3rd ministerial seminar "Teaching remembrance: cultural heritage - yesterday, today and tomorrow". Prague and Terezin (Czech Republic), 24-25 April 2006

Speech by Petra Buzková, Minister of Education, Youth and Sports of the Czech Republic

Prague, 25.4.2006

Ladies and Gentlemen,

It is said that Prague between the two world wars had three souls: Czech, German and Jewish. After 1945 the only one remained – the Czech one. It was mutilated and forlorn, as the spiritual richness was in this unique “trinity“ – the unity of the three. Were Karel Poláček or Jiří Orten – to name just two writers whose marks on the Czech literature are indelible – ever faced with the Czech or Jewish dilemma before the Nazi occupants forced them to wear a yellow star? Did Hans Krása have to decide between being Jewish or German? Was such a choice conceivable at all?

I remember reading at my secondary school years Orten’s diaries – the dreadful feeling of loneliness of a person gradually being excluded, a person who learns to say “me” and “them” instead of where he used to say “we”. I felt the same horror when reading accounts about concentration camps.

I think that after such experience it was impossible to return to the pre-war unity of the Czech, Jewish and German souls. Despite this, the three souls of this city and country were still dying out for a long time afterwards, along with those who died in European concentration camps and Prague execution grounds with the anthem of their homeland on their lips.
I am far from saying that the co-existence of the nationalities in Czechoslovakia between the wars was idyllic. It was not. The Nazi occupation often only sharpened the edge of hatred that had been deeply rooted in this country for a long time. Still, there are not many countries where Nazism swept away to such an extent the hopeful and mutually enriching co-existence of several cultures.

But why I am speaking about this in relation to the question of how to teach about holocaust? It is because I believe that this loss Czechoslovakia suffered is one of the perspectives from which we can approach not only teaching about holocaust but also debates about this topic in general.

After 1945 we, Europeans, could not reconstruct the pre-war situation. Nor did we want to do so. It was not just the borders of European states and the division of power that were changing. A new concept of democracy and European co-existence emerged on the ruins of the devastated Europe, a concept which, in some parts of Europe, could only be developed in full after the fall of communism in 1989. The commitment to developing a new democratic Europe was based on two accounts: an account of the defeat of Nazism and an account of the horrors that must never occur again, the horrors of which holocaust have become the main symbol. Many empires and societies built their power on the myth of victory. These two European accounts build on the indivisible combination of victory and loss.

The discourse on holocaust is therefore at the crossroads. It is part of our history and we therefore want to speak about it as part of getting to know historic events. When speaking about it we want to distinguish between what is a correct account of history and what is not. We want the discourse on the history of holocaust to be, as any discourse on historic events, placed within the widest possible context.

At the same time, however, we cannot and must not accept that this approach of historic discourse – including the freedom of establishing various hypotheses that is inherent to the exploration of history – be fully applied to holocaust.

To be more specific – a vast majority of historians focusing on the early Middle Ages are convinced that there was an empire in the 9th century extending from Krakow to the Hungarian Balaton with its central part in what is now Moravia and Slovakia, and for which the name “Great Moravia” is used. Some time ago a German historian denied this fact and localised this “Great Moravia” somewhere is the Balkans. This claim became the subject of a controversy, it raised some emotions, but no-one even thought of pronouncing those who support it morally unfit.

On the other hand, a similarly radical hypothesis about holocaust necessarily prompts opposition – not only in moral terms – as the questioning of holocaust is painful for the victims (those who have survived, those who have lost their relatives). Such hypotheses also prompt political opposition which is motivated by fears of attempts to rehabilitate Nazism and by efforts to protect the very foundations of European democracies. This is why denying the existence of holocaust is a criminal offence in many European countries.

The tension between the historic approach to discourse on holocaust and its limitations is understandably apparent also in the teaching about holocaust. Children can ask why the common approach is partially restricted, why there is not the usual freedom of hypothesising. A teacher answering these questions in an aggressive manner or clearly failing to provide a convincing answer would indirectly support a fertile environment for holocaust deniers.
There is also the question of the uniqueness of holocaust and of placing this dreadful event in the line of genocides which, since the 19th century, have been the disgrace of modern times. What is particularly dangerous in this context is the feeling there is privileged remembrance of some victims. Why to pay more attention to the genocide of Jews as compared to that of Armenians or American Indians? Recently one history teacher, who was otherwise educated and well-read, was cross with me at a seminar. He asked: “Why is the Terezín Memorial supported by the Czech state more than the Memorial in Lidice?”– a Czech village whose population was exterminated as a revenge for the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich. Of course, I had to say a radical no to such a distinction between Czech and Jewish victims, but, at the same time, I do realize how careful we must be when teaching about holocaust not to, unintentionally, raise similar sentiments in our pupils.

I said that the accounts of holocaust constitute one of the foundations of current Europe – the Europe of the European Union. In this context I spoke about a loss or a sacrifice Czechoslovakia made. However, this loss could only be transformed into one of the Europe’s building blocks if it was meant to be an impulse to thinking about a society which, more reliably than the one before the war, will guarantee civic liberties and security, peaceful co-existence of people of various backgrounds and nationalities and more respects for “otherness”. All teaching about holocaust must be approached in terms of whether and to what extent it contributes to the promotion of these values – this is a criterion which determines how to teach about it. Any teaching that does not meet this criterion – be it for various well-meant reasons – is bad.

Ladies and Gentlemen, let me conclude by saying once again how pleased I am that we are meeting in this city, which used to have three souls, over such a serious topic.