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Written by Mel Throckmorton

Defining Cultural Resources

Allison & Allison (2008) define cultural resources as sites with cultural significance, specifically those that are important for their relevance to ethnic cultures, marginalized people, or aspects of mainstream culture that are considered “undistinguished” or lacking in traits that would meet the criteria for formal preservation. Cultural resources, as community assets, can be tangible or intangible. Tangible resources are physical, and can be seen or felt. Intangible resources are those that are not immediately visible, such as practices or traditions, or related to physical sites that have been lost. As a consequence of lacking physical form, intangible resources are often overlooked (Roberts & Kelly, 2018). 

 One way that this can be interpreted is that the significance of these sites is measured not by historical or architectural merits, but by the role they play in the everyday lives of the communities that utilize them and how they function as anchors of place identity (Allison & Allison, 2008; Nummi, 2018). However, culturally important sites may also carry significance to populations that have since dispersed (Roberts and Kelly, 2019; Rodgers et al, 2018). 

This definition contrasts from that used in formal preservation. The U.S. Department of the Interior defines cultural resources as “aspects of a cultural system that are valued by, or significantly representative of, a culture or that contain significant information about a culture”, including both the tangible and intangible (U.S. Department of the Interior, n.d.). This captures both formal and informal aspects of cultural resources, including cultural landscapes, yet its purpose is for the recognition of sites as significant by Federal historic inventories. This raises the question: What sites are worthy of recognition? Who is defining the significance in this case, and by what parameters is it measured?

Preservation of Cultural Resources

Cultural resources, as heritage, can be described both as a basic human right and as a tool for justice and community empowerment (Wells, 2015). Access to cultural sites affirms a sense of place and community belonging, as well as recognition of a right to occupy space.  Preservation of these resources is rooted in a desire to protect not just physical space, but collective experience and place attachment.

The background of historic preservation has both positive and negative connotations for practitioners. While preservation is viewed by planners and scholars as a tool to preserve place identity, it has an association with gentrification and urban displacement, particularly for low-income minoritized communities in the US. Yet, preservation has also been used successfully in some cases as a tool to stabilize communities against these same forces (Ryberg-Webster, 2017; Ryberg, 2011). The difference in outcome suggests it is dependent on who has control in decision-making, with meaningfully shared power engendering the most successful results (Roberts and Kelly, 2018). 

A major problem in cultural resource preservation is that sites that do not meet a threshold of material and historical significance lack access to both formal protection and specialized public funding earmarked for preservation activities. This is particularly an issue for the preservation of sites significant to African American and Latino communities in the U.S., who are severely underrepresented in historic preservation despite making up a significant portion of the population (Ryberg-Webster, 2017; Hispanic Access Foundation, 2021). One reason given for this divide is that while urban areas have rich cultural heritage for minoritized communities, these communities have persistently been sites of targeted disinvestment, segregation, and forced displacement (Goetz et al 2021, Williams 2022), creating conditions under which culturally-significant structures and resources are lost or do not meet formal standards for recognition (Ryberg-Webster, 2017). A more holistic explanation for the underrepresentation of minoritized communities in recognized and protected resources, is that preservation as a practice is inherently political, with decisions about significance having underlying motives of privileging a desired narrative (Rodgers et al., 2018). This acknowledges planning and preservation as fields with agendas instead of as framing exclusion as a passive act. 

Given the lack of formal protection, funding, and history of racial exclusion, planners working with communities to preserve cultural resources are forced to be more creative in their approach and what desired outcomes could be. Allison and Allison (2008) describe successful cultural preservation as 1) adding to the rootedness of city inhabitants, 2) contributing to an appreciation of the past, and 3) engendering understanding of how the past influences the present. Once identified, Howell and Gough (2026) argue that cultural resources (as landscapes) have their own embedded agenda for how best to engage with or preserve them – highlighting that there is no singular best practice or approach for doing so, but rather a requirement for the planner to take a posture of cultural humility (Roberts, 2020). If these sites are defined by their cultural relevance, and the connection to the everyday, then in turn, the goal of preservation should be to preserve the connection – not solely the physical structure. In discussion of monuments for commemoration of Black space and history, Moulton makes a case for planning beyond landmarks and instead viewing land itself as a “living monument”, citing the numerous ways that Black and Indigenous communities have adapted limited spaces for not solely survival, but the creation of thriving counter-publics (2021). Under his model, the preservation of land as a cultural resource does not mean freezing it in time, but supporting its continued sovereignty under these communities, whatever that may look like (Moulton, 2021). By providing support that maintains community sovereignty, cultural resource preservation can be considered complementary to reparative planning (Williams and Steil, 2023). 

