BLACK LIVES
MATTER AND
THE REMOVAL OF
RACIST STATUES
PERSPECTIVES OF AN AFRICAN
Caesar Alimsinya Atuire
21: INQUIRIES INTO ART, HISTORY, AND THE VISUAL
#2-2020, pp. 449–467
https://doi.org/10.11588/xxi.2020.2.76234
449
Caesar Alimsinya Atuire
ABSTRACT
The killing of George Floyd by Minneapolis police officers and the
subsequent Black Lives Matter protests have been accompanied by
calls for the removal of statues of racists from public space. This
has generated debate about the role of statues in the public sphere. I
argue that statues are erected to represent a chosen narrative about
history. The debate about the removal of statues is a controversy
about history and how we relate to it. From this perspective, the
Black Lives Matter movement is not a drive to remove or topple
statues, but a call for an honest examination of systemic racism and
the residual effects of slavery. This call can be a kairos to engage in
a constructive dialogue about the societies we aspire to live in. The
result of this dialogue, which includes a re-examination of dominant
narratives, will decide which statues and monuments can occupy
public space and represent our societies.
KEYWORDS
Black Lives Matter; Statues; Racism; Slavery; Dialogue.
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Black Lives Matter and the Removal of Racist Statues
Premise
I begin this paper with a confession. I cannot be neutral in the Black
Lives Matter conversation because mine is a black life and I would
like it to matter. Nevertheless, as an academic philosopher, I can
only try to be rational and possibly dispassionate.
The residual effects of the North Atlantic slave trade and its
essentially racist framework have always been present in my life.
My ethnicity, the Bulsa of Northern Ghana, is linked to the slave
trade. The unity of the Bulsa as a distinct ethnic group came about
when various clan and village leaders united to defend themselves
and their families from the frequent attacks of slave raiders. The
Feok Festival, celebrated by the Bulsa every year in December,
affirms the Bulsa identity by commemorating and reenacting the
defeat of Baabatu, the last notorious slave raider of the Upper East
region of Ghana.1 The architecture of the Bulsa homes also bears
witness to defence against human and livestock raiders. All domestic animals are kept within the courtyard of walled compounds,
where, amidst the thatched roofs, there is always a flat-roofed terrace which serves among other things as an observation tower.
Growing up in the northern territories of Ghana, I was quite
oblivious of racism. This changed when I left Ghana for the UK at
the age of seventeen to continue my education. It was only then that
I was made to become conscious of the weight of being black. Yet,
apart from a few isolated incidents of being verbally and physically
attacked because of the colour of my skin, the weight has been
present principally in two subtle forms. First is a sort of burden
of proof that I am a normal law-abiding, honest person and an intellectual. If we consider that onus probandi incumbit ei qui dicit, non
ei qui negat (the burden of proof lies with the one who affirms and
not the one who negates), this is tedious. When a burden of proof
is needed for such basic human characteristics, there is an implicit
assumption that by claiming to possess these qualities I am making
an affirmation that requires proof because it is not the accepted
view about persons like me. The qualities which have often been
assigned to me gratuitously and generously, such as being a good
dancer, an athlete, a party freak, and possessing ‘joints’ or being
able to procure them, are qualities which I unfortunately do not
possess. The second aspect of this weight is alienation. Even though
I have lived, studied and worked in the UK, Ireland, Spain and Italy,
and I speak four modern European languages fluently (whereas I
can barely get by with two African languages), I have always been
considered a foreigner in Europe, an outsider. I do not really belong.
With hindsight, I realize how this has conditioned some of my reactions, especially on those occasions when I should have spoken
up. The feeling of alienation, accompanied by the burden of justification, has made me think speaking out is counterproductive or
1
Amos Yaw Ademin, Indigenous Resistance to Slavery by the Builsa People of Northern Ghana,
MA Thesis, University of Ghana, Legon 2016.
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pointless. I have been perhaps more fortunate than other persons of
African descent born in Europe and America, since I always have
a home to return to in Africa, whereas for them it must be more
difficult because the only home they have and they know is the one
that alienates them.
When I returned to Ghana after living in Europe for twentynine years, I chose to settle in a small fishing town on the Atlantic
coast called Apam. There are three things I notice whenever I am
returning home to Apam: the distinct smell of fish as I drive by
the port; the Apam skyline, which is an endless series of bamboo
sticks, none perfectly perpendicular to the ground, holding up TV
antennas from low-rise rusting roofs; and, above all, the imposing
structure of slave Fort Lijdzaamheid (Fort Patience), built by the
Dutch from 1697 to 1702, standing on top of the promontory overlooking the town. It is an indelible and jarring reminder of the North
Atlantic slave trade and its racist agenda.
It is with this baggage that I write about Black Lives Matter and
the removal of statues of racists.
