Dirty War" Juliana Theresa Reineman Louisiana State University and Agricultural and Mechanical College, [email protected]
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Louisiana State University LSU Digital Commons LSU Doctoral Dissertations Graduate School 2011 Hear (no) evil, see (no) evil, speak (no) evil: artistic representations of Argentina's "Dirty War" Juliana Theresa Reineman Louisiana State University and Agricultural and Mechanical College, [email protected] Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.lsu.edu/gradschool_dissertations Part of the Comparative Literature Commons Recommended Citation Reineman, Juliana Theresa, "Hear (no) evil, see (no) evil, speak (no) evil: artistic representations of Argentina's "Dirty War"" (2011). LSU Doctoral Dissertations. 1002. https://digitalcommons.lsu.edu/gradschool_dissertations/1002 This Dissertation is brought to you for free and open access by the Graduate School at LSU Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in LSU Doctoral Dissertations by an authorized graduate school editor of LSU Digital Commons. For more information, please [email protected]. HEAR (NO) EVIL, SEE (NO) EVIL, SPEAK (NO) EVIL: ARTISTIC REPRESENTATIONS OF ARGENTINA‘S ―DIRTY WAR‖ A Dissertation Submitted to the Graduate Faculty of the Louisiana State University and Agricultural and Mechanical College in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in The Interdisciplinary Program in Comparative Literature by Juliana Reineman B.A., California State University, 1999 M.A., California State University, 2002 M.A. Tulane University, 2005 May 2011 Acknowledgments The individuals who have assisted me on this project are far too many to list. Instead, I would simply like to thank all of those who: taught, advised, supported, praised, criticized, listened, believed in me, read and critiqued my work in its various stages, and encouraged me to keep going. I could not have done this without you! I am especially grateful to my chair, Laura Martins, and each of my committee members: Alexandre Leupin, Joyce Jackson, and Andrea Morris, and to my brilliant peer editor and friend, Molly Cashell. I would also be remiss if I did not acknowledge Katrina, who brought me to this program, introduced me to psychoanalysis in a very personal way, and who taught me much about trauma. ii Preface My research for this project began more than a decade ago. As an undergraduate, I took a class that was team-taught by a professor from the Spanish department, Raphael Correa, and a faculty member from Media Communications, Rosalind Bresnahan. The class was on Latin American Cinema (Third Cinema): films that had been produced, not for the purpose of entertainment, but rather as a call to action. In that class, I learned much about U.S. Foreign Policy, and how the actions of our government agencies—predominantly the CIA—had irrevocably altered the histories and lives of countless countries and individuals. Of the students from the Spanish department, I was one of only three non-native speakers in the class. Many of my colleagues were immigrants from South and Central America. I felt a tremendous amount of embarrassment as I began to understand how our histories intertwined. I feared that in some way, I had played a part in the suffering of so many others, either through my political actions or inaction, caused by my ignorance. Of all the events that we discussed in the class, the one that held my fascination was the military coup d‟état that took place in Chile, on September 11, 1973. Perhaps it was the enthusiasm of the Communications Professor, who had spent much time in Chile; perhaps because the event took place on my birthday; perhaps it would have captured my attention anyway. Like a moth to a flame, I went, in search of all the information I could find. Of all the papers I wrote as an undergraduate, that one still stands out as the singular example of invested writing. I remember trying to explain my research to my mother, and how deeply it affected me. I cried as I spoke of the testimonies I had read from the truth commission. One woman spoke of how her son had asked her how he was supposed to mourn his father when he didn‘t even have a iii grave to visit. She told him, ―M‟ijo, you go to the cemetery; find the most forgotten, unkempt grave. Clean it up, and honor your father there, as if it were his.