Chile, Colombia: Horrors Past and Future

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Chile, Colombia: 
The NY Times on Horrors Past, and Future

[For four decades the Chileans have had a nazi sect founded by a
pedophile in their midst, protected by their army and police
services. When Pinochet had a particularly nasty piece of work, he
relied on them to take care of it.

Most of this was known contemporaneously to the Reagan
Administration, who chose not to spend the $3 grand the embassy
requested to investigate it, and not one of our diplo personnel chose
to pass the fucking hat, collect the greenbacks, and depose the
witnesses all on their own.  Back in DC, State also declined offers
of funding from independent groups asking that the case be
investigated.

Presumably Otto Reich doesn't have a problem with this sort of thing. 
It would be interesting to know if he wrote any of the paperwork here.

Of course, we're only hearing about it now because a US citizen got
caught in it.

The Times also invites us to meet the next president of Colombia, who
appears to be ready to set out a most Pinochet-like course in his own
country.  All with the approval, of course, of Washington.

Keep Jimmy Carter's airplane idling.  Looks like there will be more
apologetically-toned visits for him to make. --Peter Bell ]


The New York Times - May 19, 2002

http://www.nytimes.com/2002/05/19/international/americas/19CHIL.html

Chilean Mystery: Clues to Vanished American

by Larry Rohter

SAN FABIÁN DE ALICO, Chile--The vacationing hiker spent the night
under the summer stars, his only companion a local herdsman. The next
morning, the traveler, an American mathematics professor named Boris
Weisfeiler, made his way toward a spot where two rivers converged,
hoping to wade across.

It was Jan. 4, 1985, and the dictatorship of Gen. Augusto Pinochet
was at its peak. After the herder's brother told the police there was
a "foreign extremist" in the area, they sent a patrol.

Within hours a second patrol, this one from army intelligence, joined
the hunt for the foreigner in the Andean foothills east of here.

Mr. Weisfeiler, who taught at Pennsylvania State University, was
never seen again and to this day his fate remains a mystery. Of more
than 1,000 people cataloged by human rights groups as having
"disappeared" during the 17 years General Pinochet was in power, the
only American citizen is Boris Weisfeiler. He was 43 when he
vanished.

The Chilean government's explanation, offered two months later, was
that Mr. Weisfeiler -- an experienced trekker who had traveled
through Alaska, Siberia, China and Peru -- drowned while trying to
ford a river barely four feet deep. The United States has never
challenged that conclusion publicly.

But State Department and C.I.A. reports that have recently been
declassified and made public as a result of efforts by a nonprofit
group tell a complicated story that is vastly different.

Those documents indicate that Mr. Weisfeiler was probably kidnapped
by Chilean state security forces, who reportedly handed him over to a
secretive and heavily armed pro-Nazi religious sect based nearby.

One military informant said Mr. Weisfeiler, a Russian-born Jew, was
held captive there, interrogated, tortured and finally executed.

The American records, which have prompted a reopening of the case,
also show that diplomats at the United States Embassy in Santiago
were always skeptical of the Chilean government's version of events,
and pushed to have the case investigated aggressively. But their
efforts were blocked by State Department officials in Washington, who
were unwilling to provide the money needed for the investigation.

"How is it that the State Department knew all this information and
never told me about it?" asked Mr. Weisfeiler's sister Olga, who
immigrated to the United States from the Soviet Union three years
after his disappearance and now lives in a Boston suburb.

"Anytime I called, it was always the same response: `The embassy is
doing everything possible, we don't have anything new,' " she said.
"And this after all that information had already come to the
embassy."

The death of Charles Horman, an American who disappeared during the
bloody 1973 military coup that brought General Pinochet to power, was
portrayed in the film "Missing." But Mr.  Weisfeiler's case had been
largely forgotten.

Ms. Weisfeiler said in a telephone interview that resolving her
brother's case had "become my life," even though her efforts have
thus far brought her nothing but frustration and emotional pain.

