A Dialogue between the Humanities and Social Sciences: Cultural Landscapes and Their Transformative Potential for Social Innovation

Abstract

Throughout the last decades, engaging with cultural landscapes has been a scientific, social, ethical, political, and economic imperative that calls for novel theoretical approaches, effective strategies and, above all, participatory action. Facing this multifarious challenge, academic disciplines have to redefine their traditional methods and aims, and demonstrate an openness towards new and risky paths of scientific pursuits. The present paper arose from interdisciplinary cooperation between the humanities and social sciences with the main objective to explore the potential of cultural landscapes as resources for social innovation in rural regions, addressing issues such as out-migration of original inhabitants, unemployment, and an overaging population. Based on an overview of landscape semantics and theoretical approaches, the paper first analyzes (cultural) landscape and social innovation as applied concepts. In a second step, both disciplinary angles mingle into a joint approach. Moving from methodologies to challenges, the authors discuss the Social Grid Model, which allows for an integrated analysis of social networks, institutions, and cognitive frames. They also delve into the Structured Democratic Dialogue as a tool for the revitalization of ‘active’ and ‘inactive’ cultural landscapes by reinforcing the role of local communities. Finally, the authors investigate how such novel ideas for the promotion of tangible and intangible heritage in rural habitats can be employed by example of two intervention regions in Greece (Koumasa) and the People’s Republic of China (Honghe Hani Rice Terraces), and as part of an orchestrated collective action.

1. Introduction

Following the hyperbolic growth of ‘cultural heritage’ as a key issue of our modern world, sites and landscapes with cultural/historical value have become the focus of collective awareness and continue to generate heated debates at the juncture of science, society, politics, and economy. Their penetrating power results from their inherent capacity to unify nature and culture as well as tangible and intangible forms of collective patrimony. Moreover, they can simultaneously function as exhibits, i.e., a materialization of heritage values, but also habitats, i.e., spaces in which local populations, visitors, institutions, scientists, and various stakeholders interact with each other. The significance of cultural landscapes is further enhanced by manifold needs, potentials, and aspirations at local, national, and international levels. Given this multiplicity of values and factors that transverse different societal fields, it is not surprising that the notion of (cultural) landscape garnered early interest and since then never ceased to exist, becoming overwhelmingly pertinent to modern society in recent years. Scientists focusing on landscapes with heritage value cannot meet the new challenges of this thriving field by employing traditional monolithic methodologies but only by transversing established barriers of their own discipline and by engaging in synergies within and beyond academia. In this demanding setting, the development of new concepts and strategies for bridging the divide between theory and practice while aiming to exercise a strong impact on modern society emerges as a pressing desideratum. Ranging from theoretical issues to specific strategies of scientific and social action, the present paper discusses the potential of cultural landscapes as a resource for social innovation. The starting point of this interdisciplinary synergy between the fields of Archaeology, Chinese Studies, and Sociology is an overview of concepts that have determined the history of the landscape/cultural landscape term in the last centuries and never lost their validity. Humanities and social sciences offer distinct disciplinary perspectives with which to engage with space/landscape, yet they can complement each other in shaping a joint approach. Rather than remaining on a merely theoretical level, this paper builds on practical and scientific experience to point out opportunities for applying the discussed analytical tools in concrete intervention regions (see Figure 1).

Here, the main focus is set on rural regions that provide a very sensitive equilibrium for processes of heritagization. The two intervention regions discussed not only differ in geographical location but also in terms of landscape values that are mobilized for heritage conservation and development. The first example is Koumasa in Crete, a Greek archaeological landscape in which historical and scientific values are particularly emphasized. It is therefore considered ‘inactive’. The second example is an ‘active’ agricultural landscape in the People’s Republic of China, the Honghe Hani Rice Terraces. Here, an ongoing cultivation of terrace fields and the landscape’s aesthetic values have become major triggers for tourism development. This research design strives to problematize the necessity of different approaches for ‘inactive’ (ancient) vs. ‘active’ (still exploited) landscapes. Having selected two intervention regions that are embedded in different social, cultural, and political contexts, the authors further aim to contribute to pressing scientific debates on how global discourses and expertise can be effectively applied at a local level.

2. Literature Review and Conceptual Foundations

2.1. Humanities and the Notions of Landscape/Cultural Landscape

Following a long history as an object of scientific enquiry, the concept of ‘landscape’ has recently made triumphant advances in and across a wide range of academic disciplines, culminating in the formation of new scientific fields, such as landscape architecture or landscape ecology. The term ‘landscape’ is characterized by a high level of complexity that arises from linguistic peculiarities and historical transformations. Depending on the historical period and language in which ‘landscape’ was and is expressed, it can be associated with multiple meanings. A popular way to scientifically engage with this concept has been to approach it through etymological and semantic analyses. Broad and insightful discussions in this direction have greatly expanded our general understanding of the term [1,2,3]. Consequently, the aim of the following brief survey is not to undertake a comprehensive lexicological investigation but rather to extract from the existing body of literature three semantic dimensions of ‘landscape’ that have proven most fruitful and influential for its formation as a scientific and applied concept.

In a European context, the earliest meaning of ‘landscape’, which still determines the way it is understood today, is that of (1) ‘region’ or ‘territory’. A territorial dimension is most explicit in several Northern European languages, i.e., the German ‘Landschaft’, the English ‘landscape’, or the Dutch ‘landschap’. In reference work entries, this meaning often has a strong physiognomic focus, referring to a tract of land which shows “distinguishing characteristics and features, esp. considered as a product of modifying or shaping processes and agents” [4]. In the Romance languages, however, a territorial meaning is associated with the French term ‘paysage’ or the Spanish ‘paisaje’. In contrast to the above physiognomy-oriented definition, the French ‘pays’ refers to unique characteristics in terms of lifestyle and ‘personality’ as a result of the strong identification of local residents with the scattered small regions (pays) that were and are characteristic of rural France [5] (pp. 276–277). This consideration of the population as integral components further corresponds to a third dimension of landscape which will be discussed below.

Already, before its introduction into academia, the term ‘landscape’ experienced a high degree of esteem as an aesthetic concept in painting (and later in art theory). Since the late 15th century, this dimension has referred to (2) the representation of inland natural scenery in a painting. Later, in the 16th and 17th centuries, it was extended to existing sceneries, but remained strictly limited to usage in the technical language of painters and art theorists [1] (p. 22). According to Hard, even in geographical writing ‘landscape’ was used as a stylistic rather than a scientific term until the 19th century. The aesthetic and art-related notion of ‘landscape’ as something which is contemplated becomes notable in reference work entries listing “a view or prospect of natural inland scenery, such as can be taken in at a glance from one point of view” [4].

A third semantic dimension for ‘landscape’ is that of (3) a communal and legal entity. The rediscovery of this meaning is owed to landscape geographer and theorist K. Olwig. It is based on his longstanding research on Northern European landscapes before the Renaissance. Following this understanding, land is an integral part of people’s social and legal practices. Landscape, then, results from a cooperative community effort to maintain the land. It is a practice, both individual and communal, on the basis of shared customs and values [6] (p. 246). In the German language for example, the term “Landsmannschaft” reflects such a form of social organization based on a shared origin and connection to a region, and with an aim to pursue shared political interests. It has a clear historical dimension and was used among others to refer to organizations of refugees from former eastern regions of the German Reich that were formed after 1945 [7] (p. 293). Olwig further points to connotations of legal community that can equally be detected from words in the Romance languages [3] (p. 74, fn. 7). Such notions that emphasize social values more strongly are particularly fruitful for a reconsideration of ‘landscape’ and its relation to cultural heritage and social innovation, as they bring to the fore opportunities for active landscape stewardship, e.g., through the acknowledgement of customary law.

With regard to the intervention regions that are part of this study, linguistic peculiarities of ‘landscape’ in Greek and Chinese shall also be briefly mentioned. The Greek term for landscape, τοπίο, derives from the word τοπείον or τοπήιον, which means (properly pruned) hedge, clearly denoting the cultural/anthropogenic component of a place. In its modern understanding, which is the result of a long historical process, τοπίον refers, in accordance with its semantic content in the aforementioned European languages, both to the aesthetic dimension of a landscape (direct experience or artistic rendering) and to landscape as manifestation of civilization/culture [8,9] (pp. 42–44).

In Mandarin Chinese, there is no single expression to articulate the broad nuances of ‘landscape’ as laid out above for many of the European languages. Still, there are several terms that share territorial and art-related connotations. Han suggested jiangshan 江山, which combines the Chinese characters for ‘rivers’ (jiang 江) and ‘mountains’ (shan 山) as a term that has a comparable territorial meaning. She contrasts this with more intangible and sensory dimensions of fengjing 风景. This term consists of characters meaning ‘wind’ (feng 风) and ‘light’ (jing 景) and refers more to a viewshed of beautiful scenery [10] (pp. 70–71). Yet another term, which is shanshui 山水, not only dominates an art and culture-related use, but is further at the core of specifically Chinese genres in painting, literature, and landscape gardening. Here, understandings of landscape are characterized by a high degree of subjectivity, imagination, and moral and aesthetic values [11] (pp. 92–95).

