Scotland and Chile: 50 years of solidarity

The three-year-old socialist government of Popular Unity which enjoyed support amongst the poor, the dispossessed and their allies, had been systematically undermined by Chile’s privileged classes, aided and abetted by US interests: Corporate ones such as the giant ITT telecoms company, and government in the form of the CIA.

To a lesser extent, the British Tory government of the day had also played a role through underhand methods such as manipulation of the country’s press.

The crisis in Chile caused by deliberately contrived shortages, “bosses’” strikes and unrest within sections of the military, was leading in an inevitable direction throughout 1973. The coup came as no great surprise, and plans were afoot to defend the elected government with arms handed out to the people; in the event attempts at opposition were crushed through immediate and systematic terror by the army on a scale that caused shockwaves throughout the world, reminding many of events in Spain in the 1930s, and the catastrophic world war that followed.

The coup was initiated by leaders of the armed forces including General Augusto Pinochet, who only joined late in the day, soon rising to ­prominence, and appointing himself president and virtual ­dictator. Their colleagues who supported democracy were ­assassinated and neutralised.

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The military used their armed might, much of it supplied by the UK defence industry over ­previous decades, to crush any attempt at opposition. In Chile’s main port, Valparaíso, the Navy, many of whose warships had been built in British yards, bombed Popular Unity offices whilst US Navy forces, there for a joint exercise, stood by.

The presidential palace in the capital Santiago was bombed by British-built Hawker Hunter jets, and the siege by tanks and artillery led within hours to the death of President Salvador Allende. Those arms that had been supplied by Western countries to win support in the Cold War division of the world, were never used other than to attack the Chilean people.

In the days following the coup, thousands were ­detained, and in many cases, tortured and murdered – an estimated 8000 disappeared within the first few weeks. The country’s national football stadium in Santiago was used as a detention and torture centre.

Amongst those murdered there was the ­nationally renowned folk singer Víctor Jara, who had his hands and neck broken before being shot 44 times. His ­British wife found his body amongst a pile of ­others soon afterwards.

The quelling of any opposition became more ­systematic in the months to follow, with the creation of the DINA – ­paramilitary police staffed by thugs who were given limitless powers to arrest and ­murder left-wing activists and trade ­unionists. All semblance of democracy was outlawed. The death squads ­visited the poor areas of the cities at night, leaving in their wake bodies that would be found in the morning in rivers and on waste ground.

Back in the UK, the Tory government silently ­welcomed the coup and the protection of British financial interests that would ­follow.

Unlike other European powers, they offered no immediate asylum through their embassy in Santiago, and this only changed with the election of a Labour government in February 1974. Labour’s election, following a strike by British coal miners, was seen by right-wing ­establishment members – ­including ­serving military officers – as bringing Marxism to Britain (it was far from that!) and there was talk of a Chilean-style and inspired coup.

Although this came to nothing, ­Margaret Thatcher embodied such ­far-right thinking, and included the ­appointment of British friends and ­advocates of Pinochet’s solutions to her team, after her election to the ­leadership of the Tory party in 1975. She later ­emulated Pinochet’s ­monetarist ­policies to the detriment of jobs and ­entire ­communities.

Allende’s supporters in Chile were faced with stark choices: Go ­underground, continue activity and face death as a ­consequence, flee the country, or keep quiet and watch and wait. The ­detentions and murders of many of those who stayed, either by choice or lack of it, ­continued for several years: the country’s ­prisons filled up with former activists held ­indefinitely without trial as “prisoners of internal war”.

Gradually, their names were released through the activities of international human rights organisations, and groups throughout the world, including ­Scotland, began lobbying for their release.

Solidarity activity took other forms. Although events in Chile were far away and of little significance to most people, on the left of politics and within the trade unions wheels were set in motion very soon after the coup. The Chile Solidarity Campaign (CSC) was set up with support from those who remembered the horrors of fascism in the 1930s and 1940s.

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In the 100% trade-union-organised Rolls-Royce plant in East Kilbride, the shop stewards passed a resolution ­pledging support for the Chilean people, and similar activity took place elsewhere as the campaign got underway.

