The changes sweeping across political discourse right now are hard to pin down. Some say it’s climate shifts, others argue it’s the clock set back or forward by daylight saving, or the arrival of spring. A virus circulating through the offices of strategy planners on the far right could also be in the mix. Yet none of those explanations fully capture what many observers are witnessing. If the left used to revive memories of Franco around election time, the current moment sees the Popular Party offering a similar line that could mobilize their opponents. Political scientists, polling gurus, and historians—those with deep expertise and seasoned opinions—will surely differ about whether the memory of the dictatorship still drives votes or conscience in contemporary politics.
But the speaker here refuses to accept that a nation, overnight, will swallow the humiliation and the defiance that memory laws represent. These laws, approved in Aragón, Castilla y León, and the Valencian Community, come with a cynical appeal to national unity that rings hollow to critics. Across Europe, many may shake their heads at what seems to be a reconfiguration of memory and identity. The pairing of the PP with Vox, built to gain territorial power, does not seem to domesticate the fervent green-flag patriots; if anything, it might have roughened the rhetoric of a party that once aimed for the center. Given the current landscape, and the concern that old wounds not properly treated can fester into something worse, a timely recommendation emerges. Paco Roca, in collaboration with journalist Rodrigo Terrasa, has released the graphic novel El abismo del olvido. For readers who doubt that comics can move public feeling, this work is a convincing proof otherwise. After reading, anyone who doubts that art can awaken memory should call the reader to reflect. Two lines from a couple of panels stand out clearly: The forgetfulness is the abyss that separates life from death. Remembering brings back the ones who are no longer here. These ideas are not difficult to grasp.
The overall mood of the piece is not merely about the past; it’s a prompt to consider how societies guard or neglect their democratic memory. The critic’s point is simple: when a political culture shortcuts memory, it risks losing sight of the human costs baked into every policy choice. The author’s argument echoes a broader concern—that conjuring memories of past injustices is not about scoring political points, but about preserving a shared accountability that keeps the present from wandering into repetition. The work serves as a public reminder that history’s lessons are not optional decorations for national storytelling; they are vital guardrails for democracy.
In this light, readers can see how art and journalism intersect to challenge denial and to encourage a careful, informed public conversation. The message carried by the cited graphic novel is that the act of remembering is itself a form of civic responsibility. A society that treats memory with care tends to make better decisions about its future. The call to remember is not a call to wallow in the past but a summons to learn from it, to honor those who lived through the difficult times, and to ensure that future generations inherit a clearer sense of what was endured and what was achieved through shared effort.
For those seeking a succinct takeaway, the work argues that forgetting is a riskier path than it first appears. The abyss between life and the memory of those who are gone grows wider when communities choose oblivion over accountability. The opposite stance—remembering with honesty—helps prevent defeatist or extremist currents from gaining unnecessary traction. In short order, this perspective invites readers to examine how current political alliances and rhetorical strategies may influence public perception of the past and present. It invites a renewed commitment to democratic memory as a living practice rather than a historical ornament.
Ultimately, the message remains clear: memory is not a passive record; it is an active instrument that shapes how a society judges its own actions and its neighbors. The graphic novel’s collaboration demonstrates that storytelling can illuminate difficult truths in a way that dense policy debates sometimes cannot. By placing memory at the center of public discourse, readers are invited to consider the implications of political choices on the fabric of communal life. The emphasis is on accountability, on honoring those who suffered, and on ensuring that the lessons of history inform today’s decisions rather than being buried beneath political expediency.
In this sense, the narrative serves as a challenge to readers to look beyond partisan convenience and to engage with the past as a living tutor. The work itself becomes a practical guide for those who wish to resist the drift toward amnesia and to advocate for a more transparent, truthful, and inclusive political culture. The author’s stance is not a call for nostalgia but a demand for vigilance against the erasure of democratic memory. This, in turn, reinforces the idea that a truly resilient democracy rests on a shared commitment to remembering well and acting wisely in the present.