In 1648, the French colonised the island of Saint-Barthélemy, arriving with a few slaves from the neighbouring island of Saint Christophe (present-day Saint Kitts), chasing away the Indigenous populations, characterised by their impermanence, who used the island as a relay station when resisting European colonisation. Due to its arid climate, Saint Barthélemy lacked the soil necessary for large-scale plantations and therefore did not develop a sugarcane economy like its neighbouring islands (1). Although the slave experience on the island has been described as less harsh than the brutality experienced on large-scale plantations, enslaved individuals were stripped of their freedom, kidnapped from their home lands in West Africa, sold as a commodity, separated from their families, and punished with severe violence. 

Saint Barthélemy gradually shifted from a small, mostly white settler colony into a society that relied more heavily on enslaved labour, especially during the island’s Swedish period from 1784 to 1878. The Swedish West India Company obtained a license to participate in the transatlantic slave trade, and records show that ships travelled from West Africa to the Swedish colony with slaves. A Swedish Black Code was created in 1787. By the island’s peak economic prosperity around 1812, during the Napoleonic Wars, Black inhabitants (both enslaved and free) actually formed the majority, reflecting how central they were to the island’s economy. At the same time, resistance never disappeared, with revolts in 1736 and 1806 showing ongoing opposition to slavery. There was also a presence of free Black people, who worked as craftsmen, traders, and sometimes even slave owners, highlighting a more complex social structure (1).

On October 9, 1847, Marie-Françoise, called Mélanie, was the 523^rd slave to be freed on Saint Barthélemy (2). In 1878, France bought the island back from the Swedish monarchy. The island’s locals survived through poverty until the drastic changes that occurred with Rémy de Haenen landing the first flight in the 1940s, David Rockerfeller buying property in the 1950s, and tourism picking up at a drastic speed in the 1960s and 70s to become one of the exclusive luxury vacation destinations on the planet, especially as a place for wealthy US citizens to establish a secondary home. Today, the island’s population is predominantly white, consisting of the Saint-Barths, descendants of the settler families; the immigrants who come from Europe to work; and the wealthy clientele (3). Celebrities such as Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos, actor Leonardo DiCaprio, actress Nathalie Portman, business oligarch Roman Abramovich and many more are known to dock their yachts near Saint Barthélemy around the New Year’s festivities.

The exodus of the Black population that occurred after the abolition of slavery was instrumentalised for economic benefit by promoting the island’s population as white, falsely implying that slavery had never existed. This phenomenon must be considered with parallel developments in the United States at the time, notably segregation. US citizens found an exotic destination with its beautiful beaches and views, lush fauna and flora, but without the Afro-Caribbean population. Saint Barthélemy’s offered an exotic experience distinct from Caribbean culture. This invented exotism, as described by Cousin & Chauvin (2013), offered tourists and investors an exotism familiar to the world, inspired by other tourist destinations but singular to Saint Barthélemy, with high-end hospitality standards (3). The island’s culture conserves a minimal aspect of Afro-Caribbean heritage, with Creole food being scarce, Black representation rare, and Black memory invisible.

The island showcases signs of selective remembrance, as the public place is barely dotted by markers that attest to the slave experience on the island. The island’s territorial museum, Le Brigantin, addresses the topic in a few sentences spread out throughout the different time periods: prehistoric period, pre-Columbian, post-Columbian, Swedish period, and contemporary period. Slavery is never addressed in its own right and without much detail (4).

The archives of Saint Barthélemy have been repeatedly displaced and damaged. Moved to Guadeloupe in 1932, they were partly destroyed in a 1955 fire and suffered from poor storage conditions. In the 1960s, a large set of overlooked court records was rediscovered by Swedish journalists, who tried organising the archive but ended up creating more confusion. Due to inadequate preservation and unrest in Guadeloupe, the collection was transferred to France in the early 1970s, with the promise of eventual return (5). Only in the 2010s did Swedish historian Fredrik Thomasson undertake a digitalisation project to make the material readable and accessible, attesting to Sweden’s lack of engagement with its colonial archive. Thanks to Thomasson’s efforts, more research has been undertaken on the subject in Sweden; however, French literature remains silent. Moreover, Saint Barthélemy’s story remains excluded from world history books on slavery.

Jérôme Montoya, who retraced the island’s genealogy in his book Saint Barthélemy: généalogie et histoire d’une île, has demonstrated that some descendants of enslaved people still live on the island today (6). The author has spoken of a fear and taboo surrounding this historical reality, with locals questioning the legitimacy of his research. Challenging the collective narrative that persisted for so long of Saint Barthélemy as a ‘white island’ which never had slaves simultaneously calls into question local claims of legitimacy and belonging, making this a sensitive and avoided debate. Due to the lack of traces in the public space, combined with the taboo attached to the subject, inhabitants still believe that slavery never existed on the island. Some of the justifications are the arid climate or the absence of a slave cemetery.

2023 marked the first official commemoration ceremony of the abolition of slavery (2). Before discussing the ritual itself, it is important to note that until 2012, the island commemorated the wrong abolition date. As Saint-Barthélemy was administratively part of Guadeloupe before 2007, it followed Guadeloupe’s commemorative calendar. It was only in 2011 that Richard Lédée, a local committed to preserving the island’s historical memory, initiated the correction of the date, which was officially recognised in 2012. The first ceremony in 2023 combined music, historical readings, and speeches by local officials and cultural figures. In 2024, the commemoration deepened with the inauguration of a memorial plaque at Fort Gustav III, whose text was written by eighth-grade students from Collège Mireille-Choisy, accompanied by readings of poems and songs. The event also included a public roundtable with historians and heritage professionals, as well as a screening of a documentary on the island’s history of slavery. In contrast, the 2025 ceremony was cancelled due to a cyclone warning, prompting criticism for not postponing it. 

The lack of traces in the public space attests to a collective amnesia regarding slavery. Research has paid little attention to the processes through which this silence was produced and maintained on the island of Saint-Barthélemy. Without addressing this question, it is impossible to determine effective ways to remember the slave past of Saint-Barthélemy.

About the author

Emilia Felicia Klause is pursuing a Master’s in Arts & Heritage: Management, Policy and Education at Maastricht University. Her research explores memorialization in public spaces, with a particular focus on the Caribbean. Emilia is currently researching the French island of Saint Barthélemy and its silence around slavery.

