Remembering Violence

How Nations Grapple with their Difficult Pasts

Robin Maria DeLugan

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2020
• Print ISBN: 9780367534813
• eBook ISBN: 9781000292008
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Education
• Subtopic: Education Counseling

This volume examines the ways in which the violent legacies of the twentieth century continue to affect the concept of the nation. Through a study of three societies' commemoration of notorious episodes of 1930s state violence, the author considers the manner in which attention to the state violence authoritarianism, and exclusions of the last century have resulted in challenges to dominant conceptions of the nation. Based on extensive ethnographic research in El Salvador, Spain, and the Dominican Republic, Remembering Violence focuses on new public sites of memory, such as museum exhibitions, monuments, and commemorations – powerful loci for representing ideas about the nation – and explores the responses of various actors – civil society, government, and diasporic citizens – as well as those of UN and other international agencies invested in new nation-building goals. With attention to the ways in which memory practices explain ongoing national exclusions and contemporary efforts to contest them, this book will appeal to scholars across the social sciences and humanities with interests in public memory and commemoration.

1 When nations remember past violence

The world is a mosaic of nation-states. Emerging in the late eighteenth century, the modern nation-state form has become a powerful paradigm for the rights and responsibilities of citizenship and for understanding the nature of belonging. Comprised of an autonomous state that governs a population within a bounded territory, the nation-state depends on inhabitants sharing some degree of common culture, history, and language. Creating “imagined communities” (Anderson 1983) that identify with the nation is not just a singular historical event, but an ongoing process. It is the constant work of state and society to generate confidence in the idea of the nation and strengthen national identity. Representations of the nation’s history are useful for consolidating and promoting this sense of collective identity. Museums, monuments, and commemorations are all tools for disseminating official and popular ideas about heritage and a shared past. Their depictions inform historical memory and collective understanding about earlier periods of the nation, and these, in turn, influence citizens’ commitment to the contemporary nation. Sites and practices of historical memory not only educate the populace but visitors to the nation as well. And what is deemed important to know about history can represent the core values of a society to also authorize present-day nation-state dynamics (for better or for worse).

The importance of national history is often instilled in civic traditions that celebrate certain events such as independence, war, and other hallmark moments. Common symbols such as flags, hymns, and holidays are enshrouded in ritual that aim to inspire emotional connection to the nation and its past (Turner 2006). However, what is deemed essential to commemorate and celebrate is selective. To illustrate, with some important exceptions, until recently there has been a tendency for national societies to be silent about the difficult heritage of early twentieth-century state violence, authoritarianism, and dictatorship, and, in particular the way the events of this period fundamentally shaped ideas about the modern nation. There is often a lag in time between an atrocity such as state violence and efforts to commemorate that past event. For example, the term Vergangenheitsbewältigung, which literally translates as “coping with the past,” has become a key concept in post-1945 German culture and describes the way in which Germans discuss and confront their history. That said, it was not until January 27, 1995, on the 50th anniversary of the liberation of the Auschwitz concentration camp, that Holocaust Remembrance Day was established as a national day of remembrance and first commemorated the following year. This event was followed by the creation of important Holocaust-focused museums and monuments in Germany. How, when, and why national societies commemorate past violence are the topic of this book.

By investigating how three national societies today are beginning to examine 1930s state violence followed by decades of authoritarianism, this book studies how historical memory focuses new attention on incidents that shaped the very meaning of the nation and national belonging. In El Salvador, Spain, and the Dominican Republic, we find civil society actors challenging the state’s reluctance to deal with the legacies of the grim past. In the three case studies, new public sites and practices serve as “memory interventions” (MacDonald 2009) that bring the terrible yesteryear into the present. Specifically, I examine how the interventions depict the nation’s difficult heritage to draw awareness to the historical marginalization of racial and ethnic minorities and regional and political identities. Each example describes how efforts to remember the 1930s links to present-day contexts and conflicts, and as such, how memory itself is connected to generating alternative ways of reimagining the nation.

