Are there historical lessons across time and space? The ethics of ‘never again’ in European history teaching

ABSTRACT

This paper explores the intersection of historical remembrance and the ethical imperative of ‘never again’ in shaping a peaceful future, drawing on the context of Council of Europe’s commitment to history education. It believes in the pivotal role of understanding the past for fostering democratic values. However, the paper critically examines the limitations of the widely embraced ‘never again’ ethic, transcending mere historical knowledge. The author, working in a post-conflict setting, discusses the complexities of transforming this ethic into an empirical tool. By delving into examples such as refugee camps during the 2015 crisis and ICE detention camps, the paper highlights the challenges of applying ‘never again’ in new political and social realities. While acknowledging the limitations of relying solely on history education, the paper suggests the need for multidisciplinary approaches and emphasizes competencies beyond historical thinking in shaping a promising future. The conclusion calls for engagement across sectors and broader knowledge incorporation in teacher training programs. Overall, the paper navigates the intricate relationship between historical awareness, ethical imperatives, and the practical challenges of preventing atrocities in the contemporary world.

KEYWORDS:

• Council of Europe
• History Education
• never again
• concentration camps

Introduction

Celebrating 75 years since the liberation of Auschwitz, Marc Santora (2020) writes for The New York Times that the ‘horrific lessons of the death camps are being lost’ and lists several warning signs that are reappearing today, which are known from history, such as ‘toxic political rhetoric’ and ‘attacks directed at groups of peoples – using language to dehumanize them’. In the same article, Piotr Cywinski, the director of the Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum is quoted as follows:

More and more we seem to be having trouble connecting our historical knowledge with our moral choices today/ … /I can imagine a society that understands history very well but does not draw any conclusion from this knowledge. (in Santora 2020)

In recent decades, Europe, both as a geographical and sociohistorical entity, has extensively promoted programs aimed at deepening remembrance culture. These initiatives are supported financially and ideologically by the European Union, seeking to construct an official continental history and shape a contemporary sociopolitical identity, thereby influencing power dynamics on the global stage. A significant aspect of this shared narrative, and arguably the most challenging, revolves around acknowledging European responsibility for a troubling past marked by imperialism, genocide, and colonial destruction. While reconcilers view the highly visible remembrance culture, though selective, as a positive step toward addressing historical atrocities, especially through public pedagogies such as artistic interventions and commemorations endorsed by influential political bodies, critical perspectives see the pan-European emphasis on remembrance as a superficial facade, potentially serving to maintain existing power structures and uphold colonial orders.

The Council of Europe, as one of the European institutions that has long been dedicated to history education, is driven by the belief that understanding the past is crucial for shaping a shared future (Council of Europe 2023). This commitment arises from recognizing the impact of history education on shaping the attitudes of young people toward other countries, races, and civilizations. Over nearly 50 years, the Council of Europe has initiated and backed regular meetings of experts from across the continent, aiming to improve critical thinking skills, democratic competence, and empathy among students – qualities vital for nurturing generations that value democracy (Council of Europe 2023). The institution actively promotes high standards of honesty and fairness in historical interpretations (Low-Beerm 1997), supports dialogues among member states on how history should be taught in twenty-first-century Europe, and revitalizes history education by fostering innovative ideas for teaching improvement. On the ground, Council of Europe’s aspirations are most visible in the projects run by Euroclio – European Association of History Educators, that furthers the ideas and provides concrete capacity building for the future educators across diverse communities, countries, ethnicities, and religions.

Both institutions’ program addresses challenges and future opportunities, encapsulating the widely recognized and popularized ‘never again’: the ethics that operate in the realms of remembering (looking back) and preventing (looking forward). Symbolic and metaphorical, the concept shows how Europe, in fact, does repeat itself, indicating that learning from the past perhaps goes beyond historical knowledge. Not only does history repeat itself but so do we with exclamations of ‘never again’ – but only retrospectively. While ‘never again’ always appears right away, immediately after an atrocity, and in very different contexts as a very specific form of paying respect to honour victims, its educational and preventive potentials do not necessarily function universally across cultures, places and times. The ethics of ‘never again’ that take into account the importance of remembering are now globally consistent, particularly regarding conflict transformation (see e.g. Hamber 2012, 270) and peace education, and very often extend from street movements to the regular practice of violence prevention. For this reason, I undertake the analytical task of exploring how the ethics of ‘never again’ align with the Council of Europe’s above-mentioned vision in history teaching: a vision aimed at shaping a peaceful future where atrocities like Holocaust would indeed ‘never again’ repeat. My reflections emerge from the ground, as I work as an educator in a post-conflict context and closely collaborate in Euroclio educational programs. While I recognize the potential of ‘never again’, I also acknowledge the complexity involved in transforming it from a conceptual idea into an empirical (or methodological) tool.

I begin this paper by establishing a historical and conceptual foundation for ‘never again’, which serves as an analytical frame in the initial section. I then present a few general examples illustrating the empirical exploration and real-life application of ‘never again’ ethics. Focusing on refugee camps during Europe’s 2015 ‘refugee crisis’ and Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) detention camps along the Mexico – US border, I narrow down the analysis to this case by drawing comparative perspectives from the experiences of death camps during World War II. Contemporary media frequently depicts refugee camps as unsuccessful attempts in embodying the ‘never again’ ethos, and emphasizing apparent lapses in historical learning. Those portrayals, drawing connections between present events and historical atrocities, as well enable political figures and members of civil society to effectively mobilize the population for political engagement, protests, boycotts, and even preventative actions. However, in this text, I utilize these comparative perspectives to illustrate that ‘never again’ surpasses mere historical knowledge. The examples of camps show that while there are some patterns that we can recognize from history, on the other hand we often deal with very new political and social realities, where those lessons from the past become more or less useless. This implies that relying solely on history education to pave the way for a more promising future may be overly ambitious. Nonetheless, identifying other important competencies on the basis of this analysis, might in fact provide some useful guidelines in future teacher training programs preparations. For this reason, the remaining concerns highlighted in the conclusion, call for multidisciplinary and engaging other sectors than history education, and elevating knowledge other than historical thinking.

