Argentina and Chile C-m Balance

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COMPARATIVE POLITICAL STUDIES / October 1998Pion-Berlin, Arceneaux / THE CIVIL-MILITARY BALANCE

Humanrightsissues topped the agenda for manydemocratic presidents whofollowed repressive

military regimes in Latin America. Traditional approaches assume that the military is powerful

enough to suppress humanrights initiatives.Transitions approaches closely linksuccess or fail-

ure to military power at the time of regime change. Evidence shows not only that there were in-

stances of policysuccess but also that these arenot fully explainedby thetransitional balance of

power.The authors argue thatpolicyoutcomesare inextricablytied to levels of institutional con-

centration and autonomy in the executive branch. Human rights gains occur when policy-

making authority is centered in a few hands and where the president can use institutional chan-

nels suitably closed to military influence. Low levels of concentration and autonomy result in

policy setbacks; mixed levels lead to moderate success. The authors test the model with a com-

parative case study of governments in Argentina and Chile.

TIPPING THE

CIVIL-MILITARY BALANCE

Institutions and Human Rights Policy in

Democratic Argentina and Chile

DAVID PION-BERLIN

CRAIG ARCENEAUX

University of California, Riverside

In the Southern Cone nations of Argentina and Chile, repressive militaryregimes have been displaced by democratically elected ones. Faced withdaunting legacies of state-sanctioned violence and electorates demanding a

redressing of past inequities, governments placed human rights issues near

the top of their respective agendas. Incoming presidents felt compelled

therefore to investigate and/or punish soldiers who might have previously

inflicted harm against innocent civilians. Argentina has been moderately

successful in pursuing a human rights agenda, whereas Chile has experi-

633

AUTHORS NOTE: The authors wish to thank Max Neiman for helpful comments made on an

earlier draft of this article.

COMPARATIVE POLITICAL STUDIES, Vol. 31 No. 5, October 1998 633-661

1998 Sage Publications, Inc.


2/29

enced more mixed results. How are we to understand these varying policy

outcomes?

Traditionally, researchers viewed Latin American militaries as almost in-

vincible forces that were able to impose their policy preferences on feeble,

democratic governments (Anderson, 1992; Chalmers, 1977). Civilian leaders

and institutions were largely irrelevant, theyclaimed,because real power was

presumed to lie with the military. If this were true, then soldiers fearful of be-

ing implicated with past abuses would successfully stifle efforts by civilians

to expose the misdeeds of their men, let alone to bring them to justice. The

weakest democracies would not even add human rights to their agenda, an-

ticipating swiftmilitary reprisalsshould theydare. No scholar of LatinAmer-

ica can fail to have a healthy respect for the militarys willingness and ability

to use its coercive powers to protect its interests. And yet, not only were Ar-gentine and Chilean human rights programs proposed in the face of military

opposition, but to varying degrees, they were implemented as well. Notwith-

standing their setbacks, the democratic governments of both of these coun-

tries accomplishedmore thantraditionalscholarshipwould have predicted.

The recent democratic transitions literature (Garretn, 1989; Karl &

Schmitter, 1991; Valenzuela, 1992; Viola & Mainwaring, 1985) has built and

improved on earlier works by establishing the initial conditions under which

military influence may or may not limit future political action. It does so by

honing in on that period of time when power is being transferred from

authoritarian to democratic hands. According to many scholars within this

cohort, democratic institutions and policies reflect the level of military power

at the time of transition. In controlled transitions, strong armies taint new de-

mocracies with restrictions, thus tilting programmatic outcomes to their fa-vor. In transitions by collapse, weak armies fail to leave their indelible mark

on institutions or on future policy.

In Argentina, the complete breakdown of the dictatorship known as the

Procesoleft the military demoralized, divided, and without a shared vision.

Thus, it held littlesway over subsequent events, leaving greater leewayfor ci-

vilian decision makers. In Chile, the Pinochet dictatorship was able to leave

office and transfer power to civilians on terms favorable to it. An armed

forces that was strong, confident, and united behind a common cause

(Agero, 1995) was then able to reduce its successors margin for maneuver.

In light of these realities, the transitions approach would lead us to predict

huge policy gains for Argentine leaders unencumbered by military interests

and resounding setbacks for Chilean leaders overwhelmed by military pres-

sure. And yet neither was the case; both leaders got some but not all of what

they wanted. Scholars of the transition help us understand what are the initial

634 COMPARATIVE POLITICAL STUDIES / October 1998


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boundaries forpolitical actionbut cannotpredict with any precisionhow spe-

cific policies will fare.

Policy outcomes in these new democracies are better understood if civil-

military relations are analyzed not only in light of military power and the

terms of transition but also with the respect to the institutional arrangements

that unfold under democratic rule. Whereas traditionalists removed demo-

cratic institutions from their analysis, we bring them right back in. And

whereas transitional theorists treated democratic institutions as outcomes re-

flectiveof anddetermined by previous strugglesfor power, we acceptthem as

variables in their own right. The influence of the military over policy, we will

argue, is uneven, mediated as it is by organizational arrangements within the

democratic state. As those arrangementsvary, so toodo thepolicy fortunes of

soldiers. Institutions intervene between the expression of preferences at oneend and the creation of actual programs at theother end. We follow that inter-

vention along two dimensions: the level of decision-making autonomy and

the concentration of authority. Variance in these characteristics either en-

hances or constrains the reach of politicians and soldiers alike. Values for

thesevariables are combined in a typology that produces several theoretically

plausible policy outcomes that are then assessed in light of the evidence pre-

sented in the empirical sections that follow.

HUMAN RIGHTS, CIVIL-MILITARY RELATIONS,

AND INSTITUTIONAL ANALYSIS

The study of human rights policy in Argentina and Chile is also a study incivil-military relations. Both sides were necessarily affected by the human

rights dilemma. On the civilian side were families who needed some form of

justice to ease the suffering of loss. It was in their interests to push for full-

scale investigations and prosecution. Politicians meanwhile needed to bal-

ance theyearningfor revengewith therisksto thedemocracy of going toofar.

On the military side, we find the accused whose individual careers and free-

dom hung in the balance. Collectively, officers believed that the focus on

abuses denigrated their public image and overlooked theirhonorable effort to

defend the country from extremist agitators (Pion-Berlin, 1994). Thus, how

or whether the human rights quandary would be resolved would decisively

affect the course of civil-military affairs.

In the ensuing conflict over human rights policy, the most frequent civil-

military contacts occur within democratic institutions and channels. Of

course, there are few countries of the Third World in which politicians and

soldiers observe institutional protocol with perfect regularity. Informal exer-

Pion-Berlin, Arceneaux / THE CIVIL-MILITARY BALANCE 635


4/29

tions of power, whether they be in the form of veiled threats, military maneu-

vers, or overt mobilizations, do occur from time to time. But a focus on insti-

tutions does not presume constant and irrevocable allegiance. It does require

that subordination be the norm rather than the exception and that soldiers not

have the capacity or at least the desire to repeatedly disregard official chan-

nels by fulfilling their wants outside of them.

