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| Father António Vieira's statue in Lisbon (Photo: Nuno Fox, for the newspaper Expresso) |
The vandalism, destruction
or removal of statues is not today’s “fashion”. I already knew that, but I didn’t
know how far back this story went. In an interview
for the New York Times, art historian Erin L. Thompson mentioned that there
are statues of Assyrian kings with curses carved on them (“He who knocks down
my statue, let him be in pain for the rest of his life”) and that date from
2700 B.C. Thompson’s career, according to the newspaper, has been spent on
thinking what it means when people deliberately destroy icons of cultural
heritage. Placing a statue in the public space is a political decision, a
public statement, an attempt to solidify a society’s acknowledgement of a person’s
values, character and contribution to society. The public space is a place of political
affirmation; but also of contestation. These public affirmations of an official
version of history are not necessarily immortal and do not necessarily make
sense for ever.
The protests around the
world against racism and the chain of historical events that have turned it
into a systemic practice (such as slavery, colonialism, policies of segregation)
have brought the discussion to the streets, to the public space. A space shared
by all of us, marked by a number of statues that pay homage to men who had an
active and negative role in all this, such as kings, politicians, explorers and
slave traders. In recent days, we´ve seen the toppling of the statue of slave
trader Edward Colston in Bristol (read
more), the removal of the statue of King Leopold II in Antwerp (vandalised
on a number of occasions before – read
who was King Leopold II) and that of Robert Milligan (slave trader who had
stood in front of the Museum of London Docklands – read the Museum of
London statement).
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| Reading the notes left at Edward Coston statue's plinth (Photo: Adrian Sherratt for The Guardian) |
The toppling and
removal of statues drew immediate criticism from some. They saw it as the end
of civilisation or an attempt to erase / whitewash / rewrite history. Historian
Charlotte Lydia Riley tells
us not to worry: “(…) rewriting history is our [the historians’] occupation, our professional
endeavour. We are constantly engaged in a process of re-evaluating the past and
reinterpreting stories that we thought we knew. Despite what Leopold von Ranke
– one of the pioneers of modern historical research – said, history is not only
about finding out ‘how it actually happened’, but also about how we think about
the past and our relationship to it. The past may be dead but history is
alive, and it is constructed in the present.” We should also add here that the removal of a statue from public space has never prevented us from continuing to learn about that figure at school...
Some compared these recent acts to
the destruction of statues by the Taliban or by ISIS/Daesh. In her interview
for the New York Times, Erin L. Thompson gives an answer to this: “I don’t think we
can say that destruction is always warranted or that destruction is never
warranted. We have to think about who is doing the destruction and for what
purposes. ISIS was destroying monuments of a tolerant past in order to
achieve a future of violence and hate. These protesters are attacking symbols
of a hateful past as part of fighting for a peaceful future. So I think they’re
exactly opposite actions.”
Protests have also arrived to Portugal. Vandalism
too. In the last two or three days, both the social media sphere and the press
have been inundated with practically everyone’s opinion about the graffitti on
the statue of Father
António Vieira. People condemning the vandalism have expressed their horror,
they have called out the perpetrator’s “ignorance” (and probably also of all
those who have criticised the statue), they have vehemently asked for education
and dialogue.
Vandalism is illegal, I have never incited or
practised it. That said, could we perhaps have a look at so many other things
this and other actions are inviting us to reflect upon?
Many of the critics had never heard of this statue
before. They didn’t know about the controversy it provoked since the first
moment it was placed in the public space. They didn’t know (or didn’t wish to
mention) that a legal demonstration against it days after it was inaugurated was
blocked by a group of neo-nazis, under the eyes of the police. They didn’t know
it had been vandalised before. They assumed the criticism against it had to do
with the priest himself and argumented extensively in his favour. Considering
that many of these people work in the field of Culture (specifically Heritage),
History and Education, I find their manifestation of ignorance when wishing to
take part in a public debate unacceptable and irresponsible (for those wishing
to know a bit more, writer and journalist Alexandra Lucas Coelho summarises the
criticism to the statue in
this text, while the group Decolonizando, which had organised the protest
in 2017, clarifies its position here).
Taking part in a public discussion, wishing to influence the public opinion
without doing your homework first is common, but it’s also intolerable and
intellectually dishonest.
The public discussion around the vandalism raised
a number of other questions in me:
- Can we expect that people working in Culture – Heritage – History - Education will not limit themselves to condemning the vandalism, but use their vast knowledge in order to reflect on the context of the events and acts?
- Trying to understand and look for lessons to be learnt means that one approves of the vandalism?
- Can scholars and other commentators of the events honestly tell us that statues are doing a good job in “educating” people?
- In the specific case of the statue of Father António Vieira, is it acceptable that a 2017 statue placed by the municipality in the public space ignores all public discussion regarding the country’s colonial past and perpetuates offensive stereotypes regarding citizens who live in the city or visit it? (some are even asking: “Wouldn’t have Father António Vieira himself felt appalled at this depiction?”)
- In the specific case of the statue of Father António Vieira, how can one explain the immense, disproportionate fury an easily and immediately cleaned graffiti caused in historians, art historians, heritage experts and others?