Preservation may overlap with other community processes and planning goals that disadvantage cultural resources that do not meet criteria, resulting in loss. According to Hyra (2015), cultural displacement is a process that occurs when the norms, behaviors, and values of new residents begin to overtake those of existing, long-term residents, which can occur as a result of gentrification. As this process occurs over time, place attachment is eroded for existing residents, making it more likely that they will choose to leave, if they are not displaced involuntarily. The end result of this is homogenous neighborhoods that lack a cultural identity, instead of becoming the integrated, mixed-income communities that are desired by planners. It can then be argued that to meaningfully preserve place and cultural identity, planners must tie it to wider goals of preventing community displacement (Moulton, 2023).

Identifying Cultural Resources

There are a wide range of approaches to identifying cultural resources, with literature displaying a particular focus on those that can be facilitated through technology since the advent of GIS (Minner et. al, 2018). The driving objective of these projects may differ, but the shared goal is to capture local knowledge about place identity, thus requiring citizen participation in the process. A review of planning literature demonstrates that while technology can assist in this process, successful approaches center more involved approaches to community engagement (Rodgers et al., 2018; , particularly where the public is treated as a collaborator, and where there is alignment on desired outcomes. Since the definition of cultural resources is sourced from communities, successful methodologies for identifying them should center community knowledge.

Methodologies

1. Participatory action research is a starting point for community engagement.

Participatory Action Research (PAR) is a community-centered approach to beginning the process of identifying and recognizing cultural resources – providing a sort of scaffolding. PAR is defined by Wells (2015) as a “social science research methodology that emphasizes social justice and community empowerment” where experts become facilitators of community conversations around preservation. Community members become co-researchers and could be trained in formal techniques such as conducting cultural resource surveys and archival research. Decision-making is a shared responsibility between co-researchers and facilitators. 

Example: Roberts and Kelly (2018) present an embodied co-planning approach, adapted from participatory action research, where existing cultural knowledge and practices from the community were treated with equivalence to and layered with formal planning knowledge, resulting in a successful collaborative relationship. 

2. Crowdsourcing

Crowdsourcing, for the purpose of aiding in planning, can be described as collecting data from a group to solve a problem or answer a question (Nummi, 2018), and has been viewed as a means to enhance public participation in the planning process (Minner et. al, 2018). When applied to planning, it can allow for gathering input from a much larger group of people for the purpose of informing decision-making.

Seltzer & Mahmoudi (2013) argue that while crowdsourcing can be utilized to gain public input from a diffuse crowd, it does not confer power in the same way as meaningful citizen participation. Crowdsourcing also relies on deploying a “well-defined problem statement” instead of engaging the public in the process of identifying and designing solutions (2013). For these reasons, it can be considered a “top-down” approach to citizen engagement.

Examples:

• Using a Public Participatory GIS platform to collect geographic information from a targeted group of users
• Public Input Surveys
• Collecting data through social media

3. Public Participatory GIS (PPGIS)

Also called participatory mapping, Public Participatory GIS, or participatory mapping, is a set of practices that incorporates citizen knowledge into geographic information systems in order to enhance community engagement (Minner et al., 2018). It allows for the collection of contextualized information about a place since it is collecting geocoded data directly. It can be considered a type of crowdsourcing, but differs in that it is gathering geocoded data specifically, and includes other practices such as cultural mapping and counter-mapping. 

