Honduras's Teatro La Fragua:
The Many Faces of Political Theatre

John Fleming is Director of Graduate Studies in the Theatre Department at Southwest Texas State University. He is the author of Stoppard's Theatre: Finding Order amid Chaos (University of Texas Press, 2001). His articles have appeared in Latin American Theatre Review, Journal of American Drama and Theatre, Text and Performance Quarterly, and other journals. He is currently working on a book on playwright Romulus Linney.
[Published in TDR T174, Summer 2002; pp. 47-65.]

The term "political theatre" conjures up many images: Aristophanes' comedies, Shakespeare's history plays, Ibsen's realist plays, Brecht's epic theatre, the Living Theatre's "rehearsing the revolution" environmental theatre, El Teatro Campesino's agitprop plays, Dario Fo's satires, Augusto Boal's Forum Theatre, and so on. Rooted in the specific and very difficult milieu of Honduras, the work of Teatro La Fragua demonstrates many different concepts of political theatre, from agitprop to religion as social teaching to the simple ideas of culture and heritage as political acts. La Fragua's evolving history offers insight into the changes that have occurred in Central America over the past few decades.

Since 1979, Teatro La Fragua ("The Forge Theatre," as in to forge a national, cultural identity) has tried to raise the cultural standard of living in a country that suffers from severe material and cultural poverty. The uniqueness of their infrastructure (run by a Jesuit missionary, with outside funding) makes it difficult to offer La Fragua as the model for popular theatre; nonetheless their work provides one avenue available to popular theatre groups.⁽¹⁾

Through their dramatization workshops, children's storytelling program, performance of Honduran folktales, dramatization of Central American history, and an ongoing tradition of cycle plays centered on the Christmas and Easter seasons, La Fragua has altered the cultural landscape of Honduras.⁽²⁾

The Honduran Context

Honduras has suffered a long history of dependence, underdevelopment, and economic exploitation, epitomized by its 20th-century status as the quintessential "banana republic." Likewise, the neoliberal economic policies of the 1980s and the globalization of the 1990s created a Honduras that enters the 21st century as a neo-feudal society. Foreign capital controls 80 percent of the economy; foreign companies control 50 percent of the arable land, and another 25 percent of the arable land is controlled by a handful of powerful ranchers. The new industry, the maquilas, or garment sweatshops, are located in tax-free zones. The result is that many Hondurans work for the transnationals or the landed elite. Others try to scratch out a living on small tracts of land ill-suited for agriculture. Not surprisingly, in the Western Hemisphere, Honduras typically ranks only above Haiti in terms of poverty and standard of living. Unemployment and underemployment range from 35 to 50 percent, illiteracy or semi-literacy hovers around 50 percent, and the minimum wage (which most do not make) is about $1,000 per year.⁽³⁾

Intertwined with the material poverty is a pervasive cultural poverty. Social scientists have long identified "the lack of a strong national identity" as one of Honduras's most deeply rooted problems (Barry and Norsworthy 1990:5). Typifying this identity crisis is the fact that prior to Hurricane Mitch, which in 1998 swept Honduras onto the front page even as it nearly washed it off the map, the most significant event in Honduran history in the second half of the 20th century was the Sandinista victory in Nicaragua. That event turned the country into the "USS Honduras": the U.S. used Honduras as the training ground for the Nicaraguan contra rebels. Approximately $1 billion of U.S. aid flowed into Honduras during the 1980s, with most of the money going to military projects or ending up in the bank accounts of corrupt officials. The living conditions for the majority of Hondurans worsened.⁽⁴⁾

The period also saw an influx of American popular culture. In mainstream media Hondurans are, for the most part, absent from representation.⁽⁵⁾ Television programming largely comes from the U.S. and Mexico. Popular radio stations alternate between U.S. rock/pop songs and non-Honduran Latino music.⁽⁶⁾ In response to this cultural crisis, Teatro La Fragua's mission is to give Honduras a culture created by Hondurans, thereby offering a source of pride, an avenue of expression, and a means of creating a national identity. When asked why they do theatre amidst such harsh socio-economic conditions, actor Edy Barahona responded: "Theatre is our way of saying we are alive. It's a way of telling our people, Honduras counts; even if you are poor or illiterate, we all have a voice" (1992).