I. Introduction. Una passeggiata estiva romana (A Roman
summer walk)
Cities and towns around the world are adorned with monuments
and statues commemorating events, deities and persons that have
shaped the present. I write this paper from Rome, a city whose
centre can be described as an open-air museum. I walk from Via
Cola di Rienzo – named after the Renaissance demagogue and populist, mythologized by the leaders of the Italian risorgimento – to
Piazza Risorgimento towards Piazza San Pietro and the imposing
Saint Peter’s Basilica. From the piazza I look up to the loggia balcony from which popes over the centuries have sent out messages
of peace and fraternity through urbi et orbi blessings at Christmas
and Easter. Many thoughts about the meaning of monuments race
through my mind. This magnificent monument of Catholicism was
built with money raised through dubious means, such as selling
papal noble titles and indulgences. As I walk away from the Basilica
along the Via della Conciliazione – built by fascist leader Mussolini – towards Castel Sant’Angelo, which was originally built as
a mausoleum for Emperor Hadrian (134–139) before becoming a
Papal Fortress with a secret passage to the Vatican and finally a
prison where the likes of Giordano Bruno and Il Cagliostro were
detained and where executions were carried out, I begin to wonder
whether there are any monuments without a dark side? From Castel
Sant’Angelo, I descend the steps from Ponte Sant’Angelo with its
ten statues of angels holding sponges, lances, whips, crown of thorns
and other religious symbols. Away from the traffic and walking on
the riverbanks, I head towards Isola Tiberina, where the temple
of Aesculapius, the Greek god of medicine lies underneath what
is now the Church of Saint Bartholomeus. Along the way, I find
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myself wishing that the river Tiber, witness to all these events of
the past as well as all the ways each era has rewritten history, could
speak. Across the river, now from the Isola Tiberina overlooking
the Jewish ghetto, I see the cupola of Rome’s major synagogue. I ask
myself, what is the Jewish version of the history of Papal Rome and
its ubiquitous Christian monuments?
The building of monuments and statues is a symbolic representation of a heritage. As Simon John puts it, statues “are symbolic
of the fixed ideas of a specific community regarding its past, as captured at a particular point in time”.2 In fact, most monuments and
statues are erected to immortalize a retrospective interpretation
of events and lives of persons. Statues, unlike other monuments
which are not always celebratory, tend to exalt the persons they
represent. For example, monuments like the holocaust memorial in
Berlin inaugurated in May 2005 is a grim reminder of a dark page
in human history. On the contrary, most of the statues of historical
persons that occupy the public spaces in cities and towns around
the world are celebrations of the achievements of persons who
are believed to have made positive contributions to their societies.
From this perspective, as Pippa Catterall points out, it is hardly surprising that “another perennial facet of statues throughout history”
is that “they have mostly been of men, usually from the military.
The database of the Public Monuments and Sculpture Association
suggests that only 2.7 per cent of the civic statues in Britain are of
non-royal women.”3
From this perspective, statues are symbolic representations of
an interpretation of history. This often takes the form of a secular
or religious hagiography of historical persons based on the views
of the persons who commissioned them. It is worth noting that
these narratives do not always coincide with the honoured one’s
own perception of themselves. A recent example is the case of
Professor John Attah Mills, a president of the Republic of Ghana
who died in office in 2012. He has become known as Asomdwee
Hene (king of peace) and the park where his mortal remains lie has
been renamed Asomdwee Park. Even though studies undertaken
after his death have sustained the idea that Attah Mills championed
a peaceful agenda in politics,4 the humble professor would have
never considered himself a ‘king’, let alone ‘a king of peace’. And
yet, future generations will know him as the ‘king of peace’. An
even more astonishing example of how later epochs can represent
2
Simon John, Statues, Politics and The Past, in: History Today 69, 9, September 2019, https:/
/www.historytoday.com/archive/behind-times/statues-politics-and-past (12.08.2020).
3
Pippa Catterall, On statues and history: The dialogue between past and present in public
space. British Politics and Policy at LSE (2020), https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/politicsandpolicy/
statues-past-and-present/ (18.08.2020).
4
Jacob Anderson and Eric Ziem Bibiebome, Analysing John Evans Atta Mills’ Speeches
Projecting him as ‘A Man of Peace’, in: International Journal of Language and Translation
Studies 7, 2019, 105–110.
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Caesar Alimsinya Atuire
historical facts and find novel meanings to suit their contexts is the
case of the most widely diffused Christian symbol: the Crucifix. In
the Roman Empire, crucifixion was a gruesome execution, so much
so that in the first century it was applied only to non-citizens of
the empire. For the first three centuries of Christianity until the
era of Helen and Constantine, the crucifix was not the symbol of
Christianity. Early Christians preferred other symbols like the fish
and would perhaps have been horrified to see an instrument of
torture and capital punishment as a representation of their beliefs.
Yet later theological interpretations have constructed a narrative
that portrays the crucifix as a symbol of love and salvation.
Three points have emerged so far: first, statues are not an
objective historical representation of the figures they represent.
Second, they represent an attempt by those who commissioned
them to celebrate and perpetuate their version of history. Third,
these attempts to fix history can be unfixed – meaning can change
with time.
II. Do Statues Die?
Metaphorically, we may ask: when does a statue die? If we agree
that statues die, then who is the coroner to determine and certify
the death? The pulling down of statues is not a twenty-first-century
discovery. Controversies around artistic representations have taken
place in different moments and for different reasons in history.
