dibujo: Pablo Temes, 2012

jueves, 5 de julio de 2012

Argentina: the past won’t stay away (I)

Buenos Aires Herald
Monday, july 2, 2012       


LIBROS:                         
DISPOSICIÓN FINAL
La confesión de Videla sobre los desaparecidos
Ceferino Reato


Former Herald editor reviews a recently published book and essay, reminders that the desaparecidos remain at the forefront of Argentine's minds and that answers are still needed.

by Andrew Graham - Yooll
for the Herald


Nearly four decades after the military coup of March 1976 in Argentina society has still not come to terms with its recent past. The intellectual conviction is that societies have to assimilate the past to be able to bury it in the history books, but this has not yet happened.  A recent book hinted at the possibility of change, but early optimism sank rapidly.  The book, by journalist Ceferino Reato, editor of Fortuna magazine, researches into the dark corners of the seventies, and provides a cold and cruel description of the military plan to murder thousands of opponents as told in nine interviews by an imprisoned former dictator. 
Argentina’s dictatorship held power between 1976 and 1983. Although this was the shortest dictatorship of all those in the region the rule of the Junta of three armed forces chiefs was the bloodiest, the only one that had a systematic plan to detain its captives in secret camp and make them disappear.  Thus Argentina gave the word “desaparecidos”, in Spanish, to the language of repression. Political groups and human rights organizations set the figure of disappeared at 30,000. But this has been a projection, not backed by the recovery of remains and identities.
            In  Disposición Final, published by Sudamericana, author Ceferino Reato secured a chilling narrative from the dictator, now 86, who is serving life imprisonment. Let’s say there were seven or eight thousand people who had to die to win this war: we could not execute them. How could we execute so many people?” says Videla.  We never used the phrase ‘Final solution’. ‘Final Disposal’ were the words most used; those are two very military words that refer to taking something useless out of service. When, for example, one speaks of clothing that is used no longer or is too worn, it goes under Final Disposal. It no longer has a useful life.”

The statements made by Videla now go a long way to help explain the failings of a society that allowed and even cheered the murderous military dictatorship that began in 1976. “Yes, but the guerrillas started killing first,” was often the rejoinder we got at the Buenos Aires Herald when editorially critical of the uniformed rulers. The guerrillas were not first, they were the product of the failure of constitutional government, of a whole society that considered itself the most modern and intellectually advanced in South America.  The armed forces, formed into the most powerful party in the country since the 1930s, had hampered, disrupted and overthrown elected governments at will. Wrecking an elected government should have been considered a crime.  And, we argued from the pages of Argentina’s smallest daily, in English, “the State cannot descend to the level of its enemies, because killing people is wrong, whoever does it.”  We did not get very far with that argument.  When I quietly admitted to people that I had been an informant for Amnesty International since 1971 and writing for  Index on Censorship since 1973, the ensuing question was, “Yes, but what side are you on?” You had to take sides in the politics of a country that was descending into horror.
           “To avoid arousing protests in or outside the country, we reached the decision that those people had to disappear; each disappearance can be understood as a certain masking, a disguise of a death,” Videla told Ceferino Reato. 
The former dictator admitted to Reato that there were “mistakes and excesses” but that was not the case “with the disappeared”, whose fate was part of a policy. The “responsibility in each case fell to the regional commander, who used the method he thought most appropriate. Each commander had full autonomy to find the quickest and least risky method. Nobody was against that… I was not consulted.  I consented by omission.”  Elsewhere, Videla said, “each commander was master and ruler over the life and death of each detainee.” And the method for disposing of bodies, that sinister “Final Disposal”, was equally the responsibility of unit commanders, no questions were asked among senior officers. They could bury the dead in mass graves, burn them in a stack of tyres, destroy them with lime.
Videla denies that there was, an order to abduct minors. There were cases, I know, but they were the result of our lack of controls, there was no systematic plan to steal babies” (**) from captured mothers. The military handed over 227 children of captives to neighbours or relatives or to juvenile courts. But the Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo, who campaign for the restoration of young people whose identities were stolen through abduction (“appropriation” is the word they use) originally estimated that there were nearly 600 children missing.  The figure claimed is now closer to 400, and just over one hundred have recovered their original family names, lost in forced adoptions.  However, the Grandmothers gave the figure of 190 children disappeared along with their parents on their official web on December 24, 2011.

