Past Human Rights Violations And The Question Of Indifference The Case Of Chile 1St Edition Hugo Rojas full chapter pdf docx

Past Human Rights Violations and the
Question of Indifference: The Case of

Chile 1st Edition Hugo Rojas
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/past-human-rights-violations-and-the-question-of-indif
ference-the-case-of-chile-1st-edition-hugo-rojas/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...
Human Rights and Transitional Justice in Chile 1st ed.

2022 Edition Rojas
https://ebookmass.com/product/human-rights-and-transitional-
justice-in-chile-1st-ed-2022-edition-rojas/
The Human Rights Covenants At 50: Their Past, Present,

and Future Daniel Moeckli
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-human-rights-covenants-
at-50-their-past-present-and-future-daniel-moeckli/
Archaeology: The Science of the Human Past 5th Edition,

(Ebook PDF)
https://ebookmass.com/product/archaeology-the-science-of-the-
human-past-5th-edition-ebook-pdf/
The Birth Of Digital Human Rights: Digitized Data

Governance As A Human Rights Issue In The EU 1st
Edition Rebekah Dowd
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-birth-of-digital-human-rights-
digitized-data-governance-as-a-human-rights-issue-in-the-eu-1st-
edition-rebekah-dowd/
Britain and the Dictatorships of Argentina and Chile,
1973–82 1st ed. Edition Grace Livingstone
https://ebookmass.com/product/britain-and-the-dictatorships-of-
argentina-and-chile-1973-82-1st-ed-edition-grace-livingstone/
Power, Property Rights, and Economic Development: The

Case of Bangladesh 1st ed. Edition Mohammad Dulal Miah
https://ebookmass.com/product/power-property-rights-and-economic-
development-the-case-of-bangladesh-1st-ed-edition-mohammad-dulal-
miah/
The Idea of International Human Rights Law Steven

Wheatley
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-idea-of-international-human-
rights-law-steven-wheatley/
Children and the European Court of Human Rights Claire

Fenton-Glynn
https://ebookmass.com/product/children-and-the-european-court-of-
human-rights-claire-fenton-glynn/
The Human Rights Turn and the Paradox of Progress in

the Middle East 1st Edition Mishana Hosseinioun (Auth.)
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-human-rights-turn-and-the-
paradox-of-progress-in-the-middle-east-1st-edition-mishana-
hosseinioun-auth/
ST ANTONY’S SERIES
Past Human Rights

Violations and the
Question of Indifference:
The Case of Chile
Hugo Rojas
St Antony’s Series
Series Editors
Dan Healey, St Antony’s College, University of Oxford, Oxford, UK
Leigh Payne, St Antony’s College, University of Oxford, Oxford, UK
The St Antony’s Series publishes studies of international affairs of contem-
porary interest to the scholarly community and a general yet informed
readership. Contributors share a connection with St Antony’s College,
a world-renowned centre at the University of Oxford for research and
teaching on global and regional issues. The series covers all parts of the
world through both single-author monographs and edited volumes, and
its titles come from a range of disciplines, including political science,
history, and sociology. Over more than forty years, this partnership
between St Antony’s College and Palgrave Macmillan has produced about
400 publications. This series is indexed by Scopus.
More information about this series at

https://link.springer.com/bookseries/15036
Hugo Rojas
Past Human Rights

Violations
and the Question
of Indifference:
The Case of Chile
Hugo Rojas
Alberto Hurtado University
Santiago, Chile
ISSN 2633-5964 ISSN 2633-5972 (electronic)

St Antony’s Series
ISBN 978-3-030-88169-6 ISBN 978-3-030-88170-2 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-88170-2
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer
Nature Switzerland AG 2022
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the
Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights
of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on
microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and
retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology
now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc.
in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such
names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for
general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and informa-
tion in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither
the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with
respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been
made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps
and institutional affiliations.
Cover credit: Hufton+Crow-VIEW/Alamy Stock Photo
This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature
Switzerland AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
Preface
2019 © Reuters/Goran Tomasevic
v
vi PREFACE
Chile has been considered a model of democratic transition and economic

development on the world stage, because of its sustained levels of progress
over the last 30 years. President Sebastián Piñera has even referred to
Chile as an “oasis” in Latin America, alluding to the country’s political
and economic stability within the region. However, the cracks in Chile’s
model were exposed in October 2019, when citizens began to demon-
strate massively in the streets in a string of protests against the country’s
political and economic systems. The protests led to the destruction of
most of Santiago’s subway stations, more than one-third of the supermar-
kets were damaged, among other violent incidents and acts of vandalism
all over the country. To face the emergency and control the population,
Piñera approved a constitutional state of exception and the armed forces
assumed responsibility for public security. Allegations quickly emerged
that the police and the Army were using excessive force and violating
the human rights of those protesting in the streets, and this was subse-
quently confirmed by reports made by the Office of the United Nations
High Commissioner for Human Rights, Human Rights Watch, Amnesty
International, and the National Institute of Human Rights (INDH).
The Covid-19 pandemic put a pause on the social outbreak, as Chileans
were forced to retreat into their homes and street protests were halted.
In October 2020, a referendum was held in which Chileans approved
the creation of a constituent assembly that will draft a new Constitu-
tion, as a first step towards addressing the political, social, and economic
inequalities that led to the mass unrest. Abuses by the police, rioting,
and vandalism, and the different scenarios to get out of the crisis have
been the topics of interest to most Chileans. However, there is a social
sector that has continued to act as if the current social conflict did not
exist, who do not see this crisis as a pressing national issue requiring
significant discussion and social change. This sentiment was captured by
renowned photographer Goran Tomasevic in his striking image of a 68-
year-old retired man who is indifferent to everything happening around
him. Despite the protesters throwing stones and the police responding
with tear gas and shooting pellets that have caused more than 460 cases
of eye damage, Mr. Gino Rojas is undeterred and enjoys his soda during
this chaotic environment. His face is impassive, and it seems as if nothing
could disturb him. In a public opinion poll conducted at the end of
2019, a sector of Chileans declared themselves indifferent to what was
happening in the country. Indeed, 11 per cent of those surveyed recog-
nised high or very high levels of indifference to the social outburst,
PREFACE vii
although this emotion reaches 21 per cent in the lower class (Universidad
de Santiago, 2019).
In terms of human rights, this attitude of indifference is not a
new phenomenon in the history of Chile. During the dictatorship of
Augusto Pinochet (1973–1990) the human rights of innocent citizens
were systematically, massively, and institutionally violated. Truth commis-
sions have officially recognised 3,216 deaths or enforced disappearances
and 40,018 victims of torture and political imprisonment, 1,132 torture
centres have been identified throughout the country, and it is estimated
that about 12,000 people sought asylum in embassies just after the coup
d’état of September 11, 1973, that ended the socialist government of
Salvador Allende and Popular Unity (UP). In those years, when the armed
forces ruled with an iron fist, it was understandable that most Chileans
were immobilised by fear. Not all people are willing to risk their rights,
assets, or work source, so keeping silent while human rights violations
were committed is understandable. However, there are deliberately indif-
ferent to the suffering of others. More than 30 years have passed since
democracy was peacefully recovered, but progress in the search for truth,
justice, reparation, memory, and guarantees of non-repetition have been
slower than expected. This has not only been due to the permanent oppo-
sition of the Pinochet and right-wing sectors for many years but also to
attitudes of indifference to the transitional justice process.
The purpose of this book is to explain how and why a sector of
the Chilean population is indifferent to past human rights violations
committed during Pinochet’s dictatorship, and what the consequences of
that indifference are in Chile today. It is argued that indifference to past
human rights violations is the result of various processes of socialisation
that influence the individual, notably relevant life experiences and social
interactions related to political issues. Regarding the causes of indiffer-
ence, this research highlights the role that four independent variables have
played: political orientation, socio-economic status, generational cohort,
and perception of social conflict. The analysis of in-depth interviews shows
that the three most common sets of variables that explain indifference to
past human rights violations are: the predominant emphasis on the search
for family and personal well-being, discomfort with politics, and fear of a
recurrence of the pre-coup d’ état crisis and post-coup authoritarian expe-
riences. It also explains how and why indifference is a dynamic and visible
phenomenon and, in turn, why it is possible to identify different intensi-
ties in the spectrum of indifference. As the indifferent are a heterogeneous
viii PREFACE
group, distinctions between disillusioned, submissive, depoliticised, and

resigned indifferent are presented in detail. It is also argued that the indif-
ferent cynics are a problematic group for transitional justice, democratic
consolidation, and the rule of law. Regarding the social consequences,
the indifferent may actively promote social indifference in their interac-
tions; indifference has become a socially accepted norm by other sectors,
and indifference facilitates the persistence of the culture of impunity over
time.
Outline. Chapter 1 explains the importance of understanding the
phenomenon of social indifference towards human rights violations and
presents the case study: indifference in the transition to democracy in
Chile. The goal of Chapter 2 is to construct a theoretical framework
with the most relevant concepts to properly approximate the notion and
types of indifference to past human rights violations. Different compara-
tive experiences are mentioned in this chapter to illustrate the application
of some of the leading concepts. From a theoretical point of view,
the social causes and consequences of indifference are also explained.
Chapter 3 reports the results of the quantitative research analysis based on
the 2013 National Bicentennial Survey. This section aims to explain who
the indifferent are regarding the atrocities committed during Pinochet’s
dictatorship. The main characteristics of the Chilean citizens who are
indifferent to past human rights violations are also presented here. In
addition, the profile of the indifferent is compared with non-indifferent
people (hostile to human rights, pro human rights, and ambivalent
people). In consideration of the political heterogeneity of the indifferent,
the types or dimensions of indifference are compared. Chapter 4 presents
the results of the qualitative analysis of original data collected by the
author in Chile to complement the quantitative findings presented in
the previous chapter. The findings of the quantitative research have been
complemented with the qualitative analysis of 53 in-depth interviews.
Along with overcoming some of the limitations of the interpretation of
the national survey, the interviews have advanced understanding of the
phenomenon of indifference in Chile today. The most important conclu-
sions are summarised in the last chapter. In addition, some final reflections
are formulated, and recommendations made to reduce the current levels
of indifference in Chile that could be useful for other societies dealing
with past atrocities.
Acknowledgements. I have never been in debt to so many people and
institutions. This book corresponds to an updated and synthesised version
PREFACE ix
of my doctoral thesis defended at the University of Oxford, under the

supervision of Leigh A. Payne, and evaluated by Alan Angell, Heather
Hamill, and Brian Loveman. The most appropriate way to return their
wise advice and generous recommendations is by publishing these reflec-
tions that we have discussed in detail for several years. I also want to
express my gratitude to the Government of Chile (Becas Chile), the
Catholic University of Chile, the Newton Foundation, Alberto Hurtado
University, the Museum of Memory and Human Rights, the Center
for Civil and Human Rights at the University of Notre Dame, the
Latin American Studies Association (LASA), and the Nuffield Centre
for Experimental Social Sciences (CESS) in Santiago. I take this oppor-
tunity to thank the Millennium Institute on Violence and Democracy
for funding the final stage of this research (ANID, Millennium Science
Initiative, ICS2019_025). I am grateful for the invitations to present my
previous drafts at the University of the Free State in South Africa, the
Foundation for Law, Justice and Society, University of Notre Dame,
Columbia College, Simón Bolívar University in Colombia, California
Western School of Law, Inter American University of Puerto Rico,
University of New South Wales, the War Academy, Adolfo Ibáñez Univer-
sity, the Catholic University of Chile, and the LASA Annual Conferences
in Chicago, New York, and Boston.
Discussions with many friends and colleagues enriched my analysis and
widened my gaze. I would like to especially thank Maryam Aslany, Marte
Bakkeng Bergan, Oriana Bernasconi, Macarena Bonhomme, Silvia
Borzutzky, Christine Cervenak, Simón Escoffier, Sarah Dewick, Andreas
Hein, Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela, Dunreith and Jeff Kelly Lowenstein,
Ignacio Irarrázaval, Francesca Lessa, Elizabeth Lira, Bernardo Mackenna,
María Antonieta Nestor, Juan Carlos Oyanedel, Darío Páez, Gabriel
Pereira, Eduardo Valenzuela, and Robert Wardrop. I am deeply grateful
to all the people who agreed to be interviewed in this research, and
whose identities should remain anonymous. I thank Goran Tomasevic for
permitting me to use one of his photos taken in Chile. The Palgrave
Macmillan editors and anonymous reviewers trusted this project with
special professionalism. On a personal level, the support of my family and
close friends, and the communities of Wolfson College, St Antony’s
College, the Latin American Centre, and the Department of Sociology
at the University of Oxford, and Alberto Hurtado University School of
x PREFACE
Law and Interdisciplinary Research Program on Memory and Human

Rights, constantly inspired me.
Santiago, Chile Hugo Rojas

Praise for Past Human Rights
Violations and the Question of
Indifference: The Case of Chile
“Hugo Rojas have brilliantly accomplished two truly important goals in

this excellent book as he provides the reader with a meticulous analysis of
the concept of indifference and subsequently, he applies the concept to
Chile’s human rights abuses during the Pinochet dictatorship. Analyzing
the concept of indifference is essential to understand how dictators’
abuses are often ignored by entire societies and how this indifference
contributes to supporting the regime and the impunity of those who
commit the crimes. The author not only explains the theoretical under-
pinnings of the concept of indifference, but also provides the readers with
both a qualitative and a quantitative analysis of social indifference and
its consequences. This pathbreaking work should encourage others to do
comparative studies connecting the fields of social indifference and human
rights abuses.”
—Silvia Borzutzky, Professor of Political Science at Carnegie Mellon
University
xi
Contents
1 Indifference Matters 1
1 Understanding Indifference 1
2 Chilean Transition to Democracy 8
3 Contributions of Explaining Indifference 17
4 Researching Indifference 21
References 26
2 Theorising Indifference 37
1 Social Theories on Indifference 37
2 Indifference to Past Human Rights Violations 43
3 Types of Indifference to Past Human Rights Violations 46
3.1 Disillusioned Indifferent 47
3.2 Submissive Indifference 51
3.3 Depoliticised Indifference 53
3.4 Resigned Indifference 55
4 Impact of Indifference to Past Human Rights Violations 56
5 Conclusion 59
References 60
3 Quantitative Analysis of Indifference 65
1 Survey and Questionnaire 66
2 Variables and Indices for Quantitative Analysis 68
3 Profiling the Indifferent 73
4 Indifferent, Hostile, and Pro Human Rights 82
xiii
xiv CONTENTS
5 Types of Indifference 89
6 Conclusions 93
References 95
4 Qualitative Analysis of Indifference 99
1 From Quantitative to Qualitative Explanations 99
2 New Understandings of Indifference 109
3 New Problematisations of Indifference 132
4 Consequences of Indifference 142
5 Conclusions 149
References 156
5 Conclusions and Final Remarks 161
1 Theoretical Contributions 162
2 Quantitative Findings 164
3 Qualitative Findings 165
4 Closing Arguments 167
References 168
Appendices 169
1 Sample of the 2013 Bicentennial Survey 169
2 Socio-Demographic Statistics 170
3 Survey Variables 171
4 Regression Data 174
5 Interview Questions 176
6 Comparative Analysis of Interviewees 177
7 Participant Observation 177
Bibliography 181
Index 201
Abbreviations
CIA Central Intelligence Agency (United States of America)

CNTV National Television Council
CORFO Production Development Corporation
FPMR Manuel Rodríguez Patriotic Front (Frente)
INDH National Institute of Human Rights
IPHRV Indifference to Past Human Rights Violations
MIR Revolutionary Left Movement
OECD The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development
PUC Catholic University of Chile
UNDP United Nations Development Programme (PNUD)
UP Popular Unity (Unidad Popular)
xv
List of Figures
Chapter 3
Fig. 1 Frequencies on questions about human rights in the 2013
Survey 74
Fig. 2 Frequencies of indifferent and non-indifferent responses 76
Fig. 3 Binomial logistic regression model explaining indifference
to human rights in Chile 78
Fig. 4 Frequencies of positions towards human rights issues,
by political orientation 83
Fig. 5 Positions towards human rights abuses and political
orientation 83
Fig. 6 Comparison between indifferent, hostile, and pro human
rights (%) 85
Fig. 7 Comparison between indifferent, hostile, pro human rights,
and ambivalent groups 89
Fig. 8 Comparison between types of indifferent, hostile, and pro
human rights (%) 90
Fig. 9 Comparison between disillusioned, submissive, depoliticised,
and resigned indifferent 93
Chapter 4
Fig. 1 Socio-demographic characteristics of indifferent
and non-indifferent interviewees 104
Fig. 2 Types of indifference and political orientation 105
xvii
xviii LIST OF FIGURES
Fig. 3 Identification of respondents according to their type

of indifference and gender 106
Fig. 4 Sets of categories of causal dynamics and indifferent
interviewees 110
CHAPTER 1
Indifference Matters
Ours is a time of uneasiness and indifference.

