Chiqui Ávalos debuts as a columnist for 247.

247 - Paraguayan writer Chiqui Ávalos, one of the continent's leading intellectuals, debuts his column on 247 this Thursday. In his column, Chiqui will address topics related to Mercosur and Latin American politics. His first column will be a precise analysis of Michelle Bachelet's likely return to the Chilean presidency. Read more:

MICHELLE IS BACK

By Chiqui Ávalos

(Santiago, Chile – Special for Brasil_247) Chile has never been South America like its neighbors. Or it never wanted to be. It has always been different, starting with the poor Spanish it speaks and the proud direct relationship it maintains with Europe. Swiss, Germans, English, Scandinavians have taken root throughout the country. In the culture, in the booming economy, in the stupendous cuisine, in the lives of these people who are definitely different from the rest of us. A Chilean leaves Santiago and doesn't go to Buenos Aires, Asunción, Lima, or São Paulo. They fly over us on their way to Frankfurt or London. If they could, Chileans would detach themselves from the continent and become a rich island in the South Pacific. Since they can't, they tolerate us as neighbors and, when we visit them, they treat us with cold politeness, half-smiles, and suspicious glances. They treat us well, but they charge a high price. That's Chile.

In the square in front of the La Moneda Palace stands the statue of Salvador Allende. Young and old stop respectfully before the martyr of the Latin American left and observe him in profound silence. Had he not been a victim of the vilest of coups and succeeded by a criminal regime repudiated by democrats worldwide, Allende would easily be known as the weakest president in a country recognized for the high quality of those who preceded and succeeded him in leading the country. Ah, history and its whims. A few steps away, immortalized in another monument, is the austere and respected Jorge Alessandri, a good former president, son and grandson of former presidents, a kind of untouchable icon of the Chilean right. Elegant and single, with a reputation as a closeted homosexual, every year on his birthday he suffers the delightful provocation of the OpusGay group, which places a showy basket of red roses at his feet. Mocking aside, the gesture shows how old and conservative Chile is evolving in its habits, albeit much more slowly than its neighbors.

Santiago is a charming city, but it makes you sick. Nestled in a valley and squeezed between two mountain ranges, the Andes and the Serra do Mar, it manages to be a beautiful city and, at the same time, one of the most polluted on the planet. The winds don't circulate in the cold metropolis, hindered by the colossal mountains that surround it. Years ago, on one of my visits here, they passionately discussed a proposal by a "Japanese engineer" to end the eternal gray smoke hovering nimbly in the heavy, rarefied air: to open two enormous holes in the mountains on either side and, with the perfection of incredible mathematical calculations, millimeter precision, and Japanese wisdom, "channel" the wind that would then blow over Santiago, saving it from the deadly particles of carbon monoxide. It caused a furor, but the work was never done, of course. I never knew if the Japanese man was an unappreciated genius or a perfect charlatan.

It's hard to believe that in a highly conservative and Catholic country, where senators, ministers, and major business leaders bow to kiss the Cardinal's hand during a televised Te Deum, a woman who has been married three times, openly socialist and agnostic, is on the verge of becoming president of the Republic for the second time. Only an accident, something unimaginable until now, could prevent Dr. Michelle Bachelet from spending another term in the La Moneda Palace. And it would have to be an accident of Andean proportions, because Chileans, so cold and distrustful, lower their guard and smile when the subject is "la gordita" (the chubby one).

Michelle doesn't possess the disingenuous populism of Kirchner's widow, much less the undisguised bluntness of Dilma Rousseff. However – and therein lies her strength – la Bachelet is worth two. She never loses her frank smile or alters her gentle tone of voice, but no one has any doubt about who is in charge of Michelle: no one. Her mother, the archaeologist Angélica Jeria, confidante and advisor, is as discreet as her daughter, but even she doesn't exert influence over Michelle.