The foundation of the ethics of never again: theoretical and empirical exploration

Historical context

The ethics of ‘Never Again’ embrace the new post-World War II human rights regimes intended to institute laws and policies preventing the recurrence of similar evils. This pertains to humanity’s collective efforts to avert the repetition of mass atrocities and underscores the imperative to identify early signs leading to such events through sustained educational efforts. While the concept existed before World War II, it has gained widespread adoption in the pursuit of positive social change, especially in response to the magnitude of crimes against humanity and the incomprehensible trauma inflicted by the Holocaust. In her seminal work, ‘The Origins of Totalitarianism’ (Arendt 1973), Arendt provided some key concepts and political insights, to explore historical and political conditions that facilitated the rise of totalitarian regimes and consequently the evil of mass atrocities during Holocaust. Beyond the well-recognized concept of the ‘banality of evil’, Arendt also underscores the significance of political engagement and action, principles that find clear reflection in contemporary applications of ‘never again’. Already in this early work, there is a call for a reflective examination of the past, urging societies to glean lessons from history to avert its repetition. This emphasis on reflection and learning from the past remains crucial to the ethical foundations of ‘never again’, reinforcing the notion that proactive measures and political involvement are key to preventing the recurrence of mass atrocities. After first appearance and popularization, it got applied to different contexts, some of them mentioned later in this text. Today, ‘Never Again’ stands as an omnipresent force, both geographically and temporally, serving as a slogan, a movement, and a rallying call to mobilize across diverse platforms, including schools, legal frameworks, and (social) media.

Ethical foundations and key concepts

The commitment embodied in ‘never again’ is anchored in a profound understanding of the ethical imperatives that guide humanity’s response to mass violence. At its core are moral obligations that transcend national boundaries, emphasizing a shared responsibility to protect vulnerable populations from the unspeakable horrors witnessed, particularly during events like the Holocaust. This ethical framework is intricately woven with the principles of human rights, asserting that every individual possesses inherent rights and freedoms, irrespective of their background. ‘Never again’ posits that the prevention of mass violence is not merely a strategic or political concern but an essential duty deeply rooted in the preservation of universal human rights. It is a recognition that the violation of these rights on a massive scale demands a resolute response from the international community (Evans 2009; Frowe 2022; Power 2013). Moreover, the commitment draws inspiration from philosophical foundations that underscore a broader perspective on global ethics (Sullivan and Kymlicka 2007). Cosmopolitan principles advocate for a worldview that transcends narrow national interests, emphasizing the interconnectedness of the world and the shared responsibility to prevent mass atrocities. In ‘On Cosmopolitanism and Forgiveness’ (Derrida 2003), Jacques Derrida engages in a philosophical exploration into the complexities of forgiveness in a global context, emphasizing the ethical responsibilities individuals, communities, and nations bear in fostering reconciliation. This work underscores the interconnectedness of forgiveness and justice: Derrida emphasizes that genuine forgiveness cannot occur without a parallel commitment to justice, as the two are intricately linked in fostering a more ethical and equitable global order. This perspective adds a layer of depth to the discourse on ‘never again’, suggesting that prevention requires not only the avoidance of future atrocities but also the establishment of just social structures that address systemic inequalities and promote lasting reconciliation.

As ‘never again’ strongly relies on concrete historical references, the recognition of crimes as such and, consequently, the prevention mechanisms have been established on the basis of these references. One such example is Gregory H. Stanton’s development of the eight stages of genocide. Therefore, we can learn how to prevent mass atrocities only if and when we can recognize them as such; this experience allows for developing theory and practice that both presuppose what the intervention should look like and what preventive techniques should be developed and applied. As we have historical experience, we know what is to be prevented: ‘It is a matter of knowing what is possible, what should not become possible and what should on no account be possible’ (Baer 2019, 5). More often, however, selective public attention is simply another manifestation of the unequal distribution of power around the world, where certain societies – namely, ‘Western’ or/and ‘White’ societies – get more space for grief, empathy and calls for ‘never again’.

While ‘never again’ has a strong future connotation – looking forward – it also is very often accompanied by ‘never forget’ – looking back. In looking back or forward as a movement or ethics, active remembrance, and within this, collective memory, serves to inform preventive measures but also assumes the premise that without remembrance, societies cannot learn from the past. It holds significant presence and importance within the field of memory studies, playing a crucial role in shaping how societies remember and learn from historical atrocities, particularly genocide and mass violence (see for instance: Baer 2019; Kansteiner 2018; Mehler 2017). The concept is intertwined with the collective memory of past traumas, serving as both a pledge to prevent future atrocities and a reminder of the moral imperative to safeguard human rights. Memory studies explore how societies construct, transmit, and contest memories, and ‘never again’ serves as a potent catalyst in these discussions. Alexander Etkind, for instance, has introduced the concept of ‘hauntology’ to describe the importance of remembering human suffering in the past: ‘If the suffering is not remembered, it will be repeated./ … /When the dead are not properly mourned, they turn into the undead and cause trouble for the living’ (Blacker and Etkind 2013, 16–17). Applied to ‘never again’ this concept underscores the enduring resonance of past atrocities, emphasizing that the ghosts of history persist in shaping our ethical commitments to prevent their recurrence. Etkind’s hauntology offers a framework to navigate the complex relationship between historical memory, intergenerational trauma transmission and the ongoing struggle against mass violence. By acknowledging the haunting presence of past traumas, societies might confront the spectral legacies of genocide and mass atrocities and reinforcing the moral imperative to ensure that these haunting specters do not reemerge in the future.

