The hidden power of cultural heritage in building community resilience

Urban populations across the world experience more than their fair share of physical problems like crumbling infrastructure or natural disasters. Emotional alienation, shattered trust, and reduced grip on decision-making that runs life are also conditions they must deal with.

Why do certain communities bounce back robustly while others collapse under stress? Some surprising and encouraging responses are found in a new research report from the Kaunas University of Technology (KTU) researchers of Lithuania.

By means of surveying, interviewing, and reviewing literature, the researchers investigated how community action, community projects, and adaptive policymaking can make cities more resilient and fairer. The study was done in Lithuania, but the lessons can be transferred to many countries, especially those in the process of changing from rigid, top-down style planning systems. At the heart of it is an unexpected saviour: cultural heritage.

Resilience is more than good infrastructure or quick emergency response, Kaunas University of Technology (KTU) staff continued. It is also about intangible things that keep people together—trust, shared identity, and feeling of owning one's city or neighborhood. And among the strongest of those are cultural heritage.

"Cultural heritage is part of a living community identity – it makes people conscious of their difference and sense of belonging," says Indrė Gražulevičiūtė-Vileniškė, KTU associate professor and co-author of the research.

Preservation of ancient structures, parks, monuments, and other traces of the past gives people a sense of being part of something greater than themselves. The sentimental connection, the report continues, makes people take care of the world and of other people. It also places tradition, volunteering, and civic pride.

KTU associate professor and co-author Aušra Mlinkauskienė explains that when people save places from the past, they are not just saving the past—they are making new meaning for the future and the present. "It strengthens the feeling of relation to the environment, creates trust, and allows a community to resolve problems themselves."

That is, cultural heritage constitutes social glue. It is that glue that lets people stick together when times get hard, whether that is a pandemic, an economic downturn, or something as mundane as keeping up a neighborhood park.

Trust and emotional safety are not alternatives to heritage, though. The study also finds a place for trust and emotional safety in a community in its ability to handle problems. There is that sense of trust on two levels—that of neighbors and that of public institutions and citizens. "Trust among community members and between citizens and institutions is like glue – it makes communities stick together more quickly and solve problems more effectively," asserts Prof. Dr. Lina Šeduikytė, lead researcher.

Trust, she goes on, is something more than a feeling. It is an infrastructure upon which decisions can be made, especially in moments of crisis. A city that enables individuals to interact openly, that communicates clearly, and that respects its citizens has a higher chance of obtaining their trust. Citizens, in turn, are more likely to provide ideas, energy, and effort.

The most powerful neighborhoods are the ones where people feel heard and seen, and where institutions talk about inclusion but practice it every day. They are open and connected. People know each other. They share the load. They don't wait for government solutions—they just do.

Conversely, vulnerable neighborhoods feel disconnected. The residents might not have information or believe that they cannot influence their surroundings. They might be suspicious of the government and feel they are not involved in urban planning. These perceptions weaken the collective efficacy of the neighborhood.

A resilient community is a people's community that has the capacity to unite, repair things as a collective, and maintain their environment and neighborhood," explains PhD student Eglė Januškienė, co-author of the research. "It does not imply there are no problems or that it can be solved for everything, but a resilient community finds solutions and supports one another in spite of problems.

Despite the evident benefits of trust and cultural identity, the KTU team discovered that most of the citizens are not yet engaged in this process. This finding was uncovered during research in Lithuania, conducted in collaboration with foreign colleagues under the Erasmus+ UPRUN project.

Surveys showed a constant grievance: people care about their city, yet many think they have no say in decision-making. Official surveys or public forums may be part of urban planning, but most of them are window-dressing. There is no follow-up, and public recommendations do not find place in final drafts.

"Urban planning may include surveys by type, but genuine opportunities for participation are not always available. There is not much feedback, and information does not necessarily reach all people. It makes them furious and undermines trust in institutions," says Dr. Mlinkauskienė.

True inclusion, according to the report, must be more than inviting the most articulate or best-educated members of society. Bringing in a diverse and broad pool of citizens requires effort. Information must be offered in numerous languages and formats—internet, person-to-person, and in public spaces.

"We must go out to the people, rather than wait for the people to come to us," Januškienė says.

That means conducting workshops, organizing neighborhood meetings, and equipping residents not only with a voice, but with the tools to see their visions take concrete form. It is especially required in countries like Lithuania, where decades of centralized government have deposited a culture of top-down decision-making.

Prof. Šeduikytė points out that watching Lithuania offers a revealing glimpse of the dangers of most post-communist countries. "It is a mirror on the wider reality in much of the post-communist world – vibrant local communities and rich heritage, but structural barriers to full citizen participation," she says. "It's an experiment in transition, where the outdated paradigms of government crash into the demands of modern citizenship and democracy."

Despite the challenges, the research is hopeful. It shows that resilient cities are not the result of master plans dreamed up overnight. They're built one small step at a time—through open dialogue, active listening, and collaborative efforts that bring people together.

"Those cities are not constructed by one grand decision, but by a thousand small, thoughful ones – sincere discussion, confidence building, and collaborative actions. That is how we build the city of tomorrow, in which the community is not merely a passive spectator, but an active participant," teaches Prof. Šeduikytė.

Whether it is painting an icon building, hosting a neighborhood storytelling night, or re-designing a park through participatory engagement, all these activities that reinforce social bonds make the city all the more shock-resistant.

For at the end of the day, a shock-resistant city is not a resiliently-constructed city. It's a hard city—people who know their history, people who trust each other, and people who think they've got a voice in what comes next.

Research findings are available online in the journal Sustainability.

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