THE BEFORE AND AFTER OF A 'HAVING IT ALL' REGIME

“Vamos por todo...¡por todo!

Cristina Fernández de Kirchner

 

 

Dark humor from a Facebook

site called

"Si-no-te-gusta-vaffanculo"

Authentic democracy filled the streets of major cities all over Argentina on the evening of Thursday, April 18, while tyranny stalked the halls of the national Executive, Legislative and Judicial powers. The A18 protest was, like its 8N predecessor, a spontaneous civic demonstration organized from computer to computer through the social media and without partisan links. A number of opposition politicians respectfully joined the protesters but from the uncomfortable low-profile position of tolerated guests rather than organizers, since demonstrators have made it abundantly clear ever since the first of three progressively stronger protests less than a year ago that they are as disappointed with the lukewarm opposition as they are furious with the rabidly self-absorbed ruling political movement.

In an outpouring of genuine democratic zeal, millions of people of all political colors poured into the country’s streets—over a million participating protesters in the nation’s capital alone—to reject what their supposed political representatives were ostensibly doing in their name and in the name of “democratization”: seeking to introduce “reforms” that would give an already autocratic Executive Branch even greater discretionary power, to the detriment of the Judiciary, the rule of law, the rights of the individual and those of the “fourth power” (the media and their role as the guardians of free expression in representation of the people). But that wasn’t all—as if that were not enough—that the hundreds of thousands who took to the streets were protesting. They were also decrying encroaching corruption that, in the last decade, has become so shockingly flagrant that it can no longer be hidden from view. In that sense, the revelations aired the previous Sunday night—and that continued last night—by investigative

In Buenos Aires alone, over a million people turned out

for the A18 protest.



broadcast journalist Jorge Lanata proved a major catalyst for the 18A protests and clearly marked a “before and after” in terms of any doubts anyone might have had about links between blatant criminal activities and the powers that be.

If opposition politicians were relegated to a secondary role in the A18 event, however, they were indeed showing greater activism than usual with regard to the “reforms” that a now embattled administration was seeking to ram through its rubber-stamp majority in Congress with the pace and power of an express train. Two days before the mass protest, members of opposition political movements gathered before court buildings in Buenos Aires to protest the government-sponsored judicial “reform” bills, by holding up a sky-blue and white national banner bearing the inscription “Sin justicia, no hay futuro” (without justice, there is no future)—a noble thought and slogan, but not strictly true. Without Justice there could indeed be a future for a despotic government bent on ruling in perpetuity and on protecting its circle of influences—just not for democracy, representative governance or civil rights.

The protesting politicians also certified their opposition by signing a document rejecting what they unequivocally termed as the government’s “attempt to control Justice.” Among the opposition politicians involved in the pre-A18 protests were representatives of the centrist Radical Party and Peronist Opposition Front, the center-left Civic Coalition and the conservative PRO movement. Joining them were also numerous attorneys, former prosecutors, constitutional law experts and other jurists.

The President, for her part, remained true to form and acted as if she had never heard the revelations of crime and corruption within her inner circle that Lanata reported in chilling detail and with documented evidence to back up his claims. The task of defending her ivory tower walls she left to her surrogates in the press, like Mauro Viale and a once serious investigative reporter, Rodolfo Graña, who, of late, has become an unabashed cheerleader for the K regime and a pitbull sent to attack its enemies. In all cases, pro-K mouthpieces limited themselves to hammering the messenger rather than presenting any sound evidence to refute the Lanata team’s impeccable two-year investigation.

One usual spokesman for the Kirchners, however, did break ranks when it came to the Judicial "reform" bills. As head of the Center for Legal Studies (CELS), writer and former Montonero urban guerrilla Horacio Verbitzky, who not only usually follows the government's script but also often writes it, surprised many observers by sharply criticizing the bills for restricting the civil rights and legal recourse of citizens.

Federico Elaskar, former owner of SGI -

a.k.a. "La Rosadita"

Meanwhile, the public got a taste of what the proposed government-sponsored “reforms” will mean to Argentine civil rights when the corroded wheels of justice failed to creak into action on the heels of Lanata’s investigation. Despite the fact that his televised reports provided compelling information linking a Puerto Madero finance firm called SGI—and nicknamed “La Rosadita” due to its geographic proximity and alleged connection with the Casa Rosada (Government House)—and its former owner, Federico Elaskar, to massive money laundering, the first part of the week passed without a single judge’s daring to invoke his/her own authority to order the premises searched. This, despite the fact that neighbors of Madero Center—the building where the company has its office, and where not only Vice President Amado Boudou but also President Kirchner reportedly own property—went onto Facebook and Twitter to report boxes apparently containing documentation being carried from the building. It wasn’t until Thursday, in the very midst of the A18 mass protests, that police descended on the finance firm’s offices, making a great show of the raid, despite the fact that if they’d found anything of relevance to the Lanata investigation, it would have been a miracle, since those implicated in corruption in high places, had been given all week to make sure anything incriminating—more incriminating, that is, than the documentation Lanata had already made public—was long gone.

Two generations: The Kirchners, mother and son, Cristina and Maxi; the

Báezes, father and son, Lázaro and Martín. Close ties.



Perhaps one of the principal virtues of Lanata’s investigation is that it has taken corruption out of the realm of generality and put names and faces with events, as well as specifying the connections between political and economic powers in the Kirchner era. He has introduced us to Santa Cruz strongman Lázaro Báez, who over two decades and on the strength of his relationship with former governor and president Néstor Kirchner—as attested even by Kirchner’s former lieutenant governor, Eduardo Arnold—went from being an obscure provincial bank teller to, first, running the bank, and then, acquiring a bankrupt construction company and turning it into a major State contractor, as well as accruing interests in oil, media, aeronautics and land (some 250,000 hectares, most of which he bought with cash).

Leonardo Fariña, a compulsive talker.

We also met the flamboyant and singularly indiscreet Leonardo Fariña, who distributed vast amounts of cash that the alleged Báez-Kirchner partnership flew out of Santa Cruz in amounts weighty enough to be considered air cargo. We met Federico Elaskar, who admitted to helping Fariña set up as many as 50 offshore phantom companies through which to launder vast sums of money, before being forced out of business by another nefarious face in the chain, that of Daniel Pérez Gadín. And we also met Fabián Rossi, whose business contacts, allegedly gained through his relationship with Argentine Ambassador Jorge Arguindegui in Panama, allowed him to help Báez set up ghost operations in foreign tax havens.

