In A Miracle, A Universe, Lawrence Weschler describes the collaborative efforts between Jaime Wright and Cardinal Arns in documenting Brazil’s torture during a period of militarized dictatorship. The second of these two, Cardinal Arns, embodied morality as he evokes a sense of “uncoveredness,” arguing that “the true shall make you free,” (29-30). Moreover, as a religious leader, Cardinal Arns represented a steadfast commitment to enlightenment and coming to terms with all flaws within and around an individual. Cardinal Arns advocated for values everyone can achieve and would theoretically ameliorate society. However, in describing the judges of the torture cases, Weschler presents the difficulty in implementing Cardinal Arns’ practices in a specific aspect of Brazilian society. Weschler offers secondhand descriptions of judges “scowling and saying, ‘Don’t write it down–it’s a lie,'” (46), as well as the judges not wanting “things to descend to the level of a farce. There was a sense of minimum obligation,” (48). These portrayals offer insight into the broad spectrum of commitment to morality within Brazilian society of such an era. More critical too is the fact that such apathy towards the “truth” occurred within the courtroom. While Cardinal Arns offers a simple foundation towards the development of societal morality, such a feat incurs massive hurdles against institutions that fail to meet his level of acceptance. Certainly the truth may bring freedom, however such logic fails when applied to more than one person, as we each foster our own truths, with morality being a subjective matter. Therefore, with a moral pursuit being the worse of two imperfect solutions, taking a practical approach and building on a shared version of the truth might be the best remaining option.

When states with legacies of violence transition into or reestablish democracy, the question emerges of what to do with those who were both perpetrators and victims of the violence. On the one hand, in countries like Brazil or Uruguay, where torture occurred on a mass scale and institutional level, the new governments might look to educate citizens on the horrors that occurred under the previous regime and prosecute those responsible. On the other hand, the new governments might see forgetting the past as the best step they can take towards appeasing those previously in power and establishing a long-term democracy.

As we have discussed in class—and as I discovered while writing my essay—democratic backsliding often occurs when those in power place greater emphasis on their own interests than on the preservation of the democratic regime as a whole. In this case, it is important for competing parties to respect the peaceful transition of power and to let those who have lost an election live freely go on with their lives after the election is over. However, in the case of new democratic regimes dealing with legacies of violence, remembering and educating the public on the nation’s past mistakes and holding those involved accountable seem to be necessary steps in order to differentiate the new, democratic regime from the previous regime. How could the Chilean democracy be any different from the previous, oppressive regime when that regime’s leader, Augusto Pinochet, has been granted amnesty and named a senator for life? While it is obviously implausible to put every person responsible for the atrocities committed by the previous regime on trial, remembrance, I think, is the only way for a new government to create a distinction between themselves and the torturers they are succeeding.

In order to sustain the newly formed democracy, I think that the practical should be the primary consideration. This is certainly not to excuse the atrocities of torture, particularly state-sponsored torture that is used against its people. But the problem lies in the subjectivity of morality. In a newly-restored democracy that suffered in the process, there will inevitably be people that chant “Neither amnesia nor vengeance—justice!” However, there will also be sympathizers who may claim that the violence used was necessary to reinstate democracy. And as frustrating as it may be, these people now have a say in how the government works. Not allowing the proponents of torture to speak for themselves and persecuting them without trial or representation would undermine the entirety of the restored system.

This question also seems to assume that democracy is a cure-all for society, which I think is a mistake. Government actions based on pure morals are not characteristic of democracies but of autocracies. Morality varies by person, so by nature, democracies cannot accommodate everything that people think is “right.” The basis of democratic society is compromise which can often be painful, as we can see here. I think the best way to move forward is to govern practically with the hope of achieving a moral good. The opposite seems like a slippery slope back out of democracy.

As difficult as it is for me to reconcile this with the painful memories of individuals, groups, and entire nations, I believe that the preservation of the democratic system is most important in these fragile transitions to democracy. Obviously, with the examples we’ve seen in class, whether it’s Pinochet’s lifetime appointment to the Senate or survivors seeing their torturers on the street, these are personal, emotional, and painful individual experiences that no person should ever have to endure. People might make the argument that if the country has moved into a democracy and the majority of citizens feel that these torturers and murderers should be prosecuted, then the will of the people should reign. However, the issue here is that most of these states are in a quasi-democratic period where democracy is extremely fragile, and the threat of military intervention still looms over the nation. In these cases, any legal action taken against the former regime could result in the collapse of the current system and the reinstatement of the old.

As a result of this threat, I find the best course of action to be encapsulated in the quotation, “Neither amnesia nor vengeance—justice!” In this case, as we discussed in class, justice is never forgetting; justice is truth. Truth about the horrors of the old regime, truth about the state-sponsored violence that was once accepted, truth about every individual involved in these heinous crimes, truth like in Brasil: Nunca Mais. Survivors can find solace in having the world know their stories and they can be hopeful that this remembrance will ensure that it truly does not ever happen again. This is by no means the best solution for survivors, but if democracy is the second-best solution, then, for better or for worse, sometimes we have to forego the moral in favor of the practical to ensure the health and prosperity of democracy.

“‘Nations are a plebiscite every day, and they are constructed on the basis of great rememberings and great forgettings.’  If the French were still thinking about the Night of St. Bartholomew, they’d be slaughtering each other to this day.

This is a political, and not a moral, decision.  It has to be resolved politically because it’s a political conflict.  Uruguay didn’t fall apart by chance, and it’s not going to be reconstructed by chance, either.”  A Miracle, A Universe, pg. 191

“How can you have a period, end of paragraph, end of story, without any preceding paragraph, let alone any preceding story?  Here in Uruguay, we’ve had no commission of inquiry, no officially sanctioned truthtelling.  We’ve had no trials, no verdicts.  All we have now is this period, hovering there in the middle of a blank page.  It’s unreal.”  pg. 175

“Neither amnesia nor vengeance—justice!”  pg. 192

What is to be done with legacies of violence, and above all, the institutions and sponsors of violence, who remain ensconced in the state structures of fledgling and newly-restored democracies?  What is the balance between preserving the democratic gains that exist now, in the present, with the demand for justice by those who were the victims of the horrors of the past?  What prevails, the moral or the practical?

Patricio Aylwin, right, with Gen. Augusto Pinochet in Santiago, Chile, in 1993.

More on Aylwin here:  https://www.nytimes.com/2016/04/20/world/americas/patricio-aylwin-president-who-guided-chile-to-democracy-diesat-97.html