February 23, 1981: "El 23-F"

Today is the 30th anniversary of the attempt to overthrow the democratic government in Spain, known as "el 23-F" for the date on which is occurred, February 23.  I have never known whether to call this day a "coup" or an "attempted coup," but I have seen both used with alarming interchangeability. On the one hand, it would seem right to call it an attempted coup. After all, no new government was installed and the attempt was, in the end, a failed one. Yet for a day, at least within the confines of the Congreso de los Diputados in Madrid, Spain was held hostage to the demands of the right-wing military golpistas that occupied Congress in their green uniforms and tri-cornered hats. Considering the fact that the attempted coup occurred just 6 years after Franco's death and 3 years after the new Spanish Constitution was passed, el 23-F must have been a terrifying reminder that the past was by no means past (see an overview of the events in this Guardian article from February 23, 1981).

On this day, Spain was about to elect a new prime minister, Leopoldo Calvo Sotelo (see obituary here); Congress was in session when suddenly, a swarm of civil guards, led by the lieutenant colonel Antonio Tejero, entered the building and began shouting for everyone to get down. Shots were fired -- Congress deputies dove beneath their desks, but a few remained seated (one of whom, Adolfo Suárez, helped provide the spark for Anatomía de un instante/Anatomy of a Moment, Javier Cercas's excellent dissection of that day).

At 1:15 a.m., King Juan Carlos I appeared on TV to defend the Constitution (this aspect of February 23 -- that is, the King's heroism -- has been a matter of fierce debate between those who support the monarchy and those who feel the King, who was put in place by Franco, needs to step aside). Order was eventually restored, and Tejero only served a year under house arrest. The date was a defining moment of the Spanish transition to democracy. The long-standing narrative of the harmonious, bloodless transition to democracy in Spain has been dismantled in recent years, but considered alongside some of the recent events in Egypt, Bahrain and Libya, it is hard not to marvel at the fact that Spain's young democracy was able to survive this day (of course, democracy had already been "in place" for several years in Spain).

Below, a few videos to help illustrate February 23, 1981. All are in Spanish only. I have yet to find a video in English on this day.

Probably the most well-known video sequence of that day:


An interesting re-creation of what was going on outside:


Trailer from a new film on February 23 (official website here):


For more, see special in Público

"Desaparecidos" (Disappeared) displays the work of Gervasio Sánchez

The CCCB (Centre de Cultura Contemporània de Barcelona) is currently showing the work of Gervasio Sánchez, a Spanish photojournalist that has spent a large part of his career documenting the "disappeared":

The Centre de Cultura Contemporània de Barcelona, La Casa Encendida de Obra Social Caja Madrid and the Museo de Arte Contemporáneo de Castilla y León simultaneously present the exhibition “The Disappeared”, curated by photojournalist Sandra Balsells. This photographic show by photojournalist Gervasio Sánchez addresses the theme of forced disappearance in Chile, Argentina, Peru, Colombia, El Salvador, Guatemala, Iraq, Cambodia, Bosnia-Herzegovina and Spain between 1998 and 2010.

“The Disappeared” represents a forceful document against forgetting and aims to salvage the suppressed memory of people disappeared during various wars and processes of repression. The presentation of the exhibition forms part of a major cultural action which, for the first time on the Spanish expository scene, involves the simultaneous exhibition in three cities (León, Barcelona and Madrid) of a macro photographic project centring on a single theme, by the same author.

Each centre will show a broad but completely different selection of photographs, making it a truly new expository proposal (MUSAC: 79 photographs and installation of portraits, "Cruelty and Pain", the joint work of Gervasio Sánchez and Ricardo Calero; La Casa Encendida: 73 photographs and 4 murals with 40 portraits; CCCB: 103 photographs and 4 murals with 40 portraits). The three exhibitions share the same narrative structure and thematic blocks, and all three end with a significant epilogue devoted to Spain, dealing with the present-day process of search for and exhumation of people who disappeared during the Civil War and the Francoist dictatorship.

In addition to photographic material, the exhibition includes two audiovisual recordings explaining the testimonies of the families of disappeared people and reproducing the ambient sound of detention centres and burial places.

In the framework of the exhibition, the three centres will also be organizing conferences to reflect on and debate the phenomenon of forced disappearance.

More information here (English) and at the photographer's personal blog (Spanish). Sánchez's blog, Los desastres de la guerra, which takes its name after the famous Goya grabado, contains detailed descriptions of some of the photographs displayed in the exhibit.

In this video, Sánchez describes his work on the "disappeared," the importance of documenting absence and the effects of forced disappearance on the victim's family members.He also discusses the world of (photo)journalism today.

