"No tenemos presidente."
That is how my host mom greeted me the morning of September 3, 2015.
"We don't have a president."
Now, I hadn't been in Guatemala for that long, but I knew enough to be surprised. And, from the looks on the faces of the members of my host family, it was a shock for them too. After months of protests, escalating in both frequency and impact (all while remaining peaceful), calling for the resignation of the president, no one thought it would actually happen. Even after hearing hundreds of Guatemalans chant Yo no tengo presidente (a viral hashtag meaning "I don't have a president"), I couldn't believe I was hearing No tenemos presidente ("We don't have a president"). The hashtag became a reality.
That is how my host mom greeted me the morning of September 3, 2015.
"We don't have a president."
Now, I hadn't been in Guatemala for that long, but I knew enough to be surprised. And, from the looks on the faces of the members of my host family, it was a shock for them too. After months of protests, escalating in both frequency and impact (all while remaining peaceful), calling for the resignation of the president, no one thought it would actually happen. Even after hearing hundreds of Guatemalans chant Yo no tengo presidente (a viral hashtag meaning "I don't have a president"), I couldn't believe I was hearing No tenemos presidente ("We don't have a president"). The hashtag became a reality.
In April, President (now Ex-President) Otto Pérez Molina and his administration were accused by the international Comisión Internacional contra la Impunidad en Guatemala (known as CICIG) of maintaining a customs corruption ring referred to as "La Línea." Ex-VP Roxanna Baldetti resigned in May and was arrested in late August. Then, last Thursday, Molina resigned from his post in the early hours of the morning. He was arrested the next day.
Guatemala was shocked. And happy. And confused. I saw this array of emotions play out in my family's kitchen. No one really knew what to say. My host sisters wanted public humiliation and severe punishment for Molina. My host mom contended that, as Christians, they should look at him with a bit more compassion, a statement that led my host sister to storm away from the dinner table in a huff.
I've spent the last month or so living in Guatemala, and I've seen one of the most exciting and bewildering periods in the country's political history since perhaps the 1990s. I saw protests across the country, the resignation of the president, and the first round of presidential elections. I saw a country haunted by a history of civil war and by epidemic levels of corruption.
Guatemalan politics are confusing, and I have a lot more questions than I have answers. So do many Guatemalans, whose access to reliable political information is limited. This produces an atmosphere that contrasts greatly with the U.S. political atmosphere. In the U.S., I often feel that many people develop and defend opinions without really knowing what they are talking about. In Guatemala, I observed the opposite. People talk about politics as much as or more than they do in the States, and yet no one seems to know what to think or what to believe. On the morning of the election, my host mom - who follows politics laboriously - actually confessed to me that she'd been up most of the night before election day thinking and praying, still unsure of who to vote for! I have a hard time imagining many people in the U.S. making it to Election Day Eve without having a pretty good idea of who they'd be voting for in less than 12 hours. I'm sure those people do exist, but they're drowned out by the choruses of die-hard Republicans and die-hard Democrats locked in the never-ending battle to see who can shout louder.
I won't pretend to be any sort of expert in Guatemalan politics. Nothing I say here is meant to be generalizable to the entire population or political system of Guatemala or Central America - these are my private observations. These aren't my stories to tell, and these aren't my causes to win. If you want to learn more about Guatemalan politics from legit journalists, I recommend this, this, or this.
I will say this: I'm a political junkie at heart, but it has been nice to follow another country's politics, getting a little break from the US politicians that one of our Guatemalan speakers jokingly referred to as "Donald Trump and company" (not necessarily a fair characterization, but a distressing image nonetheless).
With all that being said, I'd like to share a few of the observations I've made over the last few weeks, after visiting protests, hearing speakers, and watching my host family cast their votes at the polls.
Guatemala was shocked. And happy. And confused. I saw this array of emotions play out in my family's kitchen. No one really knew what to say. My host sisters wanted public humiliation and severe punishment for Molina. My host mom contended that, as Christians, they should look at him with a bit more compassion, a statement that led my host sister to storm away from the dinner table in a huff.
I've spent the last month or so living in Guatemala, and I've seen one of the most exciting and bewildering periods in the country's political history since perhaps the 1990s. I saw protests across the country, the resignation of the president, and the first round of presidential elections. I saw a country haunted by a history of civil war and by epidemic levels of corruption.
Guatemalan politics are confusing, and I have a lot more questions than I have answers. So do many Guatemalans, whose access to reliable political information is limited. This produces an atmosphere that contrasts greatly with the U.S. political atmosphere. In the U.S., I often feel that many people develop and defend opinions without really knowing what they are talking about. In Guatemala, I observed the opposite. People talk about politics as much as or more than they do in the States, and yet no one seems to know what to think or what to believe. On the morning of the election, my host mom - who follows politics laboriously - actually confessed to me that she'd been up most of the night before election day thinking and praying, still unsure of who to vote for! I have a hard time imagining many people in the U.S. making it to Election Day Eve without having a pretty good idea of who they'd be voting for in less than 12 hours. I'm sure those people do exist, but they're drowned out by the choruses of die-hard Republicans and die-hard Democrats locked in the never-ending battle to see who can shout louder.
I won't pretend to be any sort of expert in Guatemalan politics. Nothing I say here is meant to be generalizable to the entire population or political system of Guatemala or Central America - these are my private observations. These aren't my stories to tell, and these aren't my causes to win. If you want to learn more about Guatemalan politics from legit journalists, I recommend this, this, or this.
I will say this: I'm a political junkie at heart, but it has been nice to follow another country's politics, getting a little break from the US politicians that one of our Guatemalan speakers jokingly referred to as "Donald Trump and company" (not necessarily a fair characterization, but a distressing image nonetheless).
