Displaying and processing political violence in museum spaces: An introduction

The focus of this special issue is on how museums relate to political violence in their exhibition spaces. Although we did not specify a particular definition of political violence for the authors to apply, all contributions discuss examples that correspond to relatively narrow definitions of political violence. These contributions focus on cases where massive physical harm was inflicted with the aim of gaining political power or governance (Bonacker, 2002; Darby, 2016). This includes human rights violations under authoritarian regimes, colonial conquests, and violence inflicted on people during militarized conflicts. This narrow definition does not imply that we are dismissing broader forms of political violence with normative intentions; on the contrary, structural, cultural, or symbolic forms of violence often accompany, lead to, or follow physical violence. Museums are themselves part of the institutional system that produces related epistemological hierarchies. However, for the purposes of this collection of papers, the conventional, narrower understanding of political violence serves as a useful entry point for examining the museums’ relevant practices and perspectives.

To understand how museums present artifacts and narratives in relation to political violence, it is worth examining the broader sociopolitical dynamics at play: Museums began as private showrooms of art and artifacts that were collected by affluent individuals, families, and institutions. These collections, often presented in so-called “wonder rooms” and “cabinets of curiosities”, were the starting point for modern museums. Such institutions emerged between the 17th and 19th centuries in Europe, predominantly displaying artifacts related to colonial expansion and imperial conquest and mostly lacking any critical examination of their origins or contexts (Findlen, 1989). This focus established narratives of legitimized violence and repression, particularly against colonized people and territories. In the 19th and 20th centuries, museums slowly transitioned into institutions with more of an educational mission. This was certainly rather a market facing policy than an actual change in the functioning of museum exhibitions. Many museum collections in Europe and the Americas with the acquisition of colonies in Africa grew exponentially. The colonial raids created opportunities not only for the growth of existing showrooms but especially for the establishment of ethnographic museums. The political violence that made their ‘collections’ possible was not on display there but clothing, artifacts, everyday tools as well as ceremonial objects with spiritual meaning were shown of the ‘other’ people one had subdued and who were presented as study objects (Kuper, 2023). Political violence was hence part of the system that made these institutions flourish but was invisible in their exhibitions. Despite this change, the direct representation of violence remained hegemonic, especially, and not surprisingly, in military and national history museums (Procter, 2020). It was not before the mid-20th century, following World War II, that a significant shift occurred in the field of museological practices dealing with political violence: The establishment of Holocaust memorial museums in particular marked a turning point in the way political violence came to be addressed museologically, that is with a focus on the victims. Rather than aiming at justification or a denial of the genocide – which would in all likelihood have become the approach of Nazi Germany if it had won the Second World War – the intentions that gained traction were commemoration, education, and genocide prevention.

The discourse of critical museology emerged in the late 20th century (Anderson, 2004, 2023; Shelton, 2013). Within the context of a broader critical theory movement that questioned established narratives and power structures across various disciplines, thinkers and practitioners began to challenge the conventional roles of museums. The growing movement aimed to create museums as dynamic spaces for dialogue and social engagement rather than as mere repositories of objects or as institutions that may claim authoritative roles in public discourse. Most recently, decolonial approaches further intervened in traditional museological practices and structures (Anderson, 2023; Macdonald, 2022). This turn has led – at the least some – museums to critically examine their own histories and practices and to acknowledge their roles in perpetuating hegemonic power structures and exclusionary narratives. New approaches in curation, exhibition design, and community engagement were introduced to discuss questions such as: How can museums balance historical accuracy with ethical considerations? How can institutional legacies of colonialism and imperialism be addressed? How can marginalized or subaltern voices be amplified without a paternalistic approach; or are they loud enough anyway but simply ignored? In short, what role can and/or should museum spaces play in collective processes of dealing with political violence, for example for social healing and so-called reconciliation processes?

