cultural heritage and sustainability in the coastal zone: experiences in south west england

Original article

Cultural heritage and sustainability in the coastal zone:experiences in south west England

Peter Howarda,*, David Pinderb

a Formerly, University of Plymouth, Earl Richards Road North, Exeter, EX2 6AS, UKb Department of Geography, University of Plymouth, Drake Circus, Plymouth, PL4 8AA, UK

Abstract

Theoretical ideas of sustainability of heritage are applied to a practical case study. The south western peninsula of England has a rich varietyof coastal heritage, analysis of which is undertaken via the ‘fields’ of nature, landscape, buildings, sites, artefacts, activities and people. Thevalue of treating the cultural heritage apart from the natural heritage is seriously questioned, particularly in a coastal context. Disputes relatingto the preference for one type of heritage over another are identified. While major successes are demonstrated in landscape and urbanconservation, numerous failures and challenges are also recognised. It is argued that, reflecting institutional dominance of the conservationagenda, the heritage most at risk is often that which carries most meaning for local people and traditional visitors. Relating the study to thesustainability dimensions of economic development and environmental protection, the paper questions whether these wider definitions ofsustainability can be applied to coastal heritage, especially in a remote region.

© 2003 Éditions scientifiques et médicales Elsevier SAS. All rights reserved.

1. Introduction

The south western peninsula of England, like so manyparts of Europe, has always lived by the sea. Its coast remainsfundamental to its economy by attracting visitors, a magnetreinforced by the heritage legacy of a wide range of activities,such as fishing, farming, shipbuilding and defence. Conse-quently it forms an excellent case study for exploration of theproblems of sustainability and the cultural heritage, in part,because of the infinite variety of that heritage—the thingsthat people wish to save from oblivion—and also because ofthe different stakeholders and their various and competingagenda. Against this background, this paper pursues threethemes. First it argues that analysis is central to a full appre-ciation of the breadth and scale of the potential culturalheritage resource base. It suggests that this analysis can beeffectively conducted by applying the concept of “fields” ofheritage, and by questioning the validity of recognising theaccepted dichotomy between cultural and natural heritage inthe coastal zone. Second, the spotlight moves to successesand issues in cultural heritage conservation, partly to bring

into focus the quarters from which successful conservationhas come, but also to demonstrate that a balanced overviewmust acknowledge the numerous obstacles that even todaycontinue to confront the conservation movement. Finally,attention centres specifically on cultural heritage and sustain-ability. Here, the predominant concerns are the degree towhich there is evidence that heritage is providing the foun-dation for revivified, sustainable local economies, and theimplications which modes of cultural heritage consumptionhave for the broader issue of economic development and theenvironment. Beyond this, however, questions are also raisedconcerning the implications of change in the physicalenvironment—in particular global warming—for the preser-vation of coastal cultural heritage.

One final introductory point is appropriate. South westEngland can be defined in a variety of ways, and this article isnot concerned to be over-precise in the area from whichexamples are taken. It certainly includes the coasts of Devonand Cornwall (together with the Isles of Scilly) and much ofDorset and Somerset. A convenient definition is providedbyone of its most important heritage features, the 987 km-long South West Coast Path, a National Trail which runsalmost continuously along the coast, from Poole in Dorsetaround Cornwall to Minehead in Somerset. Fig. 1 indicatesthe extent of the region based on this definition.

* Corresponding author.E-mail address: [email protected] (P. Howard).

Journal of Cultural Heritage 4 (2003) 57–68

www.elsevier.com/locate/culher

© 2003 Éditions scientifiques et médicales Elsevier SAS. All rights reserved.DOI: 1 0 . 1 0 1 6 / S 1 2 9 6 - 2 0 7 4 ( 0 3 ) 0 0 0 0 8 - 6

2. “Fields” of heritage in south west England

2.1. The natural heritage

Narrow definitions of heritage, often based on traditionalacademic boundaries, frequently prove insufficient. Archae-ologists, used to working with the material artefacts of cul-tures, usually long since dead, find themselves working withexisting peoples, uncovering their oral heritage [1,2]. Anydefinition based on the materiality of heritage soon has totreat with people whose heritage is encapsulated in theirlanguage, in Catalonia, in Quebec or Wales, for example [3].The title of this journal itself perpetuates one such division,though a very well recognised one, between cultural heritageand natural heritage. Most cultural scholars feel themselvesill-equipped to deal with the conservation of tigers, orjungles, or rock formations, and the reverse is doubtless alsotrue. However, on the coast particularly, even this apparentlyself-evident distinction between the natural and the culturalcannot be sustained. The attempt to save the cultural coastalheritage is likely to put at risk the natural heritage of cliffs ormudflats, of birds or fish. Indeed as those mudflats are prob-ably inhabited by birdwatchers, practising an indisputablycultural activity—by recording items of the natural heritageand probably paying for their conservation—the distinctionlooks less and less tenable. Considered in terms of the legal

tools of heritage, the techniques of interpretation, curatorialprinciples, and both the philosophy of heritage and practicalsite–management techniques, we find that the zoo, the mu-seum, the nature reserve and the scheduled monument have agreat deal to learn from each other.

Throughout England’s south west peninsula the first heri-tage field, the natural heritage, plays a critical role (Fig. 2).One significant part of it, the coast from Exmouth toSwanage, has been designated (December 2001) as a WorldHeritage Site, recognising its importance in the history ofgeology, and its current significance as a source of palaeon-tological material [4]. There are numerous Sites of SpecialScientific Interest, including the Ramsar sites of the Exeestuary. Off the north coast, the waters around the island ofLundy are the United Kingdom’s only Marine Nature Re-serve, while terrestrial National Nature Reserves are at Slap-ton Ley, Lyme Undercliff and elsewhere. The significance ofnatural heritage immediately brings into question ideas ofsustainability. One of the most significant factors of theWorld Heritage Site is the rapid disintegration of many of itscliffs. This is a classic site for the study of landslips, whichprovide a continuous supply of new fossils. Such a siteimmediately puts strains on heritage concepts of conserva-tion. Both here, and in the ever-changing mudflats so vital forbird life, concepts of sustainability can seem remarkablyremote.

