Politics of street names and the reinvention of local heritage in the contested urban space of Oradea 353Erőss, Á. Hungarian Geographical Bulletin 66 (2017) (4) 353–367.DOI: 10.15201/hungeobull.66.4.6 Hungarian Geographical Bulletin 66 2017 (4) 353–367. Introduction The relationship between power and pub- lic space has been one of the main interests of geographical research (Massey, D. 1994; Mitchell, D. 2003; Low, S. and Smith, N. 2006; Risbeth, K. and Rogaly, B. 2017). When explaining the importance of public space Staeheli and Mitchell highlight that “For those people who are marginalised, finding a space to be seen or heard, (…) is vital to their ability to develop a political subjectivity; (…) and to their struggle to gain recognition from the state and the political community.” (Staeheli, L.D. and Mitchell, D. 2007, 809). The inherent social power of being visible in public space explains the conflicts centred on place naming, commemorative place names or multilingual inscriptions, as for a minority group these can be perceived as “struggle to be seen and heard within public space” (Alderman, D. and Inwood, J. 2013, 229). Tremendous amount of research has illus- trated the struggle of minority or margin- alised communities in place naming (Berg, L.D. and Kearns, R.A. 1996; Alderman, D. 2000; Merrimen, P. and Jones, R. 2009; Kitada, E. 2016), politics of place names in geopolitical conflict zones (Cohen, S.B. and Kliot, N. 1992; Kliot, N. and Mansfield, Y. 1997; Kadmon, N. 2004) or postcolonial set- ting (Yeoh, B. 1992, 1996). Great body of research applies a different approach and study the place naming from the power’s perspective. Political transfor- mations go hand in hand with shifts in the symbolic landscape. The new possessor of power takes efforts to inscribe its hegemony into the landscape, in many cases by erasing or silencing counter narratives (Hobsbawn, Politics of street names and the reinvention of local heritage in the contested urban space of Oradea Ágnes ERŐSS 1 Abstract Ethnically and culturally diverse settlements in Central and Eastern Europe often witness local power-struggles along ethnic/linguistic boundaries that may centre on the visibility of ethnic groups and minority languages in public space (Kettley, C. 2003; Brubaker, R. et al. 2006; Murzyn, M.A. 2008; Dragoman, D. 2011; Csernicskó, I. and Máté, R. 2017). The majority ethnic group, as the possessor of power is in a more favourable position to control and/or limit the access of minorities to be visually present in the cityscape. The aim of this paper is to show (1) how the public space is re-structured and ethnicised by politics and practices of street naming; and (2) how the contestation over public space contributes to the evolvement of alternative city-text. The research was carried out in Oradea/Nagyvárad, a multi-ethnic town in the Romanian-Hungarian border zone. After describing the spatial features and effects of contestation over street names, based on the analysis of press, interviews and survey data the research shows how the local political deal, the evolved individual/minority coping strategies, and the recent interest in tourism development have contributed to the reinvention of local heritage. Finally, looking at the intensified interest towards local heritage (on behalf of both local government and minority politicians) the question arises: whether heritage might enhance the dissolution of the ongoing conflict centred on street names? Keywords: public space, toponymy, street names, local heritage, Oradea, Nagyvárad 1 Geographical Institute, Research Centre for Astronomy and Earth Sciences, Hungarian Academy of Sciences, H-1112 Budapest, Budaörsi út 45. E-mail: eross.agnes@csfk.mta.hu Erőss, Á. Hungarian Geographical Bulletin 66 (2017) (4) 353–367.354 E. 2015; Tátrai, P. and Erőss, Á. 2016). Symbolic space appropriation strategies can take various forms: demolishing the previous regime’s symbols are usually followed by the installation of new symbols, reinterpretation or even appropriation of previously exist- ing ones (Harrison, S. 1995). Naming and renaming streets is one of the generally ap- plied symbolic acts as it proves the potency of “power to consecrate or reveal things that are already there” (Bourdieu, P. 1989, 23). Street names have a clear practical function (orientation); people use them in everyday situations (David, J. 2013) and this mundan- ity makes them so powerful. Only by men- tioning a street name it appears in casual conversations, thus, unintentionally speak- ers communicate the official narrative and ideology. Consequently, street names “me- diate between political elites and ‘ordinary’ people.” (Azaryahu, M. 2009, 54) and can be perceived as manifestations of banal national- ism (Billig, M. 1995). Commemorative street names are especially powerful tools in urban landscape: they enable “an official version to be incorporated into spheres of social life which seems to be totally detached from po- litical contexts or community obligations, and