The British Holocaust Memorial: A Study in Failure

T h e B r i t i s h H o l o c a u s t M e m o r i a l: A Study in Failure

Eleanor Oriel Gwenllian Brent Newcastle Univeristy 130113791 A Dissertation submitted in partial fulfilment of the degree of BA in Architecture, 2016

The British Holocaust Memorial: A Study in Failure An exploration of the Hyde Park memorial looking at its origins and contemporary use, adopting a compartive approach

Abstract Memorials go through a challenging process before they come into being. They become a place where people go to be warned against and remember atrocities that have occurred.

There are a range of ways in which this ‘collective memory’ is held and interpreted. Understandably, this leads to differing visions of what a memorial is and what makes one ‘successful’ or indeed fulfil its potential. This essay explores this debate in relation to the Hyde Park memorial.

The focus of this dissertation is on determining the need for a new Holocaust memorial in London, 23 years on from the dedication ceremony of the memorial in Hyde Park. This essay attempts to understand why David Cameron initiated, in 2015, a competition for a new memorial by analysing the origins, site, funding, design and afterlife of the current memorial. To help answer this, the memorial will be compared to two others: Berlin’s Memorial to

the Murdered Jews of Europe and Paris’ Memorial des Martyrs de la Deportation.

Having compared these three memorials, this dissertation has come to an understanding of what influences a memorial. It shows that English politicians’ initial disregard and ambivalence towards a memorial impeded the success of the Hyde Park one. It resulted in it being located away from the Cenotaph and Westminster, on a site which has effectively swallowed it up and hidden it from public view.

Contents

01

List of illustrations

03

Introduction

07

Chapter 1: Origins and site

07 Origins

10 Site

15

Chapter 2: Political influence and Designs

15

Political influence

19 Designs

29

Chapter 3: Afterlife of the memorials

35

Conclusion

39

Bibliography

List of Illustrations Figure 1

Kew Archives (1979-1981), Map of Whitehall showing the government’s ini tial ideas for the location of the London Holocaust memorial [Map] FCO 33/4845 (Accessed: `23 October 2015) Figure 2 Kew Archives (1979-1981), Map showing the Green Park site of the London Holocaust memorial [Map] FCO 33/4845, (Accessed: 23 October 2015) Figure 3 Kew Archives (1979-1981), Map showing the site for the Hyde Park Holco aust memorial [Map] FCO 33/4845, (Accessed: 23 October 2015) Figure 4 Author’s own (2015), Photo illustrating the sunken part of the Paris memo- rial [Photograph] Figure 5 Author’s own (2015), Photo of the transitional space at the Paris memorial, [Photograph] Figure 6 Author’s own (2015,) Photo of the series of lights and the coffin of the Unknown Deportee, [Photograph] Figure 7 Young, J. (2000: 190), Illustration of model of the inital winning proposal

for the Berlin memorial, [Image], At Memory’s Edge: After-Images of the

Holocaust in Contemporary Art and Architecture. New Haven: Yale Univer sity Press.

Figure 8 Young, J. (2000: 212), Original sections of the Berlin memorial illusting the

differeing heights and tilted blocks, [Sectional Drawing], At Memory’s Edge:

After-Images of the Holocaust in Contemporary Art and Architecture. New

Haven: Yale University Press.

Figure 9 The Berlin series: The Jewish museum and the Holocaust Memorial (2011), Showing the thin corridors created by the blocks in the Berlin memorial [Photograph] Available at: http://youvegotnae.com/2011/10/14/the-ber

lin-series-the-jewish-museum-and-the-holocaust-memorial/ (Accessed: 5 January 2016) Figure 10 Holocaust memorial garden (no date) This image shows the lamentations

on a stone in the Hyde Park memorial [Photograph] Available at: http://

gallery.nen.gov.uk/asset664273-.html (Accessed: 5 January 2016) Figure 11 Cynthia Southern (@cmsouthern) | Twitter (2014) This image shows

the Hyde Park memorial in its setting, illustrating its seclusion, [Photo graph] Available at: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/87890630203833869/

(Accessed: 5 January 2016) Figure 12 Author’s own (2015) Entrance to the Mémorial des Martyrs de la Déporta

tion in Paris, [Photograph] Figure 13 Tangible information (2006) An image showing people jumping from

block to block at the Berlin Holocaust memorial Available at: http://tangi bleinfo.blogspot.co.uk/2011/01/visit-to-berlins-holocaust-memorial.html

(Accessed: 5 January 2016).

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Introduction

David Cameron on Holocaust Memorial Day, 70 years after the end of World War II, announced a competition for a new memorial to be built in London. This was because of dissatisfaction surrounding the current one. The memorial and its siting are relatively unknown amongst the British public. The brief for the new memorial is to correct this. It is to ensure ‘that the memory of the Holocaust is preserved and that the lessons it teaches are never forgotten’. Its intention is to ‘educate future generations about the Holocaust and continue to tell their (eyewitnesses) stories long after they are gone’ (Dysch, 2015) (Prime Minister’s Office, 10 Downing Street, The Rt Hon David Cameron, and The Rt Hon Nick Clegg, 2015).

Why is this necessary? This essay analyses the causes of the failure of the existing memorial.

As I explain below, by comparing the London memorial with the memorials in Paris and Berlin, this essay shows that the success or failure of the memorials has much to do with the contemporary political considerations surrounding their construction and the urban and spatial symbolism of their siting. In particular, in the case of the London memorial, its failure reflects a post-war political wish to distance Britain from the Holocaust and this in turn resulted in the memorial being placed on a site which has effectively swallowed it up and hidden it from public view.

These three memorials have been chosen as each represents the three countries’ contrasting roles in the war. Each had different political motivations for the memorials in their country and produced different memorials commemorating what is is the same event. The comparison will illustrate the differing political intentions surrounding the initiation of the

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projects. It will look specifically at who campaigned for the memorials, the sites in which they were placed and the impact that politics, whether internal or international, had on both their design and funding. The afterlives of these memorials will also be analysed with the hope of further painting a picture to explain why Britain needs a new memorial.

