ARCHITECTURES OF GRIEF
AN ANDEAN COUNTER-MEMORIAL MUSEUM IN AYACUCHO
ARCHITECTURES OF GRIEF
AN ANDEAN COUNTER-MEMORIAL MUSEUM IN AYACUCHO
Luis Angel De Dios Iriarte Tinoco Student number: 33811505
MA Research Architecture Goldsmiths, University of London
Dissertation Submission
Tutor: Dr. Ifor Duncan
Department: Visual Cultures 04/09/2024
“Why is there no justice for us? Is it because we are poor? Is it because we are Quechua speakers? Attaining justice feels exceedingly distant for us.”
—Adelina García
Fig. 1 Los Cabitos Barracks. Photo: La República.
INTRODUCTION
In the rugged Andean landscapes of central Peru, a vigorous pursuit of justice unfolds. This narrative centres around a group of courageous women who steadfastly refuse to be silenced. Despite facing threats from both Las Fuerzas Armadas del Perú (The Peruvian Armed Forces – FF. AA.) and insurgent groups, most notably Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path), they came together to honour the memory of their loved ones by establishing Asociación Nacional de Familiares de Secuestrados, Detenidos y Desaparecidos del Perú (National Association of Relatives of Kidnapped, Detained and Disappeared Persons of Peru – ANFASEP). Formed in the midst of the Peruvian internal conflict (1980-2000), this organization is a powerful testament to resilience and determination in the search for truth and reconciliation.
Since the beginning of the 20th century, Peru faced significant economic inequality, which led to a series of peasant rebellions. These uprisings were fuelled by extreme impoverishment and lack of access to education imposed on the rural population, prompting demands for transformative state intervention. In 1968, Juan Velasco Alvarado1, head of the FF. AA., orchestrated a coup d’état deposing the democratically elected president, Fernando Belaúnde Terry2. This coup was undertaken in support of the peasantry and sought to implement the Agrarian Reform. In order to alleviate poverty, the Agrarian Reform was intended to redistribute land to peasants; however, it failed due to political instability and inefficiencies, perpetuating the marginalization of indigenous communities and exacerbating social polarization.
Contrary to popular narratives, the Peruvian internal conflict did not originate from the communities most affected by the Agrarian Reform. Instead, it was driven by intellectuals that perceived this as an opportunity to amass followers for its doctrine of radical social transformation. While the Shining Path, led by Abimael Guzmán3 and influenced by Maoist ideologies, initially resonated with Andean communities, it ultimately failed to gain widespread support due to its violent methods and hostility not only toward right-wing
1 Juan Velasco Alvarado, leader of the FF. AA. led a military coup in 1968 and became de facto President. His rule was marked by significant reforms, including land redistribution and nationalization, but also by authoritarian practices.
2 Fernando Belaúnde Terry, a Peruvian architect and politician, served as President of Peru in two separate terms: 1963–1968 and 1980–1985. During this time, he focused on major infrastructure projects and advancing democratic governance.
3 Abimael Guzmán Reynoso led Peru’s Shining Path insurgency in the 1980s and 1990s, promoting a radical Maoist ideology through a violent campaign that targeted government institutions and civilians, causing significant social and political turmoil.
individuals but also other leftist factions. As Stern4 argues, “The farming communities did not see armed struggle as a viable solution.” Guerrilla groups and military forces, who had been granted absolute control over Ayacucho5 city, coerced many peasants into committing violent acts out of fear. Those who resisted confronted the grim realities of torture, disappearance, or execution. As a result, an estimated total of 70,000 people lost their lives, classifying it as the conflict with the highest human cost in the history of Peru. Levels of violence started to decrease in the mid-1990s after the capture and imprisonment of Guzmán in 1992 by El Grupo Especial de Inteligencia del Perú (The Special Intelligence Group of Peru – GEIN)6
Despite the establishment of the Comisión de la Verdad y la Reconciliación (The Truth and Reconciliation Commission – CVR) to investigate political violence experienced in Peru, many perpetrators remain unpunished. The ongoing legacy of trauma and injustice continues to profoundly affect these marginalized communities, underscoring the ongoing fight for justice for those who suffered. In the realm of significant cases, La Hoyada stands out. Located adjacent to Los Cabitos7 barracks, this place gained infamy during the internal conflict due to its association with severe human atrocities committed by military forces. In 2005, the first body was discovered, leading to a series of exhumations that revealed numerous victims of right abuses. Since then, ANFASEP has led efforts to create an architectural memorial on this site, transforming it into a commemorative space dedicated to honouring the memory of the deceased. The creation of memorial museums has risen significantly in South America since the turn of the century. This surge is driven by the significant impacts of dictatorships and terrorism, aiming to prevent the recurrence of such atrocities and to use memorialization as a means of bringing closure to these political struggles. However, memorial museums in Latin America often replicate the typologies of their Western counterparts, which can render them unsuitable for their local contexts and give rise to significant critiques.