Thomas Noble, in his book on iconoclasm, offers a key to interpreting these controversies:
Throughout history, heated debates about artistic representations, and the actual destruction of public and private
works of art, have been by-products of other kinds of social,
political, or religious movements. One thinks immediately of
Protestant iconoclasm in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries; of the political iconoclasm of the French Revolution;
of the ideological iconoclasm of both Fascist and Communist
states and their successors; or of contemporary American
disputes over flag burning and public subsidies for artistic work that some people deem blasphemous or obscene.
The iconoclastic moment in these movements almost always
provides the careful observer with a sharp view of the
stresses and tears in the social fabric of a given time or
place.5
Thomas Noble talks of “stresses and tears in the social fabric”.
These can sometimes be long-pent-up frustrations within a society
that erupt into social movements when groups of people within
5
Thomas F. X. Noble, Images, Iconoclasm, and the Carolingians, Philadelphia 2012, 4.
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a society feel misrepresented or marginalized. Anger is directed
towards monuments and statues which are perceived to represent
a perpetuation of the narrative that the movements want to change.
In 1776, when the American Revolution was in full swing, anger
was directed at the equestrian statue of English King George III on
Bowling Green in New York. With the help of George Washington’s
troops, protestors pulled down the statue “from its plinth and broke
it into pieces”. Much of the lead was shipped to Connecticut and
melted down to make 42,008 bullets. A British officer who had the
decapitated head rescued from a tavern before it reached the furnace noted that the nose was severed, the laurels were awry, and a
musket ball was lodged “part of the way through his head”. He had it
shipped back to London “to convince them at home of the infamous
disposition of the ungrateful people of this distressed country”.6
The destruction of statues of perceived disreputable persons
was not only an American phenomenon. In the UK, in 1650, a year
after the English King Charles I was condemned and beheaded,
Parliament ordered that his statue at the Exchange in London “be
demolished, by having the head taken off, and the scepter [taken]
out of his hand”.7 A few decades later, in 1689, it was the turn of
Catholic King James II’s statue in Newcastle to be removed, dragged
along the streets, and tossed into the river. The removal of statues
by the British not only took place within the confines of the British
Isles. Hermann von Wissmann, a German explorer, colonizer and
governor of German East Africa, was famous among other things
for his ruthless exploits on natives and their villages. In 1890, four
years after his death, a statue was erected to his honour and placed
in Dar-es-Salaam, today Tanzania. After the defeat of Germany
in the First World War, the British took control of the former German territory of East Africa. They removed Wissmann’s statue and
transported it to London where it was put on display as a trophy at
the War Museum. The story doesn’t end there. During the Weimar
Republic, when Germany exalted her colonial heroes, the country
succeeded in repatriating the statue. It was placed in front of the
University of Hamburg. Later, when the narrative about colonialism
and relations with Africa changed in the 1960s, the student movement sprayed and toppled the statue of Wissmann in 1968. The University of Hamburg decided that Wissmann’s statue had no right to
be in this public space. The statue was removed and transferred to
the Hamburg Observatory where, “in order to create a visualization
of Germany’s relationship to its colonial past, the curatorial team
at the Deutsches Historisches Museum decided that the exhibition
6
Andrew Lawler, Pulling down statues? It’s a tradition that dates back to U.S. independence,
in: National Geographic, 1 July 2020, https://www.nationalgeographic.com/history/2020/07
/pulling-down-statues-tradition-dates-back-united-states-independence/ (18.08.2020).
7
Ibid.
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Caesar Alimsinya Atuire
should similarly feature the monument lying on the ground”.8 To
date, the statue of Wissmann remains in this position.
In the twenty-first century, the most emblematic fall was perhaps that of the statue of Saddam Hussein in Baghdad on 9 April
2003. The attack on the statue was initiated by Khadim al Jabourri,
an Iraqi motorbike repairer wielding a sledgehammer. He was
joined by American Marines who used an armoured vehicle to topple the statue before witnessing crowds rushed in, unleashing their
anger and frustration on the fallen statue. Ironically, Al Jabourri, in
a 2013 interview published in The Guardian newspaper, regretted
the toppling of the statue: “Then we had only one dictator, now we
have hundreds”, he said, echoing a popular sentiment in a country
mired in political problems and corruption, where killings still occur
on an almost daily basis. “Nothing has changed for the better.”9 The
toppling of a statue is not a guarantee that the desired change will
indeed occur.
Some initial conclusions can be drawn from the foregoing.
First, statues represent an interpretation of history. The stories they
tell are often partial, if not decidedly ideological. Second, statues
can become obsolete when the narrative they portray or the persons
they represent can no longer be upheld as worthy occupants of
public space. Third, the process of removal of statues can be institutional, but quite often it is not. Fourth, removal of a statue from
public space does not always entail destruction; the statue can be
placed in a context and in a way that corresponds to the current
narrative (Wissmann). Fifth, the removal of statues when driven
by a surge of public emotion can become regretful (Al Jabourri).
Finally, the toppling of a statue is not a guarantee the change hoped
for will be achieved.
