MICHAEL FOX:  Hi folks, I’m your host, Michael Fox.

This week, March 24th, marks the 50th anniversary of the 1976 Argentine coup that sunk the country into a brutal US-backed military dictatorship. The regime would unleash terror across Argentina, disappearing 30,000 people in just seven years.

Thousands detained. Tortured. Murdered. 

But people would resist. Like the family members of the disappeared — The Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo. They have marched for five decades to demand justice and the return of their children and grandchildren… alive.

In Argentina, March 24 is known as the National Day for Memory and Truth and Justice. It honors the victims of the military regime. Each year, big marches and demonstrations are held in Buenos Aires to mark the date. This year, they are expected to be particularly huge….

In honor of this 50th anniversary, I’m bringing you this bonus episode of resistance from Argentina. I produced the following three stories in this podcast last year. Three vignettes about resistance to the evil of the military regime, the violence it unleashed. And the people standing up then and now….  Still fighting for truth, justice, and memory today.

I’ll play these stories back-to-back. Thanks for listening.

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1. STORIES OF RESISTANCE: MOTHERS OF ARGENTINA’S 30,000 DISAPPEARED HALF-CENTURY STRUGGLE FOR JUSTICE

MICHAEL FOX:   The streets of Buenos Aires are cold. Colder than they should be in April, 1977. Because people are missing — Students and young adults, in particular — Snatched by military officers of the regime and never heard from again.

Their absence is colder than the harshest winter storm. Their silence louder than the most violent thunderclap or shot from the soldier’s submachine gun.

Mothers search desperately for their children. They visit the police. Government offices. People in uniforms just shake their heads. They find no answers. The mothers decide they must do something. 

And so, on Saturday, April 30, 1977, 14 women meet in the plaza in front of the Casa Rosada, Argentina’s presidential palace. They demand to know where their children are. 

“By ourselves, we will achieve nothing,” says Azucena Villaflor. Her son and his girlfriend were kidnapped exactly five months before. 

This is the Argentine dictatorship, installed just a year before, on March 24, 1976, and meetings in public of more than two people are banned.

A police officer approaches. He orders them to keep moving. And so… the women take each other arm in arm and, two by two, begin to walk around the obelisk in the center of the square. One small, iconic act of resistance in the face of so much darkness… so much pain.

The mothers decide to return each week. But instead of on a Saturday, they will march on Thursdays, when there are more people in the square. People who will witness their suffering, their pain, and their simple yet brazen act of resistance in the middle of a harsh, cold, violent dictatorship.

Within a few months, they will begin to wear white pañuelos on their heads as they march — The baby diapers of their lost children — A way of recognizing each other in crowds.

But they, too, are targeted.

In December 1977, three mothers — Azucena Villaflor, Esther Ballestrino, and María Ponce de Bianco — Are themselves kidnapped and disappeared.

Still, the mothers march.

“We were not heroines,” says Taty Almeida. “We did what any mother would do for her child.”

“They called us crazy,” she says. “And we were crazy. Crazy with pain, rage, and helplessness.”

And so begins the five-decade-long struggle of the Mothers and Grandmothers of the Plaza de Mayo. A struggle that lasts until today.

They will become one of the most iconic groups of resistance in Latin America, continuing to demand the return of their children and grandchildren, alive, until today. The mothers will inspire similar groups across the Americas. They will demand justice and memory.

30,000 people were disappeared in Argentina under the US-backed military dictatorship, which lasted from 1976 to 1983. Babies of the disappeared were stolen and raised by military officers as their own. 

The Mothers and Grandmothers of the Plaza de Mayo have, today, found almost 140 of their grandchildren and given them back their true identities.

The Mothers and Grandmothers are still marching today. Every Thursday. Around the obelisk in the center of the Plaza de Mayo. Like they did that first time in 1977. Five decades ago.

Today is March 24… the anniversary of the 1976 coup that led to the brutal Argentine dictatorship. In Argentina, it’s known as the National Day for Memory and Truth and Justice. It honors the victims of the military regime. Each year, big marches and demonstrations are held in Buenos Aires to mark the date. The Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo are always front and center. In fact, the center of the events is usually the Plaza de Mayo, which, thanks to the Mothers and Grandmothers, has become the iconic image of the struggle against the Argentine dictatorship and the fight for truth and justice. 

Today, under the government of Javier Milei, these acts of resistance have become even more important. Milei has criticized the country’s policies of justice. His government has defunded memorial sites and closed investigations into the crimes of the past. His allies have vocally backed former military officers serving time for torture and crimes against humanity.

The demands for justice and the resistance, defending the true memory of the past, continues as acute and as important as ever. 

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2. STORIES OF RESISTANCE: THE REVOLUTIONARY BASEMENT

MICHAEL FOX:  Victoria Abdenor is a compulsive cleaner. But her home is perpetually dirty. 

Every morning, she opens her bedroom windows and beats her sheets and blankets. Dust and dirt fall onto the working-class street where she lives in Córdoba, Argentina.

