According to an article in today’s El Comercio, writer Mario Vargos Llosa was informed that the Peruvian government has agreed to go ahead with the building of a Memory Museum, financed by the German government.  I remember first reading about the controversial Memory Museum a few months before arriving in Peru in this Economist article.  It relayed the government’s reluctance to accept the funds offered by Germany for fear of jeopardizing the country’s focus on the future by highlighting the atrocities of the past.

In the words of the Defense Minister at the time, the museum is “not a priority” in a country where such stark problems, such as poverty and hunger, persist. The minister also mentioned the resurgence of Shining Path violence in the country.  I think the fact that he mentioned this betrayed his belief that the museum would not be impartial in its treatment of the atrocities of the Shining Path, as compared to those committed be the Armed Forces.  An article that followed the recent announcement of the museum shows that this sentiment may have been shared amongst many in the Armed Forces as well.  According to the article, the Armed Forces want to make sure they are given a predominant place in the museum and as such have been sifting through their own photo archives. They believe these photos will offer a “deeper look at the violence produced by terrorism in the 80′s and 90′s.”

I am very curious as to what changed the goverment’s mind about the museum. After a scathing opinion piece published by Vargos Llosa in response to the government’s decision to reject the money, the government reversed it’s recalitrant tone and President García asked Vargos Llosa to head up a commission to investigate how the museum might be built.  The final decision, which was announced this weekend, is to build the site underneath a well-known park in my neighborhood, called the Campo de Marte.  Another important monument, know as the “Eye that Cries” is also located in this park.

The Eye that Cries, a monument to the more than 60,000 killed during the two decades of violence in Perú

"The Eye that Cries," a monument to the more than 60,000 killed during the two decades of violence in Perú

I am quite curious to know how the negotiations between the commission and the government went down. On the one hand, the military seems to be much more engaged in this important piece of reconciliation and recognition than they were in the Truth Commission.  I am not entirely sure what this means in terms of national reconciliation, but perhaps it will help to ameliorate the tensions between the armed forces and human rights groups.  On the other hand, a colleague and I joked about the symbolic impact of the choice of location.   A subterranean museum of memory? Talk about burying the past.

Shining Path struck again this weekend, this time killing three police officers and two civilians in during an attack on a police base in Ayacucho (the attack occurred in San Josí de Secce, which is on the way to Putis).  Sixty “narco-terrorists,” as the are being labeled by the press, attacked the base with guns and tear gas.   The attack itself, combined with the news about the memory museum, really makes me wish this museum had come about years ago so that the seat of political power in this country, Lima, could be exposed to the complexities of the violent conflict.  They would thus be able to draw potentially better  lessons about how the government should act moving forward in response to the terrorist attacks they are now facing.

In between a trip to the Yuyanapaq exhibit at the Museo de La Nacion and a viewing of the documentary Lucanamarca, this past week was marked by the arrival of three American filmmakers from D.C.  They are here to begin the process of what will eventually become the making of a documentary film on EPAF’s work (you can check out their production company here).  The most fascinating part of their visit so far for me is that it has really illuminated the challenges that EPAF is facing working in Peru at the moment.  Why? Well,  the filmmakers had planned their visit with the hope of filming an exhumation being carried out by the EPAF team.  However, the day before they arrived, something came up and the public prosecutor decided to cancel the exhumation.   Thus, the filmmakers were left without an exhumation to film and so quickly had to come up with an alternative plan.

This setback is illustrative of a greater trend of obstacles that EPAF has faced over the last year, and something I’ve become more and more aware of during my time here. Exhumations, and the complex and extensive process of interviewing family members, examining the remains, and holding clothing exhibitions are highly dependent on the Peru’s judicial system. Now, I know that last week I wrote about the importance of the victim’s achieving retributive justice and I still believe that this is of the utmost importance for true reconciliation to occur in the country.  However, through my experience at EPAF, I’ve come to determine that transitional justice in Peru, when it comes to recovery of the disappeared, is much too grounded in retributive processes.  This does not mean that restorative justice has been completely ignored.  Indeed, the Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission was lauded for their comprehensive report (which will celebrate its six-year anniversary in August) and some of their recommendations have been acted upon by the state.

Nor  does it mean that cases of forced disappearances are being prosecuted in the courts here.  What it does mean is that almost every detail of the exhumation process is dependent on the legal apparatus.  In order to even reach the exhumation stage, a case must be filed with the public prosecutor in the appropriate region (usually where the family of the disappeared are living, or where they suspect the body to be buried).  From this point on, the prosecutor must be involved at every step of the process-which includes being present at the exhumation itself.   This requires a substantial amount of time on the part of the prosecutor. In addition, cases of forced disappearance frequently don’t have a clear defendant.  Many of the forced disappearances were likely carried out by the military and today, the state claims that all records of who was stationed at what based during the time of the violence have been burned.  In the end, these two factors often result in these types of cases not being treated as a priority by the judicial system, and there is no real alternative for but to go through that system.

This dynamic poses an obstacle to EPAF, as they are constantly forced to cancel, reschedule, and often only participate peripherally in exhumations.  It inconvenienced the filmmakers who had arrived hoping to see EPAF in action. But the people it hurts the most are those whose voices tend not to be heard: the families of the missing.   When the cases they file are not prioritized, it means an even longer wait for the recovery of their missing loved ones.  Often, family members know exactly where the grave is located, yet cannot access the remains without the oversight of the judiciary.  Part of my work this summer is trying to examine how this process could be reformed so as to work principally in favor of restorative justice for the victims, without precluding retributive justice in the future.

But getting back to the filmmakers.  They ended up taking a trip to Ayacucho this weekend that I think will prove to be just as interesting as an exhumation. Zack went with them, so I’ll let you read more about it in his blog.  In the meantime, below are some stunning photos from the Yuyanapaq exhibit I mentioned earlier.

Yuyanapaq: To Remember

First family organization

The dead and the living