Prudence over Pomp

When he first ruled Argentina, Juan Peron doted on Latin pomp and dictatorial ceremony. Thus it might have been expected that his inauguration as President last week, after nearly 18 years of exile, would be celebrated with triumphal parades and week-long fiestas. Instead, Peron, 78, and his Vice President, Wife Isabelita, 42, took office with military efficiency--and security.

Though Peron was escorted to the National Congress by the traditional cavalry escort in 19th century uniforms, truckloads of troops in 20th century battle dress were interspersed among the horses. Running alongside the presidential limousine were at least a dozen bodyguards, covering every inch of the car. As he took the oath before a crammed joint session of Congress, Peron was visibly moved. His hand shook, and he quickly sat down afterward to wipe away his tears with a handkerchief.

After he was sworn in, el Lider and his conjugal Vice President went to the Casa Rosada (the Pink House), where he received the presidential sash and the baton of office. He then greeted the crowd from the glass-enclosed, bulletproof balcony overlooking the Plaza de Mayo, Buenos Aires' main square. The government had taken extraordinary precautions to ensure a peaceful transfer of power.

The 100,000 people who crowded the plaza were frisked before they were let into the square--and frisked again if they tried to leave their assigned areas. Participants were instructed on what they could carry and what they could say. "Placards and banners identifying factions or political tendencies may not be shown," read one official instruction.

"The only symbol that will be carried is the national flag, as a sign of national unity and a call to the greatness of Argentina's power." As a further safeguard, the police had installed immovable steel barriers in drilled holes in the pavement surrounding the palace.

Peron told the crowd: "I shall use my last breath serving the interest of the country and asking you to help me carry this responsibility. As I did in the past, every May Day I will meet with the people right here to find out if you are satisfied with our government." Then, after a final wave, he mentioned what is his real worry. "And as also has been customary," he said, "I ask you to disperse quietly and in order." The question is: When will he feel secure enough to meet the people without having them frisked first?

Argentina today is more tense, more lawless than it was when Peron was biding his time in exile in Madrid. Almost daily the country is racked by a new assassination, kidnaping, riot or strike. Since the Peron regime began with a hand-picked surrogate last May, more than 15 leading members of Peron's own Justicialist Party have been brutally murdered. Only last month Jose Rucci, one of Peron's closest associates and the head of the giant 3.1 million-member General Confederation of Labor, was riddled with 26 bullets. In the past two weeks, two other labor leaders were also murdered. Several of the assassinations have been followed by a strike of the victim's aggrieved followers. Rucci's death resulted in a 30-hour general strike that closed even airports and grocery stores. To protest the kidnaping of a bus-union leader, 300 bus drivers last week abandoned their vehicles in the Plaza de Mayo, creating the biggest traffic jam in the city's history.

Although much of the violence has been officially blamed on the Marxist-Leninist People's Revolutionary Army, many Argentines suspect unruly leftists in Peron's own movement. Peron has not publicly accused his leftists, who in fact played a large role in returning him to power. But he has issued orders for an all-out campaign against Marxists in general, not excluding those who call themselves Peronistas.

Despite the violence of the last few months, Peron's power over his countrymen remains extraordinary. Unpopular actions are blamed on others, and he is excused knowledge of them. His supporters fervently believe that once he sits in the President's chair, things will right themselves. Still, by trying to crack down on violent leftists, Peron obviously runs the risk of becoming a target himself.

Yet Peron's biggest concern may not be security but his health. Before he accepted his presidential nomination, doctors warned him that his heart could not stand the strain of four years in office. When Peron attended a gala performance of Swan Lake at the Teatro Colon on the night of his inauguration, newsmen noticed a specially equipped mobile heart unit parked outside.

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