Dr. Kerry Whigham: I'm so honored to be included in this lecture series and I want to thank Elisa
and everyone at the in the program for inviting me today. I'm going to speak
specifically about some of the work I've been doing and have done in Argentina,
relating to the ways that the violence in that country has been processed
and it continues to be processed but to do that, I think I need to give a little
bit of background information to make sure that we all know a little bit about
what exactly that violence entailed. From 1976 to 1983, the people of
Argentina lived under one of the most repressive and violent military
dictatorships of the 20th century. Over this seven-year period,
the right-wing military Hunta that seized power in March of 1976 carried
out its "process of national reorganization," which was more
colloquially known as "el proceso" and this sought to eliminate everyone deemed
to be a subversive, leftist element across the country. This effort led to
the torture, death, and disappearance of as many as 30,000 Argentinean citizens
who were kidnapped by the military police and taken to clandestine
detention centers spread all across the country. When the families of these
victims went to the state to find out what happened to their relatives they
would discover that in many cases all evidence of their family members lives
had been completely erased. The government acted as if these
desaparecidos or disappeared persons had never existed to begin with. So I was
invited here today and Elisa asked me to speak about some of my work in
Argentina relating to its last military dictatorship. This is a period which some
people call a "dirty war," others refer to it as a politicize and others (including
myself) talk about it as a genocide and I'll talk more about why. I'm sure most
of you are already familiar with this one essential concept in genocide
studies which is this understanding that genocides are not events (not just the
mass killing of large numbers of people) but instead genocides are long, social
and political processes that begin with much smaller steps within which victim
groups are constructed and ostracized in a way that gradually and incrementally
constructs a world in which mass killing can
take place. What I hope to show today is that one of the reasons Argentina is
such a fascinating case to me (and hopefully it will be to you) is that not
only does it illustrate the reality that genocide doesn't just happen overnight,
that it involves many stages over long periods of time but it also demonstrates
the fact that dealing with the enduring effects of that violence is an equally
long and intensive process and what for me is especially exciting about
Argentina is the way that it shows how the process of coming to terms with a
violent past is not always and only the responsibility of the state or of
governmental actors. In the case of Argentina, it was really everyday
citizens (what in academic or governmental parlance we call civil
society) that has made the biggest difference and it has had the most
lasting impact in the way that our Argentina has dealt with its genocidal
pass. So this is what i plan to do today with the presentation. First I'm
gonna explain the steps that led up to the perpetration of genocide in
Argentina. Second, break down the mechanisms of violence that were
developed and implemented during that genocide and third (and most importantly,
where my research really focused) look at painting a picture of the inspiring
and creative ways that Argentinian society (both with and without the
support of the state) has addressed its own violent past to create a present and
a future that is far less prone to repeat this painful violence. And before
I go any further, I should really articulate one central idea to my
thinking on these issues and also one caveat. I'll start with the caveat as I
said I refer to what occurred (the violence that occurred during
Argentina's last military dictatorship) as a genocide but not everyone calls it
a genocide and indeed, if we only go by the definition in the UN Genocide
Convention, it would not be considered a genocide because it was against
political groups and that is of course not one of the protected groups in this
legal definition. However I am not a lawyer, so I don't feel so beholdin to
this definition. I prefer a more expansive definition, one that
includes political groups but to also acknowledge that genocide uses an array
of mechanisms to perpetrate violence. Those mechanisms are not only about
physical destruction of groups but also about the destruction of the cultural and
economic viability of groups and that brings me to this central idea that I
want to highlight before I delve into the specifics of Argentina. For me, the
violence of genocide doesn't just have this physical force but it also has a
social and an affective or emotional force and this social and emotional
force is what allows for the physical destruction of groups to begin with but,
for instance, we can think about the culture of European anti-Semitism that
the Nazis took advantage of and cultivated in order to create an
environment at our world in which the Holocaust could take place but it also
that affected violence doesn't just disappear when the physical violence
ends. For instance, when the Allied forces defeated the Germans in World War II
and liberated the concentration and death camps, it's not as if anti-Semitism
disappeared from Europe. There's still this enduring forms of social
violence that have to be dealt with and this social and effective force
continues to perform and to resonate long into the future. Well that's why I
refer to this as resonant violence, this affective energy of large-scale genocidal
violence that continues to resonate and perform within a genocidal
society even after the physical violence comes to an end and if this more obscure,
less visible form of violence is not addressed and acknowledged then it can
continue to manifest in other forms of violence against victim groups like
enduring social inequality between groups, institutional discrimination
against groups, or economic disparities among groups and to understand what I'm
talking about, we just need to think about the demographic differences
between white Americans and black Americans or Native Americans in this
country today. I think this is a definite example of how the violence of
genocide or atrocity can continue long after the physical violence against
these groups has ended. The good news (I think) is that this resonant violence
when it is recognized can indeed be dealt with. It can in fact be transformed
into new forms of power or political agency and that, I argue, is exactly what
happened and is happening in Argentina but before we get into this more
optimistic place, we should take a step backwards to look at the violence that
preceded it. To do that, we can't just start with the military dictatorship of
1976 to 1983. We have to look at the various factors that led to that
dictatorship and that allowed for the large-scale perpetration of violence
that would take place during that seven year period so if you had been in
Argentina at the beginning of the 20th century you would have had no idea that
it would become a country that several decades later would devolve into a
society that could perpetrate the levels of violence it would see in the 1970s
and 80s. Here, you see some nice pictures of Buenos Aires, tango. Argentina at
this period was a major site of European immigration. It was second only to New
York as a place where European immigrants were coming in the late 19th
and early 20th centuries. By 1908 it was the seventh wealthiest developed nation
in the world and it's important to recognize that it was considered then a
developed nation. Right now, it's considered a developing nation. It's one
of the only examples we have of a country devolving from a
developed to developing status. It was in the top five of world exports. It had a
higher per capita income than Denmark, Canada, and the Netherlands and it had
higher literacy levels than most Latin American countries would reach even half
a century later. So what happens? How did it go from being this vibrant
society, the successful economically and culturally successful society, into a
place where this violence could be perpetrated? Well, several factors really
contributed to creating that environment that would allow for this perpetration
and they really all started in 1929 with the world economic crisis and the
Great Depression. This was when things began to start turning back in Argentina.
