. The Anasazi sites in New Mexico's Chaco Canyon, for example, were widely excavated in the early part of this century with little thought given to how the architectural ruins would be protected once exposed. As a consequence, the U.S. National Park Service today is confronted with miles of masonry walls needing maintenance—and a shortage of resources to do it.

Sites can also be victims of mismanagement. If a plan does exist but the site is poorly maintained, the typical result is decreased visitor respect for the site's physical integrity. Far too many sites, including some of world class stature, suffer from neglect or abuse. When governments perceive sites primarily as a mechanism for producing tourist dollars, sites can be destroyed through uncontrolled access.

"It is far easier to get five jumbo jet loads of tourists to a place than to have the infrastructure to receive them," says Nicholas Stanley Price, GCI Training Program Deputy Director. "As more and more countries become accessible to tourism, there are going to be bursting points where sites suddenly receive all these tourists while lacking the infrastructure to deal with them."

Site management plans today can have a variety of objectives, such as site development, increasing visitor access, and enhancing a site's educational value. The plan's ultimate goal, however, should be to conserve and protect the site for future survival. When properly conceived and implemented, management plans serve as tools to ensure well-conceived decision-making regarding the conservation of a site—its unexcavated objects and features, exposed elements, ephemeral nature, and potential historical and cultural values.

Over the years, international organizations have attempted to codify standards to conserve and protect historic sites. Perhaps the seminal document is the Venice Charter, adopted in 1966 by the International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS). In its preamble, the Charter declared it "essential that the principles guiding the preservation and restoration of ancient buildings should be agreed upon and be laid down on an international basis, with each country being responsible for applying the plan within the framework of its own culture and traditions."

The Charter, in sixteen terse articles, outlines the objectives of—and the limits of acceptability in—the conservation and restoration of historic monuments. Its usefulness as a guide remains. But while it defines conservation and restoration in a fundamental way, the Charter is arguably a document with a Eurocentric view. Those who drafted it were charged with the responsibility of caring to a large extent for the monuments of cultures that had long since passed into history. In addition, the emphasis of their work was more on structures than places. Perhaps for that reason, the Charter refers primarily to monuments, not sites.

In 1979, the Australian chapter of ICOMOS, building on the foundation of the Venice Charter, adopted its own "Charter for the Conservation of Places of Cultural Significance." Commonly known as "The Burra Charter" (for the town in which it was adopted), the document, among other things, includes two important concepts, both of which appear in its title: "place" and "cultural significance."

Under the Burra Charter, it is the conservation of places, not simply structures, that is called for—with place defined as a "site, area, building or other work, group of buildings or other works, together with associated contents and surroundings." This broad definition reflects in part the Australian experience with its aboriginal culture, a living culture that values, as sacred, places within the natural landscape. Because the aboriginal culture continues, these values are alive and influence the contemporary landscape and its treatment.

The concept of "value" is only part of the Burra Charter's departure from its predecessor, the Venice Charter. The Burra Charter addresses the "why" of conservation by including the concept of cultural significance which it defines as "aesthetic, historic, scientific or social value for past, present or future generations." The Charter holds cultural significance as the justification for conservation. Indeed, it specifically defines conservation as "all the processes of looking after a place so as to retain its cultural significance."


The Management Plan

With appropriate conservation as the ultimate objective, what does successful site management require? Certainly resources, but the issue neither begins nor ends there.

"Although the expenditure of money is always necessary," says Dr. Stanley Price, "I don't see the lack of huge financial resources as a real impediment to the implementation of good site management."

The conservation and preservation of a site depends upon the execution of a thoughtfully prepared site management plan. For the plan itself to be effective, it must be the result of a careful process that includes at the beginning two critical steps—defining the cultural significance of a site, then reconciling the positions of all parties with interests in the site.

"Most commonly in the past, those first two steps have not been taken," Dr. Stanley Price observes. "People have gone straight to technical solutions without thinking about what it is people want to get out of the site, and what is conducive to the preservation of the site. Technical conservation measures are only one element in the plan."

Assessing the significance of a site is but one of several key elements that go into a management plan. Equally important are several others, including documenting the history of the site, reviewing the site's physical condition and current conservation problems, and analyzing the legal, social, and physical factors that affect site management options. Once these are complete, a management policy can be defined and a conservation strategy selected.

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While significance assessment is only one component of the process, its consideration is essential. Sharon Sullivan, Director of the Australian Heritage Commission, believes that in order to know what should be done, one must know why one is doing it.

