Chilean Exiles, 1973 to Now

Emily Burton, PhD, Oral Historian and Patrick Kinghan, M.A., Research Intern

Introduction: The Chilean Exile Crisis

2023 marks the 50-year anniversary of a coup d’état in Chile that overthrew the democratically-elected Unidad Popular (Popular Unity) party and led to 6,000 Chilean exiles settling in Canada between 1973 and 1978. The Popular Unity party, led by Salvador Allende, was a left-wing political coalition that also initially included support from Christian democrats.[1] While the new government fought for a more economically-and-socially-equitable Chile, and enjoyed strong support within the country, the Cold War context of the 1970s gave rise to both internal and external opposition to the government.[2]

On September 11, 1973, a coup d’état led by Augusto Pinochet overthrew the Popular Unity government. The new military regime ruled Chile from 1973 to 1990, suppressing political and social organisations including unions, student groups, and community associations.[3] Some Chilean exiles came to Canada fleeing the regime due to a “constant sense of danger,” while others were exiled from Chile by the authoritarian government.[4] None wanted to leave their country—they were forced out. This is why many Chileans prefer the term “exile” to “refugee.” Exile “encompasses a conscious policy of exclusion.”[5]

For more on the history of Canada’s involvement in the Chilean exile movement, see Jan Raska, “1973: Canada’s Response to the Chilean Refugees.”

This oral history essay tells the history of the election and overthrow of Allende, and the aftermath, through the lens of Chilean exiles and others with either direct lived experience or intergenerational memory of the Allende and Pinochet years. It is based on excerpts from seven oral history interviews conducted by the Canadian Museum of Immigration at Pier 21: five with Chilean exiles who came to Canada in the 1970s, one with the grandson of a political prisoner under Pinochet, and one with a retired Canadian immigration officer responsible for Canada’s refugee unit at the time. The interview clips provide direct insight into their experiences of the coup, leaving Chile, and starting a new life in Canada.

The interviews reveal a range of memories and perspectives. Some people were actively involved politically, others less so. Jorge Hurtado and Jorge L. Henriquez Ross experienced the violence of the military regime first-hand, while for others the fear of violence was ever-present. Unlike most participants, José Contreras experienced the coup and its aftermath as a child, and Pablo Abarca Calderón was born two decades after—his perspective is unique as someone who grapples with the intergenerational impacts of the authoritarian Pinochet regime. The interviews also relate processes of adjustment in Canada and the complexities of returning to Chile, as shared by Ruth Miranda and Luis Hernández. The lived experiences of the interview participants are unique and do not speak for all Chilean exiles and their families. At the same time, they do convey experiences shared by other Chilean exiles, such as being held prisoner or knowing people who were disappeared during the years of the military dictatorship. Taken together, the interviews provide a window into the realities of Chilean exiles in Canada.

In Part 1, the histories of the election and overthrow of Allende and its aftermath, and seeking refuge in Canada, are told through the perspective of the oral history interview participants. Part 2 is a reflection on three key themes that emerged from the interviews: Adjustments and Belonging, (Re)creating memory, and Political Consciousness.

Part I: From Chile to Canada

Ruth Miranda and her husband Pedro stayed in Chile for six years after the coup, getting married and starting a family. In 1979, Pablo and Ruth made the difficult decision to immigrate to Canada at the urging of Pedro’s brother who had immigrated immediately after the military coup. Hard and often traumatic choices defined Ruth’s experiences as a Chilean exile. But before the coup, Ruth’s everyday life, growing up in the 1950s and 1960s in a small town in Chile, encompassed a degree of normalcy and routine. Ruth paints a portrait of these early years in the following clip:

