While violence is never an ideal solution, it is often a necessary evil in transitioning to a democracy. It is because of this that violence is seen as practical, not moral. Even using case studies discussed in class it becomes clear that practicality is often safer than morality, as new, emerging democracies are extremely delicate. Thus, many new democracies are faced with the challenge of balancing between morality and practicality, as seen with Chile in its emergence out of its authoritarian regime. Pinochet is a perfect example: was it immoral for him to receive his lifetime bid to the Senate? Was it immoral to not seek retribution and punishment against those who committed vast atrocities against numerous Chileans? Maybe, but the fact is pursuing those decisions were seen as impractical given Chile’s political climate at the time. In any new democracy, the continuation of that democracy is what is most imperative.

This is not to say that practicality and morality are mutually exclusive; in fact, I think that what often separates the two is the spectrum of time. While morality cannot be prioritized in the short term, as it jeopardizes the continuation and success of democracy not only in Chile, but in any given state, in the long-term morality is suited to prevail. Morality aligns itself with the quote, “Neither amnesia nor vengeance – justice!” and as seen throughout history, justice is often served over extended periods of time, as holds on democracy stabilize and expand. While not ideal, it is the only means by which the continuation of democracy is prioritized, preventing violence and injustice from emerging once again.

The first and most important thing to consider in this question of the balance between democratic gains and demands for justice is the most basic function of the state: to provide order and protect citizens while improving their lives. Insofar as that is true, any demands for justice must be considered within the framework of their reconcilability with the basic functions of the state. That is to say, demands for justice can only be considered to the extent that they still allow for the state to provide order and improve the lives of citizens.

This is true for a number of reasons among which being that even notions of what constitutes justice are subjective. To conduct policy and to potentially destabilize and change the face of government on the basis of subjective notions of justice is absurd. Practical challenges to this approach abound, whose notion of justice would we use? How would we ascertain individuals’ notions of justice? Whose notions do we privilege and use as the basis for policy?

Another considerable challenge lies in the reality that in many of these fledgling democracies, many of the perpetrators of violence and atrocities occupy certain positions in the government. Even the acts of violence themselves were carried out not by isolated rogue actors but by the state military and police apparatus. To prosecute and “deliver justice” to all of those complicit in these acts would be to eviscerate the military and police and thus, the state itself.

With all of this said, the symbolic importance of trials against the perpetrators of these acts cannot be overstated. If a country is to move on from these past traumas, at the very least, the appearance of an attempt to pursue justice should be undertaken. To that end, selectively punishing only those most visibly responsible for these atrocities is a good middle-ground.

Patricio Aylwin’s method of moving forward after a period of state-sponsored violence balanced the moral and practical, although perhaps leaning toward practical in order to avoid another military takeover. Aylwin capitalized on the “no” vote to Pinochet’s plebiscite, but he also allowed for Pinochet to leave the political arena with some dignity (first stepping down to army commander in chief). While this may not have offered victims of torture the kind of catharsis they would have preferred and even deserved, Aylwin recognized that long-term justice and democracy could only be achieved in steps. His establishment of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission recognized the atrocities committed similarly to Brasil: Nunca Mais. Once the report was published, Pinochet eventually resigned from government, and the Chilean judicial system could move forward with prosecution of the torturers from the previous regime. Aylwin’s decision integrated morality with practicality because had he immediately prosecuted Pinochet, the military likely would have staged another coup and Aylwin would not have been able to achieve any sort of retribution for Chile’s victims.

Lawrence Weschler’s A Miracle, A Universe argues against a society forgetting the hardships and injustices of the past and living in a state of blissful ignorance, suggesting instead that these issues must not be removed from public consciousness; that they should be talked about and remedied as much as possible.

I would like to echo Weschler’s feelings about mass forgetting using my personal experience growing up in a society that refused to speak about its past and under a government that still discourages them to. The situation does not quite match the South American cases we have looked at in class, but I feel it could provide an interesting perspective on what forgetting can do to a society years later.

In Lebanon, the country maintains a silence over the civil war, which lasted from 1975 to 1990, and the result is a stubborn resentment over the atrocities of that conflict. Many Christians resent Palestinians (and those that fought with them) for massacring Christian villages up and down the country, while many Muslims and Palestinians resent the Christian party as traitors for its brief alliance with Israel that allowed Israel to enter the country and wipe out the PLO, massacring Palestinians and bombing major cities in the process.

After the conclusion of the civil war, the government didn’t do anything to give either side any closure, preferring instead to discourage talk of the conflict (for example by not teaching it in history classes) and making talk of the civil war a taboo. The government forced the people to forget when they didn’t want to, and the result, to this day, is a community divided along sectarian lines, silently resenting the hardships they were put through and the war crimes committed against them – all the while holding onto their hatred of those responsible.

In Lebanon, the policy of forgetting the past has broken a people that could have been saved with a sustained attempt at reconciliation, and so I totally share Weschler’s opinion: divisions created in times of crisis need to be fixed through acceptance and reconciliation, and forgetting doesn’t help.

Legacies of violence are important for a country in terms of collective memory. While it is incredibly difficult to consider creating a state in which oppressors continue to rule alongside the once-oppressed, it is often necessary, as we have seen. It is important for everyone, from the government through the citizenry, however, to retain the memory of what once was. As we discussed in class, it seems as though it would be too de-stabilizing to immediately prosecute and imprison torturers and dictators, especially in the case of a pacted transition. Unfortunately, this means that people must accept tactics that may seem inadequate to get to a stable, free future. In the film No, it is clear that peoples’ everyday lives were shaped and drastically distorted by living under dictatorship, as when the elderly No-group member was utterly offended by commercials displaying the message of happiness, over those memorializing the dead and abused. However, the movement is ultimately successful because of their happiness, somewhat irreverent though they may be, tactics. What is most important is that all Chileans maintain the memory of what had happened in their country, so that when the time is right, justice can be served. Memory can be retained on both an individual and a societal level, but is of the utmost importance for long term peace and democracy. The Brasil: No Mais project knew this: the past must be preserved in as many ways as possible, so that when the state is fully prepared, the correct actions can be taken toward justice.

Moral and practical solutions to a legacy of violence do not have to be mutually exclusive, though it has been common throughout history that the practical prevails. The “end of the story” in Uruguay or installment of Pinochet as senator after his role as dictator in Chile ended are examples of immoral, and at best, only slightly practical solutions. Despite a concerted effort to reinstate democracy as a replacement for violence, the case of Chile reflects a weak attempt to resolve the emotional and moral legacy left behind by Pinochet. It may be impossible to find a balance between the moral and the practical that is agreed upon by all constituents, but practical solutions may be more conducive to stable democracies, which avoid the risk of repeating past abuses (to the same extent). Practical solutions have the potential to take into account a variety of opinions about how to bring perpetrators of abuse to justice. However, those institutions and practices must also make sure that perpetrators are not a part of the decision-making process. Practical solutions can also be moral (to an extent) if they ensure that perpetrators do not have access to any mechanisms of coercion or abuse. Furthermore, they can ensure that a cycle of abuses is not repeated by creating checks against retaliatory solutions that might be supported by some members of the public, and instead, in the long-run, trending towards an equilibrium of justice and understanding.