{"id":23687,"date":"2025-07-02T07:00:00","date_gmt":"2025-07-02T05:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pocolit.com\/?p=23687"},"modified":"2025-06-17T11:23:17","modified_gmt":"2025-06-17T09:23:17","slug":"one-past-two-futures-britains-conflicted-path-to-decolonisation","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/pocolit.com\/en\/2025\/07\/02\/one-past-two-futures-britains-conflicted-path-to-decolonisation\/","title":{"rendered":"One Past, Two Futures: Britain\u2019s Conflicted Path to Decolonisation"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Who Gets to Stand Tall?<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

On June 7th<\/sup>, 2020, Black Lives Matter protesters toppled Edward Colston\u2019s statue in Bristol, throwing it into the River Avon \u2013 an act emblematic of a larger reckoning with colonial legacies. It provoked pressing questions about who is commemorated in public space and what values such memorial sites represent. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In Britain, statues of figures like Colston and Cecil Rhodes have become the focus of enduring discussions about memory, justice, and identity. These monuments are not just a means of preserving history \u2013 they shape it. Being symbols of what societies choose to celebrate and ignore, they often reinforce dominant narratives while silencing others. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This essay explores how public responses to the statues of Edward Colston in Bristol and Cecil Rhodes in Oxford expose tensions within Britain\u2019s collective memory. It investigates how these disputed memorials mirror both the persistence of colonial mindsets and the potential for transformation. Ultimately, the comparison of these two case studies demonstrates that genuine re-examination of colonial symbols relies on the interplay of public pressure and institutional willingness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Memory in Stone: Why Statues Matter<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Jan Assmann<\/a>,<\/a> who is known for his work on cultural memory explains that the collective memory of a society is socially shaped by public symbols and spaces, which act as points of reference, maintaining continuity between past and present. Due to collective memory reflecting contemporary values, it is implied that what a society commemorate is what it regards as important and worthy of remembrance. As sociolinguist Maurice Halbwachs<\/a> <\/a>pointed out nearly a century ago, the process of selecting what to remember omits or reinterprets and thereby distorts aspects of the past to benefit the cohesion of identities and narrative consistency.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Statues are physical representations of collective memory. Subject to reinterpretation, they are not neutral remnants of the past, but open memorials. In a postcolonial setting, they act as symbolic battlegrounds where ideals of justice collide with entrenched imperial pride. Their presence or removal reflects ongoing negotiations over national identity and historical accountability. Therefore, such disputes indicate conflicting ideas about the future rather than mere disagreement about the past.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Edward Colston: The Fall of a “Philanthropist”<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Edward Colston was a 17th-century merchant and deputy governor of the Royal African Company. Having played a pivotal role in the transatlantic trade in enslaved people, he built his wealth through the trafficking of human lives. Nevertheless, he is remembered in Bristol for his philanthropic donations to schools, churches, and charities and was honoured with street names, commemorative societies, and statues. Most prominently, a bronze statue was erected in 1895 in Bristol\u2019s city centre, celebrating him as \u201cone of the most virtuous and wise sons of their city\u201d. Having been declared as a symbol of civic pride and a \u201c<\/a>Father to the Poor<\/a>\u201d<\/a>, Colston\u2019s reputation was held high and unchallenged reaching far into the 20th<\/sup> century.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

However, this narrative started to be called into question from the 1990s onward, due to increasing public awareness of Colston\u2019s involvement in the trade in enslaved people. Following the murder of George Floyd in 2020, the Black Lives Matter movement reignited this debate. On June 7th, Colston\u2019s statue was toppled, graffitied and thrown into the River Avon by protesters. In order to represent the blood of the victims he profited from, activists painted the statue\u2019s hands and face red as stated in <\/a>The Guardian<\/a>.<\/a> Some kneeled on the fallen statue\u2019s neck in symbolic reference to Floyd\u2019s death.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This act of protest was both powerful and polarising. Supporters saw it as a necessary dismantling of colonial authority over public memory, regarding the statue as a symbol of violence and oppression. The BBC reported that witnesses described it as an \u201c<\/a>empowering m<\/a>o<\/a>ment<\/a>\u201d<\/a> that led to them finally feeling \u201c<\/a>validated<\/a>\u201d<\/a> and being able to \u201c<\/a>reclaim [their] identity<\/a>\u201d<\/a>. In 2015, the \u201cCountering Colston<\/a>\u201d<\/a> campaign was launched, which, amongst other effects, prompted institutions like Colston Hall or Colston Girls\u2019 School to rename and dissociate themselves from the Colston name. Critics, who saw Colston as a benefactor, condemned the act as vandalism. However, the institutional response was swift, retrieving and later displaying it in a museum, where it was recontextualised with banners made by activists. With the establishment of the \u201cWe are Bristol History Commission\u201d, Bristol City Council sought to encourage dialogue about historical accountability and racial justice, create a more representative public space, make decisions regarding contested heritage transparent and address Bristol\u2019s involvement in the transatlantic trade in enslaved people and its influence on present-day concerns, as stated in the Commision\u2019s report<\/a>.<\/a> Thus, in this instance, public outrage has successfully pushed institutional willingness and action to confront the city\u2019s colonial heritage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cecil Rhodes: A Statue Still Standing\u00a0<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

