"Remember our friends at Engineered Labs? They were the ones whose viral TikTok of the apparent smashing of Indus Valley terra cotta elicited outrage for its casual and disrespectful attitude towards the care of South Asian material heritage (even thoughthe pottery in the video turned out to be fake). Another reason that the video caused such a furor is that Engineered Labs sells a product that they call the "Heritage Personal Museum," a collection of fragments from 33 historical artifacts, cast in acrylic: from "Pompeii Ash" to "Dinosaur egg shells." Considering this alongside the video, it looked like the company was deliberately breaking items in order to divide them up and sell them. A representative of the company insists this is not the case, and I have no way of verifying whether the items in the "Heritage Personal Museum" are any more authentic than the Indus Valley terra cotta replica. But the product does nicely capture an important aspect of common thinking about heritage that in turn plays akey role in conservation-the idea that there are important parts of a common human heritage that anyone might be interested in, and therefore anyone might justifiably possess. To say that our heritage is held in common is to say, on this view, that we all have a claim to it. The "Heritage Personal Museum" is just the "Encyclopedic Universal Museum" (the museum that aspires to collect representative samples of artifacts from all times and places) writ small"--
What does a sanctuary for Hawaiian crows have in common with a troop of robots programmed to perform the Maori haka, or recreations of World Heritage Sites built in Minecraft? They are all attempts to save things from loss, disappearance, or destruction. Every one of us is confronted by questions about what to save, whether we're considering old keepsakes, a family tradition, or a local park. What should we save and why? How and from what? By whom and for whom? This book brings together insights from a wide range of contexts to help readers consider these questions for themselves.
What does a sanctuary for Hawaiian crows have in common with a troop of robots programmed to perform the Maori haka, or recreations of World Heritage Sites built in Minecraft?
A family heirloom. An endangered species. An ancient piece of pottery. A threatened language. These things differ in myriad ways, but they are tied together by a common thread: they are all examples of things that call out to be saved. The world is brimming with things worth saving, and we have limited time and resources. How do we decide what to save? Why do we make these choices?
Philosopher Erich Hatala Matthes explores these questions as they surface in radically diverse contexts--from museums to TikTok, and from National Parks to the corner of your attic. Matthes illustrates the deep relationship between the things we might save and our sense of self. If our cares and concerns are a fundamental part of our identity, then what we care for and preserve will play a significant role in shaping and maintaining our understanding of who we are. In a world in which everything that we care about is subject to powerful forces of change--from climate disturbance and armed conflict, to social transformation and the wear and tear of time--the terms on which we confront change will be key to whether and how we can save the things we care about in the ways that really matter to us. Will change be foisted upon us? Or is there a role for us to play in rejecting, influencing, or managing change? As he explores these questions, Matthes tackles related themes such as authenticity, agency, and appropriation: Who exactly should be responsible for saving things, and on whose behalf should such efforts be pursued? These are all essential elements to a fuller understanding of what to save and why.
