In an impressive show of dis-
pleasure with the military govern-
ment which holds the country in
a dictatorial grip, an estimated
400,000 Uruguayans-almost half
the population of the nation’s cap-
ital, Montevideo-marched in pro-
test on November 27.
The march was the latest in es-
calating civilian opposition which
began to gather momentum last
June on the tenth anniversary of
the military coup and has united
political parties across the spec-
trum and the population across
gender and generation. In the
process, Uruguayan military bru-
tality appears to have dispelled
most lingering illusions of a gentle
return to democracy for the ap-
proximately two million citizens
who have not fled into exile.
Military resistance to the swift
return to democracy has solidifed
what might otherwise have been
competing political factions. Not
only have the three legally recog-
nized political parties-the Blanco,
Colorado and Civic Union, all of
which are centrist-joined forces
to oppose the military government’s
slow-motion transition, but they
are working with those parties still
outlawed in an effort to open the
political process to them as well.
This goal has also united factions
within the parties.
Among conditions made last
October by the Blanco, Colorado
and Civic Union for the resump-
tion of transition talks with the mili-
tary were the lifting of proscription
(the denial of all political rights)
against individuals and parties;
the restoration of employment
rights to those forbidden certain
jobs because of past political af-
Jan/FNb 1984
filiations or perceived sympathies,
and press freedom.
Proscriptions of all political lead-
ers except for Wilson Ferreira Al-
dunate, most liberal of the Blanco
Party presidential candidates in
1971 and the biggest vote-getter,
were lifted by the military on No-
vember 14.
Nevertheless, in a further show
of solidarity, both the representa-
tives of the legal parties and those
of the Frente Amplio, a coalition of
liberal to left parties, sat together
on the reviewing stand during the
November demonstrations.
Months of Conflict
That solidarity has been gather-
ing force since the tenth anniver-
sary of the military takeover. In
June, the first mass rally since the
coup drew about 8,000 to demon-
strate support for a return to de-
mocracy and amnesty for political
prisoners. Among those held in
July during a month-long wave
of political arrests was Professor
Glenda Rondsn de Romero, ex-
ecutive secretary of the Colorado
Party leader. Romero claimed she
was kidnapped and interrogated
for two hours. Military officials
deny the charge, however, and
are seeking court proceedings
against her for making a slander-
ous charge against the authorities.
Noting that she is a drama teach-
er, military spokesmen say that
the matter is the result of an “im-
aginative mind tending towards
the dramatic,” according to reports
received by the Council on Hemi-
spheric Affairs (OOHA), a Wash-
ington-based human rights group.
On August 2, the government
banned all public political activity.
In mid-August two Catholic priests
-Fathers Luis P6rez Aguirre and
Jorge Osorio-and a Methodist
minister, Ademar Olivera, went on
a two-week hunger strike of pro-
test slated to end August 25. Gre-
gorio Alvarez, who was imposed
as president in 1981, banned all
press coverage of the fast. On Au-
gust 19, police cordoned off the
area around the office of the Peace
and Justice Service, Uruguayan
chapter of an ecumenical human
rights group headed by Argentine
Nobel Prize winner Adolofo Perez
Esquivel, and detained 173 peo-
ple overnight. The three clergymen
are affiliated with the service.
At 8 p.m. on August 25, Monte-
video grew dark and noisy. Uru-
guayans switched off household
lights, then banged on pots and
pans and blew car hornms in what has
become a familiar Latin American
protest cacophony, copied from
Chilean middle-class women who
first expressed displeasure with
President Salvador Allende that
way.
Several thousand young people
marched through the dark streets
shouting anti-government slogans.
Scores of students have been im-
prisoned and tortured for their
participation in peaceful demon-
strations, according to reports re-
ceived by human rights organiza-
tions. Amnesty International’s No-
vember 9 report on the status of
human rights in Uruguay confirmed
the mistreatment of at least 30
students.
In an effort to deny the protestors
an organizational base, the gov-
ernment outlawed the Peace and
Justice Service-Uruguay’s sole
human rights group–on August
30. On September 16, laborers
held a 10-minute work stoppage
and a vigil of silence in protest at
the imprisonment of peaceful de-
monstrators and other political pri-
43update . update . update . update
soners. In an attempt to stave off
the work stoppage, 48 of the more
than 400 detained since the de-
monstrations began were released
in September.