It does not matter the day, her linens are always dirty. It is like clay and dirt are a renewable resource, in her home. Recharging overnight. Always reproducing. Ready to be tossed out into the morning air, regardless of the cold, the wind, or the weather.

And in a way, it’s true. The dirt is being reproduced. She, her husband, Héctor Eliseo Martínez, and friends are building a basement just behind their home, 30 feet underground. Some of the dirt, Victoria tosses out into the morning air. More of it is loaded into the bed of a Ford F-100, and, under a blanket of night, driven down to the river to be dumped. 

This is not just any basement — It’s to house printing machines that will make books and leaflets, flyers and pamphlets. Materials for the cause. And not just any printing press — The largest clandestine printing press in Argentina. This is the social media of the 1970s.

But no one can know. Not their neighbors. Not their relatives.

Argentina is dancing amid dictatorship. But in 1973, elections are held. Socially-minded presidents elected. The country’s iconic President Juan Perón returns to power, and then his third wife, Isabel, after he passes in 1974.

Victoria Abdenor’s basement printing press is a success. It’s named the Roberto Matthews People’s Press, after a companion who was disappeared. During one month of political upheaval in May 1973, they print more than 120,000 copies of revolutionary books. Some books are even sold at kiosks on street corners.

The whirl of the machines rings in the basement chamber behind Victoria Abdenor’s home. Gears grind. Type set. Pages flip. They churn out viral and banned books. Prohibited pages to be read and hidden and shared, and read and hidden and shared.

The printing press runs. 

Until it stops. 

One morning, the bedroom windows do not open.

Three months into the country’s new military dictatorship in 1976, officers discover the basement.

A year later, Victoria and Héctor are kidnapped and disappeared.

Their children still demand justice and the truth.

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3. ARGENTINE STUDENTS CONTINUE TO MARCH AGAINST THE CRIMES AND DISAPPEARANCES OF THE PAST

MICHAEL FOX:  It’s the night of Sept. 16, 1976. The city of La Plata, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Six months into the country’s brutal military dictatorship that would last for seven years. The regime is looking to eliminate opposition to the dictatorship and wipe out so-called subversives. It does not matter the person’s age. 

In La Plata the previous year, high school students had fought for and won discounted student bus fares. The regime now identifies the leaders of this movement and goes after them.

This evening, members of the Provincial Buenos Aires Police force climb into Ford Falcones and drive into the night to find and capture. They drive to sow terror.

It would become known as the Noche de los Lapices — The Night of the Pencils. The police are masked and unidentified. They raid homes in the darkness. They kidnap 10 high school students this evening, the next day, and throughout the week.

The kids are all between the ages of 16 and 18. They’re taken to clandestine detention centers. 

They’re tortured for days. They’re detained for months. Six of them are killed, their bodies disappeared. Four survive, living to suffer from the nightmare of their experience and to recount the tale of one of the most heinous crimes of the Argentine dictatorship. One of so many.

But even today… people will not let it be forgotten. They will not be silenced. Not then, not now.

Nearly 50 years later, students march to remember this night, to honor the victims and to continue to demand justice and memory. On Sept. 16, students hold huge rallies at universities and schools around the country, like this one on the streets of Córdoba, Argentina. Hundreds, thousands marching.

The energy in the crowd is contagious. People hold blue and green smoke flares, the smoke blowing across the crowd of students, rising into the sky with their voices and their chants. They carry signs, like “30,000″ written in big block letters — The number of people disappeared during Argentina’s military dictatorship. 

Another reads “The Pencils Will Continue to Write” — Because this terrible moment in history was known as the Night of the Pencils. They say it’s more important now than ever to resist, as the government of Javier Milei tries to gut funding for schools and higher education and student rights.

Many of the teenagers here are the same age as the kids who were kidnapped half a century before, and they will not let this night be forgotten.

In 2024, Argentine courts handed down 10 life sentences against former police and army officers for their role in human rights abuses and crimes against humanity under the dictatorship. This included the kidnapping and disappearance of the students on the Night of the Pencils.

In Buenos Aires today, Sept. 16 is recognized as the “Day for the Rights of High School Students” in honor of the victims of the Night of the Pencils. 

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MICHAEL FOX:  Hi folks, thanks for listening. I’m your host, Michael Fox.

Today’s episode was a little different. I hope you enjoyed it.

If you like what you heard, I hope you’ll stay on the lookout for the upcoming season of my podcast Under the Shadow. I dive deep into Plan Condor, the South American dictatorships of the 1970s, and the role of the United States. I’ve been working on it for the last couple of years. You can watch for it in 2027.

As always, if you like what you hear and enjoy this podcast, please consider becoming a subscriber on my Patreon. I have a ton of exclusive content there only available to my supporters, and every supporter really makes a difference. I have also added some collections of pictures there about these stories today. I’ll add links in the show notes.

This is the latest bonus episode of Stories of Resistance, a podcast series produced by The Real News. Keep your eyes out for Season 2 coming later this year.

If you like what you hear, please subscribe, like, share, comment, or leave a review.

Thanks for listening. See you next time.