The September 25, 1978, issue of the Wall Street Journal carried a four-page advertisement on Argentina that reveals the expertise of a public relations firm. Propaganda pieces entitled "Politic? for Investment in Argentine Industries" and "Argentina: an Economic Overview" in the form of "articles" are interspersed with regular ads, giving the reader the impression of four pages of ordinary copy. While the advertisement itself is relatively trivial, it acquires significance because the arguments it advances are obviously those that the present regime would like to present to the U.S. and other countries. It is the item called "On the Question of Human Rights" that draws the special attention of Amnesty International and others well informed on this subject in today's Argentina.

She's an airline hostess, with the conventional beauty of the type. Above an open and smiling face the copy reads: “Lindsay MacGowan's grandfather came from Glasgow. Her grandmother came from Dublin. She wants to fly you home with her to Argentina.”

Lindsay and two of her compatriots were featured in an advertising campaign for Aerolineas Argentinas late last year. Their purpose was to persuade American readers of Business Week that Argentina and its national airline are European, which presumably suggests efficiency and, as the ad puts it, customer treatment that is “Stylish and rather grand,” not South American, which suggests the opposite.

In recent years no country in Latin America has played a more important role in raising questions about the goals and instruments of U.S. foreign policy than Chile. The revelations of U.S. involvement in the overthrow of the Allende government opened the door to far-reaching criticisms of the activities of U.S. intelligence agencies and helped generate the Carter administration's human rights policy. Today this policy is facing one of its sternest tests in Chile.

When at last they allowed him in he saw that they had begun work on the Moneda. They had rebuilt the bombed portions of the walls. They put new mortar over the scorched parts and they refilled the bullet holes. But the rubble remained piled up inside. He suspected they took it out at night. It was another country, more placid. Compared to the way it had been it was now a cemetery. But that metaphor had been overused. After dark, a liquid silence filled the streets. The military curfew was enforced; night prowlers were shot, it was said. The iron gates of the Hotel Crillon clanged shut at eight o'clock. He had made it back just in time.

To many Spaniards the country's journey back to democratic rule probably seems like a wild toboggan ride. The hectic succession of developments this year has done little to belie that impression.

During December, 1978, Spain's post-Franco constitution was adopted and the parliamentary elections that took place within three months, on March 1, resulted in major changes in the political balance. Then, on April 3, came the first municipal elections Spain has held since the Thirties, producing unprecedented gains for the Left. By May what little political calm the country managed to preserve was diminished even further by the onset of a severe crisis within the Socialist Workers' party, the country's second most important political force. The midyear negotiations between Prime Minister Adolfo Suarez and the major political groups did arrive at long last at an accord on autonomy status for the Basque and Catalonian regions, a development that served to break up a major political logjam.

The Faith and Order Commission of the World Council of Churches met for two weeks last August in Bangalore, India. Future historians may conclude that Bangalore marked the end of what is called secular ecumenism. But first, a little of what led up to these developments.

After the Commission's meeting in Montreal (1963) it seemed to many that the direct path to ecclesial unity had been blocked. The goal of the World Council of Churches (WCC), to bring about a greater unity among the churches, seemed to some no longer possible and to others no longer desirable. But the majority hoped that both unity and effective witness could be better advanced if the WCC took a detour, focusing on the urgent political and social problems facing all the churches.

During the Indian Emergency a cartoon appeared in a Sri Lanka newspaper that depicted two Gandhi-capped congressmen in conversation, one of them saying: "The thing I really miss is lecturing the Western nations on how to run a democracy." If there has been resistance in the past to Indian lectures, there is now widespread openness to learning from India's nineteen-month Emergency. There may be lessons for all countries that claim to be democratic.

The modern history of the quest to control the arms race and to seek disarmament has not been distinguished by religious leadership in this area. That is, until now. Today, our major Protestant and Catholic churches are addressing themselves to these problems with a sense of urgency that would amaze Christians of even the last generation. While this is prompted by a renewed interest in the Social Gospel, it is also inspired by the realization that our entire civilization is in jeopardy due to the arms race which threatens us all.