The Robin Hood Guerrillas

Seven men, four of them carrying submachine guns, steal $220,000 from the Casino San Rafael in the plush seaside resort of Punta del Este -- the biggest robbery 'in Uruguayan history. Several days later, after the thieves discover that some of the haul belongs to a pool for casino employees' tips, they graciously offer to return that amount. At about that time, four men break into the Financiera Monty, a Montevideo finance company that deals in currency exchange and real estate. Although the men make off with thousands of dollars and six account books, the company does not report the incident to the police. A few days after the heist, Montevideo papers and radio stations receive mimeographed messages from the thieves asking why the robbery was not reported and charging that the Financiera Monty was involved in illegal activities. The stolen books are later found on the doorstep of a court official. The ensuing government investigation eventually results in a law forbidding all finance companies to engage in banking activities.

Since last fall, Uruguay has experienced more than a score of similar incidents--casino and bank robberies, weapons thefts, as well as the kidnaping and later release of a high government official who was also a friend and adviser of President Jorge Pacheco Areco. In virtually every case, the blame has fallen on the Tupamaros, an extreme left-wing organization that also calls itself the National Liberation Movement. Since it operates in a country in which more than four-fifths of the population lives in cities and towns, it has dedicated itself to urban guerrilla warfare and eventual takeover by force. Despite such threats, the Tupamaros, cleverly exploiting economic and political discontent, have managed to build considerable admiration and sympathy among Uruguay's 2,600,000 people. Their daring, well-planned actions, their skillful public relations, their sense of humor and style have given them the romantic image of modern-day Robin Hoods, taking from the rich, giving to the poor, exposing wrongdoing and corruption--all the while thumbing their noses at the government.

The authorities hardly agree with the popular notion that the Tupamaros are mere idealists heroically dedicated to improving the lot of the common man. "This is the beginning of an urban guerrilla movement," says Police Intelligence Chief Alejandro Otero. "The Tupamaros are really dangerous--they have capable people and remarkable organization." Tupamaro membership seems to be growing: there are now an estimated 1,000 members, grouped in clandestine five-to seven-man cells. The outfit is run by a core of perhaps 50 to 100 activists, some of whom are believed to have been trained in Cuba. Their intelligence is excellent, which suggests that Tupamaros have deeply infiltrated the government. Uruguay's 12,000-man army recently revealed that the guerrillas had detailed knowledge of military organization and codes. Another intelligence report showed that the Tupamaros were equally well informed about the 16,000-man police force.

The Tupamaro discipline stresses indoctrination as well as military and physical training. A captured document exhorts members to be "complete Samurai, with muscles of steel, an alert mind, instant reflexes, resistance to pain and a thorough knowledge of weapons." Although there have been a number of successful weapons raids on government arsenals, there has been little gunplay. Perhaps the Tupamaros want to avoid hurting innocent bystanders and tarnishing their Robin Hood reputation.

Economic Slide. The movement is named after Tupac Amaru, an Inca chief who rebelled against Spanish colonizers in the late 18th century and was subsequently executed. It has its origins in a sugar-worker protest movement that was formed seven years ago. A leftist activist named Raul Sendic, who has been underground for years, is thought to be the leader of the Tupamaros. Economic discontent has undoubtedly helped the movement grow. A welfare state that assured its citizens full pay after retirement at the age of 55, Uruguay, once Latin America's richest nation, has seen its economy slide downhill for more than a decade. In 1967 alone, the rate of inflation was 135%, and the government ran short of retirement funds. Tough, recent measures taken by Pacheco Areco have slowed inflation to just over 6% for the past nine months, but at the highly unpopular cost of wage and price controls and curbs on strikes. The Tupamaros have not been able to persuade Uruguay's powerful Moscow-oriented labor unions, with their 240,000 members, to make common cause. Even so, they can rely on a fertile popular base as long as the economic squeeze lasts.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.