The countries under study appear to satisfy these minimal conditions. In

transitions via a collapse of the dictatorship such as that which occurred in

Argentina, the armed forces are weakened and have little choice but to work

through institutional channels lest they face public scorn and political retri-

bution. In controlled transitions such as that in Chile, the military has had a

role to play in setting up the new rules of the democratic game, has a stake in

seeingthoserulesenforced, andis thereforeconfident that itsinterests will beprotected once the new political order is in place.

So long as thearmed forces abide by democratic rules of conduct, then the

institutions of state that embody those rules must become the subject of in-

quiry. Institutions are collections of standard operating procedures and

structures that shape political behavior within their confines (March &

Olsen, 1984, p. 738). It is within ministries, legislative halls, and courts that

politicians and soldiers trade policy victories and defeats. Hence, the organi-

zations under study here are democratic, governmental ones and are treated

as variables that intervene between the expression of preference at one end

and the delivery of actual programsat the other end. In a clash of interests be-

tween politicians and soldiers, who will prevail? It depends on the institu-

tional environment through which a policy passes en route from conception

to delivery (Pion-Berlin, 1997).The emphasis on the independent role of democratic institutions sets this

civil-military study apart. In the traditional literature on Latin America,

democratic state institutions are overlooked as political forces in their own

right, which are thought to be too fragile to be of any consequence. Hunting-

ton (1968) referred to the feeble state surrounded by massive social forces

(p. 84) when mentioning Argentina. Douglas Chalmers (1977) described the

politicized state where everything is possible (p. 26), owing to the fact

that nothing is sacred. Because there is no deep-seated, cultural respect for

decision-making procedures, these can be abruptly disabled and then rein-

vented each time powerful groups decide it is in their interests to do so.

ODonnell (1973, p. 75) agreed by suggesting that winning political coali-

tions will establish new rules or overhaul the political system entirely to se-

cure advantages for themselves and yetimpose constraints on the losers. And

Charles Anderson (1992) described political systems as tentative, meaning



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they were based on a flexible coalition among diverse power contenders

which is subject to revision at any time (pp. 242-243).

If institutions can so easily be undone, then real power must lie beyond

them. To sort out critical questions about resource allocation and distribution

and to understand who gets what, when, and how, why not treat governments

as objects of conquest by competingsocial forces? Whynot turn to thegroups

that manipulate institutions to their advantage? This is precisely what has

been done. The democratic state has often been treated as a kind of spectator

arena that beholds the collision of conflicting interests within it. At most, it

can only referee the contest, record the outcomes, and reward the victor. Pub-

lic officials who operate within it are presumed to be weak and must design

policies to please the groups who prevail in the struggle for influence. If pol-

icy were simply thenet resultof conflictual pressure politics, then policy out-comes could be predicted by identifying the agenda of the more dominant

groups. Institutional rules and procedures would not matter.

To its credit, the traditional approach rightfully acknowledges the central-

ity of military power. In a region of the world where democratic governments

have been historically constrained and sometimes overrun by politically ag-

gressive armies, such a variable cannot and should not be ignored. However,

it is not enough to calculate military capacity in isolation. We need to know

how adept the armed forces are in exploiting their power when confronted

with different institutional arrangements.

The literature on democratic transitions marks an improvement on the tra-

ditional approach because institutions are brought into sharper focus. When

thedemocratic rules of thegame are drafted duringtransition, politicalactors

use institutions to project their prerogatives into the future. Karl and Schmit-ter (1991) wrote,

The arrangements crafted by key political actors during a regime transitionestablish new rules, roles, andbehavior patternswhich may (or may not)repre-sent an important rupture with the past. These, in turn, become the institutionsshaping the prospects for regime consolidation in the future. (pp. 272-273)

Specific institutional mechanisms were noted by Garretn (1989), who ar-

gued that military rulers can leave authoritarian enclaves within the institu-

tions of a democratic regime, and by Valenzuela (1992), who referred to the

tutelary powers and reserve domains (pp. 62-70) that military rulers are

able to ensconce in new democracies. Thus, according to the transitions ap-

proach, there is a close relationship between the relative power of authoritar-ian rulersand democratic opponents on one hand and theensuing democratic

institutions on the other. Civilians who come to power after a controlled tran-



6/29

sition will face institutions that limit their ability to maneuver, whereas

democratic leaders who assume office after a transition by collapse will find

institutions to be more to their liking.

The expectations of the transitions approach are upheld in the aggregate.

There is some empirical evidence to confirm a link between the transitional

balance of power and the subsequent challenges of democratic consolidation

(Linz, 1981; Viola & Mainwaring, 1985; Zirker, 1991). In a study of southern

Europe and Latin America, Agero (1995) has found that the chances for ci-

vilian supremacy are greater where (a) the transition process has been largely

controlled by civilians, and (b) the military fail to coalesce around a common

political goal. But these approaches tell us less about the possible success of

any individual policy. Even in controlled transitions, military rulers are not

able to fully design government to their advantage on every policy. The rea-sons are threefold.

First, institutions contain a myriad of procedures and rules. Time limita-

tions and incomplete information prohibit a comprehensive review of every

democratic plan. Thus, the armed forces may inadvertently leave certain or-

ganizational features intact that allow for passage of undesired policies. Sec-

ond, institutions are not created in a void. They emerge within a particular

historical-cultural environment that both steers and constrains the range of

manipulation open to military rulers. Federalism, judicial independence, pat-

terns of compromise and competition, and any number of other traditional

values found in a given society cannot be easily undone by institutional fiat

(Meyer & Rowan, 1977; Meyer & Scott, 1983).

Third, even if an institution could be designed to produce desired out-

comes, a limitation is imposed by the expectation that democratization willbring with it some semblance of indeterminacy. As noted by Przeworski

(1986, p. 57), democracy entails certainty in procedures but uncertainty in

outcomes. Procedures can be manipulated to make an outcome more prob-

able but never assured. A system of proportional representation may help

smaller parties win seats in congress but cannot guarantee that they will.

Likewise, we would notexpect thearmedforces to be able to constructdemo-

craticinstitutions that will fully protect their professionalwell-being. It is the

nature of democracy itselfthat prohibitsthem from doing so. This means that

the relative power of outgoing military rulers displayed during the transition

can only be imperfectly transferred to the institutions that follow.