As Lanata was revealing how in a country where foreign exchange regulations are so tight that Argentine tourists aren’t permitted to legally change enough pesos into dollars or euros to take a business trip or brief vacation abroad, friends of the ruling family have been moving foreign currency out of the country by the bale, another story was being told: that of Santa Cruz Province under the 12-year governorship of Néstor Kirchner. A province so remote and sparsely populated that for the vast majority of Argentines it might as well be another country, it would have been a good case study to have analyzed before the election of Kirchner to the presidency in 2003, when he was an unknown politician who just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Had observers seen how the Kirchners had their own province sewn up so tight that nothing happened without their say so, it would have been easy to see what was in store for the nation under their power structure model. In fact, many of the key players who have accompanied them in Santa Cruz have remained with them throughout their decade at the head of the national administration. And the President’s latest moves to tie the hands of the Judiciary are simply part of the Santa Cruz model of total control. With 125 seats in the Lower House of Congress belonging to ever faithful rubber-stamp Kirchnerist deputies, the effort to keep this affront to democratic rule from passing has boiled down to bringing as much opposition pressure as possible to bear on just 12 deputies whose past performance has marked them as swing voters. The “reform” bills would give the Executive virtual control over the naming and removal of judges, and, among other things, would also make it virtually immune to any legal recourse that citizens could take against it to protect their rights. Until now the Kirchner government has had to find ad hoc ways of shoving a stick into the wheels of justice, such as allegedly naming temporary judges and prosecutors to replace ones it fears might rule against it. If its bills pass into law, it would be able to handle such manipulation of the Judiciary pretty much as it pleases and within a “legal”—if morally illegitimate—framework.

The 12 mavericks on whom an independent Judiciary depends.

A little over a year ago, on February 27, 2012, at a rally in Rosario commemorating the two hundredth anniversary of the first raising of the Argentine flag, Cristina Kirchner stated, in a nutshell, the essence of her government’s plan: “Vamos por todo...¡por todo!” (“We’re going for it all...for all of it!”) she shouted, gesticulating to a clump of her FPV (Frente para la Victoria) political movement gathered in the crowd before the reviewing stand in Argentina’s third largest city. It wasn’t part of her own speech. It was, instead, a sort of battle cry that she issued, without a microphone, in the middle of Socialist Mayor Mónica Fein’s speech, obviously startling the mayor, as the president’s fans drowned Fein out with their shouts of approval for their jefa’s words and gestures. It was a show of power and disrespect. It was Cristina trying to demonstrate to the mayor that she, not Fein, owned the street, that even if Fein was at the mike, the crowd belonged to the Kirchner regime and so did the country—but in ways that clearly have had little to do with democracy or constitutional administration.

As political news commentator Joaquín Morales Solá pointed out this past week, Jorge Lanata’s investigation has brought to the fore what everybody in politics and serious journalism already knew: basically, that Argentina currently reeks of corruption as it never has before—which, after the era of Carlos Menem in the nineties, is saying a mouthful—and that the deeper meaning of “going for it all” carries with it a barely veiled and underlying threat and project of perpetuity in government, the creation of a popular dictatorship capable of protecting the burgeoning Kirchner estate and its friends and partners in power.

Jorge Lanata

As Morales Solá tangentially points out, Lanata’s investigation has been a mere catalyst, a wake-up call, a way of whacking people—including a somnolent opposition—over the head with what, in voluntary blindness, they’ve been tripping over on a daily basis for the past ten years. If most people living in Argentina were honest with themselves, they would have to admit that they have long since seen the signs of advancing tyranny and crippling corruption within the power structures that are seeking to control every aspect of life in this country. But why did it take the unique head-on style of a Jorge Lanata to wake people from their lethargy even as their democracy, their freedom and their well-being are being wrested from their hands? The late Argentine physician and world-renowned heart specialist René Favaloro once said, “After so often seeing incompetence triumph and dishonor prosper, after so often seeing injustice grow, after so often seeing power in the hands of bad people burgeon, Man eventually becomes disheartened with virtue, laughs at honor, and is embarrassed to be honest.” Perhaps the answer to my question lies within this wise man’s simple yet crystal-clear observation.

Some people still cling to the idea that Néstor and Cristina Kirchner’s original plan of passing the presidency back and forth between them ad infinitum died along with the late former president, and they cling as well to the hope that the presidential elections of 2015 will no longer contain a Kirchner as a candidate, since it is—currently at least—unconstitutional for any president to serve three consecutive terms. But astute and highly respected political analyst Nelson Castro said it all when he reminded the country this past week that for Cristina Kirchner and her entourage, “a ‘re-reelection’ is a matter of life and death.” Clearly, without a means of retaining their hold on power and the judicial immunity that goes with it, the President and her entourage would become common (if vastly wealthy) citizens, who could be called upon to answer for all charges and allegations against them.

The latest advances by the President and her rubber stamp majority in the Senate against the necessary checks and balances of any truly democratic society should have left no doubt in anyone’s mind about their intention to “go for all of it” by also controlling the Judiciary and thus sealing their future impunity. And if they manage to get away with it by also carrying the Lower House of Congress, then there should also be no doubt about what their next move will be: a rubber stamp constitutional “reform” aimed at “legalizing” the President’s illegitimate, totalitarian ambitions and perpetuating her administration in power.                

ARGENTINA DERAILED

Plaza Once Station (photo by José María Pérez Núñez

CC by SA 2.0 creativecommons.org via Wikimedia

Commons: Ciudad Gris/La Estación)

Argentina this past week marked the first anniversary of the Plaza Once Rail Tragedy. I’ve placed this case title in caps because I think it deserves them. And the reader will note that I’ve used the word Tragedy, rather than “accident”, since while there may have been nothing premeditatedly intentional about it, there can be little doubt that what happened in the Plaza Once railway station in Buenos Aires on February 22, 2012, was not the result of an accident, a quirk of fate, a momentary lapse in human concentration or an isolated error in judgment. It would appear ever more clear, rather, that this horrifying train wreck was the outcome of long years of incompetence, negligence, indifference and worse, that inexorably culminated in the deaths of 51 passengers and the injury of more than 700 others. If the Once Rail Tragedy could ever be referred to as an “accident” it could only be within the context of “an accident-waiting-to-happen”.

