Américas

The Johns Hopkins Journal of Latin

American Studies

Volume V

2016

Published By

The Johns Hopkins University

Program in Latin American Studies

Baltimore, Maryland

Américas, the Johns Hopkins Journal of Latin American Studies, was established in 2005 by

students and faculty at the Johns Hopkins University under the endorsement of the

Program in Latin American Studies. Our mission is to provide a multi-disciplinary forum

for students and scholars to present and discuss articles pertaining to Latin America, its

issues, and its diaspora.

Our website is available at http://americasjhu.org.

Américas, the Johns Hopkins Journal of Latin American Studies

Published By

The Johns Hopkins University

Program in Latin American Studies

3400 N. Charles St.

Baltimore, MD 21218

United States of America

Table of Contents

Acknowledgement and Journal Staff……………………………………………………………………..…………1

Letter from the Editor-in-Chief………………………………………………………………………...……………...2

Growing Dependence of Soy in Argentina, Brazil, and Bolivia…………………………………………...4 Katie Chang

“During times of famine, sweet potatoes have no skin”: Is U.S. Food Aid

Making Haitians Hungrier?................................................................................................................................12 Gretchen Shaheen

The Effects of the Colombian Conflict: Education, Inequality, and Desplazados…………………20 Corey Payne

Transnational Class Symbiosis: Nikkeijin and Elite Predilections………………….…………………32 Bryan Ricciardi

The Dragon in the Andes: Chinese Investment in Peru and Ecuador………………….…………….40 Nicholas Widmyer

Nationalism, Race, and Archaeology in South America…………………………………………..………..51 Maria Camila Bustos

The Roots of Dominican-Haitian Relations………………………………………………………….………….59 Alexandra McManus

NAFTA in Mexico: Transnational Agriculture and Rural Society……………………………………...66 Kathryne Cui

Special Feature: Exclusive Interview with Dr. Luis Miguel Castilla, Peruvian

Ambassador to the United States…………………………………………………………………………………...77

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Acknowledgement

We would like to thank our incredibly talented editors for investing so much of their time and

attention into each piece. Without them, this publication would not have been made possible.

We also owe gratitude to our contributing authors, who worked tirelessly to ensure that the

quality of their articles would be of the highest caliber. Finally, we would like to thank the

Program in Latin American Studies for its financial and programmatic support during the

publication process.

Journal Staff

Editor-in-Chief Aishwarya Raje

Faculty Advisors Eduardo González Magda von der Heydt-Coca

Managing Editor Annie Cho

Editing Team Allison Keller

Amanda Hernández

Daisy Duan

Gabriela Rico

Gugan Raghuraman

Guillermo Herrera

Julia Wargo

Ryan Lucas

Sarah Schreib

Sofia Schonenberg

Copy Editors Aishwarya Raje

Guillermo Herrera

Financial Manager Alex Sadler

Cover Design Maya Kahane

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Letter from the Editor-in-Chief

Dear Readers,

This year, we were fortunate enough to receive submissions that covered a vast range of topics in

the context of Latin American Studies, and have chosen to publish the articles that we believe best

exemplify the goals of Américas: to provide a multi-disciplinary forum for students and scholars to

present and discuss articles pertaining to Latin America, its issues, and its diaspora. The pieces

chosen for this publication offer views into the multifaceted components of Latin American politics,

economics, and cultures that make the region so fascinating to study.

This edition of Américas serves as a revival of the publication after not having been published

since 2013. I was not sure how committed a brand new group of editors and contributors

would be for the journal, but I was lucky enough to work with a team that is not only incredibly

hard-working, but has a genuine passion for the study of Latin America. With each article

submission, I became more and more impressed with the level of creativity and eloquence that

each author presented. Whether it was Katie Chang analyzing the increasing reliance on

soybean production in Argentina, Brazil, and Bolivia, Gretchen Shaheen’s perspective of the

potentially negative effects of U.S. food aid to Haiti, or Corey Payne’s account of his personal

experience as a teacher in a UN-funded school for desplazados in Bogotá, each article offered a thought-provoking view of issues we may only have a baseline knowledge of.

Bryan Ricciardi takes us through the history of Japanese immigration to Brazil, and how the

population was exploited by Brazilian elites for their own economic gain. Nicholas Widmyer

argues that in order for the increased amount of Chinese investments in Peru and Ecuador to

be beneficial for the countries’ communities, more civil society engagement is necessary in the host countries to create more a more meaningful partnership with Chinese investors.

Camila Bustos uses an archaeological perspective when discussing how ancient artifacts in

Latin America have contributed to the creation of national identities of specific countries.

Alexandra McManus takes a closer look at the history of Dominican-Haitian relations to

determine why the two countries still hold strong animosity towards each other. Examining

the effect of NAFTA policies in Mexico, Kathryne Cui considers the perspective of rural

landowners and the ramifications that NAFTA has had on agricultural production.

We conclude this edition of Américas with an exclusive interview with Peruvian Ambassador to

the United States, Dr. Luis Miguel Castilla. I would like to give special thanks to Américas editor

Guillermo Herrera for organizing and conducting this interview, which touches upon very

important topics such as e-governance in Peru and the country’s inclusion of rural, Andean

communities in the political process.

My hope is that this journal serves as a journey through Latin America. It will expose you, the

reader, to the struggles and injustices that many populations still face in the region, but will

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hopefully inspire a will to further promote the study of the region to gain a greater

understanding of how Latin America became what it is today. It is with great pride that I share

this edition of Américas with you.

Sincerely,

Aishwarya Raje ‘16

Editor-in-Chief

May 2016

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Growing Dependence of Soy in Argentina, Brazil, and Bolivia

Katie Chang

It is to no surprise that soy production is bringing in immense profits for the two Latin American giants—Brazil and Argentina—for natural resource exploitation has always been the norm in Latin America, and now Bolivia has joined the two giants to emerge as the third largest producer of soybeans in Latin America. Soy production largely expanded in the 1980s and continued booming due to the profitable application of neoliberal policies. The 21st century has marked an even greater scale of production with the help of new technologies that involves transgenic seeds and the zero-tillage system. Unfortunately, just like with other technological advances, negative repercussions ranging from socioeconomic to environmental problems have arisen and are only expected to get worse as the years progress.

The soy model in all three countries is based off of “transgenic seeds that are resistant to glyphosate, an agrochemical that kills off weeds and brushwood remaining in the field after the ‘no tillage’ system is applied, but that does not kill the transgenic seeds itself.”i One thing to note from soy production is the fact that only a small percent of soy is used for human consumption and the rest is processed for its oil and protein in the animal feeding industry. Due to its rich protein content, soy has become a key ingredient in livestock feed. Soybeans are also used in industrial products such as biodiesel fuel.ii The problem is that even the small usage of soy in human consumption is not applicable to the Latin American diet. Soy milk, soy flour, soy tofu, and other soy-retail products are food items that are much more common in Asian countries. Therefore, the emergence and increase of soybean production in the 21st century is simply history repeating itself, for it is no different from the cattle industry or the wheat industry in the late 19th and 20th century that marked the beginnings of an extractive economy in Argentina.

Argentina has historically been one of few Latin American countries that was able to self-produce and self-consume, meaning the economy was able to function on its own. The majority of food that was consumed by its people on a daily basis was produced locally from small and medium sized farms largely made up of family units. This was a key strength of Argentine agriculture.iii However, neoliberal policies established in the 1990s during the Menem regime had a significant impact on the status quo in Argentine agriculture. The deregulation decree passed in 1991 suddenly made Argentina one of the most deregulated countries in the world allowing transnational corporations to completely dominate the market.iv Not only did it allow for transnational corporations to buy off small and medium sized firms, but it also created a system mainly based on export commodities,

Katie Chang is a rising senior at Johns Hopkins University majoring in International Studies and Spanish, with a minor in Entrepreneurship and Management. This work was originally written for “Economic Sociology of Latin America”, a course taught by Dr. Magda von der Heydt-Coca. She would like to thank the professor for her time and guidance in the process of publishing this work. Katie is originally from Seoul, Korea.

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in this case, soy products. With the expansion of export came close-to-nothing agriculture for self-sustenance. Technological advancements of transgenic seeds have reduced the cost of labor and the use of fossil fuels, thus improving efficiency of the business, but has also caused major social problems in which land ownership is concentrated in the hands of either transnational

Corporations, foreign investors, or elite class individuals holding the land solely for export purposes, and not for their daily diet. It has also aggravated the unemployment situation in the rural area, creating more disparities between the rich and the poor. The emergence of technology makes it inevitable that Argentina depends on transnational corporations because the country does not have the proper resources or capacity to monitor and control the industrial processing of produce and the domestic and international marketing of production.

Figure 1v

According to the data gathered by CEPALSTAT, soy bean harvest has increased dramatically from 4.8 million hectares at 1991 to 19.4 million hectares at 2013, meaning the area used for soy harvest has increased about 307% from that of 1991. The only outliers from the data are 1996, 2005, and 2012, which can be explained by the Mexican peso crisis that carried over to the Argentine economy in 1995, major debt restructuring in 2005, and “sintonía fina” by the government in 2012.vi

As the largest producer of soy in Latin America, Brazil’s harvest area for soy was already marked at 10 million hectares in 1993 (CEPALSTAT). Soy production in Brazil started expanding during the 1970s when the Brazilian Enterprise for Agricultural Research (EMBRAPA) was established during the military regime. The objective was to research and harvest new crops to diversify export commodities to take advantage of the

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country’s rich land resources in the South. Although traditionally it has been Sao Paulo, Parana Santa Catarina, and Rio Grande do Sul that make up 40% of the yields in soy production, major growth in production has come from the cerrado areas ranging from open treeless grasslands to low growing dense forests. These cerrados were cleared by crawler tractors and cutting out heavy brush to support the expansion of soy production. The Brazilian government is the major sponsor for this transformation of cerrados and it has done so by creating research centers throughout the country and having scientists work on plant breeding. It is estimated that “60% of the varieties being grown today are varieties the Brazilian government has developed.”vii

As seen from this map that depicts the regions for which soybeans are being produced in 2001, the transformable cerrados make up an overwhelming majority of the distribution. Today, we can only assume that the cerrados, along with the traditional Southern area, have expanded and cover more than 70% of Brazil’s territory. This map also hints at the fact that soy production occurred at the expense of other crops such as black beans, which was, and still is a traditional source of protein for the common people, commonly served with rice. The shortage of black beans naturally led to skyrocketing prices and “forced the country for

the first time to start importing its national staple.”viii Unlike Argentina that relied heavily on transnational corporations to develop its soy business, the Brazilian government really took charge of investing in the new monocultural “latifundia” that increased the number of agricultural enterprises led by landed elites, but cutback on the number of labor force in the agribusiness.

Although Bolivia is producing much less compared to the two giants—Brazil and Argentina—it has stepped up to become the third largest producer of soybeans in Latin America. Bolivia’s new focus geared towards soy production is evident in the data from CEPALSTAT. The numbers demonstrate that Bolivia was still in the early stages of mass soy production in 1991 with only 193.3 thousand hectares of harvest area, but by 2013 reached 1.2 million hectares of land. From 1991 to 2013, its harvest area of soybeans has seen a 540% increase, which is a higher percentage growth rate than that of Argentina. The only exception was in 2008, when production decreased due to its poor weather condition of El Niño followed by La Niña.ix

Soy cultivation in Bolivia took off in the late 1980s “following a World Bank project to promote the crop’s expansion.”x Yet, the Brazilian investors were those who made Bolivia come to the forefront of the soy business. Liberalization policies in the 1990s gave Brazilian investors an easier access to inexpensive and fertile lands in Bolivia. Santa Cruz, a region of the Amazon transformed to become the number one region for soy bean production in Bolivia. Investors could achieve a much higher profit margin than that in Brazil due to its lower price of land and extremely low rate of taxation on land and

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exports.xi “According to the National Institute of Statistics of Bolivia (Instituto Nacional de Estadística de Bolivia [INE], 2011), in 2007, the value of soybean exports was roughly US$400 million, representing 8.5% of the total value of exports from the country; soybeans placed third in total export value, after natural gas and minerals.”xii The problem lies in the fact that roughly 90% of soybean production takes place in Santa Cruz, meaning the rest of the nation is unable to escape poverty, for employment, technology and capital remain concentrated in this region only. Since soybean is an export commodity with majority of profits returning to the hands of small agrarian elites and large foreign investors, food insecurity continues to be an issue. “The country imported a record $1.1 billion in food between 2006 and 2010 (over 600,000 tons in 2009 alone).”xiii In essence, Bolivia’s soy business controlled by immigrant Brazilian entrepreneurs and transnational corporations has prospered at the expense of “the lowland indigenous communities that predominate in the region.”xiv

Figure 3xv

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Given above are two charts that hint at the discrepancy between the rise of soy production and its prices. Although soy prices have generally been experiencing an upward trend, it is much less consistent than the previous bar graph that shows an incremental increase in harvest area for the three major Latin American countries that partake in soy production. This comparison clearly demonstrates the volatility of an export-driven commodity, for its price depends heavily on both the demand and the global economy. The demand for soy is based on one, demand of soybeans as a source of staple food in Asian countries, such as China, which has seen both a big growth in population and income per household; and two, demand of soy oils and meals used in animal feed. Animal feed that utilizes soy as its major ingredient is considered a high quality and pricy product, and therefore shows greater demand in times of a healthy economy. Since most, if not all Latin American nations are still in the process of paying back their debts, they are unable to feed their cows and pigs with luxurious animal feed that incorporates soybeans.

Another factor that gave rise to economic repercussions is the growing reliance of transgenic seeds and pesticides. Since the adoption of genetically modified seeds that contain glysophate-resistant material, dependence on transnational corporations has grown to an extreme state. The seeds, known as ‘Roundup Ready’ are currently produced by Monsanto, an American biotechnology firm that is “one of the largest agro-industrial TNCs in the world.”xvii The total package necessary in soy production today is not just comprised of genetically modified seeds. Another key component is the zero tillage system that is also known as direct seeding technology. In order for the seeds to be planted in soil directly without plowing, farms now require “fumigation equipment and a special machinery known as zero tillage seed drills.”xviii Financing of this high-technology equipment cannot be done solely by the government or domestic firms and thus requires joint venture operations or license agreements with transnational firms specializing in biotechnology or foreign investors who can fund the high initial input cost. More recently, leading agro-industrial giants like Monsanto and Cargill that originally just provided patented herbicide solution, started to acquire traditional seed firms to also produce genetically modified seeds, which in turn “locked [countries] into new global production chains bringing together agribusiness, chemical, pharmaceutical, and biotechnology sectors.”xix

This type of business arrangement has induced a major societal backlash in the soy-producing Latin American countries. It has not only displaced small and medium sized family farms, but also increased unemployment in both rural and urban areas. Mechanized soy production “generates only one job per 100 to 500 hectares” and “clearing of natural vegetation for soy” is a short-term labor intensive process.xx As a result, common people now face temporary employment options that only allow them to be employed sporadically based on spontaneous need for a new soy plantation. Labor insecurity is only expected to grow with technological innovations followed by mounting power and influence of transnational firms. Inconsistency in the number represented in the workforce naturally creates a snowball effect in the general well-being of the nation. People are unable to consume adequate amount of food since it becomes unaffordable during most times of the year, and this consequently increases the malnutrition rate and child mortality rate in these countries. Indiscriminate expansion of soy harvest area has additionally expelled

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indigenous people from their property. Though not examined as often as other phenomena, “the chemicals mobilized in the production process” are known indirectly influence “the health of inhabitants of the rural communities located near soy plantation fields where glysophate fumigations by air are carried out.”xxi

Although measures can be taken to mitigate poverty, employment, and health problems, harm that has already been done to the environment is irretrievable. This is the precisely the reason why the biggest concern regarding mass soy production is environmental devastation. The most apparent signs of devastation are validated by widespread deforestation in all three of the major soy producers.

Figure 5xxii

As seen from this line graph shown above, Brazil has experienced the sharpest decline in forest area in the past 20 years. Since nearly half of Brazil is covered by forest, with the largest rain forest located in the Amazon, this high rate of deforestation causes a detrimental ripple effect to all aspects of the environment, negatively affecting biodiversity, soil degradation, and desertification.

Brazil has recently stepped up to serve as a leader in implementing measures to delay the rate of deforestation. Soy Moratorium is the most renowned national initiative that came into effect in 2006 following an agreement led by the Brazilian ministry of environment and Greenpeace. It is an agreement that ensures “companies do not buy, trade, or finance soy beans cultivated on land deforested” in the Amazon after July 2008.xxiii On the surface, the Soy Moratorium has produced great results:

“Between 2001 and 2006, prior to the moratorium, soybean fields in the Brazilian Amazon expanded by 1 million hectares, contributing to record deforestation rates. By 2014, after eight years of the moratorium, almost no additional forest was cleared to

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grow new soy, even though soy production area had expanded another 1.3 million hectares.”xxiv

However, in reality, while the majority of the people were abiding to the soy moratorium, that same group of people were violating the forest code. Forest code states that “80 percent of Amazon rain forest on a person’s property must be held in reserve; they can only clear 20 percent.”xxv They violated the forest code by clearing the forest for other large-scale farming purposes, just not for growing soy. Subsequently, deforestation actually increased by 29% in 2014, reversing the trend of decline.xxvi Moreover, while measures to save the Amazon from extensive soy production are put in place, no measures have been implemented to do the same for other vulnerable areas like the Cerrados and the Gran Chaco. Hence, many flaws are still apparent in the system, and opportunities still remain for agro-industrial giants to lobby the government to change laws like the Forest Code to their favor in efforts to escape the surveillance of the global community in their contribution to increasing carbon emission and climate change.

With more Latin American countries entering the soy industry to collect immense amount of profit, this unhealthy reliance on soy continue to be anticipated in the future. The US and China may be two of the leading producing regions at the moment, but they have little arable land and reserves, so large scale expansion is only possible in Latin America. There will come a time in which Brazil and Argentina will exceed the rate of soy production in the US. Expansion could be pursued along with greater responsibility in all aspects of the community from resolving growing unemployment and poverty to combatting climate change and its effects such as loss of biodiversity, deforestation and soil erosion. Brazil may be at the forefront, but is certainly not doing enough. Other soy producers like Argentina and Bolivia should also work towards executing protectionary measures before it becomes merely impossible to restore.

i Petras, James F., and Henry Veltmeyer. Extractive Imperialism in the Americas: Capitalism's New Frontier 84. ii "Uses of Soybeans - North Carolina Soybeans." North Carolina Soybeans. Accessed April 11, 2016. http://ncsoy.org/media-resources/uses-of-

soybeans/. iii Petras, James F., and Henry Veltmeyer. Extractive Imperialism in the Americas: Capitalism's New Frontier 84. iv Petras, James F., and Henry Veltmeyer. Extractive Imperialism in the Americas: Capitalism's New Frontier 87. v Data taken from CEPALSTAT database of “Area Harvested.” vi "De La Sintonía Fina Al Ajuste Desordenado - Perfil.com." Perfil.com. Accessed April 11, 2016. http://www.perfil.com/ediciones/2012/3/edicion_660/contenidos/noticia_0020.html. vii "Brazil's Soybean Production - Leibold, Baumel, Wisner, McVey, Sept. 2001." Brazil's Soybean Production - Leibold, Baumel, Wisner, McVey,

Sept. 2001. Accessed April 11, 2016. https://www.extension.iastate.edu/agdm/articles/leibold/LeibSept01.htm. viii "SoyInfo Center." History of Soybeans and Soyfoods in Latin America. Accessed April 11, 2016.

http://www.soyinfocenter.com/HSS/latin_america1.php. ix "AgBioForum 15(2): A Case of Resistance: Herbicide-tolerant Soybeans in Bolivia." AgBioForum 15(2): A Case of Resistance: Herbicide-tolerant Soybeans in Bolivia. Accessed April 11, 2016. http://www.agbioforum.org/v15n2/v15n2a07-smale.htm. x Robinson, William I. 2008. Latin America and Global Capitalism 94 xi "The Great Soy Expansion: Brazilian Land Grabs in Eastern Bolivia." The Great Soy Expansion: Brazilian Land Grabs in Eastern Bolivia. Accessed April 11, 2016. http://upsidedownworld.org/main/bolivia-archives-31/4471-the-great-soy-expansion-brazilian-land-grabs-in-eastern-

bolivia. xii "AgBioForum 15(2): A Case of Resistance: Herbicide-tolerant Soybeans in Bolivia." AgBioForum 15(2): A Case of Resistance: Herbicide-

tolerant Soybeans in Bolivia. Accessed April 11, 2016. http://www.agbioforum.org/v15n2/v15n2a07-smale.htm. xiii "The Great Soy Expansion: Brazilian Land Grabs in Eastern Bolivia." The Great Soy Expansion: Brazilian Land Grabs in Eastern Bolivia.

Accessed April 11, 2016. http://upsidedownworld.org/main/bolivia-archives-31/4471-the-great-soy-expansion-brazilian-land-grabs-in-eastern-bolivia. xiv Robinson, William I. 2008. Latin America and Global Capitalism 94 xv Data taken from CEPALSTAT database of “Area harvested.”

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xvi Data taken from CEPALSTAT database of “Price of leading export commodities yearly.” xvii Robinson, William I. 2008. Latin America and Global Capitalism 88 xviii Robinson, William I. 2008. Latin America and Global Capitalism 89 xix Robinson, William I. 2008. Latin America and Global Capitalism 91 xx Robinson, William I. 2008. Latin America and Global Capitalism 86 xxi Petras, James F., and Henry Veltmeyer. Extractive Imperialism in the Americas: Capitalism's New Frontier 84. xxii Data taken from CEPALSTAT database of “Forest area.” xxiii "Soy Moratorium Extension Is a Victory for the Amazon." Soy Moratorium Extension Is a Victory for the Amazon. Accessed April 11, 2016. http://wwf.panda.org/wwf_news/?237813/Soy-Moratorium-extension-is-a-victory-for-the-Amazon. xxiv "Study Shows Brazil's Soy Moratorium Still Needed to Preserve Amazon." News. Accessed April 11, 2016. http://news.wisc.edu/study-shows-

brazils-soy-moratorium-still-needed-to-preserve-amazon/#sthash.VvfkSpON.dpuf xxv "Study Shows Brazil's Soy Moratorium Still Needed to Preserve Amazon." News. Accessed April 11, 2016. http://news.wisc.edu/study-shows-

brazils-soy-moratorium-still-needed-to-preserve-amazon/#sthash.VvfkSpON.dpuf xxvi "Soy Moratorium Extension Is a Victory for the Amazon." Soy Moratorium Extension Is a Victory for the Amazon. Accessed April 11, 2016.

http://wwf.panda.org/wwf_news/?237813/Soy-Moratorium-extension-is-a-victory-for-the-Amazon.

"AgBioForum 15(2): A Case of Resistance: Herbicide-tolerant Soybeans in Bolivia." AgBioForum 15(2): A Case of Resistance: Herbicide-tolerant Soybeans in Bolivia. Web.

"CEPALSTAT Statistics and Indicators." Area Harvested. Web.

"Brazil's Soybean Production - Leibold, Baumel, Wisner, McVey, Sept. 2001." Brazil's Soybean Production - Leibold, Baumel, Wisner, McVey, Sept. 2001. Web.

"CEPALSTAT Statistics and Indicators." Forest Area. Web.

"SoyInfo Center." History of Soybeans and Soyfoods in Latin America. Web.

"Study Shows Brazil's Soy Moratorium Still Needed to Preserve Amazon." News. Web.

"Uses of Soybeans - North Carolina Soybeans." North Carolina Soybeans. Web.

"De La Sintonía Fina Al Ajuste Desordenado - Perfil.com." Perfil.com. Web.

Petras, James F., and Henry Veltmeyer. Extractive Imperialism in the Americas: Capitalism's New Frontier.

"CEPALSTAT Statistics and Indicators." Price of Leading Export Commodities Yearly. Web.

Robinson, William I. Latin America and Global Capitalism: A Critical Globalization Perspective. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008.

"The Great Soy Expansion: Brazilian Land Grabs in Eastern Bolivia." The Great Soy Expansion: Brazilian Land Grabs in Eastern Bolivia. Web.

