Concentration Camp to Hotel Catwalk: Montenegrin Fortress’s Makeover Puts History at Risk

One argument for the development is that spaces changing purposes – and building luxury accommodation in former prison cells – is now common. Buildings that no longer serve their original purpose get new lives. Prisons are ideal for such transformations, robustly built, already parcelled up into individual rooms, and often in prime real estate locations. A prominent example is the Four Seasons hotel in the Sultanhamet district in the heart of Istanbul. The Four Seasons, however, does not promote its history, it just lingers quietly in the background. Other notable examples in this category, some even offering the former prison environment as an enticement to guests, include Långholmen hotel in Stockholm. This advertises staying in former cells as an attraction. But Mamula was not simply a prison, it was a concentration camp. There is a fundamental difference, reflected in the legal basis for detainment and the kind of people who are detained. Concentration camps, unlike prisons, hold people based on their personal traits, beliefs or political affiliations. Historically, this has meant political opponents and civilians including women and children, often without trial or protection from the law. The importance of the Mamula fortress lie in its physical presence, as a witness to the atrocities that happened there. It is also a tangible reminder for survivors and their families that their experiences are important and remembered. Finally, like many other former concentration camps, especially those from World War II, it is a place of learning for future generations, a physical reminder to not let history repeat itself. By changing the narrative around the island and the fortress and rebranding it into a secluded luxury escape, the place risks being slowly stripped of its history. The walls remain, but the narrative gets diminished. However, turning a ruin into a luxury destination is far more profitable than turning it into a place of remembrance and learning. And maybe that is another question for debate: if there is no financial gain from preserving history, are we still willing to preserve it, or will we let it fade and be forgotten? While I watch the videos and photos shared on social media of the fashion show, with healthy, well-nourished bodies strutting around in designer dresses, I think of all those who were in that exact same place 80 years beforehand, scared for their lives, starving and exhausted. While I look at social media posts depicting exotic meals I think of prisoners counting the number of pieces of pasta in the soup considering themselves lucky if there are more than ten. Finally, I think of Marica Jankovic, a prisoner at Mamula whose testimony has stayed with me. I think of her when she was able to leave Mamula, waving to those who were left behind inside the fortress, loudly singing a song about a hopeful dawn and “the sun of freedom shining clear”. It is testimonies like these that show how important genuine preservation is. Hatidza Gusic is a human rights activist and a feminist. The opinions expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of BIRN.