As I explain below, the current British memorial, having regard to both its site and its form, neither connects with nor holds an emotional tie to the memory of the Holocaust. This is one reason for its failure. This, and other reasons, will be explored throughout this dissertation.

It is helpful, however, to differentiate at the outset between memorials and monuments, with a view to identifying the function of a memorial. James E Young in The Texture of Memory seeks to crystallise this distinction by quoting the American art critic and philosopher, Arthur Danto. He states that ‘we erect monuments so that we shall always remember and build memorials so that we shall never forget… Monuments commemorate the memorable and embody the myths of beginnings. Memorials ritualise the remembrance and mark the reality of ends…’ (Young 1994: 3). This clearly depicts the aim of a memorial. This is to warn and to educate. As Arthur Danto also suggests, monuments tend to mark beginnings and anticipate future developments. Memorials, however, are the way for memories to be allowed closure, giving people space and time to heal. They are therapeutic. James Young himself adopts a contrasting approach, believing that the objects themselves within the site are monuments and the site itself is the memorial (Young, 1994). This in fact suggests that all meaning is held within one site and both the site and the object themselves hold significant links to the memory that is being shown. From Young’s description, it is clear that both the site and structure are important in depicting the memory being illustrated, and neither one nor the other should take precedence in the design process. The importance of understanding the monument in the context of the site is something that will be further analysed in relation to the old memorial.

Some historians take a different – and more negative - view of memorials. They contend that ‘objects are the enemy of memory, they are what tie it down and lead to forgetfulness’ (Küchler 2001:7). They are of the view that memorialisation, by creating an opportunity to process the past, leads to forgetting. Susanne Küchler therefore devalues the use of memorialisation and, as such, of memorials and monuments. She is of the view that they cannot

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be used to deter and warn governments. She explains that the Holocaust is not an event that should be lessened or made tolerable through memorialisation, but instead should be used itself to draw attention to what atrocities can happen in the future as well as have happened in the past (Küchler 2001:6).

Her view is a useful corrective when analysing the designs of the memorials considered in this essay. It also illustrates the sort of difficulties and controversies that an architect, or sculptor, faces when formulating and finalising a design for a memorial. The existence of such debates and the many political ramifications to which they give rise, influence and modify the final design. The final work cannot be seen as the product of a single group’s vision.

Chapter 1 and 2 aim to analyse how these limitations ultimately compromised the effectiveness of the Hyde Park memorial. They show the external and internal political constraints which influenced the final design. They also show how the countries’ differing views of the Holocaust impacted the final use and after life of the memorials.

Memorials hold a ‘collective memory’. The term, ‘collective memory’, in the context of a memorial is problematic. Aldo Rossi states, ‘the city itself is the collective memory of its people, and the like memory, it is associated with objects and places’. In the case of a memorial, however, It assumes that the accumulation of individual memories are capable of assuming a single material form and not the multiple objects and places of a city.

The problem of collective memory does not end here. In the case of the Holocaust, it is also a political question. Whose memory is being memorialised? Is it the memory of Jewish victims of the Holocaust, or all victims? These questions illustrate political insecurities and outside pressures. In the case of the Holocaust there are significant dangers of singling out a particular group of victims or indeed suggesting by implication that there were ‘first and second-class victims’ of what is being memorialised (Jacobowitz and Hornstein, 2002) (Knischewski and Spittler, 2005:29).

Some of these issues are more pronounced in the context of some Holocaust memorials than others, and in particular the Berlin memorial. This of itself is important. It means that the intellectual and cultural “space” available for the design of a memorial varies from coun-

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try to country. This depends on the country’s stance on the need for the memorial. The Berlin memorial therefore in particular provides a significant contrasting cultural “space”, when compared with the limited “space” for the British Holocaust memorial, because of British political reluctance to promote a national Holocaust memorial.

All memorials hold a meaning and have a life span much like any other building. These influences and usages develop over time and become independent of their origins and intentions. The London memorial can be seen to have ceased to fulfil its original function, but has become instead no more than an adjunct to Hyde Park, thereby providing the occasion of and necessity for the new competition. This illustrates the importance of Young’s insight quote above that the site as well as the structure of the memorial are important. The afterlife of the Hyde Park memorial is very different from the other memorials considered in this essay and as such introduces the question why did it cease to fulfil its function? The after-lives of all the Paris and Berlin memorials are very different. One has become a peaceful reflective space, another has become an attraction on the tourist trail. These will be further contrasted in chapter 3.

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Origins and Site

Chapter 1- Origins and Site

T

he process that leads to designing and building memorials is loaded with emotional and political symbolism. As such, it is no surprise that there is considerable debate and

time taken before a memorial is built. What may however be surprising is that, in the case of Holocaust memorials, all of which share an intention to memorialise the same event, the reasons and debates that preceded their construction have differed considerably from country to country. The British debate was marked by an ambivalence about the Holocaust, one strong view being that there was no need to memorialise something that happened in Europe. The opposite was the case in Germany, which wanted a memorial to express their guilt and seek forgiveness. These different approaches can also be seen in the choice of sites for these memorials and the impact that this had on their overall effect. Contrasting these debates in Berlin and Paris with the debates in England helps to place the English memorial in its proper symbolic context. They show the extent to which the design and siting of the memorials were informed not just by the memory itself, but also by contemporary political considerations. They also show how important the siting of the memorial is to its effectiveness.

1.1 ORIGINS Who wanted and campaigned for the memorials to be built? In the case of the Hyde Park memorial, it was the Board of Deputies of the British Jews, under the leadership of Greville Janner. They wanted it to be ‘a tribute, a reminder and as a memorial to some 11 million

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Origins and Site

murdered people, of whom perhaps 6 million were Jews and 5 million non-Jews’ (Janner 1979/WORK 17/795). Surprisingly, this proposal was made some 34 years after the war ended as well as some 26 years after the first memorial, Yad Vashem in Israel (Sion 2007).