—C. Wright Mills
1 Understanding Indifference
In the last 50 years Chilean society has been described as a deeply divided
and polarised society (Borzutzky, 2017; Bucciferro, 2012; Carvacho
et al., 2013; Collins, 2014; Ensalaco, 2000; Hidalgo, 2011; Jocelyn-Holt,
1998; Lazzara, 2006; Loveman & Lira, 2000, 2002; Moulian, 1997;
Piper, 2005; Policzer, 2009; Stern, 2006, 2010; Stern & Winn, 2014;
Winn, 2013). This polarisation has been mainly political-ideological,
although there are also deep socio-economic contrasts among the
different social sectors (Fermandois, 2013: 235–236; PNUD, 2017:
Chapter 2). In the context of deep polarisation, there is also an indif-
ferent population that needs to be carefully examined. Indifference is a
problematic social phenomenon because the indifferent person does not
feel empathy with victims of human rights violations. Indeed, the human
capacity to feel or care for another is less developed in those indifferent to
human rights than in people who are more empathic with the suffering
of others. When a significant sector of the population has indifferent atti-
tudes and opinions, building a strong human rights culture may become
an elusive goal.
© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1

Switzerland AG 2022
H. Rojas, Past Human Rights Violations and the Question
of Indifference: The Case of Chile, St Antony’s Series,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-88170-2_1
2 H. ROJAS
This book explains the roots of indifference towards past human rights
violations committed during Pinochet’s dictatorship in Chile. It iden-
tifies the groups of indifferent people, when they pose obstacles for
transitional justice—the search for truth regarding the human rights viola-
tions; judicial investigation, prosecution, conviction, and punishment of
the perpetrators; reparation for victims and family members; and encour-
agement of social memory regarding the human rights violations—, and
how those obstacles might be overcome. The main objective is to analyse
the phenomenon of the indifference of citizens to human rights abuses
committed by the past dictatorship in a society that has gone through
a period of political transition towards a fully democratic regime. By
explaining the causes and impact of social indifference to truth-seeking,
criminal prosecution, reparation of victims, and memory of past state
violence (Barahona de Brito et al., 2001; Gahima, 2013: Chapter 1;
Skaar & Malca, 2015), this research contributes theoretically and empir-
ically to the fields of human rights, memory studies, and transitional
justice.
Literature review led to the formulation of a theoretical framework
on social indifference in modern society to human rights violations
committed in an authoritarian past. A set of questions formed the basis
for explaining how and why a sector of society reacts indifferently to
past human rights violations during a political transition, and what the
social consequences of that indifference are. Three central and guiding
questions will be answered: (1) Who are the people that are indifferent
to human rights violations committed during the dictatorship? (2) What
are the main explanations for that indifference? (3) What are the social
consequences of that indifference in Chile today?
The case study corresponds to the experience of the long-lasting and
incomplete Chilean transition, which began in 1990 (Borzutzky, 2017:
219; Linz & Stepan, 1996: Chapter 13). Original data collected in Chile
in different periods from 2013 to 2016 has been analysed. For various
reasons Chile offers insights into the phenomenon of indifference to past
human rights violations (hereinafter IPHRV). Chile can be considered
as a paradigmatic case of transition from authoritarian rule to liberal
democracy. The academic literature on political transitions highlights the
Chilean transition as a successful example of democratic consolidation,
economic development, and strengthening of the rule of law (Altman,
2006; Angell, 1993; Navia, 2007). Despite its undeniable achievements,
the Chilean transition presents a set of constraints that deserve to be
1 INDIFFERENCE MATTERS 3
carefully examined (Barton & Murray, 2002; Moulian, 1994). Public

opinion surveys show that a significant sector of Chile’s population is
not interested in the search for truth, criminal justice, reparation, or the
memory of the traumatic past (Huneeus, 2003: Chapter 5; INDH, 2013,
2015). The indifferent represent an understudied population with regard
to transitional justice.
This investigation may be useful for researchers who are analysing
how societies process and settle accounts with their traumatic past in
different regions. For example, despite the recognition of a dominant
memory that values human rights in Argentina (Catela da Silva, 2010;
Garbero, 2017), there are also social sectors that since the 1970s have
been more passive and opt for silence and oblivion, forgetting the past
(Carassai, 2014: 4; Gates-Madsen, 2016: 4; Lessa, 2013: 81–82). The
case of post-authoritarian Brazil is even more complex since the denial
of human rights violations has been more widespread than in Argentina
(Schneider, 2011) and the opposing memories are highly disputed in the
public sphere (Aarão Reis, 2004). Regarding the Spanish case, there exists
a persistent and on-going tension between memory and oblivion of the
Civil War (1936–1939) and the dictatorship of Francisco Franco persists
(Aguilar, 2007: 65). For the Spanish right-wing, the reference to histor-
ical memory is synonymous with revenge and endangers the foundation
of the functional agreements of democracy, whereas for the political left it
is essential to remember the repression of the Franco regime and compen-
sate victims and their relatives (Aguilar, 2008: 76–78). Due to fear and
self-censorship, the silence of many has been the consequence of a delib-
erate pact of oblivion shared by most Spaniards (Aguilar & Payne, 2016:
3). Evidently there are many countries in which intolerance and political
polarisation have triggered acts of barbarism and state terrorism in recent
decades. Recalling and interpreting the meaning of past human rights
violations can be the subject of discord, and not all members of a given
society may be interested in sharing their views on those events.
Research on transitional justice today focusses attention on victims
and perpetrators (e.g. Aguilar & Payne, 2016; Boesten, 2010; Caswell,
2014; Davidovich, 2014; Gahima, 2013; Elster, 2006: Chapters 5 and
6; Etcheson, 2005; Haider, 2011; Jara, 2013; Lazzara, 2006; Lessa,
2013; Lira, 2010; Nalepa, 2010; Payne, 2008; Rimé et al., 2011; Robins,
2011). An important contribution in recent years represents numerous
interdisciplinary studies on the effectiveness and efficiency of transi-
tional justice mechanisms (e.g. Hayner, 2008; Moon, 2008; Olsen et al.,
4 H. ROJAS
2010; Sikkink & Michel, 2013; Skaar et al., 2016; Thoms et al., 2008).
However, research on the social sectors that have indifferent behaviours,
attitudes, or opinions regarding the events of the past is still scarce
(e.g. Carassai, 2014; Cohen, 2002; Fletcher, 2005; Nussio et al., 2015;
Robben, 2004; Tester, 2002). While transitional justice scholarship has
dealt with social polarisation (e.g. Aguilar et al., 2011; Barsalou, 2005;
Haider, 2011; Lazzara, 2006; Lessa, 2013; Moser & Clark, 2001; Nussio
et al., 2015; Rožič, 2014; Valencia & Páez, 1999), it has not sufficiently
considered the impact of social indifference on the processes of dealing
with the past. Indeed, transitional justice studies tend to be premised on
the notion of two memories, that of the victims and that of the perpe-
trators. This memory struggle does not consider a relevant social group
that chooses not to have memory or that gives little importance to past
human rights violations: the indifferent. Literature fails to provide expla-
nations about who these individuals are, how they can be indifferent to a
shocking past, and what this means in terms of building a Never Again
human rights culture. Consequently, a better understanding of IPHRV
contributes towards filling a gap in transitional justice studies. It should be
noted that there are also other social sectors that choose not to remember,
as happens in those cases where trauma, guilt, or genuine support for the
policies of past authoritarian regimes may push some to avoid concern for
violations of human rights without being indifferent.
There is an underlying assumption that social actors care about their
past—either to defend or condemn past actions—and engage in efforts to
promote their views. But what if that assumption is incorrect and a signifi-
cant portion of the population really is not concerned with the past at all,
with no interest whatsoever in either defending or condemning human
rights violations? In Democracy in America, Alexis de Tocqueville argues
that democratic governments do not easily learn from the past (1989
[1835]: Chapter 5). For example, after World War II ended, collective
amnesia prevailed in the Federal Republic of Germany (Herf, 2008; La
Rocca, 2010: 8). At first German society attributed the responsibility for
the Final Solution to Hitler and a small number of Nazi leaders. Only in
the 1960s did the New Left trigger a process of self-criticism about the
horrors of the Nazi era in German society. Whether in Germany, or more
recently South Africa and several Latin American countries, in regard to
transitional justice goals, nations can learn from their past experiences
(Elster, 1988: 93–99; 2006: 15). But that is not always the case. How
likely are transitional justice processes to fulfil their goal of addressing
past wrongs if a significant proportion of the population is indifferent to

that goal?
The word indifference derives from the Latin expression indifferentia,
which means not making any difference: in (not)–dis (divergence)–ferre
(to carry). According to the Oxford English Dictionary, indifference is the
quality that characterises the indifferent. Indifference is conceived as the
midpoint between appreciation and contempt. An indifferent person is
one who does not appreciate the difference or the distinction, the impor-
tance of something or someone. Therefore, being indifferent means not
feeling passion or compassion for (or against) someone or something.
From an inter-subjective point of view, indifference is the attitude or
frame of mind of nonchalance of an individual towards another indi-
vidual whose presence is not of interest or concern (Tester, 2002: 177). As
the indifferent person does not recognise and ignores the other (Arteta,
2012: 72), his presence takes the form of absence. Since in many situ-
ations people are expected to be supportive, sensitive, empathetic, and
compassionate, indifference to pain or the needs of others may be subject
to moral and social criticism (Bauman, 1991).
C. Wright Mills argues in The Sociological Imagination that indif-
ference is the signal feature of our era: “Ours is a time of uneasiness
and indifference—not yet formulated in such ways as to permit the
work of reason and the play of sensibility” (2000 [1959]: 11). In the
post-World War II era, Mills argued that sociology should be especially
interested in understanding indifferent people, and particularly those who
felt no indignation at barbarism and horror. Mass society can shape the
subject into a morally insensitive being who accepts or condones atroci-
ties committed by state agents. In addition, the rationalisation of modern
society is highlighted as one of the causes of social indifference (Herzfeld,
1992; Hibou, 2015). It is a threat to democracy when “the individual
becomes the spectator of everything but the human witness of noth-
ing” (Mills, 1958: 78). As indifference is one form of social interaction
in modern society (Sutton & Norgaard, 2013: 499), prominent soci-
ologists have tried to explain its origins and meanings. According to
Ulrich Beck et al., labour and professional specialisations generate indif-
ference (2001). Division of labour and hyper specialisation make people
lose interest in participating in social relations in which we intervene in
everyday life. Indifference can also be linked to self-preservation mecha-
nisms adopted by the individual as a condition of survival or protection
(Giraud, 2008: 56). As Anthony Giddens warns, it is not possible to
6 H. ROJAS
dissociate indifference from the fear that a person may experience because
of social or state repression (1999). For Zygmunt Bauman moral indif-
ference (adiaphoron) is one of the most sensitive issues of the times in
which we live (in Bauman & Donskis, 2015: 55). In his lecture The
Perils of Indifference, Elie Wiesel has argued that indifference makes a
human being inhuman (1999). According to Mills, “the social scientist’s
foremost political and intellectual task [is] to make clear the elements of
contemporary uneasiness and indifference” (2000 [1959]: 13).
The social consequence of indifference is also a subject that needs to
be investigated by social scientists. It is perfectly possible that indiffer-
ence may be one of the causes of social fragmentation in contemporary
society since indifference weakens social cohesion and trust. If indifference
is seen as the lack of interest or concern for others, indifference becomes
a pattern in social relations when members of a political community are
neither interested in the other nor in the future of the community. In
that sense, it may well be said that indifference has a destructive potential
because social ties are weakened by the lack of mutual trust and solidarity.
To prevent political violence from happening again, the processes of
transition to democracy should be as complete and successful as possible
(O’Donnell & Schmitter, 1995: 64; Olsen et al., 2010: 16). There are
many variables that allow us to assess whether a transition has been
successful or not. Among the main ones are the preservation of social
peace, democratic stability, recognition of human rights, and respect for
the rule of law (Orentlicher, 1991: 2539). It is therefore desirable that
trust is restored and progress towards social reconciliation between antag-
onistic sectors is reaffirmed (Kritz, 1995: xx; Loveman & Lira, 2002:
438). Along with strengthening and consolidating democratic institutions
during the political transition, it is equally important to move towards an
increasingly democratic culture in civil society (Linz & Stepan, 1996: 9).
While pertinent research has been carried out at the institutional level,
perceptions of public opinion are also necessary for understanding unex-
plored aspects of the sometimes-fragile processes of transitional justice
(Aguilar et al., 2011). In societies that have gone through periods of
violence, civil wars, authoritarian, or totalitarian regimes, and that are now
in the phase of transition to democracy, it is necessary to understand the
role, values, attitudes, and opinions of people (Cárdenas et al., 2013).
As José Zalaquett points out, “a policy to deal with the abuses of the
past must be approved in a manner that reflects the will of the people”
(1989). It is therefore relevant to pay attention to the perceptions and
expectations of citizens and their level of commitment to the progress

