Mission accomplished. Coin taken. President dead.

It was 1:50 p.m. on September 11, 1973 in Santiago de Chile when General Javier Palacios transmitted that brief message to the heads of the Armed Forces who that morning had carried out a coup d’état against the democratically elected government of Salvador Allende. Six words with which the soldier in charge of the assault on the Presidential Palace of La Moneda signaled the end of one of the most fascinating and encouraging social and political experiments of the 20th century, the attempt by Allende and Popular Unity, his coalition of leftist parties , to achieve socialism without using violence.

Half a century later, in a world where so many nations are tempted by authoritarian alternatives, it is more important than ever to remember that military coup, which had drastic consequences in Chile and beyond its borders.

The most terrible consequences were suffered, by the way, by Allende’s followers. The violence that our president did not want to inflict on his adversaries was visited fiercely on the seat of government where the president resisted to the end in defense of the constitution and dignity. His death would be the first of many deaths. And the torture and execution and disappearance of his closest collaborators that first day was the prelude to the systematic persecution of the Allendistas during the dictatorship, including a gigantic wave of exiles (I was among those who were forced to leave the country).

Although these and many other excesses occurred during the seventeen years of General Augusto Pinochet’s regime, their effects persist today, perversely and exemplarily in the more than a thousand compatriots who were kidnapped by the secret police and whose bodies have not yet been returned to their families. –not even a fragment of a bone– so that they could have a funeral, that sacred rite that every human being deserves.

If I stop at the disappearances as the worst of the legacies of Pinochet and his accomplices, it is not only because it embodies the way in which terror and despair were extreme, but because the act of disappearing the dissidents reflects what the dictatorship was trying to do. with Chile itself: to make disappear, in effect, the dream and project of a different, fair and supportive country, which had been developing throughout our history. The new rulers, advised by the same civilians who conspired to overthrow Allende, set about dismantling the democracy that had allowed the Popular Unity experiment, liquidating the practices and the very concept of a welfare state, replacing it with a regulated economy. for an unchecked market fundamentalism where profits, individualism and exacerbated consumerism prevailed over any other principle of social cohesion.

Chile became a laboratory for the theories of the Chicago boys and Milton Friedman where the Chilean people, especially its most vulnerable members, suffered the onslaught of this “shock therapy” that, very soon, was exported to other countries, notably during the Thatcher and Reagan administrations, a neoliberal model that, even though it is in crisis today, remains globally dominant.

These were not the only repercussions of Allende’s defeat. Because the peaceful path to socialism tried by us had aroused the interest and hopes of progressive forces in all latitudes, our failure shook those forces like an earthquake, urging them to rethink their strategy to carry out structural transformations to capitalism.

Already at the beginning of 1974, Enrico Berlinguer, the head of the powerful Italian Communist party, declared that the lethal outcome of the Chilean revolution demonstrated that these profound reforms could not be carried out without the support of a large majority that included broad middle classes and their representatives. This strategy was later adopted by the Spanish and French communist parties, facilitating, respectively, Spain’s transition to democracy after Franco and François Mitterrand’s presidency in France.

A majority part of the Chilean left, which was already carrying out an inevitable and painful self-criticism that recognized deficiencies and errors, reached a similar conclusion: to successfully confront the dictatorship, a vast coalition was essential that would go beyond the limits of the support that there was. obtained by Allende, which in the national case meant above all reaching an agreement with the Christian Democrats who regretted having facilitated the coup with their increasingly staunch and blind opposition to the Popular Unity government. Despite so many differences between historical rivals, unity was painstakingly forged, which culminated in the resounding victory of the democratic forces in the 1988 plebiscite that prevented Pinochet from remaining in power indefinitely.

