Madeleine Davis. Hispanic Research Journal. Volume 5, Issue 3, 2004.
The thirtieth anniversary of the coup that ousted Allende and ushered in seven teen years of dictatorship was commemorated in 2003 in Chile by an official ceremony heavy with symbolism. Declaring the anniversary ‘a day for memory’, President Lagos (the first Socialist president since Allende) walked alone out of the presidential palace La Moneda to re-enter it by the side door, now newly reconstructed, through which Allende’s corpse was carried and which was walled up by the military after the coup. Floral tributes garlanded the statue of Allende outside the palace, Radio Cooperativa replayed news bulletins from the day of the coup, and thousands of Chileans took to the streets to demonstrate their rejection of the dictatorship and their recognition of the sacrifice of Allende. Not all Chileans chose to remember the coup in this spirit, however. Army officers and supporters of Pinochet gathered to commemorate the sacrifice not of Allende but of the military, echoing Pinochet’s own unrepentant reiteration of the ‘soldierly sacrifice’ he sees himself as having made for Chile.
Chileans have not been alone in commemorating the coup. Reflections on the continuing significance of the events of 11 September 1973 were offered by commentators around the world, several major national newspapers devoting whole pages to the issue. Three factors explain this remarkable level of international interest in the political affairs of Chile, otherwise a relatively minor player on the world stage. One reflects the longstanding external impact the coup had already acquired (indeed, almost immediately) by virtue of its power as a symbol of the precariousness of democracy and the brutality of military takeover. A second is the added symbolism acquired since that other ‘September 11’ of 2001. Chile’s September 11 has become a powerful reference point for those who oppose preemptive US action in the political affairs of other states, not only because of the role covertly played by the US in Allende’s overthrow, but also because the first act of international terrorism on US soil—the 1976 murders of former Chilean ambassador Orlando Letelier and Ronni Moffitt in Washington—was committed by Pinochet’s agents with the connivance of the US authorities. A third factor is the legal case, still formally ongoing, to put Pinochet himself on trial for human rights crimes, begun in Spain and continued in Chile. This short article reviews that case as a powerful catalyst for changes—political, legal and cultural—within Chile, changes that in their tum must irrevocably alter perceptions and memories of the coup and the dictatorship, both within and outside Chile.
The Pinochet Legacy
There could not have been a more powerful catalyst than the arrest and detention of Pinochet in October 1998 to bring Chile’s painful past once more to the fore front of national and international debate. That the arrest occurred in London rather than Chile, and on the orders of a Spanish rather than a Chilean judge was a bittersweet reminder for many Chileans of the limitations of their own constitutional and legal order, most of these a direct legacy of the Pinochet era. Before relinquishing power in 1990, following the 1988 plebiscite in which 55 per cent of Chileans voted ‘No’ to his continuation in office, Pinochet passed a series of measures designed to constrain his successors and guarantee military impunity. These ‘amarres’, many enshrined in the 1980 constitution, included packing the Supreme Court and Constitutional Tribunal, a binominal electoral system that over-represented the right-wing in Congress, and reservation of the right to appoint nine ‘designated senators’ (of 48) in the upper house. An amnesty law covering all criminal acts committed by uniformed agents from 1973-78 (the period of severest repression) ensured impunity for Pinochet and his subordinates. Although a few high profile prosecutions of individuals for crimes not covered by the amnesty law did take place, the vast majority of the thousands of suits filed with the courts (including a number naming Pinochet himself) were thrown out or halted by application of the amnesty law.
