On Nocturnal Statue Removals

A statue of Joseph Stalin has been removed from its perch overnight (the short report follows). For those interested in the subject, I recommend this more extensive article published by the BBC, which outlines similar dictator-removal acts. I am all for the removal of dictatorial statues and symbols, but I think these nighttime removals are a bit sneaky, and don't really help install confidence in local politics. Covering up a video camera, doing the removal under a tarp or stopping by at 3 a.m. with a few pulleys and chains in itself suggests an authoritarian or paternalistic stance toward memory. It almost seems as if the state is telling the people, "we don't trust you, so we have to take matters into our own hands." These removals also beg the question, "what happens to these objects once they are removed?" Where are they stored? Who will see them, if anyone? What will replace these statues? How will these replacement objects be received?

I am reminded of a recent article from the Spanish press on the work of Fernando Sánchez Castillo (Madrid, 1970), who created several pieces on the Francoist legacy now showing as part of the PhotoEspaña exhibit. The pieces include 3 photographs, a video and a spinning head of Francisco Franco. In the article, Sánchez Castillo spoke of the difficulties he encountered when hoping to gain access to remnants of the Franco era. In 2002, the artist began a project - really, a sort of campaign -- that involved having several blind friends visit and touch statues of the dictator that had been removed upon the passage of the Law of Historical Memory (2007). However, only one government authority - the Barcelona city  hall -- granted him permission to peruse the dictatorship storage unit. As the artist put it, the challenges he faced show that "we still have a serious problem with our history: we don't know what to do with it."

Fernando Sánchez Castillo, Tactic, 2010. Courtesy of the artist and Juana de Aizpuru Gallery. © Fernando Sánchez Castillo

From: The New York Times

June 25, 2010
Statue of Stalin Removed from His Birthplace
By ELLEN BARRY

MOSCOW — Citizens in the Georgian city of Gori, the birthplace of Stalin, woke on Friday to discover that a towering statue of the dictator erected 48 years ago had been removed from the central square during the night, in another potent symbol of Georgia’s rejection of its Soviet legacy.

Georgian authorities took the statue down under conditions of complete secrecy, temporarily blocking the lens of a closed-caption camera that offers a live video feed from the square, according to the online news service civil.ge.

The city was badly battered by Russian bombing raids during the 2008 war, and officials said they would replace the statue with a monument to victims of Russian aggression. Still, the move is likely to anger some in Gori, which vigorously capitalized on its status as Stalin’s birthplace throughout the Soviet era and still offers a range of exhibits and impersonators to nostalgic tourists.

Spanish Judge Baltasar Garzón Could Go on Trial

I am feeling quite fired up about the case that follows. So fired up, in fact, that I wrote the following, in English, on my Spanish blog:

Today the Spanish memorialist blogosphere has been on fire with the news that Judge Baltasar Garzón is most likely headed to the Tribunal Supremo (TS), or Spanish Supreme Court, to face charges that he knowingly acted beyond his legal capacities when he spearheaded a criminal and judicial investigation into the crimes of Francoism. While I do not profess a mastery of the Spanish court system, by following the Garzón case closely in the Spanish and international press, I have been able to condense the story to the following points, which I have laid out in a more-or-less chronological fashion here:

1. Garzón was the first to open a penal cause about, and to use the phrase "crimes against humanity" in relation to, the crimes of the Franco repression.
   
2. Garzón's October 2008 "auto," prepared with the help of countless, faceless family members, historians, forensic anthropologists and others, contained the names -- not estimates, names - of 114, 266 victims of the Franco repression.
   
3. Garzón requested death records from Church and State - I am unclear about whether any were ever turned over to him.
   
4. After complaints he was out of bounds and in direct opposition to the 1977 Ley de Amnistía (Amnesty Law), Garzón dropped the case, essentially turning the task over to regional government authorities (November 2008).
   
5. Several ultra-right wing groups (Manos Limpias, FE de las JONS) filed "complaints" in the Supreme Court over Garzón's alleged breach of the law.
6. The Court refused to dismiss the claims made by the above groups. Incidentally, there are several personal and political conflicts of interest between Supreme Court justices and Baltasar Garzón. As an example, in one case, we are talking about a judge who signed a petition against the 2007 Law of Historical Memory.
   

