Argentina: Looking for Supermen

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No Latin American country had ever seen anything quite like it. Summoned to the presidential villa in the Buenos Aires suburb of Olivos, 161 top officials and military men in President Juan Carlos Onganía's government appeared as ordered and took their seats in the villa's cavernous recreation hall. When everyone had settled down, Ongania walked briskly to a lectern at the front of the room. He fixed his audience with a steely glare.

"The self-evaluation to be carried out here," Onganía said, "is not an evaluation of accomplishment." With that, he lashed out at a whole host of governmental demons: inefficiency, featherbedding, lack of cooperation and coordination, an absence of planning and all-around administrative malaise. "The functioning of our state is chaotic," he said. "Argentina, a nation whose great destiny no one doubts because of its riches, lies in the shadows of neglect." The officials were shocked by the stern lecture.

Restlessness & Frustration. Almost two years after seizing power, ex-army general Ongania, 53, thus recognized the sad condition into which Argentina has fallen—and moved to stop the decline. Thirty years ago, his country was ranked among the world's developed nations; today, the World Bank classifies it as underdeveloped. The economy is only inching along, and unemployment is up to 8%. The state-owned railroads are losing $1,000,000 a day. To pay its bills and meet its huge deficits, the government is constantly printing more money and, in turn, inflating an already bloated cost of living—now rising by 28% a year. Only the second lowest population growth rate in Latin America (1.6%) and one of the highest abortion rates (one in three pregnancies) keep the economy from complete collapse.

The growing problems have created a new restlessness among Argentina's people. Not even the country's few bargains—3¢ subway rides, 1½ pay phones, 300-per-lb. beefsteak—have been able to ease the feelings of frustration and disquiet. The middle class grumbles constantly about soaring prices, which seem to hit it hardest. The lower classes are slightly better off, mainly because Onganía, who started out as a union buster, has turned kindly toward the unions and consults with them regularly in an effort to win some kind of popular support. "Onganía is an orphan," says Labor Leader José Alonso, head of the powerful 150,000-member Textile Workers Union. "He wants support. He wants to be less of a de facto government."