There is no strong evidence showing that remembering and actively responding to atrocities might prevent their reoccurrence; on the contrary, there is rich scholarship on the existence of intergenerational traumas, that might further fuel historical divisions and social injustices rooted in violent past events. In his book ‘In Praise of Forgetting’ (Rieff 2016), David Rieff, a prominent critic of the culture of remembrance, underscores a nuanced perspective on the role of memory in post-conflict societies. Rieff contends that while memory can serve as a powerful tool for fostering peace and healing, it equally possesses the potential to exacerbate divisions and incite further violence. He argues that an unwavering commitment to remembering historical traumas can entrench grievances, sustaining animosities and preventing the emergence of a collective, reconciled narrative. Rieff’s critique suggests that an excessive focus on memory can impede the peace process by perpetuating a cycle of vengeance and resentment. Consequently, he advocates for a measured embrace of forgetting, arguing that societies must strike a delicate balance between acknowledging the past and cultivating a forward-looking, reconciliatory ethos to navigate the complexities of post-conflict reconstruction.

Inspired by his work, Kerry E. Whigham (2017) reflects on the preventive capacities of public memory and states that despite its contested nature and potential for fuelling old hostilities, public memory can lead to new levels of understanding and empathy. However, she does not see this power in the public/collective memory as such but in its capacity to change over time through the dedication of those working with the memory at the state and community levels, who ‘endeavor to implement memory initiatives meant not to divide, but to unite’ (Whigham 2017, 68). Considering that memory and remembrance practices worldwide take very diverse forms and reflect very localized emotional engagements, how can the ‘never again’ ethics transcend this in a universal way? Do the universal ethics of ‘never again’ also demand universal remembrance practices? Despite its local specificity, one can say that the very aim of the remembrance practice – never forget the atrocity and honour the victims – can be recognized globally. What varies widely is how divided societies deal with contested memory and approach transitional justice.

While the ethics of ‘never again’ entail looking back to inform future actions towards prevention, they also involve anticipating the format and warning signs of yet-to-occur events. This process unfolds across at least two generations, where the generation that ‘failed’ imparts the lessons that we should learn. The transmission of intergenerational trauma becomes a crucial aspect of this ethical imperative, as the scars of past atrocities are passed down through familial and societal narratives. As the torchbearer of historical memory, each generation carries the weight of imparting sociocultural and political efforts aimed at preventing such large-scale human catastrophes in the future. It is a profound responsibility, not only to acknowledge what happened but also to critically assess, judge, and, by this aspiration, actively work to prevent such occurrences in the future. To achieve this, Adorno (1963, 17) advocates enhancing capacities for reflection as the essential condition for self-determination. With this, one does not trade one’s ethical principles and interhuman solidarity to pursue cooperation with the forces of regimes and/or terror of the state. While the idea of self-reflection is obviously crucial and non-negotiable, it is not easily applied when it comes to empirical conditions of individuals and communities. First, to be applied and practiced, there must be at least a certain level of democratic organization in the society and access to a plurality of information sources. Next, while the goal of preventing recurrence has been set and the social agreement for prevention has been made, the more precise direction of what exactly needs to be done and how is yet to be elaborated. The interplay between historical memory, intergenerational trauma, and the commitment to prevention is integral to the ‘never again’ ethos, underscoring the multifaceted dimensions of ethical engagement with the past and the imperative to break the cycle of violence across generations.

Empirical explorations: general examples

Prior to diving into the specific examples presented later in this paper, it is imperative to examine some general empirical explorations of the ‘never again’ principle across varied social and political contexts. Central to these explorations are considerations of memorialization and the narratives that encapsulate evidentiary aspects, particularly within post-genocidal societies. In the most popular format, as a movement, most often appear as a sentiment in remembrance practices or peace gatherings – that is, a manifestation that does not necessarily lead to any serious political action (Baer 2019, 4) – or as an ad-hoc citizens’ response to very particular triggers that awaken historical experiences, referring to ‘never again Holocaust and genocide’ or ‘never again communism and other dictatorships, never again apartheid, never again colonialism’ (Baer 2019, 1). In the vein of anti-refugee tensions in 2015, in Canada, for instance, Joshua Ostroff, Senior Editor at Huffington Post Canada, emphasized that his Jewish identity, and therefore the burden of collective historical trauma, affects his response to the topic: ‘Well, fuck you. Seriously. All of you. I’m Jewish, and so I have a particular perspective on these anti-refugee opinions’ (Ostroff 2015). Yet, the ‘never again’ movements can consist of individuals from very different backgrounds, who do not necessarily have direct connections to victims from the past. More often, the link connecting people in ‘never again’ is empathy and human connection, which gives the movement a kind of universal, global or human dimension. Furthermore, the ethics that can be discerned from the more complex extension of ‘never again’ movements often presuppose that a shared human experience exists concerning collective violence, excluding the geographical or historical context, and that the knowledge or lessons learnt can be transferred across cultures. However, the very fact that not all atrocities gain the same level of global attention – let us merely consider the #neveragain hashtags on social media – indicates that something like empathic understanding across global human experience has yet to be realized. To a certain extent, some mass atrocities remain in the shadows because the very nature of how they manifest in the sociopolitical context is not universally recognizable, meaning that global audiences do not have enough categorical knowledge to identify the early warning signs and, therefore, mobilize resistance.

In ‘A Problem from Hell: America and the Age of Genocide’ (Power 2013), Samantha Power provides a comprehensive overview of some of the historical responses of the United States, underscoring the international community’s responsibility in preventing and responding to such events. Drawing upon various firsthand accounts, she constructs an argument akin to Arendt’s, emphasizing the critical significance of comprehending historical precedents to guide future endeavors in averting and addressing genocidal atrocities. This is quite paradoxical as examples of genocides (for instance in Rwanda or Bosnia) analyzed in the Power’s book happened after the Holocaust and after Arendt provided an argument on the importance of understanding the roots of violence which could enable prevention. This discrepancy implies a failure to truly assimilate the lessons from the Holocaust and Arendt’s insights, raising questions about the efficacy of the ‘never again’ principle in preventing recurrent instances of genocidal violence.

