Carnival Crisis

Ostensibly, Chile was in the midst of its worst political crisis since Marxist President Salvador Allende Gossens came to power two years ago. Fully 20 of Chile's 25 provinces were under a government-proclaimed "state of emergency," and Santiago's streets were patrolled by the army. No fewer than 21 associations of small businessmen, teachers and professionals were in the fourth week of a strike that already has cost Chile's shaky economy more than $100 million in lost revenue. In response to the crisis, all 15 of Allende's Cabinet ministers resigned last week, including four who have been accused by opposition parties of "repeated violations of the constitution."

Despite the turmoil the mood of Chile was somehow more appropriate to a carnival than a confrontation. To judge by reader response, Chilenos were considerably more interested in frontpage newspaper articles about a transvestite who had burned down one of Santiago's best-known brothels than they were in pressing economic and social issues. One recent--and typical --street brawl between anti-Allende demonstrators and police came to an abrupt halt when an abundantly curved girl walked by. The demonstrators broke into spontaneous applause, while the carabineros beat their nightsticks on their plastic shields in approval. After the girl disappeared around a corner, the fighting resumed.

Allende has chosen to counter the strike with patience and guile instead of trying to break it with military force. So far his tactics have been remarkably successful. Two weeks ago, Allende's moderate and right-wing opponents proclaimed a "day of silence" during which Santiagoans would stay at home, leaving city streets "like a desert." Instead, the city's thoroughfares were jammed with cars and pedestrians. Bands of government rooters mocked the opposition by roaming through central Santiago shouting "!Silencio! !Silencio!" In a clever ploy, the government managed to put ample supplies of meat, which has been scarce for several months, in many Santiago shops. Not even residents of wealthier suburbs --who normally would have supported the day of silence--could resist such bait. They turned out to shop, often in the city's shantytowns, which were better supplied with food than middle-class neighborhoods because Allende's strongest backers are the poor.

Last week the striking professional organizations were joined by pilots of LAN-Chile, the national airline. Although many workers were still out, there were signs that the strike--which one leader admitted was designed "to turn the clock back to Sept. 4, 1970," the date of Allende's election--had begun to run out of steam. Faced with mounting economic losses, many shopkeepers have unshuttered their stores. Taxis and buses are running again. The government commandeered 1,500 trucks from striking truck operators and pro-government workers have managed to keep food supplies flowing at a tolerable 40% of the normal rate.

There were other signs that Chile's immediate crisis may be resolved. Christian Democratic Senator Radomiro Tomic, a respected former presidential candidate and ambassador to the U.S., called, in a newspaper article, for a truce until March, when all members of Chile's lower house and half the Senate will be up for reelection. At week's end Allende had appointed a new Cabinet, whose first task will be to negotiate a settlement of the strike.

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