40 years after the Dirty War, Argentina still struggles

On the night of 24th March 1976, a coup led by the Chiefs of the Armed Forces (Army, Navy, and Aviation) deposed Isabel Perón’s Government and started the self-proclaimed “Process of National Reorganization” (PRN), with the official aim of pacifying the country and revitalizing the drained economy.

7 years later, pressed by the demands of the civil society for free and democratic elections, and weakened by the defeat in the Falklands war, the army returned to the barracks; the economy they left behind was still in a dire situation, and the state, far from being pacified, had to deal with the aftermath of the widespread and systemic human rights violation perpetrated by the regime. The PRN became quickly and sadly known as the “Dirty War”.

The country was socially devastated: almost one generation had gone missing.

Between 9,000 (according to the National Commission on the Disappearance of Persons (CONADEP) report) and 30,000 (based on the estimations by other human rights organizations) people were killed or forcibly disappeared, and the fate of many of them still remains undisclosed. More than 300 illegal detention centres were instituted, and many mass burials dug under the regime.

As Ernesto Sabato, writer and President of CONADEP, described it: “The Dirty War — the most savage tragedy in the history of Argentina”.

How could something like this happen?

The legacy of the Dirty War is still an open wound in the consciences of the Argentinians; however, back in the ‘70s, many looked quite favourably at the intervention of the military. White collars, fiscal conservatives, early neo-liberalists, anti-communists, high ranks of the Catholic Church, and circles close to the American administration heaved a sigh of relief when Isabel Perón was overthrown. During the three previous years, the situation had degenerated almost to the point of a civil war: daily social unrest, the consequence of a disastrous economic policy, increased pre-existing political polarization between workers and unions on one side and entrepreneurs and their associates on the other.

Not even Juan Domingo Perón, returned after 18 years in exile and soon re-elected President, managed to reduce the political divide; as a matter of fact, he eventually exacerbated the ideological conflict already existing inside his Justicialist Party (PJ). As a consequence, many of his left-wing followers deserted the PJ and joined more radical organizations, some of them, like the Montoneros and ERP, not opposed to resorting to violence.

The warning signs of a shift in his politics were already there on the very day he landed in Argentina on 20 June 1973. More than three million Perónists, belonging to both the right and left factions, were waiting at the Ezeiza airport for his arrival; when the crowd was still gathering, some most reactionary militants started firing to the left-wing activists of the Perónist Youth. The attack, known as the Ezeiza’s massacre, left approximately 13 dead and more than 300 wounded: the numbers were never clarified, as no inquiry was ever opened to investigate the incident.

Just a few weeks later, on 2 August 1973, Perón alienated the left-oriented, young Perónists by publicly criticizing them in a speech to his governors. Eventually, with the support of Jose Lopez Rega, his private secretary and ardent anti-communist, Perón initiated a targeted armed campaign against his leftist opponents. Elected president for the third time in September ’73, with his wife Isabel as vice-president, he remained in charge until his death, in July 1974.

Isabel Perón, now President ad interim, delegated even more power into Lopez Rega’s hands. He intensified the activities of the Triple-A (Anti-Communist Argentinian Alliance), a paramilitary organization that was later found guilty of more than 1.2000 attacks against political dissidents. In a vicious circle, Montoneros and EPR increased their attacks, in a spiral of violence that Isabel appeared unable to stop. Simultaneously, the economic situation degenerated, reaching, in the early months of ’76, more than 400 percent inflation with the import/export balance exceeding one billion dollar debt.

Under these circumstances, a large part of the society saw the military intervention as a way to appease the country. After democracy was reinstated, it became clear not only that this regime had been the cruelest ever experienced by the Argentinians, but also that the prolonged involvement of the military in politics had enabled them to continue interfering with the public administration long after having left the government. It took the army only two years to stop, at least temporarily, the trials against them.

The trials of the Juntas

Raúl Alfonsín, the first democratic president after the Juntas, started dealing with the legacy of the regime in a prompt and effective way. Less than two weeks after his election in 1983, he ordered the creation of CONADEP, aimed at discovering as much information as possible about the human rights violations. Once the Commission had finished its investigation, unveiling the magnitude of the crimes perpetrated, he vehemently supported the initiation of the trials against the military in 1985.

After almost 300 cases and more than 800 witnesses were heard, the most prominent members of the Juntas were found guilty. The harshest sentences were inflicted to Jorge Videla and Emilio Massera, condemned to life in prison, while Roberto Viola got seventeen years, Armando Lambruschini eight, and Orlando Agosti four and a half. It seemed back then that the course of justice would be smooth, but the military still held considerable power, which they did not hesitate to use.

Threatening another coup, the army forced Congress into promulgating, in 1986, the Full Stop Law. By giving a deadline of 30 days to present cases in court, the legislation deeply jeopardized the prosecution of the military, making it de facto impossible for the victims to be heard. The law triggered widespread and passionate protests from the population that manifested for several days in Plaza de Mayo, to no avail. Just one year later, following another uprising of the military, the Government passed the Due Obedience Law, which stated that all subordinates, unless differently proved, were to be considered innocent of the crimes as they were merely “obeying the orders”.

This was the final straw for the civil society and, together with an economy at the mercy of rampant hyperinflation, marked the end of Alfonsín’s presidency. The Justicialist Saul Menem had an easy game in winning the next elections.

Even though himself a victim of the regime — he had been held prisoner from 1976 to 1981 — Menem continued on the path carved by his predecessor. In 1991, he granted a general pardon to all those jailed after the ’85 trials. For more than one decade, there were no more legal proceedings against the military.