"Soy Moratorium Extension Is a Victory for the Amazon." WWF Conserves Our Planet, Habitats, & Species like the Panda & Tiger. Web.

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“During times of famine, sweet potatoes have no skin”: Is U.S. Food

Aid Making Haitians Hungrier?

Gretchen Shaheen

In her chapter entitled “Haitian Families,” psychologist Josiane Menos recounts a Haitian proverb which states “Nan tan grangou patat pa gen po” (“During times of famine, sweet potatoes have no skin”). This aphorism implies that in periods of extreme hunger, one will eat anything – even the skin of a sweet potato. It also speaks to the extraordinary suffering Haiti has endured through the years and expresses the resiliency of her people.xxvi Historian Laurent Dubois explains in his book, Avengers of the New World, that Haiti was once the most profitable slave colony the world has ever known. Thus, many European nations, including France, Spain, and Great Britain, went to war to either defend or claim property and capital on the island. As a result of years of brutal enslavement and political discrimination by the French, African slaves and free-coloreds initiated a revolt in 1791.xxvi Dubois also details the ways in which several nations, including the United States, have had their hand in Haitian politics since colonization. Over two hundred years have passed since the inception of the first Black nation, yet numerous Western governments, a variety of international aid organizations, and other interest groups continue to interject themselves into Haiti’s political, economic, and social institutions. In fact, one of the most prominent ways in which the United States “helps” Haiti is through food aid. Although touted as purely humanitarian, the United States’ neoliberal food aid policies in Haiti operate as a form of neocolonialism strategically designed to further U.S. economic and political interests at the expense of Haitian sovereignty. Colonial History History of Saint-Domingue A look into Haiti’s colonial history will prove useful in tracing the origins of the United States’ modern-day, pernicious, neocolonial policies directed at Haiti. In 1492 Christopher Columbus landed on the island now commonly known as Hispaniola. Soon afterwards, disease and ruthless enslavement decimated the indigenous Taino population. In order to protect the indigenous inhabitants, the Dominican friar Bartolome de Las Casas paradoxically suggested the importation of African slaves. By the mid-eighteenth century, around 150,000 African slaves were forced to work on the sugarcane plantations, outnumbering whites by a ratio of ten to one.xxvi As an extremely valuable colony with the ability to make her proprietors a fortune, Saint-Domingue (as it was called by the French after securing the colony from Spain in the 1697 Treaty of Rhyswick) gave many nations, such as Great Britain, Spain, and the United States, a lucrative motive to interfere in her

Gretchen Shaheen is a graduate student at New York University, pursuing a Master of Arts in Latin American Studies with a focus in education. She became interested in learning more about Haiti after taking a literature course when she was first introduced to her favorite author, Edwidge Danticat. Gretchen is originally from Mississippi.

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political and economic affairs. The violence of the Haitian Revolution, beginning with the slave rebellion of 1791 and later led by Governor-General Toussaint Louverture, did little to dissuade these imperial aspirations. United States’ Involvement in Haitian Affairs The United States has been involved in Haitian affairs since colonial times. Dubois explains that contraband trade between the two nations bolstered Saint-Domingue’s economy. In spite of the punitive legislation that attempted to squash such commerce, illegal trade between North America and the Caribbean thrived. American ships traded a variety of commodities (fruits, vegetables, grains, and animal products) in exchange for Haitian molasses and rum.xxvi However, not all of the goods brought from the United States were as innocuous as salt cod and apples. American merchants supplied Louverture’s army with guns, cannons, and ammunition. Dubois explains that in addition to wanting to control trade in the Caribbean, which was the commonly held notion, the United States maintained a continuous presence in Saint-Domingue in order to contain slave rebellion (i.e. a “disease”) to the island.xxvi

Whereas merchants from the northern U.S. were attracted to the profitable trading opportunities offered by Saint-Domingue’s proximity, southern plantation owners were threatened by the colony’s break from France. Thus, once Haiti declared independence in 1804, the United States – at this point, still a slave-holding nation – refused to maintain diplomatic and economic relations with the young republic.xxvi The United States, fearful of the black nation’s newfound sovereignty and longing to suppress it, ultimately agreed with France’s demand of an exorbitant indemnity payout as compensation for the loss of their colony. Denise Youngblood-Coleman, Editor in Chief of the 2015 Haiti Country Watch Report, notes the United States’ involvement in France’s mandate:

The example of a black nation state being forged from a slave revolt was not a welcome precedent for the prevailing European colonial powers. Accordingly, Spain and the United States joined France in imposing an economic embargo onto Haiti, which ultimately forced that country in 1838 to pay an indemnity of 150 million francs to France – an amount roughly equivalent to $21 billion today.xxvi

While this money may have profited France to an extent, it crippled the new nation, still badly damaged from the war. In addition to France, the United States also benefitted from Haiti’s devastation after the failed campaign of Napoleon Bonaparte, who sold the Louisiana territory to the U.S. for next to nothing.xxvi The damage of war, the economic and political sanctions, and finally, the indemnity payout caused Haiti to enter into a cycle of endless debt whereas the West entered a cycle of exploitation against the nation that continues to this day.

The United States involved itself in Haitian affairs throughout the twentieth century. Youngblood-Coleman explains that amid the volatile conditions in Haiti from the mid-nineteenth to the early twentieth century, the United States acted strategically to protect business interests there, militarily occupying the nation from 1915 until 1934. By choosing its leaders and managing its finances during this time, the Unites States acted as the de facto head of state in Haiti.xxvi However, U.S. intervention in Haitian political and economic activities did not stop when the occupation ended. Just twenty years after the military

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occupation, Youngblood-Coleman tells us, “Both Duvaliers were tacitly supported by the United States for geopolitical and strategic reasons, given Haiti’s closeness to communist Cuba.”xxvi The United States overlooked François “Papa Doc” Duvalier’s “les tontons macoutes” (death squads) and the suffering of the Haitian people in their “moral” crusade against communism. However, this would not be the last time that the United States would insert itself into Haitian politics. Following reports of human rights abuses causing thousands of Haitians to flee the country, the U.S. government restored democratically-elected president Jean Bertrand Aristide to the presidency in the mid-1990s.xxvi Yet, as the political situation in Haiti deteriorated into turmoil over the next ten years, the U.S. worked to remove Aristide from power,xxvi establishing that the United States intends to continue its interventionist policies well into the twenty-first century. The Facts on U.S. Food Aid

In 1954 (around the time the U.S. was implicitly backing the Duvalier dictatorship), President Dwight D. Eisenhower signed the Trade Development and Assistance Act into law, which created Public Law 480 (PL 480) and established food aid as an official part of U.S. foreign policy. According to their website, the Food for Peace (FFP) Program (PL 480), a division of the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), states that its purpose is “to promote the food security of developing countries.”xxvi However, Saskia Westenberg, a researcher on rural development and international aid in Latin America, asserts that the United States had a more sinister, ulterior motive for launching the FFP program. She states that this program has become a “tool used by the U.S. agricultural community to protect their agricultural interests” which “primarily benefits U.S. farmers and the larger agricultural industry, as well as American shipping companies that transport the commodities.”xxvi If the amount of money directed toward the food aid industry each year is any indication of the enormous benefits for U.S. agricultural and shipping industries, it is not surprising that the FFP program, which has become increasingly contentious, has endured as long as it has.

Steve Dobransky, International Relations and Justice Studies scholar, notes that the United States supplies more food aid to developing nations than any other country. Dobransky reports that in 2010 alone, the U.S. distributed $2.3 billion in food aid to poor countries throughout the world.xxvi On the surface, this substantial amount of aid seems like benign, humanitarian assistance for the world’s poorest countries. The average person in Haiti, for example, lives on less than $2 USD per day.xxvi Yet, many argue that the controversial practice of distributing food aid should be reconsidered. Not only does food aid cause a plethora of problems within beleaguered, impoverished countries, such as Haiti, but the United States’ motivations for carrying these programs out are extremely problematic.

Motivations

Beginning in 1954, the United States has delivered food aid to some of the world’s poorest countries. In addition to humanitarianism, protection of domestic economic interests as well as foreign policy considerations have served as motives for U.S. food aid policies. The U.S. government has continued to extol Food for Peace (PL 480) to the public as a wholly benevolent program. However, Westenberg discloses, “Food for Peace has its origins in American concerns over trade promotion, surplus disposal, and geopolitical

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advantage. Humanitarian motives were subordinated to these purposes.”xxvi In fact, U.S. Food Aid and Security itself reports that in FY09, Food for Peace boosted the economy by nearly two billion dollars and created over 13,000 jobs.xxvi The obvious benefits of food aid policies to the U.S. economy create a conflict of interest and complicate the government’s consideration of negative effects upon recipient nations. Indeed, Dobransky writes, “Since domestic institutional interests appear to be the primary motivation behind United States food aid, then it indicates that the top priority is to dump the surplus foods and that the short- and long-term consequences of this dumping in the developing world are a secondary matter.”xxvi Without a doubt, an excess of problems has arisen due to U.S. food aid programs. Returning to colonial times, Dubois tells us that France, Spain, and England vied for control over Saint-Domingue in the late eighteenth century because even though she was “wounded by slave insurrection and internal warfare, Saint-Domingue remained an extremely valuable colony.”xxvi This concept certainly has not been lost in the minds of American legislators who view Haiti – buckling under the weight of poverty, debt, political instability, and natural disasters – as a source of profit. Problems Caused by U.S. Food Aid Population Growth One deleterious consequence of the United States’ neoliberal food aid programs to developing countries is unrestrained population growth. Dobransky maintains that between 1981 and 2009, impoverished nations receiving food assistance have seen significant population increases that cannot be attributed to economic growth in those countries.xxvi In Dobransky’s opinion, unrestrained population growth in a country plagued with chronic political instability and economic depression is not only a strain on the country’s natural resources but is also harmful to the environmentxxvi and can even present international security concerns.xxvi These facts are particularly disconcerting in light of Haitians’ limited opportunities to emigrate to the Dominican Republic, the United States, or elsewhere. Indeed, Haitian development scholar Yasmine Shamsie states that “continued population growth with restricted emigration options” could potentially destabilize the Haitian economy.xxvi In spite of research that points to population growth as a detrimental consequence of food aid, the United States continues to unload surplus yields on Haiti, economically benefitting U.S. agriculture and shipping industries. Monetization

A questionable and insidious practice, monetization “refers to the sale of food commodities on the local market. The local currency is then used to finance development projects and administrative costs.”xxvi According to Westenberg, monetization has historically been supported by the U.S. government whereas other countries have either discouraged or prohibited the practice. In the international development world, monetization is a controversial practice for three reasons. First, it affects in-country market prices which has the potential to destabilize the local agricultural industry. Second, due to often high shipping costs, monetization is not an efficient means to generate a profit. Finally, since it works by selling food to unrestricted markets, monetization does not allow researchers to determine whether food aid has actually reached the country’s at-risk, most disadvantaged populations.xxvi Monetization certainly is a cause for concern; nonetheless, the United States’ Food for Peace (FFP) program continues to deny this charge and

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references a report published by the Alliance for Global Food Security that states, “… monetization generates multiple benefits in the recipient country and … is unlikely to disrupt commercial trade.”xxvi However, because the FFP program and the Alliance for Global Food Security are actually in partnership with one another, this report certainly does not provide an objective look at the process of monetization.

Destabilization of Haitian Agricultural Industry

The legacy of colonialism that persists within PL 480 in conjunction with the United States’ promotion of neoliberal trade policies towards the end of the twentieth century have resulted in yet another damaging effect for the Haitian population. Shamsie explains, “The structural adjustment packages of the 1980s, which included trade liberalization, greatly reduced the country’s ability to be food self-reliant.”xxvi To be sure, reduced tariffs (from 35 percent to 3 percent on rice in 1995) have undoubtedly benefited the U.S. agricultural industry by increasing its exports, but these policies have been a huge blow to the small-scale farmers of Haiti.xxvi Haitian farmers simply cannot compete with cheap, imported staples that undercut their ability to sell locally grown crops. Shortly after the time the United States coerced Haiti to lower its import tariffs, Westenberg reveals that Haiti was producing nearly half of the rice it consumed; however, by 2008, Haitian farmers were only growing 15 percent of the country’s rice, and that figure continues to drop.xxvi Democracy Now correspondents Amy Goodman and Juan Gonzalez reported in 2010 that Bill Clinton released a statement apologizing for the role that he played in undermining the Haitian agricultural industry. In speaking of his “devil’s bargain,” Clinton states:

Since 1981, the United States has followed a policy … that we rich countries that produce a lot of food should sell it to poor countries and relieve them of the burden of producing their own food, so … they can leap directly into the industrial era. It has not worked. It may have been good for some of my farmers in Arkansas, but it has not worked. It was a mistake … I have to live every day with the consequences of the lost capacity to produce a rice crop in Haiti to feed those people, because of what I did.xxvi

Although some politicians, such as Clinton, acknowledge the detrimental consequences of the United States’ food aid programs, millions of dollars’ worth of foodstuffs continue to pour into needy countries, negating the notion that policy changes will ever occur. Conclusion Problems

In the Epilogue of his book, Dubois writes, “… those who died for and lived through the Haitian Revolution … continue to speak to us, as founders in a long struggle for dignity and freedom that remains incomplete.”xxvi In light of the way in which the world treats Haiti, the struggle for dignity and freedom is, indeed, unfinished. While food aid appeals to the emotions of many unknowing Americans, a close examination of PL 480, the beneficiaries of food aid programs (U.S. agricultural and shipping industries, private voluntary organizations, etc.), and the problems that arise in developing countries as a result of these programs, a more sinister side to the project of food aid emerges.

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Independence from a colonial power does not necessarily signify a transition to a postcolonial era. On the contrary, colonialism has been replaced with neocolonialism, a system in which policies are tactically planned to promote Western (i.e. U.S.) economic and political interests at the expense of Haitian sovereignty.

Moving Forward

Although resolving the problems that stem from food aid seems daunting, our authors offer a few ways to move forward. Shamsie writes at length about the Food Sovereignty Movement in Haiti as a possible solution to combat the harmful effects of food aid programs. She explains that Via Campesina, an international peasant organization, simply defines food sovereignty as “the right of peoples to define their own food and agriculture.”xxvi Basically, the food sovereignty movement favors giving precedence and protection to local farmers as opposed to international importers and open markets.xxvi Shamsie quotes Doudou Pierre Festil, a member of the coordinating committee of the National Haitian Network for Food Sovereignty and Food Security (RENHASSA), at length, which is worth restating here. Festil insists:

We’re not in favor just of food security, which is a neoliberal idea. With food security, as long as you eat, it’s good … We need food sovereignty, which means that so that everyone can eat, we produce it here at home … You can’t speak of food sovereignty without speaking of ecological, family agriculture. We need that and indigenous seeds. We need for peasants to have their own land.xxvi

Festil articulates a suppressed truth: food security is a neoliberal idea. While food aid policies that promote food security may provide short-term benefits for the Haitian people, there are many undesirable consequences of such programs. The people of Haiti deserve the right to determine their future, and food sovereignty is one way forward. Westenberg would likely agree with Festil’s call for food sovereignty for Haiti as she argues that any foreign interventions should “promote recipient countries’ agricultural production” while “limit[ing] inefficient monetization as much as possible.”xxvi While immediately halting all food aid to Haiti seems reckless, programs that promote long-term solutions to the hunger problem in Haiti and that rely on significant Haitian input, should gradually replace food security programs that merely provide for the here and now. Occasionally, natural disasters occur and developing countries do need help from friends and allies. Dobransky argues that foreign food aid is acceptable but only in extreme circumstances to mitigate the impacts of a catastrophe, such as the Haitian earthquake of 2010. He writes, “Only when it is absolutely sure that recipient production is given the fullest chance to achieve maximum output should foreign food arrive as a last result.”xxvi Perhaps if the United States puts an end to its neoliberal policies in Haiti, Haitians will no longer have to utter the phrase, “Nan tan grangou patat pa gen po.”

xxvi Menos, Josiane. “Haitian Families,” in Ethnicity and Family Therapy, eds. Monica McGoldrick, Joseph Giordano, and Nydia Garcia-Preto. 3rd Ed. (New York: Guilford Press, 2005), 129. xxvi Dubois, Laurent. Avengers of the New World (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2004), 1-5. xxvi Ibid., 13-19. xxvi Ibid., 33. xxvi Ibid., 224-25. xxvi Ibid., 303.

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xxvi Youngblood-Coleman, Denise, et al. Haiti Country Review (Houston, Texas: Country Watch Publications, 2015), 2. http://www.countrywatch.com. xxvi Dubois, Avengers, 304. xxvi Youngblood-Coleman, Haiti Country Review, 13. xxvi Ibid., 2 xxvi Ibid., 15. xxvi Ibid., 22. xxvi “U.S. Food Aid and Security,” Alliance for Global Food Security, last modified 2016, accessed April 3, 2016, http://www.foodaid.org. xxvi Westenberg, Saski. “Feeding Dependency in the Americas: U.S. Food Aid Practices in Haiti and Guatemala.” Georgetown Journal of International Affairs. Georgetown University, 13 December, 2015. Accessed 23 July, 2013. http://journal.georgetown.edu/feeding-dependency-in-the-americas-u-s-food-aid-practices-in-haiti-and-guatemala-by-saskia-westenberg/. xxvi Dobransky, Steve, “The Paradox of U.S. Food Aid and the Challenge to Realist Theory,” International Journal on World Peace 32, no. 1 (March 2015): 61. xxvi Youngblood-Coleman, Haiti Country Review, 1. xxvi Westenberg, “Feeding Dependency.” xxvi “U.S. Food Aid and Security,” Alliance for Global Food Security, last modified 2016, accessed April 3, 2016, http://www.foodaid.org. xxvi Dobransky, “Paradox,” 88. xxvi Dubois, Avengers, 152. xxvi Dobransky, “Paradox,” 73. xxvi Ibid., 89. xxvi Ibid., 84. xxvi Shamsie, Yasmine, “Haiti’s Post-Earthquake Transformation: What of Agriculture and Rural Development?” Latin American Politics and Society 54, no. 2 (4 June 2012): 147. xxvi Westenberg, “Feeding Dependency.” xxvi Ibid. xxvi “Monetization Study Has Implications for Reauthorization of Food Aid Programs in Farm Bill,” Alliance for Global Food Security, last modified 27 November 2012, http://foodaid.org/2012/12/04/monetization-study-has-implications-for-reauthorization-of-food-aid-programs-in-farm-bill/. xxvi Shamsie, “Haiti’s Post-Earthquake Transformation,” 144. xxvi Ibid., 136. xxvi Westenberg, “Feeding Dependency.” xxvi “‘We Made a Devil’s Bargain’: Fmr. President Clinton Apologizes for Trade Policies that Destroyed Haitian Rice Farming,” Democracy Now, last modified 1 April 2010, http://www.democracynow.org/2010/4/1/clinton_rice. xxvi Dubois, Avengers, 306. xxvi Shamsie, “Post-Earthquake,” 145. xxvi Ibid., 145. xxvi Ibid., 145. xxvi Westenberg, “Feeding Dependency.” xxvi Dobransky, “Paradox,” 85.

Dobransky, Steve. “The Paradox of U.S. Food Aid and the Challenge to Realist Theory.” International Journal on World

Peace 32, no. 1. (March 2015): 61-93. Dubois, Laurent. Avengers of the New World. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2004. Menos, Josiane. “Haitian Families.” In Ethnicity and Family Therapy, edited by Monica McGoldrick, Joseph Giordano, and

Nydia Garcia-Preto, 127-137. 3rd Ed. New York: Guilford Press, 2005. “Monetization Study Has Implications for Reauthorization of Food Aid Programs in Farm Bill.” Alliance for Global Food

Security. Last modified 27 November 2012. Web. Shamsie, Yasmine. “Haiti’s Post-Earthquake Transformation: What of Agriculture and Rural Development?” Latin

American Politics and Society 54, no. 2. (4 June 2012): 33-152. “U.S. Food Aid and Security.” Alliance for Global Food Security. Last modified 2016. Accessed December 13, 2015. Web.

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“‘We Made a Devil’s Bargain’: Fmr. President Clinton Apologizes for Trade Policies that Destroyed Haitian Rice Farming.”

Democracy Now. Last modified 1 April 2010. Web. Westenberg, Saski. “Feeding Dependency in the Americas: U.S. Food Aid Practices in Haiti and Guatemala.” Georgetown

Journal of International Affairs. Georgetown University, 13 December, 2015. Accessed 23 July, 2013. Web.

Youngblood-Coleman, Denise, Robert C. Kelly, Mary Ann Azevedo, Alex Kumar, Anne Marie Surnson, Cesar Rosa, and John Torres. Haiti Country Review. Houston, Texas: Country Watch Publications, 2015. Web.

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The Effects of the Colombian Conflict: Education, Inequality, and

Desplazados

Corey Payne

Abstract: Colombia has been plagued by violence for the better part of the last century. The results of this conflict have manifested themselves in disparities ranging from land distribution to wealth accumulation to internally displaced refugee populations (also referred to as IDPs or desplazados). The social effects of these consequences are astounding and far-reaching. This paper will explore the socioeconomic inequality in Colombia and how the ongoing conflict has affected it over time, then analyze the educational effects of these issues, particularly in regards to the IDP population. By analyzing data from the World Bank and surveying the historical development, in addition to data collected from first-hand fieldwork, it can be shown that the conflict and its socioeconomic effects have a direct impact on the levels of inequality in Colombia—levels that are perpetuated by cyclical poverty and lack of social services. This is not solely due to the presence of a poverty-stricken community of desplazados, but also because of the war profiteering by the richest members of society and the growth of industry as a result. The benefits of growth were confined to the rich, while the poor were deeply impaired by the devastating consequences of perpetual violence. The author uses accounts from his time working at a United Nations funded school outside Bogotá to complement the data analysis.

Introduction

After a period of economic austerity and free trade with foreign powers in the early twentieth century, nearly all the countries in Latin America were experiencing the sting of a non-diversified, export-oriented economy that was completely reliant on core Western states. With the exports decreasing and economies declining, the era of liberalism in Latin America reached a temporary close as an era of populist leaders—with Marxist undertones—swept through the continent and gave rise to new ideologies. This new era did much to incorporate the rights of labor into the laws of Latin America. But this populism was short lived. In the following decades, the West would impose an even more destructive set of economic guidelines on Latin America (and the rest of the world), that is now known as neoliberalism.

The neoliberal agenda, often referred to as the “Washington Consensus,” was able to be easily enacted across the globe by the creation of new post-WWII institutions such as the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund—institutions that supposedly were created to aid development, but took a bourgeois-capitalist modernization approach to the practice. By

Corey Payne studies Global Social Change and Development and International Studies at Johns Hopkins University. He is a research assistant at the Arrighi Center for Global Studies and will begin graduate school this fall in the Department of Sociology at Johns Hopkins. He has studied in several Latin American countries, spending a summer in Bogotá, Colombia, as a teaching assistant in a school for internally displaced persons.

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attaching structural adjustment provisions on loans to various underdeveloped state governments, the Western-influenced international institutions were able to force implementation of the neoliberal programs, which included, amongst other measures, fiscal austerity and relaxed labor laws.

The incredibly high levels of poverty and inequality in underdeveloped regions around the world can often be attributed to the policies implemented under this international neoliberal regime, and Latin America is no exception.xxvi Latin American states remained in the peripheral levels of the global commodity chain because of the enactment of these neoliberal policies that forced stagnation and solidified their position in the world system hierarchy.

However, Colombia is even worse off than the rest of Latin America. Having missed its period of populism after the assassination of Jorge Gaitán, Colombia never experienced the period of relative economic prosperity in which the other Latin American states could partake. Instead, the nation entered a cycle of oligarchical rules, with leaders ranging from military dictators to neoliberal capitalists. Furthermore, the assassination of Gaitán sparked a long period of violence which spiraled into a decades-long political conflict that is still largely unresolved. Instead of a leftist agenda that may have brought prosperity and survived decades, chaos and oligarchy ruled Colombia until (and while) the Washington Consensus took over.

