1
8	
  
	
  
	
  
Cosmopolitan	
  Memory	
  
	
  
Holocaust	
  Commemoration	
  and	
  National	
  Identity	
  
	
  
	
  
In	
  an	
  influential	
  argument,	
  Daniel	
  Levy	
  and	
  Natan	
  Sznaider	
  maintain	
  that	
  
increasingly	
  we	
  are	
  seeing	
  a	
  ‘transition	
  from	
  national	
  to	
  cosmopolitan	
  memory	
  
cultures’	
  (2002:	
  88,	
  87).	
  By	
  this	
  they	
  mean	
  that	
  there	
  has	
  been	
  a	
  growth	
  of	
  forms	
  
of	
  collective	
  memory	
  that	
  are	
  no	
  longer	
  primarily	
  framed	
  by	
  the	
  nation-­‐state,	
  or	
  
seen	
  predominantly	
  as	
  the	
  property	
  of	
  a	
  particular	
  nation	
  or	
  ethnic	
  group,	
  but	
  
that	
  are	
  instead	
  relatively	
  ‘deterritorialized’.	
  The	
  Holocaust,	
  according	
  to	
  their	
  
account,	
  is	
  'the	
  paradigmatic	
  case'	
  of	
  such	
  cosmopolitan	
  memory;	
  and	
  has	
  
increasingly	
  been	
  decontextualised	
  from	
  its	
  historical	
  time	
  and	
  space,	
  and,	
  
through	
  processes	
  of	
  cultural	
  mediation,	
  turned	
  into	
  a	
  universal	
  and	
  continually	
  
relevant	
  ‘moral	
  story	
  of	
  good	
  against	
  evil’	
  (2002:	
  98)	
  whose	
  central	
  message	
  is	
  
‘never	
  again’.	
  It	
  has	
  been	
  turned	
  from	
  ‘a	
  set	
  of	
  facts’	
  to	
  an	
  idea’;	
  and	
  increasingly	
  
is	
  commemorated	
  by	
  people	
  who	
  have	
  no	
  direct	
  connection	
  to	
  it	
  (2002:	
  88),	
  as	
  
witnessed	
  not	
  least	
  in	
  the	
  proliferation	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  memorials	
  and	
  museums	
  
and	
  the	
  millions	
  of	
  people	
  across	
  the	
  globe	
  who	
  make	
  treks,	
  sometimes	
  of	
  
thousands	
  of	
  miles,	
  to	
  visit	
  them.	
  Mostly,	
  their	
  argument	
  about	
  cosmopolitan	
  
memory	
  is	
  framed	
  in	
  terms	
  of	
  ‘the	
  global’	
  or	
  ‘humanity’,	
  as	
  when,	
  for	
  example,	
  
they	
  argue	
  that	
  the	
  deterritorialized	
  cosmopolitan	
  memory	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  
plays	
  a	
  significant	
  role	
  in	
  the	
  development	
  of	
  a	
  cosmopolitan	
  politics	
  of	
  Human	
  
rights	
  (Levy	
  and	
  Sznaider	
  2002:	
  100).	
  At	
  others,	
  however,	
  ‘cosmopolitan’	
  is	
  
equated	
  with	
  ‘European’,	
  as	
  when	
  they	
  claim	
  that	
  the	
  developments	
  that	
  they	
  
chart	
  'contribute	
  to	
  the	
  creation	
  of	
  a	
  common	
  European	
  cultural	
  memory'	
  (Levy	
  
and	
  Sznaider	
  2002:	
  87).1	
  	
  
	
  
	
  
2
	
   In	
  this	
  chapter,	
  I	
  explore	
  the	
  argument	
  that	
  a	
  cosmopolitan	
  memory,	
  
which	
  ‘cracks	
  the	
  container’	
  of	
  the	
  nation-­‐state	
  as	
  ‘memory-­‐holder’,	
  is	
  underway,	
  
and	
  that	
  we	
  are	
  witnessing	
  a	
  growing	
  Europeanization	
  and/or	
  
cosmopolitanization	
  of	
  memory.	
  I	
  do	
  so	
  by	
  looking	
  at	
  specific	
  cases	
  of	
  what	
  
Novicka	
  and	
  Rovisco	
  call	
  ‘cosmopolitanism	
  in	
  practice’	
  in	
  Europe	
  (2009).	
  As	
  we	
  
will	
  see,	
  detailed	
  studies	
  often	
  reveal	
  tensions	
  involved	
  in	
  such	
  practice	
  and	
  also	
  
show	
  how	
  cosmopolitan	
  developments	
  can	
  be	
  made	
  part	
  of	
  other	
  assemblages,	
  
and	
  ‘re-­‐territorialized’	
  or	
  ‘co-­‐opted’	
  in	
  terms	
  of	
  other	
  interests,	
  too.	
  As	
  Levy	
  and	
  
Sznaider’s	
  arguments	
  focus	
  especially	
  upon	
  the	
  Holocaust,	
  this	
  chapter	
  also	
  
considers	
  the	
  considerable	
  expansion	
  of	
  commemoration	
  and	
  heritagization	
  of	
  
the	
  Holocaust	
  that	
  has	
  occurred	
  in	
  Europe	
  -­‐	
  and	
  beyond	
  it	
  -­‐	
  especially	
  since	
  the	
  
1980s.	
  	
  Part	
  of	
  a	
  wider	
  expansion	
  of	
  ‘difficult	
  heritage’	
  (Macdonald	
  2009),	
  the	
  
increased	
  public	
  attention	
  to	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  –	
  or	
  what	
  is	
  sometimes	
  provocatively	
  
dubbed	
  a	
  ‘Holocaust	
  cult’,	
  ‘the	
  Holocaust	
  industry’,	
  ‘Shoah	
  Business’	
  or	
  even	
  
‘post-­‐Holocaust	
  necrophilia’2	
  -­‐	
  raises	
  questions	
  about	
  why	
  it	
  should	
  be	
  subject	
  to	
  
so	
  much	
  new	
  heritagization	
  and	
  commemoration	
  over	
  fifty	
  years	
  since	
  it	
  
occurred.	
  	
  
	
  
Cosmopolitan	
  memory	
  	
  
Levy	
  and	
  Sznaider's	
  argument	
  about	
  cosmopolitan	
  memory	
  is	
  that	
  we	
  are	
  
witnessing	
  a	
  process	
  in	
  which	
  	
  ‘national	
  and	
  ethnic	
  memories	
  continue	
  to	
  exist’	
  
but	
  they	
  
	
  
are	
  subjected	
  to	
  a	
  common	
  patterning.	
  They	
  begin	
  to	
  develop	
  in	
  accord	
  
with	
  common	
  rhythms	
  and	
  periodizations.	
  But	
  in	
  each	
  case,	
  the	
  common	
  
elements	
  combine	
  with	
  pre-­‐existing	
  elements	
  to	
  form	
  something	
  new…	
  
the	
  result	
  is	
  always	
  distinctive	
  (2002:	
  89)	
  
	
  
We	
  might	
  conceptualize	
  this,	
  they	
  say,	
  as	
  ‘a	
  process	
  of	
  “internal	
  globalization”	
  
through	
  which	
  global	
  concerns	
  become	
  part	
  of	
  local	
  experiences	
  of	
  an	
  increasing	
  
number	
  of	
  people’	
  (2002:	
  87).	
  They	
  illustrate	
  this	
  through	
  a	
  detailed	
  charting	
  of	
  
changes	
  in	
  ways	
  that	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  has	
  been	
  'remembered'	
  in	
  Germany,	
  Israel	
  
and	
  the	
  US,	
  showing	
  commonalities	
  in	
  its	
  patterning	
  since	
  1945,	
  all	
  of	
  which	
  
3
contribute	
  to	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  becoming	
  less	
  ‘a	
  terrible	
  aspect	
  of	
  a	
  particular	
  era’	
  
and	
  instead	
  ‘a	
  timeless	
  and	
  deterritorialized	
  measuring	
  stick	
  for	
  good	
  and	
  evil’	
  
(2002:	
  95).	
  	
  
First,	
  there	
  is	
  a	
  shift	
  from	
  social	
  memory	
  -­‐	
  first-­‐hand	
  biographical	
  
memories	
  of	
  those	
  who	
  lived	
  through	
  it	
  -­‐	
  to	
  historical	
  or	
  cultural	
  memory,	
  
transmitted	
  primarily	
  through	
  mediated	
  representations.	
  The	
  latter	
  allows	
  for	
  a	
  
globalization	
  of	
  memory,	
  especially	
  through	
  the	
  media.	
  Here,	
  they	
  note	
  how	
  the	
  
US	
  mini-­‐series	
  Holocaust	
  in	
  the	
  1970s	
  and	
  then	
  films	
  such	
  as	
  Schindler's	
  List	
  
(1993)	
  were	
  widely	
  disseminated	
  around	
  the	
  world	
  and	
  also	
  how	
  they	
  
themselves	
  universalised	
  specific	
  historical	
  events	
  into	
  narratives	
  of	
  good	
  and	
  
evil.	
  Schindler's	
  List	
  in	
  particular	
  helped	
  to	
  decouple	
  the	
  usual	
  'ethnic'/'national'	
  
identification	
  of	
  perpetration	
  and	
  victimhood	
  by	
  having	
  a	
  hero	
  who	
  is	
  German.	
  In	
  
such	
  a	
  representation,	
  national	
  identity	
  is	
  no	
  longer	
  depicted	
  as	
  the	
  key	
  
determinant	
  of	
  where	
  an	
  individual	
  stands	
  in	
  relation	
  to	
  the	
  Holocaust.	
  This	
  they	
  
see	
  as	
  part	
  of	
  a	
  wider	
  common	
  patterning	
  in	
  which	
  there	
  is	
  -­‐	
  to	
  varying	
  extents	
  in	
  
the	
  three	
  countries	
  -­‐	
  a	
  diffusion	
  of	
  'the	
  distinction	
  between	
  memories	
  of	
  victims	
  
and	
  perpetrators',	
  resulting	
  instead	
  in	
  a	
  more	
  generalised	
  'memory	
  of	
  a	
  shared	
  
past'	
  (2002:	
  103).	
  The	
  other	
  common	
  patterning	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  memory,	
  linked	
  to	
  
its	
  increasing	
  universalism,	
  is	
  its	
  'future-­‐orientation'	
  (2002:	
  102).	
  Applicable	
  as	
  
an	
  abstract	
  principle,	
  recollection	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  becomes	
  primarily	
  framed	
  in	
  
terms	
  of	
  safeguarding	
  against	
  future	
  repetition:	
  'Never	
  again!'	
  becomes	
  the	
  
mantra.	
  
	
   Identification	
  of	
  the	
  cosmopolitanizing	
  processes	
  that	
  Levy	
  and	
  Sznaider	
  
discuss	
  with	
  reference	
  to	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  have	
  not	
  yet	
  been	
  made	
  as	
  forcefully	
  
with	
  reference	
  to	
  other	
  countries	
  or	
  other	
  ‘memories'.	
  In	
  more	
  recent	
  work,	
  
however,	
  they	
  (sometimes	
  with	
  other	
  colleagues)	
  have	
  sought	
  to	
  extend	
  their	
  
arguments	
  in	
  various	
  ways.	
  This	
  has	
  included	
  expanding	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  argument	
  
to	
  other	
  countries,	
  such	
  as	
  Austria	
  and	
  Poland,	
  and	
  exploring	
  this	
  too	
  through	
  
analyses	
  of	
  public	
  discourse	
  and	
  group	
  interviews	
  (Levy,	
  Heinlein	
  and	
  Breuer	
  
2011).	
  Their	
  research,	
  they	
  argue,	
  provides	
  evidence	
  of	
  a	
  growing	
  ‘shared	
  
European	
  memory’,	
  though	
  also	
  of	
  national	
  variations	
  that	
  they	
  call	
  ‘reflexive	
  
particularism’	
  (ibid.).	
  They	
  have	
  also	
  extended	
  their	
  argument	
  to	
  claim	
  that	
  a	
  
human	
  rights	
  discourse,	
  which	
  has	
  its	
  origins	
  in	
  the	
  Holocaust,	
  is	
  now	
  the	
  
4
discursive	
  frame	
  for	
  any	
  atrocity.	
  	
  And	
  –	
  in	
  what	
  seems	
  a	
  tautology	
  but	
  they	
  see	
  
as	
  part	
  of	
  the	
  self-­‐sustaining	
  network	
  of	
  these	
  ideas	
  –	
  they	
  argue	
  that	
  (sometimes	
  
competing)	
  cultural	
  memories	
  of	
  atrocities	
  have	
  become	
  the	
  global	
  currency	
  for	
  
articulating	
  notions	
  of	
  human	
  rights	
  (Levy	
  and	
  Sznaider	
  2010).	
  	
  
In	
  an	
  overlapping	
  argument,	
  they	
  claim	
  that	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  has	
  informed	
  a	
  
wider	
  mobilisation	
  of	
  notions	
  of	
  forgiveness,	
  guilt	
  and	
  restitution	
  in	
  international	
  
political	
  relations	
  –	
  witnessed,	
  for	
  example,	
  in	
  public	
  apologies	
  by	
  politicians	
  
(Beck,	
  Levy	
  and	
  Sznaider	
  2009;	
  see	
  also	
  Olick	
  2007).	
  The	
  ‘self-­‐critique’	
  inherent	
  
in	
  such	
  apologies	
  and	
  any	
  associated	
  reparations	
  is,	
  they	
  argue,	
  part	
  of	
  how	
  
‘cosmopolitan	
  Europe’	
  is	
  being	
  constituted	
  (2009:	
  120).	
  Thus,	
  ‘[t]he	
  radically	
  
self-­‐critical	
  European	
  memory	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  does	
  not	
  destroy	
  the	
  identity	
  of	
  
Europe,	
  it	
  constitutes	
  this	
  very	
  identity’	
  (ibid.).	
  Although	
  national	
  histories	
  are	
  
often	
  referenced	
  within	
  this	
  self-­‐critique,	
  and	
  as	
  part	
  of	
  the	
  ‘reflexive	
  
particularism’	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  discussion,	
  what	
  is	
  involved	
  here,	
  they	
  claim,	
  is	
  that	
  
‘[t]he	
  nation	
  is	
  being	
  remembered	
  in	
  order	
  to	
  overcome	
  it’	
  (2009:	
  125).	
  	
  
While	
  Levy	
  and	
  Sznaider’s	
  position	
  is	
  primarily	
  descriptive	
  of	
  a	
  process	
  
that	
  they	
  are	
  attempting	
  to	
  document,	
  they	
  sometimes	
  present	
  their	
  case	
  in	
  
terms	
  of	
  a	
  normative	
  cosmo-­‐optimism	
  –	
  the	
  view	
  that	
  cosmopolitanism	
  is	
  a	
  good	
  
thing	
  –	
  as	
  argued	
  for	
  strongly	
  by	
  Ulrich	
  Beck	
  and	
  others,	
  such	
  as	
  Kwame	
  Anthony	
  
Appiah	
  (2006).	
  It	
  should	
  be	
  noted	
  here	
  that	
  quite	
  what	
  is	
  meant	
  by	
  
cosmopolitanism	
  varies	
  to	
  an	
  extent	
  between	
  theorists,	
  though	
  an	
  ‘openness	
  to	
  
difference’	
  is	
  generally	
  regarded	
  as	
  one	
  of	
  the	
  key	
  features	
  (Glick	
  Schiller,	
  
Darieva	
  and	
  Gruner-­‐Domic	
  2011:	
  400,	
  403;	
  Vertovec	
  and	
  Cohen	
  2002).	
  As	
  Nina	
  
Glick	
  Schiller	
  points	
  out,	
  however,	
  this	
  is	
  typically	
  conceptualised	
  in	
  terms	
  of	
  a	
  
binary	
  opposition	
  between	
  openness	
  and	
  closedness,	
  with	
  a	
  concomitant	
  
understanding	
  of	
  openness	
  as	
  entailing	
  some	
  kind	
  of	
  celebration	
  of	
  difference	
  
(Glick	
  Schiller	
  2010;	
  Glick	
  Schiller,	
  Darieva	
  and	
  Gruner-­‐Domic	
  2011:	
  403).	
  She	
  
and	
  colleagues	
  suggest	
  that	
  ‘daily	
  cosmopolitanism’	
  might	
  be	
  better	
  understood	
  
in	
  terms	
  of	
  ‘relationalities	
  of	
  openness	
  across	
  differences’,	
  in	
  which	
  people	
  are	
  
seen	
  ‘as	
  capable	
  of	
  relationships	
  of	
  experiential	
  commonalities	
  despite	
  
differences’	
  (Glick	
  Schiller,	
  Darieva	
  and	
  Gruner-­‐Domic	
  2011:	
  410,	
  403).	
  This	
  
potentially	
  expands	
  the	
  field	
  of	
  what	
  might	
  be	
  considered	
  cosmopolitan	
  as	
  well	
  
as	
  allowing	
  for	
  attention	
  to	
  some	
  of	
  the	
  more	
  subtle	
  processes	
  of	
  making	
  and	
  
5
experiencing	
  commonality	
  and	
  difference	
  that	
  may	
  be	
  involved	
  in	
  everyday	
  life,	
  
though	
  it	
  does	
  not	
  necessarily	
  rule	
  out	
  the	
  possibility	
  that	
  binary	
  oppositions	
  –	
  
including	
  between	
  openness	
  and	
  closedness	
  –	
  may	
  be	
  invoked	
  in	
  practice.	
  	
  
While	
  politically	
  I	
  largely	
  share	
  a	
  cosmo-­‐optimistic	
  viewpoint,	
  my	
  main	
  
concern	
  below	
  is	
  investigative	
  rather	
  than	
  normative.	
  To	
  this	
  end,	
  I	
  examine	
  the	
  
cosmopolitan	
  memory	
  thesis	
  in	
  relation	
  to	
  anthropological	
  research	
  in	
  Europe	
  in	
  
order	
  to	
  investigate	
  cosmopolitanism	
  in	
  various	
  spheres	
  of	
  social	
  life	
  and	
  
cultural	
  production.	
  I	
  do	
  so	
  primarily,	
  though	
  not	
  exclusively,	
  with	
  reference	
  to	
  
mobilizations	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  memory.	
  In	
  what	
  follows,	
  then,	
  I	
  first	
  provide	
  a	
  
background	
  to	
  the	
  rise	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  commemoration	
  and	
  heritagization	
  in	
  
Europe,	
  before	
  examining	
  arguments	
  about	
  cosmopolitanism	
  through	
  a	
  range	
  of	
  
ethnographic	
  examples.	
  As	
  we	
  will	
  see,	
  these	
  pose	
  various	
  complications	
  and	
  
problems	
  for	
  the	
  cosmopolitan	
  memory	
  thesis	
  in	
  its	
  current	
  form	
  and	
  for	
  a	
  
straightforward	
  cosmo-­‐optimistic	
  outcome,	
  though	
  they	
  also	
  highlight	
  some	
  
significant	
  transformations	
  underway	
  within	
  European	
  memory	
  cultures.	
  