‖ My mother asked if it had something to do with my being adopted and not knowing my birth family. I had no idea. Several years later, I took a graduate class in poetry; as a part of our presentation, we had to declaim a poem of our choice. I found myself returning to my passion; I did my research and presentation on Victor Jara, and the lyrics of his last song, known simply by its first line: ―Somos cinco mil‖ (There are five thousand of us) written during his last days inside the National Soccer Stadium, where, along with 5,000 compañeros, he was detained and tortured. Victor‘s body was dumped in the street with more than 40 bullet wounds. His friends wrote the lyrics on tiny scraps of paper, and smuggled it out of the stadium upon their respective releases. One was found with the scrap in his sock; fortunately, the guards assumed the writing was his own, and let him live. Early in my Ph.D. program I applied for a pre-dissertation research grant. In an attempt to create a project that fit both my interests, and their funding guidelines, I proposed to go to Chile to research the effect of that past on the present population, specifically in music, and memorials in the urban landscaping. Once I finished writing my proposal I realized that, even if I didn‘t get funded, I knew what I wanted to do—I just didn‘t know how, without actually making such a trip. Then I took a class with Laura Martins, and began to understand that a similar Event had taken place in Argentina, just a few years after the military overthrow in Chile. I was confused because, while I had heard of the ―Dirty War,‖ it seemed that it received much less attention, even though the number of victims was nearly 10 times more than of those in Chile. Thus began my current research project. It has been both a personal and professional journey; the results of which are deeply gratifying. I hope you enjoy reading it. iv TABLE OF CONTENTS Acknowledgments . ii Preface . iii Abstract . vi Introduction . 1 Background . 1 Project . 12 Limitations. 19 Trauma Fiction in the Southern Cone. 21 Clothing . 39 Paintings. 53 Between the Imaginary and the Real: Photographic Portraits of Mourning and of Melancholia in Argentina . 63 Marcelo Brodsky‘s Buena memoria (―Good Memory‖) . 76 Inés Ulanovsky‘s Fotos tuyas (―Your Photos‖) . 81 Conclusion . 85 From the Shoah to “la guerra sucia:” Phantom and Transgenerational Trauma in Tununa Mercado‘s En estado de memoria. 88 Projection and Horror: The Image of the Other in Film Portrayals of the ‗Dirty War‘. 118 Conclusion . 149 Works Cited . 156 Appendix: Permission to Reprint . 167 Vita . 169 v Abstract My dissertation utilizes an interdisciplinary approach to analyze Argentina‘s ―Dirty War; in it, I argue that our view of the Other is the key to not repeating the past. Literature has long been accepted as a resource for understanding culture; this dissertation moves beyond literature, and includes photography, art, and film to demonstrate how artists have represented and responded to this period of political oppression. Adopting a psychoanalytic approach for my research, I begin with a literary analysis of multiple texts which exhibit features of what Anne Whitehead calls ―trauma fiction,‖ texts in which the narrative voice displays the repetition and fragmentation of memory caused by trauma; I also include the paintings of two artists, whose works have not previously been analyzed, but which fall into this category. I examine two photographic exhibits, using them to reveal how Freud‘s theories of mourning and melancholia function. I also use the exhibits to explain the connection between photography and loss, and how photography fits within Lacan‘s understanding of the Imaginary, the Symbolic, the Real, and the ―gaze.‖ My investigation of Tununa Mercado‘s En estado de memoria is the first to apply the psychoanalytic theory of ―phantom trauma‖ to her text; I argue that the pathologies from which the narrative voice suffers are exacerbated by, but not exclusively the result of trauma experienced as an adult. I conclude with an examination of three films which deal with the long-lasting effects of the ―Dirty War‖ on Argentine society; I propose that it is not enough to narrate the past; the portrayal of the Other should include an element of horror; furthermore, we must acknowledge— and give voice to—those unspoken feelings, and desires, wherein we identify, not only with the victim(s), but also with the aggressor(s) in order to prevent the repetition of the past. vi Introduction Background To posit the texts discussed in this dissertation in an historical background, in Argentina, the period from 1976 – 1983 is known as the ―Dirty War,‖1 a period in which the military staged a campaign to ―cleanse‖ the country of dissidents. The exact number of citizens killed is still unknown; estimates are upwards of 30,000. Leading up to that point, the country had already experienced multiple military coup d‟états, each followed by military parades, complete with tanks and heavily armed soldiers, and the extremely excessive use of force used to quash civilian uprisings (for example, 2,000 troops for 120 demonstrators). Diana Taylor states that, ―The theatricality of terrorism endowed the national frame with a strange spectacularity‖ (162). Those in power used soldiers and citizens as the cast of their spectacle.