Rigoberta Menchú’s autobiographical text Me llamo Rigoberta Menchú y así me nació la conciencia was published in 1982/3. Written by Elizabeth Burgos after interviews with Ms. Menchú, it relates the tragic and difficult life of a Maya indigenous woman in Guatemala. Her story is one of poverty, marginalization, oppression, and political persecution. It takes a more tragic tone because while told as the story of an individual, it has long been interpreted as a representation of the experience of countless unheard voices. The book’s popularity combined with Ms. Menchú’s insistent advocacy and campaigning in the name of indigenous rights (as well as the help of Adolfo Pérez Equivel), earned her the 1992 Nobel Peace Prize. The press release announcing the award stated that the prize was given to Ms. Menchú in recognition “of her work for social justice and ethno-cultural reconciliation based on respect for the rights of indigenous peoples”.
Since its publication and particularly after the awarding of the prize, the text has increasingly become anthologized and required reading in university courses related to Latin America or human rights. Frequently cited as an example of testimonio literature, it has also famously been the subject of controversy. David Stoll’s 1999 book Rigoberta Menchú and the Story of All Poor Guatemalans pointed to inaccuracies in the way Ms. Burgos and Ms. Menchú represented the latter’s life. The most grievous of these seem to be in regard to Ms. Menchú receiving an education when she claimed not to have been permitted and her stating that she saw a sibling’s murder when she did not. Since Stoll’s book there has been considerable debate about how much these problems discredit Ms. Menchú. David Horowitz, for example, has hyperbolically concluded that she was not just a “liar,” but “a Communist agent working for terrorists who were ultimately responsible for the death of her own family”. Others, such as the Nobel committee, Edwardo Galleano, and Greg Grandin seem to feel that the issues uncovered by Stoll are more the result of trying to distill historical context and a community’s tragedy into an individual’s story. The inaccuracies, her defenders seem to conclude, do not outweigh the book’s role in a larger and more important effort to raise awareness of what happened in Guatemala and to the lessons that can be drawn from this period of history. Grandin writes in an article:
Since its publication and particularly after the awarding of the prize, the text has increasingly become anthologized and required reading in university courses related to Latin America or human rights. Frequently cited as an example of testimonio literature, it has also famously been the subject of controversy. David Stoll’s 1999 book Rigoberta Menchú and the Story of All Poor Guatemalans pointed to inaccuracies in the way Ms. Burgos and Ms. Menchú represented the latter’s life. The most grievous of these seem to be in regard to Ms. Menchú receiving an education when she claimed not to have been permitted and her stating that she saw a sibling’s murder when she did not. Since Stoll’s book there has been considerable debate about how much these problems discredit Ms. Menchú. David Horowitz, for example, has hyperbolically concluded that she was not just a “liar,” but “a Communist agent working for terrorists who were ultimately responsible for the death of her own family”. Others, such as the Nobel committee, Edwardo Galleano, and Greg Grandin seem to feel that the issues uncovered by Stoll are more the result of trying to distill historical context and a community’s tragedy into an individual’s story. The inaccuracies, her defenders seem to conclude, do not outweigh the book’s role in a larger and more important effort to raise awareness of what happened in Guatemala and to the lessons that can be drawn from this period of history. Grandin writes in an article:
If I, Rigoberta Menchú served only as the testament of a failed revolution, a moment in history when the highest collective ideals of liberation theology crashed headlong into the most vicious distillate of cold war anticommunism, it would be a good book, still worth reading. But what made liberation theology, along with Latin America's New Left more broadly, so potent a threat in a place as inhumane as Guatemala in the 1970s was not just its concern with social justice but its insistence on individual human dignity. This combination of solidarity and insurgent individuality is the heart of Menchú's memoir, and that's what makes it a great, perhaps even immortal, book.
Sadly, this controversy often distracts from precisely the issues that Grandin is concerned that readers might miss. To teach Ms. Menchú’s text means having to discuss Stoll and the ensuing debate. This easily derives into conversation about the degree to which her inaccuracies discredit her voice. While revealing in regard to the way different cultures relate with notions of truth and what is needed for a marginalized voice to reach the metropolitan center, this is far from a constructive discussion about political oppression and relegation of the indigenous in Guatemala. In other words, while unable to achieve re-marginalization, the Menchú/Stoll debate goes a long way to reducing the effectiveness of her voice. This is augmented by the testimonio style. Whatever the value of Ms. Menchú’s narration, the act of transcribing oral testimony makes for dry reading and more than one student has failed to reach a point where he or she makes a conclusion about the value of what Ms. Menchú has to say.
All of this is unfortunate for the simple reason that Ms. Menchú’s story is important. It is the representation of a terrible oppression and its accompanying injustice. Her bravery is astounding and the potential for her words to enact change is difficult to exaggerate. She humanizes the appalling numbers of Guatemalan human rights violations and this in itself is one of culture’s most essential and difficult roles.
Testament to this is the recent trial of Efraín Ríos Montt. Last week the former Guatemalan dictator was found guilty of genocide and crimes against humanity in regard to the massacre of indigenous people. Reacting to the sentence and to her country’s continued inequality, Ms. Menchú is quoted as saying “Esperamos que esa sentencia contribuya a ese acercamiento igualitario”. Would this sentence have been reached without the attention brought to the atrocities by Ms. Menchú’s book? Whatever the answer to this question, the trial's conclusion is evidence of the crimes committed against the Guatemalan people by their own government. Ms. Menchú and her story help create a face and a voice for the victims.
Before the trial finalized, Ms. Menchú was interviewed on camera about her feelings seeing the former dictator in a courtroom. Her response seems to attest to the true power of testimonio; stronger and less likely to be lost in distraction when heard rather than read on the printed page. The final word, of course, should go to Ms. Menchú:
All of this is unfortunate for the simple reason that Ms. Menchú’s story is important. It is the representation of a terrible oppression and its accompanying injustice. Her bravery is astounding and the potential for her words to enact change is difficult to exaggerate. She humanizes the appalling numbers of Guatemalan human rights violations and this in itself is one of culture’s most essential and difficult roles.
Testament to this is the recent trial of Efraín Ríos Montt. Last week the former Guatemalan dictator was found guilty of genocide and crimes against humanity in regard to the massacre of indigenous people. Reacting to the sentence and to her country’s continued inequality, Ms. Menchú is quoted as saying “Esperamos que esa sentencia contribuya a ese acercamiento igualitario”. Would this sentence have been reached without the attention brought to the atrocities by Ms. Menchú’s book? Whatever the answer to this question, the trial's conclusion is evidence of the crimes committed against the Guatemalan people by their own government. Ms. Menchú and her story help create a face and a voice for the victims.
Before the trial finalized, Ms. Menchú was interviewed on camera about her feelings seeing the former dictator in a courtroom. Her response seems to attest to the true power of testimonio; stronger and less likely to be lost in distraction when heard rather than read on the printed page. The final word, of course, should go to Ms. Menchú:
