Real Dictators - General Videla Part 3: God, Football, the Falklands

Episode Date: November 13, 2024

The 1978 FIFA World Cup rolls into Argentina. A surreal fortnight ensues. Fans flock to revamped stadia, while just metres away prisoners cower - hidden in secret torture facilities. As foreign journalists begin to join the dots, Videla goes into statesman mode. With the tournament in the balance, the dictator and a famous friend pay Argentina’s opponents a friendly visit. It will result in one of the most contentious games in history… A Noiser production, written by John Bartlett. Many thanks to Edward Brudney, Robert Cox, Marcela Mora y Araujo, Rhys Richards, Ernesto Semán. This is Part 3 of 4. Get every episode of Real Dictators a week early with Noiser+. You’ll also get ad-free listening, bonus material and early access to shows across the Noiser network. Click the Noiser+ banner to get started. Or, if you’re on Spotify or Android, go to noiser.com/subscriptions Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

It's June the 21st, 1978, another bitter winter's afternoon in the city of Rosario, two hundred miles northwest of Buenos Aires. A fine drizzle blows in of the Paraná River over the skeletal forest of masts and rusty cranes of the river port. Nearby fans are gathering at the Estadio Gigante de Arashito, Rosario Central's decrepit football ground. But we are down in the bowels of the stadium. In a stifling, cramped changing room, the players of Peru are preparing to face the

hosts, Argentina. They wrap tape around their wrists, slide into their boots and pull on their shirts. It's the last game before the 1978 World Cup final. According to the tournament's unusual format, Peru are already eliminated. But Argentina, playing on home soil, can still make the final with victory by four clear goals. The Peruvians are focused as they go through their last preparations, but tension is growing. The atmosphere in the stadium is febrile.

Suddenly the changing room door swings open and a flustered aide scuttles in, murmuring something in the ear of coach Marcos Calderon, whose face contorts into a worried frown. Before the aide has finished his explanation, two more unannounced visitors stride in behind him. One is thin and bird-like. His angular frame supports a woolen suit like a hastily assembled scarecrow. His eyes dart nervously between the players. The other is portly and bespectacled, beaming around the room. They are General Jorge Rafael Videla, Argentina's dictator, and Henry Kissinger, a private citizen who has recently lost his job as the US Secretary of State.

They've decided to pay Argentina's opponents a friendly visit. Silence falls. Studs scrape on the floor as the players straighten up and turn to face the pair. General Videla attempts a smile, his lips twisting uncomfortably beneath his scrubby moustache. They've come to wish them good luck, he announces. That's all. He addresses a stunned Peruvian team briefly,

appealing to the Latin American Brotherhood. The honourable thing for them to do, he suggests, would be to let Argentina win, so that a South American nation can have a shot at glory. He stops short of mentioning what might happen if they don't do as he suggests. if they don't do as he suggests. From the Noiser Network, this is part three of the Videla story. And this is Real Dictators. By mid-1978, General Jorge Rafael Vidal's regime is in a strong position domestically.

Yes, there's some squabbling within the military junta, but that's nothing new. There is, however, one major issue facing him. His government's program of state repression is causing a stir abroad. The international perception of his beloved country is that it's Nadia. The US has imposed sanctions on Argentina, and Videla's relationship with President Jimmy Carter is frosty to say the least. France, Sweden and several other countries are frantically searching for information on citizens who've disappeared under Videla's watch.

Meanwhile, over in Geneva, the United Nations is compiling long lists of these disappeared individuals. This is all part of an anti-Argentine campaign, a furious Videla declares. There are no concentration camps or political prisoners in Argentina, he tells German newspaper Die Welt in a rare foreign press interview, ten days before the Football World Cup is due to begin. The campaign unleashed against Argentina, he spits, is the work of the international left.

He goes on. The 3,200 detainees whose names the Interior Ministry has published are imprisoned for terrorism, corruption and criminality. The Argentine armed forces, threatened by 4,000 armed guerrillas, were obliged to defend the human rights of the majority. We haven't been given the understanding we deserve. In fact, the number of disappeared has swollen to more than 20,000, with many of those individuals subjected to incarceration, depraved torture and execution.

General Videlo and his government could do with changing the image of Argentina. Footballing success might be just the thing to wash away their guilt and reinvent themselves. Rhys Richards is a journalist and author of Blood on the Crossbar, a history of the 1978 World Cup. and author of Blood on the Crossbar, a history of the 1978 World Cup. If Argentina is able to establish itself as a good football team, as a nation that's able to host football fans from around the world, then that's a huge pat on the back for the government, for the dictatorship, internationally as well as domestically.

In a ceremony in London on July 6, 1966, five days before England would embark upon their only successful World Cup campaign, Argentina is selected as the host nation for the 1978 tournament. Just a week before this announcement, back in Buenos Aires, civilian President Arturo Ilia is deposed by the fifth military coup of the 20th century. Handing the World Cup to such a tumultuous country raises eyebrows. But everything will be different in Argentina in 12 years' time, assures FIFA, football's governing body. In some ways,

they're not wrong. It's a very different Argentina between 66 and 78. There were eight different people leading the country during that time. There was a huge push to stage the World Cup. I know Perón, in the early days, I think he wanted to host the 1950 World Cup

and then the policy of isolationism meant that they skipped a few. So by the time he came around in 1966, he was very much overdue. It's difficult to overstate how all-consuming football can be in Argentina. Every detail of every game is analysed minutely, and the country grinds to a halt whenever the national team plays. Indeed, even amid the upheaval of Wydela's coup in May 1976, the only broadcast allowed to be shown, besides the obligatory military transmissions, was a friendly fixture against Poland.

But despite their renown, the national team have a history of underperforming in major competitions. They are yet to win a World Cup. Four years earlier, in West Germany, they were knocked out feebly, much to the chagrin of football-loving Argentines. Marcela Mora Iarajo is is a football journalist born in Buenos Aires. The fact that Argentina had never quite shone internationally as a national squad, they played international games, they won a lot, big clubs from Europe would come here. And so the poor performance at World Cup or at international level was something that needed to be resolved. It was like a pending assignment.

And there was widespread feeling that Argentina were the best in the world and this should be somehow acknowledged and proved beyond dispute. So it was like, do you? In August 1976, a few months after Videla's coup d'état, a special committee is established. The World Cup Autarkic Entity, or EAM, is given the task of delivering the tournament the dictatorship wants. There are two men at its helm. General Omar Actis is named President.

Actis is a tight-fisted military bureaucrat who is interested in delivering an attainable, austere tournament within budget. His Vice President is Captain Carlos Lacoste. He is a confidant of the bloodthirsty, ambitious head of the Navy, Admiral Macera. He is a confidant of the bloodthirsty, ambitious head of the navy, Admiral Macera. Like almost everything else, the organization of the tournament is causing squabbles within the Junta. Two days before he is due to lay out his plans for the World Cup at a press conference in Buenos Aires, Actis is brutally gunned down. An official statement from the army explains that he had been intercepted by four subversive delinquents who fled the scene after the attack.

The Montaneros guerrilla group are blamed, but almost, fingers are pointed towards Massera, who wants his pal in charge of the World Cup committee. With Actis out of the way, Lacoste is cleared to deliver the tournament which can launder Vidal's declining international image. The purse strings are loosened, and no expense is spared. Ambitious infrastructure plans are announced. A state television company is created to broadcast the games. The airport will be given a makeover and highways will be laid out. A new stadium will be built in Cordoba,

Mendoza and Mar del Plata. And three more will be renovated, among them River Plate's Estadio Monumental. Bulldozers displaced hundreds of thousands of people from the vicias, or shanty towns, to make way for the new infrastructure and hotels. In the end, that wasn't done quite fast enough for the World Cup, but for years, in the build-up, you had massive cardboard kind of signposts along the motorway.