The mining magnate and British imperialist Cecil Rhodes remains one of the most controversial figures in British colonial history. He was instrumental in the expansion of British rule in South Africa and thus the exploitation of labour and land. His actions were characterised by segregation and marginalisation of the African population, whom he described as \u201cchildren [\u2026] just emerging from Barbarism\u201d, as stated by biographer Frederick Henry Verschoyle. According to Alexander Massie<\/a>,<\/a> at the same time, he founded the Rhodes Scholarship and donated significant funds to the University of Oxford. Oriel College\u2019s architecture and identity still bear his name and image at the top of one of their buildings, as stated on their website<\/a>.<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In 2015, the Rhodes Must Fall movement emerged in South Africa, demanding the removal of a Rhodes statue at the University of Cape Town. It quickly gained in popularity in the UK, especially at Oxford and Oriel College. As reported by the BBC<\/a>,<\/a> the activists criticised Rhodes as a symbol of racial oppression and imperial violence, arguing that his public commemoration diminished the voices of Black students, perpetuated imperialist ideas and thus legitimised Britain\u2019s colonial past. What followed were demonstrations, petitions, and public debates calling for honest historical reckoning. According to Oriel College\u2019s Commission report<\/a>,<\/a> it initially acknowledged the controversy and expressed support for its removal. However, in the end, it chose to leave the statue in place, citing historical and financial reasons. This is a reflection of institutional hesitation shaped by fears of erasing history rather than facing colonial legacies and pursuing structural change.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Diverging Responses and the Complexities of Decolonising Memory\u00a0<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Comparing the two case studies, it becomes evident that Britain does not have a unified response to its colonial past. Although both statues faced intense criticism, institutional willingness to perform actual change differed significantly: Colston\u2019s fall, catalysed by mass mobilisation, resulted in immediate and tangible institutional action. The statue was removed, reframed and displayed in a museum. In contrast, the Rhodes case demonstrates how institutional inertia and entrenched privilege may resist such change. Oxford\u2019s hesitation implies an ongoing negotiation between symbolic gestures and actual transformation.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This contrast illuminates that there are diverging paths, degrees, and intensities to modifying memory culture as well as the collective memory. Memory politics are shaped by institutional interests, local history and public pressure. Some institutions are beginning to acknowledge their colonial affiliations, while others remain reluctant out of concern for reputational damage or public discord.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

These case studies illustrate the complexity of decolonising British public spaces and institutional memory, exposing varying degrees of societal readiness to confront and transform collective memory. A genuine re-examination of colonial symbols can be made possible under the premises of joint forces of public pressure paired with institutional willingness. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shaping the Future by Facing the Past\u00a0<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Britain stands at a crossroads between preserving imperial nostalgia and building a more inclusive public memory. Statues like those of Colston and Rhodes have become hot spots of cultural conflict, where national pride and identity collide with demands for justice and equality. The unequal, contentious and continuous nature of change is a reflection of underlying conflicts in Britain\u2019s approach to its imperial past. The statues demonstrate memory as a site of struggle, subject to reinterpretation and transformation instead of a static entity. Therefore, the debate is not merely about the past nor about erasing history, but about which parts of history societies choose to honour. Their decisions about what societies commemorate today will determine the values they carry into the future. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bibliography:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Assmann, J. (2005). Das kollektive Ged\u00e4chtnis zwischen K\u00f6rper und Schrift. Zur  Ged\u00e4chtnistheorie von Maurice Halbwachs. In Erinnerung und Gesellschaft. M\u00e9moire et Soci\u00e9t\u00e9. Hommage \u00e0 Maurice Halbwachs<\/em>. Jahrbuch f\u00fcr Soziologiegeschichte<\/em>, 65\u201383. https:\/\/doi.org\/10.11588\/propylaeumdok.00002338<\/a><\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cole, T. & Burch-Brown, J. et al. (2022). <\/em>The Colston Statue: What Next? \u2018We are Bristol\u2019 History Commission Full Report<\/em>. Bristol. https:\/\/bridginghistories.com\/resources\/His<\/a>tory<\/a>–<\/a>Commission<\/a>–<\/a>Full<\/a>–<\/a>Report<\/a>–<\/a>Final.pdf<\/a> <\/a> <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Halbwachs, M. (1925). Les cadres sociaux de la m\u00e9moire. Classiques des Sciences Sociales. <\/em>F\u00e9lix Alcan. https:\/\/doi.org\/10.1522\/cla.ham.cad<\/a>.<\/a>  <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Massie, S. M. (2016). The Imperialism of Cecil John Rhodes: Metropolitan Perceptions of a Colonial<\/em> Reputation<\/em>. Oxford Brookes University. https:\/\/radar.brookes.ac.uk\/ra<\/a>dar\/file\/7906c353<\/a>–<\/a>817c<\/a>–<\/a>43b6<\/a>–<\/a>ac15<\/a>–<\/a>a2d21c8ca8e4\/1\/fulltext.pdf<\/a> <\/a> <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morgan, K. (1999). Edward Colston and Bristol<\/em>. The Bristol Branch of the Historical Association. https:\/\/bristolha.wordpress.com\/wp<\/a>–<\/a>content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/bha096.pdf<\/a> <\/a> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Verschoyle, F.  (1894) Introduction to the Second Reading of the Glen Grey Act. Cecil Rhodes, His Political Life and Speeches<\/em>, 379-383.<\/em> Chapman and Hall.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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