to be integrated into intimate realms and in- teraction and realities.” (Azaryahu, M. 1996) Since the birth of nationalism the previ- ously ethnic neutral place designations have been replaced by the names connected to the ethnic based concept of nation. Thus, in set- tlements where more ethnic communities reside, tensions may occur over unequal rep- resentation (and access) of ethnic groups in the public space (Yiftachel, O. and Yacobi, H. 2003; Oktem, K. 2005). Ethnically and cul- turally diverse settlements in Central and Eastern Europe often witness local power- struggles along ethnic/linguistic boundaries that may centre on the visibility of ethnic groups in public space. The local majority – as the possessor of power – is in a more favourable position to control and/or limit the access of minorities to be visually pre- sent in the cityscape (Brubaker, R. et al. 2006; Zahorán, Cs. 2016). In such settlements, urban space can easily become the subject of power struggle between rivalling ethnic groups, where the majority dominates the relationship. In parallel, the minority group may keep alive an ‘other’, alternative urban space which contributes to the existence of a ‘doubled world’ (Barna, G. 2000) or an alter- native city text (Azaryahu, M. 1996). Talking about cities in CEE, the effect of post-socialist transformation also need to be addressed. After the collapse of the Soviet bloc, post-socialist cities went through rapid political, economic and social changes, which made general impact on urban spatial pro- cesses. While suburbanisation, gentrifica- tion, urban regeneration or recently re-ur- banisation hit those cities in different scales and forms (Badyina, A. and Golubchikov, O. 2005; Kovács, Z. 2009; Sýkora, L. and Bouzarovski, S. 2012; Van Assche, K. and Salukvadze, J. 2012; Salukvadze, J. and Golubchikov, O. 2016), the redefinition of city image, the reassessment of cultural her- itage and identity were equally necessary. The re-creation of (national) identity and city image is comprised by complex dynam- ics of remembering and forgetting that can be traced in the restructuring of urban ico- nography (Azaryahu, M. 1997; Nadkarni, M. 2003; Light, D. 2004; Palonen, E. 2008; Diener, A.C. and Hagen, J. 2013; Erőss, Á. et. al. 2016). Similarly, important the re- formulation of city image for tourism pur- poses (Puczkó, L. et al. 2007; Rozite, M. and Klepers, A. 2012; Grazuleviciute-Vileniske, I. and Urbonas, V. 2014). As tourism indus- try has developed to be a significant seg- ment of economy in the globalising world, it further urged the articulation of policies and strategies in issues of heritage manage- ment and commercialisation or branding and marketisation of city image (Guzmán, P.C. et al. 2017). Consequently, in post-socialist cities the reformulation of city image is a di- verse process in which the re-evaluation of socialist past and the (re)invention of herit- age and identity is intertwined inviting vari- ous actors in different power positions to the discussion (Murzyn, M.A. 2008). 355Erőss, Á. Hungarian Geographical Bulletin 66 (2017) (4) 353–367. As recent studies of post-socialist cities, like Belgrade or Riga exemplifies “particu- lar efforts have been made to highlight the diversity of all cultures, civilizations, social systems that left their traces” (Joksimović, M. et al. 2014, 229) in the cityscape. At the same time such an approach opens the floor to wide variety of cultural heritage interpretations (Rozite, M. and Klepers, A. 2012). According to one definition, heritage is “understood as the diverse ways in which material and intan- gible relics of the past are used by contempo- rary societies as social, political and economic resources” (Graham, B. 2000, 7). Even though, basically anything can be considered as her- itage that somebody wish to pass on to the next generation (Howard, P. 2003), actually the list of cultural heritage is highly embed- ded into power relation and politics (Harvey, D.C. 2010), additionally in politics of identity (Graham, B. and Howard, P. 2008). According to critical heritage studies, heritage “embod- ies relationships of power and subjugation, inclusion and exclusion, remembering and forgetting”, where the power wish to control not only the content what to remember, but also the interpretation of the past (Harrison, R. 2010, 1). Harrison makes distinction be- tween official and unofficial heritage. In his view, unofficial heritage bears significance to individuals or communities, but it is not protected by legislation. Unofficial heritage can be a building, but can take a less tangible form as well, for instance ”set of repetitive, entrenched, sometimes ritualized practices that link the values, beliefs and memories of communities in the present with those of the past” (Harrison, R. 2013, 14–18.) The aim of the study is – by applying the example of Oradea – to illustrate how public space becomes contested and ethicised and in which ways local heritage can be reinter- preted in a culturally diverse