CAPA FÍSICA DEL PROTOCOLO MODBUS SOBRE LINEAS

Authenticity is an ancient word, deriving from the Greek term authentikos, and it has long been linked to debates within heritage conservation (Gustavsson and Peterson 2003). Yet, official recognition of authenticity within heritage conservation was initially quite limited (Starn 2002), and this only occurred with the term’s inclusion in the 1964 International Charter for the Conservation and Restoration of Monuments and Sites (Venice Charter), which noted that:

People are becoming more and more conscious of the unity of human values and regard ancient monuments as a common heritage. The common responsibility to safeguard them is recognized. It is our duty to hand them on in the full richness of their authenticity (Preamble, ICOMOS 1964).

Citing the charter, the United Nations Educational, Scientific, Cultural Organisation (UNESCO 1972) World Heritage Convention declared that for monuments and sites of Natural and Cultural heritage to be included on the World Heritage List, they had to pass a ‘test of authenticity’ (Starn 2002: 2). This heralded an emphasis on the material properties of monuments and buildings, and consequently professional heritage conservation approaches consider authenticity as an ‘objective and measurable attribute inherent in the material fabric, form and function of artefacts and monuments, and a positivist set of research methods and criteria have evolved to test their genuineness’ (Jones 2010: 182). Yet, much recent research in geography, anthropology and sociology has argued that authenticity, rather than being inherent in the object, is a social and cultural construct, which has different meanings to different people in different places (Alberts and Hazen 2010; DeLyser 1999; Bruner 1994; Gable and Handler 1996). These different cultural understandings of authenticity are reflected in the Nara Document on Authenticity (1994), which notes in Article 11 that:

All judgments about values attributed to cultural properties as well as the credibility of related information sources may differ from culture to culture, and even within the same culture. It is thus not possible to base judgments of values and authenticity within fixed criteria. On the contrary, the respect due to all cultures requires that heritage properties must be considered and judged within the cultural contexts to which they belong (ICOMOS 1994)

Thus, the authenticity of buildings and landscapes should be judged in their own cultural context, for instance, in the case of the Temple of Ise in Japan, ‘local beliefs … hold that society should prevent structures from decaying because of the negative connections this has with death’ (Alberts and Hazen 2010: 60-61), hence, the guidelines allow the criteria of workmanship to out- weigh other criteria in order to retain the living cultural traditions of completely rebuilding it

periodically (Starn 2002). While this cultural relativism could be seen as dissolving the ‘test of authenticity’, Starn (2002) argues it should more properly be seen as a safeguard;

Authenticity remains ‘the essential qualifying factor’ (Article 10), but not reductively so, ‘within fixed criteria’ (Article 11). Therefore, ‘knowledge and understanding … in relation to the original and subsequent characteristics … and their meaning, is a requisite basis for assessing all aspects of authenticity’; the sources for ‘authenticity judgments … may include form and design, materials and substance, use and function, traditions and techniques, location and setting, and spirit and feelings, and other internal and external factors’ (Article 13) (Starn 2002: 10).

As Peter Howard (2003: 227) notes, echoing Article 13, there are, what he calls, multiple ‘versions of authenticity’ which are all open to judgment. I suggest that, in the case of a particular building or landscape, these can be thought of as ‘dimensions of authenticity’ which all will be present to some greater or lesser extent. These dimensions include whether it; can be proven to be designed by a specific (famous) architect or built by a particular craftsperson; is made of the original material; is still used for its original purpose; was what the designer originally intended the building to be; reflects the history of all the changes that have been made to the building and its different uses; is an integrated whole that includes outbuildings and gardens; is on the original site with surroundings as they originally were; has a similar emotional experience to that originally intended; and looks like it originally did (Ashworth and Howard 1999; Howard 2003). Thus, it is apparent that with more nuanced and sophisticated criteria, there has been an evolution in the understanding of what constitutes an authentic building, town, monument or landscape. Authenticity

now belongs not simply in some original source, some founding moment, some first structure, but to entire historical palimpsests and in the very processes of historical

development. No longer is truth innate to the oldest remains, earliest forms, autochthonous creations, or steadfast continuities. It belongs instead to the whole stream of time that continually reshapes every object, idea, structure, and symbol (Riaubiene 2007: 80).

It is also evident, however, that some of these dimensions of authenticity conflict with one another, for instance, a building that reflects its history of usage and changes will not be made of the original material, but a building’s alterations constitute part of its social history. Gardens grow and original surroundings may seem quite different with, or without, large trees. Thus, there is the question of which dimensions of authenticity should be considered as most important, and I suggest that it is the disciplinary perspective of heritage practitioners which tends to influence which dimensions of authenticity are privileged.

Training plays a particularly important part in deciding whose heritage is officially recognised, as we saw in Section 2.3, and this recognition may well hinge on whether something is considered authentic, or not. For instance, a fine arts perspective tends to prioritise famous designers and craftspeople, original materials and the look of the building, but may prefer a building that is unused, and certainly requires them to be unaltered. Yet the emphasis on structure means that

context is considered far less important, and consequently re-location is deemed an appropriate way of saving heritage (Warren-Findley 2001; Lowenthal 1985). Conversely, the humanities perspective highlights the historic layers of meaning that accrue with the on-going use of a building, thus alterations are part of buildings’ authenticity, while an environmental perspective pays particular attention to the landscape context and on-going usage. The Scandinavian historical geographer Kenneth Olwig focuses on these contrasting perspectives with his

distinction between tradition and custom. He notes that a ‘strict emphasis on the preservation of authentic tradition tends to create an either/or situation in which some buildings are frozen in time and others are allowed to go to ruin’ (Olwig 2001: 354). Custom by contrast is the ‘source of ever-changing practices, rooted in a vital sense of the past’ (2001: 339), and he argued that we should try to

develop approaches to heritage that can increase the understanding of how principles of custom might work to create environments that both preserve a sense of historical continuity and remain economically and socially viable’ (2001: 354).

In many respects this view is closely related to Warren-Finley’s environmental perspective on heritage but has little to say about the bio-physical environment. There is no reason, however, why the emphasis on custom should not also incorporate effective protection of the natural environment as part of heritage management. In order to explore further how such principles of custom might be used to preserve a sense of historical continuity in lived-in landscapes, I turn to the geographic literature on authentic place-making and dwelling.