This special issue of Cultural Dynamics brings together scholarly contributions that examine exactly this aspect of how museums across different cultural and geographical contexts deal with this situation. The representation of political violence in museological spaces raises complex questions: museums that address political violence navigate delicate terrain between commemoration and sensationalism, between education and (re-)traumatization. They must consider whose voices are given prominence and whose are silenced, how to represent both victims and perpetrators – or the grey zone which does not allow such clear allocations – and how to engage visitors in ways that are both respectful and impactful. The theoretical frameworks employed in this special issue to examine these matters draw from a wide range of disciplines, including museology, memory studies, cultural studies, social anthropology, and political science. This multidisciplinary approach allows for a nuanced examination of the many roles that museums play in contemporary societal developments and vice versa. Concepts such as collective memory, cultural trauma, and the politics of remembrance provide valuable lenses through which to analyze museological practices. What binds together the contributors to this special issue is that all interrogate the implicit and explicit choices made in museum representations, considering how these choices reflect, potentially reinforce, or challenge power structures and ideologies. They critically question how museums contribute to the highly contested practice of demarcating what constitutes legitimate use of force versus illegitimate violence, or even what counts as violence at all. The terminology chosen to label acts of violent intervention discussed in an exhibition as “political” or “criminal”, “riot” or “rally”, “revolution” or “rebellion” already decides the basic normative classification. Additionally, the selective highlighting of specific forms, moments, and motifs of violent action contributes to how perceptions and understandings of political violence are shaped. This is of particular relevance in settings where the established power structures are rooted in colonialism bringing in their wake distorted versions or silencing of the political violence inherent to colonization.

In the past decades post- and decolonial practices have disclosed established power dynamics and legitimizing functions of established and hegemonial narratives as well as imagery within museum spaces. Revealing colonial biases and euphemistic representations of conquest and subjugation challenges historical perspectives that continue to legitimize and maintain established power structures in our globalized world, still in the wake of colonial violence and coloniality. Among the consequences of these interventions are efforts to repatriate artifacts and human remains, which were often obtained through coercion and violent raids in the context of colonial exploitation. Historical ‘collections’ came under critical scrutiny, and the way conquest and subjugation were portrayed in museums was reassessed in the process as well (Colwell, 2015). While the role played by social and cultural anthropologists in exploiting communities in the Global South became an important point of discussion, their involvement as actors in decolonization efforts was consequentially questioned. And yet, if one regards ethnographic museums as obsolete and closes them down, the opportunity is also dismissed of having them work through their own past and create more meaningful spaces for historical and conceptual (self-) reflection. While this does not undo what has happened it adds to a more transparent and just representation of the past and present. By incorporating diverse viewpoints and narratives especially from communities that have been subjugated to colonial exploitation, museums can create space for alternative interpretations that shed light on the complexities and help understand historical paths which have led to present-day social and political hierarchies. Museums therefor have the potential ability to facilitate or contribute to processes of unlearning conventional readings of the past and promote a better understanding of their impact on the present.

It is crucial to critically examine the forms and bodies of knowledge employed in museum contexts to display or commemorate political violence, but also to recognize their transformative potential for the social processing of experiences of violence. The museal representation of Brazil’s dictatorship period between 1964 and 1985 is discussed in the contribution by Kaya de Wolff and Rebeca Lopes Cabral. The authors examine one specific museum with a relatively unified narrative of resistance and the ongoing struggle for rights. The Memorial da Resistência in São Paulo serves as a poignant example of how museums can engage with narratives of political violence and explicitly connect past oppression to ongoing struggles. Opened in 2009, this museum occupies the former headquarters of the secret police, an authentic site of significant historical and symbolic importance, thus showing the efforts to make memory of political violence visible in urban spaces. It stands as Brazil’s first and only museum dedicated to remembering the dictatorship era, a period that continues to be downplayed in contemporary hegemonic discourse. Within its walls, visitors can listen to audio testimonies from political prisoners who were once held in its cells, thus providing a visceral connection to the past. The museum’s rotating exhibitions extend beyond this era, addressing various memories of oppression and resistance throughout Brazilian history. A notable exhibition, “Futures of Memory: Black Citizenship, Anti-Racism, and Resistance” highlights the ongoing struggles for Black rights in São Paulo from 1888 to the present. Through field research and dialogues with activists, the museum’s representations are contextualized within the broader societal and political efforts to create a counter-hegemonic memory in urban spaces across Brazil. This approach underscores the museum’s intended purpose in fostering dialogue about and understanding of the complex histories of resistance and oppression, contributing to more nuanced narratives of Brazil’s violent past and present.