that can be achieved during the political transition (Aguilar et al., 2011;
Backer, 2003; Olsen et al., 2012). According to Cárdenas et al. (2013,
2014), the consequences of collective political violence in Chile have not
been overcome in the transition to democracy, and the limitations of a
possible reconciliation among the different sectors persist. The issue is
tremendously complex in cases where political violence has been of great
magnitude, as the consequences of that violence extend into the future,
even to several generations who did not directly experience repression
(Arnoso et al., 2012: 7).
The indifference of the population to the human rights atrocities
that were committed in the past is a problematic issue for the political
transition process. IPHRV will be primarily understood as the lack of
willingness and interest of people to be informed and to engage over
state responsibility for human rights atrocities. If people have no interest
in human rights—or are indifferent to the core elements of transitional
justice—that may adversely affect the outcomes of the political transi-
tion to democracy. The lack of sensitivity and empathy with victims and
survivors of the state repression is an essential factor for the understanding
of the limits and opportunities of transitional justice processes in societies
in transition. Citizens who are indifferent are often in favour of turning
the page of the past—because they are not sensitive to the past horrors—
and thereby they would not support public policies or judicial action to
delve into it. Consolidation of democratic culture may be problematic if
a considerable sector of the population is indifferent to a set of values and
standards that should always be protected and safeguarded as fundamental
rights. It is plausible to assume that indifference encourages impunity of
criminals, introduces social forgetting and silence on the events of the
past, and undermines the desire for reparation for victims. IPHRV is an
obstacle to social ties among human beings and weakens social cohesion.
To be successful, political transition processes require social legitimacy,
and citizens’ indifference may undermine this essential basis of legitimacy.
When social IPHRV is visible in a political transition to democracy, the
attitude of unconcern or lack of interest of a person to what happened
to others inevitably affects the main themes of transitional justice. The
greater the level or degree of social indifference, the more likely animosi-
ties and political divisions of the past will persist during the political
transition. If social divisions persist, the political climate may lead to
new scenarios of violence and repression. Therefore, a complex political
8 H. ROJAS
scenario is created when profound social and ideological differences on

how to settle accounts with the past exist (Backer, 2003; Robins, 2011).
For example, in polarised and divided societies it may be that some social
sectors want to turn the page and forget, while other groups support the
widest possible diffusion of what happened (Lazzara, 2006: 13). IPHRV
may hurt victims precisely because their pain is denied or falsely recog-
nised. In the field of social relations indifference also may impede the
construction of shared collective memory and the identity of a political
community in a transitional period.
Consequently, IPHRV is a phenomenon that deserves to be care-
fully investigated in any political transition towards democratic stability.
Explaining the factors contributing to such indifference and assessing the
consequences in political transitions has been neglected in most studies of
political transitions and transitional justice. Indifference may lead to social
consequences in transitional societies that we still have not been able to
fully understand. For example, if citizens do not care for truth-seeking,
criminal sanctions, victims’ reparations, or memory of past atrocities,
authorities and policymakers may neglect or defer in time the transi-
tional justice agenda. Public opinion may influence decision-making at
the institutional level, and the decisions made by public authorities and
political leaders influence, positively or negatively, in the progress of the
transitional justice agenda. The greater the indifference to the pain of
the victims and their relatives, the more difficult it may be to reconcile
the different sectors. Because indifference problematises the constraints of
political transitions, this text reflects on a set of propositions concerning
the on-going transitional justice process that takes place in Chile today.
Beyond the academic project of transitional justice and the concrete
processes of political transitions, as Tester (2002) argues, indifference to
human rights atrocities is an eminently moral problem.
2 Chilean Transition to Democracy

According to Gerring, “single case studies may be more useful than cross-
case studies when a subject is being encountered for the first time or is
being considered in a fundamentally new way” (2007: 40). The selection
of a single case study allows it to be holistically approached, which is
not only an advantage for researchers but also for readers interested in
knowing the various dimensions of the researched phenomenon and the
context in which it is inserted. As Lavinia Stan suggests, “case studies
represent key building blocks of theory development” (2013: 4). This

research can be exploited in the future as a starting point for making
comparisons with other countries in transition and for the development
of new theoretical approaches on indifference in modern society.
The Chilean case has been selected to approach the phenomenon of
IPHRV. The Chilean transition is particularly interesting for four reasons:
(1) Chilean society continues to be politically polarised, as evidenced by
the acts of violence since October 2019; (2) it is a pacted or negoti-
ated transition, characterised by the veto powers of the supporters of the
former dictatorship and the persistence of authoritarian enclaves (Fuentes,
2012: 17); (3) it is a transition of long duration: despite having started in
1990, there are still important political debates and institutional conflicts
over the past (1970–1990), and (4) it is considered to be an example
of successful transition. The indifference of a considerable sector of the
population could be one of the reasons why the Chilean transition has
been so long. A demobilised citizenry may have been one of the causes
explaining why it has not been possible to approve a new political consti-
tution, but the recent social mobilisation opened the possibilities of
repealing the Pinochet Constitution. It is therefore important to under-
stand the role played by the phenomenon of IPHRV in the unfinished
political transition to democracy.
It is not possible to understand the current indifference in Chilean
society to past human rights violations without regard to the histor-
ical context. In half a century Chile has gone through very different
and even opposing political experiments and regimes: Revolution in
Liberty (1964–1970), Chilean Road to Socialism (1970–1973), Military
Dictatorship (1973–1990), and Transition to Democracy (1990–present).
Drastic political changes since the 1960s have affected the identity and
culture of Chileans (Bucciferro, 2012: Chapter 2). Different generations
of ordinary Chileans have had to adapt to these dramatically evolving
political scenarios and unstable institutional settings. These antagonistic
and abrupt shifts have defined a set of responses to the past.
Social reforms promoted by Presidents Frei Montalva and Allende
between 1964 and 1973 were accompanied by mobilisations of peas-
ants, workers, and progressive groups. But in those years, there were
also counter-mobilisations of conservative sectors and opponents to the
processes of social change. After the 1973 military coup, the massive
repression of the dictatorship provoked fear, distrust, and social demo-
bilisation (Frei, 2017: 69). Repression—applying national security laws,
10 H. ROJAS
censorship laws, arms control laws, and reactionary labour legislation,

etc.—had a long history in Chile (Lira & Loveman, 2014). In the 1973–
1990 period the military expanded the state repression and systematically
and institutionally violated the human rights of the left and centre-
left. There were social sectors that agreed with the state repression, but
there were others that were likely indifferent to human rights violations
and many others that did not get involved and remained silent out of
ignorance, disbelief, or, especially, fear.
Nobody disputes that the dictatorship influenced the culture of
the Chilean people, who became increasingly individualistic, politically
apathetic, and hedonistic (Moulian, 1997). During the dictatorship the
bonds of collaboration and membership in Chilean society were weak-
ened. With the transition to democracy after 1990, the elite’s pragmatic
politics of consensus and demobilisation favoured the narrative of recon-
ciliation and economic growth rather than prioritising the agenda of
transitional justice, including prosecution of perpetrators of human rights
violations. Since 1990, social ties have been diluted even more because
of the deepening of commodification in all spheres of life (Lechner,
1998: 238). Nevertheless, in the last 15 years many young people have
decided to protest in the streets, and with momentum in the years 2006,
2011, and 2019, because of their displeasure with the quality of educa-
tion and the political-economic model (Figueroa, 2013; Jackson, 2013;
Mayol, 2012; Peña, 2020; Segovia & Gamboa, 2012; Tironi, 2020;
Venegas, 2016). In the post-Pinochet transition the search for transitional
justice has been more intense than in the first decade of the transi-
tion. But this does not mean that all people are sensitive to the abuses
committed during the dictatorship. Chileans have multiple memories that
not only coexist but some of them are permanently in dispute and tension
(Lazzara, 2006; Stern, 2004, 2006).1 At present, it is not easy to under-
stand the subjectivities of Chilean adults because it is a society with deep
1 For a sector of the Chilean population it is necessary to preserve and promote memory
sites so the recurrence of state abuses never happen again. In contrast, another sector is
indifferent to the issue and would rather forget, as if it was possible to turn the page and
overcome the past (Frei, 2017: 15; Huneeus, 2003: 195). For example, those who ignore
or are indifferent to the traces of the past usually have little interest in visiting memory
and trauma sites. This hermeneutic fragmentation causes controversy over the existence of
memory sites: in the 2013 National Survey on Human Rights, 25 percent of respondents
claimed to be indifferent to the existence of monuments or sites of memory for victims,
which reflects an increase of six percentage points in comparison with the 2011 National
Survey on Human Rights.
political and ideological divisions (Huneeus, 2003; Huneeus & Ibarra,

2013; Lechner, 2002; Lira, 2013: 7). There is not a shared collective
memory among Chileans about how to interpret what happened during
the 17 years of the dictatorship and how to understand these three
decades of transition to democracy (Brodsky, 2013: 112).
(a) Political polarisation. Forty-eight years after the military coup of
11 September 1973, Chilean society continues to be deeply divided and
polarised (Brodsky, 2013: 112; Garcés, 2020; Huneeus, 2014; Stern &
Winn 2014; Wilde, 2013). For example, whereas in 2006, 43 percent
of Chileans believed reconciliation among different political sectors was
a reachable goal, within the next ten years that percentage decreased to
31 percent in 2015 (Irarrázaval, 2015: 49). The current political division
is partly a legacy of the ideological divisions of the 1960s and 1970s,
but during the political transition initiated in 1990 other socio-cultural
changes have emerged, such as political disaffection, distrust of political
parties, corruption, and lack of transparency in the financing of polit-
ical campaigns, etc. It is worth making a critical reflection of the deeper
and latent processes of the Chilean transition and thus revealing other
socio-cultural aspects that are not normally considered, such as social
indifference.
However, it is useful at the outset to outline the dimensions of human
rights violations in Chile from 1973 to 1990. State agents systematically
and brutally violated fundamental rights of sectors of the Chilean popu-
lation (National Commission on Political Imprisonment and Torture,
2004; National Commission on Truth and Reconciliation, 1991). Offi-
cial sources document more than 3000 political executions, one-third
of whom are still “missing” (desaparecidos ); 40,000 people have been
officially recognised as victims of torture and political imprisonment
(Presidential Advisory Commission for Qualification of the Disappeared,
Executed Political Prisoners and Victims of Political Imprisonment and
Torture, 2011); about 12,000 people sought asylum in embassies; more
than 200,000 Chileans lived in exile; and 58,000 people were dismissed
from jobs for political reasons (Elster, 2006: 84; Lowden, 1996). By
December 2015, a total of 1373 former state agents have been prose-
cuted, accused, or convicted, and 344 of them have been convicted by the
Supreme Court (Ministerio del Interior, 2015), but 1328 cases of human
rights violations are awaiting a court ruling (Universidad Diego Portales,
2017: 71). In comparison with other countries in the region, such as
Argentina, Uruguay, or Brazil, the extent of investigations, convictions,
and punishment in Chile could be considered as impressive. However,
12 H. ROJAS
given the scale of the atrocities committed, it is noteworthy that a sector

of Chilean society now chooses to stand apart from what happened at the
time, prefers not to be informed, and argues in favour of turning the page
(Frei, 2017: 15; PUC & Adimark-GfK, 2013).
There are no recipes for how a society in transition should assume or
overcome political violence, state terrorism, and past human rights viola-
tions. Once democracy was restored, like any country in transition to
democracy, Chilean society was at a crossroads and had to solve a complex
set of dilemmas to adequately confront the stormy past (Elster, 1998;
Hayner, 2008: 30; Lira & Loveman, 2005: 14; Zalaquett, 1992: 1426).
At the beginning of the transition there was a set of political concerns that
were not easy to answer: Would it be possible that all Chileans could live
in peace in the same territory? Would it be possible to heal the wounds
of the past and dream of a shared future? Would it be possible to investi-
gate and find the truth regarding events during the dictatorship? Would
it be possible to punish the perpetrators of the atrocities and their accom-
plices? Would it be necessary to sacrifice the search for truth and criminal
justice for political stability? Would it be possible to live in a democ-
racy without fear of a return to authoritarianism? These dilemmas were
formidably exposed by Ariel Dorfman in the epilogue of his play Death
and the Maiden (1994 [1991]), premiered on Broadway and London and
then made into a film by Roman Polanski.
As I began to write I found the characters trying to figure out the sort of
questions that so many Chileans were asking themselves privately, but that
hardly anyone seemed interested in posing in public. How can those who
were tortured co-exist in the same land? How to heal a country that has
been traumatised by repression if the fear to speak out is still omnipresent
everywhere? And how do you reach the truth if lying has become a habit?
How do we keep the past alive without becoming its prisoner? How do
we forget it without risking its repetition in the future? Is it legitimate
to sacrifice the truth to ensure peace? And what are the consequences of
suppressing that past and the truth it is whispering or howling to us? Are
people free to search for justice and equality if the threat of a military
intervention haunts them? And given these circumstances, can violence
be avoided? And how guilty are we all of what happened to those who
suffered the most? And perhaps the greatest dilemma of them all: how
to confront these issues without destroying the national consensus, which
creates democratic stability?
(Dorfman, 1994 [1991]: 48–49)
The main objective of the government of Patricio Aylwin (1990–1994)

was to achieve political reconciliation in the country (Loveman & Lira,
2002: 15; Otano, 1995: 118). Despite the efforts of the governments
of the Concertación coalition and the permanent mobilisation of human
rights organisations to advance the transitional justice agenda, the fact
is that the political-economic system was/is controlled by a powerful
elite, much of which was associated with the military regime (Matamala,
2015; PNUD, 2017: Chapter 10). Indeed, the conservative elite largely
managed to preserve the constitutional and legal status quo inherited
from the dictatorship. As the years of the political transition progress,
the marked left–right polarisation of the 1960s and 1970s declined, as
political apathy gradually increased (Carlin, 2006; Solimano, 2012: 47),
although since 2019 the social rebellion has reactivated political and
economic polarisation.
(b) Pacted transition. The Chilean transition is a typical case of
negotiated or pacted transition between the new democratically elected
authorities and the authorities who ruled the country during the dicta-
torship (Barahona de Brito, 1997: 107; Garretón, 2007: 42; Lechner,
2002: 67; Rubio, 2013: 242; Sanchez, 2003; Spooner, 2011: 3). More
precisely, it is a transition that has been negotiated between the elites
of political parties and the high command of the armed forces (Fuentes,
2012). Such negotiations were conducted behind closed doors, and even
a very important one triggered the 1989 referendum to amend the 1980
Constitution (Aldunate, 1991; Andrade, 1991). The political framework
within which the political transition was carried out has counted on the
approval of the political and business elites (Fuentes, 2012: Chapter 1).
In that sense, the boundaries that were drawn in the early 1990s for the
political transition were not the result of a participatory process. On the
contrary, right-wing and moderate political parties tended to demobilise
the population with the intention of not affecting the fragile fledgling
democracy. The left of the coalition and the human rights organisations
and the victims’ families, and their international allies kept the transitional
justice agenda active. Indeed, opposition from these sectors, and others,
prevented imposition of a Full stop law (punto final ).
Of all the Latin American transitions that have occurred in the last
three decades, Chile’s transition is the one with the most authoritarian
enclaves or institutional constraints on constitutional and legal reforms
(Elster, 2006: 84; Garretón, 2007: 109). The notion of authoritarian
enclaves refers to non-democratic or non-majoritarian features of the
14 H. ROJAS
1980 Constitution, such as appointed senators, veto by the National