References

1. Lavoie, Y., Fick, C., & Mayer, F.-M. (1995). A particular study of slavery in the Caribbean island of Saint Barthélemy: 1648–1846. Caribbean Studies, 28(2), 369–403. http://www.jstor.org/stable/25613312.
2. Journal de Saint-Barth. (2023, October 16). L’abolition de l’esclavage enfin commémorée. Retrieved February 2026, from https://www.journaldesaintbarth.com/actualites/patrimoine/labolition-de-lesclavage-enfin-commemoree-202310161803.html.
3. Cousin, B., & Chauvin, S. (2013). Islanders, immigrants and millionaires: The dynamics of upper class segregation in St. Barts, French West Indies. In I. Hay (Ed.), Geographies of the super rich (pp. 186–200). Edward Elgar Publishing. http://sebastienchauvin.org/wp-content/uploads/Cousin_Chauvin2013_Islanders_immigrants_millionnaires.pdf.
4. Musées Territoriaux de Saint-Barthélemy. (n.d.). Brigantin index. Retrieved February 2026, from https://www.museesstbarth.com/en/page/brigantin-index.
5. Thomasson, F. (2020). The Caribbean scorpion: The Saint Barthelemy archive and Swedish colonial amnesia. Small Axe, 24(62), 53–56.
6. Montoya, J. (2024). Saint-Barthélemy, histoire et généalogie d’une île. Librinova.

Images

Slavery Abolition Plaque in Saint Barthélemy, courtesy of the author

The views expressed in this blog are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of EuroClio, the Contested Histories Initiative or any of its affiliates. Neither EuroClio nor the Contested Histories Initiative can be held responsible for them.

The post Saint Barthélemy and its forgotten past appeared first on Contested Histories.

To understand re-futuring, we must first understand what de-futuring is. In essence, as Britta Timm Knudsen et al. (1) explained, defuturing is the means by which indigenous, marginalised, and previously colonised peoples are put in a permanent state of exception, one in which their realities and experiences are sidelined in favour of dominant, colonial epistemologies. Effectively, the futures of such people get stolen, unable to escape the self-fulfilling colonial power structures that reproduce colonial understandings of our world. 

As such, re-futuring would be a means of deconstructing the colonial process of de-futuring by engaging in decolonial endeavours that hold on to the potential for the future to include the silenced voices of the past. (1). Such emerging realities via re-futuring can be seen in decolonial street performances, festivals, sculptures, documentaries, exhibitions, and much more: decolonising the past and present and thereby creating a decolonial future. One key example of re-futuring is the momentous return of the Yuquot Whalers’ Shrine to the Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nation in 2025, after it had been stored at the American Museum of Natural History for nearly 120 years. Containing 88 carved wooden human figures, four wooden whales, and 16 human skulls, the Whaler’s Shrine is of deep importance to this nation, due to its association with purification rituals (2). As Mike Maquinna, the hereditary chief of this nation, said, ‘It’s not just an artefact, but it is part of our culture – a very important part of our culture that some of us are missing – the spirituality aspect’ (3). Jerry Jake, another hereditary leader of the First Nation, also says that the shrine’s removal ‘took away our spirituality’ (3).

This spiritual aspect, exclusive to the Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nation in this context, is an epistemology they possess: one that the shrine’s removal has suppressed. This suppression has, in a sense, stolen the futures of this nation, as a key part of their past was taken away from them, and therefore couldn’t exist in their present. This defuturing has been a source of hurt for this nation, with Chief Maquinna saying that the community has ‘lots to heal’ due to its long disappearance (4). In fact, a 1994 documentary about the First Nation, The Washing of Tears,  discusses just that, showcasing how the repatriation of the shrine would be a source of spiritual healing for a people desperately trying to preserve and live their cultures through their knowledge systems. Indigenous knowledge systems are understandings of reality, exclusive to each indigenous group, developed over centuries by local communities and grounded in a deep-rooted understanding of local ecosystems (5). In essence, the return re-centres indigenous knowledge systems, creating a new, more promising future that allows the Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nation’s secluded past to be brought to the forefront (6).

Moreover, another interesting aspect of this case is that, due to the shrine’s importance, the community leaders planned to reconnect it with cultural practices and community spaces rather than display it as an ethnographic artefact. As Maquinna said, ‘Although it has been housed in the museum for many years, it doesn’t belong in a sheltered environment. It needs to be in the elements and the environment from which it came, which is Yuquot’ (4). This is a fascinating point, as it directly opposes Western ideas about how to interact with heritage: whilst the consensus is to place them in museums where they can be cherished and preserved, others want to engage with such artefacts continuously. This mindset goes against Western forms of thinking, which centre museums as the ultimate locale for heritage items: in short, it is merely one epistemology that adopts this viewpoint, not something universal (7). In that sense, decolonial practices enable re-futuring by giving space for other epistemologies and worldviews to emerge and not be superseded by dominant perspectives.

This form of direct interaction with sacred objects of the past, especially in the case of the Whaler’s Shrine, perhaps ultimately encompasses the process of refuturing. The Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nation, who were unable to practice their spiritual rites to the fullest due to the shrine’s removal, had their futures, built on their past experiences and own epistemology, stolen. However, the shrine’s repatriation is a first step towards a new future: the link between their past beliefs and the shrine’s presence in its original place in the present allows their futures to flourish under the First Nation’s fullest beliefs. It is as Britta Timm Knudsen et al. (1) have said in their theory: ‘Re-futuring happens in decolonial endeavours that are invested with the emotion and affect of hope, and it happens in the politicised heritage modality of removal and re-emergence.’ It is precisely through this emergence of erased pasts that new futures could emerge. Additionally, as we have noticed, the existence of this linkage almost serves as a healing tool of sorts: the First Nation at peace, knowing they can live their futures as their ancestors did. The First Nation’s epistemology is thus the opposite of the overarching Western one, in that sacred artefacts must not be put in museums but should instead be continually engaged with in the present and future, as they have been in the past. 

This is the power decolonial practices have had over the past, present, and future. People who were once neglected, pasts that were once overwritten, presents that were once oppressed, and futures that were once stolen can now all be changed. Through decolonialism, the once de-futured people can now truly interpret their own pasts, use them to shape their present, and create a future they choose for themselves. That is the temporal power of decolonialism.

About the Author

Abdelrahman Amir Abourida is pursuing a Master’s in Arts and Culture, specialising in Modern Political Culture at Maastricht University. My research explores the intersection of all temporal concepts with decolonialism. Effectively, this study aims to showcase how practices such as repatriation could re-future previously de-futured groups of people.