Museums also play a crucial role in the ongoing struggle to address and unravel the political violence of settler colonialism in Canada. In a systematic analysis of institutional efforts to address colonial legacies, Rita Kopp and Sabine Mannitz examine multiple museums, evaluating their diverse approaches to colonial violence and the politically declared reconciliation process in the country. Being institutions with a role in public education, museums can be instrumental in constructing collective narratives and imagery, determining which knowledge is included in or excluded from storytelling, and addressing gaps or misconceptions in public understanding. This is particularly significant in settler colonial states like Canada, where conventional narratives often emphasize the colonizers’ function as ‘civilizers’, overshadowing the violence, racism, and systemic discrimination inherent in the colonial process (Anderson, 1983; Nagy, 2013). Since Canada embarked officially on its reconciliation journey in 2015, the country’s museums have been called to action and to play pivotal roles in this national effort. An analysis of 19 museums reveals diverse strategies and narratives that engage with the country’s colonial situation. Some of the institutions are increasingly taking action as participants in shaping societal debates, challenging the dominant narrative of benevolent colonization, and promoting reconciliation by including Indigenous perspectives in different ways. Along this vein, the Museum of Vancouver has created a space to “right” the city’s conventional history narration, demonstrating how museums can contribute to a broader understanding and acknowledgment of the colonial system while fostering dialogue, restitution, and healing. This shift reflects a broader movement within museology to critically engage with historically established injustices and their lasting implications, and to support the construction of more inclusive, diverse and truthful narratives.

Since some museums or individual actors within museums employ multifaceted and diverse approaches to address the complex histories of political violence, including colonial legacies, this shift has sparked new controversies. The fact that there is memory contestation represents the conflicting interpretations of historical events within a society and over time. In the context of museum exhibitions on political violence, memory is a contested terrain where various groups assert their own narratives and perspectives. It is among the responsibilities of museum staff curating these exhibitions to navigate existing complexities while also acknowledging the power dynamics that shape the construction of shared memories. By doing so, they can challenge dominant narratives and promote a more inclusive, alternative or counter-hegemonic understanding of historical events. Yet they may also contribute to an escalation of situations and further controversies that make hitherto implicit positions visible and aid political clarification by triggering debates. This dynamic is particularly evident as we turn our attention again to South America, where museums are similarly engaged in the ongoing process of representing and coming to terms with complex pasts marked by protracted conflict and violence.

The mnemonic landscape in Colombia is dynamic, continuously adapting to local needs and global influences, as discussed in the contribution by Anika Oettler and Amada Carolina Perez. Museums and exhibitions in the country play a crucial role in highlighting the diverse historical mosaic and the enduring impact of a decades-long armed conflict that has resulted in millions of victims. The Colombian National Museum exemplifies this by implementing decolonial concepts of history as “heterogeneous historico-structural nodes” (Mignolo, 2009). Oettler and Perez argue that this approach has led to innovative curatorial practices that challenge linear historical narratives, instead offering inclusive, fragmented narratives and multiple interpretative spaces around objects. Drawing from their own experiences as curators, educators, and visitors, the authors engage critically with current scriptwriting and the notion of an inclusive and transformative museum, emphasizing visual and sensory aspects. This approach illustrates the importance of museums as spaces for critical reflection and dialogue, facilitating a deeper understanding of Colombia’s complex historical narratives and contributing to the broader discourse on memory and reconciliation in society after the 2016 Peace Accord.