A more difficult question to address, however, is why the
removal of some statues is more controversial than others? The
famous Via dei Fori Imperiale in Rome, leading to the Colosseum,
which was built by fascist Mussolini, is lined with statues of four
Roman emperors: Caesar, Augustus, Nerva and Trajan. None of
these figures will survive ethical scrutiny if we consider their military exploits and the internal power-grabbing manoeuvres they
used to rise to the highest ranks of the Roman Empire, not to mention their endorsement of discriminatory attitudes towards classes
of citizen and non-citizens. Yet, we do not witness an outcry from
descendants of Roman slaves and citizens of former Roman colonies calling for the removal of the statues of the emperors. The
acceptance of their presence in public space cannot merely be
attributed to the aesthetic value of the statues, which are in fact
8
Memorial to Hermann von Wissmann. Deutsches Historisches Museum, https://www.dhm
.de/blog/2017/04/20/memorial-to-hermann-von-wissmann/ (12.08.2020).
9
Peter Beaumont, Saddam’s statue: the bitter regrets of Iraq’s sledgehammer man, in:
The Guardian, 9 March 2013, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/mar/09/saddam
-hussein-statue-kadom-al-jabourir-sledgehammer (09.03.2013).
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copies. The original statues are conserved in the Capitoline Museums. A possible reason for this could be that there is consensus
that the imperial dreams and ideals of a superior and invincible
Roman Empire are no longer a threat. In the words of Simon John,
the debate about controversial statues concerns “wider conflicts
between competing visions of history”.10
With all this in mind, we shall now look at the current movement for the removal of statues of racists and promoters of slavery,
especially in the light of the Black Lives Matter movement that has
garnered more energy in the wake of the killing of George Floyd.
III. The Debate: Statues of Racists in Public Space
Since the public killing of George Floyd by officers of the Minneapolis Police Department on 25 May 2020, a long list of statues
of historical figures known to be racists have been removed from
public space in the USA and the UK. Among these are Charles Linn,
31 May (Birmingham, Alabama); Robert E. Lee, 1 June (Montgomery, Alabama); Raphael Semmes, 5 June (Mobile, Alabama); John B.
Castleman, 8 June (Louisville, Kentucky); Edward Colston, 7 June
(Bristol, UK); Jefferson Davis, 13 June (Richmond, Virginia); and
Albert Pike, 19 June (Washington, D.C.). Many Confederate monuments and statues of Christopher Columbus have been removed or
toppled. Not everyone agrees with the removal of these and other
statues. The African American writer Sophia A. Nelson believes
that removing statues is to run away from the past and to gag
freedom of expression.11 Similar views have been expressed by
Oxford University’s vice-chancellor, Louise Richardson. In the face
of renewed calls for the removal of the statue of Cecil Rhodes
overlooking the High Street from the façade of Oriel College, she
commented “that hiding our history is not the route to enlightenment”.12 The university and Oriel College have since modified their
position and have set up a committee to investigate, deliberate and
advise on the question. Others, Donald Trump, for example, see
the toppling and defacing of statues and monuments as a sustained
assault on revered American monuments carried out by “arsonists
and left-wing extremists” adding that those “who have carried out
and supported these acts have explicitly identified themselves with
ideologies – such as Marxism – that call for the destruction of the
United States system of government”. As a result, on 26 June, he
10
Simon John, Statues.
11
Sophia A. Nelson, Don’t Take Down Confederate Statues. Here’s Why, in: NBC
News, 1 June 2017, https://www.nbcnews.com/think/news/opinion-why-i-feel-confederate
-monuments-should-stay-ncna767221 (12.08.2020).
12
Sean Coughlan, Don’t hide history, says Oxford head in statue row, in: BBC News, 11 June
2020, https://www.bbc.com/news/education-52999319 (12.08.2020).
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Caesar Alimsinya Atuire
issued an “Executive Order on Protecting American Monuments,
Memorials, and Statues and Combating Recent Criminal Violence”
to “prosecute to the fullest extent permitted under Federal law, and
as appropriate, any person or any entity that destroys, damages,
vandalizes, or desecrates a monument, memorial, or statue within
the United States or otherwise vandalizes government property”.13
The controversy around the removal of statues has become
such a major issue in the debates surrounding the Black Lives Matter movement that it risks transforming questions of racism, white
privilege, justice and equality into questions of law and order, or,
worse still, a question of patriotism, where to be patriotic means
subscribing somehow to the narrative that created the statues in
question. From conversations with persons who are concerned
about the current drive for the removal of statues of racists from
public spaces, I have collected reasons that I discuss in the next
paragraphs before going on to present a possible paradigm for
addressing the controversy.
1. No one really cares about statues these days. We do not even
notice them. By pulling them down we are opening a hornet’s
nest.
In fact, apart from a few exceptions like Narendra Modi of India,
few leaders today are concerned about erecting statues in honour
of past heroes. The statuomania era of the late nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries seems to have died down. What is more, even
in cities where statues abound, many citizens hardly notice them
or know what they stand for. Bristolians and the world at large
knew very little about Edward Colston and his engagement in the
slave trade until calls for the removal of his statue started becoming louder in 2015. This view also holds that, it is more urgent to
address the existential, practical and systematic issues of racism.
When these questions have been addressed sufficiently, the narrative about the past will change and monuments that misrepresent
the past will either be removed or complemented with newer ones
which tell the other side of the story without too much controversy.