Drawing on the wishes of the victims and their families to propose a built form at La Hoyada, the challenge lies in determining the type of museum it will become. Decolonizing contemporary memorial museums involves moving away from creating empty architectural containers and instead prioritizing the integration of narratives directly linked to the sites themselves. This essay aims to explore a novel approach to memorial architecture through an interview-based practice, which will aid in developing the concept for a new type of museum I refer to as the Andean counter-memorial museum. This method underscores the enduring emotional strain on participants, who may need medication or even burst into tears while recounting their traumatic experiences, indicating that the scars from the internal conflict remain unresolved. Therefore, this project serves as a unique memorial that interprets memory in a way that contrasts with the dominant European perspective. It is rooted not only in the voices of the interviewees but also in Andean cosmology and its sense of temporality. As
4 Stern, S.J. (1998). Shining and other paths: war and society in Peru, 1980-1995. Durham: Duke Univ. Press.
5 Ayacucho, an Andean city in Peru, experienced the highest levels of violence and injustice during the internal conflict (1980s-2000s), with significant casualties among its poor communities, contributing to the nationwide toll of around 70,000 deaths.
6 The GEIN, an elite unit of the Peruvian National Police, was established to locate and apprehend leaders of the Shining Path and the Tupac Amaru Revolutionary Movement, active in Peru since 1980.
7 Los Cabitos in Ayacucho was a military barrack where severe human rights abuses were reportedly committed during the conflict with the Shining Path insurgency.
Gómez-Barris8 notes, “Andean phenomenology offers alternative perspectives on interacting with the world, promoting a more integrated understanding of the environment through a profound connection to the land.” Therefore, the framework of this counter-museum is deeply influenced by the concept of Andean time, the region’s unique geophysical features, and the evolution of knowledge production in the Andes.
The Andean counter-memorial museum will not merely be a repository of artefacts or a recounting of historical events. It is considered as a dynamic space where memory is continuously formed and reshaped. By engaging visitors in reflective experiences and incorporating the perspectives of victims, the museum fosters a deeper understanding of the past. More importantly, it honours and integrates the traditions and beliefs of those it represents, ensuring that these elements stand out prominently in the narrative of the project. This research emphasizes the importance of adopting a reflective architectural approach that respects the gravity of past events and provides a sanctuary for affected families and communities. The design facilitates both personal reflection and collective healing, resonating with the historical and emotional significance of the events to create a profound space for remembrance and understanding.
8 Gómez-Barris M. (2017). The extractive zone: social ecologies and decolonial perspectives. Durham: Duke University Press.
CHAPTER ONE
ANFASEP
Ayacucho, once considered a peaceful city, tragically became the epicentre of forced disappearances and extermination. In 1980, the Revolutionary Government of the Armed Forces, under the leadership of General Morales Bermúdez9, called for presidential elections. As Paniagua10 points out, “This event was significant not only because it ended a 12-year hiatus in electoral processes in Peru, but also because it marked the first time that the predominantly Quechua-speaking illiterate population living in the Andes would have the opportunity to vote.” On May 17, 1980, the eve of the national elections, a dramatic and symbolic act of violence unfolded in the town of Chuschi, located in the Ayacucho region. An armed group of five masked individuals associated with the Shining Path forcibly entered the polling station, seized the ballot boxes, and proceeded to destroy eleven of them by setting them on fire. This attack was interpreted as a formal declaration of war and marked the onset of an armed insurgency against the Peruvian state. Three years later, when the FF.AA. entered the scene in 1983, violence increased, causing immense suffering among the civilian population, especially farmers.
Rural populations faced the constant threat of being labelled as terrorists by the FF. AA. or as collaborators of the Armed Forces by the Shining Path. Despite efforts to remain impartial, those who did not cooperate were often threatened, punished, or even murdered. In the city of Ayacucho, encountering corpses on the streets became a daily occurrence, adding to the atmosphere of fear and instability. As noted by ANFASEP11, “Some of the repressive strategies employed by both groups included forced disappearances, torture, rape, collective murders, among other atrocities.” Rural communities often did not sleep in their homes due to fear, as military forces and insurgents would invade residences at night and forcibly detain their occupants. The perpetrators would then execute many of those taken and dispose of their bodies. Rodomila Segovia Rojas12, an active contributor to ANFASEP, described her nightly routine to me, “My grandparents and I decided to sleep in caves, trees, or bushes. Usually, only the dog stayed in the house while we sought refuge in distant locations. With no electricity in the rural community at that time, we vigilantly watched for any signs of light from flashlights, as this indicated that armed groups were approaching.” It is well-documented that when the Shining Path invaded homes, they often engaged in widespread vandalism and
9 General Francisco Morales Bermúdez, who succeeded General Juan Velasco Alvarado, led Peru’s Revolutionary Government of the Armed Forces from 1975 to 1980, overseeing the transition to democratic elections and significant constitutional reforms.
10 Paniagua, V. (2003). El derecho de sufragio en el Perú. Revista Elecciones, 2(2), pp.61–89.
11 ANFASEP (2007). ¿Hasta cuándo tu silencio? Testimonios de dolor y coraje. Asociación Nacional de Familiares de Secuestrados Detenidos y Desaparecidos del Perú.