A number of influential scholars have begun to suggest that we are witnessing the beginning of the end for Garzón. We could be, they say, just days away from watching Garzón himself go on trial. If this is the case, it is a shameful moment for the Spanish judicial system. A shameful moment when, rather than focusing our attention on the original case at hand, we must instead anticipate the case brought against this judge. It is sad, it is perverse, it is astounding, that it has come to this point. Judge Garzón's "auto" was a powerful, visible, necessary condemnation of what Antonio Elorza, Paul Preston and respected scholars like them have called the "Spanish genocide." If not Garzón to pursue this cause, then who? Clearly, the judge's investigation was necessary in light of the failures of the Law of Historical Memory and the unfinished business of Spain's own "don't ask, don't tell" transitional-era politics.

Whether we like it or not, Baltasar Garzón is the closest thing Spain has to the face of justice. If he goes on trial, the charge will technically be "prevarication" -- an instance of deliberate over-reaching of jurisdiction. Yet what ought to be clear to everyone observing this case is that the unspoken issue on trial here will really be Garzón's decision to pursue crimes of the Francoist repression as "crimes against humanity." Garzón's "auto" -- much more severe and damning than the documents that evolved into the Law of Historical Memory -- means, for some, not just a vague sort of "questioning of the past" or staining of an inheritance. The auto marks a contestation of the entire transitional process and those charged with writing it. The elephant in the room is no longer the decades-long silence about Franco-era crimes; what Garzón messed with is the foundation on which Spain's young democracy lies.

Note: please stay tuned for further discussion of this case. If you are unfamiliar with Judge Garzón, he is perhaps most noted for his persecution of Augusto Pinochet in London in 1998. BG is known as a bit of a judicial "diva" -- in Spanish, he is called "el juez estrella," or star judge. However, does this persona really matter when we are talking about the sort of grave issues Garzón has tackled?

Recommended reading: Daniel Rothenberg's interview with Judge Garzón, "Let Justice Judge" and the NYT page of news about BG

Brazil launches its own "historical memory project"

In 2007, the Spanish Socialist government, led by President José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero, passed the controversial Law of Historical Memory. The law was intended to provide a public condemnation of the Franco regime, by offering symbolic and economic reparations to victims of the dictatorship (and in some cases, descendants of those victims as well). The law also promised removal of Francoist symbols, except in the case of so-called "artistic religious" reasons. One of the most publicized articles also prohibited political demonstrations at the Valle de los Caídos site, the grotesque Fascist mausoleum where Franco is buried. The site had become the stomping ground of ultra-right Phalangist groups, particular on November 20, the anniversary of Franco's death. In addition to these areas, perhaps one of the most important features of the law was its promise to locate, identify and exhume the thousands of mass graves scattered throughout Spain, graves which are not just remnants of the war, but of the brutal postwar repression. On another occasion, I will write more in depth on the case of Spain, but as I already do this on a daily basis on my other blog, I would like to note here the case of Brazil.

Apparently, the President of Brazil, Luiz Inácio da Silva, has launched a similar project to that of Spain. I first saw this news item in ABC, the conservative Spanish paper, and I haven't been able to find it in English, so I will translate the first paragraph of the original article:

Lula lanza en Brasil su proyecto de «ley de la memoria histórica»

VERÓNICA GOYZUETA | SAO PAULO (ABC.es)

El presidente brasileño, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, anunció ayer la creación de una comisión para investigar los crímenes cometidos durante la dictadura militar, y castigar las violaciones de derechos humanos ocurridas entre 1964 y 1985. Lula declaró que lo más importante es «dilucidar la responsabilidad de los militares». El presidente, que también fue perseguido durante el régimen militar, afirmó que «sufriremos menos si hacemos de nuestros muertos héroes».

The Brazilian president, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, announced yesterday the creation of a commission to investigate crimes committed during the military dictatorship, and to punish human rights violations carried out between 1964 and 1985. Lula affirmed that of most importance will be "elucidating the responsibility of the military." The president, who was also persecuted during the military regime, stated that "we will suffer less if we make heroes of our dead."

I was originally attracted to this article via my Google Reader, when I spotted the phrase "ley de memoria histórica." However, as I quickly noted, the news article does not ever quote Lula as talking about this law, in the Brazilian or any other context. ABC has never been supportive of Zapatero, or of the Law of Historical Memory, so I'm sure the title was a "wink" to readers. Let's just say I usually read El País.

In any case, regarding Brazil, I think it is always a step forward when leaders address the crimes of past regimes. It may not always be popular at the moment, but it is better than waiting, like Spain did, some 30 years after Franco's death. It is interesting to note that Lula and Michelle Bachelet, the current Chilean president, suffered under military dictatorships (Bachelet and her family were tortured under Pinochet). Each is now trying to deal with that past.