By the end of the week Paraguay’s democracy was struggling for life. While police kept hunting for the gunmen, many Paraguayans did not hesitate to blame the assassination directly on the president, Raul Cubas, and his headstrong ally Gen. Lino Oviedo. Both men have denied any knowledge of the attack, insisting their political foes are out to frame them. Nevertheless, protesters swarmed into Asuncion’s streets to vent their fury against Cubas and Oviedo. Supporters of the two men poured out as well. The rival factions brawled and set fires. Riot police used tear gas and water cannons, while Army tanks appeared, ostensibly to keep order. Late on Friday, though, the police pulled back for no clear reason. Violence spread through the night. By morning four people were dead, and 150 had been injured. Once again Paraguayans feared a coup.
Argana was an unlikely martyr for the cause of civilian rule. People used to call him “the Prince” for his filial devotion to Gen. Alfredo Stroessner, the military dictator who ruled Paraguay from 1954 until a palace coup toppled him in 1989. Nevertheless, the assassination of Argana galvanized his fellow politicians into action. The Senate had been preparing to open impeachment proceedings against Cubas in April for alleged abuse of power. A day after the murder, Congress voted to start the trial with no further delay. The hearings began on Thursday, and the Senate’s verdict is due early this week. The vote is expected to be close; the Constitution requires a two-thirds majority to remove the president from office. Cubas promised he would abide by the vote as long as the senators followed “due process”–whatever that meant. A little improvising may be inevitable. The Constitution doesn’t say what to do if Paraguay loses its president and vice president at the same time.
There was less and less hope that the standoff could end without more killing. “Rivers of blood will run!” promised the announcer on an Oviedista radio station. At Argana’s funeral on Wednesday, thousands of mourners and protesters trailed the flower-laden coffin through the streets of Asuncion, chanting “Murderers!” “Down with Cubas!” and “Down with Oviedo!” Cubas prudently skipped the services. Oviedo was unavoidably detained: his friend Cubas had ordered him to surrender to the presidential guard in an effort to keep the uproar from getting worse.
Not a bad idea: the fiery-tongued four-star general lives for a good showdown. During the 1989 coup he burst into Stroessner’s bunker brandishing a live grenade and forced the dictator to surrender. The act of courage later helped Oviedo become chief of the Army. Three years ago his abrasive style became too much for Juan Carlos Wasmosy, then president, who fired him. Oviedo refused to go, leading 100 or so military cadets in an armed standoff for several days before giving in.
That stunt earned the general a court-martial and a 10-year jail sentence–but it didn’t keep him from seeking the all-powerful Colorado Party’s blessing to run in last year’s presidential election. The take-no-prisoners populist was overwhelmingly favored to win the standard-bearer’s position. His main challenger was Argana. But then Oviedo publicly defamed Wasmosy as a liar and a crook, getting himself legally expelled from the race.
Oviedo bequeathed his candidacy to his running mate, Cubas, a prosperous mechanical engineer. Not long afterward the convicted coup leader finally began serving his 10-year sentence, having used up all appeals. Cubas made freedom for Oviedo the heart of his presidential platform. Meanwhile a quirk of Colorado rules gave the vice presidential nomination to his fiercest opponent, Luis Maria Argana. In August, three days after taking office, President Cubas issued a decree freeing Oviedo. The Supreme Court ruled that the president had no such power. Cubas’s own brothers publicly warned him not to do it. Emilio Cubas, a former senator, told reporters: “I hope to God my brother will have the sense to annul that decree.” Carlos Cubas resigned in protest as minister of Trade and Industry. Congress began debating formal impeachment. One of Cubas’s most vehement and persistent critics was his vice president. But Oviedo was a free man.
Paraguay’s neighbors tend to regard Oviedo as the embodiment of the bad old days. Despite his claims of being a democratic reformer, his bearing and manner often recall the era when the military was the heart of Latin American society, and constitutions were honored primarily in the breach. Whether or not the general ordered Argana’s death, the assassination seemed to confirm many people’s deepest doubts about the country and the region. “This casts shadows over not only Paraguay but all of Latin America,” said Venezuela’s foreign minister, Vicente Rangel. Brazil’s president, Fernando Henrique Cardoso, spoke for Mercosur, the South American common market: “We will not tolerate a breach of democracy.” It was a fact, not a threat. According to the trade pact’s rules, any member country that strays from democratic rule is automatically suspended. The provision was included because Paraguay insisted on it. The president at the time was Juan Carlos Wasmosy–the only democratically chosen leader of Paraguay ever to complete his elected term. No one knows when or if another president of Paraguay will match that achievement.