The above-described semantic ‘flexibility’ that characterizes the history of the landscape term from its beginnings is a mixed blessing, since it bears both great weaknesses and great strengths. A weakness results from lack of a uniform definition that creates an idea of arbitrariness. For instance, US American geographer Richard Hartshorne (1899–1992), author of the pioneering work The Nature of Geography: A Critical Survey of Current Thought in the Light of the Past [12], sharply criticized what he called a ‘semantic fuzziness’ of the German Landschaft. The complex meanings he referred to range from a comprehensive impression of an area and the material objects which generate it, to the physical geographic area as such with its (im)material manifestations [1] (p. 231). As already mentioned above, this extremely inclusive definition is symptomatic of an understanding of the term in many European languages. Quite paradoxically, it is exactly this conceptual ‘openness’ which has later been regarded as a strength, as it enables an integration of different perceptions, sometimes even an integration of existing and contradicting interpretations of the same place.

2.2. Conceptual Approaches to (Cultural) Landscapes

Empirical scientific research of landscape has its origins in the early 19th century. At this time, a deterministic view of the environment was still prevalent, according to which natural attributes define regional landscape patterns and people are shaped by their surroundings. Naturalist Alexander von Humboldt (1769–1859) was one of the earliest who strived to explain ‘nature’ in its entirety, with a focus on its physical characteristics. Drawing on investigations from extensive research expeditions, to South America amongst others, he regarded the ‘moral world’ or culture as determined by physical and environmental influences [13] (pp. 18–20). The famous expression ‘total character of an earth region’ (German: “Totalcharakter einer Erdgegend”) is attributed to him, though, in its literal form, this often-cited expression has not been found in his writings [1].

The significance of landscape as a geographical concept emerged with the German school of cultural geography and a related revaluation of culture and human activity in landscape formation. Nineteenth century German geographers Carl Ritter (1779–1859), Carl Vogel (1828–1897), Josef Wimmer (1838–1915), and Friedrich Ratzel (1844–1904) subsequently used the term ‘cultural landscape’ to add a developmental perspective to ‘landscape’ (from natural to cultural) and a clear articulation of a divide between nature vs. culture [14]. Otto Schlüter (1872–1959) equally emphasized the role of cultural influences on landscape morphology that contrasted with the earlier practice of regional study (Länderkunde) and the view that landscape patterns were determined by natural factors [15] (p. 25). It is in this context and in opposition to natural landscape (Naturlandschaft) that the term cultural landscape (Kulturlandschaft) was coined and thrived.

One of the earlier scientists to acknowledge the central role of local society for the spatial organization of a region was French geographer Paul Vidal de la Blache (1845–1918). By consideration of the historical dimension of landscape, he investigated the impact of local lifestyles (genres de vie) and their relation to social and economic organization [16] (p. 233). In the 1920s, American geographer Carl Sauer introduced the concept of ‘cultural landscape’ to American human geography through the Berkeley School he established. Following his classical definition: “The cultural landscape is fashioned out of a natural landscape by a culture group. Culture is the agent, the natural area is the medium, the cultural landscape the result” [17] (pp. 309–310).

However, such a positivist view continued to focus on material landscape, aiming to describe and investigate it with ‘objective’ scientific methods. At the end of the 1980s, landscape discourse shifted toward a more humanistic approach. This understanding of landscape as a sociocultural construct emphasizes individual and social ideas, perception, and symbolic meaning. It is concerned with questions of space representation, space appropriation, and social implications of visual conventions. In our own interpretations and perception(s), we ascribe values to landscape. Moreover, social constructivist approaches to landscape not only deal with landscapes as visual representations of cultural meaning but also power [18] (p. 94). Concerned with exercises of power over space, Cosgrove claimed the landscape idea to be a ‘visual ideology’ [19] (p. 47). According to his understanding, representations of power become particularly apparent in the context of landscape paintings depicting elitist ideals of well-ordered space where tensions between social groups or people and their environment remain absent [20]. General media of such landscape representation include literature, painting, film, and photography.

In contrast to individual interpretations, shared constructs of landscape undergo a form of social standardization until they become socially binding [21]. Consequently, they must be learned by the individual [22]. Language plays an important role for building up shared meanings in a cultural group as we “correlate our concepts and ideas with certain written words, spoken sounds or visual images” [23] (p. 18). Proceeding from the symbolic meanings of physical attributes, landscape has been described as a linguistic terminology and as a literary ‘text’. Making use of concepts of textuality, intertextuality, and reader reception, Duncan and Duncan supported the idea of landscapes as transformed social and political ideologies [24]. Interpretation and sense-giving of landscape can further occur in the form of storylines or narratives, thereby providing guidance for activity and behaviour [25] (pp. 31–33).

In the 1990s, scientists from various disciplines promoted a more holistic and dynamic view of landscape as a process. Rather than merely signifying power relations, landscape itself became a cultural medium and an instrument of power [26] (pp. 1–2). Olwig relates this processual character to the legal and political landscape that obtains its meaning through people’s practices, involving themselves as well as their environment. He deduces this meaning from “the organization of things in a land” following customary law, or people’s established practices in a particular polity, as inherent to the Old Norse concept of landskapr [27] (p. 255). Archaeologist and Museum Studies scholar Laurajane Smith equally draws a connection between heritage and traditional knowledge: instead of the physical site, what she sees as heritage is “the act of passing on knowledge in the culturally correct or appropriate contexts and times” [28] (p. 46). In her investigation of Waanyi women in northern Queensland, Australia, landscape has a mnemonic function, providing a vehicle for passing on oral histories to younger generations and thus a ‘sense of occasion’ for both transmitters and receivers of local knowledge.

The new millennium saw more interdisciplinary approaches. The ESF-COST Science Policy Briefing published in 2010 is an important output of such an initiative. The briefing “offers an outline plan for unlocking the potential of landscape research when linked to action” [29] (p. 12) and demands more transdisciplinary communication and cooperation among the social, life, and earth sciences, as well as the humanities. It called for (1) a European Landscape Research Vision & Strategy, (2) a European Forum on Landscape, and, finally, (3) for an Integrated European Landscape Research Programme. [29] (pp. 12–13). Another important topic that has most recently begun to be more strongly considered is that of cultural landscapes and education. For a discussion of educational strategies in cultural landscapes, see Zubiaurre et al. [30].

Finally, it is worthwhile to make a brief reference to landscape studies in both countries in which the intervention regions targeted in this paper are situated. In Greece, recent research on the notion of landscape has discussed it as a multifunctional entity that entails a plethora of processes of action and interaction and welcomes almost every possible methodological tool for assessing its form, function, and meaning [31] (pp. 197–208). Among several visual, experiential, and symbolic capacities the Greek landscape may possess, special emphasis was given to its idealization by European travelers in the time of Ottoman occupation (15th–19th century) and—after the Greek War for Independence (1821–1829)—to its fundamental role as central part of Greek national identity [9,31].

In China, significant early studies of ‘landscape’, albeit with a different understanding from the European term (see Section 2.1), emerged in architectural history and with regard to China’s long tradition in landscape gardening. A pioneering work is Liu Dunzhen’s The Classical Gardens of Suzhou (Suzhou gudian yuanlin 苏州古典园林) [32]. Based on this tradition and with regard to developments China is contemporarily facing (e.g., rapid urbanization), present-day landscape research particularly flourishes in domains such as urban development and planning, landscape architecture, and rural revitalization. The development of ‘cultural landscape’ in China and the challenges that come along with it were thoroughly discussed by Han and Taylor and Xu [10,33].

This brief survey of landscape concepts closes with a necessary terminological clarification. Besides ‘cultural landscape’, a term used in European-language literature and documents to capture the complex relationship between land, its man-made characteristics, and temporal transformations is that of ‘heritage landscape’ or ‘heritage landscape site’. This term is closely related to early discussions on landscapes being part of cultural heritage that arose in the context of World Heritage nomination (see Section 3.1: ‘cultural landscape’ as an applied concept). The term ‘heritage landscapes’ has since been used in research and across disciplines, although not as widespread as ‘cultural landscapes’, especially after the latter’s recognition as a World Heritage category in 1992. However, the term has also been criticized in more recent research. Such critique sees a downgrading of landscape in ‘heritage landscape’, which reduces it to ‘a subset of heritage’. This reduction is regarded as problematic, as it deprives landscape of its transformative and integrative character [34] (p. 31). Since both terms in their previous and current usage do not denote two different categories but are actually semantically overlapping, we will only be referring to ‘cultural landscapes’ in the following, for the sake of coherence.

2.3. Social Sciences and Space/Landscape as Analytical Categories

The history of the terms and concepts pertinent to ‘landscape’ discussed above reflect a scholarly discussion in the humanities. Modern social science, with its strong foundation in constructivist theories provides, however, a different perspective according to which materiality is of lesser importance and often treated only in more ‘applied’ sub-disciplines. This prevalent focus raises a few tricky questions concerning the treatment of ‘space’ or ‘landscape’. ‘Landscape’ as a concept is not a subject of wide theoretical discussions in sociology. While a proper sociological discourse about space is also missing, there are, however, discussions about the construction of space and spatiality that we can draw from.

It has been an established assumption in sociological spatial discussions that spaces are social constructions and become social reality through human attributions of meaning. Early attempts to engage with space can be found in urban sociology, for example in Robert Ezra Park’s (1864–1944) work. He understands the city as a cultural phenomenon with its constitution shaped by citizens’ ways of perceiving a city [35] (p. 1). Another example is Georg Simmel’s (1858–1918) understanding of boundaries as a result of social processes and not as a spatial fact itself [36] (p. 701). Later work on spatiality also follows social constructivist thought and considers space as a social product [37,38]. Anthony Giddens [39], for example, conceptualizes space as a result of human action, stressing that spaces are in fact not geographic but social places that provide meaning for interactions between actors. In those discussions, materiality plays a subordinate role and rarely finds explicit mentioning. An exception can be found in Bruno Latour’s work [40], whose contribution to actor–network theory stresses the importance of considering materiality and physical aspects in sociological debates of space.