• Transcript

  [Ruth Miranda] My father was working in business, very small business and my mother was at home, taking care of a big house and doing a lot of gardening. That was her passion. Vegetable garden as well as flowers garden… And in both of them we have grape, grapes vine in the shape of a canopy that bring me a lot of memory because in the summer we used to eat under that canopy. And that’s why now here in Victoria I have my own grape vine in my balcony. And I eat grapes from that and I eat under there, that vine. It’s a beautiful memory…He (father) was in a small business selling, wine. In Chile, it’s a very, the production of wine is very good…So they transported wine from the north—not quite the north, but centre north—where they produce to small cities and small towns, so my father have a store with those barrel, and he was selling to people the wine there, that was the business. He also was selling at one point fruit from the north, watermelon and stuff like that…And I remember they sell in a small store there, in my town….it was only a one street town, almost like a village. But we have offices like the postal office, the municipality, we have the, an old theatre where they show movies. We have one, the vital statistic officer to marry people or do the, death certificate and stuff like that. And the church. That was one of the main building, the Catholic Church, where I went when I was a kid, when I was catholic. I used to go with my mother.

Jorge Hurtado was born in Santiago, Chile, and became active in the Socialist Party during his years as a university student. In the excerpt below from his oral history interview, Jorge describes being present during a speech by Salvador Allende following his election. Jorge mentions fellow students Carlos Lorca and Alejandro Rojas, who were also present at the university for the speech. Lorca was arrested in 1975 by Pinochet’s military regime and disappeared, and Rojas was also persecuted by the military dictatorship, but was able to escape to Europe, eventually coming to Canada.[6] Jorge conveys the importance of the politically-active student movement of the time, and their support for the new government. He also expresses the hope at the time for a broader sense of unity.

• Transcript

  [Jorge Hurtado] Well, I was a student. I was member of the Federación de Estudiantes de Chile, [Federation of Chilean Students] FECh, okay. Carlos Lorca was the president and Alejandro Rojas, a guy who live in Canada, too, he taught in Canada, he was a teacher…He taught here in York University and I think in, in Vancouver, too. He was the president of the, of the student movement in that moment in 1970. And they have a strong support. That's why Allende in his first speech after be elected, he talk from the balcony of the, of the student building. He's not talking in any place else. They, they pick, they want to talk, because they knew there he has big, big support and the strength coming from the young people in university. That's why. That's why he talk, and I was behind her, behind him, with a big flag. I remember Chilean flag, you know, and all my comrades, you know, Lorca and all that, like there when Allende talk from the balcony of the FECh. That show you, you know, how was the young generation involved, you know, involved in the change because over there in that moment, too, it was socialist, communist, and later on joined us, the Democratic Youth, too, the Christian Democratic Party, you know. They recognize, and they’re coming. And we give, I remember, in La Alameda, a big hug between the Christian Democratic, you know, and communist and socialist. Young people during university, you know, we want, you know, to try because it was absolutely democratic. We want to try.

Luis Hernández was born in Santiago, Chile. He went to technical school for mechanical maintenance, where he learned welding. By the early 1970s, Luis had steady employment, working as a welder. In this clip, Luis discusses going to work on the day of the military coup, 11 September, 1973. As with many life-altering events, Luis remembers exactly how he learned about the coup and where he was when it happened. He offers insight into what the first few days after the coup were like for him. Luis was not overtly political, but his dismissal from work and inability to find a new job led to his departure from Chile. His interview excerpt demonstrates that it was not necessary to be politically active to be cast as a subversive citizen by the military regime.

• Transcript

  [Luis Hernández] September the 11, 1973, everybody went to work that day. And I went to my regular shift like everybody else. But it was funny, because when I went to work, I used to have a small scooter, which was belonged to my brother. And when I used to go through the streets, everything was very empty. All the streets were empty. And I remember was two soldiers in the top of a bridge I used to, but it never come into my mind what is going to happen. Then I went to work. I start 7:00 in the morning. Around 9:00 they start coming the rumours there's something big happen. And around 11:00 was when they put the bombs, the planes through the government house. And then around maybe 12:00 or something like that, they told us it was a coup and we have to go home until new orders. And everybody went home. They say, "Go straight home, not in any other place, because you're going to be martial law." And that martial law was supposed to be for 24 hours, and after it became for 48 hours, and I believe so was 72 hours. For three days nobody go out on the street. I used to go to the top of the roof of my house, look around. But all military and police on the street, nobody else. And from there to the radio, they say, Okay, everybody back to work tomorrow. And everybody went back to work next day. And there was what, as soon as you go into your department was a, like welding department, was a list. People have to go home until they recall you or they call you and they get in touch with you, whatever. And more or less people knew by then, you just have to go home, no question asked. Everybody just look at and go. And from there, I never was able to found a job, because any time you went to look for a job, they just questioned you where you were working before and what you was doing before, what you did during 1970 to '73. And then the only solution was to leave.

