The Generals Consolidate Their Coup

Scarcely a week after they overturned the Marxist government of Salvador Allende Gossens and seized power, the generals of Chile were acting rather like the colonels of Greece, or even like the cardboard military figures of a Costa-Gavras movie. They went methodically about eliminating traces of Allende's proposed evolution to socialism in matters both great and small. Snipers and suspected leftists were rounded up, and Marxist literature in bookstores was banned. Soldiers, suspecting long-haired civilians of leftist views, arbitrarily gave some of them haircuts. Barbershops were jammed as shaggy-tressed youths rushed to be sheared and shed of physical evidence that they might be leftist sympathizers. Reports that pantsuits for women were also banned turned out to be false. THEY CAN STILL WEAR PANTS read one of the few light headlines of the week in one Santiago newspaper.

The junta also banned the use of the term companero, or comrade, which had been the ritual greeting of Allende's supporters. Flying squads of painters, meanwhile, ranged across Santiago to cleanse political slogans and provocative graffiti off the city's walls. The Socialist and Communist parties were outlawed.

The aim of the junta, led by General Augusto Pinochet Ugarte, was to destroy the base for a possible counter-coup by the left. Judging by military announcements, the task was proving successful--and at surprisingly low cost in human lives. The junta insisted that only 95 people had been killed in the two days of fighting before the army took control of Santiago. Other sources, however, estimated deaths at 5,000.

Nearly twice that many people had been arrested. By official estimate, 8,000 people were being held--far too many to be contained in Santiago's jails. The junta therefore took over the capital's 100,000-seat National Stadium and converted it into a temporary bastille for 7,000 prisoners. Other detention centers were set up at Concepcion on the coast and in the isolated Juan Fernandez Islands. Important political prisoners were held in Santiago's military academy. Among them were several members of Allende's Cabinet, including Foreign Minister Clodomiro Almeyda and Interior Minister Carlos Briones.

At week's end armed troops continued to man checkpoints on the city's streets, and there were reports of isolated skirmishes in the countryside involving government troops and diehard Allende supporters. Nonetheless, the junta appeared to be in firm command of the country. Apparently convinced that it was in office to stay, at least 16 nations--including France, Spain, Switzerland and neighboring Argentina--recognized the new government. (The Soviet Union and East Germany, in contrast, broke relations with their onetime close ally.) Even though the Nixon Administration was unmistakably delighted at Allende's downfall, the U.S. took no diplomatic action. In part, the cautionary stance may have been a response to continuing accusations that the U.S. had had a direct hand in triggering the coup, a charge that Washington denied.

Sensitive to charges that it had acted autocratically in overthrowing Allende, the junta contended that the military had moved only to prevent a bloodier coup by the left. The junta charged that Allende's supporters intended to wipe out all right-wing resistance to his dream of a socialist Chile. Among the targeted victims for assassination, the junta claimed, were 300 officers. According to military sources, the uprising was planned to coincide with the eve of the 163rd anniversary of Chile's independence on Sept. 18. Convinced that the leftist coup was at hand, the military acted to prevent it.

The coup was plotted with remarkable care. TIME Correspondent Charles Eisendrath reports that a cadre of only 30 men was involved in the planning. To prevent bugging or discovery by Allende's spies, the conspirators avoided any communication with one another except by trusted messengers. As the date of the coup approached, the leaders established a system by which any calls from Allende would be funneled through a single office and monitored. Reason: they were afraid that the President, whose persuasive powers were legendary in Chile, might flatter one of them enough to break the unity that was the keystone of the coup.

Alien List. The military also tried to rally Chilean opinion to its side by insisting that many of Allende's leftist supporters consisted of "foreign elements." The junta issued a list of aliens being sought for questioning that named 4,187 Bolivians, 2,139 Argentines, 987 Cubans, 1,300 Brazilians and 3,266 Uruguayans. Many others were already under arrest.

Eventually, the junta announced, the suspect foreigners will be tried by courts-martial. Some of those who were said to have been arrested with stockpiles of Soviet-made weapons in their possession will likely be sentenced to death or lengthy prison terms. Others will be returned to their homelands, which may or may not be a kinder fate: many were Latin revolutionaries or troublesome political leftists who had been given asylum in Chile by the Allende government.

The most notable defender of the dead President's memory was his widow, Hortensia Bussi de Allende, who accepted an offer of asylum tendered by Mexican President Luis Echeverria. Upon arrival in Mexico City, Mrs. Allende announced that she had changed her mind about the manner of her husband's death. Earlier, she had said that he had killed himself, using a submachine gun given him by Cuba's Fidel Castro. Now she insisted that he had been shot dead by soldiers; she said she had changed her mind after hearing eyewitness reports of multiple bullet wounds in her husband's body. The junta had released a medical report purportedly confirming its claim that Allende had died by his own hand.

Despite the roundup of Allende sympathizers and the sporadic shootouts, Santiago and the rest of Chile last week were gradually returning to a kind of normalcy. Shops were open, food was available again as truckers who had struck against Allende returned to work. The curfew was shortened to allow Chileans to restock pantries stripped bare by the shortages of the Allende regime and later by the fighting in the streets. Early in the week only a few planes carrying foreign journalists and privileged evacuees moved in and out of Santiago's secondary Los Cerrillos airport. But by Friday, commercial service resumed at the international Pudahuel terminal. Trains also began to run again, without the danger that they would be taken over and stalled by militants, as occasionally happened during Allende's regime. Skiers were even able to go up to the Andean resort of Portillo for a crack at the last corn snow of the season.

The junta, meanwhile, went sternly about the business of sorting out its priorities. After the elimination of all Marxist influences, the first emphasis, it appeared, would be on economics.

Without giving specifics, the junta indicated that foreign investment would be welcome again in Chile. Opportunities would be offered to "anyone who makes a fair deal." The copper industry, on which Chile depends for a large portion of its earnings, was to be spurred to better efforts. Under Allende production fell to 717,000 metric tons in 1972 and a predicted 680,000 tons this year.

Henceforth, the junta announced, production will be stepped up to 1,000,000 metric tons a year.

At week's end six of Santiago's nine newspapers were back on the streets, although their pages were subject to strict censorship. One of the city's three television channels was also operating, under close military supervision. And in a very modest way, politics had started up again. At a press conference, Patrick Alywin, president of the Christian Democrats, dared to challenge a statement by one of the junta's leaders --namely, that the military was considering a new constitution. Alywin said that the Christian Democrats, even though they backed the junta, did not believe that "a constitutional system can be imposed on the people. No one, not even if they are armed, can impose a constitutional regime. A constitutional regime must come from the people."

It may be quite a while before the Chilean people get to choose a constitution for themselves. All the evidence last week pointed to a grim fact: civilian-led democratic government in Chile has no priority at all for the junta. The earliest estimate for national elections was in three to five years, and even that was a guess. By the time the polls reopen, Chileans may be too deep into dictatorship to remember the old days of democracy that ended so suddenly two weeks ago in blood and smoke.

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