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Heritage Regimes and the State

 | 
Regina F. Bendix
, 
Aditya Eggert
, 
Arnika Peselmann

Closing Commentaries

Managing Cultural Heritage as Neoliberal Governmentality

Rosemary J. Coombe

Texte intégral

1Critical cultural heritage scholarship is thriving, as the papers in this section of the volume clearly illustrate. They ethnographically explore the impact of fundamental changes in the understanding and management of “cultural heritage” as a category of legal, political and governmental significance. Areas of consensus and new forms of contestation are emerging in both the scholarship and practice of cultural heritage resource management, as new norms of heritage management and forms of valuation are interpreted and applied. The authors highlight the socially generative nature of the changing practices of heritage protection and the new objectifications, subjectivities, technologies, expertise, struggles, and vitalities that these new configurations of power and knowledge have energized and put into play.

2In critical scholarship and practice, as well as within the institution of UNESCO itself, we have witnessed a rejection of the hegemony of “monumental heritage,” a term that Laurajane Smith uses to describe the 19th – century European discourse of heritage that privileged the pastoral care of material artifacts as witnesses to history and works of art that reflected universal aesthetic values (Smith 2004, 2006). This dominant understanding of heritage was closely tied to a preoccupation with material forms of national patrimony as the privileged expression of the modern nation-state. Over two and half decades, governments in the global south, heritage scholars and practitioners, and ultimately international policy makers have undermined this dominant vision, emphasizing instead that the very concept of heritage demands greater attention to a wider range of manifestations of human life that more fully reflect the multiple forms in which communities vest significance. Although the World Heritage Convention stressed the concept of “the shared heritage” of humanity through its central focus on the concept of the “universal value” of heritage, it was routinely criticized for legitimizing a particular Western – if not Western European – perception of heritage both in policy and in practice. It was seen as Eurocentric both in its vision and its composition and unappreciative of the different manifestations and practices of heritage in Asian, African, South American and indigenous societies. From a greater understanding of the cultural values embedded in landscapes to a finer appreciation of intangible goods, such as ritual, ceremony, poetry, proverbs, foodways, dance, and song, cultural heritage is increasingly addressed not simply as static forms in need of preservation, but as dynamic resources that are both constitutive of identity and the basis for sustainable development projected into distinctive futures (Loulanski 2006). Nonetheless, ascertaining the best means for governing cultural heritage under this new set of premises has posed considerable challenges.

3One significant set of challenges pertains to heightened controversies over the appropriate custodians of cultural heritage under international regimes in which states continue to be the dominant agents tasked with responsibilities, but human rights-inflected policies increasingly demand greater participation by minorities and indigenous peoples. States are required to maintain inventories of sites suitable for inclusion in a Tentative List of possible nominations for UNESCO status under the various Conventions, and for many years, have been encouraged to prepare these lists with the participation of a wide variety of stakeholders, including site managers, local and regional governments, local communities, nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), and other interested parties and partners. Simultaneously, states are subject to neoliberal pressures to decentralize control over cultural institutions and build new partnerships with private sector actors. The political shifts this is likely to auger may well set in force new challenges to national histories and new disputes about the proper holders of cultural distinctions, as well as tense negotiations over the reifications and objectifications, constructions and artifacts that best exemplify significance for non-national human collectivities (Breglia 2006). The international movement to recognize and valorize “the intangible cultural heritage” (ICH) intensifies these processes by further localizing them and demanding “community” participation in activities that both underline the need for its international protection while “safeguarding” the specific values that such heritage has for communities that may be more fully constituted in the process.

4If, as a matter of international law, states still have the primary obligations, the Convention for the Protection of the Intangible Cultural Heritage is structured so as to encourage state safeguarding activities primarily by raising awareness of ICH in communities and to actively encourage community involvement in implementation. Recognizing that global economic and cultural forces may be one of the threats to distinctive ICH held at the local level, communities and groups are ideally to be empowered and capacitated to maintain ICH as the source of their own identities (Blake 2009: 47).