	
  
The	
  rise	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  commemoration	
  and	
  heritagization	
  
The	
  timing	
  that	
  Levy	
  and	
  Sznaider	
  see	
  as	
  marking	
  a	
  shift	
  from	
  social	
  to	
  cultural	
  
memory	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  can	
  also	
  be	
  seen	
  as	
  that	
  of	
  the	
  expansion	
  of	
  more	
  
widespread	
  public	
  Holocaust	
  commemoration	
  and	
  heritagization;	
  as	
  well	
  as	
  
broadly	
  coincident	
  with	
  the	
  wider	
  heritage	
  boom	
  that	
  this	
  book	
  explores.	
  In	
  
various	
  counties,	
  such	
  as	
  Germany	
  and	
  the	
  US,	
  this	
  'Holocaust	
  boom'	
  began	
  in	
  the	
  
1970s	
  (Kushner	
  1998:	
  228;	
  Kushner	
  1994;	
  Hartman	
  1994),	
  with	
  considerable	
  
further	
  expansion	
  in	
  most	
  of	
  Europe,	
  as	
  well	
  as	
  in	
  many	
  countries	
  beyond	
  it,	
  
especially	
  those	
  in	
  the	
  New	
  World,	
  towards	
  the	
  end	
  of	
  the	
  twentieth	
  century	
  and	
  
into	
  the	
  present	
  one.	
  While	
  the	
  looming	
  loss	
  of	
  first-­‐hand	
  social	
  memory,	
  
resulting	
  from	
  the	
  passing	
  away	
  of	
  those	
  who	
  directly	
  witnessed	
  events,	
  has	
  
certainly	
  legitimated	
  and	
  fuelled	
  the	
  expansion	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  commemoration,	
  it	
  
does	
  not	
  fully	
  explain	
  it.	
  	
  
Other	
  conflicts	
  have	
  been	
  commemorated	
  well	
  before	
  any	
  dwindling	
  of	
  
social	
  memory,	
  as	
  Peter	
  Novick	
  (2000)	
  writes	
  of	
  Vietnam,	
  for	
  example,	
  and	
  as	
  
can	
  be	
  seen	
  for	
  WWI	
  and	
  other	
  aspects	
  of	
  WWII.	
  Neither	
  do	
  psychological	
  nor	
  
psychoanalytic	
  accounts	
  provide	
  adequate	
  explanation.	
  According	
  to	
  these,	
  the	
  
6
trauma	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  was	
  so	
  great	
  that	
  its	
  full	
  recognition	
  was	
  ‘repressed’	
  and	
  
could	
  only	
  be	
  contemplated	
  after	
  time	
  had	
  passed	
  and	
  as	
  direct	
  memory	
  was	
  
receding.	
  As	
  scholars	
  such	
  as	
  Novick	
  (2000)	
  and	
  Kansteiner	
  (2002)	
  have	
  argued,	
  
however,	
  such	
  explanations	
  ignore	
  the	
  fact	
  that	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  was	
  usually	
  not	
  so	
  
much	
  avoided	
  as	
  framed	
  in	
  different	
  -­‐	
  historically	
  and	
  socially	
  specific	
  -­‐	
  terms.	
  
Immediately	
  after	
  the	
  war,	
  in	
  many	
  countries,	
  as	
  Novick	
  writes	
  of	
  the	
  US,	
  ‘the	
  
Holocaust	
  was	
  historicized	
  –	
  thought	
  about	
  and	
  talked	
  about	
  as	
  a	
  terrible	
  feature	
  
of	
  the	
  period	
  that	
  had	
  ended	
  with	
  the	
  defeat	
  of	
  Nazi	
  Germany.	
  The	
  Holocaust	
  had	
  
not,	
  in	
  the	
  post-­‐war	
  years,	
  attained	
  transcendent	
  status	
  as	
  the	
  bearer	
  of	
  eternal	
  
truths	
  or	
  lessons	
  that	
  could	
  be	
  derived	
  from	
  contemplating	
  it’	
  (2000:	
  100).	
  In	
  
Britain	
  the	
  historicization	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  also	
  fed	
  in	
  to	
  a	
  national	
  redemptive	
  
allegory	
  of	
  Britain	
  having	
  overcome	
  the	
  Nazi	
  evil.	
  It	
  was	
  further	
  allied	
  with	
  a	
  
Christianised	
  discourse	
  of	
  forgiveness	
  and	
  a	
  more	
  general	
  assumption	
  that	
  
looking	
  back	
  at	
  the	
  horrors	
  was	
  psychologically	
  unhealthy.	
  In	
  both	
  West	
  and	
  East	
  
Germany	
  too,	
  there	
  was	
  a	
  pervasive	
  public	
  discourse	
  of	
  'moving	
  on'	
  as	
  a	
  healthy	
  
post-­‐War	
  response	
  (Moeller	
  2003;	
  Macdonald	
  2009).	
  This	
  is	
  not	
  to	
  say	
  that	
  there	
  
was	
  necessarily	
  forgetting,	
  however,	
  for	
  at	
  the	
  same	
  time	
  there	
  were	
  reminders	
  
in	
  popular	
  media,	
  such	
  as	
  the	
  'flood	
  of	
  images'	
  of	
  concentration	
  camps	
  published	
  
in	
  the	
  press	
  (Moeller	
  2003).	
  
	
   There	
  was	
  also	
  war	
  commemoration	
  –	
  of	
  World	
  War	
  I	
  and	
  II	
  –	
  across	
  most	
  
of	
  Europe,	
  in	
  which	
  commemoration	
  of	
  the	
  Jewish	
  Holocaust	
  was	
  subsumed	
  
under	
  more	
  general	
  WWII	
  commemoration.	
  This,	
  in	
  turn,	
  built	
  upon	
  WWI	
  
commemoration	
  and	
  in	
  many	
  European	
  countries	
  the	
  two	
  world	
  wars	
  were	
  
mostly	
  commemorated	
  together,	
  with	
  memorials	
  often	
  being	
  adapted	
  and	
  
extended	
  (Rowlands	
  1999).	
  In	
  Germany,	
  for	
  example,	
  the	
  usual	
  form	
  of	
  
commemorative	
  language	
  was	
  remembrance	
  of	
  'the	
  victims	
  of	
  Fascism',	
  a	
  
category	
  that	
  also	
  included	
  others	
  such	
  as	
  political	
  objectors,	
  as	
  well	
  as	
  ordinary	
  
German	
  soldiers	
  who	
  died	
  in	
  the	
  War.3	
  	
  Even	
  in	
  Israel,	
  the	
  first	
  official	
  
commemoration	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  did	
  not	
  begin	
  until	
  fourteen	
  years	
  after	
  the	
  
War	
  (Levy	
  and	
  Sznaider	
  2002:	
  92)	
  and	
  it	
  remained	
  relatively	
  marginal	
  and	
  
ambivalent,	
  regarded	
  primarily	
  as	
  'a	
  reminder	
  of	
  helpless	
  passivity	
  typical	
  of	
  
Jewish	
  existence	
  outside	
  the	
  sovereign	
  space	
  of	
  the	
  territorial	
  state'	
  (ibid.:	
  95)	
  
until	
  the	
  1960s,	
  when	
  it	
  was	
  reshaped,	
  in	
  the	
  relation	
  to	
  the	
  Eichmann	
  trial	
  and	
  
7
Six-­‐Day	
  War	
  to	
  being	
  regarded	
  as	
  'the	
  culmination	
  of	
  the	
  history	
  of	
  anti-­‐
Semitism'	
  (ibid.:	
  96).	
  	
  
	
   While	
  the	
  broadcasting	
  of	
  the	
  Eichmann	
  trial	
  around	
  the	
  world	
  raised	
  
awareness	
  of	
  the	
  Nazi	
  genocide	
  of	
  Jews,	
  it	
  was	
  not	
  until	
  the	
  1980s,	
  and	
  in	
  some	
  
cases	
  even	
  later,	
  that	
  most	
  European	
  countries	
  began	
  any	
  state-­‐sponsored	
  
Holocaust	
  commemoration.	
  There	
  were	
  some	
  more	
  or	
  less	
  isolated	
  efforts,	
  
primarily	
  by	
  Jewish	
  groups,	
  but	
  these	
  were	
  generally	
  small	
  scale	
  and	
  sometimes	
  
foundered	
  through	
  lack	
  of	
  wider	
  support.	
  In	
  the	
  case	
  of	
  Britain,	
  for	
  example,	
  in	
  
1965	
  a	
  group	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  survivors	
  was	
  refused	
  permission	
  to	
  take	
  part	
  in	
  
events	
  at	
  the	
  Cenotaph	
  to	
  mark	
  the	
  twentieth	
  anniversary	
  of	
  the	
  end	
  of	
  the	
  war	
  –	
  
a	
  refusal	
  which	
  was	
  endorsed	
  by	
  a	
  leading	
  Jewish	
  and	
  Christian	
  organisation	
  
(Kushner	
  1998:	
  230);	
  and	
  in	
  1980	
  the	
  erection	
  of	
  a	
  Holocaust	
  memorial	
  next	
  to	
  
the	
  Cenotaph	
  was	
  also	
  refused,	
  though	
  the	
  placing	
  of	
  a	
  small	
  –	
  and	
  largely	
  
forgotten	
  –	
  memorial	
  stone	
  in	
  Hyde	
  Park	
  was	
  allowed	
  (ibid.).	
  	
  
	
  
Language	
  and	
  the	
  Global-­Assemblage	
  ‘Holocaust’	
  
	
   It	
  is	
  worth	
  noting	
  here	
  too	
  that	
  the	
  term	
  ‘Holocaust’	
  was	
  little	
  used	
  prior	
  
to	
  the	
  late	
  1970s,	
  when	
  the	
  US-­‐produced	
  mini-­‐series	
  Holocaust	
  –	
  which	
  came	
  to	
  
be	
  broadcast	
  in	
  many	
  European	
  countries	
  –	
  popularised	
  the	
  term	
  not	
  only	
  in	
  
English-­‐speaking	
  countries	
  but	
  also	
  in	
  most	
  others	
  (Levi	
  and	
  Rothberg	
  2003:	
  12).	
  
The	
  French	
  director,	
  Claude	
  Lanzmann’s,	
  extraordinary	
  documentary,	
  Shoah,	
  
first	
  screened	
  in	
  1985,	
  also	
  helped	
  to	
  disseminate	
  the	
  Hebrew	
  term	
  ‘Shoah’,	
  
which	
  some	
  regard	
  as	
  more	
  appropriate	
  than	
  the	
  Greek-­‐rooted	
  ‘Holocaust’,	
  
though	
  it	
  has	
  not	
  gained	
  the	
  same	
  widespread	
  currency.4	
  Although	
  both	
  terms	
  
had	
  historically	
  been	
  used	
  for	
  other	
  atrocities,	
  during	
  the	
  1980s	
  they	
  became	
  
firmly	
  preceded	
  by	
  the	
  definite	
  article	
  to	
  designate	
  the	
  organised	
  murder	
  of	
  Jews	
  
during	
  World	
  War	
  II.	
  This	
  had	
  the	
  effect	
  too	
  of	
  marking	
  out	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  as	
  a	
  
specific	
  assemblage	
  (see	
  introduction),	
  with	
  its	
  own	
  particular	
  set	
  of	
  properties	
  
and	
  momentum.	
  This	
  was,	
  moreover,	
  an	
  increasingly	
  ‘global	
  assemblage’	
  (Collier	
  
and	
  Ong	
  2005),	
  constituted	
  and	
  reconstituted	
  in	
  different	
  parts	
  of	
  the	
  world	
  with	
  
specific	
  effects.	
  It	
  was	
  materialized	
  especially	
  in	
  a	
  panoply	
  of	
  forms	
  of	
  
museumization,	
  heritagization	
  and	
  commemoration,	
  as	
  I	
  discuss	
  below.	
  	
  
8
	
   Before	
  turning	
  to	
  these,	
  however,	
  it	
  is	
  worth	
  noting	
  other	
  linguistic	
  terms	
  
and	
  semantic	
  shifts	
  that	
  have	
  also	
  become	
  elements	
  in	
  the	
  formation	
  of	
  the	
  
global	
  Holocaust	
  assemblage.	
  Events	
  that	
  had	
  previously	
  been	
  cast	
  primarily	
  in	
  
terms	
  of	
  conflict	
  between	
  nations,	
  and	
  of	
  victory	
  and	
  defeat,	
  were	
  now	
  
characterized	
  as	
  being	
  to	
  do	
  with	
  the	
  Holocaust,	
  thus	
  putting	
  the	
  overriding	
  
emphasis	
  upon	
  the	
  victims	
  of	
  Nazi	
  terror.	
  	
  This	
  reframing	
  itself,	
  however,	
  
occurred	
  alongside,	
  as	
  part	
  of	
  an	
  interlinked	
  set	
  of	
  mutually	
  supporting	
  elements,	
  
a	
  change	
  in	
  what	
  Novick	
  describes	
  as	
  ‘the	
  attitude	
  towards	
  victimhood’	
  (2000:	
  8;	
  
see	
  also	
  Furedi	
  2001).	
  As	
  he	
  puts	
  it,	
  since	
  the	
  1960s	
  ‘victimhood’	
  has	
  moved	
  
	
  
from	
  a	
  status	
  all	
  but	
  universally	
  despised	
  to	
  one	
  often	
  eagerly	
  embraced.	
  
On	
  the	
  individual	
  level,	
  the	
  cultural	
  icon	
  of	
  the	
  strong,	
  silent	
  hero	
  is	
  
replaced	
  by	
  the	
  vulnerable	
  and	
  verbose	
  antihero.	
  Stoicism	
  is	
  replaced	
  as	
  a	
  
prime	
  value	
  by	
  sensitivity.	
  Instead	
  of	
  enduring	
  in	
  silence,	
  one	
  lets	
  it	
  all	
  
hang	
  out.	
  The	
  voicing	
  of	
  pain	
  and	
  outrage	
  is	
  alleged	
  to	
  be	
  ‘empowering’	
  as	
  
well	
  as	
  therapeutic	
  (2000:	
  8)	
  
	
  
This	
  shift	
  of	
  victimhood	
  from	
  being	
  a	
  denigrated	
  status	
  of	
  the	
  powerless	
  and	
  
abject	
  to	
  providing	
  a	
  potentially	
  powerful	
  platform	
  for	
  articulating	
  grievance	
  and	
  
seeking	
  redress,	
  is	
  part	
  of	
  a	
  broader	
  identity	
  politics	
  and	
  discourse	
  of	
  ‘exclusion’,	
  
as	
  discussed	
  in	
  the	
  previous	
  chapter.	
  	
  
In	
  the	
  case	
  of	
  Holocaust,	
  the	
  reclaiming	
  of	
  agency	
  that	
  it	
  represents	
  has	
  
been	
  further	
  articulated	
  through	
  an	
  increased	
  usage	
  of	
  the	
  term	
  ‘survivors’	
  
rather	
  than	
  ‘victims’,	
  and	
  their	
  counterparts	
  in	
  various	
  other	
  languages.	
  
Beginning	
  in	
  the	
  US	
  in	
  the	
  1980s,	
  the	
  use	
  of	
  the	
  term	
  ‘survivor’	
  was	
  intended	
  to	
  
foreground	
  the	
  fact	
  and	
  achievement	
  of	
  endurance	
  rather	
  than	
  perpetuate	
  an	
  
emphasis	
  on	
  helplessness.	
  But	
  it	
  caused	
  discomfort	
  for	
  some	
  of	
  those	
  so	
  
reclassified	
  because	
  it	
  accorded	
  agency	
  where	
  they	
  felt	
  they	
  had	
  none	
  and	
  
seemed	
  to	
  downgrade	
  the	
  status	
  of	
  those	
  who	
  did	
  not	
  survive	
  (see	
  Greenspan	
  
1999	
  and	
  Novick	
  2000	
  for	
  discussion).	
  This	
  is	
  perhaps	
  partly	
  why	
  its	
  adoption	
  
has	
  been	
  patchy.	
  In	
  Germany,	
  for	
  example,	
  while	
  the	
  term	
  Überlebende	
  -­‐	
  survivor	
  
–	
  is	
  sometimes	
  used,	
  it	
  is	
  not	
  as	
  widespread	
  as	
  Opfer	
  -­‐	
  a	
  term	
  that	
  means	
  both	
  
'victim'	
  and	
  'sacrifice',	
  and	
  whose	
  dual	
  connotation	
  plays	
  into	
  Christianised	
  
9
notions	
  of	
  sacrifice	
  to	
  some	
  higher	
  good	
  that	
  are	
  deeply	
  problematic	
  in	
  this	
  
context	
  (Rowlands	
  1999:	
  142;	
  Thomas	
  1999:	
  201).	
  	
  
On	
  the	
  one	
  hand,	
  then,	
  there	
  has	
  been	
  a	
  widely	
  shared	
  global	
  discourse	
  of	
  
Holocaust	
  that	
  incorporates	
  many	
  of	
  the	
  same	
  semantic	
  elements	
  in	
  different	
  
languages	
  and	
  contexts.	
  At	
  the	
  same	
  time,	
  however,	
  there	
  are	
  particular	
  linguistic	
  
inflections	
  and	
  connotations	
  that	
  contribute	
  to	
  how	
  it	
  plays	
  out	
  in	
  specific,	
  often	
  
national,	
  situations.	
  This	
  is	
  the	
  case	
  too	
  for	
  more	
  material	
  elements	
  of	
  the	
  
Holocaust	
  assemblage.	
  
	
  
Holocaust	
  heritage	
  
The	
  most	
  visible	
  sign	
  in	
  Memoryland	
  Europe	
  of	
  the	
  proliferation	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  
assemblage	
  is	
  the	
  number	
  of	
  Jewish	
  museums	
  that	
  have	
  opened	
  since	
  the	
  1980s.	
  