12 Interview with Rodomila Segovia Rojas, an active contributor to ANFASEP since 2000, conducted by Luis Iriarte on June 12, 2024.
looting. For instance, they would take food, slaughter livestock, and destroy furniture, among other acts of devastation. According to Rodomila, “One night, I heard the dog barking and saw some flashlights. I remained completely still but managed to observe for two hours how the insurgents came to my house, took our duck out of the pen, made popcorn, and stole all the food they could find.”
Likewise, during military operations known as rastrillajes the FF.AA. violated the rights of rural inhabitants indiscriminately. They entered homes and detained individuals whom they alleged to be members of the Shining Path, often based on implausible accusations and without conclusive evidence, infringing upon their right to a fair judicial process. The authorities typically took the detainees to military bases, where forced disappearances occurred. In Ayacucho, Los Cabitos, La Casa Rosada, the Civil Guard Police Station, and Las Agallas de Oro served as notable torture centres. Thousands of individuals were killed at these sites and then incinerated in the crematorium at La Hoyada or disposed in the so-called ‘corpse dumps’ in areas such as Purakuti, Infiernillo, Huascahura, Quinua, Ñeqe, Waywakondo, and Sachqarumi. During the period of military control, the Armed Forces wielded complete authority over all actions, necessitating explicit permission from them for any undertaking. This widespread control extended across multiple sectors. Authorities, judges, lawyers, prosecutors, and other justice-related figures, confronted with intense intimidation from the armed forces, stopped exercising their professional functions. As a result, individuals with missing relatives found themselves unable to initiate legal proceedings or file complaints.
Amidst this hostility, a few courageous individuals stepped up to support families affected by violence, playing pivotal roles in the founding of ANFASEP. Among these allies was Leonor Zamora, former mayor of Huamanga, who bravely denounced human rights violations and provided a safe space within the municipality for victims to gather and share their experiences. This venue became a safe environment for connecting victims with the wider Ayacucho community. The formal establishment of ANFASEP started with a meeting on September 2, 1983, led by founders Angélica Mendoza de Ascarza, Teodosia Cuya Layme, and Antonia Zaga Huaña. Their primary objectives were to locate their missing loved ones and to seek accountability for those responsible. Initially, the association was known as the Comité de Familiares de Desaparecidos (Committee of Relatives of the Disappeared – CFD). The young lawyer Zósimo Roca was another pivotal ally for the victims, offering vital legal support and expert advice in the preparation of documents required for filing complaints about their missing relatives. Roca encouraged them to consolidate the organization, and by the end of 1984, the CDF officially decided to adopt the name ANFASEP.
On February 3, 1985, Pope John Paul II visited Ayacucho but was restricted by security. In response, ANFASEP crafted a wooden cross with the message ‘Do not kill’, symbolizing their call for peace and an end to violence. Although they were unable to meet the Pope in person, they delivered a letter to him through Father Liceta. ANFASEP continued their struggle with minimal help, supported mainly by human rights NGOs13. In April 1985, Nobel Peace Prize
13 NGOs that supported ANFASEP included Servicio de Paz y Justicia (Peace and Justice Service – SERPAJ), La Comisión de Derechos Humanos (Human Rights Commission – COMISEDH), La Asociación Pro Derechos Humanos (Association for Human Rights – APRODEH), and La Comisión Episcopal de Acción Social (Episcopal Commission for Social Action – CEAS).
winner Adolfo Pérez Esquivel14 visited Ayacucho, significantly impacting ANFASEP. Together, they organized the first public march through the Plaza Mayor of Huamanga, demanding justice for their disappeared relatives. This event marked a milestone for the association, as it was their first fearless public demonstration. Adelina García Mendoza15, Vice President of ANFASEP, explained to me, “As we felt more united, we organized to establish a communal kitchen for women and victims of forced displacement.” This initiative was essential in supporting women who spent significant time searching for missing relatives and could not care for their children.
In 1986, ANFASEP organized their inaugural march to the capital. For the first time, the people of Lima witnessed a group of Andean women demanding respect and denouncing human rights violations. Despite facing discrimination and marginalization during this visit, the members of ANFASEP persisted in their demands for justice. On August 28, 2003, the CVR16 delivered its Final Report to the Peruvian State, marking a pivotal moment for those affected by political violence. The report praised ANFASEP as a critical organization advocating for the rights of families impacted by such violence. It specifically highlighted the perseverance of the mothers of the victims, who were predominantly Quechua-speaking women from Ayacucho facing economic hardship. Since then, ANFASEP has persistently sought truth, justice, and reparations from the Peruvian State for the grave human rights violations experienced during the internal conflict. The relentless efforts have not only advanced accountability but also established the association as a symbol of resilience and hope.
14 Adolfo Pérez Esquivel is an Argentine human rights activist and Nobel Peace Prize laureate (1980), recognized for his work in defending human rights and promoting democracy in Latin America.