If you were driving from the international airport into the city, just literally hiding the rubbish dumps and the shanty towns so foreign visitors wouldn't see them. So literally covering everything that was awful or deemed as unsightly for foreign visitors. Holding the tournament will show the world that Argentina is a trustworthy country, capable of carrying out huge projects, boasts Admiral Macera. It will help push back against the criticism that is raining on us from around the world. But the criticism is well substantiated. Even as the final preparations are being put in place, five death flights are departing every day to dump bodies in the Atlantic Ocean, the victims of Macera's torture center,

the ESMA. In the end, Argentina spends over 520 million dollars, almost four times as much as Spain will spend as hosts four years later. Economy Minister Martinez de Os is apoplectic. Argentina's public deficit is one of its greatest woes. This profligate spending is hardly helping. Yet despite his lavish investment, General Videla doesn't much care for football himself. He showed no interest in the sport at the Colegio San José, the strict Catholic school he attended in Buenos Aires. While his football-mad classmates played scrappy

games with a rubber ball in the school's central patio, he would lean back against the stone pillars, watching on ambivalently. Once he becomes president, Fidele professes to be a fan of Independiente, a popular club from a southern suburb of the capital. But his schoolmates don't remember that being part of his childhood. Admiral Massera is the Junta's real football fanatic. Jorge Fidele was not a football man. He'd never set foot on a football pitch prior to the World Cup. He was an arch pragmatist. He saw the value of this tournament in portraying Argentina in a positive light. The person who was crucial to the World Cup, a football man, was Massera, Emilio Massera, the leader of the Navy. And I think the staging of the World Cup and the way that it happened, establishing Carlos Lacoste as the organiser,

the close links with FIFA, these were more down to Masera rather than Videla. On the eve of the World Cup, Videla's dirty war is well known abroad and rumblings of dissent grow louder. Amnesty International launches a protest movement under the slogan Yes to Soccer, No to Torture. There was a large movement to boycott the tournament and the epicentre of that was France so in Paris there was a group of exiles and Parisians who

worked together to produce a magazine named Coba or the committee to boycott the world cup in Argentina who produced magazines and a lot of literature to tell the story of what was happening they tried their best to re-emphasize the proximity of the detention centers to the games. So their message was no football should take place in a concentration camp or no football should take place near concentration camps. The Netherlands, favorites to win the tournament, join calls for a boycott. The West German government also threatens to withdraw. But in the end, both teams do travel to Argentina. Just one man, curly-haired West German midfielder Paul Breitner, refuses to play for political reasons.

Even the Montoneros, Fidelis' staunchest enemies, say that the World Cup should go ahead. They would rather people come to the General's Argentina to see the truth for themselves. Vidal is incensed by the lack of credit and amount of criticism that he's receiving. So, in secret, he hires the services of Burson Mastala, a US advertising agency. He asks them to come up with a pithy slogan to alter Argentina's image in the international press. The line they settle on is Los Argentinos somos derechos y humanos. We Argentines are righteous and humane. It's printed on 250,000 bumper stickers

and distributed to motorists throughout Buenos Aires to create the appearance of spontaneous support. To further combat negative international perceptions of Videla, the government even take out full-page adverts in major newspapers around the world. Professor Ernesto Simán. I think that the idea of him as a person was developed as a PR strategy once he was in power.

You know, from TV programs to covers in magazines to very generous interviews, all the way leading to the World Cup in which he was making a lot of effort in order to become a sort of a sympathetic figure. By June 1978, the Junta's strength is at its height. By June 1978, the Junta's strength is at its height. It has a World Cup to distract attention and project an alternative message around the world. Let the games begin.

June the 1st. 80,000 supporters, wrapped up warm against the bitter winter, are packed into River Plate's revamped stadium in Belgrano, one of the wealthiest neighbourhoods in the capital. Their breath rises in clouds above them, their hands are stuffed deep into their pockets. The dictatorship's tournament is about to get underway. Despite the refurbishments, the pitch in front of them is bumpy and tattered. The original grass withered after being irrigated with seawater and had to be hastily relayed in the weeks before kick-off. Up in the director's box, General Videla looms into view on the big screen. Polite applause fills the stadium.

