# **THE PAST IN THE PRESENT A Living Heritage Approach – Meteora, Greece**

# **Ioannis Poulios**

**ubiquity press**

# **THE PAST IN THE PRESENT A Living Heritage Approach – Meteora, Greece**

Ioannis Poulios

# ]u[

ubiquity press London

Published by Ubiquity Press Ltd. Gordon House 29 Gordon Square London WC1H 0PP www.ubiquitypress.com

Text © Ioannis Poulios 2014

First published 2014

Cover Image by Kostas Liolios

Printed in the UK by Lightning Source Ltd.

ISBN (Hardback): 978-1-909188-27-3 ISBN (EPub): 978-1-909188-28-0 ISBN (PDF): 978-1-909188-29-7

DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.5334/bak

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 444 Castro Street, Suite 900, Mountain View, California, 94041, USA.This licence allows for copying any part of the work for personal and commercial use, providing author attribution is clearly stated.

Suggested citation:

Poulios, I 2014 *The Past in the Present: A Living Heritage Approach – Meteora, Greece.* London: Ubiquity Press. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.5334/bak

> To read the free, open access version of this book online, visit http://dx.doi.org/10.5334/bak or scan this QR code with your mobile device:

*to my family: Dimitrios and Alexandra, Costas and Kassiani,*

*Alexandra junior, Georgia, Dimitrios junior, and Nikoletta*

# **Contents**



# **Acknowledgements**

The largest part of the present study derives from my PhD research on *Living sites: The Past in the Present – The monastic site of Meteora, Greece: Towards a new approach to conservation* conducted at the Institute of Archaeology of University College London (Poulios 2008). The present study also benefits significantly from my consulting experience with the International Centre for the Study of the Preservation and Restoration of Cultural Property (ICCROM) and the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation (UNESCO) and with local Greek heritage organisations Diazoma and Maniatakeion Foundation.

There are a number of people who have contributed to this study and whom I would like to thank. First, with regards to my PhD research, my deep gratitude is owed to my supervisors Tim Schadla-Hall, Tim Williams, and Peter Ucko who unfortunately did not see this study published. I would also like to thank members of staff and colleagues at the Institute of Archaeology for the most interesting discussions we had concerning the complexities in community involvement in heritage management in different parts of the world.

My field trips inside and outside Greece played a most significant role in my research. Concerning Greece, I am indebted to Alkis Prepis for the discussions we had on the management of World Heritage Byzantine sites inside and outside Greece, and to Father Ieronymos Nikolopoulos for helping me explore the meaning of *Tradition* in the Orthodox Church. With reference to the site of Meteora, I am profoundly thankful to the monastic communities, the Church officials and the local people of Kastraki and Kalampaka, who not only generously offered me their help but, more importantly, embraced me as part of their community. Also, to Lazaros Deriziotis for the discussions on the management of the site. I am indebted to Kostas Liolios and Athina Pantoula for their continuous support and, more importantly, their friendship.

As far as my field trips outside Greece are concerned: In Russia, special thanks to Dmitrij Macinskij and Vjaceslav Kulesov, and to my friend Nikolai Lipatov and his family for their hospitality in St Petersburg. In Cyprus, to Vassos Karageorghis, and Marina Ieronymidou. I am also thankful to my colleague and friend Katerina Ruscio for her inspirational guided tour of the basement of St Peter's Church in the Vatican. In India, special thanks to Archana Verma, E. Sivanagi Reddy, M. N. Rajesh, K.M. Kamesan, Sri Vaishnava Sri, R. Subrahmanyam, Y.G.V. Babu and R. Satyanarayana, Ranesh Ray and A.R. Ramanathan, and Radha Champakalakshmi; above all, to my friend Krishna Vamsi Chintapalli and his family, for giving me the opportunity to make this trip in the first place, and to the family of Srinivas Chintapalli for their warmest hospitality; and also to my friend Arijit Prasad.

Regarding my visits to international organisations concerned with heritage protection: at UNESCO World Heritage Centre, special thanks to Merchtild Rossler; at UNESCO Intangible Heritage Sector, to Rieks Smeets and Cesar Moreno; and to the personnel of the Greek *Maison de l' Unesco*; at Getty Conservation Institute, to Martha Demas; at ICCROM, to Nicholas Stanley-Price, Joe King, Gamini Wijesuriya, Webber Ndoro, and Zaki Aslan. This first visit to ICCROM prepared the path for my subsequent collaboration with the organization.

Last but not least, I am profoundly indebted to Stavros and Eleni Panou for their support throughout my PhD research, and to my friend Dimitris Panou for his most useful comments on an earlier draft of my thesis.

I would like to acknowledge the financial support of the S. Saripolou Foundation of the University of Athens and of the Greek State Scholarships Foundation (IKY), whose scholarships made it possible for me to live and study in the UK, and of the A.G. Leventis Foundation, which allowed me to conduct the extensive field trips inside and outside Greece. I feel the need to personally thank Tasso Leventis, Louisa Leventis, and Fotini Panayi.

The PhD thesis was examined by John Carman and Reuben Grima, to whom I am indebted for their most constructive comments.

Second, with regards to my consulting experience with ICCROM, UNESCO, Diazoma, and Maniatakeion Foundation: At ICCROM I contributed to the further development, promotion and implementation of a living heritage approach initially in Southeast Asia and then at an international level, under the supervision of Gamini Wijesuriya, to whom I am grateful. The present study benefits from the work of other colleagues carried out throughout the development of ICCROM *Living Heritage Sites* Program. I would like to thank ICCROM for allowing me access to this work and approving its dissemination.

At UNESCO, I taught at the annual School in Southeast Europe on 'Sustainable Energy Governance in World Heritage Sites' on the reconciliation of Renewable Energy investments with the protection of historic environments and the sustainable development of local communities. The School was organised by the Venice Office at the initiative and under the supervision of Davide Poletto, whom I thank warmly.

At Diazoma, I contributed – through the participation in the *Future Leaders* Program – to the crafting of a new strategy for the shift of the organization from the protection of ancient theatres to the sustainable development of local communities (through the exploitation of the ancient theatres) at a national level, and to the implementation of this strategy to the town of Eretria in Greece. Thanks to Stavros Benos, Vassilis Labrinoudakis, Petros Themelis, and Andreas Zabetas from Diazoma; to Kris Amiralis from Future Leaders; and to the students-participants of the Program.

At Maniatakeion Foundation, I contributed to the implementation of a living heritage approach at the region of Koroni in Greece, where a small community attempts to achieve – through the exploitation of its cultural heritage – a competitive advantage for its sustainable development. A milestone in this attempt was the inscription – in collaboration with local communities from Italy, Spain, and Morocco – of the Mediterranean Diet in the UNESCO Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. Thanks to Dimitris Maniatakis, and to the members of the local community of Koroni.

I am specially thankful to Ubiquity Press, and personally to Brian Hole and Tim Wakeford, for their high level of professionalism as well as their personal care throughout the publishing process. I would also like to thank Georgia Pelteki for her advice on practical issues concerning the publishing process. Furthermore, thanks are owed to Kostas Liolios, rock-climber and professional rock-climbing guide, for providing me with really impressive photos of Meteora. Thanks also to Maria Koutsari and Ioannis Tsoukalas, architects and urban planners, for their contribution to the editing of the text and the figures concerning the evolution of space at Meteora; to Anna Probonas for her help with the editing of the text; and to Corinna Fanara, museum educator, for the formulation of the index.

I am indebted to Reuben Grima for kindly accepting to review the present study. I would also like to thank Leslie Brubaker and Gamini Wijesuriya for their endorsements.

The publication was made possible thanks to the financial support of University College London.

# **A note on the author**

Ioannis Poulios is a heritage management and sustainable development consultant.

Ioannis studied History and Archaeology at the University of Athens, Freie Universität Berlin, and the University of Birmingham. He conducted his PhD research on heritage management and sustainable development at University College London, and also attended MBA electives on business strategy and management at London Business School.

Ioannis has collaborated with the international heritage organization ICCROM and with local Greek heritage organisations in the context of designing and implementing innovative community-centred approaches that promote the empowerment of local communities in the conservation process and the sustainable social and economic development. Ioannis works as a lecturer at the Hellenic Open University, and is also teaching at UNESCO (Venice Office) annual School on 'Sustainable Energy Governance in World Heritage Sites'.

His key research interests are: a) heritage management and sustainable development; b) Renewable Energy management in connection to heritage management and sustainable development; and c) application of business strategy and management models to cultural organisations.

Contact at: jannispoulios@hotmail.com

# **Introduction**

*To the layman, the phrase 'living heritage' might sound like an oxymoron. Is not 'heritage' something inherited from the past? Is it not, almost by definition, no longer 'living'?... The emergence of this concept [of 'living sites'] seems important in its own right as a step in the evolution of conservation thinking... Or is it, in fact, merely a recognition of the obvious – that many places deemed to be of heritage significance are still foci of traditional cultural practices? (Stanley-Price 2005, 1)*

#### **The problem**

Since World War II there has been an increasing tendency towards the formulation of laws and conventions for the protection and management of heritage sites at national level and increasingly at an international level. Conservation approaches, however, often prove to be simplistic and linear in relation to the much more complicated living dimension at some heritage sites. Furthermore, despite the increasing rhetoric about the importance of recognising this living dimension of heritage sites and the need to involve local communities in site management, accompanied by a growing use of the term 'living heritage sites', in practice conservation professionals often seem to marginalise local communities and exclude them from site management.

At the Orthodox monastic site of Meteora in Greece, in particular, there are currently six monastic communities, consisting of approximately sixty monks and nuns, devoted to the worship of God (**figure 1**). It is thanks to the permanent presence of this religious community that the site is still living, as the visitor-sign at the entrance of the Great Meteoron monastery clearly demonstrates (**figure 2**):

You are entering a living monastery. These grounds are sacred and you are asked to show reverence during your visit.

The monks and nuns continue to lead their monastic-ritual life on a site that is gaining increasing significance as a heritage site and also as a tourist attraction due to changing wider circumstances. The use of Meteora as a tourist and a heritage site has a remarkable impact on the everyday life of

#### 2 The Past in the Present

**Figure 1:** The monastic site of Meteora in Greece: a general view of the site, with the Holy Trinity monastery on the left (source: photo of Vasso Chantzis).

the monks and nuns. At the same time, the permanent presence of these sixty persons significantly affects the use of the site by the other thousands of people involved in its tourism exploitation and heritage protection at local, national and international level. The relationship between the living (monastic) function of the site, its heritage protection and its use as a tourist attraction becomes in practice a question of who is in charge of the operation and management of the site on an everyday basis.

## **Research subject, objectives, questions, and case study**

The present study deals with the complexities of the operation and management of living heritage sites. The main objective of this research is to reconcile their continual and evolving process of use and creation with the protection of their heritage significance. The main questions that this research addresses are:


	- •If the operation and management of living heritage sites lie outside currently understood principles and practices, what approach can be suggested for the management of these sites?

In order to explore the aforementioned questions, the present study focuses on the site of Meteora (a World Heritage Site) as its case study, while comparisons will be made with various other sites from different parts of the world. Emphasis is on World Heritage Sites because these sites, given their increased recognition in a national and international context, tend to reveal at a greater scale and with greater clarity the mechanisms and complexities of heritage management, as well as the conflicts between the different community groups in terms of values, power, and ethics.

Meteora is chosen as the case study because it can explicitly demonstrate the complexities of the operation and management of living heritage sites at an international level. Specifically:

• Meteora monasteries have a complicated ownership status. As monuments of the past, they are part of the national heritage of Greece and belong to the Greek state, which protects them with a specific interest in their archaeological and art-historic value. The state has a well-established and strict system for the protection of its antiquities, which is historically attached to the Classical past. At the same time, as living monasteries, they belong to the Orthodox Church of Greece, which concentrates on their ritual function. Orthodox Christianity is the predominant religion of the Greek state, still followed by the vast majority of Greek citizens and with considerable influence in the everyday life of society. The Orthodox Church maintains strong historic links with the State but frequently develops a

#### 4 The Past in the Present

policy that is contradictory to that of the State. Finally, the monasteries are owned, inhabited and used by the monastic communities. The monastic communities have a strong influence upon the life of local society. Also, though being part of the Church in administrative as well as spiritual terms, they frequently hold their own views.


In an attempt to understand and face the aforementioned complexities of the living heritage site of Meteora, research was undertaken into the international theoretical principles and practical tools of conservation, mostly in the context of a values-based approach, as the current most preferred approach to conservation. However, through application of these international principles and tools to Meteora, it became clear that such an approach was inappropriate to the specific complexities of the site, and therefore there was a need to develop an alternative method for its operation and management.

# **Research outcomes**

The contribution of this research may be summarised as follows:


this study demonstrates that there are cases in which international developments in the field can be associated to places of the Western world as well.

• Serving as a pilot study introducing new ways of understanding and managing Byzantine heritage sites inside and outside Greece.

#### **Research methodology, and sources of material**

In developing a new conservation approach for living heritage sites, the following steps were undertaken:

A literature review allowed exploration and synthesis of the concept of a 'living heritage site'. In addition to the literature review, discussions with individuals involved in the management of living heritage sites in different parts of the world helped the exploration of the operational and management complexities of such sites, with an emphasis on community involvement in the conservation process.

Visits to international organisations and institutions (UNESCO World Heritage Centre in Paris, UNESCO Intangible Heritage Sector in Paris, ICCROM in Rome, and the Getty Conservation Institute in Los Angeles) provided a firm understanding of differing conservation approaches, particularly concerning the living dimension of heritage and community involvement in site management, and helped the examination of whether living heritage sites can fit within the current principles and practices of conservation. These visits allowed the exploration of the underlying philosophy, the latest trends and the future perspectives of these differing approaches. It was decided that the present study does not include an analysis of the UNESCO Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage (UNESCO 2003) and of the associated issues (such as the policy behind its signing, its differences and similarities with the UNESCO Convention Concerning the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage and the potential as well as complexities of the merging of the two Conventions, and the difficulties of the implementation of the Convention), despite their relevance to a broader discussion of the living dimension of heritage. It was deemed that such an analysis would go beyond the size and the scope of the present study; this analysis could be the subject of a future study.

Field trips to India, Cyprus, Russia, and Greece allowed the study of living heritage sites in various parts of the world giving me the opportunity to make comparisons between these sites and Meteora in terms of their living dimension, and to examine diverse ways of dealing with this living dimension. The trip to India allowed the exploration of the very strong association of local communities with particularly religious sites in the context of a heritage protection system that is strongly influenced by colonialism. Added to this, was the context of a rapidly changing wider economic, political and social environment with concomitant implications for heritage. The visits to Russia and Cyprus resulted in an examination of differing systems and approaches towards the protection of Byzantine heritage. The material from the visits to specific heritage sites in Russia and Cyprus was eventually not included in the present study, for reasons related to its size. Other World Heritage Byzantine sites in Greece helped to place Meteora in the context of other sites within the same system of heritage protection.

The above allowed evaluation of Meteora in a wider framework which led to the formulation of a series of findings. These findings were then applied to the study of Meteora in the context of living heritage sites at an international level, giving a much broader context as well as a much greater perspective to the research.

Sources of data concerning the site of Meteora are as follows:

•The World Heritage listing documents of the site (World Heritage Centre in Paris).


#### **Structure**

The present study consists of three parts and a conclusion.

Part 1 discusses existing approaches to conservation. Specifically:

Chapter 1 provides a definition of the discipline of conservation, and outlines the key developments in the discipline since its birth. Emphasis is on the concept of authenticity. Authenticity, seen as a product of Western European cultural history, is inextricably linked to a discontinuity imposed between the monuments, considered to belong to the past, and the people of the present, and also heavily focuses on the preservation of the fabric of the monuments.

Chapter 2 examines the attempts of the discipline of conservation to recognise and embrace the importance of the living dimension of heritage sites, in terms of communities' association with sites and also the need for communities' involvement in site management.

Chapter 3 presents existing approaches to conservation, in which the aforementioned developments in the discipline could be encapsulated: namely a material-based approach and a valuesbased approach. The weak points of the two approaches are pointed out.

Chapter 4 deals with the definition and management of a living heritage site. A variety of different uses of the term are presented. These suggest different types of communities' association with sites, each of different strength, yet all under the heritage authorities' control over a site. Then, a new approach is outlined, which links the concept of a living heritage site to that of the continuity of a community's original association with the site. The strong points of this approach are presented, as well as certain points of concern.

The elements of this new approach that emphasises the concept of continuity are then further developed and expanded, through a detailed account of the conservation and management of the monastic site of Meteora in Greece (Part 2), towards a more holistic definition of a living heritage approach (Part 3).

Part 2 provides a detailed account of the conservation and management of Meteora. Specifically:

Chapter 5 offers a general description of the site, in terms of its landscape and its history. It is shown that initially, since the end of the tenth - the beginning of the eleventh century until approximately the 1960s, Meteora was exclusively a monastic site; From the 1960s onwards, Meteora retains its monastic function, while increasingly being used as a major heritage and tourist site at a national and international level.

Chapter 6 places Meteora within the systems of monasticism, heritage protection and tourism operation. The interdependence of monasticism, heritage protection and tourism operation is outlined. Emphasis is on the key role of the monastic communities in the tourism industry (as those who control the public access to the site) and the complexities this role poses to heritage protection.

Chapter 7 discusses the meaning of Meteora as an Orthodox monastic site. Emphasis is on the concept of the *Tradition* of the Orthodox Church (i.e. any teaching or practice that has been transmitted from generation to generation throughout the life of the Orthodox Church), which defines authenticity in the context of the Orthodox Church. An attempt is made to draw the link between God as believed and worshipped in the Orthodox Church and the specific monastic space and practices at Meteora. The way *Tradition* has been applied to the site of Meteora over time is analysed. Specifically, from the 11th century to approximately 1940, the original *Tradition* has been applied to the site. At that time, the monks focused on their personal salvation through the worship of God. From the 1960s to present, however, contemporary influences that were not strictly within the *Tradition* of the Orthodox Church, namely the externally originated philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism, have been applied to the site. This approach seems to have altered the practicing of monasticism at the site, shifting the focus of the monks from their personal salvation (through worshipping God) towards the salvation of the WIDER society and towards the acceptance and encouragement of tourism development (through serving the visitors and the WIDER society).

Chapter 8 is dedicated to the presentation of the conservation and management of Meteora (1960 to present), through an examination of the way monasticism, heritage protection, and tourism operate. Reference is made to various examples, such as: the shooting of a James Bond film, studies for the tourism development of Meteora and the broader region, the widening of the road network, and unauthorised construction activity on the site.

Chapter 9 is dedicated to the analysis of the conservation and management of Meteora (1960 to present). The recent history of Meteora is divided into three broad phases, on the basis of the changing relationship between monasticism, heritage protection and tourism operation over time. It is demonstrated that the most important factor that has affected the site is the growth of the tourism industry.

Chapter 10 studies the use and arrangement of space at Meteora (1960 to present), as affected by the growth of the tourism and heritage industries. It is demonstrated that the monastic communities, as a result of their acceptance of tourism in the context of the philanthropic approach, have become increasingly restricted within their existing space, and therefore seek to create new space.

#### 8 The Past in the Present

Chapter 11 summarises the key problems in the operation and management of Meteora, and suggests ways to deal with them. It is argued that the monastic communities, with the help of the heritage authorities and the other communities of the site, should move away from the philanthropic-missionary approach and concentrate more on the principles of the *Tradition* of the Orthodox Church. In this context, the focus would shift from the encouragement of tourism development back to the worshipping of God, and the challenge would be to incorporate tourism operation and heritage protection within monastic life.

Part 3 presents a living heritage approach. References are made especially to the site of Meteora, but parallels are drawn with a variety of sites from different parts of the world. References are mostly to religious sites, but other sites are also taken into consideration. Specifically:

Chapter 12 offers a new definition of a living heritage site, based on the further development of the concept of continuity (chapter 1.4) through a specific set of criteria and also embracing the way continuity has evolved over time to present.

Chapter 13 demonstrates that the current approaches to conservation (a material-based and a values-based approach) and especially the strict World Heritage concept, based on a discontinuity between the monuments of the past and the people of the present and heavily focusing on the preservation of the fabric (chapters 1.1 and 1.3), cannot embrace the criteria of the continuity of living heritage sites. Thus, a new conservation approach is required.

Chapter 14 presents the main principles of a living heritage approach. A living heritage approach recognises the criteria of continuity as primary drivers for the definition, conservation and management of heritage. It also studies and manages the way these criteria have evolved over time, in an attempt to guarantee the relevance of heritage to the contemporary society. Conservation in the context of a living heritage approach primarily aims at the maintenance and enhancement of continuity, and safeguards heritage within continuity, even if in certain occasions the fabric might be harmed.

Chapter 15 outlines a planning process methodology, in a series of specific steps, for the implementation of a living heritage approach by the conservation professionals. Emphasis is on the establishment of a formula of collaboration with the community of a living heritage site, the mapping of the way the continuity of the site has evolved over time to present, and finally on reviewing and revising conservation actions on the basis of their impact on the continuity of the site.

The conclusion of the study summarises the contribution of a living heritage approach to the discipline of conservation. It is demonstrated that a living heritage approach challenges, for the first time in the history of conservation, very strong assumptions established over time in the discipline (which were developed along with a material-based approach and were maintained by a values-based approach). The differences between a living heritage approach in relation to a material-based and a values-based approach are then presented in detail, with an emphasis on the different way a living heritage approach looks at the concept of authenticity. Finally, it is noted that a living heritage approach suggests that the discipline of conservation should not simply attempt to expand within its current theoretical framework and practice, but should move towards a completely different context of understanding and safeguarding heritage: shifting the focus from preservation towards creation.

# PART 1

# **Existing Approaches to Conservation**

## CHAPTER 1

# **Introduction: definition and development of conservation – the concept of authenticity**

Heritage conservation is the discipline devoted to the preservation of cultural heritage for the future (Muñoz-Viñas 2005, 13). Heritage conservation emerged from a Western European world that had experienced the Protestant Reformation, the Catholic Counter-Reformation and the Enlightenment, and was based on a firm belief in science and rationality. Heritage conservation emerged and developed at the turn of the nineteenth century within the larger package of Western European modernity, identified by industrial capitalism, the nation state, rapid economic development, and a sense of human mastery over the natural world (Jokilehto 1995, 2021; 26−29; Cleere 1989, 1−2 and 7−8).

Authenticity emerged as the key concept of heritage conservation. The safeguarding of authenticity may be considered the quest for truth in the field of culture (Jokilehto and King 2001, 33). The importance of the concept of authenticity was formally established at an international level with the adoption of the *Venice Charter* (ICOMOS 1964) and especially the *Convention Concerning the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage* (henceforth cited as the *World Heritage Convention*) (UNESCO 1972). In the context of the *World Heritage Convention*, authenticity may be seen as an 'effort to ensure that those values are credibly or genuinely expressed by the attributes that carry those values', and integrity as an 'effort to refer to the completeness of the cultural heritage system which holds or contains those values' respectively (Stovel 2004, 131). The *World Heritage Convention* (UNESCO 1972) and the accompanying *Operational Guidelines for the World Heritage Committee/for the Implementation of the World Heritage Convention* (henceforth cited as *Operational Guidelines*)1 (UNESCO 1977) concentrated on the 'outstanding universal value' of certain sites considered worthy of inscription on the *World Heritage List*, saw authenticity of the materials, in terms of 'design, materials workmanship and setting', as a key qualifying condition for the inscription of the sites on the List, and formed rigorous classification and measurement of inscription criteria and categories. The *Nara Document on Authenticity* (UNESCO 1994a; see also Larsen 1995) adopted a more dynamic understanding of authenticity based on

<sup>1</sup> The *Operational Guidelines* were originally formed in 1977, and have gone through extensive revisions since then. In the text (mostly in Chapters 1.1 and 1.2), the version of the *Operational Guidelines* discussed each time appears in parentheses (eg. UNESCO 1977; 1984; 1992; 1996; 1999; 2005).

multiple aspects such as 'form and design, materials and substance, use and function, traditions and techniques, location and setting, and spirit and feeling, and other internal and external factors' (article 13), which was much later included in the *Operational Guidelines* (UNESCO 2005).

Authenticity is essentially a product of Western European cultural history (Lowenthal 1995, 125−127; Jokilehto 1995, 18−29; Titchen 1995; Titchen 1996); authenticity is not applicable or even existent, or existent but with a completely different meaning, in several non-Western cultures (Ito 1995, 34−35). Specifically, the Western European world has a feeling of dissatisfaction with the present caused by its rapid change and mobility experienced in the last centuries. This feeling of dissatisfaction has created a taste for the known, the familiar, the predictable, the expected, the repeatable, rather than the unexpected, the innovative. In this rapidly changing reality, the past affords a comfortable and controllable context, and is thus seen in a nostalgic way. The dissatisfaction with the present creates a strong desire or need to experience traces of an 'authentic', supposedly more fulfilling past, and repossess and re-experience something untouched by the present. Authenticity is considered to be elsewhere: in other historical periods and other cultures, in purer simpler lifestyles and in a concern for nature (MacCannell 1999, 2−3; Lowenthal 1995, 122).

The discipline of heritage conservation has as its fundamental objective the preservation of physical heritage of the past from loss and depletion in the present. Thus, heritage conservation, formed and still operating in this context of dissatisfaction with the present, creates discontinuity between the monuments, considered to belong to the past, and the people and the social and cultural processes of the present/future (Ucko 1994, 261−263; Walderhaug Saetersdal 2000; Jones 2006, 122). In this way, 'conservation … is a modern concept that sees the past as divorced from the present and existing self-consciously outside tradition' (Matero 2004, 69). This discontinuity created between the past and the present defines the main principles of conservation, such as the emphasis on the past and its tangible remains / the fabric, the notion that authenticity of heritage is non-'renewable' and the care for future generations. This discontinuity also defines the main practices of conservation regarding the fabric of heritage, such as those included in the *Athens* and *Venice Charters* (League of Nations 1931 and ICOMOS 1964 respectively): minimum intervention, respect for historic evidence, avoidance of falsification, preservation of the original, reversibility of interventions, compatibility of materials used in restoration, and the need to distinguish the original from the new material. It is this discontinuity that gives heritage authorities (mostly state-appointed), manned by conservation professionals, a dominant role in the conservation and management process of heritage, while defining the boundaries of their intervention. It is this discontinuity that generally

makes the discipline [of conservation]… such a difficult and crucial one, …much more conscious and artificial than ever before, and still it seems that there is no other path which the responsible modern heritage manager can take… we [heritage managers] dare only, in the words of the Burra Charter, to do 'as much as necessary but as little as possible' to conserve the site as it now is. (Sullivan 2004, 50)

Furthermore, key characteristics of the World Heritage approach could be also put down to this discontinuity, such as: the concept of 'outstanding universal significance', the rigorous classification and measurement of listing criteria and categories, the separation between natural and cultural heritage, and the hierarchical character of the List ('splitting heritage into that which gets on the List – the minority – and that which is deemed not worthy of World Heritage status –the majority': Sullivan 2004, 50).

The Western European approach to conservation was then transferred, and even imposed, in other parts of the world, envisaging indigenous/non-Western cultures through Western eyes, in a broader context of colonialism. This led to the suppression and even breaking of the indigenous/

non-Western communities' associations with their heritage: the communities' (traditional) knowledge, management systems and maintenance practices were abolished, and the communities were physically removed from heritage places (Said 1978; Abu-Lughod 1989; Byrne 1991, 270−276; Layton 1989, 11; Bahrani 1998; Scham 2003, 173−176; De Cesari 2010; Meskell 2010, 192).

Given this discontinuity imposed by Western-based conservation between the past and the present, two main ways of seeking and safeguarding authenticity may be identified, which are phenomenally contradictory to each other. A first way is to preserve, 'freeze' a chosen - considered 'glorious' - past phase of a site, at the expense of the development of the life of the site in the present and the future. Emphasis is on the preservation of the fabric of the monuments, mostly of the initial phase of the history of the site, with negative consequences on the present local community's association with the site (Ucko 1994b, xviii; Lowenthal 1995, 130−131). An example of this is Stonehenge in the UK (a World Heritage Site), where heritage authorities 'attempt to 'freeze' the landscape as a palimpsest of past activity… [F]reezing time and space allows the landscape or monuments in it to be packaged, presented and turned into museum exhibits' (Bender 1999, 26). Another example is Great Zimbabwe in Zimbabwe, which since the settlement of the British in the nineteenth century and until approximately the early 1990s had been seen and preserved as an ancient medieval structure (built by a race considered superior to the country's indigenous population), at the expense of any other post-medieval phase of the site and at the expense of the present-day associations of the local indigenous people with the site (Ucko 1994a, 271−275; Ndoro 1994, 619−622; Ndoro and Pwiti 2001, 30−32; Ndoro 2001, 37−51; Pwiti 1994). A second way is to enliven a chosen past phase of a site, also with negative consequences upon the present local community's association with the site. This enlivening process is attempted through the imposition of contemporary interpretations, elements and processes upon the past, for example through reconstruction sites and recreation 'performances' (Ucko 2000). A characteristic example of a reconstruction site is the so-called *Great Zimbabwe Traditional Village*, constructed as a 'live museum' in the World Heritage Site of Great Zimbabwe in Zimbabwe, to be later relocated just outside the site (Ndoro and Pwiti 1997, 4−8), while a characteristic example of a recreation 'performance' is *Inti Raymi* (or *Sun Festivity*) that takes place in the site of Sacsayhuaman and in the World Heritage Site of Cusco in Peru (Ucko 2000, 67−68).

These two phenomenally contradictory ways of safeguarding authenticity are linked to each other, given that any attempt of preserving a site might be also considered a way to enliven it (Lowenthal 2000, 410). The linking of these two ways is often evident in the same site, as illustrated in the aforementioned case of Great Zimbabwe, and also in the site of Mystras in Greece (Poulios forthcoming; for further information on the history of Mystras see below). At Mystras, the first way of safeguarding authenticity, i.e. 'freezing' a chosen past phase at the expense of the present and the future, is reflected in the preservation and anastylosis of its Byzantine monuments, which were considered its 'glorious' and 'pristine' monuments. The preservation and anastylosis of the monuments were linked to a series of actions: The site came under the ownership of the State and under the management of the Antiquities Service. The remaining inhabitants of the site were removed from the site, lost their rights over the ownership of the site, and their architectural changes to the site were considered 'encroachments' and were removed. Finally, the site was inscribed on the UNESCO *World Heritage List* on the basis of the significance of the site as a testimony to a cultural tradition which has disappeared (inscription criterion iii) and the importance of the fabric of the monuments in the progress and evolution in human history (inscription criteria ii and iv). The second way of safeguarding authenticity, i.e. enlivening a chosen past phase of a site through the imposition of contemporary interpretations upon the past, is reflected in the following elements: a) the support on the part of the heritage authorities of the belief that the inaugural ceremony of Constantine Palaeologos (i.e. the last Byzantine Emperor, before the Fall of the city of Constantinople to the Ottomans in 1453) took place in the site of Mystras, despite the historic evidence against it; and b) the support on the part of the heritage authorities of an annual religious-cultural-athletic celebration (the so-called 'Palaeologeans') to commemorate the inaugural ceremony of Constantine Palaeologos. This celebration encouraged the development of a strong symbolic connection of the broader local community with the site, in an awkward combination of nationalist and religious feelings and an indirect attempt to regain the lost glory. Therefore, as a consequence of the combination of these two ways of safeguarding authenticity, the local community's connection with the site was not only disrupted (in the context of 'freezing' a chosen past phase at the expense of the present and the future) but was also replaced by a new one of questionable historic validity (in the context of enlivening a chosen past phase of a site through the imposition of contemporary interpretations).

Despite the attempts of Western-based conservation to seek and preserve an authentic past within its own cultures and also within non-Western cultures, authenticity remains unattainable and 'chimerical' (Lowenthal 1992, 185; see also McBryde 1997). Preserving an authentic past is 'illusion', and actually brings the opposite result (Lowenthal 1985, 410).

# CHAPTER 2

# **Recognising the living dimension of heritage sites**

#### **Presentation**

The field of heritage conservation has been characterised, at an international level, by an increasing recognition of the importance of the living dimension of heritage sites, in terms of the communities' association with heritage sites, and also the need for communities' involvement in site management. Specifically, the early approaches to conservation in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, such as the activity of the *Cambridge Camden Society*, the 'conservation movement', and philosophers like Alois Riegl (Jokilehto 1986, 295−298, 304−311 and 378−381; Stanley-Price *et al*. 1996, 69−83 and 18−21), could be seen as materialistic. They understood heritage as a tangible, material and non-renewable resource, and emphasised the need for the protection of this heritage from human practices considered to be harmful. It was only after World War II, in the *Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict* (UNESCO 1954), that cultural property was recognised, at an international level, as human heritage (article 1). However, the scope of the convention was limited to protection in cases of war or violence (article 3). The *Venice Charter* (ICOMOS 1964) concentrated on cultural, aesthetic and historic values (article 9). The human dimension of heritage was acknowledged (preamble), but there was no direct reference to the people who may live in the monuments. The *World Heritage Convention* (UNESCO 1972) acknowledged ethnological-anthropological values (article 1), and made a direct link between heritage and the communities: 'Each State Party to the Convention shall endeavour . . . to adopt a general policy which aims to give the cultural and natural heritage a function in the life of the community' (article 5). It is also important to note that until the 1990s there was no reference in the *World Heritage Convention* and the *Operational Guidelines* to any living traditions; it was only 'cultural traditions or civilizations which have disappeared' that were taken into account (cultural criterion iii in UNESCO 1980; 1984; 1994c). The term 'living' first appeared in the mid-1990s: cultural traditions or civilizations 'which are living or which have disappeared' (UNESCO 1997 onwards, cultural criterion iii); sites 'directly or tangibly associated with events or living traditions' (UNESCO 1994c onwards, cultural criterion vi); or 'continuing cultural landscapes' that 'retain an active social life in contemporary society closely associated with the traditional way of life, and in which the evolutionary process is still in progress' (UNESCO 1995) (on the attempts of the World Heritage concept to embrace living traditions see also Labadi 2013, 34−58).