- Why many of these people did not express the same fury and horror when we saw the images of the vandalised face of Cláudia Simões (a black woman) by a policeman? Why many of these people did not condemn the fact that the camera recordings from the police station were not given to her lawyer when required and before being legally destroyed? Is it, perhaps, that they don’t see the connection I see?
- Are there people whose bodies, faces and opinions matter less than statues?
- Is this about the radical right and radical left? Can we continue to summarily and conveniently classify these matters as such and leave to that? Where does this leave the "humane middle"?
And finally:
Those who vehemently call in moments like this for
education and dialogue, what have they done about it up to now? Have they done
their homework, to start with? Have they demanded the revision of schoolbooks (where
black and white Portuguese students are taught at the age of 10-11 that the
Portuguese were benevolent colonialists, trading different products - such as
slaves)? Have they worked to make sure that every Portuguese citizen has the
right to take part in public dialogue and to be actually heard? Have they made
an effort to listen to voices they didn’t hear before?
If living in society is a constant negotiation, if
politics is the art of living together, how responsible is each one of us for
the course the events have taken and for this and other vandalisms? How
responsible is each one of us for the lack of dialogue, the lack of knowledge,
the lack of empathy, the level of frustration and anger among some of our
co-citizens? In three years, many people now asking for education and dialogue and
accusing others of ignorance were not informed about the controversy around the
statue of Padre António Vieira. In Bristol, discussions around the statue of
Edward Colston were at least eight years old. Other discussions, in Belgium or
the US, are decades-long. We are living the accumulated anger and frustration
of years of peaceful protests and demands which have left people hopeless and which
we chose to ignore. Do we have the right to feel surprised and horrified at
vandalism? And isn’t it true that some of our rights were won thanks to people
who disobeyed the law? Isn’t it true that many times in History we were forced
into dialogue? Let’s not claim education and knowledge if we are not willing to
learn. Let’s not condemn the ignorance of others when we ourselves are choosing
to live in the comfortable space of our own ignorance.
The final words are those of a priest. In his 10th
of June speech (National Day of Portugal), Father Tolentino Mendonça,
quoting Simone Weil, said: “A country can be loved for two reasons, and these
are, in fact, two separate loves. We can love a country ideally, framing it so
that it remains fixed in an image of glory, and wishing that it will never
change. Or we can love a country as something that, precisely because it is
placed within history, subject to its jolts, is exposed to so many risks. These
are two different kinds of love. We can love it for its power or we can love it
for its fragility. But, explains Simone Weil, when it is the recognition of
fragility that ignites our love, its flame is much more pure.” Tolentino
Mendonça also reminded us in his speech that “the root of our civilisation is
the community. It is in the community that our story begins. When we were able to
move from ‘I’ to ‘we’ and give it a certain historical, spiritual and ethical
configuration.”
These thoughts give me a context to reflect on
what is happening today, to not feel afraid or threatened and to look for my
role and responsibility in all this.
Further readings
Álvaro Vasconcelos, Idiotas e idólatras
Claudine van Hensbergen, Public sculpture expert: why I welcome the decision to throw Bristol’s Edward Colston statue in the river
Daniel Oliveira, Estátuas caídas
David Gelles, Smithsonian’s Leader Says ‘Museums Have a Social Justice Role to Play’
Erin L. Thompson, What's the point of beheading a statue?
Hugo Moreira, Apesar das estátuas vandalizadas, as figuras históricas não podem “ser removidas das salas de aulas”
Claudine van Hensbergen, Public sculpture expert: why I welcome the decision to throw Bristol’s Edward Colston statue in the river
Daniel Oliveira, Estátuas caídas
David Gelles, Smithsonian’s Leader Says ‘Museums Have a Social Justice Role to Play’
Erin L. Thompson, What's the point of beheading a statue?
Hugo Moreira, Apesar das estátuas vandalizadas, as figuras históricas não podem “ser removidas das salas de aulas”
Inês Beleza Barreiros,
Patrícia Martins Marcos, Pedro Schacht Pereira e Rui Gomes Coelho, O
Padre António Vieira no país dos cordiais
Intelligence Squared, Revere or remove? The battle over statues, heritage and history - with David Olusoga and Peter Frankopan, the journalist and author Afua Hirsch and the cultural commentator Tiffany Jenkins (debate - video)
Intelligence Squared, Statues, Slavery and the Struggle for Equality with David Olusoga, Dawn Butler and Susan Neiman (podcast)
Intelligence Squared, Revere or remove? The battle over statues, heritage and history - with David Olusoga and Peter Frankopan, the journalist and author Afua Hirsch and the cultural commentator Tiffany Jenkins (debate - video)
Intelligence Squared, Statues, Slavery and the Struggle for Equality with David Olusoga, Dawn Butler and Susan Neiman (podcast)
Isabel Costa, O que pode uma estátua
Miguel Esteves Cardoso, Vieira está bem
Rui Gomes Coelho, O Padre António Vieira e o sermão dos fetichistas
Rui Tavares, Não tenham medo de olhar a história de frente
Vítor Belanciano, Não apagar a História. É História a acontecer.
Vítor Serrão, Contra todos os iconoclasmas
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