Neoliberalism, combined with the lack of a populist era and a violent internal conflict, has created a Colombia where inequality is commonplace and corruption is accepted as the status quo. But the often silent victims of the internal conflict are also the victims of inequality. Colombia has one of the highest populations of internally displaced persons (IDPs or desplazados) in the world. These victims were forcibly removed from their homes around the country and many of them migrated towards the capital region, in the Cundinamarca province. Many of the border regions of Colombia have been the largest fronts for the intense political civil war between state-backed paramilitaries and leftist guerillas for decades. The normal destruction of war, combined with the atrocities committed by both sides for propaganda, led many to flee towards the more stable, urban areas of central Colombia. Once in the urban areas, it becomes clear that there is a finite amount of space—and along with it, a finite amount of labor and resources. These people, who may have had a relatively acceptable level of welfare in their old lives, have now been thrust into poverty.

This poverty and inequality is further compounded by the lack of opportunities for the IDPs when they escape violence. Neither the domestic government nor the international community has been successful in securing the futures of these IDPs, despite clear efforts. In particular, education has been pushed aside to instead support the end of conflict and economic growth. Unsurprisingly, the vast majority of international humanitarian aid given during a conflict goes to emergency supplies—medicine, sustenance, shelter, etc. According to the United Nations, only 2% of all international humanitarian aid goes to education, even though 40% of the world’s out-of-school youth reside in conflict-afflicted areas.xxvi Without the presence of a strong system of education, a cycle of poverty and low quality of life becomes present—a cycle that is nearly impossible to break by children attempting to balance education and familial duties.

The connection between the Colombian conflict and the displacement is clear, as is the connection between displacement and inequality, and inequality and education. The purpose of this paper is to reconcile all of these concepts into a broader narrative of Colombian disparity.

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What does Colombian inequality look like? How specifically has this inequality changed over time? How do the IDPs fit into this inequality? And finally, how has this conflict-accentuated inequality affected the education, and consequently, the future welfares, of the IDPs?

Historical Context

In order to better understand the connections between the Colombian Conflict, socioeconomic inequality, and internally displaced persons, one must first understand the historical development of these three concepts.

Colombia has long experienced violence from ideological factions determined to ascend to power. In 1849, years after the disintegration of “Gran Colombia” into the countries now known as Peru, Venezuela, Bolivia, and Colombia, the Liberal and Conservative Parties were formed in Colombia. From the 1860s to the 1880s, the Liberals held control of the nation. Under their authority, Colombia was split into nine relatively autonomous regions and the church was completely removed from the state. These changes eventually caused a shift in power, allowing the Conservatives to seize control in 1885 and hold onto that authority for the subsequent forty-five years. These transfers of power, which were largely uneventful in terms of violence, sparked only polarization. However, in 1899, fed up with Conservatives reversing the liberal changes that had previously been made, the “War of One Thousand Days” began. It lasted until 1903, and resulted in the independence of Panama and the deaths of over 120,000 Colombians.

The Conservatives won the war, and retained control until 1930, when liberal Olaya Herrera became president. He introduced social legislation and encouraged trade union formation, which unsurprisingly stroked backlash from Conservatives. Regardless, the Liberals held control until 1946, when Conservatives again took the presidency.

In 1948, Jorge Eliécer Gaitán, a presidential candidate, cabinet minister, mayor of Bogotá, and Colombia’s hope for populism and prosperity, was assassinated. This was the spark that began the largest set of riots in the history of Colombia, known as el Bogotazo. This political unrest eventually devolved into a period of civil war now referred to as La Violencia, which lasted until approximately 1958. The death of Gaitán was significant not just for the period of chaos that it sparked. Gaitán was a populist leader, and being denied his presidency not only sparked outrage, but had serious influence on the evolution of history in Colombia.

If one looks to other Latin American countries, such as Argentina, Mexico, Bolivia, and Chile, this period was relatively prosperous and peaceful, as the populist leaders of these nations led their countries out of the era of economic liberalism and underdevelopment and into a new era of self-reliance and diversification.xxvi These trends were later reversed under U.S.-supported conservative regimes, but Colombia did not even have this chance. Because this was a period of war, Colombia missed out on much of the social and economic benefit, as well as any of the political stability, of the populist era in Latin America.

In fact, stability in Colombia was almost non-existent. During this period of war, parties across the political spectrum began to form outside of the formal realms of the Liberals and Conservatives. In order to restore control, in 1958, the Liberals and Conservatives formed the Frente Nacional (National Front) and banned all other parties in an effort to stop the civil war

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and curb the power of Gustavo Rojas Pinilla, who was quickly becoming a military dictator. The National Front was an agreement to alternate power between the Liberals and Conservatives every four years. An idea that was meant to keep peace, in reality, broke down what was left of Colombian democracy.

As a response, many of the leftist parties that were banned began arming themselves in attempts to seize authority and recognition. This caused the emergence of the largest guerilla group, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC). Over the course of the next two decades, fighting between the government and the leftist guerillas intensified. The effect of this violence was amplified by the rise of the drug trade, which at this time had been creating many powerful cartels and leaders.

In the 1980s, the fight against drugs by the government was intensified after the assassination of a minister of justice. The political violence continued as well, with massive slaughtering at the hands of the Left, which caused murder campaigns by rightist parliament caucuses. Through the 1990s, the fighting continued, and the drug wars were all but over after the death of infamous drug lord Pablo Escobar in Medellín in 1993. In 1998, conservative president Andres Pastrana Arango began peace talks with guerilla groups in attempts to end the decades of violence.xxvi Since this time, violence in the region has declined. Medellín is no longer the homicide capital of the world, and tourists have begun to return to Colombia. However, the lasting impact of the destruction has yet to be completely understood.

Poverty is undeniably linked to war. As one can see in any region, the violence and displacement that is caused by war leads to not only a change in economic activity, but a seemingly irreversible alteration of the socioeconomic livelihoods of the people. While war affects all inhabitants of a region, and while bombs and bullets do not discriminate based on one’s level of wealth, it is often the case that the poorest people are the ones who are affected the most.

The Colombian Conflict is no different. In addition to the normal poverty-causing aspects of war described above, Colombia is unique in having one of the largest internally displaced refugee crises in history. As they are known in Colombia, these desplazados made the country rank first in the number of internally displaced persons for a number of years, only to be recently surpassed by Syria, where a massive civil war has left no community unscathed.xxvi

These IDPs are incredibly susceptible to poverty, as they are being forced from their homes, communities, and livelihoods. Without work, structure, and often without family or loved-ones, there is an increase in poverty from before to after their displacement. A report created for the Consultancy for Human Rights and Displacement’s Comisión Interamericana de Derechos Humanos, it was shown that before being displaced by the conflict, 51 percent of families were poor and 30.5 percent were poverty-stricken. After displacement, 96.6 percent of these families are poor and 80.7 percent are poverty stricken.xxvi

Los Desplazados

The desplazado population is among the most vulnerable in the world. Without the rights of refugees or victims, they have been forced into abject poverty—saturating both the formal and informal sectors of labor and building slums in the outskirts of cities.

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Due to the intense poverty of these refugees, their options for resettlement are incredibly limited. Many flee to the capital district in Cundinamarca, which is among the safest places in Colombia. When they arrive in the Bogotá area, their poverty restricts them. Many end up residing in the poorest areas of the poorest municipalities, which creates a region of high density desplazados in a municipality that was not originally intended to serve as a refugee center. One example is the case of Soacha, centrally located in Cundinamarca and a northern ‘suburb’ of Bogotá. Soacha has taken in over 40,000 desplazados, making it the municipality in Cundinamarca with the highest number of refugees.xxvi Many of these people, due to poverty, were forced to live on the outskirts of the municipality, expanding the town up the neighboring mountains and creating an incredibly poverty-stricken area of the already poor Soacha.

In 2012, it was estimated by the UN that 40% of the population of Soacha (Los Altos) were desplazados. This statistic came with the side note: “it could be much more.”xxvi The UN also reports that, due to the rapid increase in population, the normal results of intense poverty are present. The report states that: “[There is] widespread insecurity in terms of micro-trafficking, common crime, [gang violence], prostitution, presence of armed groups outside the law, [and looting] between [inhabitants].” The report continues to state that the hasty attempt at urbanization came with a lack in planning, which generated a “failure in the structures of the sector,” causing the absence of basic services such as water, sewer, telephone networks, natural gas, paved access pathways, and public transportation.xxvi

The report also mentions the incredibly poor quality of the air in the area, citing possible problems for health the environment. In the author’s experience working in this municipality, the air quality is immediately noticeable when entering Soacha. The clouds of dust, exhaust, and industrial fumes are not only present to one’s smell, but visible in the air.

The poor conditions in the outskirts of Soacha bring the issue of inequality to the forefront. The desplazados and their host neighbors do not have easy access to the public services of the capital region due to the marginalized nature of their living environment. This type of separation is well-studied throughout urban sociology, and the lasting effects that withdrawals such as this can have are detrimental to economic and educational opportunity as well as public health overall. If it takes so long for a child to get down the mountain for work, it would take just as long (or longer) to descend for a proper schooling. Unfortunately, without the immediate reward of wages, this time consuming process is not usually realistic for children who must help support their families while attending, or in place of, school. Lack of education and lack of proper healthcare only serve to perpetuate the cycle of intense poverty that these desplazados are already suffering through. With no way to break the systematic cycle, the inequality continues indefinitely.

Education of Desplazados

Because of the high density of desplazados, the UN has authorization to assist in Los Altos. Tackling multiple facets of the problem, La Agencia de la ONU para los Refugiados (UNHCR ACNUR) has been conducting projects since the late 2000s. These projects address issues such as poor infrastructure, water and sustenance, local economic development, and education. While addressing each of these issues is vital to the overall development of the area, this research focuses on the educational programs implemented.

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In 2012, the UN, along with the collaboration of numerous domestic and international organizations, completed construction on the Education Center of Los Altos de La Florida (CAE). The CAE was built with nine classrooms, a computer laboratory, a kitchen, and a dining hall. It was constructed and is continuously funded to provide education for 125 children and adolescents from ages 3 to 17. While exact numbers for this community are not available, the combined data from 21 “receiving communities” shows that, on average, only 8.8 percent of displaced children are able to attend school.xxvi This school works to provide early childhood education, basic literacy skills, and accelerated preparation for outside schools.

The children in this school are divided, often incorrectly, based on ability level. Some classes meet from 9am until 3pm, some meet from 10am until 3pm, some from 11am to 3pm, and some from 9am to 12pm. The students are in classes with wide age ranges—the class primarily observed by the researcher had students aged 7 and students aged 13. Overall, the system, which may look plausible and efficient on paper, was usually disorganized and hectic. This caused some classes to receive less than an hour of instruction time a day.

The lack of order may partially be due to the teachers as well. Most teachers chosen to lead these classes have graduated with a bachelor’s degree, and live in Los Altos. Every teacher observed by the author showed incredible amounts of passion and love for her students, but oftentimes they appeared unprepared in the preparation of the day’s classes. Many of these teachers, while qualified to be professionals of some type, did not have the skills, or sometimes the knowledge, necessary to effectively teach these students.

Many in the development community are pushing for the use of local residents when it comes to education and outreach. It is argued that using faces that the people can trust and to which they can relate makes it easier to spread the given message—in this case, education. And while this idea certainly has its merits, international organizations must also look at the flaws in this approach. People who would be well-qualified enough to teach a class of children effectively are most likely not living in Los Altos. In fact, most Colombians with those types of qualifications most certainly work in a more stable, higher paying place of employment.

In building and operating this school, the UN has provided a stepping stone of opportunity for these children in a way that they may not have otherwise had. In 2012, the World Bank reported that there are approximately 600,000 children in Colombia that do not attend school—a number which has more than tripled since 2005. Figures 1 and 2 represent the number of female and male Colombian children, respectively, that do not attend school at all.

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Figure 1: (Source: The World Bank)xxvi Children out of school, primary, female

Figure 2: (Source: The World Bank)xxvi Children out of school, primary, male

Despite these numbers, a significant majority of Colombian children do attend school.xxvi However, the presence of 600,000 Colombian children that do not continues to grow. It is unknown how many of these children are desplazados, nor is it known how many desplazados are children. But the locational instability of most IDPS leads many to believe that the majority

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of these internally displaced refugees are not obtaining any education at all, let alone a structured quality one.

Unfortunately, even with access to education, there are obstacles for these children to overcome in order to receive it. One of the largest of these is, unsurprisingly, poverty. Many students throughout Colombia are forced to enter the workforce at a young age, putting their studies aside in order to focus on helping provide for their families. While child labor is incredibly prevalent throughout Colombia, as noted in Figures 3 and 4, the problem was abundantly clear in Los Altos.

Figure 3: (Source: The World Bank)xxvi Children in employment, female (% of female children ages 7-14)

Figure 4: (Source: The World Bank)xxvi Children in employment, male (% of male children ages 7-14)

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Furthermore, these statistics do not represent whether or not employment is complementary to, or in place of, education. While numbers for this data were not collected by the World Bank, it is fair to hypothesize that the deeper into poverty that a student’s family is, the higher the probability of student employment interfering with education. Since the desplazados represent some of the most poverty-stricken Colombians, there is no doubt that the two interfere at a higher rate than in the rest of the country.

This is supported by the anecdotes of some of the students at the observed school. One girl, who was twelve at the time of being interviewed, had been pulled out of school multiple days a week by her mother so that she can work for incredibly low wages. This young girl has two younger siblings and no father at home, making it nearly impossible for the mother to make ends meet on her own. Before she was pulled out of school, she was only receiving ten to twelve hours a week due to the inadequacy of the teaching methods, but now, with her missing several days a week, she is receiving even less education.

Conclusion

It is obvious that the lives of the desplazados would be improved by running water, paved roads, higher wages, increased police presence, and an end to political violence, to name a few. The succeeding question of how this can be done is not as apparent. Fixing the education system appears easy enough. If better teachers are hired, a better quality of education will be given. If parents are paid higher wages, then children won’t have to miss school to go to work so their families will have food. If more money was invested in school supplies, it might not take as long to get these children working at the correct levels. But where are better teachers going to be found? Where is from where is more money for wages going to come? Who is going to invest more money in school supplies?

While it can be argued that education is the silver bullet—it is the way out of a cyclical system of poverty and inopportunity—the cycle still needs to be broken. So long as there is poverty, there will be poor education. And so long as there is poor education, there will be poverty. So long as the conflict continues, the answer cannot lie solely within the community of Los Altos. The UN has thus far provided adequate complementary services, but there is not nearly enough money finding its way into educational programs in the international development community.xxvi

The UN must continue its efforts in creating free education for desplazados, but it must do so with increased funding. Then, it can attract higher quality educators and purchase supplies that will aid students in their growth. Until more funding and better teachers enter these classrooms, the students will continue to receive a mediocre education. As the Colombian government approaches the end of the conflict and shifts its focus on rebuilding, the UN can better serve as a complement, instead of a primary provider, and improve upon its policies for the future.

As was mentioned earlier, even if a perfect educational opportunity was being offered, many children would be unable to take it due to the level of poverty and inequality facing their families. The leadership in Soacha, working with the UN, has undertaken many economic development projects. However, these projects do not create the necessary jobs or wage levels for the people of Los Altos to allow all of their children to attend school every day.

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In many cases, higher wages may not be an option. Self-employment and extra-legal labor are incredibly prevalent throughout Colombia, but are particularly noticeable in this area. However, the main industries in Soacha are factory-based production. Many of these factories are owned by foreign corporations or wealthy domestic companies. These are firms that can generally afford to pay higher wages then they are currently paying, which would significantly reduce the burden placed on students who must work as well as study.

The UN is currently working to give capital to 46 businesses in Soacha that have a probability for high levels of commercialization.xxvi If the UN, either complementary to that program or in place of parts of it, were to incentivize firms that provided higher wages and employment specifically to desplazados, it could serve as another band-aid on the poverty cycle—but a band-aid that may provide the opportunity needed to break the cyclical system that is pitted against these people.

There is no easy solution to the crisis created by two centuries of conflict. The situation is difficult, because war waged while much of the country continued with minimal scathing. This created a great disparity in the opportunities given to different Colombians in different regions—a disparity that has been compounded over generations. But now the Colombian conflict is reaching a détente and peace is on the horizon. The actions taken by the Colombian government and the international development community will determine the futures for IDP populations across the country. The international community, currently being led by the UN, must continue to work with the Colombian government to create environments for students to succeed. They must assist in addressing all the facets of poverty imposed on the people: the economic and educational.

They must therefore be more ready than they are to deal with the long-term effects of ongoing conflicts. Until poverty and war cease to limit human capability and human choice; until the presence of quality education, even for those most affected by violence, is universal; there will be more work to be done, more questions to be answered, and more problems to be solved. The community of Los Altos, with assistance from national and international bodies, is working tirelessly, and when its shortcomings are addressed, a better system of education and poverty alleviation is attainable. It is clear that the UN has done much good, but they do not have all the answers. As stability grows in Colombia, the government will be better able to provide for the people.

Combating inequality in Colombia is no easy feat. Income and wealth are only a piece of the equation. Before redistribution can be implemented, there must be an end to the violence and the corruption. Colombia has always been a unique case, and in this it is no different. While the remainder of Latin America has the ability to willfully implement policies intended to level the playing field, Colombia, unfortunately, does not yet have that option. Going forward, the state and society will have to tackle the major issues—not only the economic and social ones, but the political ones. Corruption, conflict, and disarray must end before progress can be made, before inequalities can be reconciled, before desplazados can be assimilated into the Colombian society and economy, and before quality education can ensure the future welfare of all the people.

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xxvi Portes, Alejandro, Hoffman, Kelly: Latin American Class Structures: Their Composition and Change During the Neoliberal Era in: Latin American Research Review, 2003, vol. 38, p 41-82 xxvi Global Education First Initiative. “Priority #1: Put Every Child in School,” accessed October 2014, http://www.globaleducationfirst.org/218.htm xxvi Clayton, L., Conniff, M. A History of Modern Latin America. Thomson-Wadsworth. 1999. Chapter 19: The Classical Populists. xxvi “History of Colombia,” Encyclopedia Britannica online, accessed October 2014, http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/126086/history-of-Colombia xxvi The World Bank. 2015. World Development Indicators. Washington, D.C.: The World Bank (producer and distributor). http://data.worldbank.org/data-catalog/world-development-indicators xxvi (Translation my own) 82% de desplazados en Colombia vive en la indigencia. El Espectador. November 5, 2009, accessed October 2014 http://www.elespectador.com/noticias/judicial/articulo170483-82-de-desplazados-colombia-vive-indigencia xxvi La Agencia de La ONU para los Refugiados (2012). TSI Cundinamarca: Altos de la Florida, Municipio de Soacha. Retrieved from http://www.acnur.org/t3/que-hace/soluciones-duraderas/colombia-construyendo-soluciones-sostenibles-tsi/tsi-cundinamarca-altos-de-la-florida-municipio-de-soacha/ xxvi Source: La Agencia de la ONU para los Refugiados (UNHCR ACNUR). Source language in Spanish, quotes translated as directly as possible. xxvi La Agencia de La ONU para los Refugiados (October 2012). Construyendo Soluciones Sostenibles—Resumen de Altos de la Florida. Source language in Spanish, quotes translated as directly as possible. xxvi Human Rights Watch, “Access to Education,” accessed October 2014, http://www.hrw.org/reports/2005/colombia1005/7.htm xxvi The World Bank. 2012. Children out of school, primary, female [Data File]. Available from data.worldbank.org/ xxvi The World Bank. 2012. Children out of school, primary, male [Data File]. Available from data.worldbank.org/ xxvi UNICEF. “Colombia Statistics,” accessed October 2014 http://www.unicef.org/infobycountry/colombia_statistics.html xxvi The World Bank. 2012. Children in employment, female (% of female children ages 7-14) [Data File]. Available from data.worldbank.org/ xxvi The World Bank. 2012. Children in employment, male (% of male children ages 7-14) [Data File]. Available from data.worldbank.org/ xxvi See the UN Secretary-General’s Global Initiative on Education at http://www.globaleducationfirst.org/ for more statistics on global education disparities and conflict-afflicted educational opportunities. xxvi La Agencia de La ONU para los Refugiados, Construyendo Soluciones Sostenibles—Resumen de Altos de la Florida, October 2012.

“History of Colombia,” Encyclopedia Britannica online, accessed October 2014. Clayton, L., Conniff, M. A History of Modern Latin America. Thomson-Wadsworth. 1999. Chapter 19: The Classical Populists. Global Education First Initiative. “Priority #1: Put Every Child in School,” accessed October 2014. Human Rights Watch, “Access to Education,” accessed October 2014, La Agencia de La ONU para los Refugiados (2012). TSI Cundinamarca: Altos de la Florida, La Agencia de La ONU para los Refugiados (October 2012). Construyendo Soluciones Municipio de Soacha. Portes, Alejandro, Hoffman, Kelly: “Latin American Class Structures: Their Composition and Change During the Neoliberal Era” in: Latin American Research Review, 2003, vol. 38, p 41-82. The World Bank. 2012. Children in employment, female (% of female children ages 7-14). The World Bank. 2012. Children in employment, male (% of male children ages 7-14).

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The World Bank. 2012. Children out of school, primary, female. The World Bank. 2012. Children out of school, primary, male. The World Bank. 2015. World Development Indicators. Washington, D.C.: The World Bank. UNICEF. “Colombia Statistics,” accessed October 2014.

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Transnational Class Symbiosis: Nikkeijin and Elite Predilections

Bryan Ricciardi

I. Introduction

As a historic destination for immigration, Brazil has been internationally recognized for the colorful palette of peoples that comprise its population. On the surface, the Brazilian state touts the nation’s diversity as evidence of the presence of true racial democracy. The country's heterogeneous ethnic composition, however, is less a product of racial utopia than a result of the caprices of domestic and foreign elites. This is clearly evidenced in the case of the Japanese-Brazilian, or Nikkeijin, population. Today the Nikkeijin are one of the largest distinct ethnic groups in Brazil. Their arrival to this status is a product of a symbiotic relationship between elite classes in both Brazil and Japan. The wealthy and powerful in society, that controlled the state at the time of the greatest migration of Japanese to Brazil, were mutually invested and benefited from the movement.

Much like the majority of Latin American countries, Brazil’s economic development still contends with the deep legacy of the institutions that sprang from the initial European colonization. In keeping with mercantilist practice, Brazil was always intended to be a raw commodity exporter to Portugal. As such, development focused on agricultural pursuits and mining as the primary sources of growth for much of the colony’s history. In many respects, a quasi-feudal system was instituted that endowed individuals with vast tracts of uncultivated land to develop. This system produced unimaginable wealth for a small portion of society, but left the rest with few prospects for advancement. With Brazil’s reliance on an economy based on commodity export; the land owning planters in the country historically comprised the most powerful interest group. Their economic preponderance allowed them to largely direct state policy towards their prevailing interests. Even though Brazil was nominally a Republic during this period, elites still had an overbearing influence on the state. As such, when the coffee planters needed a new docile labor force they found an attractive candidate in the Japanese.

II. Burgeoning Relationship

The late 1800’s was a monumental time for Brazil. In 1889, the country declared its independence while the year prior it fully abolished slavery. In this two year span, traditional aspects of Brazilian society were upended. With slavery abolished and diplomatic commitments free, Brazil sought new workers and new alliances. A main

Bryan Ricciardi graduated from Johns Hopkins University with majors in International Studies, Latin American Studies, and Spanish. He is particularly interested in urbanization in the Western hemisphere. Through a grant provided by the Program in Latin American Studies, he conducted individual research in Mexico City and Los Angeles in July 2015. Bryan is originally from Bridgewater, New Jersey.

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beneficiary of this change was Japan. The two countries’ fruitful relationship began in 1894 with the arrival of diplomat She Nemoto to Rio de Janeiro in 1894xxvi. In the Brazilian capital, Nemoto was tasked with initiating diplomatic ties with the Brazilian government along with developing an agreement that would allow for Japanese migration to the country. Nemoto’s arrival could not have been more perfectly timed as Brazilian coffee planters were becoming increasingly fed up with the rambunctious imported European laborers. Instead of docilely laboring on the plantations, the European-Brazilians were steeped in socialist and anarchist ideas from the Old World. These notions caused them to chafe at the strictures and work conditions imposed on them by the planter class. Calls to action from the Left were anathema to the orderly plantation society the elite wanted to maintain in the country. As such they became too unruly to be favored by the elites to work the plantations in the eyes of the plantation ownersxxvi. It is important to note that elites pursued a blatantly racist policy called “branqueamento,” that sought to literally whiten the racial complexion of the country. This was a response to the demographic preponderance of slaves of African descent compared to whites. While using whites as laborers may have satisfied the racio-political goals of the elite, it was economically an issue if the workers rebelled against the plantation system. This incited a search for a new labor force, not white nor black.

