The Day the Earth Stood Still

A 24-hour strike paralyzes a nation already in disarray

Across the city, schools, offices and factories were shuttered. Normally bustling train stations were deserted. Buenos Aires' ubiquitous colectivos (buses), usually overflowing with commuters on their way to work, were nowhere to be seen. In smaller cities and towns the story was the same: a 24-hour work stoppage called by the Peronist-dominated General Confederation of Labor (C.G.T.) had temporarily paralyzed the country. One militant leader of the 3 million-strong union bluntly called the collective action nothing less than "the rejection of a finished regime."

Coming only weeks after President Reynaldo Bignone promised to hold general elections next October, the strike threw the beleaguered country into an economic stall it could ill afford. Seven years after the military overthrew the regime of Isabel Martinez de Perdon, the call for elections to form a civilian government was effectively an admission that the generals have failed to bring order to the nation's chaotic political life. Their repressive rule has left Argentina with economic disaster, international notoriety for the scale of its human rights violations and national disgrace in the aftermath of last year's war with Britain over the Falklands. The strike was further evidence of the military government's disarray.

Argentina suffers from 400% inflation, 18% unemployment and a foreign debt of $40 billion. Under these circumstances, the C.G.T. marshaled 95% of the work force to protest a government proposal to freeze prices and wages at 1,000 industrial companies. The union leaders also demanded a 15% wage hike to offset what they called impending "national disintegration."

Bignone's government declared the strike illegal but shied away from taking punitive measures. The junta now faces an uncomfortable dilemma. It cannot buy off the unions, given the economic climate. Yet if the regime stands firm, it will almost certainly face further work stoppages. Last week's strike, said Admiral Ruben Oscar Franco, a member of the three-man ruling junta, "demonstrated an irresponsible and inflexible attitude on the part of the union leadership."

Perhaps. But there were other signs last week that the authority of Bignone's government was rapidly eroding. After an appearance before the three-member commission investigating the conduct of the Falklands war, former President Leopoldo Galtieri was accosted by angry hecklers. Shrieked the mother of a soldier who disappeared in the Falklands: "Scoundrel! You'll pay for it!" Shouted another angry bystander: "May God judge you!" Some 10,000 demonstrators marched peacefully amid cries of "Military traitors to the wall!" and ritual burnings of American and British flags.

Yet another blow to the junta's prestige came after police closed the offices of the weekly Buenos Aires magazine La Semana. The offense: publishing an article critical of Captain Alfredo Astiz, the officer who surrendered the Argentine garrison on South Georgia to the British and who was accused of torture and murder after infiltrating the human rights movement during the "dirty war" in 1977. La Semana's editor, Jorge Fontevecchia, successfully sought asylum in Venezuela last week. Shortly thereafter, however, a federal court judge ruled that there was nothing offensive in the article and ordered the junta to free all 20,000 seized copies of the magazine for distribution. This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.