The daughter of a prominent loyalist Air Force general, imprisoned after the coup that overthrew Salvador Allende, the former (and likely) future president lost her father after torture in a prisoner-of-war camp in the frigid Patagonia. She and her mother were imprisoned and exiled to Australia. Michelle, who had already graduated in medicine in Chile, specialized in pediatric surgery in Berlin and Leipzig, in the former East Germany. Her eldest son, Sebastian, was born there.

Macarena, our mutual friend, between glasses of wine at the folkloric Liguria bar in the heart of Providencia (the emblematic neighborhood of the upper middle class with aspirations to wealth), quickly sketches a profile of her colleague: "Michelle is one of the most demanding people I've ever met, but I've never seen her raise her voice or treat anyone badly, as she's also one of the most kind and affectionate." A friend of the former president since her youth, she recalls her meteoric rise in Ricardo Lagos's government at the beginning of the last decade: Minister of Health and, later, Minister of Defense. "The military didn't have time to think it was a provocation from Lagos. Michelle put on a camouflage uniform and went inspecting the units from north to south, smiling, but dignified. It was a show! Everyone lined up, saluting the daughter of the comrade they themselves had killed. And she, cool, smiling, impeccable. Michelle electrified the country and earned the respect even of the military."

In the extremely tough campaign, she fought vote by vote against the popular former mayor of Santiago, Joaquín Lavín (UDI), and Senator Sebastián Piñera (Renovación Nacional), the country's richest businessman. Supported by the "Concertación" parties, the Christian Democrats and the Socialists, she went to the second round and needed the votes of the far-left and environmentalists to defeat the owner of LAN-Chile and companies ranging from TV stations to one of the best hospitals in the country by 53% to 46%. She was a surprising candidate. Having never run for office before, she attended all the debates and won them with a clear advantage, in addition to traversing the curious Chilean geography from end to end, village by village, island by island, from the glaciers of the south to the Atacama Desert, with her simultaneously maternal and firm manner. Tireless, organized, disciplined, and cold. Especially cold in the pursuit of her goals.

The first real test came at the funeral of former dictator Pinochet. Michelle did not attend, did not declare mourning, and did not make any statement to the press. She remained silent with calculated coldness. Her defense minister was present, since it was a general officer being buried. However, a grandson of the genocidal leader, an army captain, read an arrogant and defiant speech in honor of his grandfather. A few hours later, on the same day and with the deceased still fresh, Bachelet simply expelled him from the Chilean Armed Forces. Expelled, and that was that. And nobody said anything against the extremely harsh gesture of the likeable and smiling "chubby" woman. It only confirmed everyone's suspicions: she was a woman of unwavering firmness of attitude and immense personal courage. Everyone was surprised, except the military, who already knew her from her time at the Ministry of Defense. They knew her, respected her, and didn't trifle with her.

Her first two years in office were difficult, even inheriting a Chile renewed by the excellent government of Ricardo Lagos, which transformed it into a hub of major infrastructure projects. The country had become a rich nation, perhaps the richest, proportionally, in South America. They didn't even join Mercosur, instead aligning themselves with NAFTA and – once again – looking to Europe as a preferred partner. The social debt was extremely heavy, with millions of Chileans living in poverty. The students, historically belligerent in this part of the Pacific, gave her no peace. Thousands took to the streets in noisy demonstrations that she repressed. Macarena, a friend of mine and Bachelet's, is definitive and cutting: "If you put Harvard, Cornell, Yale, Oxford, and the Sorbonne here in Chile, Chilean students will say they're worthless."

However, "la gordita" (the chubby one), with her discreet suits, gummy smile, and perpetual cheerfulness, was destined to go down in Chilean history as a remarkable president. She, a woman separated from her third husband, in the most macho country in South America... The last two years of her government were simply triumphant. A booming economy, successful social policies supporting those living below the poverty line, children, and the elderly, a highly coordinated government team with half the ministries headed by women. Popularity skyrocketed. Not due to populist outbursts. Incidentally, the polished Michelle doesn't have them. But what polling experts call "the alligator opening its mouth" happened: the negative rating of the government (which was already low) plummeted, while the positive rating reached its peak, surpassing that of the charismatic Brazilian Lula and the belligerent Colombian Álvaro Uribe, two other champions of popularity and approval.