Fig. 1. South west England. Names relate to places mentioned in the text.

58 P. Howard, D. Pinder / Journal of Cultural Heritage 4 (2003) 57–68

2.2. Landscape

Landscape is recognised as a cultural field more com-monly in England than elsewhere. Here it is dignified byhaving its own quasi-non-governmental organisation, theCountryside Agency, distinct from English Nature on oneside and English Heritage on the other [5]. Landscapes,varying from small gardens to mountain ranges, are con-served for cultural reasons, rather than for their natural sci-entific features; they are clearly conserved for human beingsrather than other species. Much of the south west coast isconserved primarily for its landscape value, expressedthrough the grandeur of cliffs (Fig. 3), the imprint of farming,or both. The coast of Exmoor lies within a National Park;those of East and South Devon, much of Dorset and Cornwallare Areas of Outstanding Natural Beauty (AONBs). HeritageCoast designations apply both to these AONBs and to muchof the remainder of the coast, ensuring that the district coun-cils employ staff specifically for their conservation expertise.The enjoyment of these landscapes is the major reason for theexistence of the coastal footpath. But seascapes are vital too.A casual visit to the promenade in every south west resortwill reveal people simply sitting, either in their cars or onbenches, staring at the sea. These resort seafronts are oftenthe only bits of undesignated coast, looking across the bath-ing beach at the always changing seascape. It may be uncon-servable, but the sea itself is a landscape attraction of manydecades’ standing [6].

Quite apart from their visual attributes, landscapes havecultural meaning [7]. At the Tate Gallery St Ives, towards thefar west of the peninsula, one huge window is devoted to acarefully framed view of Porthmeor Beach. Specialists fromother fields forget at their peril that in conserving this rockformation, or that building, they are also interfering with a

Fig. 2. South west England: official protection of the natural heritage.

Fig. 3. Typical cliffed coastline and rocky foreshore.

59P. Howard, D. Pinder / Journal of Cultural Heritage 4 (2003) 57–68

landscape that might have major local or national culturalsignificance, sometimes expressed in painting, music, poetryor novels. The coast around Newlyn and St Ives was favouredby major artists, including the sculptor Barbara Hepworthand the painter Stanhope Forbes. The Fowey estuary is thefocus of Daphne du Maurier’s novel Rebecca, while Purbeckin Dorset can scarcely be considered in isolation from Tho-mas Hardy’s novels and the films made from them. There aremany views on the coast of Exmoor, for example, which formthe regular stuff of picture postcards and tourist brochures,vital to the economy of the whole area [8]. Some landscapesare even more obviously cultural, and the gardens of Corn-wall in particular are major visitor attractions. Lying in shel-tered, steep little combes running down to the sea, theseconserved gardens, such as Trebah, are as much part of thecoastal heritage as the rugged cliffs.

2.3. Monuments

The monuments sector is that which is most traditionallyregarded as “heritage” , comprising, as it does, fixed elementsof material culture, selected for conservation, usually by theguardian disciplines of archaeology and architectural history.In this field many of the ideas of public heritage were formu-lated in the 19th century, especially in France and Britain,and the sector can exhibit a proprietorial, if not exclusive,attitude to the word “heritage” . This is very evident with titlessuch as English Heritage. Inevitably there are many heritagebuildings along this coast, as elsewhere, some of them inti-mately connected with the coast itself. In the sustainabilitycontext, the Royal William Victualling Yard in Plymouthrepresents those coastal features seeking a new life after theexhaustion of their old one. Exeter’s splendid customs house,from 1668, is also currently being restored and seeking a newuse. The neighbouring 19th century warehouses, havingplayed their part in television drama, are now united by thismodern intervention and are in use as restaurants [9]. Thisadaptive reuse is a process, which is far from new, and allaround the coast, former coastguard cottages and hotels arenow converted for residential purposes.

If some buildings are converted, others are just preserved,as is Smeaton’s old lighthouse on the Hoe at Plymouth, savedand re-erected when replaced in 1884. Lighthouses allaround the coast are now likely to be replaced or remodelled,manned facilities having been phased out. Some are redolentwith historical significance—the South West’s Bishop Rockfor example, from which Atlantic voyages were measured, orGodrevy lighthouse, made famous by the author VirginiaWoolf. Not all coastal buildings had coastal functions;around the Land’s End peninsula are the now-conservedremains of the winding houses of tin and copper mines whosevisual grandeur is greatly increased by a coastal location(Fig. 4). As elsewhere, the movement for conserving build-ings has shifted in a vernacular direction, so that the NationalTrust has now restored the small hut from which Marconifirst sent telegraphic messages, on the cliffs of the Lizardpeninsula. Yet there is also a constant tension between this

vernacularising tendency and the need for new coastal devel-opment. At Exmouth, for example, the “Shelly”—a group ofshacks by the shore—has not been conserved but redevel-oped into a marina complex.

2.4. Sites

The “sites” fi eld takes the debate into areas where theheritage is less material. Some locations are heritage not forany material element, but for their significance; not for thesubstance but the cultural meaning. In the south west, Land’sEnd is significant more for its position than its landscape, andthere are many other sites where the meaning may not strikethe casual observer. Sometimes the significance is given byauthors or artists or film-makers, but others have historicalinput. Fine examples are the Mayflower Steps in Plymouth,whence the Pilgrim Fathers sailed for America, and the site inTorbay where William of Orange landed to take the Britishcrown. Tragic sites often live longest, and this coast, as withso many throughout western Europe, is littered with the sitesof shipwrecks. Divers may visit the actual remains, but forthe general public the bookshops are full of literature direct-ing visitors and locals to these sites of morbidity, some veryancient, others very recent. In living memory, the wreck ofthe oil tanker Torrey Canyon in 1976, and the local tragedy ofthe loss of the Penlee lifeboat and its crew in December 1981,are significant.