Perhaps this delay illustrates why the scope and ambition of the memorial is so small. But it also reflects the UK government’s opinion, as a senior civil servant wrote somewhat dismissively, that Britain did not need a memorial to commemorate ‘events which did not take place on British territory or involve a large part of the British population,’. The same civil servant asked ‘why, if a memorial in Britain was desirable, it was not organised at the time, when the memory was greener’ (J.L. Bullard 1981/ FCO 33/4845).

These ‘official’ views, presented by J.L Bullard (the Deputy Under Secretary of State), suggest that neither the government nor most members of the public were hugely supportive, or considered that a Holocaust memorial was required at all. They suggest that the government did not think that the Holocaust was an event for which they were responsible or an atrocity that directly affected them. This is also consistent with the fact that it appears that earlier attempts had been made to establish a memorial, again originating with the Jewish community in Britain, but had not managed to obtain the approval of the government (Cooke 2000).

This is in sharp contrast with both the German and French Holocaust memorials. In the case of Berlin, a citizens group headed by television talk-show personality and journalist, Leah Rosh, initiated the proposal in 1988, prior to German reunification.This, after a while gained the backing of the Federal government and the Berlin senate (Part 1: From Rosh’s idea to Kohl’s veto, no date) (Young, 2000: 184/186). As such, the then Chancellor, Helmut Kohl, supported it as a means of helping to ‘forge a ‘positive German National Identity’ following German reunification in 1989. It was seen as an important statement to the world of what a new united Germany would be as a country (Knischewski and Spittler, 2005: 25), On the other hand, in France a committee was set up, several years before both the German and England campaigns, ‘to build a national memorial for the deportation in Paris, a memorial for all people deported from France- of all backgrounds- during World War II’ (Amsellem, 2007).

In the case of Hyde Park, once the memorial had been proposed, there was little outright opposition within the government or inside the country to the memorial itself. Rather, there

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Origins and Site

was indifference and, so far as there was opposition, it was motivated by concerns about its impact on the UK’s international relations, especially with the Federal Republic of Germany.

F.N Richards (the Cabinet Office’s co-ordinator of intelligence), for example, asked in a letter why ‘HMG needed to be party to the construction of a memorial that would generally be condemning a country which is now one of our closest allies, and would sharpen memories of tragic events which many Germans have since the war themselves been foremost in condemning’ (Richards 1981/PREM 19/841). This sentiment was echoed in a brief for the Secrtary of State, where it was suggested that the memorial, ‘if implemented, could be embarrassing on our relations with the FRG’ (Cabinet 1981/ FCO 33/4845). These first hand sources show that the Government, although not adverse to a memorial, also wanted to maintain good relations with West Germany. This may itself be part of the reason why the memorial itself is small and unobtrusive, instead of allowing it to become a place for significant retrospective thinking.

This situation was therefore the opposite of that prevailing in Germany, which saw the construction of a memorial as a means of promoting better international relations. It is correct that counterbalancing this was the wish not to ostracise parts of the German voting public who the government believed were opposed to the memorial. This was especially obvious in the build up to their general elections in 1998. There was at this time a decreased support for the memorial because ‘none of the top politicians’ actually wanted ‘to realise a memorial project feared not be too popular with the coveted ‘new centre’ voters’ (Knischewski and Spittler, 2005: 33). However, these domestic political concerns delayed rather than prevented the construction of a Berlin memorial.

From different perspectives, both the UK and German experience show political attitudes overtaking the humanitarian objectives of the memorials. The German government appears to have wanted to build the memorial primarily to gain good faith with the rest of the world, following German reunification and to make a public statement. The British government, in relation to the Hyde Park memorial, were responding to pressure from both the Board of Deputies of the British Jews and the rest of Europe. Cooke suggests, in a quote from the Jewish Chronicle, that the memorial brought ‘Britain in line with other European capitals where ‘memorials to the six million victims of the Holocaust have existed for years’’ (Cooke, 2000: 459). This therefore presents the contrasting views the two countries. Germany’s intention to improve international relations as opposed to that of Britain, who wanted

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Origins and Site

to present a modest form of “catch-up”.

1.2. SITE In particular, these modest political origins are reflected in the debate over the site of the Hyde Park memorial. Figure 1 illustrates the initial siting proposals. Many locations were proposed before Hyde Park was decided upon, all of which were opposed for differing reasons, mainly by members of the Government. One proposal was to place it in and around the Cenotaph and another in and around the Jewel House Gardens in close proximity to the Houses of Parliament (Cooke, 2000). Neither suggestion was received warmly. Although many reasons were cited, the most prominent objection appears to have been that the site surrounding the Cenotaph and Whitehall provided ‘one of the few remaining sites close to the Palace of Westminster which might provide a location for a Parliamentary or State memorial in the future’ (Cooke, 2000: 453). This opinion was voiced by Michael Heseltine, one of the leading members of the Government in communication with the Board of Deputies of British Jews.

There was a further concern that a Holocaust memorial, if placed close to the Palace of Westminster, would make an ‘uneasy backdrop for television interviews with politicians.’

This further illustrates the point that the Holocaust was being memorialised in the UK to satisfy a small section of the British population and potentially members of the European Community rather than some wider interest . As such this view indicates the fact that the Government did not see the Holocaust as an event that was an essential part of British history and so, in a way, the Government wanted to distance ‘the Holocaust from the official history of British involvement in World War II’ (Cooke, 2000:453). This is further emphasised by the desire for the memorial, if placed in such a central location, to be simple and restrained. This amounted to a clear design proposal for the memorial from the outset.

Another reason why this site was not deemed to be satisfactory was that the Government feared it would ‘become a focus for National Front or Anti- Nazi demonstrations’ or that a ‘memorial to the Holocaust would immediately be destroyed or damaged in some way

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Origins and Site

Fig 1. Map of Whitehall showing the government’s initial ideas for the locationof the London Holocaust memorial

Fig 2. Map showing the Green Park site of the London Holocaust memorial

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Origins and Site

by neo-fascists’ (Pym 1980/ PREM 19/841)(Cooke, 2000: 456). This concern was especially relevant for what was proposed as an open site, directly connected to the Cenotaph, itself is a symbol of British bravery by co memorating the fallen of both World Wars. The Cenotaph was to be maintained in effect as a British nationalist memorial, and not to be regarded as an anti-fascist one. This reflects the complexity of British war aims in these two world wars.