In March 2010, when she passed the presidential sash to mega-businessman Sebastián Piñera, whom she had defeated in the previous election, Michelle displayed the same emblematic smile so well-known to Chileans, only with more wrinkles around her eyes and her face, almost always without makeup, was much more lined. However, what "la gordita" really displayed was an unbelievable 84% approval rating against a meager 9% who did not support her. How about that?

Michelle packed her bags and went to New York to work at the UN, traveling the world as the leading figure of the nascent 'United Nations Women'. Fluent in five languages, she made the most of what she could and placed women's issues more consistently on the United Nations agenda. And, most importantly, she stayed far, far away from Chile, watching from the sidelines the unexpected failure of Piñera's government, elected with the sole and ridiculous credential of "the country's biggest businessman and one of the richest men in the world," which gave vent to first-world libido and an evident infatuation of the middle class. The first center-right president after four (good) presidents elected by the "Concertación" by inflicting successive and painful defeats on the orphans of Pinochet, Piñera got there brandishing his competence as a manager. In truth, he always maintained an aseptic distance from the repulsive tyrant, even supporting the "No" campaign in the plebiscite that weakened the dictatorship in the 80s. But, surprisingly, he accumulated administrative failures, exposing his mandate to the endless merry-go-round of ministers who come and go without ever finding the secret to achieving a management as good and efficient as that of Patrício Aylwin, Eduardo Frei, Ricardo Lagos and, especially, the chubby one who preceded him and, most likely, will replace him.

Sebastián Piñera had some merits. He never compromised with the far-right. He negotiated when possible and made necessary concessions to the irascible Chilean students. He maintained the upward pace of the economy and managed not to backtrack on the progress achieved. He behaved with correctness and dignity throughout his term. But to have a government as competent as Lagos's, or as brilliant as Bachelet's, or as highly respected as Aylwin's... That's completely different. Perhaps the greatest merit of the mega-businessman is having completely debunked the ridiculous thesis that men who know how to make money and amass incalculable fortunes, building business empires and appearing on Forbes or Fortune lists, will be great presidents. They may have a good eye for balance sheets and Wall Street trading floors, but they are blind to pensioners and needy children. "Not infrequently, these capitalists go to the cardiologist just to show that they have a heart," my late friend, the Paraguayan journalist and writer Hélio Vera, a genius of the race, used to ironically remark.

In the vicinity of La Moneda Palace, in the bustling and noisy center of the Chilean capital, the first signs of the election campaign were appearing. Nothing from the right. The popular Laurence Golborne, Minister of Public Works, a young and articulate 51-year-old engineer with an impressive 75% approval rating in a government that has accumulated inversely negative figures, was the strongest and almost unanimous candidate of the center-right. He was. He could, perhaps, have caused some obstacle to Bachelet's return. He could have. At the end of April, both due to allegations of irregularities in companies where he was a director and to renewed polls showing the former president firmly in first place in voter preferences, Golborne shelved his dream, and the chosen one may, perhaps, be former Senator Andrés Allamand, certainly the most qualified and decent figure of the rancid Chilean right. Certainly, he will gain a lot of experience...

The right wing, undeniably still strong, is experiencing its existential autumn in the midst of the Chilean autumn. Pinochet once, in a burst of sincerity, declared that in Chile not a single leaf fell to the ground without his knowledge. Yet the beautiful, wide avenues – the very same ones that filled Allende's last and historic speech in that burning La Moneda with lyricism – are covered with the yellowed leaves of the Canadian plane trees that blanket Santiago, and the right wing doesn't even know the name of its candidate in the extremely difficult task of losing to "la gordita" (the fat one).

Chiqui Ávalos is a Paraguayan journalist and writer. He was a correspondent for the newspaper ABC Color in Paris and is the author of the best-selling book "La Otra Cara de HC" (The Other Face of HC).