"Our father was a Jewish scientist who escaped from Nazism," she
said, "so to think that these old Nazis did this to Boris is beyond
imagination."

Remembering her brother, Ms. Weisfeiler said he, too, had been the
victim of official anti-Semitism, when he was growing up in the
Soviet Union. Because he was slight in build -- 5-foot-7 and 140
pounds -- and had an obviously Jewish surname, he was sometimes
beaten up by thugs, his sister said.

.From the time he was a teenager, Ms. Weisfeiler recalled, her
brother found solace in "hiking alone," preferably in remote regions
like Siberia.

He had few other sources of satisfaction. His career stalled after he
refused to sign a petition condemning a colleague for "anti-Soviet
activities," and he was branded anti-Soviet himself.

In 1975, however, Mr. Weisfeiler was allowed to immigrate to the
United States, carrying his few belongings in the same backpack that
would be with him when he disappeared. Because of his brilliance as a
mathematician he was soon offered university posts, first at the
Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, N.J., and then at Penn
State. In 1981 he became an American citizen.

As a first-time visitor to Chile, Mr. Weisfeiler did not know that
his route through verdant country hills had brought him close to
Colonia Dignidad, the home of an anti-Semitic apocalyptic religious
sect. Founded in 1961, the settlement today has about 300 inhabitants
who follow the teachings of Paul Schaefer, a former nurse from the
Nazi air force who was forced to leave Germany after he was charged
with sexually abusing young boys in an orphanage he ran.

During the Pinochet dictatorship, military and intelligence officials
often visited Colonia Dignidad, which occupies a 37,000-acre site
about 225 miles south of Santiago. Both the military and the police
took political prisoners there. According to reports compiled after
democracy was restored in 1990, some of those captives were tortured
and others were killed.

Colonia Dignidad changed its name to Villa Baviera a decade ago. But
the sect continues to operate and still has powerful friends within
the state security apparatus. Mr. Schaefer, now 80, is currently
wanted on charges of sexually abusing 28 young boys from the colony.
But early this month a judge shelved the case on the grounds that it
had been impossible to locate him.

"Colonia Dignidad continues to be impenetrable and the armed forces
continue to be loyal to Colonia Dignidad," said Hernán Fernández
Rojas, a Chilean lawyer who is an expert on the cult and represents
Ms. Weisfeiler in her legal efforts to determine her brother's fate.
"In any other country, Colonia Dignidad would already have been
dismantled. But here no serious investigation has ever been done, and
so we have no way to tell what happened to Boris."

To Colonia Dignidad's allies within the Chilean state security
apparatus, much about Mr. Weisfeiler would have seemed suspicious.
His American passport listed his place of birth as Moscow, and his
battered old backpack had Cyrillic lettering on it. According to
court records, he wore khaki pants that could have been easily
confused with military dress.

According to declassified documents and sworn statements in Chilean
court records, local residents and members of the police and army
patrols were told at various times, presumably by their superiors,
that Mr. Weisfeiler was either a "Soviet spy" or a "Jewish spy." In
addition, Colonia Dignidad was itself in a state of turmoil at the
time Mr. Weisfeiler appeared in the area.

Around Christmas Eve of 1984, the Russian-born co-founder of the
sect, Hugo Baar, had tired of Mr. Schaefer's abusive methods and fled
the colony. With guards scouring the area for Mr. Baar and anyone who
might be helping him, he made his way to the home of Heinz Kühn, a
former member of the sect who now lives in southern Chile and helps
people who escape from the settlement.

Mr. Kühn also monitored radio transmissions from Colonia Dignidad,
and early in 1985, as he recalled in an interview this month, he
taped a conversation between Mr. Schaefer and two subordinates
apparently discussing what to do about an unnamed intruder. "Don't
worry, the problem has been solved," Mr. Kühn recalls Mr. Schaefer
being told. "He is already eating potatoes underground."

When Mr. Weisfeiler's disappearance was made public later that month,
Mr.  Kühn went to the United States Embassy in Santiago with the
tape, which he said was duplicated and enhanced there.  According to
declassified documents, the embassy was contacted around the same
time by another source who provided what was described as a "hint
that W. was alive."