The commitment to ‘never again’ in the United States has materialized also as a tangible education policy with the passage of H.R. 943, known as The Never Again Education Act. This legislation underscores the importance of Holocaust education in American schools, aiming to ensure that future generations are well-informed about the historical realities of genocide and the devastating consequences of discrimination and intolerance. By integrating Holocaust education into the curriculum, the Act seeks to cultivate a deeper understanding of the atrocities committed during this dark chapter of history and instill a commitment to preventing similar acts in the future. The Never Again Education Act exemplifies a proactive approach to shaping public consciousness and fostering a culture of remembrance and responsibility.

In Europe, The European Commission (see European Commission 2020) and the Council of Europe (see CoE 2020) employ the ‘never again’ principle as a foundational element in their commitment to preventing the recurrence of atrocities and upholding human rights. Through initiatives such as educational programs, commemorative events, and advocacy for international cooperation, both institutions strive to foster a collective memory of past atrocities, particularly focusing on the Holocaust, and emphasize the importance of vigilance against discrimination and mass violence. By integrating the ‘never again’ ethos into policies, these organizations aim to contribute to the construction of a Europe that remains steadfast in its dedication to preventing genocide and promoting a culture of tolerance and inclusivity. Despite several state-run projects that reflect the ethics of ‘never again’, prevention education still too often sends the message that it is the individual or group of ‘citizens’ who must prevent the recurrence of mass violence. While citizens certainly have some power in terms of staying informed and educated to intervene, particularly in the early stages, it is also misleading to believe that catastrophes initiated by the state or (international) military intervention, like both examples analysed later in the text, can be prevented or stopped only by a non-violent civil resistance movement.

There have been efforts to reflect the transcendental nature of the ethics of ‘never again’ through international institutions operating as international courts, the United Nations and the seemingly universal principles of human rights. With reference to the very concrete traumatic experience of WWII and the Holocaust, these institutions aimed to establish international norms that would help to successfully prevent the recurrence of such mass atrocities. To achieve this, those institutions would need to primarily challenge the existing power structure, specifically from a global perspective. It is, thus, not surprising that human rights are often subjected to criticism from a Western perspective, derived from the premise that the Western world was hurt severely – and not that it was only hurt but that it hurt itself within. With its strong connection to human rights, the assumed universality of ‘never again’ also draws from the Western values system and is prone to ignoring the fact that different social groups deal differently with the legacy of mass atrocities, from legal perspectives and the memory politics between amnesia and remembrance. While some social groups have had the capacity and access to develop memory politics that have allowed them not only to heal but also to learn about the past, many others do not share this privilege and remain in the shadow of denial and enforced political amnesia. With this, the comparative dimension of the ethics of ‘never again’ might easily simplify the magnitude of the burden of current threats but also their connections to the evil past that persist in the very concrete temporal and sociopolitical contexts of different social groups.

While we have acknowledged the pluralism of cultural values and diversities, it is risky to believe that human pain is universal and, therefore, that mass atrocities can be compared from a global perspective. Not only is the very experience of politically inflicted pain different, so are the long-term traumatic (in addition to economic, political, etc.) consequences. Some societies have, in fact, learnt from the past. While remaining critical, we can give some credit to the European Union project that, among other things, has aspired to ensure lasting peace, therefore taking ‘never again’ for real on its own soil. For many other societies, among them those that continue to suffer under (post)colonial European governance, ‘never again’ might ensure hope but not necessarily also trust. The fact that we as a human race have broken the vows of ‘never again’ so many times rightly casts doubt in some individuals, followed by disappointment and, hence, mistrust. Furthermore, for all of us, the broken vows raise questions about whether the vicious circle of intercommunal violence can ever be broken.

From concentration to detention camps: a case study of historical and contemporary realities

The two social issues of the so-called refugee crisis in Europe in 2015 and ongoing tensions related to the US ICE detention centers for migrants and refugees coming mainly from South and Latin American countries have received global public attention and virtual and physical responses in various forms, from civic protests to artistic renderings and publications. In both cases, several political and public actors responded by using ‘never again’ metaphors and language pointing out the repetition of history. Anti-refugee sentiment across Europe and the United States in 2015, with the huge influx of people seeking shelter away from their homes devastated by war or radical political violence, at many levels, reminded people, if not terrified them, of the antisemitic attitudes prior to WWII, seen particularly in the reluctance on the part of governments and international organizations to collaborate in finding solutions (Lyman 2015; Victor 2015; Zeitz 2015). While the camps and refugee/migrant (detention) centers were reported to be overcrowded and have generally inhumane living conditions, the overall culture of prejudice, racism and indifference on one side and fear of refugees on the other was – as it was in the late 1930s – additionally fuelled by an economic crisis and populist political discourse (FRA 2018; Zeitz 2015). Thus, Muslims in 2015 came to be seen by many as similar to the Jews in the 1930s (Bell 2018; Fang 2015).

One of the most devastating events that initiated a massive response and brought attention to the inhuman conditions of refugees in Europe was undoubtedly the photo of Alan Kurdi, a child whose body washed up on the shores of Turkey in 2015. In response, and emphasizing the particular effects of the refugee crisis on children, Save the Children (2015) appealed that “it is the time to say ‘never again’”; they warned that our ‘response today will define Europe in the future’. The report reminds the reader of the past by referring to the 1951 Refugee Convention, when Europeans witnessed and experienced similar events, and thus, they have learnt, and appealing to the reader that we have a choice to create a ‘future past’ that we will not regret by carefully deciding how we act today. The report concludes that Europe collectively failed people seeking safety and makes the following call to action: ‘Now is the time to say “Never again”. Now is the time to make a choice. And our choice must be that no more children should die seeking happiness and safety’ (Save the Children 2015).