We maintain that scholars of the transition may have too tightly drawn the

connection between the will of political actors at the inception of democratic

rule and the institutional arrangements and policy outcomes that followed

later on. Although, for them, institutions remained an analytical focal point,

they tended to treat institutions as artifacts of previous conquests by political



7/29

actors and not as forces in their own right. Armies and politicians may have a

hand in setting up institutional arrangements, but they cannot ensure that

their respective interests will be fully protected by those arrangements. It is

one thing to say that actors intentionally design rules of the game to achieve

desired ends; it is quite another to claim that futureoutcomescan be predicted

by knowing their intentions. Once they agree to work within the confines of

democratic organizations, then those organizations operate in ways that nei-

ther side canfullypredict or control. Institutionsshould be seen less as arenas

or artifacts and moreas agents thatshape civil-military policy interactions.1

Because the democratic state is a multiheaded creature composed of dif-

ferent organizations, its impact on those disputes is by no means uniform. As

the organizational context shifts, so too does the mix of opportunities and

constraints confronting any political actor. An organizations design enablessome and disables others because its structure and rules provide procedural

advantages and impediments for translating political power into concrete

policies (Immergut, 1992, p. 59). Influence, whether in the hands of politi-

cians or soldiers, is mediated by the procedural arrangements encountered at

a decision-making site or sites. Accordingly, even in systems in which the

military maintains a considerable store of power (such as in Chile), institu-

tions should be observed closely to understand where military influence is

decisively felt and where it is not. The armed forces seldom exert a uniform

influence over the entire government because democracys institutions do not

allow for equal access to all centers of power. The central theoretical point is

this: Military power cannot be measured or even known apart from the or-

ganizations through which it is expressed.

AN INSTITUTIONAL MODEL FOR EXPLAINING

CIVIL-MILITARY OUTCOMES

If this is so, then what features of the democratic state are salient in ac-

counting for why executive, civilian policy makers prevail more than soldiers

on some occasions and not others? For purposes of simplification, we will

concentrate on two of the most important of these: the relative concentration

of decision-making authority and the relative autonomy of decision makers

from opposition pressure (Pion-Berlin, 1997).


1. To claim that institutions can be treated as political players demands that we impute to

themsome coherence and autonomya notion withwhich we are quite comfortable. See March

and Olsen (1984, pp. 738-739).


8/29

The concentration of decision-making authority refers to the number of

actors/units involved in formulating and implementing policy. The greater

the concentration, the more power resides in the hands of a single, key deci-

sion maker or agency who can impose his, her, or its preference and will on

the outcome. Structurally unified organizations have advantages over less

unified competitors because they can speak with one voice and manage dis-

sent (Huntington, 1968). In addition, where there are fewer rival centers of

power, there are fewer opportunities for the armed forces to play off one cen-

ter against another.

On the other hand, this dispersion of authority creates not only a manipu-

lative opportunity for the armed forces but an often overlooked complication

for the executive decision maker. If, in a democracy, there is a real separation

of powers, then one branch of government is not bound to follow the dictatesof another. If the legislative or judicial branch enjoys partial jurisdiction over

a policy initiated by the chief executive, then who is to say it will fulfill presi-

dential wishes? The branches may have their own bureaucratic turf to protect

or their own mandate to fulfill. The wider the array of organizationally de-

fined interests to contend with, the more difficult it will be for central deci-

sion makers to keep their original designs intact by engineering consensus

along the policy route.2

In short, to the extent that the head of state can man-

age military policies on his or her own, he or she can avert the undesirable

military and civilian effects of decentralized power.

The second principle variable to be considered here is decision-making

autonomy. Autonomy refers to an institutions capacity to act independently

by insulating itself from unwanted, external pressures. For purposes of this

study, an institutions autonomy will refer to its independence vis--vis thearmed forces. Autonomy can be viewed along many dimensions; we will fo-

cus on legal, structural, and procedural dimensions.

Agencies that are authorized by law to act independently from and with

authority over the armed forces have a natural advantage over agencies not

similarly mandated. All else equal, it is more difficult for the military to take

issue with a governing agent or agency that canlawfullydemand from it com-

pliance or at least noninterference. Structurally autonomous institutions are

buffered by bureaucratic layers that increase the distance separating them


2. Winningpassage through the checkpoints at whichthose individuals are stationed along

the route is the problem Wildavsky and Pressman (1984, pp. 102-109)identified as policy clear-

ance.Policyroadblocksexist whenagentschargedwith implementationare, at worst, antagonis-

tictoward thestipulated goals or, at best, disinterested. If checkpoints andpoints of view are ar-rayed across institutions, then bureaucratic politics will only compound the problem, as organ-

izational and individual self interests merge to constitute a formidable obstacle course for the

program (Wildavsky & Pressman, 1984, p. 102).


9/29

from outsiders. Procedurally autonomous institutions are protected by rules

of decision making or recruitment that ensure (a) the net flow of influence

will be from civilian to military leaders and not the other way around or that

(b) key posts will be occupied by civilians working on behalf of the demo-

cratic government. In short, highly autonomous decision-making units re-

duce thenumber of veto pointsthrough which military opponentscan enter to

defeat policy measures (Immergut, 1992). Obviously, institutions with low

autonomy are more vulnerable to military influence.

Combining these two institutional features produces the typology shown

in Figure1. In Quadrant A, there arehigh levels of concentratedauthority and

autonomy. Policy is unlikely to be deflected from course by those outside of

civilian government because the decision-making sites are well insulated. In

addition, policy canbe designed andcarried outmore easilybecause there are

fewer chances for it to be mired down in interinstitutional squabbles. The

armed forces will be less effective because of fewer intragovernmental divi-

sions to exploit.

In Quadrant B, each agency involved in the policy process is also rela-

tively well insulated from military pressures. But central decision makers areeither many or spread across two or more branches of government, compli-

cating the quest for policy consensus. Benefits to insularity will to some ex-


Figure 1. Policy outcomes and institutional design.


10/29

tent be offset by the dispersion of authority, producing moderate success

rates. In Quadrant C, there are fewer decision makers, but each one is vulner-

able to outside influence. Therefore, a moderate levelof success is predicted.

And finally, in Quadrant D, there is a significant number of decision points

that must be navigated, andampleopportunities forthe opposition to make its

presence known. Consequently, success is unlikely.

METHOD

Human rightspoliciesin Argentinaand Chile make fora good comparison

to examine the impact of institutional design. Both countries experienced

brutal repression under military rule and inaugurated democracy with ad-ministrations that placed human rights policy at the top of their agendas.

Moreover, because these two nations are members of the same geographical

subregion called the Southern Cone, and because they are linked historically

and are broadly matched on a host of social-economic variables, they are of-

ten thought of as most similar systems (Przeworski & Teune, 1970). In a gen-

eral sense, they are, and it is against the backdrop of systemic commonality

that this comparative analysis unfolds. But they are simultaneously different

with respect to certain key political variables (Collier & Collier, 1991).3

For the traditional approach, Argentina and Chile are quite similar be-

cause they are democracies emerging from repressive, authoritarian rule in a

region of the world where themilitary hasbeen a politicalanimal forages, in-

tervening to thwart undesired civilian policies with impunity. Because the

military is expected to wield uncontested power, it is unlikely that civilianleaders in either nation would experience any success whatsoever in so con-

tentious a realm as human rights. To theextent that they do,it would represent

a substantial achievement.

