Healing The Past, Confronting The Present: In Conversation With Uwe And Gabi Von Seltmann – OpEd
By K.M. Seethi
When Uwe von Seltmann and Gabriela (Gabi) von Seltmann arrived in Kerala for the 6th Edition of the Mathrubhumi International Literature Festival (MBILF) in Thiruvananthapuram, they carried with them not just books and artworks, but also stories sewn from the fragile threads of memory, identity, and historical trauma. The German-Polish couple—Uwe, a journalist and author, and Gabi, a multidisciplinary visual artist—are not only life partners but fellow travellers on a difficult and often painful journey through their families’ hidden pasts.
Their story is unlike most. It is not merely about creative collaboration or marital companionship—it is about reckoning with legacies many prefer to forget. Uwe’s work took a deeply personal turn when he discovered that his Austrian grandfather had served in the SS—the notorious paramilitary wing of the Nazi regime, responsible for horrific crimes including the operation of concentration camps and the brutal suppression of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. Digging deeper into his ancestry, Uwe also encountered an unexpected truth: remnants of Jewish heritage within his ancestral lineage
“For me,” Uwe reflects, “it wasn’t just about confronting a grandfather’s role in history. It was about confronting myself—my identity, my silence, and my responsibility in telling these stories. What we inherit is not just blood, but silence—and silence can be dangerous.”
Gabi’s path was equally powerful. Raised in post-war Poland, she spent much of her early life unaware of her own Jewish heritage. The deep silence surrounding her family history was finally broken when she discovered that hergrandfather had been murdered in Auschwitz. That revelation transformed her artistic journey.
“Silence has a weight,” Gabi says gently. “And when it’s passed down through generations, it becomes a burden. My art became a way to confront that silence—to give form to grief, memory, and identity.”
Together, Uwe and Gabi have shaped a body of work that is at once intensely personal and profoundly political. Their most significant collaborative project, How Love Can Heal the Past, is more than just a book—it’s a mission, a movement, a meditation on the power of love, memory, and reconciliation in an age plagued by division and ideological extremism. It presents war not just as a historical event but as a deep, lingering wound that transmits trauma across generations. Gabi and Uwe show how the violence of World War II continues to shape the identities and emotional lives of descendants—both of victims and perpetrators. Rather than viewing war solely through the lens of guilt or heroism, they emphasize its long psychological afterlife: the silence, fear, and unresolved grief it leaves behind. Their book argues that healing this trauma requires more than remembering facts—it demands confronting inherited pain with honesty, compassion, and a willingness to listen, even across once-divided lines.
Speaking on the sidelines of the MBILF, the couple reflects on the transformative potential of art and literature in today’s fractured world.
“I am absolutely convinced that culture can serve as a unifying force,” Uwe says without hesitation. “The best proof of that is right here, at this festival. Gabi and I will never forget our time in Kerala. It wasn’t just the warmth of Indian hospitality—it was the spirit of global solidarity. Writers, poets, artists from different continents, different religions, different histories—we felt like one human family.”
He continues, “It’s experiences like these that remind us: Yes, we can. If we work together, if we stand together—across borders, languages, and faiths—we can make this world a better place. Maybe not perfect, but certainly more humane.”
Their MBILF session, titled Beating the Hate, was a deeply moving presentation that brought together personal narratives, artistic interventions, and a passionate plea to counter hate with compassion, honesty, and creativity. But their message did not end there.
As the conversation turns toward contemporary political realities, their reflections grow more urgent. Uwe, who lived and worked in Israel and experienced the political tensions of the region first-hand, speaks candidly about the resurgence of far-right movements across Europe—and the rise of extremist ideologies in religious communities.
“What concerns us deeply,” he says, “is not only the return of traditional far-right groups, but also the growing influence of political Islam in countries like Germany. There’s a rising inclination among certain segments of Muslim youth toward hardline ideologies. And the tragedy is, many on the political left tend to overlook this, sometimes even romanticize it, failing to see the deeper dangers.”
He emphasizes, “This isn’t about one religion or community. We see similar hardline tendencies across all faiths. The bigger threat is ideological extremism—regardless of who promotes it. Unfortunately, hate tends to be contagious. One form of extremism often fuels another.”
Their discussion naturally leads to the Hamas attack on October 7, 2023—a moment that weighs heavily on Uwe. “Most of the victims were innocent civilians—children, elderly people, festivalgoers, foreign agricultural workers. They were not combatants. They weren’t threatening anyone. These attacks targeted everyday life, places where people should feel safe. That’s what makes it so horrifying.”
He adds that the Palestinian issue, once rooted in legitimate political grievances, is now increasingly framed in religious terms, with political Islam playing an ever-expanding role in shaping the discourse and fuelling violence.
“I’ve lived in Jerusalem in the early 1990s,” Uwe recalls. “There was a time—however fragile—when Jews and Arabs could still imagine a shared future. That possibility has shrunk dramatically. Today, extremist voices dominate on both sides, feeding off each other’s hatred. One form of bigotry justifies the other.”
Amid the rising tides of polarization and propaganda, Uwe and Gabi raise a critical question—what is the ethical responsibility of artists, writers, and intellectuals in such a time?
“The answer is simple,” Uwe says emphatically. “Education, education, education! Dictators and autocrats love ignorance. That’s how they control people. And they’re incredibly savvy with social media—they know exactly how to manipulate minds.”
He believes that artists must go beyond galleries and festivals—they must enter classrooms. “We need to engage with young people, show them alternative ways of thinking. We must be voices of reason and empathy in a world filled with noise and manipulation.”
As a self-declared democrat, Uwe holds tightly to the ideals of the French Revolution—liberty, equality, fraternity. “Yes, educated people can still make mistakes. But a well-informed society has a much better chance of resisting lies, hate, and demagoguery.”
Gabi adds her voice to this call for active engagement. “Art and literature can humanize complexity. They can offer emotional access to truths that data and arguments alone cannot reach. That’s where their strength lies.”
When asked to envision a future world based on peace and cooperation, Uwe turns to the words of his lifelong inspiration, Bob Dylan: It’s always good to know what went down before you because when you know the past, you can create the future.
“That’s what we believe in,” he says. “If you understand someone’s history, you understand their fears, their behaviours, their pain. That’s how empathy begins. That’s how societies begin to heal.”
Gabi echoes that belief: “Only an honest, open engagement with the past can guarantee mutual understanding and peaceful coexistence in the present and future. Death and destruction must not have the last word. Through memory, reconciliation, hope, and love—we can overcome even the darkest chapters.”
Their foundation, Art, History & Apfelstrudel, embodies this ethos. Through workshops, exhibitions, public conversations, and even shared meals, they create spaces where dialogue becomes possible—where healing begins.
As the festival winds down and voices fade into the warm Kerala dusk, the message that Uwe and Gabi leave behind remains in the minds of many: that art, memory, and love are not just aesthetic experiences—but acts of resistance, healing, and hope.
“Take the best from the past,” Uwe says softly, quoting Dylan one last time, “leave the worst back there, and go forward into the future.”
