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ASUNCIÓN, Paraguay — Although General Alfredo Stroessner was ousted from power in 1989 after a brutal 35-year dictatorship characterized by torture, executions, and disappearances affecting around 20,000 individuals, many Paraguayans feel his influence persists.
Alfredo Boccia, a historian, remarked, “This is likely the only country where a political party that once backed a dictator continues to hold power after his demise.” He noted that this prolonged situation has contributed to the slow progress regarding accountability for the past, with most disappeared individuals still unaccounted for and very few trials taking place.
Disappearances are a tragic reality across Latin America. While Argentina and Chile often receive most attention for such atrocities, numerous others faced similar fates during periods of dictatorship and unrest. In Paraguay, families of the missing confront particular challenges. Though Stroessner’s regime has ended, his legacy continues to obstruct their pursuit of truth.
Rogelio Goiburu, whose hair has turned gray over almost five decades of searching for his father, is resolute in his quest. His determination is a testament to the values instilled in him by his dad. “He taught us survival skills,” Goiburu stated. “He prepared us to fight against Stroessner’s regime.”
Experts indicate that Stroessner maintained an unrivaled grip on power in comparison to other military leaders in the region. As the president, leader of the Colorado Party, chief of police, and commander of the armed forces, he was removed not by adversaries but by family members within the military, some of whom remained tied to the Colorado Party, a robust political entity that has ruled Paraguay with minimal interruption since Stroessner’s fall.
The election of Mario Abdo in 2018 embodied this continuity. Abdo, a Colorado Party candidate and son of Stroessner’s former secretary, even served as a pallbearer at the dictator’s funeral in Brazil, where he died in 2006 without ever facing legal consequences for his dictatorship.
The Colorado Party’s ongoing dominance allows for little accountability regarding past atrocities. Streets in Asuncion are still named after military figures, and few individuals responsible for the regime’s crimes have been tried. Moreover, history lessons in public schools often neglect this dark chapter of Paraguay’s past.
Santiago Peña, who won the presidential elections in 2023, previously worked as an aide to a tobacco magnate and ex-president, Horacio Cartes, another figure implicated in corruption allegations from the United States. Peña’s victory emphasizes the Colorado’s influence, as the party secured over 40% of the votes and gained control of the majority of governorships and Congress.
“Paraguayans support the party freely,” Boccia remarked. “For those of us advocating for remembrance, that struggle feels lost.”
Goiburu now holds a director position focused on historical memory at the Ministry of Justice, yet he has no allocated budget for his initiatives. He gradually seeks answers regarding his father and others who disappeared, often receiving information from retired military personnel and police officers who confide in him about how bodies were hidden.
Unlike Argentina’s comprehensive governmental approach to find missing individuals, Paraguay lacks a genetic database, leading Goiburu to rely on forensic anthropologists from Argentina to assist him with DNA analysis and preservation. In contrast to Mexico, where mothers persistently unearth remains of their lost children, Paraguay has only conducted one significant excavation, spearheaded by Goiburu from 2009 to 2013, which resulted in four identified bodies out of fifteen recovered.
The quest for lost loved ones is fraught with difficulty, as some dismiss victims’ demands for justice. While approximately 30,000 Argentinians disappeared under a much shorter dictatorship, around 500 individuals were reported missing during Stroessner’s lengthy rule in Paraguay. Despite the difference in numbers, families argue that each disappearance dramatically impacts loved ones.
“Each case undermines the right to grieve,” explained Carlos Portillo, who has interviewed numerous victims for the Truth Commission. “Almost every culture has mourning rituals, and a disappearance strips families of this process, making it impossible to move on.”
In her battle with Alzheimer’s, Goiburu’s mother left a plate and an empty chair at their Christmas table in honor of her missing husband and continued the search for him until her passing in 2024. “When someone is disappeared, it’s not just as if they have left voluntarily,” remarked Celsa Ramírez, a former communist party member who spent years in prison. “It signifies they were detained, tortured, executed, and erased from existence, a reality that should weigh heavily on society.”
Goiburu’s father, Agustín, was a physician and leftist political figure who, during a time of political repression, offered free medical care to those in rural areas. “Patients paid him with eggs, bananas, or chickens,” recalls Goiburu, now a doctor himself, who has shifted his focus from medicine to discovering his father’s fate.
Once a member of the Colorado Youth, Agustín’s life took a stark turn as Stroessner’s regime emerged and unleashed a torrent of brutal repression, turning communism into the nation’s primary threat during the Cold War. With backing from the U.S., the regime branded any opposition as leftist threats.
“I was nicknamed ‘the bishop of the red cassock’ due to my supposed communist ties,” said Bishop Melanio Medina, who led the Truth Commission. “Only those who were silent were allowed to stay.”
Agustín became a target for opposing the dictatorship, and the regime often manipulated hospitals, coercing medical staff to create false documents to cover up their crimes against political prisoners. Some doctors even advised torturers on how much pain to inflict on their victims.
While few openly defied military orders, there were subtle forms of resistance. Inspired by Chile’s Vicariate of Solidarity, some religious leaders created the Churches Committee in 1976. “There were many disappearances, but we lacked the details,” reflected José María Blanch, a Spanish priest who led the committee. “So we started visiting prisons.”
The committee not only provided clothing and food for the imprisoned but also offered legal aid to those wrongfully confined and assistance for the families of detainees. Rosa María Ortiz, a committee member from 1977, recalled her strategy of misleading detention facility officials to gain access under the guise of a bishop’s orders, all in an effort to discover the fate of prisoners.
In worsening conditions, the group often used the pretense of delivering books and vaccinations to compile lists of detained individuals. “Our efforts shifted as these were life-and-death situations,” reflected Blanch.
Federico Tatter shared a similar experience with Goiburu, as both lost their fathers under tragic circumstances. Tatter’s father was a military officer who opposed Stroessner, while Goiburu’s father was a left-wing politician. Both men were detained in Argentina, where many adversaries of Stroessner had sought refuge to protect their families and continue their activism.
According to the Truth Commission, many Paraguayan disappearances during the 1970s occurred in Argentina amid the controversial Operation Condor, a coordinated effort among South American dictators to eliminate opposition across borders. In October 1976, Tatter was returning home when soldiers descended upon his house, leaving him with one last glance at his father as he was taken away. “I’m the last family member who saw him,” he claimed, uncertain of the details that followed.
Goiburu first learned of his father’s disappearance through a neighbor after he was apprehended on the streets of Parana in February 1977 and taken to Asuncion, from which point there are no further leads.
“Most Paraguayans don’t understand that what we can do today stems from the sacrifices made by our parents,” said Ricardo Flecha, a human rights activist and musician. “Their struggles have helped create a space for us to speak out.”
Although Paraguay’s opposition once held power between 2008 and 2012, remnants of fear regarding the past persist. Goiburu mentioned, “I’ve uncovered two skeletons currently stored in a morgue under legal protection. I know their identities, but families aren’t willing to confirm because they wish to avoid revealing they were communists.”
Living cautiously, Goiburu rarely documents his findings, yet he dreams of publishing a book about his father. “I dream about him weekly,” he disclosed. “More than just my father, he was my friend. I yearn for that friendship.”
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