Platforms for PPGIS: ArcGIS Survey123, Maptionnaire, MemoryMapper, OpenStreetMap

• Cultural Mapping: Cultural mapping is a bottom-up process of collecting, recording, analyzing, and synthesizing significant cultural information that locate people in place and by which intangible cultural heritage is made visible (Cabeça, 2018). It is a participatory process that is performed by, or in collaboration with, the communities that are being mapped (The Province of British Columbia, 2010). Example: A Memory Map of the Jewish East End.
• Counter-mapping: Counter-mapping refers to spatial practices that seek to “highlight marginalised geographies and values” by countering dominant worldviews (Duggan & Gutierrez-Ujaque, 2025). It is based on the principle of decolonizing knowledge and is rooted in indigenous resistance (Mainard-Sardon, Abubakar, and Rega, 2026). Sense of place and belonging is asserted through documenting the existence of individuals and communities that are not represented by the prevailing cultural or historical narrative. It could be created through the process of cultural mapping. Examples: 1) Native Land 2) Texas Freedom Colonies Project 3) Lakeland Community Heritage Project

4. Oral Histories / Qualitative Interviews

An oral history is a recorded interview with the purpose of generating original, personal information for the purpose of preservation (Smithsonian Institution Archives, n.d).  Traditionally, qualitative interviews may generate information, but have the goal of providing context to answer a question instead of capturing personal experience and history (Cauchi-Santoro, 2016). Oral histories are both a process of generating knowledge as well as existing as the outcome. Conducting interviews with community members affirms their lived experience as a source of valuable knowledge, which can be utilized to identify sites of cultural significance in a community over time.

Examples:

• DC Oral History Collaborative Collection
• Latino Oral History Project of Rhode Island
• Speak Your Truth! Oral History Project

Preservation in Practice

Formal Preservation

For the purpose of this document, formal preservation refers to recognition by government institutions that offer some degree of protection or access to funding. The highest level of recognition in these cases is typically inclusion on the National Register of Historic Places (NRHP) which denotes sites as “worthy of preservation” based on age and material significance. Cultural resources often do not meet the criteria for this kind of recognition (Allison and Allison, 2008) – but may still be eligible for recognition and access to funding under local government-led programs. 

In pursuit of meeting planning and preservation goals, local and city governments may enact policies with broader or targeted goals for preserving sites and properties that are seen as culturally or historically significant (City of Richmond, 2025; Nummi, 2018). In one example of this, the City of San Francisco’s Cultural History, Housing, and Economic Sustainability Strategies (CHHESS) program effectively codifies cultural resources into the planning process by creating cultural heritage districts, and ties it to meaningful community outcomes such as housing and workforce development (City of San Francisco, n.d.). Other programs such as Designated Main Streets, may offer opportunities for formal recognition and funding by tying cultural resources into economic development goals. 

While there are more pathways to formal preservation for resources that do not meet the rigid standards of the NRHP, cultural resources are significant because of their meaning to those who have largely been made outsiders to these processes. Groups that are fighting to recognize and preserve their cultural resources are underrepresented in positions of decision-making for where earmarked funding for preservation goes and within the field of preservation in general (Roberts, 2020; Roberts et al., 2026). It should be noted that formal recognition and preservation of cultural resources is something that is desired by communities that are grappling with rapid gentrification and displacement (Rodgers et. al, 2018). Some preservation scholars have suggested interventions to make preservation more representative such as updating the criteria for the NRHP, providing institutional support to minoritized communities, invest in professional opportunities that lead to decision-making roles, and providing alternative methods of recognition that would serve to formally protect historically and culturally significant sites from displacement (Hispanic Access Foundation, 2021). Formal preservation has the most potential to protect cultural resources from displacement and loss, yet it continues to be out of reach for minoritized communities. 

Informal Preservation

Informal preservation of cultural resources can be performed by governments as well as non-profits and grassroots organizations. This could take the form of providing technical and financial support to enable a site to continue functioning (City Lore, 2016), putting up historic markers (Montgomery Planning, n.d.), collecting and creating artifacts, and soliciting oral histories (PGCMLS, 2026). Other practices such as countermapping, are performed by communities in opposition to dominant cultural or historical narratives, creating visibility around harms experienced as outsiders (Roberts et al., 2026). While these actions do not offer legal protections to cultural resources, they assert belonging and place identity, and insist upon the rights of resources to exist.  

Many communities have established their own practices of memory and place-keeping throughout generations of being outsiders to planning and preservation processes. Haltom and Garrett argue that historic designations are shaped by and reinforce racialized planning practices that have harmed communities, and are thus not the best tool for preserving cultural resources – instead, they suggest advocating for the building of community infrastructure that supports and honors the continuation of existing preservation practices (Roberts et al., 2026). Grassroots preservation, as performed by those who are outsiders to formal processes, creates awareness and provides a position upon which communities may rally around an existing resource for protection, or advocate for recourse for past harms. 