For the transitions approach, the focus is on one essential difference: the

terms by which authority is transferred. The controlled transition in Chile

should afford the military greater power over the new democratic leaders; the

transitionvia collapse should afford the Argentinemilitary considerably less.

This, in turn, might lead us to expect a greater probability of civilian policy

failure in Chile than in Argentina. Although the transitions theorists help es-

tablish our general expectations, they do not tell us if any individual policy is

bound to win or lose. Consequently, our study chooses to focus on another

source of cross-national variance: institutional arrangements within the


3. Argentina and Chile are neither irrevocably alike or different; they converge or diverge

depending on the issues raised and questions asked.


11/29

democratic state. Those arrangements do have a significant and direct im-

pression on the fate of particular policies and can thus add specificity that is

wanting in the other two approaches.

As a distinct region of theworld, Latin American armieshave, on average,

greater political influence than do armies of, for example, Western Europe.

Likewise, no studious comparison of democratic consolidation between two

Latin American states could ignore the impact of the balance of power at the

time of transition. But when juxtaposing the Chilean and Argentine cases,

neither the traditional or transitionaltheoriesget us far enough down the road

to policy outcome explanation. Institutional analysis,however, does justthat.

Finally, we should note that for the purposes of this analysis, policy out-

comes are measured in terms of the goals established in public pronounce-

ments and policy statements by the political decision maker who initiated thepolicy (Zalaquett, 1991).

4The closer the fit between objectives and results,

the higher the success. Arguably, democratic leaders confronted with strong

armies (as in Chile) may very well limit their own reach, expecting that more

ambitious goals would meet with repudiation. This is an important methodo-

logical question that must be resolved on a case-by-case basis. We address

this concern head-on by making it clear that the Chilean human rights poli-

cies were ones that deeply perturbed the armed forces, as evidenced by mili-

tary statements and actions.

What follows is a brief review of the democratic transitions in Argen-

tina and Chile that sets the context for the battle over human rights policy

and the expectations that would arise from a transitions theory of civil-

military relations. We proceed to a discussion of human rights policy out-

comes, demonstrating how the institutional variances discussed determinedpolicy outcomes.

THE TRANSITION TO DEMOCRACY

IN CHILE AND ARGENTINA

TRANSITION BY COLLAPSE IN ARGENTINA

In March 1976, theArgentine armed forcesseized power in a coup that in-

augurated the worst tyranny to ever afflict this South American nation (Fon-

tana, 1986; Pion-Berlin, 1987). The self-proclaimed Proceso de Reorganiza-


4. Our definition does not incorporate normative concerns. Whether a particularsuccessful

human rights policy is also a just human rights policy is an important question, but it is one that

goes beyondthe reach ofthis studyand thatwe appropriatelyleave forotherscholarsto consider.


12/29

cin Nacional (Proceso)hoped to launch dramatic political, economic, and

social changes under military auspices. But crisis was endemic to this re-

gime, which eventually crumbled under the weight of its own brutality, mal-

feasance, and incompetence. The regime had engaged in unrepentant corrup-

tion, presided over a ruined economy, turned a limited counterinsurgency

operation into a wholesale slaughter of 10,000 to 15,000 innocent civilians,

and went down to defeat at the hands of the British in a war they themselves

had precipitated (Schvarzer,1983;Smith, 1989;Waldmann& Valdz, 1983).

Although unitedearlyon by a perceived subversivethreat, theMarch1981

presidential succession deepened regime divisions. When a soft-liner, Gen-

eral Roberto Viola, won out, Army Commander General Leopoldo Galtieri

mobilized the hard-liners to impede every move toward military withdrawal

from rule. In December 1981, Viola was finally ousted and replaced byGaltieri himself.

When Galtieri assumed the presidency, the economy was in ruins, and the

regime still had not announced a clear political program. In this context,

Galtieri allowed for the April 1982 Malvinas invasion to spur military unity

and raise nationalist sentiments in society. The British armed services retali-

ated, andtheirimpressive victory in June of that year triggeredthe collapse of

the regime. Although the military had muddled through with inept economic

and political policies, it could no longer hold on to power once defeated on

the battlefieldthe one arena where it was expected to perform well. Mili-

tary factions,temporarilyunitedby the war, reappeared with greater intensity.

A society that had previously shown passive obedience now displayed ac-

tive opposition, and the military hierarchy began to crumble as soldiers dis-

puted responsibility for thedefeat. Galtieri was soon replaced as presidentbyGeneral Reynaldo Bignone, who was entrusted with leading the military

withdrawal from rule. Bignones attempts to negotiate issues, such as elec-

toral laws, the stability of judicial personnel, and the constitutional presence

of the armed forces in the new democracy, were rejected by the political par-

ties that insisted that the military unconditionally cede authority to them.

Faced with the staunch opposition of the political parties, military leaders

shifted their concerns toward the one issue that least divided the armed

forceshuman rights. On April 28, theDocumento Final de la Junta Militar

(La Nacin, 1983) was published to officially deny complicity in human

rights abuses. Then, on September 23, the Ley de Pacificacin Nacionalwas

passed to grant an amnesty for subversion and excessive repression commit-

ted between May 25, 1973, and June 17, 1982. But this effort was to no avail,

because the courts pronounced the measure unconstitutional. The Argentine

transition is a clear case of transition by collapse, in which the military leave

power so weakened as to be unable to exertany significant leverage over their



13/29

successors. The new democratic administration of Ral Alfonsn thus repre-

sented a clean break with the authoritarian past.

TRANSITION BY TRANSACTION IN CHILE

Unlike its Argentine counterpart, the Chilean military regime (1973-1989)

achieved policy gains, especially in the economic realm. In fact, the neo-

liberal model imposed by General Pinochet in the mid-1970s is one that has

been left virtually intact by his democratic successors. With its relative pres-

tige and power strengthened as a consequence of economic policy success,

military leaders were able to set the terms of their own disengagement from

political office.5

Pinochets constitution of 1980 was designed to institution-

alize a new political system that would grant the armed forces extensivetutelary roles in a limited democracy. Perhaps driven by overconfidence, a

plebiscite wasslated for1988 to commission General Augusto Pinochet for8

more years as president. When the plebiscite failed, the regime was com-

pelled to follow its own constitutional procedures and call open elections for

president by the end of 1989. The opposition presidential candidate, Patricio

Aylwin, won those elections and was inaugurated on March 11, 1990.

The transition hardly represented a defeat for Pinochet because it un-

folded mainly according to the terms stipulated by his own constitution.

