Mark Strand -- (b. 1934, Prince Edward Island). He'll be here at Smith to do a reading on Tues., but alas I have another event I cannot miss, so I'll miss him. He spent 1965 in Brazil and is a translator of Drummond, and their affinity seems clear in this poem, from the collectiion "Sleeping with One Eye Open" (1964).
Keeping Things Whole
In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.
When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body’s been
We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.
Mantendo inteiras as coisas
Num campo
Eu sou a ausência
de campo.
Isso é
sempre o caso.
Onde eu estiver
eu sou o que está faltando.
Quando eu ando
parto o ar
e sempre
o ar volta
para encher os espaços
onde meu corpo esteve.
Todos temos motivos
para nos movermos.
Eu me movo
para manter inteiras as coisa.
(tradução minha)
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Obama
I’m still digesting all of the monumentality – historical and emotional – of the election of Barack Obama as president of my country. There’s too much to think and feel through. Overwhelming. Where to begin. Perhaps, with my possessive pronoun above. It’s been some time, perhaps since before any real sense of political awareness or awareness of history, that I’ve been able to fully utter “my” country with a feeling of complete, unqualified pride. There was always pride, in the principles, unperfected but prophetically imagined in the founding of this nation, but it was tinged with a deep ambivalence, an awareness of and responsibility for the still unresolved histories of racist imperial expansion that the nation has protagonized, first on this continent and then ever increasingly abroad. These histories are still there, of course, and are ongoing, but with this election, we have demonstrated hope again not only for the perfectability of our egalitarian founding principles but also a willingness to examine the different sides of that history, to re-consider the ways in which we define our national exceptionality, to perhaps even place ourselves among and not above the rest of the world. This is my hope and pride right now.
I’m thinking hard about two of Obama’s speeches, both worth watching and reading repeatedly. I'm so encouraged by the thought that future generations will read and watch them too. Of course, the victory speech, and its solemn invitation for shared responsibility and continued mobilization to solve the major problems that confront us and that are truly global in scale. After three decades of radical individualism – recall Margaret Thatcher telling us that “society doesn’t exist” – we are reminded of the responsibility we have to each other, to lift each other up and to look out for the vulnerable among us. Call it what you want – communitarianism, neighborliness, fraternity, socialism, whatever – it’s a shift away from the ideology of monadic self-interest that has oriented our public discourse and policy for far too long. I was also impressed again by the invitation in Obama’s rhetorical style to dialogue, to thoughtful, sustained reflection, to open-endedness and complexity. This is a marked shift away from the monologic, blustering, simplistic, from-the-gut certainty that our macho, mediatized culture and perhaps the political moment has seemed to favor in recent years. I think that conservative New York Times commentator David Brooks has it right: the Republican Party has ridden the horse of faux-folksy anti-intellectualism into the ground. (Fox news just reported yesterday that according to campaign aides, Governor Palin did not understand that Africa was a continent, not a country, and did not know what countries were in the North American Free Trade Agreement.) Nobody wants to be patronized or spoken down to, but I think the electorate has demonstrated an awareness that the problems we face and the solutions we need to come up with are complex and will require sustained intellectual effort, reflection, curiosity, and a more profound awareness of the world.
I’ve continued to think about Obama’s Philadelphia speech on race, in the throes of the Jeremiah Wright “scandal.” This semester I’ve been teaching a course on race, national identity, and narrative in Angola, Brazil, and Cuba. As I re-read a number of Brazilian and Cuban writers with my students, I’ve been struck by the possibility of a sort of Latin Americanization of race relations and racial identities in the U.S. as embodied by Obama’s candidacy and its narrative of ancestry and self. Obama is simultaneously our first African-American president-elect and our first mixed-race, mestiço/mestizo, or mulatto president-elect. At the same time we all considered the historical weight of Obama’s candidacy as a Black man, we were reminded of (and some voters perhaps soothed by) his simultaneous Whiteness, even up to the end, as we learned of the death of his grandmother in Hawaii, the “rock” of his family. Obama points to himself as the embodiment of a transcendence of racial division in a way that evokes the discourse of mestiçagem/mestizaje – of race mixture – which became a fundamental dimension of national discourse in both Cuba and Brazil over at least the last 100 years. The effects of this narrative, and its permutations, in actually effectively making progress to resolve racial conflict and inequalities in those two countries should be considered as we contemplate its future here in the U.S. In this vein, a couple of Nicolás Guillén poems keep coming to mind as I think about this election.
The first perhaps evokes Reverend Wright:
Ancestry
Fabio, from what you say,
your grandfather was an archangel with his slaves.
My grandpa, on the other hand,
was a demon with his masters.
Yours died cudgeled.
Mine they hanged.
The second evokes the Obama of Philadelphia, willing, forcing by the fact of his own being, his own two grandfathers to embrace.
Ballad of the Two Grandfathers:
Shadows which only I see,
I'm watched by my two grandfathers.
A bone-point lance,
a drum of hide and wood:
my black grandfather.
A ruff on a broad neck,
a warrior's grey armament:
my white grandfather.
Africa's humid jungles
with thick and muted gongs . . .
"I'm dying!"
