Caseros

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Mooching through archives I came across a striking historical documentary: Julio Raffo’s ‘Caseros: en el cárcel’(2007). Twenty years or more after initial incarceration, a number of ex-prisoners return to the deserted Unidad Penitenciara n°1, popularly referred to as Caseros Prison, which is on the point of demolition. Unearthly testimonies of prison life relive sombre memories of downtown Buenos Aires.

Initially conceived by the military dictatorships of the 1960s to house political prisoners awaiting trail, it was not until 1979, presided over by then military dictator Jorge Rafael Videla, that Caseros was officially opened. The initial aim remained the same, though the short-term stay for most prisoners stretched indefinitely as trials were either postponed or passed over. Peronists, Montoneros, Worker’s Party, Union leaders, ERP and pretty much anyone who stepped vaguely out of line.

The image of a tall ‘luxurious’ structure with some of the best views in the city is misleading. The small cells had the windows screened out so that ‘el día no tenía sol y la noche no tenía estrellas’ (by day there was no sun and by night there were no stars). Here you were ‘punished for climbing up the bars to try and see the sun rise’. A panopticon structure, a legal concentration camp with 1996 cells, 140 isolation units.

Minister of Justice Alberto Rodríguez Varela arrogantly compared the prison to a 5* hotel aimed at preserving the human dignity of each person to pass through its doors. One witness reports that this 5*hotel set out primarily to destroy, leaving men’s skin pale green and sunken from the lack of sunlight and tempting the onset of madness through utter isolation despite the close proximity of so many.

The welcome committee, referred to as the lion’s den, resembled or perhaps was nothing more than an interrogative torture chamber.

And yet each testimony focuses on the incredible solidarity and loyalty existing between the prison population as well as the loyalty existing between family members and friends on the outside, despite the regime of abuse that was the resulting consequence for many of these friends and family members. Christmas bringing a time of hope, the dream of freedom and family. Doves and caramels for regular communication.

As so often seems to be the case, dubious connections between church and state greatly implicated the church, whose role in interrogative procedures revealed it to be seemingly nothing more than a cog in the wheel of repression. Yet there were also priests behind bars, the fruits of integrity and compassion. A bizarre contrast grew up between the official prison mass - with sermon’s emphasising the consequences of stepping out of line, like Jonah, tortured and thrown overboard- and the unofficial secret mass offered by the prisoner priests, a symbol of fidelity.

Bizarrely enough reading was allowed and literature was barely censored...perhaps contributing to the incredible flow of artistic creativity still so very evident across Argentina... All science materials were banned...as well as the sports pages.

The tragic case of Jorge Toledo has stayed with each prisoner who finally made it out. Toledo: driven to suicide following extreme breakdown and deterioratory self-isolation. Prison authorities: serve all prisoners a luxurious celebratory meal and then proceed to play the funeral march over the loud speakers all night long.

The celebration of the prison’s demolition, marked by the documentary cannot escape the lingering sadness provoked by the demolition of so many lives.