According to Oddone and Lynch (2008:134), based on a quantitative survey, Raúl Alfonsín´s democratic government (1983-1989) and the Malvinas/Falklands War (1982) are the most remembered events of this age cohort in Argentina. All my respondents confirmed the relevance of these events. As Schumann and Scott (1989)
demonstrated, the events that occur during adolescence and youth (‘formative years’
or ‘impressionable years’) are the most strongly remembered ones. However, it is still necessary to explain the relationship between the former events as narrated (childhood memories of dictatorship) and the relationship between the two events (the Malvinas and Alfonsín’s government). Even more important is the need to cast light on the meaning attributed to the war as a significant event.
The Malvinas/Falklands represents a central constituent of the national Argentine memory (Guber 2001, Lorenz 2006). Occupied by Britain in 1832-1833, the group of islands became for the Argentines a symbol of unity during the twentieth century. In contrast to the multiple internal conflicts characterising Argentine political history, the Malvinas remain a place of consensus for political elites. Similar to Guber’s interpretation (2001), I argue that it is possible to sustain that the Malvinas stood for unique, external and sacral territory where all the multiple, internal and profane conflicts dissolved. Although it is often said that the Malvinas are associated with dictatorship (i.e. polluted), the image of a heroic fight against a colonial power lingers on. This sacral image is reinforced in squares, monuments, schools, the media and countless slogans on streets and highways (‘Las Malvinas Son Argentinas’;
The Falklands Are Argentinean).
For my respondents, the Malvinas were first experienced in terms of national euphoria. Similar to the 1978 football World Cup, people again invaded the streets to support the military project. For some of the men, the euphoria was transformed into a personal desire: “I wanted to be a pilot,” remembered Mario. This kind of enchantment involved almost the entire population: a collective participation to overcome a super-evil foe: the British.
Whereas the first years of the dictatorship were experienced at home and in primary school, for my respondents the Malvinas War was experienced largely in the streets and via the media. A symbolic place was evidently Plaza de Mayo – literally May Square. One of the most important memory sites of Buenos Aires (Sigal 2006), situated at the heart of the capital and in front of the government palace (Casa Rosada), Plaza de Mayo has seen multiple milestones in Argentine national history:
patriotic commemorations of independence, the popular revolt of 17 October 1945 when Perón was proclaimed absolute leader by the working class, and the weekly parades of the desaparecidos’ mothers. All those historical events were mentioned
randomly during the interviews. Biographically recounted was the day on which a public demonstration in support of the war took place in the square. Yet, as Francisca recollected, another sort of mobilization, in the same square, had occurred days before the war began. The sequence is particularly odd, as Francisca recognized:
“A determined and massive protest against the government had taken place. There was repression and so on (…) my father was there, of course (laughs) (…) and I also remembered that, about that day (…) no longer, I don’t know, not even a week passed, 15 days, and the war began. And, in the same square in which a mass demonstration against dictatorship took place, a mass demonstration was staged in, this time in support of (…) I don’t know how to call it (…) ‘Let’s go to recover the Malvinas and be victorious.’ You know, something quite crazy.” (Francisca, 1970)
Even though Francisca’s father was only present at the demonstration against the dictatorship, it is reported that some people attended both protests. Indeed, diverse exiled politicians supported the campaign to recover the Malvinas (see Lorenz 2006:41-59). Such massive popular fervour was strongly encouraged by the media.
All the respondents vividly remembered following the war via the TV news and the press. Rosario recollected – like a flashbulb memory – the place and time when the occupation of the Malvinas by Argentinean forces was announced. Marcelo remembered his schoolmates hearing radio news about the attack on the warship Belgrano (a turning point in the conflict) while they queued at school in order to pray for the sailors.
The role of the media was both crucial and disappointing. As some of the interviewees remembered, many magazines promoted a false image of victory while the military junta, in fact, sent mostly raw recruits against a powerful British force.
The result was a disaster and the image of the war was, as Luis graphically and ironically put it, of ‘Indians with spears against soldiers with lasers’. The dramatic end to the Malvinas conflict led the military to give up state control and call for free and fair elections.
