Remembering in Place: The Role of Monuments and Murals in Community Memory

In every society, remembrance shapes identity. The way we choose to mark the past — through statues, murals, memorials, or silence — says as much about who we are now as it does about what came before. Across the world, communities are rethinking how they remember: who they celebrate, whose stories are left out, and how these choices influence the places we live in.

From Confederate statues in the United States, to tributes to colonial figures in England and Ireland, to the reexamination of Gandhi’s legacy in India, these conversations are not just about history — they’re about values. They ask us: what does it mean to honor the past while still making room for a more just future?

Landscapes that Speak

Public monuments and murals do more than fill a landscape; they shape it. They quietly tell a story about who belongs, who is remembered, and what is considered worthy of celebration. As anthropologist Abdelmajid Hannoum observed, even the founding stories of nations are often born from acts of violence later recast as heritage. Remembering, then, is not neutral — it is always an act of interpretation.

Political theorist Shmuel Nili offers a helpful framework for this tension. He argues that public honors should “mark and reinforce the commitments that people ought to hold.” In other words, monuments reflect the moral direction of a community. When the context changes — when old symbols no longer align with shared values — it’s natural for those symbols to be questioned, moved, or reimagined.

Consider the legacy of Gandhi. In England, statues commemorate his leadership in India’s independence movement. Yet in parts of India, those same images have become painful reminders of his patriarchal beliefs — a tension that highlights how remembrance is always rooted in place. The same figure can symbolize liberation in one setting and exclusion in another.

When Memory Meets the Street

Nowhere is this more visible than in Northern Ireland, where murals fill urban walls with stories of identity, struggle, and hope. Originally created as expressions of political allegiance and community pride, many of these murals have since taken on new meaning.

As political geographer Debbie Lisle noted, these images can function as both “pictures of hatred” and “pictures of common heritage.” Their power lies in that duality: the same art that once divided can also inspire unity — if communities choose to reinterpret it.

Tourism has helped bring global attention (and economic support) to Belfast’s murals, but it also raises a hard question: are we preserving history, or are we profiting from pain? The tension between remembrance and renewal sits at the heart of Northern Ireland’s ongoing story.

The Work of Repair

Historian Charles Maier once wrote, “We repair and remember because we cannot return.” Repairing history doesn’t mean pretending it never happened — it means creating the conditions for life to go on, for people to “carry life after the rending.”

In recent years, some local councils in Northern Ireland and beyond have begun replacing divisive symbols with new ones — not to erase history, but to make history. As one institution put it, these acts are not about forgetting but about becoming: replacing exclusion with shared expression, pain with possibility.

As political theorist Elazar Barkan suggests, the path forward lies in crafting “shared historical narratives” — stories that intertwine perspectives once in conflict. In Northern Ireland, this might look like murals celebrating global peacebuilders such as Nelson Mandela, or artists like Danni Simpson creating works simply for beauty’s sake. These choices shift the tone of public space — from tension to tenderness.

Reimagining the Power of Place

Every city carries the weight of its past, but as Lisle reminds us, Belfast is not unique in this. The challenge of divided memory exists from Barcelona to Seattle, from Cape Town to Chicago. What connects them all is the opportunity to use art and architecture to heal rather than harden division.

The question is not whether to remember, but how.

• How can we remember in ways that honor truth while nurturing belonging?

• How can we create public spaces that reflect not only where we’ve been, but where we hope to go?

Perhaps the murals and monuments of the future will not just commemorate — they will connect.

Author’s Note

This reflection draws on research first written in 2022 during studies in Conflict Transformation and Social Justice, reimagined for Across the Pond as an exploration of how remembrance, art, and place continue to shape community identity and peacebuilding today.