This argument embodies a lot of common sense. Indeed, the
removal of a statue is not a guarantee that the underlying issues of
racial injustice will be addressed. It may just become an occasion to
vent frustration at lifeless objects, all the while allowing authorities
to sweep the vexed questions of systemic reform under the carpet
by calling for calm and making promises of systemic change that
will not be fulfilled.
On the flip side, allowing statues of racists a permanent place in
the public sphere does have a negative effect on victims of racism.
13
The
White
House,
Executive
Order
on
Protecting
American
Monuments,
Memorials,
and
Statues
and
Combating
Recent
Criminal
Viohttps://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions
lence,
issued
26
June
2020,
/executive-order-protecting-american-monuments-memorials-statues-combating-recentcriminal-violence/ (12.08.2020).
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Black Lives Matter and the Removal of Racist Statues
When public space is adorned with figures with which black people
cannot identify, even if they are not aware of the full story of these
persons, a feeling of alienation is created. A similar argument can
be made for the absence of statues of women in public space. Statues celebrate people who have contributed to making history. The
absence of figures of blacks and women in public space reinforces
the idea that our societies are led by white men and that only white
men are worthy of commemoration in our societies. It is worth
pointing out moreover that victims often experience what Miranda
Fricker has described as hermeneutical injustice.14 This is when
victims of injustice perceive something wrong and yet, on account
of a deficit in shared tools for interpretation, victims or marginalized groups may not have the epistemic concepts to express what
they are feeling. It is often quite difficult for persons of African
descent to express the contours of racism, but this does not mean
that the effects are not perceived. The predominance of figures of
colonialists, racists, slave owners and traders, and the absence of
monuments and statues of slaves and black anti-racists, can contribute to making public space silently but perceptibly unwelcoming
towards people of African descent.
2. Persons pulling down statues are violent criminals. Law and
order must prevail.
Images of angry demonstrators defacing or pulling down statues
have accompanied some of the demonstrations in favour of the
Black Lives Matter movement. This has led to authorities placing
protective coverings around statues that risk being damaged by
demonstrators. On 12 June, the statue of Winston Churchill in London’s Parliament Square was covered up to protect it from being
attacked by demonstrators. The Executive Order issued by President Trump on 26 June interprets the defacing and pulling down
of statues as acts of violence against the state. On this premise of
aggression towards the state, the President threatened to use the
army to defend these monuments and to ensure that law and order
are observed. For many persons opposed to the pulling down or
defacing of statues, the demonstrations in favour of the Black Lives
Matter movement are being hijacked by violent persons whose
actions need to be suppressed.
This line of reasoning is practically relevant from a social viewpoint. However, logically, it may be riddled with a fallacy of changing the subject because it shifts the question from whether statues of
racists should be allowed in the public space to a question of how
demonstrators are expected by law to express their frustrations.
Concentrating on vandalism by some of the demonstrators is a distraction that can lead to a missed opportunity to address issues of
importance regarding identity and history.
14
Miranda Fricker, Epistemic Injustice. Power and the Ethics of Knowing, Oxford 2007.
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Caesar Alimsinya Atuire
There is no doubt that it is part of the duty of government to
ensure that law and order prevail. The state cannot allow citizens to
express their frustration by damaging property or objects. However,
the appropriate response, in this case, may not be to increase the
coercive powers of the police and military. The Black Lives Matter
movement was galvanized by a viral video showing police violence
towards George Floyd, an African American man. This act of violence, which led to his death, was perpetuated by members of the
police force. The police force is an arm of government that is supposed to protect citizens. If there was already a perception that the
police do not discharge this duty equally to all citizens, and indeed, a
lack of trust in their impartiality, then this event was a confirmation
of that belief. Therefore, escalating the coercive powers of the police
and other armed forces towards demonstrators is perhaps not the
best way to restore the trust required for successful policing. Other
ways of engaging with demonstrators and isolating radical elements
need to be explored. What is more, a deeper understanding of civil
protests is needed. These arise when social groups feel that the
existing channels of dialogue for change are not open to them or do
not heed their calls for change. It is the absence of adequate fora
to engage in constructive dialogue that fosters the need for mass
protests. A better response to protests would be to create space for
the protesting parties’ voices to be heard and to follow up with real
responses that seek to address their concerns. This would be a more
inclusive approach.
3. The statues are an important part of our collective history
which we cannot and should not erase. The removal of statues is
an act of damnatio memoriae which is always negative.
Various persons, including the vice-chancellor of Oxford University, have warned against trying to erase history by pulling down
statues. The persons who are represented by the statues are protagonists of events that have made us who we are. The removal of
statues would seem to be an act of damnatio memoriae in which conscious attempts are made to cancel positive traces of ignoble persons from the annals of history. Such actions may in turn contribute
to greater ignorance about the past and a poorer understanding of
the present.
This argument is problematic because it encapsulates many
questionable assumptions. First, statues represent an interpretation
of history. In fact, many statues are erected to reinforce a narrative that does not always present a complete picture. Many of the
Confederate statues in the USA were erected during Jim Crow, an
era known for its affirmation of white supremacy. The claim that
statues teach history is a tall one; at best, they reinforce a particular
narrative of history. Secondly, the removal of a statue cannot be
equated to the ancient practice of damnatio memoriae. As Charles W.