January 28, 1986

Photos here

I have a mixed relationship with the sciences. Until high school, I loved participating in science fairs, contemplating black holes and listening to "2001: a Space Odyssey" and a National Geographic record called "Space Sounds." My scrapbook was full of newspaper clippings on new planetary moons, shuttle launches and supernovas. My sister and I would lie upside down on my canopy bed and pretend we were getting ready for lift-off. While most of my friends were busy seeing themselves as teachers or nurses, I proudly stated that I wanted to be a paleontologist, and then, an astronaut. In junior high, I participated in a science fair with a project on natural dyes. Another year, I made crystals. By the time I was ready for high school, I had won a few science prizes at my school and was really jazzed about the idea of studying biology. Unfortunately, chemistry and physics altered my earlier relationship with science, and although I still maintain a love for all things "outer space," I have long considered myself to be essentially a "language person," which is really kind of silly.

On January 28, 1986, I was not yet a teenager. That day, classes were cancelled due to snow -- as they often are this time of year in northeast Ohio -- and my mom had taken my friends and me to the ice skating rink where I had taken lessons for the past few years. At some point, I recall an adult coming to get us early, and being disappointed because we weren't ready to go. When I got home, my mom was crying and glued to the TV, which my father was also watching (a rarity, as he was not a big fan of TV). The space shuttle Challenger had exploded just 73 seconds after liftoff (video here). Perhaps because both my parents were teachers, they took this news especially hard; on the Challenger, teacher Christa McAuliffe would be making her first flight into space. In addition, one of the astronauts, Judy Resnick, was from Akron, just over an hour away from us. My reaction, outwardly, was measured. But inside, I just could not believe it. I felt crushed, as if I had been a partner in the same project as the astronauts -- space! Glorious space! How could this happen?

Later on in the day, we had to go to the store for something. It was a store with audio equipment of some kind and there were TVs playing. One of my vivid recollections is seeing and hearing the TVs playing the story. That night, and in the coming weeks, I did nothing but write in my journal about the Challenger disaster, recording details about the flight and the astronauts and my reaction to the new information being revealed. Even though I was still a child, I had the sense that something major had occurred that would change what happened in years to come. I wanted to be able to say, "I wrote about this when it happened and here are my reflections."

The Challenger disaster changed the face of the entire space program in the United States. It meant the end of this sort of golden era of space exploration (or at least, what we had seen as such) -- and this feels quite evident in my childhood scrapbook, when there are no longer any newspaper articles on new moons, photos of planetary rings or shuttle launches. As a professor, explaining this change (in terms of memory) can be a challenge.

In several of my classes, when we've spoken about photography and collective memory, I show a series of well-known photographs with no captions and ask students to identify the event depicted in the photo and also, to provide an approximate year or time period for the image. To me, the trails of white smoke against a dark blue sky (seen in the photo at the start of this post) are immediately identifiable as the Challenger explosion. Yet quite often, students are unsure what this is -- some recall the 2003 Columbia disaster instead.

It is unbelievable to me that today marks 25 years since the Challenger disaster. Though so much time has passed, it is easy to recall the pit in my throat that day when I learned about the explosion and what it meant for the seven astronauts and their families. In some ways, Challenger was my first real experience with death. It is one of those moments where I will "never forget where I was" when I heard the news.

Since 1986, space exploration, though it may have evolved considerably in some ways (the Hubble telescrope, the International Space Station, no moon exploration, suggestions of going to Mars, etc.), is still very much influenced by national and transnational politics. In the U.S. January 28, 1986 was a defining moment of 80s history (in addition to the images of the catastrophe, think of Ronald Reagan's "heroes" speech that night -- "a day for mourning and remembering"). The space program was suspended for several years. We no longer pursued shuttle launches and explorations with the same frequency or sense of "news-worthiness." In some ways, this is evident even in the manner in which the Columbia disaster was covered in February 2003. Today, it is difficult to say what is in store for NASA or future shuttle missions, particularly after proposed cuts by the Obama administration.

Wilderness vs. Wal-Mart

First, let's be blunt. I hate Wal-Mart. And let's be honest. I do shop there, less out of a desire to do so, and more because it is one of the only places to get what I need in the small town in which I live (the Wal-Mart here is of the old-fashioned early Sam Walton variety: it stocks the basics. The very basics). I hate Wal-Mart for the reasons that people everywhere hate it. It's the epitome of the postmodern corporation: it gives us cheap (finanically and materially), shoddy merchandise made in China by exploited workers, while promoting a carefully-constructed mythology of American values: helping out the working class, being "good for the community" and allowing mom to stay within her budget. In reality, the economic behavior of Wal-Mart in the United States and elsewhere should make them the enemy of the working class, particularly if we look at their atrocious record of workplace gender and racial discrimination (women and other minority groups missing out on promotions), and denial of health care to its workers by re-defining what "full-time" meant. For more, see Robert Greenwald's 2005 documentary Wal-Mart: the High Cost of Low Price.

