“If You Do Not Visit, We Will Take It Away”: An Analysis of a Communication Campaign for Italian...

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“If You Do Not Visit, We Will Take It Away”: An Analysis of a Communication Campaign for Italian Cultural HeritageIşılay Gürsu, IMT Institute for Advanced Studies, Lucca

ABSTRACTIn January 2010, Italy’s famous ancient objects and sites, namely Leonardo da Vinci’s “Last Supper,” the “Colosseum,” and Michelangelo’s “David,” appeared as protagonists in a communication campaign by the Italian Ministry of Cultural Heritage and Activities (MiBAC). Gigantic panels with images of these “superstars” being removed from their original locations were displayed in the main squares of Milan and Rome. This entire virtual symphony—accompanied by the threatening slogan “If you do not visit, we will take it away”—emerged since, according to MiBAC, Italians do not visit national cultural sites as often as they visit foreign ones.

Explaining this particular campaign, the aim of this article is to explore the ways in which cultural heritage becomes subject to contemporary uses under specific political, social, economic, and legal conditions. Official approaches toward cultural heritage are discussed with their political and economic connotations, which are the partial reflections of a “new public management.” Analyzing these recent cultural heritage management practices sheds light on the circumstances which lead to the creation of such a campaign. These circumstances—be they the as-signment of the former CEO of the Italian branch of McDonald’s as the new general director for museums and archaeological sites, or the imple-mentation of various laws and regulations which favor decentralization

Anthropological Quarterly, Vol. 88, No. 2, p. 509–532, ISSN 0003-5491. © 2015 by the Institute for Ethnographic Research (IFER) a part of the George Washington University. All rights reserved.

“If You Do Not Visit, We Will Take It Away”: An Analysis of a Communication Campaign for Italian Cultural Heritage

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movements—are analyzed in order to develop a multilayered reading of the campaign. Apart from this political context, the article analyzes the tone and the secondary messages of the visuals via Bourdieu’s concept of “cultural capital.” In addition to being relevant for describing the con-sumption of culture, “cultural capital” also sheds light on the relationship between citizen and consumer. This article concludes by reconstructing the relationship between the state and the people regarding the owner-ship and use of cultural heritage, within the framework of Italy’s com-munication campaign. [Keywords: Cultural heritage, commercialization of culture, cultural capital, new public management, Italy]

Introduction

As simple as it gets: “If you do not visit, we will take it away.”

This slogan, accompanied by apocalyptic graphics, appeared as part of a communication campaign designed by the Italian Ministry of Cultural Heritage and Activities (hereafter referred to as MiBAC). The communi-cation campaign, which aimed to attract national visitors to Italian mu-seums, included huge posters, video, and radio advertisements—all of which used the same slogan with three different visuals. The protagonists for the visuals were Michelangelo’s “David,” Leonardo da Vinci’s “Last Supper,” and the Colosseum, which were portrayed in the processes of being severed from their origins before being carried off to other coun-tries. Billboards sporting these visuals were placed in the main squares of Milan and Rome for five weeks at the beginning of 2010. Gigantic panels with these images would not have gone unnoticed by the thousands who pass through these squares every day.

A sub-slogan placed under the main text carries a similar imperative tone, but also tries to provide context for its threats:

“In Italy, the masterpieces of the history of art are waiting for you. Rediscover them.”1

This caption repeats itself on three visuals, each portraying the cultural objects in unnatural settings that hardly resemble their current safeguard-ed environments.

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The casting for the campaign is straightforward: the chosen objects and sites are quite recognizable, not only among Italians but also inter-national audiences. The campaign does not explicitly put the visuals in a sequential order, but if they were to represent different times of the same day, the earliest shot would be that of Colosseum (see Figure 1), which is being disassembled into pieces just before sunrise. The overall atmo-sphere gives the impression of a hasty evacuation on a gray day, which one would expect to find in a doomsday movie. There is no hint regarding the Colosseum’s final destination. A closer look reveals many workers en-gaged in the activity of dismantling. A typical Italian building appears on the left side of the visual, and some apartments seem to have lights on—perhaps, the inhabitants cannot sleep with all that construction noise.

In his book The Origin of German Tragic Drama, Benjamin (1977) for-mulates the concept of “ruin.” The ruin “is valuable because it delves beyond the aesthetic of the ruin as an object, and reads it as a process, a means of demystifying and stripping away symbolism—a means of ap-proaching historical truth through reduction” (Stead 2003:51). The degree to which the Colosseum will be ruined after its dismantling and removal il-lustrates this concept. Once MiBAC takes the monument away to punish

Figure 1: Colosseum Figure 2: David

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Italians, the monument itself will bear traces of this act. As the notion of “ruin” highlights, from then on, the monument will not only be important for its aesthetic value, but also for the particular treatment to which it has been subject.

The second scene (see Figure 2), showing the rise of a new day, por-trays Michelangelo’s David en route to London. Hovering above the gray London skyline, the statue is tied to four helicopters. Here, too, the poster evokes an evacuation atmosphere. Both scenes could have been from a movie, especially an apocalyptic one, since it is very common to come across famous artworks in this genre.2 Yet, the salvage attitude evoked in the end-of-the-world movies is not dominant in the last scene (see Figure 3) of MiBAC’s communication campaign, which features Leonardo da Vinci’s “Last Supper.” Here, three workers, under the meticulous su-pervision of a fourth, are trying to stabilize a huge wall. Some passersby are watching the workers handle da Vinci’s masterpiece. Nearby, one can easily spot two US flags; the Ministry’s website confirms that the city pictured is New York.