Jorge L. Henriquez Ross was born in Antofagasta, Chile, working in mining safety after studying electrical engineering and industrial safety. During his studies, Jorge became politically involved and was a part of the underground resistance movement against the Pinochet regime. Jorge was eventually expelled from Chile, and came to Canada in 1975. Prior to this, he was imprisoned in the Puchuncaví concentration camp in central Chile. Guillermo Nuñes, a Chilean artist who also spent time in the same camp, noted: “Inside the Chilean prisons, a day, an hour can be a long, sorrowful period.”[7] Jorge describes his experiences in the Punchuncaví camp, amidst the sorrow, including his daily routine, the camp’s atmosphere, and the kinds of people who were taken prisoner. He also shares a brief story of hope, offering an insight that beauty can be found during the most difficult of times (warning: challenging content):

• Transcript

  Warning: challenging content.

  [Jorge L. Henriquez Ross] Puchuncaví was bigger. It was like a, those concentration camps you see in the movies, German Nazi movies. The same, same idea. Surrounded by wire, big towers with machine guns. And I was there until at the, the process back in order to, to come to Canada…There were different kind of prisoners, teachers, professors, doctors. Any kind, look what is the society, right. And there were two doctors as prisoners. And they talked to the—one was a doctor. The other one was student of the last year of medicine in one of the universities in Santiago. And they ask one of, one of the commanders, one of those lieutenants, if they could open a little clinic for us, the prisoners, you know, if you are, you have the flu or whatever, do something about it. And the people from, from the town knew that there were a little clinic in the, in the concentration camp so they started to come every day to see the doctors. And the doctors asked the commander, one of the commanders if they could, you know, do service to the people of the town. And everything was okay, so every, every afternoon from 2:00 to 5:00 p.m. from town went to the clinic to be, to see the doctor. And one morning, like it was like every other morning, getting up at 7:00, go and, and go march to, to sing the national anthem every day, every morning. So that camp was like we were enlisted and we were like, in military instruction. Was rough. And that day, that morning, one of the prisoners went running around the, the camp saying, "A baby was born last night here." One of the women of the town gave birth in the, in the little clinic. I don't know what happened to that baby. I mean, I know she, she survived. She must be near 40 now, something like that, if she's still alive. But it was a little, a little moment of happiness in the, in the camp in a place where you didn't know what was going to happen to you, and you have a new life. That was beautiful. I hope she's okay. It was a girl. I hope she's okay today.

Canada’s response to the 1973 coup d’état in Chile was not immediate. Jorge Hurtado shares his insights regarding the reasons the Canadian government did not initially support Chilean exiles fleeing the Pinochet regime. Jorge highlights the significance of non-government groups like churches, unions, and student groups in persuading Canadian officials to respond to the humanitarian crisis created by the military regime. Jorge’s insights highlight the broader political landscape of the Pinochet regime and Canadian fears over socialism and communism in Latin America, while also revealing the pain and fear experienced by Chileans seeking exile.

