Análisis periodístico de la sociedad y la política mexicanas. Una de las periodistas más incisivas del país.

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La Historia s acabó en 1936. Georges Orwell.

Index > Library > Essays > Spanish_War > English > E-text


Historia: es decir, Reliquias y Relatos.

Looking back on the Spanish War


George Orwell

“I remember saying once to Arthur Koestler, ‘History stopped in 1936’, at which he nodded in immediate understanding. We were both thinking of totalitarianism in general, but more particularly of the Spanish civil war. Early in life I have noticed that no event is ever correctly reported in a newspaper, but in Spain, for the first time, I saw newspaper reports which did not bear any relation to the facts, not even the relationship which is implied in an ordinary lie. I saw great battles reported where there had been no fighting, and complete silence where hundreds of men had been killed. I saw troops who had fought bravely denounced as cowards and traitors, and others who had never seen a shot fired hailed as the heroes of imaginary victories; and I saw newspapers in London retailing these lies and eager intellectuals building emotional superstructures over events that had never happened. I saw, in fact, history being written not in terms of what happened but of what ought to have happened according to various ‘party lines’.” (G Orwell)


Fuente : http://orwell.ru/library/essays/Spanish_War/english/esw_

1

First of all the physical memories, the sounds, the smells and the surfaces of things.

It is curious that more vividly than anything that came afterwards in the Spanish war I remember the week of so-called training that we received before being sent to the front — the huge cavalry barracks in Barcelona with its draughty stables and cobbled yards, the icy cold of the pump where one washed, the filthy meals made tolerable by pannikins of wine, the Trousered militia-women chopping firewood, and the roll-call in the early mornings where my prosaic English name made a sort of comic interlude among the resounding Spanish ones, Manuel Gonzalez, Pedro Aguilar, Ramon Fenellosa, Roque Ballaster, Jaime Domenech, Sebastian Viltron, Ramon Nuvo Bosch. I name those particular men because I remember the faces of all of them. Except for two who were mere riff-raff and have doubtless become good Falangists by this time, it is probable that all of them are dead. Two of them I know to be dead. The eldest would have been about twenty-five, the youngest sixteen.

One of the essential experiences of war is never being able to escape from disgusting smells of human origin. Latrines are an overworked subject in war literature, and I would not mention them if it were not that the latrine in our barracks did its necessary bit towards puncturing my own illusions about the Spanish civil war. The Latin type of latrine, at which you have to squat, is bad enough at its best, but these were made of some kind of polished stone so slippery that it was all you could do to keep on your feet. In addition they were always blocked. Now I have plenty of other disgusting things in my memory, but I believe it was these latrines that first brought home to me the thought, so often to recur: ‘Here we are, soldiers of a revolutionary army, defending Democracy against Fascism, fighting a war which is about something, and the detail of our lives is just as sordid and degrading as it could be in prison, let alone in a bourgeois army.’ Many other things reinforced this impression later; for instance, the boredom and animal hunger of trench life, the squalid intrigues over scraps of food, the mean, nagging quarrels which people exhausted by lack of sleep indulge in.

The essential horror of army life (whoever has been a soldier will know what I mean by the essential horror of army life) is barely affected by the nature of the war you happen to be fighting in. Discipline, for instance, is ultimately the same in all armies. Orders have to be obeyed and enforced by punishment if necessary, the relationship of officer and man has to be the relationship of superior and inferior. The picture of war set forth in books like All Quiet on the Western Front is substantially true. Bullets hurt, corpses stink, men under fire are often so frightened that they wet their trousers. It is true that the social background from which an army springs will colour its training, tactics and general efficiency, and also that the consciousness of being in the right can bolster up morale, though this affects the civilian population more than the troops. (People forget that a soldier anywhere near the front line is usually too hungry, or frightened, or cold, or, above all, too tired to bother about the political origins of the war.) But the laws of nature are not suspended for a ‘red’ army any more than for a ‘white’ one. A louse is a louse and a bomb is a bomb, even though the cause you are fighting for happens to be just.

Why is it worth while to point out anything so obvious? Because the bulk of the British and American intelligentsia were manifestly unaware of it then, and are now. Our memories are short nowadays, but look back a bit, dig out the files of New Masses or the Daily Worker, and just have a look at the romantic warmongering muck that our left-wingers were spilling at that time. All the stale old phrases! And the unimaginative callousness of it! The sang-froid with which London faced the bombing of Madrid! Here I am not bothering about the counter-propagandists of the Right, the Lunns, Garvins ethoc genus; they go without saying. But here were the very people who for twenty years had hooted and jeered at the ‘glory’ of war, at atrocity stories, at patriotism, even at physical courage, coming out with stuff that with the alteration of a few names would have fitted into the Daily Mail of 1918. If there was one thing that the British intelligentsia were committed to, it was the debunking version of war, the theory that war is all corpses and latrines and never leads to any good result. Well, the same people who in 1933 sniggered pityingly if you said that in certain circumstances you would fight for your country, in 1937 were denouncing you as a Trotsky-Fascist if you suggested that the stories in New Massesabout freshly wounded men clamouring to get back into the fighting might be exaggerated. And the Left intelligentsia made their swing-over from ‘War is hell’ to ‘War is glorious’ not only with no sense of incongruity but almost without any intervening stage. Later the bulk of them were to make other transitions equally violent. There must be a quite large number of people, a sort of central core of the intelligentsia, who approved the ‘King and Country’ declaration in 1935, shouted for a’ firm line against Germany’ in 1937, supported the People’s Convention in 1940, and are demanding a Second Front now.

As far as the mass of the people go, the extraordinary swings of opinion which occur nowadays, the emotions which can be turned on and off like a tap, are the result of newspaper and radio hypnosis. In the intelligentsia I should say they result rather from money and mere physical safety. At a given moment they may be ‘pro-war’ or ‘anti-war’, but in either case they have no realistic picture of war in their minds. When they enthused over the Spanish war they knew, of course, that people were being killed and that to be killed is unpleasant, but they did feel that for a soldier in the Spanish Republican army the experience of war was somehow not degrading. Somehow the latrines stank less, discipline was less irksome. You have only to glance at the New Statesman to see that they believed that; exactly similar blah is being written about the Red Army at this moment. We have become too civilized to grasp the obvious. For the truth is very simple. To survive you often have to fight, and to fight you have to dirty yourself. War is evil, and it is often the lesser evil. Those who take the sword perish by the sword, and those who don’t take the sword perish by smelly diseases. The fact that such a platitude is worth writing down shows what the years of rentier capitalism have done to us.

2

In connexion with what I have just said, a footnote, on atrocities.

I have little direct evidence about the atrocities in the Spanish civil war. I know that some were committed by the Republicans, and far more (they are still continuing) by the Fascists. But what impressed me then, and has impressed me ever since, is that atrocities are believed in or disbelieved in solely on grounds of political predilection. Everyone believes in the atrocities of the enemy and disbelieves in those of his own side, without ever bothering to examine the evidence. Recently I drew up a table of atrocities during the period between 1918 and the present; there was never a year when atrocities were not occurring somewhere or other, and there was hardly a single case when the Left and the Right believed in the same stories simultaneously. And stranger yet, at any moment the situation can suddenly reverse itself and yesterday’s proved-to-the-hilt atrocity story can become a ridiculous lie, merely because the political landscape has changed.

In the present war we are in the curious situation that our ‘atrocity campaign’ was done largely before the war started, and done mostly by the Left, the people who normally pride themselves on their incredulity. In the same period the Right, the atrocity-mongers of 1914-18, were gazing at Nazi Germany and flatly refusing to see any evil in it. Then as soon as war broke out it was the pro-Nazis of yesterday who were repeating horror stories, while the anti-Nazis suddenly found themselves doubting whether the Gestapo really existed. Nor was this solely the result of the Russo-German Pact. It was partly because before the war the Left had wrongly believed that Britain and Germany would never fight and were therefore able to be anti-German and anti-British simultaneously; partly also because official war-propaganda, with its disgusting hypocrisy and self-righteousness, always tends to make thinking people sympathize with the enemy. Part of the price we paid for the systematic lying of 1914-17 was the exaggerated pro-German reaction which followed. During the years 1918-33 you were hooted at in left-wing circles if you suggested that Germany bore even a fraction of responsibility for the war. In all the denunciations of Versailles I listened to during those years I don’t think I ever once heard the question, ‘What would have happened if Germany had won?’ even mentioned, let alone discussed. So also with atrocities. The truth, it is felt, becomes untruth when your enemy utters it. Recently I noticed that the very people who swallowed any and every horror story about the Japanese in Nanking in 1937 refused to believe exactly the same stories about Hong Kong in 1942. There was even a tendency to feel that the Nanking atrocities had become, as it were, retrospectively untrue because the British Government now drew attention to them.

But unfortunately the truth about atrocities is far worse than that they are lied about and made into propaganda. The truth is that they happen. The fact often adduced as a reason for scepticism — that the same horror stories come up in war after war — merely makes it rather more likely that these stories are true. Evidently they are widespread fantasies, and war provides an opportunity of putting them into practice. Also, although it has ceased to be fashionable to say so, there is little question that what one may roughly call the ‘whites’ commit far more and worse atrocities than the ‘reds’. There is not the slightest doubt, for instance, about the behaviour of the Japanese in China. Nor is there much doubt about the long tale of Fascist outrages during the last ten years in Europe. The volume of testimony is enormous, and a respectable proportion of it comes from the German press and radio. These things really happened, that is the thing to keep one’s eye on. They happened even though Lord Halifax said they happened. The raping and butchering in Chinese cities, the tortures in the cellars of the Gestapo, the elderly Jewish professors flung into cesspools, the machine-gunning of refugees along the Spanish roads — they all happened, and they did not happen any the less because the Daily Telegraph has suddenly found out about them when it is five years too late.