Hedrick argues, the damnatio was an effort to repress and obliterate
the representation of a person. It was not so much a question of
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oblivion as of disgrace.15 The removal of the statue of a racist from
public space does not obliterate, it is an act of refusing to celebrate
the achievements of the person either because those achievements
are ethically questionable or other important aspects of the person’s
life cast a large dark shadow on their achievements. To continue to
keep statues of infamous persons in the public space might require
re-interpreting our understanding of statues, that is, as representing
not persons we celebrate but also those we vilify. It is difficult to
imagine, for now, statues of villains in public space. Would it be
advisable to erect statues of villains standing on high plinths and in
postures denoting success?
4. It is unfair to judge persons from the past with today’s criteria.
When I visit the slave forts along the coast of Ghana, which I often
do, I walk down into the dark dungeons, breathing in the damp air of
the large cells where young black women and men were chained and
held for weeks whilst waiting to be led through the infamous ‘doors
of no-return’, onto ships to be carried away forever across the seas
to the New World. The experience of visiting these forts is so hideous that most visitors exit with a feeling of sadness. For whites, the
sadness is tinged with guilt; for blacks, the sadness is tinged with
anger. Exiting these forts, I have on many occasions asked myself
the hypothetical question of what I would have done if I had been
born into a white slave-trading family 400 years ago? Of course, I
have no answer to this question. The context in which a person is
born and lives is part of the moral heritage which influences their
choices and decisions. However, it is difficult to subscribe to total
moral relativism. A moral distinction can be made between those
who actively enslaved people, engaged in the slave trade or went
to war to defend slavery, and those who perhaps benefitted from it
without actively engaging in slavery. There is also something to be
said about those who did not challenge the institution of slavery but
in their own little ways tried to be humane towards slaves. And, of
course, there were those who actively fought to put an end to slavery. In other words, even within the era of the North Atlantic slave
trade, there were different moral positions and there was room for
choices even if the choices were narrower and conditioned by the
general climate of acceptance of slavery. Thus, active engagement
in the slave trade or fighting battles to defend slavery was arguably
a matter of choice and not just a result of the era in which the slave
traders lived.
To judge figures like Colston, Jack Lee and Rhodes negatively
is not just an opinion of the twenty-first century. There were contemporaries of these persons who did not agree with their choices
and would not buy into a narrative that celebrates these figures. The
difference today, perhaps, is that these critical voices have become
15
Charles W. Hedrick, History and Silence. Purge and Rehabilitation of Memory in Late Antiquity, Austin 2000, 114.
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louder. Statues are erected to immortalize narratives about persons.
When that narrative no longer holds in public opinion, the statue
can be perceived as a monument that is propping up a lie or an
injustice.
5. All human characters have flaws. To demand that persons
represented by statues are flawless is a tall order. It will
ultimately lead to an end of human statues in the public space.
There is a benevolent view towards statues of fallen heroes which
holds that it is impossible or almost impossible to come across a
human character that has no flaws. The persons represented in statues are humans who had their flaws and failings, but they also had
achievements worth celebrating. It is unfair to fail to recognize their
achievements just because they had some failings like all humans
do. What is more, since flaws can be found in almost every human
being, if we continue along this path, perhaps the only statues that
will remain are those erected in honour of unknown or mythical
persons, like Molly Malone on Dublin’s Grafton Street or some of
Botero’s statues. Perhaps we are heading towards the end of the era
of statues of historical persons. And this, some hold, might not be a
desirable end.
It is true that one can find faults in any human character. It is
virtually impossible to find human beings that are perfect or blameless on all fronts. When Mother Theresa of Calcutta was declared
a saint by the Roman Catholic Church, critics argued that she was
a cynical activist making money and building a brand out of the
suffering of the poor.16 Nevertheless, in the context of the current
discussion about the removal of statues of racists from public space,
there are some considerations that need to be taken into account
when following this line of reasoning.
First, in the context of the Black Lives Matter movement, the
persons whose statues are being challenged are those whose achievements relied on slavery and racism. This is not about other
flaws linked to character or virtue in the strict sense. The calls for
the removal of the statue of Winston Churchill from Parliament
Square in London are not because of the stories or myths that he
was a heavy drinker.17 Edward Colston built up wealth through
slavery, Cecil Rhodes through white supremacy. The Confederate
generals fought bravely in a war which, for them, was a battle to
uphold slavery.
16
Douglas Robertson, Mother Teresa wasn’t a saintly person – she was a shrewd operator
with unpalatable views who knew how to build up a brand, in: The Independent, 4 September 2016, https://www.independent.co.uk/voices/mother-teresa-wasnt-a-saintly-person
-she-was-a-shrewd-operator-with-unpalatable-views-who-knew-how-a7224846.html
(12.08.2020).
17
On the question whether Churchill was an alcoholic or not, see an analysis by Michael
Richards at https://winstonchurchill.org/resources/myths/alcohol-abuser/ (12.08.2020).
