The Ghosts of Fort Gulick: Unpacking the Legacy of the School of the Americas

The recent selection of “School of the Americas” for the Co-Production and Financing Forum at Madrid-based confab Iberseries & Platino Industria is a sobering reminder of the long shadow cast by one of the darkest chapters in modern Latin American history. The project, set to star Daniela Vega and Alfredo Castro, promises to explore the world of counterinsurgency doctrine taught at the infamous U.S. Army School of the Americas.

The school, located in the Panama Canal Zone, was a breeding ground for violence, where officers from across Latin America were trained in a toxic blend of militarism and repression. For half a century, its curriculum had disastrous consequences for the people of the region, including the 1983 El Jazmín massacre. This event serves as the catalyst for the story.

Abner Benaim’s involvement in the project is no surprise, given his background in exploring complex relationships between politics and power in Panama. His experience with films like “Plaza Catedral” and “Invasion” has equipped him to tackle this subject matter with nuance and sensitivity. Oscar Godoy brings a distinct perspective as a Panamanian-American human rights investigator who has worked closely with Larraín on several projects.

The producers, Seedling Media Productions and La Panda Productions, have ambitious plans for “School of the Americas.” They must now secure financing and navigate the complex web of international co-productions. Principal photography is slated to begin in 2028.

Guillermo Escalona’s quote about the project raises an important question: what does it mean to teach violence? Is it simply a matter of providing a curriculum for repressive regimes, or is there something more insidious at play? The School of the Americas was not just a place where officers learned how to suppress dissent; it was a cultural export that normalized militarism and authoritarianism throughout Latin America.

The producers emphasize the disturbing ease with which violence can be institutionalized. This theme resonates deeply in today’s world, where xenophobia, nationalism, and militarism are on the rise. What does it say about our society when we’re more concerned with perpetuating a culture of fear than confronting the dark legacies of our past?

As “School of the Americas” begins to take shape, it’s clear that this is not just a story about monsters – it’s about the men who became somebody’s father. It’s about the complex web of relationships between politics, power, and violence. And it’s about the need for accountability and reparations in the face of historical trauma.

The success of “School of the Americas” will depend on its ability to balance sensitivity with nuance, complexity with clarity. Can it convey the horrors of the School without resorting to easy villains or simplistic solutions? Can it explore the tangled web of power and responsibility that led to the El Jazmín massacre without trivializing the victims’ experiences?

Abner Benaim’s words – “Violence isn’t born. It’s taught” – serve as a reminder of our own complicity in perpetuating a culture of violence. Let us hope that “School of the Americas” will teach us something about this complicity and inspire us to do better in the years ahead.

The real question now is not just what this project means for the Panamanian film industry, but what it says about our collective capacity for empathy and understanding. Can we confront the ghosts of Fort Gulick without flinching? Or will we continue to ignore the dark legacy that haunts us still?