In addition to labor demands, the Brazilian state had the added interest of decreasing dependence on the United States. Like most Latin American countries during this period, Brazil had a large reliance on the Colossus of the North as a buyer of its exportsxxvi. Not only did Brazil stand to gain a new workforce by broaching a relationship with Japan, but greater access to the markets of Asia to sell its commodities. Although Japanese immigrants made for an attractive labor force for numerous reasons, the added benefit of diversifying export markets was enough to sway any opposition to Japanese immigration.

Perceiving a ravenous demand, Nemoto marketed the Japanese as the antithesis of all that is European in all aspects save race. According to Nemoto, the Japanese were the “Whites of Asia.” This was meant in the sense that the Japanese were civilized, technologically advanced, and regionally dominant over its neighbors. Nemoto played into the prevailing racist sentiments among Brazilian elites at this time as a tactical method for assuaging racial concerns over Asian immigration. Beliefs in white supremacy and eugenics held significant sway during this era. Although eugenic acceptance was widespread, it was not formally institutionalized in Brazil until Getulio Vargas created the Central Brazilian Commission of Eugenics in 1931xxvi. Compounded with traditional elite fears of black and now European labor, Brazilian elites undoubtedly saw the Japanese as an answer to the need for a non-black labor force to replace the slaves, and a non-leftist labor force to replace the Europeans. Nemoto characterized his people as quiet, hard-working, and eager to become Braziliansxxvi. Not surprisingly the Brazilian’s found the Japanese incredibly attractive as potential laborers. Nemoto’s diplomatic efforts came to fruition with The Treaty of Friendship, Commerce, and Navigation of 1895xxvi. Signed between the Emperor of Japan and The First Republic of Brazil, the treaty paved the way for mass Japanese immigration to Brazil along with cementing their diplomatic ties. While

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this was a crucial first step, the first Japanese immigrants would arrive thirteen years later.

Although there was a clear demand for the type of labor the Japanese would purportedly provide, the reason for a large supply of potential immigrants was largely due to Japanese internal politics during the Taisho Era. According to Japanese Ambassador to Brazil Akika Akyoshi, the main driver for initial Japanese rapprochement with Brazil was the demands of capitalist expansion in Japanxxvi. Japanese corporations needed more access to raw materials and used Japanese immigration to Brazil as a pretext and medium for establishing greater trade relations with Brazilian exporters. In addition to the economic opportunities to be found in Brazil, the Japanese regime had ulterior incentives to increase immigration. Following World War I, rice prices in Japan skyrocketed due to high inflation leading to three months of riots across the nation in protest. Along with nearly toppling the Japanese government at the time, the incident also made clear the need for a figurative escape valve to relieve some of the pressure on the government to provide for a growing population. Following the riots, the Japanese government increased efforts to move as many people as they deemed necessary out of the country, with a large portion of them ending up in Brazil. The government targeted poor and unemployed Japanese people with propaganda about Brazil to lure them into migrating abroad. It is telling that the majority of Japanese sent to Brazil are from regions most dependent on rice-production considering they were the most volatile during the riotsxxvi.

III. Corporate Involvement

With Japanese elites needing a recipient country for immigrants to mitigate potential for rebellion and Brazilian elites requiring a new labor force, interests were aligned leading to expanded relations from the initial 1895 treaty. While there was some initial immigration following the signing of the treaty, the quantity of immigrants skyrocketed with the foundation of immigration-focused companiesxxvi. In order to facilitate immigration en masse multiple Japanese-owned immigration companies developed and established a presence in Brazil. This process began in 1907 when the Kokoku Shokumin Kaisha (Kokoku Colonisation Company) made an agreement with the state government of São Pauloxxvi. The details of the agreement allowed for the migration of 3,000 Japanese men to the state with a guarantee of migration for women and children at a later date. This agreement marked the catalyst for the period of the greatest Japanese influx to Brazil. Between 1907 and 1941, approximately 189,000 Japanese immigrated to Brazil. As a point of comparison, 50,000 Japanese have migrated to Brazil in the period after WWIIxxvi.

Aside from facilitating Japanese migration to Brazil, these corporations acted as institutions of social control. The firms would front the trans-pacific travel fare for immigrants with the intention of leveraging that debt to manipulate their customers. The companies capitalized on the immigrants’ indebtedness to them by controlling the immigrants’ movements and directing them in ways that directly benefitted themselves

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or partner companies. Considering that 94% of Japanese-Brazilians sent to Brazil went through immigration companies, their influence on the immigrant population was overwhelmingxxvi. Initially, numerous companies of this type existed; however, the Kaigai Kogyo Kaisha (Kaigai Immigration Company) eventually monopolized the market. The company capitalized on the increased demand for Japanese labor in Brazil during World War I to become the sole immigration mega-companyxxvi. The main method the companies used to exploit the immigrants was to funnel them into company-owned plantations in Southern Brazil. It sent many immigrants to one of the plantations in the millions of acres the company owned in the southern regions of Brazil. This is the cause of the concentration of Japanese ethnic populations in southern Brazilian cities such as São Paulo and Paraná.

IV. The Definition of Success?

An interesting aspect of this arrangement is how the company’s overbearing involvement in the immigration process led to the perception of the successful nature of Japanese immigration to Brazil. The company was able to strategically place Japanese workers, and mitigate the potential for dissent. This allowed the Japanese to eventually save enough from their meager earnings to become capitalists in their own right. Today, many Japanese-Brazilians are solidly middle or upper class, economically speaking. The way in which Japanese immigration was managed carefully by the KKK and other companies of its kind helped lead to the perception of the Japanese as a successful immigrant group relative to others in Brazilxxvi. The Japanese conformed and were forced to conform to the image of model immigrants, at least in the elite conception of a model immigrantxxvi.

V. The End of Interest Alignment

This perception did not last. The dynamics of global politics eventually pitted Japan and Brazil at odds. The end of the symbiotic relationship between the elites of both

countries led to a steep decline in Japanese immigration to Brazil. The ascendance of Getúlio Vargas was signalled a of changing elite interests. Prior to the Vargas era, the elites tolerated deviations from their white supremacist ideals for the sake of economic and social needs. Vargas’s fascist state instituted policies that attempted to preserve an imagined conception of Brazil’s demographyxxvi. This logic informed the drafting of the short-lived Brazilian Constitution of 1934. Although it lasted a mere three years, the Constitution had the major effect of curbing all future Japanese immigration to the country. The Constitution set an immigration quota at 2% of the current population of each immigrant groupxxvi. While this policy undoubtedly affected all immigrant groups in Brazil, it was largely developed in response to elite distaste for Asian immigrants. The policy was harsh in some respects considering that before the quotas were set, 23,000 Japanese could legally enter Brazil annually; whereas, after 3,500 could legally enterxxvi. The policy was incontrovertibly harsh; it led to a 65% decrease in Japanese immigration to the country. Vargas’s government deftly crafted the policy so as not to offend Japan in

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order to preserve the valuable economic ties and investments companies from both nations had. Essentially, Brazilian elites had received a large enough Japanese workforce into the country and did not want or need any more without upsetting the delicate racial balance that was desired for the country.

VI. Racial Fascism

The Constitution of 1934 is moderate compared to the turn towards increasingly racial fascism Brazil took from 1937 onward. In 1937, a rumor spread that Imperial Japan intended to divide South America into colonies. Regardless of the rumor’s authenticity, it captivated the public conscience enough to cause a pushback against Japanese immigrants. With Vargas’s implementation of the Estado Novo in 1937, the way was paved for a full state mobilization against the Japanese. The Estado Novo, was a package of policies that further centralized state power and developed a repressive security apparatus for quashing dissent. Among other bans: Japanese newspapers were banned; foreign languages were banned; and travel was banned for foreign residents. Although the Japanese did not see themselves as foreigners, they were lumped together with foreigners and placed under the same stringent restrictionsxxvi. The final straw to the deteriorating status of Japanese-Brazilians was the December 7th, 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor. From that point on, Vargas and Brazil aligned with the United States and the other Allied powers xxvi. From that point on the State put even greater restrictions on the Japanese, such as forced relocations from strategic locationsxxvi; this policy was pursued in the United States as well.

With the ultra-nationalist Brazilian state putting pressure on the Japanese-Brazilians, they responded in kind. The Japanese-Brazilians took their own ultra-nationalist turn. This produced an increased prevalence of ultra-nationalist secret societies among the Japanese immigrant community. One such group was called the Shindo Renmei (Way of the Subject’s of the Emperor’s League). Comprised of retired Japanese officers that were infuriated by Brazil’s alliance with the Allied Powers, the group advocated for the Japanization of Brazilxxvi. The goal was to increase Japanese presense in the country and eventually unite it with Japan. Instead of advocating for Japanese return to the mother country; however, Shindo Renmei promoted the creation of Japanese-controlled enclaves in Brazil. The group’s increasingly visible criminal actions, including assassinations of political dissenters, forced the state to crackdown on the Shindo Renmei. Members of the group were imprisoned while riots began to lynch Japanese irrespective of their affiliationxxvi.

Brazil’s experience with the Shindo Renmei and other such groups was a symptom of deteriorating racial tolerance for the Japanese by the middle and upper classes. With the end of World War II and the collapse of the Vargas regime, race relations somewhat normalized. Japanese were successfully reincorporated into the national fabric. It also helped that many early Japanese-Brazilian immigrants rose to the middle and upper classes in the post-war boom yearsxxvi. With greater wealth came greater respect from the traditionally wealthy white upper class.

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VII. Post-War Period

How has the Japanese-Brazilian population fared in the post-war period since the largest influxes of Japanese immigrants have clearly subsided? The population’s status has been augmented within Brazilxxvi. As Japan’s global prominence increased, the Japanese garnered increasingly greater respect by the upper echelons of Brazilian society only to reverse during the turbulence of World War II. Takeyu Tsuda argues that the Japanese-Brazilian population has undergone a process of deterritorialization, in the sense that now they have a homeland, but no true home. Many Japanese-Brazilian’s have exploited their status as the most desired of all Japanese foreign labor to return to Japan by using special visas. Japan has extremely stringent immigration policies that attempt to maintain the country’s racial homogeneity. While most Japanese-Brazilians were not born in Japan, the Japanese state is happy to welcome them back to the homeland. The Japanese are still a very homogenous society; however, with an aging population, labor needs must be met by importing a younger workforce at times. The ethnic ties the Japanese share with the Japanese-Brazilians makes them attractive in a similar way to how they were attractive to Brazilian planters in the early 2oth century. Since the Yen is considerably stronger than the Brazilian real, many Japanese-Brazilians opt to work in Japan for a time and save enough money to return to Brazil and live comfortablyxxvi. In Japan this group is known as dekassegui. Even though they are ethnically identical, the dekassegui are faced with prejudice by the native Japanese due to Brazilian cultural traits acquired while living abroad. In response, the dekassegui have clustered in enclaves communities and socially reproduced Brazilian societal aspects and cultural markers in a greater Japanese contextxxvi. This current status quo speaks to the overall lack of tolerance for diversity in Japan. Still, approximately 50% of dekassegui elect to stay in Japan in instead of returning to Brazil. Apparently the attachment to the homeland trumps prejudice, or economic reasons hold the dekassegui back from returning to Brazil.

For the Japanese-Brazilians that remain in Brazil, they have reasserted their Japanese identity as a source of pride. With Japan’s status as the world’s third largest economy, there has been an up swelling of pride for the Japanese side of the Japanese-Brazilian identity. In many ways, Japanese-Brazilians have been able to avoid the fate of their fellow

Afro-Brazilians. Unlike, the Afro-Brazilians, the Nikkei have been able to preserve a distinct social consciousness while assimilating largely into greater Brazilian society. This stands in marked contrast to the situation of many blacks in Brazil that are clustered in favelas. Deluded by discourse of racial democracy as fact, blacks by-and-large lack a racial consciousnessxxvi. This, along with a racial preference for the Japanese has likely led to the group’s relative success in Brazil. Nevertheless, the community remains fairly distinct from the rest of Brazilian society.

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VII. Conclusion

In a larger context, the story of the Japanese-Brazilian population is an example of transnational class symbiosis in action. The decision to internationally transfer a segment of Japan’s population helped the elite of both Japan and Brazil achieve their goals. Much like in domestic politics, if enough powerful interests are aligned, action on any issue can be decisive and effective. On an international scale, the interests of the most powerful classes in Japanese and Brazilian society found the opportunity for a mutually beneficial relationship with each other. With their interests aligned, the governments were able to facilitate the migration of 242, 643 Japanese to Brazil in the span of nearly a century. The essential hijacking of the state for the sake of elite interests is a phenomenon that has been too frequent in Latin America and the world in general. The experience of the Japanese that migrated to Brazil, while relatively successful today, is the product of elite class interests based on decidedly fascist and racist notions.

xxvi Lesser, Jeff. Searching for Home Abroad: Japanese Brazilians and Transnationalism.Durham: Duke UP, 2003. Print. xxvi Bairros e Silva, Jean. "NEGÓCIOS COM JAPÃO, CORÉIA DO SUL E CHINA: ECONOMIA, GESTÃO E RELAÇÕES COM O BRASIL. (Portuguese)." RAC - Revista De Administração Contemporânea 13.2 (2009): 348-349.

xxvi Bairros e Silva, Jean 349. xxvi Stepan, N.L. 1991. The Hour of Eugenics: Race, Gender, and Nation in Latin America. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Pp. 137-170. 163. xxvi Lesser, Jeff, 2003. 5. xxvi Quan, H. "Race, Nation and Diplomacy: Japanese Immigrants and the Reconfiguration of Brazil's ‘desirables’." Social Identities: Journal for the Study of Race, Nation and Culture 10.3 (2007): 339-67. Taylor & Francis Online. Web. 24 Apr. 2014. 340.

xxvi Quan, H. 344. xxvi Quan, H. 346. xxvi Quan, H. 348. xxvi Quan, H. 342. xxvi Lesser, Jeff, 2003. 5. xxvi Quan, H. 349. xxvi Quan, H. 342. xxvi Quan, H. 349. xxvi Lesser, Jeff, 2003. 114. xxvi Ibid. 9. xxvi Ibid. 8. xxvi Ibid. 8. xxvi Ibid. 9. xxvi Ibid. 10. xxvi Ibid. 11. xxvi Ibid. 11. xxvi Ibid. 12. xxvi Ibid. 12. xxvi Tsuda, Takeyu. "When Identities Become Modern: Japanese Emigration to Brazil and the Global Contextualization of Identity." Ethnic and Racial Studies 24.3 (2001): 412-32. No Records. Web. 21 Apr. 2014. 414. xxvi Ishi, Angelo. "Searching for Home, Wealth, Pride, and “Class”: Japanese-Brazilians in the “Land of Yen”." Searching for Home Abroad: Japanese Brazilians and Transnationalism. Durham: Duke UP, 2003. N. pag. Print. 77.

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xxvi Tsuda, Takeyu. 417. xxvi Hanchard, M. G. 1994. Orpheus and power: The Movimiento Negro of Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo, Brazil 1945-1988. Princeton: Princeton University Press. P 31- 76. 41.

Bairros e Silva, Jean. "NEGÓCIOS COM JAPÃO, CORÉIA DO SUL E CHINA: ECONOMIA, GESTÃO E RELAÇÕES COM O BRASIL. (Portuguese)." RAC - Revista De Administração Contemporânea 13.2 (2009): 348-349.

Business Source Complete. Web. 7 May 2014.

Hanchard, M. G. 1994. Orpheus and power: The Movimiento Negro of Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo, Brazil 1945-1988.

Princeton: Princeton University Press. P 31- 76.

Ishi, Angelo. "Searching for Home, Wealth, Pride, and “Class”: Japanese-Brazilians in the “Land of Yen”." Searching for Home Abroad: Japanese Brazilians and Transnationalism.

Durham: Duke UP, 2003. N. pag. Print.

Lesser, Jeff. A Discontented Diaspora: Japanese Brazilians and the Meanings of Ethnic Militancy, 1960-1980.

Durham: Duke UP, 2007. Print.

Lesser, Jeff. Searching for Home Abroad: Japanese Brazilians and Transnationalism.

Durham: Duke UP, 2003. Print.

Markowitz, Fran, and Anders H. Stefansson. Homecomings: Unsettling Paths of Return.

Lanham, MD: Lexington, 2004. Print.

Quan, H. "Race, Nation and Diplomacy: Japanese Immigrants and the Reconfiguration of

Brazil's ‘desirables’." Social Identities: Journal for the Study of Race, Nation and Culture 10.3 (2007): 339-67. Taylor & Francis Online. Web. 24 Apr. 2014.

Stepan, N.L. 1991. The Hour of Eugenics: Race, Gender, and Nation in Latin America.

Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Pp. 137-170.

Tsuda, Takeyu. "When Identities Become Modern: Japanese Emigration to Brazil and the Global Contextualization of Identity." Ethnic and Racial Studies 24.3 (2001):

412-32. No Records. Web. 21 Apr. 2014.

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The Dragon in the Andes: Chinese Investment in Peru and Ecuador

Nicholas Widmyer

Towards the end of One Hundred Years of Solitude, the matriarch of the Buendia family casts her eyes over her extended brood and sees the same characteristics and mistakes repeated again and again through the generations. “It’s as if history is repeating itself,” she says. Perhaps nowhere is this circular idea of history seen better than after the military, in cahoots with the North American banana company, massacres the striking workers. Jose Arcadio survives, staggers back to town, only to find that all memory of the atrocity has been magically wiped out. Nowadays, many observers look at the effects of Chinese investment and demand for commodities from Latin America and wonder if, like in Macondo, countries have preferred to forget the negative effects of commodity booms and are doomed to repeat past experiences.

China’s incredible growth has driven the most recent commodity boom, and has been an important part of Latin America’s economic success over the past decade. Montenegro et al argue that Latin America is second only to Eastern Asia to the extent it has successfully taken advantage of the opportunities Chinese growth presents.xxvi This is especially true for countries whose primary exports are commodities, like Peru and Ecuador. Both countries depend heavily on extractive industries. 60% of Peruvian exports are from the mining sector.xxvi In Ecuador’s case, 50% of exports come from the hydrocarbon sector. China’s economic influence on the countries is not limited to demand; it has become an important investor as well. In Peru, China is the largest single investor by nationality in the mining sector.xxvi Ecuador receives the most Chinese investment in proportion to GDP in South America.xxvi Leaders of both countries have made attracting Chinese investment a centerpiece of their foreign policy and economic strategies.

Despite the optimism on both sides of the Pacific, this burgeoning relationship is not without its tensions, especially with local civil society. This paper will examine Chinese strategy regarding its investments abroad and how this strategy has affected its dealings with local civil society. In Peru and Ecuador, indigenous and environmental groups are well organized after years of confrontation with Western and local companies. They have taken the lessons and tactics acquired in those clashes and turned them on the new Chinese investors. While my findings are limited by a small sample size, the Chinese have struggled to overcome incredible cultural and linguistic differences and obtain favorable overcomes in their interactions with non official actors. Despite the protests and Chinese efforts to build good will however, the ultimate responsibility for brokering and enforcing a deal that is mutually beneficial for mining companies and local communities remains with the host state.

Nicholas Widmyer is an M.A. candidate in Latin American Studies at Georgetown University. Before returning to his studies, Nicholas spent five years as an English teacher in Santiago, Chile. He is originally from Charles Town, West Virginia.

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I. Chinese Strategy Abroad and Its Strategic Implications

In recent years Chinese influence has gone from being marginal to being undeniable. China formally announced the beginning of a new era in its foreign policy in 1999 with the “Going Out” strategy. According to the strategy, the Chinese government would promote its nationals’ investments abroad that fit with one of four objectives: providing a market for Chinese products, improving resource security, enabling technology transfer, and promoting research and development.xxvi The government’s rhetoric has clearly influenced its businesses’ thinking since the investors rank “government support” as the second most important reason for going abroad.xxvi

The going out strategy articulates certain principles to guide Chinese actions when investing abroad: an absolute respect for sovereignty, economic cooperation, and an emphasis on partnerships rather than on exploitation. These principles are in line with Chinese people’s self-identification as victims of Western imperialism and colonialism in recent times.xxvi The Chinese argue the conditionality and policy prescriptions attached to most Western countries’ and international financial institutions’ aid and investments are interventionist and imperialist. For Chinese policy makers, reaching out to Latin America is based at least partially on what they see as a common history of exploitation, colonialism, and underdevelopment.xxvi It is clear then that the Chinese are not acting based solely on economic interest when going abroad; ideological principles are relevant as well.

The Chinese principle of absolute respect for state sovereignty makes its loans and investments more attractive for many governments. Compared to what are widely perceived as overly restrictive conditions tied to loans or investments from Western institutions, a seemingly unconditional Chinese loan can be enticing to a struggling government. However, there are strategic consequences to China’s rhetoric. A policy of noninterference with society at large means that China is forced to rely on ties with government elites.xxvi This narrow base of support inside host countries means Chinese investment is vulnerable to changes in government. In the case of civil unrest or civil war, the Chinese are stuck in their alliance with the existing authorities.

This dependence on the official elite has kept China from engaging more broadly with host countries’ civil societies. This had led to much resentment and alienation, especially in countries with repressive governments. For example, the world discovered that the Chinese government was shipping small arms to Robert Mugabe’s regime in Zimbabwe after a contested election came when a trade union in South Africa refused to unload one of the shipments.xxvi Such alliances with repressive regimes undermine the Chinese rhetoric of solidarity and anti-imperialism in the eyes of many Africans, as well as international observers. Indeed, communities, NGOs and unions have been some of China’s fiercest critics abroad and China has struggled to build constructive relationships with them. China prefers to outsource its dealings with those sort of groups to the host government, which may not always look out for China’s best interests.xxvi

This lack of engagement has repercussions on intelligence gathering as well. Western countries and companies have acess to a vibrant domestic NGO scene that is well connected to diverse groups from around the world. China has no equivalent. Despite their

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anti-imperialist rhetoric, the Chinese are forced to depend on these western NGOs to inform their decision making abroad. This is a problem Chinese leaders have recognized but have struggled to correct. Alden and Hughes report on a government effort to set up a Peace Corp style program for Chinese young people, although the authors say that according to a “confidential discussion with Chinese officials” the effort has floundered.xxvi

Also, in order to understand Chinese actions in the developing world it is very important to disaggregate the Chinese state. There is an unfortunate tendency of Orientalism in many studies regarding the Chinese; that is, they assume all Chinese people and actors are the same. There is also a tendency to see all Chinese firms as working toward the goals of the Chinese state. In fact, there are a variety of Chinese actors making foreign investment and all of them have different relationships with their home government. As Downs argues, coordination does not necessarily equal top down decision making.xxvi Broadly defined, there are three categories of Chinese actors abroad: the Chinese government itself, state owned enterprises (SOEs) with varying degrees of autonomy from the central government, and private enterprises that function more or less autonomously.

SOEs are the most prevalent among Chinese foreign investors in Latin America. Many of them have significant state backing in addition to varying degrees of accountability to private investors. There are several key differences compared to more traditional mining firms however. SOEs do not have to rely on stock markets to raise funds, or answer to the demands of shareholders every quarter. Gonzalez Vicente argues this is an advantage over Western firms since an SOE can ignore pressures to produce quarterly and instead focus on the long term.xxvi Steinfeld however sees Chinese SOEs as economically unsustainable since they have never had to face “hard budgets, the pressure of a bottom line, or the threat of bankruptcy and market exit”.xxvi Indeed, Chinese companies have shown considerably more tolerance for risk in their investments. Kotschwar et al find that the dominant pattern of Chinese investment is to take equity stakes or write long term procurement contracts with the competitive fringe in the host countries.xxvi The subsidized lines of credit from the Chinese Development Bank doubtlessly affect these calculations. As Steinfeld points out, the Chinese government is reluctant to allow its SOEs to fail, both at home and abroad.xxvi If this arrangement of cheap Chinese credit leading to higher upfront investments holds true, this could lead to an expansion of the resource base for Latin American countries and be an economic positive.