The events and persons with whom sites are connectedmay be entirely mythical, one major example in north Corn-wall being at Tintagel, a supposed location of King Arthur’scastle. Such sites are public enough, but all residents, and

Fig. 4. The Levant Mine, Penwith, Cornwall. The restored building in thecentre houses the Levant beam engine, a fully refurbished and working minesteam engine. Owned by the National Trust, refurbishment was also fundedby the EU(ERDF), a European Architectural Heritage award, the RuralDevelopment Commission, Penwith District Council and the TrevithickSociety.


most return visitors, carry a mental catalogue of places wherepast incidents occurred. To the authors, the coast of southwest England is littered with places of significance, the resultof many visits with family and others. Every metre of thecoast is important to someone. Such private sites need not bepublicly managed, but managers of official heritage ignorethem at their peril. The issue usually is one where the conser-vation of authentic remains is replaced by the need to com-memorate specific events. On the beach at Slapton Sandsstands a Sherman tank. The authenticity of the tank, orwhether it was truly found here, is of little significancecompared with what it commemorates: the fact that this areawas a practice ground for American troops before the Nor-mandy Landings in World War Two, and that many of themlost their lives here in disastrous exercises.

2.5. Artefacts

The tank, of course, is a movable object, and perhapsgeographers tend to forget that not all heritage is ineluctablylocated; a great deal of it can be moved about, stored inmuseums, or sold in auction houses. Much of the maritimeheritage has indeed been relocated into museums, or intopeople’s homes and gardens. Rusty old anchors adorn many afront garden, and most regional and some national museumscontain significant maritime collections. The National Mari-time Museum at Greenwich now has an offshoot at Fal-mouth, which will include Suhaili, the boat in which SirRobin Knox-Johnston circumnavigated the globe, and thereare other collections at almost every coastal town around thepeninsula. Many of the artefacts displayed have, of course,come from shipwrecks, and this is a particularly fertile fieldof controversy between different interest groups. But themost obvious movable artefacts are naturally ships, and ter-restrial buildings and other maritime heritage remains haveoften come a poor second behind the romance and fascina-tion of the conserved, or even the reconstructed, ship whenconservation monies have been disbursed.

2.6. Activities and ways of life

So much for the material heritage; but there are so manythings which people wish to hand on to succeeding genera-tions which are not material at all, or only incidentally so.The field of “activities” or “ways of life” is therefore ofenormous scale, ranging from language, through diet anddrink, to customs and games, to the performing arts. (Thematerial arts find a home under artefacts.) The heritage of thecoastal zone includes the entire culture of how to use it. Manypeople are less interested in preserving authentic old shipsthan in sailing them, and if that means they are less authentic,and need a Satellite Navigation System and an engine, thenso be it [10]. Coastal activities include not only the culture ofwalking, so comprehensively evident around the peninsula,but also that of sunbathing and of sea-fishing. Heritage is notonly the material lobster pot, but also the ability to make one,and perhaps too the recipe to cook the catch. The composer

Henry Newbolt’s Songs of the Sea are as much part of thesouth west maritime heritage as the lighthouses. As will benoted later, here international and national systems of heri-tage protection break down; so many things fall in-between[11]. Governments seem unable to devise systems to protectthe heritage of ways of life, although they have made at-tempts to conserve language through legal means, and localfoods through systems such as Appelation Controlée. But ifgovernment initiative is often ineffective, people have foundtheir own methods: the world is full of societies to run thelocal carnival, or teach folk dancing, or how to sail old sailingships. The Poldhu Amateur Radio Club uses Marconi’s cliff-top hut to send messages all over the world, and on thecentenary of the original transatlantic radio signal in 1901, itre-enacted the event [12]. In Cornwall and the Isles of Scillythe recent revival of racing pilot gigs, sea-going woodenboats, which took pilots out to ships, is one example of adetermination to conserve the activity as well as the artefact.It is more concerned with rowing than carpentry. Others keepthe Dartmouth Regatta going as an annual event, while thecommercial success of the chef Rick Stein’s restaurant atPadstow also sustains a tradition of seafood cookery associ-ated with the region.

2.7. People

Finally, so much heritage, especially at the private ratherthan public level, is about people. Often sites, artefacts andbuildings are really important only because of the peoplewith whom they are associated. In December 2001, thepeople of Looe attended a service to mark the bravery of theirlifeboatmen who had carried out a rescue with conspicuousgallantry 50 years before. An exhibition at Britain’s NationalMaritime Museum of the artefacts from the Titanic wasclearly targeted towards the people rather than the signifi-cance of the material remains [13]. In Plymouth, a simpleplaque on the wall of a new marina office commemorates thesurviving crew of the Titanic and the place where they werereturned to safety (Fig. 5). While conscious of our inability tokeep our dearest alive [14] , we memorialise where we cannotconserve. Our graveyards are obvious examples of the heri-tage of people, and the graveyard at St Mary’s, Isles of Scilly,where those lost in the wreck of the German emigrant shipSchiller are buried, is particularly poignant. The problem ofdeath remains a daily problem in the coastal zone, as collec-tors tread with ever greater caution on the remains of thedead. Many wrecks are designated graves where the heritageof people is supposed to take priority over that of artefacts. AtRapparree Cove, in North Devon, human remains from an18th century wreck were recently examined to see if theywere those of West Indian slaves known to have lost theirlives. Repatriation was seriously discussed.

As an exercise in classification, consideration of thesefields of heritage forces an expansion of our horizons as wedefine the things that have heritage value. Although, like allclassification, it is imperfect because it produces boundariesthat are profoundly unsatisfactory, it is nonetheless valuable.