In these circumstances, diplomatically motivated claims that Chile was capable of trying Pinochet in her own courts if she chose, made by the Chilean government to Britain and Spain in the aftermath of the arrest, were scarcely credible. The legacy of Pinochet was evident not only in a judiciary reluctant to cast off habits of subservience and dependence fostered during dictatorship (Bravo-Lopez 2003: 107-11), and in political institutions tied to the interests of the ex-dictator, but also more widely in Chilean political culture. Commentators pointed to a ‘muted’ quality in Chilean public life, a lack of social trust, and an elitist and technical approach to political problems (Wilde 1999: 476). Pinochet’s own prestige remained high amongst a significant proportion of the Chilean public, particularly business sectors that continued to benefit from his economic legacy. Officially sponsored attempts to deal with the traumatic memory of polarization and brutal repression had reaped only partial success. The 1991 report of Chile’s National Commission of Truth and Reconciliation documented the disappearances and deaths of 3197 named individuals, but having a remit of truth rather than justice, the commission had no power to blame or pursue the perpetrators. With the military (until 1988 still under Pinochet’s command) remaining unrepentant and protected by the constitution and the amnesty law, reconciliation remained more a goal than a reality.
Notwithstanding the grip pinochetismo still exerted on Chilean public life, by the time of his arrest subtle and gradual changes were occurring to loosen it. The experience of successive elections had entrenched the democratic process and normalized political life. Despite occasional displays of menace, the military showed little real inclination to retake political power and was gradually, through retirements and incremental reforms, becoming professionalized. Not the least significant change was the emergence of a political right committed to democratic principles. At the time of Pinochet’s arrest Chile was in the midst of a presidential election campaign, in which for the first time since the restitution of civilian rule the right was able to present a credible candidate in Joaquin Lavin. Lavin (though not the eventual victor—Lagos won narrowly in a second round) based his campaign not on continuity with the past, but on the need for change, down playing his party connections to the historically Pinochetist UDI (Union Democrata Independiente). Lavin generally avoided talking about Pinochet’s detention, and subsequent analyses have shown that the issue was marginal in terms of its effects upon the campaign and its outcome (Angell 2003: 80-81). As for the idea, widely (and ironically, though of course this was not deliberate) touted in the international press by those who opposed Pinochet’s arrest, that the case would jeopardize the stability of Chilean democracy, this proved quite unfounded. Opinion polls carried out in November 1998 showed that most Chileans viewed the arrest with detachment, 71 per cent feeling it had no effect upon them or their families, and 66 per cent denying that it placed democracy in danger (Angell 2003: 81). The question of whether his detention was a good or bad thing revealed more polarized opinion, with 44 per cent viewing it as good and 45 per cent bad, although 63 per cent considered Pinochet guilty of the crimes imputed to him, and (in a separate poll) 57 per cent were in favour of a trial if he were to be returned to Chile (Davis 2000: 19). Such data might be taken to imply that while a majority of Chileans favoured a more active pursuit of justice, the Pinochet case was not a critical issue for most personally.
There were already signs that a more active pursuit of justice might be in prospect. By 1997 some 200 cases relating to disappearances were before the courts, and individual judges had begun .to pursue them with notably greater vigour. Pressures to reform the Supreme Court to increase its independence began to bear fruit from around 1996, with several Pinochet appointees being retired and membership increased to make way for new blood. Crucially, new interpretations of the amnesty law began to circulate and gain ground. A ‘right to the truth’ had already been recognized under Aylwin’s presidency (1990-94), which meant that investigations could proceed, even if amnesty were eventually applied. More importantly still, Chilean courts from 1997 on began to accept an interpretation of unsolved forced disappearances as ‘aggravated kidnappings’, permanent crimes that (at least until remains can be found and identities established) extend beyond the period covered by the amnesty law (Davis 2000: 29). This interpretation, later upheld by the Supreme Court, was to become crucial in a number of trials for human rights crimes from 1999 onward.
Developments such as these, occurring gradually through the 1990s, were indicative of slow but steady progress in the consolidation of Chilean democracy and the corresponding fading of the Pinochet legacy (Angell 2003: 64-65). However, the figure of Pinochet and what he represented remained tremendously important symbolically, and was still of considerable significance in practical political terms also. The effort to indict him would dramatically hasten and deepen a dynamic of change already underway.