Newer developments in sociological debates consider space as relational and dynamic, stressing that spaces are constructed not only in social but also in communicative processes, therefore considering them as communicative constructions. Although not thoroughly discussed, materiality does play a role in such approaches. Martina Löw [41] (p. 139), for example, attempts to explain spaces as an achievement of human synthesizing operations (Syntheseleistungen) and at the same time as a materiality. Spaces can thus influence human action once they have been created or arranged as ordering structures (ibid). Gabriela B. Christmann’s theoretical approach—the communicative (re)construction of spaces [42]—considers materiality, alongside action, knowledge, and communication, as one of the central dimensions of the (re)construction of spaces. The social or communicative construction of spaces is understood as a permanent process of reconstruction. Through communicative actions between social actors, some dimensions of existing spatial constructions may be newly developed, consolidated, or modified. Materiality, in the form of bodies or physical objects, for example, participates in action and thereby shapes the (re)construction of spaces [42]. Christmann also contributes to the sociological debate on space by considering the potential influence of social groups on space’s social construction, stating that different social groups can have different social constructions of space for the same spatial unit. Materiality of space is therefore not directly perceived but perceived through societal discourse.

What remains unclear in the sociological debates on space is the role of material boundaries and of the reality of natural space in the social construction of spaces. Therefore, an urgent task is to investigate connections between socially constructed and (shaped) natural space, through which we can further enhance our understanding of materiality in sociological spatial discussions. When applying this to the concept of landscape, it may be conceptualized as a combination of socially constructed identities and valuations, while, at the same time, being a product of material conditions of reproduction that form both people and land. Its polysemy at a theoretical level is apparent. Cultural landscapes combine tangible and intangible components of cultural heritage with lived experiences of local inhabitants. Therefore, they must be understood as ‘polyvalent’ spaces [43] (p. 125) that evolve dynamically and reflect different layers of meaning, rather than in a purely essentialist manner and as a synthesis of nature and culture. Landscape values and their interpretation often result from discursive negotiation processes and are tied to social power relations [44] (pp. 73–74). The same applies to their spatial inscription. In conservation practice, the sovereignty of interpretation usually remains a privilege of core actors such as the state, local governments, and academic experts. We shall consider these specific conditions through a change of perspective, in which landscapes are not simply regarded as a result of human activity, but function as arenas for social, economic, and political processes. Landscapes are thus a result of such transformative processes in which multiple stakeholders interact.

Finally, it is necessary to distinguish between several influential terms that are related to this constructivist perception of space/landscape. The three terms ‘social topography’, ‘mental mapping’ and ‘cognitive maps’ are close in meaning, relating to representations of geographical locations as well as spatial environments, geographical imagination, and memory. However, their interpretations slightly differ since there are no commonly accepted definitions for these terms. Following one definition for mental maps, for example, these are “the type of maps that everyone creates in their minds to orient themselves in space” [45]. According to another definition, mental maps are “representations of spatial knowledge in our memories“ [46]. Social topography was described as ”the relationship between the physical layout of a town and the social and professional organization of the town’s residents“ [47] while cognitive maps have been understood as “mental models of the relative locations and attributes of phenomena in spatial environments“ [48].

2.4. The Concept of Social Innovation

In recent years, the concept of ‘social innovation’ has become increasingly influential in academic research and policy. Socially innovative solutions are considered important factors for accelerating change and facing the challenges of the 21st century, such as social marginalization and polarization, gentrification processes, climate and demographic change, among others [49,50,51]. While a growing body of literature on social innovations has emerged, there is no unique conceptual approach to this concept. However, two major ‘streams’ of research can be identified. One stream highlights the positive impact of social innovation on society. From this perspective, social innovations are viewed as a solution for social problems as well as an impulse for empowerment, social cohesion, and the change of social relations [50,52]. The second stream of pertinent research is rooted more strongly in general sociology, focusing mainly on altered social practices, organization, and social relations [53]. Scholars in this field argue that social innovations cannot be analyzed in the same way as products or services and in analogy to business innovations. Rather, the emergence and implementation of social innovation has to be enquired about in its complex societal context, emphasizing the reconfiguration of social practices and diffusion [54,55]. Havas and Molnàr illustrate that business innovation differs from social innovation in the fact that the generated surplus is appropriated privately [56]. On a more general level, social innovation is understood as a co-occurrence of a functional part (new products, services, infrastructure) and a transformative part (altered social relations, novel cooperation, and increase of social capital [57,58] (p. 19).

Concerning social innovation research, Van der Have and Rubalcaba [59] (p. 1928) identify four research fields and corresponding research approaches: social psychology, creativity research, research on societal and social challenges, and research on municipal and regional development. Our research draws on ideas from all fields but mainly picks up themes of the latter. So far, research on social innovation for municipal and regional development, thus with regard to landscape—or more abstractly—to spatiality, has mainly focused on the urban context, stressing the importance of social innovations for community building, social change, and the regeneration and revitalization of urban areas [60,61,62,63]. Urban regeneration relies on social innovations as a means to resocialize urban spaces, foster social change, and enhance the meaning of community, while transforming social relationships within urban spaces to face social demands and satisfy needs [62,64]. For an urban environment, it was suggested that social innovations emerge from complex social processes and constellations of actors, including local government, civic society, and organizations. Evidence from the WILCO project (“Welfare innovations at the local level in favor of cohesion”) underlines the impact of local contexts which are not a mere local representation of national regimes [60]. Cattacin and Zimmer [65] argue that social innovations constitute a political process whose outcome depends on environmental factors such as coalition building as well as specific constellations of actors and are as such a reflection of city-specific (welfare) cultures. The city-specific settings determine the conditions for the emergence and development of local social innovations with the city governing elites, creating both opportunity structures and constraints [60]. As Christmann [66] points out, conflicts and the search for consensus are natural in these complex social processes.

While social innovations are increasingly discussed and analyzed in an urban context, there has been relatively little theoretical discussion on social innovations in rural areas and empirical studies are also lacking [67,68,69,70,71,72]. The EU funded project RURACTION points to rural regions as a fertile ground for social innovation and stresses the importance of exchange, intensive networking, and governance processes for innovation [66,73]. Results from the EU funded SIMRA project show that social innovation is stimulated by a constellation of key actors (social entrepreneurs), support of political and governance structures, and various intermediaries [74]. Marini Govigli et al. [75] summarize four main lessons drawn from the SIMRA project: the keys for successfully facing challenges are (1) support of local actors at the early stage of social innovation processes, (2) enabling local actors to flexibly adjust methods and tools by acknowledging the non-linearity of the social innovation process, (3) promptly identifying management failures, and (4) recognizing the importance of strategic thinking concerning financial resources and required know-how [75] (p. 17).

In addition to cooperation structures and elite consensus, prevailing research on social innovation in rural areas points to the importance of engaging local communities in the process, as civil society appears to be more capable of initiating social innovation than the public or private sectors [76,77]. This suggests that the most effective outcomes arise when local communities are empowered to make decisions within a supportive, but not over-bureaucratic framework. Hence, a combination of top-down and bottom-up approaches is suggested for successful implementation of social innovation in rural areas [70,77]. Research on territorial development through social innovation clearly shows that territorial features affect an innovation as such, as well as the impact of social innovation initiatives—both in cities and rural areas. Territorial contexts and social innovation activities can therefore not be investigated separately [78].

3. (Cultural) Landscape and Social Innovation as Applied Concepts

3.1. ‘Cultural Landscape’ as an Applied Concept

The formation of ‘cultural landscape’ as an applied concept is closely linked with international conservation developments and the emergence of cultural heritage as a key concern for modern society. Although Article 1 of the 1972 World Heritage Convention implies a strong connection between landscape and heritage, defining the latter as “combined works of nature and man” [79], it took another 15 years of intensive debates until the World Heritage Committee officially recognized cultural landscapes as a distinct type of heritage [80] (p. 29). This acknowledgement was enabled by a paradigm shift in the international heritage discourse and related attempts to include heritage from underrepresented countries on the World Heritage List.

According to Smith, disparities in listed properties with regard to heritage type and geographical distribution resulted from a Eurocentric bias and, following her designation, an ’authorized heritage discourse’ (AHD). In this discourse, which she sees as already institutionalized in the form of policy documents, guidelines, and management processes, ‘elitist’ views of cultural heritage are preferred, and historical and cultural experiences of socially weaker groups are excluded from the outset [28]. In an investigation from 1987–1993, the International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) had found that, in particular, historic towns, religious monuments, and elitist architecture were highly overrepresented [81] (p. 86). In response to this bias, the World Heritage Committee launched its Global Strategy in 1994, which aimed to create a more balanced, representative, and credible World Heritage List. This marked a paradigm shift from tangible to intangible heritage and a broader recognition of heritage values, bringing underrepresented types, among them cultural landscapes, vernacular architecture, and ‘living’ cultures, much more strongly into focus.

