To the Argentinian, Los Angeles is in flames. Radios propped up on the counters of small tiendas describe how protesters march through Downtown LA, launching beer bottles at the shields of the national guard. TVs situated just above the dining tables of our hotel show plumes of white smoke engulfing the streets right outside of city hall. Even our tour guides, though they do not illustrate the scene, hint at the chaos as they jeer back and look at us with faces of worry when they learn we are from LA.
Parque de la Memoria
What is notable about how distressed Argentinians are about Los Angeles is that protests are fundamentally embedded into Argentinian culture. Argentinians are used to protests and, thus, whatever is happening politically in the United States is so unimaginable it even makes them worry. It is as though the image of the United States, being this free country where justice is served, where there is no need for havoc-causing protests, is shattering. This got me thinking: what can we learn from Argentina's political history to inform ourselves about other countries? Our morning walk helped me find that answer.
Our walk took place at a memorial on the outskirts of Buenos Aires—a park with long stretches of rolling grass hills and an even longer stretch of a concrete path that peered out above the bluffs and wrapped around the river’s shore. Along that path stood dozens of repurposed—better put, redesigned—street signs that no longer showed traffic signals but symbols representing the horrors of the last Argentinian dictatorship. One sign, in the same shape of a Route 66 sign, had eyes painted in white gazing at a blank, stick-figure-like person—a representation of the government encouraging its citizens to rat each other out. Another showed a long ford hatchback printed on top of a yellow cross-walk—a car notorious for being used by black-ops who would stuff those labeled as enemies to the state in the trunk. Another: the number 30000 below an illustration of several stick-figure like characters—the number of estimated “desaparecidos,” Argentinian citizens that disappeared out of thin air.
Each of these signs demonstrate the step by step process of how a government like that of Argentina turns authoritarian. First, the government entices its people to turn against each other, to forget that they are fellow citizens and, instead, consider themselves enemies. Second, the dictatorship strengthens itself through fear—by going after anyone with large trucks and weapons. Third, people actually start to disappear. There is no trial, they are just gone.
Although authoritarian regimes can deceive, strike fear, and cause wounds that will not heal for decades to come, there is a way out: resistance. At each of these stages, the people can resist. At the first stage, the people can decide to not let the government encourage them to turn against each other. They can, instead of part, unite. They can unite as one and call out their government for even attempting to cause harm against the very people it is meant to protect. At the second stage, let the people not be scared. Let them be confident. Let them stand up for themselves and say aloud, “we shall not be put down by any government.” At the third stage, though many may be lost, the people must not be discouraged. They must revolutionize, strive for democracy at any cost. That is exactly what you can learn from the Argentinian's past: through dictatorship, through authoritarianism, through oppression, a beautiful country can flourish—through democracy, through the people.
Written by Atticus
What is notable about how distressed Argentinians are about Los Angeles is that protests are fundamentally embedded into Argentinian culture. Argentinians are used to protests and, thus, whatever is happening politically in the United States is so unimaginable it even makes them worry. It is as though the image of the United States, being this free country where justice is served, where there is no need for havoc-causing protests, is shattering. This got me thinking: what can we learn from Argentina's political history to inform ourselves about other countries? Our morning walk helped me find that answer.
Our walk took place at a memorial on the outskirts of Buenos Aires—a park with long stretches of rolling grass hills and an even longer stretch of a concrete path that peered out above the bluffs and wrapped around the river’s shore. Along that path stood dozens of repurposed—better put, redesigned—street signs that no longer showed traffic signals but symbols representing the horrors of the last Argentinian dictatorship. One sign, in the same shape of a Route 66 sign, had eyes painted in white gazing at a blank, stick-figure-like person—a representation of the government encouraging its citizens to rat each other out. Another showed a long ford hatchback printed on top of a yellow cross-walk—a car notorious for being used by black-ops who would stuff those labeled as enemies to the state in the trunk. Another: the number 30000 below an illustration of several stick-figure like characters—the number of estimated “desaparecidos,” Argentinian citizens that disappeared out of thin air.
Each of these signs demonstrate the step by step process of how a government like that of Argentina turns authoritarian. First, the government entices its people to turn against each other, to forget that they are fellow citizens and, instead, consider themselves enemies. Second, the dictatorship strengthens itself through fear—by going after anyone with large trucks and weapons. Third, people actually start to disappear. There is no trial, they are just gone.
Although authoritarian regimes can deceive, strike fear, and cause wounds that will not heal for decades to come, there is a way out: resistance. At each of these stages, the people can resist. At the first stage, the people can decide to not let the government encourage them to turn against each other. They can, instead of part, unite. They can unite as one and call out their government for even attempting to cause harm against the very people it is meant to protect. At the second stage, let the people not be scared. Let them be confident. Let them stand up for themselves and say aloud, “we shall not be put down by any government.” At the third stage, though many may be lost, the people must not be discouraged. They must revolutionize, strive for democracy at any cost. That is exactly what you can learn from the Argentinian's past: through dictatorship, through authoritarianism, through oppression, a beautiful country can flourish—through democracy, through the people.
Written by Atticus
Fernando Nos Habla de la Deuda Externa de Argentina
San Telmo en la Lluvia
Tango
Plaza Dorrego
The Green Ford Falcon--favored by the Civic-Military Dictatorship
Barrio Chino
Cena en San Telmo
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