Practical Considerations for Safeguarding Intangible Cultural Heritage

Michelle L. Stefano

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9781000412390
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Arte
• Subtopic: Museología

Practical Considerations for Safeguarding Intangible Cultural Heritage examines theoretical issues relating to intangible cultural heritage policy and practice, whilst also proposing practical ways to facilitate the safeguarding of such heritage.

Providing guidelines for best practice that take into account the constraints of the UNESCO-ICH paradigm, Stefano examines the principles and practices of two alternative and largely non-UNESCO frameworks for sustaining living cultural traditions: the philosophy of ecomuseology, and the discipline of public folklore in the context of the U.S. Arguing that they offer more collaborative, equitable, and effective ways forward for safeguarding ICH, Stefano demonstrates how they can address the limitations of the UNESCO-ICH paradigm. Importantly, the book offers a personal perspective, grounded in the author's public sector work, which allows the ICH discourse to move beyond critical analysis and explore realistic, alternative ways in which ICH can be collaboratively and equitably safeguarded.

Practical Considerations for Safeguarding Intangible Cultural Heritage proposes guidelines for professionals, researchers, and communities that foster safeguarding approaches that are as unique and nuanced as ICH expressions themselves. The interdisciplinary nature of the book will ensure that it is useful to those interested in community-led ICH safeguarding, as well as the impacts of UNESCO's 2003 Convention, in diverse geographic, political, economic, and sociocultural contexts.

1

SETTING THE STAGE

Introduction

In 2011, soon after being hired as a public folklorist at Maryland Traditions, the state folklife program, one of the first questions I had for its director concerned my newly acquired “folklorist” title. Coming out of my U.K. doctoral studies in heritage, it felt a bit unnerving to jump into a profession that used folklore as a unifying concept. I thought of it as antiquated, with the discipline's roots in the colonial classification of people, tied to similar anthropological endeavors at the time, coming readily to mind. ¹ Instead, I thought that something along the lines of “heritage specialist” offered a broader, more comfortable viewpoint and professional scope (although, not without similar issues). And while these colonial legacies should not be dismissed, I quickly learned just how inclusively folklore – and its sister term folklife – is conceptualized and used in the field today. Indeed, it was the intertwined principles and practices of public folklore, which I was learning on the job, day in and out, that challenged my preconceived notions of what folklore and folklife can mean.

In those early days, I was fortunate to have not only secured a job, but to have also become part of a tradition: there was a well-worn path for me to follow, signposted by folklorists who had come before and, yet, there was space for off-road innovation and change. I had come to see that my new mentors strove to collaboratively document, promote, and sustain a wide array of living cultural traditions, which may be verbal, musical, occupational, and/or sacred, to name some features. The living cultural traditions, practices, and expressions may be integral to Indigenous cultures, or they may have found a new home in Maryland through recent arrival; the focus was not defined by subjective views of what is of Maryland, but instead by looking more objectively at who is in the state. I was also struck by the level of care to ensuring that we were doing the best job we could. This meant that we prioritized the concerns and needs of the artists, cultural communities, and social groups with whom we engaged and collaborated, as they were and are the expert guides.

At the same time, we were accountable to the public, endeavoring to ensure wide access to Maryland Traditions programs and resources. To be better, we continually assessed our efforts – programmatic aims, methods, and the gaps in our approaches (and thinking) – through a reflexive lens. This involved an ongoing analysis of the impacts of the program, its grants, and other vehicles for supporting and promoting folklife. Assessment came in the form of built-in program evaluation, as well as on a more spontaneous basis through conversations, sometimes quite heavy, about ethical and culturally appropriate praxis. In general, we aimed to engage a diverse range of cultural communities and social groups, with a view toward addressing larger structural inequalities. I have come to consider this approach as following what folklorist Debora Kodish, founder of the Philadelphia Folklore Project, has termed “public interest folklore”, characterized as “grassroots and community-based folklife practice inspired by a vision of progressive social change, addressing inequalities, and working for the common good” (Kodish 2011, 32). And while there remain challenges, lessons to learn, and the need for continued improvement, I am proud to say that I am a public folklorist.

Outside of the United States, for over a decade, UNESCO's 2003 Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage is being implemented across the territories of 180 countries,² bringing to differing extents of influence intangible cultural heritage (hereafter ICH) policy to most parts of the world. With this popularity, it can be said that we – globally speaking – are stuck with the 2003 Convention for the foreseeable future, a fact that has motivated me in writing this book. Although I mainly look to “alternative” paradigms (relative to UNESCO prevalence) for safeguarding principles and practice, such as public folklore, the idea of being stuck with the Convention is a valuable one. For me, it has brought a sense of urgency to exploring and sharing ways in which the safeguarding of ICH can be effectively approached, more so than critiquing the UNESCO-ICH paradigm (as important as that is to continue to do).

In the context of international heritage law and UNESCO conventions, the 2003 Convention is innovative in its “commitment to involving communities, groups, and individuals directly concerned with creating, maintaining, and transmitting ICH” (Blake 2006, 14). How this commitment is playing out is the subject of much investigation and discussion to this day, including in the chapters that follow. Nonetheless, it is most emblematized by Article 15 of the Convention, which states that States Parties “shall endeavour to ensure the widest possible participation of communities, groups, and individuals” in safeguarding activities, and “to involve them actively in [ICH] management” (UNESCO 2003). Types of activities in which communities should be encouraged to participate, beginning from the early steps of identifying ICH (Article 11) and through to its inventorying at national levels and nomination for UNESCO designation, are elaborated further in the Convention's accompanying Operational Directives for the Implementation of the Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage.