The Asia-Pacific region has played a major role for such an extension of values-based approaches [82]. Two years after its ratification of the World Heritage Convention in 1992, Japan hosted an international conference on the principle of authenticity and immaterial attributes, such as know-how, handicraft techniques, and spiritual values [83] (p. 12). Its outcome document, the Nara Document on Authenticity, acknowledged that cultural heritage “must be considered and judged within the cultural contexts to which it belongs” [83] (para. 11). Therewith, cultural and social values received greater attention and the authenticity criterion for Outstanding Universal Value (OUV) was extended from primarily physical attributes to include intangible characteristics and expressions.

Social values further became a core aspect of the Australia ICOMOS Burra Charter for the Conservation of Places. The charter introduced heritage ‘places’, emphasizing community values and primarily including places that hold significance due to their association with certain events rather than physical evidence. It created the basis for a reversal of traditional hierarchies, with heritage practitioners now learning from communities [84] (p. 13). As a key international conservation guideline, the European Landscape Convention also followed this conceptual shift by characterizing landscape as “an area, as perceived by people” and an outcome that results from “action and interaction of natural and/or human factors” [85].

The introduction of cultural landscapes as a heritage category in 1992 can be seen as a primary step to bridge the artificial nature–culture divide. However, despite the above-mentioned attempts towards a more balanced global strategy for preserving and promoting cultural landscapes, some serious obstacles remain. One of the most common problems is one-sided management. In the context of World Heritage, this can be traced back to historical and structural reasons. In a number of initially inscribed landscapes, natural sites had to be renominated or site boundaries adjusted to prevent conflicts with long-established activities of local inhabitants. The first ever-listed cultural landscape Tongariro National Park in New Zealand is such an example where gaps between expert and native perspectives gave rise to conflicts. As a result, the local community mobilized to demand recognition of their cultural values [80] (pp. 32–33). In the context of Asian countries, particularly China, which is one of the intervention regions in this paper, the application of similar criteria for landscape management has resulted in the degradation of values that were neglected due to a prioritization of either natural or cultural values [10].

3.2. Developing a Joint Approach—Cultural Landscape as a Resource for Social Innovation

The conservation and historical preservation experiences laid out in the former sections clearly demonstrate that top-down and expert-led conservation measures seldom yield satisfactory results in dealing with landscape heritage. On the contrary, such measures can have negative and even destructive effects [10,86] (pp. 71–72). Two extreme outcomes of unbalanced landscape conservation and use, as conceptualized in this project, are illustrated in Figure 2. When conservation is primarily state-led, national and ideological interests are prioritized which, in the long run, can lead to a ‘museumification’ (A1, A2 = inactivity) of heritage [87,88]. On the other hand, low regulation and development driven by market forces fosters an overexploitation of sites (C1, C2 = hyperactivity). Such development often caters to tourism purposes and is not seldom accompanied by a loss of authenticity and integrity [81] (p. 153). As explained in Section 2.3 of this paper, we understand cultural landscapes as ‘polyvalent’ spaces that evolve dynamically and integrate a broad range of landscape values, among them long established historical, aesthetic, and scientific values, as well as more recently recognized social, economic, and ecological values. They are generated in discursive social, economic, and political negotiation processes of core actors including, but not limited to, the state, government authorities, academic experts, and local inhabitants.

As a more effective way to manage cultural heritage, especially living heritage such as cultural landscapes, scholars have proposed to reinforce the central role of communities [89,90,91,92,93]. In recent years, this significance of participatory concepts for landscape management has become a dominant strategy that is encouraged not only at a theoretical but also at an applied level through several initiatives and funding lines. The notion of ‘landscape commons’, as a subject of recent transdisciplinary discussion, refers to the idea that landscapes and their resources can become local and global common goods with the capacity to improve people’s well-being. Therefore, one of the most pressing desiderata is ‘commoning’ [94,95] i.e., the creation of a framework which will enable the management of shared resources on the basis of participatory principles [96,97,98]. In the context of heritage, the notion of ‘commoning’ unavoidably creates a tension between the regulatory role of the state and the development plans of private enterprises on the one hand and the idea of collective governance on the other (see [99] for commoning as a form of a ‘polycentric’ system of governance (cited in [100]) (p. 85)). While state and private enterprises tend towards the creation of ‘enclosures’ [101], commoning aims at openness and participation. The latter terms refer here not only to economic strategies of accessibility but also to bottom-up approaches in terms of narrative, interpretation, and experience relating to heritage sites [100].

Moreover, recent developments towards a democratization of cultural landscapes have shown that every attempt towards a more active participation of local communities presupposes a certain level of appreciation and engagement with indigenous knowledge [102,103]. Such knowledge systems, also termed ‘traditional knowledge’ or ‘traditional ecological knowledge’ (TEK), include indigenous languages, resource management systems, customary rules, and handicrafts. Accumulated and handed down from generation to generation through cultural transmission, this knowledge may be regarded as result of a particular attachment of local inhabitants to their natural surroundings. For instance, the case of the Ifugao rice terraces of the Philippine Cordilleras has illustrated how community-based management and the appropriation of heritage and traditional knowledge for income-generation can evoke a lost pride of place, motivate inhabitants to take ownership of their site, and revive local culture [104] (pp. 302–304).

Traditional knowledge reflects place-specific cultural values and is not static but, in accordance with the concept of heritage itself, should be understood as a process, incorporating new information over time and undergoing interpretation and discussion [105] (pp. 126–127). As “a source of essential (barely studied) knowledge about sustainable management techniques”, the cultural landscape is therefore considered to have great potential for maintaining cultural and biological diversity [106] (p. 31). An integration of both knowledge systems (traditional and scientific knowledge), however, is not only challenged by the largely different worldviews they are based on, but also by inequality concerning political power and decision-making [107] (p. 6).

How can the potential of cultural heritage as a dynamic factor for social innovation and as a promising resource for revitalization based on creativity [108] be mobilized nonetheless? An example that illustrates the potential of existing local traditions—such as cooperation structures, arts, and crafts—as seeds of innovations has been provided by the SIMRA project. This research found that the creation of workshops and art studios (’work boxes’) in which local residents can engage in various forms of art and craft practices (“from hairdresser to carpenter, from cook to pastry baker, including crafts falsely stigmatized as forlorn, such as book printers”) promotes cooperation with local entrepreneurs and helps NEET children (Not in Education, Employment or Training) to make career choices [109]. An example showing the high potential of cooperation structures is an initiative launched by local farmers in VàZapp (the province of Foggia, Apulia region—Southern Italy) to organize so-called Farmers’ Dinners in order “to activate a social innovation pathway in the agriculture sector”. The results were impressively successful: the number of relations increased by 308%, and social network density by 250% [110]. Another successful case of cooperation that was examined in this project is the social cooperative ”Learning-Growing-Living with women farmers”, which is aimed at ”providing a flexible option for working mothers and enhancing the transmission of traditional and cultural rural values“ in South Tyrol (Italy) [111].

Up to the present, neither in urban nor in rural areas, ‘cultural landscape’ has been explicitly considered as a resource for social innovation. The insights of social innovation research as well as those from the cultural studies discussed above demonstrate, however, that cultural heritage and social innovation can be brought into a mutually enriching relationship. The discursive mobilization of the ‘landscape’ concept opens new roads for interventions. The inclusion of the social innovation concept not only aims to promote landscape management in an economically viable and sustainable manner, but also to tackle social problems. In the complex process of innovation, not only a functional solution is developed but also the character of society, the social fabric itself, is changed. This results in a more equal distribution of power, stronger ties in the sense of social capital and enhanced capabilities of individuals and communities. In various contexts, the fundamental social and political empowerment in facing social challenges and improving the living conditions of communities is characteristic for social innovative approaches and solutions [62]. By changing power relations and strengthening capabilities, social innovations thus have the potential to empower local communities as a whole, as well as marginalized groups within these communities. For example, it has been suggested that social innovation promotes the social inclusion of groups such as women and generates a feeling of pride and usefulness which then creates acceptance for heritage preservation [112]. If enhancing the economic value of cultural landscapes in a sustainable manner contributes to landscape perseverance, a central concern then must be how landscape assets can be turned into a resource for the local people, particularly with regard to the importance of empowering and engaging local communities in the preservation and management of cultural landscapes through social innovation processes. (For the results of a comparative analysis, see: [113])

UNESCO seems to have realized this potential. In its Recommendation concerning the Protection, at National Level, of the Cultural and Natural Heritage from 1972, it was recommended that “the general public … should be associated with the measures to be taken for protection and conservation and should be called on for suggestions and help, with particular reference to regard for and surveillance of the cultural and natural heritage.” Particularly in the context of historic urban landscapes, “community participation is recognised as a fundamental tool in heritage management practices” (quoted from [100]). Yet, there are no explicit recommendations or guidelines issued by UNESCO for rural cultural landscapes. However, the Council of Europe, in its Recommendation CM/Rec(2008)3 of the Committee of Ministers to Member States on the guidelines for the implementation of the European Landscape Convention Adopted by the Committee of Ministers of the Council of Europe on 6 February 2008, acknowledged “that the landscape is an important part of the quality of life for people everywhere: both in urban areas and in the countryside, in degraded areas and in areas of high quality, in areas recognized as being of outstanding beauty and in everyday areas” [114].