Unlike	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  Memorial	
  Museum	
  in	
  Washington	
  DC,	
  which	
  opened	
  in	
  
1981	
  and	
  was	
  followed	
  by	
  a	
  continuing	
  wave	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  museums	
  throughout	
  
the	
  US,	
  most	
  of	
  these	
  prefer	
  to	
  characterise	
  themselves	
  as	
  Jewish	
  museums,	
  
giving	
  a	
  broader	
  presentation	
  of	
  Jewish	
  life	
  in	
  Europe	
  prior,	
  and	
  in	
  some	
  cases	
  
subsequent,	
  to	
  its	
  decimation	
  in	
  the	
  mid-­‐twentieth	
  century.	
  In	
  Germany,	
  
Frankfurt’s	
  Jewish	
  Museum	
  opened	
  in	
  1988,	
  Berlin’s	
  in	
  2001	
  and	
  that	
  of	
  Munich	
  
in	
  2007;	
  and	
  at	
  least	
  ten	
  further	
  Jewish	
  museums,	
  as	
  well	
  as	
  related	
  sites	
  such	
  as	
  
synagogues	
  showing	
  exhibitions,	
  have	
  opened	
  over	
  this	
  period.5	
  Other	
  new	
  
Jewish	
  museums	
  in	
  Europe	
  include	
  the	
  Jewish	
  Museum	
  of	
  Lithuania,	
  Vilnius	
  
(1989);6	
  the	
  Jewish	
  Museum	
  of	
  Belgium,	
  Brussels	
  (1990);7	
  the	
  Slovak	
  Museum	
  of	
  
Jewish	
  Culture,	
  Bratislava	
  (1991);8	
  Greece’s	
  Jewish	
  Museum,	
  Athens	
  (1998);9	
  the	
  
Galicia	
  Jewish	
  Museum	
  in	
  Cracow,	
  Poland	
  (2004);10	
  the	
  Jewish	
  Museum	
  of	
  Rome	
  
(2004);11	
  the	
  Danish	
  Jewish	
  Museum,	
  Copenhagen,	
  designed	
  by	
  Daniel	
  Libeskind,	
  
opened	
  in	
  2004;	
  and	
  the	
  Jewish	
  Museum	
  in	
  Oslo	
  in	
  2008.12	
  A	
  Museum	
  of	
  the	
  
History	
  of	
  Polish	
  Jews	
  will	
  open	
  in	
  Warsaw	
  in	
  2013.13	
  
It	
  should	
  be	
  noted	
  that	
  some	
  of	
  Europe’s	
  Jewish	
  Museums	
  have	
  a	
  longer	
  
history,	
  as	
  does	
  that	
  of	
  Vienna,	
  originally	
  founded	
  in	
  1896;	
  the	
  Czech	
  Jewish	
  
Museum	
  in	
  Prague,	
  founded	
  in	
  1906;	
  the	
  Jewish	
  Historical	
  Museum,	
  Amsterdam	
  
(1932)14	
  and	
  London’s	
  Jewish	
  Museum,	
  founded	
  in	
  1932.15	
  But	
  these	
  too	
  have	
  all	
  
been	
  variously	
  supplemented,	
  renovated	
  and	
  expanded	
  in	
  the	
  late	
  twentieth	
  and	
  
early	
  twenty-­‐first	
  centuries.	
  Vienna’s	
  Jewish	
  Museum	
  was	
  closed	
  by	
  the	
  Nazis	
  in	
  
10
1938,	
  after	
  the	
  annexation	
  of	
  Austria;	
  and	
  some	
  of	
  its	
  collections	
  were	
  shown	
  for	
  
a	
  while	
  during	
  the	
  1960s	
  by	
  the	
  city’s	
  Jewish	
  community	
  but	
  without	
  any	
  state	
  
support.	
  Then,	
  in	
  the	
  1990s	
  a	
  Jewish	
  Museum	
  was	
  founded	
  and	
  opened	
  in	
  1993	
  
in	
  Dorotheergasse.	
  This	
  was	
  refurbished	
  in	
  1996	
  –	
  introducing	
  its	
  controversial	
  
holograms	
  exhibition	
  (see	
  below,	
  and	
  Bunzl	
  2003);	
  and	
  supplemented	
  by	
  a	
  
further	
  new	
  Jewish	
  Museum	
  in	
  Judenplatz	
  in	
  2000,	
  which	
  itself	
  underwent	
  
considerable	
  refurbishment	
  in	
  2010.16	
  Currently,	
  the	
  Dorotheergasse	
  Jewish	
  
Museum	
  is	
  being	
  refurbished	
  again	
  (its	
  holograms	
  exhibition	
  having	
  been	
  
dismantled).17	
  The	
  Czech	
  Jewish	
  Museum	
  was	
  closed	
  to	
  the	
  public	
  in	
  1938	
  but	
  
from	
  1942	
  the	
  Nazis	
  added	
  items	
  from	
  around	
  Europe	
  to	
  its	
  collections	
  with	
  the	
  
sinister	
  aim	
  of	
  creating	
  what	
  they	
  planned	
  would	
  become	
  a	
  ‘museum	
  of	
  an	
  
extinct	
  race’.18	
  Today,	
  Prague’s	
  Jewish	
  Museum	
  consists	
  of	
  a	
  set	
  of	
  sites	
  around	
  
the	
  city,	
  several	
  of	
  which	
  were	
  opened	
  in	
  the	
  1990s.19	
  The	
  Amsterdam	
  Jewish	
  
Historical	
  Museum	
  was	
  thoroughly	
  renewed	
  and	
  relocated	
  in	
  1987.20	
  London	
  
saw	
  the	
  opening	
  of	
  the	
  new	
  London	
  Museum	
  of	
  Jewish	
  Life	
  in	
  1983,	
  which	
  
amalgamated	
  institutionally	
  with	
  the	
  earlier	
  Jewish	
  Museum	
  in	
  1995,	
  and	
  
became	
  part	
  of	
  a	
  new,	
  single	
  building	
  in	
  2010.21	
  
	
   As	
  well	
  as	
  museums,	
  Europe	
  has	
  seen	
  a	
  massive	
  wave	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  
memorials.	
  This	
  includes	
  well-­‐known	
  examples	
  such	
  as	
  Rachel	
  Whiteread’s	
  
‘inverted	
  library’	
  memorial	
  in	
  Vienna,	
  unveiled	
  in	
  2000,	
  and	
  the	
  Memorial	
  to	
  the	
  
Murdered	
  Jews	
  of	
  Europe,	
  Berlin,	
  unveiled	
  in	
  2005.	
  It	
  also	
  includes	
  numerous	
  
smaller	
  memorials,	
  such	
  as	
  plaques	
  on	
  houses	
  of	
  former	
  Jewish	
  citizens;	
  and	
  the	
  
thought-­‐provoking	
  ‘counter-­‐monuments’,	
  discussed	
  in	
  Chapter	
  Four	
  above,	
  of	
  
artists	
  such	
  as	
  Horst	
  Hoheisel	
  and	
  Jochen	
  Gerz	
  and	
  Esther	
  Shalev-­‐Gerz,	
  that	
  seek	
  
to	
  resist	
  the	
  stasis	
  of	
  many	
  memorials	
  and	
  thus	
  to	
  avoid	
  the	
  paradoxical	
  
forgetting	
  that	
  some	
  suggest	
  is	
  a	
  consequence	
  of	
  much	
  memorialisation	
  (Young	
  
1993).	
  This	
  commemorative	
  activity	
  has	
  been	
  accompanied	
  by	
  the	
  growth	
  of	
  
touristic	
  production	
  of	
  Jewish	
  heritage,	
  as	
  discussed	
  in	
  Chapter	
  Five,	
  and	
  a	
  wave	
  
of	
  signs	
  of	
  what	
  Elisabeth	
  Beck-­‐Gernsheim	
  (1999),	
  in	
  the	
  German	
  context,	
  has	
  
described	
  as	
  a	
  shift	
  in	
  the	
  ‘memory	
  landscape’	
  (Erinnerungslandschaft).	
  These	
  
include	
  the	
  opening	
  of	
  Jewish	
  restaurants	
  and	
  courses	
  in	
  Jewish	
  Studies	
  (the	
  
latter	
  being,	
  she	
  notes,	
  now	
  more	
  popular	
  –	
  overwhelmingly	
  with	
  non-­‐Jewish	
  
Germans	
  –	
  at	
  the	
  University	
  of	
  Munich	
  than	
  is	
  Gender	
  Studies).	
  As	
  Ruth	
  Ellen	
  
11
Gruber	
  puts	
  it	
  in	
  her	
  lively	
  documentation	
  of	
  what	
  she	
  calls	
  ‘the	
  Jewish	
  
phenomenon’	
  –	
  a	
  pan-­‐European	
  embracing	
  of	
  ‘Things	
  Jewish’	
  is	
  underway.	
  	
  
	
  
From	
  Milan	
  to	
  Munich,	
  from	
  Krakow	
  to	
  Cluj	
  and	
  well	
  beyond,	
  Jewish	
  
exhibitions,	
  festivals	
  and	
  workshops	
  of	
  all	
  types	
  abound,	
  as	
  do	
  
conferences	
  and	
  academic	
  study	
  programmes	
  on	
  all	
  aspects	
  of	
  Jewish	
  
history,	
  culture,	
  and	
  tradition.	
  Readings,	
  lectures,	
  seminars,	
  talk	
  shows	
  
and	
  films	
  spotlight	
  Jewish	
  issues;	
  and	
  articles	
  and	
  programs	
  on	
  Jewish	
  
subjects	
  are	
  being	
  given	
  frequent	
  and	
  prominent	
  space	
  in	
  the	
  print-­‐media	
  
and	
  on	
  prime-­‐time	
  television.	
  Private	
  volunteers	
  and	
  civic	
  organizations	
  
clean	
  up	
  abandoned	
  Jewish	
  cemeteries	
  and	
  place	
  plaques	
  on	
  empty	
  
synagogues…	
  Yiddish	
  song,	
  klezmer	
  (traditional	
  eastern	
  European	
  Jewish	
  
instrumental	
  music),	
  and	
  other	
  Jewish	
  music	
  –	
  performed	
  by	
  Jewish	
  and	
  
non-­‐Jewish	
  groups	
  alike	
  –	
  draw	
  enthusiastic	
  (and	
  overwhelmingly	
  non-­‐
Jewish)	
  audiences	
  to	
  concert	
  halls,	
  churches,	
  clubs	
  and	
  outdoor	
  arenas.	
  
Hundreds	
  –	
  even	
  thousands	
  –	
  of	
  new	
  books	
  on	
  Jewish	
  topics	
  are	
  
published	
  in	
  local	
  languages…Old	
  Jewish	
  quarters	
  are	
  under	
  development	
  
as	
  tourist	
  attractions,	
  where	
  ‘Jewish-­‐style’	
  restaurants	
  with	
  ‘Jewish-­‐
sounding’	
  names	
  write	
  their	
  signs	
  in	
  Hebrew	
  or	
  Hebrew-­‐style	
  letters,	
  use	
  
Jewish	
  motifs	
  in	
  their	
  décor,	
  and	
  name	
  their	
  dishes	
  –	
  sometimes	
  even	
  
dishes	
  made	
  from	
  pork	
  or	
  a	
  nonkosher	
  mix	
  of	
  meat	
  and	
  dairy	
  products	
  –	
  
after	
  rabbis	
  and	
  Old	
  Testament	
  prophets.	
  (Gruber	
  2002:	
  6)	
  
	
  
Again,	
  while	
  this	
  is	
  frequently	
  cast	
  as	
  about	
  ‘Jewish	
  culture’	
  rather	
  than	
  the	
  
Holocaust,	
  the	
  two	
  cannot	
  be	
  disentangled	
  in	
  post-­‐Holocaust	
  Europe.	
  This	
  is	
  
made	
  particularly	
  and	
  ironically	
  evident	
  by	
  the	
  fact	
  that	
  the	
  embracing	
  of	
  Things	
  
Jewish	
  is	
  so	
  frequently	
  carried	
  out	
  by	
  non-­‐Jews	
  in	
  contexts	
  in	
  which,	
  due	
  to	
  the	
  
Holocaust,	
  only	
  few	
  and	
  sometimes	
  no	
  Jews	
  now	
  live.	
  
	
  
Explaining	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  phenomenon	
  
To	
  some	
  extent,	
  the	
  new	
  level	
  of	
  public	
  marking	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  can	
  be	
  seen	
  as	
  
part	
  of	
  a	
  more	
  general	
  public	
  preoccupation	
  with	
  the	
  past	
  that	
  has	
  taken	
  off	
  since	
  
the	
  1970s	
  and	
  that	
  has	
  been	
  discussed	
  in	
  previous	
  chapters.	
  Yet	
  many	
  of	
  the	
  
12
arguments	
  typically	
  used	
  to	
  try	
  to	
  explain	
  this	
  do	
  not	
  work	
  for	
  the	
  case	
  of	
  
Holocaust	
  remembrance.	
  This	
  is	
  clearly	
  no	
  nostalgic	
  looking	
  back	
  to	
  a	
  time	
  of	
  
tradition,	
  community	
  or	
  greater	
  stability.	
  World	
  War	
  and	
  Holocaust	
  highlight	
  
precariousness	
  and	
  violence,	
  even	
  –	
  or,	
  as	
  Bauman	
  (1989)	
  argues,	
  especially	
  –	
  in	
  
the	
  midst	
  of	
  modernity	
  and	
  rationalisation.	
  While	
  there	
  is	
  an	
  element	
  of	
  
recuperating	
  the	
  voices	
  of	
  those	
  whose	
  experiences	
  have	
  been	
  left	
  out	
  of	
  many	
  
historical	
  accounts	
  –	
  in	
  this	
  case	
  the	
  victims/survivors	
  –	
  this	
  is	
  not	
  all	
  there	
  is	
  to	
  
it,	
  and	
  it	
  does	
  not	
  explain	
  the	
  state-­‐sponsorship	
  of	
  commemorative	
  activity	
  in	
  
most	
  countries,	
  nor	
  the	
  form	
  that	
  much	
  Holocaust	
  commemoration	
  takes.	
  
	
   In	
  his	
  discussion	
  of	
  growing	
  public	
  discourse	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  in	
  the	
  US,	
  Peter	
  
Novick	
  (2000)	
  shows	
  a	
  detailed	
  interweaving	
  of	
  activity	
  by	
  American	
  Jews	
  –	
  
including	
  growing	
  fears	
  of	
  losing	
  their	
  identity	
  in	
  the	
  face	
  of	
  reduced	
  evident	
  
anti-­‐Semitism	
  in	
  the	
  States	
  –	
  and	
  wider	
  events,	
  including	
  the	
  Eichmann	
  trials	
  and	
  
the	
  altered	
  discourse	
  of	
  victimhood,	
  which	
  changed	
  the	
  frameworks	
  within	
  
which	
  the	
  events	
  of	
  the	
  1930s	
  and	
  40s	
  were	
  talked	
  about.	
  What	
  Novick	
  dubs	
  an	
  
increased	
  ‘Holocaust	
  fixation’	
  (2000:	
  10)	
  in	
  the	
  US	
  also	
  had	
  consequences	
  for	
  
Europe,	
  not	
  least	
  through	
  the	
  growth	
  of	
  American	
  Holocaust-­‐related	
  tourism	
  to	
  
Europe	
  (e.g.	
  Kugelmass	
  1992).	
  For	
  the	
  European	
  case,	
  Ruth	
  Ellen	
  Gruber	
  also	
  
emphasises	
  not	
  simply	
  generational	
  change	
  and	
  concern	
  over	
  the	
  disappearance	
  
of	
  direct	
  witnesses	
  but	
  also	
  attention	
  to	
  questions	
  of	
  wartime	
  activity	
  and	
  
culpability	
  raised	
  by	
  the	
  ‘68er	
  generation,	
  especially	
  in	
  West	
  Germany	
  (2002:	
  
15).	
  	
  In	
  Eastern	
  Europe,	
  a	
  ‘waning	
  of	
  communism’	
  also	
  made	
  filling	
  what	
  were	
  
perceived	
  as	
  the	
  ‘blanks’	
  of	
  history	
  –	
  dimensions	
  ignored	
  under	
  communism	
  –	
  a	
  
moral	
  project	
  of	
  self-­‐definition,	
  in	
  which	
  Jewish	
  history	
  became	
  one	
  such	
  ‘blank’	
  
to	
  be	
  recovered	
  (2002:	
  18).	
  In	
  addition,	
  she	
  attributes	
  the	
  development	
  of	
  a	
  more	
  
sympathetic	
  Christian	
  view	
  of	
  Jews	
  to	
  the	
  1965	
  Nostra	
  Aetate	
  Second	
  Vatican	
  
declaration	
  that	
  withdrew	
  the	
  former	
  attribution	
  of	
  Jewish	
  collective	
  
responsibility	
  for	
  the	
  murder	
  of	
  Jesus,	
  and	
  to	
  Polish	
  Pope	
  Jean	
  Paul	
  II’s	
  attempts	
  
to	
  build	
  bridges	
  with	
  Judaism,	
  stemming	
  partly	
  from	
  his	
  own	
  wartime	
  
experiences	
  (2002:	
  18).	
  Furthermore,	
  she	
  suggests,	
  Jews’	
  own	
  attempts	
  to	
  
redefine	
  their	
  identities,	
  partly	
  in	
  light	
  of	
  some	
  of	
  the	
  events	
  above,	
  has	
  also	
  
resulted	
  in	
  a	
  turn	
  to	
  ‘roots	
  and	
  heritage’	
  (2002:	
  18).	
  	
  
13
As	
  Gruber	
  acknowledges,	
  this	
  turn	
  is	
  also	
  part	
  of	
  a	
  wider	
  pan-­‐European	
  
interest	
  in	
  heritage.	
  And	
  while	
  there	
  are	
  significant	
  differences	
  from	
  that	
  wider	
  
heritage	
  boom,	
  as	
  noted	
  above,	
  there	
  are	
  also	
  elements	
  that	
  are	
  shared.	
  In	
  
particular,	
  both	
  rest	
  on	
  and,	
  in	
  a	
  feedback	
  loop,	
  help	
  to	
  sustain	
  the	
  increasingly	
  
widespread	
  assumption	
  that	
  the	
  past	
  deserves	
  attention	
  in	
  the	
  present	
  and	
  that	
  
it	
  can	
  provide	
  lessons	
  for	
  the	
  future.	
  Indeed,	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  has	
  become	
  a	
  key	
  
constitutive	
  case	
  in	
  the	
  widespread	
  positioning	
  of	
  history	
  as	
  an	
  educational	
  
resource	
  for	
  the	
  present	
  and	
  future.	
  Despite	
  the	
  fact	
  that	
  it	
  has	
  been	
  subject	
  to	
  
extensive	
  debate	
  (especially	
  but	
  not	
  only	
  in	
  the	
  famous	
  Historians’	
  Debate	
  
(Historikerstreit)	
  in	
  Germany	
  in	
  the	
  1980s	
  (Maier	
  1987))	
  over	
  whether	
  or	
  not	
  it	
  
should	
  be	
  regarded	
  as	
  so	
  singular	
  as	
  to	
  be	
  unable	
  to	
  provide	
  analogies	
  with	
  other	
  
events,	
  it	
  has	
  nevertheless	
  become	
  the	
  basis	
  for	
  numerous	
  educational	
  
programmes	
  across	
  Europe.22	
  These	
  attempt	
  to	
  operationalize	
  the	
  principle	
  of	
  
Never	
  again!	
  -­	
  a	
  phrase	
  that	
  became	
  widespread	
  in	
  the	
  wake	
  of	
  World	
  War	
  II	
  
(initially	
  with	
  reference	
  to	
  war)	
  and	
  later	
  more	
  specifically	
  in	
  relation	
  to	
  
Holocaust.	
  	