3

Two memories, the first not proving anything in particular, the second, I think, giving one a certain insight into the atmosphere of a revolutionary period:

Early one morning another man and I had gone out to snipe at the Fascists in the trenches outside Huesca. Their line and ours here lay three hundred yards apart, at which range our aged rifles would not shoot accurately, but by sneaking out to a spot about a hundred yards from the Fascist trench you might, if you were lucky, get a shot at someone through a gap in the parapet. Unfortunately the ground between was a flat beet field with no cover except a few ditches, and it was necessary to go out while it was still-dark and return soon after dawn, before the light became too good. This time no Fascists appeared, and we stayed too long and were caught by the dawn. We were in a ditch, but behind us were two hundred yards of flat ground with hardly enough cover for a rabbit. We were still trying to nerve ourselves to make a dash for it when there was an uproar and a blowing of whistles in the Fascist trench. Some of our aeroplanes were coming over. At this moment, a man presumably carrying a message to an officer, jumped out of the trench and ran along the top of the parapet in full view. He was half-dressed and was holding up his trousers with both hands as he ran. I refrained from shooting at him. It is true that I am a poor shot and unlikely to hit a running man at a hundred yards, and also that I was thinking chiefly about getting back to our trench while the Fascists had their attention fixed on the aeroplanes. Still, I did not shoot partly because of that detail about the trousers. I had come here to shoot at ‘Fascists’; but a man who is holding up his trousers isn’t a ‘Fascist’, he is visibly a fellow-creature, similar to yourself, and you don’t feel like shooting at him.

What does this incident demonstrate? Nothing very much, because it is the kind of thing that happens all the time in all wars. The other is different. I don’t suppose that in telling it I can make it moving to you who read it, but I ask you to believe that it is moving to me, as an incident characteristic of the moral atmosphere of a particular moment in time.

One of the recruits who joined us while I was at the barracks was a wild-looking boy from the back streets of Barcelona. He was ragged and barefooted. He was also extremely dark (Arab blood, I dare say), and made gestures you do not usually see a European make; one in particular — the arm outstretched, the palm vertical — was a gesture characteristic of Indians. One day a bundle of cigars, which you could still buy dirt cheap at that time, was stolen out of my bunk. Rather foolishly I reported this to the officer, and one of the scallywags I have already mentioned promptly came forward and said quite untruly that twenty-five pesetas had been stolen from his bunk. For some reason the officer instantly decided that the brown-faced boy must be the thief. They were very hard on stealing in the militia, and in theory people could be shot for it. The wretched boy allowed himself to be led off to the guardroom to be searched. What most struck me was that he barely attempted to protest his innocence. In the fatalism of his attitude you could see the desperate poverty in which he had been bred. The officer ordered him to take his clothes off. With a humility which was horrible to me he stripped himself naked, and his clothes were searched. Of course neither the cigars nor the money were there; in fact he had not stolen them. What was most painful of all was that he seemed no less ashamed after his innocence had been established. That night I took him to the pictures and gave him brandy and chocolate. But that too was horrible — I mean the attempt to wipe out an injury with money. For a few minutes I had half believed him to be a thief, and that could not be wiped out.

Well, a few weeks later at the front I had trouble with one of the men in my section. By this time I was a ‘cabo’, or corporal, in command of twelve men. It was static warfare, horribly cold, and the chief job was getting sentries to stay awake at their posts. One day a man suddenly refused to go to a certain post, which he said quite truly was exposed to enemy fire. He was a feeble creature, and I seized hold of him and began to drag him towards his post. This roused the feelings of the others against me, for Spaniards, I think, resent being touched more than we do. Instantly I was surrounded by a ring of shouting men:’ Fascist! Fascist! Let that man go! This isn’t a bourgeois army. Fascist!’ etc., etc. As best I could in my bad Spanish I shouted back that orders had got to be obeyed, and the row developed into one of those enormous arguments by means of which discipline is gradually hammered out in revolutionary armies. Some said I was right, others said I was wrong. But the point is that the one who took my side the most warmly of all was the brown-faced boy. As soon as he saw what was happening he sprang into the ring and began passionately defending me. With his strange, wild, Indian gesture he kept exclaiming, ‘He’s the best corporal we’ve got!’ (No hay cabo como el.) Later on he applied for leave to exchange into my section.

Why is this incident touching to me? Because in any normal circumstances it would have been impossible for good feelings ever to be re-established between this boy and myself. The implied accusation of theft would not have been made any better, probably somewhat worse, by my efforts to make amends. One of the effects of safe and civilized life is an immense oversensitiveness which makes all the primary emotions seem somewhat disgusting. Generosity is as painful as meanness, gratitude as hateful as ingratitude. But in Spain in 1936 we were not living in a normal time. It was a time when generous feelings and gestures were easier than they ordinarily are. I could relate a dozen similar incidents, not really communicable but bound up in my own mind with the special atmosphere of the time, the shabby clothes and the gay-coloured revolutionary posters, the universal use of the word ‘comrade’, the anti-Fascist ballads printed on flimsy paper and sold for a penny, the phrases like ‘international proletarian solidarty’, pathetically repeated by ignorant men who believed them to mean something. Could you feel friendly towards somebody, and stick up for him in a quarrel, after you had been ignominiously searched in his presence for property you were supposed to have stolen from him? No, you couldn’t; but you might if you had both been through some emotionally widening experience. That is one of the by-products of revolution, though in this case it was only the beginnings of a revolution, and obviously foredoomed to failure.

4

The struggle for power between the Spanish Republican parties is an unhappy, far-off thing which I have no wish to revive at this date. I only mention it in order to say: believe nothing, or next to nothing, of what you read about internal affairs on the Government side. It is all, from whatever source, party propaganda — that is to say, lies. The broad truth about the war is simple enough. The Spanish bourgeoisie saw their chance of crushing the labour movement, and took it, aided by the Nazis and by the forces of reaction all over the world. It is doubtful whether more than that will ever be established.

I remember saying once to Arthur Koestler, ‘History stopped in 1936’, at which he nodded in immediate understanding. We were both thinking of totalitarianism in general, but more particularly of the Spanish civil war. Early in life I have noticed that no event is ever correctly reported in a newspaper, but in Spain, for the first time, I saw newspaper reports which did not bear any relation to the facts, not even the relationship which is implied in an ordinary lie. I saw great battles reported where there had been no fighting, and complete silence where hundreds of men had been killed. I saw troops who had fought bravely denounced as cowards and traitors, and others who had never seen a shot fired hailed as the heroes of imaginary victories; and I saw newspapers in London retailing these lies and eager intellectuals building emotional superstructures over events that had never happened. I saw, in fact, history being written not in terms of what happened but of what ought to have happened according to various ‘party lines’. Yet in a way, horrible as all this was, it was unimportant. It concerned secondary issues — namely, the struggle for power between the Comintern and the Spanish left-wing parties, and the efforts of the Russian Government to prevent revolution in Spain. But the broad picture of the war which the Spanish Government presented to the world was not untruthful. The main issues were what it said they were. But as for the Fascists and their backers, how could they come even as near to the truth as that? How could they possibly mention their real aims? Their version of the war was pure fantasy, and in the circumstances it could not have been otherwise.

The only propaganda line open to the Nazis and Fascists was to represent themselves as Christian patriots saving Spain from a Russian dictatorship. This involved pretending that life in Government Spain was just one long massacre (vide the Catholic Herald or the Daily Mail — but these were child’s play compared with the Continental Fascist press), and it involved immensely exaggerating the scale of Russian intervention. Out of the huge pyramid of lies which the Catholic and reactionary press all over the world built up, let me take just one point — the presence in Spain of a Russian army. Devout Franco partisans all believed in this; estimates of its strength went as high as half a million. Now, there was no Russian army in Spain. There may have been a handful of airmen and other technicians, a few hundred at the most, but an army there was not. Some thousands of foreigners who fought in Spain, not to mention millions of Spaniards, were witnesses of this. Well, their testimony made no impression at all upon the Franco propagandists, not one of whom had set foot in Government Spain. Simultaneously these people refused utterly to admit the fact of German or Italian intervention at the same time as the Germany and Italian press were openly boasting about the exploits of their’ legionaries’. I have chosen to mention only one point, but in fact the whole of Fascist propaganda about the war was on this level.

This kind of thing is frightening to me, because it often gives me the feeling that the very concept of objective truth is fading out of the world. After all, the chances are that those lies, or at any rate similar lies, will pass into history. How will the history of the Spanish war be written? If Franco remains in power his nominees will write the history books, and (to stick to my chosen point) that Russian army which never existed will become historical fact, and schoolchildren will learn about it generations hence. But suppose Fascism is finally defeated and some kind of democratic government restored in Spain in the fairly near future; even then, how is the history of the war to be written? What kind of records will Franco have left behind him? Suppose even that the records kept on the Government side are recoverable — even so, how is a true history of the war to be written? For, as I have pointed out already, the Government, also dealt extensively in lies. From the anti-Fascist angle one could write a broadly truthful history of the war, but it would be a partisan history, unreliable on every minor point. Yet, after all, some kind of history will be written, and after those who actually remember the war are dead, it will be universally accepted. So for all practical purposes the lie will have become truth.