References

1. Britta Timm Knudsen, Oldfield, J. R., Buettner, E., & Elvan Zabunyan. (2022). Decolonizing colonial heritage: new agendas, actors and practices in and beyond Europe (pp. 1–22). Routledge.
2. Price, J. (2025, March 20). The Whalers Washing House is finally coming home. Rabble.ca. https://rabble.ca/indigenous/the-whalers-washing-house-finally-coming-home/
3. Jacobs, J. (2025, March 30). After 120 Years Stored in a Museum, an Indigenous Shrine Returns Home. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2025/03/30/arts/design/museum-of-natural-history-returns-shrine.html
4. Plummer, E. (2025, April 2). Whalers’ shrine returns home after 120 years in museum storage | Ha-Shilth-Sa Newspaper. Hashilthsa.com. https://hashilthsa.com/news/2025-04-02/whalers-shrine-returns-home-after-120-years-museum-storage
5. Ijatuyi, E. J., Lamm, A., Yessoufou, K., Suinyuy, T., & Patrick, H. O. (2025). Integration of indigenous knowledge with scientific knowledge: A systematic review. Environmental Science & Policy, 170(104119), 104119. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.envsci.2025.104119
6. Gnecco, C., & Hernández, C. (2008). History and Its Discontents. Current Anthropology, 49(3), 439–466. https://doi.org/10.1086/588497
7. Mignolo, W. D. (2002). The Geopolitics of Knowledge and the Colonial Difference. South Atlantic Quarterly, 101(1), 57–96. https://doi.org/10.1215/00382876-101-1-57

Images

Cbone. “File:Yuquot National Historic Site pole figure.2.jpg.” Wikimedia Commons, September 30, 2005. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Yuquot_National_Historic_Site_pole_figure.2.jpg. (Cover Image)

Eisbaer44. “ File:Wal Schrein Insel Vancouver, Kanada.jpg.” Wikimedia Commons. February 28, 2018. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wal_Schrein_Insel_Vancouver,_Kanada.jpg. (Figure 1)

The views expressed in this blog are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of EuroClio, the Contested Histories Initiative or any of its affiliates. Neither EuroClio nor the Contested Histories Initiative can be held responsible for them.

The post The Temporal Power of Decolonialism appeared first on Contested Histories.

DISCLAIMER: The interview contains graphic content that may upset readers. Moreover, it was conducted in Ukrainian so that the interviewee could express herself more freely. Thus, parts of the conversation have been edited or shortened, but none of the original meaning was changed.

Olga Kvasnitska is a professor of legal sciences, the head of the public organisation, the Institute of Urban Development, a member of the Odesa City Council in the 7^th and 8^th convocations, a member of the coordination council for the protection of cultural heritage, and the interviewee’s mother. Her daughter, and the author of this blog, Milena Grechina, is a master’s student at Maastricht University and a research intern at Contested Histories. Unlike the contestation of political figures’ statues, the monuments of writers look much more nuanced. Many still see literature and arts as being apolitical, but is that so? Maybe in a utopian world, but not in Odesa. In the coastal city of Ukraine, where Russian poet Alexander Pushkin stayed for a year, the first monument to him was erected in the city centre in 1889 to honour his work and his connection to Odesa. This relationship, however, has since been used by Russians (in any State form) to enforce the Russian view over the strong link between Russian culture and Odesa, as well as to justify their thirst to ‘free’ and ‘protect’ the city from Ukrainian influence through the force of invasion. But ever since the full-scale invasion in 2022, Ukrainian activists no longer see Pushkin as a poet but as an ideology used to feed Russian neo-empirical myths and propaganda.

In the interview with Olga Kvasnitska, we will discuss her understanding of Pushkin’s legacy in the Ukrainian context, both before and after the full-scale invasion. We’ll cover the monument’s connection to the UNESCO World Heritage site, local politicians’ manipulations during the bust’s removal, and the remembrance of the decolonisation process to fill Ukrainian space with Ukrainian values, traditions, and identities.

Milena Grechina (MG): What was your relation to Pushkin’s literature before the full-scale invasion?

Olga Kvasnitska (OK): I would like to say here that before the occupation of Crimea and the hostilities in the Donetsk and Luhansk regions, I did not analyse Russian literature, including Pushkin, as I did after the occupation of Crimea. But even after that, I did not fully realise the colonial nature of Russian literature. Why? Because I studied in a Russified Soviet school, where everything Ukrainian was erased, and of course, we were taught Russian literature. In general, both the school curriculum and the city cultural space imposed on us for years the image of Pushkin exclusively as a brilliant writer, as the sun of poetry, a storyteller. After all, I even demanded that children, even you at the age of 5, study Pushkin’s poems. I did not teach you Lesya Ukrainka’s poem ‘Boyaryna’ or other Ukrainian writers because I absolutely did not question this ideology that was imposed by the Russian Federation and the Soviet Union when I was still a little schoolgirl. Therefore, I perceived this literature as part of my own cultural heritage. And this was the result of a century of work by the Russian and Soviet Empires, which purposefully did everything to make us, Ukrainians, understand that for us, Russian culture is the foundation and Ukrainian identity is something marginal.

I am now atoning for not having understood that, even though I am supposedly an intellectual person, I read a lot, I am a teacher, but I did not realise […] I was not looking.

MG: How has this understanding changed since 2022?OK: After the full-scale invasion, I realised this gap in understanding my Ukrainian identity. I began to wonder why Cossack Hetman (a political title from Central and Eastern Europe) Ivan Mazepa was always shown as a traitor, and why Pushkin wrote so badly about Mazepa in his work ‘Poltava.’ Gradually, I realised that all the history and literature that I studied in Soviet schools were manipulations and lies. Because Mazepa turned out to be an incredibly cool leader, modern for that time, developed architecture, built churches, raised education to another level, was educated, knew a bunch of languages, and even dressed cool! He was European and was made a traitor. In his poem ‘Poltava,’ Pushkin demonises the Ukrainian leader, the hetman, branding him as a traitor, and at the same time glorifies Peter the First, who killed children and women, burning and slaughtering all the inhabitants of Baturyn, Mazepa’s residence.

MG: Is it that his presence in space erases everything Ukrainian and monopolises the cultural space of Odesa?

OK: Yes, monopolises and dominates. Why are we still searching for ourselves now? Why, being a Ukrainian speaker, did I switch to Russian when I moved to Odesa? Because it was normal here, because the Ukrainian language was erased here, because Lesya Ukrainka was made invisible. Everyone asks how many times she was in Odesa. Well, wait a second. It should not be measured by how many times, but by her position, her work for the benefit of Ukrainian statehood.