In a similar vein, the example of the Lugar de la Memoria, la Tolerancia y la Inclusión Social in Lima (LMU), as discussed by Fabiola Arellano Cruz, represents a significant effort to commemorate victims of human rights violations that also offers symbolic reparations. In several South American societies these institutions became arenas of contention because, first, symbolic reparations cannot heal material dispossession and continuous exploitation and, second, the lack of societal consensus led to conflicts among competing memory communities over the interpretation of the past. This dynamic is particularly evident in the LMU. Arellano shows how it serves as a focal point for examining the political, cultural, and historical implications of memorialization efforts. These efforts highlight the challenges of achieving consensus in societies with diverse interpretations of their past, especially regarding periods marked by armed conflict and political oppression. Arellano’s analysis underscores the role of museums in such politicized settings as facilitators of public discourse on contested histories and highlights their potential to contribute to broader processes of social healing. To that end, museums must develop an understanding of their mission which moves beyond the mere preservation of memory as if a fact, something that is given and not explored. Active engagement with the history on display reflects the broader global necessity and trend of using museological spaces to address and to process collective trauma. It is exactly because narratives across society and the political spectrum tend to diverge drastically after violent conflicts that museums have the potential to be forums in which such divides can be made visible, and multiple viewpoints may be discussed, experimented with and worked on.

Birgit Bräuchler and Alexander Supartono address another significant moment in their contribution – not in a thematic museum but in the art world: In 2022, the 15th iteration of the Documenta, a prominent global exhibition of contemporary art in Germany, was directed by an art collective for the first time. It became embroiled in controversy over allegedly anti-Semitic artworks, particularly those by a group of artists from Indonesia called Taring Padi. This controversy highlighted issues of political decontextualization, where the art was removed from its cultural and historical context, which lead to – possibly partially intentional – misinterpretations and scapegoating. It is informative that the (in terms of dealing with anti-Semitism very specific) German discourse was neither contextualized in the public debate to any noteworthy extent. The incident, as argued by Bräuchler and Supartono, underscored how existing global power hierarchies can be reinforced when artworks’ references of political violence are not given the space for dialogue and education. The authors show that understanding Taring Padi’s work requires continuous political and cultural contextualization, as their art played a crucial role in Indonesia’s transition from the authoritarian Suharto regime to the reformation era. By examining these dynamics, the authors suggest that the scandal surrounding Documenta 15 could serve as a catalyst for productive dialogues, encouraging a deeper process of decolonizing art exhibitions and museums. This aligns with the broader efforts that can be observed within museology to challenge established narratives and create more inclusive spaces for diverse voices and non-linear histories.

In addition to museum practices which serve the function of scrutinizing or correcting established interpretations of the past, representations of contemporary political violence are emerging within museum contexts. This includes presenting today’s violent actors, which – in itself – entails complex challenges for museums: Willingly or unwillingly, by drawing on and portraying ongoing conflicts, they navigate the complexities and grey zones of these conflict constellations and position themselves in the related political and/or geopolitical conflict dynamics. In their relating to contemporary political violence, museums may also choose not to display explicit imagery, and for several reasons. First, it is essential to consider the sensitivity and potential trauma such imagery can trigger in viewers and thus prioritize their emotional well-being. Second, ethical concerns surrounding consent, dignity, and potential exploitation of the victims and survivors arise, demanding responsible and respectful representation. Third, museums may aim for inclusivity, taking into account diverse audiences with varying sensitivities, ensuring accessibility for all – including for example children. Additionally, the limitations of explicit imagery in conveying nuanced understanding and legal regulations may further discourage its display. Museums can also explore alternative methods to foster engagement and promote deeper comprehension of political violence while maintaining sensitivity and respecting the diverse needs of their visitors. That said, museums’ practices require careful consideration and engagement with the ethics of representation depending on the respective context, as they shape perceptions and viewing conventions and thereby undoubtedly have an influence on politics of interpretation. In concrete terms, any decision about displaying explicit imagery of political violence affects the distance between the viewers and what they gaze at and may thus even contribute to reifying victims when we are allowed to “regard the pain of others” – regardless of possible noble moral aims to foster empathy with the help of confronting visitors with uncomfortable truths (Sontag, 2004).