I know it is the fashion to say that most of recorded history is lies anyway. I am willing to believe that history is for the most part inaccurate and biased, but what is peculiar to our own age is the abandonment of the idea that history could be truthfully written. In the past people deliberately lied, or they unconsciously coloured what they wrote, or they struggled after the truth, well knowing that they must make many mistakes; but in each case they believed that ‘facts’ existed and were more or less discoverable. And in practice there was always a considerable body of fact which would have been agreed to by almost everyone. If you look up the history of the last war in, for instance, the Encyclopaedia Britannica, you will find that a respectable amount of the material is drawn from German sources. A British and a German historian would disagree deeply on many things, even on fundamentals, but there would still be that body of, as it were, neutral fact on which neither would seriously challenge the other. It is just this common basis of agreement, with its implication that human beings are all one species of animal, that totalitarianism destroys. Nazi theory indeed specifically denies that such a thing as ‘the truth’ exists. There is, for instance, no such thing as ‘Science’. There is only ‘German Science’, ‘Jewish Science’, etc. The implied objective of this line of thought is a nightmare world in which the Leader, or some ruling clique, controls not only the future but the past. If the Leader says of such and such an event, ‘It never happened’ — well, it never happened. If he says that two and two are five — well, two and two are five. This prospect frightens me much more than bombs — and after our experiences of the last few years that is not a frivolous statement.

But is it perhaps childish or morbid to terrify oneself with visions of a totalitarian future? Before writing off the totalitarian world as a nightmare that can’t come true, just remember that in 1925 the world of today would have seemed a nightmare that couldn’t come true. Against that shifting phantasmagoric world in which black may be white tomorrow and yesterday’s weather can be changed by decree, there are in reality only two safeguards. One is that however much you deny the truth, the truth goes on existing, as it were, behind your back, and you consequently can’t violate it in ways that impair military efficiency. The other is that so long as some parts of the earth remain unconquered, the liberal tradition can be kept alive. Let Fascism, or possibly even a combination of several Fascisms, conquer the whole world, and those two conditions no longer exist. We in England underrate the danger of this kind of thing, because our traditions and our past security have given us a sentimental belief that it all comes right in the end and the thing you most fear never really happens. Nourished for hundreds of years on a literature in which Right invariably triumphs in the last chapter, we believe half-instinctively that evil always defeats itself in the long run. Pacifism, for instance, is founded largely on this belief. Don’t resist evil, and it will somehow destroy itself. But why should it? What evidence is there that it does? And what instance is there of a modern industrialized state collapsing unless conquered from the outside by military force?

Consider for instance the re-institution of slavery. Who could have imagined twenty years ago that slavery would return to Europe? Well, slavery has been restored under our noses. The forced-labour camps all over Europe and North Africa where Poles, Russians, Jews and political prisoners of every race toil at road-making or swamp-draining for their bare rations, are simple chattle slavery. The most one can say is that the buying and selling of slaves by individuals is not yet permitted. In other ways — the breaking-up of families, for instance — the conditions are probably worse than they were on the American cotton plantations. There is no reason for thinking that this state of affairs will change while any totalitarian domination endures. We don’t grasp its full implications, because in our mystical way we feel that a regime founded on slavery must collapse. But it is worth comparing the duration of the slave empires of antiquity with that of any modern state. Civilizations founded on slavery have lasted for such periods as four thousand years.

When I think of antiquity, the detail that frightens me is that those hundreds of millions of slaves on whose backs civilization rested generation after generation have left behind them no record whatever. We do not even know their names. In the whole of Greek and Roman history, how many slaves’ names are known to you? I can think of two, or possibly three. One is Spartacus and the other is Epictetus. Also, in the Roman room at the British Museum there is a glass jar with the maker’s name inscribed on the bottom, ‘Felix fecit’. I have a mental picture of poor Felix (a Gaul with red hair and a metal collar round his neck), but in fact he may not have been a slave; so there are only two slaves whose names I definitely know, and probably few people can remember more. The rest have gone down into utter silence.

5

The backbone of the resistance against Franco was the Spanish working class, especially the urban trade union members. In the long run — it is important to remember that it is only in the long run — the working class remains the most reliable enemy of Fascism, simply because the working-class stands to gain most by a decent reconstruction of society. Unlike other classes or categories, it can’t be permanently bribed.

To say this is not to idealize the working class. In the long struggle that has followed the Russian Revolution it is the manual workers who have been defeated, and it is impossible not to feel that it was their own fault. Time after time, in country after country, the organized working-class movements have been crushed by open, illegal violence, and their comrades abroad, linked to themin theoretical solidarity, have simply looked on and done nothing; and underneath this, secret cause of many betrayals, has lain the fact that between white and coloured workers there is not even lip-service to solidarity. Who can believe in the class-conscious international proletariat after the events of the past ten years? To the British working class the massacre of their comrades in Vienna, Berlin, Madrid, or wherever it might be seemed less interesting and less important than yesterday’s football match. Yet this does not alter the fact that the working class will go on struggling against Fascism after the others have caved in. One feature of the Nazi conquest of France was the astonishing defections among the intelligentsia, including some of the left-wing political intelligentsia. The intelligentsia are the people who squeal loudest against Fascism, and yet a respectable proportion of them collapse into defeatism when the pinch comes. They are far-sighted enough to see the odds against them, and moreoever they can be bribed — for it is evident that the Nazis think it worth while to bribe intellectuals. With the working class it is the other way about. Too ignorant to see through the trick that is being played on them, they easily swallow the promises of Fascism, yet sooner or later they always take up the struggle again. They must do so, because in their own bodies they always discover that the promises of Fascism cannot be fulfilled. To win over the working class permanently, the Fascists would have to raise the general standard of living, which they are unable and probably unwilling to do. The struggle of the working class is like the growth of a plant. The plant is blind and stupid, but it knows enough to keep pushing upwards towards the light, and it will do this in the face of endless discouragements. What are the workers struggling for? Simply for the decent life which they are more and more aware is now technically possible. Their consciousness of this aim ebbs and flows. In Spain, for a while, people were acting consciously, moving towards a goal which they wanted to reach and believed they could reach. It accounted for the curiously buoyant feeling that life in Government Spain had during the early months of the war. The common people knew in their bones that the Republic was their friend and Franco was their enemy. They knew that they were in the right, because they were fighting for something which the world owed them and was able to give them.

One has to remember this to see the Spanish war in its true perspective. When one thinks of the cruelty, squalor, and futility of War — and in this particular case of the intrigues, the persecutions, the lies and the misunderstandings — there is always the temptation to say: ‘One side is as bad as the other. I am neutral’. In practice, however, one cannot be neutral, and there is hardly such a thing as a war in which it makes no difference who wins. Nearly always one stands more or less for progress, the other side more or less for reaction. The hatred which the Spanish Republic excited in millionaires, dukes, cardinals, play-boys, Blimps, and what-not would in itself be enough to show one how the land lay. In essence it was a class war. If it had been won, the cause of the common people everywhere would have been strengthened. It was lost, and the dividend-drawers all over the world rubbed their hands. That was the real issue; all else was froth on its surface.

6

The outcome of the Spanish war was settled in London, Paris, Rome, Berlin — at any rate not in Spain. After the summer of 1937 those with eyes in their heads realized that the Government could not win the war unless there were some profound change in the international set-up, and in deciding to fight on Negrin and the others may have been partly influenced by the expectation that the world war which actually broke out in 1939 was coming in 1938. The much-publicized disunity on the Government side was not a main cause of defeat. The Government militias were hurriedly raised, ill-armed and unimaginative in their military outlook, but they would have been the same if complete political agreement had existed from the start. At the outbreak of war the average Spanish factory-worker did not even know how to fire a rifle (there had never been universal conscription in Spain), and the traditional pacifism of the Left was a great handicap. The thousands of foreigners who served in Spain made good infantry, but there were very few experts of any kind among them. The Trotskyist thesis that the war could have been won if the revolution had not been sabotaged was probably false. To nationalize factories, demolish churches, and issue revolutionary manifestoes would not have made the armies more efficient. The Fascists won because they were the stronger; they had modern arms and the others hadn’t. No political strategy could offset that.

The most baffling thing in the Spanish war was the behaviour of the great powers. The war was actually won for Franco by the Germans and Italians, whose motives were obvious enough. The motives of France and Britain are less easy to understand. In 1936 it was clear to everyone that if Britain would only help the Spanish Government, even to the extent of a few million pounds’ worth of arms, Franco would collapse and German strategy would be severely dislocated. By that time one did not need to be a clairvoyant to foresee that war between Britain and Germany was coming; one could even foretell within a year or two when it would come. Yet in the most mean, cowardly, hypocritical way the British ruling class did all they could to hand Spain over to Franco and the Nazis. Why? Because they were pro-Fascist, was the obvious answer. Undoubtedly they were, and yet when it came to the final showdown they chose to Stand up to Germany. It is still very uncertain what plan they acted on in backing Franco, and they may have had no clear plan at all. Whether the British ruling class are wicked or merely stupid is one of the most difficult questions of our time, and at certain moments a very important question. As to the Russians, their motives in the Spanish war are completely inscrutable. Did they, as the pinks believed, intervene in Spain in order to defend Democracy and thwart the Nazis? Then why did they intervene on such a niggardly scale and finally leave Spain in the lurch? Or did they, as the Catholics maintained, intervene in order to foster revolution in Spain? Then why did they do all in their power to crush the Spanish revolutionary movements, defend private property and hand power to the middle class as against the working class? Or did they, as the Trotskyists suggested, intervene simply in order to prevent a Spanish revolution? Then why not have backed Franco? Indeed, their actions are most easily explained if one assumes that they were acting on several contradictory motives. I believe that in the future we shall come to feel that Stalin’s foreign policy, instead of being so diabolically clever as it is claimed to be, has been merely opportunistic and stupid. But at any rate, the Spanish civil war demonstrated that the Nazis knew what they were doing and their opponents did not. The war was fought at a low technical level and its major strategy was very simple. That side which had arms would win. The Nazis and the Italians gave arms to the Spanish Fascist friends, and the western democracies and the Russians didn’t give arms to those who should have been their friends. So the Spanish Republic perished, having’ gained what no republic missed’.

