The recent discourse on institutional racism in the United States has rekindled the call for the removal of statues and the renaming of landmarks that glorify its antebellum period. A similar call is being made in countries who have either suffered or benefited from colonialism. For historical figures whose likenesses and names have been etched into stone or metal, if they owned slaves, supported slavery, or espoused racist ideologies, they are now in the crosshairs of public outrage. Municipal authorities have been forced to decide on the fate of these monuments… before the mob takes matters into their own hands. Extreme voices want them destroyed. Moderates and academics have suggested that they be placed in museums. And there are those who believe they should remain where they are.
This debate is also taking place here in T&T. Which is somewhat problematic as our history has bequeathed us a diverse heritage. Columbus “discovered” and named us. Spain colonised us. And Britain gave us their system of government. We are thus surrounded by reminders of these experiences: townships with Amerindian names; and streets, parks, and landmarks dedicated to European governors, heroes, and politicians. Of course, there was also a substantial human cost for all this prosperity and civilising—the indigenous population that was decimated and the foreign peoples who were brought here to toil under inhumane conditions.
Unfortunately, long after our colonial masters have left, the stigmas remain. Racial animosity, colourism, feelings of victimisation… these have been passed down through the generations. But is the remedy for our societal ills the erasure of these colonial monuments? Do we hold the legacies of these men responsible for the crimes they committed even though those acts weren’t considered criminal in their time? Would that make us feel better about ourselves, ushering in a new era of national and racial pride? In seeking a resolution it is important to examine the individual who is honoured and why.
Go back far enough into someone’s past and you’re bound to find something about them—something they said or did—that is reprehensible. Nobody is perfect, least of all historical figures the likes of Columbus, Churchill, and Gandhi. Now, it’s easy for us to pass judgement on them, especially with our modern sensibilities of right and wrong. But we have to remember that they were a product of their time. To the Eurocentric Columbus, the naked Amerindians appeared as primitive, heathen savages. To the arrogant Churchill, the might of the British Empire was proof of the superiority of the white race. Even Gandhi, who like most Indians living throughout the Empire, once thought disparagingly about Africans. But he outgrew that racism and fought against discrimination in all forms. Does his past diminish his achievement and reputation? I’m willing to bet most people will give him a pass. And therein lies the problem. We shouldn’t view these men as being wholly and solely good or bad; that’s an oversimplification that’s not fair to them. Furthermore, in weighing their accomplishments against their misdeeds, we can’t tilt the scales using modern standards—ours is a different time to theirs.
That being said, we must also identify the purpose of the monuments themselves. Remember, this debate is the result of what’s going on in America’s southern states. Confederate statues and memorials serve a dual purpose, both of which are insidious. They promote the “Lost Cause” narrative – romanticising the Civil War as a heroic and righteous stand by the Confederates to protect states’ rights (that right being to own slaves). Also, the majority of these monuments were erected/established during the Jim Crow era and the Civil Rights Movement. This was a way (for the south) to reinforce segregation and white supremacy. That’s integral to the reasoning as to why they should be removed. In comparison, our monuments don’t have an overt racist agenda. The statue of Columbus located in the capital is the focal point in this debate. It is seen by some citizens—the Warao Nation in particular—as a symbol of the oppression and genocide of the Amerindians. But that’s not what Columbus was honoured for. His discovery of the ‘New World’ changed the course of human history. He could not have foreseen the repercussions of his actions. And to blame it all on him is scapegoating.
Let’s say, one way or another, the statue of Columbus is removed… what’s next? Do we remove the one of Gandhi and strike Churchill’s name off the highway? Do we scour the country, sanitising it of any and all things that reek of colonialism? What would removing these monuments accomplish? When was the last time someone walked along Picton Street and felt disgusted over the cruelty of the infamous governor? It has been suggested that we should rename such landmarks after local heroes. Would changing it to Makandal Daaga Street inspire benighted Trinbagonians to appreciate his accomplishments? It’s doubtful. All this will do is placate those who blame the past for the problems of the present.
Monuments serve as a reminder. Removing them would be an expression of anger over something we cannot change. Leaving them would be accepting that it’s part of our history, and proof that we want to learn from it.