city with rich cultural heritage. After briefly summarising the history of Oradea, the paper focuses on street names and the ethnicised contestation emerged on naming rights and visualisation of place names. By analysing interview data and questionnaire survey, the study reveals the diverse political and individual strategies evolved to tackle the contestation, contribut- ing to the reinvention of local heritage. Introduction of the research site, Oradea Oradea (Nagyvárad, Groswardein), the seat of Bihor county in north-western Romania has a more than 900-year-old history. Found- ed in the 11th century by the Hungarian king, Saint Ladislaus. Before World War I it be- longed to the Hungarian Kingdom and had a predominantly Hungarian population (about 90%). Throughout the centuries, it grew into a prosperous town with rich historical herit- age of regional and even national importance. The golden era of modern Oradea was the last decades of the Austro-Hungarian Mon- archy, when both the wealthy elite and the city council financed sizeable constructions. Grandiose art nouveau palaces and elegant public buildings in eclectic style were raised as spatial manifestations of boosting econo- my (Photo 1). Renowned figures of Hungar- ian and Romanian culture chose Oradea as a place of residence. Beside the temples of Roman and Greek Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant churches, marvellous synagogues served the sizeable, predominantly Hungar- ian speaking Jewish population. After World War I, the Romanian Kingdom obtained Oradea, which became a peripheral border town in the enlarged state territory. In the interwar period, the city had to ac- commodate to the new political conditions while it also had to tackle consequences of economic downturn. Following the Second Vienna Treaty, between 1940 and 1944 it be- came part of Hungary again. During the last months of the Hungarian rule, the sizeable Hungarian speaking Jewish population, that played important role in the economic, social and cultural life of Oradea, perished in death camps (Remember…, 1985). After 1945, Oradea was awarded to Romania. In the decades of communism, the proportion of Hungarians gradually decreased. Since 1973, Romanians form the Erőss, Á. Hungarian Geographical Bulletin 66 (2017) (4) 353–367.356 majority in the local population (Varga, E.Á. 1999). Probably due to the lack of financial resources (Iuga, L. 2014), a great proportion of historic buildings in the city-centre could avoid demolition; the socialist urbanisation transformed rather the northern and south- ern parts of the town. The collapse of the Ceausescu regime in 1989 hit hard Oradea: the closure of facto- ries increased unemployment that resulted in the outmigration of the (mainly ethnic Hungarian) population. Nowadays Oradea is a municipality, with nearly two-hundred thousand citizens. According to the 2011 census, 23.7 per cent of its population de- clared Hungarian ethnicity, while the ratio of Romanians was 67.8 per cent.2 2 http://ispmn.gov.ro/maps/county/26564_bh_ limba2011_maghiar All in all, in the last hundred years, Oradea went through several major regime changes, each was followed by the almost complete erasure of the previous regime’s symbols (Fleisz, J. 2000) and introduction of a new toponymy and set of statues and commemo- rative tables (Erőss, Á. and Tátrai, P. 2010). Power of street names: major shifts in toponymy Data shown in Table 1 reflect the hegemonic endeavour of consecutive power formations. Analysing relationship between the ethnic structure of the population and the ratio of street names with ethnic connotation, one can find that these two indicators only coincided during the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy. Nev- Photo 1. One of the architectural gems of Oradea, The Black Eagle Palace (Palatul Vulturul Negru/Fekete Sas Palota). Built in 1907–1908, architects Marcell Komor and Dezső Jakab. (Photo by the author) 357Erőss, Á. Hungarian Geographical Bulletin 66 (2017) (4) 353–367. ertheless, even in that period the local Hungar- ian government made effort to monopolize the street names favouring Hungarian figures, ex- cluding the Romanian or other ethnic groups. Nationalising states have an endeavour to monopolise the public sphere in ethnic- cultural terms by erasing or appropriating spatial memories of other ethnic groups in cities like Wroclaw/Breslau or Lemberg/Lviv (Lagzi, G. 2013) or Cluj/Kolozsvár (Benedek, J. and Bartos-Elekes, Zs. 2009; Bartos- Elekes, Zs. 2016). Minority initiatives to gain visibility are traditionally perceived as threats or at least acts questioning solidar- ity towards the state. As Dragoş Dragoman noted “ethnic struggle between Romanians and Hungarians in Transylvania lately be- came symbolic and non-material. It now uses mechanism of differentiation and power in order to spatially mark the dominance by items as flags, road signs, street names, churches and statues.” (Dragoman, D. 2011, 121). This leads to the ethnicisation of public space (Hofman, M. 2008), that is reflected in the street names of Oradea. Figure 1 shows street names according to their ethnic conno- tation. (Rule of selection: historical and cul- tural figures, events, dates, places that clearly belong to either Romanian or Hungarian cul- ture marked with purple or yellow colours). In 2005 Oradea had 739 streets, out of which 57 per cent was ethnically neutral. Street names with Romanian connotation dominat- ed the city centre, while Hungarian names concentrated in such areas, where they tradi- tionally live in higher concentrations. Only two important public places had Hungarian related names commemorating mainly artists and/or figures with local links (was born or lived/worked in Oradea) rather than representative figures of Hungarian na- tional culture. Politics of street names in Oradea An interview conducted with a Hungarian member of the local government in 2013 shed light on the political dimensions and local deals of street naming. As he remembers, in the early 1990s “there were huge fights” in the city council, because the idea to name the main square after St. Ladislaus, the Hungar- ian king, who had found the town in 11th century, was absolutely unacceptable for the Romanian majority. While “Ady3, of course, could be awarded, as he had made love here, he had become a big poet here, no problem.” Eventually – following long debates – a nar- row, peripheral street was named after St. Ladislaus and a long, frequently used street in the centre became the Ady Street. The case reveals the different symbolic value of commemorative street names: even though St. Ladislaus was the one who established Oradea, he was also perceived as a key figure of Hungarian national history, which made 3 Endre Ady (1877–1919) is one of the most important Hungarian poets. He worked as a journalist and published his first successful volumes while living in Oradea/Nagyvárad. Importantly he met his muse and lover, Adél Brüll during his stay in the town. Table 1. Relationship between the ethnic composition of the inhabitants* and the ethnic connotation of street names** in Oradea/Nagyvárad, 1900–2006. Year Romanian % Hungarian % Year Romanian % Hungarian % 1900* 1902** 1930* 1931** 1941* 1942** 6.4 2.1 26.3 92.7 5.2 0.9 89.6 97.7 53.7 7.3 92.1 99.1 1956* 1957** 1977* 1980** 2002* 2006** 36.0 62.5 53.9 93.3 70.3 89.9 59.0 37.5 44.1 6.7 27.6 10.1 Source: Erőss, Á. and Tátrai, P. 2010. Erőss, Á. Hungarian Geographical Bulletin 66 (2017) (4) 353–367.358 his figure less acceptable to the Romanian majority (i.e. as it might evoke national sen- timents). Whereas Ady, strongly related to the Hungarian culture and the history of the town, was primarily seen as a poet and jour- nalist, who lived in Oradea. Thus, by high- lighting his local relevance, embeddedness in Oradea’s history, he was accepted in the pan- theon of local heroes, and commemorated in a central street. Nevertheless, the spatial differentiation in the aforementioned case points to the impor- tance of location of commemorative street names: to be visible in the centre usually carries greater symbolic value. Nevertheless, when analysing the debates over nam- ing streets after Martin Luther King Jr. in Greenville and Statesboro, Alderman and Inwood pointed to the ambiguous nature of the deals. The streets in the two cities named after King was either in the periphery, or – even though a wide avenue got baptized after him – it was actually far from the previously used space of African American commemo- rative events. Eventually, they conclude that both cases contributed to the reproduction of the already existing racial boundaries and spatial segregation in urban space, – the op- posite of King’s legacy (Alderman, D. and Inwood, J. 2013). Figure 1. Street names in Oradea according to ethnic connotation in 2005. (Edited by Tátrai, P.) 0 1000500 Railway Street and square names with Hungarian connotation Street and square names with Romanian connotation Neutral street and square names without ethnic connotation Crișul Repede to Debrecen (HUNGARY) Oradea / Nagyvárad HUNGARY ROMANIA 359Erőss, Á. Hungarian Geographical Bulletin 66 (2017) (4) 353–367. Apart from the ethnic connotation of street names, their visualisation and visibility also need to be addressed. Romania ratified laws and regulations that guarantee minority language use, including the display of bi- lingual or multilingual settlement names, street names or names of institutions in settlements where the share of ethnic minor- ity reaches 20 per cent or more within the local population (Veress, E. 2006). In practice, the implementation shows great variety in regions of Romania and highly dependent on local political rela- tions (Dragoman, D. 2011; Crețan, R. and Matthews, P.W. 2016). In Oradea bilingual street name plates are still under negotiation, so as the demand of certain Hungarian politi- cians and civic activists to increase the share Photo 2. Scenes from the EMI activists’ street action. The official (Romanian) street names above, below