The very first time I saw a statue toppled was in April of 2003 and I saw it on television. It was an inauspicious day, I believe, because nothing was remarkable about it except perhaps for the unforgettable sight of a larger-than-life effigy of Saddam Hussein suspended at an awkward angle above Firdos Square in Baghdad, Iraq.
What impressed me more than anything during the ensuing broadcast was that the determination of the Iraqis to dismantle was equally matched by the determination of the statue which, to me, appeared to resist being taken down. It was a battle of wills (or craftsmanship) - man against his own monument. The Iraqis were dogged in their endeavour, this was the end of a political era for them, and were rewarded for their sustained efforts when the lifeless likeness of Saddam Hussein was removed from its imposing pedestal and relegated to history.
In the background, trying desperately to interpret and relay the significance of the event to people watching, the anchor on the international news channel barely suppressed her excitement.
In 2011, together with a delegation of women from various countries in Africa, I found myself looking up at a curious statue in Puerta del Sol, Madrid. It was a bear and a cherry tree. We had been invited to participate in a conference organised by the Spanish-African Women's Network for a Better World and on the obligatory tour of the city, we were shown this odd, rather interesting piece of sculpture. Our well-dressed, perfectly groomed tour-guide who stumbled clumsily over the English language without losing her designer sunglasses, managed to successfully convey to us (the group of English-speaking African countries) that there were no actual bears in Spain but that the sculpture itself was a Spanish symbol. All of us nodded vigorously. It was a memorable experience because I can recall that the delegate from Kenya proceeded at this juncture to explain in great detail and with some passion why she was convinced the Spanish bear was female. Her logic caused my forehead to furrow and my head to spin but she was supported in her argument by the Tanzanian delegate, if I remember correctly. 'It's the cherry tree, can't you see?' She shouted at our perplexed faces. 'Only a female bear would want to eat cherries!'
On the morning of the 26th of December, 2013, Namibians awoke to notifications and posts on social media platforms (some outraged, others clearly anxious) that the iconic Reiterdenkmal (Rider's Memorial / Equestrian Monument) statue in Windhoek, honouring German citizens and soldiers who had died 'for empire and emperor' during a particularly horrific colonial 'war' with local tribes, was secretly removed the previous night. The order for removal had been issued by former president, Hifikepunye Lucas Pohamba, and executed by the National Heritage Council of Namibia. The rider on his horse is currently standing out of sight in the courtyard of the Alte Feste, the old German colonial fort / fortress on a hill overlooking the city of Windhoek.
Elke Zuern, Professor of Politics, wrote the following about the Reiterdenkmal in Windhoek: 'Memorials and commemorations...have profound political meaning by visibly presenting the victor's justice and offering a warning to those who might continue to resist. The Equestrian Monument in Windhoek served exactly this function. Standing next to the German colonial fort and on the site of a wartime concentration camp, it was erected by the German colonial masters as a symbol of the longevity of their rule.' Proof was indeed presented that equestrian monuments in particular, symbolise imperial rule and power (Joachim Zeller, Germany).
On the afternoon of the 9th of April, 2015, the stony-faced seated effigy of British mining magnate and politician, Cecil John Rhodes, splashed with white paint, was removed by the South African Heritage Council from the premises of the University of Cape Town. The movement responsible for verbalising and demanding a collective decision to have the statue removed became known as the RMF (Rhodes Must Fall) movement, praised and derided in turn by various sectors of South African civil society. And, in neighbouring Namibia, a debate that started before the removal of the Reiterdenkmal flared up again after the removal of the Rhodes statue regarding the visibility of statues, particularly those dating from Namibia's colonial history.
Zuern and Zeller addressed an aspect of political symbolism statues as honorific tributes commemorating political leaders, events or changes in a country, come to embody. Statues and busts of Joseph Stalin, once upon a cold time visible in all major cities of eastern Europe and Russia, were quietly removed from public spaces and are now stored in the dark vaults of museums; some were destroyed. The removal of Saddam Hussein's statue from Firdos Square in Baghdad and Cecil John Rhodes' from the campus grounds of the University of Cape Town indicate that statues reflect major political changes in a country and shifts in the perception of a particular society of itself but also that people seek to connect and identify with national monuments, either culturally, historically or politically, like my fellow delegate who classified the Puerto del Sol bear as female simply because she herself is female.
