Coming To Terms With A Memorialised Past
The name Edward Colston, belonging to a 17th century slave trader and philanthropist, made headlines this month when his statue was torn down in the centre of Bristol.
The figure had stood there since the late 19th century but after years of peaceful campaigning to local authorities, the citizens of Bristol took justice into their own hands amidst the Black Lives Matter movement. The monument was thrown down from its plinth, before being ceremoniously rolled down the city’s streets and left to drown in the very docks where his slave ships had anchored.
If you’ve been anywhere online recently, it will have been difficult to escape the flurry of controversy that has followed this event. For many, this bronze depiction of Colston represented those who had profited from explicit human suffering to create their own riches. It felt logical to recognise that this monument was not only outdated and inappropriate but, also, was something that was particularly offensive to the Black-British community. However, it would be misleading to imply that there has been a total consensus from the public surrounding this.
The tearing down of Colston appears to have sparked intense debate around several other individuals’ memorials, not only in this country but across the globe. Shortly after the scenes in Bristol, Belgium saw authorities taking down the statue of King Leopold II. Another striking removal. For those unfamiliar with Belgium’s colonial history, King Leopold II had taken ownership of the Congo Free State in the late 1800s. Despite his philanthropic disguises, his rule there was one of systematic brutality, characterised by resource exploitation, murder and atrocities. It is estimated that around 10-15 million Africans died under his hand.
Closer to home again, the statue of Robert Milligan (another notorious slave trader) was removed from the Museum of London Docklands. Notably, the one that you perhaps have seen the most tension about recently is the one of Winston Churchill, which still stands in Parliament Square. This has come following growing awareness online surrounding Churchill’s beliefs concerning white superiority and his government’s responsibility for the Bengal famine in 1943. But why should we care about re-examining these statues now?
Many of the broader issues surrounding memory’s role within our national histories have come to light amidst the protests targeting these monuments. In the case of the Churchill statue, his figure, for many, has become heavily interwoven with recollections of ‘Victory in Europe’. In British collective memory, he has been heralded for leading the wartime defeat of Nazi fascism.
However, fundamentally, this is not a war memorial. It is one of a lone man. Clearly, these recent dialogues have highlighted why representing individuals in this form comes with several complications. Swathes of the public tend to perceive these monuments of such people in a personal way (perhaps since they have a more relatable, human quality). This could explain why the polarisation within debates, regarding their position in society, has become far greater. Statues of historical figures certainly seem to be a very “marmite” form of physical memorialisation.
Despite this uniqueness, statues’ complex relationship with History is shared by many other commemorative monuments. Although all of these sites may appear as ‘fixed’ to us, as a usual spot along our daily commute or even as a popular tourist destination, the fact is that physical memorials are not inherently permanent. They can be removed.
Ultimately, these officially commissioned displays aim to preserve the memory of specific events or people but only ones that are considered important to the identity and values of the nation state in question, at a given time. As these values change, it does not inevitably mean that these old memorials will stand with us through the coming years. This brings us to one of the main rebuttals that has been used to challenge the dethroning of these controversial statues:
“But it’s a part of History!”
Whilst this is true, this alone cannot warrant the prestige that is typically associated with memorialised figures. Let us consider Colston once more. If memorials are meant to honour the values of a country, then surely the removal itself, of a statue associated with oppression, will demonstrate the progression of British society’s principles, in the soon-to-be history that we are currently living through? As respected historian David Oluwasaga points out, ‘the toppling of Edward Colston’s statue is not an attack on history. It is history’.
So, yes, these narratives are certainly a part of our past and many would still fervently advocate for teaching on Britain’s role in the slave trade (or any other country’s uncomfortable histories) in our schools, libraries and museums. However, this does not equate with Colston, or any other openly racist figure, deserving physical celebration on our streets, if we are to pride ourselves on moving away from our darker pasts.
For perspective, it is interesting to look to other countries such as Germany and their relatively recent place within remembrance discourses. Only in 2005, 60 years after the end of the Holocaust, did the country complete their ‘Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe’ in the heart of Berlin. This signified a significant change in German collective memory. Germany had gone from having discussions of their atrocities as merely ‘background noise’ in the initial post-war decades, to then visibly ‘coming to terms’ with their Nazi past by the early 21st century.
Again, this memorial was not one without controversy. There were intense disputes surrounding Peter Eisenman’s 2,711 large concrete slabs and their dominance within the landscape of the city, as well its specific design, plus the “burden of disgrace” that some argued that the memorial inflicted upon the nation. Despite some public outcry, the plans came to fruition. What this case served to show was how a state’s evolving attitudes and priorities can be highlighted through their physical memorialisation. It symbolised the paradigm shift that was being experienced in official narratives.
Germany will not commemorate Adolf Hitler but, after years of unease and grappling with their past, they now openly pay tribute to the victims of his regime. They have recognised the precedent and power that these sites can carry.
Undoubtedly, across the globe there will continue to be many more of these contentious memorial debates in the near future. What is crucial, is that we remain unafraid to critically examine both our monuments and our past, to ensure that we stay aligned with the values that should matter to us today in 2020.