Alongside concerns about the economic viability of a blended public private model, there are troubling concerns from the perspective of civil society. Not only are companies isolated from investors’ demands, but also from pressure from civil society groups. There is no judicial overview - no one has ever sued a Chinese SOE in a Chinese court and won.xxvi Indeed, the question of who regulates Chinese SOEs does not seem to have a clear answer. Nominally the State Owned Assets Supervision and Administration Committee (SASAC) is in charge of regulating SOEs’ investments abroad. However, many SOE executives actually outrank their regulators in the Chinese government, meaning that the SASAC is limited to “suggestions rather than enforcement”.xxvi This is linked to SOEs’ vulnerability to the often times obscure machinations of palace politics in Beijing and the Communist Party. For example, it seems that Shougang in Peru did not live up to contractual investment

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commitments after buying a mining concession partially due to domestic politics. The founder of Shougang, Zhou Guanwu, fueled his company's expansion abroad by convincing the Chinese government to allow his company to set up its own bank in 1992. This meant the company had free access to Chinese household savings to make loans to itself, and did away with any existing financial or budgetary discipline. By 1995 Shougang’s founder was forced into retirement as the company collapsed under a mountain of debt. His son, a notorious playboy who was also the company's chairman, was convicted of “economic crimes” and sentenced to death in 1996.xxvi

II. Chinese and Latin American Civil Society

“What China Has to Do With Death of Indigenous Leader” screams a headline from an activist newspaper from one year ago.xxvi The victim was Jose Tendetza, who had brought a lawsuit against the Ecuadorian government to the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights. He accused his government of violating the local community’s right to informed consent before mining began at the nearby Chinese owned El Mirador copper mine. The headline is yellow journalism at its worst, with the article offering no proof of Chinese involvement in the murder. Yet the rhetoric on display is exemplar of the hostility and lack of trust that has characterized the relationship between Peruvian and Ecuadorian indigenous groups and Chinese companies. Local communities have responded to an expanded Chinese presence and investments with mobilizations. At the same time, Chinese companies have struggled to get successful outcomes in negotiations with such a well-organized and well connected civil society.

The new wave of social movements that have arisen against mining are unique in Latin American history, both in terms of their demands as well as their strategies. Traditionally, protests against mining have stemmed from perceived exploitation of workers and been led by unions. Bebbington et al argue that local communities are leading this new generation of protests. These communities are responding to the threat of dispossession, whether of the land itself or a way of life.xxvi By way of life, the authors refer to the pollution of a landscape that once supported traditional lifestyles.

These movements are also unique in the extent they are integrated with transnational networks. Keck and Sikkink predict that social movements will turn to international allies when domestic channels to influence the state are blocked; they call this the boomerang effect. xxvi Foreign contacts can amplify the demands of these domestic movements, apply pressure from abroad on governments, which in turn opens up more domestic space for organizing. They offer the example of campaigns against deforestation in the Brazilian Amazon. Local governments there are generally unsympathetic to protests against the expansion of cattle ranches. But these demands resonated strongly in the international arena.xxvi Washington DC based activists forced multilateral banks to do environmental assessment impacts before making loans in these areas, and in 1985 the World Bank suspended disbursements to a project in Brazil on the grounds that the local government was not doing enough to protect indigenous and natural areas.xxvi A successful application of the boomerang effect would lead to the incorporation of locals’ demands into

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the planning and implementation of the project. A failure would be distinguished by a continued disregard for locals’ wishes.

It is not immediately clear if the boomerang effect is an effective strategy against Chinese companies and banks; there are both promising and discouraging signs. As mentioned earlier, Chinese SOEs are uniquely isolated from investors’ concerns and the judicial system. China does not have a vibrant domestic civil society that can put pressure on the state. Yet, the Chinese government has expressed clear concerns about caring for the environment; an encouraging sign for activists. In 2012, Chinese banking regulators announced the Green Credit Directive. This environmental regulation is described “as one of the world’s most progressive environmental banking regulations...in comparison governments in the United States and Europe have done virtually nothing to hold banks responsible for the environmental impacts of their lending”xxvi. Regulators have even gone so far as to set up a website in which anyone can report problems relating to projects funded by Chinese lending.xxvi The Chinese state’s response to environmental criticisms shows that it is not uniquely callous towards broader societal concerns. This certainly would bode well for indigenous groups wanting to use a “boomerang” strategy.

Since Chinese investment is still so recent and concentrated in relatively few projects, the best way to evaluate Chinese concern for local communities, the environment, and the effects of the boomerang strategy is to examine the case studies. This paper will focus on three recent Chinese investments. The El Mirador and Rio Blanco projects, in Ecuador and Peru respectively, are greenfield copper deposits in pristine natural environments with large indigenous populations nearby. Both governments have made exploiting these concessions national priorities. The locals in both cases are well integrated in international solidarity networks, and have strong connections with North American lawyers, environmental and human rights groups.xxvi The “boomerang effect” has become an important part of these locals’ strategies to resist new mines, with mixed results. The third case study is the Toromocho concession, a brownfield copper mine in the Peruvian highlands. In this case, Chinese investors have built a mostly successful relationship with local society and no boomerang effect has taken place.

III. The Boomerang Strategy at Work: El Mirador

The development of the El Mirador concession in southern Ecuador has faced strong and intense opposition from national and international civil society. A massive open pit copper mine at the headwaters of the Amazon River, the project has inherently high environmental risks but is an essential part of President Correa’s plan to strengthen Ecuador’s mining economy. Tonglung, a Chinese SOE, purchased the concession in 2012 even as Western mining companies were abandoning similar projects across the country over concerns about political stability and government relations.xxvi Locals are bitterly opposed to the mine, and are supported by the powerful national indigenous confederation CONAIE. In 2012, when the sale of the concession was signed, CONAIE and locals marched on Quito and brought the city to a standstill.xxvi But President Correa has overruled their objections. In a 2012 interview he dismissed opposition large scale mining projects as

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“infantile” and promised to use the revenues from mining to fight poverty.xxvi Correa’s support has not wavered: in March 2016 he visited the site to proclaim his support for the project, now three years behind schedule due to ongoing protests and even violence, saying, “[When we have this project,] Ecuador will be a mining power.”xxvi

With domestic channels toward effecting policy changes closed, locals have turned to international NGOs in a classic example of the boomerang effect at work. In January of 2014, 19 indigenous leaders from communities near the mine along with six NGOs sent a letter to the six Chinese banks financing the project regarding the implementation of the Green Credit Directive. The letter began, “We respectfully ask...how your institution has modified its environmental and social risk assessment of this project”.xxvi Five of the banks did not respond. Two of the letters were returned. Only the Bank of China indicated it had received a copy, calling one of the NGOs to request the letter in Spanish.xxvi An activist with Accion Ecologica recalled that it was a “real odyssey to send [the letters in]...the banks are really inaccessible.”xxvi This seeming indifference on the part of the Chinese to these serious concerns has led many of the NGOs to the troubling conclusion that the Green Credit Directive is rhetoric only. As an activist for Friends of the Earth-USA said, “There’s no evidence the Chinese banks are taking [the Green Credit Directive] seriously...it’s not even clear the Chinese companies and banks know it’s a requirement.”xxvi The project is moving forward and scheduled to begin production in 2018, but in a tense atmosphere characterized by protests and violence. The lack of results seems to demonstrate that, despite the rhetoric, when it comes to actions, Chinese SOEs are indeed uniquely insulated from civil society’s demands.

IV. Rio Blanco

Across the border in northern Peru, local opposition and international NGOs have managed to halt development on the Rio Blanco concession for the foreseeable future. In 2007, a group of Chinese investors led by Zijin Mining Group bought out the British Junior Monterrico Metals which owned the concession. They were the only bidders for reasons that soon became clear. Local communities are overwhelmingly against the project - 98.3% of residents voted “no” to the development of any mining project in the region.xxvi The level of social opposition to the project explains why no one else was willing to invest. This situation is not unique to Zijin, or a result of its Chineseness. Non-Chinese companies have struggled with reluctant peasant and indigenous communities all across Peru and Ecuador. What makes Zijin’s situation so interesting was they were apparently unaware of this pitfall beforehand. It is unclear if they were purposefully misled or assumed the authorities would take care of these problems without their involvement. It is a sign of one of China’s greatest weaknesses when abroad; its lack of connections with civil society means it is vulnerable to misinformation and dependent on official reports. Since the concession changed hands, local resistance has not wavered. Locals have made important allies in other communities in the region, as well as international NGOs, and even British MPs.xxvi

It is difficult to suss out if the boomerang effect is necessarily the cause for Zijin’s failure to exploit Rio Blanco, as there are a variety of other important causative factors. The

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Peruvian government has offered little support to Zijin, especially compared to the situation in El Mirador. Even so, as of 2015, the concession remains on the central government’s list of top 25 priority projects.xxvi Local government is not in favor either; the regional president declared the project “impossible to realize for this generation” in 2013.xxvi Also, there are incredible infrastructure demands that need to be met before production could begin. Zijin would have to build a port, a pipeline, and the mine itself in a remote and undeveloped area. These high social and economic costs have led most observers to concur that the project does not offer net benefits to Peru and certainly not to the region where it would be located. They have also doubtlessly affected Zijin’s calculations as well.

V. Toromocho

The Toromocho mining project in Central Peru seems to be an example of a successful Chinese investment strategy. Chinalco, a Chinese SOE, has used its privileged access to government subsidized credit to build a relationship with the local community. Chinalco was the only bidder for the Toromocha concession in 2007 when the Canadian junior company Peru Copper Ltd put it up for sale.xxvi Apparently other investors were frightened off by the need to relocate the entire town of Morococha, among other environmental concerns, before beginning production. Chinalco was undeterred, and made a more than fair offer to shareholders, above the listed stock price.xxvi

Moving is always tough, so there is certainly the potential for this to be a major mobilizing issue for the local community. But neither mass mobilizations nor a boomerang effect have taken place. Indeed, the consensus among observers is that Chinalco has capably handled a delicate situation. Right from the start, Chinalco executives aimed to build a socially and environmentally responsible reputation for their company. Sanborn and Chonn find that Chinalco “has raised the bar for community relocations by prioritizing dialogue and consensus building rather than sheer use of force.”xxvi According to Chinalco’s calculations, it invested more than US$50 million in constructing 1050 houses at the new location and installing all the necessary infrastructure.xxvi Sanborn and Dammer praise the relocation as “the largest social project in the history of mining in Peru”.xxvi In November of 2012, 75% of Morococha residents accepted the offer of a new house in Nueva Morococha. The 25% who stayed behind seemed to be holding out mostly in the hope of more compensation, but have failed to mobilize even local support for their cause. Even the mayor recognizes that, “we have to leave our town, but at least there is indemnization”.xxvi The hold outs continue to be a problem for Chinalco, but to its credit it maintains that “it will not use force in relocation process”.xxvi

There are important points that make the Toromocho case unique compared to the previous case studies. By all accounts, Morococha was a bleak and impoverished place. The town, a former mining camp, was heavily polluted, with scant water supplies, children playing on toxic waste dumps, and open sewers.xxvi This is a far cry from the misty rain forests and clear waters of the Upper Amazon where the other copper projects are located, and unlikely to attract such international sympathy. In addition the local economy, such as

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it was, was based on small scale mining projects and commerce with the nearby highway rather than subsistence agriculture. In 2009 when Chinalco carried out its environmental impact survey, 63% of the economically active population was involved in the mining sector and only 4.5% worked in agriculture. The population was urbanized and already well integrated with and dependent on the mining sector.xxvi The hold out is not struggling to keep a traditional way of life, but to get higher compensation. Thirdly, Chinese investors had the complete and active support of the Peruvian state, which in 2014 classified the town as “uninhabitable” and ordered the removal of all the remaining holdouts due to risk of “seismic activity”.xxvi As mentioned before, even the mayor supported the move. Finally, the Chinalco executives recognized their limitations in engaging with Peruvian civil society and retained a Canadian consulting company to handle community relations. An environmental and social situation unlikely to attract outsider sympathy, combined with skillful corporate diplomacy and deep pockets allowed Chinalco to avoid a protracted conflict with civil society.

VI. Conclusion and Recommendations Going Forward

The three case studies clearly provide a range of possible outcomes to Chinese involvement with Latin American civil society. China’s willingness to take on high upfront investments is a tremendous opportunity for Latin America and local mining communities. Nowhere is this more evident than in Chinalco’s apt handling of a delicate situation at Toromocho. Yet the disastrous community relations in the Mirador and Rio Blanco projects are troubling. The Chinese banks’ disregard for environmental and local concerns in Mirador, and Zijin’s apparently unviable investment in Rio Blanco and disastrous community relations seem to confirm fears that China is indeed exceptionally closed off from civil society’s demands. However, in both projects it is difficult to suss out if the “Chineseness” of the project is what is causing the problems. There are many other factors at play, from infrastructure demands to government priorities, and too few cases, to be able to point to any single cause. Hopefully, Tonglung and Zijin can learn from Chinalco’s prioritization of dialogue and engagement with the community to build a mutually beneficial relationship with the locals around their own projects.

What emerges as the decisive factors in ensuring productive partnerships between communities and Chinese investors is the involvement of the host state. The Peruvian and Ecuadorian states need to build an institutional framework that will incorporate indigenous peoples and their concerns into any negotiations over the creation of new mines. Ideally, such a framework would permit community members to share in the profits of the mine through a direct tax link, and participate in regulating the projects’ inevitable externalities. States need to build capacity at the local level so that these regulations are administered fairly and that communities have the institutions in place to spend revenues effectively. Such a framework would also benefit Chinese investors. More linkages with civil society would help them meet their own standards, outlined in the Green Credit Directive, and avoid seemingly unviable projects such as the Rio Blanco concession.

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The inbred Buendia family was cursed to repeat the same flaws and mistakes throughout the generations. There is no reason Ecuador and Peru should suffer the same fate. China’s rise represents a historic opportunity for both countries to develop their economies and improve the welfare of their citizens. In order to take full advantage of this unique opportunity, both governments need to take an active role in building bridges across cultures and facilitating a mutually beneficial relationship between their citizens and the Chinese. It seems possible then that with this combination of correct domestic policies, Peru and Ecuador can break free of old patterns of exploitation. With savvy policy making and a new commitment to investments in their people, Ecuador and Peru may yet have “the second chance on earth” denied to Macondo.

xxvi Claudio Montenegro et al. “El Efecto de China en el Comercio Internacional de América Latina,” Estudios de Economía,

38, No 2, (December 2011), 355. xxvi Cynthia Sanborn and Victoria Chonn. “Chinese Investment in Peru’s Mining Industry: Blessing or Curse?”. Global

Economic Governance Initiative Discussion Paper #8. 2015, 2. xxvi Ibid, 3. xxvi Gloria Chicaiza, Mineras Chinas en Ecuador: La Nueva Dependencia. (Ecuador: Agencia Ecologista de Información

Tegantai, 2014) 49. xxvi Dan Haglund. “In It for the Long Term? Governance and Learning Among Chinese Investor in Zambia’s Copper Sector.”

The China Quarterly, 199, September 2009, 631. xxvi Ibid, 631. xxvi Chris Alden and Christopher Hughes. “Harmony and Discord in China’s Africa Strategy: Some Implications for Foreign

Policy.” The China Quarterly, 199, (September 2009), 569. xxvi Ariel Armony and Julia Strauss. “From Going Out to Arriving In: Constructing a New Field of Inquiry in China-Latin

America Interactions.” in From the Great Wall to the New World: China and Latin America in the 21st Century, eds. Strauss

and Armony (Cambridge:Cambridge University Press, 2012), 5. xxvi Alden and Hughes, 568. xxvi Ibid, 570. xxvi Haglund 638. xxvi Alden and Hughes 580. xxvi Erica Downs. “Inside China, Inc: China Development Bank’s Cross-Border Energy Deals”. (Washington DC: Brookings

Institution, 2011), 3. xxvi Ruben Gonzalez-Vicente, “Mapping Chinese Mining Investment in Latin America: Politics or Market?” From the Great

Wall to the New World: China and Latin America in the 21st Century, eds. Strauss and Armony (Cambridge:Cambridge

University Press, 2012), 38. xxvi Edward Steinfeld. Forging Reform in China. (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 3. xxvi Kotschwar et al. “Do Chinese Companies Exploit More?” in Americas Quarterly. Fall 2011. xxvi Steinfeld 7. xxvi Gonzalez-Vicente 2012, 40. xxvi Haglund 632. xxvi Steinfeld 214. xxvi Lily Kuo. “What China Has to Do With the Mysterious Death of an Indigenous Leader in Ecuador.” Quartz, 7 December

2014. xxvi Anthony Bebbington, et al. “Mining and Social Movements:Struggles Over Livelihood and Rural Territorial

Development in the Andes.” World Development 36, no 12, 2008, 2891. xxvi Margaret Keck and Kathryn Sikkink. Activists Beyond Borders: Advocacy Networks in International Politics. (New York:

Cornell University Press, 1998), 12.

xxvi Ibid, 13. xxvi Ibid, 139. xxvi Michelle Chan. “Why China Must Strengthen Environmental Standards for Its Overseas Investments”. China Dialogue

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(Blog), February 27, 2014. xxvi Paulina Garzon. “La Directive de Credito Verde, una Importante Norma Ambiental Para los Bancos Estatales Chinos”. Asociación Ambiente y Sociedad (blog), March 18, 2014. xxvi Bebbington et al, 2901. xxvi “Minera Canadiense Abandona Proyecto en Ecuador por Diferencias con Gobierno”. El Mercurio, 11 June 2013. For other examples of Ecuador’s problems with OCED mining companies, see Alberto Araujo. “Los Incentivos No Son Suficientes Para la Minería.” El Comercio. 2 December 2014. and Araujo, Alberto. “Ecuador Pierde Espacio en Feria Minería.” el Comercio, 4 March 2014. xxvi Simeon Tegel. “Ecuador’s Green President Pushes Massive Copper Mine”. Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting. 23 July 2012. xxvi “A New Path Forward: Interview With Rafael Correa”. New Left Review, 77 September October 2012. xxvi “Presidente Corre Proyecta a Ecuador Como una Potencia Minera”. Andes News, March 3, 2016. xxvi David Hill. “What Good Are China’s Green Policies if its Banks Don’t Listen?”. The Guardian (UK) May 16, 2014. xxvi David Hill. “Chinese Banks Ignore Pleas of Ecuador Mining Campaigners.” Amazon Watch. May 12, 2014. xxvi Ibid. xxvi Hill, “What Good Are China’s Green Policies?”. xxvi Sanborn and Chonn, 44. xxvi Ibid, 44. xxvi Ibid, 46. xxvi Frank Garcia. “Javier Atkins: ‘Rio Blanco es un Proyecto Irrealizable Para Esta Generación.” La Republica, Peru, 27 April 2013. xxvi Cynthia Sanborn and Juan Luis Dammert. “Extracción de Recursos Naturales, Desarollo Económica, e Inclusión Social: Peru” prepared for Americas Quarterly, 2013, 66. xxvi Ibid 66. xxvi Ibid 42. xxvi Gestión. “Minera Chinalco busca un cambio en La Oroya con construcción de nuevo pueblo.” 1 July, 2012. xxvi Sanborn and Dammert 72. xxvi Jose Carlos Diaz Zanelli. “Morococha: El Pueblo que se Desvanece en las Alturas”. La Republica, (Lima, Peru) January, 14 2015. xxvi Sanborn and Chonn 41. xxvi Cynthia Sanborn and Juan Luis Dammert. “Extracción de Recursos Naturales, Desarollo Económica, e Inclusión Social: Peru” prepared for Americas Quarterly, 2013. 68. xxvi Knight Piesold Consulting. “Minera Chinalco Peru Proyecto Toromocho: Estudio de Impacto Ambiental.” Lima, Peru: November, 2009. xxvi Sanborn and Chonn, 41.

Alden, Chris and Christopher Hughes. “Harmony and Discord in China’s Africa Strategy: Some Implications for Foreign Policy.” The China Quarterly, Vol 199, September 2009, 563-584.

Araujo, Albero. “Retraso de Tres Años en el proyecto el Mirador.” El Comercio, 4 March 2015.

Bebbington, Anthony et al. “Mining and Social Movements:Struggles Over Livelihood and Rural Territorial Development in the Andes.” World Development Vol 36, no 12, 2008, 2888-2905.

Chan, Michelle. “Why China Must Strengthen Environmental Standards for Its Overseas Investments”. China Dialogue Blog Post, 27 February 2014.

Chicaiza, Gloria. Mineras Chinas en Ecuador: La Nueva Dependencia. Ecuador: Agencia Ecologista de Información Tegantai, 2014.

Diaz Zanelli, Jose Carlos. “Morococha: El Pueblo que se Desvanece en las Alturas”. La Republica, 14 January 2015.

Downs, Erica. “Inside China, Inc: China Development Bank’s Cross-Border Energy Deals”. Washington DC: Brookings Institution, 2011.

Garcia, Frank. “Javier Atkins: ‘Rio Blanco es un Proyecto Irrealizable Para Esta Generación.” La Republica, Peru, 27 April 2013.

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Garzon, Paulina. “La Directive de Crédito Verde, una Importante Norma Ambiental Para los Bancos Estatales Chinos”. Blog post from Asociación Ambiente y Sociedad, 18 March, 2014.

Gestión. “Minera Chinalco busca un cambio en La Oroya con construcción de nuevo pueblo.” 1 July, 2012.

Gonzalez-Vicente, Ruben. “Mapping Chinese Mining Investment in Latin America: Politics or Market?” in Strauss and Armony (eds), From the Great Wall to the New World: China and Latin America in the 21st Century, Cambridge:Cambridge University Press, 2012.

Haglund, Dan. “In It for the Long Term? Governance and Learning Among Chinese Investor in Zambia’s Copper Sector.” The China Quarterly, Vol 199, September 2009, 627-646.

Hill, David. “Chinese Banks Ignore Pleas of Ecuador Mining Campaigners.” Amazon Watch. 12 May, 2014.

Hill, David. “What Good Are China’s Green Policies if its Banks Don’t Listen?”. The Guardian. 16 May, 2014.

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Kotschwar et al. “Do Chinese Companies Exploit More?” Americas Quarterly. Fall 2011.

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Nationalism, Race, and Archaeology in South America

Maria Camila Bustos

As with other academic disciplines such as anthropology or sociology, archaeology’s history and origins are deeply politicized. Archaeologists have excavated, collected, and interpreted artifacts from the past to serve the particular objectives of governments or elites comprised of intellectuals who benefited economically and politically from the construction of a country.xxvi As the anthropologist David Hurst Thomas writes in Skull Wars, the fight over ancient remains is “not about religion or science. It is about politics. The dispute is about control and power, not philosophy.”

Archaeology has often been used as a tool to promote nationalism because of its ability to use material remains to construct a collective identity. The archaeological record has long served as a source to legitimize the existence of nations.xxvi The relationship between archaeology and nationalism has been dynamic and complex, manifesting itself in different ways at particular points in time. This inherently political process has prioritized the role of certain historical places or groups of people in building a national identity, while denying the same attention to “others” that are perceived as a threat to national interests.xxvi The creation of collective identities in South America exemplifies how archaeology has both supported the creation of national identities and undermined the existence of others.xxvi

This article seeks to explore how archaeology has been used as a tool of nationalism in South America, focusing on Colombia, Peru and Chile. The creation of a national identity in these countries has been a multi-faceted process in which populations take pride in the accumulation of material remains, the creation and glorification of the past, and the exclusion of the “other” from a particular territory or the national imaginary. This violent process resulted in the deliberate marginalization of particular histories as elites and government officials carefully selected the elements that would be used to build the national patrimony and ignored those that did not serve the national interest. I. Nationalism and Archaeology Although society often likes to think about science and scientific research as objective and unbiased, history has proved that this is not always the case. Canadian archaeologist Bruce Trigger explains how under nationalist interests, archaeology abandoned its original focus on evolution and concentrated on reinterpreting the historical record of specific groups of people.xxvi The discipline has been used for diverse forms of ideological propaganda, by both the oppressor and oppressed. For instance, while the Peruvian government has used archaeology to construct an identity tied to an indigenous past, indigenous people in Peru have also claimed their indigenous origin as a source for autonomy and rights.xxvi In

Maria Camila Bustos graduated from Brown University with majors in International Relations and Environmental Studies. Her work covers international climate change negotiations, development and energy policy, and environmental justice. Her post-graduation plans include working in Colombia researching human rights and climate change. Camila is originally from Bogotá, Colombia.