This campaign was based on the initiatives of the General Director for the Enhancement of Cultural Heritage, Mario Resca,3 whose prompt trans-fer from the private sector to the public sector in 2008 inspired a public outcry in Italy. If any name had to be chosen which would personify a con-troversial approach to cultural heritage (characterized by a willingness to incorporate private sector values—like increasing revenues, decreasing

Figure 3: Last Supper

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costs, and improving efficiency—into its management without consid-ering the side effects of such commodification), Mr. Resca would be a strong candidate, not only because of his aforementioned campaigns, but also due to his previous career as the former CEO of the Italian branch of McDonald’s. The obvious extension of Mr. Resca’s former profession (the “McDonaldization” of culture) and his assignment by the Berlusconi government have been considered part of Italy’s controversial new ap-proach to heritage preservation (Starr 2010).4 The creative brief5 describ-ing MiBAC’s visuals underscores this approach. The brief was based on quantitative research commissioned by MiBAC on the behaviors of Italian tourists during their holidays, conducted by UNIONCAMERE in collaboration with the National Observatory of Tourism. The motivation to undertake such research was grounded in the insight that Italians visit cultural sites and museums more when they are abroad, while they seem to “snub” the immense artistic heritage that they have at home. The in-vestigation revealed that 46.5 percent of Italians participate in cultural activity abroad, while only 14.5 percent do the same in Italy. In light of this data, the object of communication was to make Italians rediscover the artistic heritage of their country and to reverse the negative trend of visi-tor numbers. The targets of the campaign were those Italians who usually do not take the artistic heritage of their country, their city, or that of other Italian cities into consideration. It was aimed at raising Italians’ aware-ness of the richness of local artistic heritage through a provocation. At the same time, the campaign also aimed to enhance MiBAC’s leadership in the international cultural heritage sphere.

Created as a result of this brief, the campaign visuals designed by DDB Milano were placed in the squares frequented by Italians and non-Italians alike, suggesting that the Italian government might be threatening or embarrassing its citizens in front of foreign visitors, for locals’ relative lack of interest in their own heritage. The fact that Italians tend to visit cultural sites when they are abroad but do not visit such sites at home had become a cause for concern, since the country was suffering from a decreasing number of visitors. In turn, this situation affected the revenues from ticket offices and, more importantly, put Italy in a disadvantageous position when compared with other countries famous for cultural tour-ism, like the United Kingdom or France. Consequently, MiBAC aimed to reposition itself as a leader in the international arena. As a part of this endeavor, it embraced private sector marketing strategies. The remarks


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highlighted throughout the brief were organized according to basic mar-keting concepts, and even its jargon seemed corporate. The specifica-tion of a “target,” the clear and understandable message, and the un-derlying motivation—to boost ticket revenues by increasing the number of visitors to cultural sites—are all examples of basic marketing tools. When employed by private firms, these tools are used to create loyal customers,and there are many studies on the importance of inspiring re-peat business. In this regard, while tourists are typically one-time visitors, locals have the potential to turn into loyal customers.

That said, this campaign does not pretend that cultural heritage is a simple product; rather, it feeds on the emotion that heritage elicits. It is for this reason that provocation was the chosen tone of address, and it is no surprise that some citizens found it irritating. Italy’s audience shared a broad range of reactions via blogs, online articles, and newspapers. Some offered alternative slogans: “Maybe something like: if you do not visit, we will sell it to the Chinese might have worked even better.”6 The appearance of Italy’s top-known cultural symbols as the campaign’s pro-tagonists was also criticized by bloggers who write on cultural heritage. For example,

A truly shocking campaign? Although really pretty, not really all that provocative, in my opinion. Rather, too limited, covering only Italy’s three “antiquity superstars”!7

Moreover, Piergiorgio Benvenuti, coordinator of the Lazio Region for European Ecological Movement, emphasized the tone and language of the slogan, “If you don’t visit, we will take it away,” as problematic: “The message is pedagogically wrong, harmful especially for younger generations; it represents a ‘moral blackmail’ that asks for more visits to Colosseum which will otherwise be disassembled and taken to a place rather than the one on which it always existed.”8

General ContextIn the 1980s and 1990s, many countries created reforms introducing the private sector—or its business-management thinking—to public sec-tor organizations with goals like improved efficiency, effectiveness, and financial stability. This phenomenon has also attracted the attention of

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management and public administration studies scholars, and has been termed “new public management (NPM)” (Hood 1995). One of the most notable characteristics of NPM is the transition from a bureaucratic mo-del based on norms to a managerial one based on performance (Calogero 2010). Ciarniene et al. (2005) state that NPM incorporates private sector management systems and techniques into public services. Such princi-ples require administrators to become managers. For instance, in the UK, some managers who used to work in the private sector were assigned to new positions in the public sector. Sözen and Shaw (2002) argue that this has been one of the most important engines of change in the traditional public management system. The transfer of Mario Resca, who had prov-en to be a successful manager at the Italian branch of McDonald’s and in various private-sector positions, is a living example of how NPM has been experienced in Italian cultural institutions. The application of NPM to the Italian public sector in general aimed to correct the structural defe-cts in the public administration by achieving proclaimed NPM principles:

Focus on results in terms of efficiency, effectiveness, and quality of service by setting standards of productivity; an orientation toward citizen-consumers in terms of service quality and customer satis-faction; the introduction of market mechanisms; a more strategic focus on the reinforcement of strategic capacity. (Calogero 2010:30)

In this regard, different public offices (including those within MiBAC) have started to show increased attention to market mechanisms. It is also worth highlighting the “publicness,” or public relevance, Resca’s office represents. Compared to a public museum dependent on public funds for survival, a general directorate—a direct part of the ministry—is a much more accurate reflection of state bureaucracy. These offices might be considered resistant to the kinds of change NPM reforms are likely to bring, since their practices are rooted in tradition. However, as Sözen and Shaw (2002) claim, if the government is committed to the ap-plication of these reforms, the change starts from the positions closest to the government. These are the offices that determine the applicabil-ity of movements like NPM to the whole system. Although there might be some opposing voices, they are eventually silenced by new assign-ments from ministers or other high-ranking officials. Therefore, the extent to which a public institution holds publicness (i.e., is close to the central


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government) is an important determinant in the success of the adaptation of a new approach.

Not only in Italy, but also in other parts of the world, the introduction of private sector values and management practices to traditional bureau-cratic command and control mechanisms has been observed in myriad public cultural institutions. According to Zan these institutions “take part, more reluctantly than willingly, in this process of ‘economizing’,” (2006:8) which focuses on the use and value of public money. Therefore, in the cultural scene in Italy and other countries, the creation of survival strate-gies under this new regime is dominated by the search for value of public money, accompanied by an increased call for accountability. Many of the strategies aim to turn the economic burden of heritage into an asset and create measureable success criteria, like the visitor numbers targeted by Italy’s communication campaign. Analyzing the cultural scene in Italy more than two decades ago, Bodo summarized the situation as follows:

The extraordinary wealth and variety of our artistic heritage is both an asset and a burden for the Italian Government. On the other hand, several corporations and financial institutions—which are no longer interested in sponsoring culture—are pushing hard to be en-trusted with direct management of some national monuments and museums through forms of concessions. Thanks to their effective management, they claim, the Italian artistic heritage could become a profitable business. This is, in fact, a quite controversial issue, as the operation of cultural institutions by profit-making companies could lead, some fear, to a sort of commercialization of culture not taking into account its relevant social aspects. (1997:182)

This situation is a double-edged sword, threatening many govern-ments that have traditionally been regarded as the protector and pro-moter of cultural heritage on behalf of the general public. The government is torn between the financial pressures and greater emphasis placed on economic sustainability and efficiency, as required by NPM movements, and the commercialization and ignorance of social aspects. Since Bodo pointed out these issues, the scene has changed very rapidly in Italy and there have been experiments to create new models to remove some of the financial burden associated with heritage from the public’s shoulders. One of the ways to achieve this was the introduction of the private sector

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into the management of cultural heritage. Ponzini (2010) states that mo-tives to insert private actors into the heritage field partially depend on par-ticular characteristics of the Italian cultural sector, as well as political and institutional factors purposely designed by the government. He writes,

The broadly encompassing conception of cultural heritage that characterizes the Italian policy system invests public administration with an enormous number of assets and an articulated set of func-tions. This conception poses the question of how public expendi-ture should be allocated and it pushes the public sector to seek the involvement of private and non-profit sectors wherever possible. (Ponzini 2010:511)

This insertion of private actors is noteworthy in the Italian case, and is a relatively recent phenomenon. A closer look at what actually happened in Italy during the last two decades is crucial for a sound analysis of this particular campaign. To begin with, according to the Italian tradition, al-most all of the country’s cultural assets are protected by the state, and the large number of assets forced and continues to force the government to restructure the way it looks after its artistic past (James 2003). Most of these restructurings, observable since 1990s, indicate a strong tendency toward a decentralized approach to the management of cultural heritage through outsourcing, devolution, managerialization, and even privatiza-tion (Zan et al. 2007). For instance, one of the first initiatives (long before privatization attempts) was compensating cuts in state funds with private investment through tax breaks and a lottery that would finance only cul-tural projects (Darlington 2003). According to Darlington (2003), even dur-ing these initial endeavors, the ultimate plan was to put some sites under private management and foster a broader government proposal to sell off some state estates, including those belonging to the ministry.

