Human Rights in American Foreign Policy. Joe Renouard
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final turning point in the Greek junta’s story came in November 1973, when the hard-line clique of Colonel Dimitrios Ioannidis seized power. Ioannidis’s accession spurred a revealing discussion between Kissinger and his aides, who realized that this backsliding would make the Nixon/Kissinger policy look like a failure. When Ambassador Tasca (correctly) predicted that the regime would not last long and recommended continuing a public prodemocracy stand, Kissinger asked why this was in America’s interest. With so few democracies in the world, why was America being charged with holding Greece to democracy, but not Yugoslavia, Morocco, or Algeria? “Where else are we requiring governments to specify dates for elections?” he asked. “Why is it in the American interest to do in Greece what we apparently don’t do anywhere else?” Kissinger then laid out perhaps the clearest statement of his foreign policy beliefs in light of the era’s new human rights demands: “The Department of State doesn’t have a Political Science Division. It conducts the foreign policy of the United States. It deals with any government—communist or non-communist—within the context of the foreign-policy objectives of the United States. That way you don’t get caught with each individual government in giving approval and disapproval. Why is that wrong?” Ambassador Tasca argued that Greece was receiving so much attention because it had a unique position in Europe and because people believed that the United States could influence it. Kissinger accepted that Greece could be considered a special case, but he argued that the administration should stand by its principles and let the chips fall where they may. “We can survive congressional hearings if we know what’s right,” he concluded.121
The colonels’ end came about over Cyprus. When the junta fomented an uprising against the centrist Cypriot president, Archbishop Makarios, Turkey invaded the island in 1974, which in turn created a whole new set of human rights problems. The invasion was the death knell for the Greek junta. After it collapsed in July 1974, democracy was restored, Greece withdrew from the NATO command structure for six years, and Greek anti-Americanism remained strong for a generation. In the final analysis of America’s dealings with Greece during the Johnson and Nixon years, it is clear that realism consistently trumped liberal idealism. As New York Times correspondent C. L. Sulzberger, an early defender of the junta, wrote of Nixon’s policy in 1973, “All the U.S.A. stands for has been hurt by this; but not our national interests.”122 The Greek story also demonstrates the U.S. government’s limited ability to promote democracy, even among its allies. James Miller has correctly argued that Greece’s failure to create a stable democracy between 1950 and 1974 was largely the work of Greek politicians, military leaders, and the monarchy. Yet the United States bears some responsibility. President Johnson, President Nixon, and much of Congress continued to support a dictatorship that was abusing its population. Nixon, in particular, was largely indifferent to these abuses, even when a firmer American position might have encouraged more substantial changes in Greek policies.123
Latin America’s Cold War: The Brazilian Dictatorship
Latin America was not a high priority for Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger. Not only was Nixon generally uninterested in the global South, but he also considered the Western Hemisphere to be beyond the realm of Soviet and Chinese interest. Mark Atwood Lawrence is correct in asserting that the two men sought “low-key preservation of the status quo”—a posture that often meant relying on dictators to maintain stability and fend off leftist threats. This policy succeeded insofar as Marxist influence did not expand into South America on their watch, but in the long run their support to oppressive regimes arguably sowed the seeds of multiple crises.124 Nixon’s approach to Brazil must be considered in the context of détente, traditional American paternalism, and South America’s civil struggles. As we have seen, Latin American democracy took a hit in the sixties and seventies. And despite Nixon’s relative inattention, there was no denying America’s unique regional interests and its overwhelming economic and political influence. As Greg Grandin has shown, while Washington backed land reforms and social welfare programs in postwar Europe and Japan, policymakers considered such programs to be dangerous in Latin America. Instead, writes Grandin, the United States “inevitably sided with reactionary civilian and military forces as a bulwark against communism.” True, the United States often had little or no involvement in the region’s coups and atrocities, but it also rarely discouraged them.125
Although South America was a low Nixon priority, he recognized Brazil as an important regional ally with a growing economy. Early in his presidency, he sent his erstwhile opponent for the Republican presidential nomination, Governor Nelson Rockefeller of New York, on a regional tour to collect information and shore up relations with Latin American republics. While in Brazil, Rockefeller was willing to ask tough questions about political rights and censorship, and he toured the empty Brazilian Congress in order to demonstrate American concern over the suspension of political activity.126 Rockefeller’s report to the president was rather moderate in its recommendation to recast trade and lending to reflect broader national interests rather than narrow business interests. Yet the report’s grim tone accurately reflected the range of problems in the region and the level of hemispheric skepticism about America’s intentions. Rockefeller also provocatively suggested that these nations’ internal security problems had spurred the authoritarian trend. “Governments everywhere are struggling to cope with often conflicting demands for social reform and economic growth,” he wrote. “Subversive forces working throughout the hemisphere are quick to exploit and exacerbate each and every situation.” He recommended continued military aid and increased arms sales to meet these security challenges.127
Some observers have assailed both the Rockefeller mission and the report. The journalist A. J. Langguth asked why Nixon had sent the scion of the Rockefeller steel empire to assess an impoverished region teeming with anti-imperialist and anti-yanqui sentiment. (Riots broke out when Rockefeller visited Colombia and Ecuador, causing Chile and Venezuela to cancel their invitations.) Considering the millions Rockefeller had invested in Latin America, wrote Langguth, it was not surprising that he praised the security forces.128 Walter LaFeber similarly criticized Rockefeller’s conclusion that South American militaries were “the essential force for constructive social change.” The preponderance of military coups in the 1960s seemed to have rendered such a sentiment painfully outdated.129
These observers were correct in pointing out Rockefeller’s liberal capitalist biases. His report emphasized economic and security policies that would strengthen the rule of law, protect property, and stimulate growth—controversial ideas in a region beset by endemic poverty and wealth disparities. But Rockefeller’s critics understated the level of civil violence in the region. Significant rural, leftist, guerrilla insurgencies developed early in the sixties in Peru, Bolivia, Guatemala, Venezuela, and Colombia. The defeat of many of these groups (symbolized by the capture and execution of Ernesto “Che” Guevara in Bolivia in 1967) led rebels to transition to urban guerrilla activity. By decade’s end, several such Cuba-supported groups operated in the Southern Cone, including the Tupamaros (Uruguay), MIR (Chile), FAR (Argentina), and ALN (Brazil). These organizations, which tended to draw young members from the educated urban classes, used bombings, kidnappings, assassinations, and sabotage to undermine what they perceived as bourgeois decadence and elite domination.130 Later, they would focus their acts on repressive military governments.
True enough, these militant groups’ violent acts did not excuse the excesses of which South America’s military governments were guilty. On balance, the region’s authoritarian governments and allied paramilitaries (aka “death squads”) were responsible for more suffering than were terrorist groups. But one cannot comprehend the region’s downward spiral toward authoritarianism without understanding the threat (or at least the perception of such) posed by these groups. Washington policymakers were not alone in fearing another Cuba-like revolution in Latin America; many Latin American citizens had similar fears. Nor can we understand how Americans perceived authoritarianism and human rights matters without understanding the high-profile nature of some insurgents’ crimes. The left-wing FAR in Guatemala killed U.S. Ambassador John Gordon Mein and two U.S. military advisers in 1968. Two years later the group killed the West German ambassador and kidnapped and released the U.S. labor attaché. The Brazilian Marxist group MR-8 kidnapped and later released the U.S. ambassador, Charles Elbrick, in