Security Council over policy, extraordinary majorities required to approve
certain types or legislation and constitutional reform, a Constitutional
Court that could declare proposed legislation unconstitutional, whose
decisions were not subject to appeal, etc. For example, Pinochet remained
in power as commander in chief of the Army in the first eight years of
the transition and then assumed the position of senator for life until he
resigned in 2002. Notwithstanding the constitutional reforms adopted
since 1989, the constitution in force in Chile remains the constitu-
tion approved in a referendum in 1980, under the dictatorship, without
minimal electoral guarantees. The 1978 Amnesty law remains in effect,
and is symbolically powerful, even if it has been circumvented in prac-
tise (Lessa & Payne, 2015). The only way to move forward in the public
decision-making process during the Chilean transition has been by finding
broad consensus between the opposition and the government (Strasma,
2010: 21). This feature has meant that the Chilean transition is charac-
terised by its politics of consensus (Wilde, 1999: 476). An example of
the above is the Pact for Social Peace and the New Constitution, signed
by the political parties in November 2019 to stop the social outbreak.
The politics of consensus often did not consider some of the demands of
human rights organisations, victims’ families, and the victims themselves.
Moreover, it is a transition that has recognised the existence of an
unparalleled veto power given to the supporters of the dictatorship, in
relation to what has happened in other transitions in Latin America. It
should be noted that the ties between the right-wing opposition, the
Pinochetistas , and the economic elite are quite close. The right-wing
has practically exercised a veto power to prevent the progressive reforms
pursued by the Concertación coalition (now called New Majority). For
example, the supra-majority quorums established by the 1980 Consti-
tution for constitutional reform are too high to allow modification of
provisions of great political and economic importance. This ultimately
has meant a standstill or blocking of some reforms that have been
demanded by the most vulnerable and progressive sectors of Chilean
society (e.g. the pension system reform, the recognition of indigenous
peoples, etc.). However, it would be unfair not to recognise that the
leaders of Concertación and New Majority have managed to carry out a set
of social reforms for the benefit of the population (e.g. the public health
reform, the reform to the payment system of university education, etc.),
to the extent that such reforms have been supported by the economic elite
or some right-wing politicians whose votes were needed in parliamentary

debates.
(c) Incomplete transition. Chile’s political transition began the day
that General Augusto Pinochet handed the presidential sash to Patricio
Aylwin, on 11 March 1990. After 30 years Chilean society is still
immersed in the process of Transition to democracy, with the debate
on human rights violations still alive. The rule of law has not been
interrupted, and seven governments have been democratically elected
since 1990: Patricio Aylwin (1990–1994), Eduardo Frei Ruiz-Tagle
(1994–2000), Ricardo Lagos (2000–2006), Michelle Bachelet (2006–
2010), Sebastián Piñera (2010–2014), Michelle Bachelet (2014–2018),
and Sebastián Piñera (2018–2022). It could be argued, therefore, that
the Chilean transition is not only incomplete but also that the political
transition cycle shows signs of attrition (Colodro, 2013: 296; Hidalgo,
2011: Chapter 4; Tironi, 2010). Some authors have argued that the
transition concluded in the early 1990s (Barton & Murray, 2002: 331;
Garretón, 2000: 154; 2007: 78; Heine, 2001: 355), so now Chile would
be experiencing a post-transition phase. However, most social scientists
who study Chilean society and its institutions consider that the polit-
ical transition cycle is not yet over (Borzutzky, 2017: 166–167; Elster,
2004; Heine, 2001: 355; Huneeus, 2014; Jocelyn-Holt, 1998; Lazzara,
2006; Loveman & Lira, 2002: 13; Moulian, 2002 [1997]; Portales,
1999). If the process of drafting the new Constitution scheduled for 2021
and 2022 comes to fruition, then it could be said that the transition is
complete.
(d) Successful transition. In the eyes of the international commu-
nity, the Chilean transition has been classified as successful (Bucciferro,
2012: xvi), even in terms of achievements in the field of transitional
justice (Huneeus, 2014: 27; Skaar et al., 2016). In fact, in these three
decades, Chilean society has gradually progressed in condemning the
guilty, repairing the victims, memorialising, and clarifying the truth of
what happened during the dictatorship (Borzutzky, 2017). However,
the Chilean transition has important constraints and unsettled accounts
(Garretón, 2007: 108; Moulian, 2002 [1997]). For various reasons ordi-
nary citizens are not satisfied with the outcomes of the political transition
that has taken place. Although there is consensus in the global commu-
nity about the importance of fundamental rights, Chilean citizens are not
fully committed to their observance and protection (Huneeus & Ibarra,
2013: 245–247). In an optimal scenario, accounts with the past should
16 H. ROJAS
be settled in the first years of the political transition (Elster, 2004; Nino,
1996), but various experiences, including the Chilean transition, show
that this does not always happen, as the rhythms of the transitional justice
agenda can be accelerated (or decelerated) in more mature or late stages
of the political transition.
It is also striking that the Chilean economy during the years of transi-
tion to democracy has generally performed well and the country is more
prosperous that it was in 1990. Except for the economic hardship caused
by the current global pandemic, Chile has weathered global economic
crises in the last two decades relatively well. Indeed, since 1985 Chile
has accelerated its annual average GDP growth rate by nearly 2.5 percent
above the 1940–1985 period (Solimano, 2013: 323), reducing poverty
from 38.6 in 1990 to 7.8 percent in 2013. There are worrying indica-
tors in terms of the concentration of wealth and income, and levels of
corruption in the political class (Corral & Orcés, 2013: 10; PNUD, 2017:
Chapter 10), but in general it can be argued that the economy has been
performing relatively well in Chile. Some have even argued that Chile
is an example of political maturity and civility (Silva, 2016). This trait is
not always present in political transitions, because in addition to political
tensions, economic difficulties can be a threat to institutional stability.
During the transition, Chile has been characterised by the continuity
of its political-economic strategies of development, improving the quality
of life of most of the population. Indeed, Chile has grown economically
in the last thirty years and is an example for many countries in terms of
institutional stability and democratisation (Boeninger, 2007: 250–251).
For example, Chile has signed 26 free trade agreements with more than
60 countries from all continents and has been the first Latin American
country invited to participate as a member of the OECD. GDP has grown
at an average rate of 5.6 percent in the last 25 years (Friedman & Hofman,
2013), and the income per capita has quadrupled, going from US$4700
in 1990 to US$20,000 in 2015. According to the Human Develop-
ment Index (HDI) of the United Nations, Chile should be considered
the best case of all Latin American countries. However, with a Gini
coefficient of 0.50 (OECD, 2014: 111), Chile is a country with severe
economic inequalities (Engel & Navia, 2006). Pinochet’s free-market
ideology continues to have a strong influence in La Moneda’s economic
decision-making, and the presidential election of 2017 reconfirmed the
victory of neoliberalism in Chile.
The Concertación, Piñera, and Nueva Mayoría governments focussed

on macroeconomic stability, but at the cost of income inequality (Soli-
mano, 2012). As Boeninger points out, between 1990 and 2006, “the
country has permanently lived the tensions between continuity and
change; between state, market and regulation; between national coher-
ence and decentralization; between growth and equity” (2007: 250). The
2006, 2011, and 2019 protests of the generation of the transition against
the political-economic model inherited from the dictatorship should be
analysed carefully. The protests are a call to discuss the kind of country
in which Chileans want to live in the future. Again, there are sectors
that favour a model of an equitable society, while other sectors prefer
a model in which individual freedom, consumerism, and “the market”
are the fundamental values. While the political-economic model imposed
by Pinochet remains, in time a significant sector of Chilean society will
continue anchored in the conflicts of the past. In this complex historical-
political context, and for various reasons, there are Chileans who have
adopted indifferent behaviours, attitudes, and perceptions on matters of
public interest as relevant as human rights abuses committed during the
dictatorship.
3 Contributions of Explaining Indifference

First, a detailed analysis of the indifference towards the traumatic past in
Chile should contribute to a better understanding of the phenomenon of
indifference in modern society. Second, this work can be understood as
a specific contribution to the Never Again politics in countries in transi-
tion. Third, it seeks to promote the formulation and implementation of
more effective public policies on memory and human rights. Fourth, in
recent decades there has been an unprecedented boom in memory studies
(Huyssen, 1995: 5), but insufficient attention has been given to those
people who do not want to remember or commemorate human rights
atrocities. Fifth, this book can also be a contribution to the strategies and
policies to be implemented in societies in transition to deepen empathy,
tolerance, and democratic values in the population.
(a) Understanding indifference in modern times. It is crucial for social
science to understand the social production of indifference in modern
society (Mills, 2000 [1959]: 13). We have reasonable grounds to be
suspicious of the modern claim of rationality and emancipation of the
18 H. ROJAS
individual. The emergence of multiple forms of political and social domi-

nation has long repressed and prevented the emancipation of the modern
man (Adorno & Horkheimer, 1979 [1944]; Foucault, 1984: 46). Para-
phrasing Ian Kershaw, the Holocaust and the Final Solution in Europe,
the Dirty War of the military dictatorships in Latin America, and many
other horrors committed during the twentieth century, occurred because
of the cruelty of some but the indifference of many (1983: 277). Christo-
pher Browning revealed that not only sadistic minds, but also ordinary
people can lose their ability to react against evil (1992; cf. Arendt, 2001
[1963]).
Max Weber was the first sociologist to suggest that modern man
is trapped in an Iron Cage (Stahlhartes Gehäuse) due to progressive
processes of instrumental rationality (1958 [1905]: 181). In Moral Blind-
ness (2015 [2013]), Zygmunt Bauman and Leonidas Donskis reflect on
the loss of compassion in modern society: people have reduced their
ability to respond to evil and have become increasingly insensitive. In our
epoch we live in fear, panic, and lack of protection; indifference operates
as an anaesthetic against horror and cruelty (Suzunaga, 2013: 246). In
these increasingly complex, diverse, and global societies, social ties fade
easily and are more fragile and unstable (Bauman, 2000). Bureaucratic,
authoritarian, and technocratic personalities would be more likely to get
caught by indifference (Hibou, 2015: Chapter 4; Hikal, 2009). In that
sense, research on indifference should help us to better understand the
dilemmas facing modern society.
(b) The development of a Never Again culture. From a moral point
of view, how societies face their traumatic past is a matter of primary
importance as it relates to the sensitive issue of human dignity. After the
horrors experienced during the twentieth century, humankind has learned
that the lack of condemnation of human rights atrocities can lead to
increasing levels of atrocity in the future (cf. Gahima, 2013: 6–7). To
prevent state violence from happening again in the future it is essential
that societies become aware and learn from past abuses (Peterson, 2009).
It is very difficult for a society in transition to develop a Never Again
culture if impunity prevails over truth and justice, and if oblivion prevails
over memory. When indifference becomes a widespread attitude of a
considerable sector of the population, the struggle for transitional justice
inevitably loses social support. Indifference to the traumatic past facili-
tates oblivion and affects the younger generations’ necessary reflection
on the cruelties committed by their predecessors. Any reference to the
traumatic past may become a social taboo. It is problematic, controver-

sial, and dangerous when citizens are not capable of condemning military
coups, human rights violations, or state violence (Panizza, 1995: 170).
The backdrop behind this research is the importance of adequately sensi-
tising Chilean society on the respect and promotion of human rights of
all citizens, so that Never Again do ordinary citizens have to suffer state
abuses as the ones committed during Pinochet’s dictatorship. If Chileans
want to build a Never Again and human rights culture, then all citizens
should learn the lessons from the past and commit to the search for truth,
criminal justice, reparation, and memory. But the human rights violations
committed during the recent social outbreak show us that not all the
lessons have been sufficiently learned.
(c) Effective policies on memory and human rights. Before the design,
implementation, and evaluation of public policies on human rights, it is
necessary to have reliable public opinion polls. If policymakers do not
have a correct diagnosis of the reasons as to why many people are not
concerned or are disinterested in human rights and transitional justice,
improvised, ineffective, or poorly targeted initiatives could be imple-
mented. It is useful to understand the reasons behind indifference when
reviewing the content, strategies, and ways in which human rights are
taught at schools and universities and discussed in the public arena. This
issue is important because both indifference and hostility towards human
rights increase the frustration and pain of victims and their relatives by
the lack of social understanding of their concerns. A better explanation
of social indifference in Chile today can also contribute to more effective
policies of memory. To promote the Never Again project, both nation-
ally and internationally, indifferent sectors that are currently ignoring or
want to forget the repressive past need to be involved (Achugar, 2004:
121–126; Clark & Payne, 2011: 102). The indifferent do not engage
in the debates over memory; their failure to engage, however, blocks,
rather than advances, Never Again memory politics. Even if people do
not act based on their political beliefs, knowledge, and recognition of
human rights violations is considered essential to the defence of demo-
cratic values against possible threats in the future (Zalaquett, 1989). It
is easy to ignore the indifferent opinions and attitudes in the population,
precisely because they are often invisible or do not receive attention via
public opinion or the mass media. However, such perceptions should be
measured and discussed. There is no doubt that those who are hostile to
human rights issues impede the development of a Never Again culture.
20 H. ROJAS
But it may also be that the indifference of some sectors of the population
affects the development of a culture of human rights in a given country.
(d) Expanding memory studies. This research may also be seen as a
theoretical and empirical contribution to the emerging field of memory
studies. The main novelty of the boom of studies on collective memory
in the last four decades has been to provoke reflection on why, what,
and how we remember the past. Just as there are points of connection
between historians and sociologists when analysing the past, the main
difference lies in the object of study and research methods. Sociology of
memory is interested in showing how a given society assumes its past
and integrates it in the present. If the temporary status of any act of
memory is always in the present, as Huyssen suggests, then collective
memory is essentially a sociological concern (1995: 3). As the act of
remembering is always selective, there is information that can be discarded
and forgotten by society. Instead of investigating what we remember and
commemorate, the reasons why social groups are sometimes indifferent to
the consequences of the traumas of the past must be discussed. Memory
entrepreneurs have not sufficiently examined their successes and failures
to overcome the indifferent memory, and instead easily allocate their ener-
gies and resources preaching to the choir. Indifference may be the seed
that later becomes social silence and collective amnesia.
(e) Promoting democracy. A better understanding of indifference also
contributes to studies on social democratisation and democratic delib-
eration. It is perfectly possible that a society has a formal democracy,
but with a deep deficit in terms of the values that underpin the polit-
ical system, especially tolerance, freedom, and human rights. The main
suggestion made by the United Nations Development Programme in
relation to Latin American democracies is to move from a democracy
of voters to a democracy of citizens (PNUD, 2004). In fact, one of the
main challenges of societies in transition aiming to consolidate democracy
as a political system is expanding the democratic culture of its citizens.
Psychological studies show that when individuals exhibit high levels of
tolerance, flexibility, empathy, and interpersonal trust, the support for
democratic values is more likely to be stronger (Miklikowska, 2012).
Indifference and citizens’ apathy towards political and public affairs are
obstacles for democracy because low levels of participation and commit-
ment end up damaging the legitimacy of the political order (Macedo,
2005: Chapter 1). It is unlikely that the politics of memory will have
positive results if they have no impact on most of the population. The
promotion of memory contributes to the expansion of the democratic

culture and, consequently, the strengthening of a democratic system. This
reflection may also be of interest to other researchers and community
leaders fighting against social indifference and political apathy in soci-
eties in transition or post-dictatorship. In that sense, this study may lead
to future interdisciplinary and comparative research in countries such
as Germany, Brazil, the Czech Republic, Peru, Romania, Spain, South
Africa, and Uruguay, among others. Indifference, rather than mobilisa-
tion, best describes the challenges faced by most societies emerging from
authoritarian rule.
4 Researching Indifference
To explain the characteristics, causes, and impact of social indifference on
past human rights atrocities in Chile’s transition to democracy, a mixed
methods design has been selected. More specifically, the study uses a
sequential and non-nested mixed methods design. As Small points out,
“sequential studies have exploited several of the advantages of mixed
methods studies, such as the ability to understand the mechanisms behind
newly discovered associations or to test emergent hypotheses” (2011:
67). It is not a nesting data collection design because obtaining quanti-
tative and qualitative data from the same individual units was impractical.
The combination of semi-structured interviews, participatory observa-
tion, and statistical analysis of a national survey is appropriate for an
empirically informed and critical analysis of the phenomenon investi-
gated. All data collected through qualitative and quantitative methods
helps to obtain greater insight into the research questions than would
be obtained by either type of data independently (Morse, 2003: 191).
In addition, secondary sources, audio-visual documentaries, and archives
located in different documentation centres and institutions have been
analysed during an extensive period of fieldwork in Chile.
(a) Mixed Methods. Social research has been defined as “any process
of activity oriented to obtaining empirical-rational knowledge about the
causes, nature and consequences of social interactivity” (Bericat, 1998:
91). In the last 50 years researchers have employed mixed methods
because of the complementary strengths of both traditional quantitative
and qualitative methods (Small, 2011: 61). As Johnson et al. point out,
“mixed methods research is the type of research in which a researcher …
combines elements of qualitative and quantitative research approaches …
22 H. ROJAS
for the purposes of breadth and depth of understanding” (2007: 123).