La Fragua's work rests on two fundamental assumptions. One is explicated in Father Jack Warner's paraphrase of a statement originally made by Nicaraguan poet Ernesto Cardenal: "I know Honduras is poor, but I believe a person's four basic needs are food, shelter, prayer, and art. The poor need art as much or more than the well-to-do" (1992). The second assumption is the belief that, in a primarily illiterate society, theatre can be a basic medium of communication and education. Viewing theatre as a mirror to the world, La Fragua believes that when you see the cultural, sociological, and religious reality of your world reflected in a theatrical work, you are in a better position to understand that reality more clearly, and thereby to deal with it more effectively and assume some control over your own destiny. Essentially, La Fragua shares the position held by social scientists who argue that in the social construction of meaning, ideas can most effectively be communicated to la gente popular when they are embedded in symbols and experiences that are recognizable to the people living and sharing them.

Shifting from Politics to Culture

The driving force behind Teatro La Fragua is American Jesuit priest Jack Warner. I am aware of the paradox of an American leading a group that seeks to create a Honduran identity. While Warner is clearly the main visionary of the company, the context of Honduras and the increasing democratization of the company have also been instrumental in shaping La Fragua's direction. What La Fragua seeks to do--address sociopolitical issues, explore Honduran history, teach literacy, and stimulate personal and group autonomy--is similar to what other Honduran campesino groups seek to do. Also, all plays that the company presents are adapted to Honduran circumstances, placed in a Honduran context, spoken in a Honduran dialect, and performed by Hondurans. If being led by an American makes the statement somewhat less authentic, it also offers opportunities not available to the other campesino theatre groups, most of which fold within a year or two. In particular, Warner's American and church connections provide financial stability, which allows the La Fragua actors to work full-time on their craft while also allowing the theatre to perform on a regular basis for an audience that pays little or nothing.

After college in the 1960s, Warner went on to receive his Jesuit training, as well as an MFA in directing from Chicago's Goodman School of Drama, in the 1970s. During the 1960s and 1970s the Jesuit order was rethinking its role, and by 1975, the order formally opted to work for the promotion of faith and justice, particularly among the poor. The idealism of the era influenced Warner's thinking when he arrived in Honduras in January 1979 for the purpose of establishing a theatre company.

As a missionary, Warner's initial goal was to "awaken the working class to its miserable status and the evils of the oppressors" (McClory 1982). Warner first formed a partnership with some union leaders in San Pedro Sula who wished to start a labor theatre, much like Luis Valdez's El Teatro Campesino. Before the enterprise got off the ground, labor strife set in--the factory was bombed, the military murdered a few strikers, and the theatre-minded labor leaders were imprisoned. While El Teatro Campesino would remain an influence and provide source material, Warner decided that these were not the right circumstances for a labor theatre. Rethinking his goals, he moved away from overt conflict as the organizational principle of the theatre. His reasons were two-fold: (1) he wanted first to establish a base, and immediate conflict would likely lead to strong repression, and (2) he realized that his aim was more along the lines of giving a voice to the voiceless.

The decision to minimize direct conflict and overt agitation has been one of the keys to La Fragua's survival.⁽⁷⁾ This does not mean that La Fragua acquiesces to the powers-that-be, but rather that it walks a tightrope. For example, in March 1983, La Fragua agreed to join with a local union for a tour of El Progreso's banana camps. One of the plays was to be a Honduran version of El Teatro Campesino's Las Dos Caras del Patroncito (The Two Faces of the Boss; ETC 1965, TLF 1979), a play about the exploitation of farmworkers by owners. However, just days before the tour was to begin, the union leaders were murdered. While these political killings were more directly linked to the government/military's desire to neutralize popular leadership, the violent repression had a chilling effect as the actors canceled the tour. At the same time, La Fragua decided that something needed to be said about the increasing militarization of the country, and so later that year, at a National Theatre Festival in the capital of Tegucigalpa, it adapted El Teatro Campesino's El soldado razo (The Common Soldier; ETC 1968, TLF 1983) to the circumstances of the contra war. The play makes clear that in war it is the commoner who pays the price. The La Fragua production showed how Honduras had become a pawn of U.S.-Central American war policy. Though not at war, Honduras had four armies on its soil. La Fragua's play tapped into a growing resentment, evidenced in May 1984, when 100,000 people protested the U.S. military presence. Though the U.S. forces remained, later in 1984, the Honduran government halted the U.S. training of the El Salvadoran army in Honduras.