In line with what Darlington claims to have predicted, in April 2002, the so-called Tremonti Law9 was approved by the right-wing Berlusconi government. Consolidated as of June 15, 2002, the Tremonti Law made it possible to sell the country’s cultural assets. Benedikter (2004) analyzes the period from 2002 to 2004, focusing on the outcomes of the Tremonti Law. Upon the enforcement of the act, two share-holding companies were established. The first was “State Patrimony Plc” which was com-pletely state-owned and administered by the Ministry of Economic Affairs


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and possessed all cultural objects that belonged to the state. The sec-ond company was “Infrastructure Plc,” to which the first company was allowed to transfer objects to be privatized or leased. If the assets were under a preservation order, the Ministry of Economic Affairs and MiBAC had to agree (Benedikter 2004). Among the state properties transferred to State Patrimony Plc, there were more than 3,000 museums, 2,000 ar-chaeological sites, and many castles, gardens, and historical buildings (Darlington 2003). During the sale in 2003, 36 of these listed properties were sold (Benedikter 2004). The acquisition of a considerable portion of these objects by an American company, Carlyle Group, has been an object of media interest (Sgarbi 2003). The Tremonti Law was not only directed toward cultural assets, but was also known as deficit saver law and thus a program for the betterment of the economy (Benedikter 2004). Italy’s Minister of Culture, Giuliano Urbani, declared at the time of the leg-islation that, “considering the size of its enormous cultural heritage, Italy spends too little of its GDP to protect it” (as quoted in Darlington 2003). He further attempted to define this public problem as a feasible concili-ation, stating that “Italy is like a person with many houses, but also with many debts. So we have to look at which houses are dispensable” (as quoted in Benedikter 2004:371).

The government responsible for passing this law declared that they had no intention of selling the Colosseum. But, according to Salvatore Settis (as quoted in Darlington 2003), even though it is possible to believe the minister, in theory the law allows the government to sell whatever it wants. After the actual sale of several monuments, news on these sales made its way into the media, making the issue important in the interna-tional arena as well. As Benedikter describes:

The rumors that Italy’s cultural possessions…archaeological sites and museums...might be privatized triggered an unprecedented alarm in the history of international museology. An open letter em-phasizing the museums as cultural institutions which are nonprofit and for the public benefit is sent to the Italian government which is accused of commercializing the culture. (2004:383)

The Tremonti Law was criticized for being too flexible, leaving room for merchandising cultural heritage. Many scholars, including John Carman (1995), have discussed the notion of the commercialization of culture.

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According to Carman (1995), the public spends valuable resources on the preservation and non-consumption of cultural heritage, and it is through this spending that the aura of the public domain is created. This aura, in turn, gives the impression that cultural heritage should not be an object of everyday consumption—in which things are used up, discarded, or ignored (Carman 1995). However, the introduction of the Tremonti Law in Italy meant that elements of cultural heritage became commercial, with the potential to undermine the value, especially aesthetic, ascribed to the public domain. Value is one of the critical concepts within heritage studies, and in some instances values can contradict one another, as economic and aesthetic values do here. And when certain value systems are backed by state power, others are likely to suffer. As Zan et al. explain,

Italy is one of the few countries in the world where preservation of cultural heritage is inscribed in its constitution as a duty of the state. Moreover the notion of cultural goods is a legal construct and cultural goods are specifically defined and recognized by the law. Ownership of these cultural goods can be public (state or local) or private (individual citizens, compan[ies], or others). Public or pri-vate, cultural goods are a matter of public interest, instrumental in the intellectual growth of citizens. This is why they are not subject to private law but to a specific public law. Compliance with this partic-ular public law implies that private citizens cannot freely determine the use of cultural heritage in their ownership or its transmission because the goods must demonstrably be seen to serve the public interest. (2007:52)

Here, it becomes important to question how states behave when they hold the ownership of any kind of public good. Looking at the Italian cam-paign or the latest statements of its politicians, and considering the spe-cial characteristics of cultural heritage, the posession of public goods raises some concerns. In this particular instance, “state ‘ownership’ of heritage does not fulfill the purposes of the heritage, but instead gives greater prestige and authority to the state as an institution” (Carman 2005:76). The use of cultural heritage for prestige, authority, or marketing purposes either by the state or private companies affects “public under-standing of public ownership” of cultural property. An interesting example which has the potential to raise questions about the public ownership of


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heritage is the advertisement that Taco Bell, a private American company, ran as an April Fool’s Day joke. In 1996, a full page ad appeared in six major American newspapers announcing that fast-food chain Taco Bell had purchased the Liberty Bell. The ad was composed of a picture of the bell and the following text:

“Taco Bell Buys The Liberty Bell”In an effort to help the national debt, Taco Bell is pleased to an-nounce that we have agreed to purchase the Liberty Bell, one of our country’s most historic treasures. It will now be called the “Taco Liberty Bell” and will still be accessible to the American public for viewing. While some may find this controversial, we hope our move will prompt other corporations to take similar action to do their part to reduce the country’s debt.”10

Such examples demonstrate the changing approach to cultural heri-tage under neoliberalism. In his book, Italia S.p.A. (which translates as Italy Ltd.), Settis (2002) gives a brilliant description of the transformation of cultural heritage. He criticizes the mindset that views heritage as a sort of bank deposit, an accessory without institutional importance to be invested and spent without further consideration, “like money which has been accumulated under the mattress to be spent for the joy of the grand-children by an elderly uncle in a rather ancient manner” (Settis 2002:8). Moreover, according to Settis (2002) and Ponzini (2010) the matter can-not be easily discussed in a basic left–right political context, concluding instead that it is not the product of a specific political orientation.