Without ignoring the contributions of each of the traditional methods
of sociological research to the understanding of social phenomena, soci-
ological research based on multiple and diverse data sources aims for
triangulation (Brewer & Hunter, 1989). Mixed methods “involves the
collection or analysis of both quantitative and/or qualitative data in a
single study in which the data are collected concurrently or sequentially,
are given a priority, and involve the integration of the data at one or
more stages in the process of research” (Creswell et al., 2003: 212).
Mixed methods design has three major advantages over a single research
methods design: “Mixed methods research can answer research questions
that the other methodologies cannot. Mixed methods research provides
better (stronger) inferences. Mixed methods provide the opportunity for
presenting a greater diversity of divergent views” (Teddlie & Tashakkori,
2003: 14–15).
The combination of semi-structured interviews, participatory obser-
vation, and statistical analysis of a national survey is appropriate for an
empirically informed and critical analysis of IPHRV in Chile. An explana-
tory sequential mixed methods design is being used, as quantitative data
has been first analysed, and then the qualitative data has been analysed.
Indeed, the sequential mixed methods design “is characterized by the
collection and analysis of quantitative data followed by the collection and
analysis of qualitative data. Priority is typically given to the quantitative
data, and the two methods are integrated during the interpretation phase
of the study” (Creswell et al., 2003: 223). In this case, the results of the
quantitative data analysis are followed up with the results of the quali-
tative data analysis. An additional revision and interpretation of the data
collected have been necessary as the individuals who participated in the
qualitative phase were not the same individuals who participated in the
quantitative phase.
(b) Quantitative methods. The use of quantitative data analysis in this
project aims to (1) identify and understand factors explaining people’s
IPHRV and (2) build comparative insights to discover socio-political
sources of that indifference. Quantitative methods have been applied
to characterise the indifferent adults to human rights abuses in Chile.
The survey analysis allows a better understanding of the explanations
sustaining IPHRV, exploring some of the associations that could explain
the phenomenon of indifference. Also, the survey has been useful to show
the differences between people who are indifferent and non-indifferent to
past human rights violations in Chile. Among those who are indifferent,
the survey has helped to explore and distinguish the features of the four
different sub-categories of IPHRV. The statistical analysis has been based
on the 2013 Bicentennial National Survey, conducted by the Centre for
Public Policy and the Institute of Sociology of the Catholic University of
Chile (PUC) and Adimark-GfK. I was able to include a set of questions
in the final version of the questionnaire that were essential to approach
the phenomenon of indifference in Chile today. The national sample of
2,004 adults is probabilistic and stratified, and the margin of error is ±
2.2 at a 95 percent level of confidence. The statistical analysis includes
descriptive statistics, contingency tables (Chi-squared tests, T-tests), and
logistic regressions.
(c) Qualitative methods. Between June and December 2016, a total of
53 persons have been interviewed in Chile, until a saturation point was
reached: 35 indifferent persons and 18 non-indifferent persons but with
similar life trajectories to the indifferent ones. Although the spectrum of
interviewees is quite broad—from former agents of the National Intelli-
gence Directorate (DINA) to former members of the Manuel Rodríguez
Patriotic Front (FPMR)—most of them are ordinary citizens. All the
people interviewed are of Chilean nationality and are adults. The objective
of these interviews has been to complement the statistical analysis with
more robust explanations on the causes and impact of IPHRV. As quali-
tative enquiry unveils more profound social mechanisms and processes, it
allows a better and clearer understanding of the dynamics involved in the
phenomenon of social indifference.
To discriminate between particular types of indifference this research
takes an inferential approach that involves comparing different groups
among those who are indifferent to past human rights violations. The
theoretical framework suggests the presence of four different groups of
indifferent (disillusioned, resigned, submissive, and depoliticised indif-
ferent). The Method of Agreement, proposed by Theda Skocpol and
Margaret Somers (1980), has been used to create a comparative approach
between groups that, sharing the same outcome (indifference) and having
similar socio-demographic characteristics, differ in the causes of that
outcome. While the common causes in these cases strengthen the explana-
tions of IPHRV, the differences between them inform on the specificities
of each one of these four types of indifference. Additional interviews with
non-indifferent persons have been included, to test whether these factors
can be conceived of as causes of indifference, thus strengthening the
24 H. ROJAS
design’s robustness. In addition, process-tracing in in-depth interviews

allows understanding of the consequences or impact of IPHRV in social
relations in which the different types of indifferent persons intervene.
The qualitative data collected has been analysed according to
Grounded Theory (Charmaz, 2006; Glaser & Strauss, 1967; Strauss,
1987; Strauss & Corbin, 1990). Each interview transcript has been
compared with other transcripts, and each category with another, finding
emerging patterns (Wing Leung et al., 2011). As has been recommended
by Charmaz, Grounded Theory has been used flexibly and not mechan-
ically (2006: 178). The formulation of analytical questions has helped
to approach meanings and subjectivities, finding what interviewees have
in common and how they differ. Line-by-line coding and microanalysis
has shaped the preliminary analytic frame, and the analytical categories,
including their properties and relationships (Charmaz, 2006: 45 and 50;
Strauss & Corbin, 2002: 73 and 183). The analysis has comprised the
steps through which the data has been fragmented, conceptualised, and
re-articulated. Consequently, concepts, categories, properties, and dimen-
sions emerged from the process of coding. Following Taylor and Bogdan,
the analysis required an intimate and profound knowledge of the data
collected (1987: 175). The process of coding has been used as a system-
atic way for developing and refining the interpretations of the qualitative
data collected (cf. Taylor & Bogdan, 1987: 167). Open and axial coding
of all interviews helped to regroup data, allowing subcategories, dimen-
sions, interactions, and concepts to emerge (cf. Strauss & Corbin, 2002:
134–135). Simultaneously, process-tracing was considered when exam-
ining specific chains of events that led interviewees to become indifferent
to past atrocities and transitional justice. Process-tracing has strengthened
the analysis and understanding of causal interaction between life events
and IPHRV in Chile.
An extensive revision of documents and archives in Chile has been
carried out with the aim of building triangulation. The analysis of
secondary sources has allowed a better understanding of the socio-
cultural context in which the phenomenon of IPHRV is inserted.2
2 Archives and documents had been reviewed in the following institutions: Catholic
University of Chile, Alberto Hurtado University, Museum of Memory and Human Rights,
Vicarage of Solidarity Foundation, Londres 38 detention centre, and Villa Grimaldi Park
for Peace. The results of various surveys have also been reviewed; in particular the public
opinion polls conducted by Centro de Estudios Públicos (CEP), the United Nations
Reports and archives have been used to make the analysis, explanations,
and interpretations more robust (Jick, 1979). Participant observation in
trauma and memory sites and public spaces was conducted in different
periods between 2013 and 2016. Villa Grimaldi Park for Peace, the
National Cemetery, the Museum of Memory and Human Rights, Londres
38 torture centre, Salvador Allende Foundation, Pinochet Foundation,
the ovens and memorials of Lonquén, the Army Museum, the War
Academy, the Navy Museum, and the Jaime Guzmán Memorial are some
of the memory sites that were visited during fieldwork. Additionally,
meetings with teachers and secondary students took place at four schools
in Santiago and Reñaca (V region). Numerous ceremonies and cultural-
artistic events were attended in Chile during fieldwork, including the
commemorations of the 40th anniversary of the military coup in 2013
and the funeral of Carlos Berger in 2014.3 In September 2015 a deten-
tion centre for former members of the military who are under judicial
investigation was visited. Street protests and violent riots in Down-
town Santiago, mainly organised by college students, were observed with
prudence and respect. Field notes and photographs taken at these loca-
tions have contributed valuable material that complements the analysis
of the primary sources collected through in-depth interviews.4 Addition-
ally, I was able to discuss my work with opinion shapers, intellectuals,
human rights activists, scholars, and doctoral students. The objective of
these meetings was to share with experts the aim of this research project
and some of the preliminary findings, and then to invite them to give
their points of view about IPHRV in Chile’s political transition. These
informal and academic conversations provided valuable information for
understanding the broader socio-cultural context of Chilean transition to
democracy.
Human Development Program (UNDP), Latinobarómetro, Catholic University of Chile

and Adimark-GfK, Centro de Estudios de la Realidad Contemporánea (CERC), the
National Institute of Human Rights, and Diego Portales University.
3 Lawyer and journalist Carlos Berger, director of El Loa radio station, was arrested in
Calama on 11 September 1973, and executed by the Caravan of Death led by General
Sergio Arellano on October 1973. His remains were disappeared for over 40 years, and
his funeral took place at the General Cemetery of Santiago on 13 April 2014.
4 Appendix 7 provides a summary of the memory sites and schools visited during
fieldwork.
26 H. ROJAS
References
Aarão Reis, D. (2004). Ditadura e sociedades: As reconstruções da memória. In
D. Aarão Reis (Ed.), O Golpe e a ditadura militar: 40 anos depois (1964–2004)
(pp. 29–52). Editora da Universidade do Sagrado Coração.
Achugar, H. (2004). Planetas sin Boca: Escritos efímeros sobre arte, cultura y
literatura. Trilce.
Adorno, T., & Horkheimer, M. (1979 [1944]). Dialectic of enlightenment. Verso
Editions.
Aguilar, P. (2007). Los debates sobre la Memoria Histórica. Claves De La Razón
Práctica, 172, 64–68.
Aguilar, P. (2008). Políticas de la Memoria y Memorias de la Política. El caso
español en perspectiva comparada. Alianza Editorial.
Aguilar, P., Balcells, L., & Cebolla-Boado, H. (2011). Determinants of atti-
tudes toward transitional justice: An empirical analysis of the Spanish case.
Comparative Political Studies, 44(10), 1397–1430.
Aguilar, P., & Payne, L. A. (2016). Revealing new truths about Spain’s violent
past: Perpetrators’ confessions and victim exhumations. Palgrave Macmillan.
Aldunate, E. (1991). La reforma constitucional de 1989: antecedentes e interro-
gantes. Law thesis, Universidad Católica de Valparaíso.
Altman, D. (2006). Continuidades, Cambios y Desafíos Democráticos en Chile
(2006–2009). Colombia Internacional, 64, 12–33.
Andrade, C. (1991). Reforma de Constitución Política de la República de Chile
de 1980. Editorial Jurídica de Chile.
Angell, A. (1993). The transition to democracy in Chile: A model or an
exceptional case? Parliamentary Affairs, 46(4), 563–578.
Arnoso, M., Cárdenas, M., & Páez, D. (2012). Diferencias intergeneracionales
en la mirada hacia el pasado represivo chileno. Psicología Política, 45, 7–26.
Arteta, A. (2012). Mal consentido. La complicidad del espectador indiferente.
Alianza Editorial.
Backer, D. (2003). Civil society and transitional justice: Possibilities, patterns and
prospects. Journal of Human Rights, 2(3), 297–313.
Barahona de Brito, A. (1997). Human rights and democratization in Latin
America: Uruguay and Chile. Oxford University Press.
Barahona de Brito, A., González-Enríquez, C., & Aguilar, P. (2001). The politics
of memory: Transitional justice in democratizing societies. Oxford University
Press.
Barsalou, J. (2005). Trauma and transitional justice in divided societies. United
States Institute of Peace.
Barton, J. R., & Murray, W. E. (2002). The end of transition? Chile 1990–2000.
Bulletin of Latin American Research, 21(3), 329–338.
Bauman, Z. (1991). The social manipulation of morality: Moralizing actors,
adiaphorizing action. Theory, Culture & Society, 8, 137–151.
Bauman, Z. (2000). Liquid modernity. Polity.

Bauman, Z., & Donskis, L. (2015). Ceguera Moral: La pérdida de sensibilidad
en la modernidad líquida. Paidós.
Beck, U., & Beck-Gernsheim, E. (2001). Individualization: Institutionalized
individualism and its social and political consequences. London: Sage.
Bericat, E. (1998). La integración de los métodos cuantitativo y cualitativo en la
investigación social. Editorial Ariel.
Boeninger, E. (2007). Políticas Públicas en Democracia. Institucionalidad y
experiencia chilena, 1990–2006. Uqbar editores.
Boesten, J. (2010). Analyzing rape regimes at the interface of war and peace in
Peru. The International Journal of Transitional Justice, 4, 110–129.
Borzutzky, S. (2017). Human rights in Chile: The unfinished struggle for truth
and justice. Palgrave Macmillan.
Brewer, J., & Hunter, A. (1989). Multimethod research: A synthesis of styles. Sage.
Brodsky, R. (2013). Vivimos juntos, con nuestras heridas. In H. Larraín, &
R. Núñez (Eds.), Las Voces de la Reconciliación (pp. 103–112). Instituto de
Estudios de la Sociedad.
Browning, C. R. (1992). Ordinary men: Reserve Police Battalion 101 and the
final solution in Poland. HarperCollins.
Bucciferro, C. (2012). For-Get: Identity, media, and democracy in Chile. Univer-
sity Press of America.
Carassai, S. (2014). The Argentine silent majority: Middle classes, politics, violence,
and memory in the seventies. Duke University Press.
Cárdenas, M., Páez, D., & Rimé, B. (2013). Transitional justice processes, shared
narrative memory about past collective violence and reconciliation: The case
of the Chilean “Truth and Reconciliation” and “Political Imprisonment and
Torture” commissions. In R. Cabecinhas & L. Abadia (Eds.), Narratives
and social memory: Theoretical and methodological approaches (pp. 61–76).
Communication and Society Research Centre.
Cárdenas, M., Páez, D., & Rimé, B. (2014). El impacto psicosocial de los
procesos transicionales en Chile: Evaluación de los efectos de las Comisiones
Nacional de “Verdad y Reconciliación” y “Prisión Política y Tortura.” Revista
De Psicología Social, 28(2), 145–156.
Carlin, R. E. (2006). The decline of citizen participation in electoral politics in
post-authoritarian Chile. Democratization, 13(4), 632–651.
Carvacho, H., Manzi, J., Haye, A., González, R., & Cornejo, M. (2013).
Consenso y disenso en la memoria histórica y en las actitudes hacia la
reparación en tres generaciones de chilenos. Psykhe, 22(2), 33–47.
Caswell, M. (2014). Archiving the unspeakable: Silence, memory, and photographic
memory in Cambodia. University of Wisconsin Press.
Catela da Silva, L. (2010). Violencia política y dictadura en Argentina: De memo-
rias dominantes, subterráneas y denegadas. In C. Fico (Ed.), Ditadura e
28 H. ROJAS
democracia na América Latina: Balanço histórico e perspectivas (pp. 179–200).

