[ Military ]

Construction workers in uniform

Not a coup in sight. In Latin America, the military appears to be weaker than ever, while civilian control is stronger. Have the Latin American generals discovered a love for democracy? Is international pressure to respect human rights so great that soldiers are staying put in the barracks? Or have the dictorships achieved their goals, as some skeptics argue, and are thus not needed anymore? As always, there are many answers to these questions.


[ By Sheila Mysorekar ]

The mood is gloomy in Santiago de Chile, befitting the 11th of September. Gray is the pervasive colour in the city, wrapped in swathes of winter fog. The valley is surrounded by the Cordillera Mountains, but the snowy peaks appear only hazily because of the thick smog hanging above the buildings. It is chilly; at least in the early hours of the morning when commuters clad in thick scarves wait at suburban bus stops. At midday, the sun will finally poke through. The bright yellow blossoms of mimosa trees fill the parks. It’s September: spring in the southern hemisphere.

On September 11, hardly anyone in Chile thinks of the Twin Towers or Osama bin Laden: September 11, 1973 was the day of the country’s military coup, the day when socialist President Salvador Allende was killed, the violent end to the world’s first democratically-elec­ted Marxist government.

Allende took office at the head of the leftist coalition Unidad Popular in 1970, with the aim of walking a “democratic path to socialism”, as he put it. He nationalised the copper mines; health and education were free of charge; plans were afoot to reform the agricultural sector. But many Chileans wanted faster, more radical reforms than Allende himself: workers occupied factories and carried out their own brand of “nationali­sation”. The government lost control.

The bourgeoisie and conservative classes were unable to tolerate such events, says Mónica González, a well-known Chilean journalist. González, now in her late 50s, was imprisoned during the dictatorship that followed Allende’s ouster. Later she went into exile. She continued her journalistic work, winning international prizes, and tirelessly researching the regime's crimes. She says that the military, though having taken complete control, did not impose a full-blown military regime. “The government was made up of soldiers and civilians. These civilians were neoliberal economists, and they won over many high-ranking officers for their plans.” This story, she adds, “has not been told all that often”.


Market-radicalism

González underscores the army’s responsibility for more than just human rights abuses. It redesigned the national economy according to the specifications of the neoliberal civilians, completely dismantling Chile’s strong union tradition.

Dictatorships can carry out radical restructuring with relative ease. Without any opposition, unions or a free press, resistance is unlikely. A more flexible job market and far less stringent labour laws benefited the companies. They profited directly from the regime; and at the same time they instructed the military how to act.

“The entire economy fell into the hands of the neo­liberals,” González says. She blames the rightwing conservative party UDI (Unión Democrática Independiente, or Independent Democratic Union) for touting economic reforms on the one hand, while distancing itself from the many crimes on the other hand. That is what the party blames on the military. “To me, that stance is perverse, there is plenty of proof for the close cooperation and loyalty between the military and certain civilians,” she says.

The major difference between the Chilean military dictatorship and the soldiers running other Latin American countries was profound economic change. In 1975, dictator Augusto Pinochet decided to move Chile towards a free-market economy, imposing a kind of bourgeois counterrevolution – half a decade before the advent of Margaret Thatcher or Ronald Reagan.

Prior to Pinochet’s reforms, import taxes protected the local economy. Workers had rights; schooling and university study were free. The state health and retirement system was based upon the principle of solidarity. But that was soon to change. State-owned companies were privatised again, while the domestic market was opened up to imports. The national currency, the peso, became freely convertible. A wave of imports flooded the country. The consequence was massive deindustrialisation since local manufacturers, especially small-scale industry, were unable to compete in the global market.

The consequences were harsh. Tomás Moulián, who directs the sociology department at ARCIS University in Santiago, speaks of “radical change in the social sector”. Once the unions were shut down, the labour market was completely overhauled. “Workers no longer enjoyed any kind of protection, and suddenly Chile found itself among those Latin American countries with the greatest inequality in income distribution.”

