Don't forget that in the history of the world, there was a plebiscite, in which Christ and Barabbas were being judged, and the people chose Barabbas.
--Augusto Pinochet, October 25, 1988
--Augusto Pinochet, October 25, 1988
Is it better to remember or forget? This question has been running through my mind a lot lately here in Chile. As I study recent history, as I talk with my host family and friends here, I keep coming back to this difficult choice: two decades after the national plebiscite that voted Pinochet out of power, is it best to leave his legacy of division behind, or to continue studying and critiquing it?
Before coming here I would have naturally opted for the latter. My educational background has always stressed the importance of history; our experiences from the past can guide us as we continue to make decisions in the present. However, I have only recently begun to realize how complex this process can be. If a country's history is violent and controversial, sometimes dredging up the past only brings more pain and division. Sometimes the process of remembering provokes hostility and even hatred, as individuals hold on to the suffering that they endured.
General Pinochet himself is a striking example of the consequences of consuming oneself with the past. Pinochet was intrigued by history and often drew parallels to connect the past to the present; his comparison of himself to Jesus Christ upon losing the plebiscite in 1988 is plainly absurd, but also indicative of the sweeping generalizations that Pinochet liked to make. During his regime this historical obsession left him mired in the early 1970s, the period of Chile's unsuccessful experiment with socialism. For 17 years Pinochet ruled with an iron fist, justifying prolonged detentions and human rights abuses for the sake of what he called democracy. He provoked memories of economic collapse in order to frighten the populace, arguing that history would repeat itself if he left power. He forced many citizens into exile and repeatedly denied reports of torture—all to avoid the dreaded Communist threat.
Chile has come a long way since then. With a stable democracy and a successful economy, the country is far-removed from this era of disappearances and censorship. But the past lives on: in the families still split across continents after prolonged exile, in the stark divisions between social and political groups, in the painful memories of those who spent months and even years in damp prison cells. Many people simply cannot leave behind these traumas of the past; their lives were irreversibly changed by the events of September 11, 1973.
One Sunday after church I asked my host dad what he thought of the sermon that morning. He looked at me and said that it was a difficult sermon for him, but one that he really needed to hear. The sermon was about forgiveness. For him, he said, forgiveness is a continual process, a process that has taken many years and many prayers—both from him and his family. Imprisoned under Pinochet, uprooted from his family and his vocation as a teacher, my host dad has every right to be angry. He saw firsthand the injustices of the regime; though he survived, he also witnessed the executions of many who did not. For years he said he was stuck in the past, furious that he lost years of his life, baffled that he was so harshly punished for political beliefs he didn't even support. He will never forget those brutal years, no matter how much time passes.
But to him, forgiveness does not require leaving behind the past. Instead, forgiveness means coming to terms with the past and moving beyond the wrongs that others have committed against him. It means trusting in God to guide him and his family forward. Tenemos que superar, my host mom often says: We have to overcome. Several years ago my host dad began teaching again, and he now leads classes on Old Testament history at their home church. He also is attending law school under the reparations system, studying to better understand the injustices within Chilean law in the hopes of correcting them.
Not all of Chilean society shares his attitude. Within the last few years the legal trial and death of Pinochet reignited the burning conflicts of the past. Families of the disappeared spoke of justice that must be fulfilled, saying that some crimes cannot and should not be forgiven. I cannot criticize them for their anger. I cannot begin to comprehend the difficulty of the experiences that they have undergone. But day in and day out I am presented with the example of my host father, and his determination as a Christian to not let the past dictate his present. I am a witness to a family that truly believes in the power of prayer, as they gather around the table, three generations together, joining hands to give thanks for what they have been given. They haven't forgotten the past, but they have certainly overcome it.
Before coming here I would have naturally opted for the latter. My educational background has always stressed the importance of history; our experiences from the past can guide us as we continue to make decisions in the present. However, I have only recently begun to realize how complex this process can be. If a country's history is violent and controversial, sometimes dredging up the past only brings more pain and division. Sometimes the process of remembering provokes hostility and even hatred, as individuals hold on to the suffering that they endured.
General Pinochet himself is a striking example of the consequences of consuming oneself with the past. Pinochet was intrigued by history and often drew parallels to connect the past to the present; his comparison of himself to Jesus Christ upon losing the plebiscite in 1988 is plainly absurd, but also indicative of the sweeping generalizations that Pinochet liked to make. During his regime this historical obsession left him mired in the early 1970s, the period of Chile's unsuccessful experiment with socialism. For 17 years Pinochet ruled with an iron fist, justifying prolonged detentions and human rights abuses for the sake of what he called democracy. He provoked memories of economic collapse in order to frighten the populace, arguing that history would repeat itself if he left power. He forced many citizens into exile and repeatedly denied reports of torture—all to avoid the dreaded Communist threat.
Chile has come a long way since then. With a stable democracy and a successful economy, the country is far-removed from this era of disappearances and censorship. But the past lives on: in the families still split across continents after prolonged exile, in the stark divisions between social and political groups, in the painful memories of those who spent months and even years in damp prison cells. Many people simply cannot leave behind these traumas of the past; their lives were irreversibly changed by the events of September 11, 1973.
One Sunday after church I asked my host dad what he thought of the sermon that morning. He looked at me and said that it was a difficult sermon for him, but one that he really needed to hear. The sermon was about forgiveness. For him, he said, forgiveness is a continual process, a process that has taken many years and many prayers—both from him and his family. Imprisoned under Pinochet, uprooted from his family and his vocation as a teacher, my host dad has every right to be angry. He saw firsthand the injustices of the regime; though he survived, he also witnessed the executions of many who did not. For years he said he was stuck in the past, furious that he lost years of his life, baffled that he was so harshly punished for political beliefs he didn't even support. He will never forget those brutal years, no matter how much time passes.
But to him, forgiveness does not require leaving behind the past. Instead, forgiveness means coming to terms with the past and moving beyond the wrongs that others have committed against him. It means trusting in God to guide him and his family forward. Tenemos que superar, my host mom often says: We have to overcome. Several years ago my host dad began teaching again, and he now leads classes on Old Testament history at their home church. He also is attending law school under the reparations system, studying to better understand the injustices within Chilean law in the hopes of correcting them.
Not all of Chilean society shares his attitude. Within the last few years the legal trial and death of Pinochet reignited the burning conflicts of the past. Families of the disappeared spoke of justice that must be fulfilled, saying that some crimes cannot and should not be forgiven. I cannot criticize them for their anger. I cannot begin to comprehend the difficulty of the experiences that they have undergone. But day in and day out I am presented with the example of my host father, and his determination as a Christian to not let the past dictate his present. I am a witness to a family that truly believes in the power of prayer, as they gather around the table, three generations together, joining hands to give thanks for what they have been given. They haven't forgotten the past, but they have certainly overcome it.
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