Nonetheless, there is plenty of evidence that the nature of community participation was a matter of great controversy during the Convention’s negotiation by the Intergovernmental Committee. Certainly both experts and state parties were divided between those giving practitioner communities responsibilities and rights, while enabling them to exercise these, and those prioritizing state control and favoring only weak exhortations to encourage states to engage communities. Although the ultimate priority given to the involvement of communities and civil society is evident, the appropriate mechanisms to achieve this without state initiative are unclear. Indeed, the principle of community participation was difficult to implement even in negotiations. In more than ten governmental and non-governmental meetings, only two appear to have benefited from anything that might remotely be called the “active participation” of “representatives of communities and practitioners” (Coombe and Turcotte 2012: 293).

5According to UNESCO insiders, the addition of the category of cultural landscape to the World Heritage List in 1992 was crucial for legitimating the heritage of local communities and indigenous peoples (Rossler 2006) that later became formalized in the ICH Convention and that has arguably spread as a norm of customary international law into international heritage protection policy more generally. Cultural landscapes, whether designed and created intentionally by humans, organically evolved as the result of human imperatives, or by recognizing the cultural values that natural areas hold as “associative cultural values” embedded in a people’s spirituality, traditions and practices, this new category of inscription on the World Heritage List provided new opportunities for what became known under Article 8 (j) of the Convention on Biological Diversity as “traditional communities embodying traditional lifestyles relevant to the preservation of biological diversity.” Indigenous peoples protected sacred sites and sacred groves long before nature reserves and protected conservation areas were established, and their practices were recognized as significant in protecting biological diversity following the Rio Earth Summit.

6Such values travel between United Nations’ institutions which are encouraged to find synergies. In 1998 UNESCO’s Operational Guidelines were changed to allow for the inclusion of a “traditionally” managed natural site – East Rennell (Solomon Islands) – to be inscribed on the World Heritage List. Due to trends in international environmental policy and an increased global emphasis on indigenous rights, the involvement of local or ‘traditional’ communities in nomination processes was considered ever more desirable. In 2005, the Operational Guidelines for World Heritage sites formally encouraged community involvement. New governance structures combining community resource management systems and traditional national park management were envisioned involving multiple stakeholders while supporting community employment through national institutional support.

7Using cultural heritage management to engineer social change from below not surprisingly entails the use of more abstract normative criteria and more “objective” evaluation practices, including new measures for ascertaining “impact” and doing “cost-benefit” analyses, all of which have effects on local social and political relations as peoples subject themselves to new forms of governance and embrace new forms of reflexivity with respect to their activities. Certainly many of these new accountings are quite alien to the kinds of practices that may be “safeguarded” under such programs, which are those that anthropologists conventionally studied in situ. This, as Laurent Fournier suggested at our original conference, pushes anthropologists studying these processes into research terrains that seem more akin to those of administrative sociology or institutional economics, where many of us are less than fully comfortable. As anthropologists, however, we have many skills at the ready to analyze these processes if we are prepared to explore heritage regimes as new regimes of power based on socially generative forms of neoliberal governmentality. Let us take each of these concepts – neoliberalism and governmentality – in turn.

8Heritage regimes are increasingly neoliberal in obvious and not so obvious ways. Certainly we are witnessing a new dominance of market ideologies in heritage management and in its means of “valuation” with an increasing emphasis on investment in cultural resources and human capital so as to yield economic returns, adding value to them so as to encourage tourism, foster foreign direct investment, encourage product differentiation, and promote new commodifications of “cultural resources” (Yudice 2003), often through new uses of intellectual property vehicles (Coombe et al. 2007, Coombe and Aylwin 2011). Such discourses and practices of valuation are linked in important ways, not to a “withdrawal of the state” as neoliberalism is often popularly understood, but to a new decentralization and distribution of governmental powers. Instead of any simple abandonment of heritage management to “local authorities”, we witness a devolution of authority to new agencies and coalitions of agencies, joint partnerships, public – private alliances, global – local or multi-scalar assemblages of NGOs, international authorities, and transnational agencies, as Keiko Miura (2011) so well illustrates with respect to the protection and safeguarding of the Angkor World Heritage site in Cambodia. Closer to home, Fournier (this volume) indicates some of the ironic consequences of French governmental decentralization for the project of recognizing ICH in a context in which the universalist values of the monumentalist heritage discourse still dominate amongst national policy experts, but the field of relevant interlocutors has expanded to include anthropologists, NGOs and those who occupy the newly minted subject position of “local practitioner.”

