Isn't that lovely Now let's flood it with tourists
The historic center of Hoi An looks just how Vietnam is supposed to look: narrow lanes, wooden shop houses, a charming covered bridge. Hoi An's well-preserved architecture — from the 16th century onward, the port attracted traders from as far away as Portugal and Persia — led UNESCO to deem it a World Heritage site in 1999, praising it as an "outstanding material manifestation of the fusion of cultures over time in an international commercial port." Last month, I took a family holiday there, if not to enjoy an "outstanding material manifestation," then simply to visit a historic place. I was not the only one.
Thirteen years ago, when Hoi An was first inscribed on the World Heritage list, the city welcomed 160,300 visitors. In 2011, 1.5 million tourists arrived. Today, tour buses crowd the edge of Hoi An's old town, disgorging sunburned foreigners. Hundreds of nearly identical storefronts — catering to tourists and selling the same tailored clothes, shoes and lanterns — colonize the 1,254 heritage structures. Cyclos prowl the perimeter of the historic center, even as locals complain they can no longer afford the bicycle rickshaws because tourists have driven up the prices. In the rush to squeeze tourism revenue from the area, a hospital has been evicted. The building now houses a tailoring business.
There are 725 World Heritage cultural sites in the world today, an eclectic list that ranges from the old quarters of Istanbul and Rome to the less-heralded town center of Gjirokastra, Albania, and the walled city of Shibam, Yemen. UNESCO says these sites boast "outstanding universal value," and descriptions of them often employ the same adjectives: unique, authentic, well preserved.
It's true that a World Heritage designation can save a historic urban center from becoming yet another undifferentiated, concrete-and-glass dystopia. But many cash-poor countries are fixated on World Heritage because they believe that making the list will unlock tourism riches. A 2008 UNESCO report that sounded the alarm over Hoi An's development could be applied to any number of World Heritage sites. "While local government officials and business owners view ... changes in the old quarter positively, tourists are beginning to notice the loss of authenticity in Hoi An," it warned. "Unless tourism management can be improved, the economic success generated by tourism will not be sustainable in the long term."
It's a fine calculus: How do you lure travelers to historic locales without destroying their integrity in the process? Those places that succeed best tend to be large enough to absorb all the wide-eyed sightseers. Paris may be touristy, but it's still Paris. (Although it should be noted that the only parts of the French capital designated a World Heritage site are on the banks of the Seine.)
The biggest disappointments arise in countries where World Heritage status is used as a tourist honey trap rather than a tool to preserve a national treasure. Take Lijiang, home to the Naxi minority in southwestern China. I first visited in 1994. There were plenty of backpackers converging on the town back then — as a foreign student in China, I was one of them — but the town had a soul. Three years (and one devastating earthquake) later, the old town of Lijiang gained World Heritage status. Walking its lanes today, crammed with tour groups and assaulted by the techno blaring from bars, it's hard to imagine what "outstanding universal value" existed there. Many historic buildings have been gutted and replaced with replicas. The bulk of costumed maidens posing for tourists aren't even Naxi; they're migrants from elsewhere in China. Half the original residents have left.
Conversely, there's also the danger that World Heritage recognition preserves a place in amber, forcing it to become a theme park instead of a living landmark. In recent months, historic parts of Liverpool (listed as a "Maritime Mercantile City") and Seville (whose sites "perfectly epitomize the Spanish 'Golden Age' ") have both been threatened with delisting because of plans for skyscrapers. (The Dresden Elbe Valley was booted off the list in 2009 "due to the building of a four-lane bridge in the heart of the cultural landscape.") Yes, skyscrapers can puncture an urban fabric. But these are magnificent cities with real residents going about their real business.
Compare that with Lijiang or Hoi An, which may adhere to World Heritage rules but feel increasingly like outposts of Disney. And there is more to come. Beijing, for instance, hopes to turn what it has snappily designated as the five "Sites for Liquor Making in China" into a future World Heritage spot. Imagine the tourist potential in a multiprovince pub crawl.