Two years later, the embassy in Santiago was again approached about
the case, this time by an informant who claimed to be a member of a
military patrol that had captured Mr. Weisfeiler and handed him over
to Colonia Dignidad. Given the code name "Daniel," he said he was
talking because he had a guilty conscience about what had happened to
Mr. Weisfeiler.

"Later on, we found that this person, after being savagely
interrogated, was made to kneel on the ground and was murdered with a
shot in the nape of his neck," the informant said, according to
declassified records. "This execution was carried out solely by the
Germans, who took advantage of the absence of Chilean authorities."

An embassy document dated November 1987 concluded that Daniel's story
"contains enough truths and plausibilities to make it believable,
especially given Colonia Dignidad's reputation." But the assessment
also warned that the informer's account would be "difficult to
confirm without unrestricted access to other eyewitnesses or the
Colonia Dignidad premises," which would be virtually impossible to
obtain so long as Gen.  Pinochet was in power.

Nevertheless, embassy officials decided to plunge ahead, and
requested permission from the State Department to do so. Two years
later they received a cable from the State Department authorizing an
investigation, "provided the cost of the legal services will be paid
for with post's funds" and Washington would not have to contribute
the $3,000 or so needed to begin the effort.

Washington officials imposed this requirement in the midst of a
cost-cutting campaign, making it very difficult for the embassy to
carry out the investigation. The State Department also appears to
have ignored offers from the American Mathematical Society and other
scientific groups to pay for an investigation. Early in 1990, embassy
officials concluded there were "no funds available" for such an
effort, and the investigation was shelved.

In 1997, the informant named Daniel surfaced again, contacting the
host of a radio talk show in Santiago to tell essentially the same
story.

More years went by. In June 2000, more than 250 documents pertaining
to American policy in Chile were declassified after a campaign by the
National Security Archive, which uses the Freedom of Information Act
to declassify government documents. The details of Mr. Weisfeiler's
disappearance and the State Department's ambivalent handling of his
case started to become clear.

"There does not seem to be any U.S. government commitment to doing
anything in this case beyond monitoring the Chileans and sending
diplomatic notes that don't get answered," said Peter Kornbluh,
director of Chile research at the National Security Archive. "It's
not clear to me why that should be: this is clearly a case of
state-sponsored terrorism directed against an American citizen."

Colonia Dignidad avoids contact with the press, sometimes employing
violence to drive away reporters. Messages left with a doctor and
lawyer who occasionally act as intermediaries for the group were not
returned. But in statements in recent years, leaders have portrayed
themselves as victims of "a war campaign" led by Communists and
Zionists. They denied that prisoners have been held, tortured or
killed there.

Because of that new evidence, the Weisfeiler case has now been
reopened here and turned over to Juan Guzmán Tapia, the same
investigating judge who is handling charges of human rights
violations against General Pinochet and former Secretary of State
Henry A. Kissinger and other American officials. Judge Guzmán has
begun taking depositions from people involved in the case, and in
March he visited the site where Mr.  Weisfeiler disappeared.

In an interview in Santiago, Judge Guzmán said he did not yet have
enough evidence to rule out any hypothesis, like the possibility that
Mr. Weisfeiler was killed by the police, the army or even by local
peasants. His investigation continues to confront obstacles even
beyond the protected status of Colonia Dignidad.

For instance, Judge Guzmán cannot question Luis López Benavides, the
peasant who camped out with Mr. Weisfeiler. He died little more than
a year after Mr. Weisfeiler disappeared, in what embassy documents
describe as "mysterious circumstances." He was said to have hanged
himself because he had been rejected by a potential girlfriend. In
addition, some records requested from the military police have
disappeared or have been reported burned and military officials have
refused to supply others.

"I am trying to trust Judge Guzmán, but it is so slow down there,"
Ms.  Weisfeiler said. "I understand that he is very decent and that
he has a lot of cases, but sometimes I get very upset, because I have
this feeling inside that my brother may still be alive."