If Allende’s setback was disheartening for so many around the world, the way in which the people of Chile finally managed to get rid of their dictator was, instead, a source of inspiration that should give us encouragement today. Despite the fear that Pinochet had sown in every citizen, despite his overwhelming control of the basic levers of the economy and the feared security forces, despite the complacency of the main media, we demonstrated that, with a correct political strategy that unifies all those who desire more freedom and justice, a determined group of brave citizens are capable of resisting and defeating the enemies of democracy.

It is a lesson that my compatriots need to remember as we commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the calamity that devastated our country, still so saturated with lacerations. Although almost all sectors of society, from the right and the left, have contributed to the categorical consensus that the type of abuses and outrages that the civil-military regime systematized are intolerable, there is no such unanimity, in our polarized land, to condemn resolutely the blow itself. In fact, José Antonio Kast, an enthusiastic admirer of Pinochet who could well be the next president of Chile, justifies, along with many ultraconservatives, the coup as an action that saved the country from chaos and communism. According to a recent poll, 36 percent of Chileans believe that Pinochet was right to overthrow Allende.

It is likely, then, that the battle for memory and interpretation that began fiercely on the day of the coup — when some Chileans celebrated with champagne while their compatriots were forced to drink their own urine in some smelly basement — will continue unabated. cease in the near and perhaps remote future.

The fundamental unknown is the young people, that enormous mass that did not experience the coup, much less the Allende years. When they evoke the military coup, what image will prevail?

It occurs to me that it will be the iconic photo of La Moneda burning, with huge waves of smoke emerging from the besieged building. Hopefully most will see that image as a warning that democracy is precarious and easy to undermine, a warning that other countries with long traditions of adherence to the rule of law should also heed.

Is this, then, how September 11, 1973 will finally be remembered as a day when our attempt at national liberation was reduced to rubble, a day overwhelmed by desolation, crime and anguish? Is that the best way to unearth what remains of the coup, dwelling on endless pain, bleeding outrages and treacheries into the present and prophecies of more dictatorships in the future?

Or will some other memory persist?

Because inside that burning Presidential Palace a man awaits death. Allende must know that he will pay with his life for the catastrophe to which he has led his people. But that is not the message he sends to the world in his final hours. Not a word about his personal failings or the remorse he must feel. What matters, in this mythical moment that will define him and his inheritance forever, is his decision not to surrender to the usurpers, to resist to the end. Others «will overcome,» he says, «this gray and bitter moment when betrayal tries to assert itself.» He is passing the torch of struggle and solidarity, affirming his certainty that the dream of a just society will not die with him. That President whom I loved like a father affirms his faith in Chile and his destiny. And then, his farewell: «These are my last words and I am sure that my sacrifice will not be in vain.»

I hope that enough people in Chile now and more than enough among generations to come hear those words, that this is what they will remember, along with the rest of the world, about that day when Allende and democracy died in my damaged land.

Ariel Dorfman is the author of “Death and the Maiden” and the novel, “Allende and the Suicide Museum.” He was cultural and press advisor to the Minister Secretary General of the Government of Salvador Allende during the last months of his government.

Mission accomplished. Coin taken. President dead.

It was 1:50 p.m. on September 11, 1973 in Santiago de Chile when General Javier Palacios transmitted that brief message to the heads of the Armed Forces who that morning had carried out a coup d’état against the democratically elected government of Salvador Allende. Six words with which the soldier in charge of the assault on the Presidential Palace of La Moneda signaled the end of one of the most fascinating and encouraging social and political experiments of the 20th century, the attempt by Allende and Popular Unity, his coalition of leftist parties , to achieve socialism without using violence.

Half a century later, in a world where so many nations are tempted by authoritarian alternatives, it is more important than ever to remember that military coup, which had drastic consequences in Chile and beyond its borders.

The most terrible consequences were suffered, by the way, by Allende’s followers. The violence that our president did not want to inflict on his adversaries was visited fiercely on the seat of government where the president resisted to the end in defense of the constitution and dignity. His death would be the first of many deaths. And the torture and execution and disappearance of his closest collaborators that first day was the prelude to the systematic persecution of the Allendistas during the dictatorship, including a gigantic wave of exiles (I was among those who were forced to leave the country).

