Mister President

"Your Excellency," the usual form of address for Latin American Presidents, is banned by law in democratic Uruguay; "Mr. President" is thought to be title enough. Luis Batlle (pronounced Bat-zhay) Berres, the next President of Uruguay's Swiss-style National Council and therefore the country's top man, is definitely the mister type. During an earlier presidential term, explaining that "it's ridiculous for me to have guards," he modestly removed policemen from duty at his little farm just outside Montevideo. The disconcerting result was not an assassination attempt but the theft of 50 chickens.

Familiar Routine. Becoming Presidentelect of his Nebraska-size country (pop. 2,350,000) in last fortnight's election (TIME, Dec. 13) worked little change on Batlle Berres. He rose as usual at 6 o'clock, after six hours' sleep. At his newspaper Action, he dummied up the editorial page, writing some of it himself. Rakishly jamming on his hat, he went to lunch at a modest restaurant, where the waiters gathered to congratulate him; he stood up to shake hands with them all. In the afternoon he began reading through 6.000 congratulatory cables and telegrams.

Batlle is Uruguay's most honored name. Jose Batlle y Ordonez, as President in 1907, astounded Uruguay, and set the democratic pattern that has prevailed ever since, by peaceably turninsr over office to his elected successor. The great man favored his nephew Luis over his own sons, and passed along to Luis the political know-how that made him a Congressman at 25. In 1946, before Uruguay's 1951 adoption of a council as its executive, he was elected Vice President, gaining the top office (and the nickname "Trumancito") when the President died a year later. Now, at 58, he will be Council President in his own right.

Special Blend. True to his background. Luis Batlle Berres carries on the special blend of liberal politics distilled by Uncle Jose. "Batllismo" is a pragmatic mixture of the welfare state and anticlericalism, seasoned with dignified friendship for the U.S. Under Batllismo, Uruguay disestablished religion so thoroughly that Christmas is now officially called "Family Day." The state runs banking, meatpacking, and fishing, sells insurance, operates the telephones, and provides free medical care and education (for qualified students) through university.

Batlle Berres' opponents, especially the wool and cattle barons of the interior, howl that this is Red socialism. But since under Batllismo Uruguay has Latin America's highest standard of living and no income tax, Uruguayans invariably vote for it. As for Communism, Batlle Berres opposes it with a technique that Uruguayans call "killing it with liberty." The Red vote dropped from 32,000 in 1946 to 17,000 in this month's election.

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