Maria Cardeira da Silva
2 Portugal – Large Country, Small Country
Portugal’s oldest university, Coimbra University, dates back to the 12th century and it is now applying for World Heritage status. In November 2010, Coimbra University organized the 2nd International Meeting of WHPO (World Heritage of Portuguese Origin), in which 24 countries signed the Coimbra Declaration. The WHPO Network’s main goal is essentially presented as:
to promote cooperation between countries with cultural heritage (tangible and intangible) of Portuguese influence so that the tools and knowledge that facilitate access to UNESCO’s World Heritage and their management in-struments are available to all as provided by the UNESCO’s Global Strategy documents. (WHPO 2010)
A great deal could be said about this encounter, a sort of Portuguese display of the UNESCO regime, but I will merely describe the atmosphere in which the event took place and forgo ethnographical rigor here, in order to share later a few vi-gnettes that might allow us to appreciate in loco the effects of the rhetoric devel-oped and summarized there. To describe in a few words what happened in Coim-bra – where, apart from Portuguese delegates, there were representatives14 from 24 other countries – we could speak of a “forum” of investment in a shared colonial past. This was a game in which everyone could take part on the same level, as
14 These were official delegates from the Ministries of Tourism, head offices dealing with heritage making, museum curators, and local or regional representatives of UNESCO.
tugal alternatively represents itself as a large–small country in a peripheral location but with a global vocation, which allowed each of the other participants to position themselves strategically without losing face. Although it is hard to follow this game, it is easy to imagine how in the case of Brazil, for instance, taking into ac-count its economic and political position in the world today, there appears to be an inversion of colonial relations, with “the empire striking back.” But the multiplicity of Portuguese rhetoric enables all the partners to make their move, and capitalize on it symbolically and financially.
There are many more World Heritage Sites of Portuguese origin or influence in the world (of which there are 22) than in Portugal itself (of which there are 13)15. Portugal is a country with few resources to invest in economic cooperation. In the name of Lusofonia, it prefers to channel them into its more recent former colo-nies16. Cultural cooperation is, therefore, a way to lubricate diplomatic relations with other African countries with which it had more remote historical connections.
This paper limits itself to African cases, but Portugal’s indirect involvement in places on the UNESCO map of classifications extends to three continents – Afri-ca, Asia and America.
Outside Portugal, World Heritage of Portuguese influence is of colonial origin, or as successive Portuguese governments like to put it, the result of the “first glob-alization” which was allegedly carried out by the Portuguese. This rhetoric is based on an assumption that simultaneously explains its heritage policies as well as its major forms of bilateral cultural cooperation.
Nearly all diplomatic speeches in this setting are rooted in the idea of Luso-tropicalism. Lusotropicalism is an underlying rhetoric of Portuguese colonialism that praises the distinctively Portuguese soft form of colonialism, promoting racial and cultural miscegenation. This concept was proposed by Gilberto Freire – a well-known Brazilian ideologist – to glorify the virtues of Brazilian hybridism and sup-port multiculturalism. According to Freire, the historical roots of Lusotropicalism were to be found in the multicultural layers of Portugal’s own national history:
Since its origin, Portugal has known how to incorporate difference into its identity.
It was this legacy of genuine tolerance and miscegenation that later on softened Portuguese colonialism and produced what he called Lusotropicalism (cf. Castelo 1998). This alleged Lusotropical distinctiveness of Portuguese colonialism was very useful during the final phase of colonialism and dictatorship – especially after the Bandung Conference, which once and for all stigmatized Portuguese colonialism in
2 One among the latter is directly related to the period of colonial expansion. This is the Hieronymi-tes Monastery in Lisbon built by King Manuel I in 1496 in honor of Henry the Navigator, the first paladin of the discoveries. It has been listed as a World Heritage Site since 1963.
16 There were different phases of Portuguese colonisation. Lusofonia applies to the so-called “Third Portuguese Empire” or return to Africa, when Portuguese colonialism took the shape of a modern project in the 19th century (Clarence-Smith 1985) and could be integrated with what Cooper (2005) calls “late colonialism.”
195517 – and still lasts today, deeply embedded and barely undisputed, in the con-struct of “the Portuguese way of being,” and present either in institutional or indi-vidual rhetoric.
Cooperation and heritage-making projects at an international level are mainly undertaken in Portugal by the government and the Calouste Gulbenkian Founda-tion. This important foundation was designed and donated by Calouste Sarkis Gulbenkian in his will dated June 18, 1953. It is a private institution of general public utility and the largest provider of funds for projects within the area of herit-age of Portuguese origin. It is part of the European Foundation Centre (EFC) and is involved in several artistic activities, development, science, and education. Its international services provide support for projects that aim – among other things – at promoting and disseminating Portuguese culture within the areas of historical heritage and expressions of Portuguese culture through scholarships, subsidies for IT and audiovisual equipment, and donations of sets of works by Portuguese au-thors. The history of this foundation and the personality of its founder should be taken into consideration in order to understand the resilience of some cultural policies that have remained relatively uncontested in Portugal until today. It should be said (and this still needs further investigation) that in the last years of Salazar’s fascist regime, the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation (FCG) was the main provider of stages and performances for an exercise, albeit restricted, of cosmopolitanism among the Portuguese elites. Among the lower classes, too, the foundation pro-moted literacy and the arts in creative and effective ways, such as itinerant libraries, concerts and exhibitions throughout Portugal. This lent the FCG an aura of char-ismatic cosmopolitanism and might explain why – along with the population’s gratitude for its generosity and the genuine excellence of its activities in times of a dearth of cultural and artistic events – its cultural policies are approved a priori by most within a civil society. The FCG is still looked upon as a supplier of social distinction, in Bourdieu’s terms.