Examples of Cultural Resource Preservation

Community Anchors NYC Grant-funded place-making effort to preserve sites identified as “community anchors” at-risk of displacement or loss. In some cases, preservation of sites was possible through providing financial assistance for building issues or technical expertise.

Remarkable Montgomery Project led by historic preservation office to install markers at sites that highlight underrepresented local history, with accompanying videos.

City of Richmond Cultural Heritage Stewardship Plan Long-term plan (10-years) for identifying and protecting cultural resources, produced by the City’s historic preservation program. Approach is shown to be based in community engagement where it was identified that the public would like to be aware of planning processes. Recognition of resources includes approaches such as formal architectural surveys, collecting oral histories, and designating cultural districts.

Endangered Latinx Landmarks Project (ELL) A program administered by the non-profit Latinos in Heritage Conservation that solicits nominations for cultural sites considered to be at risk. Selected sites receive technical and financial support.

San Francisco Cultural Heritage Districts Program Creation of 10 cultural districts in San Francisco through formal planning that was informed by community engagement. The goals of which were stabilizing neighborhoods, strengthening place connection and identity, and improving access to public services.

The Texas Freedom Colonies Project A countermapping project for historic African American cultural heritage sites in Texas, including documenting threats to their existence. Collects artifacts and oral histories related to sites from the public, and connects landowners to legal aid resources.

Speak Your Truth! Oral History Project Library-led oral history initiative soliciting stories and documents from the public related to four unincorporated African American communities, to be added to a public exhibit and archive.

Lakeland Community Heritage Project Community-led project that seeks to preserve the heritage of the historically Black Lakeland neighborhood that was destroyed by urban renewal. Resources include a counter-map depicting the location of homes that were destroyed with photo artifacts, a digital archive, and a tour of the historic streetscape.

Written by Mel Throckmorton

Participatory mapping provides a bottom-up approach to planning, by inviting stakeholders to identify and contribute their spatial knowledge to planning processes. As part of a larger effort on reviewing literature on identifying and preserving cultural resources – tangible and intangible community assets with cultural significance and importance to place identity – I reviewed a number of map-based tools that were created for this purpose. I found that within this category, there were different goals, processes for data collection and engagement, and outcomes, but what they all had in common was that they relied heavily on local knowledge. Local knowledge was accessed through crowdsourcing through both traditional and digital means to create context-rich visual representations of their communities that can be viewed by anyone, and can serve a role in decision-making. While these techniques have the potential to expand the sources and stories that planners can hear, we must examine our assumptions about technology’s role in the planning process.

Planners and advocates have increasingly turned to digital tools to facilitate engagement with the public, a push that coincides with the rise of “smart cities” – a movement which calls for optimizing city processes by integrating more technology into the physical and planning aspects of cities, with the idea that technology will improve quality of life. This relies on the assumption that technology expands access to democracy by expanding reach to groups that have been historically underrepresented in the planning process, yet this does not necessarily expand access to decision-making. Through the use of crowdsourcing and participatory mapping, the public can, in theory, be directly engaged in the planning process by contributing invaluable local knowledge and spatial data from a wider range of stakeholders, serving as “sensors” within the smart city framework. When well-integrated into the planning process, this data can contribute to success in meeting desired planning outcomes. 

Crowdsourcing and Public Participation

Crowdsourcing, a practice borrowed from the business world of soliciting solutions to problems from a wider and largely non-professional audience, has been increasingly utilized in conjunction with these tools to enhance public participation under the argument that by opening a pathway for direct public input, these processes become inherently more democratic. Crowdsourcing does create a channel for public contribution, but contribution alone does not guarantee democratic participation, with a key question being whether public knowledge affects decision-making or merely supplies data to institutions that retain control. Arnstein’s Ladder provides a framework for understanding how this labor translates into outcomes in the planning process, whether it is facilitated by professional planners or those operating outside of it. The bottom rungs of the ladder (under “non-participation” and “tokenism” are comprised of engagement techniques that can be classified as extractive – taking resources (knowledge, time) from the public without any meaningful transfer of control.

