Prisoner Without a Name, Cell Without a Number

by Jacobo Timerman

  After all, it was a question of only one corpse, and the joke was irrelevant. One more dead journalist in a country where one hundred journalists had disappeared within the space of a few years was of no great significance. But the incident is useful in delving further into the Argentine drama: Can the community alone, without outside intervention, prevent either of the two fascisms from winding up with Argentina’s corpse? Or if it cannot accomplish this on its own, then is collaboration possible among the international community to prevent either of them from doing so, and to enable Argentina’s reincorporation into civilized society, into the contemporary civilization it abandoned fifty years ago?

  3

  When I founded La Opinion, I had been a political journalist for newspapers, magazines, radio, and television for twenty-four years. The first issue of the newspaper appeared on May 4,1971, and I was arrested in April 1977. During that interval in Argentina, six presidents governed—so to speak. Sanctions against La Opinion took place under all these regimes in the form of judicial de facto measures, bomb assaults at my home and office, the murder or disappearance of one of my journalists, and finally my arrest and the army’s confiscation of the newspaper. The most subtle form of sanction was economic, for Argentina—though this is not commonly known—is a country whose economy is almost seventy percent government-controlled, and advertising from government agencies constitutes a decisive portion of the revenue a newspaper requires to ensure its financial solvency. Successive administrations suspended government advertising in La Opinion whenever an article provoked them. One government invented a Machiavellian stratagem: It induced the association of newspaper distributors, which it controlled, to request a larger number of copies of La Opinion than the market could absorb. In the event the newspaper refused, the distributors were released from their distribution agreement with it; if the newspaper complied, delivering this inordinate quantity of unneeded newspapers resulted in excessive production costs. Whenever such economic sanctions took place, La Opinion turned to its readers, increasing its price until it became the most expensive newspaper in the country, but one that remained, unlike the others, independent of public or private advertising.

  La Opinion, curiously enough, was a moderate newspaper. It was often compared to Le Monde, but in relation to the ideological position of the French daily, one could say that La Opinion was a typically liberal newspaper. Every day it committed what in Argentina was construed as a capital sin: it used precise language to describe actual situations so that its articles were comprehensible and direct. Might one claim that La Opinion was attacked for semantic reasons? Not so, though semantics is the method employed in Argentina to avoid seeing problems in their total dimensions. Newspapers write virtually in code, resorting to euphemisms and circumlocutions, speaking in a roundabout way, as do leaders, politicians, and intellectuals. One might have the impression that Argentina is a rich heir dissipating its inherited fortune—in this instance, the wealth derived from the generations that ruled between i860 and 1930—but is trying as hard as possible to conceal the fact that the fortune is dwindling and nobody is making any effort to restore it. In this sense, La Opinion was genuinely provocative. On more than one occasion it published news stories that had appeared in other papers but were completely incomprehensible to those outside the informed inner circle, and explained these articles so that the average reader could understand them. Actually, it was an explanation of a news item that had appeared five days before in a provincial paper, without measures having been taken against that paper, that led to President Isabel Peron’s ten-day suspension of La Opinion. Similarly, President Videla suspended La Opinion for three days for having published an explanation of an article that had appeared in a Jesuit magazine, although that particular issue of the Catholic journal was not even confiscated.

  The Argentine rulers wanted to be viewed like Dorian Gray, but La Opinion was the mirror hidden above, which appeared daily on the streets, presenting Dorian Gray’s true face.

  The semantics of the three governing factions that rule Argentina—the Peronists, trade unions, and armed forces— constitutes one of the oddest processes in political practice. In essence, this is not unprecedented, considering the accumulated experience of fascism and communism with propaganda, slogans, and the structuring of a reality contradictory every step of the way to actual events. But fascism and communism are political phenomena of great magnitude and encompass nations of vast geopolitical and international interests. The semantic process of these ideologies tends to create not only an inner reality within its own territories but also an agile and flexible instrument for international penetration. But why should such a phenomenon occur in a country that is relatively small, practically devoid of demographic or economic growth, containing 25 million inhabitants on 3 million square kilometers who could live peacefully off its existing wealth and enjoy greater ease than even the Swiss?

  During a meeting of the International Monetary Fund, a Brazilian economist who I’m sure prefers to remain anonymous defined the different economic groupings in the world as follows: (1) the developed countries; (2) the undeveloped countries; (3) Japan, which occupies a category of its own, inasmuch as these small islands, despite their lack of natural resources and raw materials, have become an industrial power with a permanent demographic boom; and (4) Argentina, because the Japanese work and save for years in order to be able to live one day like the Argentines, who neither work nor save.

  Juan Domingo Peron used to say that “Violence from above engenders violence from below”—a statement that could be found in any Harvard, MIT, or Hudson Institute study on the aggressive feelings of populations with meager resources. A liberal statement, a sociological equation, which in an organized country might lead merely to a polemic on the ways in which such aggressiveness can be eliminated through housing, education, or public health programs. In Argentina, however, Peronist youth understood at once what Peron was saying: he approved of violence and terrorism, and would lend his support to any murder, kidnapping, or assault that fit into his goals for the conquest or reconquest of power.