The involvement of local communities in the World Heritage nomination process was initially discouraged, in order to avoid 'undue publicity' and 'public embarrassment' (UNESCO 1988; 1992; 1994c, paragraph 14), but was later seen as 'essential to make them feel a shared responsibility with the State Party in the maintenance of the site' (UNESCO 1996; 1999, paragraph 14). With the inclusion of 'cultural landscapes' (UNESCO 1995; see also Fowler 2003; Cleere 1995), traditional management mechanisms and systems of customary land tenure of the local-indigenous communities were recognised, initially as supplementary to modern scientific-based systems of conservation (UNESCO 1995; UNESCO 1997) and later also as exclusive management systems (UNESCO 2005) in parallel with a shift from the narrow concept of a management plan to the much broader concept of a management system (UNESCO 2005). The *Nara Document on Authenticity* (UNESCO 1994a; see also Stovel 2008) introduced the concept of 'cultural diversity', stating that heritage should be understood and managed in the specific local socio-cultural contexts to which it belongs (articles 11–12). The *Burra Charter* (ICOMOS Australia 1999) concentrated on the concept of 'cultural significance', referring to 'a deep and inspirational sense of connection to community and landscape . . . the past and lived experiences' (preamble), and attempted to 'democratise' the planning process by actively involving local, mostly indigenous, communities in the process (articles 12 and 26.3). The *Budapest Declaration on World Heritage* in 2002 (UNESCO 2002; see also Boccardi 2002), as well as a series of activities since then such as the meeting on 'World Heritage and Sustainable Development' and the adopted 'Action Plan for 2012' (UNESCO 2010), focused on the concept of 'sustainability' / 'sustainable development', linking conservation to the everyday social and economic interests and the quality of life of the local communities (article 6c). In 2007, a strategic objective that focused on 'communities' (known as 'the Fifth C') was adopted to guide the future implementation of the World Heritage Convention, stressing that 'heritage protection without community involvement and commitment is an invitation in failure' (UNESCO 2007).

#### **Critique**

Despite the increasing attempts to recognise the living dimension of heritage sites and the inclusion of intangible and less tangible heritage elements, conservation is still primarily attached to the protection of the material. With regards to the use of the term 'living' in the World Heritage concept, the World Heritage concept was originally developed upon the concept of dead traditions and sites, which were classified in strict listing categories. Later the World Heritage Committee attempted to take under consideration living traditions and sites by expanding the existing listing criteria and categories. In this way, living traditions and sites were added to the existing strict categories, and treated in the same way with the dead ones. For example, cultural traditions or civilizations 'which are living' were, and are still, included in the same category with those 'which have disappeared', while 'continuing cultural landscapes' were, and are still, included in the same category with 'fossil cultural landscapes'. This attempt to include living traditions and sites into existing categories proved to fail, revealing the subjectivity, ambiguity and ineffectiveness of classification. For example, the differences between a 'cultural site', a 'mixed site' and a 'cultural landscape' (see Rossler 2004, 48) are not significant, especially 'when it is clear that most of the world is a cultural landscape' (Sullivan 2004, 50). The classification might help towards the measurement of tangible expressions, but not of living traditions and sites: 'the concrete quantifiable values are easier to measure and manage but living natural and cultural sites are organic in the way they change and adapt and our practice sometimes does not suit the conservation of these values' (Sullivan 2004, 50−51). Additionally, the difficulty to take into account living traditions, particularly of the non-Western world, was also reflected in the *World Heritage List*, with severe imbalances of certain categories of heritage and regions being over-represented: namely European heritage, historic towns, religious buildings, Christian churches, elitist and monumental architecture. The attempts of the World Heritage Centre to correct these imbalances and achieve a more representative *World Heritage List* (eg. through the *Global Strategy for a Balanced, Representative and Credible World Heritage List*: UNESCO 1994b) proved far from successful (Titchen 1995; Labadi 2005, 93−99). Therefore, the World Heritage concept originally considered only dead traditions, and it was much later that it attempted to include living traditions, and still by expanding or amending its criteria and categories rather than by substantially changing its underlying philosophy and fundamental principles.

Despite the growing emphasis on local communities, there is still a concept of 'a faceless abstract public', defined and assessed by the heritage authorities (Jones 2006, 111; see also Cleere 1989, 10−11), and the concern for its involvement in site management remains to be converted into inclusive public debate, regulated by the heritage authorities (Schadla-Hall 1999, 156). Public involvement is defined by 'a belief that the public either desires the conservation of heritage places in the manner advocated by the charters or should be encouraged to do so through education and involvement in conservation work', and is addressed mostly 'in presumptuous and naïve terms . . . more often treated as a realm of common knowledge or common sense' (Byrne 2004, 19). With reference to the World Heritage concept, its most considerable developments over time, such as the principles of the *Nara Document on Authenticity* and the references to sustainability (see above), have not been successfully translated into actual policies or procedures for the implementation of the *World Heritage Convention* (see Labadi 2013, 34−58).

Officially there is no World Heritage mechanism to ensure community involvement in the nomination and inscription process, and the local community is marginalised in nomination dossiers (Labadi 2013, 86−92 and 113). Specifically, the (level of the) involvement of local communities is not a qualifying criterion for inscription on the *World Heritage List*. The format of the nomination dossiers has not been changed: from 1997 onward, one of the direct references to the local community is made under 'Section 5(e) Factors Affecting the site; Numbers of inhabitants within property, buffer zone'. In the majority of the nomination dossiers the local community is presented as constituting a threat to the site (in terms of population growth, encroachments of private properties onto the site, vehicle circulation and pollution, vandalism and graffiti). The commonly held view among States Parties is that the local community is not supposed to be concerned with or consulted regarding the identification, nomination and management of the site. The majority of the nomination dossiers do not mention the participation of the local communities in the decision-making and the sharing of information between different groups of communities, possibly 'due to their perceived limited appreciation of the resource' (Taruvinga and Ndoro 2003, 3), and still details of such participation are rather scant. The majority of the nomination dossiers does not mention the participation of the local communities in the presentation of the sites either, and does not explain how the inscription of a site on the *World Heritage List* would assist with the generation of economic benefits to support local communities. The majority of the nomination dossiers still considers authenticity in terms of 'design, materials, workmanship and setting', and has not embraced the more dynamic understanding of authenticity on the basis of the *Nara Document on Authenticity*. Furthermore, the recent attempt to establish World Heritage Indigenous Peoples Council of Experts (WHIPCOE) as a consultative body of the World Heritage Committee or as a network to report to the World Heritage Committee failed, which 'indicates that, for some countries, local empowerment, and especially giving local minorities an international voice, can be considered dangerous and destabilising' (Sullivan 2004, 55). Therefore, on the one hand, heritage authorities are eager to create, maintain and involve a community that, it is assumed, will derive meaning and value from heritage sites. On the other hand, the concept of a community and the mechanisms for its involvement in site management remain abstract and problematic under the aegis of the heritage authorities.

#### 18 The Past in the Present

Given this failure of the World Heritage concept to take on board living traditions and actively involve local communities, the World Heritage approach is sometimes taken advantage of by the national heritage authorities of the States Parties in an attempt to suppress or deny local and indigenous communities' associations with places. There are cases in which the World Heritage inscription of sites might have been sought in the first place for this reason. As it was noted with reference to Great Zimbabwe in Zimbabwe, the denial of suggested special associations of various communities with the site through the declared recognition or imposition of a new 'unified' National Heritage and especially World Heritage status is very convenient from the heritage authorities' perspectives (Ucko 1994a, 271−275; see also Pwiti and Ndoro 1999, 150; Pwiti 1996, 154−156; Ndoro 2001, 97 and 121−123). There are also cases in which present associations with sites are further suppressed after the World Heritage inscription of sites:

Nation-states feel that once a place is declared a World Heritage Site, the interests of local and traditional communities become irrelevant to its management demands. International interests … become paramount.The result has been that, in many cases, we [conservation professionals] have sought to replace traditional systems with what we think are better modern management systems. Very often we have succeeded in ensuring that people no longer recognize or own their heritage. We have also succeeded in undermining the very significant values that formed the basis for their inclusion on the World Heritage list… In many cases, heritage management practices have denied people access to their heritage. (Ndoro 2004, 81−82)

### **Conclusion**

The discipline of conservation, originated in the Western European world, creates discontinuity between the heritage, which is considered to belong to the past, and the people of the present, and faces severe difficulties while attempting to take on board living traditions of the non-Western world. The notion of authenticity is inherently linked to a particular type of value – historic value:

Authenticity…presumes that some kind of historic value is represented by –inherent insome truly old and thus authentic material (authentic in that it was witness to history and carries the authority of this witness). Thus, if one can prove authenticity of material, historical value is indelibly established. (Mason 2002, 13).

The World Heritage concept is still 'a uniform and non-flexible set of conservation theory without recognizing the broader meanings of heritage and cultural diversity' and without embracing a significant range of intangible heritage elements (Wijesuriya 2003, 3; see also Matsura 2004, 4−5). In contrast with the 'outstanding universal value' of an abstract global community, the manifest continuity and traditional links of the local communities with sites are not considered universal values (Ndoro 2004, 81−82).

## CHAPTER 3

# **Existing approaches to conservation**

The above-mentioned developments in the discipline of heritage conservation could be encapsulated in these two approaches, developed since the birth of the discipline to present: a materialbased and a values-based approach. These approaches, though appearing at different periods of time, are both applicable today (see also Poulios 2010a; Poulios 2014).

#### **3.1. A material-based approach**

#### *Presentation*

A material-based approach (also referred to as 'authorised heritage discourse': Smith 2006, 29 − 34; 299) shows an extreme focus on the preservation of the material/fabric. Examples of a material-based approach are: the early approach to conservation marking the birth of the discipline in the nineteenth century and the early twentieth century (such as the *Cambridge Camden Society*, the 'conservation movement', and the work of philosophers like Alois Riegl), and the development of the World Heritage concept and adoption of the *World Heritage List* (UNESCO 1972; see also Simmonds 1997; Byrne 1991). A material-based approach is best epitomised in the *Venice Charter* (ICOMOS 1964; see also Jokilehto 1998, 230).

A material-based approach is an expert-driven approach. The exclusive responsibility over the definition and conservation of heritage is in the hands of heritage authorities (mostly stateappointed), manned by political officials and especially conservation professionals. Community is not taken into account (see UNESCO 1988; 1992; 1994c, paragraph 14) (**figure 3**).

The significance of heritage, namely defined in archaeological/historic and aesthetic terms, is seen as intrinsic/inherent in the fabric. The use of heritage (by communities) is considerably limited to ensure its protection (by conservation professionals), and is conducted strictly with reference to modern scientific-based conservation principles and practices (ICOMOS 1964). The preservation of the fabric allows for only minimal interventions into heritage, with respect to the physical, material structure. Thus, fabric is seen as a non-'renewable' resource. The aim of conservation is to preserve heritage, seen as belonging to the past, from human practices of the present that are considered to be harmful, and transmit it to the future generations. In this

**Figure 3:** A material-based approach: conservation professionals and heritage site. No community involvement.

way, a form of discontinuity is created between the monuments and the people, and between the past and the present. The development of the broader area based on the exploitation of heritage is sought exclusively in accordance with the interests of the heritage authorities.

#### *Critique*

A series of successes in the preservation of the fabric of the monuments – which was the primary objective of conservation at the end of the nineteenth and the largest part of the twentieth century, mostly due to the long periods of political instability and the armed conflicts as well as the out-of-scale reconstruction and development that followed – are credited to the application of a material-based approach.

The most significant weakness of a material-based approach is linked to the exclusive power of the conservation professionals, who are seen as the 'experts'. This means that the conservation process, as well as its results, depends to a large extent on the specific persons/individuals that comprise the team of the 'experts'. Another weakness of a material-based approach is related to its exclusive dependency on state support and funding (and not on a broader community consensus), which is not always feasible in the long-term. Furthermore, the approach does not embrace indigenous/non-Western communities' (eg. spiritual and religious) associations with the sites, nor their management systems and maintenance practices. As a consequence, the application of the approach in non-Western places has resulted in the breaking of communities' associations with their sites and in the long term in the harming of these sites, while on a theoretical level it has been often seen as an attempt towards the imposition of Western-based views on the non-Western world, in a colonial context (see above). On the basis of these weaknesses, a material-based approach is today considered out-of-date, and thus conservation professionals prefer not to follow it; yet, it is still considered the prominent approach in a variety of places across the world.

A characteristic example of a site that may reveal the weaknesses of a material-based approach is Angkor in Cambodia (a World Heritage Site). In the last decades, the heritage authorities of the site have heavily promoted the tourism development of the site. The local communities and the monks of the site have been gradually restricted on the site and occasionally even removed from it, and their association with the site has been altered: the local villagers are now becoming increasingly interested in the financial aspect of the site through their involvement in the tourism industry, while becoming a priest is now seen as a form of investment (Miura 2005).

#### **3.2. A values-based approach**

#### *Presentation*

A values-based approach focuses on the values that society, consisting of various stakeholder groups / interest groups, ascribes to heritage. A value can be defined as 'a set of positive characteristics or qualities', while a stakeholder group / interest group is 'any group with legitimate interest in heritage' (Mason 2002, 27; Mason and Avrami 2002, 15; De la Torre 2005, 5; de la Torre, MacLean and Myers 2005, 77). A values-based approach has been developed since the 1980s, within the developments of post-processual archaeology (a form of archaeological theory that is related to the broader development of postmodernism, which encouraged conservation professionals to become more engaged in a world beyond academia and to recognise other values, voices and perspectives in the practice and interpretation of archaeology: Hodder 1991; Trigger 1989; see also Demas 2002, 50; 34–35), and is considered the current most preferred approach to heritage conservation. An example of a values-based approach is the attempt of the World Heritage concept to evolve and open towards non-Western/indigenous communities and cultures (see above; UNESCO 1994a, article 4; UNESCO 1994b; 1996 / 1999, paragraph 14). A values-based approach is largely based on the *Burra Charter* (ICOMOS Australia 1999), and has been further developed and advocated through a series of projects of the Getty Conservation Institute (De la Torre 1997; Avrami, Mason and De la Torre 2000; Teutonico and Palumbo 2002; De la Torre 2002; Agnew and Demas 2002; De la Torre, MacLean, Mason and Myers 2005).

In the context of a values-based approach, through the concepts of stakeholder groups and values, community is considered to be placed at the core of conservation. Heritage is not selfevident, with intrinsic/inherent values, as in a material-based approach; it is people / stakeholder groups that ascribe (subjective) values to it and define heritage, and thus heritage is seen as an extrinsic and social process. Therefore, the main aim of conservation is not the preservation of heritage itself, but the protection of the values imputed to it by the stakeholder groups (Mason and Avrami 2002, 25 and 22). A values-based approach tries to engage the whole range of stakeholder groups early on and throughout the conservation process, and resolve conflicts that inevitably arise between them assuring subjectivity and equity of conflicting stakeholders and different values (Mason and Avrami 2002, 19−23; De la Torre 2005, 4−8; Demas 2002, 49). Stakeholder groups are involved in a variety of ways: through consultation or, more often, through active participation or even through a (formally/legally established) interactive, joint management scheme with the heritage authorities, as in the cases of the World Heritage Sites of Kakadu National Park in Australia and Chaco Culture National Historical Park in USA, often cited as key examples of the successful application of a values-based approach at an international level (on Kakadu National Park: Flood 1989, 87; Press and Lawrence 1995, 1–8; Sullivan 1985, 141–144; Wellings 1995, 242–244; Jones 1985, vi; 299–300; on Chaco Culture National Historical Park: de la Torre, Mac Lean and Myers 2005).

#### *Critique*

The most significant contribution of a values-based approach to the discipline of heritage conservation is linked to the encouragement and promotion of the involvement of communities in the conservation process, with important benefits for the communities themselves. Furthermore, the approach embraces the indigenous/non-Western communities' (spiritual, and religious) associations with the sites, their management systems and maintenance practices.

The most considerable weakness of the approach is related to the power of the conservation professionals. Conservation professionals do not have the exclusive power in the conservation process (as in a material-based approach), but retain particularly increased power. Conservation professionals continue to favour the preservation of the tangible – rather than the intangible – heritage elements, and thus conservation continues to reflect mostly Western-based views.

In this context, a values-based approach attempts to expand the concepts of a material-based approach, without yet substantially challenging them (see in detail Poulios 2010a, 172−175). Specifically, stakeholder groups are involved in the conservation process, yet in most of the cases within the framework and under the supervision of the conservation professionals (Demas 2002, 48−49; Mason and Avrami 2002, 16). Thus, though in theory conservation professionals may be seen as one of the stakeholder groups, in practice they are the managing authority themselves, supervising the stakeholder groups (**figure 4**). Hence, the concept of stakeholder groups (i.e. the key concept of a values-based approach), as defined and applied in a values-based approach, proves to be rather problematic, obtaining meaning and existence through conservation professionals' power. Furthermore, new stakeholder groups such as local and indigenous communities are also included (ICOMOS Australia 1999, articles 12 and 26.3), but the most favoured stakeholder groups tend to remain those associated with the preservation of the fabric (De la Torre 2005, 7). Values associated to the safeguarding of intangible heritage elements, such as user or social value, are also taken into account (see ICOMOS Australia 1999, preamble; articles 7.1 and 24.1−2), but their safeguarding is incorporated within and is serving the preservation of tangible remains (De la Torre 2005, 8). The traditional care of heritage by the communities is also recognised (ICOMOS Australia 1999, preamble, articles 7.1 and 24.1−2) yet only to the extent that it does not undermine modern scientific-based conservation principles and practices of conservation professionals. Heritage use (by communities) is generally accepted to the extent that it does not undermine heritage protection (by conservation professionals). More flexible recommendations are adopted in conservation practice such as varied approaches allowing reconstruction depending on the nature and values of heritage (ICOMOS Australia 1999, preamble, articles 7.1 and 24.1−2), yet it is mostly minimal interventions in the heritage fabric, with respect to the physical and material structure, that are allowed. Thus, the fabric is still preserved as a non-'renewable' resource (De la Torre 2005, 8). Therefore, the aim of conservation remains the preservation of heritage, considered to belong to the past, from the people of the present, for the sake of the future generations (discontinuity). Development potentials based on the exploitation of heritage are sought in an attempt to serve the interests of the various stakeholder groups, yet with an emphasis on the interests of the conservation professionals and under their control.

A characteristic example of a site that may demonstrate the weaknesses of a values-based approach is the Chaco Culture National Historical Park (CCNHP) in New Mexico in USA (a World Heritage Site) (de la Torre, MacLean and Myers 2005). The history of the site is inextricably linked to the presence of Navajo [Indian] indigenous communities, who settled in the area in the

**Figure 4:** A values-based approach: conservation professionals, stakeholder groups and heritage site. Stakeholder groups are equally involved in the conservation process, under the supervision of a strong managing authority, which is in most of the cases the conservation professionals. Local community is seen as one of the stakeholder groups.

late sixteenth or the early seventeenth century and developed strong family, cultural and religious ties to the site. In designating the site as a National Monument and as a National Historical Park at the beginning of the twentieth century, the Park authorities (following a material-based approach) recognised officially only the aesthetic and age values of the archaeological remains, and moved the remaining Navajo communities out of the designated Park area. In the last decades, however, the Park authorities (following a values-based approach) have shown a consistent interest in the consultation and the active participation of Navajo communities in the conservation and management of the site through a joint management scheme, though still within their own rules and under their supervision and control. From the 1980s onwards, 'New Age' groups claimed the right to perform rituals on the site, which were seen by the Navajo communities as violating their own religious beliefs. Faced with this conflict between these two stakeholder groups, the Park authorities felt they had only two alternatives: either allow both groups to perform rituals or ban them totally. Favoring one group over another in religious issues would be considered discrimination on the basis of religion, according to the American Constitution. As a result, the Park authorities decided to prohibit all religious ceremonies in places regarded as sacred. Therefore, despite the attempts on the part of the Park authorities in the last decades, the primary aim has always been the protection of the tangible remains of the site.

# **Conclusion**

The key principles of the discipline of heritage conservation, as developed along with a materialbased approach and maintained by a values-based approach, may be summarised as follows (see also McBryde 1997, 94; Clavir 2002, xxi; Jones 2006, 111): first, the responsibility for the operation and management of sites is in the hands of the conservation professionals; second, the authenticity of heritage is primarily associated with the fabric of the sites despite the increasing recognition of intangible elements, and the emphasis on the original meanings and uses of the sites despite the increasing recognition of the later developments in the history of the sites; and third, heritage is considered a monument of the past that has to be protected from the present community, for the sake of the future generations.

## CHAPTER 4

# **Defining and managing 'living heritage'**

#### **4.1. Existing approaches**

The existing approaches to the definition and management of living heritage sites are examined here, with reference to a variety of examples throughout the world. In this analysis, there will be some overlap between the different uses of the term, but the aim is to stress the most important points of each use. Also, in each example offered, the definitions of heritage site and community have to do with their local geographical and socio-cultural context, and management treatment is linked to a variety of reasons; yet, this is an attempt to draw some conclusions from each example that have broader applicability.

A 'living heritage site' is defined in various ways, outlined in the following sections.

#### *A site with a local community*

The term 'living heritage site' refers most of the time to a site with a local community, which is seen as a community of fixed boundaries living near or around a site and is supposed to be differentiated from those communities using a site at a national or international level. However, defining a local community is ambiguous and problematic given the blurred boundaries between 'local', 'national' and 'international'. In an increasingly globalised world with an increasing mobility of people, the membership of a local community may range from a small group of people to the entire living world population (Cohen 1985, 117−118; Robertson 1995, 26; Erb 2003, 131).

A local community's association with a site is often a relatively weak one — something that heritage authorities may take advantage of in an attempt to further concentrate on the protection of the material of a site. This is illustrated in the case of Volubilis in Morocco (a World Heritage Site), where the local community seems to be more interested in the development of tourism in the nearby town of Moulay Idriss, and the heritage authorities separated the site from the local community through the imposition of a fence and significantly restricted the local community's use of the site (pers. comm. Helen Dawson; Fentress and Palumbo 2001, 15). In extreme cases, a local community may have a negative association with a site, even favouring its destruction, in certain occasions with the acquiescence or support of the heritage authorities, as in the cases of the destruction of the mosque at Ayodhya in India by part of the local Hindu community (Layton and Thomas 2001, 2-11; Sharma 2001; Rao and Reddy 2001, 139−156) and of the Bamiyan statues in Afghanistan by part of the local Muslim community (Gamboni 2001, 10−11; van Krieken Pieters 2002, 305−309; Wijesuriya 2003).

### *A site with a dwelling community*

A living heritage site is also perceived as a site with a dwelling community — a specific community of fixed boundaries living permanently in a site and, thus, differentiated from other communities using a site at other international, national and even local levels (Miura 2005, 3−18).

A dwelling community's association with a site may not be particularly strong, and can be rather easily disturbed by heritage authorities, with severe implications for this association. This is demonstrated in Petra in Jordan (a World Heritage Site), where the community of the Bdul (a Bedouin tribe) was relocated from the site to a new settlement (Akrawi 2002, 102; Hadidi 1986, 109−110).

### *A site with a changing/evolving community*

A living heritage site is also seen as a site with a changing/evolving community — a community using a site in a different context to the original one, in response to the changing conditions, requirements and values of the society (van Vucht Tijssen 2004, 23; ICOMOS America 1996, article 5).

A community's changing association with a site is, generally speaking, not particularly strong — most probably much weaker than the association of the original community with the specific site. As a result, heritage authorities tend to give priority to the association of the original community. An example of a site that belongs in this category is Diocletian's Palace in Split in Croatia (a World Heritage Site), where the heritage authorities give priority to the protection of the original complex of the palace over the attempts of some of the current users towards the erection of new houses, shops and parking areas within the walls (Marasovic 1986, 57−62; Marasovic 1975, 17−23).

#### *A site whose community has claimed a special association with it*

A living heritage site can be also seen as one whose community claims a special strong social, spiritual or other cultural association with it (Matero 2004, 69; ICOMOS Australia 1999, article 12).

However, a community's claimed special association with a site can be problematic, given that it may be proved historically fake or remain questionable in terms of its historic validity. In any case, a community's claim to a special association with a site is in most instances accompanied by rights over the use, the management and even the ownership of the site, something that acts against the interests as well as the power of the heritage authorities. This is, for example, the case of Stonehenge in the UK (a World Heritage Site), where the Druids demand a special association with and use of the site (Bender 1998, 128; Sebastian 1990).

### *A site that has not suffered from modernisation*

A living heritage site is also regarded as one that has not suffered from modernisation, urbanisation and globalisation (Inaba 2005, 46). This understanding of a living heritage site is assumed to focus on the 'traditional' that is under assault by, and should thus be protected from, contemporary 'influences' (Rohit Jigyasu, cited in Shimotsuma, Stovel and Warrack 2003, 13−14). In extreme cases this use of the term might end up associating the concept of a 'living heritage site' with the memory of an unchanging archetype of a past lifestyle, an 'idyllic Eden', as was characteristically noted with reference to Tana Toraja in Indonesia (a World Heritage Site) (Adams 2003, 92).

Nevertheless, despite the attempts of heritage authorities to protect a community's 'traditional' association against contemporary 'influences', the latter often prevail, with a serious impact on the former. Once a community's 'traditional' association with a site has significantly suffered, it is very difficult to revive (see The Japan Foundation 2004, 3).

#### **Conclusion**

The above-mentioned uses of the term 'living heritage site' suggest different types of communities' association with sites, each of different strength. Specifically (from the weakest to the strongest association): any community using a site at a local, national or international level; a community living near a site; a community dwelling in a site; a community with a changing association with a site; a community with a suggested special association with a site; a community whose original association with a site has not suffered from contemporary circumstances such as modernisation. Yet, in all these cases, the communities' association with and use of a site is placed under the heritage authorities' association with and control over a site.

#### **4.2. Towards a new approach**

#### *Presentation*

There is a tendency to consider continuity of a community's original association with a site to be the key concept in the discussion of a living heritage site (Gamini Wijesuriya, cited in Shimotsuma, Stovel and Warrack 2003, 9; Nguyen The Son, cited in Shimotsuma, Stovel and Warrack 2003, 15; Wijesuriya 2005; Wijesuriya 2007a).

The restoration of the Temple of the Tooth Relic in the city of Kandy in Sri Lanka (a World Heritage Site) (Wijesuriya, 2000) could be considered a milestone in the management of living heritage at an international level because it clearly challenged the 'conventional', material-based approach, and opened the path for the development of a new approach (see immediately below). The Temple, constructed in the seventeenth century, is today the most sacred Buddhist site and the most important heritage site in Sri Lanka, and one of the most significant international Buddhist pilgrimage centers. The Temple was demolished in 1997 as a result of a terrorist bomb attack. The restoration of the Temple required the participation of all main groups, but any decision would be subjected to the approval of the monastic community as expressed by the two high priests and the lay guardian [the officer] of the Temple. In this context, the first priority of the restoration project was the revival of the living (religious) function of the Temple. The restoration solutions clearly favored the function of the Temple at the expense of the protection of its heritage significance, and generally run counter to conservation principles and practices, particularly in the strict World Heritage concept.

The restoration of the Temple of the Tooth Relic in Sri Lanka also influenced the approach of ICCROM towards living heritage (Shimotsuma, Stovel and Warrack 2003, 2−3; Stovel 2005, 2−3; Wijesuriya 2007b; see also Poulios 2014). ICCROM had been following a material-based and a values-based approach. Since the mid-1990s, however, ICCROM has started showing a consistent interest in the living dimension of heritage sites, developing projects that concentrated on communities and communities' associations with heritage sites, such as *ITUC* Program. Since the early 2000s, ICCROM has been running the *Living Heritage Sites* Program and the *Promoting*  *People-Centered Approaches to Conservation: Living Heritage* Program. The former started as part of *ITUC* Program and was originally focused on the South-Eastern Asian region, while it gradually took a much broader perspective, also linked to other ICCROM programs focusing on other regions; the latter is of international relevance. The aims of the Programs are to develop, implement and promote a new international approach to heritage conservation that clearly differs from the 'conventional', material-based approach by placing the living dimension of heritage at the core of decision-making and considering continuity as the key theme: a living heritage approach. The key principles of this approach are: a) recognising communities as the true long-term custodians of their heritage sites; b) empowering communities in the conservation and managing process, and benefiting from their traditional (and established) values, management systems and maintenance practices; and c) linking conservation to the sustainable development of the communities, by developing a process to manage change and by making heritage relevant to the needs of the contemporary communities.

An example of a place where a living heritage has been applied – also in the context of the *Living Heritage Sites* Program of ICCROM – is Phrae in Thailand (Luk Lan Muang Phrae and SPAFA 2009; see also SPAFA, Phrae Architectural Heritage Preservation Club and Luk Lan Muang Phrae 2011). There the local community established its own (local) heritage management committee, Luk Lan Muang Phrae ['the Children and Grandchildren of Phrae']. Luk Lan Muang Phrae has the following main objectives: a) revive wisdom and pride in local heritage through different awareness activities. Examples: interviewing local house owners about the meaning and significance of their houses, organising awareness programmes on local heritage preservation for children; b) organise a wide range of activities concerning the conservation and management of local heritage, based on traditional knowledge, management systems and maintenance practices. Examples: establishment of an award programme for old house owners who take good care of their houses (owners are given a certificate and a flag to place in front of the house, and the houses awarded are registered by the Provincial Cultural Office), formation of a local museum and a library, and conservation of the city wall; and c) seek development options. Examples: cooking local dishes, growing local vegetables, local pottery- and puppet-making, and making products for sale. For the accomplishment of these objectives, Luk Lan Muang Phrae established over time collaborations with SEAMEO-SPAFA Regional Centre for Archaeology and Fine Arts in Thailand, the Thai Fine Arts Department, and ICCROM. At present Luk Lan Muang Phrae is accepted as an important mechanism in coordinating and mobilizing people and activities as well as networking.

#### *Critique*

Continuity, as defined here, is a particularly strong association, clearly differentiated from the other types of association discussed in the previous section: continuity is much more than the association of a local or a dwelling community, is the association of the original (and not a changing/evolving) community, is a historically valid (and not a claimed) association, and can embrace contemporary changes such as modernisation. A living heritage approach has also succeeded in embracing indigenous/non-Western communities and cultures, as illustrated in the cases of the Temple of the Tooth Relic and of Phrae.

Yet, there are cases in which continuity may not necessarily be physically linked to an actual site. For example, the indigenous communities of Jigalong in Western Australia, who have voluntarily left their home territories and settled near Europeans, retain their original association with their sacred ancestral sites and associated beings through dream-spirit journeys (rituals consisting of singing and dancing: 'going badundjari'). These journeys, however, most of the time have nothing to do with the actual sites: they are performed away from the sites, and by people who in most cases have never physically been in the sites but are simply imagining them (Tonkinson 1970, 277−291; pers. comm. Peter Sutton). In a similar context, there was a recent case in which indigenous communities of Uluru-Kata-Tjuta National Park in Australia (a World Heritage Site) performed in court a ritual about the site, in an attempt to justify the continuity of their association with the site, but this ritual is no longer performed on the site itself (pers. comm. Peter Sutton).

There are also cases in which continuity, though related to an actual site, may be severely restricted and affected by other communities' associations with the site, often with the consent of heritage authorities, with an impact on the character of the site. At the World Heritage Site of Canterbury Cathedral in the UK, for example, despite the continuity of the religious association of part of the local, national and international community with the site, the site is treated less and less as a sacred place and more as a tourist attraction (Hubert 1994, 12−14). In extreme cases, continuity can be restricted and affected to such an extent that it may not be a sufficient criterion to even prevent the destruction of a site, often with the consent of heritage authorities. At the site of Ayodhya in India, for example, the continuity of the local Muslim community's association with the mosque and their struggle to protect it did not eventually prevent its demolition (Layton and Thomas 2001, 2−11; Sharma 2001; Rao and Reddy 2001, 139−156).

The above elements which emphasise on the concept of continuity (Part 1) will be further developed and expanded, also through a detailed account of the conservation and management of the monastic site of Meteora in Greece (a World Heritage Site) (Part 2), towards a more holistic definition of a living heritage approach (Part 3).

# PART 1I

# **The Conservation and Management of the Site of Meteora in Greece**

# CHAPTER 5

# **Description of Meteora: landscape, and history**

#### **The landscape of Meteora**

Meteora is a geologically important landscape that contains monasteries built on high rocks (**figure 5**). The monasteries look as if they are 'suspended/floating in the air', as the Greek term 'Meteora' means. Meteora is located in central Greece, District of Thessaly, Prefecture of Trikala, Province of Kalampaka, next to the village of Kastraki and the city of Kalampaka (**figure 6**). The monastic complex is in state ownership under the control of the Greek Orthodox Church. Each of the individual monasteries of the complex has its own property and the exclusive rights to use it, but their finances are under the control of the State and the Church (UNESCO 1988, 3−4).

The space of Meteora could be described as follows (**figures 7** and **8**). In terms of physical topography, Meteora may be divided into the space inside the physical boundaries of the individual monasteries (i.e. the internal space of the monasteries) and the space outside the physical boundaries of the individual monasteries (i.e. the external space of the monasteries). In terms of status of ownership, the internal space of the monasteries belongs exclusively to the monastic communities, while the external space of the monasteries is mostly public land and, only to a small extent, private land belonging to the monasteries and to citizens. In terms of status of use, the internal space of the monasteries is the exclusive responsibility of the monastic communities, in accordance with the regulations of the Greek government and under the supervision of the relevant government bodies (namely the Ministry of Culture). The status of use of the external space of the monasteries is much more complicated, with the involvement of various groups of people (such as the monastic communities, the local community, the visitors and the tourist agencies), in accordance with the regulations of the Greek government and under the supervision of the relevant government bodies (namely the Ministry of Culture, the Ministry for the Environment, Spatial Planning and Public Works, the Ministry of Agriculture, and the Ministry of Tourism).