This economic instability led to a series of coup d'etat. There were
actually five other coup d'etats before the
one that we're talking about today: five military coup d'etat. And each
these began to install increasingly aggressive forms of what Argentinian
sociologist Guillermo O'Donnell calls "bureaucratic authoritarian regimes."
What are these regimes characterized by?Well, according to O'Donnell these are
regimes that... it's a system of government that's controlled by and balanced toward
an economic elite. There's a suppression of citizenship and exclusion of civil
society from participating in public life and these government's are
directed towards privatization of economic and industry and the
establishment of what they call "economic order" but what we can really think of as
neoliberalism and I'll explain more about exactly what I'm talking about with
neoliberalism. These coups also led to increasing amounts of oppression and
torture of political opponents and the beginnings of developing violent
mechanisms for dealing with political opponents. All of this is mixed with
what Jim Waller would call a "high authority orientation" in Argentinian
society that's represented most clearly through the main political movements in
Argentina, peronism, which is still a central political ideology in Argentina.
It's a bit it's hard to describe but it's a bit of a mix between populism but
with a very strong central authoritarian figure, charismatic authority figure and
that was initially represented by Juan Domingo Peron. This rise of peronism in
Argentina led to the development of a disproportionately powerful executive
and that's a political model that still very much exists in Argentina today.
Let's look at Peron and peronism. Peron, democratically elected figure in 1946.
Not a dictator, he was democratically elected
But he did rise to popularity because of his role in the military
governments. If you don't know him, I'm sure you know his wife Ava Patron of
Evita.Yes from the musical if nothing else, Madonna. She was extremely popular
figure. She was especially popular with the working class which she referred to
as the "disco me sados," the shirtless ones.
She and Paedon really expanded workers rights in Argentina. They
extended the right to vote to women. Evita died of cancer in 1952 at the end
of Peron's first term but Peron was elected for a second term that same year.
All throughout this period, Peron was very much disliked by the
elites because of their favoring of the working class and so these elites were
constantly working to remove him from power and of course, the elites were in
collusion with the military and ultimately, they were successful. Peron
was displaced in a coup in 1955 and this forced him into exile for 17
years and during that 17-year period Peronism was illegal. It was outlawed.
Now, during that exile though we've got all of this other stuff happening in the
world. For one, it's the Cold War and the biggest thing that led to in
Latin America is the Cuban Revolution in the 1950s, so the Cuban
Revolution leads to a rise in these leftist guerrilla organizations across
Latin America that are fighting for the rise of the left across the the region.
Those are represented in Argentina by these two groups, the Montoneros
(which are apparenist, leftist organization, Pro Pedone) and the ejército
revolutionary or Pueblo People's Revolutionary Army, which were an anti-
parodist leftist organization so, both leftist, both for the rise of communism;
one pedroist, one anti pedroist. It's very confusing so but they they are both
fighting for the rise of the left and against military regimes, against
neoliberal economics. So after the fall of the 1966 - '73 dictatorship,
Peron returns to Argentina but it's a very different Peron and that is
represented most clearly when he arrives by plane at his ASA Airport. All of the
Montoneros, the Paradis leftists are at the airport to welcome him and Peron
orders an attack against them at a ASA airport leading to what's known now as
the ASA massacre. So Peron is elected president again but
now he's really fighting against the left. Peron also comes back with a new
wife, Maria Stella Martinez, who's known as Isa Valletta, "little Isabelle" by the
Argentinians. They together (she's the vice
president) and they together begin fighting the rise of these leftist
groups quite aggressively. Now Peron dies in 1974, only a year after he comes back
and when you've got such a popular authority figure, when he dies
there's this power vacuum that's left behind and that's a big problem now.
Isa Valletta becomes the president and she tries to fill that power vacuum by
going even harder against these political opponents, so she begins this
Argentine anti-communist alliance which begins the work of disappearing and
torturing leftist elements in the country. So this is important to know
that the disappearances actually began during a period of democracy, not during
the dictatorship. But the army still felt like she wasn't doing a good enough job
(and the army had the support of the US) so the US was involved in many of the
military coups across Latin America at this time and the US gave
the army support to have another coup d'etat in 1976. This is under the
24th of March 1976, this is when the process of national reorganization
begins. So what's this process? What does it entail? It is a process of completely
eliminating political subversives and this is of course the victim group,
deemed subversive by the perpetrators right and all leftist from the country.
It's often referred to as a dirty war or "the dirty war" but that's not really an
acceptable term in Argentina because it was a term that was developed by the
army to obscure the one-sided nature of the violence. They wanted to make it
seem like it was a civil war, which in fact it was not. Now
the dictatorship was intricately connected with the introduction to
neoliberal economics. So what are neoliberal economics? As
Hirschberg and Rosen say, it's "the opening
of Latin America's economies to foreign investment and trade by way of
privatization of public activity deregulation of private activity and
production primarily for export and fiscal austerity."It's a completely open
market with no regulations or as few regulations as possible. So we can't
think of the violence, of the dictatorship, without thinking of this
economic regime that they're trying to install within the context of the Cold
War and the fight against communism. So what are the forms of
oppression and repression did the military Hunta use to install this
economic regime? Here you see on the left is Massara. He was the Admiral of the
Navy. On the right is Videla. He was the first president of the military Hunta,
head of the army. They were really the masterminds behind the violence that was
perpetrated so they come into power. Congress is closed, all political parties
and labor unions are banned, the Supreme Court is removed from office, all
universities and media outlets are under their control and there's a national
curfew put in place of like nine o'clock, which if any of you has been to
Argentina, they don't even get up for a coffee at nine o'clock. Dinner
starts at 11:00, I mean this is really bad for them. But the violence of
the dictatorship was also reflected in the most basic aspects of daily life.