What might draw one’s attention is the shift contained in the Malvinas story. After living a time of quiet ‘normality’ – without public demonstrations – the city again emerges as a place of enthusiasm and national fervour. Some interviewees remembered participating, with their families, in a crusade to collect funds for the
soldiers. At school, as Marcelo remembered, ‘we were all fervent adolescents and it was like an issue of national male chauvinism (machismo)’. Such a period of public euphoria was grasped by those attending public (state) schools. For Julio, who attended the well-known public National School – close to Plaza de Mayo – the Malvinas War represents ‘a before and an after’. In an interesting passage, he commented on how the national history ‘entered’ his biography and modified his life course:
“It is a defining event (…) it is a before and an after. What really divides secondary school is not the restoration of democracy but the Malvinas. Only then the popular manifestations started and the end of the dictatorship began. Here the fall of the dictatorship commenced (…) this totally changed my school days. I started to participate in a religious group (…) Then, the Malvinas War (…) So, now that I am saying this, many political historical events entered my life, you know (…) I don’t understand why I remember these events more (…) but (…) it was important (silence).” (Julio, 1967)
All such feelings of national illusion – within the frame of dictatorship –suddenly ended when the public realized that the Malvinas campaign was a disaster. As various respondents later understood, the Malvinas was a ‘last-ditch effort’34 of the military junta which was failing in political and economic terms.
Even though all the respondents mentioned the Malvinas, there were some subtle – albeit crucial – differences. For Jorge and Antonia, middle-upper-class respondents, the Malvinas are mostly linked to problems concerning being part of private, English schools. Antonia was mostly affected by the fact that her schoolmates could not collect enough funds as an English school for their graduation trip. They could only afford a ‘normal’ hotel in Mar del Plata, a seaside resort close to Buenos Aires.
The trope of travelling recurs frequently in upper-class Argentinean stories recounting young experiences (see Chapter Five for upper-class youths’ recollections of the Argentinean crisis in 2001). What is surprising is not the trip itself but rather the fact that collective events are often recounted merely as a disruption of their private story.
For those respondents from the lowest social-class position, the Malvinas/Falklands War seems to be disconnected from the military regime. Twice an alternative explanation was offered instead: the British Navy invaded the group of islands (this
34 This is a poor translation of the Spanish colloquial expression ‘manotazo de ahogado’, which means ‘the last futile attempt of the drowned’ (lit. drowned last flailing).
fact is indeed true, but it happened 150 years earlier), the Argentine Army was forced to recover them, young conscripts arrived, suffered harsh war conditions and were eventually vanquished. In one of these cases, the story was slightly expanded upon: British forces conquered the Islands thanks to Chilean support (throwing a hateful look at the Chilean interviewer).35 In neither case was the dictatorship mentioned, not even remembered when I asked, or was simply confused with Alfonsín’s government. Alternatively, one of my respondents remembered how, three years later, in 1986, the evil enemy was at least defeated in a football match.
Please note the emotive narration of the triumph against England at the 1986 México World Cup:
“Another shocking event was when we scored against the English. Do you get me? That was, I don’t know, (they) killed so many boys (guachos) (…) Scoring against the English – Diego (Maradona)36 did it – that was also something I witnessed! I was there. I saw my dad crying, my mother crying, everybody was crying!” (Luis, 1974)
Luis’s use of the word guacho (or huacho in Chilean) is significant. The word is a key trope in the southern Cone lexicon, stemming from an indigenous Quechua root.
Literally, it means an orphan, abandoned by his/her parents (in Chile, ‘country of huachos’, the word stands merely for the absence of the father, but also refers to bastard children; see Montecino 2007). By using this term, Luis emphasises the character of the sacred victims (young male conscripts) of the Malvinas War. Of course, professional military forces also participated in the Malvinas War; yet, the public image of war victims is mostly linked to young conscripts. Although memories of the Malvinas War are contentious (e.g. heroic act vs. military fake), the sacred ‘young’ victim is vividly present.
35 In Chile, only one respondent mentioned the Malvinas/Falklands conflict. He remembered following the war on the news and, of course, supporting the England navy. By the same token, the Chile-Argentina conflict that took place around 1977-1980 - related to the Beagle Channel boundary - was only remembered by an Argentinean who attended a military school.
36 Needless to say, Maradona’s goals have become a myth: the first one was the ‘hand of God’, and the second one the so-called ‘goal of the century’.