Editora Fundação Getúlio Vargas.
Charmaz, K. (2006). Constructing grounded theory: A practical guide through
qualitative analysis. Sage.
Clark, L. B., & Payne, L. A. (2011). Trauma tourism in Latin America. In K.
Bilbija & L. A. Payne (Eds.), Accounting for violence: Marketing memory in
Latin America (pp. 99–126). Duke University Press.
Cohen, R. L. (2002, June). Silencing objections: Social constructions of indiffer-
ence. Journal of Human Rights, 1(2), 187–206.
Collins, C. (2014). Los Derechos Humanos durante la Concertación. In K.
Sehnbruch & P. M. Siavelis, (Eds.), El Balance: Política y Políticas de la
Concertación 1990–2010 (pp. 143–166). Catalonia.
Colodro, M. (2013). Chile post binominal. In H. Larraín, & R. Núñez (Eds.),
Las Voces de la Reconciliación (pp. 291–297). Instituto de Estudios de la
Sociedad.
Corral, M., & Orcés, D. (2013). Economic development, corruption and
satisfaction with democracy across the Americas: A comparative multilevel
analysis. Documentos de Trabajo, 18, Instituto de Iberoamérica, Univer-
sidad de Salamanca. http://gredos.usal.es/jspui/bitstream/10366/122507/
1/DT_18_2013.pdf
Creswell, J. W., Plano Clark, V. L., Gutmann, M. L., & Hanson, W. E. (2003).
Advances mixed methods research designs. In A. Tashakkori & C. Teddlie
(Eds.), Handbook of mixed methods in social science & behavioral research
(pp. 209–240). Sage.
Davidovich, K. (2014). Hablar desde el silencio: El silencio como verdad en
las narrativas de mujeres sobrevivientes. Catedral Tomada: Revista De Crítica
Literaria Latinoamericana, 2(3), 18–50.
de Tocqueville, A. (1989 [1835]). La Democracia en América. Vol. I. Aguilar.
Dorfman, A. (1994 [1991]). Death and the Maiden. Nick Hern Books.
Elster, J. (1988). Consequences of constitutional choice: Reflections on
Tocqueville. In J. Elster, & R. Slagstad, Constitutionalism and democracy
(pp. 81–101). Cambridge University Press.
Elster, J. (1998). Coming to terms with the past: A framework for the study
of justice in the transition to democracy. Archives Européenes De Sociologie,
39(1), 7–48.
Elster, J. (2004). Closing the books: Transitional justice in historical perspective.
Cambridge University Press (Spanish trans. Elster, J. (2006). Rendición de
cuentas: la justicia transicional en perspectiva histórica. Katz).
Engel, E., & Navia, P. (2006). Que gane “el más mejor”: Mérito y competencia en
el Chile de hoy. Debate.
Ensalaco, M. (2000). Chile under Pinochet: Recovering the truth. University of
Pennsylvania Press.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
crossed the mist-hung meadows a few hours earlier. It was as if there were
two realities at Pentlands—one, it might have been said, of the daylight and
the other of the darkness; as if one life—a secret, hidden one—lay beneath
the bright, pleasant surface of a world composed of green fields and trees,
the sound of barking dogs, the faint odor of coffee arising from the kitchen,
and the sound of a groom whistling while he saddled a thoroughbred. It was
a misfortune that chance had given her an insight into both the bright,
pleasant world and that other dark, nebulous one. The others, save perhaps
old John Pentland, saw only this bright, easy life that had begun to stir all
about her.
And she reflected that a stranger coming to Pentlands would find it a
pleasant, comfortable house, where the life was easy and even luxurious,
where all of them were protected by wealth. He would find them all rather
pleasant, normal, friendly people of a family respected and even
distinguished. He would say, “Here is a world that is solid and comfortable
and sound.”
Yes, it would appear thus to a stranger, so it might be that the dark,
fearful world existed only in her imagination. Perhaps she herself was ill, a
little unbalanced and morbid ... perhaps a little touched like the old woman
in the north wing.
Still, she thought, most houses, most families, must have such double
lives—one which the world saw and one which remained hidden.
As she pulled on her boots she heard the voice of Higgins, noisy and
cheerful, exchanging amorous jests with the new Irish kitchen-maid,
marking her already for his own.
She rode listlessly, allowing the mare to lead through the birch thicket
over the cool dark paths which she and Michael always followed. The
morning air did not change her spirits. There was something sad in riding
alone through the long green tunnel.
When at last she came out on the opposite side by the patch of catnip
where they had encountered Miss Peavey, she saw a Ford drawn up by the
side of the road and a man standing beside it, smoking a cigar and regarding
the engine as if he were in trouble. She saw no more than that and would
have passed him without troubling to look a second time, when she heard
herself being addressed.
“You’re Mrs. Pentland, aren’t you?”
She drew in the mare. “Yes, I’m Mrs. Pentland.”
He was a little man, dressed rather too neatly in a suit of checkered stuff,
with a high, stiff white collar which appeared to be strangling him. He wore
nose-glasses and his face had a look of having been highly polished. As she
turned, he took off his straw hat and with a great show of manners came
forward, bowing and smiling cordially.
“Well,” he said, “I’m glad to hear that I’m right. I hoped I might meet
you here. It’s a great pleasure to know you, Mrs. Pentland. My name is
Gavin.... I’m by way of being a friend of Michael O’Hara.”
“Oh!” said Olivia. “How do you do?”
“You’re not in a great hurry, I hope?” he asked. “I’d like to have a word
or two with you.”
“No, I’m not in a great hurry.”
It was impossible to imagine what this fussy little man, standing in the
middle of the road, bowing and smiling, could have to say to her.
Still holding his hat in his hand, he tossed away the end of his cigar and
said, “It’s about a very delicate matter, Mrs. Pentland. It has to do with Mr.
O’Hara’s campaign. I suppose you know about that. You’re a friend of his, I
believe?”
“Why, yes,” she said coldly. “We ride together.”
He coughed and, clearly ill at ease, set off on a tangent from the main
subject. “You see, I’m a great friend of his. In fact, we grew up together ...
lived in the same ward and fought together as boys. You mightn’t think it to
see us together ... because he’s such a clever one. He’s made for big things
and I’m not.... I’m ... I’m just plain John Gavin. But we’re friends, all the
same, just the same as ever ... just as if he wasn’t a big man. That’s one
thing about Michael. He never goes back on his old friends, no matter how
great he gets to be.”
A light of adoration shone in the blue eyes of the little man. It was,
Olivia thought, as if he were speaking of God; only clearly he thought of
Michael O’Hara as greater than God. If Michael affected men like this, it
was easy to see why he was so successful.
The little man kept interrupting himself with apologies. “I shan’t keep
you long, Mrs. Pentland ... only a moment. You see I thought it was better if
I saw you here instead of coming to the house.” Suddenly screwing up his
shiny face, he became intensely serious. “It’s like this, Mrs. Pentland.... I
know you’re a good friend of his and you wish him well. You want to see
him get elected ... even though you people out here don’t hold much with
the Democratic party.”
“Yes,” said Olivia. “That’s true.”
“Well,” he continued with a visible effort, “Michael’s a good friend of
mine. I’m sort of a bodyguard to him. Of course, I never come out here, I
don’t belong in this world.... I’d feel sort of funny out here.”
(Olivia found herself feeling respect for the little man. He was so simple
and so honest and he so obviously worshiped Michael.)
“You see ... I know all about Michael. I’ve been through a great deal
with him ... and he’s not himself just now. There’s something wrong. He
ain’t interested in his work. He acts as if he’d be willing to chuck his whole
career overboard ... and I can’t let him do that. None of his friends ... can’t
let him do it. We can’t get him to take a proper interest in his affairs.
Usually, he manages everything ... better than any one else could.” He
became suddenly confidential, closing one eye. “D’you know what I think
is the matter? I’ve been watching him and I’ve got an idea.”
He waited until Olivia said, “No ... I haven’t the least idea.”
Cocking his head on one side and speaking with the air of having made a
great discovery, he said, “Well, I think there’s a woman mixed up in it.”
She felt the blood mounting to her head, in spite of anything she could
do. When she was able to speak, she asked, “Yes, and what am I to do?”
He moved a little nearer, still with the same air of confiding in her.
“Well, this is my idea. Now, you’re a friend of his ... you’ll understand. You
see, the trouble is that it’s some woman here in Durham ... some swell, you
see, like yourself. That’s what makes it hard. He’s had women before, but
they were women out of the ward and it didn’t make much difference. But
this is different. He’s all upset, and....” He hesitated for a moment. “Well, I
don’t like to say a thing like this about Michael, but I think his head is
turned a little. That’s a mean thing to say, but then we’re all human, aren’t
we?”
“Yes,” said Olivia softly. “Yes ... in the end, we’re all human ... even
swells like me.” There was a twinkle of humor in her eye which for a
moment disconcerted the little man.
“Well,” he went on, “he’s all upset about her and he’s no good for
anything. Now, what I thought was this ... that you could find out who this
woman is and go to her and persuade her to lay off him for a time ... to go
away some place ... at least until the campaign is over. It’d make a
difference. D’you see?”
He looked at her boldly, as if what he had been saying was absolutely
honest and direct, as if he really had not the faintest idea who this woman
was, and beneath a sense of anger, Olivia was amused at the crude tact
which had evolved this trick.
“There’s not much that I can do,” she said. “It’s a preposterous idea ...
but I’ll do what I can. I’ll try. I can’t promise anything. It lies with Mr.
O’Hara, after all.”
“You see, Mrs. Pentland, if it ever got to be a scandal, it’d be the end of
him. A woman out of the ward doesn’t matter so much, but a woman out
here would be different. She’d get a lot of publicity from the sassiety editors
and all.... That’s what’s dangerous. He’d have the whole church against him
on the grounds of immorality.”
While he was speaking, a strange idea occurred to Olivia—that much of
what he said sounded like a strange echo of Aunt Cassie’s methods of
argument.
The horse had grown impatient and was pawing the road and tossing his
head; and Olivia was angry now, genuinely angry, so that she waited for a
time before speaking, lest she should betray herself and spoil all this little
game of pretense which Mr. Gavin had built up to keep himself in
countenance. At last she said, “I’ll do what I can, but it’s a ridiculous thing
you’re asking of me.”
The little man grinned. “I’ve been a long time in politics, Ma’am, and
I’ve seen funnier things than this....” He put on his hat, as if to signal that he
had said all he wanted to say. “But there’s one thing I’d like to ask ... and
that’s that you never let Michael know that I spoke to you about this.”
“Why should I promise ... anything?”
He moved nearer and said in a low voice, “You know Michael very well,
Mrs. Pentland.... You know Michael very well, and you know that he’s got a
bad, quick temper. If he found out that we were meddling in his affairs, he
might do anything. He might chuck the whole business and clear out
altogether. He’s never been like this about a woman before. He’d do it just
now.... That’s the way he’s feeling. You don’t want to see him ruin himself
any more than I do ... a clever man like Michael. Why, he might be
president one of these days. He can do anything he sets his will to, Ma’am,
but he is, as they say, temperamental just now.”
“I’ll not tell him,” said Olivia quietly. “And I’ll do what I can to help
you. And now I must go.” She felt suddenly friendly toward Mr. Gavin,
perhaps because what he had been telling her was exactly what she wanted
most at that moment to hear. She leaned down from her horse and held out
her hand, saying, “Good-morning, Mr. Gavin.”
Mr. Gavin removed his hat once more, revealing his round, bald, shiny
head. “Good-morning, Mrs. Pentland.”
As she rode off, the little man remained standing in the middle of the
road looking after her until she had disappeared. His eye glowed with the
light of admiration, but as Olivia turned from the road into the meadows, he
frowned and swore aloud. Until now he hadn’t understood how a good
politician like Michael could lose his head over any woman. But he had an
idea that he could trust this woman to do what she had promised. There was
a look about her ... a look which made her seem different from most
women; perhaps it was this look which had made a fool of Michael, who
usually kept women in their proper places.
Grinning and shaking his head, he got into the Ford, started it with a
great uproar, and set off in the direction of Boston. After he had gone a little
way he halted again and got out, for in his agitation he had forgotten to
close the hood.
From the moment she turned and rode away from Mr. Gavin, Olivia
gave herself over to action. She saw that there was need of more than mere
static truth to bring order out of the hazy chaos at Pentlands; there must be
action as well. And she was angry now, really angry, even at Mr. Gavin for
his impertinence, and at the unknown person who had been his informant.
The strange idea that Aunt Cassie or Anson was somehow responsible still
remained; tactics such as these were completely sympathetic to them—to
go thus in Machiavellian fashion to a man like Gavin instead of coming to
her. By using Mr. Gavin there would be no scene, no definite
unpleasantness to disturb the enchantment of Pentlands. They could go on
pretending that nothing was wrong, that nothing had happened.
But stronger than her anger was the fear that in some way they might use
the same tactics to spoil the happiness of Sybil. They would, she was
certain, sacrifice everything to their belief in their own rightness.
She found Jean at the house when she returned, and, closing the door of
the drawing-room, she said to him, “Jean, I want to talk to you for a
moment ... alone.”
He said at once, “I know, Mrs. Pentland. It’s about Sybil.”
There was a little echo of humor in his voice that touched and disarmed
her as it always did. It struck her that he was still young enough to be
confident that everything in life would go exactly as he wished it....
“Yes,” she said, “that was it.” They sat on two of Horace Pentland’s
chairs and she continued. “I don’t believe in meddling, Jean, only now there
are circumstances ... reasons....” She made a little gesture. “I thought that if
really ... really....”
He interrupted her quickly. “I do, Mrs. Pentland. We’ve talked it all over,
Sybil and I ... and we’re agreed. We love each other. We’re going to be
married.”
Watching the young, ardent face, she thought, “It’s a nice face in which
there is nothing mean or nasty. The lips aren’t thin and tight like Anson’s,
nor the skin sickly and pallid the way Anson’s has always been. There’s life
in it, and force and charm. It’s the face of a man who would be good to a
woman ... a man not in the least cold-blooded.”
“Do you love her ... really?” she asked.
“I ... I.... It’s a thing I can’t answer because there aren’t words to describe
it.”
“Because ... well ... Jean, it’s no ordinary case of a mother and a
daughter. It’s much more than that. It means more to me than my own
happiness, my own life ... because, well, because Sybil is like a part of
myself. I want her to be happy. It’s not just a simple case of two young
people marrying. It’s much more than that.” There was a silence, and she
asked, “How do you love her?”
He sat forward on the edge of his chair, all eagerness. “Why ...” he
began, stammering a little, “I couldn’t think of living without her. It’s
different from anything I ever imagined. Why ... we’ve planned everything
... all our lives. If ever I lost her, it wouldn’t matter what happened to me
afterwards.” He grinned and added, “But you see ... people have said all
that before. There aren’t any words to explain ... to make it seem as
different from anything else as it seems to me.”
“But you’re going to take her away?”
“Yes ... she wants to go where I go.”
(“They are young,” thought Olivia. “They’ve never once thought of any
one else ... myself or Sybil’s grandfather.”)
Aloud she said, “That’s right, Jean.... I want you to take her away ... no
matter what happens, you must take her away....” (“And then I won’t even
have Sybil.”)
“We’re going to my ranch in the Argentine.”
“That’s right.... I think Sybil would like that.” She sighed, in spite of
herself, vaguely envious of these two. “But you’re so young. How can you
know for certain.”
A shadow crossed his face and he said, “I’m twenty-five, Mrs. Pentland
... but that’s not the only thing.... I was brought up, you see, among the
French ... like a Frenchman. That makes a difference.” He hesitated,
frowning for a moment. “Perhaps I oughtn’t to tell.... You mightn’t
understand. I know how things are in this part of the world.... You see, I was
brought up to look upon falling in love as something natural ... something
that was pleasant and natural and amusing. I’ve been in love before,
casually ... the way young Frenchmen are ... but in earnest, too, because a
Frenchman can’t help surrounding a thing like that with sentiment and
romance. He can’t help it. If it were just ... just something shameful and
nasty, he couldn’t endure it. They don’t have affairs in cold blood ... the
way I’ve heard men talk about such things since I’ve come here. It makes a
difference, Mrs. Pentland, if you look at the thing in the light they do. It’s
different here.... I see the difference more every day.”
He was talking earnestly, passionately, and when he paused for a
moment she remained silent, unwilling to interrupt him until he had
finished.
“What I’m trying to say is difficult, Mrs. Pentland. It’s simply this ... that
I’m twenty-five, but I’ve had experience with life. Don’t laugh! Don’t think
I’m just a college boy trying to make you think I’m a roué. Only what I say
is true. I know about such things ... and I’m glad because it makes me all
the more certain that Sybil is the only woman in the world for me ... the one
for whom I’d sacrifice everything. And I’ll know better how to make her
happy, to be gentle with her ... to understand her. I’ve learned now, and it’s
a thing which needs learning ... the most important thing in all life. The
French are right about it. They make a fine, wonderful thing of love.” He
turned away with a sudden air of sadness. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told
you all this.... I’ve told Sybil. She understands.”
“No,” said Olivia, “I think you’re right ... perhaps.” She kept thinking of
the long tragic story of John Pentland, and of Anson, who had always been
ashamed of love and treated it as something distasteful. To them it had been
a dark, strange thing always touched by shame. She kept thinking, despite
anything she could do, of Anson’s clumsy, artificial attempts at love-
making, and she was swept suddenly by shame for him. Anson, so proud
and supercilious, was a poor thing, inferior even to his own groom.
“But why,” she asked, “didn’t you tell me about Sybil sooner? Every one
has seen it, but you never spoke to me.”
For a moment he did not answer her. An expression of pain clouded the
blue eyes, and then, looking at her directly, he said, “It’s not easy to explain
why. I was afraid to come to you for fear you mightn’t understand, and the
longer I’ve been here, the longer I’ve put it off because ... well, because
here in Durham, ancestors, family, all that, seems to be the beginning and
end of everything. It seems always to be a question of who one’s family is.
There is only the past and no future at all. And, you see, in a way ... I
haven’t any family.” He shrugged his big shoulders and repeated, “In a way,
I haven’t any family at all. You see, my mother was never married to my
father.... I’ve no blood-right to the name of de Cyon. I’m ... I’m ... well, just
a bastard, and it seemed hopeless for me even to talk to a Pentland about
Sybil.”
He saw that she was startled, disturbed, but he could not have known
that the look in her eyes had very little to do with shock at what he had told
her; rather she was thinking what a weapon the knowledge would be in the
hands of Anson and Aunt Cassie and even John Pentland himself.
He was talking again with the same passionate earnestness.
“I shan’t let it make any difference, so long as Sybil will have me, but,
you see, it’s very hard to explain, because it isn’t the way it seems. I want
you to understand that my mother is a wonderful woman.... I wouldn’t
bother to explain, to say anything ... except to Sybil and to you.”
“Sabine has told me about her.”
“Mrs. Callendar has known her for a long time.... They’re great friends,”
said Jean. “She understands.”
“But she never told me ... that. You mean that she’s known it all along?”
“It’s not an easy thing to tell ... especially here in Durham, and I fancy
she thought it might make trouble for me ... after she saw what had
happened to Sybil and me.”
He went on quickly, telling her what he had told Sybil of his mother’s
story, trying to make her understand what he understood, and Sabine and
even his stepfather, the distinguished old de Cyon ... trying to explain a
thing which he himself knew was not to be explained. He told her that his
mother had refused to marry her lover, “because in his life outside ... the life
which had nothing to do with her ... she discovered that there were things
she couldn’t support. She saw that it was better not to marry him ... better
for herself and for him and, most of all, for me.... He did things for the sake
of success—mean, dishonorable things—which she couldn’t forgive ... and
so she wouldn’t marry him. And now, looking back, I think she was right. It
made no great difference in her life. She lived abroad ... as a widow, and
very few people—not more than two or three—ever knew the truth. He
never told because, being a politician, he was afraid of such a scandal. She
didn’t want me to be brought up under such an influence, and I think she
was right. He’s gone on doing things that were mean and dishonorable....
He’s still doing them to-day. You see he’s a politician ... a rather cheap one.
He’s a Senator now and he hasn’t changed. I could tell you his name.... I
suppose some people would think him a distinguished man ... only I
promised her never to tell it. He thinks that I’m dead.... He came to her once
and asked to see me, to have a hand in my education and my future. There
were things, he said, that he could do for me in America ... and she told him
simply that I was dead ... that I was killed in the war.” He finished in a
sudden burst of enthusiasm, his face alight with affection. “But you must
know her really to understand what I’ve been saying. Knowing her, you
understand everything, because she’s one of the great people ... the strong
people of the world. You see, it’s one of the things which it is impossible to
explain—to you or even to Sybil—impossible to explain to the others. One