MG: Statues are often perceived as something eternal, and most of the people who are against Pushkin’s removal preach that ‘history needs to be honored.’ What do you think about it?

OK: The argument ‘history needs to be honoured’ in this context is a constant manipulation launched by the Russian Federation, because the installation of the Pushkin monument (in 1889) actually destroyed the historical plan of the city’s architects. The ensemble of the seaside boulevard, designed and built in 1820-30s, was a masterpiece of classicism by the famous architects Francesco Boffa, Karl Pothier, Giorgio Torricelli, and others. And it was designed as an open space of the sea facade with a free perspective. No monument was planned for the site where the Pushkin bust now stands. A free space was planned there, so that the grandeur of the Odesa Stock Exchange building could be revealed, which is now the municipality building. Therefore, the appearance of Pushkin after around 50 years, in 1889, violated the architectural idea of ​​​​this square. Therefore, in my opinion, the dismantling of the bust of Pushkin is not the destruction of history, but the act of its restoration, on the contrary. It is a regeneration of the authentic environment that we lost because the monument appeared there. Therefore, history must be respected – I completely agree, but real, not imposed by the colonialists, not distorted so that Putin could tell at Valdai that because Pushkin is in Odesa, he must be ‘protected,’ justifying the invasion.

MG: Another interesting fact about the monument is that it’s located on the territory protected by UNESCO. I was really interested in the fact that the monument is now covered not only with wooden boards but also with advertising promoting the UNESCO World Heritage status of the historical centre of Odesa. Is it still standing like that?

OK: Yes.

MG: So everyone knows that Pushkin is behind those boards anyway. And this advertisement gave me a double impression. Firstly, it reminds and seems to divert attention to the historical centre of the city itself and its tourist value. I thought of people who are in favour of leaving the monument because of its tourist benefit, so maybe this calms people down. And secondly, it seems that this advertisement protects the monument: ‘This is a UNESCO territory – remember that.’ Therefore, I want to ask: How does this monument, located in a UNESCO World Heritage Site, complicate matters of removal or transportation?

OK: A large part of the Odesa city government, which remains pro-Russian, has been and continues to be concerned that Russian markers remain in the Odesa space. And now, when activists raise the issue of moving the Pushkin bust to a museum, like in a civilised society, the city government is covering it up by saying that this bust is located in the historical centre of Odesa, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, so it cannot be touched. This is another manipulation. UNESCO protects the outstanding universal value and authenticity of the territory, not imperial narratives. The value of our centre, as I have already explained, lies precisely in the unique architectural ensemble (of the historical centre of Odesa), and UNESCO protects its integrity. Pushkin was sculpted in violation of the intended architecture, so dismantling the bust and transferring it to a museum is not a destruction of heritage; it is a regeneration of the historical environment to its true European appearance. Pushkin is not a cultural heritage monument, and UNESCO protects the integrity of the site. 

According to international conventions that Ukraine has signed and become a member of, we have an obligation to notify the World Heritage Committee of any significant changes within the boundaries of this territory, that is, construction or excavation work. But now, local officials are using the UNESCO approval procedure for refusal, saying, ‘Oh, we can’t remove it because UNESCO has to allow us to do so, we have to wait for permission from Paris, and that takes a very long time,’ deliberately delaying the process of transferring it to the museum.

But the value of UNESCO is architecture, not ideology!

MG: What does it tell you about UNESCO’s legitimacy, especially since Russia is a part of the committee?

OK: Regarding Russia’s position in the UNESCO committee, I want to say that it was not completely expelled from UNESCO. It remains a member state of the organisation because to be completely expelled, it must be banished from the UN, which is naturally blocked. But in November 2023, Ukraine, together with its allies, won a historic diplomatic victory and, for the first time in history, Russia was, well, not re-elected to be correct, expelled from the UNESCO Executive Board. This is one of the institution’s key governing bodies. It is thanks to this that Ukraine managed to include Odesa on the heritage list, you know, which allows for support for reparations after the war. UNESCO cannot protect against missiles, but it will advocate in this process.

MG: What future do you see for this monument?

OK: The place of this monument is exclusively in the museum. We already have ideas to create an open-air museum in the park dedicated to the imperial and totalitarian past. And there, Pushkin would serve as a relic that would illustrate to all of us and our descendants how Russia uses monumental propaganda for the cultural occupation of our country, including Odesa.

MG: Ukrainian activists are often portrayed by Russian media as ‘barbaric’ or ‘uncivilised’ whenever the statues marking Russian culture are being contested. What does it tell the world about the Ukrainian position in the process of de-russification of its public spaces? And what does it tell us about the Russian propaganda that justifies the illegal invasion of an independent country?

OK: Moving the bust to a museum is not vandalism. By rejecting this culture, Ukrainians are not demonstrating barbarism, but the nation’s maturity. This is evidence of the process of decolonisation that we are currently going through.

We do not burn books. Pushkin, here (shows the book on screen). I leave it in the library; I do not burn it. I keep it for study, analysis and understanding of the threats that Russia poses in any of its manifestations. Russia is trying to portray us as barbarians in order to hide its barbarism. Because when they enter our territories, they burn our Ukrainian books and destroy our monuments using the ‘great culture of Russia’ as a shield to justify an illegal invasion, which is a classic method of empire.

MG: If the decision about the future of the monument were your responsibility, what would be your decision?

OK: I would be guided exclusively by facts, documents, the logic of Odesa’s development, and this is a clear algorithm – the civilised transfer of Pushkin’s bust to the museum. A person who had been destroying Ukrainian statehood through his works cannot stand on the main square of the Ukrainian city. Removing the statue will help in the restoration and return to Odesa’s free perspective. I would further introduce educational activities regarding the topic, because everyone should realise why we are doing this.

MG: After the statue is moved to the open-air museum, how do we remember the activism against Pushkin?

OK: We need to report on this long struggle for the right to be, for the right to have a dominant Ukrainian-European culture in Odesa’s space. That is why we need to create a museum of imperial-colonisation history, because we are still in this post-Soviet and post-colonial syndrome. And tour guides who will tell about these places and the struggle are also needed, who should not tell about Pushkin and Catherine the Second everywhere through the prism of Russian narratives, but talk about the struggle, truth, values, and finding oneself.

About the Author

Milena Grechina is a master’s student at Maastricht University and a research intern at Contested Histories. She is the daughter of Olga Kvasnitska, a professor of legal sciences, the head of the public organisation, the Institute of Urban Development, a member of the Odesa City Council in the 7th and 8th convocations, a member of the coordination council for the protection of cultural heritage, and the interviewee’s mother. 