In our interdisciplinary approach pursued at Heidelberg University, we investigate cultural landscapes with regard to their potential as spaces for social innovation in marginal regions (see https://www.uni-heidelberg.de/en/research/research-profile/excellence-strategy/transforming-cultural-heritage/funded-projects/cultural-landscape-as-a-resource-for-social-innovation, accessed on 10 December 2023). This innovative approach aims to gain insights into (re)vitalization and social innovation in cultural landscapes that overcomes extreme forms of development (and exploitation of local resources) and is reached via a functional and transformative innovation process (B1, see Figure 2). An economical aggregation of value by means of natural and cultural heritage resources is not categorically excluded from such a process. However, overexploitation is avoided through social investment by not focusing on economic benefit alone, but always focusing on a contribution oriented towards the common good [115] (p. 364). A core question that this approach strives to answer is how different actors use their respective resources to implement their own interests, and how their interaction in the form of cooperation and/or conflict contributes to or prevents social innovation in cultural landscapes. Possible innovation streams that actors initiate in this process are:

• Promotion of local heritage as a pole of attraction for visitors;
• Utilization of local/indigenous knowledge for the conservation of cultural diversity and biodiversity;
• Development of new and innovative product ideas with a transformative potential;
• change of regulations and legal provisions (e.g., recognition of customary law, non-standard legal entities, divergent legal views);
• Initiation of new networks for local collaboration and cooperation (e.g., agricultural cooperatives which produce and market agricultural products);
• Fostering of social integration/inclusion (e.g., greater openness to community participation as enabled by a ‘Structured Democratic Dialogue’).

Our approach further builds on insights from previous initiatives targeting rural regeneration and community empowerment by drawing on cultural and natural heritage resources, such as the project RURITAGE (https://www.ruritage.eu, accessed on 10 December 2023) [116].

3.3. Application of the Social Grid Model (Beckert 2010) and the Structured Democratic Dialogue (SDD) in a ‘Cultural Landscapes’-Context

As a theoretical framework for the sociological approach to ‘space’ or ‘landscape’, we suggest the Social Grid Model developed by Jens Beckert [117]. It connects normative and cognitive aspects with actors and actor groups, and has already been applied as a model in the context of social innovation [118]. According to Beckert, sociological approaches to economics identify three types of social structures relevant for the explanation of economic outcomes (such as price formation, new products, or economic growth) in which economic agents are embedded: social networks, institutions, and cognitive frames. In Beckert’s definition, social networks are the structures of social relations and relational patterns in society, particularly at the field level. Fields are comprised of the specific structures of social networks that create power differences between actors and status hierarchies. Institutions are the constraining and enabling rules and norms of society. Finally, cognitive frames are the shared meanings and interpretations which make sense of society and its functionings. However, Beckert critically noted that, across a range of scholarly literature, common approaches in the sociology of markets and political economy limit their consideration to one explanatory theory alone. In contrast to those approaches, he has argued that the understanding of the reproduction of market fields and their dynamics is only possible if all three types of structures are simultaneously recognized. In other words, he contributes to a development of a framework which aims at an integrated perspective on the social structuring of markets and their dynamics. Therefore, all three types of structures together—social networks, institutions, and cognitive frames—constitute a Social Grid Model.

Simultaneously, analyzing social networks, institutions, and cognitive frames, makes it possible, according to Beckert, to understand the mechanisms through which social structures reinforce each other. It is also possible to understand mechanisms through which actors use their resources gained from one of these structures in the field to reconfigure other parts of the social structure in a way which is beneficial to their goals.

By use of a systematic tableau, Beckert discusses the mechanisms through which actors change the structural composition of market fields based on the interrelations between the three social forces [117] (pp. 612–619). Overall, he describes six possible interrelations: The stability and change of social networks can be understood in connection with the other two social structures. Institutional changes can influence the structure of social networks, and changes in cognitive frames can lead to new perceptions of the opportunities provided by existing network structures. In the same manner, institutions are affected by the recomposition of networks, which provides new actors with the power to influence institutional structures. Cognitive frames provide legitimation and shape perception of institutions. Institutions and social networks can also influence the stability or change of cognitive frames. Institutional changes can make other cognitive orientations and values socially relevant and, finally, changes in social networks can shape and diffuse cognitive frames prevalent in the field.

As mentioned, this model has already been applied in the context of social innovation [118]. The CrESSI Project (Duration: 2014–2018) explored the economic underpinnings of social innovation, with a particular focus on how policy and practice can enhance the lives of the most marginalized and disempowered citizens in society. The research examined how interventions drawing on social innovation can address major economic, social, and power imbalances and inequalities. The theoretic foundations were Sen’s and Nussbaum’s capability approach [119,120], Beckert’s Social Grid Model [117], and the framework of social power sources by Michael Mann [121]. The aim was to include interlinked strands of theory to provide an overarching and novel conceptual framework.

Nicholls and Ziegler [118] show how Beckert’s Social Grid, initially developed for the explanation of the formation of market fields, can be applied in the context of social innovation. They find it reasonable to use this schematic model because of its emphasis on explanatory pluralism—including all three social structures. Additionally, the model has an important analytic value of examining the relationships between these three social structures. This examination should first understand the structures of marginalization and, second, explore social innovation as a set of interventions across the dynamic relationships of the Social Grid that can change such structures. The authors conclude that this research conceptualizes social innovation as a response to a Social Grid that has historically marginalized certain populations.

How can this matrix of social networks, institutions, and cognitive frames be effectively implemented in the field of cultural landscapes? And more precisely, how can it contribute to the transformation and revitalization of cultural landscapes in marginal regions with the help of social innovation? Social networks include different actor groups involved in this field: e.g., local communities, inhabitants, associations, parishes, farmers, shepherds, small producers, restaurateurs. Together, they are shaping network structures by having their specific role and position in the field. In our case, the institutions represent the existing regime and power structures, reforms, regulations, and conventions at a regional, national, or international level (especially from the UN and UNESCO). Finally, cognitive frames are defined as a set of diverse perceptions and interpretations from different stakeholders or interest groups (such as political actors, scientific experts, civil society actors (i.e., citizens, citizens’ initiatives, volunteers, associations, foundations, parishes, farmers, etc.)). They enable an identification of which actors need to be involved in the process. This can show opportunities and reveal possible conflicts of interests and perceptions (see Figure 2). Therefore, it is crucial to first discover and analyze which actors need to be involved and what their exact perceptions are, before we start shaping and designing the process of employing cultural landscapes as a resource for social innovation.

What are the relations between these three social structures? Institutional changes can influence the structure of social networks, for example by identifying existing cross-border and macro-regional strategies for cultural tourism or new regulations that will foster new sustainable and creative tourism business models. Changes in cognitive frames, values towards inclusive, sustainable and innovative development of marginal regions and cultural tourism can affect network structures by making actors and actor groups aware of profit opportunities and, in general, better socioeconomic development of their region, and foster cooperation. A change of institutions can also be affected by social networks and cognitive frames. Recomposition of social networks could provide new actors with the power to influence institutional structures, and changes in cognitive frames can provide legitimation and shape perception of institutions. Finally, institutions and social networks also affect a change of cognitive frames. Institutional changes, e.g., new regulations, could make values socially relevant, and changes in social networks such as a decline in social activities, the disappearance of spiritual and handicraft traditions, a loss of biodiversity, or less job opportunities are connected with the emergence of new value orientations (sustainability, public welfare-oriented development). This provides a basis for intervention strategies across the interrelations of the Social Grid that can create new structures, more participation, reactivation, and offer new perspectives.

Such strategies in the context of social innovation have to be participatory and guarantee the involvement of multiple actors to contribute to their needs, hopes, expectations, and expertise. To achieve this, the analysis via the Social Grid Model needs to be combined with a well proven methodology for intervention. A promising tool for achieving this goal is the Structured Democratic Dialogue (SDD), a scientific methodology that realizes a clear participatory approach with a strict bottom-up orientation. Based on this large-scale, collaborative design, regional stakeholders develop a shared vision of their region, their cultural heritage, and how they want to live and utilize it for economic development. The SDD can be realized in three sequential stages:

(a)

The Discovery Phase: During initial meeting(s), a series of questions are addressed to assist in appreciating the complexity of the situation. In this phase, the SDD practitioners responsible for the application engage in an inquiry which involves: (a) conducting interviews with members of the community of stakeholders in order to explore their alternative understandings and perceptions of the situation, (b) gathering and studying relevant documentation and data, (c) selecting a Core Planning Team (CPT), which includes at least one member of the community, called the Broker, for guidance in the design of the Co-Laboratory, (d) framing a Triggering Question (TQ) for focusing the deliberations of the participants during the Co-Lab, and (e) identifying a representative group of participants for the Co-Lab, in accordance with the Law of Requisite Variety [122], i.e., all perspectives should be present at the Co-Lab. Finally, logistics for the Co-Laboratories are addressed during the Discovery Phase.

(b)

The Co-Laboratory Phase: This phase of SDD focuses on applying the theory and methodology to engage the group of participants in a productive, effective, authentic, and democratic dialogue. This approach to deliberative democracy is based on four distinct and overlapping steps, namely: (a) generation of ideas in response to the Triggering Question, (b) evaluation of proposed ideas by participants’ vote on the relative saliency of the ideas at various points during the deliberation, (c) clustering the set of ideas into affinity groups by employing the similarity relationship, and (d) mapping a priority subset of ideas by exploring pairwise relationships of influence among them and producing a tree of influence (diagraph).

(c)

Follow-up Action Phase: This phase focuses on implementing the findings and recommendations of the Co-Lab. For example, if the group work has produced a consensus action plan, then specific activities are assigned to members of the group of participants, or the community at large, for implementation. This phase might produce the requirement for additional Co-Labs with different groups of stakeholders focusing on diverse and sometimes more detailed Triggering Questions [123].

