What is reconciliation, and is it still important? Research in Ústí nad Labem and Lidice
- 21. Okt. 2025
- 2 Min. Lesezeit
Aktualisiert: 15. Apr.
Recently, I gave a reading for university students in Ústí nad Labem, a city in North Bohemia (Czech Republic). It took place in Jan Evangelista Purkyně University in Ústí nad Labem at the Institute for German studies.
Afterwards, I had an insightful conversation with the students and the lecturer Miroslav Němec. It was valuable to broaden the perspective and learn about the Czech view. For example, I was told that during the six years of German occupation, the universities were closed and from some which remained open, Czech students were excluded. I realised that, apart from the loss of human lives and psychological suffering, this time caused not only material damage which could potentially be compensated by reparations, but also immaterial damage such as the loss of education and personal careers.
The war in the Czech Republic was also connected to the loss of a minority: Ústí nad Labem (Aussig an der Elbe) is located in what was formerly known as the Sudetenland, a mainly German-speaking region. In 1945, three million Sudeten Germans were violently expelled, and Miroslav Němec told me about a massacre which took place in Ústí. Even today, this chapter is visible in the region, with abandoned houses slowly turning into ruins.
In Ústí, I visited the well-curated exhibition “Naši Němci” (“Our Germans”) about the history and heritage of the Germans in Bohemia. They had lived there since the Middle Ages, mostly in harmony and cooperation with the Czechs. “They served as intermediaries, and now they are not there anymore”, a Czech told me with some regret in his voice. This reminded me of the German-speaking minority in Belgium who today serve as a cultural bridge between the two countries, which can be seen as very valuable.
I also visited Lidice, a site of a German war crime against the Czech population; the town was destroyed and the inhabitants were either killed or deported. Facing this history was uncomfortable, yet it provided an important insight for my research.
“I don’t want the war to stand between us”, a Czech told me. “You haven’t done anything to me, and I haven’t done anything to you. I don’t like the word ‘reconciliation’. Maybe it is better to leave the wounds there, so that they remain visible”, he said.
After visiting Lidice, I can understand his perspective to some extent. For me however, reconciliation is not about forgetting the wounds, but about overcoming them and looking at the scars together. It means speaking with each other about the past, reflecting and taking each other’s perspectives. Remembering both sides together, in an honest, differentiated way without relativising – because history connects us. That way, we can learn from it and appreciate the positive relations that we have today.