Images

Unknown author. (2014). Lesya Ukrainka portrait crop. In Wikimedia Commons. https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?search=Lesya+Ukrainka&title=Special%3AMediaSearch&type=image

Wadco2. (2015). Bust of Pushkin in Odessa. In Wikimedia Commons. https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?search=pushkin+odesa&title=Special%3AMediaSearch&type=image

Zemlyukov, S. (2024). Ivan Mazepa (Portrait, 1840s, Stepan Zemlyukov). In Wikimedia Commons. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ivan_Mazepa_(Portrait,_1840s,_Stepan_Zemlyukov).jpg

The views expressed in this blog are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of EuroClio, the Contested Histories Initiative or any of its affiliates. Neither EuroClio nor the Contested Histories Initiative can be held responsible for them.

The post Is literature beyond politics? appeared first on Contested Histories.

As part of the Monumental Challenges project (2023–2025), led by EuroClio – the European Association of History Educators, our team developed teaching materials on contested monuments around the world. At the time, we could not have anticipated how timely and significant these debates over global controversies would become. Nor could we have foreseen how related political developments would unfold, or how the issues we raised would resonate in today’s social and political landscape.

The aim of the project was not to respond to day-to-day political events, but to use history and civic education to foster historical consciousness and an understanding of contested historical legacies.  We started from the belief that collective memory, identity, and power are inseparable, and that any understanding of the past is inseparably connected to the present. In this sense, the teaching materials were designed to contribute to education for democracy, encouraging students to critically question dominant narratives, consider diverse perspectives, and develop the skills needed for active and responsible participation in contemporary democratic societies.

There were a number of reasons for preparing the lesson plan about the Hans Egede Statue: local incidents in Belgrade, where several important monuments were vandalised over the weekend of 24–26 January 2026; students’ interest in learning more about Greenland in a global context; and the Monumental Challenges teaching materials themselves, which explore contested monuments worldwide.

The first step involved a lesson plan from the Monumental Challenges project, centred on the Statue of Hans Egede in Nuuk, Greenland, and its vandalisation during protests in 2021. The lesson was adapted for the second-year civic education curriculum with an emphasis on media, partially incorporating text from the Monumental Challenges materials about the monument. Students were shown images of the statue in Nuuk and Copenhagen, along with a summary of key facts about Hans Egede’s life.

When students saw the photographs of the Egede statue doused in red paint, they immediately recognised the parallel with the recent event in Belgrade, where the statue of Gavrilo Princip had been similarly defaced that same weekend. This served as a starting point for discussion on monuments in public spaces and how they provoke contestation among different social groups.

At the start of the lesson, students were provided with a brief text on Hans Egede and the historical context of Greenland, which served as a foundation for practical work and the development of media literacy skills.

Students’ tasks included writing different types of news stories about the Hans Egede statue:

• Neutral report – objective presentation of facts
• Clickbait version – sensational headline and lead
• Biased/propaganda version – favouring one perspective
• Column/personal opinion – reflection and argumentation

This approach allowed students to see how historical perspectives can be interpreted and presented differently in the media, to distinguish facts from value judgments, and to develop critical thinking in a contemporary media context.

The lesson resulted in high engagement, dynamic discussion, and students’ ability to analyse and produce information in line with the style and purpose of different journalistic formats.

All three classes conducted within the civic education framework demonstrated the relevance of the materials developed in the Monumental Challenges project. Although the activities were adapted for the local context in Serbia, they clearly showed that history, when taught through perspectives, controversies, and practical skills such as debating, media literacy, and other engaging methods, becomes both effective and appealing for students in understanding the present moment and complex social and historical phenomena.

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The Monument(al) Challenges program is part of the Contested History Initiative, which proved challenging for us, being situated in a small rural town in Sweden with very few local historical monuments to work with. If we look at the monuments we do have, it is hard to claim that they are examples of contested history. Therefore, we chose to focus our workshop on the history represented in the local monument and on the history that has been omitted. We also wanted to focus on hands-on activities to provide the participants with actual tools to use with their own students. 

The workshop was led jointly by John Hjalmarsson and Jens Andersson, who started with an introduction to the Monument(al) Challenges project and to the Contested History Initiative’s Manifesto. Participants were introduced to the “Emotional Networking” method, and sugar was chosen as the focus for the exercise. For this, the Vipeholm experiments were introduced as a very controversial scientific study that happened in Sweden between 1945 and 1955, where patients at a mental institution unknowingly were used as test subjects in a study on caries (tooth decay). The exercise led to a fruitful discussion, and the workshop participants appreciated the Emotional Networking method. 

Later on, the Monument(al) Challenges Toolkit and the Contested Histories Initiative database were presented. John and Jens highlighted the example of “comfort” women and also offered their own Swedish example of a controversial monument: a statue of King Karl XII, a seventeenth-century Swedish king traditionally hailed as a warrior king.  After discussing how to view and interpret monuments and which history to display, the participants were tasked with designing their own monument. The idea was to design a local historical monument; in other words, the task entailed both deciding what history to display and how to display it. Participants came up with a variety of interesting ideas, which sparked further discussion. 

In the second part of the day, the Swedish team set out on a walk around town to view and discuss the monuments in central Hudiksvall. The walk sparked a lively discussion on several topics: How was the decision made about which history to display? How is the choice of placement made? Many monuments were almost hidden from the public eye. Naturally, since all participants were teachers, the discussions often returned to the topic: “How can I use this in class?” 

The day was concluded with discussions around the use of history, the relative lack of contested history monuments in the area and how to use what we had learned during the day in our own classroom. A final reflection, shared by everyone, was that the day had been an example of the kind of continuing professional development we often lack: fruitful discussion with our peers.

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The workshop brought together 30 participants from across Serbia, including educators, historians, and students. The main goal of the workshop was to present the deliverables produced within the Monument(al) Challenges project, introduce case studies from the MONCHAL educational kit, and provide practical guidance on their implementation.

This workshop highlighted the importance of addressing sensitive historical issues, as students in Serbia who are currently leading protests in response to the Novi Sad canopy collapse are encountering situations similar to those explored in our lesson plan.

Presentation by Professor Marko Šuica: “Monuments, Memory, and the Challenges of Teaching Contested Pasts”

In the first part of the workshop, Professor Marko Šuica presented the conceptual and educational framework of the Monument(al) Challenges project, showing how citizens and students encounter urban heritage — statues, street names, buildings, and memorials — that carry diverse cultural and historical meanings, capable of both connecting and dividing communities through complex identity narratives.