In an article from 2018, Mirwais Wakil uses ‘never again’ in accusing Europe of failing to keep its human rights promise, referring directly to the origins of human rights as one of the most powerful legal and ethical orientations to prevent similar atrocities after WWII. In Daniel Trilling’s (2018) examination of myths and beliefs that have influenced policy and public opinion about the refugee crisis in 2015, he also lists the myth of how ‘history is repeating and there’s nothing we can do about it’. While he observes the responses to the refugee crisis within the frame of European consciousness of the Holocaust, he also warns that this lesson from history cannot simply be moved forward in time, as there are significant differences that one should not simply ignore. In his opinion, many European citizens responded and joined in the humanitarian intervention because of an ‘empathic’ connection. While people as individuals and citizens adopted a humanitarian approach to engage with the situation, states’ responses to the crisis betrayed the more dangerous aspect of the fragility of liberal democratic societies. The presence of millions of displaced people became a powerful tool for those regimes that wanted to undermine the idea of universal human rights: ‘Look, they could say, there’s no such thing; you only get rights by being part of the nation’ (Trilling 2018). Trilling refers to the writings of Hannah Arendt and places them in the contemporary context of the crisis, perfectly matching Arendt’s reflection on the threats of authoritarian governments in two different temporal spaces.

The limitations that such use of ‘historic lessons’ bring are in the unknown. Humanitarian crises do not simply repeat in the same form throughout history, if for no other reason than because the sociopolitical systems where and when the crises happened change over time. Moreover, with every new crisis, we might learn lessons on how to prevent such a crisis as we might also learn how to repeat those patterns that worked in the past to achieve specific political goals. For this reason, Trilling (2018) warns that it is not wise to be limited to the categories that currently exist: ‘We cannot control whether these things happen; what matters will be how we respond, and whether we repeat the errors of this crisis’. However, if the way in which we respond to a current crisis is crucial for prevention, this means that to learn from the past, draw similarities or demonstrate empathic understanding for the victims, survivors and descendants, we must have an understanding of the current sociopolitical dynamics and power relationships but also technological enhancements, international relationships and the overall global sociopolitical developments since the atrocity to which we refer happened. Now, attempting to grasp all of these aspects in the ingrained culture of didactic in the very history education, how feasible this is?

Another example, where contemporary camps were compared to the historical events, is placed in ICE detention camps in the United States. With the global spread of coronavirus in early 2020, activists with the Jewish advocacy group Never Again Action used the case of Holocaust victim Anne Frank to warn that infectious diseases within immigration detention camps kill migrants, like typhus killed Frank in 1945: ‘Crowded, unsanitary detention camps are a death sentence for the people inside. These are the conditions that killed Anne Frank, who died of typhus in 1945’ (Higgins 2020). Tracing the history of family members surviving mass atrocities has played a role in some other mass mobilizations in protest against the current state operations regarding migrations in the United States. Activist Serena Adlerstein, for instance, managed to awaken thousands of young Jews across the United States to protest the treatment of migrants in US detention camps only with a Facebook post asking, ‘What if young Jews occupied ICE detention centers and shut them down?’ (Adlerstein in Kesslen 2019). Similarly, being Jewish informs the activist work of Sarah Gisking within Never Again Action, for whom this movement serves as a ‘reminder of what our history means and the role we can play’ (in Kesslen 2019). She adds, ‘We are a community that’s been targeted. We can’t stand by while it happens to others/ … /This is an occasion where we have been moral leaders’ (in Kesslen 2019).

In one of her addresses (in Gay Stolberg 2019), Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez referred to the ICE centres as ‘concentration camps’ to emphasize the inhuman conditions of basic necessities, including insufficient food and access to showers for longer periods of time. However, both major political parties and Jewish communities responded with disagreement, claiming that this was an inappropriate comparison to historical events (in Gay Stolberg 2019). For some, this comparison minimized the Holocaust, while others believed that Ocasio-Cortez needed to revise her knowledge to learn some ‘actual history’ because ‘6 million Jews were exterminated in the Holocaust. You demean their memory and disgrace yourself with comments like this’ so she should ‘stop trying to draw these crayon parallels between POTUS & Hitler!’ (in Gay Stolberg 2019). In her comment, Ocasio-Cortez referred to an article written by Jack Holmes (2019) in which he discusses the camp allegory, which ‘in the American consciousness is synonymous with the Nazi death machines across the European continent’. He states that this shows how our historical knowledge is geographically fixed and that we need tools that will allow history teachers to better translate historical experiences, so students do not understand very concrete events as isolated and historically unique but grasp the underlying mechanisms that led to such events and allowed them to take place.

As the Nazi camps left such a traumatic legacy in European history, the very word ‘camp’ has such a strong connotation that its use today is often avoided. However, this might give the impression that camps as facilities were unique and only appeared in this specific historical situation. While official language in Europe consistently employs the term ‘refugee camps’ to name the facilities for people entering the Schengen Area, Matthew Karnitschnig (2018) reports on the challenging historic attachment of the word Lager in Germany today that has become widely associated with the Holocaust and Nazi extermination politics. To avoid the Fluchtlingslager (refugee camp), in the official language, German governments have utilized several other euphemisms, like Ankerzentren (anchor centres), Transitzonen (transit zones), Anlandeplattform (disembarkation platform), Expresszentren (express centres) and kontrollierte Zentren (control centres). Similarly, US ICE detention camps are being called ‘federal migrant shelters’, ‘temporary shelters for unaccompanied minors’ or ‘detainment facilities’ (Holmes 2019).

Contemporary detention camps serve as compelling teaching examples in history education as they offer a tangible link to past injustices and echo the structural elements that enable such facilities. The comparative dimension lies in drawing parallels between the separation, dehumanization, and perceived threats associated with current camps and historical instances, such as those during World War II. By examining these parallels, students can discern patterns of power dynamics, discrimination, and civic responses, fostering a critical understanding of historical continuities in the future. But beside ‘learning about it’ can those examples really empower future generations to actively engage in preventing similar atrocities?

Integrating the case study to the history lesson: what competencies are needed?

