“The passport is the noblest part of a human being. Nor does it come into the world in such a simple way as a human being. A human being can come about anywhere, in the most irresponsible manner and with no proper reason at all, but not a passport.That’s why a passport will always be honoured, if it’s a good one, whereas a person can be as good as you like, and still no one takes notice.”
The phenomena of vivid grapevine communication, ferociously bred rumours and fake news seems to be a domain of modern times. However, these communicative inconsistencies have their historical and social continuity, recurring in times of distress and information noise. Let’s take the case of the wartime period: no internet, censored mass media, illegal information channels versus official propaganda. Who or what can be trusted?
Can we learn from history? This is not just a question historians ask themselves but also a question of social relevance. In some cases, the only choice is to learn in order to prevent, for example regarding the Holocaust. ‘Never again’ is a simple but urgent demand. But what about other cases – for example, a pandemic?
What and who is a wood for? Especially in urban surroundings natural places are entangled in a myriad of practices. It is no simple task to accomodate them all and conflicts are bound to occur. Can they be resolved?
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...
“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.” 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.” 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...