It is also hard to separate that tragedy from a general attitude of indifference on the part of the current national government with regard to its invested responsibilities as the country’s elected administration and its accountability for the well-being of the country, its economy, its currency, its world image, its infrastructure and, ultimately, its people.  In this sense, the Plaza Once Rail Tragedy might well be seen as a symbol of the chronic and unwarranted deterioration to which Argentina has been subject in the past decade and, particularly, in the last half of that period.

The Tragedy. The wreck took place on a Wednesday morning at about 8:30, on the Sarmiento western commuter line, when the train, operated by concession-holder TBA (Trenes de Buenos Aires), was loaded with some 1200 rush-hour commuters. As the train came into the Once de Septiembre Station (better known simply as Once) on track No. 2, it slowed to a reported 20 kilometers per hour, but was then unable to brake and crashed into shock absorbers at the end of the track beneath the station platform. The impact was such that it sounded to many passengers and passersby like an explosion, and the lead car telescoped into the one behind it. These two cars were even more packed with workers coming into the city from the western suburbs than the rest of the train, since morning commuters tend to favor the cars up front so as to save time by getting off and out of the station quickly, ahead of the rush.

There was an immediate attempt by the firm and the government to blame the gory incident on “human error”, claiming that the commuter train’s driver was at fault. But although this may briefly have led the early investigation off on a tangent, rail workers were quick to come to their companion’s aid and tell the press and anyone else who would listen to them about the deplorable safety conditions under which they were working and the general disrepair of TBA’s rolling stock.

It was the third worst crash in the long history of Argentina’s railways, and it was the very worst in more than three decades.

Although President Cristina Kirchner—in common with Buenos Aires Mayor Mauricio Macri and Buenos Aires Provincial Governor Daniel Scioli—immediately decreed a 48-hour period of national mourning, and issued a succinct message of condolences to families of the victims, her first reaction to the tragedy was silence. And not merely silence, but reclusion as well. She left the national capital for nearly a week and holed up in her remote southern home province of Santa Cruz, where she hosted a private meeting with her Paraguayan colleague Fernando Lugo, in her luxury boutique hotel, Los Sauces, in Calafate, before traveling to her home in Río Gallegos, where she headed up a birthday homage at the private mausoleum of her late husband and predecessor, former President Néstor Kirchner, who died in October of 2010 and who would have been 60 years old that Saturday. Her absence from Buenos Aires in the face of the train crash attracted particular attention since she had already spent the previous week “resting” in Santa Cruz and returned there almost immediately after the tragedy—not without first meeting briefly with her transport secretary, Juan Pablo Schiavi.

Cristina Kirchner - too little too late.

Too Little Too Late. The president reappeared in public the following week—at a rally to celebrate the first raising of the Argentine flag on February 27, 1812—in the northern city of Rosario, where, on the tail-end of a half-hour speech about the achievements of her and her husband’s administrations, she finally mentioned the Once Rail Tragedy, saying, rather vaguely, that she would “take all measures necessary” in the case. Considering the time she’d had to think about it, her pronouncement seemed meager at best. She also sought to deflect government responsibility by exhorting Argentine justice to complete its technical investigations “within the next 15 days”. (The judicial branch, of course, immediately said that it would take however long was necessary to investigate that case and would accept no pressure to finish up quickly).  Then, in barely lukewarm acceptance of a small quota of accountability, the president admitted that the Argentine rail system needed “to be reformulated” and grudgingly confessed that “if we haven’t done more, it’s because money has been lacking.”

But that wasn’t strictly true.  TBA was a private consortium that took over the Sarmiento and Mitre commuter rail lines in 1995 as part of the decade-long privatization plan introduced by Peronist President Carlos Saúl Menem. At the time some private sources estimated that Argentina’s overall State-run medium and long-distance railways were losing on the order of a million dollars a day. That meant that international investors weren’t exactly tripping over each other to buy them. So consortia ended up being formed by local multi-interest groups and, in certain cases, international technical partners, as in the case of TBA. Still, the local operators—domestically perspicacious and good horse-traders that they were—argued that unless they raised ticket prices beyond what Argentine commuters could pay, it would be impossible to maintain the rail services. So as part of the clearly one-sided contracts that they negotiated, these companies not only were granted exploitation of the lines they dealt for, but also a pledge from the government to continue to pay massive subsidies for upkeep and to defray losses on ticket sales.

In retrospect it's hard not to suspect that subsidies were always what the “privatization” deals were all about, and, as long as we’re being suspicious, that precious little of those subsidies has ever been used for rolling stock and track upkeep. Otherwise, the Once Rail Tragedy never would have uncovered, for instance, just how disastrous the state of repair of some of the major commuter lines is. Furthermore, TBA wasn’t a stand-alone firm, but formed part of the Plaza Group (through its Cometrans holding group), majority-owned by the Cirigliano family of Argentina, and also of UGOFE (Unidad de Gestión Operativa Ferroviaria de Emergencia—or Emergency Rail Operations Management Unit), which also operated other rail services in the Buenos Aires area. TBA was also granted concessions for north-bound long-distance services, in total operating, according to unofficial estimates, about a thousand runs and carrying approximately 500,000 passengers a day.

Pino Solanas: A true swindle.

About a week after the Once Rail Tragedy, public pressure brought Federal intervention of TBA. In May of last year, three months after the disaster, the government revoked TBA’s concessions and placed them under the care of a consortium called UGOMS. But who is UGOMS?

UGOMS stands for Unidad de Gestión Operativa Mitre-Sarmiento (or Mitre-Sarmiento Operational Management Unit). It was formed on the same day that TBA lost its concession last year, and is a “temporary consortium” created especially to take over for TBA. It is made up of rail operators Ferrovías and Metrovías. According to filmmaker, socialist politician and Proyecto Sur Party Congressman Pino Solanas, on this first anniversary of the Once disaster, “the Ciriglianos continue to draw payment from the State—and with exaggerated surcharges—for the repair of train cars on the Sarmiento and Mitre lines, through their company, EMFER S.A, and they continue to operate trains through UGOFE S.A., which operates the San Martín, Roca and Belgrano South lines.” Solanas adds that “the brand new mirror company, UGOMS, which currently operates the Sarmiento and Mitre lines, is run by its partners, Ferrovías (EMEPA Group) and Metrovías (Roggio group).” 