The coastal zone exhibits all the fields, natural and cultural,in great complexity. A conference for the holistic consider-ation of the heritage of even the shortest stretch of coast willnecessitate a round table large enough to accommodate adozen different disciplines, including the folklorist as well asthe botanist. Add to that the simple issue that the coastal zoneextends both ways, seaward as well as landward, and we candouble the number of experts. All of which, of course, as-sumes that heritage is indeed a matter for experts, whichitself is at least contentious.

3. Successes and issues in heritage conservation

There are some outstanding successes in heritage manage-ment and designation around the peninsular coast. In the late1960s, the National Trust which was already a significantlandowner in the region, recognised a threat to the coast frombuilding development, together with the spread of caravanand camp-sites. So began Operation Neptune, a major fund-raising effort to purchase coastline for conservation that hasresulted in hundreds of km of outstanding coast coming intoNational Trust ownership in Devon and Cornwall alone. Tothe holdings the Trust has acquired over several decades onecan add the government’s designation of a very large propor-tion of the south west as Heritage Coast, and successfulnegotiations with landowners to create the South West Coast

Path, which now leaves the open coast for only limiteddistances in towns. In fact the large majority of the coast thatis regarded as scenic is quite carefully protected againstbuilding development and is remarkably accessible, at leaston foot.

While landscape protection success is readily identifiable,so too is monument conservation. Here the theme of changebecomes important because conservation has been closelyassociated with building adaptation or updating with respectto either functions, or users or perceptions, or indeed anycombination of these. St Michael’s Mount long ago ceased tobe a monastery and became a private home as the church lostpower and the gentry gained it. Function and user bothchanged. Later it was transformed, in part at least, into avisitor attraction, changing users again, though also remain-ing a private home. Dartmouth Castle did not change itsfunction of guarding the River Dart estuary from invadersuntil quite recently, but it was remodelled and updated con-stantly to house different or improved weapons, including aSecond World War gun battery. Similarly, throughout theregion the decline of traditional coastal industries—such asfishing, defence, some kinds of tourism and the export ofmined products—has led to heritage conservation throughchange of use. Fort Picklecombe, originally a key defensiveinvestment barring enemy access to Plymouth’s naval port,has been converted to holiday apartments and second homes(Fig. 6). Although most of the coastal lime kilns have becomepicturesque ruins, some have a new life as storerooms orhomes. And while the physical remains of an old gasworks inSt Ives have been completely demolished, the distinctiveshape of its dominant round gas holder is echoed in therotunda of the modern replacement building. Moreover thisbuilding, as a regional branch of the Tate art gallery, addssubstantially to local cultural resources by displaying thework of the many prominent artists who have worked in thearea.

Echoing landscape conservation, agencies and other or-ganisations have played a role in this monument conservationprocess. English Heritage has responsibility for outstandingexamples such as Pendennis and Tintagel castles; the Land-

Fig. 5. The Titanic memorial, Millbay, Plymouth.

Fig. 6. Fort Picklecombe, Cornwall. Part of Plymouth’s defences, nowconverted to residential use.


mark Trust has acquired a range of unusual buildings andconverted them to rented holiday accommodation; in westCornwall the Trevithick Trust has become the guardian ofseveral major industrial sites now open to visitors. Despitethis institutional role, however, the greatest degree of heri-tage building protection has come through the steady gentri-fication of the coastal zone. Some south west seaside settle-ments have very high proportions of retired people—atSidmouth or Budleigh Salterton, for example—who haveinvested extensively in their properties. Elsewhere, espe-cially in Cornwall, some villages are dominated by renovatedholiday cottages and second homes. Parts of the coast havebeen the residential choice for commuters to the larger towns,so that much of the population of south east Cornwall worksin Plymouth. And the lure of the sea has similarly attractedmany who could work anywhere—not least, of course, thefamous artists of St Ives, and writers of Lyme Regis. Therecan be little doubt that the combined expenditure by newowners on the conservation of the coastal zone’s vernaculararchitecture has far outweighed the input of governmentfunds into major projects and, indeed, the investment nowbeing attracted by Cornwall’s status as an EU Objective 1region.

Though cultural heritage conservation has been extensiveand often impressive, it has not been issue-free. In somecases the conservation process has only been just in time. The1930s art deco lido at Plymouth has been falling into disre-pair for many years, but recent official “ listing” and thecurrent revaluation of modernist architecture may now saveit. In 2001, a strategy was devised for refurbishment based onoutdoor and indoor pools, plus other leisure facilities (Fig. 7).Here it is important to recognise that perception remainscritical with respect to what will be valued and conserved,perhaps even more noticeably in the coastal zone than else-where. For example, the concept of the attractive landscapehas changed dramatically over time, causing even the sameplace to be viewed differently. Only late in the 19th centurydid the coastal prospect overtake the river scene as a pre-ferred paintable landscape; and for tourists the most valuedtype of coast varied dramatically during the 19th century as

seafront promenade resorts such as Weymouth or Sidmouthlost favour to the coves of Ilfracombe, the Torquay of the1850s and a fascination with Cornish villages 50 years later[8,15]. In the 1850s, Murray’s Guide could still ignore thegreat sandy beaches of north Devon [16]. Not only weredifferent places preferred, the same place was seen differ-ently. The estuary of the River Dart, from Totnes to the sea,was certainly well regarded before 1830 as “a string oflakes” , yet only interesting at high tide and rather like LakeGeneva. By mid-century, it had become the “English Rhine”and by 1890, it was “more like some Scotch sea-loch” [17].Such perceptual change underlies both the motivation forheritage conservation, and its results. As one process leads tobuildings and districts falling into disrepair, so another leadsto their recategorisation as worthy heritage.

