The Role of History and Memory in Contemporary Chile

La función de la historia y la memoria en el Chile actual

Abstract:
The article questions how much we have learned in Chile, as a society, from the violation of human rights under Pinochet’s dictatorship of 1973–1990. This question has become even more urgent because the social uprising in October 2019 meant that the human rights of hundreds of people were violated yet again. It is widely accepted that history and memory may serve appreciating and defending human rights; but a knowledge of the past is not enough in itself. Rather, it needs to be transformed into critical questioning and, above all, into a motivation for action.
DOI: dx.doi.org/10.1515/phw-2021-18869
Languages: Español, English


Tras décadas de esfuerzos por recuperar y difundir la memoria para garantizar la no repetición, la sociedad chilena experimentó nuevamente la represión estatal durante el estallido social de octubre de 2019. En su contribución, la historiadora Nancy Nicholls Lopeandía reflexiona sobre los límites del trabajo de la memoria y sugiere que el conocimiento histórico debe ir más allá, conectar el pasado con el presente y ser un catalizador para la acción.

Las cifras y el trabajo de memoria en transición

Los informes de verdad realizados en la transición a la democracia en Chile, establecen que el Estado dictatorial (1973-1990) violó sistemáticamente los derechos humanos de miles de personas. A más de 30 años del fin de la dictadura y en el marco de una movilización social sin precedentes en la historia reciente del país, que tuvo lugar entre octubre del 2019 y febrero del 2020, el Estado violó nuevamente los derechos humanos de cientos de personas. ¿Qué ha pasado?, ¿qué y cuánto hemos aprendido de nuestro pasado de horror que nos fracturó como sociedad?

De acuerdo a los informes de la Comisión Nacional de Verdad y Reconciliación y de la Comisión Nacional sobre Prisión Política y Tortura, el gobierno dictatorial de Pinochet hizo desaparecer o ejecutó a 3.216 personas y encarceló y torturó a 38.254[1].

Uno de los desafíos más complejos de los gobiernos de la transición democrática fue abordar la problemática de los derechos humanos. El recorrido que el Estado hizo no estuvo exento de escollos y de la gran tentación por sepultar la memoria de lo ocurrido en pos de un futuro basado en una pretendida unidad de la ciudadanía. Primó, no obstante, y en ello fueron fundamentales las acciones de la sociedad civil, la decisión de hacer frente al pasado que nos dividía como sociedad y que permanecía como una herida lacerante para miles de chilenas y chilenos.[2]  La memoria de los cruentos años de represión estatal salió a la luz pública, cada vez con más fuerza, alimentando una narrativa que con el tiempo se convirtió en hegemónica y que reconocía la multitud de crímenes que los agentes estatales habían cometido bajo el gobierno de Pinochet. Tanto el Estado transicional como las organizaciones de derechos humanos y las agrupaciones de víctimas y sus familiares, que habían actuado como verdaderos ‘emprendedores de memoria’[3] en dictadura, fueron fundamentales para que el país se fuese enfrentando a una dolorosa realidad histórica, elaborando poco a poco su pasado.

2019: lo que no debiera haber ocurrido

Es evidente que la fractura provocada por el golpe de Estado y los años de dictadura no se repara en el tiempo corto, es cierto además que la valoración de los derechos humanos implica un proceso de toma de conciencia y de enseñanza a través del tiempo que puede también extenderse. Sin embargo, resulta preocupante que luego de más tres décadas del fin de la dictadura volvamos a enfrentar una dura realidad de violación a los derechos humanos. Podría pensarse que tanto las expresiones de memoria como el conocimiento histórico elaborado sobre lo sucedido en Chile, serían garantía para que no volvieran a ocurrir crímenes de este tipo. Pero es evidente que ello no ha sido suficiente. ¿Qué ha fallado? Y, ¿qué pueden aportar la historia y la memoria a este estado de cosas actual?