4. Implications of a Joint Approach for Two Intervention Regions

How all the aforementioned concepts, insights, and ideas can be applied in specific contexts is explored with reference to two intervention regions from the field of the current interests of two authors from this paper. The territories which have been selected, a Mediterranean island and an East Asian mountainous region, are not only very remote from each other but also very different in geographical, cultural, and social terms. While the archaeological site and wider region of Koumasa (Crete, Greece) represents a landscape that thrived in the Bronze Age (3rd and 2nd millennium BCE) and, after some millennia of inertia, needs to be reactivated, the Honghe Hani Rice Terraces (Peoples Republic of China, Yunnan Province) provide an example of an active agricultural landscape where red rice cultivation is subject to profound socioeconomic transformations. These examples, which could not have been more diverse, seek to demonstrate how the theoretical discussion about participatory placemaking and landscape stewardship can be utilized as motor for social innovation in rural regions.

4.1. Koumasa: An Archaeological Landscape in Southern Crete (Greece)

The archaeological site of Koumasa (south-central Crete) is located in a liminal area between two dramatically contrasting types of terrain: the Asterousia mountain, today a very thinly populated and in large parts uninhabited area, and the Mesara valley, the largest valley of the island which served for millennia as an almost inexhaustible granary and has been transformed, as of the 1950s, as part of the process of modern agricultural intensification, into a ‘sea of olive groves’ (see Figure 3 and Figure 4). This sharp difference between mountain and valley is reflected only today in social, economic, and cultural activities, since in the Bronze Age (c. 3100–1200 BCE), both the Asterousia mountain range and the Mesara valley were two vibrant landscapes that played a decisive role in the historical trajectory of the Minoan society, the first advanced civilization in Europe.

Located strategically on the foothills of Eastern Asterousia and overlooking a large part of the Mesara plain, the site of Koumasa was a physical passage and gateway community and as such predestined to play an important role during the dynamic social processes that transformed Early Bronze Age Crete into a palatial society (3rd millennium BCE). This importance was reflected in the impressive finds from old excavations at the cemetery of Koumasa which were conducted between 1904 and 1906, bringing into light hundreds of clay and stone vases, seals, amulets, jewellery, and ritual objects. More than one hundred years after the first excavations at the site, a new research program commenced in 2012 under the auspices of the Archaeological Society at Athens and the cooperation of the Heidelberg Institute of Classical Archaeology and Byzantine Archaeology and the Heraklion Ephorate of Antiquities. The interdisciplinary project initially pursued the simple aim to thoroughly explore the nearby settlement and relate the new results with those from the old excavations. Yet, in the last ten years, the magnetic power of the Asterousia region and its people started impacting the archaeological team in a rather unexpected way. The longer the excavation staff mingled, lived, and worked with the members of the local communities, the more it shared their most urgent concerns and let them shape the project’s objectives. During this process, it became apparent to the scientific staff that the traditional way of engaging with an archaeological site and the standard archaeological methods, priorities, and goals would have been extremely one-sided, if not naïve, for a scientific team working in the 21st century in a marginal Mediterranean landscape which was affected by a severe economic crisis. The team members soon understood that it would be unfair and futile to focus exclusively on the significance of the site in the Bronze Age and demand that the local communities preserve their cultural heritage at all costs, while these people were mainly confronted with financial problems, worrying year after year whether they will be forced again, after some months of exhaustive work, to sell their olive oil at a shamefully low price or how to cope with the increasing expenses of grazing their flocks. Only through a drastic reconsideration of the project’s overall concept could the excavation team respond to the challenges of this region, cope with current problems, and finally, exploit the scientific and social potential of archaeological research in this unspoiled landscape. The broadening of our scientific interests both in terms of time (diachrony) and space (landscape) has thus been inevitable. Therefore, the question that has inevitably arisen is whether it is possible for archaeologists to play a more active role, not only by recording processes of becoming central and/or non-central, but also by acting as agents who could generate them.

In the course of reconsideration of the project’s objectives, it became clear that for the ‘modern lives’ of archaeological remains, their inherent historic significance is insufficient. Monuments and sites must be energetically ‘modelled’, in an ideal case, in the course of creative interdisciplinary projects that involve the participation of archaeologists, historians, ethnologists, architects, and geographers [124]. This process of conscious ‘placemaking’ [125,126] at both a symbolic and a practical level, i.e.: (a) to the transformation of the monument/site/landscape to a place of living memory, belonging, and collective identity at a local or national level, and (b) to the modelling of a place as a heritage site for financial purposes (tourism or urban regeneration). The key elements for a successful placemaking are the aforementioned notions of solidarity and commoning [127,128]. Considering cultural landscapes as a common good (cultural landscape common) means to mobilize both their utilitarian and non-utilitarian values [129] and to promote their role as a resource for individual and social well-being. Shared heritage concepts based on participatory action foster a retrospective and prospective look: looking back for promoting and safeguarding the historical/diachronic significance of common patrimony and looking forward for cultivating visions for landscapes as resource for the sustainable development of communities [130]. Therefore, the great potential of archaeological landscapes lies not only in their purely scientific significance as an analytical category but primarily in their capacity to provide a juncture between past and present as well as between archaeology and society. What we need are landscape-oriented strategies for contrasting isolation and integrating archaeological landscapes harmoniously into the life and economic and social activities of the local population. In every effort to realize these ideas, the main objective should be to generate from spatial coexistence a ‘cohabitation’, creating an interface between past and present.

Given that an archaeological project is a long-term endeavour, it has the potential—or even the obligation—to change the fate of an isolated region by bridging scientific interests with the concerns of the local people and pursuing common objectives together. This grand challenge for archaeology in the 21st century was very aptly formulated by T. Spek who stressed that our main concern should be “how the knowledge of the past and the care for cultural heritage can be integrated into an innovative strategy for landscape stewardship” and also “how local experiential knowledge and scientific expertise can be amalgamated and translated into a participatory planning process” [131] (p. 148 and passim). The realization of such a plan should incorporate all crucial aspects of the diachronic history of a region into one entity, one archaeological/cultural landscape encompassing geology, geography, fauna, and flora, but also the material remains from the past, and finally the way(s) of life of the local population, traditional techniques, rituals, and habits that are authentic and as such, part of the long history of this region. The success of any effort towards the direction of a holistic management concept of the Asterousia landscape undoubtedly requires a fit conjuncture, which in this specific case is now approaching through the combination of three factors:

• Crete’s Framework for Spatial Planning and Sustainable Development, which was ratified in 2017, prescribing a zoning system for specific activities in each area (https://ypen.gov.gr/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/3827.2010-ΦΕΚ-Α30.pdf [accessed on 5 May 2023]);
• The ambitious plans of the Heraklion Ephorate of Antiquities to create a network of archaeological sites of the Mesara and Asterousia region using the new Archaeological Museum of the Mesara at Gortyn as a gate to this network [132];
• The inscription of the Asterousia Mountain Range on UNESCO’s World Network of Biosphere Reserves in 2020 [133].

The Koumasa project aspires to be prepared for meeting these upcoming challenges by working on a master plan for the sustainable development of the wider Koumasa region, which includes past and present. It is based on the notion of entopia [134,135] as a conceptual framework for studying and shaping a spatial entity based on the principles of identity, relevance, und uniqueness. During the compilation of this master plan, the Social Grid Model was implemented for spotting the most important agents of social innovation in our setting. They include the power relations and status hierarchies between Crete’s Regional Administration, the three municipalities of the wider Koumasa region, the Heraklion Ephorate of Antiquities, local cooperatives, and the local population (‘social networks’), the significance and diverse initiatives of the Greek Orthodox Church and the local cultural associations (‘institutions’), and the perception and valorization of ancient heritage in a marginal region (‘cognitive frames’). In close cooperation with colleagues from other archaeological projects and disciplines as well as with the local population and the local authorities, the Koumasa team wants to preserve, study, and promote this unique landscape as an environment shaped by man and nature. The archaeological landscape must be understood not as a conserved archaeological site which is fenced off and strictly protected and thus presents an exhibited dead landscape, but as a vivid space in which past and present can coexist according to a well-thought-out plan. The concept of the museum in which the material traces of the past are presented out of context in a sterile space is outdated. The museum of the 21st century is the landscape. Therefore, it is envisaged that the experience of exhibition will be replaced with the experience of a passage through space and time in an unspoiled region, in which one can see and understand traces of the man–environment interaction and therefore better comprehend the dynamics of cultural change. Visitors should be able to perceive ancient and modern realities of a landscape as a homogenous whole by activating all their senses. This concept of the multi-sensory perception of an archaeological landscape provides in our view a much better and sincere way for reviving the past than re-enactment, which is based on a fake experience. In the case of an archaeological landscape, all sensual stimuli a visitor should receive from the past (by seeing and touching) and from the present (by hearing, eating, smelling) will be real, linking past and present to each other as fitting parts of a diachronic whole. The realization of a multisensory perception of a landscape will also provide us with the opportunity to include the local population and their authentic practices as an integral part of the landscape by offering them the possibility of a sustainable economic development, which will be in accordance with the special character and fragility of this region.

