Recent developments in the political situation in Peru have taken foreign observers by surprise. The apparently paradoxical nature of the situation within the country makes Peru a ‘case’ that merits close study.
The first surprise came in 1990, with the election as president of Alberto Fujimori, an engineer of Japanese origins who had previously had nothing to do with politics. His meteoric rise during the last few months of the election campaign and his final victory over the clear
favourite, Mario Vargas Llosa, dumbfounded observers both at home and abroad.
However, it is clear that those analysts who took Vargas Llosa’s victory for granted were assuming that Peruvian electors would react to his proposed liberalist policies in the same way as European voters in similar circumstances. Evidently this was not the case, and this article I
will try to explain why.
The very fact of Fujimoro’s Japanese origins took by surprise those many pеоple who had underestimated the size and influence of the Oriental communities (both Japanese and Chinese) within certain Latin American countries. A second surprise came in April 1992, when
the Fuji Coup’ took place, with the President dissolving Parliament and assuming dictatorial powers (with the backing of the armed forces).
This turn of events seemed to run counter to the gradual democratization that could be noted in various South American countries during the course of the 80s; it was precisely one of those democratically-elected heads of state who was breaking the spell of optimism and
conjuring up the dark shadows of the sub-continent’s political past.
But was it really fair to see the ‘Fuji Coup in this way? Was the president – as some claim – taking advantage of a situation he had deliberately brought about (with help from some sections of the armed forces), or was he reacting against the excessive obstructionism of a Parliament that was openly hostile to him?
If the former reading of events is the right one, then Fujimori is just one more of the many dictators who have blighted Peru’s history, a man who has betrayed all the expectations that were raised at the time of his election (expectations that were fuelled, in part, by the undoubted novelty of his candidacy).
His presidency would simply mark another setback in Peru’s drive towards modernization, another defeat in the battle against the country’s underdevelopment.
If, however, the latter interpretation is the correct one, then Fujimori’s move would represent a step towards ridding the country of the old political elites and establishing a new basis for political life in the country a definite advance on the period 1980-1990 (when under
Presidents Belaunde and Garcia the country had its fullest experience of democratic rule).
The April ’92 coup was universally condemned by the international community, which clearly feared that it marked a disturbing return to the past.
However, the condemnation never really went beyond the verbal level. Neither the USA nor the other countries of Latin America ‘pushed’ the diplomatic crisis caused by Fujimori’s anti-democratic behaviour; only very limited sanctions were taken against his regime. The whole episode turned into another example of the total inadequacy of the Organization of American States (OEA), even when faced with a situation in which there was a clear threat to values that are fundamental to democratic government in the area.
When the dissolved Houses of Parliament removed Fujimori from office and appointed his second vice-president, Máximo San Román. in his stead there was a temporary international crisis, which soon fizzled out when it became clear that Fujimori was still firmly in control in Lima. The international community preferred not to press its condemnation of the coup, and protests soon came to end.
It is also true that there was no firm reaction within Peru, either at an institutional or a social level. There was nothing like the popular protest that the Procuradoría General, the Tribunal Constitucional and the press managed to stir up in Guatemala the following year when the president Jorge Serrano tried to follow Fujimori’s example and take dictatorial powers for himself. It would seem, therefore, that both the Peruvian and international community gave Fujimori the benefit of the doubt: the former apparently accepted his claim that the
extra presidential powers were needed to defeat terrorism and resolve the economic crisis, the latter seem to have accepted Fujimori’s repeated protestations that democracy will be restored once the emergency has been overcome Polls for the forthcoming presidential
elections in April ’95 give Fujimori a clear advantage (some 45% of all votes). Не
would appear to be a long way ahead of his most serious rival, the ex-SecretaryGeneral of the United Nations, Javier Pérez de Cuellar, who – just like Vargas Llosa five years ago – is the candidate that enjoys the unanimous approval of international commentators.
Whilst not wanting to give too much weight to polls – which did, however, turn out to be very accurate at the last presidential election it seems clear that Fujimori is in a very strong position and very likely to be re-elected. But how is it possible for a democratically-elected
president who has assumed dictatorial powers to then win democratic elections? A question that brings us up against another apparent paradox of Peruvian political life.
