GEORGE Town was the place for Chinese medicine and orh kueh (yam cake) when I was young. The two shops that I used to frequent are not there anymore. In their place are establishments serving latte and cempedak cheesecake.

July 7 marked the 12th year of the city’s declaration as a Unesco World Heritage Site. The interpretation of the listing, couched in phrases from the humanities, has been contested.

When new businesses replace underperforming ones, it’s labelled “Disneyfication”. When properties receive new tenants, it’s scorned as “gentrification”. When heritage buildings are refurbished, it’s castigated as “Unesco-cide”.

Marco D’Eramo epitomises this school of thought: “Unesco’s ‘World Heritage’ listing is the kiss of death. Once the label is affixed, the city’s life is snuffed out; it is ready for taxidermy.”

Taking a step back, I wonder if this is a form of nostalgia fossilisation.

I understand the concern about preserving George Town’s “identity”. But can we say that today’s collective identity is the progeny of George Town’s past? This is iffy. Is there such an identity in the first place, not least a collective one?

There is sympathy for tenants affected by rising rental. But isn’t rent-seeking a problem elsewhere, too, and not confined to heritage sites?

Community changes are associated with a string of factors. But when it happens in George Town, enthusiasts label it “gentrification”. What, then, do we call the rent-seeking that occurred in 2007 George Town, before the city made the Unesco list?

Traditional trade in George Town – like almost all trade – is not guaranteed immortality. The Chinese medical hall that my family frequented was shut before the Unesco appellation came.

As Dr Ang Ming Chee, general manager of George Town World Heritage Inc, observed: “(If) the craftsmen don’t want to produce and the locals do not take these products as a part of their identity, then you’re stuck as well. For it to be sustainable, you have to look at it in the long term. There’s supply and demand, and there’s the availability and cost of the raw materials.

“Take rattan-weaving, for example – it might be harder or costlier to obtain raw materials due to factors such as urbanisation and deforestation. Rattan-weaving is a skill, but most of the weavers we interviewed who decided not to continue their craft said it is because weaving is too painful. If you look at their hands, you can feel the pain.

“They work hard to send their children for higher education so that they don’t have to do physical work; it’s an achievement for them, whereas we want continuity – we are selfish.”

Is the pain of rattan weavers characteristic of George Town’s heritage, and must, therefore, persist?

Fossilising nostalgia may be a hobby for enthusiasts, but George Town gained prominence as a trading port. People from the surrounding region came here to trade. New businesses were set up to serve them, and as a result, many made George Town their home. Changes haven’t stopped in the past 300 years.

Carving life into stone, suspending the momentum that has made George Town what it is today, may not be the way forward for this heritage site. Instead, can George Town’s future be reimagined as the heart of 21st-century trade? Start-ups creating unicorns in a 19th-century shop?

The potential of the city’s heritage buildings is not confined to serving latte and cempedak cheesecake. – July 12, 2020.

* Joshua Woo reads The Malaysian Insight.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.