Diana Taylor says the physical semiology of the population changed because of
this repressive regime. This is a flyer that was put out by the army, an
educational flyer. It says, "like this, not like that."
So you see, this is the way you're supposed to dress. That is not the way
you're supposed to dress. Blue jeans were prohibited during this period,
you couldn't wear colorful clothing. You had to look really properly and
conservatively dressed or you could be disappeared. You could be arrested for
dressing the wrong way, for saying anything against the regime, for having
the wrong book. For instance if you were studying Marx at school or any sort of
leftist author that could be a cause for disappearance or if you were associating
with the wrong people, if you were caught talking to people in public spaces that
could be a cause for disappearance, all of this led to a phenomenon that
Hannah Arendt refers to as "the ubiquity of the informant."It is this idea that the
person who informs on you could be anywhere, so your neighbor, that
person you passed at the grocery store; any of them could tell the police that
you were a leftist, a subversive. And then they could come in the middle of the day
or in the middle of the night and take you off of the street, drive you away and
you would never be seen or heard from again. This is a disappearance. This is
the main technique of violence that was developed during this period. Oftentimes,
it would happen in broad daylight purposefully so that everyone could see
that people were being disappeared and it was a way of deterring resistance
against the military regime. The term "disappearance" is especially apt because
not only did the people your family and the people left behind not know where
you were, if they went to the state to ask what had happened to them, they would
most often say that all records of your existing were gone. There's no
evidence of your existence. You had literally disappeared right, as Videla
the first president of the first military hunta said....
"They're neither alive nor dead,
they are disappeared." It's this sort of liminal in-between place both for the
disappeared people but also for the families of the disappeared. So what
we see is this inherently affective or emotional strategy that it's meant not
only to affect the person being disappeared but to destabilize and
terrorize the entire country because they in fact could be next.
As Diana Taylor puts it, "the military spectacle made people pull back in fear,"
wow that's too much, I went too far, "denial and tacit complicity from the
show of force therein lay its power. The military violence could have been
relatively invisible, as the term disappearance suggests.
The fact that it wasn't invisible indicates that the population as a whole
was its intended target." So what would happen to the people who were
disappeared? Well you would be taken to one of around 500 clandestine detention
or torture centers that were spread across the country.
These range from private homes to police stations.The largest is called "Asma"
and that was the former Navy training school and I'll talk more about that
later. Then, once you arrived there using techniques that the officers learned
from United States School of the Americas, which is this training facility
in Panama where US military and CIA officers taught the military regimes
across Latin America how to torture people to get information from them. They
would use these techniques to torture, rape and what they would call
"question" the disappeared people, these prisoners. When they felt like they were...
what they were trying to do was get people to name names. They
wanted to know other subversives, other people they could disappear. The
prisoners were also forced to perform slave labor, most often creating false
documents that the military would then use to support claims of what happened
to the disappeared. Also, about 500 of the people who were disappeared were
pregnant women at the time of the disappearance and what would happen in
those cases is they would wait until the women gave birth, then the women would be
killed and their babies were given to military families or families who were
sympathetic with the military to raise as their own. And those kids would think
that they were with their biological family. They would have no
idea about their backgrounds. When the perpetrators had all of the information
that they wanted from these people, what would they do to get rid of them? Well
the most common thing they did was the victims would be stripped naked, drugged
and sedated, and then flown in these airplanes or helicopters (and what were
called death flights) over the river next to Buenos Aires and they would be thrown
into the river. Why did they use this means of disposal? The military was
in collusion with the Catholic Church and they went to the Catholic Church and
said, "what's the most moral way that we can dispose of
these people?"And they said well, "you should drug them and throw them into the
water because then technically, you're not killing them. They're they're not
able to swim, so it's their fault if they can't swim and save themselves."
These bodies of these people are still being found today in the rivers. So to
this point, I've attempted to paint a bit of a picture to you of this physical,
social, and affective violence of the dictatorship and you've seen how the
worst of these atrocities were preceded by this long line of contributing
factors. What I want to focus on now (and this is really the predominant aspect of
my own research) is the long journey of addressing that resonant violence of
genocide and as you'll see this process in Argentina wasn't an easy one and
neither was it one that proceeded inevitably forward. It had lots of fits and
starts, progressions and regressions. Indeed, the work of responding to past
violence is not yet over in Argentina. It still preoccupies contemporary politics
but what's particularly fascinating about Argentina that makes it unlike
some other genocides is that a number of groups emerged even within the period of
the dictatorship to resist and respond to the horrific violence taking place
around them. We can think about the modes of resistance that started even
during the height of this violence. As much as the military
Hunta tried to silence this ability of people to assume space in the public
sphere and to speak out against the dictatorship, they didn't fully succeed
and several very important groups emerged to denounce the dictatorship
publicly and to fight against it at great risk to themselves. The most famous
of these are the mothers of the Plaza de Mayo.
This is a group of mothers whose children were disappeared. They
actually met at the Ministry of the Interior in 1977 when they were filing
claims to find out what happened to their children and they started hearing
each other stories and understanding they were all going through the same
thing, so then they started meeting at each other's houses but then on the 30th
of April 1937 (so basically one year after the dictatorship began), fourteen of
these mothers met in the Plaza de Mayo, which is the main square in Buenos Aires.