The final contribution to this special issue speaks to this tension by examining the exhibition “Deconstructed Bodies: In Search of Home” curated by the author Larissa-Diana Fuhrmann at the Schirn Kunsthalle, an arts museum in Frankfurt. This exhibition, resulting from a long-standing collaboration between Fuhrmann and the Sudanese artist, lecturer, and architect Amna Elhassan, is an example of artistic appropriation that addresses current political violence without explicit imagery. The centrepiece is a site-specific installation in the museum’s public rotunda, featuring a large-scale mural depicting three colourful figures representing the many victims of the 2019 Khartoum Massacre. By incorporating Arabic writing and other visual elements, the artwork establishes a connection to the civilian resistance during the most recent Sudanese revolution, addressing a violent incident without the need to show the violence. The author’s analysis reflects on the artwork itself, the curatorial process, the artist-curator collaboration, and the broader context of the exhibition. It illustrates how contemporary art exhibitions can serve as powerful platforms for addressing urgent political issues, commemorating recent acts of violence, and fostering critical reflection on the legacies of political struggles. By emphasizing marginalized voices and perspectives like that of Amna Elhassan, museums have the capacity to generate empathy amongst their visitors and encourage more nuanced and/or alternative interpretations of political violence. Through creating spaces for reflection, education, and dialogue, museums have the transformative ability to raise awareness and stimulate public debate, especially in cases that lack attention such as the political violence and non-violent resistance in Sudan.

Critics argue that the transformative potential of museological institutions is dramatically limited due to the audience they attract which is often already exposed to or interested in museums or the mentioned topics. Additionally, they exclude purposefully as well as unintentionally other potential audiences because of socioeconomic barriers, cultural biases, lack of accessibility, elitist programming, exclusionary practices in curating, geographical location, or as mainly discussed here their failure to represent diverse histories and experiences (Olivares and Piatak, 2022; Onciul, 2015). This argument highlights the importance of broadening the reach of exhibitions on political violence to encompass a more diverse and extensive audience. To achieve this, it is essential to address the above-mentioned structural inequalities beyond the confines of the museum walls. One effective approach to reaching a broader audience is to incorporate interactive elements into the exhibitions. Examples for this could be accompanying activities such as community dialogues and workshops, which can also happen with partnering institutions such as youth and community centres. By actively involving community members in discussions centred around the themes of social justice that they relate to, exhibitions hold the potential to empower the attendees to become multiplicators and thus expand the audiences as well as their engagement. Examples of such initiatives are given in some contributions to this special issue, and they might indicate promising developments towards growing recognition of other memory sites and practices as well: After all, museums are not the guardians of truth. De-centring the museum as an institution that has been associated with normative authority is therefore an important element in all efforts pertaining to fostering self-reflexive, critical agency surrounding the representation and memory of political violence. A further strand of necessary scrutiny is marked by the fact that some museums – especially, but not exclusively, ethnographic museums – are institutions that themselves represent political violence and that were built on it.

The case studies and theoretical analyses presented in this special issue invite readers to consider such broader implications of their findings for museum practice, public memory, and the societal needs for dealing with events of/after political violence; or for dealing with the fact that ‘past violence’ is more often than not a structural factor in shaping the present (Mignolo, 2011). Extreme forms of political violence persist as well as systemic structures that were created with the use of violence. Neither torture nor genocide have disappeared, excessive violence perpetrated against political opponents continues in many parts of the world, and the colonial system has persisted in many shades despite formal political decolonization acts. Against this background, the insights offered in the contributions not only shed light on current museological approaches to representing political violence but also point towards future directions for research and practice in this field of study. Our aim is to contribute to a deeper understanding of the complex and continuously evolving role of museums in fostering dialogue, reflection, and healing in the face of historical and contemporary injustices and collective traumatization caused by the social experience of excessive political violence. In this sense, this collection of articles highlights the potential of confronting the difficult entanglements of histories of violence in and beyond museum spaces including (their own) complicities in colonial and imperial projects and encourages to develop strategies for addressing this involvement. This is not to say that museums are the only or most important sites that matter, but they are public institutions that sit at one important intersection of debates and concrete practices surrounding the collective generation of interpretations. This privilege should be made use of to disclose and overcome the existing hierarchies of knowledge and representation.