O Brasil contra a democracia: A ditadura, o golpe no Chile e a Guerra Fria na América do Sul

Abstract

The attempt to discover a topic, document, or tract of land has been an obsession for many and a trap for most. In recent years, “Columbusing” became an internet meme to mock the finding of something that has always existed. Journalist Roberto Simon decided to forgo the inclusion of a bibliography in his 491-page book and instead rely almost exclusively on primary sources, including interviews and documents from four archival collections. The impressive body of oral sources is the major contribution of this well-written work. However, Simon's indifference to the many authors who have published prolifically on the same topic places his book in a strange vacuum. He mentions Denise Rollemberg, Mónica González, Peter Kornbluh, and Tanya Harmer but ignores the most recent decade of scholarship that reframed the history of the South American Cold War through an interregional perspective.O Brasil contra a democracia is divided into three parts and opens with expectations following the election of Salvador Allende, in 1970. Brazilian ambassador to Santiago, Antônio Cândido da Câmara Canto, and his Chilean counterpart, Raúl Rettig, appear as central figures. With a plethora of anecdotes, Simon describes Câmara Canto's preoccupation with the “surprising” victory of the socialist leader—although documents attest that the Brazilian government was prepared for this outcome (p. 46). The diplomat's impetus to monitor Brazilian exiles in Chile had the backing of the Foreign Office's Intelligence Center, researched at length in the 2000s by historian Pio Penna Filho. Rettig, in the meantime, tried to gather information about a plan in Rio de Janeiro to deploy guerrilla groups in the Andes. Simon also points to the ties between fascist Chilean group Patria y Libertad and the Brazilian government while suggesting support for the group from Brazilian businesspeople who favored the removal of Allende.Part 2 narrates the coup of September 11, 1973, and the reaction of Brazilian officials. According to the dictator Augusto Pinochet, they “were still shooting” when Brazil recognized the forcefully installed regime (p. 207). The book successfully demonstrates how the Brazilian leadership abandoned their citizens who were among the many victims of the torture and killings in Chile. Instead, Brazil's leaders continued the surveillance of exiles by tracking them down in embassies, refusing to issue safe-conducts, and sending agents to the Estadio Nacional. This idea had already been developed by other scholars, including Alessandra Beber Castilho, who included the Catholic Church among the enemies of the Allende presidency.The third section begins after what the author refers to as the “burial of Allende and the Chilean socialism” (p. 255). It analyzes the role of Brazilian diplomats in the lonely mission of defending Chile on the global stage, a similar approach to what historian Olivier Compagnon proposed. The United States struggled to occupy a discreet position, and the deputy director of central intelligence, Vernon Walters, emerged as the principal interlocutor with the Brazilian government to back the Chilean regime. The inauguration of President Ernesto Geisel, with Pat Nixon and a clique of dictators in attendance—Bolivian Hugo Banzer, Uruguayan Juan María Bordaberry, and Pinochet—serves as the background for a group of Chilean officials buying military weapons and vehicles. The lack of ready-to-sell products was not an obstacle to the deal. On the contrary, the Brazilian General Staff of the Armed Forces removed the blazon of its own arsenal and sent it to the ally. The book ends with the Brazilian support of the National Intelligence Directorate, the Chilean secret police, and the infamous Operation Condor, the US-backed and Chilean-led campaign of state terror in the region.For decades, the Brazilian government has tried to deny its contributions to authoritarian regimes in the Southern Cone. The country's truth commission was one of the last to be established in the region, only releasing its first report in December 2014. The oblivion has consequences. On September 7, 2021, when Brazil celebrated its independence from Portugal, thousands of citizens took to the streets wearing the national soccer team jersey, holding flags and banners, and demanding the return of the dictatorship. The economy minister, Paulo Guedes, worked during Pinochet's rule in Chile and in his youth harbored the dream of being one of the Chicago Boys. President Jair Bolsonaro openly defended the atrocities of both the Chilean and Brazilian dictatorships, recently declaring that “Chile would be a Cuba today” if not for Augusto Pinochet. The ties between the two regimes feel chillingly more relevant than ever. Simon's book would certainly have benefited from a dialogue with contemporary authors as well as from starting his investigation in the 1960s. Recently declassified documents attest to the connections between Brasília and anti-Allende groups well before his presidential election, when the socialist was long established as a political force. Nevertheless, additional research into the role of the Brazilian dictatorship in the weakening of democracies in the Southern Cone is much needed and always welcome for the political insights that it is sure to provide.