**7. The Fate of Henequen Haciendas**

Since the INAH-led salvage project started in 2007, there was concern about the eventual destruction of the hacienda San Pedro Cholul. PAHHSPCH' early research focus on the peon house lots was motivated to a substantial degree by the belief those peripheral remnants would disappear sooner rather than later. We did not conduct exploratory excavations in San Pedro's *casco* before the 2013 field season. In order to obtain funding for more extensive interventions, Hernández Álvarez submitted a proposal for a three-year research project to the Consejo Nacional de Ciencia y Tecnología (CONACYT) in 2015. The project was authorized by both CONACYT and INAH the following year and granted funds in excess of MXN 1,000,000. However, despite this shift in attention and the necessary financial support, the chapel was the only larger construction for which the project goals were met, as the core buildings of San Pedro were almost entirely dismantled by heavy machinery in March 2018 [57], as shown in Figure 6.

**Figure 6.** Aerial photo of San Pedro after almost complete destruction of *casco* buildings. Foreground: Machinery house and chimney. Background: Residential development Gran San Pedro Cholul.

After the hacienda's destruction was reported, INAH officials immediately proceeded to verify the infraction, assess the damage, and seal off the affected areas. The following administrative process entailed a formal investigation regarding the destruction of built historical heritage. A request was sent to the construction company to submit a statement and a series of meetings and appearances were held to clarify the purported acts and to plan damage compensation. As no agreement was reached, INAH turned the case to the Procuraduría General de la República (Mexico's offices of the attorney general) where expert opinions have been solicited and the first hearings conducted. Although both INAH and UADY staff have been trying to persuade developers to preserve and protect the remains of the hacienda for almost a decade (for example, delivering copies of all reports and publications), their position remains without change—the presence of historical remains decreases the surface area for new residential buildings and therefore diminishes revenue. While we argued San Pedro would generate added value to the new residential neighborhood as a park, recreative area, or cultural center, architects and engineers had found the buildings to be too damaged to warrant a reconstruction. To our knowledge, the descendant community did not engage with the developers either before or after dismantling.

The decision to demolish most of the buildings of San Pedro's *casco* is even more difficult to comprehend in view of the company's advertising strategy for the residential development. Gran San Pedro Cholul not only adopted the name associated with the former hacienda but is also promoted under the slogan "Grandeza de Tres Culturas"—the grandeur of three cultures. The official website [67] opens with a video describing the development of a neighborhood where the past and the present fuse together. Potential buyers are courted with the perspective "to live among the vestiges of a millenary pre-Columbian civilization and the nostalgic presence of hacienda *cascos* from times of henequen splendor (translation by first author)". A click on the "Tips y Artículos" tab on the same website clarifies some of the perceptual differences. Among the heritage sites recommended to new neighbors are the archaeological zone of Aké and the hacienda San Pedro Ochil. The former is a public heritage site under the direction of INAH, located 27 km to the east, while the latter is a restored henequen

hacienda in private hands, which houses a restaurant, is rented for social events, and is situated 45.5 km to the southwest.

#### **8. Discussion**

This brief review of our own and other colleagues' experiences studying Yucatan's industrial heritage from an anthropological perspective has brought to light the complex relationship between present-day stakeholders and the material remains of former haciendas [68]. Recreating a neocolonial pattern observed on a global scale [24] (p. 294), tourism promoters and, truth be told, many archaeologists portray the region's patrimony as a static entity firmly tying Yucatec culture to the pre-Columbian Maya civilization. However, a closer look at more recent time periods tells a different story. Until the early 1990s there was arguably no pan-Maya identity among indigenous communities of the Yucatan Peninsula and adjacent Guatemalan highlands [18]. Although few, the cases presented in this article demonstrate that present-day communities might be more or less aware of the remnants of pre-Columbian settlements in their surroundings. Moreover, consciousness of what is technically known as tangible heritage depends heavily on a person's occupation, his or her age and gender, and possible contact with professionals of the area.

This perceptual variation regarding heritage extends into the industrial era and its vestiges. Communities do not ascribe value or perceive themselves as heirs to a given culture or society of the past simply because of the existence of nearby architectural or other material remains. As Ingold [26] puts it, the landscape, natural and cultural, does not impose on people. Instead, people build a relationship with their environment through interaction. Memory and the perception of heritage are part of this dynamic system. Ethnographic work shows how this relational memory is driven by physical experiences and the embodiment of interactions with natural and social forces. Eyewitness accounts of Yucatan's Gilded Age converge on the arduousness of labor on henequen plantations, the rare taste of soda beverages, the isolation of holding cells, or the joy of religious festivities. The heritage of Yucatan's henequen haciendas does not lie in their buildings, but the lives lived within them.