Some constitutional reforms were granted during the interregnum, but the

opposition party coalition,the Concertacin, viewedthem as a mere stepping

stone. Pinochet was still allowed to appoint a number of senators, his judicial

designees would remain in office, and the military was granted one-half rep-

resentation on the National Security Council. Likewise, a number of consti-tutional organic laws were passedto limit thebreadth of actionfor democrati-

cally elected officials. The most controversial of these dealt with the armed

forces. The power of the president to remove the commanders in chief, a pri-

mary concern of the Concertacin since its inception, was not granted

(Repblica de Chile, 1995). Other provisions that sheltered the autonomy of

the armed forces included the following: Presidential power of retirements,

promotions, or assignments of upper level officers is confined to lists pro-

vided by the service commanders; the military budget is forbidden to drop

below 1989 real levels; the service commanders formulate their respective

budgets (Organic Law of the Armed Forces); and the president is considered


5. The Pinochet regime was one of the strongest and most durable military dictatorships incontemporary LatinAmerican history. See Arriagada(1988) and Remmer(1991). For more de-

tailed analyses of the transition, see Drake and Jaksic (1991), Loveman (1991), and Geywitz

(1991).


14/29

the commander in chief only in time of warduring peace, this duty is di-

vided among the service commanders (Repblica de Chile, 1995).

Inthe realm of human rights, Pinochet lefthis mark aswell. His 1978 Am-

nesty Law prohibited the prosecution of human rights violations committed

between September 11, 1973, and March 10, 1978. And security measures

granted sweeping powers to the armed forces in so-called antiterrorist opera-

tions while maintaining broad jurisdiction for the military courts. In all, the

military did its best to secure its powers while limiting those of the incoming

democratic administration. The newly elected president would have to face

constitutional provisions that afforded the military an imposing presence

within the democratic order. Although the weight of military rule had been

lifted from Alfonsns shoulders, Aylwin would still carry with him the bur-

den of dictatorship as he faced a web of military-mandated, legal con-straints within which he would have to maneuver to achieve his human rights

policy goals.

Shakenby itspolitical failures and itsdefeat in war, theArgentine military

could neverfall back on past accomplishments or coalesce around a common

political purpose distinct from that chosen by civilians (Agero, 1995; Arce-

neaux, 1997). This weakened the military with respect to a democratic gov-

ernment that showed unity, conviction, and resolve. By contrast, the Chilean

armed forces were bolstered by previous gains and unified behind a political

project: to compeldemocratic participantsto live withinthe terms setby their

1980 constitution. This coherence allowed them to confront civilians from a

position of greater strength (Agero, 1995).

The transitions to democracy set the outer boundaries for political con-

duct, and the Argentine-Chilean comparisons tell us how those boundariesdiffered. It thus will come as little surprise to learn that Argentine President

Alfonsn would accomplish more in the realm of human rights than his Chil-

ean counterpart, Aylwin. However, Alfonsn would not achieve all he had set

out to achieve, whereas Aylwin would achieve more than would have been

predicted under difficult circumstances. To understand these outcomes, we

need to build on the transitions approach by turning to an institutional analy-

sis of human rights policies in Argentina and Chile.



15/29


16/29

battle transpired in military court, because President Alfonsn wanted to give

the armed forces an opportunity to clean their own house. But the federal

appellate court assumed jurisdiction over the human rights trials in October

of 1984 after the Military Supreme Council had dragged its heals and finally

failed to convict the former leadersof the junta, having foundthe orders they had

issued to be unobjectionable (Camarasa, Felice, & Gonzalez, 1985, p. 65).

The federal appellate prosecutor, Julio Strassera, took the case to trial in

April of 1985. On December 9 of that year, five of the ex-commanders were

found guilty of flagrant violations of human rights and sentenced to long

prisonterms. The verdictswere enormously gratifying to Alfonsn andrepre-

sented a significant policy success for his administration. The verdicts ren-

dered a blow to impunity, placing the armed forces on notice that future acts

of repression in thename of national security would notbe toleratedby a civilsociety.

Some members of Alfonsns cabinet were confidently boasting that with

the guilt of the commanders having been determined, the federal tribunal

would then set most subordinates free. This was not to be. In its final pro-

nouncement, the court noted that proceedings should now commence against

superiorofficers whowere in command of theareasand subareasof defense

during the campaign against subversion against all thosewho had operational

responsibility in the actions (Americas Watch, 1987, p. 38). As a conse-

quenceof this ruling, theprospectof a secondwaveof trialssuddenlyloomed

on the horizon, with legal proceedings descending uncontrollably through

the chain of command. This was bad timing because the armed forces were

beginning to lick their wounds, close ranks, andregain some measure of insti-

tutional confidence that had been lost in the previous 3 years.It is with this decision, known as Item 30, that judicial authority first be-

came a problem forthe executive branch. It openedthe door formoreprose-

cution at a time when government advisors and Alfonsn himself expected

thecourts to begin closing it.The Argentine presidenthad thought that judges

whom he hadappointed andknew well would surelysee it hisway, finding in-

sufficient cause to pursue cases against subordinates who had strictly fol-

lowed orders based on the due obedience principle (R. Alfonsn, personal

communication, July 20, 1993). But the justices interpreted matters differently

and, besides, were enormously protective of their prerogatives (G. Lavedra,

personal communication, November 3, 1994). In Argentina, unlike the


6. Theexception to this is with respect to themilitarycourts, which are officiallyunder the

supervision of the executive branch. Where those courts have jurisdiction, the administrationcan issue instructions to either press or suspend charges against specific soldiers (Carlos Nino,

personal communication, 1993).


17/29

United States, the administration has no prosecutorial discretion in civilian

courts; it cannotselect which cases to bring to trial andwhich to dismiss. This

decision to indict is left solely to the courts (C. Nino, personal communica-

tion, July 2, 1993),6

and the decision to accept or refute a due obedience de-

fense is left solelyto thepresiding judge. The executive can only hope that ju-

dicial actions will be consistent with its wishes.

The justices stood up not only to the president but to the armed forces

themselves. For example, during the trial of the junta, threats were called in

regularly, warning the justices that bombs would be exploded in the court

room if the proceedings were not halted. Although the judges took the neces-

sary precautions, they never once suspended the proceedings nor did they

rule in favor of the accused. The armed forces had no official conduit into the

federal civilian court system, and they could not resort to unofficial forms ofinfluence with any efficacy. Consequently, the courts autonomy from mili-

tary pressure helped Alfonsn bring to justice the former leaders of the

Proceso. But when the president sought legal closure, those same courts

stood in his way. It is not that they intended to thwart the presidents initia-

tives. From the magistratesvantage point, asking for additional inquests was

unexceptional, a common point in any decision, according to Andrs

DAlessio (personal communication, November 1, 1994), president of the

federal appellatecourtat thetime.It is that in following judicial norms of pro-

cedure, the courts were unwittingly thrust into conflict with the executive

branch.

