Does there come a point when proudly protecting monuments becomes counter-productive? David Whitley trawls the nine World Heritage-listed sites in Germany’s oldest city to find out.
‘Best ever’
Everybody has that one irritating friend who, after going to the cinema or a concert, will declare whatever they’ve seen or heard as the best ever. If they did it just occasionally, you would probably pay heed to their opinion, but when things that are quite frankly mediocre are continually lumped into the same bracket, all respect for their point of view is destroyed.
UNESCO World Heritage list
Something similar is in severe danger of happening to the UNESCO World Heritage list. What started as a noble attempt to preserve unique buildings and landscapes of great significance has slowly got a bit out of hand.
There are now 830 ‘properties’ on the list, although that barely scratches the surface as often a lot of separate places in one city will be lumped together under one bracket for the sake of convenience. What’s more, there are another 1,371 properties on the tentative list, currently undergoing consideration after being put forward.
Lazy tourist boards
Tourist boards across the globe have leapt aboard the bandwagon with such gusto that the designation ‘World Heritage-listed’ is quickly becoming utterly meaningless. It is slapped over everything as a lazy shorthand designed to mean “if you don’t regard this as one of the top five things you’ve ever seen, then you must be some kind of uncultured Philistine.”
And, with no pecking order or seeding system amongst the listed properties, this means that everything gets equal designation.
Imperial Roman Baths in Trier
I say this as no matter how open-mindedly you look at it, there is absolutely no way that the Imperial Roman Baths in Trier are as good as, say, the Great Barrier Reef. Yes, they make for a vaguely interesting ruin, but let’s be honest, they’re not even the best ancient Roman baths in Trier, let alone one of the wonders of the world that it would be truly devastating to lose.
And, while the city’s cathedral is certainly quite interesting, you’d be hard pushed to squeeze it into a list of Europe’s top thirty places of worship, let alone put it up there with the Great Wall of China or the Pyramids.
World Heritage Trier
Germany’s oldest city plays the ‘World Heritage-listed’ card rather heavily, which is hardly surprising given that seemingly every building in town has been deemed worthy of that status by UNESCO. No fewer than nine are lumped together under the snappy heading “Roman Monuments, Cathedral of St Peter and Church of Our Lady in Trier.” It’s like a group of moderately talented singers joining together to make a boy band because none of them are quite good enough to make it on their own.
Roman history in Trier
Still, you don’t get that many historic buildings in a place that doesn’t have much history, and Trier has it in spades. During the days of the Roman Empire, it was the northern capital, second only in power and significance to Rome.
It went a little bit further than that when Emperor Constantine took charge, and between AD306 and AD316 he shifted his capital to Trier, then known as Augusta Treverorum. During this period, he took a vital decision that would shape Europe as we know it, allowing Christianity to be followed freely throughout the empire.
Imperial Throne Room
It’s quite fitting, therefore, that his Imperial Throne Room is now a church. And, despite the Spartan decoration inside, this is easily the most impressive of Trier’s World Heritage gang.
From the outside, it looks like a hulking great brickwork barn, but where you’d keep Harry Potter-esque creatures such as Hippogryphs and Dragons rather than horses and pigs. It would be reasonable to expect a maze of rooms and three floors inside, but it is one giant chamber – the biggest single room to survive from antiquity in fact.
Gone are the adornments and riches that would have been draped across every surface in the time of Constantine.
As is befitting for the austere ethics of Protestantism, the furnishings are kept to a bare minimum, with grubby stone slabs on the floor topped by simple wooden chairs and benches. There is no stained glass in the windows, and the lighting comes from a series of lamps dangling from the ceiling. They look like the cheapest job lot from Freedom Furniture.
World War II
This simplicity is partly due to the events of World War II. The building was heavily damaged in fire-bombing, and many took this as a sign from God, punishing the congregation for their actions. During the Nazi era, members of the anti-Nazi Confessing Church were prohibited from entering by those who gave Hitler’s regime their tacit support.
When the black sheep were allowed back into the flock, it was decided that the Roman structural form was more than sufficient for decoration, strangely ignoring the fact that the Romans lavished it with any number of riches.
Yet, despite the stripped-back nature of both interior and exterior, the room exudes a certain raw power over any who enter it, not least because it is seemingly supported by nothing – no columns, no arches, no props.
Roman amphitheatre
To really stay in the Roman era, though, you need to go past the city gates, baths and bridges to the (inevitably World Heritage-listed) amphitheatre. It makes use of the city’s setting in a green, forested valley, and the surface dazzles on a summer day, sat high up on the grass banks that have grown over the stone terraces.
Whilst pleasant (if not as thrilling as Machu Picchu, just in case you were wondering) to walk around, the real fun comes on summer weekend evenings. This is when the arena once more plays host to gladiators, 1,600 years after they last drew their swords in bloody combat.
With deadly weapons, authentic costumes and wonderfully hammy overacting, it’s hardly a stubbly Russell Crowe killing a tiger, but it’s not far off, and proof that a city that lives in the past can at least bring its World Heritage to life.
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