Acknowledgement of this fact is crucial for any effort toward heritage preservation. If stakeholders are not somehow related to a given site, they will not imbue it with a symbolic patrimonial or any other value. The example of large-scale developing enterprises indicates the greater the resources and the access to land, the bigger the potential threat. As evidenced by San Pedro Cholul, in extreme cases, this can lead to the outright destruction of material markers of heritage, even though the glorious moments of an abstract past are seemingly being celebrated. However, the dismantlement of entire buildings by heavy machinery is not the only factor in the disappearance of pre-Columbian or historical vestiges in the region. The small-scale yet pervasive extraction of stones for construction purposes originated during Colonial times and continues to be one of the most common forms of looting, specifically in rural Yucatan [69] (pp. 20–21). Nonetheless, the relationship between human communities and their patrimony is not characterized by dialectic opposites. The examples from Nohuayún and Sihó exhibit how material remains are often neither completely destroyed nor reverberated. Rather, they are transformed and continuously imbedded into the daily lives of surrounding communities. The conversion of a Gilded-Age construction into a drinking water dispensary might not cause delight among archaeologists, historians, or tourism promoters, yet at the end of the day the building persists. Similar to the destruction of historical buildings in order to increase the surface available for new developments, here the economic value outweighs a merely ideational consideration. The difference is that, in one case, almost an entire hacienda was destroyed, while only a few walls were modified in the other.

Challenging the constricted perception of tangible heritage as a display of itself [70] (p. 7), we acknowledge that soccer or baseball games in the yards of former haciendas do not conform either to the largely contemplative relation which defines visits to most official patrimonial sites in Mexico. Nonetheless, we also recognize that communities continue to maintain ties to these locales and assign

recreational value. In comparison, the transformation of San Antonio Nohuayún's open spaces for horticultural purposes appears to be closer to historical reality. The detailed mapping of San Pedro's *casco*, for example, led to the identification of an enclosure with hydraulic infrastructure, such as feeder channels and reservoirs, indicating the existence of a vegetable garden [71]. Together, our case studies suggest that the preservation of Yucatecan henequen haciendas does not depend as much on the structural integrity of their standing architecture, but their potential value to the communities which interact with them.

As mentioned by Meyers [6] (p. 143), "engagement with descendant communities and other stakeholders will bolster the strategies that are brought to bear on ( . . . ) questions [of heritage preservation]." In this regard, we have to consider that the tensions between the vestiges of the past and the actors of the present in the context of haciendas or other patrimonial sites are still largely mediated through the control of neocolonial elites over the aesthetics of economically valuable landscapes [24] (p. 279). For example, in seeking to integrate tangible heritage into new residential developments or other private landholdings, proposals to turn them into museums, restaurants, or spas might be a more viable option than advocating for their preservation as part of green spaces. This argument aligns with Hutson et al. [28] (p. 8), who express no a priori conflict over the support of economic interests, specifically when they favor heritage preservation. On the other hand, rural settlements, linked to their past as remnants of former haciendas, see the emergence of actors who defend their built heritage more pragmatically by giving it value through their daily actions and recreational use.

In order to reach sustainable agreements, it is imperative to identify all parties of interest [28], p. 4–5. So far, this paper considered professionals in charge of heritage preservation, developers, and descendant communities. However, the case of San Pedro is exemplary for the limitations of such coarse, non-inclusive categories. Given access restrictions to residential developments, such as Gran San Pedro Cholul, once the construction of houses is concluded, many new neighborhoods become walled-off. Unless they own a residence or are involved in a neighborhood business, the descendants of the former hacienda would not be granted access to whatever historical remains will be kept in place. This is yet another clear example of what has been framed as communities being "legislated out" of the opportunity of being managers of their heritage [24] (p. 289). Despite our unconformity with such policies, we also want to stress that the new homeowners will be in constant proximity to the land and everything on it. It is very likely that some kind of relationship will be established between this community and the remains of the hacienda (and the pre-Columbian site).

It is here where efforts toward heritage preservation must be more inclusive and aware of the multiplicity of stakeholders. Without denying the compelling and primordial claims of descendants, we believe the presence of new residents in an area presents an opportunity more than a threat to heritage sites. However, for this to become true, these communities must also be actively involved in the decision-making process. Without a previous relation to the landscape and its constituting elements, it is unlikely (yet not impossible) that newcomers will acquiesce to merely contemplative uses of the land. It is more plausible for transformative proposals, such as recreational spaces or small-scale businesses, to find appeal. Withal, the creation of ties between new groups of stakeholders and the landscape does not have to wait for preservation concepts to be put in place. One strategy, which has been increasingly implemented in recent years to raise awareness, is place-based education [24] (pp. 237–275). For example, after developing a series of outdoors archaeology workshops for Native American youths in the state of Wisconsin, USA, Reetz and Quackenbush [72] (p. 500) contend that this approach possesses the potential to improve environmental stewardship. Their indigenous students appeared to benefit more from science and ecology-related lessons and were more encouraged to be the "tellers of their own existence, of their past, present, and future".

