Let me state upfront that this is a fascinating volume coedited by two of the leading figures in the emergent field of the study of memory laws, or legislative constraints on how the past can—and cannot—be publicly depicted. The increasing salience of mnemonic politics is a worldwide phenomenon connected to technological advances, the growing circulation of migrants around the globe, the rise of identity politics, and evolving conceptions of human rights. But in its most severe expression, namely the legal codification of prohibitions on how what came before may be discussed, the burgeoning of such laws in recent years has proven an overwhelmingly European phenomenon; this is particularly the case if we employ a strict definition, meaning legislation that criminalizes the expression of deviant opinions concerning history. However, even if we adopt a broader understanding of memory laws (as the editors do) that includes not just punitive statutes but also official declarations and resolutions that privilege certain interpretations of the past, their ramifications are still felt with particular acuity in Europe, where today there exist more than 200 such injunctions. As a result, this volume focuses on the European experience, although it also touches on wider legal precedents and cases outside this geographic region (including Israel/Palestine, Canada, and Peru).

The inherent tensions between memory laws and free-speech protections, as well as the practical probity of imposing limits on how the past may be remembered, have drawn considerable attention from philosophers and theorists (see Heinze, this volume). They have also garnered the notice of legal experts (Kahn Reference Kahn2004). More generally, mnemonic studies as a distinctive interdisciplinary field has grown by leaps and bounds over the course of the last few decades, although it has by and large remained rooted in the humanities and thus focused on how individuals or groups relate to the past. It is only relatively recently that social scientists have begun to explore how historical interpretation affects political relations within and between states (Krawatzek and Soroka Reference Krawatzek and Soroka2018). And while a handful of noteworthy studies and compilations have appeared in the last decade or so (Lebow, Kansteiner, and Fogu Reference Lebow, Kansteiner and Fogu2006; Berger Reference Berger2012; Bernhard and Kubik Reference Bernhard and Kubik2014; Mälksoo Reference Mälksoo2015), there remains a paucity of research into the ways by which politicians construct “usable pasts” to achieve various ends. With respect to memory laws specifically, there are fewer such studies still (Koposov Reference Koposov2017). (Heinze, Kahn, Mälksoo, and Koposov are all contributors to this volume.) This is unfortunate, as in Europe the accelerating adoption of mnemonic legislation since the 2000s is closely tied to the resurgence of populism and a concomitant rejection of the European Union’s (EU) supranational integration efforts; many of the current generation of memory laws have been ratified by right-wing governments eager to impose an uncritical reading of national history as a means by which to bolster the legitimacy of the state in contexts where societal interpretations of the past remain contested (Soroka and Krawatzek Reference Soroka and Krawatzek2019).

The dearth of scholarly attention paid to these matters, and the contemporary relevance of the overall topic, renders the present effort a particularly welcome addition to the literature on memory and its relationship to law and politics. Although the editors are legal experts by way of training, they have put together a volume that considers an impressive array of cases through a diverse set of analytical and theoretical approaches.

Conceptually, this lengthy tome (it consists of 19 chapters in addition to the introduction and epilogue) is organized into four sections, successively dealing with international law, European law, case studies within the EU-member states, and case studies outside the EU. The first two sections feature, among other contributors, Anton de Baets writing on memory politics in relation to the United Nations Human Rights Committee (chapter 1), Patricia Naftal assessing the development of a “right to truth” in international jurisprudence (chapter 3), and Luigi Cajani exploring the role of the EU with respect to legislation dealing with international crimes (chapter 6). Meanwhile, the last two sections (which make up the bulk of the volume) cover such topics as the recall of contentious historical episodes in France and Greece (chapter 7), the legacy of Francoism in Spain (chapter 8), the significance of the past to Hungary’s Fundamental Law (chapter 12), remembrance of WWII and Stalinism in Putin’s Russia (chapter 14), and Ukraine’s controversial “de-communization” policies in the aftermath of the Maidan (chapter 15). It concludes with an epilogue that considers such intriguing questions as whether the state should serve as a neutral arbiter or moral beacon when it comes to interpreting history.

As in any edited volume, there are disparities evinced in the quality of individual contributions, but, on the whole, the chapters are well researched and thoughtfully presented (and some are exceptional). The introduction especially stands out. Here, Belavusau and Gliszczyńska-Grabias not only offer a comprehensive overview of the volume’s major themes but also trace the political appropriation of memory over time in Europe, including examining how the idea that the past ought not to be forgotten gradually morphed into a “duty to remember” (11). They likewise delineate four crucial factors that led to the present proliferation of mnemonic legislation (12–14): the model provided by an earlier generation of Holocaust denial laws, the spread of democracy after WWII, the USSR’s collapse and the resultant introduction of new narratives into European discourse (such as those equating the crimes of Nazism and Stalinism), and the impact of the international community’s recognition of genocide as a legal category. Admirably, the editors deal with the question of whether the advent of such laws is a positive or negative development in a balanced and nuanced manner, leaving open the possibility that mnemonic legislation not only can be used to reify lopsided and instrumental interpretations of what came before but also may, if properly formulated, foster appreciation of the fact that the pasts of all nations are riddled with heroic as well as ignoble episodes, thereby protecting “the democratic order of the state, and its commitment to the rule of law and constitutional liberties” (20).

In conclusion, this is an important work that academics from a wide range of backgrounds would do well to consult. Social scientists and legal scholars in particular will find much to fruitfully occupy them in its pages, regardless of whether their interest in the topic is normative and theoretical or empirical and case-driven.