On a side note, the Lion Man from the Swabian Alps in Germany (30 000 - 40 000 years old) is believed to be the oldest known statue in the world, followed by the Venus of Hohle Fels (20 000 years old).
Twenty-five years after political independence in 1990, post-colonial Namibia is still at psychological war with its own traumatic and violent history. Incorporating all aspects of what on paper appears to be a particularly unpleasant historical context for most, it is fair to say that it will take a few generations of Namibians, at least, to attain full acceptance at full disclosure and afterwards only, internalise the concept of a peaceful existence. Adding fuel to the proverbial fire is the fact that towns, many with colonial names, and settlements, have remained in place, underscored by German colonial and Apartheid street names, buildings, statues and monuments that punctuate an increasingly confusing landscape of competing historical narratives. It is for example, not uncommon to find out with something of a shock that a relatively new and sought-after suburb in terms of real estate in Windhoek was once an equally sought-after tribal burial ground in pre-colonial times.
A long, large country with a small population consisting of small 'tribes' by African standards forming an independent political unit in one of the driest parts of Africa, Namibia is culturally and linguistically incredibly diverse and not a single cultural group can with certainty claim it was unaffected in any way by either the Apartheid nor German colonial regimes. There is literally a complete, independent historical narrative of survival against all odds in the face of death in the background of every single cultural and linguistic association in the country. As culturally diverse as the population appears to be, and relatively comfortable with its diversity, logic leads one to conclude that a kind of unspoken agreement must underlie cultural interactions, the 'glue' so to speak, and it can only be an agreement that is democratic in nature. Without the presence of this concession to observe and respect differences, a peaceful Namibia for the past twenty-five years would have been an impossibility.
A consequence of cultural diversity is that the government of the day has in the past and will in future have to take great care with the construction of national monuments to adequately reflect and capture the identity and perspectives (the 'spirit' in essence) of the Namibian people, as a whole. The country's history is far from 'done and dealt with'...it is still unfolding. Hitherto unheard accounts are still emerging from the mouths of survivors. Time and with it, distance from the event itself, combined with the safety net of a Constitution and a democratic dispensation guaranteeing personal freedoms, could unlock and break the silence around political oppression.
On this landscape, nervous, insecure and constantly in flux as it moves precariously and with great difficulty towards a distant ideal of national unity, obscure and abstract symbols as national monuments could lose value with a majority and / or result in polarising and isolating various cultural associations. On the other hand, the life-like presentation of actual historical political and tribal leaders in the form of statues could result in an avalanche of requests from all cultural groups for all historically significant political and tribal leaders to enjoy equal status and presentation. The latter is in itself not an unfair request but for a small, culturally diverse country like Namibia, the costs for such an exercise could be prohibitive when simultaneously, on the national agenda, matters related to development, empowerment and sustainability require urgent attention.
Enduring national monuments honouring the underlying values that bind Namibians together are therefore not only ideal but also practical. 'Freedom' is held in high regard in the Land of the Brave and everyone has her/his own interpretation. Do our current range of old and new monuments adequately reflect the history and identity of a new Namibian nation? Can every Namibian truly connect with and take pride in every national monument? There is a saying that as many Namibians as there are, as many perspectives there are, too, and that they all weigh the same.
This think piece was written by freelance writer and researcher, Anya Namaqua Links, based in Windhoek, Namibia. Contact: anyalinks@gmail.com
On the morning of the 26th of December, 2013, Namibians awoke to notifications and posts on social media platforms (some outraged, others clearly anxious) that the iconic Reiterdenkmal (Rider's Memorial / Equestrian Monument) statue in Windhoek, honouring German citizens and soldiers who had died 'for empire and emperor' during a particularly horrific colonial 'war' with local tribes, was secretly removed the previous night. The order for removal had been issued by former president, Hifikepunye Lucas Pohamba, and executed by the National Heritage Council of Namibia. The rider on his horse is currently standing out of sight in the courtyard of the Alte Feste, the old German colonial fort / fortress on a hill overlooking the city of Windhoek.
