On the occasion of May 8th, Franziska Davies spoke to Vasyl Korotkyi about the changes in German memory culture with regard to Ukraine and the Second World War and the legacy of German-Russian colonial complicity.
Vasyl Korotkyi: Ms. Davies, how does May 8th sound to you in the shadow of the current war between Russia and Ukraine? Has your own perception changed since February 24, 2022?
Franziska Davies: I don’t think it has changed fundamentally for me personally. However, I see these changes very clearly – particularly with regard to Ukraine.
I also see today even more clearly that Russia must be excluded from all remembrance events in Germany. No official representative of the Russian embassy should be present. I feel this much more strongly now – even though one could say this should have been the case since 2014.
And today, it is very clear to me: Any form of joint remembrance with Russia is currently impossible – and must remain so.
Has this war changed perceptions in German society and politics?
Yes, there has been some change in the sense that until February 24, 2022, the Soviet victims of the Second World War were largely attributed to Russia in German discourse.
We also had the absurd situation that it was widely accepted in both politics and society to justify the non-delivery of weapons until the full-scale invasion by pointing to a special responsibility towards Russia due to the Second World War. This is, of course, absurd.
Why do we justify non-solidarity with an attacked country – or with a country where it is already becoming clear that it will become the victim of an even greater attack – by pointing to the Second World War and a sense of responsibility towards Russia? It is absurd to interpret the lessons of the Second World War in this fashion.
This is connected to what I have already said: Ukraine, but also Belarus, were long overlooked in German perception as central theatres and victims of the Second World War. These countries, which belonged to the Soviet Union at the time, were completely occupied and were the main theatres of war, both of the violent occupation and the Holocaust.
This was marginalized in German remembrance.
And this is not only related to the Second World War, but also to a longer historical line: a tradition of joint imperial policies by Germany and Russia at the expense of countries in Central and Eastern Europe.
So it’s not just about naivety or the attempt to draw the “right” lessons from the Second World War – even if those lessons are then misinterpreted. One must also recognize that there is a form of imperial complicity here. In research, we speak of “colonial complicity.”
This dimension goes far back, to the partitions of Poland-Lithuania at the end of the 18th century. One can also look at the murderous climax between 1939 and 1941, the Hitler-Stalin Pact. This joint imperial division of Eastern Europe is still not particularly present in German society.
This shows how self-centered German remembrance culture still is. For Poles, for example, the experience of being occupied by two totalitarian regimes is central to understanding the Second World War. In Germany, this dimension still plays a comparatively minor role.
It has become stronger – as has the awareness that Ukraine was a major theatre and a victim, of course, not only by Germany, but also by the Soviet Union. But this old way of thinking has not yet disappeared.
You mentioned Germany’s special responsibility towards Russia. Why was it so formative? And was it also an obstacle to decisive support for Ukraine at the beginning of the war?
That is certainly one factor. But I don’t think it was the only or necessarily the most important one.
We are talking about remembrance culture, and that is important. But we also know that there were close ties between politics and business – just think of North Stream 2. So there was also a structurally problematic relationship with Russia.
Another point is that it was difficult for many in politics to admit just how disastrous their Russia policy was before 2022. More decisive support for Ukraine would have required much deeper self-criticism. And there was a clear unwillingness to do that.
In addition, many are still stuck in old patterns of thinking. This includes the notion of “invincible Russia.” As a historian, I can say: This is clearly false. We have examples of Russian defeats in history, and not just a few.
Fear of nuclear escalation also played a major role – a fear that Russia has specifically targeted and instrumentalized. Putin knows Germany very well and is aware of this deeply rooted nuclear fear – some would even speak of a kind of hysteria.
Overall, it was a combination of a still problematic image of Russia, the unwillingness to deal with one’s own policy in all its consequences, and – in the context of remembrance culture – the notion that somehow, perhaps without such decisive military support as would have been necessary, one could still reach some kind of understanding with Russia. That one should not become too much of a belligerent party, not too decisive.
Putin uses the symbolism of 1945 to justify the attack on Ukraine and portrays Ukraine as “Nazi.” How do you, as a historian, explain this phenomenon?
The terms “fascism” and “Nazi” have largely lost their original political content in Russia. “Fascist” or “Nazi” today simply means anyone who is against Russia.
And here we have the contradiction that Russia itself is a fascist society while accusing a democracy of being fascist. So this has nothing to do with the content of these terms anymore.
These terms are closely linked to the Soviet narrative of the “Great Patriotic War,” which was very successful, where the years 1939 to 1941 were systematically excluded. According to this narrative, the war began only in 1941.
These narratives have increasingly become political battle cries in recent decades – and were targeted against Ukraine early on.
There is also a historical continuity: Even in the Soviet Union, Ukrainian dissidents were persecuted and criminalized as “bourgeois nationalists.” This gives rise to a logic that still works today: Whoever is against Moscow is a nationalist, a “Nazi,” a “fascist.”