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essence, images of the past are used by both states to confirm their right and control over a given territory and marginalized groups to assert their right to independence.xxvi

Nationalist campaigns, understood as programs for fostering national identities, have often been led by elites comprised of intellectuals and politicians who benefit economically and politically from the construction of a country.xxvi There is an important distinction in the goals of nationalism. Civil and inclusive nationalism seek to accept the entire population under the principle of citizenship, while ethnic and exclusive nationalism define citizenship based on origin.xxvi The relationship between archaeology and the construction of national identities has allowed for a variety of purposes including resistance to colonial oppression, discrimination, and ethnic cleansing, especially as these hid under the objectives of evolutionary research agendas.xxvi In Chile for instance, archaeology was a main tool to establish a national identity and thus, identify those who belonged and those who did not.

It is important to note that the relationship between archaeology and national identities has not solely operated in one direction. Through nationalist campaigns, archaeology also underwent a process of institutionalization and professionalization.xxvi It was under nationalist pretexts that archaeologists received financial and symbolic support from the government to carry out excavations, establish museums, and participate in international academic spaces. Furthermore, it was through the acquisition of ancient remains that both governments and elites could bolster the national identity and their academic legitimacy respectively. Museums and exhibitions have a history as symbols of power and expertise; there is pride in the quantity and quality of collections and discoveries.

The archaeological record has provided evidence of ancestors’ past achievements, which have been capitalized on to create psychological comfort and strengthen confidence among populations. Examples of ancestral historical capital include an earlier adoption of a world religion or technology and an earlier form of complex socio-political organization.xxvi This is particularly common among neighboring groups, which compete among themselves for their claims on ancient heritage. This was the case along the Peruvian and Chilean border, where not only territory, but archaeological remains and their origins were contested.

Archaeology’s role in helping build pride in a culture or tradition has also been accompanied by efforts to undermine other groups. This has been done both between nation-states (e.g. Chile and Peru) as well as within national territories. At times, archaeologists have manipulated remains to justify the ownership of land or to support policies of domination. Evidence of ancient migrations or settlements has been used to legitimate territorial expansion and ethnic cleansing.xxvi In essence, the violent process by which emerging nation-states have constructed their own identities has required the “active forgetting or misremembering” of certain aspects of the past.xxvi II. Constructing National Identity in South America

Since the arrival of colonizers in the Americas, ideas about “the other” have shaped the construction of history and national identities. For instance, the colonialists’ understandings of the Native Americans who lived in the Caribbean islands were often misconstructions of the realities on the ground. Anthropologist David Thomas explains that

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two people lived in the Americas: those who lived in the land and those who existed in the minds of the colonizers.xxvi Soon after European arrival, the colonizers developed a clear distinction between indigenous peoples who reflected “innocence” and the pure state of nature and those who were “savage and bloodthirsty”. This socially constructed dichotomy between the “good” and the “bad” Native Americans served the interests of the colonizers by legitimizing conquest, slavery, and the consolidation of the Spanish empire.xxvi

Throughout South America, the emergence of “immigrant states” and the construction of national identities were shaped by how many indigenous peoples survived conquest and the type of remains that were preserved. Not surprisingly, racially motivated notions of inferiority created through processes of conquest continued to play a critical role in the formation of national identities. In countries like Chile and Argentina in particular, elites based the nation building process on a “society fashioned mainly by white classes with a European background.”xxvi In both countries, scholars legitimized the white national identity by neglecting to study indigenous peoples, focusing on places of historical white settlement. III. Colombia

In Colombia, the construction of the nation confronted indigenous and black identities from the past with racist narratives of modernity and progress. This process relied on the notion that the past was “traditional, backward and heavily black and Indian.”xxvi Thus, the creation of a national identity required the normalization of conquest and extermination of non-white peoples. Only then could the nation transition towards a more “civilized” state and truly achieve progress. In 1862, an intellectual and politician named Jose Maria Samper proposed a racial pyramid that positioned whites at the top, mestizos or mixed race individuals in the middle level, and indigenous peoples at the bottom. xxvi

The archaeological and historical narratives that undergirded the construction of the Colombian identity focused on the vanishing of pre-Hispanic societies. Archaeologists promoted the notion of “population discontinuity,” arguing that current indigenous communities were not descendants of previous historical groups with “high” cultural development. This was done to undermine any possible territorial claims or the empowerment of present-day indigenous peoples, who have been historically perceived as underdeveloped and uncivilized.xxvi Colombia is only one of many countries in South America where archaeologists forged a campaign to document the discontinuity between pre-Hispanic societies and contemporary native peoples.xxvi

Between 1930 and 1946, the field of archaeology became institutionalized in Colombia through the creation of the Archaeological National Service. During this time, the ruling Liberal party promoted the consolidation of the state through the creation of a unified national identity. In 1939, such was the excitement around archaeological discoveries across the country that the National Museum was renamed the Archaeological and Ethnographic Museum. The Ministry of Education wanted to collect, conserve, and display archaeological findings, wishing to position Colombian archaeology at the top of the discipline in Latin America. As Marcela Echeverri Muñoz has written, the museum became a stage in which elites invented or reinvented a relationship between ethnicity and nation,

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where those in power used iconographic images to legitimize their own economic interests.xxvi

Almost paradoxically, the government waged educational campaigns to promote scientific and rational thinking as well as the promotion of a nationalist ideology based on romantic ideas about pre-Hispanic societies. During this period, artists and musicians also relied on the pre-Hispanic past as a source of inspiration to construct an identity that salvaged its indigenous roots. For instance, artistic and literary movements like Los Nuevos and the Bachué sought to inspire appreciation of the non-Hispanic.xxvi Between 1934 and 1938, Gregorio Hernandez de Alba, who founded the Archeological National Service, published articles to raise awareness about the importance of recovering the indigenous past. Ironically, the government glorified ancient “developed” indigenous peoples at the same time it implemented “modernization” projects to integrate and “civilize” their descendants.xxvi IV. Chile and Peru

In Nicolas Palacios’ The Chilean Race (1918), the author claims that the Chilean national identity (which he associated with high intellectual, psychological, and physical traits) was a result of the miscegenation between indigenous and European ancestors.xxvi Palacios argued that the Chilean racial composition was homogenous and different from other Latin American countries, advocating that national belonging was inextricably linked to a specific race. Historian Sarah Walsh argues that this Chilean national narrative “historicized particular racial mixtures in order to reify and affirm national differences.”xxvi Chile did not intend to integrate any indigenous legacy as part of its constructed identity; Chileans perceive the nation as homogenous, not multiethnic, or mestizo. xxvi Chilean society either ignored the existence of the Mapuche and Atacameño people, or promoted their forced assimilation.xxvi

Chilean archaeologists and anthropologists began to see indigenous people as remains of the ancient past, only important to study before they disappeared. They relied on the “vanishing Indian” myth, which asserted that following European colonization, indigenous people and culture were destined to disappear. Furthermore, the study of indigenous people was also seen as an opportunity to create legitimacy through academic research.xxvi During the nineteen and twentieth centuries, science was seen as a form of capital or valuable currency that embodied prestige and power because it was a form of rationality and modernity then identified as exclusively and inherently European.xxvi Thus, the value of archaeology was not only derived from its utility in a historical context, but because of its close ties to notions of modernity and progress. Archaeological research, especially on evolutionism, was seen by Chilean academics as the key to participating and publishing in scholarly circles. In a way, newly created nations that had been former colonies saw their own scientific endeavors as a clear pathway to gain autonomy and external recognition.xxvi Thus, the process of constructing a national identity was accompanied by the institutionalization and professionalization of archaeology as an academic discipline in Chile through the creation of several historical societies, museums, and academic journals.

The construction of the Chilean identity was also closely linked with the annexation of former Bolivian and Peruvian territories and with it, the acquisition of ancient remains.

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As a result of the War of the Pacific, Chile annexed the entire Bolivian coast and Peruvian provinces of Tarapacá and Arica by 1889. Chile’s northern region encompasses the Atacama Desert, where ancient remains have been greatly preserved thanks to the hot, dry conditions that facilitate rapid desiccation. Many of the artifacts found in this region were virtually completely intact. Throughout the twentieth century, archaeological discourse was used by different nationalist groups in Chile, Peru, and along the border to serve their political purposes. Thus, archaeology has been an essential tool in the production of national histories by different groups across the region.xxvi

After the annexation of territory, the Chilean government relied on scientific knowledge and archaeologists to investigate the economic potential of the newly acquired land. There were two major state-led expeditions. The first one took place throughout the mid-1880s and the other one during the 1910s. Archaeologists paid attention to signs of pre-Hispanic agriculture, which allowed to assess the fertility and resources of the land. However, the main objective was to collect artifacts that would later be displayed in museums in Santiago. Like European countries such as France or England, nation-states in Latin America used archaeological remains as tools of state power. In the case of Chile, archaeological findings were used to shape the national identity as control over Peruvian artifacts were part of an effort to legitimize Chile’s territorial control. The Chilean government appropriated Peruvian artifacts, made them part of the national scientific record, and displayed them in national museums. The conquest of Peruvian land was also accompanied by the looting of cultural artifacts and objects. An important objective of war was to undermine the physical and symbolic institutions that preserved Peru’s collective memory.xxvi In essence, the twentieth century saw archaeology as a “fundamental tool in the conquest of new spaces. It suited the purpose of making comprehensive, visible, and controllable unknown and seemingly indomitable environments.”xxvi

In addition to the Chilean government, Peruvian nationalists used the appropriation of indigenous remains by Chile to create propaganda in the form of folk songs, poems, and slogans. Peruvian nationalists argued that the annexed territory belonged to Peru and used propaganda that portrayed and constructed the Peruvian identity through the achievements and histories of pre-Hispanic societies. Although excavations in the annexed territory had been closed off to Peruvian archaeologists, Peruvian journals began to publish articles on the origin of Arica in order to regain control of the archaeological discourse. Historians would also reclaim their Peruvian identity by inserting the annexed region into the Peruvian national historical narrative.xxvi

In addition to Peruvian and Chilean nationalists, a different group of citizens from Tarapacá, Tacna, and Arica capitalized on ancient remains to develop their own identity and defend their own interests. Along the Chile-Peru border, residents constructed a hybrid identity to argue in favor of regional economic development projects, autonomy, and defense from political violence. In some areas, a number of people founded regional museums, refusing to explicitly claim a Chilean or Peruvian identity.xxvi V. Lessons from the Past

The construction of national identities in Colombia, Peru, and Chile exemplify archaeology’s close relation to the agendas of nationalist government officials, archaeologists, and powerful individuals. As Lynn Meskell writes, “archaeological and

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historical narratives are deeply imbricated within sociopolitical realities.”xxvi As with other regions in the world, South American archaeologists and historians utilized archeology to create and promote national identities, a process that often involved the active forgetting and denial of other groups.

In Chile, the government deliberately sought to erase any form of indigenous legacy from the national identity, promoting the narrative of racial homogeneity across the national territory. In Colombia, state-led archaeological efforts were conducted to promote the recovery of a pre-Hispanic past, while at the same time the national government perpetuated systems of racial hierarchy based on white supremacy. Since the nineteenth century, the codification of differences based on racialized constructions has continued to justify and underlie social hierarchies and domination across the region.xxvi Today, indigenous people across Latin America continue to be marginalized based on their ethnic identity. For example, today the Mapuche in Chile face legal frameworks established to suppress their claims to land and their right to protest, which further disenfranchise them.xxvi

Government interests have also closely followed economic interests in light of the increasing tourism of pre-Hispanic sites and the high prices of antiquities in the art market.xxvi For instance, the Peruvian government has capitalized on archaeological sites like Machu Picchu as a source of revenue. Furthermore, museums have been used as places that commodify indigenous identities into consumer objects for economic gain.xxvi

The cases in this article have highlighted how the construction of national identities have been violent processes grounded on racialized understandings and deliberate efforts by government officials and intellectuals to suppress certain groups of people. They also show us that if we want to understand nationalism and national identity in South America, it is crucial to study the ways in which archaeological knowledge has been accessed, used and abused to serve a variety of interests. Evidently, archaeology, like any other scientific discipline, has had its own role in perpetuating and legitimizing injustice and ought to be studied with a critical lens.

xxvi Kohl, Philip L. "NATIONALISM AND ARCHAEOLOGY: On the Constructions of Nations and the

Reconstructions of the Remote Past." Annual Review of Anthropology, 1998, 223-46. xxvi Meskell, Lynn, ed. Archaeology under Fire: Nationalism, Politics and Heritage in the Eastern Mediterranean and

Middle East. London: Routledge, 1998. xxvi Meskell, Archaeology Under Fire. xxvi Kohl, Philip L, ed. Nationalism, Politics, and the Practice of Archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University

Press, 1995. xxvi Kohl, Construction of Nations. xxvi Gänger, Stefanie. "Conquering the Past: Post-War Archaeology and Nationalism in the Borderlands of Chile and

Peru, C. 1880–1920." Comparative Studies in Society and History, 2009, 691. xxvi Shnirel’man, Nationalism and Archaeology. xxvi Ibid xxvi Ibid xxvi Shnirel’man, Nationalism and Archaeology. xxvi Shnirel’man, Victor A. Nationalism and Archeology. Anthropology & Archeology of Eurasia, vol. 52, no. 2 (Fall

2013), pp. 13–32. xxvi Ibid xxvi Kohl, Politics and Practice.

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xxvi Ibid xxvi Thomas, David Hurst. Skull Wars: Kennewick Man, Archaeology, and the Battle for Native American Identity.

New York, N.Y.: Basic Books, 2000. xxvi Ibid xxvi Thomas, Skull Wars. xxvi Curtoni, Race and Racism xxvi Ibid. xxvi Ibid xxvi Ibid xxvi Echeverri Muñoz, Marcela. El Museo Arqueológico y Etnográfico de Colombia (1939-1948): La puesta en

escena de la nacionalidad a través de la construcción del pasado indígena. Universidad de Los Andes. xxvi Ibid xxvi Ibid xxvi Curtoni, Race and Racism. xxvi Walsh, Sarah. "“One of the Most Uniform Races of the Entire World”: Creole Eugenics and the Myth of Chilean

Racial Homogeneity." Journal of the History of Biology, 2015, 613-39. xxvi Ibid xxvi Gänger, Conquering the Past. xxvi Ibid. xxvi Ibid. xxvi Ibid xxvi Map from Wikipedia, by Keysanger xxvi Gänger, Conquering the Past. xxvi Ibid xxvi Ibid xxvi Ibid xxvi Ibid xxvi Meskell, Archaeology Under Fire. xxvi Curtoni, Race and Racism. xxvi Akhtar, Zia. "Mapuche Land Claims: Environmental Protest, Legal Discrimination and Customary Rights."

International Journal on Minority and Group Rights 20, no. 4 (2013): 551-76. xxvi Kohl, Policies and Practice. xxvi Echeverri, El Museo Arqueologico.

Akhtar, Zia. "Mapuche Land Claims: Environmental Protest, Legal Discrimination and

Customary Rights." International Journal on Minority and Group Rights 20, no. 4 (2013): 551-76. Curtoni, Rafael P., and Gustavo G. Politics. "Race and Racism in South American

Archaeology." World Archaeology: 93-108. Echeverri Muñoz, Marcela. El Museo Arqueológico y Etnográfico de Colombia (1939-1948):

La puesta en escena de la nacionalidad a través de la construcción del pasado indígena. Universidad de Los Andes. Gänger, Stefanie. "Conquering the Past: Post-War Archaeology and Nationalism in the

Borderlands of Chile and Peru, C. 1880–1920." Comparative Studies in Society and History, 2009, 691. Goode, James F. Negotiating for the past Archaeology, Nationalism, and Diplomacy in the

Middle East, 1919-1941. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2007. Kohl, Philip L. "NATIONALISM AND ARCHAEOLOGY: On the Constructions of Nations and

the Reconstructions of the Remote Past." Annual Review of Anthropology, 1998, 223-46.

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Kohl, Philip L, ed. Nationalism, Politics, and the Practice of Archaeology. Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press, 1995. Kojan, David, and Dante Angelo. "Dominant Narratives, Social Violence and the Practice of

Bolivian Archaeology." Journal of Social Archaeology, 2005, 383-408. Meskell, Lynn, ed. Archaeology under Fire: Nationalism, Politics and Heritage in the Eastern

Mediterranean and Middle East. London: Routledge, 1998. Shnirel’man, Victor A. Nationalism and Archeology. Anthropology & Archeology of Eurasia,

vol. 52, no. 2 (Fall 2013), pp. 13–32. Thomas, David Hurst. Skull Wars: Kennewick Man, Archaeology, and the Battle for

Native American Identity. New York, N.Y.: Basic Books, 2000. Walsh, Sarah. "“One of the Most Uniform Races of the Entire World”: Creole Eugenics and

the Myth of Chilean Racial Homogeneity." Journal of the History of Biology, 2015, 613-39.

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The Roots of Dominican-Haitian Relations

Alexandra McManus

The Caribbean island of Hispaniola, is the only island in the world that is split between two sovereign nations: Haiti and the Dominican Republic. Despite the geographic proximity of the two states, Hispaniola has been home to intense conflict and tension since its colonization in the late fifteenth century. The island has served as a proxy between French and Spanish tensions since the era of colonization. Today, this tension has not abated, but instead, continued in today’s modern states.

Relations between both nations on the island have developed into a brutal anti­Haitian sentiment among the Dominicans as well as a pervasive feeling of Dominican supremacy or dominance among Haitians, much of which manifests itself in the social relations between the two groups. These ideologies are in fact not a typical theme dating to antiquity, but are a recently developed paradigm. Indeed, blacks were initially viewed as assets to the Spanish in their confrontations against the French, not as inferiors. In a secret letter, Spain’s Minister of Justice encouraged the governor of Santo Domingo to use “all necessary and suitable means to gain alliance of Negro and [M]ulattos” xxvi. A contrast on the other side of the border, Toussaint L’Ouverture, a military leader who spearheaded the Haitian Revolution over 150 years ago, viewed Dominicans as “indolent.”xxvi The Haitian Revolution laid the foundation for today’s Dominican - Haitian relations, a view that contradicts the typical assessment that Haitians have continuously been powerless victims in on the global stage.

The migration of Haitians to the Dominican Republic is what currently defines relations between the two countries. Race relations center on Dominican superiority, manifested through slurs, violence, and most importantly anti­Haitian migration policies. A survey published by the Inter Press Service News Agency presented the injustices faced by Haitians in the Dominican Republic. The report found that eighty­six percent of Dominican interviewees believed that Dominican society is racistxxvi. University of Connecticut ethnologist Samuel Martínez expands upon this idea and writes, “Anti­Haitian feeling and ideology are central part of Dominican nationalism”xxvi. Jesús Núñez, a member of the sugar cane workers union (an industry in which Haitians primarily work), reaffirms this precept and explains to a Vice News reporter that, “here, in the Dominican Republic, there’s some sort of anti-Haitian hysteria. There’s plenty of racism, plenty of discrimination”xxvi. The 1996 campaign of José Francisco Peña Gomez, a Dominican presidential candidate of Haitian descent, publicly exemplified this antagonistic racism. He became a target of many slurs because of his Haitian ancestry, which ultimately led to his political crucifixionxxvi.

Alexandra McManus is a rising junior at Johns Hopkins University studying Global Social Change and Development. She has a minor in Latin American Studies with a focus in Portuguese Language and Brazilian Culture. This summer, she will travel to Brazil on the Johns Hopkins Fellowship in Latin American Studies. Alexandra is originally from Basking Ridge, New Jersey.

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Aggressive language is not the only manifestation of this racism. Often, it appears in blatant hate crimes. Human rights groups have reported that a man was recently denied access to a public bus because he “looked Haitian.xxvi” The homicide of an innocent Haitian in Santiago, a Dominican metropolis, came just hours after a group of radical Dominicans publicly burned the Haitian flag. Elsewhere in the Dominican Republic, police said the death of young man found hanged from a tree in February was related to theft, but human rights groups say it was a display of “constant discrimination against Haitians”xxvi .

More importantly, the issues of Haitian migration and the ensuing deportation of tens of thousands of Dominican-born Haitians are integral to understanding relations on the islandxxvi. In the Vice documentary “The Deadline for Citizenship,” journalists describe what they consider to be unprecedented in the Western Hemisphere: the Dominican Republic’s top court arbitrarily revoked the citizenship of hundreds of thousands of Dominicans, leaving them stateless. In nearly all of these cases, the targeted citizens were of Haitian descent. In the video, dozens of people are waving their documentation into the camera to prove that they have a right to stay in Dominican Republic while the

government is refusing to process their papers resulting in their deportation8. Article 49 of a 2004 Dominican migration law stipulates that the Government’s National Migration Council shall decide on quotas of temporary workers allowed to enter Dominican territory, after consultations with the business community, farmers, and trade unions. There is a clear discriminatory nature in the section that states that foreign temporary workers “may not work in free zones or tourism businesses, except in border areas,” and

then only if prior agreements are in force9. These policies specifically target Haitian migrant workers, who are subject to racial profiling as a result of an attempt to marginalize or to completely eliminate them from Dominican society.

Weeks before the Haitian Revolution began in Bois Caïman in 1791, slaves and gens couleurs, or free people of color, totaling nearly several hundred, united for a Vodou ceremony to prepare for the first insurrection against the French state. This is the modern narrative of Haitian­Dominican relations, because it signifies the conflation of Haitian politics, independence, nationalism, and this Vodou, which has ideological schisms with the Catholic beliefs of the Dominican Republicxxvi. Military prowess became associated with Vodou as we see in Andre Pierre’s work, Ogoun Badagry, where the artist makes this distinct connection by dressing a revolutionary in a military uniformxxvi .

Later on, after Rochambeau and the French surrendered in Port­au­Prince, eight hundred French prisoners of war were put to death. Subsequently, anyone white, including women and children, was put to death to rid the colony of French presence. Jean-Jacques Dessalines, the self-proclaimed emperor of the time, believed that white people would be divisive between blacks and gens couleur and ordered their extinction as a measure of Haitian securityxxvi. This fear is demonstrated in the French watercolor painting from 1815, “Indendie du Cap, Révolte générale e nègres. Massacre de Blancs.” In this painting the white elite is either lying dead or being chased by blacks with machetes across Cap­Françaisxxvi. This perspective encapsulates the ubiquitous perception in the global community that

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Black’s dominated Haiti during and after and revolution as they aimed for a wholesale eradication of whites.

Thereafter, in the mid­nineteenth century, the Haitian occupation of the Dominican Republic became a direct result of the strength of the Haitians during the Revolution. When Governor Marie­Louis Ferrand of Santo Domingo set forth a proclamation on January 6, 1805 allowing for the military to enter into Haiti and capture young black children to be sold into slavery, it was an act that was reminiscent to that of Haiti’s former colonizers. In response, Haitian General Henri Christophe entered Santo Domingo. Initially, Haitians intended to bolster their eastern flank against threats from the French. At the beginning of the slave rebellion in 1791, Toussaint L’Ouverture feared Bonaparte would overthrow him and found that the only remedy was to control the eastern half of Hispaniola. However, it wasn’t until the French arrived in Martinique, an island close to Haiti that prompted Jean-Pierre Boyer to invade Santiago, the former capital of Santo Domingo. The goal of this occupation was to protect other gens de couleur from enslavement. During this occupation, the Haitians abolished slavery, expropriated land, and initiated a strict forced labor program. Moreover, Spanish culture was frequently suppressed through bans on speaking Spanish or practicing other Spanish customsxxvi.

