The following sections will flesh out these claims. The first section sketches the memory âmini-boomâ that has propelled the retornados back into the public sphere since the early 2000s. This boom of memory comes with what I perceive as a âlack of history.â The subsequent sections will then draw a more detailed picture of the agitated and the soothing memories of the Return that dominate the current engagement with the retornados. In each of these sections, I will trace defining features of these present-day narratives of traumatic loss and successful integration back to their emergence in the 1970s and 1980s. Unearthing such âpath-dependenciesâ helps understand the shape these narratives have taken, but this genealogical perspective does not imply that their meanings stayed exactly the same. While the ways in which politicians, journalists, scholars, and activists constructed the Return in the past continue to inform todayâs understandings of it, the meanings and functions of a narrative in the public sphere change over time and according to historical context. The conclusion of this chapter will suggest some preliminary ideas on this relationship of continuity, change, and context.
The Recent Memory Boom: Two Stories, (Almost) No History
Whether built on the loss- or the integration-baseline, memories of the Return have starkly increased in quantity and in visibility over the course of the last decade or so. This is a new situation, and even quite a spectacular reversal. Although governments and government-influenced media after 1974 did not maybe devote as much attention to the migrants as their dramatic impact on the demographic and social structure of postcolonial Portugal would have warranted (Instituto Democracia e Liberdade 2015, 34, 46, 55, 61; Matos 2015; I. Lourenço 2018), in the first years of the young democracy, there was nonetheless a public debate about these migrants, and retornado arguably constituted a basic concept of political communication employed in newspapers, government documents, parliamentary debates, and coffeehouse conversations alike. From the mid-1980s, however, when the assimilation of the diverse people lumped together under this label seemed complete, through the late 1990s, when new perspectives on the colonial wars and their aftermath hesitantly emerged in Portugal (Antunes 2015; Campos 2017, 38â108), the retornados had become virtually invisible in public discourse (Lubkemann 2002).
Since the turn of the millennium, the tables have turned again. The retornado label, contested as it always was and continues to be (Kalter 2018), has clearly regained public visibility. The forceful return it has made is connected to the notion of memory. An impressive number of recent testimonies, novels, and journalistic accounts are aimed at a readership ready to spend money on a nostalgic depiction of the bygone African empire, on the sensationalist recalling of wartime horrors, on adventurous tales of flight from the colonies, or on the edifying accounts of retornados building a new life for themselves in post-revolutionary Portugal (for examples, see Fonseca 2009; Dacosta 2013a; Curado 2015; Canelas 2017). However, the resurgence of retornado memories also extends to more complex and challenging engagements with the settlersâ life in the colonies, their departure, and their integration into Portuguese societyâthe best-known examples of this âhigh literatureâ on the Return being the acclaimed novels by Isabela Figueiredo and Dulce Maria Cardoso (Figueiredo 2009; Cardoso 2011; see also Mendes 2017).
This range from the narratively more straightforward and more obviously commercially motivated writings, on the one hand, to more nuanced and auto-reflexive literary engagements, on the other, is mirrored in the realm of audiovisual media: on one end of the spectrum, there is the public televisionâs prime time series Depois do Adeus [After Saying Goodbye] (2013). Combining meticulous research and archival footage of historical events in 1975/1976 with a fictional plot built around the Mendonças, a highly likeable family of retornados from Angola, the show skilfully combines the loss-narrative with the integration-narrative in a way that resonated with many retornados, their descendants, and regular Portuguese viewers. At the same time, the makers of the series narratively use the somewhat âexternalâ viewpoint of its retornado characters, who find themselves thrown into the confusion of Portugalâs âhot summer,â in order to lampoon the PREC-phase of the Carnation Revolution and to celebrate the ânormalisationâ that followed (chapter 11 in the volume; Menezes 2016). On the other end of the spectrum, there are commercially less successful documentary films such as Diana Andringaâs Dundo, MemĂłria Colonial [Dundo, Colonial Memory], or Uma Vida Mais Simples [A Simpler Life] by InĂȘs Alves. Avoiding stereotypical narratives and fictions of authenticity, they reflect not only on the idiosyncratic life stories of retornados, but also on the socially mediated and constructed character of memory itself, as well as its fallibility (Andringa 2009; Alves 2013).
In short, the recent resurgence of retornado memories has brought different voices to the public sphere. Not all of them are confined by the narrative protocol of traumatic loss or miraculous integration; instead, some explore the grey areas between and beyond both. Furthermore, academic analyses, prompted by and keeping pace with the upswing of retornado voices, have mushroomed in disciplines like anthropology, cultural studies, literary studies, and postcolonial studies. In December 2017, the first public conference on memories of the Return in Geneva, followed by a second one at the University of Lisbon in March 2018, showcased much of this recent work. These academic engagements with the phenomenon address increasingly diverse primary sources and use sophisticated analytical tools in order to make sense of them (see, for example, Peralta and Oliveira 2016). But while in some regards they present a âcold,â analytic perspective on memory, at the same time they also offer themselves as a âhot,â engaged contribution to public images of the retornados. As illustrated by the first exhibition on the topic, curated by anthropologist Elsa Peralta in 2015, memory analysts can thus also be memory makers (see Peralta and Oliveira 2016). They sometimes consciously claim this role: with regard to the Return, sociologist Sheila Khan (2016) recently advocated a duty of âpostmemory as an act of civic courageâ no less. That scholars with a background in postcolonial studies commit in such strong terms to making alternative memories visible must be understood in the double context of the national imperial my...