Washington also appears to be changing its approach. In an interview
in Santiago, the new American ambassador, William R. Brownfield, said
he had raised the Weisfeiler case in his first round of meetings with
Chilean officials. The United States has also expressed its
willingness to lend F.B.I. assistance to Judge Guzmán, an offer the
judge said he would welcome. But the Chilean government must formally
request that help, and it has not done so.

"Anything that helps justice, the government is prepared to do,"
Chile's president, Ricardo Lagos, said when asked about the case
during an interview in Santiago this month. "It is in our interest
that Judge Guzmán have all the tools so that he can carry out his
duty, and if he wants the F.B.I. or some other entity to help him so
that justice can be done, then there should be no doubt that what he
requests will be granted."

After so many disappointments, however, Ms. Weisfeiler still has her
doubts. Both governments, she said, have let her down every time she
turned to them with "my cry for help," and she fears this time will
be no different.

"I am a new American, and I always believed that if something
happened to you, the American government will help you and find you,"
she said. "My brother believed that too. He thought that an American
passport would protect him. But we have found that it is a completely
different story. It's very very sad."


                          *

http://www.nytimes.com/2002/05/19/international/americas/19COLO.html

Rightist's Hard Line Appeals to War-Weary Colombians

by Juan Forero

BOGOTÁ, Colombia, May 18--He has already survived one assassination
attempt this year, so Álvaro Uribe's run for the presidency has been
especially cautious, even in this war-ravaged country. Public
appearances have been minimal, mainly teleconferences with select
audiences or low-key meetings with small groups of businessmen, all
confined to this capital city.

It is not an ideal way to campaign.

But Mr. Uribe, an ultraconservative candidate whose promise to crack
down on leftist rebels has resonated with a conflict-weary populace,
still holds a commanding lead in the polls with a week to go before
an election that is being closely watched in Washington. Indeed, Mr.
Uribe, a lawyer and expert horseman from northern Colombia, is
expected to receive nearly 50 percent of the vote in next Sunday's
election, 20 percentage points more than his nearest rival, Horacio
Serpa, and nearly the majority needed to avoid a June 16 runoff.

But while Mr. Uribe will almost surely become the next president,
what is less certain is what effects his policies would have on this
country and what they would mean for the United States, which has
provided nearly $2 billion in mostly military aid since 2000.

What Mr. Uribe, 49, a former governor and senator from Antioquia
province province who has completed courses at Harvard and Oxford,
prescribes is a break from the policies of the current president,
Andrés Pastrana. Mr. Pastrana, whose peace talks with rebels of the
Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, or FARC, collapsed earlier
this year, is barred under the Constitution from seeking re-election.

Pledging to become "the first soldier of Colombia" in a campaign
against leftist rebels, Mr. Uribe promises to double the size of the
army's combat force and the police and to organize one million
villagers to serve as informants, some of them armed. He also has
cast himself as a corruption fighter who will free up government
funds for his programs.

"We are going to work hard to strengthen the capacity of the state to
protect the citizenry and control the violent ones," Mr. Uribe said
recently, as his heavily protected motorcade sped from a campaign
event. "This is a country that has suffered very much from violence
and kidnapping and we are going to put a stop to this problem."

The United States, he said, will play a central role because Colombia
is counting on military hardware and training so Colombian troops can
better fight the rebels. Currently American aid can only go toward
operations to counter drugs, but the Bush administration is pressing
Congress to allow American-trained soldiers and equipment to be used
directly against the guerrillas.

Mr. Uribe, some American lawmakers believe, is the appropriate
caretaker for that policy. "We feel that he would be an action-type
president," said Representative Cass Ballenger, a North Carolina
Republican on the International Relations Committee. "I think
President Pastrana was a heck of a nice guy. He dedicated himself to
making peace, but they took advantage of him. I don't think Uribe is
that kind of guy."

