MANAGUA, Nicaragua — Shortly after the triumph of the Sandinista-led revolution 12 years ago, Nicaraguan artist Alejandro Canales began work on what was to become his most public--if not his most famous--painting.
Using the wall outside a cluster of government office buildings as his canvas, Canales produced a long, flowing mural depicting the Nicaraguan experience under foreign freebooters and domestic tyrants.
A decade later, after the ballot-box insurrection that ousted the Sandinistas in favor of the United Nicaraguan Opposition (UNO), Canales' work has become part of a different kind of battle--a war of the artists. Working mostly at night, one anonymous group of "artists" covers Canales' bright colors with whitewash. Then, in the morning, followers of the late Sandinista artist gather and try to restore the mural and its political symbolism.
The ongoing war of the artists aptly reflects a larger conflict in the way that Nicaragua's two rival political factions look at the whole subject of culture. While the Sandinistas believe art and politics are inextricably linked, supporters of the UNO coalition argue that politicians should steer clear of art. And while the Sandinistas invested a great deal of time and energy searching for an authentic national culture, UNO has tried to paint over the past without offering a cultural program for the future.
"The government has no business with culture," argues Pablo Antonio Cuadra, one of Latin America's leading poets and a longtime associate of President Violeta Barrios de Chamorro. "The state hinders culture. It is better if freedom dominates."
Not so, say supporters of the former government. Artistic expression must be nurtured and developed. This often requires support, if not direction, from the government.
"The Sandinista revolution allowed for a torrent of popular artistic creation, which historically we have never had," said Carlos Mejia Godoy, Nicaragua's best-known singer-songwriter. "We had a multiplication of dance groups and a proliferation of acting and poetry workshops. The national movement . . . led to a higher form of culture."
UNO, says Mejia, has shown no desire to build upon those advances. Indeed, many government-sponsored programs begun under the Sandinistas have been allowed to expire, leading some to fear a return to the climate that existed under the Somoza dictatorship when, according to former Vice President Sergio Ramirez Mercado, "Miami kitsch" was the Nicaraguan cultural ideal.
"I try to visualize a specific cultural project that would show us the artistic plans of the new government. Sincerely, I still have not seen any 'good intentions,' " Mejia said. "In contrast with the defense of the values of our new cultural heritage, the UNO government has . . . reflected a dark neo-fascism (such as) the destruction of the mural on the Avenida Bolivar.
"I have asked the government for help. I have asked for support. I can't wait any longer."
But while the cultural landscape has undeniably experienced a major transformation since Chamorro, the UNO standard-bearer, replaced Daniel Ortega as president more than a year ago, the change says more about the two governments' political philosophies than it does about their artistic values.
Leaders of the UNO coalition are proponents of a free-market system, so in addition to selling off state-owned factories and farms, the new government has decided to stop teaching poetry as well. The Marxist-inclined Sandinistas, on the other hand, favored at least some state intervention in most sectors of society, from commerce to culture.
"For us, culture is everything. It's a sense of love, a feeling of life," explains Ernesto Cardenal, the minister of culture under the Sandinistas and one of the most widely read poets writing in Spanish today.
Not surprisingly, one of the first projects of the revolutionary government was the establishment of grass-roots cultural workshops, patterned after those that Cardenal, a Catholic priest, had taught in his parish on the Nicaraguan island of Solentiname. The casas de cultura, which numbered more than 70 at the height of their popularity, sprang up in community centers, army bases, schools and churches all over Nicaragua. One workshop was even held at a police station, causing a participant to remark, "Nicaragua must be the only country in the world where the police write poetry."
But the program was controversial from the start. Some writers, such as Rosario Murillo, leader of the Sandinista Cultural Workers Union and former President Ortega's common-law wife, contended that the workshops had imposed a single poetic language on young writers, stifling creativity. Others, such as Cuadra, said the workshops served more as a tool for political indoctrination than for cultural appreciation.
Cuadra, who accused the Sandinistas of pushing a "Stalinization" of Nicaraguan culture, said the workshops lowered artistic standards and led to a climate of conformity.