• Transcript

  [Jorge Hurtado] Canada was very late to answer, you know, to the violation of the human right in Chile…And it's late in 1974 that while I get out of jail that still I have to go to get help from Canada…To ask them if they can help me, you know, to leave the country…I have to say that our immigration, the political immigration is, was not decision of the government of Canada, whatever in that moment, to receive. It was the pressure of the, the church in Canada, the, the unions in Canada that students movement, student in university and NDP, to some kind political who put, demanding, you know, to make aware, you know, people have been tortured in Chile, and Canada supposed to do something…And later on, you know, and later on, they were very selective, and selective in that way that for the movement on the student and the church, people who came here were very high prepared, were very, high educated, you know. And that's why we have doctors here, professors in university that are writing books today.

Jorge Hurtado’s observations regarding the Canadian response are echoed by retired immigration officer Michael J. Molloy, who explains the pivot in government policy and procedure from his perspective as head of the refugee unit for the Canadian government during the 1970s. In his oral history interview, Michael observes the initial difficulty in responding to the Chilean crisis: “we all of sudden…started getting refugees from the other side of the spectrum—running away from the Right. Left-wing people running away from the Right. The Mounties, in particular, had a terrible time getting their heads around that one. All these people were potential communist subversives…The posture of our security screening apparatus was that the threat is coming…from the Soviet Union and its allies.” They were accustomed to a European constituency for refugees coming to Canada, many of whom were fleeing communist regimes. He also highlights the responses of the Canadian Anglican, United, and Catholic churches whose members wrote countless letters, urging Canada to accept more Chilean exiles on humanitarian grounds.[8] Church and other groups, as Jorge explained also, were primarily responsible for convincing the Canadian government that Chileans seeking asylum were civilians facing the fear of persecution, and/or expulsion under a military dictatorship.

José Contreras was born in Viña del Mar, Chile. His parents were doctors who worked in health care in support of Allende’s government, so immediately after the coup in 1973, José’s family went into hiding. His father sought asylum at the Honduran embassy in Chile, and José and his family fled to Honduras. The family arrived in Canada via Honduras in 1974. In the following clip, José offers insights into his family’s housing situation and what it was like growing up in Delano Place in Scarbourough, Ontario, a public-housing apartment complex inhabited by other Chilean families. José was a child during the coup, and his testimony reveals childhood desires and feelings, including those of enjoyment despite the dislocation:

• Transcript

  [José Contreras] October 20th. Totally remember. We were taken into like an office to be processed, and we had to just wait there and, forget, we're waiting forever. It felt like forever and ever and ever. And then our friend came to pick us up, a Chilean who was already here, Lucio Fornasari… Lucio's wife, Jimena…was my mum's, at first my mum's student. I think my mum was only like a few years older than her, but in university, like, she was like her TA or something like that… Lucio came to pick us up at the airport. It was October 20th. It was cold. It was really cold. And he took us to where we lived and where they lived, which was in Scarborough Ontario Housing. It was called Delano Place. It was right on the Scarborough bluffs…In our building, there was at least four Chilean families….I went from apartment to apartment. I had friends in every apartment… I did well in communal living like that, like it just went from family to family… I think we were there like probably two years, and I loved our apartment, although I know that it was hard. Like again, maybe I loved it because we were together. And there was a lot of celebration around things like, you know, we had nothing. So if we bought coats, it was a big deal. Or like if when we got a TV, it was a big deal. It's like, “Yay, we got a TV.” And this was 1974. Like it was black and white. I thought it was great.

After immigrating in 1979, Ruth Miranda and her family stayed in Winnipeg, Manitoba for seven months before moving to British Columbia. Ruth found work in Victoria as a house cleaner and eventually worked with the Inter-Cultural Association of Greater Victoria, where she provided settlement support to new immigrants. Ruth discusses this work in the following clip, and demonstrates how she aimed to make a positive contribution in her work with clients, primarily seniors in the Victoria community. Ruth emphasizes the significance of family for her life in Canada, and described the work ethic she learned from her brother