15 Interview with Adelina García Mendoza, Vice President of ANFASEP, conducted by Luis Iriarte on May 31, 2024.
16 CVR (2003). Comisión de La Verdad y Reconciliación. Informe Final. Lima
Fig. 2 Founders and members of ANFASEP. Photo: Nancy Chappell, Ayacucho 2000
La
Hoyada
During the state emergency declared in 1983, the Peruvian government designated Los Cabitos barracks as a central command post for military operations. This decision was part of a broader strategy to suppress the growing influence of insurgent groups. However, rather than fulfilling its intended role, the barracks became infamous for severe human rights abuses. The military’s efforts to combat the insurgency led to widespread and systematic practices of torture, extrajudicial killings, and enforced disappearances. La Hoyada, located adjacent to Los Cabitos barracks, is a natural esplanade that features rugged mountainous terrain and high-altitude conditions that support a diverse range of Andean flora, including cold-tolerant grasslands and shrubs.
Historically, before 1980, this site functioned as a garbage dump. However, due to its remote and difficult-to-access location, nestled among hills, military authorities repurposed La Hoyada as an unmarked grave. In some cases, perpetrators tortured victims, including children and the elderly, and forced them to dig their own graves. As the number of bodies grew, the need for a more efficient disposal method became apparent. Therefore, they decided to build an oven on the site. According to Luis Martin Piccini17, “Military personnel instructed the architect to include a gasoline tank to fuel six blowtorches, planning the structure as an oven for food preparation. However, the actual plan involved using it to incinerate corpses and then discarding the ashes into a ravine.”
In 1983, a small group of people escaped from the Los Cabitos barracks and began informing the town about the atrocities occurring inside. However, the FF. AA. denied all accusations against them. The Andean community became sceptical when they started to perceive smoke and the smell of burning flesh coming out of the barracks every day. Adelina recounted, “We went to the office of the prosecutor to report that people were being killed and burned at the barracks. They told us they would investigate and asked us to return another time. When we returned on the appointed day, they called us crazy old women for believing lies.” In its efforts to support the search for the missing, ANFASEP participated in the exhumations developed in La Hoyada. The Public Ministry, assisted by the Specialized Forensic Team, carried out this process from January 2005 to November 2011.
The process of exhumation involves selecting a specific area and excavating a three-by-threemeter section in search of buried bodies. If no remains are found in the initial area, the team moves to a different location. Usually, after three unsuccessful attempts, they will conclude the search and leave the site. Piccini observed, “The ANFASEP mothers were convinced they would find buried human bodies, which is why they decided to start digging themselves.” Their determination led to a breakthrough on January 8, 2005, when they uncovered the first evidence. As their investigation continued, they found a fuel tank, human bones, and an oven used for cremating remains.
17 Interview with Luis Martin Piccini, former architect of ANFASEP, conducted by Luis Iriarte on May 21, 2024.
ANFASEP’s pursuit of finding the bodies of their loved ones is deeply rooted in their religious beliefs. They cannot provide a proper Christian burial for their relatives if the bodies remain undiscovered. However, many members have come to realize that finding the remains of their families may be increasingly improbable, as evidence suggests that hundreds of victims were cremated. In Christian burial traditions, it is customary for the body to be sprinkled with holy water, and for the burial site to be blessed, particularly if it has not been consecrated before. Unlike Jewish burial customs, which generally forbid exhumation, Christian doctrine permits it under certain serious and legitimate conditions. Such actions, however, should always be conducted with the utmost respect and sensitivity, honouring the belief that the human body is a temple of the Holy Spirit and deserves dignity both in life and in death.
In cases where the physical remains cannot be recovered, the Catholic Church provides alternative ways to honour the deceased, such as symbolic burials, prayers, or memorials. Therefore, for over a decade, ANFASEP has demanded the establishment of a memorial museum at this site. They envision it as a sanctuary for those who suffered and a place where families can honour their loved ones. Nowadays, La Hoyada stands as a powerful reminder of the perils of unchecked state power and the critical importance of safeguarding human rights.
Fig. 3 La Hoyada: exhumation pattern. Photo: Awaq Estudio + Estudio Shicra
CHAPTER TWO
Critique of contemporary memorial museums
Since the end of the Second World War, there has been an increasing recognition in Western nations of the importance of memorializing genocide victims through the establishment of memorial museums. These institutions emerged to preserve the memory of past violence and repression, driven by the enduring legacies of dictatorships and terrorism. Moreover, they aim to commemorate victims, educate the public, and foster reflection to prevent future atrocities. According to Williams18, “Memorial museums combine aspects of contextualization and critique found in history museums with the commemorative functions typical of memorials. This integration, consequently, results in a moral framework for narrating tragic historical events and provides deeper contextual explanations within these commemorative spaces.” In addition, Sodaro19 highlights that, “Memorial museums emerged from a shift in how societies relate to and reconcile with the negative legacy of the past.” This approach echoes Santayana’s20 observation, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Therefore, memorial museums transcend mere educational roles to serve as arenas for both remembrance and reflection. Despite these definitions, many contemporary memorial museums around the world, rather than effectively commemorating the past, often provoke further contestation.
