[1968–1980] Revolutionary Government of the Armed Forces

In the pre-dawn quiet of October 3, 1968, the old order in Peru crumbled not with a bang, but with the rumble of tanks on the cobblestones of Lima. The democratically elected president, Fernando Belaúnde Terry, was roused from his bed in the Government Palace. He was escorted out, still in his pajamas, and put on a plane to Argentina. There was no bloodshed, no great battle. It was a swift, decisive, and utterly transformative act. At the head of this coup was a stern, imposing figure: General Juan Velasco Alvarado. This was not just another South American military takeover. This was the beginning of a radical experiment, what Velasco and his fellow officers called the *Gobierno Revolucionario de la Fuerza Armada*—the Revolutionary Government of the Armed Forces. To understand why this happened, you must understand the Peru that existed before. It was a country of stark, almost feudal, contrasts. A tiny, powerful oligarchy, a few dozen families of European descent, controlled nearly all the nation's wealth, land, and political power from their magnificent colonial-era mansions in Lima. The vast majority of the population, particularly the indigenous Quechua and Aymara-speaking peoples of the Andes, lived in crushing poverty, many as landless peasants, or *campesinos*, working on vast estates called *haciendas* in conditions not far removed from serfdom. Foreign capital, especially from the United States, dominated key sectors like mining and oil, operating with a degree of impunity that bred deep national resentment. Velasco, himself the son of a lower-middle-class family from the northern city of Piura, was not a member of the Lima elite. He had risen through the military ranks and, along with a generation of officers trained in a new, socially-conscious curriculum at the Center for Higher Military Studies (CAEM), saw this inequality not just as an injustice, but as a threat to national security. They believed that only a top-down, authoritarian "revolution" could break the back of the oligarchy and forge a truly sovereign Peruvian nation, one that was "neither capitalist nor communist." The first, decisive blow came just six days after the coup. Velasco’s government seized the assets of the International Petroleum Company (IPC), a subsidiary of Standard Oil of New Jersey, which had long been a symbol of American economic dominance and a source of national humiliation over a decades-long tax dispute. The oil fields of La Brea y Pariñas were expropriated, and October 9th was declared the "Day of National Dignity." Across the country, Peruvians celebrated. It felt like a declaration of economic independence. But the centerpiece of Velasco’s project was the Agrarian Reform Law of 1969. Its slogan echoed across the Andes: *"Campesino, el patrón ya no comerá más de tu pobreza."*—"Peasant, the master will no longer feed from your poverty." It was one of the most sweeping land reforms ever attempted in Latin America. The great *haciendas* were dismantled. In total, over 9 million hectares of land—roughly the size of Portugal—were expropriated and redistributed, not to individual peasants, but to large, state-managed agricultural cooperatives. For millions who had known only servitude, it was a moment of profound liberation. The social pyramid of Peru, which had stood for centuries, was violently shaken. The revolution extended into the cultural fabric of the nation. For the first time, the Quechua language, spoken by millions, was made an official language alongside Spanish. Educational reforms aimed to create a "New Peruvian Man," proud of his indigenous heritage. The image of Túpac Amaru II, the indigenous leader who led a rebellion against the Spanish in the 18th century, was resurrected as a national symbol of resistance, his stern face appearing on bank notes and government posters. For a time, the revolution seemed to work. High global prices for Peru’s exports, like copper and fishmeal, fueled the government’s ambitious spending. Lima saw the construction of imposing, Brutalist-style government buildings, like the monolithic Petroperú headquarters, monuments of concrete and glass that symbolized the state’s new, central role in the economy. But the revolutionary fire that burned so brightly began to consume itself. The state-run cooperatives were often inefficient and poorly managed by military appointees with no agricultural experience. Food production stagnated. The nationalized industries, from fishing to mining to cement, were plagued by bureaucracy and a lack of investment. To finance its vast projects, the government borrowed heavily. Between 1968 and 1975, Peru’s foreign debt ballooned from around $700 million to nearly $3 billion. The government’s authoritarian side became more pronounced. Dissent was not tolerated. In 1974, Velasco expropriated all major newspapers and television stations, handing them over to organizations supposedly representing different sectors of society, but in reality, placing them under firm state control. The promise of popular participation soured into the reality of state propaganda. Daily life for many urban Peruvians became a struggle with shortages and rising prices. The initial nationalist euphoria gave way to a wearying uncertainty. Then, the revolution’s titan began to break down. In 1973, Velasco suffered a severe circulatory problem, leading to the amputation of his right leg. His health, and his grip on power, began to fail—a grim metaphor for his ailing political project. On August 29, 1975, while Velasco was at the Government Palace, his own Prime Minister, General Francisco Morales Bermúdez, launched an internal coup from the southern city of Tacna. It was known as the *Tacnazo*. Morales Bermúdez initiated the "Second Phase" of the revolution, which was, in essence, a retreat. He announced a rollback of Velasco’s more radical socialist policies, sought to mend fences with the United States, and implemented IMF-backed austerity measures. The price of gasoline doubled overnight, and food subsidies were slashed. The result was an explosion of social unrest. A massive general strike in July 1977 paralyzed the country, leading to violent clashes and dozens of deaths. The military, which had seized power to prevent social chaos, had now created it. Exhausted, and with its revolutionary project in tatters, the military had no choice but to engineer a return to civilian rule. A Constituent Assembly was elected in 1978 to write a new constitution. And in the elections of 1980, in a moment of profound historical irony, the very man the military had ousted in his pajamas twelve years earlier, Fernando Belaúnde Terry, was returned to the presidency. The revolution was over. It left behind a profoundly changed Peru. The old landowning oligarchy was shattered forever. The national consciousness, particularly the sense of indigenous identity, had been irrevocably altered. But it also left a legacy of economic disruption, immense foreign debt, and a deep-seated popular distrust of both the state and traditional politics—a volatile inheritance that would shape the turbulent decades to come.