Rigoberta Menchú and the Story of All Poor Guatemalans

Controversy has surrounded the publication of David Stoll's book, Rigoberta Menchú and the Story of All Poor Guatemalans, from Day One and no review can begin without acknowledging this fact. Compelled to expose how a "valuable symbol can also be misleading," (p. x) Stoll challenges the icon of Nobel Peace Prize Laureate, Rigoberta Menchú, by comparing her life story with local testimony and documentary sources. Stoll, a professor of anthropology at Middlebury College, contends that key points might not be true in the Guatemalan's testimonio — a first person narrative of individual and collective experiences — titled, I Rigoberta Menchú: An Indian Woman in Guatemala (1984), and that "it is not the eyewitness account that it purports to be" (p. 70).

Rigoberta Menchú was the first indigenous woman to speak out about the repression and state sanctioned violence suffered by Guatemala's indigenous population in the late 1970s and early 1980s. In 1982, Menchú narrated her testimonio in Paris to anthropologist Elizabeth Burgos-Debray who soon published it as I Rigoberta Menchú. The power of Menchú's testimonio is its first person narrative — a form of speech that worked to change public consciousness about Guatemala and eventually spurred action towards a Peace Process and the establishment of the United Nations-sponsored Commission for Historical Clarification (CEH) and the Catholic Church investigation, Recuperation of Historical Memory Project (REMHI).

Stoll's main accusations are that: (1) Menchú and her testimonio were used as a tool for advancing the revolutionary cause that she, her family, and thousands of others fought for; (2) Menchú and the left romanticized indigenous peoples and communities in Guatemala in order to advance their appeal to foreign audiences; and (3) the international acceptance of Menchú's work raises questions about a new standard of "truth" gaining ground in academia. Stoll acknowledges that he waited to publish his findings until the country's situation was somewhat stabilized and to avoid detracting from her Peace Prize campaign. But, in December 1998 Stoll's findings hit the front page of the New York Times, just two months before the presentation of the CEH to the Guatemalan people.

Stoll moves point by point through Menchú testimonio even though he found that most of the people he interviewed in her home community and surrounding villages were not particularly concerned about the collective nature of her words. Menchú clearly states in the opening lines of I, Rigoberta Menchú (1984, 1): "This is my testimony. I didn't learn it from a book and I didn't learn it alone. I'd like to stress that it's not only my life, it's also the testimony of my people." Rather than acknowledging testimonio as a valid form of expression, Stoll treats her book as autobiography (an expression of individual experience) to highlight inconsistencies from the written record and recollections of others. Speaking of Menchú's account of her brother's torture and murder, Stoll points out that:

In and of itself, the contrast between Rigoberta's account and everyone else's is not very significant. Except for a few sensational details, Rigoberta's version follows the others and can be considered factual ... The important point is that her story, here and at critical junctures, is not the eyewitness account that it purports to be (pp. 69-70).

Stoll's reasons for pursuing this line of inquiry are not made clear, leaving deliberations regarding his motives and agenda to circulate in cyberspace, academic conferences, and editorial pages of Guatemalan newspapers. Reactions to Stoll's ten-year investigation of Menchú's narrative and his controversial and problematic assertions cover the spectrum from full support of Rigoberta's authority to speak for herself and others who have lived through similar experiences to those who know little of the context but have grabbed onto the controversy for political reasons, taking the accusations much further than even Stoll would suggest. Many critics suggest Stoll could have asked why the silences, inconsistencies, and conflation of experiences were, perhaps, necessary in an atmosphere of state terror (c. f., Latin American Perspectives 1999). A different, sympathetic, book might have been written with the same evidence. Why not examine the inconsistencies, denials, and abuses of the government and military forces (responsible for 93% of all human rights violations and acts of genocide against the Maya indigenous population, according the CEH) rather than the testimonio of one of their victims, many charge?

It is difficult to suggest a reading of this book but for cultural geographers and others interested in issues of qualitative research it certainly presses us to think more deeply about our own methods and motivations, the political and social implications of our research, and the validity of individual and collective testimonios.