It’s difficult to construct a singular picture of any person just by picking and choosing their life events for an obituary. People like Hugo Chavez and Margaret Thatcher may always be known for polarizing the nations that they led, and therefore the story lines that are chosen to narrate their lives will always reflect that polarity.
Constructing a narrative in death
It’s difficult to construct a singular picture of any person just by picking and choosing their life events for an obituary. People like Hugo Chavez and Margaret Thatcher may always be known for polarizing the nations that they led, and therefore the story lines that are chosen to narrate their lives will always reflect that polarity.
The chosen narratives that describe world leaders and other historical figures are first decided by their obituaries.
With Chavez’s death on March 5 and Thatcher’s death on April 8, there are have been many post-mortem narratives to construct. These two figures, while very different in their politics, caused similar reactions in death.
Published obituaries reflect polarizing extremes, and while both are shown to be divisive figures it appears that Chavez’s death landed him on the wrong side of history while Thatcher carved out her place on the right side.
These persistent narratives, constructed primarily by the creators of obituaries both oral and written, are a demonstration of the polarization created by the lives of these leaders. The story cannot be agreed upon because there are too many sides of the story.
The New York Times came under fire a few weeks ago after leading the obituary of Yvonne Brill, a scientist who invented propulsion systems for satellites, with “She made a mean beef stroganoff.” After significant criticism, the Times changed the lede to “She was a brilliant rocket scientist.”
This change alone affects our perception of Brill. In the original reading she is first and foremost a beloved mother, and in the second a scientist. A small change in a single sentence may change how she is remembered, and the controversy over the obituary may actually have increased her recognition.
The BBC was criticized for taking a pro-Thatcher stance following the Iron Lady’s death. While acknowledging the criticism, the BBC remained steadfast in its praise of her as a leader. Here arose a dichotomy.
Thatcher’s death prompted obituaries praising her leadership while celebratory rallies occurred in the streets. In the days after, the Wizard of Oz song “Ding Dong! The Witch is Dead” rose to number two on the UK singles charts, yet BBC Radio 1, which plays the top songs every week, refused to play the song in its entirety. Surely the BBC would have received significant criticism if it had played the song.
In the wake of the Boston Marathon bombing, unofficial obituaries of Tamerlan
Tsarnaev, the bombing suspect who died during the citywide lockdown, are popping up. Timelines showing events in his lifetime may provide clues as to why he might have committed the atrocious acts of which he was accused. His obituary is one that shows a paved route to last week’s bombing; no other events in his life matter now.
Sifting through an individual’s life for events that create a scaffold is far from an objective endeavor—it’s impossible not to show bias. For many, Chavez’s wide-reaching literacy plan was more than just praiseworthy, it was revolutionary. For others, his firing of 19,000 striking employees of Petroleum of Venezuela and his abolition of term limits was tyrannical.
Each obituary attempts to create a narrative—a clean line through one person’s life so as to prove a thesis: the Divider, the Unifier, the Mother, the Scientist, the Terrorist. History is constantly being written, and those narratives that are silently and collectively agreed upon will persist.
In an interview on CBC’s Q, journalist Judy Rebick lauded the obviously praiseworthy obituary of Chavez on Rabble.ca because it was in many ways a response to the negative obituaries published elsewhere. Though it’s just as harmful to migrate to the opposite extreme—praising a public figure because the other media coverage seems too negative—it is understandable.
Once a particular narrative has been agreed upon it is difficult to then change course. Suddenly, a different perspective seems radical. The inevitable biographies that will be written about Chavez and Thatcher will attempt to show “new” sides of the leaders, but will probably fall within the already agreed-upon parameters.
What’s left behind, then, is little more than a partial narrative of a life: Beloved or despised, it’s the actions that history remembers, not the person.