He steps up to a microphone in a pin-striped grey suit flanked by cronies, who remove their hats deferentially and listen closely. Videla speaks slowly and deliberately, his voice echoing back to him from speakers around the stadium, as he asks God for the tournament to contribute to peace among all men. The crowd responds with a mixture of applause and whistles. As he barks out his message, Videla sounds like he's addressing a military rally. The general only knows one way. As a crude metaphor to accompany his message of peace,

a cot of greyish doves are released, fluttering into the air. He was not somebody, in truth, you would see much of. He was not somebody, in truth, you would see much of. However, when the World Cup landed, he went into statesman mode. He presented the opening ceremony. He made a great speech about the importance of the World Cup and the opportunity to unite the people. He's forever in the background looking awkward, shuffling into shot. There are photos of him everywhere.

I would imagine there's more photos of him during this month period than at any other point in his history. This is when he was most visible as the commander-in-chief, most visible as the president, the de facto president of the Argentinian Republic. The opening game gets underway. Italy are taking on France moments after General Videla's remarks. But literally a few hundred meters from where Argentina's dictator addressed the crowd, thousands of the disappeared are cowering in the Esma, hidden in plain sight.

The Esmer, hidden in plain sight. Down a long basement corridor, one prisoner leans against the wall in her tube, the standing cell she's been kept in for nearly two months. Every inch of the wall in front of her is etched with the final words of the tube's previous occupants. She's been here so long she knows each aching phrase and dedication by heart. Over at the River Plate Stadium, the crowd erupts. She hears the cheering clearly through a grate high above her head. She imagines her football-mad brother leaping up from his seat in celebration.

He can have no idea how close she is. For all he knows, she's been dead for months. Throughout the tournament, the prisoners of the ESMA hear the sounds of the matches. The fans' groans of anguish and screams of triumph. Some inmates are even brought out of their cells to watch the games with their guards, only to return to their torture after the final whistle has been blown. Videla's World Cup is truly modern. Deals are signed with Adidas, Coca-Cola and McDonald's,

their logos plastered around each stadium. Ticker tape rains down from the stands, accumulating in piles around the edges of the pitches. And all this commercialism and vibrancy is captured by the cameras in its full glory. Because this World Cup is being broadcast across the globe in colour. Well, for most people it is. It was colour TV, but only for the countries that were consuming it. Outside Argentina, we still had to watch black and white,

which I still can't believe we did, actually. I sometimes see footage and I think, well, in my memory, those matches are in colour, but they weren't. They were grainy black and white. Football mad Argentines like Marcelo are left squinting at fuzzy, monochromatic images on their screens. The neighbourhoods around the stadia are even subject to power blackouts during some games, all to ensure that Videla's curated image of Argentina

is beamed out internationally. L'Equipe, the French sports paper, ironically labels the televisual spectacle Videla Color. The German press run with ironically labels the televisual spectacle Vidae le Colour. The German press run with Fussball Macht frei, a grim allusion to the sign above the entrance to the concentration camp at Auschwitz.

In Argentina, the Montoneros managed to briefly hijack the radio commentary to tell listeners about the numbers of disappeared, but few people hear it. The only hint of protest in the stadia were the curious black bands painted diligently around the base of the goal frames. After considering other forms of protest, the ground staff decided that if the players could not sport black armbands in memory of the disappeared, then the posts would have to do it for them.

Cesar Menotti, Argentina's celebrated coach, is an interesting figure to hold the key to the junta's chances of victory. There was no doubt that he is the best man for the job, but the 39-year-old is also a chain-smoking socialist, who was even a member of Argentina's Communist Party in his youth, and he's hardly afraid of voicing his opinions. But Videla would rather win with a rebel at the helm than lose with a stooge. So strong is the current squad that a 17-year-old Diego Maradona, one of Argentina's two greatest ever players, is left out by Minotti.