Focusing on the intersection of heritage, history, and the sense of inclusion or exclusion, Professor Šuica emphasised that monuments serve as entry points for discussing sensitive and contested histories. Professor Šuica posed several guiding questions:

* How do we remember conflicts — and how should we remember them?

* Whom or what do we commemorate, and why?

* Do we mythologise, celebrate, mourn, or critically reflect?

* Which narratives are remembered, and which are silenced?

* What messages do our monuments send to new generations? The Monument(al) Challenges.

During the workshop, Professor Šuica introduced teachers to two important resources developed within the Monument(al) Challenges project. The toolkit provides a comprehensive set of teaching materials, including 12 case studies with structured lesson plans:

* Lesson plans

* Basic information on each monument

* Useful existing sources on contested historical issues and monuments

* Glossary of key terms

The set of critical classroom incidents focuses on guiding teachers through challenging classroom situations, helping them address sensitive topics, facilitate discussions, and support students in engaging critically with contested histories. Together, these resources equip teachers with practical tools to explore monuments meaningfully, foster critical thinking, and promote democratic competencies in the classroom and during on-site learning activities.

Presentation by Luke Bacigalupo, Researcher, on the Self-paced Course for the Monument(al) Challenges Project

Luke Bacigalupo, researcher (Great Britain/Serbia), presented the self-paced course based on the Monument(al) Challenges toolkit, designed to help teachers enhance their instructional techniques through innovative teaching strategies. The course focuses on three lesson plans, each offering exemplar activities, reflective questions, and classroom guidance. Teachers can complete the modules in any order.

Lesson plans:

* “Comfort Women” statue – Seoul, Republic of Korea

* JP Coen – Hoorn, the Netherlands

* Radio Television Building – Belgrade, Serbia

Modules provide step-by-step guidance, deepening the logic and pedagogy behind each lesson. Each begins with a recorded introduction by the authors, explaining the aims and key questions. Following the toolkit structure, modules include:

* Structured lesson plans

* Additional sources – videos, maps, timelines, etc.

* Assessment tools

* Links for further exploration

Presentation by Lidija Županić Šuica on the RTS Building Lesson Plan for the Monument(al) Challenges Project

Lidija Županić Šuica presented a practical classroom activity using a role-play strategy centred on the RTS building. During the workshop, teachers took part in the role-play, experiencing firsthand how a lesson plan based on the RTS building case study can be applied in practice, effectively demonstrating the use of a place-based approach in history teaching.

Participants were assigned roles, along with supporting materials and site photographs, representing perspectives such as:

* Families of the victims

* State officials

* Officials from NATO countries

* Tourists

The activity was particularly sensitive, as it coincided with the scheduled commemoration of the 16 victims of the Novi Sad canopy collapse the following day (1 November). The cases of the canopy and the RTS building revealed notable parallels: in both incidents, 16 people lost their lives, and in neither case had the state initiated a joint commemoration or acted promptly to assign responsibility.

This analogy underscored the relevance and significance of the lesson plan, demonstrating how such activities can engage students with contemporary social and historical issues while simultaneously fostering empathy, critical thinking, and promoting civic participation and activism.

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The morning session was hosted at Liceo Classico “Quinto Orazio Flacco”, where we were warmly welcomed by headmistress Dr Maria Rosaria Clelia Gioncada. After a brief introduction to the MonChal toolkit and the pedagogical aims of place-based learning, discussion moved quickly from theory to local practice: participants shared examples of contested memorials from their own communities and reflected on how to frame delicate topics in the classroom.

The emotional and intellectual focus of the morning was a rare guided visit to the Casa del Mutilato, a fascist-era building normally closed to the public. Seeing and discussing its façade, inscriptions and interior spaces in person made the themes of representation, power and silence immediately concrete. The visit prompted questions about how architecture communicates values, which voices are amplified or erased, and which classroom activities (source analysis, role plays, or student-led guided visits) best support students’ critical interpretation of such sites.

After lunch, we moved to Libreria Bonhoeffer, in the socio-cultural centre IN, hosted by coordinator Valerio Berardi. In a more informal setting, participants worked in small groups with the toolkit materials. The groups explored practical proposals, including emotional mapping of monuments, student-led walking tours combining archival and oral sources, classroom debates on naming and commemoration, and alternative commemoration projects that give voice to overlooked communities. Oral feedback collected at the end of the day showed strong appreciation for the balance between conceptual framing and hands-on practice.

The Bari workshop successfully translated critical reflection on contested monuments into concrete, teachable activities and renewed enthusiasm for bringing contested histories into students’ learning!

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The debate extends beyond legal ownership; it encompasses the symbolic and ethical dimensions. For many non-Western cultures, certain artefacts are not only museum pieces that can be exposed behind glass but also carry profound spiritual or ancestral significance, making their public exhibition inappropriate. 

Repatriation is not only about returning physical objects to their community of origin, but also about respecting the cultural autonomy of communities to decide how or whether these artefacts should be displayed, preserved, or kept private according to their own traditions. 

In recent years, several important restitutions of artistic artefacts have taken place. For example, the Tupinambá Indigenous Cloak was returned to Brazil from Denmark, where it had been exhibited as an exotic artefact stripped of its sacred and ceremonial original context. Another example of successful repatriation was that of the Netherlands returning objects to Indonesia that were acquired during the colonial empire as well as all the Benin Bronzes that the United States, the United Kingdom, or Germany have returned to Nigeria and can now be exhibited at the Edo Museum of West African Art (EMOWAA). 

However, there are other examples where repatriations are still debated, and many cases remain highly contested regarding the return of cultural artefacts. A common and contested practice that many museums started to implement is a loan system where they don’t give up the ownership of the object; instead, they loan it to a new institution for a determined period of time. For example, the British Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum are returning a collection of gold and silver artefacts to Ghana, but under the condition of giving it back as a loan. 

Therefore, this collection, which involves a total of 17 items, including 13 pieces of Asante Royal regalia, is being framed as an important cultural collaboration that circumvents UK laws preventing the permanent return of cultural treasures. While museums acknowledge the cultural, historical, and spiritual significances of their objects, in parallel, these loan systems are seen as insufficient and only as a ‘starting point’.  

But what are the government’s positions and arguments against repatriation?

