Questioning the Memory Cultures Approach: A Brief Study of Colonizer Indifference in Brazil
One can imagine that the tools of time and memory across societies of the world vary a great deal as each particular group chooses their approach in an effort to unite over their shared historical existence. For some groups, action-oriented mnemonic practices like oral tradition in song and storytelling suffice to bring the community together while for other groups, it is instead symbolic structures that are centered to create a type of memory culture that is collectively formed to preserve the group's memory. There is no one correct way to preserve a groups’ history, but it is true that certain tools of time and memory can lend themselves to problematic outcomes especially in colonized societies.
On the night of September 2nd, 2018, José Urutau Guajajara, a member of the Tenetehára-Guajajara tribe and researcher of his people’s heritage in the archives of Brazil’s National Museum, witnessed the Museum burn down. The loss caused by this fire was immeasurable for the Indigenous peoples of Brazil as the National Museum housed the “world’s largest archive of indigenous Brazilian culture and history” including artifacts from tribes now considered extinct (Andreoni and Londoño 2018). In responding to this tragedy, Mr. Guajajara said “This is like a new genocide, as though they had slaughtered all these indigenous communities again. Because that was where our memory resided” (Andreoni and Londoño 2018). In the following paragraphs, we will take a glance at Maurice Halbwachs’ The Collective Memory and Robyn Autry’s The Political Economy of Memory: The Challenges of Representing National Conflict at ‘Identity-Driven’ Museums to further understand the transpersonal collective representation of the Indigenous peoples of Brazil and the various stakeholders that influence the maintenance of these representations.
Consider the following question: are your memories yours or are they “but an echo” of those who preceded your specific existence (Halbwachs 2011: 140)? In the memory cultures approach, the answer leans more towards the latter although the place of the individual is acknowledged as a unique temporal location of consciousness that serves as a “point of intersection for collective times” (Halbwachs 2011: 148). In other words, the individual consciousness finds its place within various currents of memory that are generated from the group, so ultimately, it is the collective representations that will generate the patterns of memory for members to fall into when forming one’s identity. Turning to Mr. Guajajara’s case of the personal loss he faced after the fire at the Brazil National Museum, it only makes sense why he felt the loss of the Museum akin to the loss of life. The artifacts, documents, relics and more that were incinerated were physical symbols of the collective representations that Mr. Guajajara and his fellow Indigenous Brazilians had held on to for so long in an attempt to conserve Indigenous culture and history. Mr. Guajajara himself affirms the importance of the greater symbolic institution of the Museum when he refers to the “memory” of the Indigenous communities having been lost due to the fire (Andreoni and Londoño 2018). In the days following the devastating fire, Indigenous peoples and sympathetic Brazilians gathered outside of the Museum in collective mourning. The public display of collective mourning is tinged with an added layer of bitterness though as we examine the context of the Museum’s fire.
The Museum, in reference to the specific Brazil National Museum, but also speaking about the larger Western institution implicates the state or other powerful stakeholders in the painstaking labor of maintenance and institutional survival. Instead of the National Museum becoming an institutionalized space that centers Indigenous groups in Brazil, the Museum had long been relegated to the margins in favor of “areas that could become profitable” (Andreoni and Londoño 2018). Antonio Carlos de Souza Lima, a historian and anthropologist at the museum, commented on Brazil’s leaders saying that “‘they think of culture as a business…not the soul of a nation’” (Andreoni and Londoño 2018). Mr. de Souza is speaking here on the political economy of memory which refers to the “sociological framework [used] to examine how social activism, institutionalization, political change and economic development impinge on cultural processes” (Autry 2013: 62). Essentially, Mr. de Souza highlights the disparities between the different stakeholders in the success of the National Museum as he acknowledges the lack of institutional support from Brazilian governmental officials in ensuring the building was fire-proofed and protected from disaster while others involved, like Mr. Guajajara, made it their life’s work to attend to the precious documents and artifacts stored at the Museum.
The case of the fire of the Brazil National Museum leaves me with many lingering questions: would the Indigenous peoples’ cultural artifacts and memory have been better off left outside of the institution of the Museum? Are museums the only way to preserve a groups’ memory and history? Is there a possibility of creating a museum without a political economy driving it? From the complicated and heart wrenching story of the fire at the Brazil National Museum, the truth has arisen: it is the Indigenous peoples, the very subjects of the Museum, who had the most vested interest in the survival of this institution. So, why did they not receive the necessary monetary support to see it be preserved for generations of Indigenous peoples to come?
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