Gerardo Salinas, city dramaturge at KVS and a survivor of the dictatorship, presents a program on the role of memory in shaping the future.
March 24 marks the fiftieth anniversary of the beginning of the civil-military dictatorship in Argentina. Marches and commemorations bring together those who refuse to forget the “disappeared” — a euphemism referring to the abduction, torture, and murder of militants, opponents, activists, and civilians.
Over these five decades, the past has been narrated in different ways: first by the dictatorship; then in the trials; later during the pardons of the 1990s; and subsequently with the reopening of judicial proceedings and the consolidation of policies around memory, truth, and justice. Today, we are witnessing a setback: institutional cutbacks and a growing denialism. Each phase constructed a narrative; each narrative sought to shape the future. That is why it remains urgent to return to memory and to those who carry it.
We do not aim to create museums of horror, but to activate memories that contain struggles, strategies, and possibilities.
The Wall and the books
This struggle over the past is not new. In 1950, Jorge Luis Borges wrote The Wall and the Books, a short essay included in Other Inquisitions. In it, he describes the double gesture of Qin Shi Huang, the first emperor of China, who unified the seven kingdoms and ended the feudal order: the construction of the Great Wall and the burning of books predating his reign.
Borges senses in this gesture a deep desire: to make history begin with oneself. Erasing the preceding centuries not only strengthens power; it is also an attempt at immortality. The wall defended the body of the empire, but its true adversary was something else: memory. This example sheds light on a persistent mechanism: whoever controls the narrative of the past shapes the possibilities of the future.
The past shapes us. It is memory, but also potential. It preserves what we were while enabling us to reinvent who we are. In some Indigenous worldviews of the Americas, there is no separation between past, present, and future: every action simultaneously rewrites what was and what will come. Memory is therefore a living and contested terrain.
Art can be a place where we encounter this living memory.
carriers of memory
We are carriers of memory. Activating it is not merely remembering: it is intervening, constructing a narrative, and sustaining the possibility of a future. Art can be a place where we encounter this living memory. In the coming months, three projects will be presented at KVS to activate it:
- The Bones, directed by Manuela Infante, is a collaboration with Michael De Cock, Marcela Salinas, and Roberta Lobos. It draws on the work of forensic anthropology teams whose aim is to restore the identity of bodies made anonymous by the violence of the dictatorship. The work of these teams has expanded to numerous conflicts worldwide.
- Verzetscafé, an initiative by Helden van het Verzet, brings the memory of the Belgian resistance during World War II back to life. In May, I will share experiences about forms of organization within the Argentine resistance, building bridges across territories, times, and forms of struggle.
- Nosotros estamos acá, a creation by Fernando Rubio at PS21 in New York, proposes a performative dispositif for constructing memory. We will use memories from my own history and those of others, as well as testimonies collected during the March 24 demonstration in Buenos Aires. We explore connections between the United States and South America: the School of the Americas, Operation Condor, and current policies of migrant persecution. The same logic runs through different historical contexts: control, violence, and denial of freedom. The goal is to create a living archive: testimonies are preserved as a record to be shared with the rest of the world.
Ultimately, this program is a reflection on the relationship between art and human rights. In these memories, connections emerge with what is happening — and has happened — in other regions, such as the Middle East, Africa, and also the outskirts of Europe. We do not aim to create museums of horror, but to activate memories that contain struggles, strategies, and possibilities.
To remember, to intervene, to narrate: memory in action not only reconstructs the past, but also opens pathways toward a future we can still build.