Human Rights and Fair Trade Club


This site is dedicated to the 30,000 people that were taken from their homes, jobs, and off the streets during the military rule in Argentina from the year 1976 to 1983. We honor Los desaparecidos (the disapeared ones) and hope to give them a voice to help bring justice to those who are and were victims of human rights abuses. After reading their testimonials and studying the history, literature, and art inspired by them, we felt the need to do the same. It is important that their stories are not forgotten and that they are recognized.

30,000 people disappeared and were taken from their homes during the military rule in Argentina from 1978 - 1983.  This photo shows only 2,000 of them.

Above is a collage of only 2,000 of the victims; these photos remain the only evidence of their lives, they were abducted and were never seen or heard from again. Some who survived were able to share their stories in a public report called Nunca Más (Never Again). Visit the link to see the full text or please take some of your time to read a few of their testimonials below:

“My son was in the Hospital Alvear after being hit by a car. He was to have an operation on 15 May 1978. During the night of 12 May, a number of men in white coats appeared. They were armed. They forced the other patients in Ward 14 to stay in their beds and to cover their faces with the sheets, These men put Juan on a stretcher, covered him and took him away in an ambulance.” – Juan Di Bernardo

“We would be beaten up and tortured for the slightest transgression of certain rules of the detention camp. I saw this on numerous occasions. Any event related to repression outside the pozo (well or water hole), the death of a soldier, a gun battle, politically significant acts, events occurring in other parts of the world such as the advances of the Sandinista revolution, constituted a motive or pretext for intensifying the repression…” – Raul Romero

“At 12.30 a.m. on 24 March 1976, our house in Villa Rivera Indarte in Cordoba province was broken into by men in uniform carrying rifles. They identified themselves as belonging to the Army, and were accompanied by a number of youths in casual dress. They trained their guns on us while they stole books, objets of art, bottles of wine, etc., which the uniformed men carried outside. They did not talk to each other, but communicated by snapping their fingers. The looting of our house lasted for over two hours; before the raid there had been a blackout in all the neighbouring streets. My husband, a trade union official, my son, David, and myself were abducted. I was freed the next day. My son was freed some time later, after being held in the La Ribera camp. Our house was completely destroyed. My husband’s body was found with seven bullet wounds in the throat.” – Wife of Alberto Santiago Burnichon

“My mother was taken to the shop and, threatening her life, they beat her in a way that should not even be used on wild animals. In the shop we had a ventilator fan. They cut the cable, plugged it in and used it to give her electric shocks. So that it would have more effect, they poured mineral water over my mother, whom they had tied to a chair. While they were committing this savagery, another one of them was hitting her with a belt until her body was bleeding and her face disfigured. After some considerable time they decided to take us all with them, except for the six-month-old Viviana, who was left behind with Griselda, my thirteen-year-old sister.” – Carlos Alberto Campero

“At 6 p.m. on 10 August 1976, a group of soldiers under the command of Lieutenant Flores went in a truck to the Santa Lucia sugar mill and arrested my son, who was working in the store there. They brought him to our home, where they threatened me and his father. They searched everywhere, then left with my son. We never heard anything more of him.” – Mother of Juan de Dios Gomez

“At one point when I was asleep they awoke me with a kick. I should explain that we slept on the floor, lying in urine.” – Danial Oswaldo Piña

“With the hood on, I became fully aware of my complete lack of contact with the outside world. There was nothing to protect you, you were completely alone. That feeling of vulnerability, isolation and fear is very difficult to describe. The mere inability to see gradually undermines your morale, diminishing your resistance … The hood became unbearable, so much so that one Wednesday, transfer day, I shouted for them to have me transferred: Me … me … 571. The hood had achieved its aim, I was no longer Lisandro Raul Cubas, I was a number.” – Lisandro Raul Cubas


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