Let me start with a little story: Two years ago, we were in St Ottilien with our task force on dealing with colonial heritage and had a guided tour of this very beautiful museum. I really enjoyed this excellent guided tour. However, I realised that my young African colleague Valerie Viban from Cameroon, who is part of our team in Berlin, distanced himself from the group. He somehow walked away and was not approachable. After the tour, I asked him: "Valerie, what's wrong?" He said: "I was so annoyed. How do you portray Africa? Exoticism and poverty. That doesn't do us justice".
My point here is not to criticise the exhibition. It seems more important to me to realise how different perceptions can be. The exhibition made my African colleague very uncomfortable and at that moment he couldn't help but emotionally move away from the group and find his own way through the exhibition.
Different perceptions of colonial collections
This brings us to the topic that we have already discussed repeatedly at this conference: We need to talk to each other! The fact that my colleague and I were able to do this at this point was because we had already established a relationship in which there was enough trust to be able to expect dissent from each other. But how much anger and how much agitation do we allow to pass us by and not put up with each other for the sake of peace? I am firmly convinced that this silence, fuelled by different sources, hinders our learning processes. Justitia et Pax has been working for many years on the topic of dealing with violent pasts and reconciliation processes. As a rule, these are conflict constellations that are closer to home, such as the wars in the former Yugoslavia or the war against Ukraine today.
But in the context of our global church practice, we have realised that the effects of colonialism are disrupting our relationships, that many questions remain unanswered and wounds are present. We feel this in Latin America and we feel it very strongly in Africa. Against this backdrop, we have decided to deal with the colonial legacy during this term of office. To this end, we set up a task force in which St Ottilien was represented by Father Theophil. The aim of this work is to contribute to the social discourse as a church voice on dealing with the colonial legacy, but also to become more articulate ourselves. It is also important to ensure that our specific church experiences are appropriately reflected and not merely functionalised as a projection surface for secular self-images.
The contexts of the global church provide a socio-cultural framework for the dialogue on the effects of colonialism that are still relevant today and which is proving to be extremely productive. The problems resulting from the history of colonialism are present in our communities and in the universal church, even if this is not always immediately obvious. The tensions are there, but the faithful solidarity on the same horizon makes a substantial contribution when it comes to dealing with these tensions together. There is, so to speak, a basic trust that there is something greater that makes it possible for us to deal with the disturbing presence of history.
The relationship between mission and colonialism
The discourse on post-colonialism is no longer a matter for specialists. It is increasingly becoming a social debate - both nationally and internationally. As a church, we are called upon to situate ourselves in this discourse and to relate to it, both theoretically and in very concrete practical terms. The worldwide spread of Christianity of a European-Western character is closely, albeit ambivalently, linked to the history of colonialism. Mission and colonialism were in a relationship of tense entanglements. The debate about this relationship is as old as the relationship itself. We can look back on a long history of learning, as we can see from the topic of "inculturation", for example. Unfortunately, we have partly forgotten this exciting and instructive learning history. We ourselves no longer really know our own learning history. Yet the ability to learn from mistakes and draw concrete conclusions is an important moment of encouragement.
The mistakes we are talking about are often associated with massive guilt. They have often led to crimes. We are not just talking about the period of high imperialism here. Basically, we are talking about the entire European expansion since the 15th century. There are many different forms of involvement that make it clear how much Christianity and the Church were also part of the colonialist process. The fight against slavery in the North, for example, was largely based on Christian roots. However, this cannot hide the fact that the Church and most religious orders - the Missionary Benedictines have the grace of late birth at this point - had slaves themselves.