Governments and museums that hold these artefacts often put forward various arguments against their restitution. They believe that their museums provide optimal conditions for preserving artefacts and ensure their accessibility to a global audience. This reasoning suggests that repatriation could endanger the physical integrity of objects or restrict their appreciation by the wider public. Indeed, in cases where acquisitions took place centuries ago, some institutions claim that it can be challenging to establish original ownership or the exact circumstances of their acquisition, complicating restitution claims.

In response to this, UNESCO emphasises the vital role of the Intergovernmental Committee for Promoting the Return of Cultural Property to its Countries of Origin or its Restitution in the Event of Illicit Appropriation (ICPRCP), established in 1978. The ICPRCP is a platform for bilateral negotiations between countries, offering mediation and conciliation services when the 1970 UNESCO Convention doesn’t apply. The Committee acts as an advisory and facilitative body without legal power to impose decisions. It has developed practical tools, including awareness campaigns, rules for mediation, model export certificates, and databases, to protect cultural heritage. 

In conclusion, repatriation is not only about historical justice, but also restoring cultural identity and dignity to indigenous and formerly colonised peoples. It challenges colonial narratives and fosters equitable dialogue between nations and cultures by addressing the lasting impacts of colonialism and exploitation. While legal and logistical challenges exist, prioritising respect for indigenous communities and their right to preserve, interpret, and engage with their heritage is essential. Decolonising museums and restating cultural artefacts are crucial steps towards a more inclusive and just understanding of shared global history. 

About the Author

Marina Sirvent Sánchez is pursuing a Master’s in Arts and Heritage specialising in Management, Public Policy and Education at Maastricht University. My research explores the inner workings of museums through an ethnographic and comparative exploration of the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) and the Hermitage Museum. This study aims to bridge the gap between Organisational Anthropology and Museum Studies to understand museums beyond their public-facing roles.

References 

Gabriela Pmeroy, “Denmark returns Tupinambá feather cloak to Brazil”, BBC, SEPTEMBER 13, 2024.  https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/ce818y325d2o.  

Caio Ruvenal, “Camila Opazo, chilean arqueologist: For non-Western cultures, some objects should not be exhibited as they have their own symbolism”, El País, December 2, 2024. https://elpais.com/planeta-futuro/2024-12-02/camila-opazo-arqueologa-chilena-para-las-culturas-no-occidentales-hay-piezas-no-deben-exhibirse-porque-tienen-su-propio-simbolismo.html. 

International Council of Museums. (2024). Ethical guidelines on restitution and repatriation. http://umac.icom.museum/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/UMAC-Guidance-Restitution-2022.pdf. 

Emmaline English, “Protecting Indigenous Cultural Heritage”, The Environmental Law Center Society, March 15, 2023. https://elc.uvic.ca/protecting-indigenous-cultural-heritage/. 

Nora McGreevy, “Germany returns Benin Bronzes to Nigeria in historic agreement”, Smithsonian Magazine, April 30, 2021. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/major-push-museums-around-world-make-plans-repatriate-benin-bronzes-nigeria-180977519/. 

The Guardian, “Netherlands returns looted artefacts to Indonesia”, The Guardian, March 30, 2024. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/jul/06/netherlands-to-return-treasures-looted-from-indonesia-and-sri-lanka-in-colonial-era. 

Danica Kirka, “A pair of UK museums return gold and silver artifacts to Ghana under a long-term loan arrangement”, The Independent, January 25, 2024. https://www.independent.co.uk/news/ap-ghana-london-west-africa-victoria-b2484695.html. 

UNESCO (2025) “UNESCO meeting gathers all African Member States for the first time to discuss return and restitution of cultural property”. https://www.unesco.org/en/articles/unesco-meeting-gathers-all-african-member-states-first-time-discuss-return-and-restitution-cultural. 

UNESCO (2024) “”Return & Restitution” Intergovernmental Committee”. https://www.unesco.org/en/fight-illicit-trafficking/return-and-restitution. 

EBSCO (2021) “Repatriation of Cultural Artifacts””. https://www.ebsco.com/research-starters/anthropology/repatriation-cultural-artifacts-overview. 

Figures

Lula Official. “File:12.09.2024 – Cerimônia de celebração do retorno do Manto Tupinambá ao Brasil (53990692081).jpg.” Wikimedia Commons, 12 September 2024. CC BY-SA 2.0. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:12.09.2024_-Cerim%C3%B4nia_de_celebra%C3%A7%C3%A3o_do_retorno_do_Manto_Tupinamb%C3%A1_ao_Brasil(53990692081).jpg.

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Teachers were invited from the Magherafelt and Rural Learning Partnership (MRLP) and the current cohort of Ulster University’s Post-Graduate Certificate in Education History students.  There were 20 at the training, plus Dr Clare McAuley, PGCE Lecturer.        

The workshop was broken into two parts:

1. The Theory of Place-Based Learning

2. Putting Place-Based Learning into Practice

Morning in St. Mary’s Grammar School – The Therory

Mairtina McCormick led the first session, where teachers were taken through the pedagogical theory that underpins utilising the interrogation and exploration of Monuments, as a key method to discuss contested histories, as well as looking at the techniques and strategies for discussing difficult topics with students. This also involved looking at the benefits of place-based learning, in allowing students to discuss and connect their learning to the Monuments, Murals and Structures that all hold historical meaning and significance.  Denver Charles then took the opportunity to look at some of the Case Studies from Contested Histories, to give some further background into how Monuments in certain spaces can generate intense dialogue, while also using modern day examples from Northern Ireland to illustrate the point, such as statues of Winnifred Carney (City Hall) or a recent statue of Bobby Sands in Twinbrook.  Mairtina McCormick mocked this up in another short presentation, commenting that it would be great to utilise these approaches at the City Hall in Belfast.  Doing this highlighted the applicability of Place-Based Learning to Northern Ireland and demonstrated how the resources can be transformed to suit the Northern Ireland context, and encouraged teachers to get out and about exploring with their students.

Afternoon in Derry/Londonderry

While the training is directly applicable to investigating all statues and monuments in every locality, it was felt that it would be good for teachers and beginning teachers to go somewhere where there is a vast array of Monuments, Murals and Structures, many of which are clearly contested.  Teachers were broken into groups of three or four, and after trialling the approaches live at the newly unfurled Factory Girls Sculpture, the groups were sent to several different Monuments throughout the City.  Some dealt with potentially controversial material, while there were clearly other monuments, where the controversy has relented and the Monument has become more accepted in time.  Monuments ranged from the Bogside Murals, H-Block Memorial, to Governor Walker’s blown-up monument and the imposing Cenotaph in the centre of Derry. Teachers had been given the sheet that the students will be given, thus preparing them for working with the students.  Derry/Londonderry is small, and groups were able to visit more than their designated monument as part of the training.

