Statues and monuments, those immobile guardians of collective memory, are much more than inert objects in the urban landscape. They are symbols loaded with meaning, narratives encapsulated in bronze and stone that have been placed to remember, pay homage or legitimize certain stories. However, the question that resonates ever more loudly is: what stories do they really tell? And more importantly, what stories do they silence?
In recent years, the decolonization of statues and monuments has gained prominence in public discourse, sparking passionate debates about history, power and representation. Movements around the world have questioned the permanence of figures that glorify conquerors, colonizers or leaders whose legacy is associated with oppression, slavery and genocide. In Latin America, Europe and the United States, demonstrations around these symbols have ignited conversations that go beyond their mere physical presence: they challenge the way we construct and preserve our historical memory.
The power of symbols in the public space
Public space is a political arena. In it, monuments function as statements of power and values. A statue in the center of a plaza is not just an ornament, but an act of symbolic perpetuation: it legitimizes certain visions of the past and, in so doing, conditions how we interpret the present. For centuries, statues of Christopher Columbus, Hernán Cortés and other similar characters were erected to consolidate hegemonic narratives that glorified colonialism and relegated indigenous and Afro-descendant voices to the margins of official history.
The toppling of statues, far from being an act of vandalism, is a political exercise loaded with symbolism: it is not about erasing history, as its detractors argue, but about creating a space for new memories and for those whose existence has been erased or distorted.
The complexity of decolonizing
Decolonizing statues and monuments is not a simple process. It involves more than the simple act of removing a figure; it requires deep reflection on the stories we choose to remember and those we choose to forget. In Mexico City, the iconic Christopher Columbus statue on Paseo de la Reforma was removed in 2021 and will be temporarily replaced by a sculpture dedicated to indigenous women, a decision that sparked controversy and debates about identity, historical justice and the future of public space.
In other cases, such as the statues of slaveholders in the United Kingdom or Confederate leaders in the southern United States, the conversation has led to the construction of museums and interpretive spaces where these symbols are placed in a critical context. These initiatives seek not to glorify, but to analyze: they invite the viewer to confront the historical realities behind the figures, fostering a more nuanced understanding of the past.
Create new symbols
Decolonization does not only imply destroying; it also requires building. The removal of monuments opens the possibility of imagining new ways of commemorating the past. Artists and activists have begun to propose alternatives that celebrate historical resistances and communities that have been traditionally ignored. Sculptures, murals and performances are some of the tools that have been used to rethink public spaces as sites of dialogue rather than imposition.
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In this sense, contemporary art has played a crucial role. Works such as Marc Quinn's "A Surge of Power," which depicted British activist Jen Reid raising her fist, or projects by indigenous artists in Canada that reinterpret colonial monuments, open a space to question the relationship between art, power and memory.
The challenge of reconstructing the collective memory
The decolonization of statues and monuments should not be understood as a process of revenge, but as an act of historical justice. It is an opportunity to reconstruct collective memory in a more inclusive way, recognizing both the wounds of the past and the struggles that continue in the present.
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In Mexico, the conversation about these issues acquires a particular dimension: we are a country deeply marked by colonialism, but also by the resistances that have tried to challenge it. Monuments such as the Angel of Independence or the figures on Paseo de la Reforma are reminders of a history that, although officialized, remains incomplete.
As we reflect on these statues, we should ask ourselves not only whom they represent, but also whom they exclude. Perhaps the true revolutionary act is not simply to tear down, but to reimagine: to transform public space into a place where we can all find our own history.