In discussing how La Fragua responded to the repression during the 1980s, Warner stated: "Sure we could stir things up politically, but what's the point in getting shut down? What would we gain by being silenced?" (1992).⁽⁸⁾ Ultimately, La Fragua settled on an indirect approach to politics. In the 1990s, the theatre took more of a therapeutic than confrontational approach. In 1996 La Fragua banded with the members of the Tacamiche banana camp, whose homes were leveled in retaliation for a strike for higher wages. Disillusioned by how the commercial media covered their fight against the banana company, the government, and the army, the Tacamiche formed a community theatre. Members of La Fragua helped the Tacamiche polish their theatre skills and together they toured a double-bill. In 1996 the Teatro Taller Tacamiche staged Tacamiche: Symbol of Resistance, and La Fragua staged a truncated version of the thematically linked Fuenteovejuna by Lope de Vega (c. 1614).

This play from the Spanish Golden Age was based on a historical incident and tells the story of an oppressed group of villagers who decide to resist the repression, exploitation, and violence of the overlord. Warner sums up the play's relevance:

It is a history lesson that illuminates the difference between law and justice. Wherever there is injustice, a harvest of Fuenteovejunas is gestating; the plague of Fuenteovejunas can be avoided only in the measure that the dignity and justice of all the people become fundamental elements in the implementation of the rule of law. The rebellion of the villagers of Fuenteovejuna and their heroism speak directly to the characteristic conflicts of the contemporary world: "The people united will never be defeated." (in TLF 1996)

Rather than using the direct engagement methods of Boal, La Fragua has opted for scripted dramas whose themes are linked to contemporary situations. While both Boal and La Fragua seek the liberation of the oppressed, their approaches are different. Boal's Forum Theatre, Image Theatre, and Invisible Theatre use psycho-dramatic role-playing aimed at problem-solving. They are activist and participatory, but they are, I would argue, largely devoid of aesthetic function or concern. La Fragua is qualitatively different because the aesthetic component remains essential.

Besides the ever-present threat of violence, another factor that works against the use of Boalian or even Brechtian political theatre is Honduras's pervasive cultural poverty. For example, a touchstone of post-World War II political theatre is Bertolt Brecht. While Brecht's Marxist leanings and championing of the working class would make him a likely ally of groups such as La Fragua, there is a cultural condition which precludes the alliance. Warner explains:

Brecht's theories still hold, are still sound, but there are a host of assumptions that undergird them which are not applicable to Honduras. Brecht is very European. He assumes there is an existing theatre culture and his shows cry out for the kind of resources that can be found at the Berliner Ensemble but not in Honduras. (2000)

It is cultural poverty, the lack of a cultural heritage, the lack of a cultural identity, that Warner decided to attack. During the early years, as La Fragua took shape, the goals began to shift from a political/ideological orientation to an emphasis on the cultural. Warner's goal was "to fill the cultural void by creating the Honduran theatre--a prototype which might develop in time into a source of national pride" (McClory 1982). To accomplish this, La Fragua developed a multi-prong approach: (1) a Bible dramatization program called El Evangelio en Vivo! which features professional performances of cycle plays as well as theatre workshops; (2) the staging of secular dramas, often featuring Latin American writers and culminating in an annual festival where groups from other parts of Honduras and Central America perform;⁽⁹⁾ (3) dramatic adaptations of Honduran stories, myths, and folklore, collectively entitled Cuentos Hondureños; (4) the presentation of Central American history; and (5) educational projects such as dance classes and a storytelling/dramatization program developed in the aftermath of Hurricane Mitch.⁽¹⁰⁾

Religion As Politics

When religion and politics intertwine in Central America, their statement is often qualitatively different than when they mix in the United States where the combination is most visible as "the Religious Right," known for its conservatism. In contrast, Warner is part of the progressive arm of the Latin American Catholic Church, which has continually worked to secure social justice for the poor.⁽¹¹⁾ Barahona, who has been with La Fragua from the beginning, states: "The Catholic Church has adopted a firm position as a voice which denounces social injustice. At times it has been dangerous to work with the Church because the military, the government, the oligarchy, they view the Church as Communist" (2000). The murders of priests and nuns throughout Central America in the last few decades attests to their opposition to the entrenched political and economic hegemony.