Whether it was right, as all left-wingers in other countries undoubtedly did, to encourage the Spaniards to go on fighting when they could not win is a question hard to answer. I myself think it was right, because I believe that it is better even from the point of view of survival to fight and be conquered than to surrender without fighting. The effects on the grand strategy of the struggle against Fascism cannot be assessed yet. The ragged, weaponless armies of the Republic held out for two and a half years, which was undoubtedly longer than their enemies expected. But whether that dislocated the Fascist timetable, or whether, on the other hand, it merely postponed the major war and gave the Nazis extra time to get their war machine into trim, is still uncertain.

7

I never think of the Spanish war without two memories coming into my mind. One is of the hospital ward at Lerida and the rather sad voices of the wounded militiamen singing some song with a refrain that ended —

Una resolucion,
Luchar hast’ al fin!

Well, they fought to the end all right. For the last eighteen months of the war the Republican armies must have been fighting almost without cigarettes, and with precious little food. Even when I left Spain in the middle of 1937, meat and bread were scarce, tobacco a rarity, coffee and sugar almost unobtainable.

The other memory is of the Italian militiaman who shook my hand in the guardroom, the day I joined the militia. I wrote about this man at the beginning of my book on the Spanish war(1), and do not want to repeat what I said there. When I remember — oh, how vividly! — his shabby uniform and fierce, pathetic, innocent face, the complex side-issues of the war seem to fade away and I see clearly that there was at any rate no doubt as to who was in the right. In spite of power politics and journalistic lying, the central issue of the war was the attempt of people like this to win the decent life which they knew to be their birthright. It is difficult to think of this particular man’s probable end without several kinds of bitterness. Since I met him in the Lenin Barracks he was probably a Trotskyist or an Anarchist, and in the peculiar conditions of our time, when people of that sort are not killed by the Gestapo they are usually killed by the G.P.U. But that does not affect the long-term issues. This man’s face, which I saw only for a minute or two, remains with me as a sort of visual reminder of what the war was really about. He symbolizes for me the flower of the European working class, harried by the police of all countries, the people who fill the mass graves of the Spanish battlefields and are now, to the tune of several millions, rotting in forced-labour camps.

When one thinks of all the people who support or have supported Fascism, one stands amazed at their diversity. What a crew! Think of a programme which at any rate for a while could bring Hitler, Petain, Montagu Norman, Pavelitch, William Randolph Hearst, Streicher, Buchman, Ezra Pound, Juan March, Cocteau, Thyssen, Father Coughlin, the Mufti of Jerusalem, Arnold Lunn, Antonescu, Spengler, Beverley Nichols, Lady Houston, and Marinetti all into the same boat! But the clue is really very simple. They are all people with something to lose, or people who long for a hierarchical society and dread the prospect of a world of free and equal human beings. Behind all the ballyhoo that is talked about ‘godless’ Russia and the ‘materialism’ of the working class lies the simple intention of those with money or privileges to cling to them. Ditto, though it contains a partial truth, with all the talk about the worthlessness of social reconstruction not accompanied by a ‘change of heart’. The pious ones, from the Pope to the yogis of California, are great on the’ change of heart’, much more reassuring from their point of view than a change in the economic system. Petain attributes the fall of France to the common people’s ‘love of pleasure’. One sees this in its right perspective if one stops to wonder how much pleasure the ordinary French peasant’s or working-man’s life would contain compared with Petain’s own. The damned impertinence of these politicians, priests, literary men, and what-not who lecture the working-class socialist for his ‘materialism’! All that the working man demands is what these others would consider the indispensable minimum without which human life cannot be lived at all. Enough to eat, freedom from the haunting terror of unemployment, the knowledge that your children will get a fair chance, a bath once a day, clean linen reasonably often, a roof that doesn’t leak, and short enough working hours to leave you with a little energy when the day is done. Not one of those who preach against ‘materialism’ would consider life livable without these things. And how easily that minimum could be attained if we chose to set our minds to it for only twenty years! To raise the standard of living of the whole world to that of Britain would not be a greater undertaking than the war we have just fought. I don’t claim, and I don’t know who does, that that wouldn’t solve anything in itself. It is merely that privation and brute labour have to be abolished before the real problems of humanity can be tackled. The major problem of our time is the decay of the belief in personal immortality, and it cannot be dealt with while the average human being is either drudging like an ox or shivering in fear of the secret police. How right the working classes are in their ‘materialism’! How right they are to realize that the belly comes before the soul, not in the scale of values but in point of time! Understand that, and the long horror that we are enduring becomes at least intelligible. All the considerations are likely to make one falter — the siren voices of a Petain or of a Gandhi, the inescapable fact that in order to fight one has to degrade oneself, the equivocal moral position of Britain, with its democratic phrases and its coolie empire, the sinister development of Soviet Russia, the squalid farce of left-wing politics — all this fades away and one sees only the struggle of the gradually awakening common people against the lords of property and their hired liars and bumsuckers. The question is very simple. Shall people like that Italian soldier be allowed to live the decent, fully human life which is now technically achievable, or shan’t they? Shall the common man be pushed back into the mud, or shall he not? I myself believe, perhaps on insufficient grounds, that the common man will win his fight sooner or later, but I want it to be sooner and not later — some time within the next hundred years, say, and not some time within the next ten thousand years. That was the real issue of the Spanish war, and of the last war, and perhaps of other wars yet to come.

I never saw the Italian militiaman again, nor did I ever learn his name. It can be taken as quite certain that he is dead. Nearly two years later, when the war was visibly lost, I wrote these verses in his memory:

The Italian soldier shook my hand
Beside the guard-room table;
The strong hand and the subtle hand
Whose palms are only able

To meet within the sound of guns,
But oh! what peace I knew then
In gazing on his battered face
Purer than any woman’s!

For the flyblown words that make me spew
Still in his ears were holy,
And he was born knowing what I had learned
Out of books and slowly.

The treacherous guns had told their tale
And we both had bought it,
But my gold brick was made of gold —
Oh! who ever would have thought it?

Good luck go with you, Italian soldier!
But luck is not for the brave;
What would the world give back to you?
Always less than you gave.

Between the shadow and the ghost,
Between the white and the red,
Between the bullet and the lie,
Where would you hide your head?

For where is Manuel Gonzalez,
And where is Pedro Aguilar,
And where is Ramon Fenellosa?
The earthworms know where they are.

Your name and your deeds were forgotten
Before your bones were dry,
And the lie that slew you is buried
Under a deeper lie;

But the thing that I saw in your face
No power can disinherit:
No bomb that ever burst
Shatters the crystal spirit.

1943

_____

1) ‘Homage to Catalonia’ [back]

THE END

____BD____
George Orwell: ‘Looking back on the Spanish War’
First published: New Road. — GB, London. — 1943.Reprinted:— ‘England Your England and Other Essays’. — 1953.— ‘Such, Such Were the Joys’. — 1953.— ‘Collected Essays’. — 1961.— ‘The Collected Essays, Journalism and Letters of George Orwell’. — 1968.

____
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Last modified on: 2015-09-24

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Poema a un intelectual mexicano, Enrique Krauze, amigo del Nobel Octavio Paz, y no tan amigo del historiador y periodista argentino Gregorio Selser

Perseguido, Mandela; perseguido, Trotsky; perseguido, Assange. Éste es un simple lavador de fraudes electorales que se quedó sin contratos. pic.twitter.com/0tVwc8fss9— Pedro Miguel (@Navegaciones) March 17, 2019

PINCHAR EN EL ENLACE PARA VER EL POEMA , contra Krauze. Podíamos titular esta entrada como: El soneto a un mentiroso


SONETO A UN PALAFRENERO
Octavio PAZ, premio Nobel de Literatura

La importancia de las palabras, por su implantación en las relaciones sociales y políticas , queda aquí de manifiesto, cuando comprobamos cómo a partir de una sola palabra, PALAFRENERO, se desarrolla toda una polémica entre intelectuales, periodistas, y los lectores de prensa , dentro de la dialéctica de clases, de Estados y de grupos internacionales de poder.