Where Did All the Money Go? As described by Solanas, who is noted for uncovering government corruption, the repair contracts alone have been a succulent source of government subsidy income for the railroad concession-holders. The leftwing politician claims that no government audit has ever been carried out, for instance, to determine the final destination of “thirty-seven workshop-factories, thousands of railway cars, locomotives, machinery, equipment, and 60,000 spare part accounts.” According to Solanas, “the great majority of these assets have disappeared, without anyone’s ever having demanded their replacement.”   This is only part of what the congressman calls “a triangle of corruption” that includes, he alleges, “the Transport Secretariat, the National Commission for Transport Regulation, railway management and companies.” He adds that this apparent complicity is why no one has yet tracked the path of multi-million-dollar subsidies to find out “where all the money went that never reached the trains.”

In 2012 alone, rail lines serving the Buenos Aires Metropolitan Area are reported to have received over 4.6 billion pesos in subsidies (or about US$980 million at the official government exchange rate). About 3 billion pesos of that is reported to have gone to UGOFE. Solanas describes both UGOFE and UGOMS as being “invented by the government as holding groups for the TBA, Metrovías and Ferrovías concessions, as a means of covering up a true swindle against the citizenry [since] by contract, UGOFE and UGOMS, are corporations created by the State and managed by private firms, which are compensated for their management services. In other words, they have no civil accountability whatsoever in case of any sort of accidents or labor suits, and as if that were not enough, any fines that might apply to them don’t come out of their pockets, but out of those of the citizens.”

The administration, for its part, has managed to dodge a direct hit in the case of the Once Rail Tragedy by using two successive transport secretaries, Ricardo Jaime and Juan Pablo Schiavi, as scapegoats. It has also tried to blame the situation of ineffectiveness and scandalous corruption surrounding the concession contracts on the 1990s administration of fellow Peronist Carlos Menem, but after a decade of Kirchners at the helm, this complaint clearly seems less than credible, especially coming from a government that overturned the Due Obedience and Full Stop amnesties that protected members of the former military regime of the 1970s and 1980s from trial, and that had no problem deciding to re-nationalize the oil industry and the flag-carrier airline, which had also been privatized under Menem. And this leads one to ask why the railroad concessions are being kept alive—if on life-support—when they have so obviously failed to solve the country’s rail travel problems and are still bleeding the government treasury as always.

Ricardo Jaime

Jaime and Schiavi. Successive charges that have been leveled against former Transport Secretary Jaime would appear to provide an inkling of a response. He came to national office in 2003 when Néstor Kirchner was elected president. He remained in that post under Cristina Kirchner’s administration until 2009, when his name had become so connected with scandal that he was forced to resign. He has had numerous court actions filed against him and has been variously accused of charges ranging from contempt of court to alleged kickbacks and from failing to comply with the duties of a public official, to alleged involvement in a money-laundering cover-up and abuse of office. 

Juan Pablo Schiavi

His connection with the Kirchners went back 20 years, when as city council president for the Santa Cruz oil town of  Caleta Olivia, he joined Néstor Kirchner’s bid to unseat fellow Peronist and provincial political strongman Arturo Puricelli as governor. For his loyalty, Jaime was awarded the post of  cabinet chief for Kirchner’s first governorship, and when Kirchner won a second term, Jaime was appointed to head the Provincial Education Council. When Kirchner reached the presidency in 2003, the transportation slot was waiting for Jaime in the ministerial cabinet of Planning Minister (and first-hour Kirchner loyalist) Julio de Vido.

It was by the hand of de Vido that Juan Pablo Schiavi (55), a man with a somewhat chequered political past, came to the Transportation Secretariat. Of Peronist extraction, Schiavi became involved in politics while still a teen, as a militant in the Peronist Youth movement and with alleged ties as well to the Montoneros urban guerrilla organization.  He didn’t take up his first real political post, however, until, at age 32, he was appointed advisor to the Peronist Bloc in the Buenos Aires City Council. During Peronist politician Carlos Grosso’s brief term as mayor of Buenos Aires (1989-1992) Schiavi served as Undersecretary of Maintenance and Services.

Despite his Peronist background Grosso’s mayorship—like Menem’s presidency— was marked by flourishing relations between the public and private sectors and was to produce some major transformations in the city, not the least of which was the Puerto Madero urban renewal project that turned the old port of Buenos Aires into a luxury residential, tourist and entertainment haven. But it was also a municipal administration that generated wide-spread scandal and accusations of gross corruption surrounding not only the swift privatization processes that Grosso’s policies spawned but also his government’s handling of public funds. These accusations brought a wave of formal complaints and lawsuits, the pressure of which eventually forced Grosso to resign. By the time Grosso had dealt with all of the charges against him, his name was so tarnished that he retired entirely from politics, despite his managing to see most of the cases against him dropped, filed for lack of evidence or thrown out of court.

While Schiavi was in his post in the Grosso government, one of his jobs was to oversee trash collection contracts, which is where he met Mauricio Macri, who, 20 years later, was to become mayor of Buenos Aires and an archenemy of the Kirchners.  Back then, Macri was heading up SOCMA, the business conglomerate founded by his father, Franco Macri, one of whose companies was the trash management firm MANLIBA. Schiavi forged ties with Macri and with SOCMA executive Daniel Chaín, and, with Chaín (later Human Development Minister for the City of Buenos Aires), eventually formed a partnership, working together through the 1990s.  One of that partnership’s projects was the remodeling of some thirty train stations.

Schiavi was to later take part in Macri’s two bids for mayor (the first of which he lost to Aníbal Ibarra), but had a falling-out with Macri over his association with liberal economist Ricardo López Murphy. In the meantime, he returned to government when Ibarra was suspended and impeached because of accusations surrounding an infamous nightclub fire (República Cromagnon) in which 194 people died. When Ibarra’s Vice-Mayor and replacement, Jorge Teleman took over, he asked Schiavi to take up the post of Municipal Planning and Public Works Minister, a job he held from 2006 until the following year, when Macri, with whom he remained estranged, won the mayoral elections. During that year, however, Schiavi had managed to nurture a good relationship with Federal Planning Minister Julio de Vido, who placed him in charge of the Railroad Infrastructure Administration (ADIF), a State company whose job was supposed to be promotion of railway renewal.  But the ADIF obviously met with little success in complying with its express aim.  Be that as it may, when scandal forced Jaime to resign from the Transportation Secretariat post, it was Schiavi who de Vido tapped to take his place.

