It’s all about wood: urban oaks between beetles and beeches

Doing research in Kassel, a middle-sized city in the very middle of Germany, I quickly became pulled into an urban oak wood that has a rich history and some time ago was turned into a nature conservation area – the “Eichwald” (literally “oak wood”). Its history is well documented by a local initiative called “Erinnerungen im Netz” (engl: memories online, translation CL). Local residents remember playing in the wood as children, drinking coffee at the “Eichwaldrestaurant” – a popular destination for day trippers – and much more. Humans have long used the Eichwald in their everyday lives and it plays a vital role in individual and collective memories. “After all, the wood is for the people, isn’t it?” one interview partner claims as he shows me where the playground once was. Standing there in 2019 we see fallen leaves showing through shrubs and ivy on the ground. The wood is full of scions growing up between dead oaks and beeches. Both the summers of 2018 and 2019 have been unusually dry – many healthy trees died throughout Germany. For woods to cope better with hot and dry summers, which are very likely to appear more often in Germany under climate change, they need to be diverse. Biodiversity is key to render forests resilient to climate change. Governing a wood – from an imperial park to a nature conservation area It had always been a tidy wood – until 2013. In the 18th century landgrave Wilhelm VIII had installed a pheasantry and an alley framed by oaks. The pheasantry, like all buildings in the Eichwald, does not exist anymore. Still everyone of my interview partners referred to it and pointed to the places where they remembered it. While oaks are not necessarily common in North Hesse (most woods are dominated by beeches) they have been in wide use in German parks for centuries, a circumstance that brings us to the hermit beetle (Osmoderma eremita), an endangered species under special protection, which lives in old oaks (preferably 200 years or more of age). Osmoderma eremita is basically the reason I was drawn to do research in that wood, because a conflict arose between the local forest authority, the city administration and the citizens from the area after the Eichwald was turned into an area of nature conservation in 2013. The beetle gained a protected area to live but some people feel they lost an area that has been so vital throughout their lives. Who is the wood for? The Eichwald is supposed to develop into a “virgin forest” and be a biodiverse habitat for the endangered hermit beetle and other species....

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The Visitor Experience: Adapting in Post-Covid World

The heritage and tourism industry has suffered in numerous ways due to the Covid pandemic currently prevalent in our world. When we think about the relationship between heritage sites and consumers who are eager to explore history and heritage, this has naturally been subject to change during these challenging times. Ensuring that collections, artefacts and displays are appreciated, and that the heritage is valued by the visitor is key for a successful visitor experience (Wallace, 2017, p. 3) and this coupled with the new safety precautions, is what all heritage sites are attempting to balance. As a researcher, I have visited different heritage sites and experienced how they have adapted to the current circumstances where social distancing, improved hygiene practices and safety precautions have been put in place. One heritage site of note is New Lanark, where I have also had the privilege of working for the past year on a part-time basis. Awarded World Heritage Site (WHS) status in 2001, New Lanark celebrates the industrial history of Scotland through a Visitor Attraction Centre and various other tourist facilities such as a hotel, café and shop. It can be found alongside the River Clyde, between Glasgow and Edinburgh. The purposes of this WHS are summarised below (New Lanark, 2020): Conserve the site’s heritage, site and environs, Contribute socially and economically to the area, Evolve to stay relevant to our people and the world. As the Covid pandemic has swept through the country, New Lanark has attempted to balance the consumer needs and wants with government restrictions and guidelines to ensure a safe, enjoyable and informative visit to the site. Arguably, this is in keeping with the above purposes of the site. With the visitor experience already being widely recognised in literature as a ‘multidimensional and complex’ learning environment with varying perspectives (Packer and Ballantyne, 2016, p. 129), adding necessary safety precautions into the mix has created many challenges which have required urgent solutions. Using online platforms such as social media to further promote heritage and history has enabled New Lanark to reach various target audiences and promote the visibility of the site. A new socially-distanced exhibition entitled ‘A Tenement Through Time’ has also been opened to the public, where the consumer can learn how people lived through their words, lives and wallpapers. Despite these successful promotions of history and heritage, New Lanark has been unable to fully open its doors to tourists which is sadly the reality for a great number of heritage sites. Thus, we ask ourselves… How long can this be sustained? The temptation to think negatively of such circumstances is to be expected but perhaps when...

