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Summary: The election of Pope Francis has thrown a spotlight on his conduct as a priest under Argentina's military dictatorship in the late 70s and early 80s, and in particular at what point he found out about one of the country's most shameful episodes: the disappearance of pregnant women and their babies.
[11 April 2013] - Nearly a month has passed since the Roman Catholic Church elected its first leader from Latin America and the international media has been treated to a whirlwind blitz of eye-catching tales and images. Pope Francis appears to be what Argentinians would say is "campechano" - approachable, "matey", even. He has washed and kissed the feet of women and Muslims, inscribed his autograph on plaster casts of injured pilgrims and has even telephoned his old Buenos Aires news vendor to cancel his newspaper order. And perhaps most eye-catchingly of all, he has said he wants to see as a priority "a poor Church for the poor". It has all been perceived as a breath of fresh air. The stuffy papacy, which resembled a mediaeval monarchy, some say, is now gone. But lurking beneath the surface are pressing concerns that threaten to dog Jorge Mario Bergoglio from his time as Jesuit superior and cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church in Argentina. Within 24 hours of the white smoke from the Sistine Chapel, allegations emerged that he withdrew protection from two of his fellow Jesuits during the early years of the brutal military dictatorship of 1976 to 1983, which resulted in their captivity and torture. The Vatican acted swiftly to deny the claims. The remaining surviving priest, Fr Francisco Jalics, issued an initial statement saying he was "reconciled with these events". The words appeared ambiguous. Might he be saying he was betrayed but has now forgiven the Pope for his betrayal? A week later, a more robust statement was issued from his secluded monastery in southern Germany, saying that it was "wrong to assert that our capture took place at the initiative of Father Bergoglio". Any suggestion of a smoking gun appeared to have been extinguished. But can Bergoglio's efforts to be a witness for justice during the dark days of the military regime compare with those of Oscar Romero, the archbishop from El Salvador, whose uncompromising criticism of government death squads and oppression of the poor led to him being assassinated in 1980 as he celebrated Mass? "Bergoglio was not a Romero. Very few people were like that," says Ivan Petrella, religious affairs commentator at think tank Fundacion Pensar in his Buenos Aires office. But if Romero scored 10 on a 10-point scale for his courageous stand, how had the current Pope fared? "I´d say 7.5," says Petrella. "Allegations against him have no basis in evidence." But there is another story that demands answers - the supremely toxic affair of "disappeared" pregnant women, who gave birth to their children while being held in detention centres. Most of the mothers were murdered and their children handed on to "deserving" couples who were well connected with the brutal military junta. This is very much a live political issue. A number of the children have discovered the painful truth about their past, while hundreds more still remain blissfully ignorant of their parentage. The campaigning grandmothers assert that many priests and nuns were complicit in what happened and are still at large in society. They show no sign of letting the matter rest. At first sight, this is not an issue that should threaten Pope Francis. In 2010 he was asked in front of a state tribunal when he first knew of the cases of children being taken from their mothers. BBC Radio 4's The Report has managed to track down the audio from his testimony in which he says, initially: "Recently, about 10 years ago." Then he pauses, and corrects himself. "No, it must have been around the time of the military junta trial." The mid-1980s, in other words.