must know her.”
If she had had any doubts or fears, she knew now that it was too late to
act; she saw that it was impossible to change the wills of two such lovers as
Jean and Sybil. In a way, she came to understand the story of Jean’s mother
more from watching him than by listening to his long explanation. There
must be in her that same determination and ardor that was in her son ... a
thing in its way irresistible. And yet it was difficult; she was afraid,
somehow, of this unexpected thing, perhaps because it seemed vaguely like
the taint of Savina Pentland.
She said, “If no one knows this, there is no reason to tell it here. It would
only make unhappiness for all concerned. It is your business alone ... and
Sybil’s. The others have no right to interfere, even to know; but they will
try, Jean ... unless ... unless you both do what you want ... quickly.
Sometimes I think they might do anything.”
“You mean ...” he began impatiently.
Olivia fell back upon that vague hint which John Pentland had dropped
to her the night before. She said, “There was once an elopement in the
Pentland family.”
“You wouldn’t mind that?” he asked eagerly. “You wouldn’t be hurt ... if
we did it that way?”
“I shouldn’t know anything about it,” said Olivia quietly, “until it was
too late to do anything.”
“It’s funny,” he said; “we’d thought of that. We’ve talked of it, only
Sybil was afraid you’d want to have a big wedding and all that....”
“No, I think it would be better not to have any wedding at all ...
especially under the circumstances.”
“Mrs. Callendar suggested it as the best way out.... She offered to lend us
her motor,” he said eagerly.
“You discussed it with her and yet you didn’t speak to me?”
“Well, you see, she’s different ... she and Thérèse.... They don’t belong
here in Durham. Besides, she spoke of it first. She knew what was going on.
She always knows. I almost think that she planned the whole thing long
ago.”
Olivia, looking out of the window, saw entering the long drive the
antiquated motor with Aunt Cassie, Miss Peavey, her flying veils and her
Pekinese.
“Mrs. Struthers is coming ...” she said. “We mustn’t make her
suspicious. And you’d best tell me nothing of your plans and then ... I
shan’t be able to interfere even if I wanted to. I might change my mind ...
one never knows.”
He stood up and, coming over to her, took her hand and kissed it.
“There’s nothing to say, Mrs. Pentland ... except that you’ll be glad for what
you’ve done. You needn’t worry about Sybil.... I shall make her happy.... I
think I know how.”
He left her, hurrying away past the ancestors in the long hall to find
Sybil, thinking all the while how odd it would seem to have a woman so
young and beautiful as Mrs. Pentland for a mother-in-law. She was a
charming woman (he thought in his enthusiasm), a great woman, but she
was so sad, as if she had never been very happy. There was always a cloud
about her.
He did not escape quickly enough, for Aunt Cassie’s sharp eyes caught a
glimpse of him as he left the house in the direction of the stables. She met
Olivia in the doorway, kissing her and saying, “Was that Sybil’s young man
I saw leaving?”
“Yes,” said Olivia. “We’ve been talking about Sybil. I’ve been telling
him that he mustn’t think of her as some one to marry.”
The yellow face of Aunt Cassie lighted with a smile of approval. “I’m
glad, my dear, that you’re being sensible about this. I was afraid you
wouldn’t be, but I didn’t like to interfere. I never believe any good comes of
it, unless one is forced to. He’s not the person for Sybil.... Why, no one
knows anything about him. You can’t let a girl marry like that ... just any
one who comes along. Besides, Mrs. Pulsifer writes me.... You remember
her, Olivia, the Mannering boy’s aunt who used to have a house in Chestnut
Street.... Well, she lives in Paris now at the Hotel Continental, and she
writes me she’s discovered there’s some mystery about his mother. No one
seems to know much about her.”
“Why,” said Olivia, “should she write you such a thing? What made her
think you’d be interested?”
“Well, Kate Pulsifer and I went to school together and we still
correspond now and then. I just happened to mention the boy’s name when
I was writing her about Sabine. She says, by the way, that Sabine has very
queer friends in Paris and that Sabine has never so much as called on her or
asked her for tea. And there’s been some new scandal about Sabine’s
husband and an Italian woman. It happened in Venice....”
“But he’s not her husband any longer.”
The old lady seated herself and went on pouring forth the news from
Kate Pulsifer’s letter; with each word she appeared to grow stronger and
stronger, less and less yellow and worn.
(“It must be,” thought Olivia, “the effect of so many calamities
contained in one letter.”)
She saw now that she had acted only just in time and she was glad that
she had lied, so flatly, so abruptly, without thinking why she had done it.
For Mrs. Pulsifer was certain to go to the bottom of the affair, if for no other
reason than to do harm to Sabine; she had once lived in a house on Chestnut
Street with a bow-window which swept the entrance to every house. She
was one of John Pentland’s dead, who lived by watching others live.
4
From the moment she encountered Mr. Gavin on the turnpike until the
tragedy which occurred two days later, life at Pentlands appeared to lose all
reality for Olivia. When she thought of it long afterward, the hours became
a sort of nightmare in which the old enchantment snapped and gave way to
a strained sense of struggle between forces which, centering about herself,
left her in the end bruised and a little broken, but secure.
The breathless heat of the sort which from time to time enveloped that
corner of New England, leaving the very leaves of the trees hanging limp
and wilted, again settled down over the meadows and marshes, and in the
midst of the afternoon appeared the rarest of sights—the indolent Sabine
stirring in the burning sun. Olivia watched her coming across the fields,
protected from the blazing sun only by the frivolous yellow parasol. She
came slowly, indifferently, and until she entered the cool, darkened
drawing-room she appeared the familiar bored Sabine; only after she
greeted Olivia the difference appeared.
She said abruptly, “I’m leaving day after to-morrow,” and instead of
seating herself to talk, she kept wandering restlessly about the room,
examining Horace Pentland’s bibelots and turning the pages of books and
magazines without seeing them.
“Why?” asked Olivia. “I thought you were staying until October.”
“No, I’m going away at once.” She turned and murmured, “I’ve hated
Durham always. It’s unbearable to me now. I’m bored to death. I only came,
in the first place, because I thought Thérèse ought to know her own people.
But it’s no good. She’ll have none of them. I see now how like her father
she is. They’re not her own people and never will be.... I don’t imagine
Durham will ever see either of us again.”
Olivia smiled. “I know it’s dull here.”
“Oh, I don’t mean you, Olivia dear, or even Sybil or O’Hara, but there’s
something in the air.... I’m going to Newport for two weeks and then to
Biarritz for October. Thérèse wants to go to Oxford.” She grinned
sardonically. “There’s a bit of New England in her, after all ... this education
business. I wanted a femme du monde for a daughter and God and New
England sent me a scientist who would rather wear flat heels and look
through a microscope. It’s funny how children turn out.”
(“Even Thérèse and Sabine,” thought Olivia. “Even they belong to it.”)
She watched Sabine, so worldly, so superbly dressed, so hard—such a
restless nomad; and as she watched her it occurred to her again that she was
very like Aunt Cassie—an Aunt Cassie in revolt against Aunt Cassie’s
gods, an Aunt Cassie, as John Pentland had said, “turned inside out.”
Without looking up from the pages of the Nouvelle Revue, Sabine said,
“I’m glad this thing about Sybil is settled.”
“Yes.”
“He told you about his mother?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t let that make any difference? You didn’t tell the others?”
“No.... Anything I had to say would have made no difference.”
“You were wise.... I think Thérèse is right, perhaps ... righter than any of
us. She says that nature has a contempt for marriage certificates.
Respectability can’t turn decay into life ... and Jean is alive.... So is his
mother.”
“I know what you are driving at.”
“Certainly, my dear, you ought to know. You’ve suffered enough from it.
And knowing his mother makes a difference. She’s no ordinary light
woman, or even one who was weak enough to allow herself to be seduced.
Once in fifty years there occurs a woman who can ... how shall I say it?...
get away with a thing like that. You have to be a great woman to do it. I
don’t think it’s made much difference in her life, chiefly because she’s a
woman of discretion and excellent taste. But it might have made a
difference in Jean’s life if he had encountered a mother less wise than
yourself.”
“I don’t know whether I’m being wise or not. I believe in him and I want
Sybil to escape.”
Olivia understood that for the first time they were discussing the thing
which none of them ever mentioned, the thing which up to now Sabine had
only touched upon by insinuation. Sabine had turned away and stood
looking out of the window across the meadows where the distant trees
danced in waves of heat.
“You spoiled my summer a bit, Olivia dear, by taking away my Irish
friend from me.”
Suddenly Olivia was angry as she was angry sometimes at the meddling
of Aunt Cassie. “I didn’t take him away. I did everything possible to avoid
him ... until you came. It was you who threw us together. That’s why we’re
all in a tangle now.” And she kept thinking what a strange woman Sabine
Callendar really was, how intricate and unfathomable. She knew of no other
woman in the world who could talk thus so dispassionately, so without
emotion.
“I thought I’d have him to amuse,” she was saying, “and instead of that
he only uses me as a confidante. He comes to me for advice about another
woman. And that, as you know, isn’t very interesting....”
Olivia sat suddenly erect. “What does he say? What right has he to do
such a thing?”
“Because I’ve asked him to. When I first came here, I promised to help
him. You see, I’m very friendly with you both. I want you both to be happy
and ... besides I can think of nothing happening which could give me
greater pleasure.”
When Olivia did not answer her, she turned from the window and asked
abruptly, “What are you going to do about him?”
Again Olivia thought it best not to answer, but Sabine went on pushing
home her point relentlessly, “You must forgive me for speaking plainly, but
I have a great affection for you both ... and I ... well, I have a sense of
conscience in the affair.”
“You needn’t have. There’s nothing to have a conscience about.”
“You’re not being very honest.”
Suddenly Olivia burst out angrily, “And why should it concern you,
Sabine ... in the least? Why should I not do as I please, without
interference?”
“Because, here ... and you know this as well as I do ... here such a thing
is impossible.”
In a strange fashion she was suddenly afraid of Sabine, perhaps because
she was so bent upon pushing things to a definite solution. It seemed to
Olivia that she herself was losing all power of action, all capacity for
anything save waiting, pretending, doing nothing.
“And I’m interested,” continued Sabine slowly, “because I can’t bear the
tragic spectacle of another John Pentland and Mrs. Soames.”
“There won’t be,” said Olivia desperately. “My father-in-law is different
from Michael.”
“That’s true....”
“In a way ... a finer man.” She found herself suddenly in the amazing
position of actually defending Pentlands.
“But not,” said Sabine with a terrifying reasonableness, “so wise a one ...
or one so intelligent.”
“No. It’s impossible to say....”
“A thing like this is likely to come only once to a woman.”
(“Why does she keep repeating the very things that I’ve been fighting all
along,” thought Olivia.) Aloud she said, “Sabine, you must leave me in
peace. It’s for me alone to settle.”
“I don’t want you to do a thing you will regret the rest of your life ...
bitterly.”
“You mean....”
“Oh, I mean simply to give him up.”
Again Olivia was silent, and Sabine asked suddenly, “Have you had a
call from a Mr. Gavin? A gentleman with a bald head and a polished face?”
Olivia looked at her sharply. “How could you know that?”
“Because I sent him, my dear ... for the same reason that I’m here now ...
because I wanted you to do something ... to act. And I’m confessing now
because I thought you ought to know the truth, since I’m going away.
Otherwise you might think Aunt Cassie or Anson had done it ... and trouble
might come of that.”
Again Olivia said nothing; she was lost in a sadness over the thought
that, after all, Sabine was no better than the others.
“It’s not easy to act in this house,” Sabine was saying. “It’s not easy to
do anything but pretend and go on and on until at last you are an old woman
and die. I did it to help you ... for your own good.”
“That’s what Aunt Cassie always says.”
The shaft went home, for it silenced Sabine, and in the moment’s pause
Sabine seemed less a woman than an amazing, disembodied, almost
malevolent force. When she answered, it was with a shrug of the shoulders
and a bitter smile which seemed doubly bitter on the frankly painted lips. “I
suppose I am like Aunt Cassie. I mightn’t have been, though.... I might have
been just a pleasant normal person ... like Higgins or one of the servants.”
The strange speech found an echo in Olivia’s heart. Lately the same
thought had come to her again and again—if only she could be simple like
Higgins or the kitchen-maid. Such a state seemed to her at the moment the
most desirable thing in the world. It was perhaps this strange desire which
led Sabine to surround herself with what Durham called “queer people,”
who were, after all, simply people like Higgins and the kitchen-maid who
happened to occupy a higher place in society.
“The air here needs clearing,” Sabine was saying. “It needs a
thunderstorm, and it can be cleared only by acting.... This affair of Jean and
Sybil will help. We are all caught up in a tangle of thoughts and ideas ...
which don’t matter.... You can do it, Olivia. You can clear the air once and
for all.”
Then for the first time Olivia thought she saw what lay behind all this
intriguing of Sabine; for a moment she fancied that she saw what it was
Sabine wanted more passionately than anything else in the world.
Aloud she said it, “I could clear the air, but it would also be the
destruction of everything.”
Sabine looked at her directly. “Well?... and would you be sorry? Would
you count it a loss? Would it make any difference?”
Impulsively she touched Sabine’s hand. “Sabine,” she said, without
looking at her, “I’m fond of you. You know that. Please don’t talk any more
about this ... please, because I want to go on being fond of you ... and I can’t
otherwise. It’s our affair, mine and Michael’s ... and I’m going to settle it,
to-night perhaps, as soon as I can have a talk with him.... I can’t go on any
longer.”
Taking up the yellow parasol, Sabine asked, “Do you expect me for
dinner to-night?”
“Of course, more than ever to-night.... I’m sorry you’ve decided to go so
soon.... It’ll be dreary without you or Sybil.”
“You can go, too,” said Sabine quickly. “There is a way. He’d give up
everything for you ... everything. I know that.” Suddenly she gave Olivia a
sharp look. “You’re thirty-eight, aren’t you?”
“Day after to-morrow I shall be forty!”
Sabine was tracing the design of roses on Horace Pentland’s Savonnerie
carpet with the tip of her parasol. “Gather them while you may,” she said
and went out into the blazing heat to cross the meadows to Brook Cottage.
Left alone, Olivia knew she was glad that day after to-morrow Sabine
would no longer be here. She saw now what John Pentland meant when he
said, “Sabine ought never to have come back here.”
5
The heat clung on far into the evening, penetrating with the darkness
even the drawing-room where they sat—Sabine and John Pentland and old
Mrs. Soames and Olivia—playing bridge for the last time, and as the
evening wore on the game went more and more badly, with the old lady
forgetting her cards and John Pentland being patient and Sabine sitting in a
controlled and sardonic silence, with an expression on her face which said
clearly, “I can endure this for to-night because to-morrow I shall escape
again into the lively world.”
Jean and Sybil sat for a time at the piano, and then fell to watching the
bridge. No one spoke save to bid or to remind Mrs. Soames that it was time
for her shaking hands to distribute the cards about the table. Even Olivia’s
low, quiet voice sounded loud in the hot stillness of the old room.
At nine o’clock Higgins appeared with a message for Olivia—that Mr.
O’Hara was being detained in town and that if he could get away before ten
he would come down and stop at Pentlands if the lights were still burning in
the drawing-room. Otherwise he would not be down to ride in the morning.
Once during a pause in the game Sabine stirred herself to say, “I haven’t
asked about Anson’s book. He must be near to the end.”
“Very near,” said Olivia. “There’s very little more to be done. Men are
coming to-morrow to photograph the portraits. He’s using them to illustrate
the book.”
At eleven, when they came to the end of a rubber, Sabine said, “I’m
sorry, but I must stop. I must get up early to-morrow to see about the
packing.” And turning to Jean she said, “Will you drive me home? Perhaps
Sybil will ride over with us for the air. You can bring her back.”
At the sound of her voice, Olivia wanted to cry out, “No, don’t go. You
mustn’t leave me now ... alone. You mustn’t go away like this!” But she
managed to say quietly, in a voice which sounded far away, “Don’t stay too
late, Sybil,” and mechanically, without knowing what she was doing, she
began to put the cards back again in their boxes.
She saw that Sabine went out first, and then John Pentland and old Mrs.
Soames, and that Jean and Sybil remained behind until the others had gone,
until John Pentland had helped the old lady gently into his motor and driven
off with her. Then, looking up with a smile which somehow seemed to give
her pain she said, “Well?”
And Sybil, coming to her side, kissed her and said in a low voice,
“Good-by, darling, for a little while.... I love you....” And Jean kissed her in
a shy fashion on both cheeks.
She could find nothing to say. She knew Sybil would come back, but she
would be a different Sybil, a Sybil who was a woman, no longer the child
who even at eighteen sometimes had the absurd trick of sitting on her
mother’s knee. And she was taking away with her something that until now
had belonged to Olivia, something which she could never again claim. She
could find nothing to say. She could only follow them to the door, from
where she saw Sabine already sitting in the motor as if nothing in the least
unusual were happening; and all the while she wanted to go with them, to
run away anywhere at all.
Through a mist she saw them turning to wave to her as the motor drove
off, to wave gaily and happily because they were at the beginning of life....
She stood in the doorway to watch the motor-lights slipping away in silence
down the lane and over the bridge through the blackness to the door of
Brook Cottage. There was something about Brook Cottage ... something
that was lacking from the air of Pentlands: it was where Toby Cane and
Savina Pentland had had their wanton meetings.
In the still heat the sound of the distant surf came to her dimly across the
marshes, and into her mind came absurdly words she had forgotten for
years.... “The breaking waves dashed high on the stern and rockbound
coast.” Against the accompaniment of the surf, the crickets and katydids
(harbingers of autumn) kept up a fiddling and singing; and far away in the
direction of Marblehead she watched the eye of a lighthouse winking and
winking. She was aware of every sight and sound and odor of the breathless
night. It might storm, she thought, before they got into Connecticut. They
would be motoring all the night....
The lights of Sabine’s motor were moving again now, away from Brook
Cottage, through O’Hara’s land, on and on in the direction of the turnpike.
In the deep hollow by the river they disappeared for a moment and then
were to be seen once more against the black mass of the hill crowned by the
town burial-ground. And then abruptly they were gone, leaving only the
sound of the surf and the music of the crickets and the distant, ironically
winking lighthouse.
She kept seeing them, side by side in the motor racing through the
darkness, oblivious to all else in the world save their own happiness. Yes,
something had gone away from her forever.... She felt a terrible, passionate
envy that was like a physical pain, and all at once she knew that she was
terribly alone standing in the darkness before the door of the old house.
She was roused by the sound of Anson’s voice asking, “Is that you,
Olivia?”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing out there?”
“I came out for some air.”
“Where’s Sybil?”
For a moment she did not answer, and then quite boldly she said, “She’s
ridden over with Jean to take Sabine home.”
“You know I don’t approve of that.” He had come through the hall now
and was standing near her.
“It can’t do any harm.”
“That’s been said before....”
“Why are you so suspicious, Anson, of your own child?” She had no
desire to argue with him. She wanted only to be left in peace, to go away to
her room and lie there alone in the darkness, for she knew now that Michael
was not coming.
“Olivia,” Anson was saying, “come inside for a moment. I want to talk
to you.”
“Very well ... but please don’t be disagreeable. I’m very tired.”
“I shan’t be disagreeable.... I only want to settle something.”
She knew then that he meant to be very disagreeable, and she told
herself that she would not listen to him; she would think of something else
while he was speaking—a trick she had learned long ago. In the drawing-
room she sat quietly and waited for him to begin. Standing by the
mantelpiece, he appeared more tired and yellow than usual. She knew that
he had worked on his book; she knew that he had poured all his vitality, all
his being, into it; but as she watched him her imagination again played her
the old trick of showing her Michael standing there in his place ... defiant, a
little sulky, and filled with a slow, steady, inexhaustible force.
“It’s chiefly about Sybil,” he said. “I want her to give up seeing this
boy.”
“Don’t be a martinet, Anson. Nothing was ever gained by it.”
(She thought, “They must be almost to Salem by now.”) And aloud she
added, “You’re her father, Anson; why don’t you speak?”
“It’s better for you. I’ve no influence with her.”
“I have spoken,” she said, thinking bitterly that he could never guess
what she meant.
“And what’s the result? Look at her, going off at this hour of the
night....”
She shrugged her shoulders, filled with a warm sense of having
outwitted the enemy, for at the moment Anson seemed to her an enemy not
only of herself, but of Jean and Sybil, of all that was young and alive in the
world.