The premise that every attempt to engage with heritage sites should be based on a participatory concept (‘commoning heritage’) will serve as point of departure for the present approach. For ensuring social solidarity, the project will employ the scientific methodology of the aforementioned Structured Democratic Dialogue (SDD), which enables that these forward-looking approaches can be discussed with all stakeholders from public institutions, academia, economy, and society. In an attempt to scaffold a fruitful dialogue following the tenets of the SDD methodology, the project participants will define the concerns of all sides, formulate common agendas, and find a common language that transcends social spheres and bridges the distance between scientific and indigenous knowledge. During this collective effort, the following questions arise as urgent challenges:

• Is it possible to develop sustainable management models for protecting, preserving, and promoting cultural heritage without running any risk of commercialization” [136,137,138]?
• Can archaeology, as an academic field, contribute to this dialogue by practicing the turn to an ‘applied discipline’ and thus acquire a relevance and significance for our society through the sensible implementation of theoretical concepts for practical modern concerns [139]?
• Finally, is it possible that citizens/local communities participate in this dialogue as active agents, being able to determine the fate of their heritage sites and—more important still—to implement them as basis of sustainable economic development?

Through a balanced combination of archaeological theory and practice as well as the commitment to a participatory principle that will embrace all stakeholders, archaeological sites/landscapes can not only be modelled by implementing innovative ideas but also contribute to the sustainable development of peripheral Mediterranean regions.

4.2. The Honghe Hani Rice Terraces: An Agricultural Landscape in Southwestern China (Yunnan Province)

In the southeastern part of China’s Ailao mountain 哀牢山 range, inundated paddy fields cascade from forested mountaintops, forming a unique rice terrace cultural landscape. The landscape is home to various ethnic groups who engage in red rice cultivation, primarily, though not exclusively, the Hani 哈尼 and Yi 彝 minorities. In 2013, an area spanning about 16 ha and covering three agglomerations of terrace fields (the so-called Bada 坝达, Duoyishu 多依树 and Laohuzui 老虎嘴 ‘blocks’) was inscribed as the ‘Honghe Hani Rice Terraces’ on the World Heritage list (see Figure 5). The property boundary around these three blocks was selected in accordance with geographical and topographical features—e.g., the three river basins Malizhai 麻栗寨, Dawazhe 大瓦遮 and Amengkong 阿勐控–Geta 戈它—but most importantly due to an extraordinarily high concentration of paddy fields within this area south of the Red River (Honghe 红河) [140] (pp. 28–31). The outstanding universal value of these terraces is primarily seen in the complex inter-mountain network of irrigation and drainage channels as well as an integrated farming and breeding system (‘dao yu ya’ zonghe zhongyang moshi “稻鱼鸭”综合种养模式) that is sustained by local social and belief mechanisms. Besides, the ‘Honghe Hani Terraces’ World Heritage nomination laid out four characteristic elements that constitute a ‘(Hani) rice terrace landscape’: forests, village(s), terrace fields, and a water circulation system.

In a mountainous terrain where arable land is scarce, terrace cultivation relies on a sustainable use of particular resources, first and foremost of forests, clayey soil, and water. UNESCO’s advisory body ICOMOS acknowledged this unique characteristic by highlighting the importance of local forest management for slope stabilization and water supply in its evaluation report of the nomination [141] (p. 75). Local communities carefully distinguish between headwater forests, forests that can be used for cultivation and supply with resources such as firewood, as well as preserved forests with a spiritual meaning. Moreover, accessibility and regulation of water play a key role in rice cultivation. Paddy fields are embedded in a complex irrigation network, with water being diverted from springs and streams in the headwater forests through ditches and channels. As illustrated by Formoso and Bouchery, terrace cultivation has a strong cultural and spiritual presence in local societies and intimately connects local identities to the natural environment. For example, local Yi communities use terrace landscape motifs on women’s costumes [142] (pp. 97–101). And in Yunnan’s Hani society, practical experiences of terrace cultivation and water management have influenced the way that the natural environment has been cosmologically conceptualized [143] (p. 319).

Due to its marginal location in southern Yunnan, close to the Laotian and Vietnamese borders, the terrace landscape has maintained a high level of integrity to the present day. Still, it is advisable not to conceive of it as ‘unchanged’. During the 1950s, for example, some village forests were cut to gain land for agricultural production [141] (p. 75). More recently, an exodus of mostly younger people in pursuit of better job opportunities in urban centres resulted in an abandonment of fields, often leaving women faced with the hard fieldwork. Similar to the aforementioned archaeological landscape Koumasa, an improvement of local communities’ living conditions is a fundamental and urgent need. However, in an active, still-cultivated and -inhabited rice terrace landscape, a particular challenge lies in the reconciliation of this goal with a traditional mode of agricultural production. The strong tension between conservation and development becomes most apparent by example of characteristic local architecture, so-called ‘mushroom-shaped houses’ (mogu fang 蘑菇房, see Figure 6), many of which have long remained in a serious state of dilapidation. Even in Azheke 阿者科 village, the only village of the present scenic area where the residential built environment is still largely intact, owners took matters into their own hands by illegally constructing new houses at the village entrance [144]. In such situations of high tension between heritage conservation and an improvement of living conditions, the potential of a Structured Democratic Dialogue (SDD) lies in making the concerns of local inhabitants heard more strongly and, subsequently, in revealing unnoticed opportunities for reconciling differing interests of the stakeholders involved.

The Social Grid Model, as an analytical tool, can inform on opportunities for revitalizing cultural landscapes through social innovation based on the structures of cognitive frames, institutions, and social networks. Compared to other provinces in China, Yunnan is inhabited by a particularly high number of ethnic groups and can be considered a biodiversity hotspot. At the same time, it is still one of the poorest provinces in the country and poverty alleviation remains a major policy goal. Since the 1990s, the provincial government has strived to align poverty alleviation with other strategies of economic development and nature conservation, primarily by setting up and expanding its touristic sector. In the mid-1990s, tourism development first concentrated on northwestern areas, among them the 1997-inscribed World Heritage city Lijiang 丽江, as well as Xishuangbanna 西双版纳 in the south. While nature and ethnic culture were both recognized as valuable assets, their forms of mobilization greatly supported notions of exoticism, backwardness, and other minority stereotypes, as amplified by visitor expectations [145]. Ideas put forward in strategic planning, for example, underlined perceptions of Yunnan as a “great ethnic cultural province” [146] (p. 489). Such cognitive framing strongly promoted the commercialization of tangible and intangible heritage, including handicrafts, music, arts, and cultural performances.

As thoroughly elaborated in heritage literature and illustrated in the theoretical part of this paper, commercialization is a widespread threat to the cultural significance of landscapes that arises almost unavoidably with development. This becomes even more relevant for such landscapes listed as World Heritage. Successful listing not only raises high expectations on the sides of local authorities and site managers, but also exposes the landscape to a much broader range of touristic visitors. At the Honghe Hani Rice Terraces, tourism development has become but one of several strategies to create job and income opportunities for local communities that aim for greater compatibility with its landscape values. Efforts to implement and comply with international conservation guidelines seem to give rise to an ideological reconceptualization where ethnic culture is recognized as a premise for sustaining the terrace landscape. This value extension from cultural resource to essential prerequisite might be regarded as a change in the cognitive frames of local authorities, planners, and developers. At the same time, scholars remind us of the dynamic character of cultural heritage when they argue that contemporary adaptations of culture that occur in the process of ethnic tourism development should not be seen as ‘inauthentic’ or a loss of tradition. Rather, they trigger negotiations of cultural practices and ethnic identities [145,147,148], thereby also altering related perceptions and interpretations (cognitive frames) on the side of the visited.

What greater implications may such changes have for landscape management and a related social innovation? Primarily, the case of the Honghe Hani Rice Terraces offers a novel perspective on opportunities for community participation in China. In an assessment of such participation within Chinese World Heritage properties by Li et al. [149] that drew on UNESCO documents, the Hani Rice Terraces met 18 out of 23 indicators for community involvement, the highest score achieved among all investigated properties. While the authors characterized Chinese World Heritage management in general as a government-led process that is highly focused on tangible qualities, they observed well-advanced community-based mechanisms in some properties within this constrained framework. Such a concurrence between a highly centralized and decentralized political system in China remains subject to continuous debates on “fragmented authoritarianism”, as coined by Kenneth G. Lieberthal and Michel Oksenberg [150,151]. The participatory measures assessed in the case of the Hani Terraces span from heritage management to economic activities. They include an official recognition of customary law, the division of conservation responsibilities among different groups of stakeholders, and contracts between local government and farmers’ organizations that determine a collaboration in agricultural production with shared profits and risks [149].

Following Hani customary law, irrigation and drainage of the terrace system is managed collectively. This mode of water management is grounded in the social structure of local communities. An important social role in the village besides the administrative head and the village assembly is that of a ‘supervisor’ of water division and channels. Individual manipulations of the water flow such as enlargement of spillways are strictly forbidden and perpetrators can be fined. Instead, modifications of the water system must generally be based on consent from all affected field owners [143] (pp. 327–330). The importance of involving local communities in decision-making processes and to respect local knowledge systems and customs, hence intangible qualities, is underlined in the Honghe Recommendations on the Sustainable Development of Terraced Cultural Landscapes. This commitment is the result of an international workshop hosted in Yunnan that discussed the sustainable development of the Hani Rice Terraces in October 2014 [152]. If implemented as codified, the integration of customary law in landscape management might well be seen as a form of institutional change that empowers local communities with regard to the use of water resources, in particular amidst the development of water-intensive tourism facilities.

