Toppling Statues: Public Spaces,Heritage and Memory Cultures of European Colonialism. Introduction

The wave of actions that followed the Black Lives Matter (BLM) protests in May and June 2020, when statues of colonial masters or slave traders were torn down or defaced with graffiti, had repercussions beyond the United States. In Europe, they were felt with particular force in Britain and France, but also in smaller countries such as Belgium, as Idesbald Goddeeris argues in this issue. In Germany Finland, on the other hand, there were few, if any, violent actions or toppled statues. This movement has brought increased attention to how Europeans deal with their colonial past, and how history should be made visible in public spaces. ¹

This special issue seeks to bring colonial heritage to the forefront of the debates on European identity by highlighting different national discussions and by critically engaging with the current discourses on the contested meanings underlying colonial statues and public spaces. The articles examine how colonial statues and public spaces have become focal points for activism across Europe and globally due to their symbolic representation of contested histories and power dynamics. ² They can foster discussion on how Europe's colonial cultural heritage can be reimagined more openly and in the direction of more inclusive communities.

By focusing on specific monuments, we can understand the diversities and complexities of Europe's colonial pasts, and how they are remembered and perceived in the present by different peoples. Statues not only commemorate different aspects of colonial heritage, conveying certain narratives while concealing others, but also serve as focal points of contestation, with some challenged for their representation of colonial power and exploitation, while others remain unopposed, depending on the narratives they embody and the histories they reflect. ³ Statues speak volumes about Europe's varied colonial pasts, eliciting varied responses from visitors and residents, including those from former colonies. ⁴ Furthermore, statues continue to play a role in shaping Europe's future as their meaning is re-evaluated and discussed in the context of growing postcolonial identities.

Arguably, European countries differ in how they confront their colonial pasts and handle statues, with varying approaches influenced by national histories, public attitudes and the specific colonial legacies each country bears. These differences help explain the diversity in responses to colonial monuments across Europe. The articles in this issue examine why statues and public spaces have become central focal points of activism across Europe and globally; what types of colonial heritage specific monuments commemorate; what narratives they convey or conceal; and why some are contested while others are not. Throughout, the issue also considers the shared trajectories and differences in how colonial pasts are addressed across different European countries, and what accounts for them. Thus, these articles are concerned not only with colonial statues, their narratives and related activism, but also with the responses being made – and whether Europe's colonial cultural heritage can be reimagined to build fresh interpretations of the past. ⁵

The global BLM protests had a significant impact on Belgium, more so than in many other countries. Idesbald Goddeeris’ piece shows, in a very concrete way, how Belgium has started a decolonisation process that is still weak and fragmentary and has had setbacks. However, Goddeeris argues that the country's assessment of its colonial past, and how this is displayed in public space, has gradually developed. The BLM protests coincided with the 60th anniversary of Congo's independence, and this might be considered a turning point. Perhaps the most interesting aspect of this movement is the way it has taken shape in small towns and beyond the big cities.

In Portugal, as Lotte Claerhout examines, the tension between the historical glorification of colonial achievements and the contemporary movement for decolonisation is also ongoing. Her text on the Padrão dos Descobrimentos questions Portugal's colonial legacy and its role in the transatlantic slave trade. The monument, with its symbolism deeply embedded in the nation's broader colonial narrative, continues to shape how Portugal views its past and defines its present identity. But the old heroic narrative of past explorers is gradually being given new, more critical interpretations. It appears that perhaps countries in the southern European region encounter greater challenges in transcending the narratives and discourses surrounding their colonial pasts. These narratives and discourses are characterised by an exceptionalist perspective, which portrays colonial endeavours as more benevolent than they were in reality. This, in turn, contrasts with the so-called ‘Black Legend’ – a discourse external to these countries, especially strong in Northern Europe and Latin America – that focuses on the crimes of the conquest.

Colonial heritage as a joint European phenomenon

This special issue argues that colonial heritage is a joint European phenomenon, shared by bigger and smaller states alike. ⁶ It is therefore all the more relevant to observe how ‘small colonialisms’ have carried out their own decolonisation processes. The case of Finland, presented by Janne Lahti, is particularly instructive.

