Issue 99: Summer 2009

Seventeen Years, Seventeen Murders: Biospectacularity and the Production of Post-Cold War Knowledge in El Salvador

By Ellen Moodie on December 17, 2009
Abstract: This essay develops the concept of biospectacle, in which the politics of managing populations becomes sensational visual display. It does so as it explores a series of events in 1999 surrounding the arrest and trial of "El Directo," a gang member in El Salvador who, at age seventeen, was accused of seventeen murders. The episode occurred at a key political conjuncture, at the end of a brutal decade in which staggering crime rates belied the Central American country's claim to an internationally lauded "peace." The El Directo biospectacle emerged from the convergence of a widely shared sense of out-of-control postwar criminality with the potent memory of past "terrorist subversion" of the war era and before. It was orchestrated by media moguls, powerful politicians, and law-enforcement leaders who opposed legal limits on sentences for juveniles imposed by United Nations conventions. They also hoped to reassert the mano dura (or iron-fist style) penal order that had been loosened after the war. But as a symbolically dense figure, crystallizing the contradictions of the moment, El Directo's meaning would be reconfigured on multiple planes. The biospectacle represented both anxiety and affinity, meeting a desire in the larger population to grasp palpable insecurity, to understand what was happening in a future once imagined as "peace."

Skulls rise. Then shins. Then kneecaps. Then fingers. Toes. Teeth. Jumbled fragments soon to be assembled by forensic anthropologists into a stiff mimesis of body space once inhabited so carelessly. 


In late January 1999, dozens of journalists descended on a graffiti-covered neighborhood at the edge of the sweaty departmental capital of San Miguel, in eastern El Salvador, in search of bones. They came back wielding the corpse reportage long familiar to Salvadorans after a dozen years of war. All the evening news shows seemed to cut the same segments: first a vertical pan of squinty-eyed firefighters emerging from the depths of abandoned wells -- gripping those skulls and shins and kneecaps. Next a long zoom shot onto the skulls -- as if they were seeking scraps of flesh or shreds of hair. Yearning for a face in mute bone. The visions roused tabloid 

editors to conjure lurid captions in the morning papers: "Pozos macabros" ("Macabre wells") and "Pozos de la muerte" ("Wells of death").


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