What Dimbleby did not tell us about Chile

It is certainly rare to see Latin America take centre stage on primetime TV in the UK.  September’s documentary series A South American Journey with Jonathan Dimbleby was, then, a golden opportunity for one of the BBC’s veteran broadcasters to shed light onto what has become of the region over recent years to a mainstream audience.

Over three episodes we followed Dimbleby’s travels through Chile, Bolivia, Colombia, Venezuela and Brazil, as he documents some of the fascinating examples of Latin America’s dynamism and progress of late.  In Bolivia, for instance, he meets the sisters who are asserting their identities as Aymaras and as women through wrestling.  In addition to the positives, he also makes a point of explaining some of the important challenges still encountered, such as poverty, crime and violence.

For the most part, Dimbleby does well at dispelling some prevailing myths; for example, he spends time with a group of coca farmers, giving them the opportunity to explain the cultural and economic importance of the controversial plant.  And yet, while he strikes a good balance between the progress and challenges in most countries, his assessment of his first destination, Chile, was a cause for concern.

Dimbleby describes Chile as ‘the envy of the continent’.  He points to its impressive economic performance, which has seen it ‘more than double over the past 10 years’.  He also marvels at the ‘openness, the confidence and the freedoms enjoyed by Chilean society’ – a world away from the repression of the Pinochet dictatorship he witnessed when last in the country.  He illustrates this with a visit to The Clinic, a satirical and subversive magazine that ‘lampoons the rich and powerful, ridicules their contradictions and exposes their scandals’.  For Dimbleby, The Clinic exemplifies ‘freedom of expression with a vengeance’.

He too finds change in the deeply conservative, elitist milieu of the National Rodeo Championships, which 20 years ago would have constituted a bastion of support for Pinochet’s regime.  Here he meets Michelle Renart who has managed to unseat deep-rooted gender roles by becoming the first woman to compete in the championships.

Finally, he meets a group of seaweed farmers, who despite tending to be traditionalists have learned to adapt to the modern world.  Dimbleby uses this example to illustrate the way he sees Chile as a whole: learn to change with the times, and it is possible to flourish.

To be sure, Chile’s status as one of Latin America’s success stories cannot be denied; it is frequently referred to regarding the quality of its institutions and its political stability, and revered for the delicate manner in which it dealt with Pinochet’s continuing influence after the return to democracy in 1990.

Nevertheless, it is Dimbleby’s apparent unwillingness to expose the other side of the story which proves troubling.  It becomes obvious in conversation with Jorge Montealegre, who, as a radical opponent of the dictatorship, was arrested and sent to a concentration camp in the Atacama Desert.

‘When you look at Chile today, how do you feel about you country?’  ‘It’s paradoxical, Montealegre begins, ‘on the one hand, I feel that today’s Chile has regained the freedoms that we didn’t have.  There’s no doubt…’  The other side of his response, however, is edited out of the interview.

In the end, Dimbleby delivers a portrayal of a country that left its challenges in 1990, that the demise of Pinochet provided a panacea towards freedom and progress.  But move beyond this presentation and it becomes evident that Chile is indeed facing important challenges that must not be ignored.

The most striking discord is that the programme was broadcast during what has become known as the Chilean Spring: a wave of demonstrations spearheaded by the student movement.  The adoption of direct action reflects the gradual disillusion and detachment from mainstream politics, which has seen voter turnout rates in steady decline, particularly among the young.

Importantly, what at its core is a movement against profit-driven higher education has been espoused by wider sectors of society.  Demands have expanded to improving Chile’s alarming levels of income inequality, which even after 20 years of economic prosperity remain among the highest in Latin America, second only to Brazil.  Other protesters have demanded changes to the current political structure, which some perceive as contributing to a widening gap between the rulers and the ruled.

The hard-line response by the carabineros to protesters reflects a long-established pattern.  In August, a 16-year-old protester was shot and killed in Santiago; and in October, in the face of continued violence, the interior minister announced the possible application of a security law that was initially passed by the Pinochet dictatorship.

The State Security Law could see those convicted of public disorder offenses imprisoned for three to 10 years, representing disproportionately high sentences for crimes committed.  Nevertheless, while there may have been shock at the proposal of reintroducing one of Pinochet’s laws, it is not the first example of such tactics.

Another sector that has endured hard-line responses by the Chilean state – and another important area of debate overlooked by Dimbleby – is the Mapuche community: an indigenous population from the south of the country.  Despite promises of a new set of Mapuche-state relations in the early 1990s, including the protection and expansion of land rights and the creation of a dedicated state body to represent indigenous interests, communities have seen little substantive change.

One area of fierce conflict has been the expansion of extractive industries such as logging and hydroelectric dams on Mapuche territory.  In reaction to direct action taken by Mapuche activists against extractive industrial projects, numerous administrations have used an anti-terrorism law passed in 1984 to arrest and imprison hundreds of protesters.

The law has allowed protesters to be arrested and put on trial with little regard for due process.  As Patricia Richards explains, ‘it allows for indefinite detention without charge, permits prosecutors’ use of wiretapping and protected witnesses to whom the defence has no access, and authorises sentences longer than those for similar violations of the civil code.’  Further, on several occasions, the Supreme Court has intervened in order to secure prosecutions.

In a country whose judicial system is widely revered this is a troubling state of affairs.  What is more, it reflects the priority the Chilean state has given economic development over fulfilling the promises given to the Mapuche community during the transition to democracy.

While these cases provide preliminary examples of the challenges faced by Chile, they are certainly not exhaustive.  Further discussions would flag up the continued disproportionate influence of the Catholic Church, the maintenance of the dictatorship’s 1978 Amnesty Law, and the precarious conditions in which many Chileans still work, to name but a few.

To expose Chile’s faults is not to deny its successes.  Rather, it is as a reminder of the need to reveal the true state of contemporary Chile.  If we indeed wish to see further progress, it must be challenged about its flaws as well as lauded for its achievements.

Moreover, the obligation is greater still given that for many in the UK, Dimbleby’s documentary is the most definitive and in depth to which they will be exposed. In delivering a one-sided story Dimbleby has done the public, as well as Chile, a grave disservice.