It also took a very long time for us to take a critical stance. The Jesuits - and they stand pars pro toto here - sold their last slaves, not set them free. An instructive example of the ambivalence in dealing with colonial conditions: "Wise as the children of the world, we want to do the right thing, but it shouldn't cost too much". Speaking honestly about these things is a question of credibility. It is no coincidence that Pope John Paul II also addressed the problem of the colonial failure of the Church in his famous confession of guilt in 2000. This recognises something that is also important for dealing with the missionary history collections. Ultimately, we are not talking about a technical question of how we deal with "artefacts", but about our self-image. We are talking about how we relate to ourselves, to others and to those who came before us.
The postcolonial discourse is remarkably politically and morally charged. Postcolonialism often functions as a fighting term, as an attempt to overpower others. The high tone in which this discourse often takes place indicates that the whole thing has an ember core that deals with identity, for all those involved. Identity, a term that is often and not entirely wrongly criticised, is to be understood here as something permanently flowing between the pole of our experiences - including and especially our injuries - and the other pole of our positive self-images. The tension arises from "what we want to be" and "what we are". This leads to an internally tense relationship - at least if it is a living identity - which can be quite productive. However, it often also leads to a tense relationship with others. If Martin Buber and Emanuel Levinas are right, then we can't get anywhere without others when it comes to questions of identity. This finding is also important for dealing with the mission history collections.
Another point seems to me to be central to our plans: We cannot talk about colonialism and not about the mission. Instead, we have to take the diversity and variety of contexts seriously. Violence is very concrete and the response to it must be just as concrete. What has been said today about East Africa, for example about the relationship between the mission and the colonial masters, would be different in Cameroon and these differences are relevant. If we want to change the real relationships today, we cannot do it on an abstract level, we can only do it on a concrete level.
Against the background outlined above, we at Justice and Peace have formulated a definition of postcolonial thinking and action that reads as follows:
Thinking and acting together
The aim is to deal with the consequences of colonialism as an asymmetrical but nevertheless shared legacy with the aim of establishing reconciled relations.
Accordingly, we must come to an understanding with each other about this heritage. On our own, we will not get to the bottom of the significance of this heritage and will not be able to fulfil the responsibility that comes with it. In other words, we need to talk more with each other. In this dialogue, the relationship problems that are present as an obstacle but also an impetus will become more visible. Our own imprints can be experienced in our encounters with others. The more we deal with these things, the more clearly the relationship motive emerges.
Let me illustrate this with the example of Cameroon. You will no doubt have heard of the Ngonso, a maternal ancestor figure of the Nso from north-west Cameroon, which has been on display in Dahlem since 1902 and was at least visible in the Humboldt Forum until recently. In the meantime, the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation has promised to return the figure. When we were travelling in Cameroon, we talked to our partners, including the Fon, i.e. the chiefs, and one thing became very, very clear: it's nice if the Ngonso is returned, as complicated as the Cameroonian situation is now, but that doesn't solve the problem. What is needed is a healing process that we have to enter into, that we have to get involved in, in order to perhaps heal what needs to be healed. In other words - you will notice that I am approaching the collections bit by bit - this is about more than just objects. It is about manifestations of self-understandings, relationships and relationship disorders. Incidentally, these disrupted relationships are not only between North and South, but often also between the different ethnic groups due to the different roles they played in the colonial process. This means that when we tackle these issues here, we also touch on sensitive relationships in the contexts themselves. This needs to be taken into account.
Consequences for missionary history collections
What does all this mean for the missionary history collections? The collections are complex and diverse manifestations of the colonial, sometimes anti-colonial but also post-colonial heritage. They are also manifestations of the learning process, of the desire to understand. They embody the self-images and practical realities of religious communities. To a certain extent, they are the tangible part of their history and sometimes they also embody the role of outstanding personalities. But they are also part of the history of the church. And they are also part of the history of the original missionary society. There is also an interesting topic: the missionary society of origin in Germany, for example, hardly understands what its impulse was back then. The increasing social inability to understand religious contexts makes it difficult for society to adequately present its own history. This gives rise to specific tensions and sometimes also secular projections.