Other procedural attributes of the judicial system heightened the discord

between it and the executive branch. Consider the ease with which denuncia-

tions against alleged perpetrators can be made. In Argentina, a victim, rela-tive, or any citizen for that matter can walk right into a courtroom and file a

complaint with a magistrate. No police report is necessary and neither is the

presence of an attorney. The plaintiff canalso provide investigatory leads and

suggest lines of inquiry to the courts. Under this querellante (plaintiff-

prosecutor) scheme, a victimor hisor herrepresentative is entitled to notonly

introduce incriminating evidence of a purported infraction directly to a judge

but to actually join in theprosecutionof a criminal offense (Crawford1990).


7. TheArgentine legal systemis inquisitorial ratherthan adversarial in nature. Thus, a pre-

trialinquiry is conductedby an investigatory judge. It is themagistrate and notthe attorneyswho

assembles and reviews the evidence and who c alls witnesses in for cross-examination. There is

no jury of peers. A panel of presiding judges hears the case. See Abraham (1986) and Carri(1989).

8. The Disappearedwere individuals whowere arrested butwhose whereabouts werenever

made known by the authorities. They have not been seen or heard from since.


18/29

Second, once handedthe charge, a magistrate is bound to investigate when

there is some reasonable cause to believe a crime has been committed.7

The

magistrate has no power to reject or postpone an inquiry out of hand. As soon

as it has been determined that a crime has been committed, the public prose-

cutor, who works on behalf of the courts and not the ministry of justice, must

take the case. Prosecution is compulsory. Neither the nature of the infraction

nor a work overload can ever justify case dismissal. This is known in Argen-

tine jurisprudence as the Legality Principle (Arias & Gauna, 1993).

To the familiesof The Disappeared8

and to the human rights organizations

who represented them, judicial attributes such as these were priceless vehi-

cles with which to seek retribution. Once within the chambers, citizens could

level charges against military and police officials and fully expect the presid-

ing judge, under therestrictions of theLegality Principle, to pursuethe inves-tigation. They wasted no time in using this channel to their advantage. To the

Alfonsn administration, however, the legality principle was in a sense its

worst nightmare. How could justice be delivered in timely fashion? Over-

whelmed with charges, testimony, and mounds of evidence, it was unlikely

that the federal judicial system could render verdicts expeditiously. The

courts would be tied up for years, with judges examining each and every

charge against hundreds of military defendants.

Less he trespass on the judiciary by violating the separation of powers

(which he was not inclined to do), the president was for now forced to watch

the wheels of justice turn ever so slowly, grinding out more indictments, im-

plicating more officers, and making it ever more likely that trials would per-

sist into theindefinite future to worsen thestate of uncertainty andanxiety al-

ready felt by the accused. As the military grew increasingly restless about itslegalstatus, somethinghad to be done. Theonly thing left to do fora president

who was unable or unwilling to tamper with judicialprerogatives was to attempt

to shift the human rights issue to the legislative arena and hope for the best.

This he did by preparing what was known as the Punto Final legislation in

December of 1986, which was designed to curb the trials, nullify military

complaints, and thus remove all excuses for provocation in the future (La


9. The Argentine congress on December 24, 1986, passed the Punto Final or Full Stop

bill. Thispiece of legislation allowed charges already filed against humanrights offendersto re-

main but placeda 60-daytimelimiton newindictments. Those whowerenot accused withinthe

60 days would go free. Theresults were hardlywhatAlfonsnhad desired or anticipated.Rather

than still the prosecutorial waters, the measure only unleashed a torrent of indictments under

deadline. By the end of February, some 300 summons had been handed out to alleged perpetra-tors withinthe armed forces. Thebelief that convictions andmore indictments would follow led

to an organizedrebellion of junior officersagainsttheir senior commandersduringHoly Week in

April of that year.


19/29

Prensa, 1986). But shifting arenas was not easy and neither was a guarantee

of success. The idea of putting closure to the human rights proceedings was

still a politically unpopular one with most legislators, even those of Al-

fonsns own party. This is one of the reasons why the bill was not submitted

earlier. Although the president got the legislation he wanted through intense

lobbying and by pledging to absorb all of the political costs of the decision

himself, it wastoo littletoo late. Soon thereafter, themilitary rebelsknownas

the carapintadas seized control of a military installation, forcing the govern-

ment to exculpate all but 18 human rights offenders.9

In Argentina, judicial autonomy cut two ways. On one hand, the courts

unwavering resistance to any form of intimidation from the armed forces

made possible the completion of the trials against the ex-commanders of the

junta and handed the president a major political victory. On the other hand,the same spirit of judicial independence expressed toward the executive

branch later meant a loss of presidential control once Alfonsn began to

searchfor legalclosure,whereas thejudges were prepared to letjusticerun its

course. The decision-making autonomy of all those civilians involved in the

human rights saga was remarkably high. But authority over the implementa-

tion of human rights policy was dispersed across institutional sites, because

the executive, judicial, and, to some extent, congressional branches all played

a role. Those two aspects of the institutional design combined to produce a

moderately successful outcome (the president getting part but not all of what

he wanted) as shown in Quadrant B of Figure 1.

CHILE

Chilean president Patricio Aylwins human rights program was one of

truth and possible justice: to reveal the gravity and extent of the repression

under military rule andthen to place in thehandsof thecourts theresponsibil-

ity for establishing blame. Even before coming to power, Aylwin had aban-

doned the idea that his own government would take military offenders to

court. Instead, he would leave that to private citizens and allow justice to set

its own course (Foreign Broadcast Information Service, 1990). State-led ef-

forts to punish the perpetrators would be perceived as a serious challenge to

the military institution. Indeed, Generals Pinochet and Matthei had both is-

sued stern warnings that their men not be put on the dock, as in Argentina

(Rabkin, 1992-1993).

Thus, progress on human rightshas to be measured against thegoalsset by

the democratic leadership within the limits of the postauthoritarian order.

And yet, much was done and perhaps more than would have been predicted

given the constraints, leading human rights advisor Jos Zalaquett to com-



20/29

ment that the most possible has been done in the least time possible (Rab-

kin, 1992-1993, p. 150). To understand the governments accomplishments

as well as its misfortunes, it is useful to divide the human rights program into

twophases to throw light on theinstitutional dimensions to policy implemen-

tation. The first phase, which launched an official inquest into the worst

abuses committed by the dictatorship, was an unmitigated success. The sec-

ond phase, which was never brought to fruition, was to have facilitated the

identification but not punishment of the perpetrators of human rights crimes

committed before 1978.

It was out of the executive office that the most important gains in Aylwins

human rights program were made. The presidenttook personal charge, draft-

ing the April 25, 1990, presidential decree that authorized the creation of the

Chilean National Commission on Truth and Reconciliation and selecting itsmembers who were well known, respected, and of diverse political view-

points. Aylwin had assumed some degree of risk in mandating the commis-

sion to investigate the plight of The Disappeared because he did so over mili-

tary objections. Undaunted, the president and his commission proceeded

with their tasks (Pion-Berlin, 1994). Less than a year later, on February 8,

1991, the commission had completed its work. The result was impressive:

that is, a study in two volumes numbering some 1,000 pages that identified

2,279 deaths and 957 disappearancesmostly at the hands of state security

agents who operated between 1973 and 1989. Although the report omitted

the names of perpetrators, it didsend to the courts incriminating information,

enabling some courts to reopen judicial inquiries into human rights infrac-

tions (Chilean National Commission on Truth and Reconciliation, 1993).