Even as Videla attempts to show off the best of Argentina, the World Cup also has another effect. It increases scrutiny on the regime. Of course, no photographer, reporter or visiting player is ever let inside the gates of the ESMA. But, ignored by the Argentine press and ridiculed as madwomen by the Junta, the mothers of the Plaza de Mayo are interviewed by a Dutch television journalist. Their testimony, seeking answers and justice for disappeared loved ones, causes a furore around the world. Robert Cox was the editor of the Buenos Aires Herald

when the World Cup rolled into Argentina, bringing foreign journalists within touching distance of Fidel's regime. Well, anything that got published abroad was tremendous because there was a complete denial in Argentina because they managed to close down pretty well all the normal sources that people had of news. What happened was is that people who came here to report soccer wanted to report something else because they realized

what was happening was appalling. Up in the stands, Videla is present at every Argentina game. But results are mixed. Having finished second in the stands, Videla is present at every Argentina game. But results are mixed. Having finished second in their group, Argentina end up playing their last group match against Peru in Rosario. The tournament's particular format means no quarter or semi-finals. The two best teams from across the group stages will automatically go into the World Cup final. Argentina still have a chance of making it, but the odds are stacked against them.

Cue Videla and Kissinger's impromptu visit to the Peruvian dressing room to address the players and remind them of the benefits of South American solidarity. to address the players and remind them of the benefits of South American solidarity. What follows is one of the most contentious games in World Cup history. Argentina needed to win 4-0 and they actually won 6-0. You've got the presence of Jorge Videla in the Peruvian changing room prior to the game where he's speaking about the importance of Latin Brotherhood. Now, obviously this would have a hugely intimidating effect

on the Peruvians. Peru starts strongly enough, but their capitulation, allowing Argentina to score six goals without reply, sparks rumour and suspicion. Peru's goalkeeper was actually born in Argentina. He becomes the centre of the speculation. Could the Peruvians really have lost on purpose?

It's been said that the Peruvians were offered $20,000 each to throw the game. There are accusations that they were transferred of political prisoners which would have been fairly commonplace between dictatorships at the time. There are accusations of grain shipments between the countries and there are numerous accusations. I will say on record I don't think it was fixed. I think they did everything they could to make it as difficult as possible for everyone they played but I think it stops short of being fixed. I think they did everything they could to make it as difficult as possible for everyone they played. But I think it stops short of being fixed. I don't know anyone that has any conclusive evidence. And the most recent thorough look probe into the 78 World Cup, which is Matthias Baus's oral history, he also says i interviewed hundreds of people for hundreds of hours i have

no conclusive evidence people talk of a cargo of maize to cereals to peru but that apparently was actually something that was broken a long time before and argentina had withheld some of it the peruvian goalkeeper whom I've interviewed several times, was like a man with no money. So he was like, wouldn't I be richer if I'd thrown that game? None of the players on the pitch, Argentinian or Peruvian, acknowledge or confess or recognise the accusation that the match was fixed. Whether honestly or not,

Argentina have made the final. They will face a strong Dutch side in a bid to win their first ever World Cup. But before the showpiece, another scandal surfaces. A bizarre letter appears in El Grafico, Argentina's biggest football magazine. It appears to have been written in English by Dutch captain Rudolf Krol to his three-year-old daughter.

Mum said the other day you cried a lot because some little friends of yours told you some ugly things that happened in Argentina, it reads. that happened in Argentina, it reads. It's a childish lie. Daddy is fine. He has your doll and a battalion of soldiers to look after him, and their rifles shoot flowers. Tell your friends the truth. Argentina is a land of love.

In actual fact, it's been written by journalist Enrique Romero. Krol's signature had been lifted from an information pack distributed to journalists covering the tournament. Incensed, Krol immediately goes before the press to rubbish the letter. Even if he had written it, he says, why would he write to his three-year-old daughter in English? The Dutch team threatens to pull out of the tournament. I think the Dutch team in general were furious with their treatment. They felt like they'd been used. They felt like they were used as puppets.

Argentina's shot at glory comes on June 25th 1978. With Videla watching on from the stands, coach Cesaminotti tells his players to win not for the junta, but for the metal workers, the butchers, the bakers and taxi drivers who fill the stadium. We play in blue and white, not the green of the military, he says. Just before the break, Mario Kempis fires Argentina ahead and the roof comes off the place. But the Dutch come back strongly in the second half and equalize. The game goes to extra time. Waves of sickening

nerves wash through the spectators. But nerves turn to joy as Argentina score twice more. The stadium is in raptures. Argentina have done it. They become the fifth host nation to win the World Cup. The Dutch have lost a second successive final. Videla gets his moment in the spotlight. He can scarcely believe it. The tournament could not have gone better. On a low stage, erected on the turf, he hands Argentina's captain the trophy.

