Abstract: Transnistria, meaning “beyond the Dniester”, was an artificial geographic term created during the Second World War, referring to a region in the Ukraine that was situated between the Dniester River on the west and the Bug River on the east, also extending southward to the Black Sea. During October and November 1941, thousands of terrorized Jews, mostly without food and water, were deported on foot or by wagon to Transnistria. Depending on whose numbers one uses, between 120,000 and 180,000 Jews were deported to Transnistria from Bessarabia and Northern Bukovina. Of this group, only 50,000 would survive the war.
For years, the fate of the Jews in Transnistria was not emphasized in Holocaust remembrance, education, or commemoration. The reasons for this were manifold. They included problems of documentation; attitudes of Eastern European governments until the transition of the 1990s; priorities of major Holocaust memorial organizations until that transition; activities, primarily internally focused, of the survivor organizations from Bukovina, Bessarabia, and Transnistria; and, finally, the dynamics among Jewish survivors from Romania as they reassembled their lives in the first postwar decades. All this contributed to Transnistria becoming “the forgotten Holocaust”.
As the last Jewish survivors of the Transnistrian ghettos and camps reached their eighth and ninth decades at the beginning of the 21st century, various political, social, educational, and demographic factors coalesced, changing pre-existing dynamics regarding the memory of Transnistria. In this chapter, I focus on these factors, showing how and why this “forgotten Holocaust” is slowly being remembered again.
Abstract: Public engagement with the Holocaust in Romania has developed slowly and unevenly, shaped by decades of political constraint and institutional silence. Until 1989, restricted archival access and an antifascist ideological framework marginalized the specificity of Jewish persecution, subsuming it under a generalized narrative of “victims of fascism”. A substantive public acknowledgment of Romania’s responsibility emerged only in 2004, with the adoption of the Final Report of the International Commission on the Holocaust in Romania. This belated recognition profoundly influenced the spatial articulation of memory in Bucharest.
The chapter examines the fragmented mnemonic landscape of the city through a theoretical distinction between imprints and places. Imprints are material interventions – monuments, plaques, museums – that inscribe historical facts into public space. While essential for visibility and moral acknowledgment, they operate largely as static markers. Places, by contrast, are urban sites whose latent memory is reactivated through collective engagement. Rather than merely preserving the past, they generate memory through interaction, interpretation, and embodied experience.
Through case studies – including Giurgiului Cemetery, the Bucharest Holocaust Memorial (2009), and the Memorial to the Martyrs of the Bucharest Pogrom (2016) – the chapter traces the transition from enclosed, community-bound remembrance to civic visibility. It then analyzes the pedagogical project PLACES (2021), developed with architecture students, which reconstructed the prewar addresses of the 125 pogrom victims and reinscribed them into the contemporary city through mapping, archival research, and digital interfaces.
By shifting attention from sites of death to spaces of everyday life, PLACES exemplifies a performative model of remembrance grounded in secondary witnessing. The study argues that, in the absence of living testimony, urban space itself becomes a medium of memory – capable not only of conserving history but of ethically reactivating it within the present.
Abstract: In August 1942, a majority of Bochnia’s Jewish residents were deported to the Bełżec death camp by the German occupying forces – this was the beginning of the direct extermination of Bochnian Jews which lasted for over a year. To commemorate them, as well as all other Jews murdered during the German occupation of Bochnia, the Stanisław Fischer Museum in Bochnia organised an exhibition, inaugurated on the 80th anniversary of this tragic event. The exhibition showed the presence of Jews in the town, remembered important figures whose roots came from Bochnia, and presented the activity of some contemporary descendants of former Jewish inhabitants of the town. The items on display were, in part, property of the museum, Judaica on loan from other museums, scanned documents from the National Archive in Kraków, and also materials submitted by families, descended from Bochnia residents, who live abroad.
Abstract: The Holocaust monuments in Poland commemorate this historical event in the place of its occurrence. This empowers the commemoration, its meanings, and messages. However, the monuments also reflect the way the Polish state’s collective memory consolidates over the years. The memory of the glorious and significant Jewish past in Poland is in the form of ruined synagogues, displaced or neglected gravestones in cemeteries, warehouses full of relics, and ruins of concentration and extermination camps. The memory of this Jewish past remained in the hands of the Poles and became part of the Polish national landscape. One of the ways to commemorate the magnificent and rich Jewish past, the way the Jewish communities were destroyed, and the community members were murdered, is through monuments. Holocaust monuments in Poland were erected right after War World II and continue to be constructed until the present. What is the character of the commemoration presented in the monuments, Polish, Jewish, or universal? Which themes are commemorated, and which artistic expressions were chosen for this purpose? In this chapter, I will discuss Holocaust monuments erected in Poland through the years with tombstones, at the event sites, and former concentration camp sites, addressing their historiographical context, and the variety of visual expressions.
Abstract: In Hungary, during the decades of the communist regime, mentioning Jewish values or wounds would not have fit into the idealistic consensus (and uniformity, even more). So, virtually 100,000 Hungarian Jews tried to hide or forget their roots.
After the regime change in 1989, the Jewish revival progressed with tremendous force. The children and grandchildren of Holocaust survivors, who had hardly heard anything about Judaism or even about the history of their family at home, suddenly “reinvented” Jewish life. Institutions and grassroots places with an informal, but distinctly Jewish spirit, were born. For the new generations their Jewishness became a positive, almost “sexy” distinction from anybody else.
Interestingly, literature did not take over this vibrant revival. Despite the fact that the significant part of the Hungarian writers, especially the winners of international awards, are of Jewish descent. Thus, Jews are overrepresented in Hungarian literature. Nevertheless, this is a traditional tendency in Hungary that writers don’t really like to belong to minority groups. That’s why, Jewish themes or even the topics of the Holocaust and the representation of the life of the Second Generation, hardly fit into this mainstream perception. Recently, some of the Third and the Fourth Generation - mostly lesser-known, younger writers and especially women - have already begun to investigate the repressed memory of their families.