Despite this process, in many other cases the revaluationhas not been quick enough. At Exmouth the wooden chaletsand shacks on the Shelly have now been demolished to makeway for new apartment blocks overlooking the old dock,itself being converted into a marina. In spite of the numerousfishermen’s cottages and former fishing ports, the heritage offishing as a dominant local way of life is now scarcelydetectable throughout much of the peninsula. The stink offish has largely been lost [18], as have other rich workingaromas—tar, diesel and various cargoes—associated withdockside life. The port of Hayle on the north Cornwall coast,once an important gateway for the export of metal ores andthe import of coal, stands derelict, its port infrastructureslong since swept away. The sounds that accompanied suchactivity have been similarly replaced by the sounds of anytown, with the addition of herring gulls and wires slappingagainst the masts of small boats. Also gone are the accompa-nying clouds of dust, from lime being burnt, to coal beingoff-loaded and china clay being loaded. Even though therehave been extensive successes, conservation is also ex-tremely partial.

Run-down ports or waterfronts raise other issues, becauseone particular focus of civic authorities’ attention has beenthe harbour-side—as much in south west Britain as the rest ofthe world, from Brisbane to Baltimore and on to Bristol’sFloating Harbour. These districts often exemplify the selec-tion of particular heritage pasts for particular groups ofstakeholders—with implications for the exclusion of others.At Exeter Quay a run of cellars which once housed ordinaryactivities, such as a car paint-spraying workshop and asecond-hand motorcycle establishment, found their rents in-creased beyond their means, allowing neat, acceptable, craftworkshops to take their place. The same went for people. Theyoung motorcyclists were clearly the wrong kind of visitorso, in an attempt to attract quite different outsiders, theinsiders’ needs for a place to stroll, or to get the car sprayed,were overridden by remodelling the urban landscape. Thestreet furniture was replaced, and the area re-cobbled. The“Historic Quayside” , as it is now known on the brown touristsigns, was obviously intended to be an exercise in the dem-onstration of local identity and sense of place. But, as the

Fig. 7. Plymouth’s art deco waterfront lido, now disused and badlydecayed.


craft workshops have opened and the fancy street furniturefrom a heritage catalogue has been introduced, “McDonaldi-sation” has been the consequence. The locality has becomepart of the world-wide “heritage” phenomenon belonging tono place and no particular time1.

The exclusion issue also relates to the perceptions of thosegroups driving conservation, and extends well beyond theurban waterfront. Throughout the south west, the coast thathas been conserved is essentially that of cliff and cove(Fig. 8), leaving the shoreline within urban districts largelyundesignated. Consequently the coast preferred by tradi-tional beach tourists remains unprotected while that pre-ferred by walkers is carefully safeguarded—not least fromthe kind of accommodation and leisure facilities that tradi-tional beach tourists prefer. To a degree, this reflects the factthat the traditional beach tourism market—largely based onrail travel and hotel or boarding house accommodation, plussandy beaches in a lively urban environment—has been mi-grating to warmer and cheaper Mediterranean venues. But itmay also be that traditional tourists have looked elsewhere atleast partly because they can perceive that the careful protec-tion of heritage in the south west has made little provision forconserving their own preferred landscapes and places. Argu-ably, on the contrary, heritage has been conserved as muchfrom them as for them [19]. The interests of the classicheritage or eco-tourists—predominantly white, middle-classand even middle-aged—have prevailed.

Governments, whether national or local, can be powerfulagencies in this exclusion process as they manipulate andselect for conservation the heritage that gives the image they

seek. This acts as a kind of censorship, and is particularlyapparent in the coastal zone where governments can oftenadd the power of ownership to that of legislation. Exclusion,however, is also a function of the activities of academicdisciplines with interests in coastal heritage. These disci-plines include many with a desire to conserve the naturalrather than the cultural heritage, but their activities, and thedesignations that they include, can have a major impact oncultural activities. Sometimes, in the case of particular naturereserves, this maydeny access to all except themselves. Thecoast is littered with a panoply of scientific designations:Sites of Special Scientific Interest, some ecological but manygeological; National (and indeed local and marine) NatureReserves; and Ramsar sites on wetlands. These academicinterests may dispute control over the area among them-selves, but their common agenda (largely shared by govern-ments and their local and national advisory bodies) precludesmany of the interests of many visitors, most notably thetraditional summer holiday-maker. If that traditionalholiday—and the coastal heritage associated with it—is in-deed dying, then it has been a death at least in part engineeredby the academic-government heritage lobby.

One final, but not unrelated, issue must be noted. The newheritage coast is remarkably photogenic, because that iswhat is needed. The emphasis is firmly on the visual. AtFowey, where there is still china clay traffic, it is neatlytucked out of sight upriver, away from visitors’ cameras. Thenew heritage is clean and tidy, a concept long associated withcontrol. The seafront shacks on the Shelly at Exmouth wereseen as scruffy, unpainted, by no means uniformly in goodrepair, and probably a health hazard. Only now is the percep-tion beginning to shift that such heritage, without an archi-tect’s name in sight, might be as meaningful as a palace. Theholiday camp at Minehead, the long rows of beach-sidechalets in all the resorts, and perhaps one day the oldercaravan sites, may also be due for rehabilitation. If so, how-ever, this raises a further complication. The conservation ofthe untidy, like that of the ruin, is a difficult technical exerciseif the very charm that led to the designation is not to bedestroyed. At Tintagel, the National Trust has had greatdifficulty in re-roofing acceptably the Old Post Office, abuilding famous for its skew roofline caused by the originaluse of poor timber.

4. Sustainable development

Sustaining the cultural heritage by converting it to newuses, for new users, following new agenda, is nothing new.Sail-lofts have become artists’ studios for many years, andwith hindsight a number of substantial sustainability suc-cesses in this context can be claimed.

When the National Trust engaged with the large-scaleconservation of the wilder parts of the coast in the 1970s, andwhen this was linked with local government action to createthe South West Coast Path, those involved were perhapsunaware of the economic potential of their initiatives. But the

1 It is only fair to add that the “Exeter Bollard” was designed for ExeterQuay, and is now in demand from all over the world.