Artículo del periodista Eduardo R Huchim, titulado El debate que no pudo ser. Donde se exponen detalladamente los hechos que dieron lugar a un duro enfrentamiento entre Enrique Krauze y Gregorio Selser, en el que intervino el Nobel mexicano Octavio Paz, y otros influyentes y conocidos escritores mexicanos.

http://www.revistadelauniversidad.unam.mx/3907/pdfs/35-43.pdfhttp://www.revistadelauniversidad.unam.mx/3907/pdfs/35-43.pdf

Uno de los libros de Gregorio SELSER

Agregamos a continuación el texto completo del artículo mencionado de Eduardo R Huchim publicado en 2007 por Revista de la Universidad de México :

Paz, Krauze, Selser… 

El debate que 

no pudo ser 

AUTOR Eduardo R. Huchim 

FUENTEhttp://www.revistadelauniversidad.unam.mx/3907/pdfs/35-43.pdf

(Publicación del año 2007)

Eduardo R. Huchim hace aquí una minuciosa y valiosa recons- trucción de aquella reveladora polémica entre Enrique Krauze, Gregorio Selser y Octavio Paz en 1991. Rescate periodístico que, entre otras cosas, nos permite comprender cómo, a menudo, una pequeña errata provoca el desbordamiento de la pasión por encima de las ideas. 

El lunes 21 de enero de 1991, como a las 7:30 de la mañana, desperté sobresaltado, tras de haber dormido tres o cuatro horas. 

—No revisé la prueba “dura” —me dije y me agre- gué—: Si no la revisaste, a esta hora no hay nada que hacer. Ya el periódico está circulando. 

Y me volví a dormir. Pero en alguna parte estaba es- crito que aquella no sería una mañana tranquila. Apro- ximadamente a las once, mi esposa me despertó y me entregó la bocina del teléfono. 

—Te llaman del periódico —me dijo, y entonces supe que mi temor de las 7:30 tenía fundamento. 

—Señor Huchim… —me dijo una voz un tanto malhumorada. 

—¡Don Carlos, no me diga que se publicó lo de “palafrenero mayor”!1 

1 El Diccionario de la Real Academia Española define así esta pala- bra: Palafrenero. (De palafrén).m. Criado que lleva del freno el caballo. 2. Mo zode caballos. 3. Criado que monta el palafrén. En las caballerizas reales, picador, jefe de la regalada, que tenía de la cabezada el caballo cuando montaba el rey. 

—Sí le digo, y no sabe la que se ha armado. Ya nos hablaron Octavio Paz, Enrique Krauze y también algu- nos escritores de casa. 

—Hace unas horas desperté sobresaltado. Mi sub- consciente ha de haberme avisado que no revisé esa parte de la primera plana en papel, antes de mandarla al taller. Sin embargo, al menos dos personas revisamos el original electrónico y la corrección estaba hecha, igual que en la página del pase, en Mundo. 

—Pues no, se publicó lo de “palafrenero”, y la bronca ya se armó, y bueno hay que afrontarla. 

—Pues no sé si decirle que lo lamento, puede darse un debate interesante. 

—Si, así es. Ya veremos —se despidió Carlos Payán Velver, director general deLa Jornada, diario de la Ciu- dad de México del que yo era coordinador de edición. 

Gregorio Selser, nacido en Argentina el 2 de julio de 1922, era para entonces un reconocido periodista, historiador, conferenciante y profesor universitario. Autor de cuarenta y siete libros, ha sido descrito por Roberto Bardini como: 

REVISTA DE LA UNIVERSIDAD DE MÉXICO 

|35 

Un voraz autodidacta que creció en un orfanato para niños judíos en el que su única posesión fue un diccio- nario, trabajó como aprendiz de relojero y oficinista en una fábrica de cajas de cartón, realizó estudios secunda- rios en colegios nocturnos e ingresó a la Universidad en 1956, a los treinta y cuatro años. Para entonces, Selser estaba casado, habían nacido dos de sus tres hijas y co- menzaba a trabajar como reportero del diario La Prensa, de Buenos Aires, así que sólo pudo cursar menos del primer año de Sociología. 

Selser —añade Ba rdini— se transformó en uno de los escritores más prolíficos de su tiempo, sin equivalentes en América. Durante décadas dedicó —con la ayuda de su esposa Marta Ventura— casi dieciséis horas diarias a la recolección de la más variada información histórico- política y a la redacción de artículos que publicaba en diarios, revistas y agencias de noticias, además de la pre- paración de numerosos libros, clases universitarias y con- ferencias en México, América Central, los Estados Uni- dos y Europa. 

EL RESPETO A LOS ARTICULISTAS 

La historia había comenzado la noche del domingo anterior, 20 de enero de 1991, con un artículo de Gre- gorio Selser, destinado a publicarse en la primera pági- na de La Jornada del lunes 21. 

Cuando leí el artículo, me percaté de que tres o cua- tro veces el autor calificaba a Enrique Krauze como “palafrenero de Octavio Paz”. El artículo, como la gene- ralidad de los escritos por Selser, era interesante, bien informado y estaba redactado con buena prosa, a la que la innecesaria calificación a Krauze restaba seriedad y pulcritud. 

EnLa Jornada se respetaba escrupulosamente lo que los articulistas querían decir, incluso los títulos que le colocaban a sus textos. Contra las prácticas de muchos periódicos que atribuían a “la redacción” el derecho a definir los títulos, en ese diario se consideraba que éstos formaban parte indisoluble de los textos y, en conse- cuencia, debían ser respetados. Sin embargo, por excep- ción, se hacía alguna modificación de estilo al texto o se cambiaba el título para mejorarlo a criterio del editor. “Consúltele” o “Avísele” al autor era la instrucción que en esos casos emergía habitualmente de Carlos Payán. Casi todos los colaboradores de ese periódico aceptaban debuengradoyagradecíantalesmodificacionesexcep- cionales, pero si el resultado de la consulta era la nega- tiva y él o ella insistían, entonces el texto se publicaba tal cual. 

Convencido de que la calificación ofensiva empo- brecía el artículo y hacía descender el nivel del debate sobre la Guerra del Golfo Pérsico, busqué a Gregorio 

Selser por medio de Socorro Valadez Morales, la efi- ciente secretaria de Payán, a quien particularmente yo agradecía su presencia los domingos por la noche, por- que me ayudaba a resolver muchos de esos pequeños- enormes problemas que cotidianamente se presentan en las redacciones de los periódicos. Aunque no tenía la obligación de estar también los domingos, Socorro iba a trabajar y a hacerse cargo —además de los apoyos al editor— de su sección (que coordina hasta la fecha),Elcorreoilustrado,lacualafrontasuspropiosproblemas d e r i vados, principalmente, de que siempre hay muchas más cartas de las que admite el espacio de la página dos de La Jornada, plana que las cartas enviadas por los lec- tores comparten con el editorial de la casa. 

Los domingos —que en toda mi carrera periodística han sido laborables para mí— eran días singulares por- que yo me quedaba a cargo del diario —igual que los lunes—, aunque el director frecuentemente se comu- nicaba por teléfono. 

—Sin embargo —decía don Carlos—, el responsa- ble de la edición es usted. Si La Jornada comete un error, aunque yo se lo haya propuesto, la responsabili- dad será suya y no mía, porque usted es quien está, no yo. Así que no deje resbalar a su director. 

Y la prevención se cumplía a cabalidad, aun cuando generalmente coincidíamos, pues a veces Payán y yo di- feríamos y no siempre pre valecía la opinión del director. 

—Si cree que eso es lo correcto, órale. Adelante —decía don Carlos.

AUTOR NO LOCALIZABLE 

Y bueno, aquel domingo Socorro no encontró a Gre- gorio Selser, de modo que, como ocurría raras veces, le pedí que buscáramos a don Carlos para consultarle. Tele- fónicamente le expliqué el contenido del artículo y la dureza de algunas adjetivaciones, la peor de las cuales era la calificación de “palafre n e ro” que le asestaba a Krauze. Payán estuvo de acuerdo en que tal calificación abara- taba el texto y enterado de que el autor no estaba loca- lizable, lo pensó unos segundos y me dijo: 

—Quítele esa palabra todas las veces que aparezca, siempre que no le cambie el sentido a la opinión de Selser. —No tiene problema, don Carlos, la palabreja no le 

quita nada al texto, excepto la ofensa. —Bien, quítela y yo mañana hablo con Gregorio. 

Estoy seguro de que lo entenderá e incluso lo agradecerá. Procedí a la minisupresión en el primer párrafo del a rtículo y en las dos o tres veces más que aparecía la pala- bra “palafrenero”. El artículo tenía entrada en la pri- mera plana, con pase a la sección internacional. De la p o rtada se encargaba aquel domingo el periodista Héctor Zamarrón, quien luego habría de ser editor de la sec- 

36| REVISTA DE LA UNIVERSIDAD DE MÉXICO 

ción Ciudad del periódico Reforma y actualmente es el subdirector editorial del diario El Centro

Con Héctor hicimos la supresión de la primera pági- na en la computadora del sistema Crosfield y luego ha- blé con el editor de internacionales para hacer lo mismo en la página correspondiente. Horas después, revisé en la computadora —en la primera plana y en la dieciséis— que estas correcciones hubieran sido hechas, como efec- tivamente lo habían sido. Hice otra comprobación en la “p rueba dura” o de papel de la página dieciséis, corre s- pondiente a la sección internacional. La verificación era conveniente porque a veces, a pesar de hacer todo lo necesario, el disco duro no registraba los cambios. Esto fue lo que ocurrió en la primera página. A pesar de que en la pantalla la corrección estaba hecha, la computa- dora no la guardó aun cuando en presencia mía se le dio la instrucción correspondiente. 