Elke Zuern, Professor of Politics, wrote the following about the Reiterdenkmal in Windhoek: 'Memorials and commemorations...have profound political meaning by visibly presenting the victor's justice and offering a warning to those who might continue to resist. The Equestrian Monument in Windhoek served exactly this function. Standing next to the German colonial fort and on the site of a wartime concentration camp, it was erected by the German colonial masters as a symbol of the longevity of their rule.' Proof was indeed presented that equestrian monuments in particular, symbolise imperial rule and power (Joachim Zeller, Germany).
On the afternoon of the 9th of April, 2015, the stony-faced seated effigy of British mining magnate and politician, Cecil John Rhodes, splashed with white paint, was removed by the South African Heritage Council from the premises of the University of Cape Town. The movement responsible for verbalising and demanding a collective decision to have the statue removed became known as the RMF (Rhodes Must Fall) movement, praised and derided in turn by various sectors of South African civil society. And, in neighbouring Namibia, a debate that started before the removal of the Reiterdenkmal flared up again after the removal of the Rhodes statue regarding the visibility of statues, particularly those dating from Namibia's colonial history.
On a side note, the Lion Man from the Swabian Alps in Germany (30 000 - 40 000 years old) is believed to be the oldest known statue in the world, followed by the Venus of Hohle Fels (20 000 years old).
Twenty-five years after political independence in 1990, post-colonial Namibia is still at psychological war with its own traumatic and violent history. Incorporating all aspects of what on paper appears to be a particularly unpleasant historical context for most, it is fair to say that it will take a few generations of Namibians, at least, to attain full acceptance at full disclosure and afterwards only, internalise the concept of a peaceful existence. Adding fuel to the proverbial fire is the fact that towns, many with colonial names, and settlements, have remained in place, underscored by German colonial and Apartheid street names, buildings, statues and monuments that punctuate an increasingly confusing landscape of competing historical narratives. It is for example, not uncommon to find out with something of a shock that a relatively new and sought-after suburb in terms of real estate in Windhoek was once an equally sought-after tribal burial ground in pre-colonial times.
A long, large country with a small population consisting of small 'tribes' by African standards forming an independent political unit in one of the driest parts of Africa, Namibia is culturally and linguistically incredibly diverse and not a single cultural group can with certainty claim it was unaffected in any way by either the Apartheid nor German colonial regimes. There is literally a complete, independent historical narrative of survival against all odds in the face of death in the background of every single cultural and linguistic association in the country. As culturally diverse as the population appears to be, and relatively comfortable with its diversity, logic leads one to conclude that a kind of unspoken agreement must underlie cultural interactions, the 'glue' so to speak, and it can only be an agreement that is democratic in nature. Without the presence of this concession to observe and respect differences, a peaceful Namibia for the past twenty-five years would have been an impossibility.
A consequence of cultural diversity is that the government of the day has in the past and will in future have to take great care with the construction of national monuments to adequately reflect and capture the identity and perspectives (the 'spirit' in essence) of the Namibian people, as a whole. The country's history is far from 'done and dealt with'...it is still unfolding. Hitherto unheard accounts are still emerging from the mouths of survivors. Time and with it, distance from the event itself, combined with the safety net of a Constitution and a democratic dispensation guaranteeing personal freedoms, could unlock and break the silence around political oppression.
On this landscape, nervous, insecure and constantly in flux as it moves precariously and with great difficulty towards a distant ideal of national unity, obscure and abstract symbols as national monuments could lose value with a majority and / or result in polarising and isolating various cultural associations. On the other hand, the life-like presentation of actual historical political and tribal leaders in the form of statues could result in an avalanche of requests from all cultural groups for all historically significant political and tribal leaders to enjoy equal status and presentation. The latter is in itself not an unfair request but for a small, culturally diverse country like Namibia, the costs for such an exercise could be prohibitive when simultaneously, on the national agenda, matters related to development, empowerment and sustainability require urgent attention.
Enduring national monuments honouring the underlying values that bind Namibians together are therefore not only ideal but also practical. 'Freedom' is held in high regard in the Land of the Brave and everyone has her/his own interpretation. Do our current range of old and new monuments adequately reflect the history and identity of a new Namibian nation? Can every Namibian truly connect with and take pride in every national monument? There is a saying that as many Namibians as there are, as many perspectives there are, too, and that they all weigh the same.
This think piece was written by freelance writer and researcher, Anya Namaqua Links, based in Windhoek, Namibia. Contact: anyalinks@gmail.com
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