Though a priest, Warner did not turn to religious-based plays until five years into the company's existence. In part the move was practical, an attempt to reach the rural campesino audience through an existing structure and routine. For two years (1986-1987), using medieval European religious drama as a model, La Fragua worked full-time on developing their Gospel dramatization program. Since 1988 they have divided their professional season into six months of secular works and six months of religious plays, centered on a Christmas cycle and a Passion play.⁽¹²⁾ Warner comments:

[Art and religion] spring from our need to be in touch with something beyond us. [...] In this context I find no conflict between being a priest and a director. Because the one and the other are working towards the same thing: to make people realize themselves. (in Burke et al. 1988:6)

In many ways the politics of La Fragua are the politics of self-realization. While the utopia of overturning the system remains a distant dream, the prospects of altering individuals remains a viable goal.

Told via story-theatre techniques, "living sculpture" blocking compositions, comedy, and an eclectic array of music and dance, La Fragua's Passion Play is an engaging piece of theatre. While adhering closely to the Gospel story, the politics of the piece shine though, starting with the provocative title, El Asesinato de Jesús (1986).⁽¹³⁾ The use of "assassination" grounds the mystery of Christ's death and resurrection in very human terms and calls to mind the many Central American activists who have died in the struggle for social justice. La Fragua shares the goals of martyrs such as Archbishop Oscar Romero who strove "to be the voice of those who have no voice." Romero lived "a love committed to action and to the truth;" he committed himself "to a preferential option for the poor" (TLF 2000a) and denounced political repression and the great disparity between the wealthy and el sector popular.⁽¹⁴⁾

In Warner's own sermons, he equates the Roman empire of Christ's time with the American/transnational empire of the present, and he notes that both regimes persecuted those Christians who preached a message of opposition and liberation. This perspective undergirds La Fragua's handling of the Passion. The Gospel-based story of Christ is told in a way that makes clear parallels to contemporary Latin America. In La Fragua's blocking, there are often two opposing factions, one representing the followers of Christ, the other the corrupt local authorities who fear the wrath and power of Rome. The latter are the ones who decide that, "It is better to have one man die than for the whole nation to be destroyed" (TLF 1998). They are the ones who dole out bribes, not only to Judas, but also to informers and to guards who provide the cover-up for the missing body of the resurrected Christ. They are the ones who want the release of the criminal Barabbas and who demand that the Roman officials crucify Christ.

In contrast, Christ is presented as a champion of nonviolence. Throughout El Asesinato there are a number of fights or near fights, but Christ is always there as the peacemaker, the one who stops the violence. In the play he seeks followers who are committed to working for social justice. He is also a reformer who is not afraid to criticize public officials. He openly calls the lawmakers and Pharisees "hypocrites" and warns the people that these groups do not live by the words they profess. His righteous anger at the merchants in the temple is an implicit indictment of those who place wealth above human decency and social justice. When Christ turns over the table of the money lenders, the non-followers dive and scramble for the money. Jesus is the one who preaches:

[There are those] who believe that it is their right to govern their subjects tyrannically, and the big men make it a point that their authority is felt among them. But it should not be so among all of you. On the contrary the one who wants to be above all others, he should serve the rest of you. (TLF 1998)

In dramatic terms, Christ is the protagonist whose values, not those of the corrupt and hypocritical officials, are to be emulated.

La Fragua's handling of the crucifixion is both theatrically effective and thematically significant. Borrowing from Grotowski's "poor" theatre and Boal's Theatre of the Oppressed, the crucifixion shows Christ held aloft, his arms stretched out, hanging on a wooden pole, supported by the upraised arms of two other actors. As the different scenes surrounding the crucifixion unfold, La Fragua employs Boal's Joker technique as the figure on the cross is continually played by different actors--at this pivotal moment, Christ is "shared" by different performers. Notably, depending on the makeup of the company, La Fragua typically includes not only a male mestizo as Christ, but also a woman, and a black or dark-skinned Honduran. In other words, La Fragua tries to represent all types of Hondurans, with the suggestion that they are all crucified.

