Partners from Argentina respond to president’s remarks

Global Ministries partner organizations, Abuelas Plaza de Mayo (Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo, Argentina) and the Evangelical Church of the Disciples of Christ in Argentina, have shared these statements in response to remarks from the Argentine president, who publicly criticized human rights organizations and questioned long-standing public understandings of Argentina’s military dictatorship.

Both statements below express concern that recent political rhetoric and proposed policy changes could weaken that consensus around memory, truth, justice, and human rights accountability. The church statements also reflect a theological perspective rooted in solidarity with victims, emphasizing that Christian faith calls believers to defend human dignity and resist efforts to minimize state violence.

Global Ministries partners with churches and human rights organizations throughout Latin America and the Caribbean that work for justice, reconciliation, and the protection of human rights.

Statement of Abuela Plaza de Mayo

In the current context of Argentina, we observe with concern the rise of rhetoric and policies that tend to relativize State terrorism, challenge the consensus built around memory, truth, and justice, and delegitimize the work of human rights organizations.

For Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo (Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo), memory is not merely an exercise regarding the past, but an indispensable tool for democratic life. The search for the grandchildren who were abducted and raised under false identities remains an outstanding debt of the Argentine State, as well as a collective responsibility of society as a whole. Each restitution reaffirms not only the right to identity but also the enduring validity of a fundamental principle: crimes against humanity cannot be relativized, nor can they go unpunished.

Today, we continue to search for more than 300 men and women who still do not know their true identities. This search requires the active commitment of society as a whole. In this context, awareness-raising and donation campaigns are fundamental to sustaining the work of Abuelas, ensuring the continuity of investigations, and supporting those who harbor doubts about their identity. Every contribution—in whatever form it takes—helps ensure that the right to identity remains a tangible reality.

Against this backdrop, the weakening of public policies on memory—as well as cuts to or challenges directed at fundamental institutions and spaces—has a profound impact. These are not merely administrative decisions; rather, they serve as signals that could pave the way for setbacks in human rights and undermine efforts to build truth and justice.

At the same time, we reaffirm that a democratic memory demands complexity, yet it must never devolve into false equivalences that dilute the State’s specific responsibility for the implementation of State terrorism.

Nearly 50 years after the coup d’état, Argentine society has forged a broad consensus around the principle of “Never Again” (Nunca Más). Sustaining this consensus—and projecting it forward to new generations—remains a central challenge today.

Statement of the Iglesia Evangélica Discípulos de Cristo en Argentina

From an Evangelical Protestant perspective—and particularly from the standpoint of our identity as the Evangelical Church of the Disciples of Christ in Argentina—memory regarding the dictatorship is not merely a narrative of the past, but a terrain where truth, justice, and human dignity are at stake. In the biblical tradition, memory holds a central value: the people of God are constantly called to “remember”—not to dwell in pain, but to avoid repeating injustice. To forget or to distort is not a neutral act; it is to open the door for evil to take shape once again.

Jesus himself identifies with the victims. In Matthew 25, he declares: “I was in prison, and you visited me”; “I was oppressed.” Through this lens, every person abducted, tortured, or forcibly disappeared during the dictatorship is neither a mere statistic nor an ideological category, but a human face in which Christ himself suffers. Therefore, to relativize these crimes—or to dismiss them as mere “excesses”—is not only historically problematic but also theologically grave; it implies trivializing the human suffering that God takes so seriously.

At the same time, our Protestant faith—and, in particular, the Disciples of Christ in Argentina—does not deny the complexity of history. It acknowledges that violence occurred across various sectors. However, there is a fundamental difference: the State bears a greater responsibility, for it was instituted to protect human rights and justice. When the State itself becomes the executioner, State terrorism ensues.

From this perspective, for our Church, the defense of human rights is not merely an “ideological banner,” but rather a concrete expression of the Gospel. The search for the disappeared, the restoration of identities, and the preservation of sites of memory—such as the former ESMA—are acts that reflect core values: truth, justice, reparation, and dignity.

For this reason, any attempt to relativize state terrorism—categorizing it as “war” or mere “excesses”—not only distorts history but also undermines the ethical foundations upon which Argentine democracy was built. From the perspective of the Christian faith, this also implies a distortion of the concept of justice: God is not indifferent to the abuse of power.

In this context, policies involving the closure, dismantling, or weakening of spaces of memory—as well as budget cuts to organizations working to uphold truth and identity—must be viewed with deep concern. These are not merely budgetary or administrative decisions; they carry a profound symbolic and spiritual impact. Collective memory fulfills an almost “liturgical” function within society: it bears witness to suffering, honors the victims, and serves as a warning to future generations.

Undermining these spaces risks paving the way for a form of forgetting that does not heal, but rather conceals and distorts. In biblical terms, this would be akin to what the prophets denounce when they accuse the people of “hardening their hearts” and forgetting the works of justice.

That said, it is also true that acknowledging the violence perpetrated by left-wing armed organizations can contribute to a more complete memory—provided, of course, that it is not used as a tool to relativize or justify State terrorism. The key lies in avoiding the trap of “moral equivalence” logic, in which everything is diluted, and nothing is truly condemned.

The curtailment and weakening of these policies challenge the Church to exercise its prophetic vocation. In the biblical tradition, the prophets did not speak to appease those in power, but rather to confront them whenever they strayed from the path of justice.

There is also a deeply profound pastoral dimension. The mothers, grandmothers, and relatives who are still searching for their loved ones embody a perseverance reminiscent of the women in the Gospels who did not abandon the Cross or the Tomb. Their outcry is not merely political; it is a cry for truth, identity, and justice. And the Church is called to stand alongside this outcry—not to delegitimize it.

From the perspective of the Evangelical Church of the Disciples of Christ—which has historically championed unity in diversity and freedom of conscience—the path forward lies neither in polarization nor in hatred, but rather in an uncompromising truth and a grace that does not serve to mask injustice. Authentic reconciliation—so central to the Christian message—can only take place where truth is acknowledged, and responsibility is accepted. There can be no reconciliation without memory, nor forgiveness without justice.

Finally, this present moment challenges communities of faith and other civil organizations not to succumb to indifference or denialism. The Gospel does not permit a spirituality that remains detached from historical suffering. To follow Christ means taking a stand for life, truth, and the victims—even when it causes discomfort.

For, ultimately, the question is not merely what happened in the past, but rather what kind of society we are prepared to build today: one founded upon memory, justice, and dignity, or one that relativizes pain and runs the risk of repeating it.

And in this regard, the Church has a word that it cannot leave unspoken.