It's a symbolically significant site for a number of reasons. First, it's
the site where the declaration of independence against Spain was
issued and bringing it into the colonial period in Argentina but it's
also right in front of the presidential palace, the Casa Rosada, the pink house
instead of the White House . It's also next to the city Cathedral
and the National Bank so it's at the apex or the intersection of the
seat of executive power, religious power, and economic power, these three forces
that were colluding with each other during the dictatorship. So first
the mothers go there and they're just standing still and demanding to see
their children, you know, what happened to their children? But then the police told
them they couldn't stand still so they started marching or walking in a circle
around that central column and then they decided they're not going to call it
walking because they have a purpose, they're going somewhere. So they started
calling it marching because they wanted to highlight that purpose that they had
behind it. The number of mothers of course
began to grow. If the police demanded papers from any of them, then all of them
would rush over and demand that he take all of their papers. They were
really rallying together and supporting each other in their protests. Some of
them were disappeared themselves but the biggest strategy that the military used
against them was just to call them " la locas," the crazy ladies, to
make them seem like "oh they're nothing, they're just these crazy women over
there." They wore white scarves as you can see. These are called Banuelos. They're
actually not scarves but baby diapers, cloth baby
diapers to highlight or emphasize their role as mothers. Throughout their
existence they continue to refuse to acknowledge the death of their children.
Their motto is "Aparicion con Vida," which basically means bring them back
alive. They're taken from us alive, we want them
back alive and the mothers still march today. Another related group that emerged
are the Abuela's de Okaza de Mayo, or the grandmothers (these of course were also
mothers who lost their children but they were the the ones who lost daughters who
were pregnant) so they're also demanding the return of their grandchildren.
I'm going to talk more about them later, a very important group. So ultimately
the work of all of these civil society groups and others that I'm not
mentioning started to dismantle the power of the Hunta but the real linchpin
was the Falkland Islands War or the Malvinas War.
These are the Malvinas or Falklands Islands down there. This little island
group off the coast of Argentina, they are a British territory. The
Argentinians claim them as their own and they continue to do so. The military
invaded the Falkland Islands to reclaim them as las malvinas in April
of 1982 and they had great public support for this even, though they were
perpetrating all of these atrocities. The public still was very excited about
getting La Malvinas back. They didn't think that Britain would react because
it's so far away from the UK. They thought that they would
just take it back and it'd be a good populist move.
They were very wrong. Margaret Thatcher sent the full might of the British Navy
and within two months Argentina lost the war and it completely destroyed
confidence in the dictatorship, so after that it was really only a matter of time
before the Hunta had to step down. Democratic elections were held in
October of 1983 and then Raul Alfonsin, who you see here, was elected president
and inaugurated on the 10th of December 1983. This brought an end to the
almost seven years of dictatorship. Alfonsin began very quickly the first
official governmental efforts to address the violence of the dictatorship. So
first, he began his presidency with widespread support from the public but
the military was still a threat. They were still incredibly strong so
this threat of another coup was always present but despite that fact, Alfonsin
began this revolutionary strategy of what today we call transitional justice,
but we didn't call it that then because it didn't exist. The Argentinians were
just making it up as they went along and that started with the first Truth
Commission in history, the National Commission on the Disappearance of
Persons, which was created ten days after Alfonsin entered office. The report for
the truth Commission was released several months later in 1984 and this is
when people started to understand the full weight of what had occurred. It told
of the disappearance, torture, and murder of almost 9,000 individuals. Now we know
that number to be higher, today the figures are around 30,000 people
disappeared, around 500 clandestine detention and torture centers around the
country, around 500 children appropriated and kidnapped, roughly
40,000 people sent into exile, and hundreds of businesses co-opted and shut
down by the regime. But even given the truth commission and its findings, the
military still refused to drop their party line and even today there's this
code of silence that exists in the military and they, for the most part,
refused to testify or present evidence about the crimes that were committed
during this period. As I said, they still refer to it as a
dirty war. But this wasn't just about truth, it was also about justice. In 1985,
the Alfonsin government put the nine top orchestrators of the crimes of the
dictatorship on trial. You see the nine of them here. This was the first time
since the Nuremberg trials that a democratic government tried its own
former leaders and it was the first time in history that it was done completely
domestically, without international support. They made a
deliberate decision at this point not to try the rank-and-file killers. It was
only the architects and the results of this are that Videla and Massara, who you
saw the pictures of earlier were given life in prison. Three other people were
given extended sentences and four of them were acquitted.
After this trial, further justice seems pretty impossible because there
had been several new attempted military coups, one of them almost succeeded and
the political realities in this military threat led to a huge transformation away
from these revolutionary measures of transitional justice to what is often
referred to as Argentina's period of impunity. As I said before, this
process of responding to and transforming resonant violence in
Argentina was not a short one. It also went through periods of moving
forward and backwards, so this period of impunity really marks the biggest and
longest step backward when it comes to the state's own measures for dealing
with the past. This period of impunity was institutionalized through the passage of
a few laws, the first was called "the law of full-stop," which said basically that
after a certain date, no more cases could be brought against any of the military
perpetrators. This was followed by the "Law of Due Obedience," which said that no
one could be prosecuted if they were following orders. So these two laws
together made it impossible to prosecute anyone else and then this was made even
stronger in 1990 when a new President (Carlos Menem) was elected. Menem was a guy
who advocated for forgetting about the past completely and moving forward. He
wanted to destroy all of the former clandestine detention centers. He just
wanted us to forget about it and move on. And on Christmas Eve of 1990 (right
after he took office) he granted full presidential pardons to all participants
in the dictatorship and that included those who had already been tried and
found guilty. So all of those who were in prison were released from prison and
granted pardons. The state during this period was totally absconded from its
responsibility for the crimes of the past during the late 80s and all
throughout the 90s but that doesn't mean that ordinary citizens did because
particularly the family members of the victims and other civil society
organizations began fighting for a return to justice, truth, and memory. Even
during this period, community forces outside of the
government were working hard against this process of forgetting. The
grandmothers kept searching for their grandchildren,
the mothers kept marching and in the same way that the grandmothers gave
births to the mothers and the mothers to the children, a new generation of
activists also came to have aged during this period and those are the children
of the disappeared who started to become young adults during this period of time.
They formed a group called Hijos, which in Spanish is sons or daughters.
It's an acronym here that stands for sons and
daughters, for identity and justice against forgetting and silence. This was
a group that was formed in the city of Cordoba by about 70 sons and daughters
whose parents had been disappeared. It was formed in 1995 and within several
months the group grew to include over 350 members and have branches in 14
cities around Argentina. They did a lot of things but the biggest contribution
they've made to Argentina (and really to all of us) is this unique form of public
activism that they developed called "Escrache."