In the case studies presented in this book, there are diverse reasons why societies are now undertaking important work to commemorate infamous state violence that occurred more than 80 years ago. Among the motivations are an interest in a more honest depiction of the history and basis upon which to understand the nation, to make apologies and to rectify past wrongs; to reinforce shared values and democratic norms and remind society what should not be allowed to happen again, to challenge the hegemonic ideas that define national belonging such as racial and ethnic exclusions, a commitment to a more just and inclusive society in line with norms of global society, and to participate in the ongoing construction and reconstruction of the nation by asserting a different way to imagine the nation and its future.

Over the years, scholars have acquainted us with many details of the 1930s atrocities under consideration, about which the three nation-states involved were generally silent and did not engage with their difficult past until now. The reasons for maintaining silence are complex. Sometimes, it has been justified as for the good of society, i.e. “don’t open old wounds,” “let’s look forward, not backward.” There was sometimes concern as well that contemporary society might become polarized around early twentieth-century partisan contests. The impunity of undemocratic regimes and the fear of citizens about repercussions for bringing attention to the past have also contributed to this public silence, as did the intergenerational trauma of state violence. Although scholars have provided important documentation about the specific past atrocities being remembered today, state archives may have omissions that promote a silencing of the past (Trouillot 1995).

Silence can take the form of a general absence of reference to episodes of state violence from official and public representations about the nation’s history and heritage. This ability of history to silence or be silenced prompts some scholars to juxtapose history and memory, with memory providing the resources for an alternative and perhaps more comprehensive understanding of the past (Ricouer 2009). Against the cold detachment of history and historiography, memory is theorized as active and living (Nora 1989). In the process of understanding the dynamics of history, memory, and nation, we can study and theorize why there was silence, why a lag emerged in state and society’s endeavors to address the difficult past, and importantly, what motivates a contemporary nation to confront legacies of violence, repression, and discrimination.

In contrast with long-held practices that silence the past, many societies emerging from conflict today immediately emphasize the importance of commemorating and maintaining ongoing public attention to the recent difficult past (as examples consider Argentina and Chile emerging from the “Dirty Wars” of the 1970–1980s, South Africa as it emerged from Apartheid in the 1980s, or Rwanda addressing genocide in the 1990s). Agencies of the United Nations, when brought in as arbiters for truth and justice, routinely prescribe commemoration as an important tool of symbolic reparation to be undertaken in post-conflict societies (Walker 2017). Whether arriving early or arriving late, what cannot be denied is that such memory sites and practices are proliferating around the world. Some dub it an “era of commemoration” (Nora 1996), or when the memory projects aim to atone for atrocities, as “an era of apology” (Gibney et al. 2008). Responding to our “era,” the memorial museum has emerged as a new type of institution that specifically commemorates atrocities (Williams 2007).

Nation-building is ongoing and dynamic

Far from viewing the nation-state as a settled political and socio-cultural configuration, this book emphasizes nation-building as ongoing and dynamic. With the provocative title “The Lies that Bind,” Anthony Appiah (2018) includes the nation (“country”) among five important intersecting identity categories: “creed, country, color, class, and culture” (to specifically list gender would presumably disrupt the alliteration). Appiah reminds us that power dimensions surround these collective identities and that they are continually constructed and reconstructed. This book, Remembering Violence: How Nations Grapple with Their Past Troubles, selects three case studies and probes not only how nations have been imagined in the aftermath of twentieth-century violence but also how they are being reimagined today. Whereas a more comprehensive study might endeavor to examine how all intersecting identity categories are articulated and impacted in the process of nation-building, for they inevitably are, instead I choose to focus on the legacies of 1930s state violence that are manifestations of bias against race, ethnicity, and regional and political identities, and as such, populations that became marginalized as the nation’s “other.” Through these examples, we can theorize the broader power dynamics of culture and politics, and of states and citizens, in the necessarily always ongoing projects of nation-building.