  By	
  providing	
  awareness	
  of	
  the	
  horror	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust,	
  educational	
  
programmes	
  aim	
  to	
  help	
  prevent	
  future	
  atrocity.	
  Involved	
  here	
  too	
  is	
  not	
  just	
  an	
  
idea	
  that	
  the	
  past	
  is	
  capable	
  of	
  providing	
  lessons	
  for	
  the	
  present	
  and	
  future	
  but	
  
that	
  there	
  is	
  a	
  moral	
  duty	
  to	
  look	
  to	
  history	
  for	
  such	
  lessons.	
  As	
  noted	
  in	
  previous	
  
chapters	
  and	
  discussed	
  further	
  in	
  the	
  conclusion,	
  an	
  understanding	
  of	
  the	
  past	
  as	
  
a	
  source	
  for	
  moral	
  witnessing	
  and	
  debate	
  is	
  a	
  key	
  feature	
  of	
  the	
  late	
  twentieth-­‐	
  
and	
  twenty-­‐first	
  century	
  heritage	
  phenomenon	
  that	
  this	
  book	
  explores.	
  World	
  
War	
  II	
  and	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  –	
  events	
  that	
  ravaged	
  Europe	
  and	
  beyond,	
  destroying	
  
and	
  disrupting	
  millions	
  of	
  lives	
  –	
  surely	
  played	
  a	
  central	
  role	
  in	
  shaping	
  this	
  
particular	
  perspective	
  on	
  the	
  past.	
  	
  
This	
  ‘take’	
  on	
  history	
  is	
  one	
  that	
  we	
  could	
  readily	
  consider	
  to	
  be	
  a	
  form	
  of	
  
‘cosmopolitan	
  memory’.	
  Rather	
  than	
  history	
  being	
  understood	
  as	
  about	
  specific	
  
pasts,	
  it	
  is	
  plumbed	
  as	
  a	
  source	
  for	
  ‘bigger’	
  and	
  ‘broader’	
  ‘lessons’.	
  It	
  is	
  ‘lifted	
  out’	
  
of	
  its	
  particular	
  settings	
  and	
  put	
  to	
  work	
  in	
  others.	
  Yet,	
  as	
  has	
  also	
  been	
  evident	
  
from	
  earlier	
  chapters	
  in	
  this	
  book,	
  there	
  is	
  much	
  else	
  that	
  may	
  be	
  entailed	
  in	
  past	
  
presencing	
  in	
  practice.	
  In	
  what	
  follows,	
  I	
  discuss	
  both	
  the	
  specific	
  phenomenon	
  
of	
  Holocaust	
  commemoration	
  and	
  cosmopolitan	
  memory	
  arguments	
  through	
  a	
  
set	
  of	
  examples	
  drawn	
  primarily	
  from	
  anthropological	
  research.	
  	
  This	
  not	
  only	
  
14
provides	
  a	
  more	
  fine-­‐grained	
  examination	
  of	
  what	
  is	
  underway	
  ‘on	
  the	
  ground’	
  in	
  
particular	
  and	
  differentiated	
  contexts,	
  it	
  also	
  highlights	
  other	
  considerations,	
  
limits	
  and	
  paradoxes	
  that	
  may	
  be	
  involved	
  and	
  that	
  theorising	
  needs	
  to	
  address.	
  
	
  
Ritual	
  commemoration	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  
If	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  acts	
  as	
  a	
  paradigmatic	
  case	
  of	
  the	
  potential	
  for	
  cosmopolitan	
  
memory,	
  then	
  examining	
  how	
  it	
  is	
  commemorated	
  in	
  specific	
  contexts	
  –	
  as	
  do	
  the	
  
examples	
  below	
  -­‐	
  can	
  provide	
  insight	
  into	
  how	
  far	
  this	
  is	
  actually	
  occurring.	
  It	
  
can	
  also	
  highlight	
  some	
  of	
  the	
  possible	
  limits	
  or	
  alternatives	
  to	
  a	
  
cosmopolitanizing	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  memory	
  and	
  thus	
  for	
  theorization.	
  	
  
	
   Commemorative	
  ceremonies	
  and	
  ritual	
  also	
  deserve	
  attention	
  as	
  a	
  
distinctive	
  memorial	
  form.	
  While	
  these	
  frequently	
  occur	
  at	
  monumental	
  sites,	
  
they	
  also	
  have	
  a	
  specific	
  character	
  as	
  collective	
  activity	
  of	
  condensed	
  symbolic	
  
significance	
  (Turner	
  1967).	
  Individuals	
  come	
  together	
  to	
  participate	
  in	
  more	
  or	
  
less	
  choreographed	
  actions,	
  that	
  contain	
  at	
  least	
  some	
  shared	
  movements,	
  and	
  
that	
  are	
  recognised	
  as	
  being	
  meaningful	
  for	
  collective	
  identity.	
  	
  This	
  does	
  not	
  
require	
  that	
  individuals	
  need	
  to	
  decode	
  the	
  particular	
  meanings	
  of	
  actions	
  or	
  
symbols	
  employed	
  –	
  indeed	
  elements	
  of	
  ritual	
  are	
  not	
  necessarily	
  de-­‐codable	
  in	
  
this	
  way,	
  though	
  they	
  often	
  reference	
  other	
  ceremonies	
  or	
  rituals	
  in	
  an	
  inter-­‐
rituality	
  analogous	
  to	
  inter-­‐textuality.	
  Especially	
  important,	
  however,	
  are	
  ritual’s	
  
performative	
  dimensions	
  –	
  in	
  two	
  senses	
  of	
  the	
  term	
  ‘performative’.	
  First,	
  the	
  
classic	
  Austinian	
  sense,	
  in	
  analogy	
  with	
  speech	
  acts	
  that	
  accomplish	
  what	
  they	
  
utter	
  –	
  e.g.	
  ‘I	
  promise’	
  (Austin	
  1962).	
  A	
  national	
  ritual,	
  for	
  example,	
  in	
  this	
  sense	
  
of	
  performative	
  would	
  not	
  be	
  interpreted	
  as	
  referring	
  to	
  the	
  nation	
  but	
  bring	
  the	
  
nation	
  into	
  being.	
  Second,	
  a	
  ritual	
  is	
  performative	
  also	
  in	
  the	
  sense	
  of	
  being	
  a	
  
form	
  of	
  performance,	
  analogous	
  with	
  that	
  of	
  theatre,	
  in	
  which	
  matters	
  such	
  as	
  
staging,	
  scripts,	
  props,	
  actors	
  and	
  audience	
  all	
  contribute	
  to	
  the	
  making	
  of	
  a	
  
specific,	
  affectively	
  rich,	
  event	
  (refs).	
  This	
  form	
  of	
  performance	
  is	
  partly	
  what	
  
makes	
  ritual	
  performative	
  in	
  the	
  first	
  sense.	
  
	
   While	
  rituals	
  and	
  ceremonies	
  are	
  generally	
  held	
  at	
  designated	
  
monuments	
  or	
  sites,	
  they	
  do	
  not	
  operate	
  the	
  same	
  temporality	
  as	
  do	
  monuments	
  
and	
  sites.	
  Typically	
  the	
  temporality	
  of	
  ritual	
  and	
  ceremony	
  is	
  both	
  punctuated	
  
(i.e.	
  at	
  designated	
  time-­‐limited	
  moments)	
  and	
  repetitive,	
  often	
  along	
  annual	
  
15
cycles	
  in	
  the	
  case	
  of	
  national	
  ceremonies.	
  As	
  Durkheim	
  (1925)	
  argued,	
  this	
  may	
  
have	
  an	
  ‘effervescent’	
  effect,	
  re-­‐imbuing	
  the	
  social	
  with	
  affect	
  and	
  significance.	
  
Due	
  to	
  the	
  non-­‐material	
  nature	
  of	
  ceremonies,	
  however,	
  changes	
  are	
  usually	
  
fairly	
  easy	
  to	
  introduce,	
  meaning	
  that	
  even	
  while	
  they	
  may	
  repeat,	
  they	
  can	
  
respond	
  to	
  context	
  and	
  contingency,	
  resulting	
  in	
  variations	
  over	
  time.	
  Likewise,	
  
despite	
  collective	
  action,	
  the	
  fact	
  that	
  much	
  is	
  left	
  verbally	
  unarticulated	
  in	
  ritual	
  
may	
  allow	
  for	
  divergences	
  of	
  interpretation,	
  as	
  argued	
  in	
  Victor	
  Turner’s	
  classic	
  
account	
  (1967),	
  as	
  well	
  as	
  in	
  more	
  recent	
  analyses	
  of	
  ritualized	
  memorial	
  
practices	
  (e.g.	
  Sturken	
  1997).	
  	
  
	
   Below	
  I	
  turn	
  to	
  two	
  examples	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  commemorative	
  ritual	
  –	
  the	
  
first	
  a	
  ‘life-­‐cycle’	
  ritual	
  by	
  Israeli	
  citizens	
  to	
  Holocaust	
  death	
  camps	
  in	
  Europe;	
  
and	
  the	
  second,	
  the	
  UK’s	
  first	
  Holocaust	
  Memorial	
  Day	
  in	
  2001.	
  In	
  both,	
  I	
  am	
  
concerned	
  with	
  how	
  far	
  ritualised	
  public	
  Holocaust	
  commemoration	
  ‘cracks	
  the	
  
container’	
  of	
  the	
  nation	
  state	
  and	
  offers	
  cosmopolitan	
  potential.	
  	
  
	
  
Nationalism	
  in	
  Israeli	
  Holocaust	
  commemoration	
  in	
  Poland	
  
Trips	
  by	
  young	
  Israelis	
  to	
  Polish	
  death	
  camps	
  can	
  be	
  seen	
  as	
  ‘a	
  central	
  rite…	
  in	
  
Israel’s	
  civil	
  religion’	
  (Feldman	
  2002:	
  85),	
  argues	
  Jackie	
  Feldman.	
  Run	
  since	
  the	
  
1980s,	
  these	
  organised	
  trips	
  have	
  now	
  taken	
  hundreds	
  of	
  thousands	
  of	
  young	
  
Israelis	
  on	
  visits	
  to	
  Auschwitz-­‐Birkenau	
  and	
  other	
  camps.	
  As	
  Feldman	
  describes,	
  
it	
  is	
  highly	
  nationalistic,	
  instilling	
  strong	
  and	
  embodied,	
  emotional	
  senses	
  of	
  
national	
  identity	
  through	
  collective	
  participation	
  in	
  ritualised	
  activity	
  (2002;	
  
2008).	
  As	
  such,	
  it	
  clearly	
  does	
  not	
  fit	
  the	
  cosmopolitan	
  memory	
  thesis.	
  Because	
  
Levy	
  and	
  Sznaider	
  put	
  so	
  much	
  emphasis	
  on	
  mediated	
  forms	
  of	
  memory,	
  she	
  
argues,	
  they	
  ‘underestimate	
  the	
  power	
  of	
  rituals	
  and	
  embodied	
  practices	
  to	
  
create	
  coherent,	
  totalistic	
  local	
  worlds	
  of	
  meaning’	
  (Feldman	
  2008:	
  260).	
  
Moreover,	
  far	
  from	
  disappearing	
  or	
  being	
  displaced	
  by	
  mediated	
  memory,	
  such	
  
embodied	
  ritual	
  remains	
  important.	
  Nations	
  in	
  particular,	
  she	
  argues,	
  continue	
  to	
  
use	
  ritual	
  in	
  this	
  way,	
  thus	
  ‘ground[ing]	
  their	
  ontology	
  in	
  traditional	
  religion-­‐
based	
  paradigms	
  and	
  embodied	
  practices’	
  (ibid.);	
  and	
  they	
  further	
  support	
  this	
  
through	
  a	
  ‘deploy[ment	
  of]	
  cultural	
  history	
  in	
  service	
  of	
  the	
  State’	
  (ibid.).	
  ‘In	
  
other	
  words’,	
  she	
  concludes,	
  ‘reports	
  of	
  nationalism’s	
  death	
  –	
  and	
  the	
  victory	
  of	
  
secularization	
  –	
  have	
  been	
  premature’	
  (2008:	
  260).	
  
16
Not	
  only	
  does	
  Feldman’s	
  research	
  show	
  how	
  Holocaust	
  commemoration	
  
can	
  act	
  in	
  service	
  of	
  nationalistic	
  sentiments,	
  it	
  also	
  provides	
  a	
  basis	
  for	
  
criticizing	
  some	
  of	
  Levy	
  and	
  Sznaider’s	
  other	
  assumptions.	
  In	
  particular,	
  she	
  
argues	
  that	
  the	
  proliferation	
  of	
  mediated	
  forms	
  of	
  memory	
  and	
  the	
  increased	
  
international	
  traffic	
  of	
  people	
  can	
  support	
  rather	
  than	
  diminish	
  nationalism.	
  As	
  
she	
  explains:	
  ‘The	
  permeability	
  of	
  national	
  boundaries,	
  the	
  ease	
  and	
  relative	
  
affordability	
  of	
  travel,	
  and	
  the	
  ability	
  to	
  diffuse	
  knowledge	
  of	
  the	
  voyages	
  
through	
  mass	
  media	
  all	
  enable	
  the	
  State	
  to	
  promote	
  voyages	
  to	
  the	
  dead	
  
Diaspora	
  as	
  a	
  source	
  of	
  stable	
  roots	
  in	
  the	
  state’	
  (2008:	
  260).	
  Videos	
  and	
  
photographs	
  of	
  the	
  events	
  enable	
  those	
  who	
  have	
  been	
  on	
  such	
  visits	
  to	
  Poland	
  
to	
  tell	
  others	
  about	
  it,	
  and	
  circulate	
  this	
  information	
  –	
  and	
  their	
  accompanying	
  
sentiments	
  –	
  more	
  widely.	
  Moreover,	
  she	
  suggests,	
  cosmopolitan	
  ideas	
  make	
  it	
  
difficult	
  to	
  oppose	
  nationalistic	
  activity.	
  Even	
  when	
  Israel	
  engages	
  in	
  highly	
  
nationalistic	
  acts,	
  such	
  as	
  raising	
  the	
  Israeli	
  flag	
  during	
  the	
  visits	
  in	
  ‘rituals	
  
closely	
  resembling	
  those	
  of	
  the	
  cult	
  of	
  fallen	
  soldiers’	
  (2008:	
  260),	
  Poles	
  are	
  
rendered	
  unable	
  to	
  object	
  because	
  ‘the	
  very	
  recognition	
  of	
  the	
  cosmopolitan	
  (or	
  
inter-­‐European)	
  significance	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  makes	
  [them]	
  loath	
  to	
  openly	
  
confront	
  Israel	
  over	
  the	
  extremely	
  nationalist	
  (and	
  often	
  anti-­‐Polish)	
  tenor	
  of	
  the	
  
voyages’	
  (2008:	
  260).	
  	
  
	
  
The	
  UK’s	
  first	
  Holocaust	
  Memorial	
  Day	
  
That	
  the	
  UK	
  government	
  created	
  a	
  major	
  new	
  national	
  ceremony	
  and	
  sponsored	
  
thousands	
  of	
  smaller	
  commemorative	
  rituals	
  and	
  events	
  across	
  the	
  country	
  23	
  to	
  
mark	
  its	
  first	
  Holocaust	
  Memorial	
  Day	
  in	
  200124	
  in	
  can	
  also	
  be	
  seen	
  as	
  evidence	
  
of	
  the	
  continued	
  importance	
  that	
  nations	
  may	
  put	
  on	
  ritualised	
  activity.	
  	
  In	
  this	
  
case,	
  the	
  capacities	
  of	
  technical	
  mediation	
  were	
  put	
  to	
  use	
  too,	
  the	
  new	
  ceremony	
  
being	
  broadcast	
  on	
  prime-­‐time	
  television.	
  This	
  too,	
  however,	
  was	
  in	
  service	
  of	
  
the	
  nation,	
  as	
  indicated	
  among	
  other	
  things	
  by	
  the	
  fact	
  that	
  the	
  ceremony	
  was	
  
attended	
  by	
  numerous	
  ‘national	
  figures’,	
  including	
  the	
  Prime	
  Minister	
  and	
  Prince	
  
Charles.	
  Nevertheless,	
  as	
  I	
  argue	
  in	
  my	
  detailed	
  analysis	
  of	
  the	
  context,	
  structure	
  
and	
  debate	
  about	
  the	
  new	
  national	
  commemoration,	
  while	
  the	
  event	
  was	
  
thoroughly	
  national,	
  it	
  was	
  also	
  a	
  performative	
  bid	
  to	
  configure	
  the	
  nation	
  in	
  a	
  
new	
  way	
  (Macdonald	
  2005).	
  While	
  not	
  directly	
  framed	
  in	
  terms	
  of	
  arguments	
  
17
about	
  cosmopolitanism,	
  my	
  account	
  of	
  the	
  UK’s	
  first	
  Holocaust	
  Memorial	
  Day	
  
showed	
  on	
  the	
  one	
  hand	
  that	
  this	
  was	
  no	
  ‘breaking	
  of	
  the	
  national	
  container’.	
  On	
  
the	
  other,	
  however,	
  it	
  showed	
  an	
  attempt	
  to	
  revise	
  the	
  nation	
  itself	
  as	
  
cosmopolitan.	
  
	
   In	
  numerous	
  ways	
  throughout	
  the	
  planning	
  and	
  instantiation	
  of	
  the	
  new	
  
UK	
  Holocaust	
  Memorial	
  Day,	
  the	
  nation	
  was	
  referenced	
  both	
  directly	
  and	
  also	
  
indirectly	
  through	
  the	
  more	
  implicit	
  ways	
  that	
  Michael	
  Billig	
  refers	
  to	
  as	
  ‘banal’	
  
(1995;	
  and	
  see	
  below).	
  At	
  times,	
  this	
  drew	
  directly	
  on	
  the	
  imagery	
  of	
  Britain	
  as	
  
‘war	
  hero’	
  that	
  Kushner	
  argues	
  is	
  ‘central	
  to	
  post-­‐1945	
  national	
  identity’	
  
(Kushner	
  1997:	
  10).	
  	