The commissions suggestions that victims be morally rehabilitated and thattheir survivors receive material compensation was swiftly endorsed by the

congress, which created a national corporation to fulfill those missions.

Butthe reportcreated quite a stir withinthe armed forces. Although theair

force acknowledged responsibility for their misdeeds, the carabineros, navy,

and army did not. The most scathing criticisms of the commissions findings

were delivered by the army. The commission, they argued, had gone beyond

fact finding to finger pointing by revealing details that could leave no doubt as

to the perpetrators identities. These convictions were unwarranted, unau-

thorized, and invalid because the armed forces had used legitimate force in

the prosecution of a just war (Foreign Broadcast Information Service,

1991a).

The president had to muster all of his considerable executive influence to

defend the commission from its detractors and to contain the fallout from the

release of its findings. He did so by admonishing the armys commander,

General Pinochet, to abide by his own 1980 constitution, which stipulated



21/29

that thearmedforces were situated in a chain of command in which they were

answerable to the defense ministry and, ultimately, to the president. Hence,

as a subordinate to civilian authority, it was not the generals business to ei-

ther skirt institutional protocol or to question political decisions made by his

superiors (Foreign Broadcast Information Service, 1991b). In wielding his

presidential powers with Pinochet, Aylwin helped to insulate himself from

military pressure and, in doing so, helped to shield the Rettig Commission

from possible military reprisals as well. Although the president could not

constitutionally remove Pinochet or the other service commanders, he could

and did restrain their influence.

The truth-finding phase of Aylwins program also benefited from the

enormous concentration of authority within the office of the Chilean presi-

dency. Among hispowers were therightto issue decrees with theforceof lawand to name and remove at his sole discretion all ministers, undersecretaries,

governors, and provincial administrators(Repblica de Chile, 1995). With so

many key figures within federal and state executive offices operating at the

presidents pleasure, they were less likely to take exception to his point of

view.Decision making was centralized because the number of significant, in-

dependently minded actors was sharply reduced. This made it more likely

that a uniform set of ideas would emerge that bore the unmistakable stamp of

presidential preference.

These and similar powers were inscribed in the 1925 constitution, nearly

half a century before Chiles generals took over (Organization of American

States, 1979, Article 72, pp. 24-25). Although retained and in some instances

amplified by Pinochet, they predate and are not a product of his institutional

order;they arepart of Chilean democratic history. Andalthoughthe aged dic-tator had stripped the presidency of some of its prerogatives (to decide mili-

tary promotions and retirements), he left many more unaltered. Ironically, by

preserving the presidents powers of decree that enabled the commission to

be chartered, the armed forces permitted the executive branch to make policy

that was contrary to their own interests.10

These are the elements that account

for the success of Phase 1 of the human rights strategy.

But Aylwin could only do so much himself. The implementation of the

rest of his program relied on other branches of government. He depended on

the courts to reopen or initiate cases, to investigate leads based on the evi-

dence provided to them, and then to establish responsibility for the crimes.


10. Equally ironic is the fact that the 1980 constitution enhanced the democratic legitimacy

of the president by requiring that he be elected directly and by an absolute majority. The 1925constitution hadallowedcongress to decidethe victorin those instances inwhichmore than two

candidates were competing and no one could earn more than half the vote. See Article 26 of the

Constitucin Poltica de la Repblica de Chile.


22/29

Should the judiciary not oblige him, then it would fall on the congress to take

appropriate measures.

This presented a two-fold institutional dilemma for the president.The first

was that the judiciary and, to some extent, the congress shared authority over

the implementation of the human rights program. The president could not ig-

nore them, circumvent them, nor subject them to his will. The second was

that both the courts and the legislature were, as will be shown, still victims of

an institutional order handed down by the outgoing dictatorship. Thus, they

did not enjoy sufficient levels of autonomy from the armed forces and could

notbe expectedto pass judgment or laws to thedisfavor of menin uniform.

The Supreme Courts members were holdovers from the Pinochet years,

whose ideological orientations precluded them from taking human rights

cases seriously. The court had been profoundly servile to themilitaryregime.Its justices refused to believe that human rights violations had occurred and

castigated those who thought otherwise (C. F. Cerda, personal communica-

tion, July 26, 1995). The court routinely failed to take standard measures to

protect the rights of those who were most vulnerable, that is, the detained

(Americas Watch, 1991). When the democratic transition occurred, the high

courts subservience to military interests persisted, creating a number of

problems for Aylwins human rights program.

For example, the court ruled in Augustof 1990 that the controversial 1978

amnesty decree, which freed military offenders from criminal wrongdoing,

was constitutional (Junta de Gobierno, 1978). Human rights groups had been

filing affidavits in courtsfor years with littlesuccess. TheSupreme Court,be-

lieving that the amnesty forbade investigations of any sort, regularly had the

cases transferred to military tribunals where they were abruptly suspended.The restoration of democratic rule placed pressure on the court to allow for

some limited judicial inquiries intothe fate of The Disappeared. But culpabil-

ity was another matter entirely. Should a civilian magistrate compile enough

evidence to place an officer under suspicion or preventive detention, themili-

tary courts would rush to the officers protection, invoke jurisdiction over the

case, and then close it. The high court never got in their way and would often

facilitate the transfer (Human Rights Watch, 1994).

The judicial system was also well insulated from presidential influence

through a system of self-regeneration and self-regulation preserved by the

military yet devised decades before it had ever seized power. According to

the constitutions of 1925 and 1980, the Supreme Court designated its own

nominees (five of them) for each vacant post, sending those on to the presi-

dent forselection with no senateratification. Thepresident could chooseonly

from the court-approved list, which had to include justices on the appellate

court. Similarly, appointments to the court of appeals were made by the presi-



23/29

dent from a list of three handed to him by the Supreme Court. Naturally, this

kind of inbreeding helped to maintain and to reproduce the ideological senti-

ments already present in thecourt system. Moreover, should a renegademag-

istrate tryto swim against theideologicalcurrent,he could be punished by the

highest tribunal, which by law, holds supervisory, economic, and corrective

powers over lower court judges (Repblica de Chile, 1995).