In the Dominican Republic, there was great political unrest and economic slowdown eventually resulting in the overthrow of Jean­Pierre Boyer and the creation of a Dominican state. Throughout the following decade, Haitian military officials repeatedly attempted to invade the Dominican Republic. Fending off these constant invasions and while rectifying land expropriation from a previous political era only made the main task at hand–building a Dominican state–more difficult.

University of Connecticut Professor Samuel Martinez writes in his article “Not a Cock Fight” that he once asked a cab driver in the Dominican Republic where the anti­Haitian sentiment came from. The cab driver responded by saying that most people believe that the Haitian occupation in Santo Domingo forced many Dominicans to feel resentment towards theHaitiansxxvi . Additionally, one of the most prolific historians in the Dominican Republic still refers to the Haitian occupation as “the blackest days of Ethiopian[referring to black Haitian] domination.”xxvi In an opposing view, Professor of Literature at the University of California San Diego Sara E. Johnson writes in her book The Fear of French Negroes, that the aforementioned events were not really an occupation but rather a “unification and integration”xxvi. If this theory were true, the present racist ideology could be considered in a completely different way. The Dominican resentment towards Haitians loses a lot of its justification with Johnson’s argument. However, Johnson’s claim contradicts some of the evidence that many of the white Haitian citizens were forced out of the island and sent to Cubaxxvi.

It is important to note that the migration of millions of Haitians across the Dominican border was a cause of the serious economic consequences that followed the Haitian Revolution. Santo Domingo, known throughout the world as the “Pearl of the Antilles”xxvi held the world production record for sugar and coffee by the end of the eighteenth century providing significant employment opportunities. After the Haitians had gained freedom, the French settlers were furious with the loss of their land. They

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forced the Haitians to pay 150 million gold francs, which was ten times the country’s annual revenues. This debt was not paid until the middle of the twentieth centuryxxvi. Further, the French pushed the United States to stop trade with Haiti in order to preserve and to impede Haiti from exporting its ideals of slave revoltxxvi . This economic decline forced thousands of Haitians to migrate across the border in order to find work.

The Parsley Massacre of 1937, in which the Trujillo dictatorship of the Dominican Republic pursued Haitian genocide, marked the pinnacle of black xenophobia and forever transformed Haitian-Dominican relations. Many of these ideologies witnessed during the Trujillo era, despite possibly being less violent, still exist in the modern Dominican identity. In 1927, Trujillo came to power and by the 1930s, the Haitians were the majority of the labor force in the Dominican Republic, principally in the sugar and coffee industries. Again, they migrated across the border to seek opportunities during the slowdown of the Haitian economy. Trujillo was focused on his own personal wealth, which necessitated his desire for domestic economic progress. He viewed the migration of Haitians to the Dominican Republic as pernicious to the development of Dominican societyxxvi . Equally, he focused his attention on a Dominican national identity that was Hispanic, Catholic, and white – rather than French, Vodou­practicing, and black.

One of Trujillo’s right hand men, politician Manuel Arturo Peña Battle, reinforced the dictator’s ideologies of Haitian cultural inferiority and economic growth. In 1942, he spoke to the border town of Villa Elías Piña where he stated,

“Neither humanity, political reason, nor circumstantial convenience could obligate us [the Dominicans] to be indifferent to Haitian penetration [migration]. It’s not the social and intellectual elites that are immigrating to the Dominican Republic, but rather those who are distinctly African, which cannot represent us, the Dominicans. This immigrant is not well nourished and worse dressed, very weak and very prolific because of his low living conditions. Each migrant cannot be a significant factor in their economy”xxvi.

Peña Battle’s racist rhetoric and mongering as he referred to the increase of migration across the border was the direct result of Haiti’s economic issues. The politician encouraged Dominicans to separate their identity completely from the Haitians with phrases like “distinctly African,” and stating outright that they “cannot represent us.”

It was during this period that Trujillo, the Dominican Guarda Nacional, and the Trujillo loyalists followed orders to slaughter an estimated thirty thousand Haitian migrants culminating in the greatest genocide that Hispaniola experienced in modern history. In Roordo, Derby, and Gonzalez’s The Dominican Reader, the historians collected records from the log of the Ouananminthe School, along the border. These records show that 176 of the 267 students’ parents disappeared during this period of mass killing and that ninety percent of the population disappeared in certain border parishes. Another individual recounts that he saw the military ruthlessly murder dozens of innocent people while he was hidden inside a church — one week later the entire “river was a sea of people”xxvi . It is ironic that Trujillo chose this group of Haitians living in border towns

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since Boyer, one hundred years earlier, mobilized this same Haitian demographic into convincing them to join the Haitian side of Hispaniolaxxvi. One might hypothesize that Trujillo’s initial fear was that these border populations would be susceptible to Haitian supremacist ideology–a reality that does not exist in the modern Haitian-Dominican narrative. Trujillo and his followers use the economic argument especially effectively since many of the Haitian migrants were an integral part of the sugar trade and accounted for one hundred thousand workers. The only real explanation for this anti­Haitian massacre may be the feeling of cultural superiority and racism towards Haitians and a certain narrow version of history.

Having reviewed two centuries to examine the events of the Haitian Revolution in order to contextualize the present racism and human rights violations against Haitian blacks, it can be argued that Dominican anti­Haitianism is unlike many other cultures which experienced centuries of slavery and unethical treatment towards blacks. Rather, Haiti initially represented a rich culture of educated, entrepreneurial, and militarily adept blacks. The racism and antipathy of Dominicans is the result of the economic struggles between the island’s countries as they were challenged with strife, each demonstrating periods of cultural and job insecurity, migration waves, and a sense of cultural superiority. Haitians and Dominicans present a profound case of two cultures challenged with periods of relative prosperity followed by a transition of military and economic power from one cultural region of the island to the other.

xxvi Geggus, David Patrick. "Spain's Offer to Insurgent Slaves." The Haitian Revolution: A Documentary History. N.p.: n.p., n.d.

106. Print xxvi Moya Pons, Frank. The Dominican Republic: A National History. Princeton, N.J.: Markus Wiener Publishers, 1998,107 xxvi Pina, Diógenes. "DOMINICAN REPUBLIC: DEPORT THY (DARKER­SKINNED) NEIGHBOR." Interpress Service News

Agency, March 21, 2007. xxvi Martínez, Samuel. 2003.”Not a Cockfight: Rethinking Haitian-Dominican Relations.” Latin American Perspectives 30 (3).

Sage Publications, Inc: 80­101. xxvi "The Deadline for Citizenship: Dominican Deadlock (Dispatch 1)." VICE News RSS. June 1, 2015. Accessed December

17, 2015. https://news.vice.com/video/the­deadline­for­citizenship­dominican­deadlock­dispatch­1. xxvi Martínez, Samuel. 2003.”Not a Cockfight: Rethinking Haitian-Dominican Relations.” Latin American Perspectives 30 (3).

Sage Publications, Inc: 80­101. xxvi Brodzinsky, Sibylla. "Man Lynched in Dominican Republic as Tensions Run High." The Guardian, February 12, 2015. xxvi Brodzinsky, Sibylla. "Man Lynched in Dominican Republic as Tensions Run High." The Guardian, February 12, 2015. xxvi Wucker, Michele. "The Dominican Republic’s Shameful Deportation Legacy." Foreign Policy. October 8, 2015. Accessed

April 04, 2016. http://foreignpolicy.com/2015/10/08/dominican-republic-haiti-trujillo-immigration-deportation/. xxvi Elizabeth McAlister. "From Slave Revolt to a Blood Pact with Satan: The Evangelical Rewriting of Haitian History"

Studies in Religion/Sciences Religieuses 41.2 (2012). Available at: http://works.bepress.com/elizabeth_mcalister/37 xxvi Johnson, Sara E. ""Une Et Indivisible?" The Struggle for Freedom in Hispaniola." In The Fear of French Negroes:

Transcolonial Collaboration in the Revolutionary Americas. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012, 48. xxvi Popkin, Jeremy D. A Concise History of the Haitian Revolution. Chichester: Wiley­Blackwell, 2011, 137. xxvi Johnson, Sara E. ""Une Et Indivisible?" The Struggle for Freedom in Hispaniola." In The Fear of French Negroes:

Transcolonial Collaboration in the Revolutionary Americas. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012, 3. xxvi Moya Pons, Frank. The Dominican Republic: A National History. Princeton, N.J.: Markus Wiener

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Publishers, 1998,107. xxvi Martínez, Samuel. 2003.”Not a Cockfight: Rethinking Haitian-Dominican Relations.” Latin AmericanPerspectives 30

(3). Sage Publications, Inc: 80­101 xxvi Johnson, Sara E. ""Une Et Indivisible?" The Struggle for Freedom in Hispaniola." In The Fear of French Negroes:

Transcolonial Collaboration in the Revolutionary Americas. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012, 33. xxvi Johnson, Sara E. ""Une Et Indivisible?" The Struggle for Freedom in Hispaniola." In The Fear of French Negroes:

Transcolonial Collaboration in the Revolutionary Americas. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012, 54. xxvi Johnson, Sara E. ""Une Et Indivisible?" The Struggle for Freedom in Hispaniola." In The Fear of French Negroes:

Transcolonial Collaboration in the Revolutionary Americas. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012, 48. xxvi Shen, Kona. "The Haitian Revolution 1492­1697." The Haitian Revolution 1492­1697. October 27, Shen, Kona. "The

Haitian Revolution 1492­1697." The Haitian Revolution 1492­1697. October 27, 2015.

http://library.brown.edu/haitihistory/1sr.html xxvi Tharoor, Ishaan. "Is It Time for France to Pay Its Real Debt to Haiti?" The Washington Post, May 13, 2015. xxvi Moya Pons, Frank. The Dominican Republic: A National History. Princeton, N.J.: Markus Wiener Publishers, 1998,107 xxvi Martinez, Samuel. 1999. “From Hidden Hand to Heavy Hand: Sugar, the State, and Migrant Labor in Haiti and the

Dominican Republic”. Latin American Research Review34 (1). The Latin American Studies Association: 57–84.

http://www.jstor.org/stable/2503926. xxvi Manuel Arturo Peña Batlle: “Política de Trujillo”. Prefacio de Emilio Rodríguez Demorizi, Impresora Dominicana,

Ciudad Trujillo, 1954 pp.59­72 xxvi Roorda, Eric. "The Era of Trujillo." In The Dominican Republic Reader: History, Culture, Politics. Duke University

Books Press, 2014. xxvi Moya Pons, Frank. The Dominican Republic: A National History. Princeton, N.J.: Markus WienerPublishers, 1998,120.

Brodzinsky, Sibylla. "Man Lynched in Dominican Republic as Tensions Run High." The Guardian, February 12, 2015

"The Deadline for Citizenship: Dominican Deadlock (Dispatch 1)." VICE News RSS. June 1, 2015. Accessed December

17, 2015. https://news.vice.com/video/the­deadline­for­citizenship­dominican­deadlock­dispatch­1.

Geggus, David Patrick. "Spain's Offer to Insurgent Slaves." The Haitian Revolution: A Documentary History. N.p.: n.p., n.d.

106. Print

Johnson, Sara E. ""Une Et Indivisible?" The Struggle for Freedom in Hispaniola." In The Fear of French Negroes:

Transcolonial Collaboration in the Revolutionary Americas. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012

Martínez, Samuel. 2003.”Not a Cockfight: Rethinking Haitian-Dominican Relations.” Latin American Perspectives 30 (3).

Sage Publications, Inc

McAlister, Elizabeth. "From Slave Revolt to a Blood Pact with Satan: The Evangelical Rewriting of Haitian History"

Studies in Religion/Sciences Religieuses 41.2 (2012). Available at:

http://works.bepress.com/elizabeth_mcalister/37

Manuel Arturo Peña Batlle: “Política de Trujillo”. Prefacio de Emilio Rodríguez Demorizi, Impresora Dominicana, Ciudad

Trujillo, 1954 pp.59­72

Moya Pons, Frank. The Dominican Republic: A National History. Princeton, N.J.: Markus Wiener Publishers, 1998

Pina, Diógenes. "DOMINICAN REPUBLIC: DEPORT THY (DARKER­SKINNED) NEIGHBOR." Interpress Service News Agency,

March 21, 2007.

Popkin, Jeremy D. A Concise History of the Haitian Revolution. Chichester: Wiley­Blackwell, 2011

Roorda, Eric. "The Era of Trujillo." In The Dominican Republic Reader: History, Culture, Politics. Duke University Books

Press, 2014.

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Shen, Kona. "The Haitian Revolution 1492­1697." The Haitian Revolution 1492­1697. October 27, Shen, Kona. "The Haitian

Revolution 1492­1697." The Haitian Revolution 1492­1697. October 27, 2015.

Tharoor, Ishaan. "Is It Time for France to Pay Its Real Debt to Haiti?" The Washington Post, May 13, 2015.

Wucker, Michele. "The Dominican Republic’s Shameful Deportation Legacy." Foreign Policy. October 8, 2015. Accessed

April 04, 2016. http://foreignpolicy.com/2015/10/08/dominican-republic-haiti-trujillo-immigration-deportation/.

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NAFTA in Mexico: Transnational Agriculture and Rural Society

Kathryne Cui

The impact of the landmark 1994 North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) remains, twenty years on, at the center of scholarly study, policy analysis, and rhetorical political debate. NAFTA negotiations provided a model for the subsequent two decades of trade agreements; the agreement today serves as a touchstone of sorts for commentators debating the Trans-Pacific Partnership. The perceived failures and successes attributed to NAFTA may inform the future of trade policy. In this 2016 election cycle, politicians point to these failures and successes (whether accurately or hyperbolically) either to uphold the neoliberal status quo, or to question the wisdom of the entrenched political establishment and its long-held precepts regarding free trade. Deliberated as part of a wave of neoliberal reform that swept Mexico and much of Latin America throughout the 1980s and 1990s, NAFTA occupies a place of particular scrutiny in the study not just of the impact of trade liberalization, but also in the evaluation of neoliberalism as a whole, of which it is a key symbol. Politicians, scholars, commentators, and the general public alike have pointed to NAFTA as a singular force driving changes in the economy, labor relations, environment, rural and urban livelihoods, agricultural production, etc. on both sides of the United States-Mexico border, while immigration, security, and the very nature of the border itself have come under similar scrutiny.

Mexican agriculture and rural society in particular have unquestionably changed at the convergence of different forces over the past two decades. These forces include NAFTA, but this dramatic confluence also encompasses extensive international and domestic policies and phenomena that have parallels throughout the developing world in the last decades of the 20th century - trends for which NAFTA was but one emissary and vehicle. What is the nature of these changes? How can NAFTA and its effects be analyzed in the context of globalization? What immediate and long-term changes did NAFTA produce, or at least catalyze, in the Mexican agricultural economy and rural society? And can these changes lead one to conclude that “free trade” must always be “good” or “bad”?

In the agricultural sphere, the years following NAFTA have witnessed a deeper impoverishment of the rural periphery, the marginalization of the rural economy, and continuous downwardly-depressed rural livelihoods. The marginalized rural population has not readily recovered its livelihood despite being promised that opportunities in growing urban centers would offer employment and would foster capitalist industrial development. NAFTA, interpreted within broader mechanisms of globalization, has inflicted negative stresses upon the Mexican agricultural economy and society. Further, the

Kathryne Cui is a rising senior at Johns Hopkins University, majoring in International Studies and Sociology. After graduation, she hopes to continue her studies in global affairs with a focus in international human rights. This paper was written for Dr. Magda von der Heydt's Economic Sociology of Latin America course. The author would like to thank Dr. von der Heydt for her time and guidance in the writing process.

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impact of NAFTA on the Mexican “national” economy must be considered within the context of transnational globalization and the fragmentation of economies and capital, within the context of a domestic situation intertwined with the international one. From this perspective, NAFTA and associated trends have placed uneven pressure on different segments of the Mexican population. Some have “won,” others have comparatively lost out in the great neoliberal game. This resists strict designation of NAFTA measures as beneficial or harmful as conceived in a nation-state paradigm. As William I. Robinson points out in Latin America and Global Capitalism, transnationalization fragments economies; some investors and producers become affuent “transnational agents” while transnationalization marginalizes their national economies or large swaths of their national populations.xxvi NAFTA and the forces behind it have also shaped an evolving rural-urban divide, while driving the transnationalization of Mexican agriculture.

The North American Free Trade Agreement has conclusively devastated certain sectors of Mexican agricultural production via a combination of trade liberalization in the context of neoliberalism and domestic policy in both Mexico and the United States. NAFTA emerged as one piece of a sweeping wave of policies intended to further integrate greater North American region into the increasingly global economy as globalization, on the ideological basis of neoliberalism, swept both developing and developed nations. NAFTA’s signatories included only the United States, Canada, and Mexico, but this regional trade treaty was never an isolated project. On the contrary, it was conceived as one step toward the larger project of globalization: as President Clinton prepared to sign the agreement in late 1993, he remarked that already his administration was making headway on “a worldwide trade agreement so significant that it could make the material gains of NAFTA for our country look small by comparison.”xxvi NAFTA all but “[eliminated] restrictions on the free movement of capital across North American borders and state regulation of transnational capital in Mexico,”xxvi removing cross-border barriers to trade and investment such as tariffs, quotas, investment restrictions, etc.xxvi In the eyes of the neoliberal consensus, these barriers and protections represented an archaic economic establishment to be torn down; the ejido system of communally-owned agricultural lands symbolized, and was therefore targeted for dismantlement, the obstructive conservatism of peasant practices, institutions, and state protections that must be cleared in order for Mexico to fully exploit its productive potential and integrate itself into an open regional, and eventually global market.xxvi The principal economic logic ostensibly belying NAFTA’s provisions on Mexican-U.S. trade in agriculture was the logic of comparative advantage, which also serves as justification for the supposedly universal benefits of the concept of free trade in its barest essence. The International Monetary Fund and World Bank, key agents buttressing this project across the developing world, agree: trade liberalization, implemented properly, is good. Free trade has enabled developing countries to “[open] their own economies to take full advantage of the opportunities for economic development through trade” and “proven a powerful means for countries to promote economic growth, development, and poverty reduction.”xxvi Yet in spite of claims of poverty reduction, the World Bank concedes that whatever its other merits, trade liberalization does not necessarily distribute its fruits equally, which the case of Mexican agriculture clearly illustrates.

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In the liberal vision of a North American free trade bloc, Mexican producers could supply the northern consumer market with seasonal crops as well as high-value fruits and vegetables, year-round; the U.S. could in turn capitalize on its own comparative advantage by selling staple crops and meat.xxvi Overall, the volume of trade has exploded both ways – exports from the United States to Mexico rose from $71 billion in 1993 to $420 billion in 2013, while exports from Mexico rose from $50 billion to $400 billion over the same period.xxvi Over the two decades following NAFTA, the integration of the North American markets has, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s own estimations, broadly resulted in “sizable increases” in U.S. exports of grains to Mexico; U.S. exports to Mexico of meat “have doubled in volume” and bilateral exchange between Mexican and U.S. producers in other fruits and vegetables has also proliferated.xxvi By the USDA’s own surface assessments, it appears that, with the exception of bilateral exchange in fruits and vegetables, the most significant change in agricultural trade generated by NAFTA and market integration was U.S. agricultural export expansion into Mexico.

Although NAFTA was marketed as a plan to equalize trade and offer benefits through comparative advantage to all its signatories, it was conceived and implemented within a program of neoliberal reform and restructuring, all of which ensured the degradation and ruin of certain segments of Mexican agriculture. In 1982, Mexico became the first of many heavily indebted Latin American countries to default on its debt, and in the following years the country came under the austere discipline of IMF and World Bank mandates. It was then that the neoliberal project gained its unmistakable foothold in the country, with resounding consequences sustained over decades, with NAFTA as one primary vehicle.

In Mexico, this NAFTA invested considerable effort in restructuring agriculture to groom the national economy for integration into a regional market. Beginning in the 1980s, Mexico razed, across the board, state support for the agricultural sector, including programs offering credit, subsidies for inputs, price controls, food reserves, etc.xxvi In accordance with neoliberal trends toward privatization and cuts in public expenditure, then-President Carlos Salinas de Gortari brought about in 1992 and 1993 an end to the ejido system enshrined in the constitution, allowing communal lands to be listed for private sale for the first time since the birth of modern Mexico in 1917.xxvi The ejido was so significant to Mexican agricultural production that, in 2001, even after reform, it still made up “half of the agricultural land in Mexico.”xxvi This landmark shift and progressive neoliberalizing of rural structures marked an example of, as Robinson describes in Latin America and Global Capitalism, the shift in expected functions of the state in this new era: away from providing services and regulating economic activity, toward facilitating “compatibility of the local with the global government” and adjusting domestic policy to ease the national economy into the global system in harmonic accordance with globally-mandated neoliberal dogma.xxvi The dismantling of ejido, along with these other measures, preceded NAFTA, yet cannot be interpreted in isolation or indeed be considered separately from NAFTA as anything but its preface, a domestic parallel to international deliberation - a red carpet for NAFTA and transnational integration policy in the form of domestic policy. Not without consequence, “farm credits and subsidies were drastically reduced” from $2 billion in 1994 to $500 million in 2000.xxvi Already prior to NAFTA the prospect of

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competition with American farms in corn and other staple crops loomed ominously over Mexican producers of the same commodities. But in addition to existing productive advantages such as large-scale mechanization, producers in the United States, supported by massive agricultural subsidies provided by a robust state relative to Mexico’s now-constricted austerity government, were able to “[drive] prices well below production costs.”xxvi NAFTA, in razing any barriers to these goods, obliged them to wreak havoc in southern markets. This “dumping” of imports from the United States benefited U.S. producers of these goods while driving prices and domestic demand down for Mexican producers. According to one study quantifying the impact of crop dumping, the total losses incurred by U.S. dumping of eight key products (corn, soy, wheat, cotton, rice, beef, pork, and poultry) “[surpassed] the total value of Mexico’s annual tomato exports to the United States.”xxvi The comparison to Mexican tomato exports here is key. According to the underlying logic of orthodox liberal market economics, a primary benefit provisioned by NAFTA to Mexican producers was to rely on Mexico’s comparative advantage in seasonal vegetables and fruits such as tomatoes, which is Mexico’s leading export vegetable crop to the United States.xxvi In this case, the comparative advantages offered to Mexican producers under projections for NAFTA was, to an absurd level, not nearly sufficient to compensate for losses in areas of comparative disadvantage, such as basic vital staples like corn.

Prior to and still twenty years after the implementation of NAFTA measures, corn, or maize, stands as a powerful symbol of post-NAFTA transformations in Mexican agriculture. To illustrate - in January 2008, the gradual and complete phasing-out of import tariffs on maize and other staples concluded on schedule as agreed upon in 1994; in the same weeks, tens of thousands of farmers took to the streets of Mexico City in protest that “a surge of inexpensive maize could doom millions” of smallholding farmers, and that the state’s efforts or lack thereof to prepare Mexican farmers for a conclusively and completely wide-open market would prove inadequate - cataclysmically so.xxvi Much of this maize-centric frustration was misdirected, though, because the 2008 measures did not outrageously depart from trends already building over the past decade and a half, and they primarily impacted corn for livestock feed rather than food. On the other hand, anger directed specifically at the unfair terms of maize trade reveals concurrently first, a widespread sense that NAFTA has, far from benefiting Mexican producers, dislodged rural livelihoods and domestic production; second, the central place maize occupies in Mexican culture and in the public’s understanding of NAFTA. Beyond rhetoric, how did NAFTA really impact domestic maize production?