Cuando me fue llevada la prueba en papel de la pri- mera página, revisé la cabeza principal, los créditos, el pie de foto, las cabezas de los artículos y otros detalles, p e rono verifiqué que la palabreja hubiera desapare c i d o del texto de Selser. De ahí mi sobresaltado despertar de horas después. Es posible que haya dejado de verificar la supresión porque mi atención se concentró en revi- sar la cabeza, bajadas y sumarios relativos a la llamada Guerra del Golfo Pérsico, cuya información —coordi- nada por Guillermina Álvarez y Marcela Aldama— fue muy elogiada por su amplitud, precisión y objetividad (la opinión era otra cosa). En aquellos días, el periódico tuvo tirajes extraordinarios (en torno a los cien mil ejem- plares), de los mayores en toda su historia, los que repe- tiría tres años después, con la rebelión del Ejército Za p a- tista de Liberación Nacional en Chiapas. 

Es curioso cómo funciona el subconsciente, porque éste sí registró la omisión y me la recordó horas después, cuando ya no había nada qué hacer. 

“EL PALAFRENERO MAYOR”: SELSER 

La cabeza principal del lunes 21 de enero de 1991 in- formaba que “Irak ataca otra vez a Saudiarabia”, comple- 

mentada con un “balazo” de que misiles iraquíes habían sido interceptados por cohetes de los Estados Unidos. Junto a ese título y a una fotografía del acorazado Wis consin disparando un misilTomahawk,estaba el artículo de Gregorio Selser, titulado “De falsificadores e hipó- critas” y cuyo largo primer párrafo decía: 

De haber dispuesto este cronista de la abundancia de espacio de que disfruta en el mensuario Vuelta el palafre- nero mayor de Octavio Paz, y de haber podido contar con el permiso para reproducir la abundante información que en la prensa europea volcaron los periodistas Pierre Salinger y Eric Laurente —entre otros— a propósito de parte de la administración de Bush, para provocar e inducir a Saddam Hussein a la invasión y ocupación de Kuwait, es probable que Enrique Krauze se hubiera medido antes de incurrir en las falsificaciones históricas y en las impu- taciones injuriosas que nos ha flagelado en La Jornada a quienes no compartimos la nueva muestra de barbarie internacional a que se han lanzado los Estados Unidos y sus países cortesanos, con la increíble e imperdonable bendición de la Organización de las Naciones Unidas, en su guerra petrolero —estratégica contra Irak. 

Selser se refería a un texto que Enrique Krauze había publicado un día antes, el domingo 20 de enero, tam- bién en la primera página de La Jornada, con el título “El transgresor y sus apóstoles”, dedicado a Aarón y Shabty Sulkes, donde el historiador consideraba inevi- table la guerra después de las acciones de Saddam Hussein y criticaba a “buena parte de la prensa que leen los uni- versitarios de México”, de la cual decía que “frente a los cambios copernicanos de fin de siglo, (…) ha renunciado a pensar: le basta condenar u homenajear, le basta decre- tar quiénes son de antemano los buenos y los malos”. 

Krauze también opinó: 

El velo ideológico distorsiona la línea editorial de varios periódicos que sólo ven en el conflicto la perenne respon- sabilidad de los Estados Unidos. Hemos llegado a tal extre- mo de hipocresía, simplificación y maniqueísmo, que nos cuesta trabajo disociar, matizar, distinguir fenómenos cuya 

A pesar de que en la pantalla la corrección estaba hecha, la computadora no la guardó aun cuando en presencia mía se le dio la instrucción correspondiente. 

– 

REVISTA DE LA UNIVERSIDAD DE MÉXICO | 37

PAZ, KRAUZE, SELSER… 

Señor director y amigo: En La Jornada de ayer el señor Gregorio Samsa Selser llamó a Enrique Krauze “mi palafrenero mayor”. No, yo no tengo palafreneros porque no tengo establo pero, si lo llegara a tener, Gregorio Selser ocuparía 

su pequeño lugar en el pesebre de los burros. 

especificidad es obvia para cualquier observador de buena fe. Mirar con los ojos abiertos los crímenes de Hussein y condenarlos, no implica ninguna adhesión incondicio- nal ni permanente a los gringos, ni supone cerrar los ojos a las innumerables instancias históricas —Panamá es la más reciente— en las que los Estados Unidos ha burlado la legalidad internacional que ahora defiende. Pe rorecor- dar esos casos no debería bloquear la consideración espe- cífica de los momentos en que la acción norteamericana ha contribuido a la paz global y a la libertad. Las dos guerras mundiales y la actual en el Pérsico pertenecen a ese género. 

Krauze criticó con dureza las contradicciones de la izquierda, cuyos militantes, que “siempre caen parados”, no parten de la realidad ni les interesan las ideas, “par- ten de la doctrina y cuentan con el decidido y seguro aplauso de sus sectas (al cliente lo que pida)”. Añade que “están enfermos de ideología, pero su enfermedad es una máscara de un malestar moral más profundo e inconfesable: el resentimiento. A continuación, Krauze escribió el fragmento que probablemente provocó la ira de Selser: 

La animosidad contra Israel, cada vez más presente en nuestros diarios citadinos, es otra prueba del adocenamien- to intelectual que nos envenena y aletarga… La doble moral se ha vuelto característica de nuestra prensa en éste y otros temas. En el caso particular de la guerra del Pérsico, ningún diario de consumo universitario consi- deró siquiera elogiar el inusitado autocontrol israelí tras el ataque de Irak. Israel encabeza la lista de los malos y eso basta… Para colmo, en la actitud contra Israel se per- cibe un tema de fondo que muchos creíamos liquidado tras el Holocausto: me refiero al antisemitismo, prejuicio ajeno a un pueblo como el mexicano, formado en nociones profundas de igualdad natural, respetuoso de la diversi- 

dad, tolerante al extremo de haberse constituido siempre en puerto de abrigo para el perseguido de otras tierras. 

Es claro que al hablar de “la prensa que leen los uni- versitarios”, Krauze se refería fundamentalmente a La Jornada, cuya circulación era la más importante en ese ámbito y cuya línea editorial era abiertamente antiesta- dounidense, de modo que resultaba natural que Gregorio Selser, quien por esos días escribía más de una vez por semana sobre el tema, se sintiera aludido. La respuesta inmediata de Selser, cuyo inicio ya fue transcrito, decía en lo relativo al antisemitismo: 

Krauze expone exabruptos viscerales pero no argumen- tos documentales que no dudo que están a su disposición y que pudo tener en cuenta con un mínimo de buena fe. Ha optado por imputar “hipocresía, simplificación y mani- queísmo” a los numerosos editoriales deLa Jornada —periódico que le ha concedido un espacio queVuelta no otorga a sus leprosados— y tras conceder una tibia ecua- nimidad de cinco líneas en el espacio de una plana com- pleta para reconocer que con su salvajada en Panamá “los Estados Unidos ha burlado la legalidad internacional que ahora defiende”, nos propina la hijodeputez mayor de imputarnos motivaciones antisemitas. 

Con esta clase de sucias descalificaciones todo debate se torna fútil, a partir del elemental irrespeto hacia la opi- nión disidente contra la que manipula el imperio mayor del orbe. En lo personal puedo alegarle que en mis cuaren- ta años de periodista he escrito bastante más contra los nazis, contra el fascismo y contra el antisemitismo, que todo lo que haya producido Krauze a favor del liberalismo, la libert a d, la propiedad privada, la libre empresa y otras bienaventuranzas del imperialismo, el neocolonialismo y el hegemonismo expansionista de los Estados Unidos, del cual es servidor. Pero respeto demasiado a mis colegas de 

38| REVISTA DE LA UNIVERSIDAD DE MÉXICO 

La Jo rnada y de El NacionalExcélsior, El Día, unomásuno y Proceso, entre otros, para suponerles movidos por “el socia- lismo de los imbéciles”, como calificó Ma rx al antisemitis- mo, en sus análisis sobre el conflicto del Golfo Pérsico. 

Es tan falsa de toda falsedad su descalificación de “anti- semita” contra quienes no compartimos los crímenes de la medieval y feroz teocracia de Tel Aviv, como su olím- pica afirmación de que “Gorbachov no dudó en respon- sabilizar a Hussein de la guerra”. Como lo es por su incom- probabilidad su hipotética elucubración de que “después de Kuwait habría caído quizás Arabia Saudita y, tras ellas, uno a uno, los estados árabes que se hubiesen resistido a su hegemonía. El botín de petróleo y la destrucción de Israel se darían entonces, por añadidura (…) Hussein hu- biese estrenado un nuevo juguete: el botoncito rojo apun- tando a las ‘satánicas’ capitales de Occidente”. O sea la “teoría del dominó” dullesiana que sirvió de argumento para la genocida guerra de los Estados Unidos contra Vietnam, Laos y Camboya, reactualizada. 

Hasta para sostener esta conseja demuestra Krauze que es un pésimo lector de la historia reciente. Le des- mienten desde hace décadas pacifistas —humanistas israe- líes como Amós Oz, dirigente del Movimiento de Paz Ahora, y su conmovedora crónica publicada en The New Yo rk Times a continuación de la matanza de Rishon Letzion, cuando un oficial israelí puso en fila a dieciocho palestinos desarmados, a principios de 1990, y los asesinó utilizando el mismo método que Al Capone utilizó en Chicago cuando la masacre de San Valentín. Lo desmintió en el mismo periódico neoyo rquino el actor judío Woody Allen, cuando se preguntó acongojado cómo era posible que las piedras de los niños de la intifada fuesen retalia- das con ráfagas de ametralladoras. 

