Berkley Center

Throughout history, people have interpreted the past from their own point of view, which often contradicts that of others. These collective memories are passed down to future generations and become important parts of national identity.

Below are some of my encounters with the ways in which different European countries engage with their past. Apart from which country maintains the most responsible and balanced view on its past, these recollections together pose important questions about studying history: What kinds of history should we learn, and from whose point of view? What are the best ways to get a balanced and objective view on some of the most controversial events in history?

Seville, Spain is a city 60 miles inland from the North Atlantic Ocean. Following the discovery of the New World, it developed into a transatlantic trade hub and enjoyed an unprecedented level of prosperity. During this time, Spain was a nation wild, rich, and powerful enough to dedicate an entire century to building the world’s largest cathedral, the famous Seville Cathedral: one that is “so beautiful and so grand that those who see it finished [would] think [the constructors were] mad,” as the architects intended.

Inside the cathedral is a 20-meter-tall and 15-meter-wide altarpiece, gilded with Latin American gold from top to bottom. It is certainly a great testimony to the opulence that the city used to enjoy. Extracting such an enormous amount of gold may have shed two or three times as much blood, but this dazzling golden plate is a jewel that continues to attract tourists from around the world.

The Imperial War Museum of London has many impressive tanks, weapons, guns, and airplanes on display, but the most memorable is its discussion of World War I. The WWI exhibition starts with an explanation of how other countries’ “envy”—this is the museum’s own word—of the British Empire led to the war, and how the British Empire was an indifferent outsider before Germany invaded its territory. In discussing each party’s motivation for joining the conflict, the museum points out that Romania—poor, nascent, and ill-prepared—rather hastily jumped into the war in the hope of acquiring more territory, but miserably failed to fend off the Central Powers.

There was no single line about how both Western and Eastern powers, for centuries, divided up East Central European countries and played Balkan ethnic groups against each other in order to deprive them of the chance to form nation-states. I fear that those who visit the museum without this knowledge will see East Central Europe as a prey only to the Central Powers, and Balkan countries’ participation in the war as a foolish mistake prompted by blind greed for territory.

One thing that stood out the most in Berlin was the city’s struggle to not forget about its past. Remains of the Berlin Wall were scattered across the city. A church built in the honor of a German emperor stood in a destroyed state, which it acquired during World War II. Memorials to the victims of the Nazis’ crimes stood along avenues that led to the Brandenburg Gate.

Topography of Terror was definitely one of the best museums I’ve ever visited. It was built on the former site of the SS headquarters, which was demolished after World War II. The museum provides extremely detailed accounts of the Nazi Party’s rise to power, including the political, legal, economic, and psychological tools that the party used to reorganize the state into a massive killing machine. It also includes descriptions on how ordinary German people became ardent supporters of the Nazis. Perhaps such a detailed anatomy of the Nazi party was possible only because Germany was the perpetrator state, which reinforces the importance of its cooperation in illuminating the past and preventing tragedies like these from happening again in the future.

Having visited multiple museums in Germany about the Nazis and World War II, I was pretty sure that I was prepared to face the evidence of the Holocaust in Auschwitz, Poland without breaking down. However, at the sights of the massive piles of shoes, bags, glasses, and clothes that once belonged to the victims (including toddlers), the brown fabric made out of female victims’ hair, and the scratches inside gas chambers that dying victims made with their hands, I almost wanted to stop the tour and run away. It was a humbling experience for me, especially as someone who wants to work in post-conflict resolution and for the prevention of state and war crimes and post-conflict reconstruction in the future. After all, reading books and visiting museums are never enough to comprehend the tragedies and disasters that some people around the world are still going through.