Since the end of the Bush era, Wal-Mart has invested in a healthy dose of re-branding. Let's take a look at the "military industrial complex" Wal-Mart (original photo here):

The red, white and blue (and cement gray), clearly meant to emphasize the patriotic nature of shopping (as promoted by George W. Bush in 2007), fit nicely with the pretty star-cum-hyphen between Wal and Mart:

Of late, we have seen a move to this cleaner, more environmentally-conscious looking logo:

No matter how it defines itself to the public, Wal-Mart still has the reputation for deciding to set up shop where it is least welcome. Claiming that it will provide impoverished communities with a healthy supply of jobs, it seems to nearly always get its way when all is said and done. Its idea of "living better" is being able to do "one-stop shopping," where you can get groceries, prescriptions, clothes, a burger at McDonalds, an oil change for your car, a lawnmower and perhaps a bookcase or two all under one roof. On the way out, stop at the Wal-Mart gas station for some extra cheap gas too! Wal-Mart made other kinds of shopping -- the pharmacy, the clothing boutique, the family-owned hardware store -- extinct, turning town squares into a bunch of empty storefronts and making small business owners and employees largely unnecessary.

For some time now, Wal-Mart has been involved in a dispute in the state of Virginia over whether the former should be permitted to build near an historic battle site of the American Civil War. Wal-Mart argues, once again, that the construction will bring many new jobs to the area. It also states that it would be building in an area already dotted with retail locations. Those involved in the local tourism industry claim that what visitors desire is familiarity, convenience and access, which Wal-Mart can provide (see video). Historical preservationists are concerned by the shopping center's proposed proximity to the site of the Battle of the Wilderness, a turning point of the war. For a change, Republicans and Democrats have, together with historians and celebrities, teamed up to keep Wal-Mart out. This week, the case goes to court. It is hard to overlook the irony of the battle's name in its confrontation with the corporate giant. It is getting harder and harder to imagine any wilderness in this country.

When I was growing up, in 1980s Ohio, my parents took my sister and I on many exciting "one tank trip" vacations. We got to know our state parks, in other words. But three of the most thrilling summer trips were going from Ohio-Florida (in a brown Valiant with vinyl seats and no air conditioning!), Ohio-Great Smoky Mountains and Ohio-Maine. There were no Wal-Marts to stop at along the way. And yes, a certain amount of "wilderness" was involved -- we were never sure where we would end up and what we might find there. We had to pack for the unexpected. We drove all day, until my parents were too tired to go any further -- and then we found a hotel. We always had enough gas, because we were never sure where the next gas station would be -- it's not like now, where there is one at every highway exit. The littering of the American landscape with Wal-Marts and other similar structures makes our universe always 24-7, always within reach. We don't have to rely on ourselves, because Wal-Mart will always be there to help us out of a jam, as this 2008 map from Wal-Mart Watch suggests:

The impact of Wal-Mart construction is not only environmental and cultural, but, as the case in Virginia demonstrates, historical. Does it really matter, as some claim, that the proposed store location would fall outside the actual core of the Civil War battlefield, where some 30,000 were killed, injured or disappeared? Does building a perimeter of commerce -- with Wal-Mart at the helm -- around the battle area defame or re-shape this "site of memory"?

There are those who argue -- including the Pulitzer prize-winning historian James McPherson -- that the building site that would be occupied by Wal-Mart was in and of itself part of the battle area:

McPherson is expected to testify that the store's site and nearby acres were blood-soaked ground and a Union "nerve center" in the battle. Grant's headquarters and his senior leaders were encamped near the site of the proposed store and Union casualties were treated there or in an area destined to be the store's parking lot, McPherson wrote in a summary of his testimony.

"Among other things, thousands of wounded and dying soldiers occupied the then open fields that included the Walmart site, which is where many of the Union Army hospital tents were located during the battle," McPherson wrote.

The pro-Wal-Mart side claims, on the other hand, that "'There is no indication that any significant historical event occurred on this land.'"

It will be interesting to see how this story develops, especially given the upcoming commemoration of the Civil War. The interest in "historical preservation" in the United States is very uneven. On the one hand, this country seems to favor a "throw away" architectural practice -- build one, build more, and if it doesn't work, tear it down and build it again. Or, if it's old, it's no good. The U.S. is a largely forward-looking society -- rather than honoring "tradition," it likes to see "progress," which often means the building and opening of new, often unnecessary, stores. But at the same time, it is also a country -- like others, I suppose -- that engages in a very selective monumentalization -- Mt. Rushmore, the Statue of Liberty, the new World Trade Center.