The photograph is plastered across the papers the next morning. This triumph goes beyond the realm of sport, crows the football agnostic dictator. This was the confirmation of the never-in-doubt victory of Argentina as a country. Our country has lived a genuine festive climate that has surprised many visitors who can now testify to the reality of our motherland, deformed by a perverse international campaign. The scenes inside the ground are euphoric, but they're nothing compared to what is unfolding on the crowded streets outside.

Argentina is jubilant. Crowds throng the street in every direction, awash with pale blue and white as far as the eye can see. The whole city is out tonight. pale blue and white as far as the eye can see. The whole city is out tonight. Horns blare, fireworks pop, and songs and chants fill the air. People have climbed atop bus shelters and onto trees to witness the moment.

Everybody has a flag to wave. A few blocks from El Monumental Stadium, a Peugeot 504 crawls through the crowds. Nobody is in a hurry to get out of its way. Gradually it creeps forward as the driver sounds the horn along with the euphoric chanting. In the back of the car is Graciela D'Aleo, a young woman who was kidnapped from her home four months ago. She has disappeared and has been sleeping in the basement of the ESMA with a hood tied over her head, held captive and tortured by the Navy. Her family have no idea whether she is alive or dead. Overcome with joy at the footballing triumph, her torturers have decided to take

her out of the ESMA on a macabre field trip. They want to show her that they have won and Argentina has forgotten her. Tears well in her eyes as she stands up on the backseat of the car, her torso out of the sunroof. All around, people whoop and cheer and nobody notices her. She knows she cannot cry out. D'Aleo is then taken to a fancy downtown restaurant to toast Argentina's victory with her torturers. So lost is she in this unfamiliar world from which she's been isolated, that she actually wants to go back to the basement of the ESMA.

It won't be long before the cycle of torture and interrogation resumes. Many years later, Marcella met Graciela De Leo and spoke to her about that day. Their experiences couldn't have been more different. I often wonder, and in fact I said to her, I mean, maybe we were on that same stretch of road and I'm one of those people that couldn't hear you,

which is sort of unbearable in a way. It's unthinkable to kind of be swept up in a frenzy such that you become completely insensitized to the horror that's going up like immediately next to you. The 78 victory was a little bit marred and tainted with all the context. Football happens in a context always, and it can reflect or not the reality in which it exists. However joyful and wonderful that month was,

there's no possible version of it that isn't next door to a torture centre where people were being tortured. So, you know, you have to hold those two truths together. I'm a big believer that football doesn't actually alter realities. It just suspends them for 90 minutes and then you go back to what was there before. A day later, a group has gathered in the Plaza de Mayo. They're chanting for their president to come out onto the balcony of the Casa Rosada.

General Videla, for perhaps the only time in his life, feels like the hero. He's basking in his glory. He even comes down to the square to embrace several of the congregation. For the four weeks that the tournament has lasted, repression and joy have lived literally side by side. Differences have been put aside, albeit briefly. Argentines are able to enjoy the tournament while abhorring the regime that is disappearing their compatriots. Ernesto Semán was 11 years old in 1978. His father, Elias, co-founded Vanguardia Comunista, a Maoist political party in 1965,

and was in and out of hiding under the Videla regime. I remember jumping with him in the streets, jumping in the streets and supporting Argentina exactly like everybody else. Three weeks later Ernesto is at home in Buenos Aires when there's a knock at the door. He was kidnapped in a cafe. He requested to pass by our house before going to the concentration camp, and they agreed. For whatever reason, they came to our place.

I opened the door, and he was with the two kidnappers, and I didn't realize that there was anything wrong. I think I asked him who they were, and he said, it doesn't matter, go play, and I called you and I didn't realize that there was anything wrong. I think I asked him who they were and he said, doesn't matter, go play and I'll call you in a few. And it might have sounded believable enough that I went actually to my friend's house in a different apartment and came back a few minutes later. And then they took him. They took him to El Vesuvio, another extremely famous concentration camp in the Buenos Aires province. We stayed in the same house for many years. And not without conflict, we resumed our routines.