the once existing, Hungarian street names. The painted signs were either repainted or carved. (Photos by Kocsis, K.) of Hungarian related street names until it would coincide with the ratio of Hungarians in the population. Since 2007, the tension left the chambers of local council and entered the streets of Oradea. The Hungarian youth association, called EMI (Erdélyi Magyar Ifjak / Hungarian Youth in Transylvania) launched street ac- tions: they painted the old, once existing Hungarian names on buildings (family houses or shops) with the owners’ previous consent. For the next couple of weeks the streets in Oradea turned into a ‘playground’ be- tween ‘painters’ and ‘re-painters’, latter ones perceived the street action as an illegal ag- gression against the majority/existing rules (Photo 2). Erőss, Á. Hungarian Geographical Bulletin 66 (2017) (4) 353–367.360 The conflict over street names in Oradea has not ended: Hungarian associations or parties from time to time fix Hungarian street name plates below the Romanian ones, ac- companied by great media interest (Photo 3). Meanwhile, a silent deal was accepted in the city council: names of newly opening streets follow the ethnic proportions (ca. 25% will be named by the Hungarian com- munity, 75% by Romanians) – without eth- nically neutral names. However, the scope of proposed street names is limited: the lo- cal government has a strong desire to prefer figures (Romanians and Hungarians) who were notable in the local history of Oradea or Bihor County. Thus, names of personali- ties of Hungarian national history remains absent from the list of street names. As the same interviewee phrased: “To denominate [streets] after politicians are not our prima- ry goal (…) we rather look for such persons who did something for Oradea.” The reinvention of local heritage in Oradea The silent deal or agreement does not cover or solve all the debates about street names, but it leads to noticeable consequences. First, the visibility guaranteed by this agreement is limited, as new streets are opening in the outskirts of Oradea, so their symbolic power is weaker than of a street in the centre. Sec- ond, to compile a list of people with local rel- evance requires engagement in local heritage and tremendous amount of work. The Hun- garian community has developed numerous civic associations, which are engaged both in research and dissemination of local heritage (for instance: For the scientific Bihar Research: http://eng.biharkutatas.hu/; Partium and Bán- ság Committee for monument protection and memorials: http://www.pbmet.ro/). The body of knowledge prepared by them is an impor- tant contribution to compile biographies of notabilities. They publish the results, organ- Photo 3. Local Hungarian politician place a Hungarian street name plate on the building of the city council. Source: http://itthon.ma/erdelyorszag.php?cikk_id=20200. Accessed: 12.11.2017 361Erőss, Á. Hungarian Geographical Bulletin 66 (2017) (4) 353–367. ise conferences and with the student paper competitions they make efforts to engage with the younger generations. Another project worth mentioning is a Hungarian language course book, titled “My town, Oradea”/”Az én városom, Nagyvárad”. It targets 8–10 year- old pupils introducing Oradea, its history, built heritage, famous personalities to the kids (http://csodaceruza.hu/?p=5865). Considering that local traditions and ur- ban legends make places alive and liveable (De Certeau, M. 2011), the community work fostering reinvention of local histories might induce feeling of belonging and attachment to the place. Nonetheless, everyday practic- es legitimise places of remembrance: social actions transform a space into a place (De Certeau, M. 2011), shape individual and community place identity (Proshansky, H. et al. 1983) and engender attachment to places (Massey, D. 1994; Ehrkamp, P. 2005). In this sense, I argue that activities like digging up libraries to map a local figure’s life, or fol- lowings blogs, attending public talk about the history of the town can be considered as social actions that induce affection, feeling of belonging to a place (Lovell, N. 1998). The growing consciousness about the history of the locality might contribute to the empower- ment of local Hungarian community. Finally, in the evaluation of the interview- ee, the silent deal puts the Hungarian com- munity in a relatively favourable position over Romanians: “since this was a Hungarian town for such a long time, for us it’s not a problem to create a long list of figures with local relevance and importance. On the other hand, for Romanians, well…” This opinion suggests that even though Hungarian street names and figures of national importance have remained absent from the centre of the city the silent deal in a sense favours the local Hungarian community. Do street names matter? Taking into account the frequent changes of street names, the conflicts over street name plates and the overall contestation over public place the question arises: how