It is not common knowledge that Finland, a country that achieved independence after the Russian Revolution in 1917, carried out a programme of internal colonialism that involved the building of settler communities in the Arctic North of Petsamo. Lahti analyses the legacy of these settler colonisation spaces in the form of a monument, but also questions the entire process of settler memory. For Lahti, settler memory, along with the act of settler colonisation, is driven by the aspiration to evolve the initial, superficial connection of ‘we just came here’ and even ‘we just stayed for a brief while’ – as in the Petsamo example – into a more profound and intrinsic bond, akin to ‘this land made us and we made this land’. This bond was maintained even after Petsamo was lost to the Soviet Union and all Finnish settlers had to leave the area. A crucial aspect in maintaining this settler connection was a monument the former settlers themselves established in Finnish Lapland during the Cold War years.

Dörte Lerp and Ulrike Schaper, in turn, focus on how official German memorial politics marginalised colonialism for a long time while placing the focus on the history of National Socialism. However, the instructive example of Bremen's elephant shows the multiplicity of readings of monuments and memory sites. For their part, the streets of Berlin contain a significant number of contested vestiges of colonialism that have been the subject of criticism and rewriting. However, as demonstrated by the case of the city castle, it often seems, as the authors suggest, that these efforts at criticism serve merely as fig leaves, partially concealing the discomfort of asserting a ‘normal’ past. The concept of layers of memory, which the authors handle with nuance, allows us to think about the complicated relationship between monuments, time and social changes. It is evident – and this is clear in many of the texts presented here – that what was once a symbol of grandeur can be re-signified to express the shame of the colonial past, as well as the transformation of European nations into multicultural societies.

The problem of how to situate women in the context of colonialism – and of their representation on monuments – is Emma Dhondt's key contribution to the issue. Problematising the relationship between colonialism, gender and monuments, she shows how women rarely feature in colonial monuments, or are portrayed solely as allegorical figures. With a broad geographical focus, Dhondt examines the intersections of colonial power, identity and gender, showcasing varied cases of how women have been included in colonial monuments. She discusses what female inclusion could signal for attempts to decolonise the histories these monuments convey, and how replacing monuments and constructing new ones creates opportunities to feminise public spaces. This raises questions about issues beyond colonialism, such as the weight of gender in the construction of national mythologies and the imaginaries that create the nation.

On the other hand, many of the texts introduce the problem of the invisibility of monuments, as Robert Musil famously wrote. ⁷ Statues were created in a certain context and, with the passage of time, may have lost their initial meaning. These once prominent symbols often go unnoticed in everyday life. As people become accustomed to them, they blend into the landscape, losing their original meaning and impact. Of course, societal changes contribute to invisibility, because monuments may represent outdated or controversial values. Statues may still remain standing in public spaces, but they lose relevance, sparking debates about their removal or recontextualisation. ⁸

But the question is even more complicated. It is not only a matter of dismantling remnants of the past that are no longer considered appropriate in present times, or even of putting them in context by means of plaques or signs. The very necessity or survival of the styles of monuments themselves can be questioned, beyond their own relationship to colonialism. Is it enough to replace the statues of colonialists with others? In fact, are statues of great personages or events we deem significant truly necessary, useful or meaningful for modern societies? Would it not be better to try to find different ways of commemorating? This problem runs through all the texts in this special issue, bringing to the re-evaluation of the past a thoughtfulness that is not about the past, but also about the future.

Nor should we think that the struggle to revise the colonial tragedy is over. In the swirl of anxieties arising from the problems of post-COVID Europe, the rise of nationalist attitudes on the continent may lead to renewed questioning of the reappraisal of the colonial past. Amid fears of immigration and the impoverishment of the middle classes, the Europe of the welfare state may seek to reclaim its imperial identity by refusing to heal old colonial wounds. In fact, in recent years, new statues have been erected in countries such as Italy and Spain that can be called ‘colonialist’ without any hesitation. In Italy, in 2021, the statue of the entrepreneur and participant in the colonial war Giorgio Parodi was unveiled. It was the same in Spain: the monument to ‘The Last of the Philippines’ (2020) and to the Spanish Legion (2022) – both in Madrid – contradict the broader global trend of questioning colonialism. It is clear that Europe still has a long way to go in evaluating its colonial legacy, and that the debate on the meaning and role of monuments continues.