Es indudable que la responsabilidad por las recientes violaciones a los derechos humanos recae en el Estado, cuyas fuerzas policiales requieren desde hace años una reforma profunda que modifique sustancialmente su proceder en las manifestaciones y movilizaciones protagonizadas por la sociedad civil, ello sin entrar en el espinudo tema de las responsabilidades políticas del gobierno actual. No obstante, quisiera extender la problemática y llevarla a la pregunta de cómo hemos elaborado nuestro pasado traumático como sociedad y qué hemos aprendido de él. Y en este sentido, si bien conocemos lo ocurrido y lo condenamos, no hemos dado el salto que permita que ese pasado sea el lente a través del cual observamos y evaluamos los desafíos actuales en materia de derechos humanos.

La demonización del otro

Un nudo problemático que se ha venido instalando con fuerza en nuestro presente es la condena del otro, que en ciertos casos llega a la demonización. Esta afecta al mapuche, al anarquista, a las identidades sexualmente disidentes, al policía, al mestizo, al negro, y podríamos seguir engrosando la lista. Se trata de un tema complejo, ya que en él inciden múltiples factores, algunos de orígenes muy antiguos que pueden remontarse al origen de la república, y otros que se han ido generando, o bien agudizando, en las últimas décadas. El estallido social de octubre del 2019 dejó en evidencia no sólo las agudas problemáticas sociales y económicas de la gran mayoría de chilenas y chilenos y el hastío hacia la inercia y corrupción de las élites que detentan el poder político y económico, sino también el racismo y el clasismo que han permeado las relaciones sociales y que han causado resentimiento, rabia y una sensación de injusticia generalizada. La sociedad dialoga poco, y se constituye más que como unidad en la diferencia, como un abanico de diferencias antagónicas que no se encuentran y que peligrosamente se conciben como enemigas.

¿Pueden la historia y la memoria contribuir a desatar el nudo problemático?

¿Tienen la historia y la memoria un rol en dicho estado de cosas? ¿Pueden incidir en el presente? Una de las funciones que se ha otorgado tradicionalmente a la historia es la de instruir al presente a través de las experiencias del pasado, de modo que los actores de la actualidad no repitan los errores de antaño. No obstante, no basta con conocer la historia; no existe una operación automática que traduzca el conocimiento histórico en capacidad de acción consciente de los errores ya cometidos en el continuo de la historia, de modo de no repetirlos. Por lo tanto, creo que una de las funciones de la historia que vale la pena considerar a propósito de esta reflexión, es la de generar una conciencia histórica que “… nos ayuda a darnos cuenta de que el presente no es algo dado (…) no es sino fruto de un proceso histórico inconcluso”[4].

Podríamos entonces reflexionar sobre qué nos aportaría al presente el conocimiento de la sistemática violación a los derechos humanos ocurrida bajo la dictadura de Pinochet y de qué modo podemos incidir en aquél. En el pensamiento de los militares en el poder, los militantes de izquierda, particularmente los declarados marxistas, eran considerados ‘enemigos de la patria’, siguiendo los postulados de la Doctrina de Seguridad Nacional. Expresiones como el ‘cáncer marxista’ o ‘humanoides’ con las cuales los miembros de la junta militar se referían a ellos, demuestra la deshumanización de que fueron objeto. Una vez deshumanizados, no había reparos para eliminarlos, con el resultado de muertes, desapariciones, torturas y otras formas represivas aberrantes que hoy se conocen.