"Problems in site management often occur because people don't first consider what it is they're trying to conserve and whether it has value in the first place," remarks Ms. Sullivan. "If a site does have value, you really have to think about whether it's the fabric or the form that has the value, whether the value relates to the setting or—as in prehistoric or aboriginal sites—to the value that aborigines place on it. Of course, most places have more than one value which is why you have to think through all of them before you decide which management technique is appropriate." (See Sacred Landscapes: A Conversation with Sharon Sullivan)

Though what makes a site important may seem obvious, too infrequently is it directly addressed. "The values are certainly things that people don't consciously sort out in their minds," says Dr. Agnew. "It's a very important element of the process. Certainly, the first step."

The kinds of values that can be attributed to a site fall into several broad classifications, including historical, scientific/research, aesthetic/artistic, religious/spiritual, and social/ethnic values. Others, such as economic and educational values, may follow from these. Determining a site's values, their relative importance, and their impact on the conservation of a site cannot be done unilaterally. The process must involve all who have an interest in the site.


The Consultation Process

The trouble with many past and present site management plans is their top-down approach. Often outside consultants are hired and, after spending a brief period of time in an area talking with people, prepare a plan far from the actual place and community to be affected. The result, frequently, is a huge gap between what the plan is advocating and what the people in the area see as being necessary.

Such was the case ten years ago in Chile where the national agency responsible for managing natural resources and archaeological sites, the Corporación Nacional Forestal (CONAF), hired outside groups to create their management plans. According to Angel Cabeza, an archaeologist with CONAF, "this kind of process failed because often the people who made the plan didn't know well the area or its special problems."

Today the procedure for creating site management plans in Chile is more inclusive. It begins with a three-to-four month period during which CONAF personnel travel to the area involved to collect information and become familiar with the relevant issues. Their work includes spending time with local residents and encouraging their participation. This initial phase is followed by seven to ten days of intensive meetings with CONAF staff, specialists, and leaders of the local community. During these meetings the plan's objectives are clarified and programs to carry out those objectives outlined. On the basis of these discussions, a document containing the management plan is subsequently prepared.

While conservation of archaeological sites is a relatively new concern for CONAF, Dr. Cabeza says it is now an element of the process. By including local residents in the deliberations over a site, he states, "we have more control over the success of the conservation program."

As those at CONAF realized, communication and consultation is needed with a number of constituencies, ranging from the local population (which may include indigenous groups) to landowners, land-users, local industries, scholars, and representatives of governmental agencies. All who have a stake in a site must be involved to reach consensus on a site's significance and the best way to protect it.

Margaret Mac Lean, GCI Training Program Senior Coordinator, believes that this process itself has value. "It's moving from the recognition of a site's importance and the need to manage it, to assessing the significance of the place and coming up with a negotiated statement that balances significance against visitation and all the things that might threaten the value of the place. Working out the relative positions of value and community and so forth is an enormously valuable process. It teaches everybody so much about what is needed and about the richness of the opinions of other groups."

E. Charles Adams, curator of archaeology at the Arizona State Museum in Tucson, agrees. During the late 1980s, Adams served on the technical advisory committee helping devise a master plan for Arizona's Homolovi Ruins State Park, the site of six large Hopi pueblos occupied between 1250 and 1400 CE Dr. Adams believes the committee was effective because it was broadly based, including representatives of the Hopi, local landowners, and business people from the nearby town of Winslow.

"A lot of people attended the meetings and were able to understand all the concerns," says Dr. Adams. "We could work out compromises in terms of people with property who would be affected, people who had grazing rights, people interested in environmental preservation, land managers from state and federal agencies, archaeologists, and the Hopi as well."

According to Dr. Adams, the Hopi had a strong obvious interest in the way the site was handled. "They wanted to see the park developed to protect the villages, but also to begin communicating information about their own tribal history. They saw it as politically advantageous in terms of presenting their own ideas and philosophies."


Successful Site Management

Obviously, successful site management entails more than assessment through consultation. It must be accompanied by the other elements of site assessment, then followed by the careful selection and implementation of a conservation strategy.

There is as well a third component, frequently overlooked but fundamental to a site's preservation—maintenance. Without a consistent and comprehensive maintenance program, the benefits of a well-prepared management plan can vanish as a site's condition deteriorates through human neglect. The importance of maintenance is articulated in the first of the "Conservation Principles" in the Burra Charter: "The aim of conservation is to retain the cultural significance of a place and must include provision for its security, its maintenance and its future."

Still, assessing value through consultation and consensus is an important starting point. But value, as Dr. Mac Lean observes, is not static. "Recognizing that a place has interest and value is one thing," she says. "Recognizing that those things change over time is something else entirely. Value is a very dynamic idea. It comes and goes. Introducing that concept can sometimes make people uncomfortable because it reminds them that their point of view is as ephemeral as the next person's."

If values are dynamic, site management strategies must be the same. Ultimately, successful site management is not so much an end, but a process, one that seeks retention of the cultural significance of a place while acknowledging and accommodating a shifting consensus on the nature of that significance.