  Another statement epitomizing an important political clue to the last ten years in Argentina was taken by Peron from Pericles: “Everything according to measure, and yet in harmony.” I found this same phrase in an article by Nahum Goldman that was published in La Opinion. A serene saying, tranquil-sounding, not hard to understand and appreciate, it justifies a political process meticulously carried out so as to produce the smallest possible number of critical situations. But Peronists, and all Argentines, understood immediately what it signified: anyone opposed to the tactical methods established by Peron would be executed by the boys, pushed from below by the violence from above. Those boys who, logically, regarded Pericles’ statement as a kind of revolutionary strategy no different from Fidel Castro’s phase in the Sierra Maestra or Mao Zedong’s in the Yenan Mountains. “Measure” referred to Peron’s orders, and “in harmony” to the machine gun.

  Another of Peron’s statements in his infinite semantic creativity was “Reality is the only truth.” This might be construed as an incitement to careful, meticulous scrutiny of data culled from reality in order to discover peaceful, moderate paths toward a political solution. In practice, however, it formed the basis for Peronist intolerance of any solution outside the ken of its own followers, schemes, or totalitarian rigidity, and the justification of utterly irrational acts in the economic, cultural, and political spheres. In fact, the only admissible reality was Peronism, since that was the majority, and the only truth was the Peronist way of life.

  The form of combat devised by the other political parties was also a semantic process: to negotiate without contradicting, to await the inevitable crisis and deterioration of officialdom rather than exert any opposition that might induce a crisis which could explode like a grenade in Argentina’s face. The anti-Peronist newspapers employed euphemisms to present their criticism, euphemisms that were comprehensible to the p
arties involved in the game but not to the readers. La Opinion, however, was attempting (or perhaps flirting daily with) suicide to expose the true face of Dorian Gray.

  A similar instance occurred with the military government following the defeat of Peronism. The revolt against the Peron presidency found its principal proponent in La Opinion, for we insisted on the need to fill the vacuum in which the country dwelt. Military leaders were prepared, according to long conversations between them and editors of La Opinion, for a revolution to take place in order to terminate the violence of both Left and Right, to enforce sanctions against corruption, to curb terrorism through legal channels, and to overcome the danger of super-inflation. The whole nation longed for peace. During Isabel Peron’s last year of rule, La Opinion voiced these principles day after day; and finally in March 1976, when the army seized the government, the entire country, including the Peronists, breathed a sigh of relief.

  But once again semantics ran parallel to a reality that daily contradicted it. General Videla’s government strove to accomplish peaceful acts; it spoke of peace and understanding, maintaining that the revolution was not aimed against anyone in particular or any special sector. But military leaders hastily organized their personal domains, each one becoming a warlord in the zone under his control, whereupon the chaotic, anarchistic, irrational terrorism of the Left and of Fascist death squads gave way to intrinsic, systemized, rationally planned terrorism. Each officer of a military region had his own prisoners, prisons, and form of justice, and even the central power was unable to request the freedom of an individual when importuned by international pressure. Every individual whose freedom was solicited in the years i976-78 by the central power, the Catholic Church, or some international organization immediately “disappeared.” It was usually necessary to track down the individual in question in a clandestine prison and then submit a petition indicating the hour, day, and place that he’d been seen alive.

  Whenever the government was forced to admit repressive excesses, the wording of its self-criticism tended to suggest merely that a certain ward of prisoners had gone one night without food. Whenever a military officer referred to those who’d “gone away forever,” it sounded rather like a melancholy remark intended to recall those who’d emigrated to distant lands and continents to rebuild their lives. The semantic process could acquire even sudden clownish overtones. When Thomas Reston, a spokesman for the U.S. State Department, expressed his government’s concern over attacks on the headquarters of certain organizations that defended human rights in Argentina, the reply given by one of the ministers indicated that the Argentine government was likewise concerned and, at the same time, wished to protest the existence of the Ku Klux Klan in the United States. Newspaper, radio, and television commentators reinforced this attitude. How to explain that the Ku Klux Klan did not form part of the North American government and occupied no seat in President Carter’s cabinet, whereas in Argentina the moderates of the military revolution had thus far been unable to gain control over repression or over, in many instances, the official operation of parallel justice from their local versions of the Ku Klux Klan.

  If La Opinion succeeded in surviving between March 1976 and April 1977, the first year of military government, it was because army moderates decided that this journal, critical but not antagonistic, opposed to terrorism but supportive of human rights, ought to survive. The continued existence of La Opinion was a credit abroad; it backed the philosophy of future national reconstruction, it upheld the thesis of national unity, and was committed on a daily basis to curbing extremist excesses. The moderates, in those early years, comprised a minority in the armed forces, and only their political acumen enabled them to retain a foothold in the ongoing process. Political parties, virtually all civil institutions, the Catholic Church, and Western governments maintaining the most satisfactory relations with Argentina all calculated that the best strategy was patience—to wait for time to pass and the extremists to weaken, and in the meantime not to impose excessive demands on the moderates.