### **The history of Meteora from the 11th century to approximately 1940: Meteora as an exclusively monastic site**

Meteora has been an Orthodox monastic site, with continuous conduct of ritual activities, since the end of the tenth-beginning of the eleventh century to the present date. Meteora contains

**Figure 5:** Meteora: a general view of the site (source: photo of Kostas Liolios).

monastic communities of monks and nuns: initially only monks lived at the site, but later, in 1925, monastic communities of nuns also appeared (this was after a major fire in 1925 when the monks asked for the help of the residents of the nearby village of Kastraki, who subsequently established the first monastic communities of nuns on the site: Kotopoulis 1973, 125−127; Tetsios 2003; 342−343; pers. comm. Kastraki village.

The history of the monastic site of Meteora may be summarised as follows (Kontoyannis 1990, 19−28; Nikonanos 1992, 18−19; Sofianos 1990, 11−18; Tsiatas 2003, 161−162; Nikodimi 2002, 21−22; Choulia-Albani 1999, 152−155). At the end of the tenth-beginning of the eleventh century, the first hermits established themselves on the rocks of Meteora. In the twelfth century, the monks concentrated around the *skiti* [house of groups of monks] of Doupiani, forming the first monastic community in the area. The milestone in the monastic life of Meteora was the establishment of the first *koinobio* [organised monastery], the Great Meteoron Monastery, by monk Athanasios in 1347. It was monk Athanasios (later St Athanasios of Meteora) who gave the name 'Meteora' to the site. Monastic life at Meteora reached its peak in the sixteenthand seventeenth centuries, when there were twenty four monasteries and numerous independent cells at the site. The eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were periods of decline for monastic life on the site, which reached its nadir in the first half of the twentieth century. An odd incident occurred in the early 1930s, when members of the village of Kastraki set fire to one of the Meteora monasteries because the monks were – claimed to be – seducing girls from their village (pers. comm. Kastraki village). In the 1940s, under the pressure of World War II and the Greek Civil War, the monastic communities left the site, with the exception of a couple of monks who remained at the Great Meteoron and the Varlaam Monasteries.

**Figure 6:** Meteora: location.

# **The history of Meteora from the 1960s to present: a monastic site within the development of heritage and tourism industries**

The monastic communities were re-established on the site in the 1960s, and increased over time. Today Meteora contains six monastic communities (four of monks and two of nuns), being one of the largest monastic complexes in Greece and in the entire Orthodox world. The monastic communities perform significant spiritual and philanthropic activity for the benefit of the local community (i.e. the residents of the village of Kastraki, the town of Kalampaka and the broader region), which comprises the congregation of the Monasteries.

During the twentieth century Meteora was designated by the Greek government as a heritage site. In 1921, and especially in 1962, the monasteries were officially recognised and protected for their historic and artistic significance as individual monuments. Later, in 1967, Meteora was recognised as a single heritage site with unified boundaries including the local village of Kastraki and part of the town of Kalampaka. In 1988, Meteora was recognised at an international level through its inscription as a World Heritage Site of 'outstanding' cultural and natural ('mixed') significance.

Since the establishment of the first *koinobio* (the Great Meteoron Monastery) by monk Athanasios in 1347 and especially since the peak of the monasteries in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Meteora acquired fame as a monastic site of remarkable artistic significance, located in an impressive landscape, attracting the attention of numerous visitors from all over

**Figure 7:** Meteora: a detailed map of the site (original figure: Meteora map 1996, with author's additions). The map depicts the monasteries (Great Meteoron, Varlaam, Roussanou, Holy Trinity, St Stephen, and St Nikolaos Anapafsas) and the *skites* (Doupiani, St Antonios, and St Nikolaos Badovas) that are still in use, the city of Kalampaka and the village of Kastraki, and the road network.

the Christian world (Kontoyannis 1990, 24; Xydias and Totsikas and Braoudakis 1997, 221−222 and 235−240). Yet, it was during the twentieth century that Meteora gradually developed as a tourist site attracting non-Christian visitors. The events that helped to develop tourism at the site were the following (Anastasiou 1994a, 203): first, the construction of stairs for the easier access to the monasteries in the 1920s, which meant the abandonment of the original way of access to the monasteries through the *vrizoni* (*vrizoni* is 'an elevator peculiar to Meteora, used until today for the transportation of heavy loads; it is made of a net, inside which the visitor entered and was pulled upwards through a wheel situated on the monastery tower': Choulia-Albani 1999, 157); second, the construction of a road network for the easier access to the site in the late 1940s; and third, the abolition of *avaton* (i.e. the exclusion of women from entering the monasteries), which continued at the Great Meteoron and the Varlaam monasteries until the 1940s. The main tourism development took place after World War II and the Civil War, and in the last two decades Meteora has developed as an international mass tourist destination. Today, Meteora attracts approximately one million and a half visitors per year, being one of the most popular tourist destinations in Greece.1

<sup>1</sup> There are no accurate visitor numbers of the site; the number provided in the present study is an estimate based on interviews with professionals concerned with the tourism development of the site and the region, and also on an analysis of the available data concerning the accommodation of the visitors in the region.

**Figure 8:** Meteora: map of zones of protection (see also Kalokairinos 1995). The green line marks the boundaries of zone A of the heritage site of Meteora. This zone includes the monasteries that are still in use (indicated by number 1) and their broader surrounding area. The blue line marks the boundaries of zone B of the heritage site, which includes the village of Kastraki (indicated by number 2) and part of the city of Kalampaka (indicated by number 3). The red line marks the boundaries of the area recognised and protected as 'holy', which includes the monasteries that are still in use and their directly surrounding area (Greek Government 1995; see below).

# **Conclusion**

Meteora has been an Orthodox monastic site since the end of the tenth-beginning of the eleventh century to the present date. Initially, since the end of tenth-beginning of the eleventh century until approximately the 1960s, Meteora was exclusively a monastic site. Later, from the 1960s onwards, Meteora retains its monastic function, while increasingly being used as a major heritage and tourist site at a national and international level. As a result of this increasing popularity of the site, a variety of groups of people, of different backgrounds, with different, sometimes conflicting needs, views and practices concerning the present operation and the future development of the site, are involved in its life at local, national and international level.

## CHAPTER 6

# **Meteora within the systems of monasticism, heritage protection and tourism operation**

#### **Monasticism**

The relationship between the State, the Church and the Monasteries in Greece may be summarised as follows (Troianos and Poulis 2002, 60−68, 79−81 and 109−119; Venizelos 2000, 55−61, 76−84 and 91−93; on the side of the State: Stathopoulos 2000, 59−70; on the side of the Church: Ramiotis 1997, 80 and 89−92; on the side of the Monasteries: Apostolakis 2002b, 9−12 and 17−22; Apostolakis 2003, 11−18 and 23−32).

Within the framework of the freedom of religious expression and worship and of the respect to all religious groups as fundamental human rights within a Western democratic state (Greek Government 1975, article 13), Orthodox Christianity is recognised as the predominant religion in Greece. The Church of Greece still retains close links with the State and holding a primary position in Greek society (Greek Government 1975, article 3).

The Church of Greece is recognised as a 'legal entity governed by public law' [*nomiko prosopo dimosiou dikaiou*] within the State in the context of 'rule of law' [*kratos dikaiou*] model [it is an entity that, though legally distinct from the State, performs state-like functions and is empowered with competence to control its own administrative and operational affairs *quasi* a public body]. On this basis, the State grants the Church control of its own operational issues, in strict compliance with the Constitution and the laws of the State (Greek Government 1977). The relationship between the State and the Church in Greece is in everyday practice characterised by the efforts of the State, on the one hand, to define and regulate the operation of the Church, and by the attempts of the Church, on the other, to resist the pressure from the State (see Koliopoulos and Veremis 2002, 140−151). In the context of State-Church relationship, Greek people are at the same time citizens of the State and congregation of the Church.

The Church is governed by the Holy Synod of the Hierarchy, which consists of the Bishops of the Greek territory with the Archbishop of Athens as its President. The Church is operating in a decentralised way. Each Bishopric has a considerable degree of independence from the central Church in dealing with the issues of the operation and management of its own diocese and congregation.

Monasteries are recognised as 'legal entities governed by public law' within the Greek state (Greek Government 1977). Monasteries are, in terms of administration, dependent upon the local Bishopric. The supervision of the local Bishopric over the Monasteries officially covers spiritual and liturgical issues (i.e. so that the Monasteries comply with the rules of the Orthodox Church) and not issues of their operation and management, which remain the responsibility of the individual Monasteries. Monasteries are also obliged to give part of their income to the local Bishopric. In practice, however, a local Bishopric's collaboration with, and influence on, the Monasteries may extend to a variety of issues other than strictly spiritual ones (Kostopoulos 2003, 267−273).

The relationship between the State, the Church and the Monasteries with regard to the site of Meteora presents further complexities (Apostolakis 2008). Initially there was a single Bishopric, but in the period 1967-1974 it was divided into two Bishoprics: one of Trikala and one of Meteora and Stagoi [Kalampaka]. Meteora Monasteries now belong in the latter. As a result of this division, the two Bishoprics are not on very good terms with each other, often with implications for the local community and for Meteora Monasteries.

Another complexity of the site of Meteora is the operation of six separate Monasteries, with different spiritual and ideological links and with different views with regard to the operation and management of the complex. These differences affect the Monasteries' relationship with the local Bishopric, the local community, the local and national government bodies.

### **Heritage protection**

The system of heritage protection in Greece is controlled by a strict legislative framework: the ownership of heritage within the territory of Greece that is recognised as a national one, and the responsibility for its protection, are in the hands of the State (Greek Government 2008, article 24). The system of heritage protection (defined by Greek Government 1932 and Greek Government 2002) is particularly concerned about 'the safeguarding of [the monuments'] material substance and their authenticity' in an attempt to 'safeguard the historic memory for the sake of the present and the future generations' (Greek Government 2002, articles 40 and 1) and could be generally characterised by an emphasis on the preservation of the tangible/material — rather than the intangible — elements of monuments (see Kotsakis 1991, Poulios 2010 c; Poulios forthcoming; Poulios 2012a; Poulios 2012b; Poulios and Touloupa forthcoming). The responsibility for protection lies with the Ministry of Culture1 ; even in those cases where other government agencies (such as the Ministry of the Environment, Spatial Planning and Public Works) are also involved, the Ministry of Culture retains final responsibility. Protection is centrally administered: the central divisions of the Ministry set the policy, while the local divisions / the so-called 'Ephorates' deliver this policy at the local level (Ministry of Culture 2003; Greek Government 2002, articles 49–50; Doris 1985, 359−408; 416−446; Eugenidou 1993, 6−10; see also Pantos 1993; Papachristodoulou 2002). The protection of those sites that are inscribed on the UNESCO *World Heritage List* is generally the same as that of the other national designated heritage sites; the only difference is the further increased responsibility of the central Ministry, with very little involvement of the local Ephorates (Greek Government 2002, article 50).

The underlying philosophy of national heritage protection in Greece is based on Western European Classical ideals and is characterised by a strong attachment to its Classical past, as a

<sup>1</sup> The Ministry of Culture has changed form over time, on the basis of its position within the state structure and its relation to the other ministries eg. it has been for many years a Ministry of Culture only, in 2009 it incorporated Tourism and became the Ministry of Culture and Tourism, while in 2013 it became the Ministry of Culture and Sports. In the present study it is cited as 'Ministry of Culture'.

result of a variety of factors before, during, and after the Greek revolution against the Ottoman occupation and the formation of the Greek state (1821-1832) until present day (Yalouri 2001, 187−196; Hamilakis 2000, 69−71; Hamilakis and Yalouri 1999, 116−127; Hamilakis and Yalouri 1996, 118−127; Lowenthal 1988). This attachment to the Classical past has developed at the expense of any other (than Classical) past and particularly of the Byzantine past (Yalouri 1993, 24−35). Indicative examples to this end: During the early history of the Greek state the word 'antiquities' meant in the terms of the period exclusively monuments of the Classical Greek past, and consequently, the establishment of national heritage regulations in 1833 referred exclusively to the protection of Classical antiquities (Kotsakis 1991, 65); it was not until 1899 that provisions were made for the protection of the Byzantine antiquities as well (Zias 1995, 84−86; Zias 1993, 17−18). Also, until 2002 it was only (Byzantine) sites dating before 1453 that were automatically recognised and protected as national heritage, while those (post-Byzantine) sites after 1453 required a specific listing (Greek Government 2002, article 6 replacing Greek Government 1932).

Yet, even after the recognition of Byzantine sites as 'heritage', the State's emphasis on the Classical past has substantially affected the overall way Byzantine sites were, and are still, approached and protected: First, Byzantine religious sites are looked upon from a Classical perspective, with considerable emphasis on their artistic and art-historical significance and on the need for the preservation of their fabric, while their continuing ecclesiastical and liturgical use is largely ignored (Zias 1995, 83−84). Therefore, it appears that Byzantine religious heritage was simply added to an already well-established and strict set of regulations modelled upon Western European Classical principles; and is not treated as a special category of heritage under a special set of heritage regulations (see Poulios 2010c; Poulios forthcoming).

Second, the State / the Ministry of Culture has the exclusive responsibility and power over the protection of the sites, while Church authorities, such as the Bishoprics and the monastic communities, are not (officially) included in the protection of the sites (Zias 1995, 83−84). In practice, however, the State / the Ministry of Culture has to take into account and collaborate with the monastic communities given the latter's officially recognised ownership of the sites (see above; Greek Government 2002, article 73; see Zias 1993, 18). This means that the sites are under the responsibility of two different managing authorities: as heritage sites they are under the responsibility of the Greek state, while as monastic sites they are under the responsibility of their monastic communities (see Poulios 2010c; Lavvas *et al*. 1997). The most effective way for the State / the Ministry of Culture to control the monastic communities is through the provision for the funding for restoration of the monasteries, imposing two requirements for the monastic communities to qualify for funding: first, to respect the fabric of the monasteries, which means that the restoration works must be authorised and supervised by the Ministry of Culture, and, second, to have the monasteries open to the visitors (public access) (Greek Government 2002, article 11). This means that practically the control by the Ministry of Culture depends on the relative financial power of the individual monastic communities and on their attitude towards tourism.

Meteora was designated at a national level initially through the inscription of individual monuments: the Varlaam, the Great Meteoron, the St Stephen and the Holy Trinity monasteries were inscribed in 1921 (Greek Government 1921), while the Roussanou, the St Nikolaos Anapafsas, the Coming of Christ, the Hagia and the Ipsilotera monasteries were inscribed in 1962 (Ministry of Culture 1962). In 1967 Meteora was recognised as a single heritage site with unified boundaries including the village of Kastraki and part of the town of Kalampaka (Ministry of Culture 1967), while the boundaries of the heritage site were re-defined in 2005 (Ministry of Culture 2005). Meteora was designated a World Heritage Site in 1988, recognised as a cultural and natural ('mixed') 'property' of 'outstanding universal value' on the basis of cultural criteria i, ii, iv, v and natural criterion iii (UNESCO 1988; ICOMOS 1987a; IUCN 1988). Buffer zones for the protection of the site were defined in 1995 and 1996 (Ministry of Culture 1995; Ministry of Culture 1996), and were re-defined in 2002 (Ministry of Culture 2002; see also below): buffer Zone A (around the Meteora monasteries) strictly prohibits the erection of any buildings in it, while buffer Zone B (around the Meteora rocks) sets conditions on the construction of buildings in Kastraki and Kalampaka settlements (see above, figure 8).

The responsibility for the protection of the site of Meteora, given its World Heritage status, lies primarily in the central Ministry of Culture and, at a clearly secondary level, in the 19th Ephorate of Byzantine Antiquities (based on the city of Trikala, Prefecture of Trikala). Given the significance of Meteora also as a natural heritage site, the Ministry for the Environment, Spatial Planning and Public Works is also involved in the management of the site, but the final responsibility remains in the Ministry of Culture.

Despite the general policy of the Greek government bodies not to provide any special legal framework of protection for its religious heritage (see above), Meteora was actually given a special legal status. It was recognised in 1995 as a holy site, protected against any commercial activity that would do harm to its holy character (Greek Government 1995: see below), with the boundaries of the holy site being defined in 1999 (Ministry of Culture and Ministry of Environment, Spatial Planning and Public Works 1999).

#### **Tourism operation**

Tourism is one of the current pillars of the economy of Greece (see Patsouratis 2002, 1−12; Research Institute for Tourism 2004, 47−52).

Tourism is centrally administered, with responsibilities increasingly allowed to a local level: the central divisions of the Ministry of Tourism in collaboration with the Hellenic Tourism Organisation [a Public Entity supervised by the Ministry of Tourism that is responsible for the promotion of Greek tourism] set the policy, while the local divisions deliver this policy at the local level. These government bodies collaborate with various independent tourist agencies for the setting and the delivery of the policy (Varvaressos 1999, 160−166).

The policy of the Greek state may be summarised as follows: Within the international market, which is dominated by tour operators and is operating through the selling of holiday packages for mass tourism on an 'image and price' basis, Greece is mainly promoted on the basis of the 'Sea and Sun' model for the summer period. The Greek state positions Greece within the international market in two ways: First, within the 'Sea and Sun' model: by differentiating Greece from its competitors (that are also promoted on the basis of the 'Sea and Sun' model) through the 'Sea, Sun *and Culture*' model. Hence, from these three elements 'culture' stands out as the quintessential aspect of the new tourism profile of Greece, and as the competitive advantage of Greece (Hellenic Tourism Organisation 2001, 7 and 12−18; Chatzidakis 2004, 7; see also Patsouratis 2002, 205 and 214−215; Tsartas *et al.* 2010). In this new tourism profile, 'culture' is associated with a wide range of aspects of the contemporary Greek style of life such as hospitality, a pleasant and relaxing style of life, and picturesque scenery (Hellenic Tourism Organisation 2001, 17; Chatzidakis 2004, 1−2 and 7−8). Still, a key element of this 'culture' remains cultural heritage – with an emphasis on the ancient Classical heritage, as the one more easily associated with Greece internationally due to the continuing Classical interest of the Western world (see above) (Chatzidakis 1993, 2−3; see also Touloupa 2010). Second, outside the 'Sea and Sun' model: by developing smaller, alternative tourism trends, outside the mainstream mass tourism trends and beyond the summer period. The aim is to attract segments in the existing market that cannot be satisfied by the current mass tourist trends, and potentially develop these segments and create new markets (Hellenic Tourism Organisation 2003b, Phase B, 33−35; Hellenic Tourism Organisation 2001, 11 and 14; Patsouratis

**Figure 9:** Tourism campaign of Meteora targeting the foreign market (source: Hellenic Tourism Organisation).

2002, 212−214; Chatzidakis 2004, 7−8; Chatzidakis 1993, 4−7; Varvaressos 1999, 33−35). Such alternative forms of tourism are cultural tourism (associated mainly with monuments-sites, museums and contemporary culture), rural tourism, and religious tourism, which is mainly aimed at the Orthodox, mainly Eastern European, markets (on religious tourism, see: Hellenic Tourism Organisation 2000; Hellenic Tourism Organisation 2003a; on religious tourism based on monasteries in use, see: Konsola 1996, 269−270; Kazazaki 1996, 325−328; Kazazaki 1999).

The Greek state also promotes the development of domestic tourism (i.e. based on the Greek visitors), outside the 'Sea and Sun' model and beyond the summer period (during which Greeks usually seek beach destinations) (Patsouratis 2002, 23−26). Among the most significant types of domestic tourism is religious tourism, with the participation of the Church authorities and the monastic communities.

Meteora is one of the most popular tourist destinations in Greece.

Meteora fits within the policy of the Greek state in the following ways. Within the international market: First, within the 'Sea, Sun and Culture' model, Meteora provides an excellent example of a site that demonstrates that Greece is much more than 'Sea and Sun' and, furthermore, much more than ancient Classical culture, thus further expanding the tourism profile of Greece (**figure 9**) (pers. comm. Ministry of Tourism; Hellenic Tourism Organisation 2003b, Phase B, 97). Second, outside the 'Sea, Sun and Culture' model, the region of Meteora offers a great variety of alternative forms of tourism, such as cultural tourism, rural tourism, religious tourism, and rock-climbing (Hellenic Tourism Organisation 2003, Phase B, 34−35; Charalambeas 2005, 206−210 and 255−256; Xydias and Totsikas and Braoudakis 1994, 10/17−26; 10/29-32; Chormova 1997, 285; Livanidis 1988, 2; Ministry of Coordination and Development 1980, 19).

Within the domestic market, Meteora is by far the most popular monastic site in Greece (Xydias and Totsikas and Braoudakis 1994, 10/20). The popularity of Meteora as a tourist destination is also eased by the fact that Meteora is also open to women, is much easier to access by a wellorganised transportation system, and there are no special entry procedures or restrictions in the number of the visitors (unlike for instance Mount Athos).

The operation of Meteora may be seen from a tourist point of view as follows. First, within the 'Sea and Sun (and Culture)' model (within the international market): Meteora operates as a transitory destination added to other, primary destinations and routes (such as sea resorts, and on the way from Athens to Thessaloniki) mostly during the summer period (Xydias and Totsikas and Braoudakis 1994, 10/18−19). The visitors spend approximately two to three hours visiting a couple of monasteries, make a brief stop at shops and restaurants, and move on to their final destination. The most visited monasteries are those with more open space, museums and shops (such as the Great Meteoron and the Varlaam monasteries) or those with the easiest access from the road (the St Stephen monastery). The most preferred restaurants and shops are those located on the roads of access to the site. The majority of the visitors do not stay in the nearby town of Kalampaka and the village of Kastraki (Xydias and Totsikas and Braoudakis 1994, 10/18−19; pers. comm. KENAKAP; Alexiadis 1998). Second, outside the 'Sea, Sun and Culture' model (within the international market, through the alternative types of tourism, and also within the domestic market): Meteora is established as a primary tourist destination at a more extended period throughout the year (Xydias and Totsikas and Braoudakis 1994, 10/19; Hellenic Tourism Organisation 2003b, Phase B, 97−98). The visitors stay in Kastraki and Kalampaka. Rock-climbers, for example, stay in the area for approximately seven days (Liolios 2006, 6).

In this context, the impact of the development of tourism at Meteora is as follows. The benefits are most significant for the Greek state through the contribution of tourism in the overall development of the country. The benefits are rather limited for the local community, with the exception of a few restaurants, souvenir shops, and hotels (see above). The benefits for the Meteora monastic communities, as the ones who control the access to the monasteries, are significant. Therefore, the key players in the tourism industry are the tour operators (international level), the Greek state (national level) and the Meteora monastic communities (local level), while the other groups of people, such as the local agents and the local community, try to benefit through their relationship with these key players.

### **Conclusion**

The interdependence of monasticism, heritage protection and tourism oprration may be summarised as follows: Heritage protection, in principle, is in conflicting terms with the monastic sites' continuing ecclesiastical and liturgical meaning and function, and is dependent upon the monastic communities' legally recognised ownership of their monasteries. Heritage protection, in practice, considers public access a basic requirement for the provision for the funding for restoration of the monasteries, and depends on the monastic communities' attitude towards tourism and also on their relative financial power.

Meteora is a most popular tourist attraction. The monastic communities of the site, as those who control the public access to the site, play a key role in tourism industry and derive considerable power from this role, also in financial terms. The increased public access to the site, as well as the increased financial power of the monastic communities, hinders the cooperation between the State / the Ministry of Culture and the monastic communities, posing several complexities to heritage protection.

### CHAPTER 7

# **The meaning of Meteora as an Orthodox monastic site**

### **7.1. From the 11th century to approximately 1940: the original** *Tradition* **at Meteora**

From the 11th century to approximately 1940, the original *Tradition* has been applied to the site of Meteora. The *Tradition* of the Orthodox Church relates to a series of beliefs.1 Through the presentation of these beliefs, an attempt is made to draw the link between God as believed and worshipped in the Orthodox Church and the specific monastic space and practices at Meteora. Emphasis is on the definition of the concept of authenticity in the context of the Orthodox Church.

#### *God*

At the core of the Orthodox Church is the belief in the inextricable relationship between the Persons of the Holy Trinity (the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit) in a communion of Love (Vasileios 1974, 75−77). The substance of God is love (John 4. 8, translated by Bible 1966). The entire creation, comprising the angels, the universe and man, is the 'natural' ['by nature'] expression of the Love of God.

God is always present in, and defines, the history of humanity through the creation of man by the Father (the beginning of history), the Incarnation of Christ/the Son (the centre of history) and the Second Coming of Christ (the end of history). Thus, the history of humanity is viewed in the Orthodox Church as a linear process, centred on the Incarnation of Christ.

God created man 'in his own image and likeness'. In this way

…it is this unity that in substance connects the three persons of the Holy Trinity that God gave by the grace to his creature. This constitutes the ontological basis of the 'in his own image' and the capacity of achieving the 'in his own likeness'. This is the harmony and balance of our nature as beings and of our relationship with our creator. (Vasileios 1974, 75−77)

<sup>1</sup> This section makes an extensive use of quotations (from Greek literature) in an attempt not to alter the meanings in terms of belief and doctrine. The translations are the author's.

Through his fall, however, man destroyed the harmony and balance of his nature and his relationship with God, and consequently experienced death (Iosif 1996, 38). It was God Himself (Christ, 'the Word': John 1. 1−16, translated by Bible 1966) who restored this harmony through His personal intervention in history, i.e. through His Incarnation, Death and Resurrection.

The relationship between man and the environment is placed within the relationship between God and man. God created the environment as a tool for man to glorify and serve Him. Thus, the environment does not have value in its own right but only through its service to man. The ultimate aim of God is the salvation of man and not the salvation of the environment (Nikodimi 2002, 4−5). The fall of man, and consequently the destruction of the relationship between man and God, unavoidably affected the relationship between man and the environment. And it was only through the personal intervention of Christ in history that the environment was restored to its original essence (Nikodimi 2002, 5−6; Zizioulas 1992, 17−37).

Therefore, Christ, the Incarnated Son of God, is the exclusive cause of salvation of man and of the entire creation, and thus the exclusive source of true life.

#### *Church*

The Church exists through its permanent relationship with God: 'The living God continues to reveal Himself in and through the Church' (Nellas 1987, 148−154). The Church was founded by Christ and with the coming of the Holy Spirit. The Church operates as a unified communion modelled upon the relationship within the Holy Trinity. The members of the Church are linked to each other through their individual linking with Christ.

God created man, as noted above, 'in His own image and likeness'. His image is given through the creation to everybody regardless of religion and doctrine. However, His likeness was offered through the Incarnation of Christ, and can be achieved only within the Church, through the Grace of God/the Holy Spirit and with the co-operation of man (Iosif 1996, 40−41).

#### *The Tradition of the Church*

The concept of authenticity in the context of the Orthodox Church is linked to that of *Tradition*. *Tradition* means any teaching or practice that has been transmitted from generation to generation throughout the life of the Church; it is 'the very life of the Holy Trinity as it has been revealed by Christ Himself and testified by the Holy Spirit' (Bebis 2014).2 To be more specific: *Tradition* is the continuous presence and revelation of God/the Holy Spirit in the Church throughout time and space (Vlachos 1937, 32; Nellas 1987, 148−154; Damianos 1987, 161−166).

Tradition in Church is not simply the continuation of human memory or the continuation of the ritual activities and habits. It is, above all, the continuation of the guidance and illumination from God, it is the maintaining, living presence of the Holy Spirit. Church is not attached to the letter [of the law], but is steadily driven by the Holy Spirit. (Florovsky 1960, 241)

*Tradition* defines the Church as a whole, including the Holy Scripture, the writings of the Holy Fathers, the decisions of Ecumenical and local Councils, the administration, the liturgical life, and

<sup>2</sup> *Tradition* comes from the Latin *traditio*. The Greek term is *paradosis*, and means giving, offering, delivering.

the art of the Church. The *Tradition* is unified, rooted in the unity of the Holy Trinity (Vasileios 1986, 16−17; Damianos 1987, 161−166). As it was noted,

everything in Church emerges from the same font of the liturgical experience. Everything co-operates in a triadic [i.e. associated to the Holy Trinity] way… Everything emerges from the knowledge of the Holy Trinity. (Vasileios 1974, 7−10)

*Tradition* as an entity is experienced by the entire Body of the Church: As nothing is done within the Holy Trinity without the cooperation of the three Persons, similarly 'nothing is achieved in the Church without the participation of its entire Body, without the consent of the ecclesiastical, triadic consciousness of the Church' (Vasileios 1974, 75−77). In the first place, however, *Tradition* is revealed by God/Christ only to the Saints, who in turn pass it to the entire Body of the Church through their writings, their decisions and their art. Saints are the authentic, the real Christians, 'the living examples of authenticity', they 'become Tradition themselves' and are 'sons of God by the grace' (Damianos 1987, 161−166; Vlachos 1987, 167). In this way,

…the authentic man does not simply constitute a model of moral completion, but is actually transformed in a vessel of revelation of the dogmatic truths [of the Church]. He experiences and reveals the Economy [*Oikonomia*] of God [i.e. all the actions of God for the salvation of man] in its entity. (Nikolaos 2005, 158−159)

The real Christian is compatible with the doctrine of the Church, but also brings something new and original of his/her own:

The image of the authentic person is not something that exists and everyone should imitate, but something that does not exist and everyone is asked to create. It is the expression of the one for which man is chosen. Authenticity is what demonstrates the holiness and the uniqueness of the person. (Nikolaos 2005, 133−134)

The real Christian is contemporary at any time:

…not … worldly 'contemporary'; but … 'contemporary' in the sense of bearing/incarnating the eternal message of God in the present [of each times]. He bears/incarnates the Tradition of the Church and also the image of the ultimate… The Christian life is authentic… when we experience the kingdom of God as more real than the historic events. (Nikolaos 2005, 157−158 and 132)

The real Christian 'constantly acts in the boundaries between God and man', but remains 'truly humane' (Nikolaos 2005, 154). As it was characteristically noted:

Authenticity helps a Christian to constantly act in the boundaries between God and man, between rationale and mystery, between the love of God and the pain of man, between freedom and obedience. This [authenticity] inspires him to move also in the beyond of personal space, of humane measure, of secular time, of ego. It is in these boundaries that God is hiding. It is in this beyond that one meets his brother, eternity, grace, truth, God Himself… The authentic/real Christian is truly humane. He does not find salvation on his own, he shares salvation. He can be devoid of his pride, and thus unify with God and with his brothers. (Nikolaos 2005, 154)

Therefore, Church is not seen as a group of people operating on the basis of majority, but as a community of saints operating on the basis of the *Tradition* of the Church.

### *Worship (The Holy Liturgy)*

The Holy Liturgy is the most significant aspect, the *sine qua non*, the core of the *Tradition* of the Church since it unifies the faithful with Christ. Holy Liturgy is 'a ritual, …the transition from the empirical world to the symbolic one, …communion with God and with society' (Papadopoulos 1991a, 44−45). Given that Christ is the reason for the salvation of the entire creation (see above), it is basically the Holy Liturgy that gives salvation as well as essence to the entire creation:

The Holy Liturgy makes the organism of creation as a whole operate in the triadic way. The one who participates in the Holy Liturgy has an esoteric view of the world. Time and space become new. (Vasileios 1974, 123)

The Church cannot exist without the Holy Liturgy:

There is no Church or Orthodoxy without the Holy Liturgy, and there is no Holy Liturgy and Orthodoxy outside the Church. Holy Liturgy is the constant centre of our life. (Vlachos 1987, 169−170)

The Holy Liturgy gives meaning to all the other elements of the *Tradition* of the Church. The other elements of the *Tradition* do not have meaning and existence in their own right but are created as an entity, through the Holy Liturgy. Thus, the *Tradition* as a whole is purely functional, acquiring its existence and meaning serving the worship of God (Vlachos 1987, 168).

Therefore, the aim of the existence of man is the ultimate unification with Christ, which is actually achieved through the Holy Liturgy. In this context, the concept of authenticity in the Orthodox Church is centred on the Holy Liturgy, and the real Christian, the Saint, is the one who is absolutely dedicated to the worship of God.

### *The art of the Church*

The art of the Church, in all its expressions (such as architecture, sculpture, painting, poetry, and music), acquires its existence and meaning exclusively within the *Tradition*. The art of the Church is a purely functional one, created and operating as an entity serving the worship, and is guided and defined, in terms of its boundaries, by the *Tradition* of the Church, i.e. by the Holy Spirit. The aim of the art of the Church is to lead to the knowledge of God and subsequently to the unification with Him and the salvation through Him (Vasileios 1986, 16−20; Vasileios 1974, 127−130; Paliouras 1997, 18−19). In this context, the art of the Church (for instance, an icon) is clearly differentiated from art that depicts a religious topic (for instance, a religious painting). The art of the Church is not simply seen as the outcome of the artistic capacity of an individual, but as the expression of the liturgical life of the Church: 'It is not a man-created image, but the incarnated grace of God' (Vasileios 1974, 137−138). It is an eternal and ever-lasting reality that transcends the physical reality of time and space of a particular era and beyond history, and expresses the ultimate/the Great Beyond, which is the time and space of Paradise. In this way, it is 'not a representation of past events, but participation in a new, transformed history and materiality, the outcome of the merging of the created and the uncreated'. Thus, it is not an item of the past, but 'a presence within the continuous life of the Church that is living, bears life and gives life' (Vasileios 1974, 123−130 and 136−140; also Vasileios 1986, 15). Therefore, the entire *Tradition* of the Church, including art, is created and operates as an entity, stemming from the one Church and from one God, and serving the one Holy Liturgy.