In the deposition from the cross, Christ's dead body is picked up by five actors who carry the corpse over their heads as they process out through the audience. A beautifully elegiac dirge accompanies the funeral procession, with the other performers filing out behind the upraised body. Whereas most U.S. Christian churches emphasize the resurrection of Easter Sunday as the center point of Holy Week, most Honduran Holy Week traditions end with the death of Christ on Good Friday. Warner theorizes that Hondurans enact events through Good Friday because they can identify with suffering, whereas they do not do much on Easter because it is much harder for them to identify with hope (2000).⁽¹⁵⁾

In contrast, while La Fragua acknowledges the pain and suffering of the Passion, their show ends with the hope of Easter. As the last mournful note of a horn fades away, three men, having shed the black and white costumes of the Passion in favor of vibrant colored shirts, come back through the audience. The sadness of the funeral gives way to robust comedy as the men argue over the details of how Christ's body was buried and how the tomb was discovered empty. As news of Christ's resurrection spreads, the show moves to its joyful close. The cast sings a buoyant traditional Latin American hymn in counterpoint to the (sung) text from the Gospel of Mark that says: "Don't be afraid. [...] He's resurrected" (TLF 1998). Though the play moves through injustice, pain, and suffering, it ends with the joy of the resurrection, bestowing a sign of hope on the community that has participated in the event.

A danger of organized religion is that it can be used to keep poor people passive, getting them to accept what is happening to them, asking them to wait for God to take action or for the rewards of an afterlife. La Fragua emphatically rejects such thinking, embracing instead Archbishop Romero's sentiment: "To pray and then wait for God to do everything: that isn't prayer, it's laziness" (TLF 2000a). Indeed, as seen in the documentary film Teatro! (Burke et al. 1989), at one of their workshops La Fragua teaches the participants the song "No basta rezar" (Prayer Is Not Enough). Likewise, one of the themes of their play The Origin of Corn is: "Only by means of work will your people eat, and not with magical strings that will yield you nothing" (Umaña 1994). For La Fragua, religion is not just about worship, sacraments, and dogma, but a way of living, of putting faith and values into action; religion, politics, social change, and self-realization are all strands of the same cloth, interwoven and inseparable.

Reclaiming Culture

While the religious-based theatre serves as a means of social awareness and self-realization, an equally important aspect of La Fragua's mission is the reclamation of Honduran culture. In "The Social Psychology of Collective Action," William Gamson argues that the "construction of a collective identity is one step in challenging cultural domination. The content must necessarily be adversarial in some way to smoke out the invisible and arbitrary elements of the dominant cultural codes" (1992:60). One of La Fragua's greatest successes on this front came when it decided to create a Honduran mythology based on the cultural heritage of the Mayans.

La Fragua's first work in this vein used British dramatist Robert Bolt's children's play The Thwarting of Baron Bolligrew (1965) as a starting point. La Fragua rewrote and adapted it to Honduran circumstances, entitling their piece Misión a la Isla Vacabeza (Mission to Vacabeza Island, 1982). The knight of Bolt's play becomes Ixbalanque, the warrior-hero of the Popol-Vuh, the Mayan scriptural book. Bolt's oppressive Baron now resembles an exploitative ruler of the Spanish colonial era. La Fragua kept the original play's dragon, but leaves it up to audiences to decide its meaning. Spectators often interpret the dragon as representing government officials, powerful landowners, or the transnational corporations who control much of Honduras's economy. Aiding this last interpretation is La Fragua's addition of a witch who gives Ixbalanque a poisoned banana. The banana does not kill Ixbalanque but rather takes away his will to fight. As long as Ixbalanque is under the influence of the charmed banana, he lacks the strength to fight the oppressors. At the pivotal moment, Ixbalanque is saved by a campesino and a magpie whom he had helped earlier. Notably, it is the campesino, not Ixbalanque, who actually kills the dragon. While Ixbalanque, the powerful outsider, can inspire the people, the play suggests the need for the common people to work together to achieve social change. The dramatic action of Misión concludes with the death of the dragon and the removal of the yoke of oppression. The Baron is exiled, and an honest and just man is put in power. While the play is set in Mayan times, its message expresses the present Honduran situation.

