May 17, 2001

Plains Folk: Preserve the Heritage

Tom Isern, Professor of History
North Dakota State University

This column originates in the middle of National Preservation Week, a time when across the United States, people interested in the preservation of historic buildings and landscapes try to draw attention to their causes. Often this is acrimonious. Arrayed on one side are the forces of progress and development; on the other side are the determined antiquarians, clad in righteous indignation, determined to stop the wrecking balls.

Here on the plains that all sounds like so much distant urban clamor. More commonly here we have two types of situations.

The first is urban, in our small cities. Up and down the plains, show me a city that is undergoing urban revival, and I'll show you a city that is turning the material of history–its historic buildings and districts–to profit.

You may have noticed, as have I, that since the release of 2000 census figures, the national press is again awash in little-dying-town-on-the-plains stories. Western Kansas and Oklahoma and the whole state of North Dakota seem to be the magnets for writers of such stories; that's come to be a tradition somehow.

As writers run through the mostly spurious reasons commonly cited for the decline of little towns on the prairie, let me throw this one into the mix. Surviving and thriving towns embrace their heritage and preserve their good stuff. Those who can't get their act together perish with their heritage.

The other common preservation issue on the plains has to do with neglect due to depopulation of the landscape. Churches are key symbols of this. Church buildings and other landmarks dotting the landscape deteriorate, and eventually are demolished, because people have left the area, and the ones still around are old.

This is an undeniable problem, but not an inexorable one. Somewhere there are potential friends and patrons of those churches. Look at the old confirmation photos–where are those people now? Haven't they prospered, wherever they are? And don't tell me that an aging population is the problem. In good communities, elders are the core of community action. (That is, if they act like elders, and not just like old people.)

In this part of the country where we say values count, I'm saying they do indeed. The core value involved in most matters of heritage conservation on the plains is self respect. The manifestation of a lack of self respect is to let your material heritage fall into disrepair. This eventually prompts destruction of the property in order to hide the evidence.

A second core value, one dear to all of us as Americans, is self interest. Neglect of heritage is a stupid thing, because it depreciates our property along with our character. Let the churches and schools and landscapes and neighborhoods go, and pretty soon your house is worthless, and your farm is just a bunch of fields.

All right, here's where it gets a little preachy. The German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche said some things that can help us understand our situation on the plains today. He said that in the old days there lived the people he called First Men. (Disregard the gender specificity for now.) The First Men were driven by aspiration. They wanted to build things. On the plains we call these folk "pioneers."

Later generations, Nietzsche said, while enjoying the fruits of the labors of the First Men, would become soft and listless. They would lack the stomach or will for the vigorous life in a hard country. Ceasing to care about anything, the Last Men would squander the inheritance. And then they would perish.

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Source: Tom Isern, (701) 799-2941, tom@plainsfolk.com 
Editor: Gary Moran, (701) 231-7865, gmoran@ndsuext.nodak.edu 

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