Although the communication campaign itself was created by a general director who was appointed by former Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi, the emergence of strategies which favor the economic exploitation of cul-tural heritage can be traced through the offices of different ministers from both sides of the political spectrum, including Walter Veltroni, Giovanna Melandri, Giuliano Urbani, and Sandro Bondi. In line with this, “the use of mixed public–private entities in the management of museums adopted by the right-wing government is identical to the one designed a few years before by the Left for Lyric Theatres” (Ponzini 2010:516). Ponzini classi-fies the initiatives undertaken by the government during the process of privatization into three groups:

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“[First,] the alienation and securitisation of state-owned historic real estate which is usually refered as the privatization example; second, the establishment of mixed public–private entities to manage and to promote (valorizzare) cultural heritage and the arts; and third, the introduction of private actors into policy-making and implementa-tion” (2010:511).

The notion of “valorizzazione” (listed in the second group) has been dis-cussed widely within academia.11 Ponzini translates the word to mean promotion; however, it is possible to find different translations, including “enhancement”—as it will be referred to here. Apart from privatization, the notion of enhancement, defined as an agent of development, is con-sidered one of the concrete steps taken during the terms of different min-isters. While the abrupt privatization decision—although it has not been repeated, nor has it produced any further tangible acts—has been dis-cussed widely in Italy and abroad, the enhancement concept has taken a firmer place in both the legal system and in practices without provok-ing much public debate. It was presented for the first time in 1964 in a normative text within Law 310, which was created by the Franceschini Commission; its legal definition came in 1998 with the legislative decree n.112. Article 148 of the same decree describes enhancement as “every activity that is performed in order to better the conditions of awareness and conservation of cultural heritage and landscape and to boost frui-tion” (Casini 2001:657).

The current Italian code of Cultural and Landscape Heritage, which came into force in 2004, defines the concept of “enhancement” and gives more details regarding its function:

Enhancement consists in the exercise of the functions and in the regulation of activities aimed at promoting knowledge of the cultural heritage and at ensuring the best conditions for the utilization and public enjoyment of the same heritage. Enhancement also includes promotion and the support of the conservation work on the cultural heritage. Enhancement is carried out in forms which are compatible with protection and which are such as not to prejudice its exigen-cies. The republic shall foster and sustain the participation of private subjects, be they single individuals or associations, in the enhance-ment of cultural heritage.12


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According to Casini (2001), the enhancement function has limitations due to its implementation by diffferent public offices at multiple scales of governance (local and national). Additionally, the state’s limited budget has directed the function of enhancement into entrepreneurial manage-ment of cultural heritage and, as a result, conflict between conservation and fruition has increased. He also states that enhancement has taken a role to defend the national and local identity against the effects of cultural homogenization related to the phenomenon of globalization (Casini 2001).

The concept of enhancement did not come out of blue; it is both the cause and the result of a specific policy which emphasizes the potential economic use of heritage. It produces its own practices and sets of rules within the governmental bodies responsible for Italy’s cultural institutions. Being a product of those bodies, MiBAC’s campaign expresses all of the concerns that arise from the diffusion of enhancement and becomes a unit of analysis for the economically driven policies. For this reason, it has also been blamed for creating room for the commodification of Italian heritage. The socially relevant feature of commodities, according to Appadurai (1986), is their exchangeability for some other thing. In the absence of this feature, a thing ceases to be a commodity. As Carman (2005) points out, heritage by nature is not exchangable, and therefore not classifiable as a commodity. But MiBAC’s campaign creates room for the exchangability of heritage because it clearly points to a transaction of cultural objects.

This point aligns with many criticisms related to the commodification of culture. For instance, Hannabus says that, “we live in a capitalist con-sumerist society where culture is commodified for hedonistic consump-tion, and where we have become skilled consumers of every product, in-cluding heritage itself” (1999:298). Adorno’s (1991) critique of the culture industry exemplifies commodification with the ease of reproduction of cultural artifacts and experience in mechanical forms, which has the in-evitable effect of devaluing their uniqueness, and is very much in line with Benjamin’s (2010) notion of aura. Benjamin argues that the “aura” of the original, unique work of art is lost in reproductions. “Even the most per-fect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one element: its presence in time and space, its unique existence at the place where it happens to be” (Benjamin 2010:4). The critical perspective of the Frankfurt School implies a more general opposition to the bourgeois social organization, including the idea of a separated aesthetic domain which a privileged class should

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enjoy in a disinterested way. Recalling Adorno and Benjamin’s criticisms while staring at the billboards with the images of the superstars of antiqu-ity, one is struck by the fact that MiBAC does not hesitate to jeopardize the otherworldly uniqueness of these ancient objects. It is true that these antiquities have been commodified in many different ways—to be sold as souvenirs or as tourism products, for example—but the campaign is more subtle in its attempt to increase museum ticket sales. Traditional ways of “exposing” the public to cultural patrimony through museums, art galleries, exhibitions, and so forth proved to be largely unsuccess-ful, in terms of real education of taste and knowledge. For example, the campaign would still have been considered a great success if all Italians had queued to buy a ticket in front of the Galleria dell’Accademia, but the moment they bought the ticket left without stepping foot inside the museum building.