In South America, since the turn of the century, there has been a notable increase in the establishment of memorial museums, which scholars attribute to the ‘memory boom’ originating from Western countries. According to Nora21, “Memory has become a key component in the construction of identity and meaning in contemporary society. The proliferation of memorials, commemorations, and historical sites reflects a new emphasis on remembering and preserving the past.” Nevertheless, many of these South American museums attempt to replicate the models of their Western counterparts, often remaining unchanged since their inception. This approach becomes problematic as adopting these models does not sufficiently address the distinctive historical and cultural contexts of Latin American countries. As a result, these museums frequently end up disconnected from the actual sites they seek to commemorate, thereby failing to honour the victims adequately. In this context, it is crucial to examine why museums are often seen as unquestionable institutions. From Nora’s standpoint, “Memorial museums frequently reflect contemporary values and ideologies, shaping and distorting historical narratives to align with current
18 Williams, P. (2007). Memorial Museums: the global rush to commemorate atrocities. Oxford: Berg.
19 Sodaro, A. (2018). Exhibiting Atrocity Memorial Museums and the Politics of Past Violence. Rutgers University Press.
20 Santayana, G. (2022). The Life of Reason: The Phases of Human Progress. DigiCat.
21 Nora, P. (1996). Realms of Memory: Rethinking the French Past. Vol. 1 - Conflicts and Divisions. New York: Columbia University Press.
political and ideological agendas rather than presenting historical reality.” Three important aspects are considered when criticizing contemporary memorial museums: socio-cultural conditions, territory, and time.
What memorial museums must prioritize is fostering meaningful dialogue with the affected families. It is essential not just to include the narratives of the victims within the project but also to investigate how they envision this museum. Following Wiesel22, “In honouring the victims, we honour ourselves, and by remembering, we acknowledge the past and work towards a better future.” In Ayacucho, the Regional Government planned a project called La Alameda de La Hoyada, which aimed to remove both the crematory oven and the exhumation pattern. The design proposed a concrete esplanade with a central monument. The mothers of ANFASEP strongly opposed this plan. Adelina confronted the former regional governor, Wilfredo Oscorima23, saying: “How many people have cried, been tortured, or killed here? This ground is soaked with the blood of our loved ones. How can you dispose of a fuel tank that was used to burn hundreds of people?.” Due to this, La Alameda de La Hoyada was not developed. The memorial museum should align itself with the socio-cultural conditions of the victims rather than imposing its framework on them. It is crucial to consider the customs, beliefs, and traditions of the victims to facilitate meaningful interactions between them and visitors. By doing so, the museum ensures that the victims’ identities and experiences are acknowledged, preserved, and honoured in a way that resonates with their communities.
On the other hand, territory is fundamental to the development of memorial museums, especially in locations of past military activities, such as former detention centres or extermination camps. The relationship between a memorial museum’s interpretation of the site and the historical understanding of the battlefield is intricate and multifaceted. These types of museums often perceive the territory as a transgressed site that needs to be fixed, preserved, and restored. In Ayacucho, due to the rugged terrain, traditional battles were impractical, leading to the rise of guerrilla groups and informal military tactics. These groups operated away from the presence of the state in what Scott24 calls “shatter zones”, areas that facilitate the emergence of new political forms and alternative resistance to challenge state control. This warfare strategy highlights the importance of understanding the geographic context not only for military planning purposes but also for the designing of memorials in the Andes. Posthumous religious or traditional beliefs also play a significant role in the aftermath. Sturdy25 emphasizes the importance of using non-invasive archaeological methods to preserve the sacredness of human remains buried in these types of spaces. In the Andes, according to La cosmovisión Andina (Andean cosmology), nature is considered sacred, with mountains, rivers, and other natural features holding profound spiritual significance. Although exhumations in La Hoyada were carried out several years ago and have since concluded, any intervention at this site should respect the existing
22 Wiesel, E. (2006). Night. New York: Hill and Wang, a Division of Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
23 Wilfredo Oscorima Núñez was the regional governor of Ayacucho, Peru, from 2011 to 2018. His tenure focused on improving infrastructure, education, and healthcare.
24 Scott, J.C. (2009). The Art of Not Being Governed. Yale University Press.
25 Sturdy, C. (2016). Earth Conceal not my Blood: forensic and archaeological approaches to locating the remains of Holocaust victims, in Jean-Marc Dreyfus & Élisabeth Anstett (eds), Human Remains in Society: Curation and Exhibition in the Aftermath of Genocide and Mass-violence. Manchester: Manchester University Press.
pattern of the excavations, as they are now considered part of the landscape. As Pereira26 notes, “In Guatemala, exhumations go beyond seeking evidence or justice. They also serve to reconnect the deceased with the living community, where the dead become custodians of the land and are considered part of nature.” Following this process, environmental stewardship and intergenerational coexistence are fostered. Therefore, it is crucial to incorporate these understandings when proposing any memorial project in the Andes. By doing so, the design will promote a more holistic appreciation of the environment and create a museum that feels deeply connected to the land.
