Who should we put on our pedestals?

David Lloyd George, Parliament Square

Photography by Leo Kuroyanagi

Olivia Ward-Jackson questions the importance of statues in today’s society, and wonders whether we should end the practice of building them altogether.

Horatio Nelson leisurely surveys the chaos of central London, sword in hand, from his perch fifty-one meters above Trafalgar Square. Craning their necks upwards, some onlookers may glimpse a national hero, who died securing Britain’s greatest naval victory in the legendary Battle of Trafalgar. Others might grimace as they catch the eye of a man who vehemently defended Britain’s slave trade, at a time when the political tide was flowing in the opposite direction.

Many of Britain’s most famous historical figures (Nelson included) are being subjected to heavy scrutiny and re-evaluation, as is the white, male, imperialist narrative of history they represent. This has translated into an attack on statues, not just in Britain, but throughout the world.

In 2015, the infamous figure of Cecil Rhodes was toppled from his pedestal at the University of Cape Town. This symbolic act of defiance was orchestrated by the ‘Rhodes Must Fall’ campaign, on the grounds that a statue will memorialise and glorify an individual for as long as it is allowed to stand, as that was the purpose for which it was built. By upholding a likeness of Cecil Rhodes, the university was implicitly condoning his racial prejudice. The campaign against institutionalised racism spread throughout South Africa and overseas to Oriel College Oxford.

At worst, statues can become rallying points for hate groups, for which reason figures of Hitler are banned from Germany. Indeed, in 2017 American white nationalists rallied around a statue of the pro-slavery Confederate General Robert E. Lee, after the City Council of Charlottesville had voted to remove it. The protests led to the deaths of a counter-protester and two state troopers.

Whilst the ‘Rhodes Must Fall’ campaign champions the liberal argument for removing statues, a liberal case has also been made for keeping them in place. This argument is grounded in the belief that monuments erected a long time ago no longer glorify their subjects, but remind us of individuals once glorified. The likes of Nelson, Kitchener and Gordon played a huge role in Britain’s colonial past – a past that we would do well to remember, rather than forgetting by destroying its physical legacy.

One argument for removing statues is that they do not offer a nuanced historical account of the individual on display. There is no plaque under the colossal figure of Churchill to remind British patriots of his disputed political record, or of his ‘folly’, Gallipoli. In this way, statues let preconceptions about the past go unchallenged. Yet, removing a statue is also an ahistorical act, and one that assists the erosion of a historical figure from the collective memory of a nation.

Winston Churchill, Parliament Square

Photo by Leo Kuroyanagi

Liberals on both sides of the statue debate are united by a fear that history be misinterpreted or forgotten. They merely disagree over a question of political symbolism. Does a statue continue to venerate today the man or woman it was built to honour long ago? If the answer is yes, we are looking at a case for removal, but there are many who would argue the contrary. 

Certain statues, such as that of the abhorrent racist Edward Colston, bear such political weight that something must be done about them. A board member of the Royal African Company between 1672 and 1689, Colston endorsed the forced transportation of around 84,500 people, including women and children, from Africa to the Americas. David Olusoga wrote two years ago “the memory of Colston has become the front line in a battle for Bristol’s historical soul”. But what should happen to the many morally-dubious Victorian statues in Britain that aren’t at the centre of an intense political controversy? 

Maybe the answer is to stop putting up statues altogether. For as long as we continue to build them to honour men and women, old statues can still be interpreted as contemporary symbols of reverence. If we stop constructing them entirely, archaic monuments could lose their current political significance, standing instead as faint remnants of a bygone era.

Perhaps statues are an outdated practice in the 21st century. Their proliferation in the Victorian era was propelled by the ‘Great Man’ theory of history, in which the notion of progress was often distilled into one man. Alternatively, today we tend to attribute historical change to collective action and thought rather than to the singular work of heroic individuals.

Abraham Lincoln stands ready to deliver an impassioned speech to his fellows in Parliament Square. Increasingly, however, historians downplay the role of Lincoln in the emancipation of American slaves, choosing instead to emphasise the invaluable contributions of thousands of men and women in breaking the shackles of slavery. Lincoln’s nickname ‘The Great Emancipator’ is slowly losing its shine. 

The identity politics that characterises the 21st century could make agreeing on modern national heroes more difficult. In the previous century, two world wars saw a flux of statues commemorating war heroes, including a reverential figure of Churchill. Today, in post-war and post-Brexit Britain, with public trust in politicians at an all-time low, it is hard to imagine the British people putting a modern politician on a pedestal any time soon.

Winston Churchill, Parliament Square

Photo by Leo Kuroyanagi

The most recent additions to Parliament Square, Millicent Fawcett (2018) and Lloyd George (2007), were chosen because they have become widely respected historical figures. The fact that they have been depoliticised over time makes them perfect vanilla candidates for ‘statuedom’. Apart from the beloved David Attenborough, and of course the Queen, who from the modern day can command the respect of a united British nation? 

There are many other interesting ways to fill London’s streets and also remember our past. The system of blue plaques acknowledges renowned Londoners without placing them on moral high ground. Meanwhile, memorials allow us to remember groups of individuals for their bravery or suffering, such as the National Firefighter Memorial that commemorates the work of firefighters during the Blitz, or the Holocaust Memorial in Hyde Park.

Like memorials, statues that represent a typical Londoner, such as Fearless Girl in London’s male-dominated financial district, are more inclusive than traditional forms of monument. We must also remember that most of London’s statues have little to no artistic value. Rather than building more of them, perhaps London could draw from its vast reserve of artistic talent to fill its streets and parks with sculpture and installation. Art on the Underground has commissioned many artworks to enrich London’s tube stations, such as Brixton Blue by Denzil Forrester.

Instead of playing the Victorians at their own game, we should turn our backs on their tradition of statue-building altogether, and focus instead on creating a new future for the streets of London and the UK.