  For	
  example,	
  the	
  national	
  ceremony	
  included	
  a	
  film	
  about	
  
the	
  Bergen-­‐Belsen	
  camp	
  being	
  liberated	
  by	
  British	
  troops,	
  and	
  another	
  about	
  
children	
  being	
  brought	
  to	
  Britain	
  via	
  the	
  Czech	
  Kindertransport;	
  and	
  throughout,	
  
there	
  was	
  emphasis	
  on	
  survivors	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  and	
  other	
  atrocities	
  seeking,	
  
and	
  gaining,	
  refuge	
  in	
  Britain.	
  The	
  ‘national’	
  character	
  of	
  the	
  event	
  even	
  trumped	
  
its	
  potential	
  Jewishness.	
  As	
  Gaby	
  Koppel,	
  responsible	
  for	
  producing	
  the	
  inaugural	
  
national	
  ceremony,	
  put	
  it:	
  ‘we	
  were	
  very	
  clear	
  about	
  one	
  thing.	
  Holocaust	
  
Memorial	
  Day	
  wasn’t	
  to	
  be	
  an	
  event	
  just	
  for	
  Jews.	
  It	
  was	
  a	
  national	
  occasion,	
  
relevant	
  to	
  all	
  British	
  citizens’	
  (Koppel	
  2001:	
  7).	
  
	
   The	
  Holocaust	
  was,	
  then,	
  ‘lifted	
  out’	
  of	
  a	
  specific	
  Jewish	
  reference	
  –	
  or,	
  in	
  
terms	
  used	
  earlier	
  in	
  this	
  book,	
  given	
  broader	
  ‘semantic	
  reach’.	
  This	
  was	
  not	
  just	
  
with	
  reference	
  to	
  the	
  diverse	
  population	
  of	
  Britain,	
  however.	
  In	
  addition,	
  other	
  
parts	
  of	
  the	
  world	
  were	
  also	
  reached	
  out	
  to	
  through	
  reference	
  to	
  other	
  atrocities,	
  
including	
  in	
  Bosnia,	
  Cambodia	
  and	
  Rwanda,	
  all	
  of	
  which	
  were	
  included	
  in	
  the	
  
televised	
  national	
  ceremony.	
  While	
  this	
  was	
  a	
  clear	
  cosmopolitanizing	
  move	
  in	
  
Levy	
  and	
  Sznaider’s	
  sense,	
  the	
  nation	
  remained	
  intact.	
  Indeed,	
  in	
  some	
  ways	
  it	
  
was	
  strengthened.	
  It	
  was	
  so	
  through	
  the	
  repeated	
  referencing	
  of	
  the	
  country	
  as	
  
an	
  actor	
  	
  (e.g.	
  ‘Britain’s	
  role	
  in….’)	
  and	
  use	
  of	
  the	
  second	
  person	
  plural	
  pronoun	
  
(e.g.	
  ‘our	
  country….’),	
  thus	
  taking	
  the	
  nation’s	
  existence,	
  agency	
  and	
  a	
  collective	
  
citizenly	
  subscription	
  to	
  it	
  for	
  granted.	
  The	
  nation	
  was	
  also	
  strengthened	
  by	
  
being	
  cast	
  as	
  hero;	
  through	
  modes	
  such	
  as	
  reports	
  from	
  refugees	
  in	
  Britain,	
  
reference	
  to	
  Britain’s	
  military	
  role	
  in	
  trying	
  to	
  resolve	
  ongoing	
  conflicts,	
  and	
  
analogies	
  implied	
  with	
  Britain’s	
  role	
  in	
  World	
  War	
  II.	
  	
  
18
	
   The	
  depiction	
  of	
  Britain	
  as	
  a	
  haven	
  for	
  those	
  escaping	
  persecution	
  also,	
  
however,	
  served	
  to	
  support	
  a	
  portrait	
  of	
  Britain	
  as	
  multicultural.	
  This	
  was	
  an	
  
explicit	
  government	
  aim,	
  stated	
  in	
  the	
  Government	
  Proposal	
  for	
  a	
  Holocaust	
  
Remembrance	
  Day,	
  published	
  in	
  October	
  1999.	
  The	
  Proposal	
  only	
  mentions	
  Jews	
  
in	
  order	
  to	
  emphasise	
  that	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  should	
  not	
  be	
  regarded	
  as	
  concerning	
  
them	
  alone:	
  ‘Although	
  it	
  was	
  a	
  tragedy	
  whose	
  primary	
  focus	
  was	
  the	
  Jewish	
  
people,	
  many	
  other	
  groups	
  were	
  persecuted	
  and	
  it	
  has	
  implications	
  for	
  us	
  all’	
  
(Home	
  Office	
  1999:	
  2).	
  The	
  Proposal	
  goes	
  on	
  to	
  spell	
  out	
  those	
  implications,	
  and	
  
the	
  kind	
  of	
  Britain	
  that	
  the	
  Home	
  Office	
  hopes	
  the	
  new	
  ceremony	
  could	
  help	
  
support:	
  	
  
	
  
The	
  Government	
  has	
  a	
  clear	
  vision	
  of	
  a	
  multi-­‐cultural	
  Britain	
  –	
  one	
  which	
  
values	
  the	
  contribution	
  made	
  by	
  each	
  of	
  our	
  many	
  ethnic,	
  cultural	
  and	
  
faith	
  communities.	
  We	
  are	
  determined	
  to	
  see	
  a	
  truly	
  dynamic	
  society,	
  in	
  
which	
  people	
  from	
  different	
  backgrounds	
  can	
  live	
  and	
  work	
  together,	
  
whilst	
  retaining	
  their	
  distinctive	
  identities,	
  in	
  an	
  atmosphere	
  of	
  mutual	
  
respect	
  and	
  understanding.	
  (Home	
  Office	
  1999:	
  1)	
  
	
  
This	
  ‘vision’	
  was	
  also	
  dramatized	
  in	
  the	
  national	
  ceremony	
  in	
  acts	
  such	
  as	
  
citizens	
  of	
  visibly	
  different	
  ethnicities	
  and	
  faiths	
  coming	
  together	
  to	
  light	
  candles	
  
of	
  remembrance.	
  Depicting	
  the	
  nation	
  itself	
  as	
  cosmopolitan	
  –	
  as	
  open	
  to	
  
different	
  cultures	
  and	
  traditions	
  –	
  was,	
  then,	
  a	
  central	
  ambition	
  of	
  the	
  new	
  
Holocaust	
  commemoration.	
  
	
   It	
  was	
  not,	
  however,	
  without	
  its	
  contradictions	
  and	
  ironies.	
  On	
  the	
  one	
  
hand,	
  for	
  example,	
  the	
  official	
  rhetoric	
  was	
  of	
  Britain	
  as	
  working	
  together	
  with	
  
other	
  European	
  nations	
  in	
  commemorating	
  the	
  Holocaust.	
  This	
  was	
  prompted	
  in	
  
part	
  by	
  the	
  Stockholm	
  Forum	
  on	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  of	
  2000,	
  which	
  had	
  spurred	
  
various	
  other	
  nations	
  (including	
  Sweden	
  and	
  Italy)	
  to	
  also	
  begin	
  new	
  Holocaust	
  
Memorial	
  Days;	
  and	
  that	
  was	
  part	
  of	
  a	
  wider	
  European	
  concern	
  over	
  the	
  Balkan	
  
wars	
  and	
  growing	
  racism	
  and	
  anti-­‐Semitism.25	
  Yet,	
  at	
  the	
  same	
  time,	
  the	
  national	
  
ceremony	
  contained	
  representation	
  of	
  World	
  War	
  II	
  in	
  the	
  form	
  of	
  what	
  Kushner	
  
describes	
  as	
  the	
  ‘Britain	
  alone	
  myth’	
  (1997:	
  10),	
  in	
  which	
  Britain	
  is	
  depicted	
  as	
  
separate	
  from	
  the	
  rest	
  of	
  Europe	
  and	
  even	
  as	
  a	
  solitary	
  adversary	
  of	
  Germany.	
  
19
Some	
  commentators	
  also	
  pointed	
  out	
  that	
  the	
  cosmopolitan	
  rhetoric	
  of	
  openness	
  
to	
  difference,	
  and	
  specifically	
  the	
  projection	
  of	
  Britain	
  as	
  a	
  place	
  of	
  refuge,	
  was	
  
contrary	
  to	
  aspects	
  of	
  the	
  country’s	
  asylum	
  and	
  immigration	
  legislation	
  and	
  
practice	
  (Yuval-­‐Davis	
  and	
  Silverman	
  2002).	
  	
  Furthermore,	
  the	
  new	
  
commemoration	
  was	
  itself	
  the	
  basis	
  for	
  inter-­‐cultural	
  dispute,	
  the	
  Muslim	
  
Council	
  of	
  Britain	
  refusing	
  in	
  2002	
  to	
  take	
  part	
  in	
  the	
  commemoration	
  in	
  protest	
  
at	
  Israel’s	
  occupation	
  of	
  Palestine	
  (Macdonald	
  2005;	
  Werbner	
  2009).26	
  	
  
What	
  these	
  ironies	
  of	
  practice	
  showed	
  was	
  that	
  while	
  cosmopolitan	
  
aspirations	
  worked	
  well	
  when	
  safely	
  removed	
  from	
  their	
  specific	
  context	
  –	
  i.e.	
  
when	
  ‘the	
  Holocaust’	
  operated	
  as	
  a	
  generalisable	
  case	
  of	
  the	
  perpetration	
  of	
  evil	
  
–	
  they	
  could	
  founder	
  when	
  reinserted	
  into	
  Realpolitik.	
  More	
  widely,	
  the	
  new	
  
ceremony	
  showed	
  the	
  risk	
  that	
  the	
  very	
  premise	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  as	
  ‘offering	
  
lessons’	
  could	
  easily	
  be	
  transformed	
  into	
  a	
  sacrificial	
  trope	
  of	
  movement	
  towards	
  
a	
  higher	
  end	
  (as	
  noted	
  above)	
  –	
  as	
  when	
  Prime	
  Minister,	
  Tony	
  Blair,	
  commented:	
  
‘Let	
  not	
  one	
  life	
  sacrificed	
  in	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  be	
  in	
  vain’.27	
  As	
  Michael	
  Rowlands	
  
points	
  out,	
  this	
  trope	
  is	
  deeply	
  inappropriate	
  to	
  the	
  case	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust,	
  in	
  
relation	
  to	
  which	
  ‘nobody	
  can	
  claim	
  that	
  the	
  deaths	
  served	
  any	
  purpose	
  
whatsoever’	
  (1999:	
  142).	
  	
  
	
  
National	
  identity	
  dilemmas	
  
Part	
  of	
  my	
  argument	
  in	
  my	
  analysis	
  of	
  the	
  UK’s	
  first	
  Holocaust	
  Memorial	
  Day	
  was	
  
that	
  some	
  of	
  the	
  main	
  ways	
  in	
  which	
  national	
  identities	
  have	
  typically	
  been	
  
constructed	
  historically	
  have	
  become	
  increasingly	
  problematic.	
  As	
  many	
  identity	
  
theorists	
  have	
  long	
  argued,	
  senses	
  of	
  collective	
  identification	
  are	
  usually	
  
produced	
  relationally,	
  typically	
  through	
  processes	
  of	
  opposition	
  –	
  of	
  defining	
  ‘Us’	
  
in	
  relation	
  to	
  ‘Them’	
  (Barth	
  1969,	
  Cohen	
  1985,	
  Jenkins	
  1997).	
  This	
  is	
  then	
  
consolidated	
  by	
  identifying	
  content	
  that	
  can	
  be	
  taken	
  as	
  marking	
  ‘Us-­‐ness’	
  and	
  
constructing	
  differentiating	
  symbols	
  and	
  what	
  in	
  German	
  are	
  called	
  ‘Gegenbilder’	
  
(counterimages)	
  (Beck-­‐Gernsheim	
  1999).	
  With	
  regard	
  to	
  national	
  identities,	
  
there	
  are	
  two	
  oppositional	
  processes	
  that	
  studies	
  highlight.	
  One	
  is	
  externally-­‐
oriented:	
  self-­‐definition	
  in	
  relation	
  to	
  other	
  nations,	
  e.g.	
  British	
  versus	
  French.	
  
War	
  has	
  always	
  been	
  one	
  of	
  the	
  most	
  fertile	
  arenas	
  for	
  this	
  kind	
  of	
  definitional	
  
activity,	
  though	
  it	
  also	
  goes	
  on	
  in	
  more	
  ‘banal’	
  ways,	
  such	
  as	
  sport	
  or	
  media	
  
20
discussions	
  of	
  food	
  (Billig	
  1995).	
  The	
  other	
  means	
  is	
  internally-­‐oriented:	
  the	
  
identification	
  of,	
  say,	
  the	
  ‘really	
  Us/British’,	
  through	
  contrast	
  with	
  the	
  ‘not-­‐
Us/not-­‐British’,	
  within	
  (e.g.	
  Gilroy	
  1987).	
  In	
  the	
  histories	
  of	
  all	
  modern	
  nation-­‐
states	
  we	
  can	
  see	
  the	
  identification	
  of	
  ‘out-­‐groups’	
  within,	
  which	
  serves	
  to	
  foster	
  
and	
  maintain	
  a	
  majority	
  identity	
  in	
  relation	
  to	
  the	
  minority,	
  and	
  also	
  processes	
  
such	
  as	
  the	
  scape-­‐goating	
  of	
  these	
  minorities	
  as	
  sources	
  of	
  blame	
  for	
  the	
  fact	
  that	
  
the	
  nation-­‐state	
  does	
  not	
  achieve	
  the	
  perfection	
  to	
  which	
  it	
  aspires.	
  Nazi	
  
Germany	
  is,	
  of	
  course,	
  the	
  most	
  striking	
  example	
  of	
  this,	
  Jews	
  being	
  the	
  principal	
  
‘Other’	
  in	
  this	
  process.	
  But	
  the	
  very	
  overt	
  and	
  state-­‐perpetrated	
  way	
  in	
  which	
  
this	
  process	
  occurred	
  in	
  Germany	
  should	
  not	
  obscure	
  the	
  fact	
  that	
  the	
  same	
  basic	
  
process	
  has	
  been	
  at	
  work	
  in	
  identity	
  formation	
  in	
  other	
  nation-­‐states	
  too.	
  
	
   In	
  a	
  world	
  of	
  increased	
  international	
  dependency,	
  global	
  communication,	
  
trade	
  and	
  supra-­‐national	
  organisations,	
  self-­‐definition	
  contra	
  other	
  nations	
  has	
  
become	
  less	
  politic	
  –	
  though	
  it	
  still	
  goes	
  on.	
  Post-­‐Holocaust	
  and	
  in	
  contexts	
  of	
  
greater	
  ethnic	
  and	
  cultural	
  mixing,	
  and	
  sometimes	
  vociferous	
  identity-­‐politics,	
  
self-­‐definition	
  by	
  majorities	
  through	
  opposition	
  to	
  minorities	
  has	
  also	
  become	
  
less	
  politic,	
  not	
  least	
  because	
  minorities	
  may	
  be	
  crucial	
  in	
  electoral	
  terms	
  –	
  
though	
  it	
  too	
  still	
  goes	
  on.	
  What	
  is	
  more	
  acceptable,	
  however,	
  is	
  self-­‐definition	
  in	
  
relation	
  to	
  the	
  past.	
  This	
  can	
  take	
  the	
  form	
  of	
  seeking	
  continuities,	
  though	
  today	
  
these	
  are	
  less	
  likely	
  to	
  take	
  the	
  straightforward	
  triumphalist	
  form	
  of	
  earlier	
  
national	
  narratives	
  (Samuel	
  1998,	
  Phillips	
  1998).	
  They	
  can	
  also	
  operate	
  
oppositionally,	
  either	
  through	
  contrast	
  with	
  a	
  past	
  self	
  (as	
  in	
  contemporary	
  
Germany;	
  or	
  as	
  witnessed	
  in	
  apologies	
  for	
  past	
  events);	
  or	
  through	
  contrast	
  with	
  
past	
  adversaries	
  (though	
  this	
  risks	
  being	
  conflated	
  with	
  the	
  present).	
  Holocaust	
  
commemoration	
  in	
  Britain,	
  for	
  example,	
  makes	
  a	
  contrast	
  between	
  Britain	
  and	
  
Nazi	
  Germany,	
  and	
  also	
  other	
  countries	
  that	
  perpetrate	
  atrocities;	
  and	
  also	
  seeks	
  
to	
  evoke	
  a	
  sense	
  of	
  continuity	
  with	
  a	
  time	
  that	
  is	
  popularly	
  seen	
  as	
  one	
  when	
  
Britain	
  was	
  strong,	
  people	
  ‘pulled	
  together’,	
  shared	
  common	
  values,	
  and	
  
exhibited	
  ‘moral	
  backbone’.	
  This	
  potential	
  that	
  the	
  past	
  offers	
  for	
  different	
  –	
  and	
  
usually	
  safer	
  -­‐	
  kinds	
  of	
  identity-­‐formation	
  is,	
  I	
  suggest,	
  a	
  significant	
  element	
  in	
  
the	
  wider	
  turn	
  to	
  public	
  history	
  and	
  heritage.	
  
	
  
A	
  cosmopolitan	
  battle	
  in	
  Denmark?	
  
21
One	
  context	
  in	
  which	
  strong	
  us::them	
  national	
  oppositions	
  are	
  typically	
  made	
  is	
  
that	
  of	
  war.	
  For	
  this	
  reason,	
  battles	
  have	
  frequently	
  had	
  important	
  roles	
  in	
  
national	
  history,	
  especially	
  those	
  that	
  marked	
  victories	
  of	
  the	
  nation	
  over	
  
enemies	
  that	
  threatened	
  its	
  national	
  sovereignty.	
  In	
  some	
  circumstances,	
  
however,	
  defeats	
  can	
  also	
  become	
  part	
  of	
  a	
  nation’s	
  history	
  by	
  acting	
  as	
  moments	
  
from	
  which	
  the	
  nation	
  rallied	
  and	
  projected	
  itself	
  into	
  the	
  future	
  –	
  though	
  here	
  
too	
  oppositional	
  national	
  identity-­‐construction	
  as	
  well	
  as	
  continuity-­‐making	
  is	
  at	
  
work.	
  The	
  1864	
  Battle	
  of	
  Dybbøl	
  is	
  just	
  such	
  an	
  iconic	
  ‘noble	
  defeat’	
  in	
  Danish	
  
national	
  history,	
  as	
  Mads	
  Daugbjerg	
  (2009,	
  2011,	
  2012)	
  describes.	
  An	
  event	
  in	
  
which	
  Denmark	
  was	
  defeated	
  by	
  Prussia	
  and	
  lost	
  considerable	
  land	
  to	
  what	
  later	
  
became	
  Germany,	
  it	
  nevertheless	
  acts	
  as	
  the	
  symbolic	
  ‘cradle	
  of	
  the	
  “pure”	
  
Danish	
  nation’	
  (Daugbjerg	
  2011:	
  245),	
  from	
  which	
  modern	
  Denmark	
  was	
  born.	
  
