Entity
Monument to the victims of the raid in Novi Sad
Novi Sad, Serbia
Along the Danube in Novi Sad, a promenade bears a name that is a vow in itself: the Quay of the Victims of the Raid (Кеј Жртава рације). This is not merely a scenic walkway but a sacred civic space, a stretch of riverbank consecrated by memory. It stands as a permanent, public testimony to one of the city's darkest chapters, ensuring that the waters of the Danube, which witnessed the atrocity, now also witness its remembrance.
The historical weight of this place is immense. It commemorates the January Raid of 1942, a systematic campaign of ethnic cleansing carried out by Hungarian occupation forces in the southern Bačka region. The violence culminated in Novi Sad between January 21 and 23, 1942, where an estimated 1,300 to 2,000 people were executed. The victims—primarily Serbs, Jews, and Roma—were marched to the frozen banks of the Danube, shot, and their bodies thrown through the ice into the river below. In total, the raid claimed approximately 4,500 lives across Bačka, an act of brutal violence intended to terrorize and erase.
In 1971, this ground of sorrow was given a voice with the unveiling of the "Family" monument, the work of sculptor Jovan Soldatović. This four-meter-tall bronze composition does not depict heroic soldiers or abstract forms, but the most universal and vulnerable of units: a family. The silhouettes of adults and children, frozen in time, speak directly to the thousands of individual lives, homes, and futures that were extinguished. The monument's power lies in its heartbreaking intimacy, making the scale of the loss painfully personal.
The memorial was made even more potent in 1992 with the addition of 78 bronze plaques, also by Soldatović. This transformed the site from a general tribute into a specific, name-by-name reckoning. Four plaques provide information in Serbian and Hebrew, while 66 plaques bear the names of the murdered, adorned with the symbols of their faith—the Star of David, the cross, and the ocila (Serbian cross). Plaques at the base carry the story in Serbian, Hungarian, Slovak, and Hebrew, a multilingual testament to the multi-ethnic community that was attacked. A comprehensive restoration in 2018 ensured that this vital record would endure for generations.
Today, the Quay of the Victims of the Raid is a place of dual purpose, masterfully integrating memory into the fabric of daily life. It is officially designated a cultural heritage site of great importance, and each year it hosts commemorative gatherings attended by city and state officials, religious leaders, and the descendants of the victims. It is where a city formally remembers.
Yet, it is also a popular promenade and recreational zone. The laughter of children playing and the footsteps of citizens taking their evening stroll are not a disrespect to the past, but a fulfillment of its promise. The quay does not scream of death, but quietly insists on life, asserting that the community targeted for destruction continues to live, walk, and thrive along the very shore where it was meant to be erased. It stands as a powerful, living embodiment of the inscription that often accompanies such memorials: "If we are human, we must forgive, but we must not forget."