The Generals Call A Clockwork Coup

A blare of trumpets cut off the soft music of an early-morning radio program, then a stern voice declared: "The country is under the operational control of the Junta of the Commanding Generals of the Armed Forces." With that, Argentines last week heard the news that most of them were expecting: after 20 faltering months, the regime of President Isabel Peron had been toppled. In its place was a junta composed of the army, navy and air force chiefs, led by General Jorge R. Videla, 50, the army commander. By midafternoon, the generals had appointed a Cabinet of military men and pledged a "national reorganization to restore morality and efficiency" and work for "eventual" restoration of democracy. At week's end, Videla was named the new President.

House Arrest. The coup left Venezuela and Colombia as the only sizable South American countries not ruled by military regimes, either leftist or rightist. The Argentine takeover was executed with clockwork precision, following a blueprint drawn up weeks earlier. As Mrs. Peron, 45, was being flown to comfortable house arrest in the country's scenic lake district, troops blocked the roads leading out of Buenos Aires and stationed guards at key factories and the headquarters of the leading labor unions and moved into the capital's street intersections. Meanwhile, a barrage of communiques vested all authority in the junta: the Cabinet, national and provincial legislators, provincial governors, elected municipal officials and Supreme Court justices were all dismissed, political parties and unions were suspended and all public employees were placed under military control.

But there was no significant resistance, and the generals did not even bother to order a curfew. The coup was no great surprise, after all. Argentines had been speculating for months about when--not if--the soldiers would take power. Conditions were deteriorating so rapidly that only the military could restore order (TIME, March 29). The generals were not exaggerating last week when they claimed that Argentina was faced with "a tremendous power vacuum threatening to sink it in disintegration and anarchy." Political killings, by right-and left-wing murder squads, had recently reached the staggering rate of three per day (more than 2,200 Argentines have been killed by terrorists since Mrs. Peron came to power). Inflation was roaring at the pace of 600% annually and heading for 1,000% by the end of this year. But Isabel and her advisers clearly were unable to reverse the rising statistics of chaos.

Chance Encounter. In her months in office, Isabel proved to have little more political acumen than a cabaret dancer--which is what she was in 1956, when she had a chance encounter in Panama with Juan Peron, then freshly ousted by a coup after nine turbulent years as Argentina's President. She became his companion in luxurious exile in Madrid, married him in 1961 (she was 30, he was 66) and returned to Argentina with him in 1973. In that year she agreed to run for the vice presidency when he urged her to join him in his successful bid for the presidency. Although she was a strong campaigner among the descamisados (shirtless ones), the urban poor who have been the core of the Peronist movement, she was woefully unprepared to lead her nation of 25 million when Juan died of a heart attack in July 1974.

A brittle, fragile woman, she isolated herself, governing through a small clique of inept and often corrupt advisers. Among them was Astrologer-Mystic Jose Lopez Rega, a kind of Pampas Rasputin whose power antagonized the military and whose conservative economic ideas upset labor. After popular demonstrations forced Lopez Rega to quit last July, Isabel became a near recluse. At her infrequent public appearances, she was visibly nervous, often tearful and sometimes nearly hysterical. Last fall, claiming failing health, she took a leave to retreat to the hills of Cordoba to regain her strength. Many Argentines felt--and hoped--that she would resign. Yet 32 days later she returned to the capital, only to be hospitalized within a few weeks for a gall bladder attack that seemed more political than physical.

Meanwhile, the country staggered from one crisis to another. To finance rising deficits, the government printed pesos at a lightning pace, and prices rose almost daily. Dissatisfied workers paralyzed industry with strikes, and terrorist killings and kidnapings mounted. Isabel's reflex response to each crisis was a Cabinet shuffle. In 20 months, she had six Economy Ministers, six Interior Ministers and four Foreign Ministers. Because she could not lead the Peronist movement she inherited, left and far-right factions fell into open warfare.

Right up to her last day in office, she was out of touch with reality. On that day, while soldiers in combat gear were taking up their coup positions, she went on with business as usual, receiving new ambassadors from Switzerland and Rwanda. Only when her helicopter, which she had boarded to go to her suburban villa, was diverted to the Buenos Aires municipal airport did she seem to realize what was happening. There, an officer told her bluntly: "Senora, you are under detention. The government you have led is a calamity. The armed forces are taking over."

Bitter Memories. They could have done so much sooner. But there are bitter memories in the barracks of the military's dismal failure at governing the country and dealing with violence and inflation between 1966 and the return of the Peronists in 1973. Last week, however, General Videla and the air force and naval chiefs apparently decided that to leave the civilians in power any longer was pointless. An ardent nationalist, devout Roman Catholic and fervent antiCommunist, the rail-thin Videla (his barracks nickname is El Hueso, the bone) will probably appoint a civilian Economy Minister who favors business and a Foreign Minister who supports strong ties with the U.S. For the moment, his main concern seems to be to avoid the kind of Chilean-style repression that might anger world opinion and frighten away foreign investors. Isabel herself may be allowed to fly into exile, probably to Spain; if she does stand trial, it is likely to be for a relatively minor offense, such as misuse of public funds.

Isabel's successors surely recognize that if they are to check inflation, get the farms and factories humming again and increase foreign earnings, the painful sacrifice of economic austerity will be required from nearly all Argentines. Not only will this strain the military's popularity, but it might also eventually forge a potentially explosive alliance between the violent left and hard-pressed workers. Yet unless Videla and his colleagues are ready to deal forcefully with Argentina's economic mess and restore public order, they cannot hope to do much better than the hapless former dancer they finally moved off the stage.

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