Dybbøl,	
  and	
  especially	
  the	
  annual	
  commemorative	
  ceremonies	
  that	
  mark	
  the	
  
battle,	
  has	
  also	
  been	
  the	
  focus	
  for	
  considerable	
  anti-­‐German	
  sentiment	
  in	
  
Denmark.	
  	
  
In	
  his	
  in-­‐depth	
  research	
  at	
  the	
  battle	
  site	
  during	
  the	
  early	
  2000s,	
  however,	
  
Daugbjerg	
  witnessed	
  a	
  series	
  of	
  interesting	
  attempts	
  to	
  revise	
  the	
  
commemorative	
  ceremonies	
  and	
  the	
  battlefield	
  heritage	
  centre	
  to	
  play	
  down	
  
Danish	
  nationalism	
  and	
  to	
  try	
  to	
  be	
  more	
  conciliatory	
  towards	
  Germans	
  and	
  
Germany.	
  In	
  2001,	
  German	
  soldiers	
  were	
  invited	
  for	
  the	
  first	
  time	
  to	
  take	
  part	
  in	
  
the	
  annual	
  commemorative	
  ceremony,	
  marching	
  and	
  laying	
  wreaths	
  alongside	
  
the	
  Danish	
  military.	
  The	
  representations	
  at	
  the	
  heritage	
  centre	
  were	
  also	
  altered	
  
in	
  order	
  to	
  emphasise	
  stories	
  of	
  ordinary	
  experience	
  and	
  shared	
  human	
  hardship	
  
rather	
  than	
  to	
  focus	
  on	
  aggression	
  between	
  warring	
  states.	
  All	
  this,	
  writes	
  
Daugbjerg,	
  was	
  an	
  explicit	
  attempt	
  to	
  be	
  ‘non-­‐national’,	
  ‘post-­‐heroic’	
  (2011:	
  249)	
  
or	
  ‘cosmopolitan’	
  (2009;	
  2011,	
  2012).	
  The	
  national	
  was	
  played	
  down	
  in	
  favour	
  of	
  
‘universal	
  humanitarian	
  ideals’	
  (2011:	
  249).	
  	
  
Yet,	
  as	
  his	
  detailed	
  research	
  shows,	
  these	
  attempts	
  to	
  ‘not	
  mention	
  the	
  
nation’	
  (2011)	
  did	
  not	
  fully	
  succeed.	
  This	
  was	
  partly	
  because,	
  although	
  the	
  nation	
  
was	
  mentioned	
  less	
  frequently	
  in	
  explicit	
  terms,	
  it	
  was	
  nevertheless	
  subtly	
  
reasserted	
  in	
  ‘banal’	
  ways.	
  Here,	
  he	
  draws	
  on	
  Billig’s	
  argument	
  (1995)	
  that	
  
nations	
  are	
  ‘flagged’	
  in	
  everyday	
  interactions	
  through	
  subtle	
  means,	
  such	
  as	
  
deixis	
  –	
  a	
  process	
  in	
  which	
  the	
  nation	
  is	
  implied	
  (for	
  example	
  through	
  linguistic	
  
22
reference,	
  such	
  as	
  to	
  ‘our	
  newspapers’)	
  without	
  being	
  explicitly	
  named.	
  	
  A	
  nice	
  
example	
  of	
  this	
  in	
  Daugbjerg’s	
  account	
  is	
  how	
  in	
  the	
  Dybbøl	
  heritage	
  centre	
  the	
  
verbal	
  content	
  of	
  an	
  audio-­‐visual	
  guide	
  was	
  altered	
  to	
  include	
  more	
  Prussian	
  
perspectives	
  and	
  to	
  create	
  what	
  was	
  regarded	
  as	
  ‘a	
  more	
  balanced	
  view	
  on	
  the	
  
war’	
  (2011:	
  257).	
  However,	
  the	
  audio-­‐visual’s	
  background	
  sound-­‐track,	
  which	
  
consisted	
  of	
  a	
  well	
  known	
  nationalistic,	
  martial	
  song	
  (which	
  has	
  been	
  partly	
  
adopted	
  by	
  Denmark’s	
  racist	
  new	
  right),	
  remained	
  unchanged.	
  As	
  Daugbjerg	
  
observes,	
  visitors	
  could	
  sometimes	
  be	
  heard	
  whistling	
  this	
  tune	
  around	
  the	
  site	
  
after	
  visiting	
  the	
  centre	
  (2011:	
  257).	
  Explicitly	
  excised,	
  the	
  nation	
  thus	
  remained	
  
implicitly	
  in	
  place.	
  
On	
  the	
  basis	
  of	
  this	
  research,	
  then,	
  Daugbjerg	
  cautions	
  against	
  readily	
  
accepting	
  arguments	
  about	
  the	
  nation	
  being	
  superseded	
  by	
  cosmopolitan	
  
reframing	
  of	
  memory.	
  The	
  nation	
  is	
  difficult	
  to	
  dislodge	
  as	
  it	
  is	
  subtly	
  reasserted	
  
in	
  banal	
  interactions.	
  Moreover,	
  as	
  I	
  have	
  argued	
  for	
  the	
  UK	
  case,	
  there	
  is	
  also	
  
sometimes	
  an	
  attempt	
  to	
  recast	
  the	
  nation	
  as	
  cosmopolitan,	
  witnessed	
  in	
  a	
  
‘conflation	
  of	
  cosmopolitan	
  and	
  national	
  values’	
  (2009:	
  443)	
  and	
  ‘”universal”	
  
values	
  [being]	
  celebrated	
  as	
  quintessentially	
  Danish’	
  (2009:	
  442).	
  	
  
	
  
Incorporating	
  Jews	
  in	
  the	
  New	
  Europe	
  
The	
  cases	
  discussed	
  above,	
  then,	
  variously	
  show	
  a	
  persistence	
  –	
  and	
  sometimes	
  
even	
  a	
  performance	
  and	
  strengthening	
  –	
  of	
  the	
  nation	
  in	
  what	
  might	
  potentially	
  
be	
  cosmopolitan	
  commemorative	
  contexts.	
  At	
  the	
  same	
  time,	
  however,	
  some	
  
provide	
  evidence	
  for	
  a	
  reconfiguration	
  of	
  the	
  nation	
  itself	
  as	
  more	
  ‘multicultural’	
  
and	
  cosmopolitan.	
  Just	
  how	
  this	
  plays	
  out,	
  however,	
  is	
  at	
  least	
  partly	
  ‘reflexively	
  
particular’	
  within	
  specific	
  national	
  contexts.	
  	
  
	
   	
  Matti	
  Bunzl’s	
  discussion	
  of	
  the	
  growth	
  and	
  form	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  
commemoration	
  in	
  Austria	
  (2003;	
  2004)	
  is	
  also	
  interesting	
  in	
  this	
  regard,	
  for	
  he	
  
both	
  shows	
  Austria’s	
  distinctive	
  position	
  as	
  well	
  as	
  offering	
  a	
  more	
  general	
  
argument	
  about	
  changes	
  underway	
  in	
  Europe.	
  In	
  relation	
  to	
  World	
  War	
  II,	
  
Austria	
  has	
  long	
  regarded	
  itself	
  as	
  victim	
  of	
  German	
  aggression.	
  From	
  the	
  1980s,	
  
however,	
  this	
  self-­‐image	
  has	
  increasingly	
  been	
  questioned,	
  especially	
  in	
  light	
  of	
  
President	
  Kurt	
  Waldheim’s	
  wartime	
  activities	
  in	
  the	
  Nazi	
  Wehrmacht	
  and	
  his	
  
subsequent	
  right-­‐wing	
  affiliations	
  and	
  the	
  success	
  of	
  the	
  Right	
  Wing	
  Freedom	
  
23
Party	
  in	
  Austria	
  in	
  the	
  late	
  1990s.	
  This,	
  argues	
  Bunzl	
  (2003),	
  played	
  a	
  part	
  in	
  a	
  
considerable	
  expansion	
  of	
  public	
  marking	
  of	
  Jewish	
  heritage	
  in	
  the	
  1990s,	
  which	
  
included	
  the	
  Jewish	
  Museum	
  developments	
  noted	
  above,	
  with	
  the	
  contentious	
  
holograms	
  exhibition	
  that	
  is	
  the	
  starting	
  point	
  for	
  Bunzl’s	
  discussion.	
  	
  
	
   Bunzl’s	
  argument	
  is	
  that	
  while	
  Jews	
  historically	
  ‘were	
  abjected	
  as	
  the	
  
nation’s	
  constitutive	
  Other’	
  (2003:	
  436),	
  the	
  expansion	
  of	
  Jewish	
  heritage	
  and	
  a	
  
wider	
  visibility	
  of	
  Jewishness	
  in	
  the	
  public	
  sphere	
  in	
  late	
  1990s	
  Austria	
  is	
  
evidence	
  of	
  their	
  inclusion.	
  He	
  notes	
  that	
  even	
  Jörg	
  Haider’s	
  Freedom	
  Party	
  
began	
  to	
  use	
  more	
  positive	
  rhetoric	
  towards	
  Jews	
  during	
  the	
  1990s,	
  going	
  so	
  far	
  
as	
  to	
  elect	
  a	
  member	
  of	
  Vienna’s	
  Jewish	
  community	
  to	
  a	
  leadership	
  position	
  in	
  
the	
  Party	
  (2003:	
  455).	
  This	
  inclusion,	
  which	
  operates	
  across	
  the	
  political	
  
spectrum,	
  is,	
  according	
  to	
  Bunzl,	
  a	
  function	
  of	
  the	
  nation-­‐state’s	
  being	
  
superseded	
  by	
  ‘Europe’,	
  and	
  thus	
  a	
  performance	
  of	
  new,	
  European	
  rather	
  than	
  
national,	
  boundaries.	
  Jews,	
  he	
  writes,	
  ‘have	
  become	
  useful	
  in	
  Austria	
  and	
  
elsewhere	
  for	
  the	
  postmodern	
  constitution	
  of	
  a	
  European	
  Self	
  effected	
  through	
  
the	
  violent	
  exclusion	
  of	
  a	
  new	
  set	
  of	
  Others	
  –	
  Muslims	
  and	
  Africans	
  foremost	
  
among	
  them’	
  (2003:	
  436;	
  2005;	
  see	
  also	
  Bangstad	
  and	
  Bunzl	
  2010).	
  The	
  
holograms	
  exhibition	
  in	
  the	
  Jewish	
  Museum	
  is,	
  he	
  suggests,	
  a	
  rare	
  and	
  brave	
  
attempt	
  to	
  de-­‐reify	
  the	
  Jewishness	
  that	
  is	
  generally	
  essentialised	
  in	
  public	
  life	
  
(2003:	
  457)	
  –	
  in	
  the	
  new	
  incorporation	
  of	
  Jews	
  as	
  much	
  as	
  in	
  their	
  earlier	
  
exclusion.	
  The	
  widespread	
  negative	
  reactions	
  to	
  it,	
  however,	
  speak	
  to	
  the	
  
investments	
  in	
  what	
  he	
  calls	
  the	
  ‘cultural	
  normalization	
  of	
  Jews’	
  (2003:	
  457).	
  
Whether	
  the	
  closure	
  of	
  the	
  holograms	
  exhibition	
  in	
  2012	
  signals	
  a	
  final	
  victory	
  of	
  
‘cultural	
  normalization’	
  will	
  depend	
  on	
  what	
  kind	
  of	
  exhibition	
  comes	
  to	
  replace	
  
it.	
  
	
   What	
  Bunzl’s	
  argument	
  suggests	
  for	
  the	
  cosmopolitan	
  memory	
  thesis	
  is	
  
that	
  there	
  does	
  indeed	
  seem	
  to	
  be	
  Europeanization	
  underway	
  and	
  that	
  a	
  focus	
  on	
  
Holocaust	
  plays	
  a	
  constitutive	
  part	
  in	
  this.	
  However,	
  rather	
  than	
  this	
  being	
  
necessarily	
  a	
  positive	
  cosmopolitan	
  development,	
  it	
  is	
  part	
  of	
  a	
  new	
  set	
  of	
  
exclusions	
  and	
  the	
  creation	
  of	
  Europe	
  not	
  as	
  ‘open	
  to	
  the	
  world’	
  but	
  as	
  ‘Fortress	
  
Europe’	
  (see	
  also	
  Gingrich	
  and	
  Banks	
  2006).	
  It	
  is	
  also	
  worth	
  noting	
  here,	
  echoing	
  
arguments	
  above,	
  that	
  actual	
  practice	
  may	
  also	
  diverge	
  from	
  public	
  rhetoric.	
  
While	
  there	
  is	
  a	
  public	
  performance	
  of	
  incorporation	
  of	
  Jews	
  in	
  the	
  New	
  Europe,	
  
24
this	
  does	
  not	
  necessarily	
  mean	
  full	
  or	
  unequivocal	
  incorporation	
  in	
  everyday	
  life.	
  
Ruth	
  Mandel’s	
  Cosmopolitan	
  Anxieties	
  (2008),	
  for	
  example,	
  gives	
  sensitive	
  
attention	
  to	
  numerous,	
  often	
  subtle,	
  exclusions	
  or	
  demarcations	
  of	
  Jews	
  as	
  Other	
  
–	
  including	
  analogies	
  drawn	
  between	
  Jews	
  and	
  Turks	
  -­‐	
  even	
  amidst	
  the	
  ‘Jewish	
  
renaissance’	
  underway	
  in	
  Berlin	
  since	
  the	
  1980s.	
  Furthermore,	
  there	
  may	
  be	
  
divergence	
  from	
  the	
  moves	
  towards	
  incorporation	
  when	
  it	
  comes	
  to	
  particular	
  
groups	
  of	
  Jews.	
  In	
  Germany,	
  for	
  example,	
  there	
  is	
  often	
  considerable	
  ambivalence	
  
towards	
  the	
  Russian	
  Jews	
  who	
  have	
  significantly	
  increased	
  the	
  country’s	
  Jewish	
  
population	
  since	
  1990	
  (Peck	
  2006:	
  40).	
  As	
  Jeffrey	
  Peck	
  notes,	
  ‘They	
  were	
  widely	
  
regarded	
  as	
  merely	
  using	
  their	
  real	
  or	
  supposed	
  Jewishness	
  to	
  get	
  out	
  of	
  the	
  
Soviet	
  Union	
  for	
  a	
  better	
  life	
  in	
  the	
  West’	
  (2006:	
  44).	
  In	
  contrast	
  to	
  the	
  
Jewishness	
  being	
  recovered	
  from	
  the	
  past	
  and	
  enshrined	
  in	
  heritage,	
  actually	
  
existing	
  Russian	
  Jews	
  –	
  who	
  often	
  do	
  not	
  go	
  to	
  synagogue	
  or	
  follow	
  kosher	
  rules	
  -­‐	
  
may	
  fail	
  to	
  live	
  up	
  to	
  the	
  kind	
  of	
  Jewishness	
  that	
  the	
  ‘renaissance’	
  has	
  been	
  
bringing	
  into	
  being	
  (Beck-­‐Gernsheim	
  2004:	
  153-­‐6).	
  
	
  
So	
  far,	
  this	
  chapter	
  has	
  looked	
  especially	
  at	
  the	
  linked	
  rise	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  heritage	
  
and	
  Jewish	
  renaissance	
  in	
  Europe.	
  	
  In	
  some	
  cases	
  at	
  least,	
  this	
  rise	
  appears	
  to	
  be	
  
linked	
  to	
  Europeanization	
  and	
  a	
  reconfiguration	
  of	
  the	
  nation	
  as	
  more	
  culturally	
  
diverse	
  and	
  open	
  to	
  difference.	
  At	
  the	
  same	
  time,	
  however,	
  in	
  most	
  of	
  these	
  cases	
  
the	
  nation	
  remains	
  an	
  active	
  player,	
  and	
  in	
  some	
  seems	
  to	
  be	
  strengthened	
  
rather	
  than	
  merely	
  ‘being	
  remembered	
  in	
  order	
  to	
  overcome	
  it’	
  (Levy	
  and	
  
Sznaider	
  2009:	
  125),	
  as	
  Levy	
  and	
  Sznaider	
  suppose.	
  In	
  the	
  next	
  section,	
  I	
  explore	
  
the	
  turn	
  cosmopolitan	
  memory	
  thesis	
  further	
  through	
  a	
  different	
  set	
  of	
  
ethnographic	
  examples	
  that	
  are	
  all	
  concerned	
  in	
  various	
  ways	
  with	
  the	
  Balkan	
  
Wars	
  and	
  attempts	
  at	
  post-­‐War	
  memory	
  reconstruction.	
  	
  
	
  
Overcoming	
  national	
  sentiments	
  in	
  the	
  post-­War	
  Balkans?	
  
The	
  Balkan	
  wars	
  of	
  the	
  1990s	
  are	
  widely	
  regarded	
  as	
  a	
  resurgence	
  of	
  the	
  kind	
  of	
  
dangerous	
  ethnic	
  and	
  nationalistic	
  sentiments	
  that	
  it	
  had	
  been	
  hoped	
  that	
  
greater	
  cosmopolitanization,	
  Europeanization	
  and	
  memory	
  of	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  
would	
  prevent.	
  That	
  some	
  of	
  the	
  atrocities	
  of	
  the	
  Balkan	
  wars	
  came	
  to	
  be	
  framed	
  
in	
  international	
  media	
  through	
  language	
  referencing	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  –	
  with	
  
25
accompanying	
  images	
  of	
  ‘concentration	
  camps’	
  –	
  was	
  a	
  clear	
  mobilisation	
  of	
  
Holocaust	
  memory	
  (Levy	
  and	
  Sznaider	
  2002).	
  In	
  turn,	
  this	
  helped	
  to	
  mobilize	
  
NATO	
  intervention	
  and	
  for	
  the	
  first	
  time	
  Germany	
  participated	
  militarily	
  to	
  help	
  
end	
  ethnic	
  cleansing.	
  The	
  analogy	
  –	
  and	
  ‘never	
  again’	
  motif	
  -­‐	
  has	
  also	
  been	
  
deployed	
  since	
  in	
  various	
  attempts	
  to	
  ‘repair’	
  the	
  region	
  through	
  been	
  numerous	
  
Europeanization	
  projects	
  of	
  various	
  kinds.	
  These	
  seek	
  to	
  promote	
  some	
  kind	
  of	
  
cosmopolitan	
  or	
  European	
  identity	
  in	
  order	
  to	
  reduce	
  ethnic	
  and	
  national	
  
affiliations.	
  More	
  widely,	
  discourses	
  of	
  cosmopolitanism	
  and	
  of	
  being	
  European	
  
have	
  been	
  and	
  continue	
  to	
  be	
  used	
  in	
  popular	
  discourse	
  by	
  certain	
  groups.	
  This	
  
does	
  not	
  necessarily	
  mean,	
  however,	
  that	
  these	
  result	
  in	
  all	
  of	
  the	
  cosmopolitan	
  
characteristics	
  that	
  cosmo-­‐optimistic	
  normative	
  accounts,	
  such	
  as	
  those	
  of	
  Beck,	
  
Levy	
  and	
  Sznaider,	
  might	
  hope,	
  as	
  we	
  will	
  see	
  in	
  the	
  following	
  ethnographic	
  
studies	
  from	
  the	
  post-­‐War	
  Balkans.	
  
