Читать книгу Chile: The Other September 11 - Fidel Castro - Страница 7
ОглавлениеPilar Aguilera and Ricardo Fredes
On September 11, 1973, we awoke to a country in turmoil. What many people had predicted was actually happening: the armed forces of Chile were staging a coup d’état to overthrow democratically elected President Salvador Allende. We heard that the Moneda Presidential Palace was being bombed, but very little information was broadcast over the radio; instead there were mainly military communiqués and military marches being played.
On the evening of September 13, a group of soldiers, led by a captain, came to our home and proceeded to search for weapons. When they didn’t find any, they took my father away with them. They also took our books about socialism or left politics, and we found out afterward that such books had been burned. About an hour later they returned for my older brother and he was taken, beaten up and brought back to us. The captain said to my mother, “Here’s your son—we brought him back so he can work for you, because we executed your husband.”
About two months later, a gaunt man walked into Ricardo Fredes’ home. No one recognized him at first. Hector “Tito” Fredes, Ricardo’s father, had been held in one of the many concentration camps set up by the military. For many, such experiences marked the beginning of a long period of suffering, torture, anxiety and exile, part of the darkest chapter in Chilean history.
When they speak of the bombing of La Moneda Palace… you should know that this act is the equivalent of bombing the New York Public Library at 42nd Street and Fifth Avenue during the work day.
This was how, one year after the coup, José Yglesias tried to explain to US citizens the impact of the terror experienced by ordinary Chileans that day in 1973. The idea of an “other” September 11 must seem incredible to some. But when Chileans saw the photos of New Yorkers holding up images of missing loved ones after the September 11 attacks, the scene was frighteningly familiar, and as Ariel Dorfman commented: “During the last 28 years, September 11 has been a date of mourning, for me and millions of others.”
This book reclaims September 11, not only for the sake of history but also for the thousands of dreams that were shattered on the morning of September 11, 1973, and for those for whom, as Dorfman recalled, “the world [would] never be the same again.” The horror, confusion and seemingly endless terror in both cases are poignant. In Chile the nightmare continued for 17 years, and as one young Chilean remarked a year after the coup, “It took me a long time to realize that what was happening was for real and not a nightmare.”
Ariel Dorfman powerfully links the two September 11s, and provides a backdrop for the rest of the pieces contained in this book. Pablo Neruda, whose poetry has often been stripped of its politics by the mainstream, demands judgment of “those hands stained by the dead he killed with his terror,” in his poem from “A Call for the Destruction of Nixon and Praise for the Chilean Revolution.”
The intensity of the writings included in this book are an evocative and timely reminder that the horror visited upon the Chilean people was largely the result of continuous US involvement in our country, which climaxed during the years of Salvador Allende’s Popular Unity government (1970-73). James Cockcroft’s chronology alone should serve as a damning indictment of US and CIA involvement in Chile from the 1960s right up to the coup. Also included in this book is Fidel Castro’s speech just days after the coup, which provides an uncompromising and powerful political analysis of events leading up to the coup.
This book also gives a voice to those who, from the very beginning, denounced the fascist nature of the Chilean and US forces eventually involved in the coup. Víctor Jara, the well-known Chilean composer and singer, wrote these lines while under detention in the infamous National Stadium where he was brutally executed:
What horror the face of fascism creates!
They carry out their plans with knife-like precision.
Nothing matters to them.
To them, blood equals medals,
Slaughter is an act of heroism…
How hard it is to sing when I must sing of horror.
Horror which I am living,
Horror which I am dying.
The “knife-like precision” of the coup could not have happened without funding and advice from the United States. Contemplating the prospect of Allende’s electoral victory in 1970, Secretary of State Henry Kissinger spoke plainly: “I don’t see why we need to stand by and watch a country go communist because of the irresponsibility of its own people.”
When Allende assumed office, more than 100 US corporations had established themselves in Chile. Among these were some of the top US-based multinational corporations. These included the major car manufacturers, oil companies, Dow and DuPont chemicals and International Telephone and Telegraph (ITT) among others. Their collective investment in Chile was nearly $1 billion, with ITT’s investment ranking the highest, at $200 million, according to Business Week, April 10, 1971.
The election of the Allende government was followed by an extensive CIA-initiated destabilization campaign. Washington could not and would not “stand by” and let a Latin American country determine its own fate. A country that had chosen a “peaceful road to socialism” would not be tolerated. As Allende astutely pointed out: “Foreign capital and imperialism, united with reactionary elements, created the climate for the armed forces to break with their tradition [of respecting constitutional guarantees].”
For Chileans all over the world September 11, 2001, meant reliving the horror they had experienced in Chile and feeling again the loss, not only for loved ones but also the loss of hope, and a sense that the nightmare had just begun. Chileans had dared to want to determine their own future, create their own society. Instead, Chile was for decades plunged into a darkness from which it has not recovered. The repercussions of the coup are still felt today; and Chile, generally speaking, has not confronted its past. After 1973, Pinochet tried to erase the past so that young Chileans were kept ignorant of their country’s history. Patricio Guzmán’s 1997 documentary, “Obstinate Memory,” shows Chilean university students confronted for the first time with images of the September 11 military attacks on the Presidential Palace. Face to face with their suppressed history, the students break down in anger and disbelief.
There are those who do not want to relive the horror, and those who choose to remain indifferent, and those who choose to forget. But we must face the past, learn from it and seek the truth. It is time now to “overcome [that] gray and bitter moment where treason [tried] to impose itself,” and live out Allende’s dream so eloquently articulated in his last radio address to the people of Chile: “History is ours, and the people will make it.”