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Acropolis: Marbled by Monumental Myths and Stories 

“During my first days in the city for fieldwork, I strolled around the small streets in Anafiotika, a Greek island-like neighborhood at the foot of the Acropolis. There, I started chatting with a shop owner in his 60s, who was trying to sell his summer linen clothes and straw hats to tourists. When he asked me how long I was planning to stay and I told him that I will be staying to do some research, he became curious. His first reaction to the topic of my research was to tell me the story of Konstantinos Koukidis.”[1] He’s the one who committed suicide, preventing the Greek flag to not get lost to the Germans during the German occupation in Greece (1941-1944), by wrapping his body in the fabric and throwing himself from the Acropolis hill. Though there are speculations that Koukidis himself did not really exist, but rather became a myth told for almost 80 years now, for the shopkeeper I talked to, this story represents the beginning of the Greek resistance against the Nazis as well as many following movements. “It is one of these stories that often remain in the shadow of an impressive historic monument and the endless queues of tourists in front of souvenir shops, bars, restaurants, ice cream shops and shops selling Greek frozen yogurt. I am certain that on this day in late June 2018, when I was told this story by the shop keeper, thousands of tourists had already passed by the plaque commemorating Koukidis’ act of resistance on their way to climb the Acropolis hill – most likely without even noticing it. I was still at the beginning of my fieldwork and yet the shopkeeper’s story already made me aware of the gap between heroic testimonies of antiquity and heroes of modern Greek history in official Greek historical representation, as exemplified by the Acropolis.”[2] However, this is not the only story surrounding a fabric – here a flag – and the ancient site. There is another one, a bit less mythologized, as the main protagonists definitely existed: Manolis Glezos and Apostolos Santas became icons of the anti-fascist resistance during the German occupation in 1941, by taking down the swastika flag hoisted on the hill of the Acropolis. “I really like it cause it’s amazing how a piece of fabric can have such a big meaning of belonging,” states Della, whom I interviewed during a fieldtrip in 2018, when we are talking about acts of resistance and the Acropolis. Glezos himself remained politically active amongst others as the oldest member of the European Parliament for Syriza in 2014 and 2015, at the age...

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Why is history never set in stone?

July 13th, 2013 a socio-political movement took off across the United States of America. In the aftermath of a controversial judicial decision to acquit Officer George Zimmerman, in the shooting of 17-year-old African American Trayvon Martin, people took to social media platforms with the simple yet powerful statement: #BlackLivesMatter. Momentum gained across the next several years, with demonstrations against police brutality and civil rights violations, the movement was formalised as Black Lives Matter (BLM). Then in 2020, the unlawful death of George Floyd by police reignited the movement not only in America, but across the globe. The movement gathered between 15 to 26 million people in USA, becoming one of the largest movements in United States’ history. Then BLM has seen ramifications and support across the globe and stirred a new stand in the UK. By June 2020, BLM protesters in Bristol dislodged a public sculpture of Edward Colston, a philanthropist who also had connections to the slave trade, and pushed it into a nearby river. Why did the BLM movement shift from protesting police brutality in contemporary society to the destruction of historical figures in public spaces? If there is one thing we all rely on without necessarily giving it much credit, it is our understanding of the past. In many cases, history represents a core ideological narrative of any given society. It can shape our ways of behaving in any social context and represent the roots of many of our values, traditions and beliefs. The narration of past events represents a fundamental element of the heritage experience, producing meanings and sharing culturally significant values of a nation. Yet we tend to regard history as a fixed immutable asset. We can find comfort in knowing that while our society is constantly evolving, our past lies unchanged. But is this the case? Who wrote the historical records and for what purpose? The old adage ‘history is written by the victors’ has been problematised by the BLM movement and in particular the unquestioned presence of historical figures’ monuments scattered across cities. As the overarching controllers of historical narratives, museums and heritage sites have been actively rethinking past narratives.The heritage scholar Rodney Harrison argues that “heritage is not simply a collection of ‘things’, but instead constitutes the social ‘work’ that individuals and societies undertake to produce the past in the present.” (2013, p.113) In that sense, the BLM movement has certainly challenged the social ‘work’ that past societies created in the commemoration of Edward Colston in public spaces. While it was perhaps an agreed form of narrative in a very different period of time, it might not always reflect the understanding...

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Negotiating Contested Landscapes: The Alaska Lupin in Iceland
Jul16

Negotiating Contested Landscapes: The Alaska Lupin in Iceland

A windy summer day gives a glimpse into the complex, and at times contested, relations that emerge between people and plants in Iceland’s quickly transforming landscapes.

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Content Wanted! Become a Part of Transformations

How much of the experience and results of our anthropological research reaches the public? Far too little in our eyes. We want to change the cycle of invisibility. Anthropologists do have a lot to offer. We have the expertise to engage in public discourse. Anthropology matters. Tell your stories, write for us.

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