• Transcript

  [Ruth Miranda] It was easy for me to go back to school because I was young. But, but I have my children and for me the main thing was the children, so I did as much as I could with what I have, with what I learn, with what I was offered to and, yes though, I’m very grateful and I’m very happy to have the work ethic that I learned from my family, my family of origin. Mainly from my brother, again, because he was the one who was teaching all of us; it good to work, when you work your work. Never try to deceive anybody, or to, you know to be with the truth, and I think that pay off to me because when I was working with senior, I treat them with respect, I leave the job thinking that it was not machine I was, I was working with it was a person, it was a person behind that pain, or anything that they show me, I try to give a little bit of a smile to all of them, and I was successful many time, that I make them, I make joke to them I try to make a little bit of brightener in their, their loneliness mainly because much of them is loneliness. So I knew that when I was coming back next week they were happy to see because I gave them a little bit of happiness, or joy, you know to see something a little better than what they were always seeing. And fight, in pain, in loneliness. So that I think pay off because, I didn’t do it to get more money, I didn’t to it to—satisfaction, it a big satisfaction, rewarding to have to do a job well done with a little bit you have.

Part 2: Reflection

This part of the oral history essay explores the ways in which these six Chileans remember the coup and think about its history decades later. We see their processes of reflection from the vantage point of time in three themes: adjusting and belonging, (re)creating memory, and political consciousness.

Adjusting and Belonging

Ruth Miranda discusses working with the Inter-Cultural Association of Greater Victoria and the stories she heard from immigrants over the years. “They tell you everything is perfect there. They idealize the country,” she says. “They idealize everything is better. The fruit is better, the meat is better, the, and they miss everybody, even the cat in the house, they grandmother, everybody.” Ruth highlights how nostalgia can impact the ways immigrants perceive their new country. “I haven’t seen anybody that come: ‘Oh, this is perfect,’” she shares. Ruth emphasizes the work that immigrants do to balance their nostalgia for their old home and their less-than-perfect experiences in their new one.

• Transcript

  [Ruth Miranda] I see many people from countries that are in war and they go to my office and they start to tell me, “Oh yeah.” When they go through that denial, they tell me, “It was, my country was dangerous.” And so on— just like it was ten years in Chile. And so they tell you that but, and they tell you everything is perfect there. They idealize the country. They idealize everything is better. The fruit is better, the meat is better, the, and they miss everybody, even the cat in the house, they grandmother, everybody. So it is so different and I tell them it totally natural, it’s totally normal. That’s the way we do it, in order to get there. I haven’t seen anybody that come: “Oh, this is perfect.”

Luis Hernández discusses returning to Chile and grappling with the concept of “home.” After returning to the boulevard where he lived almost a decade later, Luis did not find anybody he used to know, and also encountered fear and mistrust among those who stayed in Chile. “Everybody move or everybody went away. And nobody want to say anything about anybody.” Luis acknowledges that a place he once called home may not end up being home forever: “It was sad, but it's nothing you can do. Your family here, your life is here…And eventually this is my home.” In his recognition that home is wherever you find yourself, Luis offers a message of acceptance–one that encompasses the sadness of loss.

• Transcript

  [Luis Hernández] After eight years I went back to Chile, my parents, they were already moving from where I grow up. And then I knew nobody. And when I went back to my boulevard, I didn't found anybody. Everybody move or everybody went away. And nobody want to say anything about anybody. Because I went, I went to the grandmother of one of my closest friend when I grow up with them, and I ask, I told who I am. I think so she recognize me or no. And I ask her if she can tell me where she was, his grandson. And I told who I am, and I give you a phone number where she can give it to him to phone me. And they never reply me and they told me she didn't know where he was, her grandson. People they don't want, in those days, people were still very, very afraid of when somebody coming to your door and say, I'm Luis, I used to live here, and I'm looking for your — nobody want to say where he was, what he was doing or where he was working. I don't know why, but that what happened. And then when you don't found anybody, it's very difficult for you to go back. Because all the road, they're gone. Only Mum and Dad, and Mum and Dad was already old and they don't want to came to Canada. It was, it was sad, but it's nothing you can do. Your family here, your life is here, you know. You have to get back. And eventually this is my home.