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There are other cases where a statue is erected to celebrate a
person’s admirable achievements in fields not directly related to
slavery or racism, yet the person has a deeply flawed record. An
example is the famous twentieth-century Italian journalist, Indro
Montanelli, who as a young man of twenty-four, during the invasion
of Abyssinia, bought, married, and regularly raped a twelve-yearold local girl. Montanelli later abandoned the fascist camp, became
a champion of press freedom against fascists and dictators, was
imprisoned, even suffered an assassination attempt by the Brigate
Rosse terrorist group, and remained throughout his long life an
uncompromising sharp leader of Italian independent journalism.
This earned him awards and a public statue in Milan. However,
throughout his lifetime Montanelli remained unrepentant about his
actions towards the young girl in Abyssinia. Even decades after
these events, as an old man and a celebrated hero of Italian journalism, he tried to justify his actions by saying, “that was the way it was
done in Abyssinia”. And he added: the young girl was a “docile little
animal”.18 In the wake of the Black Lives Matters movement, protestors splashed red paint on the statue of Montanelli, wrote ‘rapist
and racist’ on the plinth, and called for its removal. The mayor of
Milan, Giuseppe Sala, replied that he is open to dialogue, however,
he is of the opinion that the statue must remain because “lives are
to be judged in their complexity”, adding that whereas it is possible
to demand an unblemished life from all, if we pursue this line, there
will be few persons left to remember.19
Mayor Sala is perhaps right in his assessment, but his conclusion is debatable. Great thinkers and philosophers like Voltaire,
Hume, and Kant all made explicitly racist and white supremacist
affirmations.20 Yet, their works are still studied, admired and commented on by students of philosophy from all races. The perdurance
of their intellectual legacy cannot be attributed to statues that have
been erected in their honour. Persons like Montanelli, whose undeniable contribution to good journalism and press freedom in the
face of tyranny and dictatorship is enviable, can perhaps be better
analysed, studied and understood in contexts of reasoned dialogue.
A mute statue in a public square may not provide the best context
for a pondered evaluation of the ideas of a person like Montanelli.
18
Annalisa Teggi, «Lei, signor Montanelli, violentò una bambina di 12 anni?» chiese Elvira
Banotti, in: Aleteia, 16 August 2018, https://it.aleteia.org/2018/08/16/indro-montanellielvira-banotti-violenza-bimba-12-anni-africa/2/ (12.08.2020): “Regolarmente sposata, in
quanto regolarmente comprata dal padre. Aveva 12 anni, ma non mi prendere per un bruto:
a 12 anni quelle lì sono già donne. […] Avevo bisogno di una donna a quell’età. Me la comprò
il mio sottufficiale insieme a un cavallo e un fucile, in tutto 500 lire. […]. Lei era un animalino
docile; ogni 15 giorni mi raggiungeva ovunque fossi insieme alle mogli degli altri.”
19
Sala: “La statua di Montanelli resta, le vite si giudicano nella loro
complessità”, in: ADNKronos, 14 June 2020, https://www.adnkronos.com/fatti/
cronaca/2020/06/14/sala-statua-montanelli-resta-vite-giudicano-nella-loro-complessita_
vayPmLbg2XFrxrELdPFXCM.html (12.08.2020).
20
Björn Freter, White Supremacy in Eurowestern Epistemologies. On the West’s Responsibility for its Philosophical Heritage, in: Synthesis Philosophica 33, 1, 2018, 237–249.
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What is more, the statue of a person who is declaredly unrepentant
about being a paedophile and racist rapist is not a reassuring presence to children who need to grow up with a certainty that their
society is willing to protect them.
6. Many statues are works of art that have aesthetic value which
goes beyond the persons they represent. Destroying them is
similar to burning libraries or ‘bad’ books.
There is no doubt that some statues have an aesthetic value that
needs to be preserved irrespective of the historical facts they represent. Michelangelo’s Pieta, David, Moses and other statues are of
immense value even though historians or theologians could raise
questions about his depiction of these figures. The equestrian statue
of Marcus Aurelius has influenced political sculptures for centuries.
More modern statues, those from the era of Romanticism, which
may have lesser artistic value, are worthy of conservation because
they represent an era of artistic expression, which is always a window into understanding the spirit of the times.
From this point of view, the destruction of statues can deprive
citizens and art students of important pieces that enrich our aesthetic experience and enhance our understanding of the past and the
present.
A counter argument could be made that the removal of statues
from public space does not mean destroying them. Indeed, some
will be better conserved over time if they were kept in a museum
where they can be protected, preserved and presented within a
framework that allows people to understand and interpret them better. One might ask: what about statues carved into natural spaces,
the bas-relief of the three Confederate leaders, for example, which
cannot be transferred to museums or other sites? Here, perhaps the
only alternative is to widen the narrative by ensuring the silenced
voices are also heard.
IV. Black Lives Matter as a Kairos
When we look at the timeline (chronos) of slavery and racism, the
current Black Lives Matter movement could be a kairos, a propitious moment for decision and action. Much has been achieved, and
the condition of Africans in Europe and America today is much
better than it was 300 years ago or even sixty years ago. The North
Atlantic slave trade, which was unique because it used race as the
deciding element in who was to become a slave and who was not,
has been abolished. The United States of America can boast of even
having elected a man of African descent to the highest office in the
nation. As an African, I have studied and worked in some of the
most prestigious institutions in Europe, where a few centuries ago I
would only have been admitted as a janitor or a domestic servant.