	
  
	
   Cosmonostalgia	
  and	
  closures	
  
In	
  fieldwork	
  in	
  post-­‐War	
  Belgrade	
  and	
  Zagreb,	
  Stef	
  Jansen	
  (2008)	
  encountered	
  
an	
  explicit	
  discourse	
  of	
  cosmopolitanism,	
  employed	
  by	
  ‘antinationalists’.	
  These	
  
were	
  individuals,	
  usually	
  fairly	
  well	
  educated,	
  who	
  were	
  very	
  critical	
  of	
  the	
  
nationalism	
  that	
  had	
  fuelled	
  the	
  War.	
  The	
  term	
  kozmopolit	
  (or	
  synonyms	
  of	
  it)	
  
was	
  used	
  to	
  describe	
  life	
  in	
  the	
  cities	
  as	
  they	
  had	
  been	
  before	
  the	
  conflicts	
  arose	
  
and	
  that	
  anti-­‐nationalists	
  hoped	
  would	
  be	
  restored.	
  A	
  student	
  banner	
  of	
  the	
  late	
  
1990s,	
  Beograd	
  is	
  the	
  World,	
  for	
  example,	
  expressed	
  ‘at	
  once	
  the	
  city’s	
  
worldliness	
  and	
  the	
  desire	
  to	
  end	
  isolation	
  from	
  “the	
  World”	
  (2008:	
  84).	
  What	
  
was	
  meant	
  by	
  ‘the	
  World’	
  here	
  was	
  ‘the	
  liberal	
  democracies	
  of	
  the	
  West’	
  (ibid.).	
  
On	
  the	
  one	
  hand,	
  then,	
  a	
  cosmopolitan	
  outlook	
  was	
  deployed	
  to	
  articulate	
  anti-­‐
nationalist	
  sentiments.	
  But	
  as	
  Jansen	
  points	
  out,	
  it	
  was	
  neither	
  so	
  future-­‐oriented	
  
nor	
  so	
  straightforwardly	
  ‘open’	
  as	
  cosmopolitan	
  theorizing	
  tends	
  to	
  expect	
  –	
  or	
  
hope.	
  	
  
Rather,	
  references	
  to	
  Belgrade	
  and	
  Zagreb	
  as	
  cosmopolitan	
  were	
  deeply	
  
nostalgic	
  –	
  harking	
  back	
  to	
  a	
  pre-­‐War	
  ‘normality’.	
  While	
  on	
  the	
  one	
  hand	
  they	
  
entailed	
  an	
  opening	
  to	
  the	
  West	
  in	
  order	
  to	
  end	
  a	
  sense	
  of	
  isolation	
  from	
  it,	
  at	
  the	
  
same	
  time	
  cosmopolitanism	
  was	
  frequently	
  articulated	
  as	
  a	
  quality	
  of	
  the	
  city	
  in	
  
contrast	
  to	
  the	
  ‘primitivism’	
  of	
  rural	
  life.	
  This	
  could	
  be	
  seen,	
  as	
  Anna	
  Di	
  Lellio	
  and	
  
26
Stephanie	
  Schwander-­‐Sievers	
  argue	
  of	
  Albania	
  in	
  the	
  aftermath	
  of	
  the	
  Balkan	
  
conflict,	
  as	
  a	
  form	
  of	
  ‘internal	
  “nesting	
  Orientalism”’	
  in	
  which	
  ‘city	
  dwellers…	
  
look…	
  down	
  on	
  the	
  “backward”	
  peasants	
  of	
  the	
  villages,	
  transferring	
  to	
  them	
  the	
  
stereotypical	
  generalizations	
  of	
  “backwardness”	
  ascribed	
  to	
  all	
  Albanians	
  in	
  the	
  
dominating	
  mental	
  maps	
  of	
  the	
  former	
  Yugoslavia’	
  (Di	
  Lellio	
  and	
  Schwander-­‐
Sievers	
  2006:	
  522).	
  As	
  such,	
  maintains	
  Jansen	
  for	
  his	
  Balkan	
  subjects,	
  what	
  was	
  
produced	
  in	
  cosmopolitan	
  discourse	
  was	
  not	
  so	
  much	
  an	
  ‘openness’	
  to	
  the	
  other,	
  
as	
  ‘alternative	
  closures’	
  –	
  ‘between	
  cities	
  and	
  villages,	
  between	
  citizens	
  and	
  
peasants,	
  between	
  open,	
  nationally	
  heterogeneous,	
  modern,	
  urban	
  life	
  and	
  
closed,	
  nationally	
  homogeneous,	
  backward,	
  rural	
  life’	
  (2008:	
  84).	
  In	
  effect,	
  what	
  
this	
  also	
  did	
  was	
  to	
  curtail	
  the	
  openness	
  to	
  cultural	
  and	
  national	
  difference	
  that	
  is	
  
normally	
  seen	
  as	
  part	
  of	
  a	
  cosmopolitan	
  outlook.	
  The	
  celebration	
  of	
  this	
  
particular	
  kind	
  of	
  urban	
  cosmopolitanism,	
  he	
  suggests,	
  ironically	
  produced	
  a	
  
‘flattening	
  [of]	
  the	
  cultural-­‐national	
  differences	
  it	
  was	
  programmatically	
  open	
  to,	
  
through	
  emphasizing	
  (in	
  this	
  case,	
  urban)	
  sameness	
  across	
  its	
  boundaries’	
  
(2008:	
  90).	
  	
  In	
  other	
  words,	
  the	
  kind	
  of	
  cosmopolitanism	
  in	
  practice	
  here	
  
operated	
  on	
  the	
  one	
  hand	
  to	
  create	
  a	
  hierarchical	
  boundary	
  between	
  the	
  city	
  and	
  
the	
  rural,	
  in	
  which	
  the	
  difference	
  of	
  the	
  latter	
  was	
  denigrated;	
  and	
  on	
  the	
  other	
  to	
  
downplay	
  –	
  or	
  close	
  itself	
  off	
  towards	
  -­‐	
  other	
  kinds	
  of	
  difference.	
  	
  
	
  
History	
  and	
  heritage	
  in	
  post-­War	
  reconciliation	
  
In	
  the	
  aftermath	
  of	
  the	
  Balkan	
  Wars,	
  many	
  international	
  organizations	
  have	
  been	
  
involved	
  in	
  various	
  forms	
  of	
  ‘repair	
  work’,	
  and	
  these	
  have	
  often	
  involved	
  
organised	
  attempts	
  at	
  ‘memory	
  management’	
  (Sorabji	
  2006).	
  In	
  some	
  cases	
  this	
  
has	
  involved	
  ‘intervening	
  in	
  the	
  process	
  of	
  transgenerational	
  transmission	
  of	
  
trauma’	
  (Sorabji	
  2006:	
  2)	
  in	
  order	
  to	
  encourage	
  people	
  to	
  ‘put	
  the	
  past	
  behind	
  
them’	
  and	
  to	
  ‘move	
  forward’.	
  	
  This	
  is	
  often	
  modelled	
  on	
  the	
  psychoanalytically	
  
informed	
  idea	
  of	
  ‘working	
  through’	
  traumatic	
  memories	
  as	
  a	
  means	
  of	
  avoiding	
  
being	
  ‘haunted’	
  by	
  them	
  in	
  the	
  future.	
  In	
  other	
  cases,	
  or	
  other	
  memory	
  
management	
  programmes,	
  however,	
  there	
  have	
  been	
  other	
  strategies	
  too.	
  In	
  
Albania,	
  Di	
  Lellio	
  and	
  Schwander-­‐Sievers	
  (2006)	
  argue	
  that	
  the	
  international	
  
authorities	
  have	
  sought	
  to	
  foster	
  a	
  ‘collective	
  amnesia’,	
  by	
  discouraging	
  reference	
  
to	
  the	
  past	
  or	
  dismissing	
  it	
  as	
  folklore,	
  in	
  the	
  service	
  of	
  ‘”resetting”	
  …	
  to	
  a	
  
27
timeless	
  present	
  of	
  multi-­‐ethnic	
  tolerance’	
  (2006:	
  526).	
  As	
  they	
  show,	
  however,	
  
this	
  does	
  not	
  find	
  compliance	
  in	
  a	
  society	
  in	
  which	
  historical	
  recollection	
  and	
  
narration	
  are	
  viewed	
  as	
  an	
  integral	
  part	
  of	
  life	
  and,	
  in	
  effect,	
  identity.	
  The	
  
compulsion	
  to	
  tell	
  ‘stories’	
  about	
  the	
  past	
  is,	
  they	
  suggest,	
  like	
  a	
  secular	
  version	
  
of	
  the	
  Jewish	
  zakhor	
  –	
  the	
  religious	
  prescription	
  to	
  transmit	
  Jewish	
  history	
  to	
  
future	
  generations	
  (2006:	
  526;	
  Yerushalmi	
  1982).	
  Moreover,	
  in	
  such	
  ‘story-­‐
telling’,	
  ‘the	
  storyteller	
  and	
  historian	
  are	
  the	
  same	
  person’	
  and	
  ‘history,	
  legend	
  
and	
  personal	
  memories	
  are	
  mixed’	
  (2006:	
  526).	
  	
  
Not	
  only	
  does	
  this	
  mean	
  that	
  organised	
  efforts	
  to	
  encourage	
  ‘collective	
  
amnesia’	
  are	
  unlikely	
  to	
  succeed,	
  it	
  also	
  helps	
  maintain	
  strong	
  national	
  and	
  
nationalist	
  myth-­‐making	
  in	
  the	
  post-­‐War	
  period.	
  The	
  significance	
  of	
  this	
  myth-­‐
making	
  for	
  local	
  people	
  is	
  typically	
  overlooked	
  or	
  underestimated	
  by	
  the	
  
international	
  authorities	
  who	
  classify	
  it	
  as	
  folklore.	
  Di	
  Lellio	
  and	
  Schwander-­‐
Sievers	
  show	
  this	
  well	
  through	
  their	
  account	
  of	
  how	
  Adem	
  Jeshari,	
  an	
  Albanian	
  
rebel	
  leader	
  killed	
  fighting	
  against	
  Serbian	
  troops	
  in	
  1998,	
  has	
  become	
  a	
  cult	
  
figure,	
  memorialized	
  at	
  a	
  memorial	
  complex	
  established	
  at	
  the	
  bombed	
  remains	
  
of	
  houses	
  where	
  his	
  family	
  perished,	
  and	
  also	
  on	
  postcards	
  and	
  other	
  
memorabilia.	
  Involved	
  in	
  this,	
  producing	
  it	
  and	
  also	
  further	
  generated	
  by	
  it	
  in	
  a	
  
feedback	
  loop,	
  are	
  the	
  kinds	
  of	
  national	
  collective	
  identity	
  and	
  sentiments	
  –	
  
which	
  sustain	
  calls	
  for	
  Kosovo	
  as	
  an	
  independent	
  country	
  –	
  that	
  the	
  international	
  
authorities	
  had	
  hoped	
  to	
  avoid.	
  	
  Di	
  Lellio	
  and	
  Schwander-­‐Sievers	
  argue,	
  then,	
  
that	
  the	
  approach	
  of	
  the	
  international	
  authorities	
  has	
  in	
  some	
  respects,	
  
paradoxically,	
  allowed	
  and	
  even	
  encouraged	
  such	
  nationalism	
  through	
  its	
  
strategies	
  of	
  collective	
  amnesia.	
  It	
  is	
  further	
  aggravated	
  by	
  the	
  authorities’	
  
associated	
  refusal	
  to	
  address	
  the	
  historical	
  specificity	
  of	
  the	
  Kosovan	
  and	
  
Albanian	
  case,	
  and	
  their	
  stance	
  of	
  ‘not	
  taking	
  sides’	
  and	
  trying	
  to	
  ‘keep	
  a	
  
distance’.	
  	
  
	
   Elsewhere	
  in	
  the	
  post-­‐War	
  Balkans,	
  there	
  have	
  been	
  attempts	
  to	
  
expressly	
  deploy	
  heritage	
  as	
  a	
  means	
  of	
  trying	
  to	
  transcend	
  national	
  
identifications,	
  as	
  Claske	
  Vos	
  (2011)	
  shows	
  in	
  her	
  analysis	
  of	
  the	
  ‘Regional	
  
programme	
  for	
  Cultural	
  and	
  Natural	
  Heritage	
  in	
  South-­‐East	
  Europe’	
  begun	
  by	
  the	
  
Council	
  of	
  Europe	
  and	
  the	
  European	
  Commission	
  in	
  2003.	
  Like	
  various	
  other	
  
programmes	
  before	
  it,	
  this	
  aimed	
  to	
  produce	
  ‘integrated	
  rehabilitation’	
  (2011:	
  
28
225)	
  by	
  implementing	
  various	
  forms	
  of	
  ‘Europeanization’.	
  She	
  looks	
  in	
  particular	
  
at	
  how	
  it	
  operated	
  in	
  practice	
  in	
  Serbia,	
  where	
  it	
  was	
  promoted	
  as	
  creating	
  the	
  
possibility	
  to	
  ‘revisit	
  the	
  memories	
  of	
  Serbia’s	
  European	
  past’,	
  as	
  a	
  tourist	
  
brochure	
  that	
  she	
  quotes	
  puts	
  it	
  (2011:	
  	
  222).	
  Heritage	
  in	
  this	
  instance,	
  she	
  
suggests,	
  was	
  promoted	
  as	
  ‘inherently	
  “good”’	
  –	
  ‘a	
  cause	
  for	
  celebration’,	
  as	
  
Barbara	
  Kirshenblatt-­‐Gimblett	
  has	
  also	
  observed	
  in	
  relation	
  to	
  UNESCO	
  world	
  
heritage	
  (Kirshenblatt-­‐Gimblett	
  2006:	
  190;	
  Vos	
  2011:	
  234).	
  The	
  quest	
  to	
  find	
  
‘good’	
  heritage	
  that	
  would	
  help	
  in	
  ‘integrative	
  rehabilitation’	
  resulted,	
  however,	
  
in	
  an	
  ‘avoidance	
  of	
  difficult	
  heritage’	
  (2011:	
  234)	
  and	
  a	
  general	
  ‘distancing	
  from	
  
ideological	
  meaning’	
  both	
  in	
  the	
  selection	
  of	
  sites	
  and	
  their	
  presentation	
  (2011:	
  
236-­‐7).	
  So,	
  for	
  example,	
  Muslim	
  sites	
  were	
  excluded	
  as	
  ‘too	
  problematic’.	
  This	
  
was	
  supported	
  and	
  legitimated	
  by	
  a	
  bureaucratic	
  preference	
  for	
  short-­‐term	
  
success,	
  itself	
  promoted	
  by	
  what	
  were	
  referred	
  to	
  as	
  ‘European’	
  management	
  
practices.	
  These	
  imported	
  models	
  of	
  technical	
  procedures,	
  such	
  as	
  the	
  
identification	
  of	
  ‘pilot	
  projects’	
  that	
  would	
  act	
  as	
  ‘test-­‐cases’	
  from	
  which	
  
selections	
  were	
  then	
  made	
  to	
  produce	
  ‘consolidated	
  projects’	
  featuring	
  
‘emblematic	
  monuments	
  and	
  sites’	
  (2011:	
  228-­‐9).	
  Difficult	
  heritage	
  would	
  not	
  
only	
  have	
  been	
  less	
  assured	
  of	
  success	
  according	
  to	
  the	
  programme’s	
  model,	
  it	
  
would	
  also	
  have	
  proved	
  more	
  challenging	
  and	
  time-­‐consuming	
  to	
  address	
  within	
  
its	
  time-­‐frame	
  and	
  quest	
  for	
  the	
  ‘emblematic’.	
  It	
  was,	
  therefore,	
  excluded	
  by	
  
these	
  avowedly	
  ‘European’	
  practices.	
  Yet,	
  it	
  was	
  just	
  such	
  problematic	
  heritage	
  
that	
  continued	
  to	
  matter	
  to	
  local	
  people	
  and	
  that	
  was	
  more	
  likely	
  to	
  disrupt	
  
wider	
  Europeanizing	
  aims.	
  	
  
	
  
The	
  ethnographic	
  cases	
  discussed	
  in	
  this	
  section	
  show	
  that	
  discourses	
  of	
  
cosmopolitanism,	
  attempts	
  to	
  reduce	
  national	
  affinities	
  and	
  to	
  institutionalize	
  
Europeanization,	
  have	
  been	
  underway	
  in	
  the	
  post-­‐War	
  Balkans,	
  mobilized	
  
variously	
  by	
  international	
  organizations	
  and	
  local	
  people.	
  What	
  they	
  also,	
  show,	
  
however,	
  is	
  that	
  these	
  are	
  more	
  contested	
  and	
  complex	
  in	
  practice	
  than	
  the	
  
cosmo-­‐optimistic	
  arguments	
  presume.	
  In	
  particular,	
  what	
  we	
  have	
  seen	
  here	
  is	
  
that	
  what	
  might	
  superficially	
  appear	
  to	
  be	
  evidence	
  of	
  cosmopolitanism	
  might	
  
entail	
  paradoxical	
  ‘othering’	
  or	
  what	
  Jansen	
  calls	
  ‘closures’;	
  and	
  that	
  
international	
  or	
  Europeanizing	
  projects	
  may	
  risk	
  evading,	
  glossing	
  over	
  or	
  even	
  
29
potentially	
  aggravating	
  the	
  kinds	
  of	
  social	
  divisions	
  and	
  sentiments	
  that	
  are	
  
viewed	
  as	
  problematic	
  within	
  the	
  cosmopolitan	
  position.	
  In	
  some	
  instances	
  they	
  
contribute	
  to	
  strengthening	
  nationalistic	
  sentiments	
  and	
  creating	
  exclusions	
  –	
  
such	
  as	
  Muslim	
  heritage	
  –	
  that	
  may	
  threaten	
  a	
  cosmo-­‐optimistic	
  outcome	
  in	
  the	
  
future.	
  	