I would argue that governmental heritage-making projects together with those implemented by the FCG at an international level are configured by six fundamen-tal factors. Together, they outline these endeavors’ specificities with regard to the bilateral relations with former colonized countries:
1) The discourse of – and belief in – Lusotropicalism and its corresponding political performance;
2) the harmony between the rhetoric of Lusotropicalism and the “creative di-versity” oratory of the UNESCO regime;
3) the distant past of Portuguese colonialism in many of the contexts involv-ing this kind of cooperation;
17 “Portuguese colonialism can be said to have been in a subaltern position vis-à-vis other internation-al and coloniinternation-al powers; administered by a sminternation-all semi-peripherinternation-al country with at best a weak economic centre, it was sustained by a dictatorial regime and it lasted until 1975, later than other European colonialisms.” (Vale de Almeida 2008: 435)
4) the fact that Portugal’s political and economic power in global terms today is innocuous or irrelevant together with
5) its – nevertheless – strategic position in the European Union and its Atlan-tic vocation; and
6) the boom of colonial nostalgia (Werbner 1998) across the entire world.
It is within this framework that Portugal has been administrating its cultural and participative relations of cooperation, both real and symbolical, in promoting many heritage sites of Portuguese origin. These assumptions have allowed Portugal to replicate a model of nation strongly based on a romanticization of its colonial past, enhancing these global connections under the umbrella of UNESCO’s heritagiza-tion projects.
Countries with whom Portugal has at times had less friendly relations, none-theless permit the country to project into the past an idea of cultural co-existence and miscegenation. This sustains, today and internally, an undisputed image of a once great and now as always tolerant nation. This is in line with the vague but unquestionable principles of “creative diversity” that UNESCO broadcasts, possi-bly relieving the Portuguese people and their governments of the responsibility of having to comply with them in the present and within their national borders.
Nostalgia is both a way of remembering and forgetting. Although Portugal has based its image on miscegenation and cultural tolerance, it is careless about manag-ing its cultural diversity politically. Such diversity increasmanag-ingly characterizes Portu-gal as a result of the growing influx of immigrants. Unlike Great Britain or France, there is no clear historical continuity – colonial and postcolonial – in the political guidelines for handling immigration. Throughout its colonialist period, Portugal followed a case-by-case policy, oscillating between models of assimilation and seg-regation according to the different colonial contexts and moments (see Machaquei-ro 2011). Portugal’s somewhat casual attitude to its cultural integration policies is supported by the naturalist perception of the Lusotropical “tolerant Portuguese:”
Portugal is a large country with a global vocation. The responsibilities in this do-main, however, are more easily shrugged off by assuming the obligatory conformi-ty with regard to the European directives on these issues: Portugal is, after all, a small and peripheral country.
The FCG strategy on heritage building seems to rely on the decisions of a re-stricted number of architects that worked for the Gulbenkian Foundation from the last quarter of the 20th century. Their names and memorials to their attendance can be found in most of the heritage sites of Portuguese influence, from Safi in Morocco to Ormuz in Iran. Prominent historians and archeologists participate in concomitant celebratory processes, as was the case in the publications of four huge and expensive volumes on the Património de Origem Portuguesa no Mundo (Mattoso 2011). The fact that the FCG interventions usually involve a great amount of mon-ey for structural rehabilitation might well explain why local agents do not complain about its general neglect of local participation. This might also be explained,
espe-cially in the case of some impoverished citadels in Morocco, by the fact that the state (or the makzhen18) controls most of the heritage ventures.
Portuguese governmental investment on heritage building abroad relies on the national expertise of its ministry departments (especially the IGESPAR, the Insti-tute for the Architectural and Archaeological Heritage, run by architects, historians and archaeologists19). However, local specialists are also involved, for instance, in Mauritania where a local architect’s atelier was hired. Heritagization processes of
“Portuguese Discoveries” led by the government are usually developed under the scope of bilateral cooperation programs of development, which would, at least in name, suggest some kind of mutual participation. Nevertheless, these projects are random and subject to political alternation, and subject to the personal approaches and resolutions of the different experts involved. Contingent encounters, such as those resulting from occasional strategies and frail heritage policies, seem to allow for a larger role of local and informal participation in heritage building, even when the states are involved. This was, as we will see, the case in Mauritania where herit-age and tourism enabled the emergence of unexpected actors.