(Re)creating Memory

In his interview, Jorge L. Henriquez Ross talks about the novel he is writing based on Chile and the coup. Jorge emphasizes that the book is about people he knew and only includes a little from his own experiences: “It's…a little bit my story…it's based on those two friends that I had that the one disappear in July '75 and the other one was executed. Both of them put together as the girl in the book. And I take many other things that have happened around me in the concentration camp, other people.” There is a sense of the need for distance when recreating memory from the trauma of the Pinochet years. He focuses on experiences of others instead of himself and his writing is fiction rather than memoir or historical study. Jorge also says, in a wistful tone, “some day I'm going to publish it,” suggesting an ongoing process of reflection and remembrance—some day the novel may be published, but writing it is as important as finishing it.

• Transcript

  Warning: challenging content.
  [Jorge L. Henriquez Ross] I wrote a book about the experience. But it's fiction. It's not a statistic study of whatever happened in Chile or political point of views. No. It's fiction. It's story of, a little bit my story, but it begins in, when the, this person is young, from being a child, student, worker, exile. And of course, in, when he's a student, met a girl, they become couple. And story, he comes to Canada as a political exile and she disappears in Chile. And it's based on those two friends that I had that the one disappear in July '75 and the other one was executed. Both of them put together as the girl in the book. And I take many other things that have happened around me in the concentration camp, other people. I put it into this person, this man in the book… It has also a lot of humour. Some day I'm going to publish it.

While Jorge participates in the act of reflection and remembrance first-hand, Pablo Abarca Calderón, born in Santiago, Chile almost two decades after the 1973 coup, and shortly after the end of the military dictatorship, explores generational trauma and memory. His understanding of the Allende government and Pinochet regime comes from family and historical research, rather than first-hand experience. In the following clip, he discusses the experiences of his grandfather, Marcos Luis Abarca Zamorano, focusing on how he began to learn about his grandfather’s experiences during the military regime through a published account, rather than first-hand knowledge. Pablo also shares his thoughts on Allende, and the impact of the Cold War. The trauma of the time has affected both those who lived through it, and also their children and grandchildren, and Pablo’s observations reveal the persistence of intergenerational memory:

• Transcript

  Warning: Challenging Content
  [Pablo Abarca Calderón] Unfortunately, well, the situation in Chile during that time was not very good. The atrocities of Pinochet killed peoples’ life in many ways: educational, cultural, socially. And my father was not the exception. My grandfather—or his father—was tortured by the Pinochet regime. He had social ideas, socialist ideas, and, he was tortured—He was at the Victor Jara Stadium, in that time called Chile’s—Estadio Chile. And then he was in National Stadium. He was there, I could say, two months, I think. And then he was in, in another place, called Chacabuco in northern Chile, in Antofagasta, in the middle of nowhere. I have read about that thing, and the atrocities that they made was honestly unforgivable…In some way, my grandfather was lucky in some way because he, he could return to his home, but many people didn’t have that luck, in some way. Many people disappeared during that time, and we don’t know what, we still don’t know what, what they happened…what happened with them…Salvador Allende was very popular in Chile. He, I think, or I believe he was very advanced in, during that time. He had great ideas. He really wanted to make Chile as some modern state, but the influence of the United States in Chile, and in Latin America in general, is huge. So, from the international perspective, we got to remember that it was the Cold War; it was between the ideas, socialist and the capitalism, and of course, the United States will never allow a communist or a socialist ideas in Latin America.

Pablo’s grandfather did not share his experiences directly with his grandson. Pablo learned about them through the memoir One Hundred Voices Break the Silence.[9] “I read his testimony; of course, I cried, a lot,” he says. “And I started to, to search more about what happened and all those atrocities.” By educating himself, Pablo generates his own thoughts and interpretations of events: “He was…in a union,” Pablo shares, but “he was never a terrorist, because everybody thinks, like, if you’re a communist, you’re a terrorist, you’re—but no, he, he wanted a more fair country.” Pablo thinks his grandfather was jailed and tortured, “because he was a member of the union at his work.” Pablo’s reflection demonstrates the intergenerational trauma caused by the coup, and reveals how violent historical events can continue to have real impacts upon people decades later.