In the Andes, time unfolds differently. The pace feels slower due to the extended journeys required to travel between locations on foot. This extended duration complicates the ability to make hasty decisions and accelerates processes. As Piccini notes, “It is like time without time. The Andes offer a perception of time and space that contrasts sharply with the Western functional view, where people can rapidly achieve their desires and goals.” Latin American memorial museums, often constructed from concrete, create a permanent record of what was lost, which contrasts sharply with the Andean context. These memorials use permanence to emphasize the idea that remembering atrocities ensures they are not repeated in the future. However, remembering and repeating are distinct concepts. In the Andean context, a memorial museum should take the form of a lightweight, temporary installation. This ephemeral architecture will highlight memory as an active and conscious effort rather than a passive activity. It will also dignify and give meaning to what has been lost and what will be lost forever. This new approach encourages society to engage with the past and, as a result, fosters healing. Additionally, this method not only helps to preserve the integrity of the space but also underscores that the focus should be less on the built form—walls and windows—and more on building community. As Nora notes, “A site of memory can be any physical space, such as a museum, a square, a street, or even a song, that becomes a symbol laden with historical and cultural significance for a community.”
Victims and their families
The voices and experiences of survivors must profoundly shape the design and purpose of memorial museums. They are not simply stakeholders; they embody personal histories and collective sorrow. Their involvement is essential for creating a space that genuinely honours the deceased. This engagement extends beyond passive consultation—it necessitates an active dialogue where their narratives, preferences, and cultural values influence every aspect of the museum’s development. By incorporating the perspectives of the victims, the memorial can recognize their grief and vision for remembrance, transforming it from a static monument into a dynamic testament. In my experience interviewing survivors and the families of victims, the emotional toll of recounting their traumatic experiences becomes strikingly evident. For many, revisiting such painful memories is a formidable challenge. For instance, Rodomila felt it necessary to take medication to steady her nerves before our conversation, highlighting the profound psychological impact of reliving these events. She recounted, “My grandfather was stripped naked, publicly tortured, and had a sign placed around his neck that said, ‘This is how snitches die.’ My grandmother tried to defend him but was arrested and 26 Pereira, G. (2020). Caring for the dead: The afterlives of collective bodies in Lahoud Adrian and Andrea Bagnato (eds), Rights of Future Generations Conditions: Sharjah Architecture Triennial. Berlin Hatje Cantz Verlag.
dragged by her braids to the river, where she disappeared. Witnesses reported that members of the Shining Path took my grandfather’s money.”
Similarly, Rosa Llamoja27, current member of ANFASEP, was visibly overwhelmed during our interview and broke down in tears when discussing the harrowing memory of her husband’s murder in 1983. Rosa shared with me, “My husband and my brother-in-law were arrested and taken to Los Cabitos barracks, where they endured severe beatings. They were not released because they were unable to walk from their injuries. My children, still very young at the time, never really got to know their father. Since then, we have suffered immensely from his disappearance, and his body is still missing.” These poignant moments reveal the profound distress that accompanies such interviews and underscore the critical need for sensitivity and support in gathering and incorporating their stories into the memorial’s design.
Unfortunately, these people have shifted their focus from seeking justice to simply wanting an architectural project that commemorates their loved ones at La Hoyada. Although various proposals have emerged for this location, the victims have a clear vision of how the project should look. Most people agree that the mass graves, fuel tank, and oven should remain undisturbed. Moreover, preserving the existing trees and vegetation on the land is also crucial. The natural environment holds profound cultural and emotional significance, symbolizing life and continuity. Protecting the greenery maintains the sacredness of the location, offering a tranquil setting for reflection and remembrance while contributing to ecological balance.
Regarding the memorial museum, Rodomila notes, “We want to have a room to exhibit some objects belonging to the missing.” This space will display personal items, such as clothing, photographs, and individual objects, to honour the victims and provide a tangible connection to their stories. Most members also believe it is necessary to provide areas where they can leave a gift or some flowers for their loved ones. As Adelina explains, “Our custom is to bring an offering to the deceased. It can be any sort of food, soda, or even beer.” This practice is deeply rooted in the Andean community, where many people pray in an effort to communicate with the souls of their departed family members. On the other hand, given that many individuals were cremated, and their remains will never be recovered, the relatives of the victims look forward to having the names of their family members permanently engraved at this site. Rosa suggests, “This project should include a space where all the names of the disappeared are listed, along with the dates of their disappearance and the identities of those responsible.”
The most significant insight I gained from the interviews is the urgent desire of the victims to share their stories to ensure that children and young people fully understand the atrocities of the conflict. Members of ANFASEP are deeply committed to educating others about the true nature of these events. Adelina recounted a powerful experience, “Two years ago, a foreign visitor came here, completely unaware of the military atrocities. When he learned about what had happened, he was profoundly shocked.” This experience underscored the critical need to raise awareness about the true history of the Peruvian internal conflict, not only within the country but also on an international scale.