With all that being said, I'd like to share a few of the observations I've made over the last few weeks, after visiting protests, hearing speakers, and watching my host family cast their votes at the polls.
1. GUATEMALANS ACCOMPLISHED SOMETHING HISTORIC THIS FALL - AND THEY DID IT WITHOUT VIOLENCE
My host mom said it best the morning when we learned of Molina's resignation. She told me, "Katie, when you get back to the states, tell everyone that Guatemalans are peaceful people. We accomplished this without violence. Please tell them that."
She's right. The political protests I attended and observed during the last week of August were characterized by an overwhelming feeling of civic pride and pacifism. The crowds were made up of students and families, all begging for better lives for themselves and their families. Guatemalan flags flew over the crowd. People sang the national anthem proudly. I know that there are those who will argue that pacifism isn't the most effective way to bring about social change, but in this situation, it worked, and it was a privilege to watch it.
She's right. The political protests I attended and observed during the last week of August were characterized by an overwhelming feeling of civic pride and pacifism. The crowds were made up of students and families, all begging for better lives for themselves and their families. Guatemalan flags flew over the crowd. People sang the national anthem proudly. I know that there are those who will argue that pacifism isn't the most effective way to bring about social change, but in this situation, it worked, and it was a privilege to watch it.
2. CORRUPTION IS REALLY, REALLY SCARY.
If Guatemalan politics have a buzzword, it's "corruption," or corrupción. I can't think of a single politicized word in the US - not "crime" or "immigration" or even "abortion" - that has the power to elicit the emotional reactions that the word corrupción does in Guatemalans. Having been in the country during the first round of presidential elections (there are two rounds, one with 10+ candidates and then another runoff between the two most popular), I can see why.
My Spanish teacher, who worked at the polls on election day, told me stories she'd heard of bribery and spying, often in the countryside, where people are less educated and literate (and, thus, more vulnerable). Political parties frequently send buses to transport voters to the polling sites, often providing breakfast or lunch as well (likely to people for whom food is hard to come by). My teacher had been warned about parties sending children into the polls with the adults, posing as their sons or daughters, to check who they voted for and to report back to the party officials who'd bribed them. To my American ears, behavior like this seemed like such a gross affront to democracy that I could barely fathom it.
Another consequence of the widespread corruption in Guatemalan politics is that many voters seemed at a loss about who to vote for, believing that all candidates were equally corrupt. One Guatemalan woman I talked to told me that, for her, voting was "choosing the least of all the evils." It is for this reason that many protestors actually called for the elections to be cancelled until there were more suitable candidates.
In observing all of this, I learned another truth about politics: democracy and voting are not synonyms. While democracy cannot exist without elections, elections can - and do - exist without true democracy.
My Spanish teacher, who worked at the polls on election day, told me stories she'd heard of bribery and spying, often in the countryside, where people are less educated and literate (and, thus, more vulnerable). Political parties frequently send buses to transport voters to the polling sites, often providing breakfast or lunch as well (likely to people for whom food is hard to come by). My teacher had been warned about parties sending children into the polls with the adults, posing as their sons or daughters, to check who they voted for and to report back to the party officials who'd bribed them. To my American ears, behavior like this seemed like such a gross affront to democracy that I could barely fathom it.
Another consequence of the widespread corruption in Guatemalan politics is that many voters seemed at a loss about who to vote for, believing that all candidates were equally corrupt. One Guatemalan woman I talked to told me that, for her, voting was "choosing the least of all the evils." It is for this reason that many protestors actually called for the elections to be cancelled until there were more suitable candidates.
In observing all of this, I learned another truth about politics: democracy and voting are not synonyms. While democracy cannot exist without elections, elections can - and do - exist without true democracy.
3. FOR ALL ITS FAULTS, GUATEMALA CAN TEACH THE U.S. SOMETHING ABOUT ELECTIONS
Look, there are a lot of problems with Guatemalan elections. If I were Guatemalan, I would have had no idea who to vote for. Almost all of the candidate's claim to be centrists. I've seen actual parties that last longer than some of Guatemala's notoriously short-lived political parties. Add in rampant corruption and a general atmosphere of instability, and you've got a recipe for chaos.
HOWEVER, I was impressed by the Guatemala carried out its election day, especially in comparison to how we do it in the States. In Guatemala, election day is on a Sunday (so people don't have to choose between going to vote or working to feed their families). Many churches are closed (or have worship or mass early in the morning to accommodate voting schedules). Stores, bars, and restaurants stop selling liquor 24 hours before election day. School is closed the following day. The day is treated very much like a national holiday. People arrive at the polls wearing either their Sunday best or their traditional indigenous clothing. Entire families go to vote together. The atmosphere is festive and happy, and people are excited about the chance to participate in the future of their country.
That excitement touched me. It reminded me why I love politics and why we must fight to preserve democracy. Playing a part in deciding the future of your country and your people (even when the options are imperfect) is a privilege, and we should treat it as such.
HOWEVER, I was impressed by the Guatemala carried out its election day, especially in comparison to how we do it in the States. In Guatemala, election day is on a Sunday (so people don't have to choose between going to vote or working to feed their families). Many churches are closed (or have worship or mass early in the morning to accommodate voting schedules). Stores, bars, and restaurants stop selling liquor 24 hours before election day. School is closed the following day. The day is treated very much like a national holiday. People arrive at the polls wearing either their Sunday best or their traditional indigenous clothing. Entire families go to vote together. The atmosphere is festive and happy, and people are excited about the chance to participate in the future of their country.
That excitement touched me. It reminded me why I love politics and why we must fight to preserve democracy. Playing a part in deciding the future of your country and your people (even when the options are imperfect) is a privilege, and we should treat it as such.