Fig. 8. Cliff, cove and former fishing community: a typical association ofnatural and cultural heritage.


foot and mouth crisis in south west England in 2001 broughtit home to all that access to land and footpaths, of which thecoastal footpath is the jewel in the crown, is critical to theregion’s economy. Suspension of access rights in order toprotect the interests of farmers immediately hit virtually alltourism businesses, including those of farmers who had di-versified out of animal husbandry and at great expense hadconverted farm buildings into tourist accommodation. Re-cently, the south west has witnessed heavy investment insewage treatment plant by the regional water company in thepursuit of a return to clean sea water. While much of theimpetus has come from Europe in the form of water qualityregulations, the organisation SurfersAgainst Sewage has alsobeen influential, not least because of the considerable mediaattention it has attracted. At first sight this movement relatessimply to conservation of the natural heritage: the demandthat one might enjoy a clean ocean and that one’s childrenmight inherit it.Yet it is also intimately connected to the goalof sustaining cultural heritage. Surfing is the latest form ofthe region’s age-old cultural tradition of sea use and alreadybrings substantial income to parts of the south west. Growingsea pollution would threaten this new economy, and alsoother income derived from cultural activity based on ahealthy environment, from specialist ornithology to moregeneral holiday-making.

In the settlement context, meanwhile, the heavy invest-ment in the conservation of vernacular architecture notedearlier has been crucial in halting downward spirals andsecuring future economies based on income from new resi-dents and tourists attracted by the conserved townscapes andvillages. More specifically, in the resort town of Weymouth,the local council owns a large number of Regency terracedproperties along the sea-front which are let as hotels. EnglishHeritage has been involved in advising the local council in arefurbishment scheme, involving new lighting and new sig-nage and front graphics to an agreed range of designs. Thehoteliers at first resisted, considering that only a completelyfree hand would enable them to stress their distinctivenessfrom their neighbour. After a free trial, however, the hotelshave developed new custom, and are now keen supporters ofthe scheme. Fine buildings have been recovered from de-cline, and hoteliers are making greater profits from moresatisfied customers.

Despite such examples, there are clear signs that conser-vation leading to long-term economic sustainability is anextremely challenging goal. Viewing the region’s coast in itstotality, a sustainable future economy, let alone a sustainablebiosphere, may not be brought much closer by such activity.Moreover, as these signals are examined, they begin to callinto question apparent sustainability successes such as thosenoted above.

In some instances, sheer scale is a major obstacle. This iscertainly one factor that has hampered the successful re-useof important defence facilities. These include Plymouth’sRoyal William Victualling Yard, as discussed by Pinder else-where in this issue, and the whole of the former naval base at

Portland. There one of the largest harbours in southern En-gland now lies largely unused. In such sites there is the veryreal risk of expensive investment, particularly in the conser-vation of outstanding buildings, leading to no appropriatenew use. In some localities scale is also an issue with respectto the influx of newcomers who have been responsible for theconservation of so much domestic architecture. In ExmoorNational Park this immigration and associated cultural heri-tage consumption has driven housing prices to such a levelthat the Park Authority is seeking means to ensure that localpeople working locally will have priority for housing. With-out this there is the very real danger that cultural heritageconservation will not go hand in hand with the sustainabilityof the community.

As the Royal William Yard example implies, public own-ership can be a burden and involve considerable cost that maythreaten sustainability. South from Exeter runs the ExeterShip Canal, perhaps the oldest such canal in the country, partof the route dating from the 16th century. It is entirely in theownership of Exeter City Council, but the southern and moremodern end lies within the confines of a neighbouring districtcouncil, Teignbridge. That lower, newer, section has beendesignated as heritage by the Teignbridge authority; it is anofficially listed building and, as the owner, Exeter City Coun-cil is required to maintain it as such. However, Exeter has notso far felt the need to designate as a monument the sectionwithin its own jurisdiction, even though it is the older section.Similarly, in the late 1990s, the Exeter authorities decidedagainst greater support for one of the region’s major collec-tions of boats, at the city’s maritime museum; this collectionhas now been broken up and dispersed to many other sites. Inan era of extremely tight budgets it can be expedient to avoidtaking on additional economic burdens voluntarily, yet thismay directly threaten heritage-based sustainability.

Major sustainability issues are associated with transport.The south west peninsula is comparatively remote from therest of England—a typical example of a region which is aheritage-rich periphery rather than a financially-rich centre[20]. Modern tourists, largely encouraged by the heritageconserved for them to enjoy—coastal footpaths, gardens,museums, harbours, castles, industrial architecture, etc—areoverwhelmingly dependent on the car. Though visitors maywell walk the coast path, or cycle the trails provided, they getthere by road, using the car to travel to the region and movewithin it once they are there. Conditions are strikingly differ-ent from the past, when the journey to and from the holidaywas normally by train, and when most time was spent enjoy-ing urban seaside pleasures and occasional day trips bycoach. Admittedly, compared with many other regions thesouth west of today has better opportunities to travel sustain-ably using a relatively extensive rail network (Fig. 9). More-over, for over a decade the Devon and Cornwall Rail Partner-ship, a consortium of local authorities and national bodiesco-ordinated by Plymouth University, has worked explicitlyto promote sustainable tourism through more extensive use


of rail [21]. Yet the fact remains that the car continues todominate.

Bringing more tourists to the area under these conditionscan never be disguised as a sustainable activity, and there arefar-reaching implications in terms of general environmentalimpacts. Energy consumption for a car passenger is usuallyat least double that for the same journey by inter city train,and for local trains the gap is generally substantially greater.The picture is even worse in a scenario in which significantnumbers of tourists fly to the region, as now seems highlylikely given a budget airline’s recent decision to operatebetween London Stansted and the south west’s surfingMecca, Newquay. But the questions raised with respect totransport sustainability are also more subtle and more local.More visitors mean more energy imports by pipelines andoverhead powerlines, as well as more sewage exports, ortreatment works. Despite the National Trust’s brave decisionnot to cater for the car at its Prior Park property in Bath, mostheritage attractions have little choice but to provide the car-parks to enable them to survive. Is a meticulously conservedwalled garden converted into a car park sustainable? Whatare the implications for the cultural landscape of the constantthreat of road widening schemes, largely to accommodate yet

more visitors’ cars? As usual, heritage is destroyed by itsfriends.