9This transformation and proliferation of relevant fields of influence and decision-making in heritage policy work make simple state – society dichotomies difficult to maintain, as Dong Wang in her presentation at our 2011 conference suggested (see also Wang 2010). Examining heritage governance of the Buddhist Longmen Grottoes in Luoyang, a World Heritage Site in Henan Province, Wang showed us how government in the locality was constituted synergistically through international policy, national legislation, local rules, and market needs in which no particular source of power appeared to be privileged. UNESCO requirements subject both public and private entities alike in distinct ways while legitimating a larger scope of autonomy for the municipality than would otherwise be permitted in the authoritarian state. Nonetheless, she suggested, local civil society appreciation for this heritage is often expressed as a matter of national prestige and pride. Indeed, the interpenetration of civil society, state and market forces she showed us exemplified in China may increasingly be more the norm in this field than anthropologists have thus far acknowledged. Maria Cardeira Da Silva (this volume) appropriately advises us to be aware of the horizontal and transversal relations between states and other organizations in this field of transnational governance, where state agency itself may often reflect various forms of cosmopolitan energies and ideologies. Ullrich Kockel (this volume) goes further still, asserting that the political category of “the state” can refer to any one of a number of levels of governance or a combination thereof represented by the coordinated activity of stakeholders from different sectors assisted by various so-called NGOs.

10We need to understand neoliberal governmental intervention as assemblages, anthropologist Tania Li (2007a, 2007b) suggests -- a concept which helps to break down the image of government as the preserve of a monolithic state operating as a singular source of power and enables us to recognize the range of parties involved in attempts to regulate “the conditions under which lives are lived” (2007a: 25). Indeed, the concept of assemblages, abstractable, mobile and dynamic forms that move across and reconstitute society, culture and economy, has become crucial to the ways in which anthropologists have ethnographically studied globalization (Ong and Collier 2005) as a process under construction (Perry and Maurer 2003). While neoliberalism has spread across the globe, it has done so unevenly and inconsistently (Kingfisher and Maskovsky 2008). If neoliberal governmentality has fundamentally shaped “cultural realms in the production and affirmation of diversity through the commodification of difference” (Perreault and Martin 2005: 193), its mandates are interpreted and reworked by the subjects it enables, who may subvert the opportunities it affords for new purposes (Bondi and Laurie 2005). It has been suggested that neoliberalism as an analytic category is best approached as an assemblage of technologies, techniques and practices that are selectively appropriated, come into uncomfortable encounters with “local” politics and cultural understandings, and are mobile and connective rather than global in any universalizing fashion (Clarke 2008). As I have suggested elsewhere, they frequently come up against rights-based struggles (Coombe 2007, 2011a, 2011b).

11As Adelheid Pichler (this volume) shows in her study of the reconstruction of Havana, we are witnessing the emergence of newly globalized local policy assemblages or governance structures which are subject to different forms of accountability than those expected of state governments. We need to consider these assemblages as particular conjunctures – as so many of the papers in this volume do – the intersection of multiple legal, economic, political, and policy forces and interests on many scales. The social benefits now deemed to accrue from cultural resource management in Havana, Pichler illustrates, serve to attract international co-financing and NGO participation, as well as the energies of local officials and elites, while the expectation of profit attracts new venture capital. Significantly, she shows how the opportunity structures and even the predictable means by which cultural distinction is made legible and publicly “staged” for calculable forms of consumption may be appropriated by actors with alternative agendas. UNESCO interest in ICH clearly influenced the Cuban government to permit long suppressed Afro-Cuban religious groups to assume visibility in the public sphere as an instance of cultural diversity that served the needs of heritage tourism. By adopting the distinctive white dress of initiates into Afro-Cuban religions, female relatives and supporters of jailed dissidents use the markers of formerly oppressed religious groups to mark the continuing heritage of oppressing political dissent and denying freedom of expression. Thus they put these new governance strategies to work as human rights resources.

12Heritage resource management, like other forms of neoliberal governmentality, legitimizes new relations of power and knowledge as it creates new subject positions for individuals and social groups, while fostering the articulation of collective subjectivities holding possessive relationships to culture. As many of the papers in this volume illustrate, the process involves practices of interpellation and pedagogy. Christina Sanchez-Carretero (this volume) shows how inclusion of the Camino de Santiago as a World Heritage Site “cultural itinerary” and the nomination process by which the Caminos del Norte are now applying for inclusion has shaped official Galician understandings of appropriate forms of community identity. The sites appear to have the necessary cultural significance to the Christian pilgrims and others who historically traversed these routes in religiously meaningful itineraries and to their descendants. In other words, although no particular significance to local communities needed to be demonstrated for the sites’ inclusion as an example of world heritage, desires for local identification with the site are nonetheless fostered.