Other sites were proposed such as the riverfront by Lambeth Palace, on the opposite bank of the Thames, away from the centre of government, as well as the docklands, but both again were dismissed. Previously a Jewish area, Janner was against the docklands proposal, as the east end had ceased to be Jewish and so the memorial would be perceived as ‘dead rather than alive’ (Jacobs 1981/ PREM 19/841). This shows the contrasting opinions of what the memorial was hoped to achieve. The Jewish contingency wanted it to be an active place, a place of remembrance and celebration of the lives lost, a place where people would go to reflect on the past; rather than a place that is quiet and out of the public way. This would render the Holocaust an event that was in the past and did not perform a central role in British culture.

The government had a clear and obvious desire to reduce the impact of the Holocaust memorial and distance the British from the events being memorialised. This is reflected in the struggle over where to place the memorial. The government set out with the intention, as stated above, to have a memorial that was restrained and simple and one that would blend into its site. Although, as shown in figure 3, the memorial was eventually sited in one of the royal parks, relatively close to one of the main entrances, it was at the opposite end of the park to that of Kensington Palace. In this way the government showed support for the memorial in a gesture when in substance it was placed away from the ceremonial centre of British life (that is away from Whitehall and Westminster) in a non-Jewish area. The site can be said to swallow up the memorial, and in part accounts for its near invisibility in the park.

The disagreement about sites was also evident in the proposal for the Berlin memorial, but much less so in the case of the French memorial. In Paris, several sites were initially proposed including the Paris Mosque and the Trocadero Gardens, all of which bore some connection to the arrests in 1941 of members of the Musée de l’Homme’s resistance network (Amsellem, 2007: 64). Notwithstanding this, it appears that there was little controversy when the site behind Notre Dame Cathedral was chosen. This had been the site of the city

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Origins and Site

Fig 3. Map showing the site for the Hyde Park Holcoaust memorial

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Origins and Site

morgue from 1863 to 1914. It is at the heart of French public life, contrasting the position of the English memorial. Indeed, the Île de la Cité has been ‘described as the ‘cradle’ of the nation’. Thus it is a seemingly fitting site for a national memorial of commemoration placed with the intention of urban regeneration (Amsellem, 2007: 66).. This throws into sharp relief the indifference of the British government and in fact suggests that this contributed to the current, unfulfilling memorial.

In Germany, the debate was motivated by the desire to place the memorial in a prominent position, a place of history and significance; by contrast, the debate in England was how to satisfy the proposers of the memorial while at the same time trying to diminish its importance and seeking to hide it away. It cannot, however, be said that the site for the Berlin memorial was chosen easily. The debate was loaded with the desire for the memorial to be a national declaration of their guilt, therefore its site needed to be a place of significance. Initially it was proposed that the memorial would be situated near to the Berlin wall ‘a site which had formally housed the headquarters of the secret NS institutions such as the Gestapo, SS, SD and the Central Office of Security of the Reich, the Reichssicherheitshauptamt’ . Others argued that it should be in ‘authentic places such as former concentration camps’ . This, however, was attacked as none of the extermination camps had been in Germany, but instead in occupied territories, mainly Poland (Knishewski and Spittler, 2005: 25-60. This debate was of a different order to the debate in Britain. This is why in Germany the memorial was eventually placed ‘at the heart of the Nazi regime’s former seat of power,’ near the Brandenburg Gate , although it should be said it was not placed in one of the more prominent sites in the area, which are given over to embassies (Young, 2000: 187).

Unlike Paris and Berlin, the Hyde Park memorial was placed away from centres of British ceremonies and seats of power, in a corner of a London Park. This ultimately decreased the impact that the memorial was able to have. In my next chapter I will consider the memorial’s constructions and aesthetics and the influence that this ultimately had on the memorial’s overall impact.

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Political influence and design

Chapter 2- Political Influence and Design

T

he political issues explored in the previous chapter clearly influenced the funding and design of the memorials. These subjects are now considered in this chapter. This chap-

ter will again compare Hyde Park, success or failure, to both Paris and Berlin, when relevant.

2.1 POLITICAL INFLUENCE The UK government’s ambivalence towards the Hyde Park project was made clear by their refusal to fund the memorial. Heseltine, in an interview with the Daily Telegraph, stated that ‘if a memorial like this cannot attract enough private support then it is not worth erecting in the first place’ (Cooke, 2000: 454). Indeed, Tim Lankester (Thatcher’s Private Secretary) suggested that the ‘Jewish community should be encouraged to buy or lease their own site in London and either to erect a memorial, or preferably create a park or playing field’ (Lankester, 1981/ PREM 19/841). This absence of funding limited what could be achieved and, as such, provides one reason why the memorial to this day does not have a large presence in the park.

In addition, from the beginning of the design process many politicians in England wanted the memorial to be ‘simple and restrained’ so as to create ‘a mnemonic site dedicated to the Holocaust’ (Cooke, 2000: 454). As such the overall aesthetic of the London memorial cannot be seen to have been able to push boundaries, even if they could afford it, like those in Paris and Berlin. From the outset, it was limited in what it could achieve.

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Political influence and design

The aesthetic was further compromised by the debate surrounding who was to be memorialised in Hyde Park. It appears that the government did not want to ostracise other groups which were singled out within the Holocaust nor make the Jewish community in London appear to be lesser victims. The intention behind the memorial as stated previously was to create one to remember all eleven million victims even though it was being funded by a ‘Jewish initiative with the ‘few thousand pounds’ that the memorial would be cost being provided by ‘prominent British Jews’’ (Cooke, 2000: 457-8).