To give an adequate explanation of these apparent contradictions one has to look back in time to identify what have been constant features of Peruvian politics ever since the country gained independence in 1823.
For the first fifty years – up to 1872 – pоwer was in the hands of the army, whilst the Creole bourgeoisie supplied the state’s bureaucrats. One Caudillo succeeded another, yet none of them was able to put his mark on the state, which continued to grow without any overall plan or institutional stability.
One need only mention that between 1823 and 1867 the country had seven different constitutions, none of which became firmly established.
Naturally enough Peru was no different from any other South American nation in having its Liberal and Ultra-Conservative factions; but real power was always in the hands of the military. 1876 saw the election of Peru’s first civilian president, Manuel Pardo, leader of the Partido Civil, which represented the economic interests of certain elites who had been hard-hit by the number of concessions given to foreign companies.
Another important political party at the end of the century was the Partido Democratico, a conservative, populist party. However, the two-party system never gained a firm foothold in Peru: whilst in other Latin American countries the two-party system has lasted up to the present day (interrupted, of course, by periods of rule by authoritarian regimes) and helps to guarantee some sort of political stability, Peruvian political parties never seem to have become firmly rooted as expressions of the people’s aspirations.
In the 1930s the demise of the latenineteenth-century parties was accom panied by the emergence of new parties, which had very different political aims. Foremost amongst these were the Unión Revolucionaria and, above all Haya de la Torre’s Alianza Popular Revolucionaria Americana (APRA), which were of explicitly Socialist – but not Marxist – inspiration, and aimed to be the expression of a specifically Indo-American ideology.
In spite of its widespread support amongst students and the emerging middle classes, APRA was banned for a long time. It only managed to come to power in 1985, when much of its idealism had gone and the party had fallen into the hands of unscrupulous leaders. There is little positive to be said about the period of Alán García’s presidency (1985-1990).
(Paul Klee, 1909)
Other parties – such as Acción Popular, Partido Social Cristiano and Izquierda Unida – have continued to emerge; but whilst obtaining partial successes, none of them have really been able to stamp its mark on Peruvian political life.
This weakness of political parties and their inability to become firmly rooted within society is, therefore, a constant feature of Peruvian politics. The second constant feature to be noted
is closely connected to the first. With political parties weak and trade unions counting for little (only 11% of all workers belong to a union), the one institution that has always maintained its political influence is the army. Power has thus tended to be exercised either by
the army directly or else by dictators who enjoy the support of the armed forces.
The most recent example of the Army’s power is the unexpected Peru-Ecuador confrontation over the border region of Cordigliera del Condor. It may be impossible to establish who is responsible for the outbreak of hostilities over this territorial dispute, but I suspect that
the Peruvian Army leapt at this chance to flex its muscles (with the struggle against
terrorism no longer so much in the limelight, the Armed Forces were only too happy to put on a show of force for domestic consumption). In Ecuador too, the armed forces are boss – and this serves to explain why the conflict has so rapidly degenerated, assuming a violence that is out of all proportion to the actual importance of the zone contended.
The political ‘clout’ of the Peruvian Armed Forces was, in fact, strengthened during the 80s (a period of democratic rule) by the fact that the struggle against the Sendero Luminoso terrorists enabled the army to exercise direct control over large parts of the country: in those
regions where a state of emergency was declared, civil law was suspended and the army was invested with wide-ranging powers.
And if one adds to this the fact that the Sendero Luminoso themselves exercised control in various parts of the nation (particularly in the south and the Andean areas), then its clear that Peruvians have had to live in a situation of precarious legality for some time – something which
cannot help but have undermined democratic institutions.
And this brings us to the third fundamental characteristic of Peruvian society. Faced with an elephantine but inefficient state apparatus, with a legal system that is incapable of regulating social and economic life adequately, with widespread exceptions to a normal state of law (due to the anti-terrorist legislation), and the absence of political parties that can be true expressions of people’s desire for change, society seems to have developed a system that runs parallel to the state – a system which has enabled ordinary people to survive this
period of uncertainty.
