The headline in The Harvard Crimson read: “Chilean Leader Focuses on Democracy.” In September, the president of Chile, Michelle Bachelet, visited Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government to give a speech entitled: “Challenges Facing Democracy in Latin America.” Her message was one of active advocacy and incredulous idealism for those in the hemisphere who still yearn for the ink and ballots that might make them the authors of their own future. But Bachelet’s most recent endeavor will cause the archives at The Harvard Crimson to become increasingly inaccurate and ironic.

Last week, she attended a ceremony in Cuba called “Feria del Libro” (Book Festival). President Bachelet has publicly stated that she would not meet with members of the dissident opposition on the island—including prisoners of conscience. Yet there are two primary reasons why it was not a prudent foreign policy pursuit for President Bachelet to visit Cuba without planning to meet with the island’s dissident opposition: structure and history.

From the logic of a structural perspective, Chile is in the process of consolidating its democracy, and any government that seeks to successfully strengthen its democratic institutions must uphold a particular reputation. As every foreign policy decision is also a political consideration, Chile must emulate the values that it seeks to achieve. It is therefore counterproductive to honor the oppressive without recognizing the oppressed. Since Augusto Pinochet was removed from power in 1989, Chile has been working to stabilize its democracy. The last Chilean president to visit Cuba was socialist Salvador Allende, who considered himself a great friend of the dictator, Fidel Castro. Bachelet’s administration has consistently shown its eagerness to boast of its democratic achievements, but improving relations with a regime that categorically opposes and publicly criticizes these democratic goals is a step in the wrong direction.

Politics and economics go hand in hand. Chile has historically been a model of neo-liberal economic reforms, including deregulation, regional cooperation, and free markets—the antithesis of the Cuban model. There is something incongruent with the goals of Chile and its allies and that of Cuba and the “non-aligned movement” in which it has come to be a leader. In order to maintain international support from its allies and main trading partners, Chile must only visit the Pearl of the Antilles if it is prepared to do so in support of the Cuban people and not the Cuban regime. By revitalizing relations with the state-controlled economy, President Bachelet effectively jeopardizes the support of her allies and the confidence of major extra-governmental lending institutions.

As a young woman, Bachelet coped with her father’s kidnapping, torture, and death. This came at the hands of the rightist authoritarian regime of Pinochet. Shortly thereafter, she and her mother were also captured, tortured, imprisoned, and eventually exiled. She returned to Chile, finished her medical studies, and, after a distinguished career of public service in health and defense, became the first female president of Chile—making her story yet more extraordinary. As a former political prisoner herself, her empathy and compassion might go hand in hand with her politics. But this is not the case.

By not actively seeking a dialogue with the oppressed in Cuba, the Chilean government will be breaking the virtuous example of the Pope, as well as the presidents of Portugal and Spain who have all recognized and met with opposition leaders in the past. Recently, there has been a deplorable wave of political suppression in Cuba. The state has continued to silence people that they have labeled “counterrevolutionary dissidents”—people that Chile and the United States would call productive citizens. When President Bachelet visited Cuba, she put Chile’s reputation at risk. She has categorically failed to distinguish between a dictatorship of the right—the Pinochet regime of which she was a victim and staunchly opposed—and an equally despicable dictatorship of the left.

The Havana edition of “Feria del Libro” is currently an ironic one. In Cuba, only governmentally-approved books are permitted. It may come as a surprise that works by the greatest authors in the Spanish language, like Guillermo Cabrera-Infante and Mario Vargas Llosa, will not be featured anywhere at the event—and forget about any American classics. Anything opposing or threatening to the regime is censored. A similar irony that is greatly damaging for the “champion” of democracy who visited Harvard is the venue for the fair. The event took place in La Cabaña, an 18th century Spanish colonial fortress that overlooks Havana. However, in recent history it is more famous for its role in the Cuban revolution as the location of severe human rights abuses. Here, the nefarious Ernesto “Che” Guevara held daily executions of political prisoners.

Decision-making within sovereign states like Chile greatly impacts hemispheric affairs. Bachelet has passed on the opportunity to send a positive message to transnational institutions like the Organization of American States, which have explicitly sought democratic goals. Politicians will not find integrity in positive change for their own nations unless they are ready to advocate that change for all others. As President Bachelet writes her legacy, this chapter will be one that sacrifices the dignity of her diplomacy and ironically makes her a challenge to democracy in Latin America.


Daniel Balmori ’11 is a government concentrator in Winthrop House.