It nonetheless appears that much of the British population believed that the intention of this memorial was in fact solely to remember the six million murdered Jews. The Jewish Chronicle, as quoted by Cooke, stated that ‘… people passing by next week, next year and next century will understand that the rock commemorates the heinous murder of the six million Jews by the Nazis’ . Heseltine, who initially had fears, suggested that the memorial would be vandalised because it was ‘a Jewish memorial’ . These both present the view that the memorial was for the Jewish victims. On the other hand, Venerable Carlyle Witton-Davies wrote to The Guardian to specifically point out that it was a war memorial not ‘to commemorate simply the six million Jews who met their deaths in the Nazi gas chambers, but also the five million who suffered a similar horror but who belonged to different faiths’ (Cooke, 2000: 452-9).

The subtle nature of the memorial - a discreet garden with a memorial stone - was arguably in part a result of these opposing opinions. The architects had no strong direction as to who they were memorialising. This can be seen in their design, with the memorial being restrained and indistinct.

This same debate also played a role in the Berlin memorial. Unlike the UK, the German government and committee set out with the specific intention of creating a memorial dedicated to the murdered Jews. However, many criticisms were made about this sole dedication to Jewish victims. One such group were the Sinti in Germany (Knishewski and Spittler, 2005: 26). They claimed that excluding some victims of the Holocaust meant that a hierarchy was being created; this in turn raised the question of whether Germany themselves should be choosing the victims to be memorialised , an argument further examined

by Knishewski and Splitter (Knishewski and Spittler, 2005: 26-9). There was also a related

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Political influence and design

issue as to whether the memorial was actually for the Jews. One speaker in the German parliament, Wolfgang Thierse stated that ‘we are not building this memorial for the Jews but for ourselves, (it is) our very own declaration of how we see politically…. (This memorial can bear witness to) whether we can say farewell to this century with decency’ (Knishewski and Spittler, 2005: 37).

This perhaps devalues what the memorial itself is trying to achieve. Its aim was to allow there to be a space for Germany to apologise for what occurred under Nazi leadership, ‘as a means through which Germany attempts to reconcile with its past’ (Chin, Franke, and Halpern, 2005). When looked at in this way, the memorial’s overall design and appearance makes reference to the massacre that occurred not explicitly but through interpretation. It allows the German population to take ownership of the event, thereby suggesting that the memorial was in fact made for them, but on behalf of the Jewish population that was killed.

As in the case of the Hyde Park memorial, the mixed purposes of the Berlin memorial have an impact on its effect. It is an ambiguous monument which, if you went to visit without knowing the reasoning for it being there, would be unclear until you entered the underground museum. This minimises the effect that it has on a visitor’s experience: it somehow reduces the intensity of the memory being portrayed.

Unlike that of England, in the case of Germany there was no funding issue. The German government donated 27.6 million Euros for the memorial, thereby implying that they found a need and had a desire to build something of great stature and influence (Chin, Franke, and Halpern, 2005). This undoubtedly allowed the architect, Peter Eisenman, to push the boundaries of what he wanted to create and as such led to the memorial being the scale it is today. But even though the stature of this memorial is great, it cannot be said that the memorial itself manages to achieve what it originally set out to do, that is to memorialise the murdered Jews of Europe. Its design appears to be tangled with portraying the guilt and appeal for repentance therefore overshadowing the memory of the Holocaust and the murdered Jews. This, however, will be further examined in this chapter as well as in chapter 3.

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Political influence and design

Fig 4. Photo illustrating the sunken part of the Paris memorial

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Political influence and design

2.2 THE DESIGNS The relative importance of the role that the underlying political debates play in the effectiveness of the memorials, as opposed to funding or physical constraints can be seen further when comparing the impact of the sites on the memorials. The memorials, like any other architecture project, were limited by the restrictions of the site. However in the case of Paris these did not limit the design, instead they enhanced it. By contrast in Berlin, there were no obvious site constraints, however, the memorial does not appear to be the most effective.

In the case of Paris, the restrictions were in place right from the start. When the site behind the Notre Dame was given to the government, it came with the stipulation that ‘no part would be visible outside or above the memorial itself, from the park, or from the Notre Dame’ (Amsellem, 2007:122). The design process that this memorial underwent started with the Réseau committee setting up a competition between three teams, each made up of an architect and a sculptor. Ultimately Georges-Henri Pingusson and the artist Raymond Veysset were chosen (Amsellem, 2007: 83-4). Pingusson was a modernist French architect and town planner. Afterstudying under Le Corbusier he designed well known buildings such as Hotel Latitude 43 and the Pavilion des Artistes Modernes (RESEARCH CATEGORIES, 2000). In terms of experience, of all three of the memorials that are analysed here, this to me seems the most successful.

The site restrictions led to what appears to be a memorial split into two, a place for meeting-a social and transitional space, and a place for thinking- a secluded quiet area cut off from the rest of Paris. The two areas, illustrated in figures 4 and 5, are further juxtaposed by their contrasting natures. The transitional space is ‘a public space, the park,’ a place where there is an active presence of children playing and people sitting on benches (Amsellem, 2007: 92). The second is a sunken crypt like space, accessed by two narrow stairs with high walls slowly cutting off the visitors’ view of Paris as they descend. When they have reached the bottom, they are left with a view of the ‘geometrically square tiled white floor enveloped by the whitewashed solid walls of this empty penned, somewhat triangular space’ (Jacobowitz and Hornstein, 2002: 313). The seclusion and penned in nature of the memorial allows the visitors eyes to be focused on the sky, the Seine through the grate as well as

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Political influence and design

Fig 5. Photo of the transitional space at the Paris memorial

the narrow entrance, through a series of slabs described by Pingusson as ‘grinding millstones ready to crush’ (Amsellem, 2007: 110). This leads to a prison like space holding what seems like a never ending series of lights small enough to appear as writing on a wall. This is situated behind a barred door protecting the tomb of the Unknown Deportee. The seclusion of the outside sunken area encourages the visitor to reflect in this ‘meditative space… encouraging inward reflection before the visitor enters the inner sanctum’ (Amsellem, 2007: 94).