13It appears that the increasing emphasis by UNESCO on community heritage values has influenced authorities in the area to adopt the localized politics of identity that constitutes an emergent norm in global heritage work. According to local officials, residents of Olveiroa must be made to participate in the construction and maintenance of “their heritage” and society must be activated as an integral part of the territory. People, in other words, need to be remade or revitalized so as to feel attached to the site as a recuperation of their heritage. How, exactly, this interpellation of Olveiroans as proud possessors of their heritage is to be accomplished is not made clear, but the official desire for them to constitute their identity with relationship to the site is clearly expressed (as it is in Havana). Although the process of seeking and extending these heritage designations was initiated by regional and state governments primarily for economic purposes without any grassroots participation, it has certainly met grassroots opposition. Local activists who seek to have the designation changed to World Heritage in Danger thereby indicate and condemn the failure of authorities to take the necessary care not only to protect the route from harmful forms of development, but also the failure to protect prospects for sustainable livelihoods in the area. These actors have found within UNESCO’s structures, categories and practices effective public means to shame state authorities for their failures to protect the subject matter of UNESCO valuation and their failure to respect the evaluations of those subject to the negative effects of its governance as heritage.

14In global heritage politics, we see an intensification of practices that exemplify what James Scott (1998) called “seeing like a state” by which I mean enhanced priorities given to practices of mapping territories and inventorying their cultural properties, qualities and attributes of significance while making these legible through new forms of documentation, archiving (Reddy 2006, Pigliasco 2009) and publication. Multilateral institutions, such as UNESCO increasingly construct cultural diversity and its manifestations in tangible and intangible heritage resources as a form of currency subject to international surveillance and scientific control. States and communities are encouraged to treat these as forms of capital to be developed and marketed, and to seek international partnerships with holders of necessary expertise to effectively accomplish this. Neoliberal governmentality largely depends on autonomous expert communities that translate governmental priorities into a wide variety of locales and provide new forms of legitimacy (Rose 1999) that promise technical expertise without political entanglements, but provide only fragile forms of authority open to multiple challenges (Tamm Hallstrom 2004).

15Heritage resource management also mobilizes and constitutes new fields of expertise in its practices of subject formation. Its agents are encouraged to approach heritage goods both instrumentally and contractually and new technologies and practices of auditing, standardization, certification, and accreditation enable these perspectives. In the process, states are legitimized as key actors, but other agencies, particularly international NGOs and associated epistemic communities of scientists and other professionals are facilitated and empowered due to their authority to assimilate and develop rationalized and universalized knowledge as expertise (Mattli and Buthe 2003). The listing of the isolated monastic site of Skellig Michael as an organically evolved cultural landscape, Máiréad Nic Craith (this volume) illustrates, put into play a process in which boatmen to an uninhabited island were culturally nominated as “spiritual guardians,” restoration activities were subjected to global archaeological scrutiny, the accredited specialized practices of international experts, and environmental directives while the entire management process brought under evidentiary regimes of documentation and publication subject to wider professional scrutiny ensuring the application of global best practices. Nonetheless, as Nic Craith reminds us, such attempts to wholly represent and capture heritage values are always necessarily incomplete; new understandings of cultural significance and value are always emerging. ICH never has singular values, but multiple and contested histories of significance that tend to be ignored or obscured in official accounts but are never fully contained.

16Florence Graezer Bideau (this volume) illuminates the ways in which national inventories function as technologies of power, illustrating how the Swiss social imaginary and its ideologies and hierarchies were protected, performed and reproduced not only in the contents that were chosen as ICH in the implementation of the 2003 UNESCO Convention, but in the very processes of decision-making that the government put into place after it was ratified in 2008. Indeed, she astutely notes that the process worked to publicly inscribe what appeared to be a “popular” performance of the Swiss federal system itself, despite the rather dominant role assumed by holders of expert knowledge in representing, reorganizing and repackaging (as well as augmenting) the results of this self-consciously “participative” exercise in order, it appears, to best ensure that the end product was appropriately “Swiss” in stereotypical and exclusionary ways. The claim that Switzerland nonetheless lacks institutionalized cultural expertise seems to reflect an anxiety of French influence, and betrays the residual power of the monumental and aesthetic models of heritage that the 2003 Convention was expressly designed to undermine.

