The most glorious years of the Buenos Aires Herald were when this newspaper spoke out against violence and, even more importantly, reported the violence from the left and right that was tearing Argentina apart. They were also the most heart-breaking years because in vain the Herald warned the nation about the unfolding tragedy in the early 1970s and then tried to wake the Argentine people to the hideous hidden horror of the military dictatorship's policy of extermination and its embrace of torture and obscene cruelty.
When I look back over those years, I am proud of what the Herald achieved, because some lives were saved from the military's killing machine, but any pride is totally overwhelmed by sadness and anger. There was no reason for Argentina's descent into depravity and no justification is possible.
It is only possible to try and understand everything about that terrible past and ensure that justice is done, and seen to be done - so that there can be no return. The current trials of military officers charged with horrendous crimes, with the convictions of the insolently unrepentant ex-dictator Jorge Rafael Videla and, ironically, Benjamin Menendez, the former general who wanted to replace him, hold out the promise of a cleansing process. They should be followed by legal action that takes into account the terrorism that the military claimed they were fighting.
I have given evidence, so far, in three trials and until I became ill (I am better now), I planned to testify in the current trial of the naval officers who tortured and murdered thousands of people at the Navy's Mechanics School, the notorious ESMA.
That duty was assumed last Friday by the man I consider to be the greatest Argentine journalist in two generations, Uki Goñi. We worked together at the Herald during the dictatorship and when I was forced to leave, Uki continued to investigate the crimes against humanity committed by the military. He went on to uncover the Nazi connection with the Peronist regime while continuing to report for Time Magazine and The Guardian. You can read his brilliant journalism at ukinet.com
Uki writes:
Uki Goñi still at the Herald in 1982.
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I thought that my testimony, the inevitable long stream of words, would be easier to grasp with a visual reference, so I spent a couple of days at the Biblioteca Nacional with a digital camera photographing the stories from the year 1977 in which the Herald reported disappearances. It was a sobering moment. Turning the old pages I realized that almost every day we were visited by mothers who had their sons or daughters plucked from their homes. Even in the safe Biblioteca in 2011 the daily succession of accounts made me sick to the gut.
It brought back the pervasive smell of fear at the Herald. I remember everybody shaking. I remember the mothers shaking, holding back tears, as they fought to get the words out for us to publish. I remember husbands trying to hush their wives even as these brave women spoke, begging them to think of their other children. Right there, these tortuous husband-wife dialogues, as we jotted down the details to report. I remember Bob Cox shaking badly as he typed up the accounts the mothers brought him. I remember the clammy sweat of fear still clinging to my clothes riding home on the colectivo after putting the paper to bed each midnight.
What I didn't expect was for the court to project the stories I brought on big video screens. It was the hardest part of an already emotionally exhausting three hours of uninterrupted testimony.
The court asked me to provide a brief translation of each report going up on the screens: Maria Sadowski, a 70-year-old widow taken from her home at Castelli 207 in Once, reported by her sister Dina; Ethel Dematti, another widow who begged Cox to publish a picture of her, plainclothes men had been hunting her down since her son had vanished a few months earlier, the terror-stricken woman was living in hotels, playing hide-and-seek with her would-be-abductors; up went the photos we published of missing couples, of abducted pregnant women in their 20s, almost all still missing 34 years later.
I stumbled, voice breaking, when the judges asked me to provide a word-for-word translation of the Herald's report of 10 December 1977, titled "15 people grabbed" on the kidnappings at the Church of the Holy Cross, when two French nuns and three founding mothers of the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo joined the thousands of others already disappeared.
I was there to provide witness testimony on these mothers and human rights activists who visited the Herald in 1977. I remember Esther Careaga vividly. Her pregnant daughter Ana Maria had been kidnapped. Cox published her story. Ana Maria was promptly released but Mrs Careaga was afterwards kidnapped at the Holy Cross.
The court wanted to hear about Horacio Elbert, a young university activist, and Julio Fondovilla, a middle-aged man whose son was missing. They were taken a block-and-a-half away from the Herald. They were scared of coming directly to the newspaper, so I had worked out a system with them: they would go to the nearby Comet Bar and call from the Comet's pay phone, where I would go meet them. On the evening of December 8, they were supposed to call. The call never came. Elbert and Fondovilla, abducted at the Comet, became two of the 12 missing in the Holy Cross case.
I was there also as author of "El infiltrado", a book about these people who came to the Herald. It had been quoted repeatedly by the prosecution in their accusation against the 18 Navy officers under trial, so I expected a tough cross-examination from their defense. It never came.
One defense lawyer asked me instead for copies of all the Herald reports on terrorist activity previous to the 1976 coup. I told the court the old Herald copies were available at the Biblioteca Nacional. Another obsessively demanded if Cuba had financed terrorist activities. They wanted to convey the notion there had been a "war" in Argentina. I said I was aware of one single ESMA casualty, Captain Jorge Mayol, killed on the corner of Santa Fe and Oro, against the estimated 4,500 people murdered by the ESMA. It didn't look then, still doesn't look now, like a war to me.
I think that it is past time for the Buenos Aires Herald to blow its own trumpet. Throughout the years of terror, the Herald talked truth to power. I was touched when its role was recognized by a young law student who was an intern at the Herald in 2002 and 2003. He began to read back copies of the newspaper and devised a timeline of the newspaper's coverage of events that other media hushed up, distorted or ignored. It is now widely used by journalists and academics. (unglued.org/timeline)
Jeremy Peterson, who is now an attorney with the U.S. Justice Department, has also written the story of this newspaper from 1975 to 1983, which he calls The Lonely Herald. May the sound of the Herald's trumpet recall the past and act as a reveille for a better future.