When examining the use of crowdsourcing as referenced by researchers in the literature, I found that approaches were variable in the effort of in-person citizen engagement, and although direct access may have been granted in concept through digital tools, barriers such as the digital divide and representativeness persisted. While enabling planners to cast a wider net for engagement, it is unclear if the tools created by planners using knowledge crowdsourced from the public actually effected planning decisions in a meaningful way. For instance, efforts in 2012 to create an “Austin Historical Survey Wiki” that was open to public submissions of historic sites was presented with much excitement, yet seemingly failed to gain momentum due to disconnect between the City and the public and is now defunct. In contrast, similar tools from this time period such as “HistoricPlacesLA” continue to be updated consistently, connecting the public to current and future decision-making and the impact it may have on their communities. 

Mapping as Grassroots Preservation 

Outside of formal planning processes, activists and grassroots preservationists utilize these same tools to bring increased visibility to spaces and communities that have been harmed or shut out of decision-making, as well as subverting dominant spatial narratives by providing context to attention to sites of loss, joy, and injustice. 

The “Texas Freedom Colonies Atlas” is one such project created and maintained by Dr. Andrea Roberts, the Director of the Center for Cultural Landscapes at the University of Virginia, with the goal of documenting and preserving cultural properties associated with African American freedom colonies in Texas. The project relies on crowdsourcing key spatial and historical information from descendants, who are largely dispersed, and who may provide additional artifacts such as memories, documents, and photos, via an embedded survey that allows them to add points to the map directly. The website functions not just as a map, but as a storytelling and educational device that illustrates the attempted erasure of Black rural legacies through displacement in the American South. 

The Lakeland Community Heritage Project hosts a similar map that shows the former sites of homes, community spaces, and businesses in the historically Black neighborhood of Lakeland, located in College Park, which was destroyed under urban renewal – and which a recent local exhibit is striving to recreate through archival imagery. These efforts can be considered “countermapping”, a process of using maps to make visible the power relations around which physical space is structured. Through visualizing displacement, both projects assert histories that appear to have been hidden instead of lost, and make a case for restorative justice. 

A screengrab from the Lakeland Historic Streetscape Tour depicting the location of a family home in what is now Lake Artemesia

Mapping Tools as Community Engagement 

Online tools have made it possible for anyone to create and share their own maps, with free alternatives to ArcGIS like OpenStreetMap, QGIS, and Google My Maps being available to users with a range of skills. For planners and researchers, facilitating the collection of spatial data from the public has become increasingly easier due to tools with embedded surveys such as Survey123 and Maptionnaire, allowing users to add geocoded data points to the map directly. However, it is unclear if the use of these tools contributes to fresh perspectives, or if it continues to attract the usual suspects. Those executing these types of projects with community engagement in mind would be remiss to assume that they are reaching a representative sample by just using technology alone. A review of these tools in the literature reviewed suggests that the use of these tools should be complementary to, and not a replacement for, a robust community engagement process. 

Often after reviewing an article about a mapping tool, I would go to find it and find that it either no longer existed, or was not available to the public. This raised the question of accessibility, and if the public, being consulted in the creation of the data, should have a right to view it and know how it is used. If so, how responsive should this resource be? In the case of the City of Austin’s attempt to create the “Austin Historical Survey Wiki”, the failure of the project to take off was attributed to the lack of meaningful connection that the public could draw between their participation and the impact on the planning process. For the “Texas Freedom Colonies Atlas”, Roberts herself has documented her co-planning approach that reinforced the significance of what expertise and knowledge participants had to offer, making it clear that what was being collected transcended data points. While these projects similarly relied on crowdsourcing as a form of participant engagement, it can be argued that Roberts’ success has been based on her ability to make process and outcome meaningful to participants.

Conclusion

Technology has augmented the planning process by offering more points of access to the public. Crowdsourcing and participatory mapping are just two of the ways in which it has been introduced to community engagement, with the enhanced ability to collect key data in hopes of improving local processes. Outsiders can also utilize these methods to bring visibility and advocacy to issues that are often overlooked or ignored in planning discussions. 

A review of literature on interactive tools made for the purpose of identifying and protecting culturally and historically significant local resources demonstrated that technology alone does does not erase some of the common problems that arise when engaging the public. In these examples, planners and researchers that engaged the public in more meaningful ways with alignment on outcomes were more likely to be effective.