peo- ple think about street names? What is the relevance of street names in their everyday lives? In the last couple of years there is a growing demand to study how street names are perceived by people (Azaryahu, M. 2011; Crețan, R. and Matthews, P.W. 2016). In a research4 conducted with local Hunga- rian and Romanian students who were born in or moved to Oradea, we found that inhabit- ants use landmarks to orient in the town, rath- er than street names. However, when referring to street names, they frequently use shorter or colloquial names instead of the official ones. In the questionnaire survey respondents were asked to name the meeting places where they usually fix an appointment. After evaluating the results (n=208) the representative main square, Piaţa Unirii (n=84) and the Strada Republicii (n=75), both situated in the cen- tre, were named as favourite meeting points. Nevertheless, less than half of the respondents referred to these places by their actual official names. In both ethnic groups respondents fa- voured mentioning some iconic building as meeting point in the Piaţa Unirii (e.g. ‘by the Vulturul Negru’), instead of the official name of the square. Hungarian respondents mainly used the Hungarian name of the Piaţa Unirii (n=52, Szent László tér / St. Ladislaus Square), whereas they referred to Strada Republicii (n=30) by its colloquial name [Main Street (n=18) or Pedestrian street (n=12)]. During the interviews it turned out, that Hungarian respondents sometimes did not even know the current official name of the given street or the use of official street names is rather situational: appears either in official-administrative context or when they 4 The research was conducted in 2008, among Hungarian and Romanian students studying in Partium University and University of Oradea. The research was aimed to reveal ethnic differences in spatial practices of Hungarian and Romanian university students. We combined data from questionnaire, structured interviews and mental mapping surveys. The research was financed by the University of Bern. Participating researchers were Patrik Tátrai (geographer) and Krisztina Radványi (sociologist). Erőss, Á. Hungarian Geographical Bulletin 66 (2017) (4) 353–367.362 talk to Romanians. Beside colloquial names, local Hungarian youth refer to street names that were official in the times of Austro- Hungarian Monarchy and thus, belong to the Hungarian past of Oradea. Keeping alive and using in everyday conversational situations, the Hungarian street names have become in-group codes, in many cases indicators of one’s Hungarian identity. A similar phenom- enon was described for instance in Cluj, the cultural centre of Transylvania. According to Réka Plugor (2006) many local Hungarians feel that using traditional Hungarian street names is a sign of respect towards past and signals a commitment and statement of being part of the Hungarian community. Importantly, since the Hungarian street names were absent from the public space and official documents for decades, their survival have been secured in the intergen- erational communication in the Hungarian community. The alternative Hungarian city text manifested in the virtual net of old street names might function as a cement of group cohesion for Hungarians (Barth, F. 1969) and a tool of out-grouping towards Romanians. However, it also symbolises a delicate line between local Hungarians and non Oradean Hungarians. Respondents, who came to study to Oradea from other parts of Transylvania mentioned that upon their ar- rival they faced difficulties when asked for orientation from local Hungarians, as the names mentioned by them were not indicat- ed on maps or official papers. With time, they learnt the Hungarian street names. Thus, being Hungarian does not necessarily mean that one will be able to “read” this alternative city text. The knowledge of local Hungarian toponymy is a sensitive indicator of belong- ing to the local Hungarian community, being Oradean Hungarian (or “váradi” as they say). Local heritage as mitigation of struggle over street names? (Re)development and promotion of multi- layered local heritage has been one of the most noticeable hence challenging processes in post-socialist cities (Rátz, T. et al. 2008). Traces of ‘ancient’ history, or signs of multi- culturalism are reassessed, commercialised and capitalised (Narvselius, E. 2015). Such revival of the past is especially visible in the former Saxon settlements in Transylvania, Romania. In Sebeş, following the decision of the local mayor, the traditional German and (if exists) Hungarian street names were placed below the official street name plates, usually printed on a different table with different colours. According to the report, the historical street name tables intend to symbolise the multi-ethnic character of the community (Szucher, E. 2013). On the oth- er hand, written in old German characters, these alternative street name plates serve as a visual proof of the ancient history and rich heritage of the former