How often do we pass by historical places without realising their deep meaning? Is this a reflection of how we are slowly losing grip with our human identity, and risk falling again into the abyss?
At histoCon 2025, while visiting the Jewish Memorial in Berlin, I realised how disconnected we are from the world. We pass by monuments because we cannot connect with their meaning – they remain just buildings, just words on a wall. It was the same for me. Until the story unfolded. Then the blocks were no longer just blocks, they became people, voices of suffering, silenced by fascism and war. Leaving the memorial, I remained with a question: how often do we walk past meaning without actually seeing it? Is it because of the fast-paced world we are living in? Or is it a deeper loss tied to memory and remembrance?
Talking with other participants, I understood that, just like individuals, states share a common beginning, have a different development but can reach the same ending. That reflection led me to understand why totalitarian movements are on the rise in Europe and explore how different countries have dealt with memory after the Second World War, which should have prevented this resurface. In times of discontent, it becomes imperative to revisit the past, not for history lessons, but as a way to prevent repeating it.
After 1945, post-war societies struggled to face the shame of the atrocities committed, be it the Nazi crimes, collaboration, or the deportation of Jews and Roma. The wounds were deep and early actions were timid. Some countries, like France, focused on resistance and heroism. Others, like Germany, embraced silence. In Eastern Europe, under Soviet influence, memory was tightly controlled and reframed to support the new communist regimes. It was not a narrative focused on healing, but on building a new society.
These two approaches shaped public memory in different ways. Western countries eventually opened up. After initially promoting myths of heroism and collective victimhood, the 1960 and 1970s brought change. Survivor memoirs and televised trials like the Eichmann Trial in 1961 or the Frankfurt Auschwitz Trials in 1963-1965 helped bring war crimes and Holocaust complicity into public view.
The younger generations began confronting their parents’ roles in the war and the silence surrounding them. The 1980s became known as the ‘Era of Witness’, when media and historiography turned to survivors to understand what had been hidden. Symbolic actions shortly followed, in 1985, West Germany’s President von Weizsäcker declared 8th of May as a day of liberation, not of defeat. In France, the Klaus Barbie trial in 1987 forced a reckoning with Vichy collaboration with the Nazis. These moments helped move memory from denial to responsibility.
By the 2000s, memory became institutionalised. Germany inaugurated the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe in 2005. France, Italy, and the Netherlands publicly acknowledged their complicity in the crimes. Holocaust education became part of school systems. Europe built a transnational memory supported by public commemorations and civic remembrance. But this progress is now under threat.
Due to a lack of interest in history and its lessons, the incapacity of the states to properly embed the suffering of the victims and share it to the general population for mourning and understanding, along with economic discontent and public dissatisfaction, populist movements are on the rise in the West. They challenge the narrative built over decades. These new voices revise history, downplay collaboration, and relativise the Holocaust. The danger of forgetting, and repeating, is growing.
In Eastern Europe, memory followed a different path. The Soviet Union imposed rigid narratives glorifying the Red Army and supressing the Holocaust and Jewish identity. Monuments were built to celebrate Soviet victory, not victims. In the 1970s and 1980s, Samizdats, underground self-published literatures banned or censored by the communist regimes, began to share supressed stories, challenging the state’s monopoly over memory.
After 1989, the fall of communism opened space for remembrance. Monuments for Jewish and Roma victims were erected, national remembrance days were declared, and EU membership brought Holocaust education into public life. But awareness remains low. In Romania, a study conducted by the ‘Elie Wiesel’ National Institute for the Study of the Holocaust showed that only one in three citizens are aware that the Holocaust happened in their country also. Thus, populist movements are growing in Hungary, Poland, Slovakia, and Romania, driven by the same reasons as in the West, but also by the fact that the crimes of communism have overshadowed those of fascism.
Despite efforts across Europe to remember and prevent atrocities that happened during World War II, movements with ideologies similar to fascism are reappearing. With rising antisemitism, xenophobia, and ultranationalism, we are seeing echoes of the past. Global tensions and growing unrest create fertile ground for these ideologies to return.
In this context, public memory must be revived. Monuments and memorials are not just stones; they are also warnings. They speak to us if we choose to listen. ‘Never again’ must be more than a phrase. Through education, deep public discourse, and strong institutions, we can reconnect with the past, prevent future atrocities, and build a more resilient society.
This publication does not represent an expression of opinion by the Federal Agency for Civic Education. The author is responsible for the content.