Press Heavily Censored
According to the Amnesty report,
at least 1,000 political prisoners,
including a number of journalists,
remain in jail, The press remains
heavily censored and journalists
continue to be harassed, detained
and jailed for offending the gov-
ernment. Last August, during the
crack-down on dissidents, cover-
age of all political activity was for-
bidden unless explicitly permitted
by the government.
The press has long been one of
the regime’s scapegoats. A report
issued last June by the New York-
based Committee to Protect Jour-
nalists, after an on-site investiga-
tion of freedom of expression in
Uruguay, detailed repeated mili-
tary abuses. Although few guide-
lines exist for avoiding their wrath,
the military continue to intimidate
by acting suddenly and capricious-
ly against press establishments
that have offended them.
Just three years ago, after vot-
ers handed them a resounding
plebiscite defeat, rejecting a mili-
tary proposal that they retain a
permanent role as governors, the
military promised a gradual return
to democracy. The transition pro-
cess began last year with elections
to select Blanco, Colorado and
Civic Union representatives to ne-
gotiate the transition with the mili-
tary. Opposition candidates won
easily.
The process is to culminate in
national elections in 1984 and the
assumption of office by civilians in
1985. In the meantime, the elected
political representatives and gov-
ernment authorities were intended
to write a new constitution under
which Uruguay would reestablish
a civilian administration. From the
start, the talks were shaky and
came to a halt entirely in July
amidst the protests.
Meanwhile, the government con-
tinues to impose proscriptions and
to limit freedom of expression. It is
part of a sophisticated repressive
tactic they have used since the
takeover. Soon after the coup, the
military government set up a com-
puterized citizen categorization
system, labeling Uruguayans as
“A”, “B” or “C.” The latter classifi-
cation, considered sympathetic
to the opposition, is the most re-
stricted, being barred from all gov-
ernment jobs (about 25% of the
economy) and free travel. B’s who
do not show loyalty to the regime
are suspect.
Those who were candidates for
local or national office in 1966 or
1971 (while Uruguay was still un-
der civilian government) were pro-
scribed. Uruguay’s most experi-
enced political leaders have been
proscribed until recently, includ-
ing the exiled Wilson Ferreira and
Jorge Batlle Ibbrez, opposition
leader of the Colorado Party.
The military has, however, recent-
ly moved to lift the proscription
against Batlle.
Military Thwarts Process
For all the grand design on
paper, the military continues to
thwart the process, though there
are signs of a split within the 27-
man junta between moderates,
who favor a transition as planned,
and hard-liners who support Gen.
Alvarez’s attempt to remain in
power for another two to five years.
Alvarez claims that the Uruguayans,
whose democratic traditions date
back more than 40 years before
the 1973 military coup, are not yet
ready for a return to democracy.
Reluctant to release power, the
44
military has proposed one plan
after another to stay in control-
something they maintain is neces-
sary to combat “Marxist subver-
sion.” If they do have to face elec-
tions, the military is thinking of or-
ganizing a political party, thus
legitimizing a military candidate
for president in the promised gen-
eral elections.
In an effort to maintain control
after civilians take office, military
leaders would like to impose CON-
SENA, a military advisory council
which would be authorized to in-
tervene to protect national secur-
ity-efined in sweeping terms to
include social, economic and po-
litical matters. Widespread opposi-
tion to this proposal is one of the
major stumbling blocks in the
transition negotiations.
As Uruguay’s economic and
social crisis grows steadily more
serious-45% inflation, 17% unem-
ployment and a $4 billion foreign
debt-and its goverment more re-
luctant to step out of politics as
promised, citizen protest grows
more insistent. Party conventions
in December will assess the cur-
rent situation and plan strategy for
the future. Whatever the outcome,
it seems certain that Uruguayans
will continue to insist on the resto-
ration of full democracy. In the
process, they may also set an ex-
ample for the rest of South Ameri-
ca to follow. At the same time, if
they can be convinced to grace-
fully relax their ruling grip, Uru-
guay’s military still has a chance
to show other hemispheric dicta-
tors the path to a peaceful resto-
ration of self-determination.
Mercedes Lynn de Uriarte is a Los
Angeles Times staff writer, an Alicia
Patterson fellow and a part-time pro-
fessor in the Latin American Studies
Center at UCLA. In April she led an
international investigation team to Uru-
guay for the Committee to Protect
Journalists.
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