The key role played by incoming tourists raises otherquestions concerning economic sustainabilty. Although theregion has benefited from the national trend for short breaksout of season, especially but not exclusively linked withhalf-term school holidays in spring and autumn, tourismremains heavily dependent on a very restricted mainseason—little more than 6 weeks in July and August. Eco-nomically, therefore, a major cost is a great over-supply ofroom space for most of the year. In labour market terms thisinevitably means extensive seasonal work; and because thisseasonal work is frequently poorly paid, it is often taken bymigrant workers from elsewhere in the UK and abroad. Thuslow earning potential is often coupled with external leakage.Here we must acknowledge that a drifting tide of workerswas in the past typical of other coastal activities, from thefishing trade to times when the naval fleet was in port. Yet inmodern sustainability terms these conditions do not suggestthat the cultural heritage supports a secure economy. Therecent award of EU Objective 1 status to Cornwall bears outthis conclusion, especially in the far west of the peninsula.

Fig. 9. The rail network of Devon and Cornwall.


One consequence of economic insecurity is, of course,that it can feed back to impact on the material heritage. Theseasonality of the hotel trade, coupled with the modern trendtowards self-catering holidays, calls into question the futureof many large, architecturally important hotels in the majorresorts. These may be heritage problems in the making sincenew uses are far from obvious. Even if the built heritage iscarefully conserved, the search for market-oriented new usescan be a long and arduous one, as Exeter’s Customs Housedemonstrates. Here there have been many attempts to find afunction combining public access with conservation andprofit, but so far without success. The maintenance of emptybuildings may be of little value in promoting an economi-cally sustainable future.

While economic considerations are important, future cul-tural heritage sustainability must also be viewed in its physi-cal context. The ravages of every winter give to all forms ofcoastal conservation an element of risk not found elsewhere,with the result that sustaining the coastal building can be anunsustainable option. For example, in an era of increasingstorminess, Plymouth’s refurbished art deco waterfrontswimming pool will continue to be exposed to the elementswhich initially brought about its physical decline. Whenattempts are made to resolve physical threats, conflict canresult, not simply between state agencies and the public butalso between state agencies themselves. Bideford has wit-nessed a protracted dispute involving English Heritage andthe Environment Agency, with the people of Bideford in themiddle. Here the problem is the need to prevent furtherinundations at spring tides, while at the same time preservingthe historic quayside.

Even more problematically, sustaining the built heritagecan easily put other heritages at risk. Saving the fine Regencysea-front architecture of Sidmouth, for example, has meantmassive expenditure on the construction of protective islandsof boulders. Yet this work is probably connected with accel-erated erosion of the cliffs at nearby Beer and Axmouth.Despite this, Lyme Regis is working on the same agenda,seemingly oblivious of the need for sustainability measuresfor the built heritage to take account of the direct impact onthe natural heritage. The importance of such issues is under-lined still further by the implications of global warming.Rising sea levels will produce a whole new crop of problems.There are already places where any concept of sustainability,or even of stasis, is absurd. The beach separating the sea fromthe precious fresh-water lagoon at Slapton Ley was breachedin the winter of 2001. At the south west’s new World HeritageSite the Jurassic Coast is falling into the sea faster and moredramatically than at any time since Queen Victoria wasdrawn to the great landslip of 1839. Governmental advisorybodies, as well as the National Trust, now accept that severalareas will be lost to the sea, although, of course, new wet-lands may well be deposited. Hence the Trust’s policy ofmanaged retreat, which accepts that significant stretches ofcoast will be inundated over the coming years. While this is areaction to physical processes, an unavoidable consequence

will be cultural landscape loss, which in some instances maywell extend to the built environment.

5. Conclusion

Application of the “heritage fields” concept clearly dem-onstrates the diversity and richness of the south west’scoastal cultural heritage. Closer examination reveals suc-cesses with respect to both conservation and progress to-wards more challenging sustainability goals. At the sametime, however, the notion that the region’s cultural heritagehas reached an essentially sustainable state cannot be seri-ously entertained. Conservation has bypassed too muchcoastal heritage, for example because of problems with rec-ognition, the heritage mindsets held by the agenda-settingelites, or the inadequacy of financial resources relative to thescale of the heritage legacy. Meanwhile, claims for the attain-ment of sustainability goals are also questionable. Continu-ing weaknesses in a tourism industry increasingly geared tothe exploitation of coastal cultural heritage do not suggestmovement towards long-term sustainability in the regionaleconomy. The dominant role of the car in tourism raisesserious environmental impact issues, locally and more gen-erally. The rigorous coastal climate has long escalated thecost of cultural heritage conservation, and in some localitiesthis cost mayspiral well beyond sustainable levels as theconsequences global warming, sea-level rise and increasedstorminess are felt.

At its gloomiest, this scenario may suggest that—despitethe best efforts of those engaged in conservation, and despitethe acknowledged successes—in places the most appropriateimmediate policy could be “managed ruination” , a strategy infact suggested by Ruskin and Morris more than a centuryago. Conceptually this might be the cultural equivalent of themanaged retreat policies now increasingly accepted andpractised by those responsible for natural heritage. Until theneed for a sustainable future is more pressing than is cur-rently the case, more pragmatic management policies willhave to be continued, and are certainly preferable to therandom destruction of all buildings and landscapes that haveoutlived their current function.