#### *The monastic Tradition of the Church*

Monastic life is considered the most absolute path in the Orthodox Church for the devotion to, and unification with, Christ (Iosif 1996, 40; Vasileios 1974, 173; Ioannou 2003, 124−129), the quintessence of Christianity, the most dynamic, complete and consistent expression of it, thus serving as the ideal model for the Church as a whole (Yannaras 1973, 68; Meteora Monasteries 1994a, 16−17). Monasticism as a way of life developed and still operates within the *Tradition* of the Church: the constitutional form and regulation of monasticism were revealed by God to the Fathers of the Church, who were considered real Christians, Saints (see above; Iosif 1996, 40).

A monastic community is a community of people absolutely dedicated to Christ, and aiming at unifying with Him. The unification with Christ is achieved through the Holy Liturgy and with the support of the Abbot/Head monk of the monastic community. The Abbot is the most prominent person in a monastic community, the one who gives the character and the essence to it (Aimilianos 1991, 119). The Abbot is considered the person who receives the *Tradition* directly from God and transfers it to the monks. Thus, he is considered the real Christian, the Saint, the living *Tradition* for his monks (Aimilianos 1991, 120). The relationship between the monk and his Abbot is a personal and a closest one, modelled upon the relationship within the Holy Trinity (Iosif 1996, 38), while the relationships between the members of a monastic community are indirect ones, passing through the Abbot. This spiritual role of the Abbot is also reflected in the administration of a monastery: The Abbot is the Head of the 'Holy Assembly' [the ultimate administrative body of a monastic community consisting of the Abbot and of two supervisors], is elected but is irremovable. The Abbot is the primary reason for the monks to move in their monasteries in the first place – a view that that is shared by the Meteora monks as well (pers. comm. Ioasaph; pers. comm. Maximi).

The Holy Liturgy, what unifies man with God (see above), is the essence of monasticism. Monastic life 'imitates the eternal worship, in accordance with the example of the eternal glorifying of angels to God' (Aimilianos 1991, 120). Thus, 'worship is not an interval of schedule in a worldly life, but a permanent state of living' (Fountoulis 1991, 136). Monastic life as a whole could be seen as a way of continuous exercise and preparation for the Holy Liturgy (Vasileios 1974, 173; Metallinos 2003, 231−238). In this way, in the everyday monastic schedule a major part of the day is devoted to the conduct of the Holy Liturgy. The rest of the day is devoted to the sleep and prayer of monks in their cells, the communal monastic activities [*diakonimata*] and the communal meals, which have a practical purpose, aiming at the physical survival of the monks, but also a spiritual character, in the context of the preparation for the Holy Liturgy (Zias 1999, 11−12). Furthermore, the Holy Liturgy conducted in a monastery is not attended exclusively by the members of the monastic community but also by laity, who thus become an organic part of the life of the monastery (Aimilianos 1991, 120). Hence, thanks to the conduct of the Holy Liturgy, the 'inside' world (the monastic community) is connected with the 'outside' one (the laity).

The Holy Liturgy also defines space and time in a monastery, transforming the monastery into a world of its own, different to the outside world. The core of the monastery is the *katholicon* [the main church in a monastery], where the Holy Liturgy is conducted, and the cells and the other monastic buildings are centred around the *katholicon* (Papadopoulos 1991b, 64; see below in detail). In terms of the everyday monastic schedule, the communal as well as the private activities of the monks are regulated on the basis of the Holy Liturgy, which is conducted according to Byzantine time, based on the cycle of nature (Papadopoulos 1991, 32−44). Furthermore, the Holy Liturgy conducted in a monastery defines space and time in the surrounding area of the monastery as well. A monastery is most of the time located on a high position, easily noticeable, with the crosses of its *katholicon* dominating the skyline (Papadopoulos 1991b, 64). It also sets the sound for the surrounding area through the ringing of the bells of its *katholicon* for worship (Papadopoulos 1991b, 64).

The continual conduct of the Holy Liturgy renders a monastery 'a symbolically structured and ritually experienced view of the world'. A monastery is a symbolic world, in which, in the views of the monks, the actual scale of space is heaven and the actual scale of time is eternity (Papadopoulos 1991b, 64−73). The monastery is considered to connect earth and heaven, being in fact 'heaven on earth' (Iosif 1996, 40−41). Above the monastery there is a different world, that of true and eternal life: Paradise. The monastery is considered the ideal community, and the *katholicon* the symbol of the world, 'a living image of the Kingdom of God' (Papadopoulos 1991b, 75−77; Papadopoulos 1991a, 44). Also, between the monastery and Paradise, i.e. between earth and heaven, there is a world with transitory space and time, in expectation of the Second Coming, which (world) is represented by the cemetery. That is why the cemetery of a monastery is constructed as a completely different unit, outside the walls of the monastery and surrounded by a wall (Papadopoulos 1991a, 45).

Through the continual conduct of the Holy Liturgy, a monastery is also considered to transform, in terms of meaning, its surrounding landscape into a new, monastic landscape formed and operating within the constant service and worship of God, setting a model for the establishment of balance and harmony in the entire creation (Nikodimi 2002, 9−10; Theoxeni 1999, 84−86; Keselopoulos 2003, 322−236).

Therefore, the actual essence and power of a monastic community is inextricably and exclusively associated with the *Tradition* of the Church and particularly with the Holy Liturgy. If the Holy Liturgy stops in a monastery, as a result of the departure of the monastic community from the site, then the Grace of God/the Holy Spirit (which is believed to be continuously present everywhere and cover everything) remains inactive in the site, and, as a consequence, the life in the monastery stops, and the monastery loses its symbolic meaning as a new world (pers. comm. Ioasaph).

In this context, an Orthodox monastery is a centre of spiritual activity, and not a centre of social philanthropy or scientific research. In this respect, an Orthodox monastery could be differentiated from a Catholic one (Zias 1999, 11−12; Ioannou 2003, 130−132; Feidas 1996, 39−40). In Orthodox monasticism, the salvation of the the wider society is achieved through the salvation of the monk himself, and any reward to the monk is given only from God and not from the people (Moisis 1997, 29−32). The ultimate and exclusive aim of a monastery is the making of saints: monastery is 'an arc of saints, a community of blessed' (Aimilianos 1991, 131). Any other social activities (such as the operation of schools, hospitals, homes for the elderly, and workshops for the making of icons and crosses, and the organising of missions to non-Orthodox people or for the benefit of the nation) are not an essential part of monastic life and, if undertaken, should be clearly fit into, and not undermine let alone replace, this ultimate aim of the monastery. As the Meteora monastic communities state, 'the making of saints from the Monastic Community is the most significant social contribution of Monasticism' (Meteora Monasteries 1994a, 16).

This section demonstrated that monasticism, as the most absolute path for unification with Christ, is centred on the Holy Liturgy. In this context, a monastic community is an introverted community devoted to the worship of God. The most significant contribution as well as responsibility of the monastic community towards the wider world is to keep their site 'living', to keep alive the *Tradition* of the Church by leading their monastic life and conducting the Holy Liturgy (Moisis 1997, 32−33).

#### *The operation and administration of a monastery*

The operation and administration of an Orthodox monastery, and particularly its liturgical life, are defined by a text called *typicon* (Apostolakis 2002d, 19−20). The *typica* of all Orthodox monasteries stem from the same *typicon*, that of St Sabbas Monastery at Jerusalem, something that

**Figure 10:** The Great Meteoron monastery: ossuary (source: author's photo). The present monastic community pays respect to its predecessors, as evidenced by an oil-lamp, incensories, candles and icons, which show reverence for the departed.

reveals the unity and the continuity of the monastic *Tradition* and worship (Fountoulis 1991, 133). At the same time, each monastery has its own distinctive *typicon*. The *typicon* of a monastery is recognised as part of the *Tradition* of the Church, as followed by the specific monastic community, and defines the boundaries of the *Tradition* for the specific monastic community (Fountoulis 1991, 133−134; Ephraim 1996, 26).

The *typicon* of each monastery is composed by the founder of the monastery. The founder of the monastery is considered to receive the *typicon* (as part of the *Tradition* of the Church: see above) directly from God and transfer it to the monks; he is considered a real Christian, a Saint (see above), officially canonised by the Church or considered to have shown signs of sanctity and treated as a holy person. The *typicon* is inherited by the current monastic community from its predecessors, who are also treated as holy persons (**figure 10**). Thus, the *typicon* of a monastery is an indication of the continuity of worship and operation in the specific monastery, traced back to its holy founder. The Meteora monastic communities, for instance, follow the *typicon* of the Great Meteoron Monastery, composed by St Athanasios of Meteora, the founder of organised monasticism at Meteora (Tsiatas 2003, 161−162; Apostolakis 2002d, 20−24).

The *typicon* (as part of the *Tradition* of the Church) is not a static document that is taught or transferred from one generation to the other but is learnt in practice with the conduct of worship on an everyday basis, and is thus evolving in accordance with the changing needs of the specific monastic community over the course of time (Fountoulis 1991, 133−134).

Therefore, the greatest contribution of a monastic community to the wider world, in order to keep their site living, is to continue to conduct the worship by following the *typicon* of their monastery (Fountoulis 1991, 135).

#### *Monastic space*

Given that a monastic community is a community of people devoted to the worship of God through the Holy Liturgy (see above), a monastery has a two-fold function: as a place of worship of God and as a place that sustains the monastic community. This two-fold function of the monastery defines monastic space. Specifically:

#### *Forms of monastic space*

There are basically four patterns of monastic life, defined mainly by the individual or common life and worship. These patterns of monastic life create the following forms of space (Nikodimi 2002, 9−10; Paliouras 1997, 17−18): First, the *hermetic* pattern, based on individual monastic life and worship, creates an incoherent and rather badly organised form of space, with small isolated cells scattered in a larger area. Second, the *skiti* [house of groups of monks], based on individual monastic life but common worship, creates a not well-organised form of space, with cells centred around a single church [*kyriakon*] where the common worship takes place. Third, the *koinobion* [organised monastery], based on common worship and life, creates a well- and strictly- organised arrangement of space, with a single large monastery. Fourth, a monastic complex, based on the parallel operation of several monasteries in the same area which operate individually but with links to each other and often under a unified administrative and management scheme, consists of several monasteries scattered in a larger area.

Meteora is a monastic complex, in which all the patterns of monastic life exist (Tetsios 2003, 340−342; Nikodimi 2002, 19−20): The *hermitic* cells, no longer in use, are simple structures, mostly made of wood or bricks and stones, supported by wooden balconies (**figure 11**). The *kyriaka* of the *skites* that are still in use are those of Doupiani and St Antonios (**figure 12**). The *koinobia* [organised monasteries] are monumental structures built on the top of the rocks. Six of them are still in use: the Great Meteoron, the Varlaam, the St Stephen, Roussanou, the Holy Trinity and the St Nikolaos Anapafsas monasteries (**figure 13**). At Meteora there is also a special type of *skites* which are enclosed in the rocks by a wall, which (type) marks the transition between the *skites* and the *koinobia*. Only two examples of this special type of *skites* are still in use: St Nikolaos Badovas and the Meeting of Christ (**figure 14**).

#### *The external space of a monastery (The monastery and its landscape)*

A monastery is in absolute harmony with its surrounding landscape, with a limited and discreet effect on it, and makes a most sensitive use of the available physical resources (Theocharidis 1991, 87−88). The way monastic communities treat the natural environment is in accordance with the importance of materiality as defined by the *Tradition* of the Church: to the extent that the natural materials are essential for the survival of their bodies and the maintenance of their monastery (Nikodimi 2002, 6−10).

The Meteora monasteries give the impression of being the physical continuation of the rocks on which they are built; or rather the rocks look like the physical foundations of the monasteries. The monasteries have left the surrounding landscape largely intact. Only the absolutely essential buildings have been built, and in a way that makes the best possible use of the available space. The external outline of the monasteries follows the furthest edges of the surface on the top of the

**Figure 11:** Hermetic cells (source: photo of Kostas Liolios).

**Figure 12:** *Skites*, with *kyriaca*: Panagia Doupiani at Kastraki (source: photo of Kostas Liolios).

**Figure 13:** A *koinobion* [organised monastery]: the Roussanou monastery: external view, detail (source: author's photo).

**Figure 14:** *Skites* built within rocks (as an intermediate stage between *skites* and *koinobia*: figures 12 and 13): St Nikolaos Badovas (source: photo of Kostas Liolios).

rocks, which gives an irregular shape to the monasteries. There has also been a further attempt to increase the available space on the top of the rocks by filling the edges of the surfaces with rubble (Nikodimi 2002, 23; Tetsios 2003, 339−340) (**figure 15**). Hence, it seems that the Meteora monasteries complemented, as well as completed, the landscape. As the Meteora monastic communities state with reference to their monasteries:

The human presence did not abuse its privileged position within the creation of God, did not upset or violate the natural ecosystem and did not distort the beauty of the landscape, but placed its creations (i.e. the holy monasteries) in the landscape, with significant sensitivity and care towards it, with the aim of emphasizing the holiness and spirituality of the space and not disrupting the balances. (Meteora Monasteries 1994a, 56)

#### *The positioning of a monastery in relation to its landscape*

The positioning of a monastery in relation to its landscape is defined by the monastery's two-fold function: as a place of worship and as a place that sustains the life of the monastic community. Specifically:

In accordance with the introverted character of the life of the monastic community, dedicated to the worship of God, a monastery is an independent and closed unit, isolated from the outside world, with specific, clear boundaries. That is why a monastery is in most of the cases founded in remote areas, and is surrounded by wall enclosures with a monumental gate (Paliouras 1997, 18-19; Theocharidis 1991, 87; Papadopoulos 1991b, 58−64). However, a monastery maintains at the same time a link with the outside world (through the Holy Liturgy: see above). That is why

**Figure 15:** The Varlaam monastery: an external view (source: photo of Kostas Liolios).

the entrance of a monastery faces towards the road (Papadopoulos 1991b, 58−64). The Meteora monasteries (apart from the St Stephen monastery) are an exception to this rule: because of the inaccessibility of their location, they are not surrounded by wall enclosures, and are not in communication with the outside world.

Given the central role of worship, the *katholicon* is located in the centre / at the core of the monastery, and is also orientated towards the east (this orientation has a strong symbolic meaning: east is the symbolic point of the First and the Second Coming of Christ). This location and orientation of the *katholicon* defines the arrangement and the orientation of the monastery as a whole in relation to its surrounding landscape (Papaioannou 1977, 13−17).

#### *The internal space of a monastery*

The arrangement of the internal space of a monastery may be summarised as follows (see Zias 1999, 13−14; Paliouras 1997, 19−23). The central part of the monastery is occupied by the yard, with the *katholicon* in the centre of the yard, and the refectory in most of the cases close to the *katholicon*. The periphery of the monastery, around the yard, includes the cells and the other, secondary buildings, such as the storerooms, the hospital and the bell tower (**figures 16** and **17**).

This arrangement of the internal space of a monastery is defined by the monastery's two-fold function: as a place of worship and as a place that sustains the life of the monastic community. Specifically, the most prominent elements in a monastery are the *katholicon* and the yard. The *katholicon* is the core of the monastery as the place of worship of God, while the yard is the centre of the life of the monastic community and the visitors (Zias 1999, 13−14; Paliouras 1997, 19−21; Papaioannou 1977, 33−35). The location of the *katholicon* in the centre of the yard and of the cells has a strong symbolic meaning: Christ is the consistent point of reference as well as the ultimate and exclusive aim of the monks, and thus the everyday life of a monastic community is centred on Him and His church (Zias 1999, 13−14; Fountoulis 1991, 136−362; see also above). The location of the refectory close to the *katholicon* also has a strong symbolic meaning, reflecting the view of the Church that food and materiality in general are not exclusively linked to the survival of the body but also have a spiritual character as well, linked to the conduct of the Holy Liturgy (Zias 1999, 13-14; Vasileios 1986, 27−28; pers. comm. Theophanis). The location of the refectory close to the *katholicon* covers practical needs as well, given that the monks go to the refectory for their meal immediately after their vigils in the *katholicon* (Vasileios 1986, 27−28).

The *katholicon* and the yard are inter-connected, indivisible, and the one cannot exist without the other (i.e. the yard has the *katholicon* as its most prominent building, and the *katholicon* cannot be accessed from the entrance of the monastery without the existence of the yard), which demonstrates the inextricable connection between the two functions of the monastery (Papaioannou 1977, 33−35). The fact that both the monastic community and the visitors share the yard reveals that in an Orthodox monastery there is direct communication between the monastic community and the visitors and that, consequently, the visitors are embraced within monastic life. Hence, though being closed and separate from the outside world, the monastery actually has an open, social character embracing the outside world (Papaioannou 1977, 18−19). This connection between the monastic community and the visitors differentiates an Orthodox monastery from a Catholic one, where the church and the yard are separated: the church can be accessed directly from the entrance of the monastery, without the existence of the yard, which means that the monastic community and the visitors are kept separated from each other, and the visitors are thus not embraced within monastic life (Papaioannou 1977, 18−19 and 71) (**figure 18**).

Papaioannou (1977) studied the dynamics of the internal space of an Orthodox monastery by examining the route of the viewer in it [the 'viewer' of a monastery refers to both a visitor and a member of the monastic community] (**figure 19**). The starting point of the route of the viewer was

**Figure 16:** Orthodox monasteries: examples of ground plans A (see Papaioannou 1977, 25a, b, c, d). This figure depicts a more normal arrangement of space in the Orthodox monasteries. [The *katholicon* is depicted at the centre].

marked by the entrance of the monastery, given that the entrance defines the relation of the monastery with the outside world (see above), while the ultimate end of the route was marked by the *katholicon*, given its primary symbolic significance and its central position in the monastery (see above). Two axes in the route of the viewer in the monastery may be identified. The first axis starts from the entrance of the monastery and continues and ends into the yard, and is associated with the function of the monastery as a place for the life of the monastic community (and the visitors). The second axis passes through the *katholicon*, and is projected, through the opening of the façade of the *katholicon*, in the yard of the monastery, exercising influence upon the part of the yard that is immediately in front of the façade of the *katholicon*. This second axis is associated with the function of the monastery as a place for the worship of God (Papaioannou 1977, 33 and 67−69).

The analysis of Papaioannou demonstrates that, though the ultimate end of the route is the same in all monasteries (i.e. the *katholicon*), what actually defines the character of each monastery is the route towards the end (i.e. through the yard). In this context, despite the differentiations of the route in each monastery based on the intersection of the two axes, in an Orthodox monastery, as a general principle, emphasis tends to be placed on the entrance-yard axis and subsequently on monastery's function as a place for the life of the monastic community and the visitors.

Though the *katholicon* always remains a window towards the symbolic world/ the great beyond, nonetheless the free inside space of the monastery [the yard] becomes the centre of the real, the actual world of the monastery and constitutes the basic core around which the so plain but always multiform monastery is arranged. The yard becomes the carrier of

**Figure 17:** Orthodox monasteries: examples of ground plans B (see Papaioannou 1977, 26). This figure depicts a less normal arrangement of space in the Orthodox monasteries. [The *katholicon* is depicted at the centre].

the true content [of the monastery], which, despite its high, symbolic roots, remains simply and truly human. (Papaioannou 1977, 123)

The basically 'truly human' character of the monastic space despite its symbolic roots could be paralleled by the definition of authenticity in the *Tradition* of the Orthodox Church and to the character of the real Christian, that, though 'acting in the boundaries between God and man', remain 'truly human' (see above).

The Meteora monasteries generally tend to follow the aforementioned rules governing the arrangement of the internal space of Orthodox monasteries. Yet, the monasteries are developed in various ways and axes in an attempt to adjust to the limited and irregular rock surfaces. Specifically, some monasteries, particularly those built on very limited rock surfaces such as Roussanou and St Nikolaos Anapafsas monasteries, are structured on a vertical axis and laid out in several storeys in an attempt to make the maximum use of the available space (**figure 20**). These monasteries externally acquire increased height, while internally each storey is of very limited height, and occasionally each storey (and even the same room) has ceilings of different height adjusted to the surrounding rock, as in the case of the Roussanou monastery. Other monasteries, such as the Holy Trinity and St Stephen monasteries, are structured on a horizontal axis, on the

**Figure 18:** Orthodox and Catholic monasteries: schematic representations of ground plans (see Papaioannou 1977, 18).

same storey (**figure 21**). Other monasteries, such as the Great Meteoron and Varlaam monasteries, are laid out on different and irregular levels within the same storey (**figure 22**).

The Meteora monasteries present a freer and more complicated arrangement of space compared with the standards for the Orthodox monasteries (**figures 23, 24** and **25**). The *katholicon* is in some cases not situated in the centre of the yard, as in the cases of the Varlaam, the Great Meteoron and the Holy Trinity monasteries (figures 24 and 25). The cells are in some cases not centred around the *katholicon*, as in the Holy Trinity and the St Nikolaos Anapafsas monasteries (figure 25). Unlike most Orthodox monasteries, at Meteora the cemeteries are not separated from, but incorporated within, the monasteries.

The application of the approach of Papaioannou in the Meteora monasteries leads to the following conclusions (**figure 26**). Due to the irregular surfaces, the axis of the *katholicon* is hardly (or not at all) projected towards the yard, and consequently the two axes do not intersect each other. Thus, in the Meteora monasteries, emphasis is clearly placed on the entrance-yard axis and subsequently on monastery's function as a place for the life of the monastic community and the visitors.

Therefore, the analysis of the arrangement of the internal space of an Orthodox monastery demonstrated the following. First, the two-fold function of the monastery (as a place of worship of God and a place that sustains a monastic community) is clearly reflected in the inextricable

**Figure 19:** Orthodox monasteries: schematic representations of routes within the monasteries (see Papaioannou 1977, 70, with author's additions). The beginning of the route is the entrance of the monastery, while the end of the route is the *katholicon*. 'B' is the axis of the entrance-yard, associated with the function of monastery as a place for the life of the monastic community (and the visitors), while 'A' is the axis of the *katholicon*, associated with the function of monastery as a place for the worship of God.

**Figure 20:** The Roussanou monastery: external view (source: author's photo).

**Figure 21:** The St Stephen monastery: external view (source: photo of Vasso Chantzis).

**Figure 22:** The Varlaam monastery: external view (source: author's photo).

connection between the *katholicon* and the yard. Second, the incorporation of the visitors (and the outside world) within the life of the monastic community is clearly reflected in the fact that the yard of the monastery is shared both by the monastic community and the visitors. Third, the concept of authenticity in the Orthodox Church, as defined by the *Tradition*, is reflected in the fact that, although the arrangement of space in each of the monasteries is unique, dependent upon the synthesis of the two functions, emphasis is actually placed on the 'human' rather than the religious function of the monastery. It is worth noting that these elements differentiate an Orthodox monastery from a Catholic one.

### *The architectural form and the fabric of a monastery*

The architectural form of a monastery has been basically the same since Byzantine times. The continuity of the architectural form could be put down mostly to the *typica* of the monasteries and the common strict needs of worship, which rendered the architectural form part of the monastic *Tradition* (Papaioannou 1977, 11−13).

The fabric of a monastery is being continually changed over the course of time. A monastery is an institution of particularly long life, whose life exceeded, in principle, the physical endurance of its individual architectural parts, which means that the renewal of these parts is essential for the physical survival of the whole. Thus a monastery never actually reaches completion, but is being continually created towards a never-reached end (Papaioannou 1977, 11−13). As the Meteora monastic communities noted with reference to their monasteries:

**Figure 23:** The St Stephen monastery: ground plan (see Papaioannou 1977, 30, with author's additions; for an external view of the monastery, see above, figure 21). The St Stephen monastery presents a rather regular, compared to the standards of the Orthodox monasteries, arrangement of space. The yard (indicated by number 5) is in the centre of the monastery, the main *katholicon* (1a) is close to the centre of the yard, the refectory (2) is close to the *katholicon*, and the cells (3) as well as the secondary buildings of the monastery (4) tend to be centred around the *katholicon*. [The other buildings of the monastery: 1b: The older *katholicon*. E: Entrance.]

…in a living monument and a carrier of cultural value, such as the [Meteora] monasteries, the protection from the physical damage and the covering of the functional needs are never achieved in a static way but in an every time contemporary creation. (Tetsios 2003, 343)

The continual renewal of the individual architectural parts does not affect, but is incorporated in harmony within, the architectural type of a monastery. Hence, a monastery is an expression of a free organic growth, while maintaining its architectural homogeneity and entity over the course of time (Papaioannou 1977, 11−13).

#### *Conclusion: the monk and the monastery*

A monk, being absolutely dedicated to Christ through the Holy Liturgy, considers his monastery the centre of his life.

Monastery as a community, as a structure and space, as a place of worship by its founder and a way of worship according to his own example, as miracle and as history, is the basic

**Figure 24:** The Varlaam monastery: ground plan (see Papaioannou 1977, 30, with author's additions; for an external view of the monastery, see above, figure 22). The Varlaam monastery presents a less regular arrangement of space. The yard (number 10) is in the centre of the monastery, the *katholicon* (1) is close to the centre of the yard, the refectory (2) is quite far from the *katholicon*, the cells (3) as well as the secondary buildings of the monastery (5, 7, 8 and 9) are not centred around the *katholicon*. [The other buildings of the monastery: 4a: Church. 4b: Chapel. E: The current entrance.]

element of the identity of the monk, his personality and his uniqueness. It is the primary point of reference for him and the axis of his life. The only way that [the monk] can experience heaven on earth. (Papadopoulos 1991b, 64)

A monk has renounced his home in the world in order to create a new home in a remote place (his monastery) in which to gain the true life (Paradise), through the unification with Christ. A monk does not consider himself the owner of his new home (his monastery) but a temporary resident of it; for him the only actual home, and the constant point of reference and ultimate intention is Paradise. As a human, however, he is attached to his monastery as his only home on earth: as the place for the worship of his God and the place of his spiritual father / his Abbot, who is the link between him and his God (see above). These views are shared by the members of the monastic communities at Meteora (Meteora Monasteries 1994a, 38; Anastasiou 1994a, 208; pers. comm. Ioannis).

As a human, a monk may become attached to his monastery for a variety of further reasons related to the worship of God, which (reasons) are different for each site. In the case of Meteora, for example, the members of the monastic communities are particularly attached to their site because of the following elements. Thanks to its distant location Meteora is a peaceful and quiet place (outside the opening hours of the monasteries), ideal for praying (pers. comm. Maximi; pers. comm. Ioannis). The most impressive character of the landscape, radically changing according to

**Figure 25:** The Holy Trinity monastery: ground plan (see Papaioannou 1977, 30, with author's additions; for an external view of the monastery, see above, figure 1). The Holy Trinity monastery presents a clearly irregular arrangement of space. The yard is in the centre of the monastery (number 9), but the *katholicon* (1) is clearly in a corner of the monastery, and is thus separated from the yard, the cells (3), the reception hall (7) and the secondary buildings of the monastery (8). Only the refectory (2) is close to the *katholicon*. [The other buildings of the monastery: 2a: Kitchen. 4: Chapel of St John. 9: An inside corridor, used as an inside yard. 5: The *vrizoni* tower (i.e. the original way of access to the monastery). E: The current entrance.]

the weather conditions (such as rain, snow, and fog), helps the monks and nuns sense the presence of God through the landscape (pers. comm. Maximi). The absence of wall enclosures surrounding the monasteries makes the monks and nuns feel not 'imprisoned' but free, as if they were part of the entire landscape worshipping God (pers. comm. Maximi; pers. comm. Ioannis). The presence of other monastic communities in the same area gives, along with the help and support in practical and administrative issues, also a sense of shared spiritual life, and creates a sense of spiritual 'rivalry' among them (pers. comm. Maximi).

A monk considers his monastery and the surrounding area as well as the elements he uses in his everyday life (such as the icons, and the liturgical vessels) holy, through their participation in the continual worship of God, constituting thus parts of the *Tradition* as followed by the specific monastic community (see above). The monastery, the area and the monastic items, inherited by the current monastic community from its predecessors, are also signs of the monastic community's temporal continuity. These views are shared by the Meteora monks (Great Meteoron Monastery 1997, 3; Anastasiou 1994a, 186; pers. comm. Nikodimi; pers. comm. Maximi; pers. comm. Ioasaph).

A monk considers his permanent presence in the monastery and the constant conduct of the Holy Liturgy in it the core of the operation and protection of the monastery. On this basis, a monk is not willing, for instance, to abandon his monastery or restrict his ritual activities firmly considering such possibilities a kind of sacrilege, regardless of the reasons these possibilities might possibly serve, such as the preservation of the fabric or the satisfying of the visitors' needs (pers. comm. Nikodimi; pers. comm. Maximi; pers. comm. Ioasaph). A monk feels that his monastic needs, such as increases in the size of the monastic communities or the development of their style of life over time, are paramount and come before any need for the maintenance of the fabric and

**Figure 26:** The St Stephen monastery: schematic representation of the route within the monastery (see Papaioannou 1977, 30, with author's additions).

space of the monasteries. These views are shared by the Meteora monks (pers. comm. Tetsios; pers. comm. Maximi; pers. comm. Nikodimi; Meteora Monasteries 1994a, 36).

# **7.2. 1960s to present: contemporary influences to the** *Tradition* **at Meteora (the philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism)**

### *The philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism: presentation*

The so-called 'ecclesiastical organisations' are religious organisations that bore the ideology of Western Christian non-Orthodox brotherhoods and operated as 'societies under civil law' [*astika somateia*] within the cities, independent from the existing ecclesiastical structures (the local Bishoprics). They appeared in Greece in the early twentieth century and reached their peak in the period following World War II and the Civil War as an organised attempt to help the Greek population recover from the sufferings of this period and also, more importantly, to achieve the modernisation and reformation of the official Church and thus 'save' the Church and give it a dominant position in Greek society (Yannaras 1992, 348−365; Yannaras 1987). In order to achieve this modernisation of the Church, the 'ecclesiastical organisations' attempted to impose upon the life of the Church of Greece a so-called 'modern', 'innovative' Western Christian ideology of 'good morals' and extensive philanthropic activity [*ofelimo ergo*]. The 'ecclesiastical organisations' themselves served as a substitute for monastic communities, discouraging particularly young people from becoming monks by promoting other, more 'efficient' ways to follow these 'good morals' and produce this philanthropic activity, with a negative effect upon monastic life in Greece (Yannaras 1992, 364−368 and 391−405; Yannaras 1987). This attitude of the 'ecclesiastical organisations' had a negative effect on Meteora as well, as noted by Bishop Dionysios of Meteora (i.e. the person who brought the first organised monastic communities back to the site in the 1960s: see above), with specific reference to the St Stephen monastery:

[Numerous] disasters hit the monastery: the [German] Occupation,… the Civil War… Then the anti-monastic wind blew strong. Even the religious people, though arguing that they respected and loved the monasteries, in fact systematically discouraged young people from becoming monks. Their recipe was the following: Little spirituality, participation in some [religious] gatherings and more turnout'. (Dionysios 1976, 66)

The 1960s and 1970s are a most crucial period in the life of the Church of Greece. It is the period of the beginning of the rapid decline in the influence of the 'ecclesiastical organisations' and at the same time the beginning of a strong emphasis on the principles of Orthodox *Tradition* with the rebirth of organised monasticism (on Mount Athos, for instance, organised monasticism was reborn at that time after a long period of monastic decline, to a significant extent thanks to the moving of monastic communities from the Great Meteoron Monastery to the Simonopetra and Xenofontos Monasteries at Mount Athos: Anastasiou 1990, 391; Anastasiou 1994a, 204). This emphasis on the *Tradition* was, however, not always devoid of the remains of the influence of the 'ecclesiastical organisations'. Thus, in some cases there was a conscious or underlying attempt to give a more social, open, 'beneficiary' and 'productive' character to organised monasticism, in the context of a modern organisational and managerial approach based on a strict schedule of monastic life and aiming at specific tangible benefits-targets visible to the wider world – a philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism. This new philosophy was crystallised in the new concept of 'missionary monasticism' [*monachoierapostoli*] adopted at that time by the official Church (Yannaras 1992, 385).

#### *The philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism: review*

This philanthropic-missionary approach towards monasticism is not, strictly, in accordance with the Orthodox *Tradition*. This approach is not simply an attempt to achieve philanthropic and social goals in the context of the Orthodox monastic principles (see above), but to move away from the Orthodox monastic principles towards a more social philosophy and way of monastic life. Specifically, in this philanthropic-missionary context, Christ is viewed as the ideal moral model to imitate, in order to save the wider world, rather than as the ultimate and exclusive cause for the existence and salvation of each person – as the personal God. Orthodox Christianity is identified and experienced as an ideology of social benefit rather than as the exclusive way of true life through the unification with God mainly through the Holy Liturgy. Orthodox monasticism is seen as a way to save the wider society rather than as the ultimate expression of the existential need of an individual for unification with God. A monastic community is seen as a mainly extroverted community taking care of the needs of the wider society rather than as an introverted community dedicated to the worship of God. A monastery is considered to be an extroverted unit attempting to respond to the needs of the visitors rather than an introverted unit for the worship of God attempting to incorporate the visitors and the wider society into its ritual life (Moisis 2003, 351−358).