The American Civil War is a defining piece of U.S. history. Why does Wal-Mart need to build right there, near the battle site of the Battle of the Wilderness? Surely, it is not the only location available. It seems more likely that the company hopes to capitalize on the challenges of the current economy -- perhaps, by linking itself to perceived demands of local tourism as well.

Obama's Arizona Speech

"If this tragedy prompts reflection and debate, as it should, let's make sure it's worthy of those we have lost."

(At some point soon, I will write a post on the Arizona shootings, and this speech).

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Commemorating the American Civil War

Since around 2004, my main area of research has been on contemporary literature and film of the Spanish Civil War and Francoism. Therefore, whenever I hear "civil war," my first reaction is to think of Spain. The American Civil War (1861-65) is, quite frankly, something that has never really piqued my interest. I guess when I think of this period of American history, the image that comes to mind is my high school A.P (advanced placement) history class, where the teacher spent a large part of the period reading the newspaper while we "did homework." I did not learn anything in that class, and I did not get college credit for it either (instead, in college, at the wonderful suggestion of an adviser, I ended up taking "Black Experience I and II," which were two of the best history classes never taught in high school -- at least, not mine). In addition to my dreary high school history experience, the American Civil War also brings to mind Civil War re-enactments or the burning passion some still feel for the Confederate flag. It's difficult for me to relate to the desire to live or pay homage to our history in either of these ways.

Over the past few weeks, I have begun to notice more and more mentions of the American Civil War. One of my favorite poetry sites, Poetry Daily, featured James Doyle's "Civil War Photograph." I heard that the USPS will be releasing commemorative Civil War stamps in 2011. And today's NYT features a new occasional series, "Disunion," which "follows the Civil War as it unfolded." Of course, the renewed interest in the war is due to the fact that 2011 is the 150th anniversary of its beginning. We are sure to see an increase in the number of films, publications and commentary -- and probably, commemorative activities -- on the war.

The 150th commemoration of the start of the American Civil War comes at a time of extreme political vitriol in the United States. It is not at all surprising to encounter some rather casual and more explicit Civil War allusions in the verbal sparring between Democrats, Republicans and Tea Partiers and in the neo-confederate tributes to the so-called "War for Southern Independence" such as the ones below:

• April 2010: governor Bob McDonnell (R-VA) declares "Confederate History Month," failing to mention slavery as a cause for the Civil War 
• June 2010: in reference to the Arizona immigration bill, Glenn Beck claims "I think we're headed for a civil war"
• October 19, 2010: Time magazine publishes the commentary "Will the Federal Reserve's Ben Bernanke Cause a Civil War?"
• December 2010: South Carolina's "Secession Gala," which remembered the state as the first to secede from the U.S., was met by protests (of course, "states' rights" is a huge Tea Party focal point, so it's a convenient way to tie the Civil War memory to current day agendas)

I must admit, I feel a new interest in learning about the American Civil War, thanks to studying the Spanish Civil War -- and particularly, how it continues to be remembered. But as with the SCW, I am especially intrigued by how the memory of war continues to mark the contemporary political landscape. Obviously, there is quite a difference between "remembering" a war that began 150 years ago and one that occurred in the 20th century (2011 is 75 years since the start of the war in Spain). The case of Spain is complicated, besides, by 36 years of dictatorship, the "pact of silence" and the fact that mass graves continue to be uncovered today (though of course, a majority of these graves are not from the war itself, but the brutal postwar repression). In the U.S., no one can say they recall the war, while in Spain, the war's survivors have passed or will do so soon. Nonetheless, the shelf life of a civil war is long. 150 years may seem like an eternity, but  many are more than happy to make the past quite present, if only to help feed current political interests. In that, Spain and the U.S. have something in common.

This Blog in 2011

This blog has been on hiatus for nearly 2 months now. During this time, I have occasionally contemplated ending its brief run, because it is simply quite a challenge to write and maintain two blogs, one in Spanish and one in English. In addition, when I began this blog one year ago, I really wanted it to be more than the "copy and paste" variety; however, that is what it inevitably became -- a place to catalog and archive events and publications, rather than a serious exploration of the politics of memory and amnesia. Of course, not every post can be a miniature essay or offer an extensive review, but I do believe that every blog must provide at least some original content -- otherwise, it is not a blog worth reading (at least, to me).

For the time being, I have decided to continue this blog, but to worry less about updating it and posting every little memory-related news item. I am going to set the goal of 2 posts or so a month, and if it goes beyond that, great. I am also interested in maintaining this blog in the event I teach a memory studies seminar again (hopefully, next year). I am pleased that, even in the absence of posts over the past few weeks, readers have continued to find this blog and make use of it. Thanks for stopping by, and if you are so inclined, please leave a comment.