Me interesa resaltar, que la construcción del otro como un enemigo no nació de la noche a la mañana, es decir no nació el 11 de septiembre de 1973 con el golpe de Estado, sino que fue un proceso de más larga duración, en el que participaron actores y cuerpos de ideas fundantes, y que se dio en un contexto internacional y nacional determinado. Ese pasado, que contrariamente a lo que dice el saber popular, no se repite, nos da pistas para leer nuestro presente e incluirlo en un recorrido histórico de más largo aliento; nos indica que la acción de construir un ‘otro’ como potencial enemigo, llevó al Estado a traspasar los límites éticos, cometiendo actos aberrantes en nombre de un bien común superior. Que nada de esto era inevitable, y que por el contrario las decisiones que tomaron los actores protagónicos de la dictadura—militares y colaboradores civiles—pero también los defensores de los derechos humanos y quienes actuaron en la resistencia, fueron fundamentales en el curso que tomaron los acontecimientos. Y finalmente, que los testigos pasivos también fueron influyentes con su decisión de ‘hacer la vista gorda’ frente a la violación de los derechos humanos. Como señala Hobsbawm, la aproximación crítica a la historia permite, entre otras cosas, entender “lo que los seres humanos pueden y no pueden hacer” así como “comprender las posibilidades que hay dentro de las personas”[5]. Esto aplica tanto para los eventos del pasado como para los del presente y el futuro.

La memoria por su parte, contribuye a mantener el pasado vivo ante el riesgo constante de su desaparición. No obstante, siguiendo a Todorov, creo que en Chile hemos hecho un uso más bien ‘literal’ y no ‘ejemplar’ de la memoria, es decir hemos estado más cerca de quedarnos anclados en la particularidad de la violación de los derechos humanos de la dictadura, preocupados de las conmemoraciones, de los sitios y rituales, sin dar un salto más allá, que permita extender el caso concreto que vivimos en los años de dictadura hacia otras situaciones similares que ocurren en el presente, y sobre todo, como reflexiona Todorov, hacia una situación general: un principio de justicia, un ideal político o una regla moral[6]. No es que los ritos, las conmemoraciones y los sitios de memoria no sean importantes; al contrario, han sido fundamentales en el proceso de elaboración de memoria colectiva y en el reconocimiento y reparación de las víctimas y sus familiares, pero es preciso paralelamente extrapolar esa memoria de modo de iluminar el presente. Se trataría aquí de que la memoria de lo ocurrido nos impulsara a actuar en pos de la valoración y defensa de los derechos humanos hoy.

En síntesis, la historia y la memoria de lo ocurrido bajo la dictadura de Pinochet nos muestran que por acción u omisión los ciudadanos somos actores con capacidad de agencia, y que ello, es cierto también en nuestro presente. Podemos ‘usar’ la historia y la memoria en favor de la dignidad y de los derechos humanos que hoy nuevamente han sido vulnerados, convirtiéndonos en agentes de cambio en un escenario en el que el guion no está dado, sino que se va escribiendo día a día.

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Bibliografía

  • Steve Stern, Luchando por mentes y corazones Las batallas de la memoria en el Chile de Pinochet. Libro Dos de la trilogía La Caja de la memoria del Chile de Pinochet (Santiago: Ediciones Universidad Diego Portales, 2013).
  • Tzvetan Todorov. Los abusos de la memoria. Barcelona: Paidós, 2000.

Vínculos externos

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[1] Cath Collins y Observatorio DDHH, “Valech II ¿Última instancia de verdad oficial en Chile?” (ponencia taller internacional Justicia Penal y Comisiones de la Verdad como mecanismos transicionales clásicos, Centro de Estudios Legales y Sociales, Argentina, 2012), 3.
[2] Steve Stern, Luchando por mentes y corazones Las batallas de la memoria en el Chile de Pinochet. Libro Dos de la trilogía La Caja de la memoria del Chile de Pinochet (Santiago: Ediciones Universidad Diego Portales, 2013), 302.
[3] Elizabeth Jelin, Los trabajos de la memoria (Madrid: Siglo XX Editores, 2002), 49.
[4] Alvaro Carvajal, Isaac Martín y Alejandra Sánchez, “Reflexiones sobre la función social de la historia: Hobsbawm, Thompson y Kocka,” El futuro del pasado, No. 2 (2011): 271.
[5] Citado en Carvajal, Martín y Sánchez, “Reflexiones sobre la función social,” 272.
[6] Tzvetan Todorov, “Los usos de la memoria” (Conferencia en IDEH-PUCP, 2012),16.