This demonization of Ukraine – as a country allegedly dominated by radical nationalists and antisemites – was specifically used as a propaganda strategy in 2014 in the context of the Maidan. It served to spread disinformation, undermine solidarity with Ukraine, and distract from Russia’s aggression – the annexation of Crimea and the occupation of parts of the Donbas.
At the same time, there is an old narrative in Russia: On the one hand, it is claimed that Russia and Ukraine are “one people.” On the other hand, it is argued that external enemies are dividing this “brotherly people.”
This is very evident in the text published under Putin’s name in June 2021. It repeatedly claims that external powers destroyed this alleged unity – in the 19th century, for example, Poland and the Habsburgs, and in the 20th century, Germany and alleged “Ukrainian Nazis.”
Today, in this logic, it is the “Kiev regime,” supported by NATO, the USA, and the West.
This narrative fulfils a clear function: It constructs a permanent external enemy that threatens the unity of these alleged single people.
The slogan “Never Again” has effectively turned into “We Can Do It Again” in today’s Russia. When did this shift happen, and why was it so long overlooked in the West – also in Germany?
This instrumentalization of the Second World War – particularly with regard to Ukraine – began already before 2014. The 2014 attack was also prepared through systematic propaganda.
The image of the “Ukrainian Nazis” is an old distortion that goes back to the Soviet tradition and was strongly reactivated in 2014. In the months before February 2022, there was a further radicalization.
But I would say: It is a radicalization, not a fundamental change. This misuse of the Second World War has been observable in Russia for well over a decade.
Why was this not perceived in Germany for so long? That is a valid question, because it was actually obvious.
One reason is a pronounced self-centeredness. People project their own ideas – such as the belief that conflicts can be resolved through dialogue and diplomacy – onto others.
This “thinking before reality” was already visible in 2014. A colonial attitude towards Ukraine also played a role.
In addition, many could not imagine that a state would attack another country on the basis of a pseudo-historical, nationalist-imperial ideology. It was outside their imagination – although it was visible.
Another important point is the tension within German remembrance culture between “Never Again War” and “Never Again Genocide.”
“Never Again War” was often interpreted as “never again use of force” – and was even used as an argument against supporting an attacked country.
But in the case of an aggressor, “Never Again Genocide” can mean that one must supply weapons to defend the victim. Otherwise, one becomes complicit.
The fact that this was long difficult to accept is also related to historical experiences: Germany knows above all the role of the aggressor, not that of an existentially threatened victim. Countries like Poland have this experience – hence the understanding was much greater there.
That is why we had all those absurd open letters after the full-scale Russian invasion, which spoke out against arms deliveries to Ukraine.
How can Germany make this transition from a culture of guilt to a culture of responsibility through action, especially with regard to supporting Ukraine?
A certain change has already taken place – although, in my opinion, it is not sufficient and not decisive enough.
Until February 2022, there was a consensus among all parties against arms deliveries. And even a very pro-Ukrainian party, such as the Greens, had long wanted no arms delivery. So a real change has indeed taken place.
A part of society now understands this responsibility more clearly, and support for Ukraine remains majority-supported.
But I am not sure that it is sufficiently understood that this is not about generosity or mere aid, but about the security of Europe – and thus also of Germany.
It is about defending the European security order in Ukraine, which is based on the principle that no state may forcibly change the borders of another. If this order is not defended, all of Europe will become less secure.
I would wish for much clearer communication from German politics and also a higher awareness that there is something to defend, also in Germany. Democracy and freedom are not just a given. I believe this is something Germans need to learn.
Do you see today in German politics the willingness to support Ukraine consistently and without reservations? Or do historical imprints in the relationship with Russia continue to act as a brake?
I believe that support is still not enough.
In the SPD – especially under Chancellor Scholz – one could clearly see how strongly old patterns of thinking were still at work. Current calls for disarmament talks with Russia also show this.
With the CDU, it is harder for me to pinpoint the reasons exactly. Rhetorically, there is support, but factually, some promises were not fulfilled after the new government came to power.
I suspect that for the CDU, domestic political issues currently have priority – especially migration. This topic is being inflated by the government in an irresponsible way. Support for Ukraine, although strategically so important for Germany and Europe, risks falling through the cracks.
At the same time, populist and problematic narratives are being used – in the hope of winning back voters from the AfD. However, polls show that this strategy is not working.
At the same time, this focus means that central challenges – supporting Ukraine and strengthening one’s own democracy – are not addressed sufficiently.
There are also voices in Germany that demand “peace at any price” with reference to history. What do you, as a historian, have to say to such arguments?
First: We are dealing with a Russia that does not want peace.
And none of those who have made such demands in recent years have been able to explain on a factual level how this peace should be achieved concretely. These were very empty formulations, clichés, that had little to do with reality.
What is Ukraine supposed to negotiate about if it is to be destroyed at the same time? What would be the basis for such negotiations?
Second: Occupation does not mean peace. Occupation in Ukraine means genocide of Ukrainians. That is not peace.