Past Human Rights Violations And The Question Of Indifference The Case Of Chile 1St Edition Hugo Rojas full chapter pdf docx

Uploaded by

Document Information

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Past Human Rights Violations And The Question Of Indifference The Case Of Chile 1St Edition Hugo Rojas full chapter pdf docx

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Past Human Rights Violations and the

Question of Indifference: The Case of

Human Rights and Transitional Justice in Chile 1st ed.

The Human Rights Covenants At 50: Their Past, Present,

Archaeology: The Science of the Human Past 5th Edition,

The Birth Of Digital Human Rights: Digitized Data

Power, Property Rights, and Economic Development: The

The Idea of International Human Rights Law Steven

Children and the European Court of Human Rights Claire

The Human Rights Turn and the Paradox of Progress in

Past Human Rights

More information about this series at

Past Human Rights

ISSN 2633-5964 ISSN 2633-5972 (electronic)

Cover credit: Hufton+Crow-VIEW/Alamy Stock Photo

2019 © Reuters/Goran Tomasevic

Chile has been considered a model of democratic transition and economic

group, distinctions between disillusioned, submissive, depoliticised, and

of my doctoral thesis defended at the University of Oxford, under the

Law and Interdisciplinary Research Program on Memory and Human

Santiago, Chile Hugo Rojas

“Hugo Rojas have brilliantly accomplished two truly important goals in

CIA Central Intelligence Agency (United States of America)

Fig. 3 Identification of respondents according to their type

Ours is a time of uneasiness and indifference.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1

carefully examined (Barton & Murray, 2002; Moulian, 1994). Public

past wrongs if a significant proportion of the population is indifferent to

expectations of citizens and their level of commitment to the progress

scenario is created when profound social and ideological differences on

2 Chilean Transition to Democracy

represent key building blocks of theory development” (2013: 4). This

censorship laws, arms control laws, and reactionary labour legislation,

political and ideological divisions (Huneeus, 2003; Huneeus & Ibarra,

given the scale of the atrocities committed, it is noteworthy that a sector

The main objective of the government of Patricio Aylwin (1990–1994)

1980 Constitution, such as appointed senators, veto by the National

or some right-wing politicians whose votes were needed in parliamentary

The Concertación, Piñera, and Nueva Mayoría governments focussed

3 Contributions of Explaining Indifference

individual. The emergence of multiple forms of political and social domi-

traumatic past may become a social taboo. It is problematic, controver-

promotion of memory contributes to the expansion of the democratic

for the purposes of breadth and depth of understanding” (2007: 123).

design’s robustness. In addition, process-tracing in in-depth interviews

Human Development Program (UNDP), Latinobarómetro, Catholic University of Chile

Bauman, Z. (2000). Liquid modernity. Polity.

democracia na América Latina: Balanço histórico e perspectivas (pp. 179–200).

You might also like