What I’m referring to is Peru’s booming ‘informal’ economy. This phenomenon is present throughout Latin America, and during the great economic crisis of the 80s (the so-called década perdida) developed enormously. Within Peru, however, there is one of the most striking- and best-studied – examples of this type of economic growth.
Together with the development of the informal micro-economy – in which very small firms provide services that make up for the shortcomings of the official economy and the State (thousands of private cars in Lima, for example, are – with the addition of a simple adhesive
badge – transformed into taxis that are now an essential part of the city’s transport system) – there is also a parallel legal system based more on commonly accepted standards than on parliamentary laws (1).
So, bearing these three constants in mind it is easier to evaluate the vicissitudes of Peru’s democracy and also to understand the political attitudes of Peruvians (which clearly differ from those that would be ‘normal’ in a solid, mature democracy).
This was the situation when Mario Vargas Llosa announced his candidacy in 1990.
A writer of international renown, Vargas Llosa was determined to carry Peru forward towards full modernization, which he understood as requiring the creation of a liberalist-democratic regime.
Such reforms were essential if Peru’s uncertain democracy was to be revitalized after ten years of debilitating misrule: in his five years in office (1980-85), President Belaunde had not been able to use the support of the Unión Popular and of the Partido Social Cristiano to implement the reform measures that were necessary for the country to develop, whilst the following five years of rule by the APRA president Alan Garcia were marked by total economic mismanagement and corruption on a scandalous scale. And alongside these political-economic difficulties went the threat posed by the Sendero Luninoso terrorists, who exercised effective control over parts of the country.
A complete outsider to traditional Peruvian politics, Vargas Llosa made the mistake of presenting his political manifesto a little too clearly; the reforms he proposed involved the cutting of public spending and therefore would have been costly in social terms (2).
For months it seemed, however, as though he would be elected without any serious opposition; then Fujimori appeared on the scene, backed by a blatantly populist election campaign which was deliberately vague over real issues.
Fujimori had the double advantage of being even more of a novelty than Vargas Llosa – who was burdened with support by various traditional parties – and of not threatening voters with economic sacrifices.
Once elected, Fujimori had to face the disadvantages of not having a properly organized party behind him (his movement ‘Change ’90 had not won many seats in parliament), but he nevertheless went ahead with certain austerity policies which not only ran counter to his
election promises but also failed to be part of an overall process of reform.
One could go on for a long time debating whether the April ’92 coup was a premeditated move by Fujimori the consequences of the two possible interpretations have already been outlined
above but one thing that has to be emphasized is the mistake made by many of the parties represented in the dissolved parliament when they decided not to put up candidates in the elections for the Constitutional Assembly held on November 1992. By not doing so, they
enabled the dictator’s group to win an absolute majority, and thus Fujimori could ‘recycle’ himself as a fully legitimate president. He made full use of this advantage when, in October 1993, he got a popular mandate for a new Constitution that fitted in so well with his own
interests (amongst other things, the Constitution envisaged the immediate re-election of the president).
However, these mistakes by his oppоnents do not explain why Fujimori is the opinion-poll favourite, with two out of every three Peruvian voters willing to re-elect him in April. The crux of the matter lies elsewhere in the voters’ view of Fujimori as the man who has finally defeated the Sendero Luminoso movement.
To understand just how grimly terrorism blighted life in Peru one only has to look at the statistics provided by the Institutuo Constitución y Sociedad: in 1980, terrorism caused more than 27,000 deaths and material damage to the value of some 20 billion dollars (which
does not even include the cost of the development opportunities missed because of the employment of resources in the struggle against terrorism) (3).
Civil life in the entire country was slowly being throttled by the conflict. Quite apart from those areas such as Ayacucho (Sendero’s ‘birthplace’) in which the terrorists were in effective control, there was no area of the nation in which they could not make their presence felt: in 1992 Lima itself was crippled for months when Abimael Guzmán proclaimed what he called an ‘armed strike’.
Guzmán was known to his organization as ‘President Gonzalo’, and considered the ‘fourth sword’ of Communism, the legitimate heir of Mao, etc – so, given the vertical power structure of his organization, his capture on 12 September 1992 dealt a fundamental blow to terrorism.