Planning Minister Julio de Vido

The de Vido Connection. While, as I said earlier, top government officials have done their darnedest to use Jaime and Schiavi as circuit-breakers to keep the Once Rail Tragedy blowback from hitting them smack in the face, it’s pretty hard to miss the fact that they had to have known full well what their subordinates were doing. It would be at least naïve to think that they wouldn’t be keeping a close eye (for their own individual interest if nothing else) on a post  that was the key to activities involving billions in subsidies.

Says Solanas: “For such a swindle, shouldn’t Planning Minister Julio de Vido—who has had the Transport Secretariat under his ministry since 2003, and who had Ricardo Jaime at the head of it for six years—be held accountable? And isn’t the president principally responsible for the administrations of her ministers? Everybody, including Cristina [Kirchner] knew about the reports of the Federal Auditor General, the National Ombusman and the [other] claims lodged,” he says, regarding the deplorable state of the railroads and the safety issues involved. “And yet,” he says, “de Vido was absolved in the case and the party of the concessions, subsidies, swindles and complicities carries on.”

Elisa Carrió: Impeach Cristina.

Meanwhile Civil Coalition Congresswoman Elisa Carrió—another noted crusader against corruption—said this past week that she would be presenting a request for the impeachment of President Cristina Kirchner, based, she added, on the administration’s responsibility in the Once Rail Tragedy. She said that she was also seeking charges against de Vido. Carrió announced the move after a Federal  Court brought more serious charges against Jaime and Schiavi and confirmed pursuit of charges against Sergio and Mario Cirigliano (who head the group that owns TBA). Carrió said that “reading the court’s decision convinces me that the crimes with which Schiavi and Jaime are charged are the same ones that correspond to Julio de Vido and Cristina Kirchner.” The congresswoman opined that it was impossible “for Cristina Kirchner not to have known about the illicit association that her husband led and, in any case, she maintained it during her own mandates, and it is on this that the request for impeachment for misconduct is based, on the calamity of crimes produced around public transport subsidies since the beginning of Néstor Kirchner’s administration.”

The Once Rail Tragedy cannot be taken out of the context of the Kirchner administration’s overall policies and their increasingly pernicious effects.  It is symptomatic of a situation in which Argentina could almost be said to be held hostage by the policies of an administration whose main focus from the outset has been staking and perpetuating its own claim to power at the expense of the rest of the country. The administration’s radical foreign policy that has isolated Argentina from the opportunities that could put it on the road to its rightful place as a genuine regional and world  leader, its disdain for the tenets of the kind of healthy economy it should be enjoying, its thoughtless dilapidation of the country’s foreign reserves, its failure to identify and deal with corruption, its hostility toward any and all sorts of criticism, its aversion to accountability and readiness to lay blame elsewhere, and its failure to recognize the democratic principle of the minority’s right to have its say are all symptoms of a greater and graver illness, one for which the Once Rail Tragedy stands as a public symbol.

PERONISM: THE ENEMY WITHIN...ALWAYS

Embattled Bariloche Mayor Omar Goye

Late this week, Argentina’s embattled Bariloche Municipal Mayor Omar Goye was still insisting he wasn’t going to resign. Nobody was really asking him anymore, in the aftermath of the December 21 riots and lootings that I reported on here last month, but he continued to state it anyway—and to just about anybody who would listen. Most local, provincial and national observers probably realized that his saying this was a sort of affirmation of faith, rather like whistling in the dark to belie his worst fears, because the question most people were asking was when rather than if he would quit, since he has done something that is hard to recover from in the Kirchner Era: ticked off the Queen Bee (or K) herself. And it’s a less forgivable sin still, because he’s not just another party dissident that President Cristina Kirchner is forced to cope with, work around or kick out of the way, but a player within Kirchnerism’s own internal party line, the FPV (Frente Para la Victoria).

Verticality. Peronism was conceived as a vertical organization. If today it often looks like a monster with multiple talking heads (each of which thinks it’s right), that concept still holds at the most basic of levels. And even if, as a party, Peronist Justicialism appears to be an illustration of the old adage about how if you put 50 Argentines in a room together you’ll get 50 different points of view, as a movement, Peronism is all about the tail always following the head. At the top of the Peronist heap, it would appear that Goye is seen as having cut a path of his own, and on top of that, defied a virtual order from the President for him to tender his resignation.

Rampart in the Civic Center

Yesterday, in the historical Civic Center, Bariloche’s main square, surrounded by the city’s traditional stone and cypress wood public buildings—designed by famed Argentine architect Alejandro Bustillo (1889-1982)—the mood was still so dense that you could cut it with a machete after the pre-Christmas riots that rocked the Andean resort and later spread to ten other provinces. The plaza had been shut off to vehicular traffic with caution tape barriers manned by traffic police and instead of being peopled by the usual throngs of blissful tourists who go there to have their pictures taken by photographers accompanied by Saint Bernard dogs that join travelers in the photo portraits, or with local artisans who deftly man chainsaws to carve statues from six-foot-tall sections of tree trunk, the entire center of the square was dominated by a monstrously large wooden structure not unlike the sentry’s walk from the rampart of a frontier fort. With ladders up both sides, and a catwalk perhaps 25 feet long and tall enough that it cleared the much-abused, graffiti-covered equestrian statue of General Julio Argentino Roca and, in the process, confined the nineteenth-century politician and military hero (depending on who’s telling the story) and his mount to a kind of stall beneath it. On this rampart, under it and all around it, were rotating shifts of protesters and their attendant general litter of tents, survival utensils, jugs, bags and banners.

Roca and his mount placed in a kind of stall.

On the sidewalks and street and under the arcades surrounding the square were perhaps a score or more of cops. Although some of them were wearing their flak jackets, their demeanor was less than threatening. They were clearly there as a symbolic presence of authority—so symbolic, in fact, that, if you looked closely, you could see that the holsters on their right hips were hanging empty, their regulation 9mm pistols having been left behind in the police station at the end of the block, nor were they carrying truncheons with which to defend themselves. If anything happened, it was only their bodies, their uniforms and their badges standing between the protesters and whatever random objective they might choose.

A House Divided. At first glance the scene looked as if it might be, like so many others before it, an installed protest against municipal authorities, but if you read the signs, you began to ask yourself if these were not groups led by the same “punteros políticos” (heads of local pressure groups from the poorest neighborhoods) with whom the mayor has so often been alleged to be conniving, since their messages were clearly directed at the provincial government—which, at this point in time, is unequivocally distancing itself from Goye and his administration.