Although these and many other excesses occurred during the seventeen years of General Augusto Pinochet’s regime, their effects persist today, perversely and exemplarily in the more than a thousand compatriots who were kidnapped by the secret police and whose bodies have not yet been returned to their families. –not even a fragment of a bone– so that they could have a funeral, that sacred rite that every human being deserves.

If I stop at the disappearances as the worst of the legacies of Pinochet and his accomplices, it is not only because it embodies the way in which terror and despair were extreme, but because the act of disappearing the dissidents reflects what the dictatorship was trying to do. with Chile itself: to make disappear, in effect, the dream and project of a different, fair and supportive country, which had been developing throughout our history. The new rulers, advised by the same civilians who conspired to overthrow Allende, set about dismantling the democracy that had allowed the Popular Unity experiment, liquidating the practices and the very concept of a welfare state, replacing it with a regulated economy. for an unchecked market fundamentalism where profits, individualism and exacerbated consumerism prevailed over any other principle of social cohesion.

Chile became a laboratory for the theories of the Chicago boys and Milton Friedman where the Chilean people, especially its most vulnerable members, suffered the onslaught of this “shock therapy” that, very soon, was exported to other countries, notably during the Thatcher and Reagan administrations, a neoliberal model that, even though it is in crisis today, remains globally dominant.

These were not the only repercussions of Allende’s defeat. Because the peaceful path to socialism tried by us had aroused the interest and hopes of progressive forces in all latitudes, our failure shook those forces like an earthquake, urging them to rethink their strategy to carry out structural transformations to capitalism.

Already at the beginning of 1974, Enrico Berlinguer, the head of the powerful Italian Communist party, declared that the lethal outcome of the Chilean revolution demonstrated that these profound reforms could not be carried out without the support of a large majority that included broad middle classes and their representatives. This strategy was later adopted by the Spanish and French communist parties, facilitating, respectively, Spain’s transition to democracy after Franco and François Mitterrand’s presidency in France.

A majority part of the Chilean left, which was already carrying out an inevitable and painful self-criticism that recognized deficiencies and errors, reached a similar conclusion: to successfully confront the dictatorship, a vast coalition was essential that would go beyond the limits of the support that there was. obtained by Allende, which in the national case meant above all reaching an agreement with the Christian Democrats who regretted having facilitated the coup with their increasingly staunch and blind opposition to the Popular Unity government. Despite so many differences between historical rivals, unity was painstakingly forged, which culminated in the resounding victory of the democratic forces in the 1988 plebiscite that prevented Pinochet from remaining in power indefinitely.

If Allende’s setback was disheartening for so many around the world, the way in which the people of Chile finally managed to get rid of their dictator was, instead, a source of inspiration that should give us encouragement today. Despite the fear that Pinochet had sown in every citizen, despite his overwhelming control of the basic levers of the economy and the feared security forces, despite the complacency of the main media, we demonstrated that, with a correct political strategy that unifies all those who desire more freedom and justice, a determined group of brave citizens are capable of resisting and defeating the enemies of democracy.

It is a lesson that my compatriots need to remember as we commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the calamity that devastated our country, still so saturated with lacerations. Although almost all sectors of society, from the right and the left, have contributed to the categorical consensus that the type of abuses and outrages that the civil-military regime systematized are intolerable, there is no such unanimity, in our polarized land, to condemn resolutely the blow itself. In fact, José Antonio Kast, an enthusiastic admirer of Pinochet who could well be the next president of Chile, justifies, along with many ultraconservatives, the coup as an action that saved the country from chaos and communism. According to a recent poll, 36 percent of Chileans believe that Pinochet was right to overthrow Allende.