  On paper, this approach was not implausible. Elections seemed inevitable. But in my position as editor-in-chief of La Opinion, every day I had to confront that distinction between extremists and moderates when relatives of those who had disappeared would show up and assume that La Opinion could assist in finding them. More than once I had to explain that an article in La Opinion could mean a death sentence; nonetheless, their loneliness and the dearth of news made them believe that printing an article on a disappearance was advantageous. At least it fortified them in their solitude and for the upcoming struggle. On balance, I’m unable to weigh the results. I know that I saved the lives of some, and believe others were killed merely because La Opinion demanded knowledge of their whereabouts. But in the long run the battle, it seems to me, had to be fought, so that at least there was a battle, embryonic as it might be. Some people hold that the only possible response to totalitarian repression—whether Fascist or Communist—is to go underground or into exile. Both of these solutions were contrary to my philosophy. I thought it necessary at the time to go one step further: to attack the leaders of extremist military groups directly. It may have been one such group, unbeknownst to President Videla and the central government, that kidnapped me.

  How was one, then, to judge the moderates? They were, are, and will always be opposed to all excesses. Yet they opposed none of these. Was this due to lack of strength? They simply said they were allowing the unavoidable to occur. I recall a remark made by the chief of the Army General Staff to a diplomat who intervened on my behalf when I was arrested: “Timerman isn’t delinquent, but it’s best not to meddle in the affair. Don’t get involved.” Hence support of the moderates, acknowledging their immobility and the enormity of extremist excesses, constituted a veritable leap into a vacuum. This attitude elsewhere had provided Hitler with a free hand for seizing power in Germany and had empowered the Communists in Cuba to take over the youthful, romantic revolution of the Sierra Maestra against Fulgencio Batista’s dictatorship.

  The moderates, in my opinion, had to be supported by way of public pressure rather than patience. The Western governments did not view the situation similarly, nor did the Church, the Argentine political parties, or other Argentine newspapers. Nonetheless the fact that this impunity was at least disputed has gone on record. At present it’s hard to determine the significance of the policy of La Opinion, although this will certainly be clearer in the future when we have a better perspective.

  One might say that my present freedom is a result of the patience exercised by the moderates. My own belief is that the concessions made on my behalf by the moderates toward the extremists have been harmful to Argentina on an international scale, for the case should have impelled the moderates to wage a more militant battle against the extremists, particularly since they would have been joined in that battle by an army minority plus a popular majority, political parties, and civil institutions. I believe the moderates would have won the battle, and Argentina would have been saved some years of tragedy.

  I was kidnapped by the extremist sector of the army. From the outset, President Rafael Videla and General Roberto Viola tried to convert my disappearance into an arrest in order to save my life. They did not succeed. My life was spared because this extremist sector was also the heart of Nazi operations in Argentina. From the very first interrogation, they figured they had found what they’d been looking for for so long: one of the sages of Zion, a central axis of the Jewish anti-Argentine conspiracy.

  * * *

  Question: Are you Jewish?

  Answer: Yes.

  Question: Are you a Zionist?

  Answer: Yes.

  Question: Is La Opinion Zionist?

  Answer: La Opinion supports Zionism since it is the liberation movement of the Jewish people. It considers Zionism to be a movement of high positive values, the study of which can shed light on many problems related to building national Argentine unity.

  Question:
Then it is a Zionist newspaper?

  Answer: If you wish to put it in those terms, yes.

  Question: Do you travel to Israel often?

  Answer: Yes.

  Question: Do you know the Israeli ambassador?

  Answer: Yes.

  * * *

  My first interrogation took place after I’d been standing for several hours with my arms handcuffed behind my back, my eyes blindfolded. It was a sort of revelation for the interrogators. Why kill the hen that lays the golden eggs? Better to exploit him for the most important trial against the international Jewish conspiracy.

  That’s what saved my life. From that moment on, my arrest was officially recognized. The moderates tried for two years to get me released, and even thirty months later, when my freedom had been obtained, it was exploited as a pretext by the extremists to attempt a revolution to expel the moderates from power. A revolution that concluded in a ridiculous farce in the city of Cordoba—a forty-eight-hour uprising with no fighting, no bloodshed, only surrender.

  Seen in this light, one could say that the moderates were correct. I think they were not. They could have combated the extremists much sooner; they had, and in fact still have, greater strength than they imagine, and thousands of lives might have been saved. On the other hand, it’s hard to talk about tactics when countless innocent people lost their lives.

  My life was saved because the Nazis were overly Nazi; because they believed, as they informed me, that World War III had begun and that they enjoyed every conceivable impunity. One of the interrogators, known as Captain Beto, told me: “Only God gives and takes life. But God is busy elsewhere, and we’re the ones who must undertake this task in Argentina.’’