Therefore, the *Tradition* of the Church, through its mixture with the ideology of the 'ecclesiastical organisations', tended to be transformed from the living presence of the Holy Spirit in the Church beyond any time and space into a historic past to be preserved at a specific space and time. As it was characteristically noted, the *Tradition*

became absolute as a value in its own terms… in a desperate attempt to preserve historically –in other words, as a museum- a past that was bright and glorious … detached from the present/living experience of the Church –hence dead. (Yannaras 1988, 74−75)

#### *Introduction of the philanthropic-missionary approach to Meteora*

It has been argued that this philanthropic-missionary approach of the 'ecclesiastical organisations' has affected monastic life at Meteora (Xydias and Totsikas and Braoudakis 1994, 4/3−5 and 4/24−26; Xydias and Totsikas and Braoudakis 1997, 248−252 and 320−330; Moisis 2003, 352 and 355−356). The re-establishment of the monastic communities on the site (in the 1960s) in the first place may be seen in the context of the complexities in the broader life of the Church of Greece at that period, with the influence of the 'ecclesiastical organisations' on the one hand and the tendency to return to the principles of the Orthodox *Tradition* on the other (see above). Specifically, this philanthropic-missionary approach, first introduced by the Varlaam monastic community which was very influential at that time, led to the formation of a new programme for the operation of the Meteora monasteries that would be centred on the active promotion of the Orthodox faith to the wider society at a local, national and international level (Xydias and Totsikas and Braoudakis 1994, 4/3−5 and 4/25; Xydias and Totsikas and Braoudakis 1997, 250−252 and 328−330). In the context of this new programme, the Meteora monks and nuns have three main objectives: First, with regards to monasticism, Meteora should become an important monastic site with monastic communities that are flourishing and increasing in size and influence, and have a significant contribution through the conduct of sermons and philanthropic activity to the wider society (Meteora Monasteries 1994a, 37−43; Meteora Monasteries 1995, 10; Anastasiou 1994a, 204−206; Anastasiou 1990, 391−392). This objective is reflected in the words of Bishop Dionysios of Meteora:

With the return to the magnificent and holy ideals of Orthodox monasticism and their careful development on the part of the Brotherhood and also with the parallel development of missionary activity, the monastery will become again a spiritual centre and a bright lighthouse. (Dionysios 1964, 37)

Second, with regards to tourism development, Meteora should become a popular site that would promote the Orthodox faith to the largest possible number of visitors (Xydias and Totsikas and Braoudakis 1997, 320−330). This is reflected in the words of one of the Abbots of Meteora Monasteries:

The monk of Meteora, because of the large number of visitors, Greeks [who are] Orthodox and foreigners who belong to other Christian denominations or other religions, has today a large field of exercise and promotion of the Orthodox faith in practice. This monk does not come [to Meteora] for a mission. He comes [to Meteora] for the obedience and isolation from the outside world… But Meteora is in fact 'a city built on the hill' [Matthew, 5. 14-16], and he in practice either demonstrates or spoils the Orthodox faith internationally. (Anastasiou 1990, 391)

Third, with regards to heritage protection, Meteora should be a well-maintained complex with the potential of being further developed. The monastery buildings should reflect a sense of strength and glory, in an attempt to attract the largest possible number of visitors and portray the power of the Orthodox faith to them (Xydias and Totsikas and Braoudakis 1997, 248−252 and 320−330; Meteora Monasteries 1994a, 45−47). As noted by one of the Abbots of the Meteora Monasteries:

We [the Meteora monastic communities], of course, with the grace of God and the blessings of our Saints, will never stop fighting for these high and pleasing to God/pious aims [the welcoming and hospitality offered to the visitors], for the benefit of our city and the residents of our area… The Holy Monasteries [of Meteora] have shown in the last years a special interest and a huge and very expensive activity for the formation of areas for receiving and guiding their numerous visitors. Key expression of this activity is the operation of storerooms for the past monastic 'treasures' [*skeuofilakeia*] and of museums in most of the monasteries. Thus, buildings of significant architectural value have been chosen, restored and formed, so that their visitor appreciates, in parallel to their significance as treasures, also the value/wealth of their architecture. Especially in our monastery [the Great Meteoron monastery] six such buildings have been arranged and operate… The formation of all these buildings, which have been formed, operate and preserved with the effort, expenses and interest of the monks themselves, significantly extend the stay of the visitors in the Holy Monasteries and subsequently in the area as well- which is our city's agonising and primary demand. (Anastasiou 2004, 21)

The Meteora monastic communities, though all broadly sharing this philanthropic-missionary approach, have differing responses to it:

The monastic communities seem to form two different groups, on the basis of their degree of commitment to this approach. The first group of monastic communities, namely the Great Meteoron and St Stephen, seems to be more committed to this approach. These monastic communities tend to see the philanthropic-missionary activity as an inseparable part of their monastic life and among the basic reasons for their establishment on the site in the first place (pers. comm. Great Meteoron Monastery; pers. comm. St Stephen Monastery; Anastasiou 2004, 21: see immediately above). The second group of monastic communities, especially the Holy Trinity and Roussanou, appears to be less committed to this approach and more attached to the traditional monastic principles (pers. comm. Holy Trinity Monastery; pers. comm. Roussanou Monastery).

The first group of monastic communities, with regards to monasticism, tends to show an increased care for the safeguarding of the monastic and holy character of the site considering themselves to be the exclusive guardians of this holiness. In this context, they tend to associate the protection of the site with their own exclusive and ultimate power in the operation of the site against those attempts identified as threats to it. On this basis, they see any attempt of other groups of people, such as the local community, to take a role in the operation of the site, even a clearly secondary or minor one, as potentially threatening the holy character of the site. With regards to tourism development, they are highly concerned about conveying and promoting the Orthodox faith (and possibly the Greek national identity as well, often seen as inextricably linked to the Orthodox faith) to the largest possible number of visitors as a kind of obligation towards them. To this end, they are actively involved in the tourism industry and focus on increasing the visitor figures of their monasteries. Thus, they also develop close contacts with key people involved in tourism at local and state level. They also develop publications for the promotion of tourism at Meteora, and become involved in the promotion of the site in tourist campaigns abroad particularly within states with large Orthodox populations such as Serbia and Russia (pers. comm. Great Meteoron Monastery; Anastasiou 1990, 390−391; Anastasiou 2004). With regards to heritage protection, they show a high level of concern about the condition and development of their monasteries through an extensive maintenance and construction activity, which increasingly serves the covering of the visitors' needs (pers. comm. Great Meteoron Monastery; pers. comm. St Stephen Monastery). These monastic communities also appear very confident concerning their 'expertise' on heritage issues, sometimes even making use of their monastic identity in order to establish this 'expertise'.

#### 70 The Past in the Present

Outside the site of Meteora, these monastic communities express their high level of concern about the wider society at local, national and international level in a variety of ways. At a local level, they are highly concerned about the conduct of a most extensive philanthropic activity, the promotion of the Greek identity and history (for example, through the organisation of festivals dedicated to local heroes of the Greek revolution against the Ottomans, such as *Vlachaveia*) and the promotion of the ideals of Meteora monasticism in the broader local community (for example, through the construction of churches dedicated to Saints of Meteora as the case of the Church of St Athanasios of Meteora in Ypati, Lamia) (Great Meteoron 1995; Anastasiou 1994b, 282−285; Anastasiou 1994a, 201). At a national level, these monastic communities are more likely to take actions for the protection of the Orthodox faith against those seen as attempting to do harm to it (Great Meteoron 1995). For example, they organised campaigns and made publications against the movie *The Last Temptation*, which they considered a harsh insult to the Church and Christ Himself (pers. comm. Great Meteoron Monastery). They often intervene in issues regarding the relationship between the state, the Church and the monastic communities. A most characteristic example for this was the successful struggle of the Great Meteoron monastic community against the Greek state's attempt to expropriate part of monastic estate on a national basis (Apostolakis 2002b, 24; Papadakou and Fotopoulou 1995). At an international level, these communities conduct extensive philanthropic and missionary activity in foreign countries with Orthodox populations (Paradosi 1994, 293 and 297). They are also consistently against the dialogue between the Orthodox and the Catholic Church, a dialogue which is encouraged by the Orthodox Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople (pers. comm. Great Meteoron Monastery).

The second group of the Meteora monastic communities tends to place more emphasis on the principles of monastic isolation. With regards to monasticism, they do not show a high level of concern for the defense of the holiness of the site, do not demand the exclusive power in the operation of the site, and are more open to other groups of people using the site. With regards to tourism development, they accept and take care of the visitors, but concentrate on their monastic life, without any special concern for promoting the Orthodox faith to them. With regards to heritage protection, they conduct the necessary maintenance and construction works, almost exclusively for their monastic needs, and without any intense sense of developing their monasteries. They appear much less confident about their own 'expertise' on heritage issues, and are therefore more open to collaboration with the Ministry of Culture officials. For example, the Holy Trinity monastic community admitted its mistakes regarding its post-wars maintenance and development works in the monastery, and collaborated with the Ministry of Culture officials towards the replacement of these mistakes (pers. comm. Tetsios). Outside the site, they conduct philanthropic activities, but mainly in a narrower, local context and in a less intense way (pers. comm. Holy Trinity Monastery; pers. comm. Roussanou Monastery).

The response of each of the Meteora monastic communities to the philanthropic-missionary approach is mostly a matter of the Abbot of each monastic community given the Abbot's spiritual and administrative power in each monastic community (see above).

#### *Conclusion*

The Orthodox *Tradition*, as applied at the site of Meteora, is based on the continual conduct of the Holy Liturgy: Meteora is a place of worship of God. The worship of God is the most significant contribution as well as responsibility of the monastic communities towards the wider society, and the entire operation and management of the site (including the visiting of the site and the maintenance and development of the monasteries) should be incorporated within it.

At the same time, however, contemporary influences, namely the philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism, which are not strictly within the Orthodox *Tradition*, affect the way the monastic communities see their site and their relationship with the outside world. Meteora is not seen simply as a place of worship of God; it is mainly seen as a place for the conduct of philanthropic-missionary activity to the wider society. The conduct of philanthropic-missionary activity is considered the most significant contribution as well as responsibility of the monastic community towards the wider society, and the entire operation and management of the site (including the visiting of the site and the maintenance and development of the monasteries) should be incorporated within it.

In the context of the 'philanthropic-missionary' approach, the monastic communities' attitude towards tourism changes. The monastic communities tend to accept visitors as a much broader 'audience' for their philanthropic-missionary activity, and use tourism as a most effective means to promote the Orthodox faith on a large scale and at an international level. Furthermore, the monastic communities seem to accept the development of tourism as a means of acquiring more power in order to further develop their philanthropic-missionary activity for the benefit of the wider society. Tourism is thus seen as an essential part of monastic life.

Therefore, the application of the 'philanthropic-missionary' approach in the site of Meteora means much more than an increasing emphasis on the conduct of philanthropic activity; it alters the essence as well as the practicing of monasticism itself. There is a shifting in the focus from the monks and their personal salvation towards tourism and the salvation of the wider society. In fact, the salvation of the monk is believed to pass through the salvation of the wider society.

## CHAPTER 8

# **The conservation and management of Meteora (1960 to present): presentation**

#### **8.1. Overview**

From the end of World War II (1945) and the Civil War (1946-1949) most monasteries at Meteora were not in use, and the rest, such as the Great Meteoron and the Varlaam monasteries, had very few monks. The monasteries, already in a dilapidated condition because of the wars (Tzimas 2000, 395), further suffered during the period of the monastic absence: for example, the Hagia monastery collapsed (**figure 27**), while the Holy Trinity and the Roussanou monasteries suffered from theft (Theotekni 1978, 86−87; Tetsios 2003, 342; Tzimas 2000, 404; Meteora Monasteries 1980a; Meteora Bishopric 2002; pers. comm. Holy Trinity Monastery; pers. comm. Roussanou Monastery).

From the early 1950s to the early 1960s the State (through the Ministry of Reconstruction and Development, and the Hellenic Tourism Organisation) allocated money for the restoration of the monasteries. The interest of the State was to rescue the monasteries from collapse and also to develop tourism at the site:

We believe that Meteora should be dealt with as follows: a) as monuments of Byzantine art and architecture and Christian history, b) as the only tourist area of special interest for the connection of the route of Athens-Larissa with the route of Athens-Delphi-Ioannina-Metsovo … so that the necessary requirements for the maintenance of Meteora as a site that has tourism potential are not lost. (Hellenic Tourism Organisation 1951)

The above extract demonstrates that the State already had specific plans for the tourism exploitation of Meteora based on specific tourist routes in the 1950s. The interest of the State in developing tourism at the site is also illustrated by the construction of a very large and luxurious hotel by the standards of that time, named 'Xenia', in Kalampaka in the late 1950s (Chatzidakis 1993, 3).

In the context of developing tourism at the site, in the early 1960s, the State (through the Hellenic Tourism Organisation) constructed guesthouses within the monasteries, as in the case of the Great Meteoron (Meteora Bishopric 1960; pers. comm. Ioasaph). Thus, the Great Meteoron monastery was mainly used by visitors as a guesthouse, while at the same time the only monk living in the monastery at that time was isolated in a smaller part of the monastery leading his

**Figure 27:** The Hagia monastery: external view (source: photo of Kostas Liolios).

spiritual life. Bishop Dionysios of Meteora considered this guesthouse 'profoundly incompatible to the holy character of the site' (Meteora Bishopric 1960), while the current monks of the Great Meteoron Monastery note the oral tradition according to which the monk died of sorrow because he considered the guesthouse a sacrilege (pers. comm. Ioasaph).

In the early 1960s, mainly as a result of the initiatives of Bishop Dionysios of Meteora, the first organised monastic communities were re-established on the site (Tzimas 2000, 395-96; Tsiatas 2003, 162; pers. comm. Ioasaph). As Bishop Dionysios stated, asking for the cessation of the contract with the Hellenic Tourism Organisation regarding the guesthouse in the Great Meteoron monastery: 'The Great Meteoron monastic community… is restructured and increasing in terms of size, and the space is absolutely essential for it' (Meteora Bishopric 1961).

In the late 1960s, the Church (through a central Ecclesiastical Council and the local Bishopric), with the agreement of the developing monastic communities of Meteora, cleared part of the estate of the Church and of the monasteries and allocated money for their maintenance and development. The local community actively helped in the maintenance works in kind, without asking for money in return. It gradually became the congregation of the monasteries, with active participation in the ritual life.

These maintenance and development works, undertaken by the monastic communities with the help of the local community, were not scientifically-based, and were conducted without reference to contemporary conservation guidelines. As a consequence, the monastic communities significantly, and in some cases even irreversibly, damaged the original fabric and altered the original spatial arrangement of the monasteries, but still managed to rescue them from collapse. An example of this is the Holy Trinity monastery (Tzimas 2000, 395−396 and 403; pers. comm. Tetsios).

During the 1960s, there was an interest on the part of the State to further emphasise and establish the heritage significance of Meteora. Thus in 1967, the Ministry of Culture (which had previously protected some monasteries as individual monuments in the 1920s) assigned the site as a whole with single boundaries including the local village of Kastraki and part of the city of Kalampaka.

During the 1960s, visitors started arriving at Meteora in larger numbers. These visitors were mostly individuals rather than organised groups, and were mainly interested in the monastic life of the Monasteries as pilgrims (Kouros 1965, 46−47; Kotopoulis 1973, 12−20). The Meteora monks and nuns, with the exception of the Great Meteoron monks, accepted and embraced tourism from the very beginning, seeing it as a source of income through the donations from visitors, which would help towards the growth of their communities and the restoration of their monasteries. At that time the local community was primarily concerned with the ritual life of the site, and was cautious or even negative towards the phenomenon of tourism mostly on the grounds of its effect on the monastic character of the site (Kouros 1965, 44−45; Kotopoulis 1973, 13−20). It seems clear that at that time the local community had not recognised the economic benefits of tourism.

During the 1970s and the early 1980s the monastic communities increased in size with the support of the local Bishop (Tzimas 2000, 396). At the same time there was also an increase in the visitors to the site. The visitors in this period consisted not only of those interested in the ritual life of the Monasteries as pilgrims, but also those more interested in the landscape and the monastic buildings as an inseparable part of the landscape, and were increasingly visiting the site as a result of more organised tourism. The State supported the development of more organised tourism in an attempt to further develop and enhance its contacts with foreign, mostly Western European, states (Ministry of Coordination and Development 1980, 26−27 and 39; pers. comm. KENAKAP). The monastic communities continued to accept the development of tourism at the site, with an increasing recognition of the financial benefits of tourism. During this period admission charges for the non-Greek visitors were introduced (pers. comm. Great Meteoron Monastery). The local community, whilst continuing their involvement in the ritual life of the Monasteries as the congregation which had increased in size, also started to recognise the financial benefits of tourism, gradually becoming involved in tourism by opening shops, restaurants and small hotels in Kalampaka and Kastraki (Alexiadis 2004).

During the 1970s and the early 1980s the Ministry of Culture launched, through its local Ephorate, large-scale restoration projects, particularly at the Roussanou and the St Nikolaos Anapafsas monasteries. As a result of these projects these monasteries were rescued from collapse (Tetsios 2003, 342−344; Meteora Ephorate 1977; pers. comm. Lazaros Deriziotis). These projects were primarily a result of the State's increasing interest in the protection of the monuments as part of national heritage, as well as its constant concern to maintain and increase tourism at the area.

The monastic communities developed smaller-scale projects at their monasteries through the income derived from tourism, and with the firm support of the local community which now started to be paid for its work. These projects aimed at the maintenance and development of the monasteries, the improvement of the communication of the monasteries with the outside world and the satisfying of the visitors' needs. Thus, stairs were constructed for the easier access of the members of the monastic communities and the visitors to the monasteries, and small rooms were arranged for the protection and exhibition of the monastic treasures (Tzimas 2000, 396−397 and 399; Nikodimi 2001, 276). These works were mostly unauthorised, with considerable implications for the original fabric, as reflected in the views of the Ministry of Culture officials:

In very few years, if the allowance on the part of the authorities and the unauthorised [construction] activities on the part of the monks continue, it is scientifically certain that the [architectural] style of the Meteora monasteries will be irreversibly harmed. (Ministry of Culture 1982b)

By the early 1980s Ministry of Culture officials had begun to complain about not being informed about construction activity taking place in most of the Meteora monasteries, as in the Great Meteoron and Varlaam (Ministry of Culture 1982a). By the early 1980s Ministry of Culture officials described the complexities of the operation and management of Meteora as follows:

The Meteora monasteries are united against any danger/issue… They also have remarkable financial power, law consultants, covering from the Church and contacts with Mount Athos, etc. They also influence a large part of the local society, which willingly supports them in any initiative of theirs, regardless if it is right or wrong. (Ministry of Culture 1982b)

From the mid-1980s to present is the period of mass tourism at the site. Mass tourism developed with the constant support of the government agencies as well as the acceptance and encouragement of the monastic communities. The local community also became increasingly involved in tourism, with considerable implications for the local population and economy: The local economy changed its character, increasingly relying on tourism, where it had previously been based on agriculture and cattle-raising. During this period the rural population began moving from the surrounding villages to the city of Kalampaka (Kalyvas 2002, 97, 166 and 198−199).

From the mid-1980s until the mid-1990s, the State's concern for the heritage protection of the site was strengthened. This concern was manifested mainly in two ways: first, through the funding of extensive restoration projects at the monasteries. This funding came mainly from the European Union, and was assigned through the Ministry of Culture and especially the Ministry for the Environment, Spatial Planning and Public Works for restoration works at the monasteries; and second, through the promotion of the World Heritage inscription of the site, which took place in 1988. It is important to note that the State initiated and completed the World Heritage nomination process of the site without any attempt to involve the monastic communities. The monastic communities did not show any willingness to participate in, or oppose, the process either. Nevertheless, in the nomination file the Ministry of Culture placed heavy emphasis on the monastic communities' association with the site, clearly reflecting their views. It stressed that 'this area [of Meteora] has been continuously used by the Meteora Monasteries since the end of the tenth century till now and it has been also continuously resided by monks and nuns' (Ministry of Culture 1986, 2−3), and also attached a book written by a Meteora nun (Theotekni 1978).

The concern on the part of the State for the heritage protection of the site was also linked to the tourism exploitation of the site, given that both the allocation of money from the Greek government and the European Union and the World Heritage inscription of the site required that the monasteries would remain open to the public (see above; Greek Government 2002, article 11; Greek Government 1932).

The monastic communities continued to carry out maintenance and development works, increasingly on a much larger scale. From the late 1980s onwards, with the establishment of the current St Stephen monastic community comprising nuns of a higher educational status, the monastic communities started to show a greater concern to carry out scientifically-based studies, with reference to contemporary conservation guidelines (Tzimas 2000, 398). However, the monastic communities, because of their income through tourism, continued not to necessarily depend on the authorisation and the funding from the Ministry of Culture for their works (pers. comm. Meteora Ephorate).

From the mid-1990s onwards, Meteora became a popular tourist destination in Greece. As a result, the monastic communities have increased their income, which has ensured them financial independence from the State. This enables the communities to conduct almost any project they might desire often without the authorisation of the Ministry of Culture (*Ereuna* 2002), not only in the context of covering their monastic needs or even ensuring for them better and more convenient everyday life conditions but also in the context of a form of rivalry between the monastic communities towards giving their monasteries the strength and glory of the past (pers. comm. Meteora Ephorate). Such projects concern: first, the restoration or replacement of existing buildings, in certain cases also in an attempt to revive the monasteries' function. For example, the Great Meteoron monastic community restored the monastery of the Coming of Christ, which today operates as its monastery dependency [*metochi*], and the Holy Trinity monastic community restored the St Nikolaos Badovas and the St Antonios *skites*, which also operate as its dependencies (Tetsios 2003, 341−342; Ioasaph 2002, 4−6; n. 10−11). And second, the construction of new buildings (pers. comm. Meteora Ephorate). The scale of the unauthorised works on the part of the monastic communities caused the following reaction on the part of the Ministry of Culture officials:

One can notice an act/situation of barbarism for the country, which tends to take the form of a severe illness… Aren't the monks citizens of this state? Aren't they subject to the state legislation and regulations? (pers. comm. Ministry of Culture, cited in *Ereuna* 2002)

#### **8.2. Examples**

#### *Developing tourism at Meteora: the shooting of James Bond's film (1980)*

An international film company attempted to shoot scenes of *James Bond*'s film *For Your Eyes Only* (United Artists 1981) at Meteora and particularly in the Holy Trinity monastery. The tourist agencies and the local government were in favour of the project because it promoted the site to the tourists. The monastic communities, acting as one body, mainly at the initiative of the Abbot of the Great Meteoron Monastery and with support from the local Bishopric (Meteora Bishopric 1980), refused permission, considering this project a sacrilege to the holy character of the site. The monastic communities raised Greek and Byzantine flags on the Holy Trinity monastery, and temporarily closed the monasteries to all visitors. They also launched a campaign to stop the shooting of the film, motivating, and achieving support from, the official Church authorities and numerous ecclesiastical and monastic cycles within and outside Greece (Meteora Monasteries 1980a; Meteora Monasteries 1980b; Meteora Monasteries 1980c; Paradosi 1994, 402 and 424). Thus, 'Meteora became a new symbol of resistance, national and pan-Orthodox' (Paradosi 1994, 403).

The film company, with permission from the Ministry of Culture and support from the local community, shot a few general views of the area and the Holy Trinity monastery, and then completed the film in a studio with fake structures that were supposed to substitute the actual monastic buildings (Paradosi 1994, 421 and 423).

#### *Developing tourism at Meteora: the KENAKAP study for the development of Meteora and the broader region (1994)*

In 1994, the 'Centre for the Development of Kalampaka and Pyli' (KENAKAP)1 commissioned a study on the development of tourism at Meteora and the broader region (Xydias and Totsikas

<sup>1</sup> KENAKAP is a private company formed by, and operating under the supervision of, the Municipalities of the city of Kalampaka and other neighbouring villages (such as Pyli) that

and Braoudakis 1994). The study attempted to reconcile the tourism operation with the monastic function of the site, proposing stricter controls over the tourist use of the site through a variety of measures: enclosure of the monastic complex with gates, restriction of the number of visitors entering the complex, introduction of a ticketing system for the entire complex, development of parking areas outside the complex and an internal bus-transfer system, and restricted opening hours of the complex. The study also proposed changes in the management status of the site, giving the monastic communities the primary role but suggesting at the same time an increased role for the local government (Xydias and Totsikas and Braoudakis 1994, xxiii-xxvi; 5/1, 10/33 and 4/1-5; pers. comm. Vassilis Xydias; pers. comm. Great Meteoron Monastery; pers. comm. St Stephen Monastery).

The study led to a major conflict between the local government and the monastic communities. The local government saw this plan as an ideal opportunity to gain more control over the tourism industry, at the expense of the monastic communities (*Ta Meteora* 1995a). The monastic communities, acting as one body ('the Assembly of the Holy Monasteries of Meteora', consisting of the Abbots and Abbesses of all Meteora Monasteries), at the initiative of the Abbot of the Great Meteoron Monastery, opposed the study on the grounds that it was threatening to impose tourism upon the monastic and holy character of the site. The monastic communities feared that the study would lead to an uncontrollable tourism exploitation of the site. They also saw the study as a potential weapon in the hands of groups with limited knowledge regarding the operation of the site and often without respect for the holy character of the site, i.e. the local government and private companies, to intervene in their territory and challenge their power. As a result, the monastic communities firmly opposed any changes to the existing management status of the site (Meteora Monasteries 1995, 11−26; Meteora Monasteries 1994c; Meteora Monasteries 1994b, 137−141; pers. comm. Great Meteoron Monastery; pers. comm. St Stephen Monastery).

The conflict between the two sides affected the other groups as well. The local Bishopric clearly took the side of the monastic communities (Meteora Bishopric 1994; Meteora Monasteries 1995, 4−5). The local community was unable to come to a single agreement about the study, proving disorganised and lacking the appropriate knowledge and experience to understand even the basic points of the study. Thus the local community was divided between the two sides (i.e. the monastic communities and the local government), caught within local ideological and political conflicts and personal contacts and subject to the influence of the monastic communities and the Bishopric (on the side of the local government: *Ta Meteora* 1995b; Kourelis and Kouroupas 1995; on the side of the monastic communities: Detziortzio 1994, 210−216). The Ministry of Tourism and the Ministry of Culture chose not to intervene in the conflict (pers. comm. Ministry of Tourism; pers. comm. Ministry of Culture; *Ereuna* 1995), while the local Ephorate took the side of the monastic communities (Meteora Ephorate 1995; pers. comm. Meteora Ephorate).

The monastic communities, led by the Abbot of the Great Meteoron Monastery, launched a campaign to oppose the conclusions of the study, and received support from the official Church authorities and numerous ecclesiastical and monastic cycles as well as political cycles and prominent personalities within and outside Greece (Meteora Monasteries 1995, 14−15; Paradosi 1994, 337 and 376−399; Kalokairinos 1995). As a result of the campaign, the KENAKAP study was rejected as a whole, and any further discussion about the existing complexities and future perspectives of the operation of the site ceased.

On a final note, it seems that the study was from the start restricted by the terms set by the local government, with an increased emphasis on its potential role in the management of the site. The study made some important points, particularly with regard to the reconciliation of the tourism operation with the monastic function of the site through the stricter control of tourism. The various groups of the site, however, saw the study as an opportunity to develop their own positions

allocates financial resources of the European Union to the planning and implementation of projects for the development of the local community.

in the tourism operation of the site, also based on personal contacts and ideologies, without carefully considering the points of the study itself (also Marinos 1995). The easiest but not necessarily the best solution for the monastic communities was to reject the study as a whole and cease any further discussion.

#### *Regulating the use of the site: the law on the holiness of the site (1995)*

As a result of the monastic communities' campaign to reject the conclusions of the KENAKAP study, and also their approaching to political cycles, the government passed a law that 'recognised the area of Meteora as a holy site' and 'safeguarded its distinct religious character' (Greek Government 1995, article 1; see also figure 8). On this basis, first, the law did not allow any use of the land or exploitation or exercise of any commercial activity that 'would upset in any way the holy character of the area or obstruct the exercise of monastic life or the worship of God' (Greek Government 1995, article 1). In this way, the law heavily favoured the monastic communities, in relation to the local community (Tzimas 1994, 335−336). Second, the law recognised the Assembly as the primary management body of the site. The Assembly, along with the Ministry of Culture of course, would also be responsible for any construction activity within the individual monasteries.

The issue of the operation of the Assembly, however, caused a disagreement between the Bishop and particularly the Great Meteoron monastic community: the Bishop felt that the Assembly should gather only on specific occasions, in cases of a serious issue or threat for the site, and strictly at his initiative and under his control (Meteora Bishopric 2000; pers. comm. Serapheim), while the Great Meteoron monastic community favoured a more permanent role for the Assembly, which would to some extent be independent from the local Bishop and would help develop a more effective, unified management of the site by the monastic communities (Great Meteoron Monastery 2000; pers. comm. Great Meteoron Monastery). The other monastic communities were divided between the Bishopric and the Great Meteoron monastic community, on the basis of spiritual and personal links among them rather than on the basis of a detailed calculation and analysis of the situation for the benefit of the site.

As a result of the differences between the monastic communities and the Bishop and also the differences among the monastic communities, the Assembly remains inactive to the present. This means that there is no unified management of the site by the monastic communities, with considerable implications for the operation of the site: First, there is no forward or long-term planning for common operational and management issues of the individual monasteries and the site as a whole. Second, the monastic communities' attitude towards the other groups involved in the operation of the site, especially the local community, is not unified. Practically this means that anyone desiring to perform an activity at the site simply needs the unofficial or even silent consent of an Abbot or even a monk of the site. Third, there is no cooperation between the monastic communities with regard to construction activity at the monasteries. Finally, the failure of the monastic communities to manage the site in a unified way tends to leave a gap in the operation and management of the site, which other groups attempt, at least theoretically, to take advantage of in the future, with possible implications for the monastic function of the site (pers. comm. Great Meteoron Monastery).

#### *Regulating the construction activity at the site: the re-definition of the buffer zone of protection (2002)*

In 2002, the Ministry of Culture decided to extend the buffer zone for the heritage site and set stricter conditions on the non-monastic construction activity within it. The new regulations

**Figure 28:** The road network at Meteora: its current state (source: photo of Kostas Liolios).

would make it difficult for the owners of the pieces of land within the buffer zone, mostly members of the local community, to exploit and also sell their land. The local community was clearly against this proposal, favouring a much more restricted buffer zone (Kalampaka Municipality 2002), but eventually had to accept the proposal under the pressure from the Ministry of Culture and the monastic communities (Meteora Ephorate 2002; Apostolakis 2001b, 540−554).

## *Developing tourism at Meteora: the widening of the road network (2005)*

The Ministry of Tourism allocated funds (from the European Union) for the widening of the road network within the site in an attempt to respond to the increasing traffic levels and the increasing size of tourist buses (see ICOMOS Greece 2005). The monastic communities agreed to the project. The Ministry of Culture initially disagreed with the project on the basis of its considerable impact on the sensitive landscape of Meteora. However, it later accepted the partial widening of the road network, under the pressure from the Ministry of Tourism, the tourist agencies and the monastic communities. The project was eventually completed at full scale (**figure 28**).

### *Erecting new structures in the Meteora monasteries: the Roussanou enclosed balcony (early 1990s)*

Roussanou is the monastery with the smallest available ground surface at Meteora. The Roussanou monastic community had already made the maximum use of the available surface: eg. it constructed

**Figure 29:** The Roussanou monastery's enclosed balcony: internal view (source: author's photo; for external views of the monastery see above, figures 13 and 20).

rooms with ceilings of different height adjusted to the rock surface, and used even the smallest areas of the monastery as storerooms. Despite these attempts, the monastic community still required more space to cover its everyday needs. As a result, the monastic community decided to expand the space of their monastery by constructing an enclosed balcony. The Ministry of Culture did not give its authorisation for this on the grounds that the proposed style and material of the balcony (iron framework with glass windows) did not conform to the existing architectural character of the monastery (**figure 29**). Despite the disagreement, the monastic community completed the project.

### *Replacing existing structures in the Meteora monasteries: the Roussanou access bridge (mid-1990s)*

The Ministry of Culture decided to replace the access bridge to the Roussanou monastery, made of iron, with a new one, made of wood, which would be sympathetic to the landscape. The Roussanou monastic community was cautious that the material of the new bridge would be potentially dangerous for the members of the community as well as the visitors when it rains. The Ministry of Culture officials assured and eventually convinced the monastic community that this would not be the case, and replaced the bridge with the consent of the monastic community (**figures 30** and **31**). The monastic community now complains that the new bridge eventually caused the problems that it initially feared (pers. comm. Roussanou Monastery).

This example shows the different ways by which the Ministry of Culture officials and the monastic communities approach the fabric of the monasteries: The former place emphasis on style, while the latter are primarily concerned about function.

**Figure 30:** The Roussanou monastery's access bridge after restoration (source: author's photo).

### *Erecting new structures in the Meteora monasteries: the Roussanou extension (mid-1990s to mid-2000s)*

The Roussanou monastic community decided to erect new buildings because of its continuing need for more space for its everyday monastic needs. The construction of the enclosed balcony (see above) provided a temporary relief to the problem of space in the monastery. Actually, the problem of space increased with the gradual increase of the size of the monastic community (pers. comm. Maximi; Meteora Bishopric 2002; *Ereuna* 2002). The need to erect new buildings was, in addition to the need for more space, a result of the need for a new church, since the *katholicon* was always occupied by the visitors during the opening hours of the monastery (pers. comm. Maximi). Hence, the monastic community decided that a permanent solution had to be found.

The monastic community decided to expand the available space of their monastery by constructing a five storey and a two storey building on a piece of land that they owned next to the rock of the original monastery. The five storey building could easily stand and operate as a separate monastery on its own, comprising a church, fourteen cells, a large reception hall, a library, workshops for the making of icons, a small medical centre, guestrooms and a separate entrance from the road. The other two storey building would serve as a guesthouse and possibly as a future permanent residence of the local Bishop after his retirement. The five storey building would be connected with the original monastery through a tower-lift.

The monastic community initially asked for permission to build a much smaller building (and not the five storey one that it actually planned to build). The Ministry of Culture gave authorisation for this on the grounds that the proposed building complied with the architectural character

**Figure 31:** The Roussanou monastery's access bridge after restoration: detail (source: author's photo).

of the original monastery. The monastic community started the construction of the supposedly proposed and authorised building, but, after the completion of its lower levels, decided to add more levels and also erect the other two storey building, for which the community did not have a permit. Furthermore, the monastic community, presenting their project to the Ministry of Culture and the local Ephorate, argued that the five storey building, the two storey building and the lift were separate steps that were taken over the course of time in a continual desperate attempt to adjust to the irregular surfaces of the rock. However, it seems clear, judging from the careful arrangement of the new buildings in such a limited and irregular surface and also from the connection among the buildings, that the five storey building, the tower-lift and the two storey building were steps connected in a single and unified plan.

