". . . then there is a secret agreement between past generations and the present one. Then our coming was expected on earth. Then, like every generation that preceded us, we have been endowed with a weak messianic power, a power on which the past has a claim. Such a claim cannot be settled cheaply" (Benjamin, Thesis II of "On the Concept of History").
"The defeated of June 1848 . . . await from us not just the remembrance of their suffering, but reparation for past injustices and the achievement of their social utopia" (Löwy, Fire Alarm 32).
The final part of Utopia da Memória is made up of four fictional letters delivered to the actors by a "Mensageira." The first three are sent by people from the past: the cangaceira Maria Bonita, murdered by the police on 28 July 1938; the funkeiro MC Daleste, murdered on 7 July 2013; and a soldado who participated in the massare of Canudos in 1896-7.
In the letter to the actor Carolina Maluf, Maria Bonita speaks to us "que habitam o meu futuro" from a time when "As cercas do latifúndio crescem e criam raízes," "O governo levanta a bandeira da 'ordem e progresso,'" and "O fascismo corre como serpente pelas ruas das cidades e pelas estradas e trilhas da caatinga." It's heartbreaking to hear of her "esperança que no século 21 tudo seja diferente" just a few days after Bolsonaristas stormed government buildings in Brasília in another demonstration that we live in a moment in the 21st century when fascism slithers like a serpent through Brazil and many other parts of the world. For us, inhabitants of her future at the start of 2023, the hope of Maria Bonita already begins to feel like a "saudade do que deveria ter sido" and was not. Her closing statement that "Esta carta" (like her esperança) "é para vocês que habitam o meu futuro" rings like a demand for us not only to remember the suffering of the dead but to stand up against fascism and do what we can to fulfill the longing of past generations -- of our generation -- for a future in which "tudo seja diferente."
The fourth and final letter, sent to the actor Juliana Liegel, is signed "Com amor, / Sua mãe" and dated "2134, ano 15 da Revolução Popular." It comes from a future moment in the 21st century in which the hope of Maria Bonita has been fulfilled and everything is different -- "As cercas, os latifúndios, as muralhas, as propriedades, as fortunas, o dinheiro... não existem mais. São fotos de Museu, é preciso lembrar. Aqui a memória é o combustível da revolução." It opens with a question: "ao caminhar pela rua ainda sente na boca o gosto amargo da vida?" The mother's question makes me think of "saudade do que deveria ter sido," and whether this yearning for what should have been is part of what leaves us walking the streets with a bitter taste in the mouth. Yes, we still feel it, hoping one day it will be a "lembrança do passado," as it has become to the mother; "mas," she assures us, however bitter this taste may be (she knows, she has felt it too), and however much we want to be rid of it, "o amargo da boca alimentou a revolta," which is why she seems to remember it fondly.
How can the actor's mother send her a letter from the year 2134? Is the mother an older version of the daughter sending a message to herself in the past (the same way audience members are invited at the of the play to send messages to the future), letting her younger self know that she won't have to taste "o gosto amargo da vida" forever in her mouth, at least not if she uses it to feed her spirit of revolt? In Thesis XII of "On the Concept of History," Benjamin claimed that the present "task of liberation" is carried out "in the name of generations of the downtrodden" (of those whose future we inhabit), and that those fighting against oppression "are nourished by the image of enslaved ancestors rather than the ideal of liberated grandchildren." The letter complicates Benjamin's formulation, for (chronologically speaking) it presents a descendant of the daughter (and of "o povo daí," as the author of the letter refers to the people of 2019) as her liberated ancestor. How is "o povo daqui" (of 2134), "que quando vamos dormir não tememos o amanhã," our ancestors and our descendants and ourselves all at the same time?
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