Escrache is this very specific protest movement that was responding to
the lack of formal justice and punishment for the perpetrators of
torture, detainment, and disappearance, during the military dictatorship. It
comes from the slang verb Escrachar, which means to uncover or to bring
something to light and that's what they were trying to do. They were trying to
point out all of the unpunished perpetrators living in Argentinian
society and since the state wasn't putting them in jail or declaring them
guilty, they were going to make sure everyone knew where they lived and make
their lives harder for them so their secret would be out. They would
issue what they called a condena social or a social sentence against them in
lieu of a formal legal sentence. The Escrache were these loud theatrical
spectacular events. They weren't angry, they were quite carnivalesque. They would
start with hundreds or thousands of people meeting at one park or
sometimes in a neighborhood and they would march through the streets
with music and singing to the house of a perpetrator that they had decided upon.
At the home, the music and the chanting would continue. Participants would mark
the house with these brightly colored paints. They would throw paint bombs at
the house to mark it as the house of a perpetrator. They would paint on the
pavement in front of it, things like "here hides a free genocidaire." And then the
leaders of Hijos would deliver a speech that would articulate the crimes of the
perpetrator and announce the social sentence that they were issuing against
him. After all of this then the participants would march away from the
perpetrators home and they would leave the neighborhood and the neighbors to
act upon that knowledge that they'd received. The Escrache represents what I
call a co-embodied practice. Co-embodied practices are these embodied acts that
are performed by groups of people acting in concert towards some shared goal and
in public space. Now to be clear, so-embodied practices can be both positive
and negative. For instance, we can think of genocide itself being a co-embodied
practice of people acting out in public space towards a shared goal but when
that shared goal is something positive, when it's about
dealing with that resonate violence of the past, then it can really transform
that violence. It has the potential to transform it into new forms of agency,
new forms of political power and that I argue is what the Escrache is doing.
The Escrache was a deeply planned event. It didn't just happen
spontaneously. It would begin like a month to a month and a half before the
Escrache. When the Escrache would enter into the neighborhood where the perpetrator
lived, they will have done lots of research on the perpetrator before this.
They really were sure that this person perpetrated crimes. They would get
people together to paint murals and street art to announce Escrache is coming.
There will be an Escrache and therefore you know that a perpetrator is
living amongst you. This is one graffiti that they have of their main slogans...
"If there's no justice, there will be an Escrachel." This
is the promise of Escrache , that they will continue to make an Escrachel until the
state starts putting them on trial again. They would hand out these pamphlets to
people on the street or put them in mailboxes and the pamphlets would have
the name of the perpetrator, his address, photo, phone number and a list of all of
the crimes that he perpetrated during the dictatorship so everyone would know
who this man was and what he had done. They would also work with other
groups. This is a group of street artists who would make street signs that look
like official signs but this one says, "100 meters from here is Ernesto Freeman
Weber, genocidaire" and then his address. So here you can see them co-opting the
language of the state through the street sign to do the job that the state wasn't
doing. The ultimate goal of the Escrache as I said was to rally the rest
of the community to join them in issuing a social sentence. So what does this mean,
a social sentence? Well the best description I found is this from one member
of Escrache , Julieta whose father, aunt, and uncle were
all disappeared and she explains it really eloquently, I think. She says, "given
the absence of a legal sentence. there must exist a social sentence... what we
pursue is that the perpetrators own house becomes his jail. that his own
neighborhood and neighbors sentence him in the daily things in his daily life. The social sentence makes the baker decide not to sell him bread any longer,
the taxi driver not to take him. We want him and his past to stop being a mystery
to the neighborhood." So again, this idea of if there's no justice, there is an
Escrachel. Julieta is demonstrating here how the Escrache was more than an act
of protest. It was actually performing the act of judgment that the state was
refusing to perform and the Escrache represented the issuing of a social
sentence that must then be carried out by the people of the neighborhood.
Because of this, the performance of the Escrache was only the beginning of this
much larger process. That Hijos didn't take apart in this process of
condemnation was left to those most directly affected by the presence of the
perpetrator, his neighbors, so he also was really drawing this line in the sand
that divided the criminal from the rest of the community and it was then up to
the community to decide what they would. do whether they would remain on their
own side of the line by carrying out this social sentence or
across that line by continuing to ignore the unpunished crimes of the neighbor.
This is also an example of a practice of transmission where Hijos is this
example of this intergenerational transmission of
affective memory of trauma. Hijos is a direct byproduct of the
mothers and the grandmothers and their embodied practices, but more importantly
maybe, this transmission of memory is what leads to the transformation of the
negative emotional energy of that memory, that resonant violence in the face of
the damaging effect of force of resident violence which operates to push people
out of the public sphere. Hijos represents a reversal of that
force by refusing to break apart and experience the pain of intergenerational
traumatic memory and silence and in isolation. This negative affective force
is actually transformed into something else and this sentiment
was confirmed for me many times
over but in one conversation with one of the mothers of the Plaza de Mayo (named
Tatiana Maeda), I asked her what moved her to political activism in the face of
such pain from losing her own son. And she said, "Actually, that pain, that rage...