The Paris memorial focuses on the reflective aspects of memorial design. Pingusson has created a space which makes the visitor become an active member in the process of remembering. It is not a memorial that explicitly sets out who is being memorialised nor does it choose a religious symbol. This does not allow the memorial to choose the group to remember and therefore no groups are ostracised. Through the engravings on the wall

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Political influence and design

Fig 6. Photo of the series of lights and the coffin of the Unknown Deportee

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Political influence and design

it illustrates the camps in which they were taken to and warns of what happened. The inscriptions, in the first space of the inner sanctum, tell the story of the 200,000 French deported, and above the door ‘forgiven but never forgotten’ is written. This illustrates the French attitude towards the Holocaust, and sets out a warning while also making sure that it is forever remembered.

There did not appear to be any site restrictions for the Berlin memorial. It was a 20,000 square meter plot ‘close to the Brandenburg gate in the ‘minster gardens’’ (Knischewski and Spittler, 2005: 27). Although this is true, the process by which the final design was chosen was not easy. This process seems to mirror the torn nature of the memorial; whether it is one as an admission of guilt seeking forgiveness, or in fact, as it is titled, it is in and for the memory of the murdered Jews. A committee was set up with the intention of choosing a memorial design. It was made up of ‘some fifteen members, experts and lay people appointed by the three sponsoring agencies involved- the Bundestag, the Berlin Senate and the original citizens group’ . The first design to be chosen was a collaboration of similar designs by Berlin architect Chistine Jackob-Marks and New York artist Simon Ungers, who at the time was living in Cologne . It consisted of a large 300 foot square tombstone, tilted so that at one end it was six feet high and at the other it was twenty five high. This design, although chosen by the committee, came under fire from members of the public and newspapers who thought it was ‘too big, too heavy, too divisive and finally too German’ (Young, 2000: 189-90). Thereby illustrating the fear that many members of the public held in relation to this memorial; they feared it would be a harsh space, a space of punishment and not one that reflected the guilt that they held or a place that allowed people to reflect, remember and warn of the atrocities that occurred. This is depicted by Young who stated that much of the German press were disappointed over the ‘whole sorry spectacle [of ] Germany’s memorial self-flagellation’. After many years and 9 teams changing their initial finalist designs, Peter Eisenman and Buro Happold’s (an engineer) design was chosen in 1997 (Young, 2000: 191). The long debate and agonising over the final design illustrates the tension that this memorial held in the eyes of the German population. This process was not as simple as it was for the Paris memorial as it had to depict their grief as well as guilt.

The final design itself was compromised. The memorial began with 4,000 concrete blocks but was reduced under pressure from the Chancellor Helmut Kohl to 2,700 . He wanted it to be welcoming and to be ‘harmoniously incorporated within the city’ (Saehrendt, 2005: 844).

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Political influence and design

It therefore became a field of grey blocks undulating with the ground allowing them to be roughly three degrees off vertical, creating a disorientating effect as illustrated in figure 8.

The memorial is a maze where the heights of the blocks change between one and a half feet to roughly ten feet tall, meaning that at points all visitors are enclosed and unable to see (Young, 2000) . The blocks are at an ‘even distance of about one meter from one another,’ creating a very structured path (Saehrendt, 2005: 844) .

The original idea behind this memorial, as Eisenman stated, was ‘to create a special apprehension among individual visitors as they experience it asking, for example: ‘is this like the Jews felt in the Holocaust?’’ (Dekel, 2009: 73). It is meant to disorientate, to make the visitor

Fig 7. Illustration of model of the inital winning proposal for the Berlin memoria

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Political influence and design

Fig 8. Original sections of the Berlin memorial illusting the differeing heights and tilted blocks

Fig 9. Showing the thin corridors created by the blocks in the Berlin memorial

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Political influence and design

become part of the memorial and part of the memory process, much like Paris. It gives the viewers time to think as they walk through the paths separately with the intention of not getting lost. It has become a place where the ‘experience is performed by the presentation of feeling of getting lost and sadness’ (Dekel, 2014: 74). These feelings projected onto the visitor echo what the Jews felt: insecure, lost and on edge. The symbolism of the Nazi regime is connected to these feelings, but can be seen to come from the strong concrete blocks. These determine the route able to be taken, illustrated in figure 9, leading to many visitors being unable to get out and lost. Although this is one possible interpretation, another more widely thought of one is that the blocks symbolise coffins, rendering the site itself a graveyard (Dekel, 2009: 81). The visitors are walking through the tombs of the dead, surrounded on both sides with no escape. This again, can be seen as a symbolism of what the Jews felt throughout the Holocaust. These descriptions highlight the successes underlying this memorial.

There are, nonetheless, faults with it. These will be analysed in detail during the next chapter. Their origins, however, lie in the political compromises made in the design process. As explained below, the memorial has become too “welcoming” and too “harmoniously incorporated” in the city to be wholly effective.

If, as I explain below, politics compromised the effectiveness of the German memorial and its design, this was all the more so in the case of the Hyde Park memorial. It appears that from the outset the government had an idea of the kind of memorial that they wanted to see. If, as I explain below, politics compromised the effectiveness of the German memorial and its design, this was all the more so in the case of the Hyde Park memorial. It appears that from the outset the government had an idea of the kind of memorial that they wanted to see. A member of government has also been quoted saying that the memorial should be a ‘few stones in the grass- i.e. the area must continue to look green’ (B. Strong 1982.

WORK 17/795). Such a view, as well as repeated references to the memorial blending into its surrounding, illustrates the government’s predetermined view of what it should look like and explains why the memorial looks as it does (Cooke, 1998). This appears to have been a consensus view. Greville Janner, the promoter of the memorial, in a letter to Michael Heseltine, said ‘like you, we would have in mind a small and modest area, perhaps with a plaque or small stone’ (Janner 1980. FCO 33/4845).

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Political influence and design

The Hyde Park memorial became a quiet memorial garden made up of a series of stones.

There is one large stone which has a ‘short inscription from the Lamentations and the word ‘Holocaust’’ on it (Berman, 2004:60). As figure 10 illustrates, the lamentation reads in both Hebrew and English ‘for these I weep, streams of tears flow from my eyes because of the de-

struction of my people’ (Cooke, 2000:458). This quote from the Bible is the only connection to what is being memorialised, the only expression of grief that is supposedly presented.

