The Columbus Memorial Library and the Art Museum of the Americas

John Barrett, Director General of the Pan American Union, wrote in 1911 that one of the most useful divisions of the Pan American Union is the Columbus Memorial Library; that it deserves the special interest and cooperation of all governments, so as to make of it the most complete and useful collection of its kind in the world; but that its size does not yet earn it the standing it deserves, chiefly for want of funds to buy books and for want of help from a number of governments.

Ambassadors, this building arose with a twofold purpose. The architects who competed to design it were instructed to follow the mandate of the Rio de Janeiro Conference of 1906: to build a permanent center of information and of exchange of ideas among the republics of the continent, as well as a building able to house a library in honor of Christopher Columbus.

For those who may not know it, the Columbus Library originally occupied the first floor of the north wing of this building, that is, the delegates' lounge and the Protocol offices, and extended up to the second floor as far as what is today the Guerrero Room.

Beneath this Hall of the Americas, what is today the Simón Bolívar Room was the reading room. The San Martín Room was a private space for those doing research on the history, geography, sociology and economics of the Americas.

Now allow me to tell you a personal story, and what we have done from our mission.

When I arrived at this Organization a little more than three years ago, one of the first things that caught my attention was the idea of visiting the Columbus Library. It came from personal inclinations that go back to my upbringing. In my home there was never a shortage of books, since both my parents are academics with a passion for knowledge. In fact, if you ask my mother, Doña Mayra, she will tell you a thing or two about books, how they are organized, the dust, and the room they take up. The truth is that she has always been right. But that is another conversation, one that Dad and I would rather not have just now.

So it was not long before we arranged a meeting with the director of the Library at the time, Mr. René Gutiérrez.

I went in through the underground tunnel that connects the buildings.

It was the same day I took in, fully and for the first time, the “secret” mural by Carlos Páez Vilaró.

Walking those 160 meters of art, culture and creative inspiration was not enough to stir in me much anticipation of what I would find behind those doors. My expectations were low. One more library, in a dark and forgotten basement.

Moments later I walked into an enormous hall and was carried back to the library in the house of my paternal grandparents, and to my father's, in our home in Santo Domingo.

Closed rooms, with little light, with dampness, with that unmistakable smell of old paper, where not just anyone was allowed in and every piece was jealously looked after. With great delicacy, Mr. Gutiérrez showed me the valuable collection of archives and historical documents so carefully preserved in the vault.

The director walked with me for hours, literally, showing me his office and the enormous shelves that surrounded him, and explaining the classification system by which each document or file could be found. He also told me why the library was located back there, and where it had been before, as I told you at the outset.

I remember him repeating insistently that he was about to retire and that within a few months there would be no staff to do his work. His words of a few minutes earlier, full of pride and passion as he showed me the work of decades, turned at moments into a plea, an entreaty that one of us ambassadors might take pity on the library. I felt his sorrow.

That day I borrowed the book from which I took the passage with which I began. Its title is “The Pan American Union: Peace, Friendship, Commerce.” My first interest was to understand the history behind this architectural jewel where we work every day; to understand what inspired its conception and its later construction.

The fact is that from the day I arrived I wanted to understand this Organization “granularly,” and so I began by understanding this building. With no one who could explain it to me the way I wanted to understand it, I turned to the book. I think I made a good deal of progress, perhaps bordering on the obsessive. I do not regret it. In fact, Mr. Secretary General, I warn you that my next adventure is to see the roof, which is the only thing the book does not describe. I am counting on you.

I read about what inspired each space in the building, and I grasped the noble spirit that moved the architects at the beginning of this great undertaking: peace, encounter, conversation and understanding.

I learned why the friezes on the façade of this building feature Bolívar and San Martín at the Guayaquil meeting, and George Washington as commander in chief of the Continental Army. And why the Condor and the Eagle are to be found in every corner.

I saw the similarities between the ornaments at the entrance and that colorful jewel of Mexico City, the Capilla del Pocito at the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

I entertained myself learning the origin of the materials used in the construction, the white marble with blue veins from Georgia that clads the entire building and its neighbors here on 17th Street.

The black marble columns in the vestibule captivated me once I learned that two Guatemalan volcanoes were hidden there in bas-relief.

The Dominican mahogany and Spanish leather of the furniture, and the ultra-baroque bronze friezes telling the story of the New World, by the New York sculptor Sally James Farnham, in the Miranda Room, formerly the Governing Board room of the Union, leave any observer open-mouthed.

The pink marble of the fountain in the central patio, created by Gertrude Vanderbilt, and the floor tiles laid out with figures that recall rooms in the palace at Palenque and the altar at Copán.

The Tennessee and Knoxville marble of the stairways that lead us up to the Hall of Heroes, which was inspired by the chapel of Alexander VII in Westminster Abbey in London.

The roof tiles over the central patio that recall the City Hall of Barcelona… and so on…

I could go on for a long while, but I will not tire you.

Let this serve only as an invitation to pause and appreciate the symbolic richness of what surrounds us. So that we may think of the sacrifice, the noble purposes and the great deal that came before us. We are already part of that historical whole.

Now consider this: all that I have told you is barely one chapter of 30 pages in Barrett's 254-page book of 1911.

Imagine, then, the wealth of history in the records of the Permanent Council that rest in the library.

That is why, before progressive physical deterioration destroys that hemispheric heritage, our country began in 2022 a process of digitizing the historical archive of the Permanent Council; I mean all the minutes of every one of its meetings since 1948, along with some Meetings of Consultation of Ministers of Foreign Affairs and part of the collection of Rare Books relating to our country.

In 15 months, our office has systematically digitized the verbatim minutes, with the transcripts of more than 700 meetings of this Permanent Council. That is already more than 40,000 leaves. Likewise, dozens of historical books totaling more than 10,000 pages. Over the last 300 days we have digitized, on average, 150 pages a day.

It could not wait; we ran the risk of losing that history forever as dampness and other potential threats gain ground. We are certain that it will be an essential source of reference, study and inspiration for many. It is the democratization of access to history, to precedent. It will be more than instructive to learn who raised our countries' positions at each moment, and how; but it will also help toward a better study of the Organization. I have shared with some of you protocolary and historic meetings with our Presidents and Prime Ministers, and crucial events. With enthusiasm and interest we seek to encourage you, so that together we may build a collective process of rescuing and maintaining the library. The Dominican Republic makes this modest contribution in that spirit.

Finally, dear colleagues, I thank James Lambert, Adriana Ospina and Rocío Suárez, and the ambassadors who are part of the Group of Friends of the Library and have become directly involved in supporting and promoting initiatives to preserve the historical legacy and also to create new opportunities.

The Columbus Library and the Art Museum of the Americas are perhaps the only places where we listen and do not speak. Where we are spectators, where we appreciate and absorb. Where we seem to recover the ability to see the shades of gray. They are meeting points; it is plain that there we are always able to put what unites us ahead of what divides us.

There we do not dig trenches; we gather around works of art or books to enjoy the points of view of others, for the simple pleasure of sharing and of looking after one another.

We take this occasion to invite your delegations to the ceremony we have scheduled in the framework of the General Assembly, on June 21 at 4:00 p.m., in the Columbus Library, where we will formally hand over all the files to the Library, to the Member States and to the general public.

Thank you very much.