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Créditos de imagen

Museo de la Memoria y los Derechos Humanos in Santiago, Chile © 2014 Tim Adams CC BY 2.0 via Flickr.

Citar como

Nicholls, Nancy: La función de la historia y la memoria en el Chile actual. In: Public History Weekly 9 (2021) 8, DOI: dx.doi.org/10.1515/phw-2021-18869.

Responsabilidad editorial

Catalina Muñoz Rojas

After decades of memory work that sought to guarantee non-repetition, Chileans experienced state repression once again during the mass protests of October 2019. In her contribution, historian Nancy Nicholls Lopeandía reflects on the limits of memory work and suggests that historical knowledge should go further, connect the past with the present, and be a catalyst for action.

Memory Work and Numbers during Transition

The Truth Reports written during the transition to democracy in Chile have established that Pinochet’s dictatorship (1973–1990) systematically violated the human rights of thousands of people. More than 30 years after the end of the dictatorship, and amid the hitherto unprecedented mass protests between October 2019 and February 2020, the state once again violated the human rights of hundreds of people. What happened? What and how much have we learned from the past atrocities that have fractured us as a society?

According to the reports of the National Truth and Reconciliation Commission and of the National Commission on Political Prison and Torture, Pinochet’s dictatorial government disappeared or executed 3.216 individuals, and imprisoned and tortured 38.254.[1]

One of the most complex challenges faced by the governments during Chile’s democratic transition was how to approach human rights. The path chosen by the state was not without stumbling blocks. Also, in pursuing a future based on supposed national unity it was tempting to bury citizens’ memories of the past. Nevertheless, the actions of civil society were fundamental to deciding to face the past, which continued to divide society and remained a lacerating wound for thousands of Chileans.[2] The memory of blood-soaked state repression came to public light, grew stronger, and fueled a narrative that gradually became hegemonic: the recognition of the multiplicity of crimes committed by state agents during Pinochet’s regime. The governments of the transition as well as human rights’ organizations and victims’ associations, who had worked as true “entrepreneurs of memory”[3] during the dictatorship, were fundamental to making the country confront a painful historical reality and slowly begin coming to terms with its past.

2019: What Should not Have Happened

It is evident that the societal fracture caused by the military coup and years of dictatorship cannot be repaired in a short period of time. Further, a renewed respect for human rights implies a process of consciousness raising and learning that takes time. However, it is concerning that after more than three decades after the end of Pinochet’s dictatorship we are facing, once again, the crude reality of human rights violations. One might be tempted to think that both the expressions of memory and the historical knowledge produced about the Chilean past would prevent such crimes from being committed again. But it is clear that these efforts have not sufficed. What has failed? And how can history and memory contribute to the present situation?

Without question, responsibility for the recent human rights violations lies with the state, whose police forces require a profound reform, one that will substantially modify their protocols during demonstrations and mass protests. There is also the contentious matter of the political responsibilities of the current government. Nonetheless, I would like to extend the problem to considering how Chilean society has come to terms with its traumatic past, and what have we learned from this. And in this sense, although we know what happened and have condemned it, we have not made that past the lens through which we can observe and evaluate contemporary challenges in terms of human rights.

The Demonization of the Other

A problematic knot that has emerged in contemporary Chile is the condemnation—or in part also the demonization—of “the other.” This affects mapuche indigenous peoples, anarchists, sexually dissident identities, the police, mestizos, and blacks. The list is not exhaustive. This complex issue is influenced by multiple factors, some of which can be traced to the origins of the republic, and others that have have developed or become heightened in recent decades. The mass protests of October 2019 revealed not only the social and economic problems faced by most Chileans, as well as the weariness towards the inertia and corruption of the political and economic elites. They also showed the racism and classism that have permeated social relations and have caused resentment, anger, and a widespread sense of injustice. Social dialogue is scarce. Rather than configuring itself as unity in difference, Chilean society is an assortment of antagonistic differences. These factions do not come together and conceive of each other as enemies.