I went to school the following day, which now I think is unbelievable. I remember I went the following day to get ham and cheese and bread from the grocery store around the corner. How did we do that? And nothing happened to us while we were doing that. It's a very surreal experience. we were doing that. It's a very surreal experience. Elias Saman was last seen at El Vesubio torture center not long after he was kidnapped. He is still disappeared. His remains have never been found. A week after the final, on August 1st, 1978,

Jorge Rafael Videla steps aside as the commander-in-chief of the army. He's replaced by his second-in-command, Roberto Viola. Videla, however, remains in the office of president. At a Casa Rosada press conference, he makes one of his most notorious public statements.

When asked about human rights violations in Argentina, the emboldened Videla declares, We Argentines should not be ashamed because what happened

was a defense of human rights, threatened by terrorism. The disappeared are an incognita. As long as they remain disappeared, they can't have special treatment. They've no entity. They're neither dead nor alive. They're disappeared.

We can't do anything about it. I think now when I look back, it's because he believed he was a complete military man. And he didn't really feel happy or comfortable when he talked about anything else. When he tried to explain what it was for somebody to be disappeared, he essentially was just annoyed by it all. He said to me, I wish I could go home. I wish I could get out of this. I wish I could. But if I left, a general would come with a sword and the country would be a bath of blood.

That's exactly what he said. I wrote it down and that's what he said. A pathetic figure. A pathetic figure who all he had was his uniform. And so he continued his military life through the whole of his life probably from the moment he went into the army right the way through and so he was totally inadequate to deal with the situation like that and he doesn't really fit that of a dictator in that he was the kind of general who only gave orders that he knew would be obeyed. If he thought there was any doubt of it, he wouldn't give the order.

In September 1979, a delegation from the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights visits Argentina. They swiftly denounce Fidel's government, citing the disappearances, torture and unlawful detention of tens of thousands of people. When they visit the ESMA, it's been made over to look like a hospital. Most of the prisoners have been moved out and housed on a small island owned by the Catholic Church up in the Tigre Delta. But the commission isn't fooled.

Its blistering assessment is published in April 1980, documenting the testimonies of over five and a half thousand family members, victims and organizations. The report is banned in Argentina. Videla is interviewed on television shortly after the report's release. He concedes that his war has left a number of dead, prisoners and disappeared, and that was painful, but he feels proud that the armed forces have won, because today the country enjoys peace, freedom and respect. It came at a high cost, he says,

but the people agreed that we had to do it in order to achieve peace. But now, without the war against subversion to focus on, the dictatorship has lost its purpose. Historian Ed Brodny. The members of the dictatorship don't agree on much. And so as long as they're fighting this quote-unquote war against subversion, they're able to more or less continue getting along. It's when the

repression really starts to decline after the World Cup in 1978 that the cracks within the dictatorship become increasingly visible, increasingly public, and boil over. And that's when things really start to break apart as the end of 1978 and into 1979. That doesn't mean that violence ended after 1978, but that it dropped off dramatically. I mean, again, another 7,000 or 8,000 people killed is still a massive amount, but as compared to the intensity of the repression over those first two years, it is less so. The World Cup can be seen as a turning point in the sense that it brought an international spotlight to this country. The dictatorship hoped that it would show Argentina in a positive light

as a developed and modern country capable of hosting this grand world event. And it succeeded somewhat. But at the same time, it gave a platform for critics of Argentina to have their own positions amplified and spread further. As the violence ebbs, President Videla turns his attention back to the dysfunctional economy. The war is over, he declares. Now we must win the peace.

But by 1981, the free market policies of Economy Minister Martinez de Os have imploded spectacularly. He's been unable to curb annual inflation, which remains high at 80%, and the overvaluation of the Argentine peso has ravaged the country. For a time, Argentines are able to take their overvalued pesos abroad and bring back stacks of foreign goods. valued pesos abroad and bring back stacks of foreign goods. They earn the nickname de Medos, give me two, for their lavish spending habits.

