Argentina: Ghost from the Past

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Cooler Heads. When the votes were counted, Argentina's bitterly anti-Per&243;n military went into a state of shock. Having once ousted Old Soldier Per&243;n, and now deeply fearful of their ex-commander's vengeance and his irresponsibility, they were determined to forestall any Per&243;nista comeback. Through Navy Secretary Admiral Gaston Clement, some of the officers demanded the immediate resignation of Frondizi and his replacement with a military junta. But cooler heads, mostly in the army and air force, proposed a compromise: Frondizi could stay, but with his power sharply curtailed.

At the height of the crisis, the U.S. clearly showed its support of Frondizi. Ambassador Robert McClintock, who has been in similar hot spots before, and was ambassador in Lebanon in 1958 when the embattled government of President Camille Chamoun called on U.S. Marines, made a pointed visit to Frondizi. As the wires hummed between Buenos Aires and Washington, McClintock let it be known that Argentina could expect no aid from the U.S. if the military imposed a new dictatorship on Argentina. "The objective," as one State Department officer put it, "is to preserve even the thinnest skin over this skeleton of legalism rather than see it destroyed and the military rule."

On one thing, the generals and admirals were adamant. The Per&243;nistas, though democratically elected in one of the freest elections in Argentine history, must never take office. In no position to resist, Frondizi agreed, and found the powers in the constitution to make it legal.* He then appointed "interventors" to govern five Argentine provinces, including populous, highly industrialized Buenos Aires, fired his civilian Cabinet and proposed a new coalition government, half of whose members would be military men. When Frondizi took this enforced solution to the People's Radicals, whose support he would need in the fractured Congress, they refused to go along.

Back from the Barricades. It was a crucial moment of decision for Argentina. The nation was dismayed at events, and tense, yet on all sides there was a curious unwillingness to push to the barricades. Frondizi made no emotional appeals to the people; the army kept most of its troops safely inside their barracks. Even the Per&243;nista leaders, not wanting a full test of strength that would result in their forceful suppression, behaved themselves. Per&243;nistas trumpeted their "triumph of the people" but the mobs were ordered to stay home, and they obeyed.

In Madrid, where he lives in luxurious exile with his two poodles and 27-year-old Isabel, whom he introduces as his third wife, Juan Per&243;n greeted the events with satisfaction but also with an oddly detached manner. Anti-U.S. as always, the 66-year-old ex-dictator accused the U.S. of "siphoning off" Latin America's wealth. He bragged that his followers could have polled 6,000,000 votes in the election. But he remained politely ambiguous about any plans for a return to Argentina. "I have done nothing," he said. "Our people have done everything. That is why it is not my victory but the victory of the Argentine people."