• Transcript

  [Pablo Abarca Calderón] I always heard that my grandfather was tortured, but of course when you are a child, you don’t know what that means. But he, he gave his testimony in a book that calls Cien voces rompen el silencio, like One Hundred Voices Breaks the Silence—Break the Silence. And I read his testimony; of course, I cried –a lot. And, and I started to, to search more about what happened and all those atrocities, of course…He was in a, in a union, yep. He was, he, but he never, he was never a terrorist, like, because everybody thinks, like, if you’re a communist, you’re a terrorist, you’re—but no, he, he wanted a more fair country. That, that was, that was all. And I think that was, that was the main reason that he was jailed and he was tortured, of course. That—that’s because he was a member of the union at his work and—yeah.

Political Consciousness

José Contreras makes an observation in his interview about people he has met in his travels, non-Latinos in particular, who knew about the Chilean exile crisis, something he thinks reflects a shift in political consciousness internationally. “Really surprised in my travels how many people know I'm Chilean and know exactly what's going on,” José explains. “I'd be talking to a 24-year-old art student in wherever, and they know exactly…what was going on with Chile back then.” José reveals the potential impact of non-participants in historical events holding collective knowledge. “So maybe the consciousness is growing.” José’s reflection shows a path forward; a hope for a future where awareness of the coup, and similar historical events, help shape a less violent world.

• Transcript

  [José Contreras] I'm really surprised at the consciousness, the number of people that know what happened in Chile. Young people, old people, White people, non-Latinos. Really surprised in my travels how many people know I'm Chilean and know exactly what's going on. I'd be like talking to like a 24-year-old art student in wherever, and they know exactly…what was going on with Chile back then. So maybe the consciousness is growing.

Jorge Hurtado offers a similar sentiment. “We think that keeping the memory alive,” he notes, will “help many, many people in another country.” Jorge uses his expertise on politics to offer a warning about citizen inaction: “I hope never happen in Canada something like that, but it's very important to keep the memory to get the lesson. It's so fragile, democracy, and it's so—costs a lot to keep it, maintain it, you know. But it's so fragile.” José offers hope regarding growing consciousness, while Jorge offers a call to action.

• Transcript

  [Jorge Hurtado] We want to keep the memory alive because we think that keeping the memory alive help many, many people in another country, you know. We never know. I hope never happen in Canada something like that, but it's very important to keep the memory to get the lesson. It's so fragile, democracy, and it's so—costs a lot to keep it, maintain it, you know. But it's so fragile.

Conclusion: A Unique Struggle

The Pinochet regime ended in 1990, a significant time as well for a shift in Cold War politics. In the decades in between the end of the Second World War and the fall of the Berlin Wall, Canada was one of the leading countries for accepting refugees.[10] Yet, Chilean exiles were initially met with hostility and fear from the Canadian government.[11] Unlike refugees who fled communism and thus aligned with Western democracy and capitalism, Chilean exiles fled a right-wing regime, and so their ideology not only differed from, but also threatened, Canada’s political views and economic alignments. While Canada did eventually accept Chilean exiles and respond to the crisis, their slow response was also related to their recognition of the Pinochet regime as the “legitimate government of Chile.”[12] On the other hand, the pivot on policy and procedure that took place on humanitarian grounds after the 1973 coup d’état in Chile also helped pave the way for Guatemalans, Colombians, and other Latin Americans seeking refuge in Canada in the 1980s and beyond.

Thousands of Chilean exiles have found a home in Canada, including Ruth Miranda, Jorge Hurtado, Jorge L. Henriquez Ross, Luis Hernández, and José Contreras. Their willingness to share their insights and experiences through oral history interviews, along with Pablo Abarca Calderón and Michael J. Molloy, represent an invaluable contribution to the historical record about this unique moment in Canada’s history.