The local Ephorate opposed any further construction activity apart from the officially proposed and authorised one, and two local residents filed a petition against the construction of the new buildings (Meteora Bishopric 2002). However, the monastic community, presumably making use of its contacts with members of the local government authorities and also receiving support from the local Bishop (see Meteora Bishopric 2002) and from a part of the local community, proceeded. Even the local judge, deciding on the residents' petition, found the monastic community innocent. The central Ministry of Culture only seriously considered attempting to stop the project when the five storey building was nearing completion and the tower-lift was half complete (see *Ereuna* 2002). Nevertheless, the project was completed. The failure to stop the project seems to be the result of a number of reasons. First, the Ministry of Culture was reluctant to come into conflict with the monastic community, which had considerable power especially at a local level. Second, it seems that the Ministry of Culture officials considered, possibly under the influence of the Ministry of Tourism and the tourist agencies, that in the period prior to the 2004 Olympic Games in Greece it would not have been appropriate for the international tourism image of the country to have such a major project incomplete in one of the country's most popular tourist destinations (pers. comm. Meteora Ephorate; pers. comm. Ministry of Culture). Third, the whole project was nearing completion, and it was *de facto* too late to seek alternative solutions. It is surprising, however, that the Ministry of Culture retrospectively authorised the tower-lift (but not the five storey building and the two storey building).

The end result, despite the conflict between the monastic community and the Ministry of Culture, was the erection of the buildings that the community wanted. Thus, the monastery is now in three parts: the original monastery on the top of the rock, the five storey building next to the rock, with a tower-lift connecting it with the original monastery, and a two storey building close to the five storey one (**figures 32** and **33**).

The construction of the new buildings causes a series of problems: The disproportionate size and prominent position of the new buildings significantly affect the character of the Roussanou monastery. The monastery may no longer be considered a *meteoron*, i.e. 'floating/suspended in the air'. In addition to this, the huge new space created and the great variety of needs covered by the construction of the new buildings poses the danger that the new buildings might potentially replace to a considerable extent the original monastery in terms of function. Thus, it appears that the construction of the five storey building and the two storey building was not based on a welldefined plan regarding their specific function: the monastic community rather intended to simply create a new, huge space that would cover any of its current and potential needs for space, and would then define the precise function of each specific part of the new buildings.

The needs of the monastic community that led to its decision to erect new structures (i.e. the need for more space and the need for a new church) are reasonable in the first place. However, the Ministry of Culture, on the one hand, seems to have never actually realised the scale of these needs, approaching the proposed construction activity of the monastic community with an immense emphasis on the preservation of the original fabric and space. The Roussanou monastic community, on the other, never seriously discussed their needs with the Ministry of Culture officials in order to seek advice on the best way to cover them. It seems that the monastic community, instead, made use of these reasonable needs as an excuse for a disproportionate construction on the site.

#### *Replacing existing structures in the Meteora monasteries: the Varlaam bell tower (mid-1990s)*

The Varlaam monastic community decided to replace its bell tower, which was made of iron and was thus not compliant with the architectural character of the monastery, with a new one made of stone. The monastic community, however, chose stone which was easier to cut and cheaper but

**Figure 32:** The Roussanou monastery after the construction of the new buildings (source: author's photo). Today the Roussanou monastery consists of the following parts: the original monastery, on the top of the rock (number 1); the five storey building, next to the rock of the original monastery (number 2); the tower-lift, attached to the rock of the original monastery, connecting the five storey building with the original monastery (only the top part of the tower-lift is shown: number 3); the two storey building, next to the five storey one (only the roof of the two storey building is shown, on the top right of the five storey building: number 4).

was still not compliant with the architectural character of the monastery. The Ministry of Culture initially disagreed, but eventually gave into the pressure of the monastic community, and the new bell tower was constructed (pers. comm. Meteora Ephorate) (**figure 34**). Even the monastic community has now realised that the stone is not compliant with the architectural character of the monastery, but it does not appear to be eager to proceed with its replacement, at least in the near future, due to other continuing construction works in the monastery (pers. comm. Venediktos).

**Figure 33:** The Roussanou monastery: the tower-lift connecting the five storey building with the original monastery (source: author's photo). The tower-lift ends on its top to a roofed structure that looks like a balcony of the original monastery.

**Figure 34:** The Varlaam monastery: the new bell tower (source: author's photo; for an external view of the monastery see above, figure 22). This figure can show the stark difference between the bell tower and the other monastic buildings (for example, the *katholicon*, on the background) in terms of fabric.

### CHAPTER 9

# **The conservation and management of Meteora (1960 to present): analysis**

#### **9.1. Overview**

The recent history of Meteora may be divided, in terms of the conservation and management of the site, into three broad phases, on the basis of the changing relationship between monasticism, heritage protection and tourism operation over time.

#### *Phase A: the 1960s*

This is the period of few visitors in the site, before the establishment of an organised tourist system.

In this phase Meteora functioned primarily as a monastic site. The local community was involved in the ritual life of the site, comprising the congregation of the monasteries, which means that at that time visiting the site was incorporated within its monastic function. The monastic communities and the local community, with the support of the official Church, attempted to protect the fabric of the site, something that indicates that protection was also situated within the monastic function of the site.

#### *Phase B: the 1970s and the early 1980s*

This is the period of an increase in the number of visitors in the site and the development of state-sponsored organised tourism.

In this phase the visitors started being attracted to the site for reasons other than its monastic function. The government agencies supported the development of tourism for non-religious purposes, and the monastic communities were primarily concerned about the financial gains derived from tourism and did not actively encourage the visitors to participate in the ritual life of the site. The local community continued to be involved in the religious life of the monasteries as the congregation of the monasteries (which had become much greater than in phase A), but also started becoming increasingly involved in tourism. Also, at that time the State became increasingly concerned about the protection of the heritage significance of the site, linking protection to the development of tourism at the site rather than to its monastic function.

Therefore, in this phase the site remained primarily a monastic one, used mainly by the monastic communities and their congregation. The heritage protection and the tourism exploitation of the site, however, started developing separately from its monastic function, with the acquiescence and even the encouragement of the monastic communities. The monastic function and the heritage protection of the site started to be increasingly linked to its tourism exploitation.

#### *Phase C: from the mid-1980s, especially the mid-1990s, to present*

This is the period of the development of mass tourism industry on the site. Mass tourism has had huge implications for the site and also the broader region. The monastic communities became even more actively concerned about tourism, and interested in the financial benefits derived from it. Elements of the local community became clearly interested in the tourism industry, ceasing to constitute the congregation of the monasteries. Also, at that time the State established the heritage significance of the site at an international level, by promoting the site for World Heritage inscription, and linked the inscription to the promotion of tourism at the area. The World Heritage inscription process was carried out without the involvement of the monastic communities.

Therefore, in this phase the site remained a monastic one, but the heritage protection and the tourism exploitation of the site were developed and established clearly separately from the monastic function, with the acquiescence and even the encouragement of the monastic communities. The tourism exploitation of the site was increasingly emphasised at the expense of the monastic function and the heritage protection of the site.

The operation of the site has become formalised today as follows. The monasteries are mainly occupied by the visitors from *ca* 9 in the morning to *ca* 5 in the afternoon (possibly with a small break). Outside these hours the monasteries are exclusively used by the monastic communities. In the Holy services on Sundays and on major feasts there is participation of the congregation, consisting mostly of members of the local community. Thus, the congregation has been incorporated within the life of the monastic communities, while the life of the monastic communities (including the congregation) seems to have adjusted to the presence of the visitors.

### **Conclusion**

As this analysis shows, the most important factor that has affected the life of Meteora throughout its recent history is the growth of the tourism industry: it is on the basis of the increasing pressure from tourism that the recent history of Meteora was divided into three phases. Tourism did not emerge as a result of monastic activity, but was the result of broader, global changes supported by the Greek state; the monastic communities, however, willingly accepted and encouraged tourism, in accordance with their philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism.

The monastic communities' response to tourism has been complex, and may be summarised in the following remarks. First, they claimed their aim was to put emphasis on their monastic life, and thus attempted to integrate tourism within their monastic life and use tourism as a means to promote the Orthodox faith to the visitors. The result has been exactly opposite: the monastic communities actually saw tourism as a means to achieve financial benefits, and did not attempt to incorporate it into their monastic life. As a consequence, the visitors were excluded from the worship of God. What happened was that monastic life was made to conform to the requirements of the growth of tourism, especially in phases B and C of the recent history of the site. Second, they attempted to combine the monastic function, the heritage protection and the tourism development of the site. However, the result was a clear separation between monastic function on the one hand and heritage protection and tourism operation on the other, especially in phases B and C. Third, they accepted and encouraged the growth of tourism at the site. The result was that this increasing emphasis on tourism developed clearly at the expense of the monastic function and the heritage protection of the site, especially in phases B and C. Therefore, as demonstrated in this section, the main problems in the operation and management of Meteora that developed over the course of the recent history of the site and have become formalised today are the following: the separation between monasticism, heritage protection and tourism operation; an increased emphasis on tourism; and the adjustment of monasticism to the pressure of tourism.

#### **9.2. Analysis**

In accordance with their philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism, the Meteora monastic communities have accepted the growth of the tourism industry as a most effective means to promote the Orthodox faith on a large scale and at an international level. They have accepted their central position in the tourism industry, as the ones who control the access to the monasteries. They also recognise the significant benefits they derive from their position in the tourism industry: they keep all the entrance revenue for themselves, without sharing it with other groups involved in the operation of the site (for example, the Ministry of Culture), and also develop contacts with powerful people at local and state level (for example, politicians and major public officials) (see Ministry of Culture 1982b). Moreover, the monastic communities recognise the current requirements of the tourism industry, such as: mass tourism, 'package tourism', the tourism character of Meteora as a transitory destination based on a brief visit to the site, and the attempt to increase the visitor figures of the site. The monastic communities have adjusted their everyday monastic life to these requirements, in a way that does not hinder, but allows and even encourages the smooth operation of the tourism industry (Xydias and Totsikas and Braoudakis 1994, 4/3-5; see Meteora Monasteries 1994a, 37-41; Meteora Monasteries 1995, 23). There are numerous examples to illustrate this point. First, the opening hours of the monasteries are mostly adjusted to the needs of the visitors. Every day there are some monasteries open to visitors, while during the peak tourist season more monasteries remain open, and for longer periods of time. Second, the timing of the holy services is also adjusted to the requirements of tourism. The vespers, for example, is performed after the closure of the monasteries for the visitors. Third, the communal monastic activities [*diakonimata*] often serve the needs of the visitors. In larger monastic communities, such as the St Stephen monastic community for example, one of the key communal monastic activities is the running of the visitor shops and the arrangement of bureaucratic issues related to tourism. Fourth, there are even cases in which the monastic communities might perform activities outside their normal monastic schedule simply for the sake of the visitors. A characteristic example is the striking of the *simantron* [wooden gong inviting the monks to the holy services] in the Roussanou monastery at the request of the tour guides and the visitors. This kind of 'performance' sometimes places the Roussanou nuns in a difficult position, especially if the 'performance' is followed by the applause of the visitors (pers. comm. Maximi). Fifth, there are cases in which even the increase of the size of the monastic communities might relate to the increasing pressure of tourism and the satisfying of the needs of the visitors.

In accordance with their philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism, the Meteora monastic communities have also accepted the increasing need for the maintenance and development of their monastery buildings, as a means to maintain their monasteries in a good condition. They clearly link the maintenance of their buildings to the tourism development of the site. They favour an increase in the visitor figures of their monasteries in the short term, without considering the potentially low carrying capacity of the site and the implications of tourism for the protection of the fabric and the landscape of the site. This was illustrated by their attitude towards the widening of the road network of the site.

The government bodies seem to face an internal conflict. The Ministry of Culture, on the one hand, is concerned with the protection of the fabric and the landscape of the site, while the Ministry of Tourism and the Hellenic Tourism Organisation, on the other, are more concerned with the development of tourism at the area. The priority is clearly on the development of tourism, as illustrated in the widening of the road network and also in the failure of the Ministry of Culture to stop the completion of the Roussanou unauthorised buildings partly under the pressure from the Ministry of Tourism and the tourist agencies. Furthermore, this priority on the development of tourism is often linked to a focus on the short-term increase of the visitor figures of the site, without any respect to the low carrying capacity of the site, as illustrated in the widening of the road network.

The Ministry of Culture has no real control over the Meteora monastic communities with regards to heritage protection. As it was noted above, the Meteora monastic communities have their own perception of the maintenance and development of their monastery buildings (strictly within the continuation of their monastic presence in the site and the covering of their everyday monastic needs, as was illustrated in the case of the Roussanou access bridge), and do not need to depend on the Ministry of Culture officials, given their financial benefits and their contacts mostly through their role in the tourism industry. As a result, they have erected several unauthorised buildings in their monasteries, with considerable implications for the original fabric and space of their monasteries, even having the financial 'luxury' to afford to implement any projects and experiments of theirs on the space of their monasteries, as was illustrated in the case of the Roussanou new buildings. The number as well as the scale of the unauthorised buildings of the monastic communities, especially at the Roussanou monastery, seems to have raised questions about the removal of the site from the *World Heritage List* (pers. comm. Ministry of Culture) – a development that would unavoidably strike a blow to the international prestige of the Greek state in terms of its ability to protect sites of the significance and fame like Meteora (though this issue was not raised in the progress evaluation report: UNESCO 2006). The Meteora monastic communities cooperate with the Ministry of Culture mainly in the case that they attempt to maintain their independence or increase their power by stopping encroachments or threats from others, especially the local community, as illustrated in the re-definition of the buffer zone of the site.

The local community has a strong concern about the development of tourism at the area. However, there are certain severe obstacles (Kalyvas 2002, 81−84, 210−212 and 225−226; Alexiadis 2004; Anastasiou 2004; Charalambeas 2005, 232−252). First, the local community is caught within personal dislikes and local conflicts, and thus proves not able to come to a single view on tourism issues, as illustrated in its reactions towards the KENAKAP study. Second, the local community is caught within an attempt to increase the visitor figures of the site in the short term rather than trying to benefit from the current high visitor figures. Thus, it appears to be joining any project that tends to promise an increase in the tourist figures of the site, without any careful consideration of the implications and even the essence of the project. This was partly evident in the reaction of part of the local community towards the KENAKAP study. Third, the local community is clearly affected and influenced by the Meteora monastic communities. Consequently, the attempt of the local community to gain power in the tourism industry (at the expense of the monastic communities) failed, as evident in the rejection of the conclusions of the KENAKAP study and the subsequent passing of the law on the holiness of the site, and in the re-definition of the buffer zone of the site.

The local Bishopric is also influenced by the Meteora monastic communities. The monastic communities, given their power through the role in the tourism industry, have in practice a very high degree of independence from the local Bishopric in terms of operation and management. This position in turn seems to have led to an attempt by the local Bishopric to extend its officially strictly spiritual control into other areas of monastic activity, as reflected in the Bishopric's disagreement on the regular gathering of the Assembly.

Furthermore, the Meteora monastic communities' differing responses to tourism and differing ways to exercise the power derived from it, depending on their differing degree of commitment to the philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism, are reflected in the management of the site as follows: Whenever there is an operational and management issue of the site that demands a single, unified view on the part of the monastic communities, it is mostly those communities more committed to the philanthropic-missionary approach that take the lead. Thus, it was those communities who led the way and managed to unify the other communities in all the major issues of the recent history of the site, such as: the campaign against the shooting of *James Bond*'s film, the campaign against the KENAKAP study, and the passing of the law on the holiness of the site. Therefore, in practice, the responsibility for the management of the monastic site ends up being in the hands of a few monastic communities rather than being equally shared by all the monastic communities of the site. The gathering of responsibility in specific monastic communities has the following implications. First, the decisions taken reflect the views and principles of the few, and might not be fully shared by the other monastic communities. Second, the specific monastic communities unavoidably come to conflict with the other groups involved in the operation of the site, while the other monastic communities are deprived of this active role and have the 'privilege' of maintaining good relationship with the other groups. Third, the other groups of people demanding a role in the operation of the site attempt to form personal relationships with, and get attached to, the specific monastic communities.

Therefore, the Meteora monastic communities' attitude of acceptance towards tourism (in accordance with their philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism) defines their relationship with the outside world, and particularly with the government bodies. The government bodies avoid conflicts and have to maintain good relationships with the monastic communities, and make compromises to ensure this. The monastic communities, in return, firmly avoid stopping access to their monasteries (though they theoretically have the right to do so being the owners of the monasteries), and comply with the requirements of the tourism industry. Thus, through tourism, the government bodies allow increased power to the monastic communities but at the same time keep them under control. It is even possible to argue that the gathering of controlling power, at a local level, by mainly the monastic communities, rather than the equal allocation of power to various groups of the site (with conflicting views), makes it easier for the government bodies to keep control over the operation of tourism at the region.

Each of the Meteora monastic communities' specific (active or passive) response to tourism (mostly in accordance with their specific degree of commitment to the philanthropic-missionary approach) further defines their relationship with the outside world and particularly with the government bodies. The government bodies, though often accusing specific monastic communities on gaining more benefits from the tourism industry and not concentrating on their monastic life, are actually in favour of active responses to tourism on the part of the monastic communities. The government bodies want a suppressed monastic life for the sake of the smooth running of the tourism industry, with the role of the monks being reduced to the maintaining of the monasteries (pers. comm. Ministry of Tourism). It is even possible to argue that the gathering of controlling power by specific monastic communities and Abbots, rather than the equal allocation of power between the monastic communities (with conflicting views), makes it even easier for the government bodies to keep control over the operation of tourism at the region.

# CHAPTER 10

# **The use and arrangement of space at Meteora (1960 to present)**

#### **10.1. Overview**

The changing wider circumstances of the operation of the site over time, namely the growth of the tourism and heritage industries, had implications on the use and arrangement of space. The evolution of the spatial arrangement in the recent history of Meteora may be summarised as follows:

#### *Phase A: the 1960s*

In this phase, the site operated primarily as a monastic one. This was clearly reflected in the use of space: The external and internal space of the monasteries was used primarily by the monastic communities and also the local community, who participated in the ritual life of the site as the congregation of the monasteries.

The concerns of the monastic communities as they were re-established in their monasteries were, in order of importance: the worship of God; their permanent residence in their monasteries; and the care for their predecessors. These concerns were manifested in the space of the monasteries as follows (Tetsios 2003, 345−347; pers. comm. Maximi).


refectory, it became independent, in the sense that it could survive on its own, without the aforementioned support of the local community (pers. comm. Maximi).


Therefore, in the first phase of the recent history of the site, the monastic communities focused mainly on the central part of their monasteries, i.e. that consisting of the *katholicon*, the refectory, the yard and the cells.

### *Phase B: the 1970s and the early 1980s*

In this phase, the site remained primarily a monastic one, used mainly by the monastic communities and the congregation of the monasteries, which increased in size. The site also started developing as a tourist attraction (see above). As a consequence, the external and internal space of the monasteries, though still used mainly by the monastic communities and the congregation, started to be divided, in terms of use, between the monastic community and the congregation on the one hand and the visitors on the other.

The needs of the congregation were, in order of importance: to participate in the worship; to communicate with the members of the monastic community; and also have a meal with them. The monastic communities responded to the needs of the congregation in the following ways (pers. comm. Tetsios; pers. comm. Maximi).


Therefore, in order to satisfy the needs of the congregation, the monastic communities made alterations to the central part of the monasteries, that consisting of the *katholicon*, the refectory and the yard (see phase A).

### *Phase C: from the mid-1980s, especially the mid-1990s, to present*

This is the period of mass tourism. In this phase, the site remained a monastic one but at the same time has clearly developed into a major tourist attraction. This increasing emphasis on the tourist use of the site was clearly reflected in the use of space. The external space of the monasteries was used by the visitors, whilst the monastic communities were restricted to their monasteries. The internal space of the monasteries was divided, in terms of use, between the monastic communities on the one hand and the visitors on the other (see above).

The monastic communities attempted to satisfy the needs of the visitors in the following ways (Tzimas 2000, 396−406).


Therefore, in order to satisfy needs of the visitors, the monastic communities changed mostly secondary and peripheral areas and buildings of the monasteries (and not the central part of the monasteries, as in phases A and B).

#### **10.2. Examples**

The evolution of the spatial arrangement of the Meteora monasteries during the recent history can be examined in the following examples:

#### *The St Stephen monastery*

The St Stephen monastery has, relatively speaking for the standards of the site, a large available rock surface and is structured on a horizontal axis (Tzimas 2000, 398−401; Tetsios 2003, 343−347). The evolution of space may be seen in terms of the following phases:

Phase A: On reoccupying the monastery after the World War II and the Civil War, the monastic community transformed the refectory and the kitchen into halls for the exhibition of the monastic 'treasures', and constructed a new, much smaller, refectory and kitchen on the part of the monastery to the left of the entrance, together with the cells (**figure 35**). Thus, in this period, the life of the monastic community was mainly centred on the part of the monastery to the left of the entrance.

Phase B: The monastic community moved the refectory, the kitchen and the reception hall, and also constructed administrative offices and a library, to the part of the monastery to the right of the entrance (**figure 36**). This evolution of the spatial arrangement was the result of the monastic community's attempt to be closer to the congregation. Thus, at that time the life of the monastic community and of the congregation was mainly centred on the part of the monastery around the yard and the *katholicon*.

Phase C: The monastic community moved the refectory, the kitchen, the administrative offices, the library and the cells to a part even further to the right of the entrance. The monastic community also constructed a cemetery church on the very left corner (from the entrance) of the monastery (**figure 37**). It should be stressed at this point that the monastery has two *katholica*, an

**Figure 35:** The St Stephen monastery: evolution of use of space, Phase A (see Papaioannou 1977, 30, with author's additions): The buildings of the St Stephen monastery, as shown in this figure, are: 1a: The later *katholicon*, dedicated to St Charalambos; 1b: The older *katholicon*, dedicated to St Stephen; 2: The original refectory, transformed into a museum for the 'treasures' of the monastery; 2a: The original kitchen, transformed into a museum for the 'treasures' of the monastery; 3: Cells; 4: Secondary buildings; 5: Yard; E: Entrance.

earlier one dedicated to St Stephen on the left corner of the monastery and a later one dedicated to St Charalambos in the centre of the monastery. Initially the visitors had access only to the *katholicon* in the centre of the monastery, while the monastic community used the other one. Over the course of time, however, the monastic community gave into the increasing pressure of the visitors to have access to the other *katholicon* as well (pers. comm. St Stephen Monastery). This change of the spatial arrangement related to the monastic community's attempt to stay as far as possible from the visitors. Thus, it is mainly the visitors who use the part of the monastery around the yard, while the monastic community uses the peripheral buildings of the monastery: mainly the part of the monastery to the right of the entrance and also the part of the monastery to the left of the entrance.

#### *The Roussanou monastery*

The Roussanou monastery has the most limited available surface at Meteora and is structured on a vertical axis (Tzimas 2000, 401−403; Tetsios 2003, 343−347).

Phase A: On return to the monastery after the wars, the monastic community retained the existing arrangement of space. The monastic cells, the refectory and the kitchen remained to the right of the entrance of the monastery, on the upper, main storey of the monastery (i.e. the storey of the *katholicon*). This space was shared by the monastic community and the large congregation.

**Figure 36:** The St Stephen monastery: evolution of use of space, Phase B (see Papaioannou 1977, 30, with author's additions). Concerning the buildings: see figure 35.

**Figure 37:** The St Stephen monastery: evolution of use of space, Phase C (see Papaioannou 1977, 30, with author's additions): Concerning the buildings: see figure 35.

Phase B: The monastic community moved the cells, the refectory, the kitchen and a small library, and also constructed an enclosed balcony (see above), in the lower storey of the monastery (i.e. below the storey of the *katholicon*). Thus, the upper, main storey of the monastery was used by the visitors, while the lower storey was used by the monastic community. This evolution of the spatial arrangement demonstrated the need for the monastic community to stay as far as possible from the visitors, even in such severely limited space.

Phase C: Recently the monastic community erected a separate five storey building next to the Roussanou rock for their exclusive use (see above). The visitors have access to the original monastery, while the monastic community occupies the new building outside the original monastery (see above, figure 32). The evolution of the spatial arrangement showed the monastic community's attempt to stay even further from the increased pressure of mass tourism.

#### *The Holy Trinity monastery*

The Holy Trinity monastery has, relatively speaking for the standards of the site, an average available rock surface at Meteora and is structured on a horizontal axis (Tetsios 2003, 376−377; Tzimas 2000, 403−404).

Phase A: On reoccupying the monastery after the wars, the monastic community constructed cells and various secondary monastic buildings in the lower storey of the monastery (**figure 38**). At that time, the life of the monastic community was mainly centred on the *katholicon*.

Phase B: The monastic community transformed the original refectory opposite the *katholicon* into a larger church, so that it would accommodate the increased in size congregation, and the cells into a reception hall, and also formed an inside corridor (used as a yard) connecting the *katholicon*, the new church, the reception hall and the refectory (pers. comm. Lazaros Deriziotis; pers. comm. Tetsios) (**figure 39**). It is worth noting that the reception hall of the Holy Trinity monastery was altered twice in order to adjust to the continually increasing size of the congregation over the course of time (pers. comm. Tetsios). At that time, the space of the monastery was unified, and shared by the monastic community and the congregation.

Phase C: Today the visitors have access to the entire lower storey of the monastery, while the monastic community is mostly restricted on the upper storey of the monastery, consisting of cells and a small library (**figure 40**).

As these examples of monasteries show, the use of the internal space of the monasteries over time, with a specific emphasis on the *katholicon* (i.e. the core of the monastery), may be summarised as follows. In Phase A, the monastic community was mostly using the space around the original *katholicon*. In Phase B, the monastic community and the large congregation mainly used the space around either the original *katholicon* (as in the St Stephen and the Roussanou monasteries) or a new, larger church (as in the Holy Trinity monastery). In Phase C, the visitors have access to the original *katholicon*, while the monastic community uses another church (as in the Roussanou and the St Stephen monasteries).

#### **Conclusion**

The analysis of the evolution of the use of space in the recent history of the site leads to the following conclusions.

On reoccupying the site (phase A), the monastic communities maintained, in most of the cases, the existing arrangement of space of their monasteries. Later, however, in order to respond to the needs of the large congregation and especially the needs of the visitors, they changed the existing arrangement of space: they changed the central part of their monasteries (in phase B) and the periphery of their monasteries (in phase C).

**Figure 38:** The Holy Trinity monastery: evolution of use of space, Phase A (see Papaioannou 1977, 30, with author's additions; for an external view of the monastery see above, figure 1). The buildings of the Holy Trinity monastery, as shown in this figure, are: 1: *Katholicon*; 2: Original refectory, transformed into a church (larger than the *katholicon*); 2a: Original kitchen, today part of the new church (number 2); 3: Original cells, partly demolished and partly transformed into secondary buildings, mainly storerooms. 4: Chapel of St John; 5: The *vrizoni* tower (i.e. the original way of access to the monastery); 6: Secondary buildings; 7: Original reception hall, transformed into a large refectory; 8: Original secondary building, transformed into a large reception hall [*archontariki*] and a small kitchen; 9: The inside corridor, used as an inside yard; E: The current entrance, which has replaced the tradition means of access to the monastery / the *vrizoni* (number 5).

**Figure 39:** The Holy Trinity monastery: evolution of use of space, Phase B (see Papaioannou 1977, 30, with author's additions) Concerning the buildings: see figure 38.

**Figure 40:** The Holy Trinity monastery: evolution of use of space, Phase C (see Papaioannou 1977, 30, with author's additions) Concerning the buildings: see figure 38.

In every new arrangement of space, the monastic communities did not take into consideration the existing arrangements. There are cases in which the construction of new buildings, within the new arrangement of space, unavoidably replaced, in terms of function, earlier buildings. As a result, today the Meteora monasteries demonstrate a variety of continually changing spatial arrangements, with buildings of interwoven and conflicting functions.

The changes in the spatial arrangement of the monasteries reflect the failure of the monastic communities to face the wider changes affecting the operation of their site (the re-establishment of the monastic communities on the site, the formation of the large congregation and its participation in the ritual life, and the development of tourism) in terms of proactive and long-term planning. Every time there is a wider change in the operation of the site, the monastic communities tend to substantially change the earlier arrangement of space. The changes in the spatial arrangement of the monasteries also reflect the failure of the monastic communities to cooperate with each other and come to a unified planning of the use of space for all the monasteries. Thus, though the wider changes affecting the operation of the site are common for all the monasteries (though appearing at each of them in slightly differing periods, which has to do with the specific circumstances in each monastery), the monastic communities do not share their experiences concerning the changing use of space, and tend to repeat the same mistakes.

It seems, however, that the monastic communities do not realise in the first place the importance of a proactive, long-term and unified planning of the use of space. They tend to feel that their financial power, mostly derived from tourism, allows them the 'luxury' to afford any further changes in terms of spatial arrangement.

#### **10.3. Analysis**

The Meteora monastic communities, as a result of their acceptance of tourism in the context of their adoption of the philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism, unavoidably become suppressed in their space under the pressure of tourism. This suppression takes the following forms.

**Figure 41:** The Great Meteoron monastery: visitors at the entrance of the monastery (source: author's photo). This figure shows that the external space of the monasteries is used exclusively by the visitors and, consequently, the monastic communities become restricted within their monasteries.

1) The monastic communities become increasingly deprived of the use of the external space of the monasteries.

As a result of the presence of visitors, the monks and nuns are deprived of the use of the external space, and are obliged to stay within their individual monasteries (**figure 41**).

2) The monastic communities become restricted within the internal space of the monasteries.

As a result of the presence of visitors, the once unified internal space of the monasteries is now divided between the monks-nuns and the visitors (**figures 42, 43, 44** and **45**). It should be stressed that, as a consequence of this division, in most of the monasteries the visitors do not even see the monks and nuns but only the maintenance staff (i.e. private staff hired by the monks to serve the visitors). That is why the majority of the non-Orthodox visitors get the impression that the monasteries are no longer in use (pers. comm. Meteora visitors).

Visitors have access to entire monasteries. The *katholicon*, though retaining its strongest symbolic and liturgical significance, ceases to serve as the constant point of reference for the everyday life of the monks and nuns. The refectory has, in most of the cases, been transformed into a museum for the exhibition of monastic 'treasures' for the visitors (as in the St Stephen, the Great Meteoron and the Varlaam monasteries), and thus its sacred and symbolic character in connection to the *katholicon* is lost. The yard is occupied by visitors, which makes the conduct of the communal activities [*diakonimata*] impossible. The secondary monastic buildings on the periphery within the monastery (such as kitchen, hospital, home for the elderly, guesthouse and various types of storerooms) are also transformed into museums for visitors (as in the Great Meteoron

**Figure 42:** The Varlaam monastery: current use of space (see Papaioannou 1977, 30, with author's additions). This figure shows the division of the internal space of the monastery between the visitors and the monks. The marked line is the dividing line between the space used by the visitors (to the right of the line) and the space used by the monks (to the left of the line). Point A marks the dividing point between the two spaces (the door kept closed, depicted in figure 43). 1: *Katholicon*. 2: Refectory. 3: Cells. 4a: Church. 4b: Chapel. 5: Home for the aged, transformed into a museum of monastic 'treasures'. 6: *Vrizoni* tower (i.e. the original way of access to the monastery). 7, 8, 9: Secondary buildings (the building 7 is transformed into a kitchen and a small refectory for the monks). 10: Yard. E: The current entrance.

and the Varlaam monasteries). The reception hall retains its character but serves the needs of the congregation and important visitors to the monasteries.

Consequently, the monastic communities feel the need to create a new monastic space with all the necessary buildings (**figure 45**) such as: a new subsidiary church that might replace, in terms of function, the *katholicon* during the opening hours of the monastery, a new refectory, a new kitchen and new cells, new secondary monastic buildings, a new entrance (for example, through a cable car, as in the Great Meteoron, the Varlaam and the Holy Trinity monasteries: **figures 46** and **47**), and space for the conduct of communal monastic activities [*diakonimata*]. Therefore, what the monastic communities require and create is not simply some additional, supplementary space for their existing monasteries but in some cases a completely new monastic space within their existing monasteries.

The traditional usage of space is no longer possible. The pressure of tourism has removed the essential nature of monastic life in terms of physical layout, and thus the spatial concepts in which Orthodox monasteries are best understood (see above) no longer apply. The arrangement of space is defined by the needs of the visitors rather than the needs of the monastic community, and thus the monasteries have become extroverted rather than introverted units, something that is not in accordance with the Orthodox monastic *Tradition* (see above). The *katholicon*, i.e. the

**Figure 43:** The Varlaam monastery: internal view A (source: author's photo). This door is the dividing point between the space for the visitors and the space for the monks (see figure 42).

quintessential building of a monastery (linked to the worship of God), has become the primary visitor attraction in a monastery. This means that the linkage between the *katholicon* (religious content) and the yard (human content) is lost, and the approach of Papaiaoannou (see above) no longer applies to the Meteora monasteries today. The yard is exclusively used by the visitors and not the monastic community, which means that the linkage between the life of the monastic community and the visitors is lost. This complete separation between the life of the monastic community and the visitors, and the subsequent division of the two spaces, is an aspect of the Catholic (and not the Orthodox) monastic tradition (see above). Finally, the new space created by the monastic communities is an immediate and rather superficial response to the increasing pressure of tourism rather than a conscious attempt to follow the established rules of the Orthodox monastic *Tradition*. This was illustrated by the decision of the St Stephen monastic community to give into the desire of the visitors to have access to the *katholicon* of St Stephen in addition to the *katholicon* of St Charalambos (see above).