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Nevertheless, it is also true that racism and white male supremacy are still present in many parts of the world. We are a long way
from achieving equal opportunities for all. The current COVID-19
pandemic has raised a curtain on some of the underlying inequalities. At the end of April, COVID-19-related deaths were almost
twice as high in the Bronx, as in Manhattan (224 versus 122 per
100,000 residents).21 Life expectancy across geographic, income and
racial groups can vary by up to thirty years. For example, inner-city
residents of Chicago, who are more likely to be black, can expect
to live to sixty years, a lower age than countries like Zimbabwe,
Burundi and Mali. Yet, in suburban areas, persons who are typically
white, live to ninety.22 The list of prolonged and systemic deprivations of equal opportunities for persons of African descent is
endless. At Oxford University’s Oriel College, which has benefitted
from the generosity of Cecil Rhodes and whose statue towers over
the entrance to the college from the High Street, a mere six black
students were admitted from 2017 to 2019.23
The Black Lives Matter movement is not a debate about statues.
Neither is it about George Floyd or Derek Chauvin. It is about
the conditions that allow events like the killing of George Floyd to
happen. The famous words of George Floyd as he struggled under
the knee of Derek Chauvin, ‘I can’t breathe’, are a symbolic cry of
black persons who live with the weights I alluded to at the beginning
of this paper. Black Lives Matter is a call to lift those weights so that
persons of African descent may breathe freely and have the same
opportunities that are available to white citizens.
Even though the issues to be resolved deal with the present
and the future, the roots of inequality and racism can be traced
back to the past, to slavery and to colonialism. The structural and
individual racisms of today are mainly residual effects and a continuation of historical slavery and colonialism. Unfortunately, neither
the European nations nor the USA have ever really made a concerted effort to deal with this past by carefully examining its impact on
the present. Discourses on racism tend to focus on programmes of
inclusion, which are useful but avoid an honest confrontation with
the past. A more organic programme aimed at putting an end to
racism and promoting greater harmony in society would require an
uncomfortable dialogue about past injustices. After all, true reconciliation requires the identification and admission of errors together
with a future commitment to justice. This is what makes the contro21
Harald Schmidt, Vaccine Rationing and the Urgency of Social Justice in the Covid-19
Response, in: Hastings Center Report 50, 2020, 46–49 (https://doi.org/10.1002/hast.1113).
22
Harald Schmidt, The Way We Ration Ventilators Is Biased, in: New York Times,
15 April 2020, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/15/opinion/covid-ventilator-rationingblacks.html (18.08.2020).
23
Number of black students in Oxford rises, but low numbers admitted to colleges, in: ITV
News, 22 June 2020, https://www.itv.com/news/2020-06-23/number-of-black-students-in
-oxford-rises-but-low-numbers-admitted-to-colleges (12.08.2020).
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versy around history important in the Black Lives Matter debate.
This debate is not primarily about statues, it is about how to position
ourselves today given the common and unequal past we share.
V. Concluding Remarks about Statues of Racists in Public
Spaces
A general comment about statues of human persons is that they aim
to immortalize mortals. They do this by keeping the mortal alive
through a legendary narrative. When that memorializing runs into
difficulty, the project of immortalization of the person also enters
into difficulty. The person may be condemned to a second death,
the death of a legend. Whether this second death requires the statue
memorializing this person to be removed from public space is a
question that has to be agreed upon through dialogue, not through
imposition or vandalism.
The public sphere should be a place in which all the members
of the community can feel at home or at least represented. If the
story told by public space is skewed, this story can be corrected by
complementing it with other stories, or by removing those elements
that are in full contradiction with who we are or aspire to be as a
society.
The task is to create the space needed for constructive engagement and dialogue. Black Lives Matter is an occasion, a kairos, to
finally commit to engaging in that dialogue about racism and the
residual effects of slavery that has been pending for centuries. In
the meantime, the statues may remain (many have been around for
decades and a year or two longer would not make such a difference).
When a consensus has been reached, a statue can be de-commissioned or other monuments erected to give a more complete view
of history. When this happens, entire communities will hopefully
emerge victorious as a people, not as a particular group gaining
victory over another.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank Prof. Karen Lang for encouraging me to write
this paper; Prof. Catherine Conybeare for her insightful suggestions
and comments; my Roman friends, Maru, Andreina, Ivana, Maria,
Sara, Oreste for the useful conversations on this theme.
Caesar Alimsinya Atuire is a Senior Lecturer in the Philosophy and
Classics Department at the University of Ghana, Legon. He is also
a 2020 Visiting Fellow at All Souls College, University of Oxford.
Dr. Atuire’s work draws from African and European philosophical
traditions to reflect on normative issues in bioethics, health, and
intercultural relations. He is co-editor of the volume Bioethics in
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Africa: Theories and Praxis. He has also lectured and published on
epistemic decolonization in academia.
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