As an international treaty, not only is it attempting to recognize the central roles that people play in keeping their cultures alive, but it is also promoting their inclusion in whatever administrative structures – the mechanisms and activities focused on their culture – to which it gives rise. Deriving its strength from national government buy-in, the Convention is calling for its proponents – state actors and affiliated researchers and professionals, among others – to work with ICH communities to facilitate their participation. The extent to which this is happening across States Parties varies, and there exist fundamental challenges as to perhaps why, but the most innovative aspect of the Convention may be that it brings – at least, in theory – ethics to the fore.

From my perspective, as a public folklorist who is active in a different – though similar-enough – heritage paradigm, working with communities in safeguarding and presenting their ICH, as I do now at the American Folklife Center (AFC), automatically signals the need for collaboration, in which their “participation” is fostered to the fullest extent possible. It signals the need to listen and to develop trust and rapport, hallmarks of respectful and ethical ethnographic practice. It also calls for self-reflexivity, a checking of privilege and ego, especially when operating from within government institutions. Since joining the AFC in late 2016, my institutional privilege and power has in many ways increased due to my access to national-level resources, platforms, and authoritative voice. My reflexive practice, honed at Maryland Traditions, entails knowing the unethical and inequitable history of the “ethnographic encounter” and to remain not only mindful of persistent power imbalances, but to ensure that any decision-making is shared, or guided less so by me. After all, the lifeblood of “ICH” is its cultural communities, social groups, culture keepers, and artists, the experts who develop, use, and change it. The effectiveness of any safeguarding initiative, then, hinges on the level of their involvement.

To connect with the global ICH discourse, my writing has been guided by certain questions. As the 2003 Convention matures, how can we address its inherently challenging infrastructure and make it work – in practical terms – better? What theoretical frameworks and methodological approaches can be drawn on to ensure – as best as possible – that processes of safeguarding living cultural traditions, practices, and expressions are inclusive, ethical, and equitable and, thus, rewarding to all those involved?

This idealism is worth striving for in a world where inequality, injustice, and divisive deception seem to be flourishing and, in places, encouraged. It is an understatement to say that life is hard, that basic survival is an uphill battle for so many people, including those with whom we – as oftentimes-privileged heritage professionals – work. In fact, there is a status quo of inequality that is worsening, where 71% of the world's population experience income inequality on a day-to-day basis (UN 2020). Twenty-six of the richest people in the world hold as much wealth as half the global population (Oxfam 2019). At present, the status quo favors profit over sociocultural and environmental concerns, and profit-seeking has infiltrated political processes across many parts of the globe. The forces of capitalism keep workers’ wages at inhumane levels, and the disinvestment in and privatization of public goods, such as land, health care, education, and other basic services, affects billions of people, and more so women than men.³ Greatly advanced by colonialism and settler colonialism, the status quo is patriarchal, with long, intertwined legacies of racism, objectification, and dehumanization.

I write this at a desk in Baltimore, Maryland, on the edge of the third decade of the 21st century, a time of great uncertainty, to put it mildly. I can see that the historical legacies of institutionalized racism, for instance, are very much alive around me, from one neighborhood to another, in this U.S. city. In the wake of grand-sweeping industrialization and deindustrialization over the course of the 19th, 20th, and 21st centuries, I can hear the bustling sounds of construction nearby, as new condominiums are built to attract those from elsewhere with wallets that match, while large swaths of the city decay in a lack of investment and disrepair. Yet, there is great resilience in Baltimore, which becomes apparent the more time one spends here. I am deeply inspired by the work of resistance in which community leaders, activists, professionals, academics, and students from a whole host of sectors, fields, and disciplines engage. In the face of inhumane, capitalistic, and neoliberal forces, there is a fight to amplify neglected histories and heritages, to call attention to the historical legacies, ideological underpinnings, and root causes of social injustice in so many forms, and address the power imbalances that foster them.⁴

It is in this context that I am continually reminded that safeguarding cultural knowledges and expressions is not only a part of this struggle for justice, too, but that the only way we can attempt any kind of success is through truly collaborative and equitable efforts. More than ever, we need to face the long-established unethical and inequitable habits embedded in heritage construction and preservation, and radically change them. Even in the realm of ICH safeguarding is the necessity to disrupt and, thereby, change the status quo, no matter how small the intervention. To fight against these legacies in seemingly small interventions, as focused on here, is a key component of ethical, equitable, and effective cultural work.

On definitions and terminology

The ‘intangible cultural heritage’ means the practices, representations, expressions, knowledge, skills – as well as the instruments, objects, artefacts and cultural spaces associated therewith – that communities, groups and, in some cases, individuals recognize as part of their cultural heritage. This intangible cultural heritage, transmitted from generation to generation, is constantly recreated by communities and groups in response to their environment, their interaction with nature and their history, and provides them with a sense of identity and continuity, thus promoting respect for cultural diversity and human creativity. For the purposes of this Convention, consideration will be given solely to such intangible cultural heritage as is compatible with existing international human rights instruments, as well as with the requirements of mutual respect among communities, groups and individuals, and of sustainable development.

(UNESCO 2003, Article 2.1)

“ICH” is a category of “cultural heritage” that was constructed at the global level, where it is most frequently employed (Kirshenblatt-Gimblett 2004). It is a term of policy (Hafstein 2009), shaped by the decades of international activity that brought the 2003 Convention to the world. As such, its definition carries certain conceptual contours, including a respect for people's recognition of their ICH, as well as its limitation to only encompass ICH that is compatible with human rights. Also layered in is globalization itself, as cited in the Convention's Preamble as a source of great threat, against which ICH needs to be protected. Echoing missions of early anthropology to “salvage” cultures on the brink of extinction (Brown 2005), threat and protection – and, thereby, res...