La Fragua seeks to create a national and cultural Honduran identity. In exploring the material for Misión: "The actors felt a sense of their own roots [and] it was an experience where all of us together felt who we were and what we were doing. We felt this is our place, we do have a heritage, we do have something to express" (Burke et al. 1987:22). In the process of rewriting Bolt's play to fit Honduran circumstances, the members experienced a pride in being Honduran.

The production of Misión a la Isla Vacabeza was a decisive moment in La Fragua's discovery of its own voice and mission. As seen in the documentary Teatro! the performance begins with the lead actor addressing the audience:

It's about our ancestors, the Mayans. They were the first inhabitants here in our land. Our blood is Mayan. The reason we're doing this play is to find the roots of our culture, the roots of our people. And by this kind of play we can begin to findthem . (Burke et al. 1988)

This preshow message concludes with the company collectively saying: "We are Teatro La Fragua, actors who travel around, but always moving forward. We bring you Honduras--her people, her songs, her tears, her problems, and a smile!" For the actors and for some members of the audience, Misión has helped create a collective identity and a sense of solidarity. All La Fragua plays end with the actors declaring in unison: "Tierra, aire, fuego, agua, nosotros somos Teatro la Fragua!" (Earth, air, fire, water, we are Teatro la Fragua!) Thus, they express not only a collective identity as a theatre company but they also identify with the four traditional elements that make the world. Since many of the actors came to the theatre company with only a rudimentary education and a limited sense of self-worth, this is a strong statement.

The success of Misión spurred an interest in finding more authentic Central American stories to tell. Over time this led La Fragua to develop Cuentos Hondureños (Honduran Stories), an ongoing project dramatizing Honduran myths, folktales, and short stories. In Cuentos, La Fragua attempts to teach Honduran youths the cultural values conveyed in indigenous materials. All the plays use Honduran speech patterns, as well as music, dance, and pantomime.⁽¹⁶⁾

El origen del maíz (The Origin of Corn, 1988) is based on a legend of the Jicaque tribe, native to the region of La Fragua's home base of El Progreso. The story tells how the god of corn, Nompuinapu'u, gave corn as a gift to humankind. Teaching the people how to cultivate the grain, the god stresses that human effort and cooperation are the keys to human progress. Tío Coyote y Tío Conejo (1992) is the Central American equivalent of Br'er Fox and Br'er Rabbit. In developing this play, La Fragua improvised around Honduran, Nicaraguan, and Costa Rican versions of the story until it crafted a specifically Honduran dialogue. The hero is a hardworking campesino who respects the land he so diligently cultivates. When he outsmarts the cunning coyote, he receives the blessing of the Bishop. Los motivos del lobo (The Wolf's Motives, 1988), based on the 1913 poem by Nicaraguan Rubén Darío, is a parable focusing on an encounter between St. Francis of Assisi and a ferocious wolf. St. Francis convinces the wolf to stop terrorizing a town, but as the wolf discovers the hypocrisy and cruelty of the people, he returns to his previous, more violent ways. As with other La Fragua works, the piece suggests the need for people to work together and to treat each other with dignity, respect, and equality. San Pedro Sula theatre critic Helen Umaña summarizes the impact and value of the Cuentos:

Each work is a little gem in which [...] we can detect a healthy dose of the linguistic richness of the Honduran campesino, with which he shows, by means of an expressive turn of phrase, the indispensable common sense with which he grasps the world. [...] Teatro La Fragua is a group of which we have to feel proud: in their sallies into the outside world, they will never allow the name of the nation to fall into disrepute. (1994).

Another important project for instilling a sense of identity is La Fragua's dramatization of history. The Honduran educational system does not teach the history and struggles of the common people. Students do not learn about the Indian chief Lempira, Francisco Morazán, the great banana strike of 1954, or the campesino organizations.⁽¹⁷⁾ The individuals and groups who fought on behalf of the common people are ignored by a system that wants to keep its people ignorant and thereby controllable. Campesina activist Elvia Alvarado states: "A real education would give the children a sense of our history and a sense of what the present struggle is about" (1987:61). During the 1980s some campesino groups in the fledgling Honduran popular theatre movement showed that theatrical treatments of history can be effective educational tools.