Today, the richest 20 % of Chileans control half of the country’s gross national product – while the poo­rest 20 % have to get by on five percent of the GNP. This compares to statistics from Brazil, a country that has always had strong social divisions. But prior to 1973, Chile touted a fairly equal distribution of income. Before the military broke up the unions, the workers’ organisations had guaranteed fair labour relations.

A few years ago, when the economy still grew at a rapid rate, hardly anyone talked about such long-term changes. But with the economy now stalling, many are waking up to the fact that few have actually profited from the Chilean economic miracle.


Care instead of coup

Not all military regimes in Latin America during the 70s and 80s ran such a tight economic ship. The Argentine regime spent heavily on prestigious buildings and weapons, leaving the country mired in debt. All it took was a few years of military rule (from 1976 to 1983) to ruin the country for decades to come (see box on page 367).

Nowadays, the Argentinian armed forces are increasingly ordered to rebuild the country's infrastructure – a trend that can be observed in other Latin Ameri­can countries as well today. Money is one simple reason. Since the military needs to be paid in any case, it might as well do something useful. War hardly ever breaks out in the region; national defence is not a high priority in South America. Besides, some governments that run social and development programmes – such as Venezuela’s – use soldiers to supplement their labour force for special projects.

And the armed forces are cooperating. Have the generals suddenly discovered their social conscience? One reason is certainly the changed global environment. The price to pay for a coup would be extraordinarily high. Potential plotters can no longer count on praise and money from Washington. Instead, they are threatened with international isolation and having their funds cut off – and there will certainly be uncomplimentary stories in the media. So even the least democracy-oriented general will probably think twice, and try to achieve his goals through other means.

And who needs violence, as long as elected governments promote the interests of the elites by cutting back on social services? One such example was the Pe­ronist regime of Argentinean president Carlos Menem in the 1990s.

For a long while, soldiers with authoritarian leanings in Latin America saw no reason to intervene in po­litics. Most countries voted in conservative governments. This tendency has changed, but even in political crises – in Peru in 2000, Argentina in 2001 or Bolivia in 2003 – coups did not occur. Heads of state resigned, but democracy stayed in place.
At “Conferences of the American Armies”, the intra-American meeting of top commanders, social disturbances and the deleterious effects of the drug trade are discussed as new, non-traditional threats. New responsibilities are being defined. Civilian governments in Latin America are relying more and more on the armed forces for the fight against the drug trade and crime, and for development projects. Surprisingly, though, it does not mean that civilian authorities have lost control.

And yet, legitimate democratic governments often look unstable. Unable to solve problems such as poverty, unemployment or a lack in infrastructure, they are under pressure. They grapple with the dissatisfaction of voters, who increasingly doubt the system as such. The military fulfils a completely new function in this setting – it helps out during natural catastrophes or in the development of infrastructure. At the same time, doing so aids the governments in question and benefits the military itself. The population perceives the soldiers less as a repressive force, and more in their new role as a kind of development worker.

That shores up the military’s public image, which is something the military badly needs. Its poll numbers are notoriously bad, for instance in Argentina. In 2006, just 21 % of the people there trusted the armed forces – contrast that with the universities, which polled 67 %. In times past, democracy was the first victim when the military expanded its role beyond national defence to domestic policy. That has really changed.

In Brazil, soldiers are used as crime fighters; in Argentina, Ecuador and Venezuela, they carry out aid programmes for those in need; in Bolivia they are on anti-drug missions; in rural Uruguay they offer medical assistance. But none of these activities have led to a military exercising influence over domestic policy.

The big exception is Colombia. This is where the government is engaged in a war against guerrillas, and the army as well as paramilitary groups are waging combat. The paramilitaries have close connections to the military, but are de facto under no one’s control. Many regions of the country have become no-go areas. In these places, the state does not exist – the respective armed groups call the shots.

Leftist or central-left governments currently run most Latin American countries, but even that does not entice the military out of the barracks. However, the economic policies of the governments of Argentina, Brazil, Chile and Uruguay do not really endanger the interests of the rich – and that was historically what drove coup attempts.