What made Rolls-Royce East Kilbride different was that some of their work ­involved refurbishing Hawker Hunter ­engines. In early 1974, a shop steward who was a Second World War veteran and Christian, Bob Fulton, noticed an ­engine with Chilean markings, quickly ­identifying it as having possibly been used in the coup. This and seven others were soon the subject of boycott action that lasted until 1978 – with four of the ­engines rusting in the yard outside the plant for much of that period.

The workers’ action, they later ­discovered, resulted in the effective ­neutralising of the Chilean Air Force’s offensive capability – a story told ­powerfully in the movie Nae Pasaran.

There was other sporadic action over the fulfilment of existing Chilean ­defence contracts in Scotland, however, ­concerted campaigns to persuade ­shipyard ­workers to refuse to complete work on ­naval ­submarines and frigates was not ­successful – reflecting the ­precarious ­situation for the workforces at that time, and the likelihood of redundancy in a ­period of worsening unemployment.

Sadly, the Labour government would not order the cessation of such work, afraid of the consequences for the UK’s trade with Chile which included the import of copper considered important to British industry.

They did ban further defence exports to Chile and put in place other important actions but were criticised by CSC for not going the whole way and arranging other work for the shipyards; this could have ­included contracts related to the then-burgeoning North Sea oil industry.

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One not-so-proud moment came when in 1977, and despite vigorous campaigning to stop it, the Scotland national ­football team played a friendly against Chile in the Santiago stadium, derided as the “match of shame” – a stain on ­Scotland’s football tradition but ­reflecting the ­reactionary Scottish Football Association of the time.

From 1974 onwards, and by various means, refugees from Chile began to arrive in the UK, numbering by the late 1970s, some 2500 people, 500 of whom were offered refuge in Scotland. Many were housed by councils with Labour administrations sympathetic to their plight, ending up in housing schemes like Drumchapel in Glasgow.

Official support to help them resettle was limited but local CSC supporters and socialists from various organisations and none, offered practical help and moral support. Five Chilean miners and their families were offered work and housing in the Fife pits thanks to the assistance of the National Union of Mineworkers.

Many refugees had seen their friends die and had suffered torture themselves, so they threw themselves into activity in Scotland to campaign for their homeland.

In Glasgow, where there were many refugees, Oscar Mendoza and Hernando Fernandez-Canque (themselves victims of appalling torture) organised a football team – Burnbank United – and a ­Saturday “Chile School” in Berkeley Street School to keep alive their country’s culture and provide social solidarity for the families and their children.

Chile’s fascist dictatorship had run out of steam by the end of the 1980s, ­elections started again in 1989, and some of the refugees went home; though many remained as they were now established and settled in Scotland. They and their children who have grown up with memories of the ­period, will be participating in events this month to celebrate the end of fascism in Chile and 50 years of solidarity activity as struggles elsewhere continue.

These campaigns include opposition to the treatment of refugees from war and terror in today’s “hostile ­environment” promoted by the Westminster Tory ­government.

Amazing examples of solidarity action setting a good example for campaigners across the UK continue here. We should be proud of the “Glasgow Girls” and their 2005 campaign in defence of a Drumchapel High School friend detained for deportation in a Home Office dawn raid – their action led to changes but most of all, showed us all that resistance is ­possible, and can even be popular.

In May 2021, the hundreds who ­descended on Glasgow’s Kenmure Street successfully averted another deportation. The tradition of welcoming refugees and opposing the situations that cause their exile has stood the test of time – it can be seen on Sundays today as progressive campaigners confront and outnumber our own far-right fascists outside the ­Erskine Hotel. Long may this tradition continue!

Colin Turbett is author of Aye Venceremos! Scotland And Solidarity With Chile In The 1970s – And Why it Still Matters Today.

The book details the background of the coup in Chile, its aftermath, solidarity action in Scotland, the welcome given to refugees, and the legacy.

The book, costing £10, is available from its publisher Calton Books: www.calton-books.co.uk