One sign read: “We ask for work and you send us repression.” Another said, “Governor, you call us scabs, but we’re workers.” A large banner in the middle read: “May Day Cooperative: Union and Liberty, Work and Social Justice.” There was also a cryptic reference to the looting’s having been directed against “multinationals”. But go tell that to all of the mom and pop operations that were also victimized by the well-organized hoards that descended on the city last December 21. Try as these dubious activists might to make their “cause” sound noble, those incidents were a case of political chicanery at the service of mass vandalism and larceny, with no saving grace to justify them.

While such events may tend to confuse and confound those who are not privy to the inner workings of the country’s political underworld, the truth eventually percolates to the surface as the political players scurry helter skelter following revolts of this sort, seeking to shed responsibility and lay blame elsewhere while keeping their own political assets intact. As usual—over the course of the last 70 years of Peronist history in this country—what masquerades as “social upheaval for the cause of social justice” is actually the result of infighting at the core of Peronism itself, or “organized chaos” staged by one Peronist faction or another against whoever happens to be in power at any given time. Cristina Kirchner appeared to suggest this herself this past week when she referred to the December 21 riots as being “a shabby version” (versión desmejorada) of the organized mass looting and protests staged against the administrations of former opposition Radical Party (UCR) Presidents Raúl Alfonsín (1983-1989) and Fernando De la Rúa (1999-2001), which ended both of their presidencies ahead of schedule. To her mind, there appears to be a single person accountable for the mess: Omar Goye.

Río Negro Governor Alberto Weretilneck

Early on after these latest riots, Río Negro Province Governor Alberto Weretilneck sought—perhaps thinking he might kill two birds with one stone—to blame elements in the UCR for the violence. But the Radical Party’s response was swift in coming and utterly clear-cut: Bautista Mendioroz, a leading UCR politician in the province, termed the governor’s accusation “an infamous calumny” and challenged Weretilneck to put up or shut up. If the governor had proof of what he was stating, said Mendioroz, then he should press charges and name names, and if he was proven right, the UCR would take its own actions to expel the perpetrators and bring them to justice. Nothing more of this sort was heard from the provincial capital and by this week, Weretilneck and Goye were swapping accusations of their own, making it fairly clear that the Bariloche riots were very probably the result of a feud between Peronists in power in both the municipality and the provincial governorship.

All About Money. It should come as no surprise to anyone that the bad blood between the governor and the mayor is, apparently, all about money. Weretilneck assumed the governorship a year ago, when his predecessor, Carlos Soria, who won office with the backing of Cristina Kirchner, was shot to death by his own wife on New Year’s Day, 2012, just 21 days after being sworn in. During a later tour of the province, Weretilneck publicly announced in Bariloche that the province would be allocating 500 million pesos to the city to provide, among other things, for its ambitious social programs. Goye later discovered that no such allocation was earmarked in the provincial budget, and has since accused the governor of making facile announcements for political gain and then welching on his promises. In the days leading up to the organized looting in Bariloche, which spread like a contagion to the rest of the country, Goye and his surrogates are reported to have repeatedly warned the governor that by not coming up with the funds promised he was risking a social explosion in one of Argentina’s premier tourist destinations.

The impression left by this is that in what started as a bid by the mayor to pressure the governor into putting his money where his mouth was, he may well have unleashed something he couldn’t control (especially since he was conveniently out of town during the riots), and something that grew a lot bigger than anybody would ever have expected.

Whatever the case might be, the person on which the turn of events reflected worst wasn’t the provincial governor, but the country’s president and her government, since the riots and looting spread to ten of the country’s 23 provinces and the chaos triggered in Bariloche fostered the impression of a country out of control, underscoring the growing perception that Cristina Kirchner has lost the majority support that swept her into a second term in office and that if she doesn’t start paying attention to the demands of a no longer silent civil opposition, she might well expect to end up like De la Rúa, whose ouster amounted to a civilian coup.

Sole Accountability. It would seem logical, then, that she might like to see Mayor Goye’s head on a platter, and that was precisely what she was calling for at the end of this week. She reportedly passed this “desire” on to Weretilneck and to powerful Río Negro Senator Miguel Pichetto, who immediately called on Goye to cross the province to the capital city of Viedma for a powwow. Already guessing what the meeting was going to be about (his resignation), Goye flatly refused, saying he was busy, and adding—rather cynically, considering the circumstances—that he “didn’t want to leave the city on its own,” because “you can see what happens when I’m absent for just 24 hours.” Undeterred, however, the governor and senator flew to Bariloche, where they held a meeting yesterday in the airport with Mayor Goye and strongly suggested he hand in his resignation. It was pretty clear that the two provincial authorities purposely made no secret of the meeting because news of it spread like wildfire throughout the national media. The situation was clear: the highest of national and provincial Peronist officials considered the mayor a loose cannon and were dumping him overboard before he could cause any more damage. If he defied them, he would do so in total isolation, which would make his viability as mayor untenable. This is particularly true since the justification that the authorities cited for giving the mayor his walking papers was the barely veiled extortion he allegedly perpetrated by hitting local businesses up for “Christmas gifts” for the poorer sectors of the population if they wanted to avoid retaliation.  

In point of fact, to what extent the national and provincial government were distancing themselves from Goye was clear immediately after the riots, when the governor showed up and outshined the mayor, virtually shoving him into the background and taking over. In a country where such crimes have often gone unpunished, Weretilneck praised the bravery of police in standing up to the rioters and revealed that the provincial special forces had been kept busy at the local jail where a prisoner revolt appears to also have been part of the planned disturbances. Ill-equipped regular police were forced, then, to cope with the early part of the riots and a score of them ended up getting injured. As a result, the governor said he would be making sure that police received a stock of riot gear usually only issued to the special corps. He also ordered 30 police raids, 23 of which turned up stolen merchandise. Another one brought the discovery of a crop of cannabis plants and residents there were placed at the disposal of a Federal judge. Police also confiscated over a score of vehicles identified in news pictures and security tapes as having taken part in the looting.

Clearly, investigators knew just where to go: neighborhoods known as 34 Hectáreas, Frutillar and Km 20 (Don Bosco), where punteros, who rather grandly refer to themselves as “luchadores sociales” (social fighters)—some of whom have been widely alleged to have loyalties to Goye—complained of police harassment.

In the end, Goye’s fate would appear clear. It seems the only question is whether he decides to make it easy or hard on himself and his city.