It is likely, then, that the battle for memory and interpretation that began fiercely on the day of the coup — when some Chileans celebrated with champagne while their compatriots were forced to drink their own urine in some smelly basement — will continue unabated. cease in the near and perhaps remote future.

The fundamental unknown is the young people, that enormous mass that did not experience the coup, much less the Allende years. When they evoke the military coup, what image will prevail?

It occurs to me that it will be the iconic photo of La Moneda burning, with huge waves of smoke emerging from the besieged building. Hopefully most will see that image as a warning that democracy is precarious and easy to undermine, a warning that other countries with long traditions of adherence to the rule of law should also heed.

Is this, then, how September 11, 1973 will finally be remembered as a day when our attempt at national liberation was reduced to rubble, a day overwhelmed by desolation, crime and anguish? Is that the best way to unearth what remains of the coup, dwelling on endless pain, bleeding outrages and treacheries into the present and prophecies of more dictatorships in the future?

Or will some other memory persist?

Because inside that burning Presidential Palace a man awaits death. Allende must know that he will pay with his life for the catastrophe to which he has led his people. But that is not the message he sends to the world in his final hours. Not a word about his personal failings or the remorse he must feel. What matters, in this mythical moment that will define him and his inheritance forever, is his decision not to surrender to the usurpers, to resist to the end. Others «will overcome,» he says, «this gray and bitter moment when betrayal tries to assert itself.» He is passing the torch of struggle and solidarity, affirming his certainty that the dream of a just society will not die with him. That President whom I loved like a father affirms his faith in Chile and his destiny. And then, his farewell: «These are my last words and I am sure that my sacrifice will not be in vain.»

I hope that enough people in Chile now and more than enough among generations to come hear those words, that this is what they will remember, along with the rest of the world, about that day when Allende and democracy died in my damaged land.

Ariel Dorfman is the author of “Death and the Maiden” and the novel, “Allende and the Suicide Museum.” He was cultural and press advisor to the Minister Secretary General of the Government of Salvador Allende during the last months of his government.

Mission accomplished. Coin taken. President dead.

It was 1:50 p.m. on September 11, 1973 in Santiago de Chile when General Javier Palacios transmitted that brief message to the heads of the Armed Forces who that morning had carried out a coup d’état against the democratically elected government of Salvador Allende. Six words with which the soldier in charge of the assault on the Presidential Palace of La Moneda signaled the end of one of the most fascinating and encouraging social and political experiments of the 20th century, the attempt by Allende and Popular Unity, his coalition of leftist parties , to achieve socialism without using violence.

Half a century later, in a world where so many nations are tempted by authoritarian alternatives, it is more important than ever to remember that military coup, which had drastic consequences in Chile and beyond its borders.

The most terrible consequences were suffered, by the way, by Allende’s followers. The violence that our president did not want to inflict on his adversaries was visited fiercely on the seat of government where the president resisted to the end in defense of the constitution and dignity. His death would be the first of many deaths. And the torture and execution and disappearance of his closest collaborators that first day was the prelude to the systematic persecution of the Allendistas during the dictatorship, including a gigantic wave of exiles (I was among those who were forced to leave the country).

Although these and many other excesses occurred during the seventeen years of General Augusto Pinochet’s regime, their effects persist today, perversely and exemplarily in the more than a thousand compatriots who were kidnapped by the secret police and whose bodies have not yet been returned to their families. –not even a fragment of a bone– so that they could have a funeral, that sacred rite that every human being deserves.

If I stop at the disappearances as the worst of the legacies of Pinochet and his accomplices, it is not only because it embodies the way in which terror and despair were extreme, but because the act of disappearing the dissidents reflects what the dictatorship was trying to do. with Chile itself: to make disappear, in effect, the dream and project of a different, fair and supportive country, which had been developing throughout our history. The new rulers, advised by the same civilians who conspired to overthrow Allende, set about dismantling the democracy that had allowed the Popular Unity experiment, liquidating the practices and the very concept of a welfare state, replacing it with a regulated economy. for an unchecked market fundamentalism where profits, individualism and exacerbated consumerism prevailed over any other principle of social cohesion.