By integrating contemporary refugee camps into the ‘never again’ framework, educators can provide students with a real-world context for understanding the ongoing relevance of historical lessons. These camps are not part of the historical exoticism, but are happening here and now; you can find it in most (self-)proclaimed democratic societies in the Western world, like in France (Calais), in Spain (Ceuta) or Italy (Lampedusa). Comparisons allow to incorporate the concept of temporality, placing historical events, developments, and figures within a timeline to create a coherent narrative of the past as opposed to memorializing events taken out of the context. If we are to understand historical causation and Arendt’s cause-and-effect relationship argument, temporality helps to identify patterns that impact those relationships.

These two cases also align with the Council of Europe’s aspiration to cultivate history education that aims at fostering a peaceful, democratic, and coexisting future. As a mandatory subject within institutionalized education systems and, consequently, a prominent component of state ideological apparatuses globally, history education possesses the potential to serve as an effective instrument for imparting the principles embedded in the ‘never again’ ethics. However, many epistemological and empirical challenges separate us from the practical application on a European level, including the selective nature of historical narratives, varying interpretations, and the broader socio-political context that may impact the translation of historical knowledge into tangible actions for preventing atrocities in contemporary society. Several scholars have been particularly critical of history still being perceived as the ‘finished product of professional historians’ (Paul 1992, 53) rather than as a nuanced compilation of ever-changing testimonies which are subjectively selected and interpreted within the official school curricula and sometimes also according to the teacher’s preferences.

Building on the very concrete example of the contemporary refugee camps being used in the classroom, what are the important components that can bring the ethics of ‘never again’ closer to the realization?

Intrinsic teaching and dialogical instruction

Formal educators often receive inadequate training, grappling with outdated pedagogies that promote passive learning. The use of a Freirian ‘banking system’ in history education, rooted in traditional methods, prioritizes rote memorization over critical thinking, hindering students’ development of independent thought. This approach fails to address the diverse and dynamic nature of historical narratives, limiting students’ comprehension of sociopolitical complexities. A necessary shift towards participatory and critical pedagogies is imperative to empower students to question, analyze, and interpret historical events, enabling them to navigate both past intricacies and apply insights to contemporary sociopolitical contexts. Camps from history are the past, which leads students powerless to intervene; whereas contemporary camps placed in critical pedagogies invite students to debate solutions – they can learn from history, or propose their own new ideas.

Slater (1995, 125) distinguishes ‘intrinsic’ and ‘extrinsic’ purposes of history teaching. While the former follows the fundamentals of the subject discipline, the latter better aligns with the ethics of ‘never again’ with the intention to educate on broader aspects of past events and particularly to influence learners to actively engage – cognitively or emotionally – in positive social change. However, extrinsic history teaching might be risky because it often questions the purportedly ‘objective historical evidence’ under the ethics and social values of the current times. Teachers are encouraged to create a classroom environment that allows for open discussions, acknowledging the emotional dimensions of history. Learners, in turn, are encouraged to approach historical topics with empathy, understanding that events of the past have had profound emotional effects on people. To expand historical events beyond the cognitive understanding and impact learners’ desire for positive social change, McCully and Montgomery (2009) emphasize the request for emotional sensitivity both from the teacher and the learners.

This emotional sensitivity might be nurtured also through dialogic instruction yet the emotional capacity needed to first start and then foster dialogical thinking is immense. Teaching through dialogue is not about asking critical and challenging questions only. It involves sensing, experiencing, applying meaning, analyzing and evaluating (Paul 1992, 51–62); it is about continuous questioning and repositioning our own identities, values and beliefs at each level of knowledge obtained. Opening the floor to students’ (biased, opinionated) perspectives demands a teacher who has personally done this exercise before. Teaching critical thinking – in history education or beyond – means making learners intentionally and desirably aware of their own biases, prejudices and misconceptions. It is far more than simply acquiring cognitive skills. However, assuming that history teachers are intrinsically politically and emotionally critical and sufficiently equipped to facilitate a multifaceted discussion that can arise from opening the floor to students puts pressure on the teachers, as individual agents in an often unwelcoming position in the political system, to approach the local/national histories critically (see also Misco 2011).

Need for multidisciplinarity

In some ways, ‘never again’ is the guiding principle of the needs in contemporary history education, expanding beyond the traditional disciplinary domain, and reaching out to incorporate other disciplines like multicultural education, gender and migration studies, narratology, etc. Berber Bevernage (2014) who introduces the concept of ‘historicization’ to emphasize the capacity of historical discourses to contextualize the past within its proper temporal framework, underscores the disciplinary limitations that define legitimate historical knowledge, and therefore lost opportunities in active participation in peacebuilding, human rights, and critical thinking. While higher institutions such as CoE strive to reach out, teachers are often overburdened by packed curriculum and moreover lack of competences that would make them confident to debate historical subjects in a ‘never again’ perspective. At the same time, competitive platforms like social media or disciplines such as memory studies push institutional history education to reconsider its didactics and general role in today’s society. Wanting or not, history teachers in multicultural European society must navigate global connectivity, engaging with civic education, peace education, social psychology, anthropology, and more. As we consider the evolving landscape of history education, it raises intriguing possibilities for alternative approaches. For instance, instead of opting for the traditional method of taking students to historical sites like Auschwitz, there’s a proposition to bring the lessons on concentration camps closer to the present, on the grounds of contemporary struggles, such as Calais in France. Conducting real-life ‘lessons learned’ in this manner demands a broader set of competencies that extend beyond the conventional scope of most history teachers. It necessitates not only an understanding of historical events but also proficiency in bridging the past with the present, fostering critical thinking and empathy. Moreover, it requires teachers to be well-versed in the sociopolitical complexities of current issues, enabling students to draw meaningful connections between historical injustices and contemporary challenges. This approach not only invites educators to act as conduits of historical knowledge but also as facilitators of discussions that encourage students to actively engage with the ethical imperative of ‘never again’ in a way that is relevant to their present reality. As history is brought out of the confines of the classroom and into the lived experiences of individuals, teachers become crucial guides in shaping a generation that understands history not as a detached series of events but as a continuous narrative with profound implications for the choices we make today.