Residents of the city of Mérida have been able to partake in similar experiences, thanks to the efforts of the municipal government, UADY, as well as NGO's, such as *Xíimbal K'áax* and AYERAC. The municipality's summer program "Taller de Arqueología para Niñas y Niños" [73] and the "Arqueofest 2019" [74] have received particularly strong public appraisal. Both are tailored toward

elementary school audiences and aim at reinforcing regional identities and promoting the appreciation of the region's (bio)cultural heritage. Although the objectives include a challenge to the perception of an archaeology dedicated exclusively to the discovery of ancient masonry buildings in remote locales, both events are held in city parks with partially restored archaeological remains. Here, children are encouraged to participate in educational activities which are fun and, at the same time, cause appreciation. The hosting groups of archaeologists also invite both kids and their parents on guided tours through the respective sites. Given the multiethnic character and the accelerated growth of Mérida, most of the families who attend these events might not consider themselves direct descendants of the pre-Columbian or historical settlements serving as venues. They are, however, part of the neighboring communities of the present and, therefore, hold both claims and present the potential to be acknowledged as stakeholders.

#### **9. Conclusions**

This review exposed the importance of establishing links with descendant communities and other groups of stakeholders regarding the preservation and management of historical heritage in Yucatan. PAHHSPCH sought to provide San Pedro's descendants with opportunities to express their visions of a heritage site with which they had related for generations before its eventual abandonment. Nevertheless, we failed at broadening our perspective on the multiplicity of stakeholders involved in the preservation of tangible heritage by not acknowledging the new residents of Gran San Pedro Cholul. Of course, there is no guarantee that a neighbor's appeal could have prevented the destruction of the hacienda, but developers would have had to negotiate with an additional interest group. At Nohuayún, villagers convinced owners to donate the hacienda's chapel to the community. At Sihó, residents continue to find ways to adapt historical architecture to their current necessities. It is likely the new homeowners at Gran San Pedro Cholul would have appreciated exploring the possibilities of relating to a neighborhood with historical remains.

In conclusion, we believe in the social responsibility of institutions, specifically those funded by taxpayers, to collaborate with and disseminate knowledge to the communities who sustain them. Regarding archaeological projects in Mexico specifically, this includes INAH, state governments, as well as public universities, such as UADY. Research objectives ought to include helping present-day populations, descendants or newcomers, to turn into co-managers and protectors of their own heritage. We realize that the mechanisms for the community stewardship of tangible heritage have yet to be articulated. Similar to many other countries, in Mexico monuments have historically been prioritized over the people who lived and continue living in and around them. In order to transfer more rights and responsibilities to communities, a collaborative perspective must be incorporated into the academic discourse of those in charge of training new generations of archaeologists. It is only when professionals and other stakeholders are comfortably seeing eye-to-eye that sustainable ways of heritage preservation can be agreed upon.

**Author Contributions:** Conceptualization, H.H.Á., L.F.S., and M.Z.; methodology, L.P.D., H.H.Á., and J.V.d.l.T.; formal analysis, M.Z. and H.H.Á.; resources, H.H.Á., L.P.D.; data curation, H.H.Á.; writing—original draft preparation, M.Z.; writing—review and editing, M.Z. and H.H.Á.; visualization, L.F.S. and J.V.d.l.T.; project administration, H.H.Á. and L.P.D.; funding acquisition, H.H.Á. All authors have read and agreed to the published version of the manuscript.

**Funding:** Financial support for PAHHSPCH came from CONACYT's Ciencia Básica program, grant number 2015-258270.

**Acknowledgments:** First, we want to thank all PAHHSPCH members. The passion and interest in learning of many now-former students has allowed us to cover an array of research topics we could not have imagined when first exploring the hacienda's old paths back in 2009. Special thanks go to José Trinidad Escalante Kuk and Jorge Antonio Pech for their valuable help with historical and demographic information on present-day Cholul. Similarly, we want to acknowledge all of the colleagues who have contributed to our studies of Yucatecan haciendas and their residents, past and present, over the years. Special gratitude also goes to the Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia and the Consejo de Arqueología for granting excavation permits for San Pedro Cholul. **Conflicts of Interest:** The authors declare no conflict of interest. The funders had no role in the design of the study; in the collection, analyses, or interpretation of data; in the writing of the manuscript, or in the decision to publish the results.

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