Citizen or Consumer?When the state puts forward an open call to visit cultural sites and muse-ums, it downplays participation in a cultural activity, lacking comprehen-sion of possible reasons why people do not visit these sites. The extent to which participation in cultural activities depends on individual prefer-ences or how these preferences are shaped has been the focus of a great deal of research. For instance, the concept of cultural capital, as devel-oped and elaborated on by Pierre Bourdieu, analyzes the impact of cul-ture on the class system and the relationship between action and social structure (Lamont and Lareau 1988). Bourdieu’s principal proposal is that people, “in order to appreciate or understand certain forms of cultural production, must have experienced certain forms of socialization, that is, a familial upbringing and education, that has endowed them with the ‘cultural competence’ necessary to recognize such productions” (Walsh 1992:124).Therefore, Bourdieu’s notion of cultural capital offers insight into the reasons why some citizens are not natural-born museum-goers, or why some enjoy particular works of art less than others. As he states, “A work of art has meaning and interest only for someone who possess-es the cultural competence, that is, the code, into which it is encoded” (Bourdieu 1984:2).

Although Bennett and Savage (2004:12) state that “the concept of cul-tural capital is an unsettling one which challenges agendas and poses


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difficult questions, perhaps more easily than it answers them,” Bourdieu’s theory of cultural capital and taste offers the most comprehensive and influential attempt to develop a theoretical framework that explains the social pattern of consumption in an increasingly mystified social world (Holt 1998). In this regard, it seems to be the right concept to use when considering why different types of consumption require different sorts and amounts of capital. However, the notion of cultural capital is warped when too much emphasis is placed on ticket revenues and when visitors are defined as customers, leading to the economic exploiration of cultural heritage. If one’s plan is to engage the community by collecting entrance fees, economic capital takes precedent. But clearly both are at play when a campaign simultaneously aims to commodify and engage citizens in preserving their cultural heritage.

Generally, the use of an “if” clause indicates “something happens when something else happens or exists”; however, when pronounced by states, an “if” clause generally denotes unbalanced power. In the phrase, “If you do not visit, we will take it away,” citizens’ lack of cultural capital exposes them to the threat of the state. Another demonstration of unbal-anced power lies in the campaign’s pronound use: the “you” form used in the ad’s “if you do not visit” clause is a singular one, whereas the state is represented as “we,” as in “we will take it away.” These denotational threats are echoed by other states with reference to various situations. To give an example from the cultural heritage field, the recent statements of the Turkish Ministry of Culture and Tourism are noteworthy. Turkey, like Italy, houses rich cultural heritage. With rising European interest in ar-chaeology and archaeological material, there have been many instances in which antiquities were taken to other countries—either illicitly or with the promise of restoration—and were never returned. A recent Turkish campaign aims to bring archaeological materials back to the lands where they were found. The language used for this campaign establishes an-other “if” fight. To paraphrase: “If those institutions do not return what belongs to Turkey, we will not give any further loans and we will suspend all of our collaborations with them.”13 Here, the respondents are institu-tions, but it is usually the general public that pays for the state’s ego. In the Italian case, those citizens who already go to the museums are somehow condemned; in Turkey, the national and international publics are negatively affected.

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Considering these populist moves by different governments, one feels the need to question the extent to which politicians and decision mak-ers see citizens as free and rational people, as opposed to an aggregate of isolated and mindless consumers. Neoliberal movements, which are evident in various sectors and political systems around the world, indi-cate a strong tendency to create corporate states. Along with the rise of the application of NPM techniques, citizens have started to be put in the place of the consumer. Partridge (2003) gives the following account of the consumer and citizen models. According to him, the model consumer is the perfect egoist, or “economic man.”

Economic man sees the world through “the mind’s I” and is motivat-ed by the desire to “maximize preference satisfaction.” “Values” are interpreted as “prices”—willingness to pay—and thus moral value is “factored out.” Those with something to sell—be it a product, a ser-vice, or a candidate—address the consumer with any device found to be effective: imagery, slogans, deception, fallacy, “spin,” and even slander and outright lies, if one can get away with it. (Partridge 2003)

On the other hand, the ideal citizen is portrayed as:

The ideal citizen considers himself or herself as one equal member among many engaged in cooperative activity for mutual advantage. This point of view enables one to recognize excellence in individuals (“virtues”) and in societies (“justice”)…“Moral values” are indepen-dent of economic values (“prices”). In political debate, the ideal citi-zen is unmoved by devious salesmanship and is persuaded by “the better case”—the clearer presentation of facts, the greater weight of evidence, and by the more coherent and consistent argument. (Partridge 2003)

The distinction between the consumer and the citizen is crucial in under-standing the causes behind the emergence of new mindsets, to which the campaign of MiBAC represents a distinctive example. For instance, the creative brief given to the design agency indicated that Italians tend-ed to visit more museums when abroad. Thus, it is necessary to bring them to discover their own treasures and encourage them to visit sites in Italy more often. However, this discourse does not have any consistent


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arguments on the social or educational side; it is merely a calculation of tourism accounts. The tourism industry has been growing rapidly throughout the past two decades and its expansion will probably con-tinue well into the future, which is why many governments are investing in tourism infrastructure. Since tourism revenue is recorded as “exports” in the GDP, it is a very appealing form of revenue generation at a national level. However, there is also another side: in the case of out-going tour-ism, there is a substantial outflow of national money. This situation is one of the main engines driving Resca’s communication campaign which clearly lacks any kind of consideration of the negative effects of tourism such as congestion at sites and the psychological barriers it creates for local visitors. The campaign also presses the national pride button. As the slogan suggests, it is Italy that has the masterpieces and it is loyalty to national heritage that needs to be elicited: be proud of YOUR heritage and SHOW that—be more loyal to the nation than to the foreign, and prove this by paying for it.