Can History and Memory Help Untie the Knot?

Do history and memory have a role to play in this state of affairs? Can they impact the present? One of the functions that has been traditionally assigned to history is to instruct the present through past experiences so those living in the present do not repeat past mistakes. Nevertheless, a knowledge of history alone is not enough. There is no automatic operation that translates historical knowledge into a disposition for action that is conscious of the mistakes made in the continuum of history so as to not repeat them. Hence, let me suggest that one of function of history worth considering is to generate a historical consciousness that can “… help us to acknowledge that the present is not given (…) it is but the fruit of an inconclusive historical process.”[4]

In this vein, we could reflect on how knowing about the systematic human rights violations committed under Pinochet contributes to the present, and how historians might shape that present. For the military, leftist militants and particularly those identified as Marxists were “enemies of the homeland” according to the Doctrine of National Security. Various expressions used by the military to refer those “enemies” (e.g. “Marxist cancer” or “humanoids”) acutely capture their dehumanization. Once dehumanized, there was no obstacle to their elimination, which resulted in death, disappearance, torture, and other aberrant repressive strategies of which we are now aware.

“The other” was not construed as an enemy from one day to another, that is, on September 11, 1973, when Pinochet seized power. It occurred longue durée, involved foundational actors, and took place in a particular international and national context. That past, which, contrary to popular belief, does not repeat itself, holds clues to reading our present and to including it in a much longer history.

That past can show us that construing “the other” as a potential enemy led the state to transgress ethical boundaries, and to commit atrocities in the name of an ulterior common good. A knowledge of that past suggests that none of this was inevitable: on the contrary, the decisions made by the protagonists of the dictatorship—including the military but also civilian collaborators—but also by human rights advocates and members of the resistance, fundamentally defined the course of events. Finally, that past also indicates that passive witnesses who decided to “turn a blind eye” also played a role in violating human rights. As Eric Hobsbawm has stated, a critical approximation of history allows, among others, understanding “what humans can and cannot do,” as well as “comprehending the possibilities that are inside people.”[5] This applies to past events, as well as to present and future ones.

Memory, for its part, contributes to keep alive a past at risk of disappearing. Nonetheless, following Todorov, I believe that in Chile we have made fairly “literal” instead of “exemplary” use of memory. That is, we have tended to adhere to the human rights violations under Pinochet. We have concerned ourselves with commemorations, with the sites of memory, and with rituals of remembrance—without, however, going further and extending past experience to other or similar situations in the present. Above all, as Todorov reflects, we have not taken a step towards a more general principle: that of justice, of a political ideal, or of moral rule.[6] This is not to say that the rituals, commemorations, and sites of memory are unimportant; on the contrary, they have been fundamental to establishing collective memory and to acknowledging and making reparations to the victims and their families. Yet extrapolating that memory is essential to illumining the present. The goal would be to use memory to defend and value human rights today.

In conclusion, history and the memory of what happened under Pinochet’s dictatorship evidence that whether by action or omission, we as citizens are actors, and as such capable of action. This is true also of the present. We can “use” history and memory to defend human dignity and human rights, which are being violated again today. In doing so, we become agents for change in a present whose script is not given but written every day.

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Further Reading

  • Steve Stern, Luchando por mentes y corazones Las batallas de la memoria en el Chile de Pinochet. Libro Dos de la trilogía La Caja de la memoria del Chile de Pinochet (Santiago: Ediciones Universidad Diego Portales, 2013).
  • Tzvetan Todorov. Los abusos de la memoria. Barcelona: Paidós, 2000.