Saxon towns, a symbolic capital that conveyed value can quite easily be transformed into actual capi- tal, as a commercialised heritage (Puczkó, L. et al. 2007). The potential financial benefits deriving from the multilingual street name plates transcend the comment of the mayor of Sebeş: before the decision was made about placing multilingual street name plates dis- playing historical toponymy, it was taken into account that majority of visitors were arriving from Hungary, whom would feel positively about looking at Hungarian street names (Szucher, E. 2013). Highlighting the (potential) economic benefits motivating or justifying (place) naming has been studied in the research of place naming as commod- ity (Light, D. and Young, C. 2014). Articles in present special issue also touch upon the role of heritage in local identity formation (Semian, M. and Novacek, A. 2017) and her- itage as potential income generating factor in different types of tourism (Liro, J. et al. 2017; Jelen, J. and Kučera, Z. 2017). Recently, arguments in the same vein seem to appear in policy documents, whereas the example of Saxon towns are widely referred to as good practices. Not long time ago, Oradea’s cultural diversity and built heritage was rather overlooked by local government 363Erőss, Á. Hungarian Geographical Bulletin 66 (2017) (4) 353–367. as a possible source of generating income. In the last couple of years though, the devel- opment of tourism appeared in the local gov- ernment’s policy documents. Both the City Development Strategy for 2015–2020 and the Masterplan for 2030 tackles the renovation of built heritage and development of multicul- tural and historic tourism as the focal points of Oradea’s future prosperity (Ţoca, C.V. and Pocola, B.M. 2015; Borma, A. 2016; Morar, C. et al. 2016). Interestingly, most probably not independently from the recent turn of the city council towards recognition and re- invention of multicultural character of the town, a local Hungarian politician started to campaign for Hungarian street names apply- ing the example of Saxon towns (Az Erdélyi Magyar Néppárt Sajtóirodája 2017). Conclusion In local narratives, Oradea is labelled as a multi-ethnic place, where Hungarians and Romanian co-exist peacefully, and the conflicts are intruding from the top level, from the sphere of politics (Filep, B. 2016). If we consider that in the last hundred year Oradea went through numerous major po- litical transformations, when each regime change was followed by a new toponymy, then we might assume that the reoccurring street name changes have been perceived by many local inhabitants as one of those top- down “intrusions” to their individual lives. By analysing street names in Oradea, it was demonstrated how the urban space gets restructured into areas with different sym- bolic value. The importance of locality in the mutual acceptance of street names was also pointed out. As the case of Ady Street in Oradea shows, if the commemorated person is not political figure and has local connec- tion, s/he is more acceptable for the major- ity, which is reflected in the more prestigious location of the street named after her/him. To mitigate the conflict that regularly en- ters the streets, a silent agreement in the local government was achieved to commemorate persons with local importance, who were active in the local community, rather than historic persons or politicians. This policy induced a novel interest in local Hungarian minority to seek its heritage. Nevertheless, street names, more precisely the maintenance of Hungarian street names can also be comprehended as an alternative city text. Inherited from parents to children, Hungarian street names secure and maintain a virtual link between different times of the existence of the community: they are able to recall past in the present, while by fostering and passing them to the next generation, they become ‘investment’ to the future of the community. Noteworthy, that the alternative city text often communicated via in-group codes, makes self-identification possible, probably strengthening in-group cohesion and safeguarding the ethnic group. Recent developments show increasing interest toward local heritage. Policy docu- ments tackle it as a possible source of income (heritage tourism). Whereas local minority politicians seem to perceive the heritage re- vival as an opportunity: by installing multi- lingual street name and information tables proving the rich heritage of the town, even- tually minority language and culture might gain more visibility in centrally located urban spaces as well. Even though the approaches toward local heritage of local power and mi- nority group is different, the question might arise: Whether local heritage can become a suitable tool to dissolve the conflicts in this contested urban space? Acknowledgement: Part of the research was carried out in the frame of SefoNe EU FP6 project and fi- nancially supported by the University of Bern. 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