The mothers and relatives of the detainees who disappeared during the Uruguayan dictatorship (1973-1985) marched again this Monday in Montevideo, accompanied by a silent crowd and behind the slogan: “They know where they are. “We demand answers.” Without party symbols and with the images of the 197 disappeared, the 29th edition of the March of Silence brought together several generations of Uruguayans who demanded the emblematic “never again State terrorism” and demanded the determination of the rulers in the face of the silence of the military. The demonstration took place almost a year after the discovery, on a military property, of the remains of a woman victim of repression, whose identity is still not known due to military silence.
This May 20, the Uruguayan capital woke up with 6 degrees and the usual strong humidity. And at night, the cold continued to be the dominant note when thousands of Uruguayans filled 18 de Julio Avenue, the main avenue in Montevideo, to ask that the truth be known about the people detained and disappeared during the dictatorship. In silence, they marched alongside the few mothers who are still alive and accompanied the victims’ partners, their brothers, children and grandchildren. There were many young faces, which are gaining prominence as time goes by. “50 years have passed and the information is still locked up and silenced,” Luna Prieto, 29, tells EL PAIS. Her grandfather was Ruben Prieto, a leftist militant who had escaped the Uruguayan dictatorship and ended up kidnapped in Argentina in 1976 at the age of 24. Since then he remains missing. Prieto’s is another of the cases in which it is unknown whether, after being detained, he was transferred and murdered in Uruguay within the framework of Plan Cóndor, which coordinated repression and the exchange of prisoners between the dictatorships of the region.
“I wish my great-grandmother could leave with an answer, but I understand that we may never have one,” says Prieto. She refers to Milka González, Ruben’s mother, who has spent 40 of her 96 years searching for the whereabouts of her son and those who suffered the same fate. “She continues to live with great pain, but very active in meetings and coming to marches,” adds her great-granddaughter. For Prieto, the lack of political determination necessary to break the silence of the military has once again been evident in the months that have passed since the remains of a woman victim of repression were found on an Army property in southern Uruguay. . “They still don’t say anything,” Prieto protests, remembering that the identity of that person is still unknown, despite the fact that the discovery occurred at the beginning of June 2023: “What happened and continues to happen is very serious.” So far, the remains of six missing persons have been found and identified in Uruguayan territory. Their names will remain on the list of 197, mothers and relatives say, as long as their stories are not fully known.
Among the photographs leading the march was that of Miguel Ángel Río, a Uruguayan kidnapped in Buenos Aires in 1977. He was 29 years old. In his case, there are elements and testimonies that allow us to assume that he was clandestinely transferred and disappeared in Uruguay. Rio’s son, Valentín, was six months old when his father was last seen alive. “The march is the milestone that in the year shows the validity of the issue, not only for the family members, but for society in general,” Valentín Río, 46, tells EL PAIS. He considers that in Uruguay there has been progress, such as the recognition of the existence of forced disappearance and the appearance of some remains of victims, but there has not been the necessary political decision to fully clarify these crimes of the dictatorship. “Society still has very important hangovers of impunity,” he remarks. His own story bears witness to this: “I don’t know for sure what happened to my father, where he is buried, what was the hand that executed him. We know all this information exists and the State has its instruments, especially through Justice, to be able to reach it,” he points out.
The March of Silence takes place every May 20, the day the Uruguayans Zelmar Michelini, Héctor Gutiérrez Ruiz, William Whitelaw and Rosario Barredo were murdered in 1976, in Argentina. When the first demonstration took place, in 1996, the mothers and relatives of the disappeared had not been received by the democratic authorities and the matter was institutionally denied, they say. Former president Julio Sanguinetti (1985-1990 and 1995-2000) did not receive them, nor did Luis Lacalle Herrera (1990-1995). It was not until 2000 that then-president Jorge Batlle (Colorado Party) recognized the problem and marked a milestone with the establishment of the Peace Commission. In 2005, under the first government of the Broad Front (center-left), the search for the missing in Uruguayan territory began, with an obstacle that has remained a hallmark: The military’s pact of silence. And when there have been versions about the fate of the bodies, they have been contradictory and denied through facts, as the National Human Rights Institution has confirmed.
In the first march was Elena Zaffaroni, widow of Luis Eduardo González, arrested and disappeared in Uruguay at the end of 1974. In dialogue with EL PAIS, Zaffaroni remembers that that demonstration had been promoted by the family of Michelini, a murdered legislator, due to the blockade that was in justice. “Society has risen to the occasion, but not the governments,” she says. In that sense, she highlights the massive citizen participation in the March of Silence, but also the mobilization that exists beyond this key day. Athletes, as well as singers, photographers and filmmakers, Zaffaroni exemplifies, adhere to this cause from their field of work with strong messages, for memory and against State terrorism. “We have been critical of all governments,” she adds, “because none of them handed over the missing.” “They are the ones who have the power and the responsibility to do it,” she emphasizes.
Pablo Chargoñia, a lawyer specialized in human rights, reflects in the same direction. “The premise is that gravediggers do not provide information; Betting on a kind of repentance or ethical reserve on the part of the kidnapper is a chimera,” Chargoñia tells this newspaper. For the expert, one of the objections that can be made to the Uruguayan State is the lack of a state design so that investigations related to these cases follow a plan of greater effectiveness and better results. In his opinion, more personnel in charge of investigations, greater expertise and coordination in archival matters are needed. “The investigation should be developed in a coordinated manner and we do not see that,” explains this lawyer advising the Luz Ibarburu Observatorynetwork of organizations that work in the defense of human rights.
Chargoñia points out that Uruguay is making slow progress in the prosecution of crimes from the recent past and in the trials of those responsible. “There are approximately 80 former agents of the dictatorship who have been put on trial. Some of them were convicted, others are on trial, more than 20 people died,” he points out. According to the Ibarburu Observatory, in 2023 There were 29 repressors held in prisons, but who could benefit from house arrest if a bill being discussed in the Uruguayan Parliament is approved. This was warned by three UN rapporteurs, who in April raised their objections in a letter sent to the Government. Chargoñia agrees: “I support the objection of the rapporteurs insofar as these situations put trials at risk, trivialize the damage committed by the crime against humanity and harm the victims,” he concludes.
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