Indeed, Mr. Uribe -- whose campaign slogan is "firm hand, big heart"
-- is seen as a leader tailor-made for this chaotic country. The
rebels, clearly feeling threatened, carried out a street bombing on
April 14 that damaged Mr. Uribe's passing motorcade, killing four
bystanders but leaving him unscathed.

Mr. Uribe's lead in the polls is a testament to Colombian fatigue
with a grinding 38-year conflict.

Voters seem to be overlooking the fact that Mr. Uribe is an
independent candidate representing the far right in a centrist
country where only Liberal or Conservative party politicians have won
national office. Mr. Uribe and his Colombia First movement have the
support of 55 of 102 senators and 97 of 165 representatives,
according to a survey of Colombia's Congress by the University of Los
Andes.

Mr. Uribe has mined Colombian frustration for months, criticizing Mr. 
Pastrana's peace efforts and harshly denouncing the FARC rebels for
practically every atrocity, like the May 2 rebel rocket attack on a
church that killed 117 civilians. His own personal loss in the
conflict -- his father was slain by the guerrillas in 1983 -- has
also struck a chord.

"This is the first time we Colombians feel there is someone who is
going to give us back what is ours," said Luis Guillermo Henao, 40, a
civil engineer who plans to vote for Mr. Uribe. "Uribe is the
response to the crisis."

But Mr. Uribe's ability to deliver on his promises will not be easy.

His scheme to add 50,000 combat troops to the 55,000 the army already
has, along with doubling the size of the National Police to 200,000
officers, could cost up to $1 billion a year -- a heavy increase in a
country with an annual budget of $27 billion.

"Aside from that business over reducing corruption, the president
nearly-elect has not said from where the money will come," Hernando
Gómez Buendía, a leading columnist at Semana magazine, wrote last
week.

Mr. Uribe has also worried human rights groups, who believe that his
policies may come at a steep price for Colombia's fragile democracy.

During his governorship of Antioquia from 1995 to 1997, illegal
right-wing paramilitary groups thrived, working with some military
units in their brutal campaign against guerrillas. Two generals in
the region -- Rito Alejo del Rio and Fernando Millan -- were fired by
President Pastrana for rights abuses, and Mr. del Rio's visa to
travel to the United States was canceled.

Yet, Mr. Uribe continues to support Mr. del Rio, having used him as
an adviser on military matters even though the former general is
under investigation in Colombia. In a meeting late last year with
José Miguel Vivanco, director of operations in Latin America for
Human Rights Watch, Mr. Uribe also expressed disagreement with Mr.
Pastrana's decision to force out other high-ranking officers who were
believed to have ties to the paramilitaries.

While Mr. Uribe has incorporated into his speeches the need to battle
paramilitaries, Mr. Vivanco said he has doubts about his sincerity.
"The question is," Mr. Vivanco said, "can he convince Colombia and
the international community that he is committed to fighting
right-wing paramilitary groups?"

Mr. Uribe has also faced questions about his past associations. His
father was friendly with Fabio Ochoa, the now-deceased father of
three brothers who were among Colombia's most fearsome drug
traffickers a decade ago. His closest aide during his governorship of
Antioquia was Pedro Juan Moreno, who was investigated by United
States officials because his company had imported into Colombia a
suspicious shipment of chemicals that could have been used for
cocaine production.

The candidate said there was nothing inappropriate about these
relationships, noting that Mr. Moreno was never charged and that his
father's friendship with the elder Ochoa was based on mutual love of
horses. "For 30 years," he said, "I have simply been an honest
politician."

Mr. Uribe -- to most voters viewed as transparent, bookish and
earnest about solving Colombia's myriad problems -- hammers home the
need to end corruption and reform government, saying that the money
saved would allow for the construction of schools and improvement of
government services.

"The candidacy of Álvaro Uribe has generated enormous expectations,"
said Elisabeth Ungar, a political scholar at Los Andes. "I just think
it is going to be very difficult to reach those heights, not just
because of resources -- everyone knows the country's difficult
situation -- but also because of the political situation."

Copyright (c) 2002 The New York Times Company
 
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