17This is further illustrated in Laurent Fourier’s essay (this volume), in which UNESCO’s most recent universalist pretensions and particularistic preferences come up against those peculiar to the French nation state. Although French hegemony in UNESCO is much remarked upon, it has certainly been in decline, as a monumental view of heritage has given way to greater appreciation for “cultural diversity,” intangible cultural heritage, traditional cultural expressions, and minority or community-based distinctions. These shifts in UNESCO’s normative evaluations at millennium’s end were motivated largely, it seems, by Asian countries who felt disadvantaged by modern Western processes of national cultural competition that focused on built environments and monumental edifices, but they were also, significantly, supported by anthropologists, many of them clearly influenced by indigenous rights movements and a more practice-based understanding of culture as lived heritage (Coombe and Turcotte 2012). Fournier quite rightly notes that “communities” have no legally recognized existence in France, but the same could be said about most state constitutions in industrialized societies. Nonetheless, “the concept of governmentality demands that we go beyond asking whether neoliberal rationality adequately represents society, to consider how it operates as a politics of truth that produces new forms of knowledge and expertise that govern new domains of regulation and intervention” (Coombe 2007: 286). For anthropologists, the field of cultural heritage management provides a unique opportunity to study processes of ethnogenesis and an exciting arena to deploy the insights of legal anthropology so as to explore constitutions of collective subjectivity and political economies of community construction (Coombe 2011a, b).

18The cultural heritage of the Curonian Spit, for example, has historically contributed to the making of German, Soviet and Lithuanian identities (Peleikis 2006) and now appears to be poised to assume a new profile as exemplifying a distinctive and shared European culture, which Ullrich Kockel (this volume) suggests, is likely to be a fraught process. Given that the local community is largely made up of relatively recent settlers for whom the heritage promoted is largely foreign, and that other groups returning to the area have different memories from different eras of state governance, it provides an excellent example of the contingency of the modern conjunction of the nation-state and its possessive relation to any singular culture whether defined anthropologically or aesthetically.

19Ironically, the entrenchment of two distinctive understandings of culture in France (the ethnological and the monumental aesthetic) and a bureaucracy divided along these lines (Fournier, this volume), suggests that UNESCO’s new norms and directions may face the most obstinate of obstacles in the country of the organization’s headquarters. To the extent that France distinguishes itself as a nation by its principled commitment to universalism, formalist concepts of equality and an assimilationist model of nation-building exemplified by a globally admired high Culture of monuments and fine arts that represents universal values, its capacities to serve as a model in the field of cultural heritage now face considerable challenge. Nonetheless, this hegemonic template, in which a unified and singular state is socially married to a singular nation which is expressed by a distinctive culture continues to have profound weight, not only in France, I would suggest, but globally, despite the best efforts of UNESCO and human rights bodies to undermine and disassemble it.

20Coming from a country (Canada) that maintains an ideology of two founding nations and must confront the postcolonial struggles of multiple First Nations peoples, I confess to finding this template for cultural valuation particularly oppressive and so, it would appear, do many others. As Philip Scher (this volume) so aptly explores in the Caribbean, international demands that states identify and invest in a distinctive national culture (often premised on interpretations of multilateral institutions and their legal instruments) may well be understood and experienced in people’s everyday lives as a form of state discipline. The capacities to represent culture “possessively” are not held equally by states, even if the technologies for so doing appear to be accessible to all. In other words, not all countries are equally situated in terms of access to those “resources” deemed suitable for “nation-branding” as the Barbados example nicely illustrates.

21Still, one wonders if this involves some failure of state imagination – it is not at all clear why a country’s diaspora is not a part of its heritage (to shake up the territorial and temporal logic somewhat). Rihanna’s birthplace, for example, might well attract tourists with Barbadian backgrounds and others wanting an intimate brush with home-grown celebrity. Brazil, for example, has attempted to claim caipoera as national cultural heritage, not by sequestering its practice, but by vesting mestres (expert practitioners) in its global diaspora with the status as ambassadors for a Brazilian culture understood to be a transnational force (Robitaille 2011, 2014). Moreover, countries in South America have recognized that indigenous cultural heritage spans national borders which have Spanish colonial origins and have collectively nominated transnational indigenous worldviews and cosmologies for UNESCO listing, investment and support. These examples suggest that the emphasis upon community in the management of ICH may spur more creative social articulations than those of nation branding.

