Neruda's "The Dictators" is a response to the real dictatorships and authoritarian regimes that he witnessed, and was affected by, during his lifetime. These ranged from Augusto Pinochet's rule in Neruda's native Chile to Francisco Franco's rule over Spain—both of which were, in a sense, descended from earlier fascist regimes in countries like Germany and Italy. Neruda firmly believed that poetry could be a tool in fighting these oppressive governments, or at least in honoring the narratives of those who could not speak for themselves because they had been killed or suppressed by fascism. Yet "The Dictators" is also fascinatingly oblique. While Neruda makes it clear that the dictators are villains, he keeps the poem's setting vague, shrouding historical references in figurative language. In this sense, the poem resembles much literature written under oppressive dictatorships. Writers facing censorship and suppression have often resorted to allegory, veiled critiques, and fantastical settings in order to speak freely without gaining unwanted attention, creating strange new styles out of necessity.
The relationship between artistic expression and government suppression goes back far longer than the twentieth century: the absolute monarchies of Early Modern Europe fought, with some success, to control political speech in the theater. A "Master of Revels" within England's government was responsible for reviewing and censoring plays. This role could range from mild editing to complete suppression. In 1597, the Elizabethan monarchy went so far as to close down London's theaters for months on end in response to Thomas Nash's play "Isle of Dogs," which was deemed "seditious," and on several occasions playwrights and even actors were imprisoned as punishment for poking fun at or critiquing the current monarch. This meant that playwrights who wished to counter political orthodoxy were forced to do so subtly: Christopher Marlowe in particular was known to squeeze critiques of political and religious orthodoxy into his plays. Even Shakespeare frequently took creative measures in order to discuss the issues of his day without drawing the ire of the monarchy. He depicted unstable, dangerous absolute monarchs through the lens of historical fiction or by setting his plays in faraway places. Even so, he faced censorship: the Master of Revels advised him to cut scenes of rioting and rebellion from his play Sir Thomas More.
The censorship policies of fascist Italy were somewhat more lenient, and less consistent, when it came to literature as opposed to journalism or film. As a result, even while Italy's own writers found it difficult to publish criticism of the dictatorship, translations of foreign works unexpectedly flourished. While this prompted concern from some hard-line nationalists—and while the distribution of translated works did face more obstacles in the later years of the fascist regime—it meant that many Italian citizens had access to the works of writers like Hemingway, himself a fierce and explicit critic of fascism. Meanwhile, genres associated with frivolity and domesticity were given little attention by censors. As a result, some critics have argued that children's literature was a site of veiled political critique, even while purporting to endorse nationalism and militarism. In Nazi Germany, where state control of cultural life was near-total, creative critique had to retreat into even more unexpected places. Some historical evidence suggests that Germans living under fascism critiqued their country's government, not in written narrative, but in dreams: the recorded dreams of these fascist subjects betray fears of Naziism that could not be widely expressed in public.
As fascist governments rose to power in Italy and Germany, they also came to rule Spain. Francisco Franco's government came to power in the late 1930s when Neruda himself happened to be living in Spain. When Franco took over the country, many Spanish writers and artists fled, especially to France. As a result, much of the best-known twentieth-century work made by Spanish artists was produced outside of Spain. Those who were unable to leave faced brutal consequences. These included Neruda's close friend Federico Garcia Lorca, who was executed by the fascist regime in part because his poetry was considered politically explosive. Others, such as Camilo José Cela and Ana Maria Matute, used elaborate metaphorical setups to share politically dissident speech without being subjected to government censorship, even while trying to ensure that their readers could make sense of the meaning behind their figurative language. This metaphor-heavy technique is one that Neruda himself appears to embrace in "The Dictators," perhaps as a reference to the Spanish literary circles he had once inhabited and continued to support.
These are far from the only historical instances in which government censorship has led to both self-censorship and creative ingenuity. In Stalin's Soviet Union, satires like Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita poked fun at national politics—though Stalin's regime also ensured that parts of Bulgakov's work were cut before the book could be distributed within the country. Meanwhile, McCarthyist politicians in the United States denounced avant-garde art movements, especially those with European roots, as communist. Hollywood, in particular, became a favorite target of McCarthyist politicians, resulting in the "blacklisting" of hundreds of screenwriters, actors, and directors. These various instances of art and literature in repressive regimes reveal interesting juxtapositions. It is often fantastical, experimental art that governments view with the greatest suspicion. At the same time, these forms offer safety to artists who cannot safely express their views in realist narrative.