Since the early 1990s La Fragua has slowly developed a trilogy of Central American history plays covering the colonial period, Central American independence (1830s-1840s), and contemporary times. The trilogy consists of an adaptation of Colombian playwright Enrique Buenaventura's Réquiem Por El Padre Las Casas (Requiem for Father Las Casas, 1990; TLF 2001), La Fragua's own Alta es la Noche (Advanced is the Night, 1992), and Romero de las Américas (Romero of the Americas, 1999), a work about the life and assassination of El Salvadoran Archbishop Romero done in collaboration with U.S. playwright Carlos Morton. Warner sees these history plays as an important avenue of development: "Most people don't know their history, especially here. And the history plays, as well as the Cuentos Hondureños, have a big impact. The audience comes to recognize that the shows are about them, about their history" (2000).

Alta es la Noche is based on the novel Los Brujos de Ilamatepeque (The Sorcerers of Ilamatepeque, 1958) by Honduran Ramón Amaya Amador (1916-1966). The story focuses on the Cano brothers who were followers of Francisco Morazán (1792-1842), a Honduran who fought for the independence and unification of Central America. Cohen and Stone comment:

The play stays true to the novel's revisionist tone by presenting the authority figures as pompous and self-serving, while portraying the common folk and Morazán sympathizers as honest and generous. By focusing on the two brothers rather than on General Morazán, it inspires spectators' identification with and pride in these local heroes as it concurrently teaches them about Morazán's ideals of unity, liberty, and literacy for all Hondurans. (1995:86, 90)⁽¹⁸⁾

The Romero play, which toured the U.S. in fall 2001, touches closer to home in terms of its immediate relevancy and socio-political message. The play explores the brutal repression faced by priests and peasants who worked for social justice in El Salvador. Organizing and unionizing the campesinos were viewed as subversive communist activities. Romero is at first only passively involved in the quest for justice. He believes that the El Salvadoran legal system will rectify the injustices. However, as his fellow priests are killed and as he understands the intense poverty of the campesinos, Romero realizes that he can no longer be silent. He becomes a peaceful but forcefully vocal critic of the powers-that-be, including the president, the military, the oligarchic families who control the economy, the U.S. ambassador, and even a bishop. By killing those who try to give a voice to the voiceless, the dominant powers believe they can eliminate the opposition and maintain their economic domination. However, near the end of the play, the peasant narrator declares:

In truth, Bishop Romero is not dead. He planted many seeds of love inside the hearts of many people, and that seed has germinated. The Salvadoran public knows that he still lives, and that the clergy still follows in his footsteps, confident that their voice will not be silenced. (Morton and TLF 1999:59)

Warner believes that La Fragua's approach to the material "insists that Archbishop Romero is not a figure of the past but rather a figure who should permeate our present and inspire our future" (TLF 2000a).

The third play in the trilogy premiered in July 2001. It focuses on Bartholomé de las Casas (1474-1566), an upper-class Spaniard who initially ignored the injustices of slavery and the colonial system. A slave owner himself, las Casas gradually changed his view and became a priest who worked on behalf of the natives. Known as "Protector of Indians," las Casas repeatedly denounced the barbaric treatment of the enslaved natives and he diligently, but unsuccessfully, sought the enactment and enforcement of humanitarian laws.

While in each of the plays, the events dramatized are set in different countries and centuries, the common link is the emphasis on those who work on behalf of the poor and oppressed. In each play there is a powerfully oppressive force (a combination of government, military, and business leaders) who exploit the powerless and achieve great economic advantage at the expense of other human beings. Romero and the Cano brothers are murdered while las Casas is unsuccessful in changing the system. The story of the common people and those who advocate for them is a continuing tragedy. The sobering truth of the trilogy is the gross violation of human rights that marks 500 years of Central American history, speaking to the continuing struggle for justice.

The Changing Face of Political Theatre

Warner has been involved in theatre and politics since the 1960s. Over time his views have changed. In a 1992 interview he stated:

I'm more and more convinced that you don't convert anybody in the theatre. At least not directly by ideas. You can play to the already converted, you can hold a pep rally, but I don't think theatre is the forum that's really going to change anybody's mind. It's going to change people's feelings.