Intergenerational learning – and trauma

The core of ‘never again’ ethics, with its capacity to interpret the present through the learned lessons of the past, extends its influence into multigenerational questions of ethics and justice. This ethical imperative disrupts established social agreements on which historical narratives are deemed important for identity and community building within a specific generation. Karl Mannheim’s perspective on generational dynamics further underscores the transformative potential of ‘never again’. Mannheim posits that two generations represent distinct groups of actors-one experiencing the present as the end of the past, and the other as the beginning of the future (Mannheim 1952). While this concept is often debated in the context of teaching recent violent histories during transitional justice processes, the ethics of ‘never again’ has the power to challenge any historical paradigm when a generation is granted space for its interpretation and empirical application within its socio-political world.

Consider the challenge faced by teachers who grew up during the Cold War silence with limited information about the Nazi camps and the preceding events leading to extermination. How do they teach Generation Z, for whom a visit to Auschwitz has become a social event documented on Instagram? The transformation of the learning experience into an intergenerational dialogic space places the present generation in charge of ‘never again’. This approach not only equips history education to shape the intellectual foundation of future political bodies, influencing active voters, but it also taps into profoundly human dimensions of experiencing the world and understanding the plight of fellow human beings. Intergenerational learning in the context of ‘never again’ is crucial because it fosters a dynamic and evolving understanding of history, encouraging each generation to contribute its insights, interpretations, and applications of the ‘never again’ principle. By introducing the examples from our times, like refugee camps, it shows that every generation is both vulnerable and responsible for the atrocities committed. It is easy to speak about what the ‘eldest’ did wrong, without reflecting forms of discrimination, intolerance, and injustice typical for our generation. Especially when we are using a comparative analysis, intergenerational learning serves as a bridge between historical knowledge and contemporary realities. It allows each generation to contextualize ‘never again’ within its unique socio-political landscape, making the ethical imperative relevant and actionable. This contextualization ensures that the lessons learned from history are not detached from the challenges faced by the present generation. It brings history from the books to the fields of the current reality.

Yet, engaging in intergenerational dialogue might trigger individuals emotionally and might also touch on pre-existing traumas that were successfully suppressed before (see Paul and Elder 2014). While teachers struggle and experts offer recommendations on how to constructively convey ‘sensitive’ or ‘contested’ or ‘difficult’ pasts, the core challenge that we are actually dealing with is the very trauma, the legacy of the traumatic events manifested in ongoing injustice and violence and the threat of transmitting intergenerational trauma – which does not necessarily happen only in families but can also be systematically taught through official history curricula. In contemporary Bosnia-Herzegovina, the individuals that were captivated themselves in the camps during the war in 90s, are now being set to the classroom, in front of the post-war generation, for whom history in fact is history. Bosnia-Herzegovina however, is one of the cases, struggling to agree upon the institutionalized interpretations of historical events used in official curricula (or as it stands now − 3 curriculum). Those narratives almost without exception consist of either victory or victimhood narratives, which makes history education about ‘ourselves’ almost automatically traumatic – either as the descendants of wrongdoings and unfairness, and therefore descendants of victims and survivors, or descendants of victors, which also carry the burden of the usually violent events that enabled the victory, such as mass killings, genocide and slavery. Including the principle of multiperspectivity within the interpretation of contested histories and/or violent pasts that expand to the unjust political systems and social structures of today furthers the realness and human pain of the stories of suffering and (violent) oppression of ‘our’ (or another) group. Once the past wrongdoings, like genocide and colonialism, are critically approached, and all of a sudden, we find our identities related to those that induced the violence, pain and trauma, the intersection with the principles of social justice and the call to reform the unequal global power dynamics becomes unavoidable.

For students, a safe temporal, geographical, emotional, social, etc., distance in learning about Nazi camps through a frontal, non-dialogical and non-comparative approach that is all of a sudden put aside to the camps ‘next door’, this not only means that the past is no longer gone because the new, same ‘past’ is just here again; it strips them of the privilege of consuming history passively, claiming historic empathy with the victims and the vanquished. Multiperspectivity in combination with the ethics of ‘never again’ clarifies that ‘our victory’ is someone else’s painful loss, and this loss might not show and affect the victors’ lives in the moment of the atrocities. However, it can haunt for generations, affect the participation in sociopolitical events of the current generations and impact the privileges, hierarchies and comforts of the current generations. Should we, therefore, from a different angle, put contemporary violent events into the perspective of the past, so that we can diminish the pain and raise hope that (some) people have survived and that (some) wounds are eventually healed over the decades?