Chile became a laboratory for the theories of the Chicago boys and Milton Friedman where the Chilean people, especially its most vulnerable members, suffered the onslaught of this “shock therapy” that, very soon, was exported to other countries, notably during the Thatcher and Reagan administrations, a neoliberal model that, even though it is in crisis today, remains globally dominant.

These were not the only repercussions of Allende’s defeat. Because the peaceful path to socialism tried by us had aroused the interest and hopes of progressive forces in all latitudes, our failure shook those forces like an earthquake, urging them to rethink their strategy to carry out structural transformations to capitalism.

Already at the beginning of 1974, Enrico Berlinguer, the head of the powerful Italian Communist party, declared that the lethal outcome of the Chilean revolution demonstrated that these profound reforms could not be carried out without the support of a large majority that included broad middle classes and their representatives. This strategy was later adopted by the Spanish and French communist parties, facilitating, respectively, Spain’s transition to democracy after Franco and François Mitterrand’s presidency in France.

A majority part of the Chilean left, which was already carrying out an inevitable and painful self-criticism that recognized deficiencies and errors, reached a similar conclusion: to successfully confront the dictatorship, a vast coalition was essential that would go beyond the limits of the support that there was. obtained by Allende, which in the national case meant above all reaching an agreement with the Christian Democrats who regretted having facilitated the coup with their increasingly staunch and blind opposition to the Popular Unity government. Despite so many differences between historical rivals, unity was painstakingly forged, which culminated in the resounding victory of the democratic forces in the 1988 plebiscite that prevented Pinochet from remaining in power indefinitely.

If Allende’s setback was disheartening for so many around the world, the way in which the people of Chile finally managed to get rid of their dictator was, instead, a source of inspiration that should give us encouragement today. Despite the fear that Pinochet had sown in every citizen, despite his overwhelming control of the basic levers of the economy and the feared security forces, despite the complacency of the main media, we demonstrated that, with a correct political strategy that unifies all those who desire more freedom and justice, a determined group of brave citizens are capable of resisting and defeating the enemies of democracy.

It is a lesson that my compatriots need to remember as we commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the calamity that devastated our country, still so saturated with lacerations. Although almost all sectors of society, from the right and the left, have contributed to the categorical consensus that the type of abuses and outrages that the civil-military regime systematized are intolerable, there is no such unanimity, in our polarized land, to condemn resolutely the blow itself. In fact, José Antonio Kast, an enthusiastic admirer of Pinochet who could well be the next president of Chile, justifies, along with many ultraconservatives, the coup as an action that saved the country from chaos and communism. According to a recent poll, 36 percent of Chileans believe that Pinochet was right to overthrow Allende.

It is likely, then, that the battle for memory and interpretation that began fiercely on the day of the coup — when some Chileans celebrated with champagne while their compatriots were forced to drink their own urine in some smelly basement — will continue unabated. cease in the near and perhaps remote future.

The fundamental unknown is the young people, that enormous mass that did not experience the coup, much less the Allende years. When they evoke the military coup, what image will prevail?

It occurs to me that it will be the iconic photo of La Moneda burning, with huge waves of smoke emerging from the besieged building. Hopefully most will see that image as a warning that democracy is precarious and easy to undermine, a warning that other countries with long traditions of adherence to the rule of law should also heed.

Is this, then, how September 11, 1973 will finally be remembered as a day when our attempt at national liberation was reduced to rubble, a day overwhelmed by desolation, crime and anguish? Is that the best way to unearth what remains of the coup, dwelling on endless pain, bleeding outrages and treacheries into the present and prophecies of more dictatorships in the future?

Or will some other memory persist?

