One
of the strengths of this volume comes from bringing essays from
different parts of Europe together.
In
the UK we have a particular narrative associated with the “Deadly
Century” of the title, having been on the “winning” side in
both World Wars as well, arguably, as the Cold War – this
creates a strong temptation
to frame our relationship with the physical remains of those
conflicts within a context of pride.
The
contrast to this is powerfully explored within the essay about the
relationships to the monuments and other physical remains from the
Franco era in Spain.
While
Michael Kimmelman is cited as saying that Franco’s monuments should
be ignored because “they have been displaced from Spanish
collective memory” there is a concern that this can create a
silence around them and “silence belongs with dictatorship and is
the product of fear and trauma”.
The
essay looks at both the “monuments” put up by Franco and the
regime and also some of the other remains, in particular the
Carabanchel Prison, where political prisoners with held and tortured.
The site has been demolished – and some would see that as a
positive act, cleansing and allowing Spain to move on. But there is
a risk that this allows a dark era to be forgotten – and forgetting
favours those that might support authoritarianism more than those
that support liberty.
We
end up with “sanitised, apolitical visions of the past” when
Jameson claims that “History is what hurts”. They go on to say “A
narrative that presents everybody as a victim or everybody as a
perpetrator is politically irresponsible. As Hannah Ardent wrote:
‘Where everybody is guilty, nobody is; public confessions of
collective guilt are the best defence against the discovery of
culprits, and the magnitude of a crime is the best excuse to not do
anything.’”.
This
plays out beyond our relationship with remains of war.
When
governments give apologies for past wrongs it can be a powerful act
of reconciliation, but it can also be used to draw a line – a logic
that says that once the apology is given no further inquires needed,
it can act as a way of blocking access to the truth.
It
is also at play in some of the debates within Universities around
statues of past benefactors who made the money they gave to the
institution from slavery. There needs to be an open relationship with
that past – if you are too quick to take down the statues and
rename the colleges and lecture halls you can miss out on a real
acknowledgement of the link between the crime of slavery and the good
of the University. Hiding that past is potentially as problematic as
celebrating it. It would be better, for example, to explore how you
might use historic links to slavery as a motivation to action
tackling modern slavery?
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