Highlights

The clear highlight was being able to take a group of twenty educators to Derry/Londonderry to trial the lessons.  The feedback on this aspect was extremely positive. This allowed the teachers to get ready for running the same programme with students during the week after. We were also delighted to host the teachers who are at the beginning of their careers, and to introduce Monument(al) Matters and Contested Histories to them. They will find this invaluable. The Maiden City is renowned for indifferent weather, so we are happy to report that the weather was also perfect.     

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Who Was the Chatam Sofer?

Rabbi Moshe Schreiber, also known as the Chatam Sofer (1762–1839), was one of the most influential figures in Jewish religious history. Born in Frankfurt am Main, he became a towering authority in Halakhah (Jewish law) and a staunch defender of Orthodox Judaism during a time of great social and religious change (CSM2). Sofer is the name he inherited from his father, Rabbi Shmuel Sofer, which means scribe (Torah-Box.net). In 1806, he became Chief Rabbi of Pressburg, now Bratislava, where he led the city’s Jewish community for over three decades.

The Chatam Sofer was renowned for his unyielding opposition to the Haskalah (Jewish Enlightenment) and modern reforms. His motto, ‘He-chadash asur min ha-Torah‘ (The Torah forbids the new), became a defining principle of Orthodox Judaism (CSM2). His leadership extended beyond Bratislava, influencing rabbinic thought across Europe. His yeshiva (traditional Jewish educational institution) attracted up to 400 students, many of whom would carry his teachings across Hungary and beyond (CSM2).

The Cemetery Beneath the City

The Old Jewish Cemetery of Bratislava dates back to the 17th century, established under the protection of the Pálffy family (UNESCO). For nearly 200 years, it served as the final resting place for the city’s Jewish residents. The most revered section of this cemetery contained the graves of prominent rabbis, including the Chatam Sofer himself. However, the tumultuous 20th century brought destruction. In 1942-1943, as part of wartime infrastructure projects, the construction of a tunnel beneath the Bratislava Castle forced the exhumation of much of the cemetery (CSM3). The majority of graves (over 6,000) were relocated to a mass grave in the Orthodox cemetery on Zizkova Street (UNESCO and CSM3).

Remarkably, due to efforts by the local Jewish community, the section of the cemetery containing the Chatam Sofer’s grave and those of 22 other leading rabbis was spared (Slovak Jewish Heritage Route). This section was encased in concrete, effectively sealing it beneath the newly elevated road. The site became known locally as the “Chatam Sofer Mausoleum”(CSM3), a hidden sanctuary of Jewish memory, preserved in the shadows of communist-era Bratislava.

A Symbolic Restoration

Throughout the communist period, Jewish heritage in Bratislava was systematically erased. Synagogues were destroyed, and the old Jewish quarter was levelled (CSM3). Yet, despite the neglect and obscurity of the Chatam Sofer site, Orthodox Jewish pilgrims continued to visit the hidden graves, maintaining a fragile link to a nearly-lost past (CSM3).

It wasn’t until after the fall of communism that the cemetery site received the recognition and restoration it deserved. Between 2000 and 2002, the Chatam Sofer Memorial underwent a sensitive redevelopment, led by architect Martin Kvasnica and supported by international Jewish organisations, including the International Committee for the Preservation of Gravesites of Gaonai Pressburg (CSM1). The Bratislava Municipality played a critical role in relocating tram tracks and providing access to the site.

The resulting memorial complex is both spiritually resonant and architecturally striking. Visitors enter via a raised platform, essential for Kohanim (descendants of the ancient priesthood) who are prohibited from entering cemeteries (CSM3). Glass plates symbolising lost gravestones line the site, a haunting reminder of the cemetery’s partial destruction. The underground prayer hall provides a solemn space for reflection and prayer at the preserved graves.

Memory, Loss, and Resilience

The Chatam Sofer Memorial stands today not merely as a site of religious pilgrimage but as a symbol of contested memory. It embodies the resilience of Jewish tradition in the face of modernisation, war, and communist suppression. It also raises critical questions about heritage preservation: What is lost when sacred spaces are dismantled? How do communities negotiate the survival of their heritage in hostile environments?

For Bratislava’s residents, the memorial is a stark reminder of the city’s once-vibrant Jewish community, largely destroyed by the Holocaust. For visitors from around the world, it offers both a spiritual destination and a powerful lesson in the endurance of cultural identity. As part of Slovakia’s Jewish Heritage Route, the Chatam Sofer Memorial serves not only as a place of mourning and prayer but also as a vital piece of European history, one hidden for too long beneath layers of concrete and silence.

About the Author

Lauriane Borsaline Rotté joined EuroClio as a trainee in September 2024. Lauriane is currently pursuing the “Identity and Integration” track of the European Studies Master’s program at the University of Amsterdam. Her academic and professional interests include culture, history, human rights, decolonial environmental and social justice. She is committed to the transformative potential of responsible history and citizenship education in shaping informed, empathetic, and critically engaged global citizens.

References

–. “The Chatam Sofer Memorial”, Jewish Heritage Foundation – Menorah 2023. Accessed April 10, 2025. https://www.chatamsofer.sk/home/ (CSM1)

–. “The Chatam Sofer Memorial”, Jewish Heritage Foundation – Menorah 2023. Accessed April 10, 2025. https://www.chatamsofer.sk/chatam_sofer/ (CSM2)

–. “The Chatam Sofer Memorial”, Jewish Heritage Foundation – Menorah 2023. Accessed April 10, 2025. https://www.chatamsofer.sk/memorial/ (CSM3)

–. “Hillula of the Chatam Sofer!”, Torah-Box.net, 2021. Accessed April 22, 2025. https://www.torah-box.net/jewish-ethics-and-learning/our-sages/hillula-of-the-chatam-sofer_721.html (Torah-Box.net)

Slovak Jewish Heritage Route. “Bratislava, Chatam Sofer Memorial,” Slovak Jewish Heritage – Menorah 2023. Accessed April 10, 2025. https://www.slovak-jewish-heritage.org/route-sites/bratislava-chatam-sofer-memorial/ 

UNESCO. “The Memorial of Chatam Sófer,” UNESCO Tentative Lists, 2002. Accessed April 10, 2025. https://whc.unesco.org/en/tentativelists/1731

All photos are courtesy of the owner.

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