Remembrance in the Land of the Perpetrators Historical monuments from a German perspective

The Memorial to the 39th Fusilier Regiment at Reeser Platz in Düsseldorf, Germany, completed in 1939 in a typical Nazi architectural style.

Remembrance in the

Land of the Perpetrators

Historical monuments from a German perspective

Sandra Franz

The Villa Merländer NS-Documentation Centre in Krefeld, western Germany, is a research facility located in the former home of a Jewish silk merchant. This is unusual as, more often than not, local memorial places (of which we have twenty-seven professional institutes in the state of North Rhine Westphalia alone) are housed in former places of persecution. Villa Merländer therefore enables us to tell a broader, more complex story.

During the troubled years of 1933-1945 the former homeowner, Richard Merländer, was systematically deprived of his legal rights, his possessions, his dignity and, in the end, his life, by the local government, his peers and his neighbours. However, this tragic story is juxtaposed with an earlier life of belonging, and the success of a young man who built a business and a home in a thriving German city. It is foremost the history of assimilated Jewry, a segment of the population which saw itself as primarily German – rightfully so. The narrative of the Holocaust in Germany is often told as starting almost ‘out of the blue’ in January 1933 and developing in a vacuum with no obvious prehistory or continuation after the complete capitulation of the Third Reich. Through the Villa Merländer, Sandra Franz we have the opportunity to illustrate the life of German Jewish history before the terror, which I feel is essential in painting a coherent and honest picture.

In an already eventful year, 2020 witnessed the beginnings of the Black Lives Matter movement, arguably the most profound global debate on race and racism since the 1960s, which has triggered renewed debate on the value of historical statues and the potential insult they

Simon Erath

Sandra Franz

embody. From the point of view of a German historian, this discussion is familiar territory. However, the European discourse manifested itself most prominently in the UK, where activism culminated in the downfall —both physically and figuratively— of the statue of Edward Colston in Bristol. The pervasive topics of atrocities committed in the name of European colonialism and National Socialism facilitated a global discussion about remembrance culture where, curiously, Germany was frequently used as a positive example of how to deal with a nation’s troubling past.

Germany has the reputation of being a country which has come to terms with its recent past. This country, which has committed some of the worst crimes against humanity in modern history, is now leading in its efforts to commemorate victims of atrocity. How was this possible? And is it truly accurate? The beginning lies less with German citizens and more with the Allies who defeated Germany in 1945. To say that the Allies approached the post-war world as one would be an understatement. On one point, however, there was full agreement: all depictions of the Third Reich, including statues of the Führer and the numerous swastikas crowning state buildings, were systematically removed.

It took Germany several decades to establish the memorial culture now taken for granted. It was not until the 1980s, for example, that numerous sites of memory were established and discussions about perpetration openly discussed. Today, the symbols and names have all but been completely wiped from German daily life; there are no streets named after Hitler or Goebbels and it is illegal to display swastikas. Instead one may ‘stumble’ over countless ‘Stolpersteine’, small brass stones embedded in the cobblestones of the street, each commemorating individual victims of Nazi persecution in front of their former homes. Although such memorials help to integrate history with the everyday, there is still a lot of work to do.

The so-called ‘forgotten’ victim groups have yet to receive an equitable commemoration, including homosexuals, a group to which Richard Merländer belonged, among other less defined collective groups side-lined by society. Moreover, there are still streets and places named after politicians and industrialists who, despite clear connections to the Nazi regime, held less prominent positions until 1945 and were thus able to continue their career in the Federal Republic of Germany. Notably, streets received such names in the post-war era, predominantly before the 1980s but some later. Indeed, the Allies’ denazification process was far more permeable than 1950s Germany cared to admit. Only now in 2020 are communities having discussions about whether to re-name streets and places named after such historical figures, and the debates are long and intense.

It is not true that Germany does not have statues commemorating WWII. There are a high number of local statues commemorating the fallen soldiers of both World Wars in their respective communities. The question is: given the knowledge we have about the complicity of the Wehrmacht in genocide in Eastern Europe, are these still appropriate? Should we remove these statues? Some communities have, while others have yet to engage in this debate. Perhaps a more open way of addressing commemoration was found in Hamburg, when, in the 1980s, public debates flared over a WWI memorial at Dammtordamm, built in 1936 during the National Socialist era. Ultimately, rather than remove the original monument, a counter-monument was erected beside it which contextualised the involvement of the German army in the WWII atrocities.

Germany provides an interesting case study of an everchanging process. Current debates about memorialisation, both in terms of colonialism and National Socialism, have reached a turning point. A new generation in Germany has become involved in memorial culture – a generation arguably more sensitive to the exclusion of victim groups and post-war continuities than their predecessors. And it seems the same is happening in Britain: an emerging generation, more aware and critical of British colonial violence, has begun to demand a more profound historical reappraisal. With this in mind, I feel that we are on the cusp of a new era in thinking about commemoration and I am thankful for my role in that process. A new generation in Germany has become involved in memorial culture – a generation arguably more sensitive to the exclusion of victim groups and post-war continuities than their predecessors. And it seems the same is happening in Britain: an emerging generation, more aware and critical of British colonial violence, has begun to demand a more profound historical reappraisal.

Sandra Franz is Director of the Villa Merländer NSDocumentation Centre in Krefeld, a position she has held since March 2018. An alumna of Regent’s Park College, she read for the MSt in Literature and Arts (2015).

Sandra Franz Top left: The Villa Merländer NSDocumentation Centre, located in Krefeld in Western Germany. Left: ‘Stolpersteine’ brass memorial plaques for the Mayers on Bruchstraße 31, Krefeld.