3) The monastic communities become restricted within the internal space, which expands towards the external space of the monasteries.

This expansion of the internal space is achieved through the addition of new buildings which are essentially whole new monasteries, as in the case of the Roussanou new buildings. In this case the division of space is more clear-cut than in the previous one (case 2 above): the visitors have access to the original monastery, while the monks and nuns mainly use the new buildings (see above, figure 32).

**Figure 44:** The Varlaam monastery: internal view B (source: author's photo). This is the space (to the right of the monastery: see figure 43) used by the visitors. The entrance to the *katholicon* is on the right hand side, on the right to the icon. This figure shows that the visitors occupy the largest part of the monastery, including the *katholicon*.

4) The monastic communities move out of their monasteries to the external space of the monasteries.

The monastic communities form dependencies [*metochia*] within the site that operate as hermitages, as in the cases of the Great Meteoron, the Holy Trinity, the Varlaam and the St Stephen monasteries (eg. the skiti of St Nikolaos Badovas, which operates as a hermitage of the Holy Trinity Monastery: see above, figure 14). The monks and nuns stay in their hermitages during the opening hours of their monasteries. There are cases, however, where the monks and nuns prefer to stay in their hermitages even outside the opening hours of their monasteries (pers. comm. Varlaam Monastery), which may reveal their increasing tendency to stay away from their monasteries because of the increasing pressure of tourism.

5) The monks and nuns move out of their monasteries to a different site.

From the 1970s until now a large number of monks and nuns, approximately eighty, have abandoned the site for different monastic sites (pers. comm. Tetsios).

Apart from the aforementioned, rather unavoidable, changes in the spatial arrangement, as a result of the monastic communities' restriction within their monasteries because of tourism, the monastic communities cause deliberate changes to the spatial arrangement as a result of their specific response to tourism. Thus, the differing responses of the Meteora monastic communities to tourism, in accordance with their differing commitment to the philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism, lead to different spatial arrangements. Specifically, the monastic communities that actively embrace tourism, such as the Great Meteoron and St Stephen, tend to

**Figure 45:** The Varlaam monastery: internal view C (source: author's photo). This is the space (to the left of the door: see figure 43) used by the monastic community. Construction works are in progress. Due to the fact that the visitors occupy the largest part of the monastery, including the *katholicon* (see figure 44), the monastic communities have to create new space within the monastery (as indicated by the construction works).

deliberately arrange the space mostly according to the needs of the visitors rather than their own needs. These communities show an increasing concern over the following: how to accommodate the largest possible numbers of visitors and how to encourage them to extend their visit to their monasteries for as long as possible; how to meet the needs of the visitors; and what messages to convey and promote to the visitors (Anastasiou 2004). First, these communities place an increased emphasis on the formation of the internal yard and corridors for the visitors to move within the monastery (as in the Great Meteoron, the St Stephen and the Varlaam monasteries). Second, they focus on the formation of museums/exhibition halls for the visitors. There is a great variety of museums/exhibition halls: museums for the exhibition of monastic 'treasures' such as icons, wall paintings and manuscripts (as in the Great Meteoron, the St Stephen and the Varlaam monasteries); storerooms with tools used in agriculture and barrels for the storing of wine, no longer in use (as in the Great Meteoron and the Varlaam monasteries); kitchens with cooking utensils, no longer in use (as in the Great Meteoron monastery); ossuary, no longer in use; the *vrizoni* towers, no longer in use (as in the Great Meteoron and the Varlaam monasteries); halls with exhibition of photos about the past life and the landscape of the site (as the photos of Kostas Balafas in the Great Meteoron monastery); halls with historical and folklore treasures (in the Great Meteoron monastery). Third, these monastic communities focus on the development of visitor shops. For example, the Great Meteoron, the St Stephen and the Varlaam monasteries have two or three shops each, sometimes selling even tourist souvenirs (as in the Great Meteoron monastery). Fourth, these

**Figure 46:** The Varlaam monastery: the entrance (source: author's photo).

communities are concerned about the promotion of the Orthodox faith to the visitors through labels with small extracts from the Holy Scriptures in Greek and English (as in the Great Meteoron monastery). Fifth, these communities tend to show a special concern about the promotion of the national Greek history and identity to the visitors, with an emphasis on the participation of the monastic communities and the Church as a whole in the struggles of the nation. For example, the hall with historical and folklore treasures in the Great Meteoron monastery exhibits, among others, a model of the Parthenon, national flags and posters from recent wars of Greece.

The monastic communities that have a more passive approach to tourism, such as the Holy Trinity and Roussanou, tend to arrange the space mainly according to their own needs without a special care for the visitors. It is worth stressing, for example, that the Holy Trinity monastery, unlike all the other Meteora monasteries, has no shops for the visitors, something that constitutes a deliberate choice of the Abbot (pers. comm. Tetsios).

The use of space is also linked to the everyday tourism operation of the monasteries. The monasteries of those communities with an active approach to tourism (as the Great Meteoron and St Stephen) attract the largest numbers of visitors, while the monasteries of those communities with a passive attitude towards tourism (as the Holy Trinity and Roussanou) attract a much smaller number of visitors.

#### **Conclusion**

This section demonstrated how the main problems in the operation and management of the site, as a result of the monastic communities' acceptance of tourism in the context of their philanthropic approach to monasticism (i.e. separation between monasticism and tourism operation;

**Figure 47:** The Varlaam monastery: the cable car (source: author's photo). These figures show different types of access to the monasteries: the monks (as well as the important visitors) use the cable car, while the rest of the visitors use the entrance of the monastery.

increased emphasis on tourism; and adjustment of monastic life to the pressure of tourism: see above), are manifested through changes in the use and arrangement of the monastic space. The monastic communities become increasingly restricted within their space. The space is clearly divided between the monastic communities on the one hand, and the visitors on the other.

The monastic communities find it difficult to conduct their worship of God in the existing space, and thus create new spaces. This is not a matter of seeking some additional, supplementary space that would provide them some help with practical issues in their monastic life, but an existential need of theirs.

The visitors are excluded from the worship of God. They are also significantly hindered from communicating with the members of the monastic communities. The fact that in most of the monasteries they do not even see the monks and nuns (but only private staff hired to cover their practical needs) creates the impression to the majority of the foreign visitors that the monasteries are no longer in use. This demonstrates that the more the monastic communities attempt to open their monasteries towards the visitors and embrace them, in the context of the philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism (instead of keeping their monasteries closed and introverted, focusing on the worship of God, in accordance with the Orthodox monastic *Tradition*: see above), the more they actually exclude them from participating in, sharing and even recognising the function of the site as a place of worship of God.

Only the congregation of the monasteries, mostly part of the local community, participates in the worship of God, something that is yet not in accordance with the Orthodox monastic *Tradition* (see above; see also Moisis 1997, 32).

# CHAPTER 11

# **Conclusion**

The most important factor that has affected the life of Meteora throughout its recent history is the growth of the tourism industry. The Meteora monastic communities, in the context of their philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticicm, have willingly accepted the development of tourism and their role in it. This acceptance has brought considerable power to the monastic communities in the site's operation and management in economic, social, and political terms – and a most significant position of theirs in the tourism and heritage industry. At the same time, however, this acceptance has caused serious problems in the operation and management of the site: the separation between monasticism, heritage protection and tourism operation; an increased emphasis on tourism; and the adjustment of monasticism to the pressure of tourism. These problems have been manifested through changes in the use and arrangement of space: the monastic communities have become increasingly restricted within their space; the space has been clearly divided between the monastic communities on the one hand and the visitors on the other; and the monastic communities have found it difficult to conduct their worship of God in the existing space, and thus have created new spaces.

These problems became evident over the course of the recent history of the site, in phase B and especially in phase C. However, the roots of these problems can be traced back to the first appearance of the philanthropic-missionary approach in the monastic life of Meteora with the re-establishment of the monastic communities on the site in the 1960s. To be more specific, Kouros, a member of the local community at that time, highlighted the clear separation between the monastic function of the site, the heritage protection and the tourism development, and stated that, unlike heritage protection and tourist exploitation, the monastic (in the sense of ascetic) function of the site will be very difficult to maintain in the future, and can be maintained only within the context of heritage protection and especially tourism development. His exact words are as follows:

Meteora as a fabulous, flourishing monastic centre and a significant religious centre undoubtedly does not exist any longer. But it does exist, and will always exist, as an invaluable holy trust/keeper of Orthodox Christianity… The Meteora monasteries are already significant religious museums thanks to their history and thanks to the many treasures that are still kept there… Even if it is not an ascetic centre with the old meaning any

#### 112 The Past in the Present

longer, Meteora is at least a trust of holy treasures, religious artworks, written sources and scientific knowledge…

Meteora, as a location and as a historic content is undoubtedly something unique… Within the archaeological cycle of the country, referring to older times and all other types of Greek civilizations, the uniqueness of Meteora in terms of location and in terms of the type of history renders the site a very interesting change for those willing to know Greece… [hence] the tourism potential and the tourism exploitation of the Meteora area [by the government authorities]… Thus if not all the monasteries, at least the five of the monasteries that exist and are active, are protected very effectively, are growing and getting organised, thus presenting ideal conditions for their future maintenance. (Kouros 1965, 43−47)

The analysis of the operation and management of the site over the course of the recent history of the site clearly suggests that Kouros was right.

The objectives of the Meteora monastic communities in the context of their philanthropic-missionary approach seem to have been successfully applied in the case of Meteora. Today Meteora has become a popular tourist destination promoting the Orthodox faith to hundreds of thousands of visitors. It is a well-maintained heritage site reflecting strength and glory. At the same time it is an important monastic site with monastic communities that are flourishing and increasing in size and have a significant contribution to the wider society (Meteora Monasteries 1994a, 37−43; Meteora Monasteries 1995, 10; Anastasiou 1994a, 204−206; Anastasiou 1990, 391−392).

An assessment of the operation and management of the site based on the principles of the Orthodox *Tradition*, however, leads to completely different conclusions. The vast majority of the visitors are unable to participate in the ritual life of the monasteries, and most of the time are not even aware of it. There is an increasing and confusing construction activity, not always in accordance with the principles of the Orthodox monastic Tradition, with often irreversible effects on the fabric and the space of the site. Meteora is not a flourishing monastic site either. Monastic life is suppressed, under the influence of the tourism industry, and the monastic communities are increasingly restricted within their monasteries, in oppressing need of new space within and even outside their site. The monastic communities are in some cases increasing in size, yet mostly in an attempt to deal with the increasing pressure of tourism. The monastic communities seem unable to manage their site, given the inactivity of the Assembly.

Therefore, the objectives of 'philanthropic-missionary' approach do not conform to the principles of the Orthodox *Tradition*, and have been applied at Meteora at the expense of the site and its monastic communities. Tourism, accepted by the monastic communities as a means to promote the Orthodox monastic life to the outside world, has ended up affecting the reason that 'brought' it and made it develop at the site, i.e. monastic life.

From this analysis, it appears that the Meteora monastic communities, with the help of the heritage authorities and the other communities protecting and using the site, should move away from the 'philanthropic-missionary' approach to monasticism and concentrate more on the principles of the Orthodox *Tradition*, redefining their everyday monastic life and their attitude towards the visitors and the outside world: the focus will be diverted from developing tourism to worshipping God, and tourism operation and heritage protection will be incorporated within monastic life. This suggestion about an increased emphasis on the Orthodox *Tradition* does not mean fossilisation in the face of a changing world, but an attempt to sustain the ongoing change in terms of seeking a new balance between monasticism, heritage protection and tourism operation, and thus maintain relevant to the contemporary society.

# PART III

# **Towards a New Approach to Conservation: A Living Heritage Approach**

# CHAPTER 12

# **Towards a new approach to the definition of living heritage sites**

#### **Continuity (criteria)**

It was shown that continuity is the key concept for the definition of a living heritage site; yet, there are cases in which continuity may not be linked to an actual site or may be undermined by the association of other communities to a site (Part 1). In an attempt to link continuity with the site and prioritise it over the other communities' associations with and uses of the site, the following set of criteria should be offered, which are inextricably linked to each other (**figure 48**):

a) Primarily, the continuity of the heritage site's original function – the purpose for which the heritage site was originally intended. Function is seen as the root of a living heritage site. In the Orthodox Church, as demonstrated in the case of Meteora, heritage is rooted in the *Tradition*  and is a purely functional one: it acquires its existence and meaning exclusively within the conduct of the worship of God (the Holy Liturgy), as followed and continually developed over time by the monastic communities of the site. In a similar context, in Buddhism, continuity is considered to be rooted in the context of religion itself and then applied in the context of heritage. The Buddha, Dhamma [the teachings of Buddha] and Sangha [the order of monks of Buddha], known as the Triple Gems, constitute the core of Buddhist religion, and are still living. Buddhist heritage supported the Buddhist religion throughout its history, and is still living (Wijesuriya 2005, 30−33). In this context, a cetiya/stupa – a permanent structure of Buddhist monasteries built to enshrine relics – should 'be seen only in its full functional state and convey the symbolic meaning it represents' (Rahula 1956, 284). In a similar example, in Hinduism continuity is also seen as rooted in religion and particularly in the continuity of the conduct of religious rituals still performed on the sites in accordance with the 'Agamas' (i.e. a codified set of rules governing the practice of religion and ritual as well as the operation and the construction of Hindu Temples) (Archaeological Survey of India 2003, 262 and 8). In another example, the Kasubi tombs in Uganda (a World Heritage Site) have retained over time their function as burial places for the Buganda Kings (Kigongo 2005, 34−36; Ndoro 2004, 84; Munjeri 2004b, 77−78).

b) The continuity of the community's connection with the heritage site. There is a specific community group that created the living heritage site and sustains the original function of the site, retains its original connection with the site over time and still considers the site an integral part of its contemporary life in terms of its identity, pride, self-esteem, structure and well-being,

**Figure 48:** The criteria of continuity.

has a strong sense of ownership/custodianship for the site and sees the caring for the site as its own inherent obligation (see Poulios 2011; Wijesuriya 2005, 30 and 37; Chapagain 2013; Sharma 2013). This community, referred to as 'core community', is seen as an inseparable part of the living heritage site, and is thus clearly differentiated from the other community groups involved in the life of the site, often referred to as the 'broader community' (or 'peripheral communities'). At Meteora, it is the monastic communities that sustain the function, define and create space, and take care of the site. The monastic communities cannot define themselves detached from the site, considering it their only home on earth and their only path that would lead them – through the unification with Christ – to their true, eternal home Paradise). In New Zealand, the indigenous heritage of tangata whenua relates to whanau, hapu, and iwi communities:

It shapes identity and enhances well-being, and it has particular cultural meanings and values for the present, and associations with those who have gone before. Indigenous cultural heritage brings with it responsibilities of guardianship and the practical application and passing on of associated knowledge, traditional skills, and practices. (ICOMOS New Zealand 2010, article 3)

c) The continuity of the care of the heritage site by the community, as expressed through community's management (and ownership) mechanisms and maintenance practices. These mechanisms and practices are traditional (or established over time), i.e. based on skills, materials and techniques that existed before the formation of the modern scientific-based principles and practices of conservation.

Traditional management mechanisms consist of a series of community norms to promote the safeguarding of a site including sacred and pragmatic controls, customary laws, traditions, taboos, myths and rites (Edroma 2001, 55−56; see also Joffroy 2005, 2−4; Ndoro 2004, 81). Traditional management mechanisms at the site of Meteora constitute the *typicon*, the Holy Assembly, and the Abbot of each monastery. The *typicon*, as noted above, is not a static document but is learnt in practice with the conduct of worship on an everyday basis, and is thus evolving in accordance with the changing needs of the monastic community over time. In another example, traditional management mechanisms at the site of Kasubi, Uganda (a World Heritage Site) are: the royal tombs are shielded behind bark-cloth curtains and access is limited to the spiritual guardian (Nalinga) and the prime minister of the Buganda Kingdom (Katikkiro), people are not allowed to turn their back inside the main tomb (Azaala-Mpanga) and shoes are removed as a sign of respect (Munjeri 2004b, 77; Kigongo 2005, 31 and 34−36).

These management mechanisms are often documented, i.e. they are based on, and guided by, texts. An example of such a text, in Orthodox monastic sites such as Meteora, is the *typicon*. Other examples of such texts are Mayamatha for Buddhist temples and Agamas and Vedas for Hindu temples (see Wijesuriya 2000, 102; Wijesuriya 2005, 34−37; Archaeological Survey of India 2003, 262−263; Champakalakshmi 2001, 18−20). There are cases, however, in which these mechanisms are not based on written sources but have passed down through generations, as in the case of a large part of the Orthodox *Tradition* including the rituals for the conduct of the Holy Liturgy.

With regards to the traditional maintenance practices, though the material is generally preserved, these practices may have completely different and even contradictory implications for the material of the sites. Examples of such practices, which show a wide range of implications for the material, are the following:


#### 118 The Past in the Present

Zotai' is a Shinto ritual in Japan that requires renewing of the shrine buildings of the entire precinct every twenty years, dating back to the seventh century (Inaba 2005, 51-54; Inaba 1995, 331−332; Ito 1995, 44); the main façade of the Temple of Arou is roughcast with clay, during the annual feast of Bulo in the Dogon country in Mali (Cisse 2005, 90−94); in Nagaland, India, houses with central post are reconstructed in their entire precinct every twelve years, as part of a local tribal tradition (pers. comm. Ranesh Ray); the repainting of rock art images as a way of renewing the spiritual power of the images the repainting of rock art images as a way of renewing the spiritual power of the images (see Walderhaug Saetersdal 2000, 163−180), as with Wandjina rock images in the Kimberley area in Australia (Mowaljarlai *et al*. 1988; Mowaljarlai and Peck 1987; Bowdler 1988, 517−523).


Behind these differing approaches towards the fabric there appears to be a common underlying philosophy. These practices demonstrate that the physical, material structure may be given a low priority. Emphasis is not considered to lie in the material and in elements of materiality of sites and objects, such as: the age of a structure, the type of material, and the structure itself. Emphasis is on the non-physical elements of sites and objects: the sites' and objects' wider cultural significance and conceptual integrity. Thus, sites and objects are 'often described culturally, in terms of "process" rather than "product" ' (Clavir 2002, 245; see also Ward 1992, 33−37; Mowaljarlai *et al.* 1988). Changes in the fabric are an inseparable part of this process, and are thus an essential requirement for the survival and continuation of a living heritage site.

It should be stressed that the application of practices in which the physical, material structure may be given a low priority does not mean that the core community does not care about the material. The core community cares about the material, but this caring is placed in a broad context and scope, that of the continuity of community's connection with heritage. Jones made the following remark:

the materiality of artifacts and monuments is implicated in, indeed lives at the heart of, their biographies: things are born, they grow, breathe, live and die; they are conceived as having a soul and a personality, and as being nourished and harmed by other substances such as air, soil and water. (2006, 122)

d) The continual process of evolving tangible and intangible heritage expressions of a site / of the evolving space of a site (tangible and intangible heritage expressions are seen as interlinked, comprising a unified space). The space is evolving yet within the traditional parameters as defined by continuity and in accordance with the original function of the sites. In this sense, the evolution of the space is embraced as a part of the continuity, and is seen as an essential requirement for the maintenance of a living heritage site over time to the present. As it was shown, the art of the Orthodox Church in all its expressions (such as architecture, sculpture, painting, poetry, and music) is continually evolving, always within the Orthodox *Tradition* centred on the worship of God. In this context, the space of the Meteora monasteries (including: the forms of monastic space, the external space of the monastery, the internal space of the monastery and the route within the monastery) is continually evolving, always within the Orthodox *Tradition* centred on the worship of God. Other examples: In Hinduism, the temples maintain over time a close relationship with their surrounding urban settlement in terms of spatial arrangement, with the temple forming the centre around which the surrounding settlement is developed – thus called 'temple town' (Archaeological Survey of India 2003, 21−27 and 262−264). In Sri Lanka, several temples were built over the course of time for the housing of the Tooth Relic of Buddha, with the latest/current one being the so-called Temple of the Tooth Relic in the World Heritage city of Kandy (Wijesuriya 2000). In Benin, temples constructed for the conduct of voodoo rituals have shifted several times depending on circumstances such as the appointment of a new priest for the conduct of the rituals (Munjeri 2001, 17−18; Munjeri 2004a, 15−16). In Kokologo in Burkina Faso, the Kings traditionally have a new palace built after the former King dies (pers. com. Sophie Hsu Ming).

# **The way continuity has evolved over time to present**

Continuity, as discussed above (consisting of all four elements), continually evolves over time to the present, in response to the changing political, economic, historic and social circumstances at a local, national and international level.

At Meteora, continuity (i.e. the Orthodox *Tradition* as followed by the monastic communities of the site) was affected by a series of major factors. First, in the 1940s and the 1950s, continuity at Meteora was affected by the outbreak of World War II and the Civil War as follows:


Second, after the 1960s, upon the re-establishment of the monastic communities on the site, continuity at Meteora was affected by two other factors: the philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism (i.e. a different approach to monasticism that was not strictly within the Orthodox *Tradition*, and was brought from abroad through the 'ecclesiastical organisations'); and the growth of the tourism and heritage industries. These two factors became interlinked to each other: the Meteora monastic communities accepted the growth of the tourism and heritage industries in the context of their philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism. The two factors affected continuity as follows (it should be noted that the impact varied among the monasteries, depending on the different attitude of each monastic community towards heritage and tourism industries based on their differing degree of commitment to the philanthropic-missionary approach):

#### 120 The Past in the Present


In other Byzantine heritage sites in Greece that are still in use (also inscribed on the *World Heritage List*), continuity has evolved over time in different ways. For example, Mystras was a major Byzantine city that gradually fell in decline and eventually in the fifteenth century ceased to exist as a result of the Ottoman conquest. In 1921, Mystras was declared a national heritage site, and the few local people still residing in the site were gradually removed, their residences were demolished and the site was fenced off. Pantanassa Monastery, located on the site, ceased to function in 1770 until the second half of the nineteenth century, when members of the local community formed a small monastic community. This monastic community has remained to present, rendering Pantanassa 'a living monastery within a necropolis' (Poulios 2010c) (**figures 49** and **50**). The regulations for the operation of the site as a heritage site and also as a tourist destination

**Figure 49:** Mystras, Greece: an external view of the site (source: author's photo). The Pantanassa Monastery (on the left) could be regarded as 'a living monastery within a necropolis'.

**Figure 50:** Pantanassa Monastery: a detail of the yard and the cells (source: author's photo).

**Figure 51:** Tirupati Temple, India. Extensive construction activity takes place in the Temple.

are defined by the State / the Ministry of Culture, and the monastic community adjusts its life accordingly (Poulios 2010c; Poulios forthcoming). In another example, the monastic complex of Mount Athos has been in use and has retained its ritual activities as well as its official, legal administrative and management status as a relatively independent region from the outside world from the tenth century throughout Byzantine and Ottoman period up to present day. Mount Athos is an exceptional case in terms of its official, legal administrative and management status: it is legally recognised, on the basis of its traditional law, as a semi-independent region within the state of Greece, with the monastic communities having the administrative and management control through their own official body (the Assembly of the Holy Monasteries of Mount Athos). The site is open to visitors with considerable restrictions: the *avaton* (i.e. the exclusion of women from entering a monastic site) still continues, and still the number of visitors allowed into the site per day is limited to a specific number. The power of the monastic communities at local, state and even international level pose significant challenges to the protection of the original fabric of the site by the State / the Ministry of Culture (Chatzigogas 2005).

The way continuity has evolved over time has been also examined in the cases of the Hindu Temples of Tanjore, Srirangam and Tirupati in India (Poulios 2010b; Poulios 2011; Poulios 2008). Specifically, the Tanjore Temple, on the one hand, where the religious tradition has been suppressed over time, operates today under the responsibility of the Government of India (through the Archaeological Survey of India), with reference to the modern scientific-based principles and practices and with an emphasis on the preservation of its original space and fabric. The Srirangam Temple and the Tirupati Temple, on the other hand, where the religious tradition has been maintained and even enhanced over time, are managed mostly by the local community and by the Temple Board accordingly. The power of the communities creates several complexities to the management of the sites by the heritage authorities, with implications for the original condition of the space and fabric of the sites (**figure 51**).

In the case of the Temple of the Tooth Relic in Kandy in Sri Lanka (a World Heritage Site), continuity has been maintained and even enhanced over the course of time under the constant support from the royal families and the governors of the country. The monastic community of the site retains its most significant, legally established, power in the operation and management of the site, beyond the control of the heritage authorities. The site remains a most significant religious and pilgrimage centre, and, clearly at a secondary level, a heritage site of national and international significance. The spatial arrangement and the fabric of the site are continually changing in accordance with the original function of the site (see Part 1).

# CHAPTER 13

# **Why living heritage sites cannot be embraced within the current approaches to conservation?**

#### **Discontinuity vs. continuity (criteria)**

The current theoretical framework and practice of heritage conservation in the context of a material-based and a values-based approach, despite its developments over time particularly on the basis of the *Nara Document on Authenticity* (see Part 1), is still based on discontinuity created between the monuments of the past and the people of the present and heavily focuses on the preservation of the authenticity of the fabric (see Part 1), and therefore seems unable to embrace the concept of a living heritage site. This discontinuity created by heritage conservation between the past and the present contradicts the continuity of a living heritage site, as expressed in the four criteria. Specifically:

a) The continuity of the heritage site's original function – the purpose for which the site was originally intended.

The current theoretical framework and practice of heritage conservation is mostly based on sites whose continuity of function has been broken.

b) The continuity of community's connection with the site.

In the context of discontinuity, conservation professionals, following a values-based approach, tend to see the core community of a living heritage site simply as a stakeholder group to be identified, taken into consideration and managed, and see the core community's connection with a site simply as a (group's) value to be classified and assessed. The concepts of value and stakeholder group, as classified in strict categories and rigorously assessed by conservation professionals, seem to run counter to the unified organic character of a living heritage site as the outcome of the inseparable connection between the core community and the site. The concept of the subjectivity and equity of values and of stakeholder groups (due to the lack of sufficient criteria and ways to set priorities and choose between them) is not applicable in the case of a living heritage site: in a living heritage site, the core community, because of its special association with the site, is clearly differentiated from the broader community. The concept of the increased power of one leading managing authority, mostly conservation professionals, over all the stakeholder groups seems to run counter to the primary importance and role of the core community in the operation and management of a living heritage site. Therefore, it could be argued that conservation professionals attempt to deprive, in a way, the core community of its special association with a site; they,

instead, tend to establish and justify their own association with a site and their right to keep all stakeholder groups, including the core community, under their control. In this respect, conservation professionals see the concept of a living heritage site within their own association with a site (rather than within the core community's association with the site).

c) The continuity of the care of heritage sites by the community as expressed through community's management (and ownership) mechanisms and maintenance practices.

The current theoretical framework and practice of heritage conservation, in the context of a material-based and a values-based approach, are based on the notion that authenticity of sites is non-renewable and heavily focuses on the material and on elements of materiality, and on the principle that the power in the designing and implementation of the conservation process is in the hands of the conservation professionals. In this context, heritage conservation can embrace traditional mechanisms and practices only to the (limited) extent that these mechanisms and practices prove to have positive results in the preservation of the fabric of a site, and mostly in connection with modern scientific-based systems and practices and under the control of conservation professionals.

The World Heritage concept in particular can take on board only those traditional mechanisms and practices that prove to have positive results in the preservation of the fabric of the sites, in terms of authenticity and integrity: '…which should specify how the outstanding universal value of a property should be preserved' (UNESCO 2005). This emphasis on the preservation of the fabric of the sites implies that many practices would be rather unacceptable to the World Heritage concept. From the variety of practices discussed earlier, only examples of partial replacement of existing material with same material (which may be considered the simplest of the approaches in terms of materiality) can be embraced in the World Heritage context. In this line, some of the sites of this category have been inscribed on the *World Heritage List*, such as Meteora, the Kasubi tombs in Uganda, the Great Mosques of Timbuktu in Mali, the Hindu Temple at Tanjore in India, and the Buddhist Temple of the Tooth Relic as part of the city of Kandy in Sri Lanka. However, practices that do not consider the significance of the age of a structure (such as repainting of rock images) or that make the defining of the age of a structure very difficult in the first place (such as total physical renewal practices) are unlikely to be embraced within the World Heritage concept. Similarly, practices that do not consider the importance of the type of the original material are unlikely to be taken on board either (examples of such practices: those that define the material on the basis of the function of a structure, as in Hinduism, or those that require renewal of the material by a different material that would serve the function of the structure more effectively, as the partial replacement/renewal of existing material with same or different material). Additionally, practices that do not even consider the significance of an object as a whole (as with the practices of immersion or replacement of objects) are unacceptable to the World Heritage concept. Examples: The repainting of rock images in Australia (a case of total physical renewal) has often faced such accusations as that of 'desecration [of] some of the most significant relics of traditional Aboriginal culture in Australia… [and] irreparable damage [of] part of the cultural heritage of all mankind' (quoted in Bowdler 1988, 520; see also Ward 1992, 32−35). Repainting can be acceptable to the heritage authorities rather not in sites on the *World Heritage List*, and still in specific cases such as the Gibb River project and under very strict regulations (such as: not upon existing layers of significant cultural value or in a way that would not destroy the existing paintings, and only after the existing layers have been fully recorded) and still under severe conflicts (Mulvaney and Kamminga 1999, 361; Ward 1992, 32−35; pers. comm. Peter Sutton). In a similar context, in the site of Domboshava, part of Matobo Hills, in Zimbabwe (inscribed on the *World Heritage List* in 2003), repainting as part of rain-making rituals was banned and the local communities conducting the ritual were removed from the site by the heritage authorities in the 1980s. This ban later led to a serious conflict between the two sides and an act of severe damage to the rock paintings caused by the local communities. The result was that rain-making rituals have been accepted by the heritage authorities of the site, but have been relocated to another part of the site which does not interfere with the rock paintings (Pwiti and Mvenge 1996, 818-21; Taruvinga and Ndoro 2003, 5−9). Rain-making rituals were also banned from the site of Siloswane, also part of Madobo Hills, in Zimbabwe (Taruvinga and Ndoro 2003, 4; Ndoro 2004, 82). In another example, with regard to 'Shikinen Zotai' (an example of total physical renewal), Ise Shrine, which is the only shrine which continues the ritual in its pure form/in the entire precinct of the site, has not been designated as a national heritage let alone a World Heritage Site, because the ritual is seen as going beyond the assessments and classification of value and authenticity based on tangible form (Inaba 2005, 54). Only shrines in which the original ritual has not survived or has survived in a faded form have been designated as national heritage monuments, as is the case of 'Onbashira Matsuri' of Suwa Shrine (Inaba 2005, 52−53). The case of Kasubi tombs in Uganda could be seen in a similar context: The heritage authorities of the site, those associated with the World Heritage inscription of the site, did not allow local communities to use iron in the making of the house walls (an example of partial renewal of existing material with different material); they instead re-established, and trained the local communities in, the practice of thatching (a practice of partial replacement of existing material with same material), which they considered to be the 'traditional' practice of maintenance of the site (pers. comm. Webber Ndoro; pers. comm. Andrew Reid; Munjeri 2004b, 76−77; Kigongo 2005, 36−37). Therefore, the aforementioned cases tend to imply that practices of caring for sites have to be reduced in their own right or suppressed by heritage authorities in order to be recognised as relevant to official conservation systems, and still at a national heritage rather than a World Heritage level.

Given this failure of the World Heritage concept to take on board the majority of the practices of caring for living heritage sites, there are even cases that the declared recognition of a new World Heritage status may become a tool in the hands of national heritage authorities in their attempt to suppress or deny such practices. As it was noted with regard to the practice of repainting,

the phrase which seems to have acted like a bell on the Pavlonial dogs of the heritocracy is 'cultural heritage of all mankind' …Defining something as belonging to that transcendant category is a means of excluding anyone who might have a particular interest in it. (Bowdler 1988, 521)

d) The continual process of evolving tangible and intangible heritage expressions / the evolving space of the sites.

The current theoretical framework and practice of heritage conservation is mostly based on sites whose process of spatial definition and arrangement has ceased. Generally speaking, evolution/ change of heritage expressions is unlikely to be accepted within conservation. Mehrotra notes:

Most conservation debates discuss change in terms of the loss of something, as opposed to new possibilities, mostly because people (especially the propagators and patrons of conservation effort) will easily react to any sort of new condition as worse than some "magic" moment in the past. (2004, 26)

The failure of the current theoretical framework and practice of heritage conservation, in the context of a material-based and a values-based approach, to embrace living heritage sites is also demonstrated in the site of Meteora. The application of a material-based approach on the part of the Greek state (influenced by a Classicist approach towards the Byzantine past and attempting to embrace living Byzantine heritage in an already established system of heritage protection based on 'dead' Classical heritage, and not involving the religious and monastic communities in the conservation process) proved inefficient to embrace the strength of the Orthodox *Tradition* at Meteora as well as the power of the Meteora monastic communities. The result was a demonstration of extreme power by the monastic communities, as evident in the number and the scale of the unauthorised construction works. A values-based approach could not have been applied either: the monastic communities' connection with the site (who consider their monastery the centre of their life, their only home on earth, and the place of their God and their Abbot) could not have been regarded as a stakeholder group's value to be taken into account equally to the other stakeholder groups' values (eg. the tourists' or the local community's association with the site) under the control of the conservation professionals.

Therefore, given the failure of the current theoretical framework and practice of heritage conservation, also in the context of a values-based approach, to embrace continuity (all four criteria), a new conservation approach is required for the conservation and management of living heritage sites.