Maize is not only culturally but materially of utmost importance to Mexican agriculture. Its production employs over 40% of the agricultural laborforce, amounting to about 8% of the entire national laborforce, and Mexico has the second-highest per capita maize consumption in the world.xxvi In the wake of NAFTA, the export of American corn to Mexico between 1990 and 2008 increased by 413%. Between the early 1990s to 2005 real producer prices of maize in Mexico saw a 66% decline as a result of U.S. productive and subsidy advantages in corn production.xxvi Cheaper maize prices, while harming some producers, may also have lowered the price of consumption for Mexican consumers, but Mexico’s increasing dependency on American food imports have disturbed the foundations of its food independence and stability. In a globalized economy, an import-dependent

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Mexico and millions of Mexicans are vulnerable to the smallest shifts in worldwide conditions. During the 2007-08 global food crisis, a chain reaction encompassing all from changes in U.S. geopolitical strategy in the Middle East to its subsidy policies incurred, for example, a sudden 60% jump in tortilla prices.xxvi In sum, studies on NAFTA’s impact on maize production and trade balance are numerous and fairly conclusive in these broad strokes: heavily subsidized American producers undercut domestic maize production, which was and is still supported by small and medium-scale producers for whom the neoliberal Mexican state offered little support.xxvi This has dramatically increased Mexican dependence on the United States for staple crop imports, an expected and intentionally designed (though usually more pleasantly framed) outcome of this specific application of the logic of comparative advantage. Some “growing pains” in the wake of NAFTA were to be expected, according to its formulators, to be followed by a period of adjustment. Domestic cultivation of comparatively advantaged seasonal fruits and vegetables has also failed to compensate for these losses for a number of structural reasons, such that “only rich farmers in northern states increased their production and exports of fruit and vegetables” between 1990-2000. While operating on a certain economic logic of efficiency on a national level, this arrangement nevertheless left behind smaller farmers and household production, which “is particularly relevant in developing countries” – because households remain important producers of agricultural goods, especially maize.xxvi With the neoliberal disintegration of a socially-invested state, free trade served to benefit “only those producers with the greatest development potential… given access to new technologies available as a result of the Green Revolution.”xxvi

How did this economic integration and restructuring play out in the social sphere, and how much of this can be attributed to NAFTA, globalization, state policy, or a confluence of all these actors and strategies? Most conspicuously, NAFTA and its associated web of neoliberal measures desiccated rural employment and failed to deliver alternative urban opportunities. As a result, rural poverty has remained stagnant, while migration within Mexico and attempted cross-border immigration into the United States have increased. One purported benefit of neoliberalizing reform and free trade is rural poverty relief, framed often as gloriously “uplifting” millions of destitute individuals and bringing them into the global market to reach their full potential. Based on available CEPAL data measuring the percentage of the Mexican rural population living in poverty, the rural poverty rate has hardly decreased in the decades following NAFTA.

Year % Rural population living in poverty

% Rural population living in extreme poverty

1990-1994

35.5 67.9

1995-2000

49.2 75.3

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2001-2005

31.4 61.1

2006-2010

28.5 58.7

2011-2014

30.9 63.6

Figure 1: % of Mexican rural population living in conditions of poverty and extreme poverty. Source: CEPAL.

Figure 2: % of Mexican rural population living in conditions of poverty or extreme poverty. Source: CEPAL.

Figures 1 and 2 depict decreases in poverty and extreme poverty among Mexico’s rural population since the 1990s. While rural poverty rates in 1990 and in the 2010s are comparable, there is a spike in both poverty indicators between 1994-1996, during which NAFTA was implemented. Rural poverty remains deeply entrenched, and other observed trends complicate a straightforward reading of stagnant rural poverty rates.

First, while NAFTA’s advocates alleged that the dynamic integration of economies and investment would reduce immigration pressures, the past two decades have witnessed a jump in cross-border migration from Mexico into the United States. Compared to a steady flow of about 170,000 per year in the 1980s, post-NAFTA an estimated 500,000 migrants enter the United States per year.xxvi These groups exhibit trends from which certain conclusions may be drawn about their relationship to NAFTA: namely, high unemployment, and high employment in low-wage service sectors.xxvi Second, Rural-to-urban migration has

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also increased. The already meager reductions in rural poverty indicated in above numbers pale further, then, when one considers that much of the rural poor and unemployed emigrated en masse out of the Mexican countryside, either to the United States or to urban areas, where, often, they remained poor and unemployed. After one decade of NAFTA, two million agricultural workers lost their jobs, many of them having been employed in the decimated maize sector.xxvi

Figure 3: Employment in agriculture (% of total employment) in Mexico (1990-2015). Source: World Bank.

In Figure 3 observe that the percentage of total employment in Mexico’s rural sector was on the rise in 1990, remained somewhat steady during the early 1990s, and then collapsed by 1994, and in 1995 seemed to tumble downward unstoppably. One study estimates that “as many as 1.7 million small farmers… were forced from their land into urban areas within Mexico, or to migrate north to the United States.”xxvi

Rather than uplifting the rural poor, NAFTA, enacted upon a basis of a disequalizing globalization agenda and supported by a disinvested neoliberal state, triggered the “greatest population exodus that Mexico’s countryside has experienced in its history.”xxvi It was not NAFTA alone but a combination of international and domestic policy which undercut crop production and produced the “food insecurity; the new precarization of rural households; the underdevelopment of rural infrastructure and human capital… and unequal access to factors of production” that have pushed rural populations out of the countryside.xxvi The state’s shift of “development priorities, turning away from the agrarian sector in favor of the industrial-urban sector” toward high investment in urban planning and attracting foreign capital left the “countryside... abandoned by the state.”xxvi As seen in Figure 4 below, the contribution of the agricultural sector the Mexico’s economy has continuously fallen since the 1960s, but since the global neoliberal project took hold in Mexico in the 1980s, the percentage has free-fallen.

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Figure 4: Agriculture value added (% GDP) in Mexico (1990-2015). Source: World Bank.

These trends, in particular the privatization of communal lands upon which some three million ejidatarios lived and farmed at the time of Salinas’ land reform-reforms, find parallels throughout the history of capitalist development.xxvi In early capitalist England, the transformation of subsistence-farmed small landholdings into large enclosures pushed much of the now landless rural population into wage labor and newly-industrializing cities. The transformation of this new economy depended on employing newly-proletarianized peasants, stripped of their means of subsistence (also, as with ejidos, in part for reasons of productive efficiency), in new sectors. Yet the “imports of goods from Canada and the US” also “to some extent [replaced]... goods produced in the industrial heart of Mexico.” Mexican industrial production and employment is now predicated on the growth of the maquiladora sector.xxvi The Mexican maquiladora in many ways was a face of a new cross-border factory production regime commonplace in the era of neoliberal transnationalism. Like flexible and informal labor regimes across the globe, the sector does not offer the unionized, income-secure Fordist employment arrangements of the first half of the 20th century, creating instead a short-term, low-wage, no-benefits, unprotected, feminized labor regime. Freer trade with China has challenged even the meager employment opportunities offered by the maquiladoras, as low-wage manufacturing jobs flock in search of even lower labor costs. So the disruption of rural employment by NAFTA has not been replaced by new employment; domestic failures (or successes, if one takes the perspective of the transnational investor) on the part of the Mexican state laid the groundwork for and have exacerbated these issues.

Has NAFTA benefited “Mexican” agriculture? Twenty years on economists continue to debate in purely quantitative terms the productivity and efficiency of Mexican farmers

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and the overall strength of annual national growth in the pre- and post-NAFTA decades. It is clear, however, that NAFTA and the domestic state required to enact it have benefited some parts of Mexican society while immiserating whole others. An economy and society polarizing to extremes and tearing at the seams, pulled apart by diverging interests, emerges as a mainstay of the era of globalization, and Mexico is no exception. The internal politics of the Mexican state based on an “alliance between the political and economic elite... has created two Mexicos, one for foreign investors and the national elite, the other for a mass of (un)employed workers living a precarious existence.”xxvi This idea that transnational globalization has fragmented benefits and costs of globalization finds credence even in the case of maize, which provides such a compelling illustration of the dangers of unequal free trade policy and the retreat of the state to small producers and rural livelihoods. Cheap corn imports from the U.S. devastated certain Mexican producers and ways of life, but linkages between Mexican livestock producers and U.S. grain producers have substantially strengthened, as has “Mexican investment in U.S. baking and tortilla industries” and “Mexican investments in the U.S. food industry.” Corn and flour corporation Gruma (i.e. Mission and Maseca) is based in Monterrey, Mexico, was founded by a Mexican businessman, and now operates throughout the Americas. Several of the largest poultry firms in Mexico are U.S. affiliates.xxvi Such is the case across the developing world, where states reorient their economies to receive foreign capital and production, while the domestic, but now transnational, elite invest in new areas of economic activity. Even on a smaller scale, the purported comparative advantages of NAFTA logic benefited those producers that could diversify and produce the “beer, vegetables, and fruit” that account for nearly three-quarters of Mexico-to-U.S. exports.xxvi It is simplistic, then, to point to NAFTA as the singular force behind the social and economic woes of Mexico’s agricultural sector. But interpreted as a whole, as a policy system rather than a standalone project, NAFTA emerges inevitably in conjunction with the domestic environment that primed Mexican policy for its arrival and the international environment that deployed it in service of transnational interests. The ramifications of NAFTA, regarded not alone but as an expansion and instrument of that process on the Mexican agricultural sector, must be seriously considered.

xxvi William I. Robinson, Latin America and Global Capitalism: A Critical Globalization Perspective, (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), 60. xxvi Bill Clinton, Remarks on the Signing of NAFTA” (speech, Washington, D.C., December 8, 1993), Miller Center of Public Affairs, http://millercenter.org/president/speeches/speech-3927. xxvi Latin America and Global Capitalism: A Critical Globalization Perspective, 107. xxvi U.S. Department of Agriculture, Economic Research Service, NAFTA at 15: Building on Free Trade, by Steven Zahniser and Zachary Crago, WRS-09-03 (Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 2009), 8. xxvi Alicia Puyana, et al., “Trade Policies and Ethnic Inequalities in Mexico,” European Journal of Development Research 24 (2012): 707. xxvi “Global Trade Liberalization and the Developing Countries,” accessed April 20, 2016, https://www.imf.org/external/np/exr/ib/2001/110801.htm. xxvi Timothy Wise, “The impacts of U.S. agricultural policies on Mexican producers,” GDAE Working Paper (Medford, MA: Tufts University Global Development and Environment Institute, 2010), 165. xxvi Monica Verea, “Immigration Trends After 20 Years of NAFTA,” Norteamerica 9 (2014): 111. xxvi NAFTA at 15: Building on Free Trade, 10.

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xxvi Eric P. Perramond, “The Rise, Fall, and Reconfiguration of the Mexican Ejido,” Geographical Review 98 (2009): 356-371. xxvi Amy M. Lerner, “Understanding peri-urban maize production through an examination of household livelihoods in the Toluca Metropolitan Area,” Journal of Rural Studies 30 (2013): 53. xxvi Latin America and Global Capitalism, 20. xxvi Cliff DuRand, “The Exhaustion of Neoliberalism in Mexico” in Confronting Global Neoliberalism: Third World Resistance and Development Strategies, ed. Richard Westra (Atlanta: Clarity Press, Inc., 2010), 238. xxvi “The impacts of U.S. agricultural policies on Mexican producers,” 165. xxvi Ibid., 167. xxvi Silvia Prina, “Who Benefited More from the North American Free Trade Agreement: Small or Large Farmers? Evidence from Mexico,” Review of Development Economics 17 (2013), 596. xxvi James C. McKinley Jr., “Mexican Farmers Protest End of Corn-Import Taxes,” The New York Times, February 1, 2008, accessed April 6, 2016, http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/01/world/americas/01mexico.html?_r=0. xxvi F.T. Ackerman, et al., “Free Trade, Corn, and the Environment: Environmental Impacts of U.S.-Mexico Corn Trade Under NAFTA,” GDAE Working Paper 03-06 (Medford, MA: Tufts University Global Development and Environment Institute, 2003). xxvi “The impacts of U.S. agricultural policies on Mexican producers,” 168. xxvi Gerardo Otero, “Neoliberal Globalization, NAFTA, and Migration: Mexico’s Loss of Food and Labor Sovereignty,” Journal of Poverty 15 (2011): 389. xxvi Antonio Turrent Fernandez, et al., “Achieving Mexico’s Maize Potential,”GDAE Working Paper 12-03 (Medford, MA: Tufts University Global Development and Environment Institute, 2012), 4. xxvi “Who Benefited More from the North American Free Trade Agreement: Small or Large Farmers? Evidence from Mexico,” 594. xxvi Nathalie Gravel, “Mexican Smallholders Adrift: The Urgent Need for a New Social Contract in Rural Mexico,” Journal of Latin American Geography 6 (2007): 83. xxviGustavo A. Flores-Macias, “NAFTA’s Unfulfilled Immigration Expectations,” Peace Review: A Journal of Social Justice 2: (2008): 435. xxvi Monica Verea, “Immigration Trends After 20 Years of NAFTA,” NORTEAMÉRICA 9 (2014): 116-117. xxvi “NAFTA’s Food and Agriculture Lessons,” 420. xxvi “NAFTA’s Food and Agriculture Lessons,” 419. xxvi “Neoliberal Globalization, NAFTA, and Migration: Mexico’s Loss of Food and Labor Sovereignty,” 392. xxvi “Mexican Smallholders Adrift: The Urgent Need for a New Social Contract in Rural Mexico,” 78. xxvi “Mexican Smallholders Adrift: The New Social Contract in Rural Mexico,” 83. xxvi Gareth A. Jones, “Privatizing the Commons: Reforming the Ejido and Urban Development in Mexico,” International Journal of Urban & Regional Research 22 (1998): 77. xxvi Peter Karl Kresl, “NAFTA and Its Discontents,” International Journal 60 (2005): 421. xxvi “Mexican Smallholders Adrift: The Urgent Need for a New Social Contract in Rural Mexico,” 79. xxvi NAFTA at 15: Building on Free Trade, 10. xxvi NAFTA at 15: Building on Free Trade, 11.

Ackerman, F.T., et al. “Free Trade, Corn, and the Environment: Environmental Impacts of U.S.-Mexico Corn Trade Under

NAFTA.” GDAE Working Paper 03-06. Medford, MA: Tufts University Global Development and Environment Institute, 2003.

Clinton, Bill. “Remarks on the Signing of NAFTA.” Speech, Washington, D.C., December 8, 1993. Miller Center of Public Affairs. http://millercenter.org/president/speeches/speech-3927.

DuRand, Cliff. “The Exhaustion of Neoliberalism in Mexico.” In Confronting Global Neoliberalism: Third World Resistance and Development Strategies, edited by Richard Westra. Atlanta: Clarity Press, Inc., 2010.

Fernandez, Antonio Turrent, et al. “Achieving Mexico’s Maize Potential.”GDAE Working Paper 12-03 (Medford, MA: Tufts University Global Development and Environment Institute, 2012.

Flores-Macias, Gustavo A. “NAFTA’s Unfulfilled Immigration Expectations.” Peace Review: A Journal of Social Justice 2

(2008): 435-441.

Gravel, Nathalie. “Mexican Smallholders Adrift: The Urgent Need for a New Social Contract in Rural Mexico.” Journal of Latin

American Geography 6 (2007): 77-98.

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International Monetary Fund. “Global Trade Liberalization and the Developing Countries.” Accessed April 20, 2016. https://www.imf.org/external/np/exr/ib/2001/110801.htm

Jones, Gareth A. “Privatizing the Commons: Reforming the Ejido and Urban Development in Mexico.” International Journal of

Urban & Regional Research 22 (1998): 76-93.

Kresl, Peter Karl. “NAFTA and Its Discontents,” International Journal 60 (2005): 417-428.

Lerner, Amy M. “Understanding peri-urban maize production through an examination of household livelihoods in the Toluca

Metropolitan Area.” Journal of Rural Studies 30 (2013): 52-63.

McKinley Jr., James C. “Mexican Farmers Protest End of Corn-Import Taxes.” The New York Times, February 1, 2008. Accessed

April 6, 2016, http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/01/world/americas/01mexico.html?_r=0.

Olson, Dennis R. “NAFTA’s Food and Agriculture Lessons.” Peace Review: A Journal of Social Justice 20 (2008): 418-425.

Otero, Gerardo. “Neoliberal Globalization, NAFTA, and Migration: Mexico’s Loss of Food and Labor Sovereignty.” Journal of Poverty 15 (2011): 384-402.

Perramond, Eric P. “The Rise, Fall, and Reconfiguration of the Mexican Ejido.” Geographical Review 98 (2009): 356-371.

Prina, Silvia. “Who Benefited More from the North American Free Trade Agreement: Small or Large Farmers? Evidence from Mexico.” Review of Development Economics 17 (2013): 594-608.

Puyana, Alicia, and Sandra Murillo. “Trade Policies and Ethnic Inequalities in Mexico.” European Journal of Development Research 24 (2012): 706-734.

Robinson, William I. Latin America and Global Capitalism: A Critical Globalization Perspective. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008.

U.S. Department of Agriculture, Economic Research Service, NAFTA at 15: Building on Free Trade, by Steven Zahniser and Zachary Crago, WRS-09-03. Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 2009.

Verea, Mónica. “Immigration Trends After 20 Years of NAFTA.” Norteamérica 9 (2014): 109-143.

Wise, Timothy. “The impacts of U.S. agricultural policies on Mexican producers.” GDAE Working Paper. Medford, MA: Tufts University Global Development and Environment Institute, 2010.

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Special Feature: Exclusive Interview with Dr. Luis Miguel Castilla,

Peruvian Ambassador to the United States

The following interview was conducted by Guillermo Herrera, an Américas editor, on February 16, 2016 at Johns Hopkins University. We would like to extend our sincere appreciation to Ambassador Castilla for agreeing to be interviewed for the Journal. The interview followed a presentation by the ambassador titled “Peru, the United States and the Trans-Pacific Trade Pact: Opportunities and Challenges”. Prior to his appointment as Peruvian Ambassador to the United States, Dr. Castilla served as a consultant at the World Bank, Director of the Bank of the Nation of Peru, and Minister of Economy and Finance of Peru. Dr. Castilla holds a B.A. from McGill University and a Ph.D. in economics from Johns Hopkins University. Guillermo Herrera: You mentioned that Peru should try to push “e-government” initiatives that would make government more accessible to people and address corruption because of the difficulty with “cheating a machine.” However, how would the people who implement these technologies be held accountable and what measures would be taken to reduce the possibility of cyber security threats? What sort of e-government policies are worth pursuing and how would Peru ensure that those policies are not taken advantage of?

Miguel Castilla: Well, I think there are different ways to look at e-government. One, I think, motivation is to reduce transaction costs for individuals or firms. Individuals that need to, you know, renew their driver’s licenses, all the way to firms that need construction permits. So, I think the overall philosophy is trying to use IT and technology to be able to reduce transaction costs for agents—economic agents—the individuals, or firms. I think we would have efficiency gains because of the less time that is consumed in dealing with governments that can be very long, you know, and very bureaucratic. We, for instance, are always looking towards the Ease of Doing Business index that the World Bank puts out and actually tries to quantify the costs and the time involved in going through all the processes from having a permit to begin a business, all the way to the closing of such; going through paying taxes, going through getting credit facilities and we think that by introducing internet and having this idea of “single windows,” which can have a lot of services being provided at the same time like a “single-stop-shop” is a way to reduce time and be more efficient in the provision of these services.

Now, obviously, there is a tradeoff, as you mentioned, towards having more access to these tools and them being, you know, vulnerable to cyber-attacks. Overall, I believe we must do both. For corruption purposes, it is better to reduce in a certain way the discretion that a policymaker or civil servant may face when confronted with a citizen or a firm. If you reduce that discretionary decision, then you’re less eager to see a bribe being offered. There is also the capability of having all of these interactions being recorded in a server,

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saved in a server, and being accessed by anyone. We have a law that is a public transparency information law, such that any citizen can request any sort of dealing between the government and any individual and you have five days to provide this information to anyone who requests it. If you don’t, you’re bound to suffer from fines or even being fired from your job. So, we think it’s a way to be more efficient, modern, and transparent government. Another example, when you do procurement of public works, you’re not only looking in terms of the accounting outlays of any project, but you can have regular citizens going to a webpage, taking pictures, downloading them into the system, and seeing the actual speed and the timeliness of the public work. And, you can do so from any one. Just go into the webpage of the Comptroller’s Office and you can report the progress of the construction of a public work, a hospital, a highway, or whatever. So those are tools that can facilitate not only efficiency, but also transparency and accountability. So it is a way how you decide on a system that is both integral and subject to the checks and balances that any system is subject to.

GH: Considering Peru’s embrace of globalization and neoliberal policies, coupled with the relative recentness of the Shining Path, could you expand on how the government is ensuring that the concerns of the Andean communities are being respected and taken into account?

MC: I think Peru recognizes the importance of having the acceptance of the communities, especially of those that are rural and of Andean descent. Just to give you an example, we are a country that is big on mining projects and we are a country that has a lot of infrastructure projects going on—public and private partnerships—and both extractive projects and big infrastructure projects need to go through a process of prior consultation, which is an ILO rule that requires to have the knowledge and acceptance of the communities of the areas of influence of such projects as a prerequisite to be able to carry on the projects. Peru is perhaps the only country in Latin America that has the strength to implement this, it is very difficult to do so, because it is supposed to be a nonbinding consultation, but for Andean rural communities, the distinction between binding and nonbinding is sometimes a bit difficult, but we are trying to do so also by making sure that our extractive projects have appropriate environmental and social assessments and that they mitigate any negative externality that they may have. We think that public works are not only the responsibility of firms but also of the government to really supply the appropriate goods and services and the areas of influence of such projects. More effective, safe presence in the area of influence is a way to make sure that the communities don’t only have to face the initial costs, but they can also reap the benefits of such projects.

GH: You mentioned that one of the resources that you like to constantly work on the Doing Business Index by the World Bank, so I was wondering if you could expand on what are the indicators, reports, studies, and organizations that Peru relies on when

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it comes to looking for areas of improvement beyond the conventional measurements of GDP per capita, inflation, and such.

MC: Well, there are lots of indices that look at different areas. You know, you have the World Economic Forum that looks at different pillars of competitiveness and actually where we have been able to be very successful is in making markets more efficient and having right macroeconomic policies. If you go to the macroeconomic policies, there is where we see the challenges. There are different indices that one looks into. There are World Bank governance indicators that one can rely upon as benchmarks. You have obviously the Ease of Doing Business and the Corruption Perceptions indices as well, so the idea of these is to see how you are relative to your peers and to also to have a benchmark where you like to be placed. This is a very dynamic process, you know. One country goes up in one indicator and goes down in another. I think this is not something that we use necessarily as a main source of reference. It is a reference, but we do cost-benefit analysis of all the policies that we try to get approved by the executive branch or get approved by Congress and always having best practices and benchmarks is good, but by no means is the only source. You really need to go deeply into the cost-benefit analysis both today and what it may entail towards the future. So those are mainly the toolkits that we use. We use, for instance, a performance-based budget allocation to determine how much to allocate and to establish whether a measure proves effective or not regarding the outcome we want to get, in reference to existing benchmarks combined with benchmarks. In my experience, that’s the way that we do the policymaking in Peru.

GH: I understand that you studied economics as an undergraduate at McGill University and subsequently completed your masters and doctoral studies in economics at Johns Hopkins University. I also noted that you have worked throughout your career in public service, first with international organizations like the World Bank and later with the Peruvian government. What made you decide on this particular academic and professional route?

MC: Well that’s a good question because that’s a question that my daughters who are going to college are asking me. I’ve always been interested in politics and I actually did a lot of political science in my undergrad along with my economics major. I think economics is a social science that enables you to try to understand human behavior and try to have policies that improve the collective wellbeing of a country or a community. So, I have always had a strong sense of public service. My father was in government, too, and perhaps he instilled this upon me. I chose Hopkins because it gave me a fellowship. It was one of the small, top-rated economics departments in the country. I had lots of friends in this area and the Washington, D.C. area, so it made my decision easy to come here and spend some years at the Homewood campus. So I think the small size of the department, its specialties in different areas, your access to the Washington community, where you have the World Bank, IMF, and other institutions, made me come here and do my degree here. So, I would say coming back after 20 years since my last visit here, things look more or less the same,

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but this afternoon I will go see my professors and I’ll give a talk at the seminar where I used to listen. It’s going to be interesting to see my professors as the audience and not as the lecturers after a long time.

GH: What are some of your future or long-term goals and professional considerations?

MC: I would not mind going back to public office in the future. Although, I would like, after this transition being the Peruvian Ambassador to the U.S., which is the most important embassy we have in the world, to perhaps go work for some more global institution and working always in developmental issues. So, I think I see myself perhaps leading or being in a high position in an institution that has a global scope always related to developmental issues.