The opening sentiment is clear: the past cannot be rewritten or erased, yet it offers lessons that can shape the present. Gabriel Boric’s remarks about Chile’s recent history set the tone for a renewed national conversation. Marking the 50th anniversary of the military coup, many Chileans reflect on the period after Salvador Allende’s government and the fourteen-year dictatorship. As September 2023 unfolds, the country revisits the wounds left by the generals’ rule, and Augusto Pinochet’s legacy remains a subject of ongoing analysis. Since mid-March, public attention has gravitated toward television as a key platform for these reflections. A six-part documentary series titled Accepted, Missing Story airs on Sunday evenings, presenting a careful, documentary perspective on these events.
The investigation of state-sponsored adoptions during the dictatorship reveals a painful chapter in which hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Chilean children were separated from their birth families. Judge Mario Carroza has estimated that up to 20,000 children may have passed through this system, often with foreign destinations and bland, evasive explanations for their separation. In many cases mothers were told erroneously that their child had died at birth, while documents were signed under pressure or misrepresentation. Medical staff, clergy, and certain officials colluded to place these children with foreign couples. One adult in the documentary recalls the moment of contact: the family came to fetch them, the plane ride occurred, and the truth was withheld about origins and identity. These testimonies illuminate a trauma that continues to echo through generations.
complaint documentaries
Leighton, who was eight when Pinochet seized power, entered the regime’s inner workings while filming Colonia Dignidad: A German sect in Chile. The most recent series, developed with Daniela Bunster, travels to Sweden, the Netherlands, France, Germany, and the southern regions of Chile where many adopted children originated. The project did not begin in a vacuum; in 2014 CIPER, the investigative journalism center, uncovered how a priest named Gerardo Joannon is linked to a scheme involving presumed-dead children placed for adoption. Further scholarship by university researchers such as Karen Alfaro has expanded the story, including a study on Chilean boys and girls adopted by Swedish families. The Cold War era, marked by diplomatic ties and political maneuvering, shapes these narratives, with Sweden’s stance during the 1973–1990 period leaving lasting impressions on negotiations and emigration patterns. The transnational dimension of these adoptions highlighted how the dictatorship leveraged international connections to support its political aims, a point reinforced by subsequent documentary work that examines these ties more closely.
hatred of the poor
Leighton’s documentary connects deeply with the personal histories of adopted Chileans, such as Alejandro Quezada, who was raised by a Dutch family. Quezada’s advocacy work, including the campaign Chilean Adoptions Worldwide, emphasizes the personal toll of enforced adoption policies. His own journey underscores a broader reality: the dictatorship’s stance often suppressed the voices and rights of the poorest families, with indigenous Mapuche communities bearing a disproportionate burden. This pattern resonates with broader Latin American histories, where eugenic practices were not isolated to Chile. Martina Yopo, director of the Observatory for Inequality at Diego Portales University, has noted parallels in regional history, including past sterilization programs that targeted rural and indigenous women in neighboring countries. These observations situate Chile’s experience within a larger arc of human rights concerns from the era.
The timing of these revelations, overlapping with one of the most turbulent moments in half a century of Chilean history, adds weight to the documentary’s mission. Leighton argues that visibility and testimony are essential to understanding what happened and why. The documentary invites viewers to confront a gate of hell opened in September 1973 and to acknowledge the human cost of political violence. The aim is not only to recount events but to foster collective memory that supports accountability and healing.
Broadcasts in the evening on TVN, including Chapter 4 titled Accepted, Our Missing Story, explore how international adoption has produced a range of consequences that persist today. The ongoing, nuanced discussion about the past—both personal and national—constitutes a vital effort to heal wounds and to learn from history. Contemporary discourse emphasizes the need for transparency and accountability in past abuses, recognizing that memory work is an essential step toward reconciliation.
In late-night social media commentary, Christian Leighton notes that the struggle to uncover truth about forced adoptions continues. Advocates emphasize the importance of judicial processes that establish criminal accountability and sanctions for those involved. They also highlight the necessity of recognizing victims’ suffering and implementing effective reparations. These themes are echoed by scholars monitoring transitional justice and the long arc of policy reform in post-dictatorship Chile.
As the six-year mark arrives since the Supreme Court assigned Judge Carroza to lead the investigations, new commitments have emerged. Sweden has pledged to clarify more than 2,000 irregular adoptions of Chilean children, and the Chilean government has launched pilot initiatives to accelerate the search for victims living abroad. DNA sampling has been made more accessible, providing a practical path for individuals seeking roots and closure. The evolving legal and administrative framework signals a broader move toward redress, even as recognition of past harms remains incomplete and contested.