Something had to be done to overcome judicial obstruction and insularity

if the rest of the Aylwins human rights agenda were to be fulfilled. The con-

stitution prohibits the president or anyone outside the courts for that manner

from exercising judicial functions or from reviving terminated proceedings

(Repblica de Chile,1995). Butit does permitthe presidentto turn to thecon-

gress to legislate reforms to the judicial branch itself. Specifically, the execu-

tive branch submitted a bill to overhaul the training, assessment, appoint-ment, and promotion of judges to higher courts. It called for the creation of a

National Council of Justice composedof 15 members, including 2 senators,

3 members of the executive branch, 1 member of the Chilean bar, and 9 judi-

cial figures. The council would formulate judicial policy, draft a budget, and

nominate judges to the Supreme Court. By having the council draw on indi-

viduals from other branches, the presidents obvious intent was to check the

authority of the judiciary.

Unfortunately, the president would findthe Chilean congress to be equally

uncooperative. The bill ran into immediate opposition from the courts con-

servative legislative allies in congress, as did a watered-down version of the

measure introduced later.The political right stood together and thus deprived

the Concertacin of the margin it needed for victory.

Congress posed insurmountable design problems for the chief executive.The institution had been rigged by Pinochet to produce legislative outcomes

more favorable to the armed forces by virtue of the fact that 9 of the senates

47 members were appointed rather than elected. Of those 9, 6 were desig-

nated by Pinochet and his national security council and the other 3 by the Su-

preme Court (Repblica de Chile, 1995). In addition, a binomial electoral

system invented by the Pinochet regime artificially inflated the proportion of

contested congressional seats going to the promilitary, conservative parties.

Under this system, the most popular party (usually one of the parties belong-

ingto thepartycoalition ledby theChristian Democratscalled Concertacin)

would have to earn a vote doublethat of itsnearest competitor if it were to win

both seats within a district. Wereit to fall short of this margin, the second seat

would automatically go to the party earning at least 33.4% of the vote. Tradi-

tionally, the political Right commands about one third of the electorate, thus

allowing it to win 50% of the time under these new rules. Meanwhile, gerry-

mandering of this sort especially hurt the parties of the Left.



24/29

These distortions produced built-in structural advantages for the conser-

vative parties. Although Aylwins forces controlled 70 out of the 120 seats in

the lower house (58%), this was not enough to push through heretofore men-

tioned judicial reforms, which according to the 1980 constitution, required a

three-fifths majority or 72 votes. Moreover, roughly half the senate was con-

trolled by either elected (33%) or designated (17%) promilitary senators.

Even with the 22 Concertacin senators solidly behind him, the president

would still have needed to pick up an additional 6 votes to produce a 60%

edgea prospect that was highly unlikely.

In sum, Aylwin exploited his executive autonomy and authority to fulfill

the first phase of his administrations human rights program: the search for

thetruthaboutthe disappeared (see Figure1, Quadrant A). Butcompletion of

the second phase, namely the identification of the perpetrators, eluded himbecause (a) executive reliance on the two other branches of government was

inescapable, (b) neither branch could be subjected to presidential will, and

yet (c) both by virtue of their design remained servile to the interests of the

armed forces(see Figure1, Quadrant D).Thus, on onehand,the congress and

courts lacked sufficient sovereignty vis--vis military interests. On the other

hand, both the congress and thecourts stood their ground vis--vis the execu-

tive branch under the now revived democratic rules of the game.11

CONCLUSION

Traditional theorists are undoubtedly correct in reminding us about the

political power Latin American armies have been able to muster over theyears. But although the military remains a force to be reckoned with, nowa-

days thereckoning usually occurswithin thedemocratic state andnot outside

of it. It is within the realm of courts, ministries, and legislative halls that key

aspects of the civil-military relation unfold. The military cannot wield influ-

ence uniformly from issue to issue because it cannot penetrate all corners of

the state with equal proficiency; some agencies are simply less permeable

than others.


11.It is true that the relativepower ofthe Chilean presidency vis--vis otherbranches ofgov-

ernment is considerable. The chiefexecutive enjoys a certain leveragewith congress, because he

can establishwith whaturgency a particularbill shallbe introduced by delayingthose he doesnot

support and speeding up those of which he approves. See Junta de Gobierno (1978) and Repb-

lica de Chile (1990,Art. 26,p. 6, 1995).But although the presidentinfluences legislative priori-ties, he cannotcontrolthe outcomes or call fora plebiscite to winpopularapprovalfor measures

thatfail to winpassagein thecongress.And as stated previously, he certainlycannot dictate to the

courts how they shall deliberate.


25/29

The inabilityof the armed forces to consistentlydominateacross different

institutional settings leads us to modify the thesis proposed by the traditional

approach to civil-military relations in Latin America. Political power cannot

automatically translate preferences into policy; it must work its will through

government. Military pressures are only as effective as governing institutions

allow them to be (Pion-Berlin, 1997). In Argentina as well as Chile, institu-

tions proved integral to the implementation of policy, facilitating military in-

terests in some instances and limiting it in others. Policy gains or setbacks

had less to do with the measurable exertion of influence and more to do with

the organized context through which that influence was either expressed or

suppressed. When organizational structures or rules of procedure opened up

avenues of ingress, then the armed forces could make their views felt. When

they restricted or closed those avenues, policy makers could more easilyfend off military advances.

Yet, autonomy from the armed forces is not enough. Unless executive de-

cision makers can concentrate enough authority in their own hands, they run

the risk of losing control over the shape and ultimate fate of their programs

not to armies but to othercivilians within government. Chiefexecutives could

notachieve alltheyhad setout to,because on certain matters they were forced

to share authority with other branches of government. Both Argentina and

Chile were headed by political leaders with a strong political will to attack

human rights issues. Nonetheless, their capacity to see all of their objectives

through to completionwas constrained by the institutional arrangements they

encountered. Presidents Alfonsn and Aylwin could initiate programs easily

enough but, beyond a certain point, found the going difficult as control over

policies slipped from their grasp and fell to other branches of governmentwith their own interests and rules of behavior.

It is true that Alfonsn went further than Aylwin by bringing members of

his own armed forces to justice for having masterminded the dirty war. Al-

fonsns advantage can indeed be traced back to Argentinas more favorable

conditions of democratic rebirth, as the transitions school foretold. By the

same token, it turns out that the terms of transition did not cast the civil-

military balance in stone. Alfonsn ran into unanticipated problems with

other branches of government that arenot properly understood by a reversion

to the past. Likewise, Aylwin exploited institutional opportunities that had

notbeen foreshadowed by thetransition. Because regime changegives rise to

institutional designs that reproduce human intentions imperfectly at best, it

cannot exert an absolute or interminable influence over future political con-

duct. Thus, we are led to conclude that the conditions at the founding of a de-



26/29


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David Pion-Berlin is a professor of political science at the University of California, Riv-

erside. He is the author of several books and numerous articles on the subjects of LatinAmerican civil-military relations, military regimes, human ri ghts, and instit utions.

Craig Arceneaux received his Ph.D. from the University of California, Riverside, in

1997. His interests include Latin American politics, civil-military relations, democratic

transition, and political economy. He has published in theJournal of Political and Mili-

tary SociologyandBulletin of Latin American Research.


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Argentina and Chile C-m Balance

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