But those days are short-lived. Public debt has leapt from more than $9 billion left behind by Isabel Perón's government to $43 billion. The regime's popularity is plummeting. And it's around this time that Videla finally decides to relinquish power. In March 1981, the presidency passes to Roberto Viola, who had previously replaced Videla as army commander-in-chief.

The military dictatorship continues, just with a new man at its head. But Viola's tenure at the top is extremely short-lived. Viola's not able to hold this all together. I mean, in some sense, he's inheriting a much less stable situation. He doesn't have that initial boost from more or less popular consent that Videla enjoyed in March of 1976. And the conditions are just worse. From a pragmatic standpoint, he's not able to use repression in the way that the Videla government was. And so he almost immediately is undermined by the other members of the junta, by the other

members of the armed forces. and his presidency only lasts, I think it lasts less than a year in total. Public pressure ratchets up further. Viola was soon maneuvered out of the picture by the belligerent and impulsive General Leopoldo Galtieri, a man whose constant consumption of fine whiskey has his advisors particularly worried. So when Viola is effectively ousted at the end of 1981, beginning of 1982, the presidency changes hands a few times among interim de facto presidents

before it lands with this guy, Leopoldo Galtieri, who is a general in the army. He doesn't have the charisma or the ambition of Massera, but he's also not a kind of wooden stick in the mud like Videla. He's actually like a raging alcoholic. Then in the first few months of 1982, just as Galtieri takes power, the trade unions take up the fight after years of being outlawed and repressed. Basically, as the regime's authority is breaking down, you see a dramatic uptick in popular

mobilizations. Even if there has always been unrest and opposition, there is a shift in terms of how these mass demonstrations across industries involving multiple sectors start to increase, start to gain momentum, especially in the early 1980s. March 30th, 1982, mass mobilization of labor. One of the first rallies that I went, I was 13 at that time. You can imagine the frustration of the military regime that after everything they have done, by far, in sheer numbers, the most violent dictatorship in South America and all the power they have acquired, they hadn't been able to control inflation, being radical enough with the liberalization of economic relations,

get rid of peronism, and contain social demands from below. So I think there were many elements suggesting that the dictatorship was coming to a dead end sooner rather than later. In the Plaza de Mayo, unarmed protesters clash furiously with police. Hundreds are injured and arrested in the capital. One protester is killed in Mendoza. So choked are the streets of Rosario with police officers

that the protesters never even make it to their planned meeting place. The regime is hanging by a thread. It's early evening on April 2nd, 1982. Just three days after the Plaza de Masha was filled with fury, the atmosphere has changed completely. Earlier this afternoon, a joyous cry echoed out between the tower blocks in Buenos Aires. General Leopoldo Galtieri took to the radio to announce the invasion of the Islas Malvinas, known in the UK and elsewhere as the Falkland Islands, seized by the British in 1833 and still fervently claimed by Argentina.

The British marines at the naval base on the island were overcome, and Argentina's blue and white flag has been raised over Port Stanley. and Argentina's blue and white flag has been raised over Port Stanley. The Argentine navy has taken a staggering gamble, but it appears to have paid off. The people are back on side. Spontaneously, a crowd has flocked to the Plaza de Mayo, but this time it's in jubilation and support for the junta rather than anger and resentment.

Suddenly General Gautieri appears on the balcony in full military regalia. A bank of microphones is waiting for him, and the pink shutters of the Casa Rosada glow behind him in the evening sun. The gold studs on his shoulders catch the light and gleam. If they want to come, let them come. We will give them a battle, he cries, stabbing an index finger into the air. A sea of flags stretches before him in the square, a blanket of blue and white punctured only by palm trees and statues.

The crowd roars its approval. Within three days, General Galtieri has gone from villain to hero. Argentina's defense of the islands shall follow. In the next episode… The Falklands War casts a long shadow over Argentina as the Junta teeters on the verge of collapse. Eventually, after years of dictatorship, the country will return to democracy. But that won't be the end of Videla's time in the spotlight. As a heroic legal case is brought against the General, Justice for his victims finally seems within reach.

And we'll meet a man who sat mere feet away from Videla in the courtroom. A young prosecutor with the hopes of a nation resting on his shoulders. That's next time, in the final part of the Videla story.