THE DECEMBER 21 SYNDROME, ARGENTINE STYLE




The good news is that the world, as you might have noticed, didn’t end yesterday. So maybe the Mayans just grew bored with making calendars and decided to get into a new racket. 

The Mayan Calendar ended yesterday...we didn't.

I have a friend who’s an optimist (now and then you run into one and I keep him close—like you might, say, an African wild ass, Asiatic cheetah or other endangered species—just because he’s so delightfully rare), and he's



The African wild ass, like

optimists, an endangered

species.

(Photo päts CC BY 2.0)

a student of ancient cultures to boot. He chided people all through the past year for repeating that thing about the Mayans saying the world was going to end (yesterday, as it turns out), telling them that the emergence of that idea was based on the ignorant theory of the Apocalypse. According to his studies, what’s going to take place—is, in fact, taking place, as we speak—has to do with the other root meaning of apocalypse: namely, a revelation. According to him, December 21 marked the start of a new, enlightened era in the evolution of Man. As of yesterday, the secrets and meaning of life will start to become clear to us all. Man will become more compassionate, more visionary, more in harmony with the world and his fellow human beings. The world, in short, since yesterday, will start living an aggiornamento that will, precisely, pull us back from the brink of self- and mutual destruction and lead us toward a state of grace in which everyone will work together for the common good. He further subscribes to a theory upheld by a number of obscure if clearly erudite anthropological researchers who, casting aside the findings of Richard Leakey and other noted scientists, claim that the origin and development of Man was just opposite to conventional belief. Man, these scholars say, didn’t first appear on the plains of Africa and then (for some inexplicable reason) make his way to the frigid north, only to then cross the Bering Strait and head back south, creating and leaving behind a string of Native American cultures in his wake. Instead, they say, Man originated in South America (Argentina, they believe), the precursor of the Inca, the Maya and the Aztec, and spread his culture northward, also becoming a great navigator and crossing vast oceans to sow the seeds of the civilizations that were to emerge in Minoan Crete, Phoenicia, Egypt and the Indus Valley.So, anyway, according to that theory, the Mayan Calendar is all about revelation, not destruction, and, if it is to be believed, Argentina might very well be the center of world culture and, thus, the very nucleus of the revelation that we should all be starting to experience as of yesterday at about twenty-four hundred hours, hora argentina.

I would really like to believe that theory. Really! Because, that would mean that I was living in the very epicenter of a marvelous new world of love, harmony and mutual respect and that I had something more edifying to look forward to in my old age than a plummeting decent into the inferno of human apocalypse in which all bets are off and we are back to a scenario of stick-wielding, rock-throwing survival of the fittest.

Unfortunately, the scene that Argentina woke up to on the morning of Friday, December 21, 2012, did little to support either of those theories and certainly did much to create a climate of apocalyptic chaos and anything but harmony. And the molten core from which that sensation emanated was right here, in the Andean mountain resort town of San Carlos de Bariloche, just 12 miles from where I live hidden away in the forest.  

I use the term “sensation” advisedly here, since this is the same word employed on numerous occasions by Argentina’s (in)Security Minister Nilda Garré to try and ward off criticism leveled at her as a result of ever more frequent and violent crime around the country. According to the minister, the insecurity nightmare that residents of Argentina’s cities and towns alike are experiencing is simply the sensation of unbridled criminal activity and juvenile delinquency (a feeling she blames, of course, on the anti-government media that, according to her, have blown the situation—or illusion of same—out of all proportion) not any real increase in crime. (Tell that to the daily victims and their loved ones, Nilda).

Looters turn Christmas into trick or treat by stocking up on stolen

pricey electronics.

Added to this sensation, we now have the December 21 Syndrome, which manifests itself as organized looting, but which has some much larger purpose behind it.

The detonator was located, as I say, here in Bariloche. First thing in the morning of an unseasonably cold, wet business day (December 21 is also the summer solstice in South America, but it was only a few degrees above freezing out), well organized looters marched mob-style out of their nearby neighborhoods on the rough Patagonian highlands surrounding the city and made their first incursion into the parking lot of the Changomás (Walmart) supermarket, which quickly became a sorry symbol and victim of this recurrent brand of terrorism. This was ironic, since before the arrival of Walmart, many of the working class and poor people who live in that windblown area far above the touristy Andean city whose downtown image graces postcards, posters and calendars, had to take a bus  down to town to do their shopping. Local supermarket chains had long ignored that area because they saw it as a market with too low a level of purchasing power to bother with. But they raised the roof when they heard Walmart had plans to come into town and set up out there, and tried to foster a municipal ban to keep the international chain out. A referendum was finally held and the City Fathers lost, as lower-class segments of the population (who far outnumber the well-to-do) overwhelmingly supported having a major store in their neighborhood. The compromise was Changomás (different name, different colors, reduced stock of merchandise: no Superstore for Bariloche). But then, as I say, the Friday attack wasn’t about social unrest. It was all about political skullduggery.

Looting...Patagonian style. 

Though driven back by vastly outnumbered and ill-equipped police (who used the store’s fire hoses, hockey sticks from its sports department and wooden curtain rods from the dry goods section to repel the attacking hoards), the rioters simply regrouped and returned, stronger than before, eventually overpowering all resistance, destroying the shopping center’s entrance, showering defenders with a hail of stones and other projectiles, flipping over cars in the parking lot or demolishing them where they stood, and even using one as a battering ram to knock out the store’s front doors. Once inside, although some did help themselves to food items, the real objects of their affection turned out to be clothing, electrical appliances and electronics (especially plasma TVs that went like proverbial hotcakes). So much for the argument about “the desperate hungry people” who had requested “Christmas food baskets”(see below).   

From there, the vandals moved on to other major supermarkets and a meat packing company, advancing like army ants, wrecking everything in their path and drawing ever closer to the city’s downtown tourist area. An unrelated incident added an even greater quota of confusion since, all morning downtown, local residents and visitors alike had been treated to the deafening petards, thumping drums and rasping chants of electrical workers protesting in front of the local light and power cooperative. But as word spread of the advancing looters in the hills above the mountain town, business people began circling their wagons. Residents scratched their heads as some businesses started surreptitiously locking up for their noon break an hour early. And baffled foreign tourists sat sipping their cocoa, munching pastry and worriedly asking each other what was going on as the town’s renowned chocolaterías started quickly rolling down their metal shop curtains over the display windows or covering the windowpanes with plywood, as if in preparation for a hurricane. By the afternoon, Bariloche gave the impression of being a ghost town, as it awaited the arrival of a detachment of Border Guards to reinforce beleaguered police units.