Nestor and Cristina Kirchner: the reopening of the trials

Nestor Kirchner became president in May 2003, after the tumultuous years of the default, and promptly took action to reopen the trials. He pressured the Congress into abrogating the Full Stop and Due Obedience Laws, later ruled unconstitutional by the Supreme Court, and revoked the pardons granted by Menem. His wife Cristina Kirchner continued with the same policies, and, according to the statistics released by the Centre for Legal and Social Studies (CELS), as of August 2014, 121 trials had been conducted for crimes against humanity, resulting in 503 convictions, while 1,611 suspects were under investigation. As of March 2016, 119 “nephews” (children born to disappeared parents) have been either reunited with their families or officially pronounced dead. Based on the data provided by the CONADEP and the Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo — the association of grandmothers looking for their nephews — more than 400 children are still missing.

In addition to their support to the judicial proceedings, both Nestor and Cristina Kirchner performed many symbolic acts, among others, renaming the 24th of March as the National Day of Memory, Truth and Justice and converting the ESMA (the military academy used by the Juntas as illegal detention centre) into a museum. However, their presidencies have not been immune from criticism: many critics saw in Nestor Kirchner’s openness to the demands of the human rights movements only a strategic decision, aimed at co-opting their political support. Even more controversial has been the appointment of Cesar Milani as Army Chief of Staff, though he had been officially reported for the disappearance of a soldier, Alberto Ledo, during Cristina Kirchner’s government. He eventually retired in 2015, but his career advancement threw a shadow on the overall credibility of the Presidency.

The cruelty of the dictatorship, Alfonsín’s broken promises for justice, Menem’s pardons, and the not always transparent policies of Nestor and Cristina Kirchner have made the Argentinians very vigilant and extremely aware of the frailty of their pursuit of justice.

The last one to be put under the spotlight has been, obviously, the newly elected Mauricio Macri.

The variable Macri

Right after being sworn in as president on 10 December 2015, Macri reiterated his full commitment to support the judicial system in its proceedings with the trials.

However, some of his declarations during the campaign had already made human right organizations suspicious of his real dedication to the cause of the victims: during one of his speeches, he stated, for instance, that Cristina Kirchner’s push for the trials seemed to be motivated more by revenge rather than interest for justice. Although not immaculate in their presidencies, the Kirchners are still highly regarded by the civil society when it comes to human rights, and after Macri’s statement, the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo called for a public demonstration against him. The district attorney of Buenos Aires replied by reporting Hebe de Bonafini, leader of the Mothers, for “instigating” a rebellion. The case will be discussed in court, and it is unlikely that Mrs De Bonafini will have to spend the customary three years in jail, but the episode deteriorated public relations with the President even before he officially occupied the Casa Rosada.

After taking over the role of President, Macri also delayed the conventional meeting with the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo, Grandmothers de Plaza de Mayo, families of prisoners and those disappeared for political reasons, and HIJOS (children whose parents were killed or disappeared during the dictatorship), claiming the reason of a busy schedule. The meeting finally took place in February.

Nevertheless, in the meantime Claudio Avruj, Secretary for Human Rights, had received representatives of  the Centre for Legal Studies on Terrorism and its Victims (CELTYV), an organization pressuring for bringing former ERP members and Montoneros to trial. This seemed to send a clear signal that the current government would make some changes compared with the previous ones, and possibly shift its focus in terms of responsibility in the Dirty War. On the other hand, when an anonymous columnist in the conservative newspaper La Nación published a petition to the President to stop the trials to start a national reconciliation process based on coming to terms with the past, Macri clearly distanced himself from such idea. At the same time, when his Minister for Culture, Dario Loperfido, argued: “there have not been 30,000 disappeared in Argentina. The number was decided in a locked room to get monetary compensation”, once again the President reacted promptly: in his reply he stressed the irrelevancy of the numbers and that his focus would be on making sure that Argentina will never experience another similar tragedy. This declaration is nevertheless ambivalent: for some, the lack of a strong statement in support of the most accredited number of 30,000 victims and of any mentions of his intentions concerning the trials might actually be a sign that his presidency will not plan on continuing with the trials.

Also, his nominations seem to have been duplicitous. If he has been applauded by the civil society for his choice to appoint as Chiefs of the Army two soldiers, Diego Suner and Marcelo Spur, both too young to have been affiliated with the Junta, other names appearing in the organization chart of his government raised some concerns. Juan José Centurión, General Director of the Argentinian Customs, participated in the rebellion of 1987, which led to the promulgation of the Due Obedience Law. Osvaldo Tosco, a member of the Ministry of Defence, was deployed in 1976 in Mar del Plata, and he is suspected to have participated, either directly or in his capacity as military trainer, in the repression. Hugo Pierri and Antonio Serangeli, both now part of the government, even though never officially implicated in any crime, are still considered by the public as possibly accountable for some of the atrocities of the Juntas.

It is unlikely that any Argentinian president will ever block the trials again; the military is not powerful enough anymore to represent a credible threat to the Government.

Society has evolved and despite a convoluted transition to democracy, the concept of respect for human rights is now universally accepted. The civil organizations are structured, attentive, and not afraid to raise their concerns, and some of them, like Mothers and Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo, represent a valuable political asset for a president. This does not mean that the trials will be able to continue without support from the Casa Rosada. As indicated by CELS, in 2015 the number of trials started decreasing, and there are indications that the judges started showing some reticence, especially when prosecuting former colleagues or previous associates.

If Macri, like some fear, really intends to ostracize the trials — according to his detractors due to the still unclear relations of his family with the military during the regime — his best option would be to do nothing and let bureaucracy and time (many of the accused are over 80 years old) do their course.

This would be devastating for a country that has been struggling for justice for now more than 30 years, after suffering one of the most horrific dictatorships in Latin America. Even worse, it would nullify any hope for a real national reconciliation, which only justice could bring, and would finally leave Argentina’s wounds forever open.

Photo: Mauricio Macri/Creative Commons