Common to each of the three case studies is that in the 1930s they experienced infamous state violence followed by years of authoritarian government, and now these atrocities are being recalled today through new public sites of historical memory, including museums, monuments, and commemorations. What is it about the 1930s? We can think about specific ways that each of the three nations was being shaped in this period, and we can also think more broadly about the 1930s as a time when national societies reeled from a global economic depression and many countries faced a rise in totalitarianism. Writing specifically about Latin America, Jean Franco (2013) refers to this historical period as “cruel modernity,” describing a period characterized by authoritarianism and the forging of nations under tyrannical government and brutal capitalism. That cruelty extended beyond Latin America, and as a case in point, in addition to El Salvador and the Dominican Republic, I have included a case study on Spain. The three nations discussed in this book were all subjected to dictatorship during the 1930s and beyond, into the later decades of the twentieth century, which helps explain how hegemonic ideas about the nation and its exclusions were instilled and reinforced.

More recent experiences of democratization, including attention to norms of the international community, are factors for understanding why the three societies are finally ready to grapple with the difficult past. Democratization allows for the greater participation of new civil society actors and actions, including protest, critique, and dissent. Ideally, it also permits more diversity of ideas to shape the future of the nation. The course of democratization thus enables efforts to break silence and bring out the truth about the national past. Of specific interest to this book about new historical memory projects is how present-day projects illuminate authoritarianism and state violence shaped ideas about national identity and belonging by reinforcing racism, xenophobia, repression, and injustice. As such, we can examine today’s attention to historical memory in relation to ongoing democratic transitions and aspirations.

Shared histories

Why these three countries? This book is inspired by more than 20 years of personal research tracking nation-building processes in post-civil war El Salvador. The actors, historical memory projects, and advances that I chronicled for El Salvador over the years remind me that changes which influence the experience of national belonging can and do occur over time, and that even modest efforts to rectify injustices and transform national society can have profound results. In 2012 after simultaneously learning about national efforts in Spain to recuperate historical memory about the Spanish Civil War (1936–1939), and how in the Dominican Republic a new museum exhibit and annual commemorations had brought fresh attention to an infamous 1937 massacre of Haitians and black Dominicans, I expanded my research to see similarities and differences in how and why this new public awareness arose about each nation’s difficult past.

There is also an opportunity to reflect on the shared histories that connect El Salvador, Spain, and the Dominican Republic. Obviously, centuries of Spanish colonization link the three case studies, with special relevance to the embedding of durable ethno-racial hierarchies that positioned Indians and blacks at the margins of the nation-state. Later in the nineteenth century, Spain’s hegemony over Latin America gave way to the hegemony of the United States. Following the Monroe Doctrine (1823) and Spain’s defeat in the Spanish-American War (April–August 1898), the United States assumed a role in the governments and economies that emerged throughout much of Latin America including Caribbean nations. This was often characterized by the overthrow of democracies and support for military dictatorships.¹ For example, following each case of 1930s violence examined herein, the United States supported the dictators who remained in office for decades to follow. One of the reasons it did so was because common to the 1930s political landscapes in Europe and the American continent were geo-political antagonisms that pitted communism against free market capitalism throughout most of the twentieth century. With tacit approval of the United States, states retaliated against so-called “communists” along with racial and ethnic others for challenging the authoritarian national order.

Further, a lens on shared histories can also illuminate other transnational and transregional connections. Even before Spain itself was ready to confront its difficult past, in the late twentieth century, Spanish judges applied universal law in court cases that challenged impunity in post-dictatorial Chile and Argentina (e.g. Wilson 1999). And in 2013, when the government of the Dominican Republic rescinded citizenship of Dominicans of Haitian descent retroactive to 1929, other governments and international organizations decried the injustice. This points to the circulation of universal human rights norms and mutual influences within Europe and Latin America, including Caribbean nations, and between these regions. Finally, the historical memory projects in the three countries examined herein illustrate the mobilization of common types of international actors, whether migrating and diasporic citizens, or international institutions, such as the United Nations or non-governmental organizations. These involvements underscore the value of situating specific projects of historical memory and nation-buil...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Series Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Table of Contents
• Acknowledgments
• 1 When nations remember past violence
• 2 Indigeneity and nation in El Salvador
• 3 Spain: democratization and the right to decide the future nation
• 4 “That is not my constitution”: borders and exclusions in the Dominican Republic
• 5 Remembering violence and reimagining the future nation
• Bibliography
• Index