When Reato’s book was published in mid-April 2012, the statements appeared to some to be the first signal of an aged former president and army commander wanting to come clean with the country he had presided over for five years (1976-1981).  He even seemed to regret the terror.  However, by May 2012, it was obvious that the aging monster had agreed to talk on the record to say that he had been the boss when the military decided that the nation had to be saved from the subversive menace (Marxist and nationalist Peronist guerrillas).  For those most ingenuous Videla could be about to produce the documents that recorded the military crimes (officially, they were destroyed in 1983, just before the elections, under orders of the last de facto chief, general Reynaldo Bignone, now in prison). But that idea was demolished by a letter from Videla to the conservative newspaper La Nación, published  on May 21, rejecting some of author Reato’s passages.  Videla claimed that he had said, “according to reliable figures, seven or eight thousand had died.”  He further added, “Mind, I do not regret a thing and I sleep soundly and at peace every night.”...
However, we still have a long way to go for an answer as to what happened in the seventies.

** In spite of his denial, on 4 July, 2012, a court sentenced Videla to 50 years in prison for planning and executing a systematic plan to remove and hide babies born in captivity.

Argentina: the past won’t stay away (II)

Buenos Aires Herald
monday, july 2, 2012.   
   
LIBROS:
       De la culpa al perdón
Cómo construir una convivencia democrática
sobre las intolerancias del pasado.
Norma Morandini


Former Herald editor reviews a recently published book and essay, reminders that the desaparecidos remain at the forefront of Argentine's minds and that answers are still needed.

by Andrew Graham-Yooll
for the Herald.
 
If Argentina’s people are really intending to live in peace, we must be prepared to understand what happened to us in the seventies and before, and admit our share of responsibility.  Admission of this will take us to a measure of self-compassion and forgiveness.  That is the main message of an essay by a journalist and now a senator in Argentina’s congress, Norma Morandini.  She should know, her two younger siblings were “disappeared” in September 1977.
Norma Morandini’s recently published essay is a stream of personal and moral exploration and a search of Argentine society to try to explain recovery from a state of denial. It is a revealing account. Her own story begins in comfortable middle class Córdoba, then moves through the loss of those dear, exile, and from a distance she sees her mother grow out of grief, first, then enter battle to seek her lost children as one of the Mothers of the disappeared.  The next stage in Norma’s life as a journalist is a return to Argentina, guilt-ridden for having survived, rejected for jobs and discriminated against for having dead or “disappeared” members of her family, finally to re-invent herself as a campaigner for a new culture  and to enter politics.
Morandini’s  book, De la culpa al perdón, published by Sudamericana; is a painful personal essay written ten years ago, only published now. It has a challenging sub-heading, “How to build an open society above the intolerance of the past”.  The idea of forgiveness for the dictators of the past prompted an irate reader of Clarín’s Ñ cultural weekly to write in reply to a review and refuse compassion and pardon “for the criminals” of the dictatorship.   But Senator Morandini is not suggesting we all go into an exercise of religious pardon of the sins of the monsters.  She does propose that each one put their feelings in the balance and try to come to terms with their past as a necessary step into the present and beyond.
Senator Morandini said, “During the trial of the Juntas in 1985 the figures and statements of the victims were usually put in doubt.  For example, in those long hard six months of the trials of the Juntas, former captives said that prisoners were drugged, tied, and dropped into the sea. Nothing happened. It was more than ten years later when the executioner, naval officer Adolfo Scilingo confessed to Judge Baltasar Garzón in Spain, that the account of the bodies thrown from planes was true. Then it was believed. Human behavior makes it reasonable to give credit to the killer but not the victim…” There is no reason to accept Videla’s figures that “seven or eight thousand had to die”, Morandini argued.
“(In Argentina) we are a country that has not had a state policy to deal with events in our recent past.  Our education does not include the construction of a culture of human rights.” These two sentences in part define the aim of Morandini’s book, to develop a democratic “society above the intolerance of the past.” 
We have had thirty years of democratic formalities and we do not have democratic values.  This is because society has leaders who do not want to recognize their part or the role of their parties in the civic failure that led to the worst dictatorship in our history.   Here people are still trying to convince themselves that we are a peaceful nation without admitting we were cutting each others’ throats throughout the nineteenth century and killing people because we didn’t like what they said in the twentieth. 
“We have not been able to see the difference between guilt and responsibility."  
Morandini has not lost hope for recovery.  “For the first time in decades we are beginning to look at ourselves, our own mistakes.  This change is coming from a new generation, the youngest, the children, and even grandchildren of the activists, sometimes utopian, and the disappeared of the seventies. This makes me feel we are on our way to a political culture that includes responsibility.  At present we still have many bad old habits. We look at the crises in Europe and delight in their suffering, seeing it as a failure.  What we don’t see in their plight is also that the protesters are demanding more democracy.” 
We have to find a balance somewhere between being sucked down into evil which destroys us and choosing departure, escape, which robs us of the humanity needed to overcome.  It is a difficult balance.  The book has ‘washed my soul’ as the Brazilians say. 

We must try to learn the concept that one man is all men, the behaviour of one belongs to us all.” 

* http://www.buenosairesherald.com/article/105077/argentina-the-past-won’t-stay-away-