This also has to do with historical experiences. Germans practically had no experience of occupation themselves during the Second World War. They were the occupiers, but they did not experience what it means to be oppressed by a genocidal occupation regime – a regime that aims to eradicate language, culture, identity, and one’s own statehood.
Countries like Poland or Ukraine have had this experience.
We know from research that in many of these countries, more people died under occupation during the Second World War than through direct combat.
The idea that death ends with the end of military fighting is therefore false.
We see very clearly today what is happening in Ukraine. And it is not even “only” about the loss of freedom, but also about the threat to life and physical integrity.
And another point: Russia sees itself at war with all of Europe, including Germany. That is why Ukraine is not only defending itself, but also European security.
And that is what needs to be made clear to people. I often try to say it this way: It’s also about you – and about your children.
In Ukraine, there has been a process of decolonization for years, also in remembrance culture. Does Germany need a similar – albeit different – process, for example, in dealing with Soviet monuments? Should they perhaps also be decolonized, since Russia uses them as instruments of propaganda and power display?
Absolutely. But I believe that many people in Germany are not aware of this.
The Soviet Union was a Russian colonial empire. For many Ukrainians, this is obvious today – in Germany, this awareness is largely missing.
This is also due to very successful Soviet propaganda: the others were always the colonial powers – the West, the USA. The Soviet Union presented itself as anti-colonial, as a multi-ethnic state of “friendship of peoples.”
In reality, however, it was clearly organized hierarchically: Power lay in Moscow, the Russian language and culture were structurally privileged, and Russification meant de facto Sovietization.
This understanding is still often missing in Germany. That is why it is also not sufficiently seen that the re-evaluation of Soviet monuments is part of a decolonization process.
This also applies to science: Even among historians, there is still resistance to classifying the Soviet Union as a Russian colonial empire.
There is still a lot of analytical work to be done here.
At the same time, there is at least some awareness at the political level that something must be done to counter Russia’s instrumentalization of the Second World War.
Can we say that this process has already begun? For example, with the renaming of the German-Russian Museum in Berlin-Karlshorst after February 24, 2022?
Yes, I would say: It has begun.
Today, things that were hardly questioned before are being problematized in science, in politics, and also in society.
But such changes take time. Many people have built up a certain image of Russia over the years. Questioning this also means admitting one’s own mistakes and blind spots.
I can attest to this myself. When I began to study Eastern European history, I initially learned Russian and did not question many things fundamentally.
Today, it is clear: To understand Russia historically and politically, one must place the aspect of Russian colonialism much more at the center.
This process gained significant momentum around 2022, but it is far from over.
The red victory flag was long a symbol of liberation from National Socialism. Today it is hoisted by Russian troops on occupied Ukrainian buildings. How should one deal with this?
I believe these symbols must be contextualized more strongly.
For example, in Germany, it is often said that May 8, 1945, was the beginning of freedom and democracy in Europe. But this is not true for all of Europe.
For many countries in Central and Eastern Europe, this day marked the beginning of a new form of unfreedom. Poland lost its sovereignty, as did the Baltic states, and Ukraine was – except for Western Ukraine – already under Soviet control before the Second World War.
This ambiguity must be made more visible – in political communication as well as in museums and memorials.
At the same time, it is important to emphasize: For the Jewish population, the advance of the Red Army was indeed a liberation from the National Socialist extermination regime.
And it is equally important to say: This liberation was not carried out only by Russians, but also by Ukrainians, Belarusians, Kazakhs, and many others.
This victory is often attributed exclusively to Russia, which distorts historical reality.
One must therefore be able to see both at the same time: Gratitude for the victory over National Socialism, and the realization that for many countries, a new form of occupation began afterwards.
This ambiguity cannot be captured in simple political messages, but it must be addressed.
What could a new European remembrance culture after Russia’s war against Ukraine look like? And what role will Ukraine play in it?
Ukraine must be visible in this remembrance culture.
It is about recognizing what has happened in Ukraine – as a central theatre of the Holocaust, as a place of massive violence and forced labor. Many forced laborers in Germany came from Ukraine.
This dimension must be more strongly integrated into the European memory – socially, politically, and scientifically.
Russia can only be included in such a joint remembrance when the war has ended, all Russian troops have left Ukraine, and there is a clear assumption of responsibility for the crimes committed.
However, Russia’s assumption of responsibility must not only be for the current war, but also for the aggressions of the Soviet Union, i.e., with regard to the Second World War, the assumption of responsibility for the Hitler-Stalin Pact, the occupation of the Baltic states, the invasion of eastern Poland, i.e., today’s western Ukraine. Until both have happened, joint remembrance with Russia is not possible.
Franziska Davies is assistant professor of Eastern and Central Eastern European History at the History Department of the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich. Her research focuses on the modern history of Ukraine, Poland and Russia.
German and Ukrainian versions of this interview were first published on Ukrinform. This English translation first appeared on After empire: Reconfiguring Eastern Europe.
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