While Warner generally eschews propaganda theatre, he views La Fragua's theatre as political: "It's political in the sense of being from the point of view from which one sees the world. We're trying to create a theatre in which the point of view is precisely that of the dispossessed" (1992). In recent decades the concept of what constitutes a "political act" has expanded to include less overt gestures. Like many social scientists, Warner recognizes how culture, power, and politics are intertwined and how any attempt to reach, orient, or organize the poor is viewed by the authorities as subversive and political. Thus, Warner feels that La Fragua is political simply by giving Hondurans the opportunity to see themselves reflected on the stage, to hear their own idiom, to see their own gestures. This theatrical representation can give la gente popular a sense of self-worth because it asserts their value as human beings and as Hondurans. Furthermore, in the Honduran context, even laughter might be considered a political act: "Joy is the first rebellion against the oppressors, the wildly revolutionary act in defiance of all authority that says [the child's] life will be suffering" (TLF 1991).

The difficulties and setbacks in Central America have also contributed to Warner's altered view of political theatre. The idealism and hope of earlier eras has given way to a more pessimistic, but not defeated, attitude. Warner sums up:

In the '60s we thought we'd change things in a year, but now many of the paths of progress, of potential change have been blown up. In my own case, originally, I was more political, more externally political, but the times--socially, politically, and economically--have changed. The '70s and '80s were a period of hope, that perhaps there could be fundamental change in "the system." This has given way to disillusionment in the '90s. It's a much more apolitical climate and the living conditions for the average person have grown much worse. (1999)

While there is much corruption in Honduras, the misery of the people also has international roots. Alvarado aptly states: "It's hard to think of change taking place in Central America without there first being change in the United States" (1987:144). Warner himself says:

The transnationals have such tremendous power--more power than any previous empire. I know we won't see a truly democratic Honduras in my lifetime, and likely it will take a major stock market crash to see any fundamental change. In the meantime, perhaps the best hope is via grassroots movements, such as the protests against the World Trade Organization. Likewise, here in Honduras, one of our major goals is to try to foment a mindset where people think independently. (1999)

This bleak assessment of Honduras's situation is balanced by some small but positive steps. Most of La Fragua's efforts are now geared towards children and long-term development. The emphasis on giving people pride in being Honduran and trying to foster self-confidence are laying the groundwork for a deep social transformation. La Fragua's plan of cultural development intersects with politics at an oblique angle. In the current social circumstances La Fragua might most significantly influence the popular movement by giving more people the skills to be leaders. As La Fragua continues to emphasize cultural and religious values as opposed to overt political views, they seem to be successful in fostering "the development of new personal and group self-images and their crystallization in enduring forms of associational life" (Levine 1992:320). While La Fragua can help create collective identity, solidarity, consciousness raising, and micromobilization, the process of translating empowerment into power is an extremely difficult task that can only occur over an extended period of time.

Within the social-political-economic matrix of Honduras, La Fragua is not going to overthrow the system or radically alter the landscape of material poverty. Rather, they are a theatre that uses a variety of means to raise the country's cultural standard of living. In the process they are on their way to achieving their goal of spurring pride in being Honduran. They have performed and/or conducted workshops in Mexico, Cuba, Belize, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Guatemala, El Salvador, Colombia, Spain, and the United States. They have been the subject of an award-winning documentary film, Teatro!: Theatre and the Spirit of Change in Honduras (1989), which has aired in numerous countries and in at least six languages.⁽¹⁹⁾ At the invitation and sponsorship of the International Latino Cultural Center of Chicago, La Fragua performed at the fall 2001 Chicago Latino Film Festival.⁽²⁰⁾ Jack Warner and La Fragua have helped put Honduras on the cultural map. In their adoption of the Catholic Church's "preferential option for the poor" they have used popular theatre techniques to break through the very bleak living conditions in Honduras to provide some measure of hope and happiness.

References

Warner, Jack
1992 -- Interview with author. El Progreso, Honduras, 23 June.
1999 -- Interview with author. El Progreso, Honduras, 19 December.
2000a -- Interview with author. El Progreso, Honduras, 19 April.
2001 -- Email to the author, 30 July.

Notes