Since then, the strong-arm methods adopted by the armed forces in their battle against Sendero and the MRTA (Movimento revolucionario Tupac Amaru) have seriously weakened the threat such organizations pose: about 12,000 guerrillas have been captured, and another 3,500 have taken advantage of the opportunity offered by the government’s ley de arrepentimiento to lay down their arms.
However, whilst Guzmán may now be cooperating with the authorities and launching appeals to his followers to surrender their weapons, terrorism has yet to be totally defeated: a hard core of Sendero, under the leadership of Oscar Ramirez Durand, continues to be active
in the Ayacucho region. Nevertheless, it is true that the organization does not have the operative capacity it had in the past.
The change is palpable everywhere, particularly in the capital, where life seems to have returned to a kind of dazed normality. It should come as no surprise therefore that Lima, which
accounts for more than 60% of the entire Peruvian population, is a Fujimori stronghold.
And, quite apart from the success of his battle against terrorism, one must also bear in mind that Fujimori skilfully concentrated all the unpopular measures of his presidency in his first years in office, whilst in this pre-election year he is constantly on the move from the opening of one state-financed scheme to another. Such tactics make his populist appeal even clearer.
There may be only timid signs of economic recovery (with inflation now under control), and the situation as a whole may still be critical, but the average Peruvian tends to see a great improvement in things; whilst if he looks back at the period of ‘democratic’ rule all he
sees is a constant deterioration in living standards.
This is the context within which Pérez de Cuellar has announced his candidacy, moved he says byconcern over the regime’s authoritarianism and by the type of presidentialism enshrined in the new Constitution. He accepts that there is no alternative to his rival’s economic policy, but criticizes Fujimori’s social policies as mere ‘vote-catching’ when they should be part of an overall economic policy (it shouldn’t be forgotten that 50% of the Peruvian population lives below the poverty line). Pérez de Cuellar is also critical of the excessive centralism of Fujimori’s policies, which reinforces the dominant role of Lima and thus confirms a vicious circle, with
the capital tending to attract more and more people from the provinces (4).
Though enjoying widespread international support, it seems unlikely at the moment that de Cuellar will be the victor in the April elections. As I have pointed out, Fujimori is in a strong position precisely because of those same three constant features of Peruvian history (the weakness of organized political parties, the pre-eminence of the armed forces and of a certain tendency towards authoritarianism, and finally that Peruvian ability to ‘get along with’
illegality). In such a situation the widely publicized domestic quarrelling between Fujimori and his wife Susana Higuchi (who has even become his political opponent, with her own ‘Harmony- Seal XXI’ movement) does not seem to have had any great effect upon the president’s popularity. What is more, Fujimori may well benefit from a surge of nationalism brought on by the conflict with Ecuador. In fact, Pérez de Cuellar’s very international standing may well go against him, giving the impression of someone who is not really in touch with the everyday reality of the nation (even if, to obviate this impression, the candidate travelled the length and breadth of the country in the months before his candidacy was announced).
Even more than Vargas Llosa five years ago, De Cuellar runs the risk of being seen as a candidate imposed from ‘outside’; he has already declined the support of the traditional parties, so as to avoid any confusion with the old political classes which are so unpopular.
In the light of the above explanation of the Peruvian situation, I think that Fujimori’s current popularity appears less paradoxical and is just one more example of the blatant difficulties encountered by western-style democracy in a developing nation. The wide-ranging debate over the suitability of this political model in such nations involves both political scientists and policy-makers, and remains a question of extraordinary importance both for international strategy and for North-South relations in general.
Notes
(1) On Peru’s informal economy, see
Rostros de la informalidad, Instituto de
desarrollo del sector informal, Lima
1992.
(2) For a closer look at Vargas Llosa’s
position, see La contenta barbarie by
his son, Alvaro, Editorial Planeta,
Barcelona, 1993.
(3) Numerous works have been written
on the Sendero Luminoso phenomenon, see for example: D. Krujit, Entre
Sendero y los militares, Lima, 1991; G.
Gorriti, Sendero: Historia de la guerra
milenaria del Perù, Lima, 1990. Shining
Path of Peru, collection of essays, St.
Martin’s Press, New York, 1992.
(4) See the interview with Pérez de Cuellar in El Pais, 8 September 1994.