Lewis Diuguid

LHD-11 Santiago, Chile January 7, 1967 Mr. Diuguid is a 1965 Alicia Patterson Fund fellowship award winner on leave from The Washington Post. Permission to publish this article may be sought from the Foreign Editor, The Washington Post. President Eduardo Frei of Chile will arrive in Washington February 1, as welcome as any guest that the U.S. government is ever likely to receive from Latin America. He is a personification of the Alliance for Progress, a tax-collecting idealist who already has shattered the tradition of official visits by declaring beforehand that he would no longer need the hosts’ massive budget aid. But before this important man is caught up in the euphoria that the United States bestows on persons it thinks represent absolute blessings, the minority report of his critics ought to be read. The Chilean experience deserves a more measured assessment than was given Colombia, for instance — which Washington’s Latinists embraced as the model of the Alliance five years ago, then rejected in disillusionment when the model turned out to be static. In

LHD-10 Santiago, Chile   December 15, 1966   Mr. Diuguid is a 1965 Alicia Patterson Fund fellowship award winner on leave from The Washington. Permission to publish this article may be sought from the Foreign Editor, The Washington Post. Strollers along Santiago’s Alameda Bernardo O’Higgins had to stare last week: parked there under the sun of this inland capital was Noah’s Ark. Or so it seemed. The bulging wooden hull of a boat loomed up before landlubbers’ eyes. To ease the wonderment, someone had chalked on the tar — “This is a boat of Chiloe.” That only helped a little. Many of those who passed knew no more of Chiloe than that it is an island in Chile’s South somewhere. Some could name its capital, Ancud, and others could tell you that it rains most of the time there. But few had seen the place nor had many expected to visit in that vast vague zone known here as the South. Later the boat was incorporated in a full-blown display propagandizing the South, and some

LHD-9 Santiago, Chile   November 10, 1966   Mr. Diuguid is a 1965 Alicia Patterson Fund fellowship award winner on leave from The Washington Post. Permission to publish this article may be sought from the Foreign Editor, The Washington Post. One of the world’s least probable auto industries lurches along 1200 miles north of Santiago in a green blemish on the Atacama Desert known as Arica. This hand-me-down Detroit is serving as a laboratory of Latin American integration — in spite of the fact that Arica has long been a focus of Chile’s uneasy relations with its neighbors. Arica is not a very imposing place. But by all the laws of economic advantage it should not exist at all. Too many companies assemble too few autos there, at too high a price, for a market that is too small and much too far away. The manner in which Arica got into such a fix is a study in the difficulties of industrialization in underdeveloped states. The government’s attempt to write on a happy ending, through