There are obvious reason why the English memorial should not be as ostentatious as the German or French memorials. In the case of Germany and France, they were memorialising events that happened on their soil and members of their population were killed as a direct result of the Holocaust. In the case of Britain, its role in the war was to rescue people.

This however is not a sufficient explanation. One of the aims of the English memorial is to memorialise the lives that they did not manage to save, and the memories of family members of people who sought refuge on British soil that were killed. It seems that from the beginning Janner realised that a memorial like this was not enough ‘to shine a light from the past as a warning for the future,’ and so the British Board of Deputies made ‘plans for a series of educational projects’ (Janner 1979/WORK 17/795).

The political ambivalence to creating anything but a simple memorial illustrates a reason as to why there is a need for a new competition and new memorial. It appears from the outset that its sponsors never had the intention of creating something that in itself would have a large impact on the visitor, but instead would be a peaceful, undemonstrative, reflective space. Such a space is not sufficient to fulfil the memorialising purpose for which it was built. It can be thought that the Hyde Park memorial was doomed to be overlooked and overshadowed by the grand nature of the park. The extent to which it has in practice failed to function as a memorial is considered in the following chapter, when considering the three memorials as existing public spaces.

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Political influence and design

Fig 10. This image shows the lamentations on a stone in the Hyde Park memorial

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The Afterlife of the Memorials

Chapter 3- The Afterlife of the memorials

T

he previous chapters have analysed and considered the political implications of the siting, funding and design of the memorials. This chapter discusses how these factors

have influenced the way the public currently interacts with these memorials. It does so in relation to a series of questions: have people heard of them? Are they objects of memory or part of a tourist attraction? When visiting them do people respect that they are a place of memory and reflection or are they used as photo opportunities and climbing frames?

The answers to these questions illustrate the different uses which all three memorials have developed over time. These uses need to be taken into account when analysing the success or failure of these memorials as places of memory and education.

The Hyde Park Holocaust Memorial, since its dedication ceremony in 1983, has been used minimally. It has been described as an ‘unobtrusive and marginal monument’ which, through its ‘naturalistic design and the way in which it is shrouded by birch trees,’ blends into Hyde Park (Cooke, 1998: 160)(Cooke, 2000:460) . A telling sign of this is that a Mr Ruben, quoted by Cooke, ‘searched for 30 minutes opposite Albert Gate and Rotten Row which was the total information given, without any success whatsoever in finding the site, and then gave up. There were dozens like [him], similarly searching’ (Cooke, 1998: 142). This helps explain why, to this day many people are not aware of its existence. In part, this was worsened by the annual Holocaust Memorial Day ceremony (Yom Ha’shoah) being moved from this memorial to Logan Hall (Cooke, 1998: 156). This was due to the decreasing numbers that turned up, which reached a low of 63 in 1986 (Berman, 2004). As a member of the YVC (Yad Vashem Committee) warned, the memorial ‘will have been consigned to oblivion and the original purpose for its erection lost on the community and the country’ if it could

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The Afterlife of the Memorials

not attract visitors for this national ceremony’(Cooke, 1998: 148). Although this is true, the memorial was never built with the intention of attracting a large crowd. From the outset the ‘Hyde Park authorities were ‘adamant’ that no seating, permanent or temporary, should be near the memorial’ (Cooke, 1998: 130). This obviously played a role in the ‘success’ of the memorial, as its use was limited from the beginning.

Having visited it recently, it is clear, why, to this day many people do not know of it as a memorial or as a memorial to Holocaust victims. The memorial, as shown in figure 11, is situated in a secluded place, well hidden by the trees and plants that encase the stones, thus making it difficult to find. It is situated at a cross roads in the park. From the path side it is well hidden with two paths leading into it. This visibility would obviously depend on the season; however, even when entering the garden, it is not explicitly identified as a memorial. It only becomes apparent when the inscription on the stone is read.

The memorial does not appear to be treated with the degree of respect and care that might be expected. On the visit, a couple were sitting on the main rock eating their lunch seemingly unaware of where they were. This illustrates the need for the creation of a new

Fig 11. This image shows the Hyde Park memorial in its setting, illustrating its seclusion

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The Afterlife of the Memorials

Fig 12. Entrance to the Mémorial des Martyrs de la Déportation in Paris

memorial which, as David Cameron stated, should be ‘striking and prominent… built in central London’ (Prime Minister’s Office, 10 Downing Street, The Rt Hon David Cameron, and The Rt Hon Nick Clegg, 2015). He wishes for a memorial where services can happen, that makes a statement and illustrates Britain’s intention to remember the Holocaust and to symbolise a warning of what can happen. This is the opposite of what the current memorial achieves.

The Hyde Park memorial has some parallels with those both in Paris and Berlin. The Paris memorial is hidden behind a long copper wall clad with metal, which has been made to resemble prison bars. It is an uninviting entrance illustrating the severe nature of what is being memorialised. A small plaque allows the visitor to know that they have arrived. This memorial is the least well known of the two Holocaust memorials in Paris. Many confuse it with the Mémorial de la Shoah, a memorial that takes on more of the role of a museum than commemoration. Although this is true, what is being memorialised at the Mémorial des

Martyrs de la Déportation is still clear, starkly contrasting with the Hyde Park memorial.

The Paris memorial welcomes the visitor by entering through a serene garden, one that is used for recreation. This part of the memorial, like Hyde Park in a way, is used in a very ordinary way. It has become a place for people to have a break and eat their food. Howev-

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The Afterlife of the Memorials

er, at the Paris memorial there is a different atmosphere to Hyde Park. There are benches in the park that allow the public to sit without impeding on the memorial and the sanctuary that is created by walking down the stairs to where the main part is. There is a clear definition between the memory part and the social part. There is no such definition in London: the memorial is supposed to be where people relax and reflect, but there is nowhere for them to sit unless on the stones of the memorial. When descending the stairs in Paris, the memorial has an atmosphere that immediately affects the visitor. Pinguisson, through his design encourages ‘our reflection in the present by making us first and foremost admire the solemnity of the space and its evocation of silence’ (Jackobwitz and Hornstein, 2002:315).