Foucault’s (2002) conceptualization of “governmentality” can be used to investigate the ways in which the government thinks or functions under neoliberalism. In this interpretation, the government does not explicitly direct citizen behavior. Instead, citizens are told that they are free in their choices, and it is through their autonomy that governmentality is internal-ized. In other words, the illusion of free will serves as a means for introduc-ing self-control mechanisms. In a similar vein, the campaign demonstrates a “democratic blackmail”: the citizens are asked to decide on the future of the heritage through their actions—by visiting it or not. Their choice will determine the behavior of the government, which will in turn be freed from any responsibility since all they should do is follow the voice of the people. In a scenario where people did not come and “Last Supper” was taken away, the government would present it as vox populi.14

Another point that needs to be addressed is the political construc-tion of a national narrative attempting to link the glory of the past to the present. The campaign uses a certain type of art production and manipu-lates it in a way that its most prominent characteristic becomes “made in Italy.” There are many reasons why states deliberately construct glorified pasts—national unity being among them—and cultural heritage is com-monly exploited in this endeavor because of its ability to link present-day communities to heroic histories. The top-down interpretation of cultural heritage by states can become a complicated process; it could potentially

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lead citizens to perceive the same heritage as a burden. In this regard, Hamilakis looks at this process for the Greek case and quotes the poet George Seferis: “I woke up with this marble in my hands; it exhausts my elbows and I don’t know where to put it down” (1999:309).

This particular communication campaign—besides its connotation with worldwide neoliberal movements that tend to favor private interven-tion in many public sectors—can be understood as the use of arts and culture to enable public intervention in the formation of aesthetic taste and its requirements. Following Duncan (1991:279), who writes that the “evidence of a political virtue as an indication of a government that pro-vided the right things for its people,” the government believes that par-ticipation in a cultural event (like visiting a museum) is a duty of the citizen (albeit in a different sense from the one offered by Duncan [1991] which describes the type of a civilized behavior expected from a citizen as a financial contributor to save the state). Here, we can see the consumer–citizen conflict quite evidently since what the citizens get out of the visit is not very meaningful if all that matters is that they pay the museum’s entrance fee.

ConclusionItaly’s communication campaign is primarily about the transfer of cultural property from source country to a market country, either the UK or US.15 Undoubtedly, Italy has held an important place as a source country for centuries and has been subject to numerous cases regarding the illicit expropriation of cultural assets. The reason why Italy is usually associ-ated with its rich cultural heritage stems not only from being a blessed source nation by chance, but also from the sophisticated legal and insti-tutional systems that have arisen to regulate the tradition of preservation. However, recent shifts in the mindsets of politicians and decision makers, some of which have been analyzed in this article, indicate a willingness to reposition Italy in the international arena as it transforms a constitutional obligation to protect cultural heritage into an entrepreneurial model that exploits culture.

Italy is surely not alone in following such a strategy. In many countries, profit-oriented, capitalist material practices are among those processes which have a distinctive role in the contemporary uses of cultural heri-tage. Departing from one single communication campaign, this article


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has aimed to understand the ways in which the Italian state melds mar-kets and heritage. My critical reading of MiBAC’s campaign touched upon the implications of capitalistic NPM movements for the management of cultural heritage. Summarizing all the concerns highlighted here, Bauman offers a good closing:

A consumer market catering for long-term needs, not to mention eternity, would be a contradiction in terms. Consumer market prop-agates rapid circulation, shorter distance from use to waste and waste disposal, and immediate replacement of no longer profitable goods. All that stands in a jarring opposition to the nature of cultural creation. (2004:68)

A c k n o w l e d g m e n t s :

This article was presented at the “Materiality, Memory, and Cultural Heritage” conference organized by Istanbul Technical University and Yeditepe University, in Istanbul from May 25–29, 2011. I would like to thank the conference organizer, Sevil Baltali Tirpan, and one of the keynote speakers, Richard Handler, for their support of this publication.

E n d n o t e s :

1This is the author’s translation of “In Italia ti aspettano da sempre i piu grandi capolavori della storia dell’arte. Riscoprili.”

2For instance, the movie Children of Men (2006, directed by Alfonso Cuaron), which is about social col-lapse due to the infertility of the human race, shows Battersea Power Station in London as the Ministry of Art’s “Ark of Arts”—a store for humanity’s art treasures, including Michelangelo’s “David” (with a missing leg) and Picasso’s “Guernica.” Likewise, in the post-apocalyptic movie, I Am Legend (2007, directed by Francis Lawrence), the last survivor of a deadly disease in New York gathers a collection of famous art-works like Vincent van Gogh’s “The Starry Night” and “Road with Cypress and Star,” or Paul Cezanne’s “Still Life with Peaches and Pears.” 28 Days Later (2008, directed by Danny Boyle), on the survival at-tempts of a handful of people who have avoided a deadly disease, casts “Laocoon.” And, in Equilibrium (2002, directed by Kurt Wimmer), which takes place in a fascist future, everything that evokes emotions is collected by government agents, and the “Mona Lisa” is condemned to destruction.