Web Resources

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[1] Cath Collins and Observatorio DDHH, “Valech II ¿Última instancia de verdad oficial en Chile?” (paper presented at the international workshop “Justicia Penal y Comisiones de la Verdad como mecanismos transicionales clásicos”, Centro de Estudios Legales y Sociales, Argentina, 2012), 3.
[2] Steve Stern, Luchando por mentes y corazones Las batallas de la memoria en el Chile de Pinochet. Libro Dos de la trilogía La Caja de la memoria del Chile de Pinochet (Santiago: Ediciones Universidad Diego Portales, 2013), 302.
[3] Elizabeth Jelin, State Repression and the Labors of Memory. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2003, 33.
[4] Alvaro Carvajal, Isaac Martín and Alejandra Sánchez, “Reflexiones sobre la función social de la historia: Hobsbawm, Thompson y Kocka,” El futuro del pasado No. 2 (2011): 271.
[5] Cited in Carvajal, Martín and Sánchez, “Reflexiones sobre la función social,” 272.
[6] Tzvetan Todorov, “Los usos de la memoria” (Conferencia en IDEH-PUCP, 2012), 16.

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Image Credits

Museo de la Memoria y los Derechos Humanos in Santiago, Chile © 2014 Tim Adams CC BY 2.0 via Flickr.

Recommended Citation

Nicholls, Nancy: The Role of History and Memory in Contemporary Chile. In: Public History Weekly 9 (2021) 8, DOI: dx.doi.org/10.1515/phw-2021-18869.

Editorial Responsibility

Catalina Muñoz Rojas

Copyright © 2021 by De Gruyter Oldenbourg and the author, all rights reserved. This work may be copied and redistributed for non-commercial, educational purposes, if permission is granted by the author and usage right holders. For permission please contact the editor-in-chief (see here). All articles are reliably referenced via a DOI, which includes all comments that are considered an integral part of the publication.

The assessments in this article reflect only the perspective of the author. PHW considers itself as a pluralistic debate journal, contributions to discussions are very welcome. Please note our commentary guidelines (https://public-history-weekly.degruyter.com/contribute/).


Categories: 9 (2021) 8
DOI: dx.doi.org/10.1515/phw-2021-18869

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  1. To all readers we recommend the automatic DeepL-Translator for 22 languages. Just copy and paste.

    OPEN PEER REVIEW

    A Paradoxical Present

    We can learn from the experiences of others. The events of Latin America in the 1970s, like the author of this week’s contribution reminds us, can help us become aware of the possibility of a resurgence of authoritarianism in the present century. Democracy and human rights are not a given; they are slippery objectives on an uncertain path that carries enormous difficulty. They are our main utopia. The myths of their fulfillment, however, prey on it. And often they are covered by a taint of colonialism. The old metropolis yearns to guide its former colonies in dealing with the atrocities they experienced in the past century. The case of Pinochet, detained in 1998 after a Spanish judge accused him of genocide, comes to mind. Spain rose to defend human rights while its soil still holds Franco’s mass graves. It was ironic that the old metropolis intended to point the way to justice, when the Spanish transition to democracy that followed Franco’s death in 1975 was based on an Amnesty Law (1977) and a Pacto de olvido (Pact of Forgetting). We presumed that Spain had the lessons that Latin Americans had to learn.

    Our present is paradoxical: October 20th is the 10-year anniversary of the “permanent, general and verifiable” cease-fire declaration of the terrorist group ETA. Yet, it is surprising that the right-wing parties rise only in defense of the victims of ETA’s terrorism for whom they claim dignity, reparation, and justice, as if during these ten years without terrorist violence nothing had happened, and as if other victimized peoples were not already demanding peace. Their expectations of continuing jail time for ETA’s perpetrators and their demand of public acts of contrition by ETA’s political spokespeople are shocking. And most surprising of all, those conservative parties anchor their political identity in claims of terrorist victimhood—with a Catholic air—without any consideration for victims prior to 1975-1978: the victims of the Franco regime. Those are second-class victims who are not part of the democratic memory of the right; they are apparently alien to the traumatic memories that spill over the following generations in what Marianne Hirsch has called postmemory.[1]