GREGORIO SAMSA SELSER: PAZ 

La reacción fue inmediata. Octavio Paz mandó una breve y contundente carta que se publicó el martes 22 en primera plana, en el mismo sitio que el artículo de Selser. Decía: 

Señor director y amigo: En La Jornada de ayer el señor Gregorio Samsa Selser llamó a Enrique Krauze “mi pala- frenero mayor”. No, yo no tengo palafreneros porque no tengo establo pero, si lo llegara a tener, Gregorio Selser o c uparía su pequeño lugar en el pesebre de los burros. 

Un párrafo y dos insultos aderezados con la caracte- rización de pequeñez. Uno implícito y literario (insecto, por la obvia alusión al personaje de Kafka) y otro explí- cito y asnal (burro). 

En la misma primera página, flanqueado por sen- dos textos de Pablo Gómez y Eduardo Galeano, Selser 

escribía de nuevo sobre la Guerra del Golfo Pérsico bajo el título “Cuando Hussein era un cumplido caballero árabe”, aludiendo a la venta de armas que un grupo de países había hecho a Irak en la década de los ochenta. Citando a The Independent de Londres, el periodista argentino comentaba que “el gobierno socialista de Fr a n- cia se había negado a proveer información sobre un sis- tema vendido a Irak, destinado a proteger a los aviones cazas contra los misiles estadounidenses”, lo cual resul- taba contradictorio por el alineamiento de Francia con los Estados Unidos, aunque probablemente se explica- ba por el deseo de mantener su imagen de “vendedora confiable”. 

El mismo día, en El correo ilustrado, se publicó la si- guiente carta de Carlos Monsiváis: 

SOBRE KRAUZE Y SELSER 

Señor director: Al responderle a Enrique Krauze por lo que considera sus hipocresías y falsificaciones, Gregorio Selser (La Jornada, 21 de enero) recurre a la descalifica- ción perentoria: “El palafrenero mayor de Octavio Paz” lo llama, y luego afirma: “(Krauze) propina la hijade- p utez mayor de imputarnos motivaciones antisemitas”. Lamento tales exclamaciones en un artículo en donde, por lo demás, se manejan información y razones. Precisa- mente en este momento, en medio de la gigantesca cam- paña de los massmedia que acompaña (y festeja) a la mons- truosidad belicista, es preciso redoblar esfuerzos para liberar el debate de los ataques ad hominem. Ya desde hace tiempo lo sabemos: recurrir al insulto, reducir al adversario a los límites de una frase feliz o desdichada, es permitir que se adueñe del escenario la prepotencia, aunque la intención sea muy diferente. 

Por otra parte, nunca está de más abordar el tema-pro- blema del antisemitismo. Creo que así surjan reacciones de antisemitas en nuestro medio, el antisemitismo en modo alguno forma parte de la vida social y política de México salvo en el caso de la ultraderecha, de los treinta al día de hoy. La devastadora experiencia del nazismo, el desarrollo de la tolerancia y la internacionalización cultural nos han librado, como sociedad, de ese oprobio. Aquí, el racismo que nos aflige es el practicado contra los grupos indígenas.

También, ni tiene sentido tachar de “antisemitas” a todas las críticas al comportamiento del gobierno israelí en los territorios ocupados (que ha merecido justas con- denas en todas partes), ni son admisibles las generaliza- ciones que sólo confunden. Por eso no entiendo esta frase de un escritor del prestigio y la trayectoria de Eduardo Galeano (La Jornada, 15 de enero): “¿Para que Israel pueda seguir haciendo a los palestinos lo que Hitler hizo a los judíos?”. 

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PAZ, KRAUZE, SELSER… 

A las opiniones de Monsiváis se sumó al día siguiente, miércoles 23 de enero de 1991, Miguel Ángel Grana- dos Chapa, con estas palabras aparecidas también en El correo ilustrado

SUSCRIBE GRANADOS CHAPA LAS OPINIONES DE CARLOS MONSIVÁIS 

Señor director: Casi siempre suscribo, mentalmente, lo que escribe Carlos Monsiváis. Ahora quiero sin embargo hacer explícita mi coincidencia plena con sus opiniones sobre los artículos de Enrique Krauze y Gregorio Selser, manifestados en la carta que ayer apareció en esta sección. 

También Homero Aridjis censuró la violencia verbal en los siguientes términos: 

SOBRE GUERREROS SANTOS Y PAX AMERICANA 

Señor director: Como hombre y como escritor, protesto ante expresiones y posiciones antisemitas de algunos de sus colaboradores, quienes aprovechándose de la Guerra en el Golfo Pérsico, emiten opiniones como verdaderos Sturm Abtelung (tropas de asalto) de la palabra. 

Lo que dice Eduardo Galeano sobre Israel, que está haciendo con los palestinos lo que Hitler con los judíos, me parece infame y exagerado. La violencia verbal utilizada por Gregorio Selser en su respuesta a Enrique Krauze cuan- do enumera los crímenes cometidos por el Estado judío contra los guerreros santos, es impropia y tendenciosa. 

Creo que en un conflicto como el que está ocurriendo en el Golfo Pérsico, con tantos odios desatados, y tantos daños que están sufriendo la humanidad y el medio ambien- te, la mejor posición es la que ha asumido un diario tan respetable como el suyo, que ha dado una información imparcial y mesurada, sobre todo en esta otra guerra de los medios y de las opiniones. 

Recordemos que el respeto a los individuos y a las naciones es la mejor manera de preservar la paz social y global. Porque la guerra no es santa, aunque lo digan los p rofetas de la violencia y sus cre yentes, ni lapax americana, aunque la ejerzan con las armas sus propugnadores. 

El mismo día se publicó esta breve carta de Carlos L. Wagner E., subdirector del semanario GUÍA: 

SE AGOTAN LOS ARGUMENTOS, OPINA 

Señor director: Desde el pasado domingo sigo con inte- rés el debate que en torno al conflicto del Golfo Pérsico 

sostienen Enrique Krauze, Gregorio Selser y Octavio Paz. Al respecto, sólo dos líneas: 

Cuando los argumentos se agotan, los epítetos y ofen- sas brotan. 

EN DEFENSA DE SELSER 

En el marco de una opinión pública polarizada sobre la Guerra del Pérsico, era natural que Gregorio Selser tam- bién recibiera manifestaciones de solidaridad. El pro- pio miércoles 23 de enero de 1991, se publicaron dos cartas de respaldo al escritor argentino. Sus textos fue- ron los siguientes: 

REIVINDICA BARDINI LA TRAYECTORIA DE GREGORIO SELSER 

Estimado Carlos: Se degrada Octavio Paz al insultar a Gregorio Selser. 

Conocí a Selser hace veinte años, cuando fui su alumno en la Facultad de Periodismo (lo conocía como lector, y lo admiraba, desde mucho antes). Creo que varias genera- ciones de estudiantes aprendimos de él, en sus clases y fuera de ellas, nociones de ética profesional y objetividad. Y sobre todo, nos enseñó a interesarnos tempranamente por América Latina en una época hermética en que Argen- tina se parecía mucho a Sudáfrica y no al país en vías de extinción que es hoy. 

Después di clases en esa misma facultad y acostum- braba a bromear con mis alumnos, casualmente, acerca de que si existiera el Premio Nobel de Periodismo, Selser era uno de los más sólidos candidatos. El chiste circuló en algunas salas de redacción, con un añadido: si se unieran todas las cuartillas que él ha escrito, se podría envolver al mundo. 

Gregorio es una de las personas más inteligentes y cultas que he conocido, y uno de los mejores periodistas latinoamericanos. Su honestidad y valentía rayan muchas veces en la temeridad. 

Gracias por el espacio, Carlos, y un saludo cordial. 

Roberto Bardini. 

EXPRESAN SU “DESAGRADO” POR LOS “INSULTOS” DE OC TAVIO PAZ A SELSER 

Señor director: Somos lectores asiduos de “la prensa que leen los universitarios de México” y queremos manifes- tar nuestro completo desagrado con la actitud adoptada por el laureado Nobel de Literatura, Octavio Paz, para asumir la defensa imposible del artículo del señor Krauze frente al trabajo de Gregorio Selser. Creemos que el señor 

40| REVISTA DE LA UNIVERSIDAD DE MÉXICO 

REVISTA DE LA UNIVERSIDAD DE MÉXICO | 41

PAZ, KRAUZE, SELSER… 

Paz no debe disfrutar de impunidad para pretender dis- minuir, mediante insultos y ardides literarios, la valía de quien con pruebas y razones ha contribuido a desentra- ñarnos el complejo panorama internacional del que somos espectadores. 

María Novoa Po rtela, Alejandro de la Paz Toledo, Arturo Román Figueroa, Bernardor Dewers, Jorge Eduardo Carballo Arévalo, Juan Pedro Paniagua Escandón, Sergio Hernández, Antonio Zarur Osorio, Fernando Shultz, María de Lourdes Melgarejo A., profesores de la Universidad Autónoma Metro – politana (Azcapotzalco). 

NOSTRADAMUS Y EL AYATOLAH 

El mismo miércoles 23 de enero de 1991, junto a su cabeza principal que voceaba “Tel Aviv, atacada de nuevo por Irak”, La Jornada publicó en su primera pá- gina dos artículos: la respuesta de Enrique Krauze a Gregorio Selser y un texto solidario de Miguel Bonasso con el periodista argentino. 