what they did to us did not leave us with hate. No, we transformed it into love
for our children and into a fight, a peaceful fight." So the co-embodied
practices of the mothers and of the Hijos do not just transmit the memory of a
violent past but they transform it into something altogether different, more
positive and potentially preventive of future violence. So Hijos continued to
make a scratches against these former perpetrators into the early 2000s but
then they ultimately wouldn't have to continue the Escrachels for much longe.r
Things started to change in 2001 when there was a huge economic crisis. This
led to complete dissatisfaction with the state. Political
chaos... there was in a one-week period, there were I think five different
presidents in Argentina. But eventually (with less than a majority of the
vote) Nestor Kirchner was elected president in 2003 and this ushered in a
period of what is often referred to as "justice in
full," depending on your political stance I guess. This is him
with his wife Christina Fernandez de Kirchner who became president after his
death. He brought about a radically different economic agenda responding to
the neoliberal economic policies that led to the crisis in 2001. He worked with
the courts and he nullified the laws of full-stop and of due obedience. He had
the presidential pardons against the perpetrators declared unconstitutional
and this paved the way for reopening trials against the perpetrators and
those trials began in 2005. So today, Argentina engages the past actively with
this three-pronged approach of truth, justice, and memory. These are the
three words. Yet, they use not reconciliation very purposefully. Over a
thousand perpetrators have been brought to trial and over 500 of them have
received sentences. There have been financial reparations given to victims
and their families. The states developed numerous policies to
support victims and their families. Aside from financial mechanisms, there's
a forensics team that continues to uncover the remains of the thousands of
disappeared persons that are in the river and they return them to the
families and then the grandmothers Plaza de Mayo have started... They
were one of the first organizations or people to take advantage of new DNA
technology, so very early on they created a DNA Bank where all of them gave blood
and anyone who is suspected of potentially being a child of a
disappeared person, they could go and have their blood tested and find out if
they were related to one of the grandmothers. And in this way,
121 of the roughly 500 children have now know their true identity and
and know about who their family is (their biological family). So all of these things
have contributed to an active culture of memory in Argentina. All of these
achievements I've mentioned (the trials the reparations, the recovery of the
appropriated children) are examples of what can happen in society
that actively recognizes and deals with past human rights violations. The
comprehensive work of confronting resident violence is also visible and
more symbolic practices that demonstrate how
dedicated people can help ensure that the past remains active in the present
so that it prevents the return of such violence in the future. So, I'm going to
talk about one final practice and then I'll end it. And maybe we'll have some
time for questions. This is Esma, which I mentioned was the largest detention and
torture center during the dictatorship. And very importantly in 2004, President
Kiir Turner took Esma back from the military (which still owned it).
Ity was a really important moment... He took down this portrait of Videla, the first president
of the military Hunta and he declared the site a space of memory and opened
its gates to the public. People flooded in on that day and have
continued to flood since. Today, this site (which is a huge site, it contains
over 30 buildings it's over 42 acres) has been transformed as it
means not only of remembering the past but also of promoting an active culture
of memory and human rights in Argentina. So, for instance you can tour the
officers headquarters. This is the one building in the complex that was
actually used for torture and detainment of prisoners and that's been well
preserved and is a place where people go to see the site of atrocity itself. But,
they had to figure out what to do with the other buildings in the complex.
This is a cultural center that was constructed out of one of the buildings.
This is a place where people can go for free to see theatrical performances, art
exhibitions, concerts dance performances, academic conferences. There's a bookstore
and a coffee shop so people can go and just talk to each other.
All of the events there are free, all of them have something to do with the past
with memory and it's really contributed to making this space a place of life
rather than a space of only death. This is one of the art exhibitions that was
there a couple years ago. All of the other buildings they gave to civil
society organizations and human rights groups that were working for the
promotion of human rights or for memory. This is the national memory archive,
which houses testimony and comments about the violence that
happened during the dictatorship. This is a space that was given to the mothers
of the Plaza de Mayo that they used as an after-school site
for kids to teach them about human rights and memory about the past and
then I want to end by talking about one final practice that I found particularly
inspiring that came out of this space. One of the organizations housed within
ESMA hosted this particularly vibrant group
embodied practice in 2008. 2008 was the 30th anniversary of the 1978 World Cup
final which was played at River Plate Stadium next door to ESMA, just like a
few minutes walk away from ESMA. So while the dictatorship was happening,
all of the world was watching the World Cup match in Argentina which the
dictatorship was really using as a way of distracting the world's attention
from the violence they were perpetrating. So as this World Cup match was happening
(in which Argentina won the World Cup in the final), the prisoners in ESMA reported
....some of them who survived reported hearing the cheers from the
stadium, that's how close it was. So in response to this historic event and in
honor of the disappeared, this one group, the Instituto Espacio Para la Memoria,
hosted what they called the other final, a match for life and for human rights.
This was a symbolic soccer match to remember the 30,000 disappeared. On the
30th anniversary, thousands of people gathered at Esma, including lots of the
mothers and grandmothers and Hijos. They unfurled this banner with the pictures
of all of the known disappeared and it spread across several city blocks and
then they carried it out of ESMA to the stadium where they were joined by many
other people and groups. A large section of the stadium was left empty
in honor of the 30,000 disappeared people who couldn't be there
as well as the box seats where the military Huntas sat at during the
final, those were also left empty as a sign of condemnation. Two teams played an
exhibition match against each other. The teams were formed by a variety of
players, including three players from the 1978 National
Team, ex political prisoners and detainees, children of several family members that
went into exile during the dictatorship and also the National Youth League. The
match was broadcast live on TV. It ended in a 1-1 tie and afterwards there was a
concert with several well-known and well-respected musicians. There was this
mixing of pain of the past with the joy of Argentina's national pastime, many
people reported it as being an experience that they described as
an exorcism of some of those demons of the past. I'm going to end by calling on
another voice and another medium for conveying the story of Argentina. When
participants of this final match (the other final) entered the stadium. This
musician, Argentinian musician Daniele Vilayati,
was playing a song, the lyrics of which came from an Oregon poet named Circe
Maya. The song is called
"Another voice sings" and it's a song about the disappeared. So I
just want to play that for you and the the lyrics are translated on the screen
This song, which is written as a tribute to the
disappeared, stresses that the dead are not dead at all. Their voices call out,
saying that they're still alive, that they have not been lost.