We are called upon to deal with this situation in dialogue. Furthermore, the collections also reflect parts of the missionised societies from the perspective of the missionaries. To a certain extent, they are a window through which we can look in, but in which we are also reflected ourselves. I would therefore like to see the missionary collections as a "dangerous reminder", to use the words of Johann Baptist Metz. A dangerous reminder of the right life in the wrong and its limits. These boundaries are often associated with guilt and massive injuries. It is our task to deal with them appropriately. Dealing with these collections can give us many insights into the relationships within religious orders, within the Church, within societies, but also in our relationship with the former colonised societies. We must recognise the complexity of the whole.
When we at Justitia et Pax started to deal with this topic, I had a very interesting telephone conversation with a sister in charge at the DOK (German Conference of Religious Superiors). The first thing that struck me, and this also came later from other religious orders, was resistance. The question was articulated: Where is this supposed to lead?
The fear of general condemnation, damage to the reputation of the legacy, fear that loyalty to previous generations could possibly be damaged, fear of the devaluation of one's own life's achievements, of one's entire concept of life in general, fear of losing control. This fear gives rise to specific temptations such as sentimental, nostalgic affirmation.
It's tempting to simply restore the beautiful old self-image with a bit of a facelift. However, the flavour of the heritage cannot be enhanced in this way. Another temptation is not to deal with the legacy. There can be various reasons for this, such as simply being overstretched in terms of personnel and finances. I am thinking of the many small religious communities that hardly have the necessary possibilities and resources. A particular symbol of this lack of access - the Steyler Missionaries may forgive me - is the Ethnological Museum in St Augustin. As such a symbol, it is in turn an unwieldy and dangerous reminder to which we must respond productively. But the current state of simply closing such a place instead of productively transforming it is unsustainable. It would be a sign of incompetence on our part, and I don't just mean on the part of the Steylers, but also on the part of the church and society.
Another temptation is to want to do everything right. It is not enough to simply take the guidelines of the German Museums Association and say that we have now done everything right. What we are talking about, and this brings me back to my opening story, has to do with emotional states and injuries. It is in the nature of things that there will be conflicts when dealing with the collections. We have to be smart about how we bring up the injuries associated with the collections or that manifest themselves in them and find ways of dealing with them. In this respect, the collections offer a great opportunity if we place them in a broader context.
Accepting and sharing the legacy
With this in mind, I am very pleased that the German Conference of Religious Superiors has decided on a project to survey the heritage, to take stock, so to speak, of what objects are actually available. This ranges from human remains to the most banal souvenirs. The entire everyday practice of life is represented, so to speak. It's about looking at the heritage and, in Ignatian terms, tasting it, grasping it practically so that we know what we are actually talking about in concrete terms, and then reflecting together on the significance of these collections. At the same time, it's about contextualising. We can't do that alone here in the North, we definitely need our partners in Africa and their perspectives and experiences. It's about actively embracing the heritage and not just managing it. To do this, however, we will need a perspective. What are these collections actually for? They have largely fulfilled their old purpose of advertising. What do we want them for now? What should we do with them and for what purpose?
This raises another question: Who will inherit? Who can carry the legacy? That is not clear from the outset. If the religious communities can do it themselves, then that's good. They have first access. But the cultural and political issues raised suggest that we need larger, more sustainable platforms to deal with this legacy.
This brings me to my last point: sharing the heritage. The heritage does not belong to us, but it is a heritage for other generations that must be useful for us, but also for others and especially for those who do not belong to us in the religious sense. We are therefore called upon to develop multi-perspectivity and transparency, especially when dealing with the collections. You will notice that my perspective on the collections, without me being able to give you specific suggestions on how to do this, is that they can be places of encounter, exchange, reflection and discourse. In the way in which we deal - perhaps in a representative way - with the wounds of colonialism and its consequences, but also with the positive achievements of the religious orders, I hope that together with our partners we can make a productive contribution to social discourse in Europe and the South.
