"We Can Go Home"

For the first time in ages, Argentines could talk politics--and smile about it. At last they had an election--and perhaps soon, a bona fide President: Dr. Arturo Umberto Illia, 62, a sometime physician and longtime politico with considerable government experience. On the Buenos Aires Stock Exchange, shares surged upward; the battered peso rallied four points (from 139 to 135 to the dollar), and throughout the country the sensation was one of deep relief and a return of confidence. Even the fractious military seemed content. "We kept our promise to hold elections," said a colonel as he headed for his estancia in the countryside. "Now our job is done, and we can go home."

Surprises All Around. That was stretching it some. Violence and confusion have been the country's unhappy lot ever since the military toppled Arturo Frondizi 16 months ago and installed Puppet President Jose Maria Guido in his place. As the once prosperous land of grain and meat fell into economic chaos (the cost of living soared 50% last year), the military promised constitutional elections and a return to democracy. But the soldiers could not agree on when to hold elections, or how much democracy to allow the 3,000,000 followers of exiled Dictator Juan Peron. Twice these arguments erupted into shooting between rival wings of the Peron-hating armed forces; twice the promised elections were postponed.

The Peronistas tried to mollify the military by agreeing to form a popular front with Frondizi's Intransigent Radical party. At the last minute, the front found most of its choices for the electoral college disqualified by the army. From his exile in Madrid, Peron told his followers that since they were legally required to vote, they should cast blank ballots; under house arrest in the Argentine mountain resort town of Bariloche, Frondizi did the same. Together, they were supposed to control 40% of the voters.

Expecting trouble, the military posted 70,000 troops at polls around the country on election day. But, to the surprise of most everybody, there were no incidents--and nothing like 40% blank ballots. Weary of living in political limbo and anxious to participate again in the democratic process, many regarded as Peronistas or followers of Frondizi cast their ballots for other candidates. Of some 10 million votes, only 17% were blank. Dr. Arturo Illia, whose middle-reading party calls itself the People's Radicals, wound up with 27% of the total, worth 169 electoral votes. Dr. Oscar Alende, leading an anti-Frondizi wing of the ex-President's party, mustered 17% (for 109 electoral votes). Retired Army General Pedro Eugenio Aramburu, provisional President after Peron's downfall, got 15% (for 43 electoral votes).

From Spain, Peron called the election a "farce" and warned: "A period of hard fighting in which violence must be the norm has just begun." But in Buenos Aires, the betting was that Illia and the No. 2 man, Alende, would join forces to give Illia the 238-vote majority he needs when the electoral college meets on July 31. They are then expected to form a coalition government that the country would accept.

Nothing Spectacular. Though the U.S. maintained an official silence, Washington was privately delighted at the results. Tall and white-haired, looking more like a country doctor (he still practices) than a ranking politician, Illia is considered pro-West in his approach to foreign relations and is known for his honesty and diligence at home. In his college days, he divided his time between medicine and politics, went on to become a provincial senator, vice governor of his home Cordoba province, and finally an oppositionist in Peron's Congress. In March 1962, he was elected governor of Cordoba province but lost his job when the elections were nullified.

Illia was already talking as if he were the next President of Argentina. "Our aims are clear," he says, "and we will move toward them in orderly, methodical fashion--patiently but with perseverance. We will not employ spectacular methods, which in principle I abhor." During the campaign he struck a nationalistic note by promising an "investigation" of what the International Monetary Fund has been doing "for and to" Argentina. He also promised to "an nul" the controversial oil contracts be tween foreign oilmen and the old Frondizi government. "But no one need be alarmed by this," he said. "Justice will be recognized, and if convenient to Argentina, they will be renegotiated." Illia plans to end the current state of siege, "return the armed services to their profession," create a national economic council for planning and pay state salaries regularly.

All in all, he sounded like a man who wants to leave Argentina alone--which might be just what that rich land needs.

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