    The political left, on its part, has been extremely cautious in its defense of the victims that Franco’s regime presumed to be guilty, assigning to them the obligation to demonstrate their innocence, in stark opposition to the rule of law. The narrative of the democratic transition, a redemptive and epic narrative, produced two laws that fell short in providing justice to the victims of dictatorship.[2]  During the socialist government of José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero (2004-2011) the Historical Memory Law (Law 52/2007 of December 26) took some steps towards justice like the renaming of streets named in honor of Francoism. In addition to it, the Law for the Recognition and Comprehensive Protection of the Victims of Terrorism (Law 29/2011 of September 22) only mentioned in passing Francoist victims.  Even though this law established that it was an “expression of Spanish society’s firm condemnation of terrorism experienced in its history, considering incompatible with democracy, pluralism and the most elemental values of civilization,” the path to justice remained closed to victims of the Franco regime. The state did not assume its responsibility of finding and exhuming the remains of victims buried in mass graves—which are presumed to be in the tens of thousands—leaving this task in the hands of civil society. The summary trials of Francoist courts were not declared null or illegitimate, and the fascist monument of El Valle de los Caídos (The Valley of the Fallen), which symbolizes the horrors of dictatorship, was not re-signified.

    However, in the last two decades, the pressure of the memory movement has risen, fueled by the example of Latin American transitional justice systems and by international humanitarian law. In this context, in July 2021 the coalition government of socialist Pedro Sánchez and the electoral alliance Unidas Podemos (United We Can) has promoted a new Democratic Memory bill. Facing the past was necessary both morally and politically. This process includes reckoning with the Second Republic (1931-1939), which had been interpreted as the period that set off the war, as a pillar of contemporary Spanish democracy. This new bill intends to create an official Register of Victims, and recognizes victimized women and abducted minors; it makes the government responsible for the search and exhumation of mass graves; it creates a “Prosecutor for Human Rights and Democratic Memory” which will investigate violations of international humanitarian law; in terms of reparation, it investigates seizures of property and also cases of forced labor; it eliminates the fascist symbolism in the Valle de los Caídos, turning it instead into a symbol of the tragic history of our democracy; and finally, it seeks to foster a democratic pedagogy that assume memory and history to be a public duty.

    In my opinion, the most important issue is that Spain needs for education to transform a culture in which Franco’s victims are considered second-class subjects and obstacles to the “glorious” Europeanization; this perception was at the heart of the myth that gave way to the democratic transition. Our country is part of the world of victims that the West has turned into. We have different kinds of victims: victims of human trafficking, of gender violence, of racism, or climate disasters.  However, the victims of repression and their family members seem not to fit the role of dignified historical actors. Following the narrative of the transition, many Spaniards continue to blame the victims of Francoism for the disaster of the Civil War: to them, victims incarnate the excesses that only Franco could stop. In this shared narrative, dictatorship and democracy go hand in hand.

    The author of this week’s contribution invites us to be aware of the possibility of authoritarianism that looms in the future. The incursion of the past in the present (memory) and the contemporary recall of the past (history) are crucial tools to avoid that risk. Despite legislative progress, without a truth commission, without a repeal of the Amnesty Law of 1977—which banned the prosecution of crimes against humanity, genocide and forced disappearance under the dictatorship—without trials to perpetrators, without victim testimony before a tribunal, Spain will continue to be trapped in a traumatic past. We continue to assume that dealing with the past can only open wounds that are threatening. Psychologist Anna Miñarro has argued that our silence, lack of knowledge and absence of memory are symptoms of trauma from decades of pain and death.[3] In any case, reckoning with a past of dictatorship and trauma has begun, not only with the aforementioned bill but, most importantly, with the diverse public history mechanisms that Spanish professionals and citizens have produced collaboratively. Historical novels, comic books, theater, museums, and films, have been key elements in the questioning of a narrative that justified a genocidal past as the downside of a positive transition. The time has come to start reckoning with our colonial past too.