Similarly, Lowell T., the other final, is an example of a practice that
re-embodes the disappeared and making them present both through highlighting their absence
through that empty stands that were reserved for them and by symbolically
carrying them out of the place of their torture and death, to a place of joy they
were unable to celebrate with their countrymen as their team won the World
Cup championship. But now there's another final being played, just like there's
another voice singing and this one is especially for them. This staging of
conflicting emotions serves as a means for transforming the resonant violence
of the past into the productive force of a collective stand against such violence
in the present. Through a collective embodied practice, a spectacular display
of joy and commitment, a place with the troubling history is expunged of its
guilt, its dirty past. It again becomes a place for community and passionate
living. In other words, participants convert the enduring effects of resonant
violence into new and vibrant sources of power and agency. Thank you.
I'm going to bring this over so
your question can be heard. My first question is so that I can
understand what is the difference between political crimes of a government
against its own people and genocide. Well, I think genocide is an example of
political crimes of a government committed against its own people. I mean,
one of the biggest debates in genocide studies and politics is how do
we define genocide; what's the definition? As I said, this is not considered a
genocide by the legal definition because political groups are not one of the
protected classes of people. I think of it as a genocide because it was about
the destruction of a group and for me, genocide is characterized by the attempt
to destroy a group, so that's why I consider this a genocide. There are types
of political violence (what Scott Strauss would call, "mass categorical violence")
where huge sectors of society are being killed because they're political opponents
but there's not the intent to destroy them completely. In Argentina, I think
there's lots of evidence that the attempt was to destroy them completely,
whether by killing them or making them no longer political parts of that
political group that would oppose the regime, so it's another form of
destroying the group. Okay, thank you and the other question
next is related to what you just said. We saw that they were actually just
rounding people up randomly, whether they were part of an insurgent group or not,
even if they were merely suspected then because of the way they dressed or
because of something a neighbor might have said against them. So it leads me to
believe that it was really just the government committing crime against
its own people and using the excuse of insurgency, but not really targeting a
specific group of people so my next question would be... Let me just say, they were targeting a
specific group of political opponents. It wasn't random.
They were arresting people whether they had anything on them or not, you
know? Whether they knew for sure there were insurgents or not,
they were arresting them based on suspicion.
Yes, suspicion that at they were part of the insurgent group. Okay and so then was
there a specific ethnic or indigenous group that they were also targeting
during this period? There is some evidence that Jews who were disappeared
faced stronger or more violence forms of torture in the detention
centers. This is new research that's been done in the last couple years.
Argentina has a long history of perpetrating violence against indigenous
populations - right now that there's not a very big indigenous population
remaining in Argentina because they were so successful at perpetrating that
violence during the colonial period and after but during this period, it
was really focused on political groups, political opponents. Okay and finally,
were there any repercussions or has the U.S. in some way has been held
accountable for their role in perpetrating these crimes?
No, in fact that is still one of the big things that they're trying to work on. Argentina is
trying to get the U.S. to release the classified documents that
demonstrate the U.S. involvement and the U.S. continues to refuse to do that. And
President Obama was in Argentina on the anniversary of the military coup
earlier this year and very sadly, he didn't offer any sort of apology or
anything. It was a missed opportunity.
I'm just wondering... I assume that the current administration in Argentina is
as Democratic as it's ever been? So my question is about your research and
because you're going back and forth, so you've been doing this since when? What
year? I began researching Argentina in 2010. So you've been doing it for five or
six years. What is the reaction of the government to your research?
So there's been a government change as of last year. Before that
the Kirtener government, which was both him and his wife, they are the ones
who led the charge about memory relating to the past and putting the perpetrators
back on trial... so that government was incredibly open to research and
information and memory processes related to the past. So in fact, a lot of the
groups (the mothers. grandmothers and Hijos) are now politicians in Argentina.
Because of that, they've gained that much influence within Argentinian society. The
new president, Mauricio Macri, was inaugurated last December. He is not a
pardonist and he is much less apt to dealing with the past. He's more of the
Carlos Menem, let's forget about the past and move on
sentiments and this is represented really in a tone-deaf,
I think, shift where for many years since the dictatorship ended, there haven't
been any public military parades. Their first military parades since 1983
happened under Macri earlier this year, so that was something that really scared
people. This sort of public display of military might was happening
again in the streets but it's still pretty new cause he's only been in office
for a year, so we don't know what's gonna happen and we also don't know if he's
gonna stay in office after one term. So I was wondering if you could talk a
little bit about the public and governmental reaction to the Hijos
sort of at the time that they were active . It was very divisive
because there were people who loved Hijos and the Escathes and what
they were doing and thought it was... they were excited about bringing attention to
these unpunished perpetrators living amongst the people of Argentina. And
there were plenty of people and there still are today who would rather forget
about the past and move forward and saw what Hijos was doing as disruptive. I
mean, these crazy young people who don't understand, you know, how things work. They
weren't...a lot of the cinemas, they weren't alive. They didn't really don't
really remember the violence of the past even though they were alive because
their parents were disappeared. They don't remember the violence of the past,
so why should they be the ones to carry forward with this message? So it's a
very divisive movement and a lot of people don't like the Esthache because
they see it as a sort of violent act, especially the vandalism of property. But
in all of my research working with Hijos, I haven't found one example of any
physical violence that erupted in during the Escathel. They
were actually very positive celebratory events. They thought they'd always
talk about them as being like a carnival or a theatrical party that they
were throwing. I'm sure for everyone involved it was the carnival and it's
a really cool movement but there's a part of me that also feels like it's a
little bit lynch mob like. And you seem very very enthusiastic about it but
I'm saying, isn't there a middle ground? There has to be people
who oppose it because they don't want the past uncovered or
because they're very conservative but there's also an element to this tha...t I
mean, you said they were absolutely sure these people committed crimes,
but in some ways what they're doing is not actually justice. Well okay, I guess
the reason... I understand the point, I mean a lynch mob ends with a
lynching and they weren't violent. They were bringing to light something
that had been swept under the rug. These people were living in the public eye
in public space and no one knew (in most cases) that they had perpetrated
any crimes during the dictatorship, so it was about giving that information to
people so that they could make their own decisions about what to do with that
information. And like I said, they didn't physically hurt anyone.