### **Depending on the way continuity has evolved over time**

The way continuity (all four criteria) has evolved over time in the context of the changing broader conditions, and especially the enhancement of the continuity and the increase of the power of the communities, tends to lead to even greater complexities to the conservation and management of living heritage sites by the heritage authorities, with considerable implications for the original spatial arrangement and the fabric of the sites. Living heritage sites are unlikely to conform to the existing conservation principles and practices, particularly in the World Heritage context. With reference to the living Byzantine heritage sites cited above: At Mystras, on the one hand, where the continuity of the site has been suppressed and the power in site management has passed from the local community and the monastic community to the State / the Ministry of Culture, the State faces no significant problems in the conservation and management of the site, with an emphasis on the preservation of the fabric of those monuments that belong to the original (the Byzantine) phase of the site. At Meteora (and also at Mount Athos), on the other hand, where the religious tradition has been maintained and even enhanced over time and the monastic communities have retained their power in site management, there are considerable implications for the original condition of the space and fabric of the site, particularly in the strict World Heritage context, as illustrated in the number and the scale of the unauthorised construction activity. With reference to other living sites cited above: the Tanjore Temple, on the one hand, where the religious tradition has been suppressed over time and the power of site management has passed to the Government of India / the Archaeological Survey of India with reference to the modern scientific-based principles and with an emphasis on the preservation of the original space and fabric, has been designated at a national and an international (World Heritage) level. In the case of the Srirangam Temple and the Tirupati Temple, on the other hand, where the religious tradition has been maintained and even enhanced over time and the monastic communities have retained their power in site management, the changes in the space and fabric have not been embraced within the national and especially the World Heritage system: the Srirangam Temple is designated only at a state level, while the Tirupati Temple is a non-designated site. Similarly, in the case of the Temple of the Tooth Relic in the city of Kandy in Sri Lanka, where continuity has been maintained and even enhanced and the monastic fraternities have retained their power over time, the changes in the space and the fabric often move clearly beyond the existing principles and practices of conservation, particularly in the strict World Heritage context, as illustrated in the restoration of the site after the bomb attack.

Thus, it seems that the continuity of a living heritage site, including its traditional management mechanisms and maintenance practices, tends to be suppressed in order to be embraced by the strict World Heritage concept.

# CHAPTER 14

# **A living heritage approach: the main principles**

#### **Continuity (criteria)**

A living heritage approach emphasises the recognition of criteria of continuity as primary drivers for the definition, conservation and management of heritage (on the development of a living heritage approach see Poulios 2010a, and Poulios 2011; on the application of Strategic Innovation theory to a living heritage approach see Poulios 2014; on the application of Place Building Theory to a living heritage approach see Kimball *et al.* 2013; on the application of elements of a living heritage approach to the development of Renewable Energy plants in connection to the protection of historic environments and to the sustainable development of local communities see Poulios 2012a). Specifically:

a) The continuity of the heritage site's original function. A living heritage approach aims at maintaining-sustaining the original function of a living heritage site and, where appropriate, also reviving it in case this has been broken. At Meteora, conservation, in the context of a living heritage approach, would primarily aim at maintaining the continuity of the monastic function of the site, and also at reviving it after periods of monastic absence as those of WWII and the Civil War. The preservation of the fabric would not collide with the safeguarding of the monastic function, but would be embraced within it. This is clearly reflected in the words of a current monk and a current nun at Meteora:

The monks of Meteora did not aim in the first place to create heritage on the hostile rocks. By offering to God the best they could, they rendered heritage the natural outcome of their ''first/foremost love'' for God. (Tetsios 2003, 338)

#### And:

We [the monks and nuns] did not come here [to Meteora] to create heritage. We came here to glorify our God, and save ourselves through the glorification of God. Heritage is simply the outcome of the glorification of God. Even if the entire site is destroyed, we should and will still remain here glorifying our God. (pers. comm. Nikodimi)

**Figure 52:** A living heritage approach: core community and heritage site, the broader community, and conservation professionals. Core community is seen as an inseparable part of the heritage site, and is clearly differentiated from the conservation professionals and the broader community. [Note: the 'core community' of a living heritage approach is differentiated from the 'local community' of a values-based approach, which is seen as one of the stakeholder groups: figure 4 in Part 1]. Core community is given the primary role in the conservation process, while conservation professionals provide an enabling framework of support, guidance and assistance to the core community.

b) The continuity of the community's connection with the heritage site. A living heritage approach does not treat all groups (and all values) equally, but forms a hierarchy among them on the basis of their differing associations with the site – in this sense, a living heritage approach may not be considered a 'democratic' approach. A living heritage approach prioritises the core community's connection over the other communities' associations with the site, acknowledging that heritage forms an integral part of the life of the specific community, in that it strengthens core-community's identity, pride, self-esteem, structure, and well-being. On this basis, the core community is given the primary role in the conservation process. The core community does not simply participate in the process but is actively empowered: it has the ability to set the agenda, take decisions, and retain control over the entire process. Conservation professionals and the broader community are given a secondary role, that of providing an enabling framework of support, guidance and assistance to the core community (**figure 52**). Furthermore, the core community seeks development potentials on the basis of its own connection with heritage and in accordance with its own concerns, with the support of the conservation professionals and the broader community.

Yet, it is important to make clear that a living heritage approach does not allow extreme power to the core community, by setting boundaries to their power within the traditional parameters as defined by continuity and in accordance with the original function of the site, also with the support and under the examination of the conservation professionals and the broader community: the core community is not treated as individuals who act on the basis of their personal views, desires and ambitions but as a community that originally created and continues to create the site on the basis of continuity. It is also important to stress that the role of the conservation professionals in the context of a living heritage approach is by no means debased, but is put in a different – and a rather more complicated and demanding – context: the protection of the heritage significance of the site within the traditional parameters as defined by continuity and in accordance with the original function of the sites, in collaboration with the core community and the broader community.

At Meteora, in the context of a living heritage approach, the primary role would be given to the monastic communities, who would be encouraged to continue the creation of the site, with the involvement of the conservation professionals and the broader community through the continual checking of the monastic communities on the basis of the continuity of the site. This is illustrated in the words of a current nun of the site:

The 'better' monks and nuns we become the better heritage we create. But even biologically/as human beings we bear all the positive and negative aspects of the society, the era and the area to which we belong, including family and people, education, culture, and politics. That is why we cannot always lead monastic life in the proper, ideal way, and we do not always do the right things, even on the site itself. That is why there should be some kind of control over our life through a network of laws and experts. For example, spiritual supervision is exercised by the local Bishop, and the control over our restoration and construction works is exercised by the Ministry of Culture. (pers. comm. Nikodimi)

To this end, the manifestation of extreme power on the part of the Roussanou monastic community through the monastery extension, not strictly within the traditional parameters as defined by the Orthodox *Tradition* on the site, would not be acceptable by a living heritage approach. The widening of the road network of the site that encourages the further development of tourism at the site, at the initiative of the Ministry of Tourism, with the support of the monastic communities and with the consent of the Ministry of Culture, does not seem to be acceptable either. The odd case of the setting of fire to one of the Meteora monasteries by members of the village of Kastraki (because the monks were – claimed to be – seducing girls from their village), may demonstrate, apart from the possible aspect of revenge and certainly in an extreme way, the following: the meaning of Meteora is inextricably linked to the Orthodox *Tradition* as practiced by the monastic communities (and not to the desires of the monks as individuals), and the broader community has the role of checking the monastic communities on this (this means that, if the monastic communities do not operate within the Orthodox *Tradition*, there would be no actual reason for the monasteries to exist in the first place).

c) The continuity of the care of the heritage site by the community, as expressed through community's management (and ownership) mechanisms and maintenance practices. In the context of a living heritage approach, conservation process is primarily based on the recognition and acceptance of the traditional care of heritage (by the community); modern scientific-based conservation principles and practices (of the conservation professionals) assist, implement and are placed within the traditional care of heritage. An appropriate equilibrium is sought between heritage use (by the community and in accordance with the community's connection with heritage) and heritage protection (by conservation professionals), with emphasis often on use rather than protection. Although the fabric is generally preserved (as in the context of a material-based approach: see ICOMOS 1964; see Part 1), at the same time there is an increasing recognition of a whole series of practices towards heritage, with little respect to the material, physical structure (see above). Thus, in certain occasions heritage may be treated as a 'renewable' resource. On the basis of the core community's care of heritage, coupled with the reduced dependency on external funding and resources, a living heritage approach may be seen as an approach of increased sustainability. At Meteora, a living heritage approach would favour the continuation of the renewal of the individual architectural parts incorporated in harmony within the architectural type of a monastery by the monastic community, with the support of the conservation professionals.

d) The continual process of evolving tangible and intangible heritage expressions / of the evolving space of the site. A living heritage approach sees and safeguards tangible and intangible heritage expressions as an inseparable whole, and embraces the evolution of heritage expressions, rendering them revenant to the contemporary society. Therefore, in the context of a living heritage approach, the core community continues the process of the creation of the space of a living heritage site on the basis of the original function of a site, with the constant support of the conservation professionals and the broader community. At Meteora, a living heritage approach would call for the continual process of evolving space on the basis of the Orthodox *Tradition* by the monastic communities with the support of the conservation professionals.

### **The way continuity has evolved over time to present**

A living heritage approach studies and manages the way continuity (all criteria) has evolved over time to present, in an attempt to guarantee the relevance of heritage to the contemporary society. To this end, a living heritage approach would take the following steps: a) identify the factors (the broader changing conditions at local, national and international level) that affect continuity, b) examine the impact of these factors on continuity (all four criteria) also in relation to the boundaries set by the traditional parameters of continuity and in accordance with the original function of the site, c) examine the consequences of this impact on the conservation and management of the site, and d) suggest ways to manage this evolution of continuity in the present/future, as well as its impact on the conservation and management of the site in the present/future. A living heritage approach would apply to Meteora in the following terms: a) the factors that affect the continuity of the Orthodox *Tradition* at the site: the breaking out of WWII and the Civil War, the birth of the philanthropic-missionary approach to monasticism by the 'ecclesiastical organisations', and the development of heritage and tourism industries, b) the impact of these factors on continuity: the separation between monasticism, heritage protection and tourism development; an increased emphasis on tourism; and the adjustment of monasticism to the pressure of tourism. These are not strictly within the principles of the Orthodox *Tradition* at the site. c) consequences on the conservation and management of the site: for example, the absence of a unified management mechanism, unauthorised construction activity on the site, and continually changing spatial arrangements with buildings of interwoven and conflicting functions. d) the proposed solution: an increased emphasis on the principles of the Orthodox *Tradition*, marking a shift from developing tourism to worshipping God, and incorporating tourism development and heritage protection within monasticism; also, the operation of the Holy Assembly so that unified management of the site is achieved.

It is important to note, however, that a living heritage approach would not aim at maintaining the continuity of the site at all cost and under any conditions. If the broader changing conditions at a local, national and international level affect continuity beyond the boundaries as set by the traditional parameters of continuity and outside the original function of the site, then a living heritage site will eventually become a site with a changing/evolving community (i.e. a community using a site in a different context to the original one, in response to the changing conditions, requirements and values of the society: see Part 1). In such cases, a living heritage approach as a unified approach may no longer apply to the specific site; yet, certain of its tools (eg. the four criteria of continuity) may still be useful for the understanding of the (new) community's association with the site and the impact of this association on the conservation and management of the site (see Poulios 2012a, 134−139).

#### **Conclusion**

Conservation in the context of a living heritage approach primarily aims at the maintenance and enhancement of continuity, and safeguards heritage within this connection even if in certain occasions the fabric might be harmed. Conservation also aims at embracing evolution/change over time, and thus guaranteeing the relevance of heritage to the contemporary society.

A living heritage approach facilitates a clearly community-centred, interactive and bottom up approach to conservation in assessing the significance of heritage based on core community's connection with heritage, and developing activities for the continuous care of heritage using traditional (or established) mechanisms and practices.

Therefore, a living heritage approach calls for the safeguarding of heritage within the connection of the present community with heritage (continuity), by the present community and for the sake of the present community. Emphasis is on the present, since 'the past is in the present' (Wijesuriya 2005; Poulios 2008). The starting point as well as the focal point in the conservation process is the present: present is seen as the continuation of the past into the future, and thus past and presentfuture are unified into an ongoing present.

# CHAPTER 15

# **A living heritage approach: planning process methodology**

The application of a living heritage approach would require the following steps on the part of the conservation professionals in collaboration with the core community (**figure 53**). It is important to note that a living heritage approach may be also initiated and applied by the core community in collaboration with the conservation professionals; therefore, what actually matters is not who initiates-applies the process but on following the process.

# **Step 1: Identification of the living heritage site and the core community**


The aim of Step 1 is to determine whether the site in question can be considered a living heritage one, and thus confirm that a living heritage approach is applicable to the specific site.

# **Step 2: Establishment of collaboration with the core community**

1. Exploration of the core community, in terms of its identity, structure, and operation (way of life, decision-making processes, and material resources). Also, identification of the groups comprising the broader community, and exploration of the relationship between the core community and these groups.

#### **A living heritAge ApproAch: plAnning process methodology**

#### **1. Identification of the living heritage site and the core community on the basis of continuity**

#### Identification of the living heritage site

a) continuity of the site's original function

b) continuity of the community's connection with the site

c) continuous process of (traditional) care of the site by the community

d) continual process of evolving tangible and intangible expressions / space of the site

Identification of the core community

 a) the core community b) the broader community

 *→ the site in question is a living heritage site, and a living heritage approach is applicable*

 *→ hierarchy of communities*

#### **2. Establishing collaboration with the core community**

 *→ aims and expectations of conservation process shared by conservation professionals and the core community*

#### **3. Mapping of the living heritage site**

 Community concerns Evolution of continuity Traditional management at present over time to present systems and maintenance practices over time to present

 *→ conservation process linked to the sustainable development of the core community → modern conservation-based systems linked to traditional systems*

#### **4. Assessment of the living heritage site**


 *into the future*

**Figure 53:** A living heritage approach: planning process methodology.

2. Establishment of a formula of collaboration with the core community. It is important that the collaboration with the core community would: a) involve a third person who would act as a 'mediator' between the conservation professionals and the core community. This person does not have to be a member of the core community — actually, it would be better if this person were outside the core community — but should be aware of the context and the concerns of the community, and should be respected and approved by the community. And b) take a legally binding form, making use of the core community's key management mechanisms, persons and decision-making processes. The collaboration would also involve the key groups comprising the broader community.

The aim of Step 2 is to establish a formula of collaboration with the core community, and develop shared aims and expectations of the conservation process.

# **Step 3: Mapping of the living heritage site (in collaboration with the core community)**


The aims of Step 3 are to link the conservation process to the sustainable development of the core community, and link the modern scientific-based systems to the traditional ones.

# **Step 4: Assessment of the living heritage site (in collaboration with the core community)**


The aim of Step 4 is to develop a shared (with the core community) statement of significance. Also, to establish a hierarchy of values, and of expressions.

# **Step 5: Conservation decisions and actions (in collaboration with the core community)**


The aim of Step 5 is to develop a shared management plan.

# **Step 6: Periodic evaluation/review and revision of conservation decisions and actions on the basis of continuity (in collaboration with the core community)**

Conservation decisions-actions would be reviewed and revised on the basis of their impact on the continuity of the site (all four criteria).

The aim of Step 6 is to guarantee that conservation decisions-actions fit within and serve the way continuity evolves at present and into the future, and thus further understand and manage this evolution.

# **Conclusion: The Contribution of a Living Heritage Approach to the Discipline of Conservation**

#### **A living heritage approach: challenging assumptions in conservation**

A living heritage approach tends to radically redefine the existing concept of heritage and the principles of heritage conservation by challenging, for the first time in the history of conservation, very strong assumptions established over time in the field, which were developed along with a material-based approach and were maintained by a values-based approach (see Part 1; see also Poulios 2014). More specifically, according to a living heritage approach, first, the power in the conservation process is longer in the hands of the conservation professionals, but passes on to the communities. Second, emphasis is no longer be on the preservation of the (tangible) material but on the maintenance of the (intangible) connection of communities with heritage, even if the material might be harmed. Third, heritage is not considered a monument of the past that has to be protected from the present community, for the sake of the future generations; heritage is now seen and protected as an inseparable part of the life of the present community. Thus, past and present-future are not separated (discontinuity), but unified into an ongoing present (continuity). Therefore, a living heritage approach attempts to mark the shift in heritage conservation from monuments to people, from the tangible fabric to intangible connections with heritage, and from discontinuity to continuity.

### **A living heritage approach in relation to a material-based and a values-based approach**

These three approaches to conservation (**table 1**) reflect different strategies. From the perspective of strategy, a living heritage approach, by radically redefining the existing concept of heritage and the practice of heritage conservation, can be seen as an example of 'Strategic Innovation' (introducing a new 'who'-'what'-'how': see Poulios 2014). Specifically, a living heritage approach proposes a different concept of heritage and conservation, based on the community's original connection with heritage / continuity and with an emphasis on the intangible elements rather than the tangible ones (a new 'what'); it points at a different community group as responsible for the definition and protection of heritage, i.e. the core community (a new 'who'); and it proposes


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(Table continued from previous page)


**Table 1:** A living heritage approach in relation to a material-based and a values-based approach (in detail) (see Poulios 2014).

a different way of heritage protection through community empowerment and through prioritising traditional care over modern scientific-based conservation (a new 'how').

Despite the differences between a living heritage approach and a values-based approach, there are cases in which the management of a site would require the combination of (elements of) both approaches, depending on the specific conditions at site level and more specifically on the way continuity has evolved over the course of time to present (see above). Such a combined approach (**figure 54**; see Poulios 2010c) has been suggested for the management of the living Pantanassa Monastery within the necropolis of Mystras (where the monastic community has remained to present, yet adjusts its life on the basis of the regulations defined by the State, with severe restrictions on its spatial arrangement and its opening hours: see above, figures 49 and 50). However, the existence of such cases does not mean that a living heritage approach is the same with a valuesbased approach.

#### **A different way of looking at authenticity**

The current theoretical framework and practice of heritage conservation, in the context of a material-based and also a values-based based approach (based on discontinuity between the sites, considered to belong to the past, and the people of the present), and a living heritage approach (based on functional continuity) tend to see and safeguard authenticity in different and even conflicting ways (see also Poulios 2010). According to a material-based and a values-based approach, authenticity is considered to lie in the past and to be associated mostly with the (tangible) fabric of a site. According to a living heritage approach, authenticity is in the present, and is associated mostly with the communities' (intangible) association with a site. A material-based and a valuesbased approach concentrates on the preservation of a site, as an obligation to the past generations and also in the name of the present public and the future generations. A living heritage approach

**Figure 54:** The approach that has been suggested for the management of the Pantanassa Monastery of Mystras in Greece (Poulios 2010c) is a combination of a living heritage approach (figure 52) and a values-based approach (figure 4). The monastic community is considered an inseparable part of the Monastery and is responsible for the issues of the (monastic) function of the Monastery – and is thus the 'core community', while the other communities that participate in the operation of the Monastery (the figure mentions some indicative examples of such communities) consist the 'broader community' (i.e. on the basis of a living heritage approach). Yet, the conservation professionals have the supervision and control over the entire operation of the archaeological site of Mystras, including the Monastery (i.e. on the basis of a values-based approach).

places emphasis on the continual process of creation of a site by the core community, as an inherent obligation of the community to the site, and places protection within creation. A materialbased and a values-based approach mostly see heritage as a 'product', and treat any change in the fabric as something to be avoided, while a living heritage approach sees heritage as a process, considering change of the fabric as an inseparable part of this process. Thus, a living heritage approach accepts that, even if the physical, material structure of a site may be harmed, the authenticity of a site would not actually be harmed as long as the process of creation, in accordance with its original function, would continue. For a material-based and a values-based approach the past is mostly regarded as 'dead', and seeking authenticity is unattainable, while for a living heritage approach the past is part of the ongoing present, or rather there is only present (the boundaries between the past, the present and the future are eliminated), and authenticity can never be lost thanks to the continual process of the creation of a site. Thus, it could be argued that, according to a materialbased and a values-based approach, conservation professionals seek, and try to preserve, an 'aura' of authenticity (Lowenthal 1989, 846; Holtorf and Schadla-Hall 1999, 231; Cunha 1995, 262−263), whereas, according to a living heritage approach, the actual authenticity is continually defined by a site's core community everyday presence in, and creation of, a site. Therefore, a values-based approach tends to see and preserve a site as 'heritage', while a living heritage approach sees and enhances the further creation of a site as a 'living reality'.

The difference between the concepts of 'heritage' and 'living reality' may be shown in Buffy Saint-Marie's song '…now that my life is known as your heritage' (Saint-Marie 1966) and in Ndoro's words, with reference to Great Zimbabwe in Zimbabwe 'Your Monument Our Shrine' (Ndoro 2001). This difference is raised, with reference to Australia, as follows:

Archaeologists and others involved in the study of Aboriginal culture, past or present, should ask themselves what is more important, the preservation of a few relics of the recent past, or the active continuation of that living culture? (Bowdler 1988, 523).

#### **Shifting from preservation towards creation**

A living heritage approach suggests that the discipline of conservation does not simply attempt to expand within its current theoretical framework and practice (as defined by a values-based approach), but is substantially changed. Conservation should move towards a completely different context of understanding and safeguarding heritage: shifting the focus from preservation towards creation. Conservation needs to 'escape' from the discontinuity created between the monuments, considered to belong to the past, and the people of the present and also from the attachment to the fabric, and move towards the embracement of people's associations with sites and the continual process of creation of the sites in the context of these associations. The focus, therefore, should not be on how to limit the impact on the fabric for the sake of the preservation of the past, but on how to support, manage and guide the evolution of people's association with sites over time and into the future. The aim is to change the entire way heritage is perceived, protected and, more importantly, further created.

# **References**


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#### **Personal comments (pers. comm.)**

Helen Dawson: University College London, London, UK, 2004 Lazaros Deriziotis: Ephorate of Meteora, Larissa, Greece, 2003 Ioannis (monk): Holy Trinity Monastery, Meteora, Greece, 2003 Ioasaph (monk): Great Meteoron Monastery, Meteora, Greece, 2004 KENAKAP: 'Centre for the Development of Kalampaka and Pyli', Kalampaka, Greece, 2005 Maximi (nun): Roussanou Monastery, Meteora, Greece, 2006 Sophie Hsu Ming, consultant, ICCROM, 2005 Webber Ndoro: project manager, ICCROM 2005 Nikodimi (nun): St Stephen Monastery, Meteora, Greece, 2006 Ranesh Ray: independent researcher for Archaeological Survey of India, 2005 Andrew Reid: University College London, London, UK, 2005 Serapheim (Bishop of Stagoi and Meteora): Kalampaka, Greece, 2006 Peter Sutton: University of Adelaide, Australia, 2005 Tetsios (Abbot): Holy Trinity Monastery, Meteora, Greece, 2005 Theophanis (monk): Varlaam Monastery, Meteora, Greece, 2004 Renata Anna Walicka-Zeh: University College London, London, UK, 2004 Venediktos (monk): Varlaam Monastery, Meteora, Greece, 2005 Vassilis Xydias: independent researcher for 'Centre for the Development of Kalampaka and Pyli' (KENAKAP), Kalampaka, Greece, 2003

# **Index**

#### **C**

Church of Greece (Greek Orthodox Church) Archbishopric of Athens 39 authenticity 46, 47 central Ecclesiastical Council 74 definition 46 'ecclesiastical organisations' 66, 67, 68, 119, 132 Holy Synod of the Hierarchy 39 'philanthropic-missionary' approach 7, 8, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 90, 91, 93, 102, 106, 109, 111, 112, 119, 120, 132 Tradition 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 67, 68, 70, 112, 119, 128, 131, 132 Western Christian ideology 66 worship / Holy Liturgy 48, 49, 50, 52, 55, 56, 63, 65, 67, 70, 95, 115, 117 conservation approaches living heritage approach to conservation. *See* living heritage approach to conservation material-based approach to conservation. *See* material-based approach to conservation values-based approach to conservation. *See* values-based approach to conservation conservation conventions Athens Charter 12 Budapest Declaration on World Herit-

age 16 Burra Charter 12, 16, 21 Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict 15 Venice Charter 11, 12, 15, 19 World Heritage Convention / Convention Concerning the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage 11, 15, 16, 17 conservation discipline authenticity 11, 12, 13, 14 colonialism 12 definition 11 Western European conservation theory 11, 12, 18

# **L**

living heritage approach to conservation application to Phrae, Thailand 28 application to Temple of the Tooth Relic, Sri Lanka 27, 28 authenticity 141 continuity, evolution of 119 continuity, set of criteria 115 'core community' 116 ICCROM 27 planning process methodology 136 Strategic Innovation theory 129, 139

# **M**

material-based approach to conservation application to Angkor, Cambodia 21 critique 20, 139 definition (material, conservation professionals) 19 materiality practices immersion, of physical material 118, 126 renewal, partial of existing material with different material 117 renewal, total physical 117, 126, 127 repainting, of rock art images 118 replacement, of the entire structure with a new one 118, 126 replacement, partial of existing material with same material 117, 126 Meteora heritage protection construction of Roussanou monastery enclosed balcony 80, 81, 82, 100 construction of Roussanou monastery five storey building 6, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 100 danger of removal of Meteora from World Heritage List 92 re-definition of buffer zone 79, 92 replacement of Roussanou monastery access bridge 81, 82, 83, 92 replacement of Varlaam monastery bell tower 84 Meteora (local) settlements Kalampaka city 6, 33, 35, 36, 37, 40, 41, 42, 44, 73, 75, 76, 77, 80 Kastraki village 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 41, 42, 44, 53, 75, 131 Meteora Monasteries Assembly of the Holy Monasteries of Meteora 49, 78, 79, 93, 112, 117, 120, 122, 132 Bishopric of Meteora and Stagoi [Kalampaka] 39, 40, 73, 74, 77, 78, 79, 82, 84, 92, 93 Bishopric of Trikala 40 Coming of Christ Monastery 41, 45, 56, 77 Doupiani skiti 34, 36, 52, 53 Great Meteoron Monastery 1, 3, 34, 35, 36, 41, 43, 51, 52, 59, 65, 67, 69, 70, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 103, 104, 106, 107, 108 Hagia Monastery 41, 73, 74

Holy Trinity Monastery 2, 36, 41, 45, 46, 47, 49, 52, 58, 59, 65, 69, 70, 73, 75, 77, 100, 101, 102, 104, 106, 108 Ipsilotera Monastery 41 Meeting of Christ skiti 52 Roussanou Monastery 6, 36, 41, 52, 54, 58, 61, 69, 70, 73, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 91, 92, 98, 100, 105, 108, 120, 131 St Antonios skiti 36, 52, 77 St Nikolaos Anapafsas Monastery 36, 41, 52, 58, 59, 75 St Nikolaos Badovas skiti 36, 52, 54, 77, 106 St Stephen Monastery 36, 41, 43, 52, 56, 58, 61, 63, 66, 67, 69, 76, 78, 91, 97, 98, 99, 100, 103, 105, 106, 107, 108 Varlaam Monastery 34, 36, 41, 43, 52, 55, 59, 62, 64, 68, 73, 76, 84, 87, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109 Meteora people Athanasios, monk (later Saint) 34, 35, 51, 70 Dionysios, Bishop 67, 68, 74 Kouros, local resident 75, 111, 112 Meteora tourism development Centre for the Development of Kalampaka and Pyli (KENAKAP) 44, 75, 77, 78, 79, 92, 93 James Bond 'For Your Eyes Only' Film 7, 77, 93 law on the holiness of Meteora 79, 92, 93 widening of road network 7, 80, 91, 92, 131 Meteora use and arrangement of space definition 95 Holy Trinity monastery 100 St Stephen monastery 97 Varlaam monastery 105 Monastery (Orthodox/Byzantine) buildings bell tower 56, 84, 85, 87 cells 34, 49, 52, 53, 56, 59, 63, 64, 65, 82, 95, 96, 97, 98, 100, 101, 104 hospital 56, 103 katholicon / the main church 49, 50, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 62, 63, 64, 65, 82, 87, 95, 96, 97, 98, 100, 101, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107 monastery dependency [metochi] 77 ossuary [osteofilakeio] 51, 107 reception hall [archontariki] 65, 82, 96, 97, 100, 101, 104

refectory 56, 63, 64, 65, 95, 96, 97, 98, 100, 101, 103, 104 storerooms for the past monastic 'treasures' 56, 69, 81, 97, 101, 103, 107 yard 56, 57, 59, 60, 62, 63, 64, 65, 96, 97, 98, 100, 101, 103, 105, 107 Monastery (Orthodox/Byzantine) life and worship avaton [the exclusion of women from entering a monastery] 36, 122 communal monastic activities [diakonimata] 49, 91, 103, 104 definition 49 striking of simantron [wooden gong inviting the monks to the holy services] 91, 120 typicon 50, 51, 52, 117 Monastery (Orthodox/Byzantine) spatial arrangement Catholic monastery 50, 56, 62 definition 52, 55, 56, 59 external space 33, 52, 96, 103, 105, 106, 119 hermetic pattern 52 internal space 33, 56, 58, 59, 95, 96, 100, 103, 104, 105, 119, 120 koinobion / organised monastery 52, 54 monastic complex 33, 52, 78, 122 route of the viewer 56, 57, 60, 66, 73, 119 skiti 36, 52, 54

### **S**

Sites - non-World Heritage Ayodhya, India 26, 29 Bamezoume, Benin 117 Ise Shrine, Japan 127 Jigalong, Australia 28 Kokologo, Burkina Faso 119 Phrae, Thailand 28 Srirangam Temple, India 122, 128 Suwa Shrine, Japan 127 tangata whenua, New Zealand 116 Temple of Arou, Mali 118 Tirupati Temple, India 122, 128 Wandjina rock images in Kimberley, Australia 118 Sites - World Heritage Angkor, Cambodia 21, 118 Bamiyan Valley, Afghanistan 26 Canterbury Cathedral, UK 29

Chaco Culture National Historical Park, USA 21, 22 Cusco, Peru 13 Diocletian's Palace in Split, Croatia 26 Great Mosques of Timbuktu, Mali 117, 126 Great Zimbabwe, Zimbabwe 13, 18, 143 Kakadu National Park, Australia 21, 22 Kasubi Tombs, Uganda 115, 117, 126, 127 Matobo Hills, Zimbabwe 126 Meteora, Greece. *See* Meteora heritage protection, Meteora tourism development, Meteora use and arrangement of space Mount Athos, Greece 4, 43, 67, 76, 122, 128 Mystras, Greece 13, 120, 121, 128, 141, 142 Petra, Jordan 26 Stonehenge, UK 13, 26 Tana Toraja, Indonesia 27 Tanjore Temple, India 122, 126, 128 Temple of the Tooth Relic in Kandy, Sri Lanka 27, 28, 118, 119, 123, 126, 128 Volubilis, Morocco 25 State of Greece (Greek government) heritage protection Byzantine past and heritage 4, 5, 6, 13, 41, 42, 49, 62, 73, 77, 120, 122, 127, 128 Classical past and heritage 3, 40, 41, 42, 43 Ministry for the Environment, Spatial Planning and Public Works 33, 42, 76 Ministry of Agriculture 33 Ministry of Culture 6, 33, 40, 41, 42, 44, 70, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 91, 92, 122, 128, 131 State of Greece (Greek government) tourism development Hellenic Tourism Organisation 42, 43, 44, 73, 74, 92 Ministry of Reconstruction and Development 73 Ministry of Tourism 33, 42, 43, 78, 80, 84, 92, 93, 131 'Sea and Sun' model 42, 43 'Sea, Sun and Culture' model 42, 43, 44

# **V**

values-based approach to conservation application to Chaco Culture National Historical Park, USA 22 application to Kakadu National Park, Australia 21

Burra Charter 21 critique 22, 139 definition (values, stakeholder/interest groups) 21 Getty Conservation Institute 21

# **W**

World Heritage (UNESCO) authenticity 11

cultural diversity 16, 18 'cultural landscape' 15, 16 List 4, 11, 13, 16, 17, 19, 40, 92, 120, 126 Operational Guidelines (for the World Heritage Committee/for the Implementation of the World Heritage Convention) 11, 12, 15 'outstanding universal value' 11, 18, 41, 126 'sustainable development' 16

*The Past in the Present* deals with the complexities in the operation and management of living heritage sites. It presents a new interpretation of such sites based on the concept of continuity, and its evolution to the present. It is demonstrated that the current theoretical framework and practice of conservation, as best epitomised in a values-based approach and the World Heritage concept, is based on discontinuity created between the monuments (considered to belong to the past) and the people of the present, thus seemingly unable to embrace living heritage sites. From this position, the study suggests an innovative approach that views communities and sites as an inseparable entity: a Living Heritage Approach. This approach brings a new insight into key concepts such as authenticity and sustainable development.

Through the use of the monastic site of Meteora, Greece, as a case study, the discussion generated aims to shift the focus of conservation from 'preservation' towards a continual process of 'creation' in an ongoing present, attempting to change the way heritage is perceived, protected and, more importantly, further created.

"*The Past in the Present* is an important and much-needed contribution to the debate about living heritage – and it is particularly significant in the context of the heritage of the past in the modern world. Anyone concerned with how the past is, or should be, integrated within modern lives and identities will need to read this book." – **Leslie Brubaker**, Director, Centre for Byzantine, Ottoman and Modern Greek Studies, University of Birmingham, UK.

"This interesting and thoroughly researched book by Ioannis Poulios is a useful tool in promoting the Living Heritage Approach, and provides a sound theoretical basis for future work. Living Heritage Approach is a paradigm shift that suggests a new way of addressing conservation for our heritage. ICCROM is proud to have introduced this approach, also with the contribution of Ioannis." – **Gamini Wijesuriya**, Project Manager, ICCROM.

**Ioannis Poulios** conducted his PhD research in heritage management and sustainable development at University College London, and attended MBA electives in business strategy and management at London Business School. He has collaborated with international organisations ICCROM and UNESCO and local Greek organisations, and teaches at the Hellenic Open University.