While the Chilean bourgeoisie toasted President Salvador Allende’s death with champagne, the Chilean people began a period of mourning that continues to this day. Fifty-three years have passed, and the civil-military coup that overthrew the most democratic government in Chile’s history has been swept away by post-truth. The “disappeared”—those detained and never seen again—and the raids on factories, universities, and workplaces are ghosts that haunt the streets of cities and towns across the country. The executions, torture, and arbitrary detentions have been obscured by being portrayed as part of a nonexistent war waged in Chile between good and evil. Freedom or communism.
Time ends up confining memory to a museum. The cut-short lives of those who were part of an intergenerational whole—men and women who were thrilled by the triumph of the Popular Unity and dedicated their lives to building a more just, egalitarian, sovereign, and dignified Chile—have known no rest. They return and cry out in despair. They demand dignity. They seek allies to carry on the torch, but Chilean society dismisses them. Spurious interests create a clamor and prevent people from hearing their demand to open the boulevards. Their deaths have been turned into a commodity. Sanity must prevail. La Moneda Palace, bombed on September 11, 1973, has been turned into a tourist attraction. And when it comes to the political project of the Popular Unity, it is claimed: it was neither “Unity” nor “Popular.” The argument is grotesque. Its leaders sought neither consensus nor the support of the middle classes. Sectarianism, intolerance, and the hidden plot to establish the dictatorship of the proletariat led to failure and defeat.
Those who lost their lives defending the constitutional order are being portrayed as enemies of the nation. There is nothing to regret. Market freedom cannot be limited by human rights. Former President Patricio Aylwin will say, when referring to women who were raped and those who were held in clandestine detention centers and survived, that they are lucky. There is no other way to explain why the current president, José Antonio Kast, defends the dictatorship and its torturers. Nor why Chile is hosting the Madrid Forum, which brings together the Latin American and global far right. Much less why the figure of dictator Augusto Pinochet is being glorified, as Javier Milei has done. Celebrating him in September is no coincidence; it is an insult and a show of contempt for human dignity.
But he is not the only one who has defended it, nor are they all on the right. The presidents of the Concertación, as well as Gabriel Boric, have behaved similarly. All in the name of exaggerating the achievements of neoliberalism and its architects. Ultimately, this amounts to attributing economic and social accomplishments to the civil-military dictatorship—whose 1978 constitution, amended in 2004 by former President Ricardo Lagos, was a product of the dictatorship and forms the framework for the free-market economy that prevails in Chile.
But what achievements are they referring to? Let’s see: Chile is currently one of the most economically unequal countries in the region. The wealthiest 10 percent have an income 27 times higher than that of the poorest 10 percent. This situation worsens when we factor in healthcare, education, and housing. Furthermore, over the past half-century, its mineral wealth has fallen into the hands of transnational corporations. Water resources—rivers, lakes, and groundwater—have been sold to private companies. Chile is a staunch ally of the United States and shows disaffection toward projects promoting a Latin American identity that recognize the ideals of Simón Bolívar, Manuel Rodríguez, or José Martí. And if we look back at the 20th century, Lázaro Cárdenas or Salvador Allende.
For those with a faltering memory, I recommend the book *Chile: An Analysis of the First Year of the Military Dictatorship (1973–1974)*. This text remained unpublished until 2026. Originally published by Prensa Latinoamericana in Buenos Aires under a pseudonym, it was never actually distributed. Its value lies in its status as a direct testimony, written with rigor and based on contemporary information, and drafted to reveal the logic of the military government; it captured the essence of the coup d’état—a project to rebuild dependent capitalism. Its author is Vicent Garcés. Its pages reveal the betrayal by military personnel and civilians, the origins of Operation Condor, the contradictions within the right wing, and the repression of constitutionalist military officers who did not support the coup d’état. It is a must-read.
In conclusion, there are undoubtedly differences among the presidents who have governed Chile since the 1988 plebiscite, in which the “No” vote against Pinochet’s continued rule prevailed. But Alywin and Frei supported the dictatorship and shared its ideology when the military junta took power, deciding to “fight head-on against international communism and the Marxist ideology that underpins it”; asserting that “while others are naively moving forward on the path of dialogue and understanding with communism, we are returning (…) the current government neither fears nor hesitates to declare itself anti-Marxist,” and “the Marxist cancer must be eradicated at its root.” Fifty-three years after the assassination of democracy in Chile, José Antonio Kast stands out as Pinochet’s star pupil. The Chilean people continue in mourning.
Original text by Marcos Roitman Rosenberg published in La Jornada on September 11th, 2026.
Translation posted by Schools for Chiapas.