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    [1] Marianne Hirsch, The Generation of Postmemory: Writing and Visual Culture After the Holocaust. New York: Columbia University Press, 2012.

    [2] Jesús Izquierdo Martín, “«Dejar que los muertos entierren a sus muertos». Narrativa redentora y subjetividad en las España postfranquista“. Pandora. Revue d’etudes hispaniques, 14, Université Paris VIII Saint-Denis, 2014, pp. 43-63.

    [3] Anna Miñarro y Teresa Morandi (comps.), Trauma y transmisión. Efectos de la guerra del 36, la dictadura y la transición en la subjetividad de los ciudadanos. Barcelona: Fundación CCSM, 2012.

  2. To all readers we recommend the automatic DeepL-Translator for 22 languages. Just copy and paste.

    OPEN PEER REVIEW

    A Literal Memory

    The human rights violations that occurred in the framework of the mobilizations in Chile in October 2019, became a trigger from which the author questions the effectiveness of the democratic achievements obtained after the collapse of the Pinochet dictatorship. I consider that the writing expresses what I can qualify as two narrative rhythms. The first proposes a revision of what has failed in the expressions of memory, that have been carried out in the transition period, and that can possibly explain the violation of human rights during the 2019 mobilizations.

    When reviewing the practices of memory, the author of the text focuses on showing that in Chile a literal memory was promoted rather than an exemplary one (Todorov, 2012). From this perspective, the rituality of memory does not transform “the demonization of the other”, represented in the present by Mapuches, anarchists, sexually dissident identities, police, mestizos, and blacks; and expressed in the past in leftist militants who were declared “enemies of the homeland” by effect of the National Security Doctrine.

    However, in a second moment of the text, the author proposes to use memory and history in the construction of social alternatives that place dignity and human rights as a priority. This within the framework of a reflection on the past that transforms the present, and that interrogates itself about the legacies from which those who were rejected during the dictatorship, and those who are excluded or subject to the violation of their rights in the present, can be rightfully recognized.

    I believe that what is happening in Chile, possibly has more to do with the nature of the transition, rather than with a wrong management of the past and of the dictatorship, from which the author explains the violation of human rights today, particularly during the mobilizations that led to the current constituent process. According to Graciela Rubio (2016), starting in 1990, the governments that constituted themselves in a democracy consolidated “an agreed transition regulated by the 1980 constitution” that favored the transmission of “a policy of the memory of the recent past that was based on oligarchic principles of public matters that integrated forgiveness and reconciliation as regulatory devices of social cohesion, where political discourse has had a determining role in the definition of a hegemonic memory” (p. 113).

    In the educational field, this situation is expressed through school curricula in which the contents referring to human rights are not integrated as content that allows the understanding of “the social experience of the recent past and does not promote the discussion of the violation of rights as historical facts that are recognized and approachable” (Rubio, 2016, p. 121). I believe that this situation explains more clearly what happens with the persistence of the violation of human rights. And it is because the oligarchic memory survived until the present. Therefore, one of the fundamental challenges of the Constituent Convention that was agreed in the National plebiscite of October 25, 2020, could be to remove this oligarchic memory that has prevented debates about human rights (from the recent past of the dictatorship, to the present of the mobilizations), from being incorporated into the public sphere.

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    Rubio, G. (2016). Memoria hegemónica y memoria social. Tensiones y desafíos pedagógicos en torno al pasado reciente en Chile. Revista Colombiana de Educación, (71), 109-135.

    Tzvetan Todorov, “Los usos de la memoria” (Conferencia en IDEH-PUCP, 2012),16.

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