I mean, they stayed true to their promise. When the trial
started, they stopped doing the Escarthels. What they wanted the whole time was
for the government to do the job that it was supposed to be doing to begin with: to
perpetrate people, to prosecute people who had committed crimes. The state
wasn't doing that, so they needed to create a very visible environment... or
action that would draw people's attention, that would anger some people.
They wanted this to provoke action on the part of the state, so I think
that's why... I see if it had become violent, I would be much more critical of
it but the fact that it never turned to violence makes me feel sort of like it worked.
You're not alone. How specific is this process that
you're tracing and explaining to Argentina in terms of its preventive
potential? And I'm thinking specifically about societies who have histories of
conflict and mass violence between different ethnic or religious groups
where processes of justice are much more divisive than what you described
concerning this process and where there is much less consensus about processes
of uncovering and bringing to light and
also about this issue of memory, which is a major part in Argentina. But we know... if
you think about the problematic case, Nazi Germany, and
memory in Germany today, which is all over the country and it's landscape and
urban scape and architecture and formally at least education system and
everything. By no means this has reduced the level of phobia and the potential... it
hasn't made the resonance violence disappear at all or even reduced
intensity. I would argue that, okay. So how specific is this
to Argentina? Oh, I think it's totally specific to Argentina. I think every
cultural context has to have its own process and this is very Argentinean. I
think the Escathe could only emerge out of the Argentinean social and
cultural context, just like I think the power of the mothers is
something that I... I mean, there were mother groups all over Latin America
but I think that how they did what they did, it was responding
to the specific cultural restrictions that were being put on them in the
case of violence there. I'm not a person who thinks that
there's any right or wrong way or specific way of dealing with the past
that needs to happen. I think it's always culturally specific and I also don't
know that putting everyone on trial is always the right thing. We can look
at other cases of genocide where so many people were involved in the perpetration
of genocide. We can think about Rwanda for instance, where if you put everyone
on trial, it overwhelms the justice system and just the
philosophical view of what justice is. You can't just do
it all at the same time. It always has to respond to the cultural
specifics. I agree with you that memory is so present in Germany now, the memory of
the Holocaust. I don't know that it's led to nothing. I think
that's hard to say because we don't have the
negative case of that. What would Germany look like right
now if that memory didn't exist? I think for
me, the fact that Germany is the one country in Europe that's accepting
Syrian refugees... I believe that has something to do with the memory of the
refugees that were created by German violence during the period of
Nazi Germany. I don't think that's such a far-fetched idea, so I don't
think it means that xenophobia has disappeared,
anti-Semitism has disappeared, just like in Argentina,
sympathy with the military and there are people who still believe that
violence was justified. That hasn't disappeared, either but it has led to
some really positive things, to the promotion of human rights overall. It's hard
again because we don't have a negative case.
Couldn't you consider Turkey as a negative case? We aren't with the
Armenian Genocide of course and then if you compare Germany's behavior,
you can see some type of progress being made based on the things that they've
done, memory-wise arguably in comparison. Yeah but again it's really hard because
then there are also the cultural specifics of Turkey versus Germany,
which are totally culturally specific in different places. So it's really
hard. There's this big move lately because David Reath published this book "In
Praise of Forgetting," so now there is this big fashionable move of saying
"Oh, we have so much focus on memory that maybe we should think more about
forgetting because memory of the past is often what leads to conflict." I really
don't like this idea mostly because I just think it's ridiculous. Memory can be a good
thing, memory can be a bad thing but memory is and trying to pretend that
people who have lived through large-scale violence are
just going to be able to forget it is crazy. That's not possible. So we have to
deal with it in some way of course.
We are almost out of time but I think we could take one more question.
Would you say Argentina had
any Nazi influence? Because I know they were very open to accepting fleeing
Nazis after World War II. Yes, absolutely. Do you think they were indirectly or
directly involved with this? Do you think, maybe like consulting or just in
some form, had their hand in there? I don't know how much people or if people were
consulting but Argentina is a fascinating place because
they accepted a lot of Nazi war criminals but also a lot of Jewish
refugees. Buenos Aires is a city where you've got (and Argentine in general)
where you've got a very large Jewish population and a very large
German population, all living next to each other. I think that
these Nazi war criminals would fit in very well with the sort of
authoritarian bent of the the military and the respect for the
military (during and before the dictatorship) but I don't know what
research has been done about the exact influence of Nazi war criminals or our
involvement in the perpetration of violence during this period.
It's just when you're talking about how they, at the beginning of it, seem very similar to when Hitler came to power
with how they pressed the books and all the influences are very similar.
That's a great question and it points out the value of comparative
genocide studies right in terms of identifying these red flags and these
patterns that go on and I think it is true we can see in history that genocidaires
learned from one another, either directly or indirectly. They're
aware of other techniques and then they use them and adapt them to their own
context. I think that's a really great question. Any last questions before we end?
I know there's so much to talk about.
One of the videos I use in my government politics class is a short
video about Argentina, two children that have gotten DNA tests and have
renounced their parents that were their abductors basically.
There seems to be like... I don't know how widespread this is among the
children but can you speak to like how... the sense I got was like they were just
so much angrier against their adoptive parents, but is that
like a typical of reaction of the children who were kidnapped or is there
like a mix of all kinds? Yes, it's a good question. It's a total mix.
I've spoken and heard from these children who have discovered it
and these children (are of course now in their mid-30s) who have discovered that
the people who they thought there were their parents their whole
lives are not their actual biological parents.
Some of them end up totally renouncing their adoptive family and they
start only associating with their biological family who they've just
met. Others can't give up the
family that they were raised with.. it's their family and they sort of reject
their biological family and don't have any association with them and more
commonly, they're somewhere in between.
They can't forget these people that they were calling mom and dad their whole
life and brothers and sisters. The brothers and sisters had
nothing to do with it, but they also have a desire to have some sort of
connection with their biological family, especially these grandmothers who have
been searching for them and making such an effort so to find them for so many
years. It's very complicated, I can't imagine
being in their shoes.
Thank you for having me.
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