  	
  
	
  
	
  
******	
  
	
  
	
  
In	
  highlighting	
  some	
  of	
  the	
  ways	
  in	
  which	
  the	
  cosmopolitan	
  memory	
  thesis	
  does	
  
not	
  operate	
  in	
  practice,	
  my	
  aim	
  is	
  neither	
  to	
  debunk	
  the	
  thesis	
  nor	
  to	
  merely	
  
claim	
  that	
  practice	
  is	
  messy.	
  The	
  thesis	
  is	
  a	
  powerful	
  one	
  that	
  captures	
  significant	
  
developments	
  that	
  are	
  underway,	
  especially,	
  though	
  not	
  only,	
  in	
  relation	
  to	
  
Holocaust	
  commemoration.	
  But	
  there	
  are	
  other	
  processes	
  at	
  work	
  too,	
  as	
  the	
  
examples	
  variously	
  show.	
  These	
  include	
  continuing	
  processes	
  of	
  othering	
  and	
  of	
  
bounding,	
  in	
  which	
  the	
  nation	
  remains	
  an	
  active	
  agency.	
  At	
  the	
  same	
  time,	
  
however,	
  ‘the	
  nation’	
  is	
  not	
  a	
  static	
  entity	
  but	
  is	
  itself	
  being	
  reconfigured	
  –	
  
including	
  within	
  new	
  forms	
  of	
  commemoration	
  and	
  heritage	
  themselves.
	
   Within	
  Europe	
  and	
  to	
  a	
  large	
  extent	
  beyond	
  it	
  too,	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  has	
  
become	
  part	
  of	
  what	
  we	
  might	
  call	
  a	
  ‘cosmopolitan	
  curriculum’.	
  Knowing	
  about	
  
it,	
  and	
  increasingly	
  visiting	
  some	
  of	
  its	
  associated	
  heritage	
  –	
  in	
  Europe	
  or	
  outside	
  
it	
  –	
  has	
  become	
  a	
  cosmopolitan	
  credential.	
  Levy	
  and	
  Sznaider	
  have	
  more	
  recently	
  
expressed	
  this	
  in	
  terms	
  of	
  the	
  development	
  of	
  a	
  memory	
  imperative,	
  especially	
  in	
  
relation	
  to	
  human	
  rights	
  (2010	
  	
  ).	
  In	
  research	
  that	
  I	
  conducted	
  in	
  Nuremberg,	
  
with	
  visitors	
  to	
  the	
  former	
  Nazi	
  party	
  rally	
  grounds,	
  many	
  expressed	
  their	
  
reasons	
  for	
  coming	
  as	
  a	
  kind	
  of	
  moral	
  duty	
  –	
  ‘it’s	
  something	
  we	
  felt	
  that	
  we	
  
should	
  do’.	
  I	
  referred	
  to	
  this	
  kind	
  of	
  visiting	
  as	
  ‘moral	
  witnessing’	
  and	
  suggested	
  
that	
  it	
  entailed	
  putting	
  oneself	
  in	
  a	
  place	
  –	
  a	
  position	
  –	
  from	
  which	
  to	
  be	
  able	
  to	
  
speak	
  not	
  only	
  directly	
  about	
  the	
  particular	
  site	
  and	
  its	
  history	
  but	
  wider	
  
historical	
  matters	
  too.	
  My	
  interviewees	
  came	
  from	
  many	
  countries	
  –	
  Australia,	
  
England,	
  Canada,	
  France,	
  South	
  Africa,	
  Spain,	
  Switzerland	
  and	
  the	
  US	
  as	
  well	
  as	
  
Germany	
  -­‐	
  and	
  most	
  invoked	
  their	
  own	
  country	
  or	
  nationality	
  at	
  some	
  point	
  
30
during	
  the	
  interview,	
  sometimes	
  to	
  talk	
  of	
  how	
  some	
  aspect	
  of	
  uncomfortable	
  
history	
  was	
  dealt	
  with	
  (or	
  not)	
  there	
  and	
  sometimes	
  to	
  try	
  to	
  explain	
  to	
  me	
  how	
  I	
  
should	
  understand	
  their	
  position.	
  Talk	
  of	
  Germany	
  and	
  Germans	
  was	
  common	
  to	
  
almost	
  all	
  interviews.	
  Yet,	
  although	
  my	
  interviewees	
  often	
  framed	
  their	
  
comments	
  in	
  terms	
  of	
  nation-­‐states	
  and	
  usually	
  took	
  for	
  granted	
  that	
  these	
  were	
  
the	
  active	
  agencies	
  in	
  creating	
  public	
  history,	
  many	
  also,	
  simultaneously,	
  
engaged	
  in	
  trying	
  to	
  think	
  in	
  terms	
  of	
  the	
  position	
  of	
  others	
  –	
  e.g.	
  what	
  must	
  it	
  be	
  
like	
  to	
  be	
  German	
  –	
  and	
  to	
  more	
  generally	
  make	
  comparisons	
  between	
  different	
  
ways	
  of	
  representing	
  the	
  difficult	
  past.	
  In	
  other	
  words,	
  what	
  different	
  national	
  –	
  
and	
  also	
  more	
  localised	
  –	
  self-­‐positioning	
  offered	
  was	
  not	
  a	
  constraint	
  to	
  
cosmopolitan	
  thinking	
  but	
  a	
  vantage	
  point	
  from	
  which	
  to	
  think	
  about	
  others	
  and	
  
their	
  ways	
  of	
  seeing	
  and	
  being	
  in	
  the	
  world.	
  The	
  outcome	
  of	
  this	
  was	
  not	
  a	
  form	
  
of	
  cosmopolitanism	
  that	
  relied	
  on	
  an	
  uncritical	
  sense	
  of	
  sameness	
  and	
  sharing.	
  
Rather,	
  it	
  was	
  one	
  that	
  can	
  be	
  characterised	
  in	
  terms	
  of	
  	
  ‘relationalities	
  of	
  
openness	
  across	
  differences’	
  as	
  noted	
  earlier	
  in	
  this	
  chapter	
  (Glick	
  Schiller,	
  
Darieva	
  and	
  Gruner-­‐Domic	
  2011:	
  410,	
  403).	
  Visitors	
  did	
  make	
  judgements	
  of	
  
relatively	
  good	
  and	
  bad	
  approaches,	
  and	
  they	
  sometimes	
  judged	
  their	
  own	
  
countries	
  unfavourably.	
  Theirs	
  was,	
  then,	
  a	
  critical	
  cosmopolitanism	
  that	
  in	
  some	
  
ways	
  relied	
  upon	
  national	
  variation	
  for	
  its	
  operation	
  though	
  that	
  was	
  not	
  tied	
  to	
  
it	
  in	
  its	
  realisation.	
  
	
   While	
  nations	
  were	
  an	
  accepted	
  part	
  of	
  this	
  discourse	
  and	
  while	
  the	
  
ethnographic	
  research	
  discussed	
  in	
  this	
  chapter	
  clearly	
  shows	
  their	
  continued	
  
significance	
  both	
  as	
  frames	
  of	
  action	
  and	
  as	
  affectively	
  significant	
  for	
  their	
  
citizens,	
  the	
  chapter	
  has	
  also	
  shown,	
  like	
  the	
  previous	
  one,	
  that	
  it	
  has	
  become	
  
more	
  difficult	
  to	
  ‘do	
  nationness’	
  in	
  quite	
  the	
  ways	
  in	
  which	
  it	
  was	
  formerly	
  done.	
  
At	
  the	
  very	
  least,	
  gestures	
  to	
  alternative	
  narratives	
  and	
  to	
  other	
  kinds	
  of	
  moral	
  
legitimacy	
  need	
  to	
  made	
  –	
  and	
  perhaps	
  harnessed	
  to	
  a	
  reconfigured	
  way	
  of	
  being	
  
national.	
  This,	
  I	
  suggest,	
  is	
  something	
  that	
  Holocaust	
  commemoration	
  often	
  –	
  
though	
  not	
  always,	
  as	
  Feldman’s	
  example	
  shows	
  so	
  well	
  -­‐	
  helps	
  achieve.	
  What	
  we	
  
have	
  mostly	
  seen	
  in	
  the	
  cases	
  above,	
  however,	
  is	
  not	
  so	
  much	
  the	
  nation	
  being	
  
displaced	
  or	
  ‘cracked’	
  by	
  cosmopolitan	
  memory	
  as	
  the	
  nation	
  presenting	
  itself	
  as	
  
cosmopolitan	
  through	
  harnessing	
  more	
  widely	
  shared	
  pasts	
  as	
  part	
  of	
  its	
  own.	
  
That	
  cosmopolitanization	
  –	
  of	
  memory	
  or	
  society	
  –	
  does	
  not	
  necessarily	
  require	
  a	
  
31
breaking	
  or	
  superseding	
  of	
  the	
  nation	
  is	
  also	
  shown	
  by	
  examples	
  such	
  as	
  the	
  UK’s	
  
inauguration	
  of	
  a	
  Holocaust	
  Memorial	
  Day	
  as	
  part	
  of	
  a	
  pan-­‐European	
  project.	
  
Even	
  in	
  the	
  case	
  of	
  Austria,	
  which	
  Matti	
  Bunzl	
  presents	
  as	
  one	
  in	
  which	
  the	
  
nation	
  is	
  being	
  superseded	
  by	
  Europe,	
  the	
  fact	
  that	
  the	
  ultra-­‐nationalist	
  and	
  anti-­‐
European	
  Freedom	
  Party	
  is	
  making	
  precisely	
  the	
  same	
  accommodation	
  of	
  Jews	
  
that	
  he	
  sees	
  as	
  a	
  New	
  European	
  development,	
  suggests	
  that	
  it	
  is	
  also	
  fully	
  
appropriable	
  in	
  service	
  of	
  the	
  nation	
  and	
  even	
  nationalism.	
  	
  	
  
	
   What	
  has	
  emerged	
  here,	
  then,	
  is	
  a	
  dynamic	
  of	
  potentially	
  cosmopolitan	
  
developments	
  that	
  are	
  sometimes	
  appropriated	
  to	
  other	
  ends	
  or	
  butt	
  up	
  against	
  
limits	
  and	
  other	
  agendas	
  in	
  practice.	
  Nevertheless,	
  cutting	
  across	
  all	
  of	
  the	
  many	
  
debates	
  about	
  the	
  late	
  twentieth	
  century	
  heritage	
  and	
  history	
  preoccupation	
  –	
  
and	
  indeed	
  situating	
  those	
  debates	
  themselves	
  –	
  is	
  a	
  casting	
  of	
  the	
  past	
  as	
  a	
  focus	
  
through	
  which	
  to	
  debate	
  moral	
  and	
  political	
  concerns.	
  In	
  other	
  words,	
  it	
  has	
  
become	
  a	
  moral	
  forum,	
  perhaps	
  even	
  the	
  pre-­‐eminent	
  moral	
  forum	
  of	
  our	
  times.	
  
While	
  the	
  past	
  may	
  to	
  some	
  extent	
  have	
  long	
  played	
  something	
  of	
  this	
  role,	
  a	
  
more	
  widespread	
  public	
  acknowledgement	
  of	
  differences	
  among	
  historians,	
  
historical	
  revisionism,	
  debates	
  about	
  school	
  curricula,	
  identity	
  politics,	
  public	
  
controversies	
  over	
  matters	
  such	
  as	
  commemoration,	
  and	
  the	
  spreading	
  of	
  a	
  
conception	
  of	
  history	
  as	
  potentially	
  regressive	
  rather	
  than	
  progressive	
  (Wright	
  
1985),	
  have	
  all	
  contributed	
  to	
  history	
  being	
  publicly	
  debatable,	
  and	
  to	
  its	
  
centring	
  as	
  a	
  site	
  for	
  political	
  and	
  ethical	
  contemplation	
  today.28	
  Within	
  this,	
  the	
  
Holocaust	
  has	
  emerged	
  as	
  one	
  of	
  –	
  or	
  perhaps	
  even	
  the	
  –	
  pre-­‐eminent	
  foci	
  of	
  
such	
  political	
  and	
  moral	
  activity:	
  perhaps	
  not	
  the	
  ‘moral	
  and	
  ideological	
  
Rorschach	
  test’	
  that	
  Novick	
  dubs	
  it	
  (2000:	
  12)	
  but	
  a	
  moral	
  and	
  ideological	
  
touchstone	
  nonetheless	
  (Thomas	
  1999).	
  	
  
	
  
	
  
	
  
	
  
	
  
	
  
1
The	
  equation	
  of	
  Europeanization	
  and	
  cosmopolitanization	
  is	
  more	
  frequent	
  in	
  
the	
  writing	
  of	
  Ulrich	
  Beck,	
  e.g.	
  Beck	
  2002;	
  Beck	
  and	
  Grande	
  2007.	
  More	
  
32
specifically,	
  the	
  idea	
  that	
  Europe’s	
  twentieth	
  century	
  history	
  of	
  atrocity	
  and	
  
trauma,	
  including	
  the	
  Holocaust,	
  could	
  act	
  as	
  a	
  shared	
  memory	
  supporting	
  a	
  
contemporary	
  European	
  identity	
  has	
  been	
  suggested	
  by	
  Beck	
  (2002)	
  and	
  various	
  
commentators,	
  particularly	
  by	
  a	
  number	
  of	
  German	
  intellectuals	
  (Giesen	
  2003;	
  
see	
  also	
  Delanty	
  and	
  Rumford	
  2005:	
  95-­‐102).	
  It	
  informs	
  developments	
  such	
  as	
  
the	
  establishing	
  of	
  a	
  European	
  network	
  of	
  Holocaust	
  memorial	
  activities.	
  As	
  
Schlesinger	
  and	
  Foret	
  (2006:	
  69)	
  point	
  out,	
  this	
  is	
  a	
  problematic	
  proposition,	
  not	
  
least	
  because	
  of	
  the	
  differential	
  positioning	
  not	
  just	
  of	
  individuals,	
  but	
  also	
  of	
  
nations	
  and	
  groups,	
  in	
  relation	
  to	
  perpetration	
  and	
  victimhood.	
  Sharing	
  a	
  
memory	
  of	
  atrocity	
  is	
  very	
  different	
  depending	
  upon	
  such	
  positioning.
2
For references to these see, in turn: Goldberg	
  1995,	
  quoted	
  in	
  Flanzbaum	
  1999a:	
  
12;	
  Finkelstein	
  2000;	
  Cole	
  2000	
  and	
  also	
  Gruber	
  2002:	
  8;	
  	
  or	
  even	
  Gruber	
  2002:	
  
8.
3
The language of ‘victims of Fascism’ was used in both Germanys. In the GDR, the
framing in terms of Fascism and the emphasis on political victims was especially
strong and led to even greater reluctance to acknowledge the Jewish Holocaust (Herf
1997; Niven 2010). Indeed, since German reunification many concentration camps in
the former GDR have been revised in order to give fuller acknowledgment of Jewish
victimhood (Niven 2002; Niven and Paver 2010; Niven 2010).
4
My computer’s Word automated spell-check, for example, recognizes the term
‘holocaust’ but not ‘shoah’.
5
See: http://www.memorialmuseums.org/deutschland
6
Lithuania also has a long history of Jewish museum, the first having been
established in 1913 but damaged and then almost destroyed first in WWI and then
WWII. It was re-established between 1944 and 1949.
http://www.muziejai.lt/vilnius/zydu_muziejus.en.htm#History
7
http://www.memorialmuseums.org/eng/denkmaeler/view/534/Jewish-Museum-of-
Belgium
8
http://www.memorialmuseums.org/denkmaeler/view/749/Museum-of-Jewish-
Culture
9
In 1998 the museum was established in a new building, though it had been running
on a	
  small	
  scale	
  since	
  the	
  late	
  1970s:
www.jewishmuseum.gr/en/the_museum/history.html
10
http://www.en.galiciajewishmuseum.org/museum-history.html
11
This is the dating of a new building, some parts of the collection having been
shown previously in two small rooms: www.jewishitaly.org/detail.asp?ID=165
12
www.oslo.com/en/product/?TLp=16789
13
http://www.jewishmuseum.org.pl/en/cms/home-page/
14
http://www.jhm.nl/organisation/history
15
www.jewishmuseum.org.uk/history-of-the-museum-new
16
See http://www.jmw.at/history.
17
See, for example, http://museologien.blogspot.com/2011/02/recent-events-at-
jewish-museum-vienna.html.
18
See http://www.jewishmuseum.cz/en/amuseum.htm; for a discussion of the Nazi
Central Jewish museum project see Greenblatt 1991.
19
http://www.jewishmuseum.cz/en/amuseum.htm
20
http://www.jhm.nl/organisation/history; Greenberg 2002.
21
www.jewishmuseum.org.uk/history-of-the-museum-new
33
22
It was part of what informed the European Historical Consciousness project, and
the President’s History Competition that this was linked to, discussed in Chapter Two.
23
www.holocaustmemorialday.gov.uk/2002 (active in February 2004).
24
The	
  date	
  chosen	
  was	
  January	
  27th	
  –	
  the	
  date	
  of	
  the	
  liberation	
  of	
  Auschwitz-­‐
Birkenau,	
  a	
  date	
  that	
  had	
  already	
  been	
  adopted	
  by	
  Germany	
  in	
  1996	
  for	
  its	
  Day	
  
of	
  the	
  Victims	
  of	
  National	
  Socialism.	
  Israel’s	
  national	
  Holocaust	
  Remembrance	
  
Day,	
  on	
  the	
  anniversary	
  of	
  the	
  1943	
  Warsaw	
  uprising	
  (a	
  date	
  that	
  usually	
  falls	
  in	
  
April)	
  is	
  the	
  most	
  longstanding	
  of	
  state	
  Holocaust	
  commemorations,	
  having	
  been	
  
first	
  held	
  in	
  1951.	
  In	
  the	
  US,	
  the	
  Holocaust	
  Memorial	
  Museum	
  took	
  responsibility	
  
for	
  the	
  new	
  Day	
  for	
  Remembrance	
  of	
  the	
  Victims	
  of	
  Holocaust,	
  the	
  first	
  of	
  which	
  
was	
  held	
  in	
  1982,	
  on	
  the	
  same	
  date	
  as	
  Israel’s.	
  In	
  2005,	
  the	
  United	
  Nations	
  
adopted	
  January	
  27th	
  for	
  International	
  Holocaust	
  Memorial	
  Day.
25
For primary documentation of the conference, on which this account draws, see:
http://www.manskligarattigheter.gov.se/stockholmforum/2000/conference_2000.html
26
The Muslim Council non-participation in Holocaust Memorial Day remained in
place until 2007; and then in 2008 it was re-introduced (Werbner 2009: 459).
27
www.pm.gov.uk/news.asp?NewsId=1754 (active in February 2004).
28
The rise of ‘public history’ as a focus of academic interest in the US and more
recently in Britain is itself indicative of this. See Jordanova (2000).