Because inside that burning Presidential Palace a man awaits death. Allende must know that he will pay with his life for the catastrophe to which he has led his people. But that is not the message he sends to the world in his final hours. Not a word about his personal failings or the remorse he must feel. What matters, in this mythical moment that will define him and his inheritance forever, is his decision not to surrender to the usurpers, to resist to the end. Others «will overcome,» he says, «this gray and bitter moment when betrayal tries to assert itself.» He is passing the torch of struggle and solidarity, affirming his certainty that the dream of a just society will not die with him. That President whom I loved like a father affirms his faith in Chile and his destiny. And then, his farewell: «These are my last words and I am sure that my sacrifice will not be in vain.»

I hope that enough people in Chile now and more than enough among generations to come hear those words, that this is what they will remember, along with the rest of the world, about that day when Allende and democracy died in my damaged land.

Ariel Dorfman is the author of “Death and the Maiden” and the novel, “Allende and the Suicide Museum.” He was cultural and press advisor to the Minister Secretary General of the Government of Salvador Allende during the last months of his government.

Mission accomplished. Coin taken. President dead.

It was 1:50 p.m. on September 11, 1973 in Santiago de Chile when General Javier Palacios transmitted that brief message to the heads of the Armed Forces who that morning had carried out a coup d’état against the democratically elected government of Salvador Allende. Six words with which the soldier in charge of the assault on the Presidential Palace of La Moneda signaled the end of one of the most fascinating and encouraging social and political experiments of the 20th century, the attempt by Allende and Popular Unity, his coalition of leftist parties , to achieve socialism without using violence.

Half a century later, in a world where so many nations are tempted by authoritarian alternatives, it is more important than ever to remember that military coup, which had drastic consequences in Chile and beyond its borders.

The most terrible consequences were suffered, by the way, by Allende’s followers. The violence that our president did not want to inflict on his adversaries was visited fiercely on the seat of government where the president resisted to the end in defense of the constitution and dignity. His death would be the first of many deaths. And the torture and execution and disappearance of his closest collaborators that first day was the prelude to the systematic persecution of the Allendistas during the dictatorship, including a gigantic wave of exiles (I was among those who were forced to leave the country).

Although these and many other excesses occurred during the seventeen years of General Augusto Pinochet’s regime, their effects persist today, perversely and exemplarily in the more than a thousand compatriots who were kidnapped by the secret police and whose bodies have not yet been returned to their families. –not even a fragment of a bone– so that they could have a funeral, that sacred rite that every human being deserves.

If I stop at the disappearances as the worst of the legacies of Pinochet and his accomplices, it is not only because it embodies the way in which terror and despair were extreme, but because the act of disappearing the dissidents reflects what the dictatorship was trying to do. with Chile itself: to make disappear, in effect, the dream and project of a different, fair and supportive country, which had been developing throughout our history. The new rulers, advised by the same civilians who conspired to overthrow Allende, set about dismantling the democracy that had allowed the Popular Unity experiment, liquidating the practices and the very concept of a welfare state, replacing it with a regulated economy. for an unchecked market fundamentalism where profits, individualism and exacerbated consumerism prevailed over any other principle of social cohesion.

Chile became a laboratory for the theories of the Chicago boys and Milton Friedman where the Chilean people, especially its most vulnerable members, suffered the onslaught of this “shock therapy” that, very soon, was exported to other countries, notably during the Thatcher and Reagan administrations, a neoliberal model that, even though it is in crisis today, remains globally dominant.

These were not the only repercussions of Allende’s defeat. Because the peaceful path to socialism tried by us had aroused the interest and hopes of progressive forces in all latitudes, our failure shook those forces like an earthquake, urging them to rethink their strategy to carry out structural transformations to capitalism.

Already at the beginning of 1974, Enrico Berlinguer, the head of the powerful Italian Communist party, declared that the lethal outcome of the Chilean revolution demonstrated that these profound reforms could not be carried out without the support of a large majority that included broad middle classes and their representatives. This strategy was later adopted by the Spanish and French communist parties, facilitating, respectively, Spain’s transition to democracy after Franco and François Mitterrand’s presidency in France.