They demolished cars in the parking lot and used one as a battering ram to

take out the front doors of the store.  

Two years ago Bariloche was also the scene of rioting, which ended up with police shooting dead three of the violent demonstrators. Subsequent action taken against the police for being too quick on the trigger has brought ever more strict controls to bear on officers, which would tend to explain why in yesterday’s incidents cops were seen defending themselves by merely hurling back the same rocks that rioters threw at them. Some policemen were even seen using slingshots to return fire on looters who were armed with similar archaic weaponry.  

The flimsy excuse for the attacks was that the “social sector” had called on the city’s government to convince supermarket owners to donate “gift packages” of food (in the holiday spirit, you understand) to the poorest segments of the population so that they might have a merry Christmas, and that no answer to this “request” had materialized. So Christmas quickly became a sort of terrorist-style trick or treat. But it quickly also became clear that the attempted extortion and its aftermath were neither random nor isolated. Before people in Bariloche had a chance to even ask themselves if the problem was simply homegrown and the result of rich and poor living in such close proximity, the same scenes of violence, vandalism and larceny were being replicated in ten other provinces around the country and in suburbs of Buenos Aires, where looters attacked not only major supermarkets but also service stations and other stores. Scores of police and civilians have been hurt in the riots and two men died in the city of Rosario (one of a gunshot wound, the other after being knifed).

The question most people are asking themselves is, if these actions are politically organized—and they clearly are—whom could they possibly benefit?

Could it be the dissident trade unions that once again held a protest this past week and demanded that the government of President Cristina Kirchner stop overtaxing workers’ pay and start doing something about the rampant inflation that is making it harder and harder for laborers to cover their basic needs?  If it were, it would surely provide President Kirchner with a clear message about what a mess the unions could swiftly turn the country into if the government were to continue to ignore its demands for higher pay, decent retirement benefits and other worker entitlements.

Could it be the far left, which, having thrown in its lot with the dissident Peronist unions still has been unable to convince the middle class opposition to join forces with it? The middle class that mustered a million well-behaved and respectful protesters of its own last November isn’t ceding control of its own destiny to either the government or the dissident left and is standing its ground alone in the middle. Certainly this kind of lightning mass terrorism might be seen as a possible way of scaring both the government and the middle class into resigned acquiescence.

Could it be dissident Peronist politicians and strategists? There are clearly segments within the ever eclectic, cloak-and-dagger Peronist movement that feel the Kirchners have not only let them down but have also betrayed their interests. No one has been more relegated by the Kirchners than former president and powerful Peronist kingpin Eduardo Duhalde, who plucked the late President Néstor Kirchner from the obscurity of a southern Patagonian governorship to launch him overnight into the presidency following a major political crisis that rocked the country’s institutions, only to be paid back with ingratitude and disdain by both Kirchner and his widow, the current president.

Or could it be the Kirchner government itself? Its popularity has plummeted in recent months. The highly successful middle-class 8N demonstrations and successive open protests by Peronist labor unions and leftist workers movements have constituted the proverbial writing on the wall in this regard. Nor has the government been able to make good on its raison d’être: the destruction of the Clarín media group.  In the meantime, it has embarked on such obviously inflammatory moves as its plan to take over the traditional Palermo Fairgrounds in Buenos Aires from its clear-cut political rival, the Sociedad Rural Argentina, which groups the most powerful and conservative ranchers and landholders in this agriculturally rich nation. Drawing battle lines between the country’s poor and its well-to-do would be the worst possible thing that could happen to Argentina, but this government has never shown any sense of moderation and less still any spirit of cooperation and social harmony. It is a government that fosters head-on conflict constantly and which is adept in the use of lies and subterfuge for short-term political gain. If it thought that plunging the country into chaos might cover up a multitude of sins, while providing it with an excuse to invest itself with special powers, who—based on its performance up to now—could doubt that it might well do so?

In his highly controversial 1985 novel entitled El día que mataron a Alfonsín, Argentine author Dalmiro Saenz (in collaboration with Sergio Joselovsky) crafts a meticulous (and terrifying) blueprint of how mob violence is used in Argentina to hold democracy prisoner and bring about change by other means for the benefit of political power groups. What he describes is the kind of “social terrorism” witnessed in similar mass looting and rioting organized against the extraordinarily democratic government of Raúl Alfonsín in 1989, prompting the president to resign his post several months before the end of his six year term. And this was also the same sort of organized violence that cut short the elected government of President Fernando De la Rúa in 2001 and cast the country into institutional chaos for two years thereafter, until the democratic election of Néstor Kirchner in 2003. Saenz and Joselovsky make it clear in their book that in organizing such movements, the whole idea is to create suspicion and confusion by destroying every landmark with which a society can orient itself. And therefore, nothing is as it seems and anything is possible.

 Of that novel attorney Alberto Lampugnani, in his opinion “as an Argentine, as a democrat and as a jurist,” was quoted as saying that it was a story that “never should have been written,” adding that it was “sheer madness” and “with a pornographic ingredient.” In his complaint against the writers, he indicated that the book was a manual on “how to act as a mob and (provides) guidelines on how to lead one.” The lawyer went on to say that the book “teaches how important the element of surprise is in attacks on people and institutions, and it teaches that the people attacked remain paralyzed through fear and cowardice.”

I think it’s safe to say that Dalmiro Saenz would probably agree with the last part of that assessment. Perhaps he would even applaud it, since the whole idea of the book was to create a veritable X-ray of the inner workings of a “popular” coup and of who might benefit from it.

And just who might benefit is a question that depends entirely on the current situation and on who decides to use the method first, since a segment of the population long accustomed to receiving free handouts in exchange for fleeting loyalty is predisposed muscle just waiting for something to do, and if a few expensive items that can be fenced later for cash is part of the loot, all the better. But the main idea is to create a state in which the rules no longer apply, so as to be able to install new ones that benefit whatever power is behind the ploy. One of the nefarious characters in Saenz/Joselovsky’s story explains it best:  “Our intention is to carry out a power project…The motive and goal is to strip everything of solemnity, to disparage and undermine every social institution: family, society, churches, marriage, armed forces, justice, religion, honors, dignity, public offices, traditions, patriotic sentiment, the concept of shame and decency, [to render] innocence, holiness and heroism, etc., a joke.”