In order to increase the income of local farmers, a new business model has further been introduced to market agricultural produce. The model aims to respond to challenges such as the lower agricultural yield of red rice compared to hybrid crops, as well as out-migration of younger people in pursuit of better job opportunities. According to an article published in a media outlet of the Yunnan Provincial Party Committee, it proceeds from a cooperation of a newly founded cooperative for organic red rice production (Yuanyang xian Hani titian youji hongmi zhuanye hezuoshe 元阳县哈尼梯田有机红米专业合作社) with a state-owned company (Yuanyang xian liangshi gouxiao youxian gongsi 元阳县粮食购销有限公司) and local farmers. As contractually agreed, the cooperative supplies farmers with high-quality seedlings and purchases the organically grown rice to a guaranteed minimum price after harvest. Since 2014, Yuanyang County has strongly engaged in branding and applied for quality and bio labels to increase the added value of local red rice such as its “Yuanyang Red” 元阳红 [153] (p. 49). To enhance economic viability, farmers continue the breeding of ducks and fish within the paddies.

These developments are accompanied by the creation of new network structures. Digital sales platforms and e-commerce have been strongly promoted in China, following great hopes for their capacity to boost rural development. In the Hani Terraces, they play an important role for expanding the customer range beyond natural mountain borders. Moreover, they are used to raise awareness of the terrace landscape and its heritage through live broadcasts [154]. Further research will have to assess in how far such changes enhance the capabilities of communities and individuals. An increase in the economic viability of agricultural production might reduce the high out-migration of younger people, thereby contributing to solving related social problems such as declining familial care for the elderly. Undoubtedly, the new business model provides an additional path for economic development other than ethnic tourism and aims to integrate it with landscape conservation objectives. Still, the model’s potential for empowerment remains limited due to its strongly centralized and government-led character.

Another interesting initiative that has recently gained a foothold in China is the establishment of community seed banks. The country’s rapid urbanization and transformation of agricultural production has been accompanied by a serious decline in local crop varieties and landscape resilience. In contrast to the national formal system of ex situ conservation of plant genetic resources (storage outside their natural habitat), community-based seed banking empowers smallholder farmers and supports the conservation of local knowledge and farming techniques [155]. As agricultural landscapes in general show a high biodiversity, it is not surprising that a dryland terrace landscape in Wangjinzhuang 王金庄, Hebei Province, northern China, is among the places with the first Chinese seed banks. The seed bank was set up in 2019 by three members of a local association committed to the conservation and utilization of the terraces. Conservation mechanisms in place include seed registration and management guidelines according to which villagers can use seeds for planting with approval of the association and with an obligation to return a certain amount of seeds after harvest. Originally taken from household granaries, these seeds are treated as community resources that are collectively owned. The success of this initiative is primarily seen in its potential to preserve continually adapted local varieties while, at the same time, establishing networks to strengthen seed sharing relationships and exchange with other farming communities [156] (p. 9). These characteristics suggest seed banking as useful mechanism for the participatory management of shared resources that might equally be tested in the agricultural landscape of the Hani Rice Terraces, where seed exchange has long been practiced among community members.

As laid out in the above analysis, the following aspects are seen as having potential to trigger social innovation as part of a sustainable landscape management in the Hani Terraces that takes heritage values, economic opportunities, and environmental preservation into account:

• Changes in cognitive framing to support more inclusive ethnic tourism development that reduces exoticization and challenges perceptions of Han-Chinese superior modernity [145];
• Recognition of the more active role and ability of cultural landscape inhabitants participating in tourism activities to renegotiate heritage values and to reclaim ethnic identity (alteration of cognitive frames);
• Strengthening of local social structures through water regulation and management that follows Hani customary law, thereby sustainably using natural resources and preserving local knowledge;
• Establishment of cooperative agricultural production mechanisms that improve local farmers’ economic situation and prevent out-migration of young community members;
• Increase in social inclusion of marginalized groups (e.g., women) through the enhancement of (agri)culture-related business opportunities;
• Participatory management of shared resources and generation of new network relationships by establishing community seedbanks [155] to support on-farm conservation of local crop species, and improve access and sharing systems.

The case of the Honghe Hani Rice Terraces clearly demonstrates that active (agricultural) landscapes require a balance between natural processes and human use to develop sustainably, and that with cessation of local farmers’ continuous efforts, not only the terrace fields but an entire cultural landscape will be lost. Given this decisive role of local inhabitants in the conservation and development process, effective landscape stewardship requires recognition of their economic needs, a revival of successfully proven social and regulatory mechanisms, while, at the same time, creating new participatory management structures for shared landscape resources.

5. Discussion

Our review of semantic and theoretical developments of the (cultural) landscape category across different disciplines in the humanities has illustrated an evolution from an originally geographical concept to landscape as a sociocultural construct and a dynamic process. In the social sciences, a connection between the social construction of space and space as a (shaped) natural phenomenon remains a desideratum. Taking account of these previous disciplinary insights, a change of perspective was taken, in which landscapes are not simply regarded as a result of human activity, but function as arenas for social, economic, and political processes. Accordingly, social innovation is suggested as a promising concept with which to provide impulses for community empowerment within a supportive, ideally not over-bureaucratic framework, and for a reconfiguration of social practices.

Proceeding from the assumption that cultural landscapes have great potential as resources for social innovation, this paper then describes a joint interdisciplinary approach. This approach aims to overcome extreme forms of development, including both a ‘museumification’ of cultural heritage, as well as an ‘overexploitation’ of local resources for commercial purposes. Instead, it traces social innovation streams that are generated through either alignment or conflict of various actors’ interests in their use of landscape resources (see Figure 2). Examples for such innovation streams include a mobilization of local/indigenous knowledge for the conservation of cultural and biodiversity, development of innovative product ideas, changes in regulations and legal provisions, and enhancement of social inclusion and participation. The Social Grid Model as put forward by Beckert is suggested as an integrative analytical tool and the Structured Democratic Dialogue as a method to guide an intervention targeted at tackling an unsustainable use of landscape resources. The Social Grid Model provides a theoretical point of departure for every initiative to exploit cultural landscapes as a resource for social innovation. By focusing on social networks, institutions and cognitive frames, this model not only demonstrates the plurality of factors at play but also helps to identify the most important agents of social dynamics as well as their multifarious entanglements. Thus, it provides a systematic analysis of shared concepts, conflicts, and competitions of actors. The Structured Democratic Dialogue can be applied at a sequential stage, drawing from the results of the Social Grid Model analysis for identifying the dialogue’s participants and triggering questions. Both tools should be implemented complementary to each other in the course of a comprehensive strategy for enhancing the social potential of cultural landscapes.

A first attempt to conceptualize the combination of a cultural studies-inspired intervention by means of social innovation in the context of an ‘inactive’ landscape in Greece (Koumasa) and an ‘active’ landscape in China (Honghe Hani Rice Terraces) has shown the broad interdisciplinary dimensions of how such an approach could contribute to future landscape and social innovation research and development. The discussion of the ongoing archaeological project at Koumasa has demonstrated that heritage sites can be employed as resources for social innovation if they are based on participatory concepts in the course of which scientific priorities merge with local needs and aspirations. The case of the Hani Rice Terraces has pointed out opportunities for alterations in cognitive framing to support a more active role of landscape inhabitants participating in ethnic tourism activities, as well as of women engaged in (agri)culture-related businesses. Additional opportunities found have concerned the preservation of local knowledge and strengthening of social structures through water management that follows Hani customary law, as well as a possible generation of new network relationships by establishing community seedbanks that support on-farm conservation and improve access to and sharing of local crop species as part of participatory management.

A further elaboration will certainly require a longer-term in-depth study, evaluation and adjustment of this approach in the selected, as well as in additional, intervention regions. Nevertheless, this paper demonstrates how theoretical approaches and methodological tools from the humanities and social sciences can be fruitfully merged to better understand the role of spatial developments, cultural contexts, and power relations in the heritagization of rural regions. Following the objective to develop future perspectives for local communities that allow for the conservation of cultural landscapes as sustainable habitats, to embark on this risky interdisciplinary cooperation has proven worthwhile.

6. Conclusions

The modern notion of ‘cultural landscape’ poses great challenges both at a theoretical and operational level. The present paper has placed its main emphasis on theory and methods, striving to explore the potential of cultural landscapes as resources for social innovation. Our engagement with this topic that, evidently, has already been proven in the course of several recent and still on-going projects, was not dictated by our wish to reverse the standard way in the materialization of ideas, but by our aim to corroborate already existing strategies with a solid theoretical fundament. Current strategies for exploiting the immense cultural, social, and economic reservoir of tangible and intangible heritage bound to specific landscapes need an elaborate theoretical arsenal and clear-cut terms that will foster the development of a common ‘language’ understandable by the extremely heterogeneous body of stakeholders. Practicing the cooperation between humanities and sociology, the present paper tries not only to survey and critically discuss important advances of different disciplinary approaches to cultural heritage, but also to identify specific tools and methods that could enhance current efforts in implementing cultural values as incentives for social innovation in marginal areas. The Social Grid Model, that elucidates the complexity of social innovation as well as pinpoints the main parameters of this process, and the Structured Democratic Dialogue, that ensures the participatory character of every initiative taken towards this direction, can contribute to the evolvement from methods to strategies. One further important insight has been the significance of a historically deep and regionally broad approach. Studying the diachrony of cultural landscapes from a transcultural perspective can provide a more fine-grained understanding of local problems and potentialities. Therefore, cultural landscapes have to be regarded not only as territories of historical value but also as productive forces that can contribute to the development of social innovations and thus to the well-being of peripheral regions.