The Bristonian statue to Edward Colston was likely, to all but a few diehard local historians, an unremarkable background fixture from its erection in 1895 to the 1990s when campaigns for its removal started. After thirty years of campaigning it was finally removed by direct intervention. 

But the toppling of this statue in Bristol has had ramifications around the world: reigniting once again the debate over images in public places, such as the controversy over the statue to Cecil Rhodes at the University of Cape Town, subject to the Rhodes Must Fall movement in 2015. Calls have been cried across Africa and Europe for the shadows of a colonial past to be removed, lest they eclipse a brighter future. In particular, tributes to King Leopold II of Belgium, the tyrant who treated the Congo as his own personal garden.

Sinister aims

Edward Colston, the flesh and blood edition, was MP for Bristol from 1710-1713, and was an altruistic figure who supported and endowed many schools, hospitals, and churches, throughout the town as well as in London and other places. However, the cause of ire against his statue is the fact that his charity did not seem to extend far beyond a small community of white people, and the wealth with which he funded the above was made off the backs of generations of African slaves, many of whom died in the name of profit. 

Many, from local historians to anyone who derives comforts from familiar sights, will have been said to see Colston’s statue walk the plank, like so many of the slaves captured by his company. The argument that this is a whitewashing of history, and the bad must be seen along with the good, has been made by many on social media. However, statues such as Colston’s are not purely commemorative, but were often constructed with a more sinister political aim in mind.

The statue in question was erected over a century after the death of the man it was dedicated to, and this is revealing. In 1895 Britain was beginning to become aware of the waning light of the sun, and fearing that both its Empire, as well as position as the leading global power, may be coming to an end. The circumstances of this statue bear resemblance to those dedicated to Confederate military and political leaders across the American South, the majority of which were erected long after the subject had died but at a time when there were significant developments among black people, demanding the rights entitled them to them under the Constitution.

One should recognise the American South as the losing side of a bitter conflict, and thus some degree of closure in the form of remembrance should perhaps be allowed. But equally, there is a point at which remembrance becomes a new wave of battle. Statues to military or political leaders, and the Confederate Battle Flag were placed, much like Colston, in such prominent positions that it could not be anything but a display of dominance and a symbolic knee on the necks of Black Americans everywhere.

New debates in Northern Ireland

Northern Ireland is all too familiar with debates over symbols and the commemoration of contested histories. And it’s not immune to the current debate. In Newry there has been an argument, this time not over the naming of a play park, but a street. The Belfast Telegraph reported that Newry, Mourne, and Down District Council had received calls to rename John Mitchel Street, named for the 19th century nationalist well-known for his pro-slavery views. The street in question is not far from where Mitchel is buried in the Old Presbyterian Meeting House green on High Street, the original main street of the town. 

A petition has also been launched on Change.org to remove the statue to Mitchel, which currently stands on John Mitchel Place on Hill Street, the main thoroughfare of the city. The petition also calls for the square to be renamed “Black Lives Matter Plaza” and for a work of art commemorating “Africans and those of African descent who endured and fought against slavery.”

Born in Dungiven in 1815, at a young age his father ‘accepted the call’ and moved the family to Newry where he preached as Unitarian minister on High Street, living in Dromalane. A member of Young Ireland and editor of the United Irishman, Mitchel was tried for treason in 1848 and transported to Ireland Island, Bermuda where the Royal Navy used penal labour to carve out a naval base. He managed to escape in 1853, and settle in the United States where he published the poetry of James Clarence Mangan, and Thomas Davis. He returned to Ireland in 1875, and successfully contested a by-election as MP for Tipperary. He is credited for his “revolutionary zeal”  which, through his writings for The Nation and the United Irishman, shaped the nationalist perception of the Famine; he was described by Pearse as “one of the four evangelists of Irish Nationalism.” The statue dedicated to him was erected in 1865 to mark the 150th anniversary of his birth. 

The part of Mitchel’s biography which continues to garner controversy was his vehement support for the institution of slavery. These views made Mitchel unpopular in his day, and indeed have always made his tributes in Newry the subject of controversy to some extent. The ‘King’ of Irish nationalism during Mitchel’s day, was of course Daniel O’Connell, who was arguably one of the strongest global opponents to the slave trade. When O’Connell first met Frederick Douglass, who would become a friend, O’Connell was initially hesitant to shake Douglass’ hand, first asking his stance on slavery and stating his policy of never shaking hands with a slave trader which meant such an inquiry had to be put to all Americans that O’Connell might have encountered. 

Two of Mitchel’s sons died fighting for the Confederacy; when his youngest son William died, aged 17, at the Battle of Gettysburg, the US periodical Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper commented that the young man has “evidently been sacrificed to his father’s insane desire to own a plantation.”

Recognising complexity

That Mitchel is a controversial figure today is guaranteed by the fact that he was so in his time as well, but that does not make his story any less fascinating nor does it remove it from the history of Newry. The prominence on his statue on Hill Street does seem an unnecessary show of nationalist dominance, uniquely flavoured by the sour taste of his racist views. This is however is a rather separate case to statues such as Edward Colston’s in Bristol, or Confederate leaders in the US. 

Mitchel’s statue was erected by a previously subjugated people, now in possession of political power. The key to holding power though, is always knowing how to wield it responsibly and when to hold back. John Mitchel Street is a more appropriate form of remembrance as, contrary to Mark Bain’s article in the Belfast Telegraph it is not centrally placed, but a residential street near to where the man preached and to where he is buried. Perhaps the statue should also be moved there: this would not only be a more appropriate setting, but would also spread historical illustrations throughout the town.

But whatever Mitchel’s ultimate fate, his, of course, is not the only instance of a place name in Newry generating controversy. The Patrick Street Play Park was renamed in honour or remembrance of Raymond McCreesh in 2001, on the thirtieth anniversary of the hunger strikes in which he died. 

This remains a cause for ire among unionists from all over Northern Ireland, as well as just Newry and Armagh. But there are important points to consider. McCreesh, from Camlough, was a man before he was a gunman, and there were many left behind in Newry, grieving his death. No one in Northern Ireland is any more than two degrees removed from someone who died in the Troubles, and for anyone to advance will require everyone to stand back just a little. 

Remembrance should be held under scrutiny, but ultimately sensitivity is required along with a recognition of the complexity of human history. In the century that Edward Colston’s statue stood, unmolested, it appears not to have enlightened many as to the person it represents. Indeed, Colston, who only served as MP for three years, is utterly eclipsed by his universally renowned successor Edmund Burke. The primary achievement of this memorial was only that it managed to offend those aware of his crimes against humanity and make them feel uncomfortable while innocently walking to the shops. 

At the heart of the current debate, therefore, is the reasonable assertion that public spaces, such as streets and squares, should not be designed for provocation, or even education; but the facilitation of everyday life in a manner that is as carefree and happy as possible. History is not in danger of being forgotten so long as space is set aside for it in museums and classrooms the world over. No one needs to be taught a lesson while waiting for a bus.