22In contrast to the anxiety about national cultural distinction that Scher’s fieldwork suggests and the state discipline and surveillance it seems to foster, Gabriele Mentges (this volume) shows us that a possessive relationship to a distinctive culture was directly fostered in Uzbekistan through international tutelage. The state appears to have first acquired the need to produce and express its nationhood under Soviet governance in a process in which UNESCO appears to have been an effective facilitator. This work is now augmented by WIPO’s agenda for “protecting” traditional knowledge and traditional cultural expressions by the development of new markets for handicrafts. The nation that is culturally expressed here appears to have a stronger relationship with international organizations than with the state, which seems to take many of its cues from them. This suggests that we consider the “performativity” of statehood in international arenas (Weber 1998) rather than simply naturalize the category and its constituents. Just as gender may be the performance of sex rather than its expression (Butler 1997, 1990), so, too, governments may need to act as if they are nations to be recognized as states. In a fascinating presentation at the 2011 conference, Sven Missling suggested that UNESCO provided some unique opportunities for nations to be “seen like a state” – a process which requires international recognition. Specifically, he discussed the Palestinian National Authority (PNA) initiative to nominate the birthplace of Jesus Christ in Bethlehem as a World Heritage Site, an act that was not wholly unreasonable given UNESCO support for the creation of inventories of Palestinian cultural heritage, its demand for accounts of protection measures and its recognition of Palestinian institutions as in need of capacity-building. Given that the PNA is neither a state nor a member of UNESCO, this nomination must be understood performatively as a national expression of state behavior and aspiration. As I wrote this commentary, the nomination was approved and this site inscribed on the international list on behalf of “Palestine.” Such aspirations and other challenges to the modern dyadic bond of the nation-state would seem to be inevitable, if not necessarily anticipated, by the twin emphases of cultural diversity and community participatory empowerment that UNESCO has rolled out in the past decade. By acting like a state and demonstrating possession of those demarcated cultural attributes that allegedly define a nation, movements towards sovereignty may be assisted.

23Aspirations for new forms of sovereignty, however, come from many quarters. Although none of the papers addressed indigenous communities or indigenist political movements, Anais Leblon’s paper touched upon the still unexplored possibility that the focus of attention, energy and investment that UNESCO processes bring to the “cultural” practices of those with land-based livelihoods might still be diverted to support local movements for rights to territory, resources and new forms of self-determination. Despite the predictable standardizations of the forms of cultural heritage the Malian state seemed prepared to encompass as falling within the UNESCO mandate – most of which had little to do with the increasingly threatened practices of raising and herding livestock and served largely to ratify the expertise of already privileged elites – Fulbe pastoralists look to the candidacy of the yaaral and degal as well as new UNESCO emphases on community participation as potential opportunities to address issues of social marginalization, land tenure, food security, and health. The structures and practices of heritage governmentality appear to constrain more than they enable local practitioners in this instance, but this appears to have more to do with the ideological legacies of prior heritage regimes than restrictions inherent in the new one.

24Clearly it is rather too early to ascertain to what extent and how effectively these new and ambiguous international tools for cultural valorization and local development can be put to new ends, but it is not too soon to begin to critically consider the conditions that will thwart or advance struggles for social justice. The field of cultural heritage management is increasingly characterized by unique forms of legal pluralism that should attract the interest of legal anthropologists. We might anticipate also that new issues of anthropological ethics will emerge as field-based anthropologists, particularly students, are called upon to assist in nominations and inventorying processes or to intervene in their modification to better serve local interests. Anthropologists may also need to consider the impacts of their academic publications on local cultural understandings and agency in these new regimes. The relationship between applied and academic anthropologists in this field warrants attention. At the very least, anthropologists need to move beyond an emphasis upon the reifying and objectifying nature of preserving cultural heritage to consider the ways in which the new international emphasis on safeguarding living traditions and ensuring the participation of communities creates new opportunities for political aspiration, articulation and assemblage.

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