A majority part of the Chilean left, which was already carrying out an inevitable and painful self-criticism that recognized deficiencies and errors, reached a similar conclusion: to successfully confront the dictatorship, a vast coalition was essential that would go beyond the limits of the support that there was. obtained by Allende, which in the national case meant above all reaching an agreement with the Christian Democrats who regretted having facilitated the coup with their increasingly staunch and blind opposition to the Popular Unity government. Despite so many differences between historical rivals, unity was painstakingly forged, which culminated in the resounding victory of the democratic forces in the 1988 plebiscite that prevented Pinochet from remaining in power indefinitely.

If Allende’s setback was disheartening for so many around the world, the way in which the people of Chile finally managed to get rid of their dictator was, instead, a source of inspiration that should give us encouragement today. Despite the fear that Pinochet had sown in every citizen, despite his overwhelming control of the basic levers of the economy and the feared security forces, despite the complacency of the main media, we demonstrated that, with a correct political strategy that unifies all those who desire more freedom and justice, a determined group of brave citizens are capable of resisting and defeating the enemies of democracy.

It is a lesson that my compatriots need to remember as we commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the calamity that devastated our country, still so saturated with lacerations. Although almost all sectors of society, from the right and the left, have contributed to the categorical consensus that the type of abuses and outrages that the civil-military regime systematized are intolerable, there is no such unanimity, in our polarized land, to condemn resolutely the blow itself. In fact, José Antonio Kast, an enthusiastic admirer of Pinochet who could well be the next president of Chile, justifies, along with many ultraconservatives, the coup as an action that saved the country from chaos and communism. According to a recent poll, 36 percent of Chileans believe that Pinochet was right to overthrow Allende.

It is likely, then, that the battle for memory and interpretation that began fiercely on the day of the coup — when some Chileans celebrated with champagne while their compatriots were forced to drink their own urine in some smelly basement — will continue unabated. cease in the near and perhaps remote future.

The fundamental unknown is the young people, that enormous mass that did not experience the coup, much less the Allende years. When they evoke the military coup, what image will prevail?

It occurs to me that it will be the iconic photo of La Moneda burning, with huge waves of smoke emerging from the besieged building. Hopefully most will see that image as a warning that democracy is precarious and easy to undermine, a warning that other countries with long traditions of adherence to the rule of law should also heed.

Is this, then, how September 11, 1973 will finally be remembered as a day when our attempt at national liberation was reduced to rubble, a day overwhelmed by desolation, crime and anguish? Is that the best way to unearth what remains of the coup, dwelling on endless pain, bleeding outrages and treacheries into the present and prophecies of more dictatorships in the future?

Or will some other memory persist?

Because inside that burning Presidential Palace a man awaits death. Allende must know that he will pay with his life for the catastrophe to which he has led his people. But that is not the message he sends to the world in his final hours. Not a word about his personal failings or the remorse he must feel. What matters, in this mythical moment that will define him and his inheritance forever, is his decision not to surrender to the usurpers, to resist to the end. Others «will overcome,» he says, «this gray and bitter moment when betrayal tries to assert itself.» He is passing the torch of struggle and solidarity, affirming his certainty that the dream of a just society will not die with him. That President whom I loved like a father affirms his faith in Chile and his destiny. And then, his farewell: «These are my last words and I am sure that my sacrifice will not be in vain.»

I hope that enough people in Chile now and more than enough among generations to come hear those words, that this is what they will remember, along with the rest of the world, about that day when Allende and democracy died in my damaged land.

Ariel Dorfman is the author of “Death and the Maiden” and the novel, “Allende and the Suicide Museum.” He was cultural and press advisor to the Minister Secretary General of the Government of Salvador Allende during the last months of his government.