3Resca served from November 2008 through August 2012, when Anna Maria Buzzi was assigned to this position. More information on this shift is available at: http://www.valorizzazione.beniculturali.it/varie/ComunicatiStampa/Buzzi_stampa.pdf (last accessed on November 10, 2013).

4The campaign can be considered an outcome of Mario Resca’s more extensive ambitions. Resca said that Italy must also expand its “client potential” through marketing campaigns in economies like those of China and India, and develop tourism infrastructure in less-visited cities to allow “underperforming museums to grow” (Povoledo 2008:C1). He also stated that Italy’s cultural patrimony “is a strategic asset like oil, with zero costs because it is there,” adding, “Of course you have to protect it and care for it, but it has a value that we can leverage and develop” (Povoledo 2008:C1). It is interesting to note that Resca was not the first person who made the analogy between oil and culture in the Italian public discourse about heritage. The phrase “arts is the petroleum of Italy” was constantly used during the par-liamentary debates in the years between the two World Wars (Settis 2002:35). Moreover, “the common heritage of mankind” was a phrase first coined in the journal Foreign Affairs, referring to Middle Eastern oil (Lowenthal 1996).

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5The brief is available in Italian at: http://151.12.58.78:8080/mibac/export/MiBAC/sito-MiBAC/Contenuti/Ministero/UfficioStampa/ComunicatiStampa/visualizza_asset.html_1610533617.html (last accessed on November 9, 2010).

6This is the author’s translation of “Forse qualcosa del tipo Se non lo visiti lo vendiamo ai cinesi avrebbe funzionatoanchemeglio” (accessed from http://www.travelblog.it/post/9253/se-non-lo-visiti-lo-portia-mo-via-la-nuovacampagna-del-ministero-della-cultura on November 8, 2010).

7Accessed from http://heritage-key.com/blogs/ann/colosseum-david-and-last-suppoer-threatened-adcampaign on November 9, 2010.

8This is the author’s translation of “E´ un messaggio pedagogicamente errato, diseducativo soprattutto per i giovanissimi, che raffigura il “ricatto morale” di chi chiede maggiori visite al Colosseo altrimenti verrà smontato e portato via dal luogo in cui è presente da sempre.” Accessed from http://fareambientelazio.wordpress.com/2010/01/19/turismo-nella-campagna-shock-del-mibac-smontato-il-colosseo-fare-ambiente-bene-la-valorizzazionedel-patrimonio-culturale-ma-scegliere-altre-forme-di-comunicazione/ on November 9, 2010.

9Articles 7 and 22, introduced in the Financial Act 2002 with the name “Law112/2002,” privatized part of the cultural heritage of the country.

10Accessed from http://www.museumofhoaxes.com/hoax/archive/permalink/taco_liberty_bell on August 23, 2012.

11The meaning of valorizzazione has been widely discussed among Italian scholars; for different interpre-tations, see “L’attrattivita della conoscenza: cosa significa valorizzare i luoghi di cultura,” Art for Business Forum (accessed from http://artforbusiness.it/forum2010/?p=2252 on October 25, 2011), or “Beni cultur-ali nel 2010: lavisionedelladirezioneperlavalorizzazione” (accessed from http://www.tafter.it/2009/12/23/beni-culturali-nel-2010-la-visione-delladirezione-per-la-valorizzazione/ on October 25, 2011).

12Article 6 of Legislative Decree No.42 of January 22, 2004, Code of the Cultural and Landscape Heritage.

13For more information on the Turkish situation, see the interview with Edhem Eldem (available at http://www.lisa.gerda-henkel-stiftung.de/m_content.php?nav_id=3971, or via Bailey [2012] or Rocco [2012]).

14I would like to thank Tihana Puc for underscoring this point.

15The distinction between source and market countries has been elaborated by Merryman (1986).

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F o r e i g n L a n g u a g e Tr a n s l a t i o n s :

“If You Do Not Visit, We Will Take It Away”: An Analysis of a Communication Campaign for Italian Cultural Heritage [Keywords: Cultural heritage, commercialization of culture, cultural capital, new public management, Italy]

“Se non lo Visiti, lo Portiamo via: Analisi di una Campagna di Communicazione per il Patrimonio Culturale Italiano. [Parole chiave: Patrimonio culturale, Italia, commercializzazione della cultura]

“如果你不来，我们就全部拿走了”：关于意大利文化遗产传播运动的一项分析 [关键词：文化遗产，文化商业化，文化资本，意大利]

“Se Não Visitar, Tiramos Daqui”: Análise de uma Campanha de Comunicação sobre Património Cultural Italiano [Palavras-Chave: Património cultural, comercialização da cultura, capital cultural, nova gestão pública, Itália]

«Если вы не придете посещать, мы все это уберем»: Анализ коммуникационной кампании по итальянскому культурному наследству [Ключевые слова: культурное наследство, коммерциализация культуры, культурный капитал, новые формы публичного управления, Италия]

” اذا مل تزرها فسنحتاز عليها ”: تحليل لحملة اعالمية للرتاث الثقايف االيطايلكلامتالبحث: الرتاث الثقايف، اتجار الثقافة، رأسامل ثقايف، ادارة عامة جديدة، ايطاليا

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