“Mnemonic warriors,” i.e. populist‐nationalist politicians and parties instrumentalize Holocaust memory through the configuration of memory politics, as described by Andrea Pető: first, they nationalize the universal Holocaust narrative by constructing an overarching national narrative that downplays other interpretations. Then, they legitimize competitive victimhood by canonizing the “double occupation” narrative — and at the same time, they push all responsibility on the Germans and the Soviets, and depict communism and fascism as alien ideas to the nation (Pető 2021, 161; Subotić 2019, 6).

Consecutively, when nationalist politicians seek legitimacy in the interwar and wartime period, they tend to obscure the exclusionary nature and the collaboration of these régimes with the [Third Reich] (Subotić 2018, 303).

[…]

Unfortunately, historical accuracy is sacrificed for conciseness and easy understanding: for instance, while the description deals with antisemitism in Hungary from the 1920s, it fails to mention the 1944 [Wehrmacht] occupation and everything that happened afterward.

Addressing the responsibility of the Slovak state and the local population is also controversial: while in one of the panels, the text clearly states that it was the government that deported the Jews, it fails to explain what the Jewish Code¹⁴ was, and at other places mentions the blurry phrase “fascists in Slovakia.”

In the second barrack, the exhibition explores the history of labor camps in Slovakia. Here, broader descriptions are included, which explain that members of the Hlinka Guard were responsible for the inmates’ fate. When discussing the post‐uprising reprisals, again, the narrative addresses the complicity of collaborators. While the third barrack, processing life in the Sereď camp, would be the place to explore the complexity of rôles and behavioral patterns (Nešťáková 2023), this is probably the most problematic part of the exhibition.

Most of the photos do not have captions, and the reconstructions of camp workshops, school, and barrack convey the message that prisoners actually had a comfortable life — which is far from the truth (see Nešťáková 2020, 132–140). My guide stated that visitors refer to this section as a “Holocaust skanzen,” which in itself reflects the authenticity of the exhibit.

Instead of exploring the complex relations among the occupying forces, Hungarians, Slovaks and Jews, the narrative is again simplistic. The final barrack describes a general Holocaust history, focusing first and foremost on [Axis] camps where Slovak Jews were deported; the victims (both symbolically and individually), and the Slovak Righteous among the Nations (Figure 11).

A general major issue with the exhibit is that only a few of the artefacts or photos have explanatory texts and thus the visitor does not get to know whether they are replicas or originals, their origin or what they depict, etc. (Vrzgulová 2019) The length of texts is disproportionate, and they are descriptive instead of analytical.

Thus, the exhibition of the Sereď Holocaust Museum lacks an analysis of the rôle of collaborators, bystanders, and the underlying reasons behind the fact that in 1942, “the Slovak Republic was the only state not directly occupied by Germany in which Jews were deported by the state’s own administrative and security forces” (Kamenec 2011, 189–190). In fact, what the non‐Jewish population gained through the deportation of the Jews, is not even mentioned in the exhibition, neither are the main perpetrators and collaborators introduced.

The gravity of complicity is also reduced by the idyllic depiction of camp life. This way the institution’s achievement in processing the past is unbalanced; compared to the HDKE, it seems superficial in the sense that it does not delve into the depths of collaboration — the visitor has to consciously seek for hints about it in order to gain at least an incomplete picture.

This is the result of reluctance to face the past — contrary to the previously discussed HDKE, the influence of a nationalist narrative and an endeavor to blur responsibility for the Holocaust is more noticeable at the Sereď Museum’s exhibition.

(Emphasis added.)

While the author does not delve directly into the area of public schooling, seeing as how the government funded two of these national memorial musea it is reasonable to suspect that Shoah education in compulsory learning is not much better.