However, what is also arguable, particularly in the light ofthe conclusions drawn with respect to the environmentalimplications of car-based cultural heritage tourism, is that thegoal of sustainable conservation should be shifted radically.If tourism can never be sustainable, then conserving heritageto serve the local population in very different ways mightwell be. The recently created Regional Development Agencyis now quite clear that heritage, both natural and cultural, isvital in attracting new industrial and commercial develop-ment to the area [22]. It is not argued here that this is a perfectsolution. Past experience in the developed world has demon-strated incontrovertibly the dangers of placing regionaleconomies in the hands of external decision-makers. Seriousjob losses in Plymouth and in Torquay’s electronic industriestestify locally to the current reality of this problem. Yet the


recent decision by the UK’s Meteorological Office to relo-cate from congested south east England to the cathedral cityof Exeter, a move influenced and approved by its workforce,demonstrates the appeal of natural and cultural heritage forhighly skilled and well-paid workers in sectors not subject tothe whims of the market. Moreover, it is now widely recog-nised that the small business sector, comprising both migrantbusiness people and local entrepreneurs, can be crucial to thestability and long-term sustainability prospects of regionaleconomies.

Clearly, the south west’s cultural heritage has an importantrole to play in attracting and retaining these small-businessentrepreneurial skills. In the planning context, therefore,perhaps the major current challenge is to initiate the processof making this paradigm shift. Tourism cannot be supersededovernight; but it is important to recognise its limitations,particularly with respect to the environment and economicsustainability. And it is important, also, to perceive thatcoastal cultural heritage has the potential to be a key drivertowards the reduction of those limitations.

Although these conclusions are drawn specifically withrespect to the south west case study, their relevance to thegeneral relationship between coastal cultural heritage andsustainability is substantial. Many coastal areas enjoy a cul-tural heritage as rich as that found in the south west. Acommon experience is the problem of sustaining that heri-tage through conservation policies and the allocation ofscarce resources made available by governments and volun-tary conservation bodies. Part of that experience is selectiv-ity. By definition this poses threats to the cultural patrimonyassessed as being of low priority and, in consequence, tendsto exclude from the agenda the preference of substantialgroups in society. Even if such conservation issues did notexist, many areas would share with south west England thechallenge of how to exploit cultural heritage as a resourcecapable of contributing effectively to sustainable economicdevelopment. Deteriorating climatic conditions threaten toescalate conservation costs, with major implications for eco-nomic viability. It is not self-evident that the automatic re-sponse to cultural heritage exploitation— further touristdevelopment—will genuinely bring about the degree of eco-nomic strengthening which many coastal communities areanticipating. And the continuing dominance of the car fortourism points clearly towards the need for planned heritageexploitation policies to be evaluated in cost-benefit terms,setting obvious and immediate economic gains against prob-lems such as the impact of less obvious and less easilyquantified environmental degradation. While the work dis-cussed is necessarily a case study, therefore, in various re-spects it raises issues of widespread importance.

References

[1] L. Smith, “Doing Archaeology” : cultural heritage management and itsrole in identifying the link between archaeological practice andtheory, International Journal of Heritage Studies 6 (2000) 309–316.

[2] L. Smith, The archaeologists as a commodity: re-appraising the role ofarchaeologists and their knowledge in CHM, Seminar Paper, TheFourth Cambridge Heritage Seminar: The Condition of Heritage,McDonald Institute, Cambridge, 28 April 2001.

[3] P. Gruffudd, D.T. Herbert, A. Piccini, “Good to think” : social con-structions of Celtic heritage in Wales, Environment and Planning D,Society & Space 17 (1999) 705–722.

[4] World Heritage News 31, no. 3, 14th December 2001. See UNESCOWorld Heritage Centre WWW pages at http://www.unesco.org/whc/welcome.htm.

[5] J. Sheail, Landscape and Nature: the great divide, LandscapeResearch 13 (1988) 2–5.

[6] A. Corbin, The Lure of the Sea, Penguin, Harmondsworth; alsoP. Brassley, On the Unrecognized Significance of the EphemeralLandscape, Landscape Research 23 (1998) 119–132.

[7] S.E. Larsen, Is nature really natural? Landscape Research 17 (1992)116–123.

[8] P. Howard, Landscapes: The Artists Vision, Routledge, London, 1991,pp. 46.

[9] Exeter Quayside was used for the television series The Onedin Line inthe 1970s.

[10] G. Easthope, Heritage sailing in Australia: a preliminary schema,International Journal of Heritage Studies 7 (2001) 185–190.

[11] L. Young, Museums, heritage and things that fall in-between, Interna-tional Journal of Heritage Studies 3 (1998) 7–16.

[12] Reported by BBC Spotlight, 12th December 2001.

[13] S. Deuchar, Sense and sensitivity: appraising the Titanic, InternationalJournal of Heritage Studies 2 (1996) 212–221.

[14] A subject much studied in D. Lowenthal, The Past is a ForeignCountry, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1985.

[15] P. Howard, Early tourist destinations: the influence of artists’ chang-ing landscape preferences, in: R. Kain, W. Ravenhill (Eds.), HistoricalAtlas of south-west England, Exeter University Press, Exeter, 1999,pp. 450–452.

[16] J. Murray, A Handbook for Travellers in Devon and Cornwall, JohnMurray, London, 1851.

[17] P. Howard, above, op. cit 8 (1991) 195–196.

[18] A process noted for Hull, in north east England, by D. Atkinson, S.Cooke, D. Spooner, Tales from the river-bank; place-marketing andmaritime heritages, International Journal of Heritage Studies 8(2002).

[19] Not a new situation in the UK. See C. Williams Ellis, Britain and theBeast, London, 1937. This is a call for landscape conservation, wherethe eponymous Beast is the British public.

[20] M. Lapka, E. Cudlinova, Beyond the models of marginality, Interna-tional Journal of Heritage Studies 4 (1998) 216–229.

[21] C.A. Charlton, Public transport and sustainable tourism: the case ofthe Devon and Cornwall Rail Partnership, in: C.M. Hall, E. Lew(Eds.), Sustainable Tourism: a Geographical Perspective, AddisonWesley Longman, Harlow, 1998, pp. 132–145.

[22] South West of England Regional Development Agency, RegionalStrategy for the South West of England 2000–2010, Exeter, 1999.


cultural heritage and sustainability in the coastal zone: experiences in south west england

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