Remaining concerns

Incorporating the ethics of ‘never again’ in history education as aspired by the Council of Europe is a transformative endeavor that still today transcends the confines of traditional pedagogy. One of the remaining concerns not yet touched upon throughout the paper is the question of comparative potentials between the learnt and unknown of collective violence. I claim that every comparison with historical events risks simplifying those events with the aim of adjusting the interpretation to fit the current state of affairs in our sociopolitical dynamics, such as the examples of the camps might be. As far as I agree that there are patterns that can be recognized beforehand and that remain more or less the same throughout history, there are also very specific particularities of one specific historical time. Let us look back to the German case of accepting the large number of migrants in 2015, not only without sufficient asylum and integration policies but also a political elite working without real participation from civil society, which eventually risked causing radicalization – not only in Germany but also within broader European domestic politics (Hameleers 2019; Makarychev 2018; Modebadze 2019). While tension arose to avoid history repeating by accepting refugees fleeing persecution rather than rejecting them, contemporary politics had to bear in mind the existing tensions as well. Concretely, in Germany in 2015, these were the anticipation of effective mechanisms for navigating the troubled and difficult pre-existing sociohistorical tensions between Jewish and Arab/Muslim communities (see e.g. B.B.C. News 2018; Kirchick 2018). The question that arises with this concerns whether history teachers have enough training that expands historiography as such to teach the ethics of ‘never again’ from a comparative perspective without risking simplifying the complexity and uniqueness of contemporary events. Comparative analyses and lessons learnt from history can be particularly dangerous given the immediate nature of ‘never again’ movements: when apparently history-related or history-reminding events occur, people respond with emotions that are rather destructive. This, I would claim, is not the perfect condition for ‘never again’ to prosper in the form of sustainable peace. Furthermore, our capacity to learn is most certainly weakened in the moment of crisis; every shocking situation demands time and needs to allow a collective grieving process for people to emotionally and cognitively process what has occurred. Only after this can the collective draw some reflective and potentially educative parallels. As we can see with the examples of the camps, both in Europe and the United States, the current sociopolitical situation affects the flow of how informed and (emotionally) engaged citizens are. While citizens across Europe were most vocal in 2015 at the peak of the inflow of refugees, and we could see many similarities between the movements of ‘never again’ and ‘refugees welcome’, a more systematic approach and reasoned response – thus involving the ethics of ‘never again’ – to integration and teaching about migration in schools has been developed only recently.

Another issue that arises in history education aiming to integrate the ‘ethics of never again’ is the assumed importance of the empathic connection in preventing a repeat of the past. Empathy as the cognitive and emotional capability of individuals and communities to adopt someone else’s perspective and to experience or/and understand that person’s emotions (parallel empathy) or to feel sympathy or compassion on their behalf (reactive empathy) (Stephan and Finlay 2002) has long been discussed by history educators (see e.g. Cunningham 2007; Retz 2015; Yilmaz 2007). However, the process through which individuals foster or extend their empathy, particularly to social groups to which they do not belong themselves or with which they have no connections or personal experience, is less clear. It is possible that individuals’ own (family) experiences of violent victimization engender empathy towards other victims. Survivors and descendants, as can be seen from the examples in this paper, might be more supportive of the members of social groups experiencing repression and political violence despite having no personal or social ties with them (see also Dinas and Fouka 2021). At the same time, exposure to political violence, as in the case of racism and Islamophobia in contemporary Europe, which are both rooted in violent (colonial) histories, might also cause the reverse perception of a constant out-group threat (the majority, privileged groups as opposed to the oppressed minority), which causes anger, radicalization and separatism. In this vein, the role of collective trauma and transmitted collective trauma is overshadowed by empathy and should be further explored by history teachers to determine how to incorporate it in preventive educational practices.

The ethics of ‘never again’ could respond to the fear of potential trauma triggers among teachers who decide to invite students into a dialogical history education with its characteristic essentially looking forward with the central idea of not repeating the violent past. This means that the diversity of students’ perspectives, shaped within their own family histories, creates a complex understanding of the past and the future but with the intention to unite rather than further divide on the basis of past events. In contrast to empathy, which is merely understanding and sharing the feelings of others, the ethics of ‘never again’ place the responsibility on individuals. History is not a finished project, a matter of the past, but with its legacy it actively shapes our present, and while we cannot change what has already happened, we can navigate what is yet to happen. Remembering Nazi camps through learning about them might have left Generation Z powerless despite their active response in the form of empathic understanding. The ethics of ‘never again’, where we put side by side a historical event and an event that is happening right now, perhaps right in front of us, hold one accountable to either react or ignore the repetition of history. While we deploy remembrance practices and learning about past atrocities in our efforts to understand how regular people could have failed to predict a human catastrophe or even participated in executing it, we can also ask ourselves the following: Are we these same people today? Do we keep silent? Do we collaborate or try to engage and change the history that is occurring and being repeated right now, which includes us?

The examples shared in this text, exploring how we could materialize the ideas by the Council of Europe’s in history class, have helped pinpoint the opportunities and, most importantly, the necessary skills that educators need to turn history education into valuable ‘lessons learned’. While we can agree that history should teach us, there is unfortunately also the evidence showing that just ‘knowing’ or ‘understanding’, as Arendt hoped, is not sufficient. We need more.

The growth of memory studies in recent years has introduced many new aspects, for instance significance of testimonies, micro-histories, and collective memory/traumas, all grounded in emotional i.e. emphatic connections. Those concepts have received much attention in traditional history education. Furthermore, if we aspire to give ‘the never again’ substantial weight and impact, we must create examples that we can genuinely realize, namely, not doing ever again. During one of my classes with post-conflict generations in the war-divided city of Mostar in Bosnia-Herzegovina, a teenage student prompted me to question the relevance of ‘teaching from the past’ as we often assume.

In fact, it really is relevant as we like to believe it. He said “It wasn’t not our war, so it is not our history, nor our responsibility. We weren’t the ones who caused it. Perhaps, if it were up to us, there wouldn’t be a war at all. Give us a chance to start from scratch’. And given that there are not many examples or evidence that ‘never again’ eventually works in practice, perhaps we should really just be starting from scratch, not looking back.

He expressed, ‘It wasn’t our war, so it isn’t our history, nor our responsibility. We weren’t the ones who caused it. Perhaps, if it were up to us, there wouldn’t be a war at all. Give us a chance to start from scratch’. Given the limited examples or evidence that ‘never again’ effectively functions in practice, perhaps we should genuinely consider starting anew, looking forward instead.

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No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Nena Mocnik

Nena Mocnik is a Marie Skłodowska-Curie (Science and Innovation) Fellow at GRITIM-UPF, Barcelona. She currently conduct participatory action research that explores the rapidly expanding internet and digital realms, aiming to provide reproductive health-related information for forcibly displaced mothers in Europe. She is the author of two monographs: “Trauma Transmission and Sexual Violence: Reconciliation and Peacebuilding in Post-Conflict Settings” (2021), and “Sexuality after War Rape: From Narrative to Embodied Research” (Routledge, 2017).