The beginning of 2025 marked a dual commemoration: the 250th anniversary of permanent Jewish settlement in Sweden, inaugurated by King Gustaf III in 1775, and a simultaneous act of historical erasure by Uppsala University. The university stripped the Hugo Valentin Centre for Holocaust and Genocide Studies of its namesake, effectively severing its connection to a pivotal figure in Swedish-Jewish history and Holocaust scholarship. This act, shrouded in bureaucratic jargon and executed with clandestine swiftness, casts a long shadow over the university’s commitment to academic integrity and the fight against antisemitism.
Hugo Valentin (1883-1963), historian and Uppsala University luminary, was a pioneering voice against antisemitism and genocide. His early warnings about the unfolding Holocaust in Sweden and tireless efforts to aid those in peril solidified his legacy as a moral compass. His concise yet profound work, ”Antisemitism – Historical Reality and Psychological Background,” remains a touchstone in the field, lauded for its wisdom and clarity. Valentin’s scholarship extended beyond Jewish history, encompassing groundbreaking essays on German historical consciousness, but his seminal work, ”The History of the Jews in Sweden,” remains a foundational text in the field, its comprehensive source list serving as a cornerstone for subsequent research.
Uppsala University, however, lacks a comparable record of combating antisemitism, both during and after the Holocaust. Its history is marred by the Radio Islam controversy of the late 1980s and early 1990s, during which faculty members from the university’s theological department provided credibility to an antisemitic hate media platform. This episode, culminating in the publication of a pamphlet alleging a Zionist conspiracy against the church and academic freedom, exposed a deep-seated moral failing within the institution. The university’s then-rector downplayed the pamphlet as mere “sharp criticism” of Israel, a stark illustration of the institution’s inability to confront antisemitism. The ensuing scandal necessitated an external review, which confirmed the university’s moral bankruptcy.
Against this backdrop, the establishment of the Hugo Valentin Centre in 2010 appeared to signal a turning point, a commitment to rigorous scholarship and ethical engagement with the history of the Holocaust and genocide. The centre’s name served as a powerful symbol, invoking Valentin’s legacy of intellectual courage and humanitarianism. The recent decision to rename the centre, therefore, represents a profound betrayal of these values. The move, executed with remarkable haste and opacity, raises serious questions about the university’s motives and its willingness to confront its own troubled past.
The university’s official justification for the name change is a patchwork of clichés and misleading statements, claiming the new name, Uppsala Centre for Holocaust and Genocide Studies, “better reflects” the centre’s focus and will enhance its national and international visibility. This explanation, devoid of substance and lacking any acknowledgment of Valentin’s significance, insults the intelligence of those familiar with his contributions. The claim that Valentin’s name hinders international collaboration is preposterous, given the numerous research institutions worldwide that bear the names of scholars and benefactors. The hurried and secretive nature of the process, with no public discussion or media outreach, further underscores the university’s desire to avoid scrutiny.
The flimsy rationale offered by the university points to a more troubling underlying motive. In the politically charged climate following the October 2023 Hamas attacks on Israel, the university appears to be distancing itself from its Jewish connections, seeking to avoid association with even the most respected of Zionist figures like Valentin. The increasingly fraught discourse surrounding antisemitism and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict has created an environment where academics face threats and reprisals for even mentioning Hamas’s crimes, let alone defending Israel. In such a climate, the university seems to have prioritized self-preservation over principle, choosing to erase a prominent Jewish figure from its institutional memory rather than risk controversy. This act of historical revisionism not only dishonors Valentin’s legacy but also raises serious concerns about the future of Holocaust and genocide studies at Uppsala University. The hope, ironically, is that the name change will backfire, drawing international attention to the university’s actions and undermining the very visibility it sought to enhance. The blatant disregard for Valentin’s contributions reveals a stark contrast between his intellectual integrity and the craven calculations of those who now seek to erase his name. The chasm between Valentin’s humanism and the university’s current leadership could not be more profound.