From Dictator to Defendant: The Impact of the Case in Chile
The fact that Pinochet’s arrest and detention occurred abroad undoubtedly conditioned Chilean responses to the issue. While the Concertaci6n governments of Eduardo Frei and subsequently Lagos could and did bring to bear some diplomatic pressure to secure Pinochet’s eventual repatriation on grounds of ill-health, the fate of the ex-dictator was largely out of Chilean hands. His long absence and the circumstances of it created a space in which aspects of Chile’s past could be debated in a qualitatively new context. Human rights, and above all the plight of the disappeared and their families, had already become the issue around which opposing interpretations of the past crystallized. While the Rettig report had gone some way toward acknowledging and documenting the systematic abuses that had occurred, a dismissive attitude to its findings persisted among parts of the political right and especially the army. Pinochet and his supporters continued to insist on the necessity and rightness of their actions and the military refused to give information on the whereabouts of those abducted and presumed dead. Refusal to acknowledge the disappeared as the victims of systematic state sponsored repression was emblematic of one version of Chile’s past—that which saw the coup as necessary to avoid Communist takeover, and the Pinochet era a necessary corrective. The opposed view, of the coup as tragedy and Pinochet as ruthless tyrant, made full acknowledgment of the victims the prerequisite and symbol of reconciliation.
The indictment of Pinochet for the internationally recognized crimes of genocide, terrorism and torture, and the worldwide publicity that was accorded to the evidence against him, in themselves had a cathartic effect for the Chilean human rights movement, allowing victims to tell their stories on a world stage and before the highest judicial authorities of Spain and the UK. Their version of Chile’s past at last received international legal recognition, all the more so when the House of Lords ruled that Pinochet could be extradited to Spain to face trial. The final convoluted judgment of the last Lords ruling, though it had the effect of reducing the number of extraditable charges, did not alter the legal precedent, and neither did the eventual release of Pinochet by discretion of the British Home Secretary Jack Straw. Pinochet returned to a Chile that as a result of his absence and public disgrace was much more able than before openly to debate his responsibility for human rights crimes. That legal proceedings against him continued in his home country was due to more concrete factors than simply a shift in the prevailing mood, though that was extremely important. The example set abroad had a galvanizing effect on the Chilean judiciary. Institutional and cultural change already underway facilitated, and was in tum greatly accelerated by, renewed judicial activism around human right. During Pinochet’s absence the pace and scope of prosecutions and investigations increased dramatically, helped by the cross-border cooperation of judges and human rights activists and the simultaneous revival of the issue in neighbouring Argentina (also as a result of the Spanish action). Under the glare of the world’s media, the Chilean military agreed to participate in a dialogue with government representatives and human rights groups aimed at gathering information on the disappeared. Although the participants in this ‘Mesa de Dial9go’ could not come up with an agreed version of the past, and although the accord eventually produced contained only limited factual information, the initiative did see the first official admission by the armed forces that they had been involved in a systematic campaign of repression and disappearance.
By far the most potent development was the indictment of Pinochet himself in the Chilean courts. No sooner had he returned than an application was made by Judge Juan Guzman Tapfa to have him stripped of the immunity from prosecution afforded him by his (self-granted) life-senatorship. In August 2000 the Supreme Court upheld an earlier decision by a lower court to remove immunity, and Guzman began to question Pinochet about his role in the so-called ‘caravana de la muerte’ murders. Persistent efforts by Pinochet’s defence team to have the case suspended on health grounds eventually succeeded, but the outcome—that Pinochet was declared to be suffering from dementia—did not absolve him, and was viewed as a humiliation by his family and supporters. It also forced his retirement from public life, since having been declared mentally unfit to face a court he could hardly claim to be able to partake in Senate debates, and he there fore resigned his senatorship. Nor has the case been finally closed. Although it is exceedingly unlikely that he will face trial, the charges against him have not been dismissed, and in theory at least, the proceedings ‘temporarily’ suspended could be reopened. Recently, following apparently lucid interviews given by Pinochet to a Miami TV station, Guzman has begun to press his case anew. Pinochet is named in hundreds of cases as well as that relating to the ‘caravana de la muerte’, and in his latest move Guzman has applied to the Santiago Court of Appeals to remove Pinochet’s immunity as an ex-head of state in order to investigate his part in crimes committed in the course of Operation Condor (a cross-border intelligence and repressive operation implicated in many crimes including the Letelier murders). Though Pinochet retains some loyal support, his position in Chilean public life and his personal prestige have suffered a dramatic decline. And while he himself will not face justice, the many hundreds of lawsuits involving his subordinates that are also part of the ‘Pinochet case’ continue, with some significant sentences having already been handed down.
While the most obvious and dramatic change has been in the judicial sphere, political structures and practices have also been affected by Pinochet’s indictment. The arrest placed the Chilean political class in an uncomfortable situation. Several politicians of the governing Concertaci6n had themselves been tortured or exiled under Pinochet, but having accepted certain elements of the Pinochet legacy as the foundation for Chilean democracy (economic policies and certain constitutional arrangements) the government of Frei, committed to a cautious and consensual approach, had little option but to call for Pinochet’s release on the grounds of national sovereignty. Yet the initially glib assertion necessitated by this approach, that Chile was capable of dealing with its own past in its own way, opened a domestic debate about the limitations of Chilean democracy that was eventually to lead to real change. Lagos took the opportunity the affair provided to establish his own statesmanlike and democratic credentials, rebuking the military’s more effusive gestures of support for Pinochet and pledging at his inauguration ceremony (from which the newly returned Pinochet was excluded) to complete Chile’s transition to democracy and be a President associated with ‘truth, transparency and justice’. In 2000 he established an all-party working group on constitutional reform. Reform is likely to be gradual, since one of the key obstacles is a biased electoral system whose rightist beneficiaries are those least likely to support structural change. However that such reform is on the agenda is in itself proof that Chilean democratic politics has been strengthened rather than weakened by the Pinochet affair.
Conclusion
The memory and symbolism of the Chilean coup was a powerful factor animating the Spanish attempt to prosecute Pinochet for human rights crimes. Chilean exiles and human rights organizations, unable to obtain justice in Chile and having long had a sympathetic audience in European publics, in 1996 joined forces with Argentine and European activists and lawyers to file criminal charges in the Spanish courts against hundreds of ex-military personnel in Chile and Argentina. Though Baltasar Garzon fronted the investigation, one of its chief instigators was the lawyer and former Allende aide Juan Garces. Pinochet’s fortuitous visit to London provided the opportunity to act against the man who perhaps more than any other individual personified the evils of military dictatorship. Despite lengthy legal proceedings and two House of Lords rulings that Pinochet could be extradited to face trial in Spain, the decision to release him was a political one. Yet if the Spanish-led action failed in an immediate sense, its ripples were felt worldwide, not least in Chile, where it proved to have a cathartic and galvanizing effect. Pinochet’s prosecution permitted a more open reassessment of his legacy than had hitherto been possible. The result was a dramatic diminution of his political importance, and a hastening and deepening of changes, both structural and attitudinal, in the political and judicial spheres. Before Pinochet’s arrest the attempt to achieve reconciliation and openness about the past had, after some initial and partial successes, reached an impasse. This case helped break the dead lock. It also changed the context in which memories and interpretations of the coup are constructed and reconstructed. To Allende’s sacrifice there is now a certain kind of retort: the final humiliation and diminution of his enemy.
Memories, symbols and what they evoke constantly evolve, and Chile’s coup is likely to remain in some ways a difficult and divisive issue, not least because of the exaggerated symbolism it has acquired internationally. The Pinochet case has become another element in this symbolism, but perhaps one that offers the promise of some kind of historical justice.