November 12, 2019 · 7:29 pm
A concept that Dawson discussed in the reading this week that stuck me was the “voyeuristic quality” of the testimonio, and the way in which third party readers on the outside looking in may assign Manichean dialogues in an attempt to understand the events that transpired in Latin America throughout the 1960s-1980s. Indeed, in retrospectively attempting to explain such violence and bloodshed, it is easier for the human mind to assign labels of ‘good’ and ‘evil’; how else are we to come to terms with such cruelty and the breaking of human bonds? These retellings run the risk of being revisionist in nature, as was the case of Llosa’s essay, but they also reveal the deep complexities of the divisions in Latin America. Earlier in this course, we discussed the myriad of voices that create a ‘holistic’ history (or rather, account of what happened) – and this is really exemplified in these documents. Where there exist acts of violence and oppression, there exists guilt, blame, and attempts of justification, which really just leads to an even more complicated and distorted narrative. Civil wars even further complicate things, as these atrocities must be brought home and justified to the people as necessary for ‘the greater good’.
Whilst I found this chapter particularly confusing as Dawson often jumped contexts to illustrate a wider idea, I did appreciate the sustained discussion on Peru, which was also greatly aided by Maxwell Cameron’s video. In Peru, there has definitely been an attempt at hiding the injustices that parties were complicit in. Whilst Fujimori may have been perceived as a sort of messiah in his quelling of the Shining Path, it is comforting to know that the country would not be complacent regarding the atrocities he had a hand in – but this also presents as the duality of governance in Latin America. In many contexts, such as Fujimori in Peru and Pinochet in Chile (and so, so many more), stability often came at the expense of the rule of law and sound judicial practices. This of course only acts to further erode democratic processes and institutions within a country – therefore, on top of coming to terms with these conflicts and attempting to ensure that justice is delivered, the country faces the daunting process of restoring faith in the democratic institutions necessary for the operation of a healthy liberal democracy. I am particularly interested in is how these conflicts are reconciled on a case by case basis. Indeed, in at least the Peruvian context, the Civil War has left a deep stain on the country’s ability to function as a democracy; a fear of dissent due to the perception that such dissent could lead to political instability and renewed violence is another legacy left behind that must be reconciled.
November 5, 2019 · 1:26 am
For this week’s blog post, I am choosing to focus on Che Guevara’s letter to the magazine Marcha – I think that it is very important (and interesting) to closely analyse the works of enduring figures that have had far-reaching and deeply profound impacts on the course of history.
An essential foundation of any revolution is a collective consciousness – Guevara discusses the construction of a revolutionary national consciousness, and where the individual stands in this new system. Upon my first read of the letter, I thought to myself that Guevara has a dangerous way of speaking – he talks of ‘original sin’ and emphatically suggests that the current generation, tainted as they are from their upbringing and socialisation in a system past, must ensure that their own generation and future generations are not perverted by these old institutions.
Retrospectively, the idea of propaganda is seen as negative, and perhaps this is why I read this argument of his with such caution. In a modern world that champions democracy and freedom, history tends to look unfavourably upon instances of indoctrination, as it seriously inhibits the individual’s ability to think independently and voice their own opinions and interests. However, that is why it is so useful to have primary sources such as these, where Guevara discusses indoctrination unabashedly in such detail. At the moment of writing, propaganda and indoctrination are not manipulative tools to steer a populace towards an agenda, they are a necessity to purge a populace of the exact underpinnings of a system that was overturned because it was undesirable. Guevara’s letter almost reads as a ‘how-to’ guide for other revolutionaries to utilise in understanding the necessary coordination process of revolution and conversion to communism.
The letter also contemplates the delicate balance between socialist and capitalist, and authoritarian and democratic. In his mind, socialism is good because of the collective goods and freedom from inequality that it offers (debatable whether this is a fact). However, he seems to understand that authoritarianism may be characterised as an evil due to the restriction on personal and economic freedoms. He seems to attempt to reconcile this by suggesting that “we socialists are more free because we are more fulfilled; we are more fulfilled because we are more free,” and that “the individual … has greater inner wealth and many more responsibilities.” However, I think that here there exists a fundamental error, especially when Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is considered. It is not possible to skip lower levels of needs and supplant esteem and self-actualisation in their place – it would render the whole process unsustainable. If lower, more basic needs are not met, it is not possible for the individual to remain complacent.
The final thought I had when completing this week’s readings was the state of revolution, and how this is retrospectively analysed by historians and political scientists. Guevara notes that “what is hard to understand for anyone who has not lived the revolutionary experience is that close dialectical unity which exists between the individual and the mass, in which both are interrelated, and the mass, as a whole composed of individuals, is in turn interrelated with the leaders”. I do believe that attempting to understand the masses was a way in which communist governments attempt to remain legitimate (whether genuinely or not is another question), however, in a revolutionary movement there does exist a connection between a leader and the masses that is unlike any relation that we in the Western world would ever have been privy to, especially where there is “the struggle for liberation against an external oppressor.” This kind of legitimacy, as Dawson notes, is perhaps why the people may be so forgiving towards the blunders of their leaders, even when these blunders cause great suffering for the people.
Guevara has an intense fixation on revolution in this letter, and in particular, the essence of a revolutionary spirit. Perhaps one of the reasons that some insist that the revolution in Cuba is still ongoing is because they understand that inspiring revolutionary spirit in a populace becomes dangerous once the government grows complacent and is no longer ‘revolutionary’. In class, we discussed what was entailed by the term ‘revolution’ – and a resounding idea was that revolution indicates something novel – whether this be a process or a quick turn.
“Socialism is young and makes mistakes.” This is such a foreign concept to someone from and socialised in a Western country – we have established institutions, standard operating procedures, stability. It is easy to retrospectively look upon periods of revolution with disdain for the decisions made in them, but can we, in a ‘stable’ society, even fathom the social, political, and economic turbulence of such biblical proportions? Retrospectively studying revolution suddenly becomes an incredibly complicated task.