This silence allows the visitor to be influenced and touched by the memory of the Holocaust victims.

Unlike the Hyde Park memorial, the French memorial is the centre of the French Holocaust memory. ‘Every year, on the last Sunday of April, the Memorial is visited in honour of the National Day of Remembrance of the Victims and Heroes of the Deportation’ (Mémorial des Martyrs de la Déportation | Chemins de Mémoire - Ministère de la Défense - Ministère de la Défense, 1945). This gives the memorial a purpose to stay true to its intended function and not become something that loses its memory. One of the reasons why the London Holocaust memorial has become marginalised is its loss of ceremonial function. The reason for this was the lack of visitors on Remembrance Day. It may be because the Paris memorial is memoria ising the French victims and not memorialising in general victims of the Holocaust; that it has greater national focus.

The Berlin Holocaust memorial, by contrast with those of Paris and London, is set in a wideopen area that has become flanked on its eastern side by ‘tourist shops and restaurants’ commonly known as ‘Holocaust Beach’ (Shapira, 2014). This is the polar opposite to the other memorials considered here. Neither has arguably become a major tourist attraction, even though many, when aware of its existence, visit the Mémorial des Martyrs de la Déportation. This can be seen to have had a negative effect on the Berlin memorial. The memory has become ‘possessed through photographs’ taken by visitors (Küchler 2001:62). They do not take in the memorial, they merely take photos and see it through the lens of a camera.

Many walk around ‘reluctant to engage with the memorial as work of art and instead make straight for the familiar lure of the information centre/museum’ (Saehrendt, 2005: 844).

They discuss their experiences of the memorial rather than the Holocaust and memory of

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The Afterlife of the Memorials

the victims (Shapira, 2014). The haunting memories and warnings have been pushed to the back; while the experience and photo opportunities have been bought to the forefront.

Little seems to be related back to the Holocaust; in the case of Berlin, visiting the memorial has become a necessity of the classic tourist experience.

The strict security checks and workers asking whether the visitors know the rules and whether they have the intention of breaking them further illustrates the tourist aspect (Dekel, 2009:77). This adds another dimension to the memorial. It has become a place, not where people can roam free and ‘relax’ while remembering these horrifying events, but has instead become something run by a higher power which limits public activities.

In an article titled ‘The Holocaust Memorial That Became a Refuge for Drunks and Sunbath-

ers’ acts of hooliganism are described with a gang ‘partying and urinating’ on the Berlin memorial (Shapira 2014). This illustrates the need for the security and rules. But why is the memorial not respected? Why has it become a place where people behave unacceptably when the memory of the Holocaust in Germany is so laden with guilt? The Internet is also laden with photographs of people having picnics on the blocks, sunbathing and using it as Fig 13. An image showing people jumping from block to block at the Berlin Holocaust memorial

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a public park. These go against the intention of the architect. The blocks were never meant to be stood on or used as a photographic opportunity.

Although the memorial is being visited, unlike that of Hyde Park, and therefore the memory is being kept alive even unintentionally, there must be a limit to this. The article quoted above goes on to say that ‘photos of gay men photographed in enticing poses between the stones of the monument’ had been placed on the dating app Grindr (Shapira, 2014).

This suggests that the memorial has become a background like, for example, a picturesque beach. The memorial seems to have lost some of its purpose. It is not, for the majority, a place for people to reflect on the past and be warned of what can happen in a similar situation to Germany during the war. Nor is it a place used to display Germany’s repentance and guilt, which was the original intention.

The Berlin memorial faces modern day troubles that mirror those faced in London, however in a different way. The Hyde Park memorial faces the trouble of lost memory, not through the wrong use, but by the lack of it. The Berlin memorial has become a place where memory is lost to modern tourism. They illustrate the criticisms made of memorials by Küchler set out in the introduction to this essay: that objects become the enemy of memory. These memorials become objects in their own right, disconnected from the memory intended to be presented, thereby allowing the public to move on from the memory, rather than internalising it.

In the case of Hyde Park, people come across the memorial unaware of its purpose. Oblivious to its role, they then choose to sit and take a break. Nowhere, except on the stone, does it demonstrate its purpose as a memorial to the victims of the Holocaust, nor does it provide a spot where people can sit and admire it. They then have no option, if they want to sit there, except to climb and sit on the main rock. This can be taken as being disrespectful, but it is in truth a failure of design. This outcome and its cause itself justifies the need for a new English memorial. It does not function as a place of memory and education.

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Conclusion

The introduction to this dissertation proposed that the functions of Holocaust memorials are fundamentally to warn and educate. In this way, they bring closure and provide the space and time to heal, becoming a place holding a collective memory.

This essay has shown that the Hyde Park memorial does not fulfil these functions. It has lost its place as the centre for British Holocaust memory. It is no longer the site for memorial services. It is not a place of education. Few recognise it as a place of reflection or memory.

It has been forgotten and is used as a place to eat lunch.

The success or failure of memorials has much to do with the contemporary political considerations surrounding their construction and the urban and spatial symbolism of their siting. One of the main causes of the failure of the London memorial, as chapter 1 has shown, was the politicians’ post-war wish to distance Britain from the Holocaust and their ambivalence. This resulted in the memorial being placed on a site which has effectively swallowed it up and hidden it from public view, away from the main areas of British ceremonial life.

As chapter 2 has shown, it also resulted in a lack of funding and in a modest and indistinct structure, blending into its surroundings. These matters help to explain why in its afterlife it has been largely ignored, as described in chapter 3.

This essay has contrasted the Hyde Park memorial with the more successful memorials in Paris and Berlin. Although the German memorial has become a tourist attraction, it still manages to attract many visitors and so the memory is being kept alive, which cannot be said of Hyde Park. These memorials were well-funded. They were placed on central sites.

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They are to some extent the centre of the country’s Holocaust memory.

The contrast between London, Paris and Berlin illustrates the need for a new memorial in London. From the start, the Hyde Park memorial was never given the same chance as the other two memorials. This shows why a new competition for a new memorial is appropriate, if the risk of losing the memory of the Holocaust in England is to be prevented.

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