27 Interview with Rosa Llamoja, current member of ANFASEP, conducted by Luis Iriarte on June 28, 2024.
Fig. 4 Crematory oven in La Hoyada. Photo: Lugar de la Memoria (LUM)
The Andean counter-memorial museum
The initial stage of any architectural project involves conceptualizing how the built form will be developed. In Western memorial museums, the prevailing approach often centres on designing poetic architecture that emphasizes the symbolism of commemoration. This typically results in a traditional, empty block of concrete that, due to the concept of horror vacui28—the fear of empty spaces—is later filled with panels or artefacts that recount the historical events of the conflict. These elements position the visitor as a passive spectator rather than an active participant.
The Andean counter-memorial museum suggests that to genuinely address a history marked by violence, it is essential to design spaces that are simpler yet more focused on fostering conditions for meaningful encounters and engagements. Therefore, the focus of this project is not on creating a compact, rigid structure but rather on developing a dispersed architectural form, intertwined with diverse spaces designed to accommodate activities proposed by the families of the victims. In this approach, the museum is seen as an everevolving space where memories are constantly being discussed, offering visitors a deeper and more nuanced understanding of the past. From the interviews, the survivors expressed a desire for activities in this project that provide spaces for meetings, mourning, healing, reflection, screenings, and workshops. This museum recognizes that these spaces are central to the project; therefore, the architecture is designed to adapt and change depending on the various interactions occurring within them.
In line with La cosmovisión Andina, the relationship between the terrestrial plane—Kay Pacha—and the lower world—Uku Pacha—is of great importance29. The terrestrial plane encompasses the living world, including humans, animals, plants, and rivers, while the lower world is conceived as the home of spirits, mystical creatures, and ancestors. The connection between these two realms is the ground, which is considered sacred and associated with Pachamama, the goddess of fertility. Thus, while the lower world is associated with death, it is also viewed as a sphere of transformation and renewal. For this reason, the architecture of the project is elevated off the ground to respect its sacred nature and avoid disturbing the exhumation pattern. To soften the visual impact, the entire museum is envisioned as an open, lightweight structure of paths extending across the terrain, resembling a vast horizontal scaffolding installation. Furthermore, to encourage visitors to engage with the concept of loss, the project will be a temporary structure lasting 20 years—the same duration as the internal conflict.
The width of the path varies based on the activities occurring within the space. Four distinct types of handrails will be used to reflect different functions: a standard handrail for simple
28 Aristotle (384–322 BCE) argued that there are no vacuums in nature, insisting that all spaces must be filled with matter. This supported the idea of plenum. Today, the term is used metaphorically to describe the tendency in design to avoid gaps, often resulting in overstuffed and cluttered compositions.
29 Andean cosmology includes three realms: Hanan Pacha (upper world), Kay Pacha (present world), and Uku Pacha (inner world). These realms are crucial for understanding the interconnectedness of spiritual, material, and ancestral dimensions, reflecting the holistic nature of the Andean worldview and emphasizing balance and harmony in life.
corridors, a wider handrail for areas designed to encourage prolonged stays, a commemorative plaque inscribed with the names of those who disappeared during the conflict, and a pergola for viewpoints. In addition, in areas where different activities occur, the handrail will adapt to serve specific needs: it will transform into a bench for people to sit on or, where necessary, support screens with specially designed structures. The project proposes integrating spaces for families to leave personal items throughout the entire site rather than confining them to a single room. For instance, near areas where bodies were discovered, the handrails themselves will serve as containers for clothing, photographs, and other objects. This approach is crucial as it allows individuals to establish a genuine connection with their surroundings, take ownership of them, and cultivate a sense of place.
Historical elements such as the fuel tank and oven will be preserved as relics of the past, with pathways allowing visitors to approach and appreciate their significance. In accordance with the wishes of the victims, preserving the existing trees and vegetation on the site is crucial. The project accommodates this by allowing nature to integrate with the architecture, encouraging the growth of climbing plants through the columns and other structures. The project offers a range of walking routes tailored to different experiences and times of day. One path explores historical sites of violence, while another provides a serene space for futureoriented reflection. Morning and evening routes cater to different visitor preferences, with the latter also featuring areas for screenings. Additional spaces are designated for gathering, seeding, and textile weaving. Family connections are highlighted through special routes named after individuals. These routes let visitors take part in commemorative activities with the survivors and learn about their traditions. Nonetheless, particular areas will be reserved exclusively for victims, with clear signage marking these restricted zones to ensure privacy and respect for mourning.
Although families of the victims have largely resigned themselves to the fact that they may never receive the justice they deserve, this project provides a glimmer of hope by offering a venue that not only commemorates their memory but also fosters ongoing dialogue and advocacy. The envisioned space is designed to be inclusive, facilitating a variety of activities, including workshops and conferences. This space will function as a central hub where families of the disappeared can invite external experts to address issues related to their situation. It goes beyond mere commemoration, serving as a platform for solidarity and knowledge exchange. More importantly, it will facilitate discussions on not only the identification and search for missing persons but also broader issues of justice.
