Painted Protests

They love a good protest, the Argentines. So much so that one has even become a tourist attraction.

For decades now the Madres de Plaza de Mayo have gathered in Buenos Aires to demand justice for their children, lost in the Dirty War. And now dozens of camera-wielding tourists join them, snapping away at one of the few remaining symbols of a far away ferocity. But this is not a Remembrance Day for friends fallen in battle, but a mark for 30 000, whose tortured bodies lie in watery graves on the banks of Buenos Aires. This remains a protest in the present, where each new government brings hope that Justice is waiting in the courtroom.

But politicians’ failures keep the Madres marching, accompanied by the drum beat of other city protests. This week’s grievances include a drought-ridden export tax for farmers, and the Saturday market in Plaza Serrano. Next week may bring new banners, but one thing remains unchanged; Argentines are acutely aware that fragile democracy can and will collapse under silence.

Despite this, it cannot be denied that the children of this 25 year democracy are largely absent from public demonstrations. However, far from being evidence of indifference, they are in fact busy elsewhere, painting silent protests across the capital.

Buenos Aires has been adopted as the studio for artistic resistance, where layers of spray-paint have transformed concrete canvases into politically-fuelled masterpieces. Simple stencils will teach you more about the harrowing state of prostitution than the daily newspapers, whilst nearby a wave from Fidel Castro promotes communism in the wake of a capitalist crisis. But these are not merely images for the intellectual to admire; the painted protests have and will continue to provoke reaction and change.

In 2001 Pocho Lepratti was shot dead by police in Rosario, as he attempted to stop them shooting at a school. In response to the subsequent police cover-up, street artists across Argentina scrawled ‘Pocho Vive!’, and painted Lepratti’s now-motionless bicycle resting against empty walls. In 2004, the gun-wielding policeman was found guilty of murder and sentenced to 14 years in prison.

If it were not for this unstoppable collective voice, it would be easy to forget about Argentina, seated at the end of the earth. But the sound of drums and the spraying of paint will carry their voice over the oceans. And we will remember the murals of the Middle East and the demands for ‘Nunca mas en Iraq’, and know that they have not forgotten about us either.