Surprisingly, even the more radical of Latin America’s leftist presidents do not have serious problems with their generals. Bolivia's Evo Morales nationalised the energy sector; his move received enthusiastic support from the military. Hugo Chávez of Venezuela, himself a former lieutenant colonel and active participant in past coups, has politicised his soldiers. He uses them in his social projects – thus handing them a key role in the development of the country. It remains to be seen, however, whether Paraguay’s military will let Fernando Lugo, the new, leftleaning president, govern without interference.


A new experience

The military has the know-how for expanding transportation, communication and logistics sectors, and soldiers prove less costly than civilian firms. In the long run, it would be better if governments contracted civi­lian companies for the construction of dams or roads. But in the short term, both the people and the military benefit from soldiers constructive engagement. Written into Venezuela's failed 2007 constitutional reform were explicit statements that would have given the mili­tary a role in the economic, social and technical developments of the nation.

Wars are unlikely to break out in South America; conflicts of foreign-policy nature are rare. And domestically, the generals appear to be content with participating in everyday life in a democratic manner. To see soldiers doing useful work rather than using guns for oppressive purposes – that is a truly new experience for all involved.

A short history of the mountain of debt

Many Argentinians are going hungry – in a country that exports meat, grain and oil. Argentina is actually rich, thanks to vast agricultural land, natural resources and a relatively lightly populated country. It produces meat, wheat and fruit. No other country exports so much soy. There is plenty of drinking water; and the long expanse of Atlantic coastline means fishing is abundant. On top of all that, Argentina has large oil and gas fields.

And yet, the country collapsed financially in 2001. The army lay the foundation for that collapse: before the military coup in 1976, Argentina’s foreign debt amounted to $ 8 billion – nine years later, in 1983, when the military regime gave way to a civilian government, the debt had ballooned to $ 45 billion. Alone on weapons, the armed forces spent $ 10 billion. A vicious circle began: in order to pay the interest, democratic governments took on loans at ever-higher interest rates, selling off state-owned companies at fire-sale prices.

During the 90s, under president Carlos Menem, Argentina’s debt rose to more than $ 145 billion – putting his successor Fernando de la Rua in hot water. Debt dating back many years came due, but the state coffers were empty. Argentina was bankrupt. Only with a risky debt restructuring programme did the country manoeuvre its way out of the crisis. Thanks to a solid rate of growth things are looking up again today, but the strong middle class no longer exists.

The only positive aspect is that no one called for military intervention, even during the worst part of the crisis at the turn of the year 2001/2002. The generals in Argentina have lost all support for running the government – they only have a reputation of corruption, rather than economic competence.

Argentina’s defeat in the Falkland War spelled the beginning of the end of the junta. The British victory undermined the generals’ remaining autho­rity. In 1983, democracy returned to Argentina, after a seven-year dictatorship and 30,000 people killed.

Extraordinarily, there was no flimsy official declaration on “national recon­ciliation”. Rather, a truth-fin­ding mission got under way. It culminated in a report titled “Nunca Más” (Never Again). In 1985, trials started against commanders and torturers. That is a unique occurrence among the democracies that followed military regimes in Latin America. Presidents Raúl Alfonsín and Carlos Menem promised to be tough on the military, but Argentina’s armed forces were nonetheless influential enough to gain several amnesties for criminal leaders.

Argentinian democracy has streng­thened over the years, however. The people no longer tolerate impunity for convicted murderers in uniform. In 2006, the Supreme Court annulled the amnesty; and there was no outcry from the military. Today’s commanders fully back democracy, and have distanced themselves from the shady past of their brethren. But many soldiers still have a hard time coming to terms with being under the command of a civilian-led minis­try – with the person at the top actually be a woman, the lawyer
Nilda Garré.

In recent years, many of the previously amnestied torturers and dictators have again been jailed. The notorious ESMA torture centre, which served as a Navy training centre after the dictatorship ended, is now a museum of remembrance. (sm)

D+C, 2008/10, Focus, Page 364-367