The following diagram (Figure 5) presents a comprehensive site plan that delineates the architectural layout and spatial organization previously described. This includes pathways, handrails, and specialized areas designed to meet the needs articulated by the victims. The schematic also specifies routes and spaces for personal items and commemorative activities, accompanied by annotations that clarify the rationale behind these design choices. This master plan is intended to remain flexible, allowing for adjustments based on further consultations. This approach underscores the importance of understanding memory not as a static concept but as one that can change over time by incorporating new perspectives from other victims. This ensures that the project effectively addresses the insights and needs of all stakeholders involved.
CONCLUSION
In conclusion, the Andean Counter-Memorial Museum represents a transformative approach to memorial architecture by prioritizing flexibility, cultural resonance, interaction with the natural landscape, and active visitor participation. Unlike conventional Western memorials, this design integrates the desires of survivors following Andean cosmology principles, creating a dynamic and evolving space for reflection, mourning, and dialogue. By transcending static displays through multifunctional elements and preserving historical relics, the museum offers a reflective experience that honours diverse traditions and perspectives.
This innovative approach, while tailored explicitly to the Peruvian Andean context, prompts a compelling question: How might this design concept be adapted for the Colombian Andes or the Chilean highlands? The different cultural and historical backgrounds of each region could significantly influence the conception of memorials and their interaction with the landscape. Exploring these adaptations could enrich our understanding of how memorial spaces can be thoughtfully customized to reflect different geophysical and cultural contexts. Such exploration would enhance the broader dialogue on memory and justice across Latin America, offering insights into the diverse ways communities remember and engage with their pasts.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
ANFASEP (2007). ¿Hasta cuándo tu silencio? Testimonios de dolor y coraje. Asociación Nacional de Familiares de Secuestrados Detenidos y Desaparecidos del Perú
Aristotle and Graham, D.W. (1999). Aristotle, Physics, book VIII. Oxford: Clarendon Press; Oxford ; New York.
Augé M., De Jager M., Young J., and University of Minnesota Press (2004). Oblivion. Minneapolis; London: University of Minnesota Press, Cop.
Clara (2024). Remembering the Anthropocene. Palgrave Macmillan.
Crane, S.A. (2000). Museums and memory. Stanford: Stanford University Press.
CVR (2003). Comisión de La Verdad y Reconciliación. Informe Final. Lima
Depetris, I (2019). Geografías afectivas. Latin America Research Commons.
Gómez-Barris, M. (2017). The extractive zone: social ecologies and decolonial perspectives. Durham: Duke University Press.
Hunter, J. (2014). Forensic approaches to buried remains. Hoboken: Wiley.
M. Saona (2014). Memory Matters in Transitional Peru. Springer.
Margalit, A. (2004). The Ethics of Memory. Cambridge, Massachusetts.: Harvard University Press.
Nora, P. (1996). Realms of Memory: Rethinking the French Past. Vol. 1 - Conflicts and Divisions. New York: Columbia University Press.
Paniagua, V. (2003). El derecho de sufragio en el Perú. Revista Elecciones, 2(2), pp.61–89.
Pereira, G. (2020). Caring for the dead: The afterlives of collective bodies in Lahoud Adrian and Andrea Bagnato (eds), Rights of Future Generations Conditions: Sharjah Architecture Triennial. Berlin Hatje Cantz Verlag.
Rothberg, M. (2006). Multidirectional memory: remembering the Holocaust in the age of decolonization. Stanford, Ca: Stanford University Press.
Santayana, G. (2022). The Life of Reason: The Phases of Human Progress. DigiCat.
Scott, J.C. (2009). The Art of Not Being Governed. Yale University Press.
Sodaro, A. (2018). Exhibiting Atrocity Memorial Museums and the Politics of Past Violence Rutgers University Press.
Solnit, R. (2014). The Faraway Nearby. London Granta Books.
Steffi De Jong (2019). WITNESS AS OBJECT: video testimony in memorial museums. berghahn.
Stern, S.J. (1998). Shining and other paths: war and society in Peru, 1980-1995. Durham: Duke Univ. Press.
Sturdy, C. (2016). Earth Conceal not my Blood: forensic and archaeological approaches to locating the remains of Holocaust victims, in Jean-Marc Dreyfus & Élisabeth Anstett (eds), Human Remains in Society: Curation and Exhibition in the Aftermath of Genocide and Mass-violence. Manchester: Manchester University Press.
Tanovic S. (2019). Designing memory: the architecture of commemoration in Europe, 1914 to the present. Cambridge, United Kingdom; New York, Ny, USA: Cambridge University Press.
Wiesel, E. (2006). Night. New York: Hill and Wang, a Division of Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
Williams, P. (2007). Memorial Museums: the global rush to commemorate atrocities. Oxford: Berg.
Yates, F.A. (2014). The art of memory. London The Bodley Head.
Young. J (2018). The stages of memory: reflections on memorial art, loss, and the spaces between. Amherst, Massachusetts: University of Massachusetts Press.