My grandmother’s story must be told

By Aitana Vargas

Dear Editor of The New Yorker,

I believe that the article entitled “Spain’s Open Wounds” by Stephania Taladrid is incomplete, somewhat misleading and missing important information about the history of Spain and the struggle by the Franco-era crimes’ victims and their relatives to recover the remains of their loved ones.

An important case that you failed to mention is that of my grandmother’s, Ascensión Mendieta, also featured in the documentary “The Silence of Others,” which you referenced several times in your article.

In 2017, my grandmother recovered her father’s remains from a mass grave in the Guadalajara cemetery, in Spain. Her father, Timoteo Mendieta, was executed by Franco’s forces in the months after the Spanish Civil War, when my grandmother was 13 years old. He was passed by his wife and seven children.

My grandmother boarded a flight to Buenos Aires (Argentina) on the eve of her 89th birthday to give testimony in front of Argentine judge María Servini de Cubría and request that her father be exhumed and she be given “one bone” of her father.

My great grandfather’s story is no different from the fate that tens of thousands of Spaniards met back during Franco’s dictatorship. In that sense, and regretfully, there’s nothing special about her case, which is like many others’: loaded with human suffering and misery that many families and children endured in the aftermath and the decades following the Spanish Civil War.

But what’s special is that her case made headlines all over the world because Timoteo Mendieta was the first victim to be exhumed by the Spanish authorities acting on an order by the Argentinean justice.

Her story, however, is only partially told in “The Silence of Others.” But I would expect The New Yorker to meet higher editorial standards when addressing complex issues that involve political repression, mass graves and human suffering.

In a way, my great grandfather and many other Spaniards are ‘crimeless victims,’ for the Spanish authorities refuse to revisit and amend the 1977 Amnesty Law, which has also made it possible for assassins under Franco’s dictatorship to continue and further their political careers in today’s democratic Spain.

As much as I appreciate the work done by the directors of “The Silence of Others,” the documentary fails to present a real portrait of my grandmother’s story. The body she was looking at in the documentary footage was not her father’s. It was someone else’s. Many people in Spain and beyond the confines of my country know this, since it was widely reported by Spanish and foreign media outlets. My family still had to go through another round of exhumations to find my great grandfather, who was months later located, identified and finally given a dignified burial in a non-religious ceremony held in Madrid in 2017.

Also, the role of the ARMH (Asociación para la Recuperación de la Memoria Histórica), founded by journalist Emilio Silva, was invaluable in the search for missing people and the exhumation process. Other than a brief mention, not much credit is given in your article to the work done by Silva’s non-profit and his volunteers, including lead archeologist René Pacheco. Also, generous donations from a Norwegian union and an award given by the Abraham Lincoln Brigade Archives made it possible to continue the search of my great grandfather and other missing people. Also, Spain’s La Sexta TV Network (“El Intermedio”) was key to bringing attention to this highly “secretive” issue. Other national and foreign networks joined later on in the process.

Sadly, I feel that most important players in this process have been left out and cut out from your article. And while I do not believe this was done intentionally, I believe this story should be revisited and completed. This is especially true when the subject is something most of your readers would likely know nothing about.

And while I do not attempt to dictate nor influence The New Yorker’s editorial’s guidelines, I would like to suggest that you hear out my comments, reflect on them and even make my letter public. It is my belief that my grandmother’s story should be part of the history that is only now being written. But we must do it from a place of knowledge, staying true to the real story and giving attribution to those parties that have put many things at stake to bring some of Spain’s darkest moments to light.

This said, I understand why María Martín López’s story must to be told. Indeed, I want it to be told, because her story is not the exception to the rule. María’s story is opposite to my grandmother’s. María died trying to recover her mother; Ascensión lived long enough to see her dream come true. And this regretful dichotomy, among others, is precisely what makes both stories worth telling simultaneously.

Leaving important parts of Spain’s history out of your story is indeed, contributing to “Spain’s Open Wounds.”

Aitana Vargas

Bisnieta de Timoteo Mendieta