Bajo el título “El ayatolah Selser”, Krauze comenzó escribiendo: 

Líbreme Dios de haber pretendido “flagelar” a quienes comparten el monoteísmo temático de Gregorio Selser. Aunque yo sí sentí el duro “flagelo” de sus anatemas (rabioso, doloso, palafrenero, servidor del imperialismo- neocolonialismo —hegemonismo— expansionismo y hasta proferidor de hijodeputeces), encontré consuelo en las simplezas de su propio artículo. Primero, su curiosa obsesión por el espacio, el lebensraum editorial: él que publica siete días a la semana en La Jornada y otros tantos en El Día, se queja del “poco espacio de que dispone”. En cambio, me reprocha el haber concedido sólo “cinco líneas en el espacio de una plana completa” a la invasión yanqui a Panamá. Por lo visto, Selser tiene una noción topográ- fica de las ideas: mide el pensamiento en líneas ágata. Como 

mi artículo sobre la Guerra del Pérsico era sobre la Guerra del Pérsico y no sobre Panamá, remito a Selser al número 159 de Vuelta, donde critiqué la invasión, en un texto de ciento cincuenta y seis líneas ágata. 

En el tercero de los cuatro párrafos de su texto, Krauze añadió: 

Es evidente que desde el siglo XIX los estadounidenses han desplegado una conducta imperialista que con frecuencia traiciona y contradice los ideales que los fundaron como nación. Es claro que el racismo y el ignorante desprecio a lo que está más allá de la “Fortress America” son rasgos profundos y detestables en esa cultura. Pero todo mi punto es que esta conducta ha tenido excepciones deci- sivas —como las dos guerras mundiales— y que negarse a verlas nubla la comprensión cabal de la historia moderna. El ayatolah Selser no las ve porque El ayatolah Selser no ve: El ayatolah Selser cree. Su monótona obsesión es alzar el dedo flamígero contra el Satán yanqui y los “jefes medievales y teocráticos de Tel Aviv”. ¿Qué es, entonces, Sadam Hussein? ¿Un jefe moderno y democrático? 

Por su parte, con el título “Nostradamus Krauze”, Bonasso escribió: 

Coincido con todos y cada uno de los conceptos ver- tidos por Gregorio Selser en su fulminante respuesta a Enrique Krauze, que La Jornada publicó en su edición de ayer. 

No voy a abundar, entonces, en una línea de argu- mentación que Selser ha sostenido con elocuencia y eru- dición. Es bien sabido que el Estado terrorista de Israel descalifica a todos sus críticos con el viejo mote de “anti- semitas”, omitiendo con mala fe que muchos de esos crí- ticos son analistas y observadores de origen judío. Me interesa más, como latinoamericano y como periodista, d e t enerme en otros aspectos del artículo de Krauze, pu- 

El artículo, como la generalidad de los escritos por Selser, era interesante, bien informado y estaba redactado con buena prosa, a la que la innecesaria calificación a Krauze restaba seriedad y pulcritud. 

42| REVISTA DE LA UNIVERSIDAD DE MÉXICO 

blicado también por La Jornada hace dos días, en los que este historiador insiste en distorsionar la verdad histórica para descalificar a sus oponentes… 

Conforme a mis pesquisas hemerográficas, el debate se cerró el jueves 24 de enero de 1991, con dos cartas de respaldo al periodista argentino y de rechazo a Octavio Paz y Enrique Krauze: “Los pueblos oprimidos necesi- tan de Selser”, de José Gabriel Alcocer Muñoz, y “La- mentable que los articulistas se cuelguen epítetos”, de Omar Sánchez Narváez. 

EN LA HORA DE LA MUERTE 

Esta historia no termina con la re c o n s t rucción resumida del debate sobre la Guerra del Golfo Pérsico, por más que éste contribuyó a arrojar luz —una luz múltiple, poliédrica— sobre lo que acontecía en aquellos lejanos sitios del orbe y que, no obstante, estaba tan cerca como la pantalla de televisión. La historia se prolonga unos meses más de aquel 1991, porque el recuerdo de tal episodio de esgrima intelectual que sin duda hizo mati- zar las percepciones en ambos bandos, acompañó lite- ralmente hasta la muerte a Gregorio Selser. 

El martes 27 de agosto de 1991, desde su residencia, Gregorio Selser “ejerció, a los sesenta y nueve años de edad, su derecho a morir” —como escribió La Jornada en el pie que acompañó a la foto publicada en el mismo sitio que siete meses atrás ocupó su artículo “De falsifi- cadores e hipócritas”—, aviso que anunció la muerte de quien “vivió con dignidad y valentía, y con los mis- mos atributos afrontó la muerte (…) como un hombre sin sombra de debilidad, se hizo cargo de su destino” (editorial de primera página “La humildad del sabio”, 28 de agosto de 1991). 

Un día antes de su muerte, el 26 de agosto, Selser escribió a mano una carta conmovedora, dirigida a Carlos Payán. He aquí su transcripción: 

Qu i e rosin embargo dejar constancia por escrito de mi gratitud a México, que me brindó sin condiciones techo, trabajo y tribuna (las tres T de que hablaba Genaro Car- nero Checa). Los casi quince años que viví aquí fueron quizá los más felices y productivos como periodista y profesor universitario. A cambio, siempre fui respetuoso de las leyes de México, a cuyo pueblo amé y al que deseé servir con mis trabajos. Me voy con la conciencia cabal de haber cumplido con el país y con su pueblo. 

Reciba usted, don Carlos, las expresiones más hon- das de amistad, atentamente, 

Gregorio Selser. 

Por su parte, enterado de la muerte de su antagonista y de la evocación a los insultos que le endilgó, Enrique Krauze escribió el 29 de agosto, en El correo ilustrado una carta que decía: 

Querido Carlos: Lamento mucho la muerte de Gregorio Selser. No lo conocí ni sabía que estaba enfermo. Me con- mueve su mención a la polémica. Selser perteneció al viejo y noble árbol de socialismo judío exiliado en América. En México debió vivir el exilio en exilio. ¿Cómo decirle ahora que no había razón para sus disculpas y su pesa- dumbre? 

***

Unas breves palabras finales sobre el debate que pudo no ser. 

Han pasado dieciséis años desde aquel 1991. El ata- que de los Estados Unidos a Irak se ha repetido, si bien de una forma más cruenta para ambos bandos. En este 2007 no sé si, de no haber mediado la falla informática que dejó la calificación de “palafrenero mayor de Octa- vio Paz” adjudicada a Enrique Krauze, no sé —digo— si la omisión de tal frase hubiera evitado el debate que se dio, porque de todos modos el cuestionamiento de Selser a Krauze era muy fuerte. 

Sí sé, en cambio, que el debate fue enriquecedor, pese a los excesos y furias ya descritos, y que esta historia acaso pueda ser aleccionadora para que la sociedad mexicana —en particular los actores políticos y socia- les, editores, conductores de medios electrónicos… — practiquen genuinamente la tolerancia y, rechazando la exclusión, busquen sin tregua la ocasión de escuchar y dar foro a quienes piensan distinto. 

También podría ser motivo, esta historia, para re f l e- xionar en que, fuere quien fuere el que lo profiera, el insulto debe ser evitado. No se trata de restar énfasis y pasión al debate, pero sí de evitar desbordamientos que empobrecen la discusión y pueden ser tan nocivos como el no analizar los argumentos del adversario. 

A Carlos Payán 

La Jornada 

México, 26 de agosto de 1991. 

Estimado Don Carlos: Le envío estas líneas para agradecerle por sus atenciones. Me he sentido muy orgulloso de pertenecer al equipo de La Jornada y sólo me queda la pesadumbre de haber in- sultado a Alponte y a Krauze. Ése nunca fue mi estilo y creo que me dejé llevar por la ira antes que por el cerebro. ¡Ojalá ambos tengan la tolerancia de disculparme! 

Tengo ya metástasis ósea y no deseo abrumarle con detalles, pero siento que los dolores varios que me produce me están quitando los deseos de escribir, es decir, de vivir. 

REVISTA DE LA UNIVERSIDAD DE MÉXICO | 43

Más información sobre la polémica actual ( marzo de 2019) relacionada con el papel de Krauze como intelectual al frente de una campaña contra el actual presidente de México, López Obrador aquí: https://www.infobae.com/america/mexico/2019/03/15/el-intelectual-mexicano-enrique-krauze-acuso-a-tatiana-clouthier-de-difamarlo/

https://www.infobae.com/america/mexico/2019/03/15/el-intelectual-mexicano-enrique-krauze-acuso-a-tatiana-clouthier-de-difamarlo/

El historiador y periodista Enrique KRAUZE

Aborto y eutanasia Un debate televisivo y el análisis desde el Materialismo Filosófico


Aborto eutanasia y Bioética

periodismo de lupanar y Orwell versión fake news

El escándalo llamado Spiegel Gate , es un caso que nos muestra la podredumbre oculta tras la fachada sublime de los grandes medios de comunicación

https://elpais.com/elpais/2019/02/18/opinion/1550520457_577149.html

https://www.diariocritico.com/nacional/escandalo-der-spiegel-fake-news-prensa-espanola-polemica-twitter

El Ministerio de la Verdad de “1984” hecho realidad en 2019. – Mentira es verdad, guerra es paz, libertad es esclavitud: Georges ORWELL en su novela titulada 1984

Cualquier parecido con la realidad no es mera coincidencia. Un vistazo a los tiempos electorales en el cine mexicano (primera parte) | Cultura y vida cotidiana

Cualquier parecido con la realidad no es mera coincidencia. Un vistazo a los tiempos electorales en el cine mexicano (primera parte) | Cultura y vida cotidiana
— Leer en cultura.nexos.com.mx/