(My black grandfather says).
Waters dark with alligators,
mornings green with coconuts . . .
"I'm tired!"
(My white grandfather says).
Oh sails of a bitter wind,
galleon burning for gold . . .
"I'm dying"
(My black grandfather says).
Oh coasts with virgin necks
deceived with beads of glass . . .!
"I'm tired!"
(My white grandfather says).
Oh pure and burnished sun,
imprisoned in the tropic's ring;
Oh clear and rounded moon
above the sleep of monkeys!
So many ships, so many ships!
So many Blacks, so many Blacks!
So much resplendent sugarcane!
How harsh the trader's whip!
A rock of tears and blood,
of veins and eyes half-open,
of empty dawns
and plantation sunsets,
and a great voice, a strong voice,
splitting the silence.
So many ships, so many ships,
so many Blacks!
Shadows which only I see,
I'm watched by my two grandfathers.
Don Federico yells at me
and Taita Facundo is silent;
both dreaming in the night
and walking, walking.
I bring them together.
"Federico!
Facundo!" They embrace. They sigh,
they raise their sturdy heads;
both of equal size,
beneath the high stars;
both of equal size,
a Black longing, a White longing,
both of equal size,
they scream, dream, weep, sing.
They dream, weep, sing.
They week, sing.
Sing!
(translations from Spanish by Roberto Marquez, colleague and new friend in the valley...)
I’m thinking hard about two of Obama’s speeches, both worth watching and reading repeatedly. I'm so encouraged by the thought that future generations will read and watch them too. Of course, the victory speech, and its solemn invitation for shared responsibility and continued mobilization to solve the major problems that confront us and that are truly global in scale. After three decades of radical individualism – recall Margaret Thatcher telling us that “society doesn’t exist” – we are reminded of the responsibility we have to each other, to lift each other up and to look out for the vulnerable among us. Call it what you want – communitarianism, neighborliness, fraternity, socialism, whatever – it’s a shift away from the ideology of monadic self-interest that has oriented our public discourse and policy for far too long. I was also impressed again by the invitation in Obama’s rhetorical style to dialogue, to thoughtful, sustained reflection, to open-endedness and complexity. This is a marked shift away from the monologic, blustering, simplistic, from-the-gut certainty that our macho, mediatized culture and perhaps the political moment has seemed to favor in recent years. I think that conservative New York Times commentator David Brooks has it right: the Republican Party has ridden the horse of faux-folksy anti-intellectualism into the ground. (Fox news just reported yesterday that according to campaign aides, Governor Palin did not understand that Africa was a continent, not a country, and did not know what countries were in the North American Free Trade Agreement.) Nobody wants to be patronized or spoken down to, but I think the electorate has demonstrated an awareness that the problems we face and the solutions we need to come up with are complex and will require sustained intellectual effort, reflection, curiosity, and a more profound awareness of the world.
I’ve continued to think about Obama’s Philadelphia speech on race, in the throes of the Jeremiah Wright “scandal.” This semester I’ve been teaching a course on race, national identity, and narrative in Angola, Brazil, and Cuba. As I re-read a number of Brazilian and Cuban writers with my students, I’ve been struck by the possibility of a sort of Latin Americanization of race relations and racial identities in the U.S. as embodied by Obama’s candidacy and its narrative of ancestry and self. Obama is simultaneously our first African-American president-elect and our first mixed-race, mestiço/mestizo, or mulatto president-elect. At the same time we all considered the historical weight of Obama’s candidacy as a Black man, we were reminded of (and some voters perhaps soothed by) his simultaneous Whiteness, even up to the end, as we learned of the death of his grandmother in Hawaii, the “rock” of his family. Obama points to himself as the embodiment of a transcendence of racial division in a way that evokes the discourse of mestiçagem/mestizaje – of race mixture – which became a fundamental dimension of national discourse in both Cuba and Brazil over at least the last 100 years. The effects of this narrative, and its permutations, in actually effectively making progress to resolve racial conflict and inequalities in those two countries should be considered as we contemplate its future here in the U.S. In this vein, a couple of Nicolás Guillén poems keep coming to mind as I think about this election.
The first perhaps evokes Reverend Wright:
Ancestry
Fabio, from what you say,
your grandfather was an archangel with his slaves.
My grandpa, on the other hand,
was a demon with his masters.
Yours died cudgeled.
Mine they hanged.
The second evokes the Obama of Philadelphia, willing, forcing by the fact of his own being, his own two grandfathers to embrace.
Ballad of the Two Grandfathers:
Shadows which only I see,
I'm watched by my two grandfathers.
A bone-point lance,
a drum of hide and wood:
my black grandfather.
A ruff on a broad neck,
a warrior's grey armament:
my white grandfather.
Africa's humid jungles
with thick and muted gongs . . .
"I'm dying!"
(My black grandfather says).
Waters dark with alligators,
mornings green with coconuts . . .
"I'm tired!"
(My white grandfather says).
Oh sails of a bitter wind,
galleon burning for gold . . .
"I'm dying"
(My black grandfather says).
Oh coasts with virgin necks
deceived with beads of glass . . .!
"I'm tired!"
(My white grandfather says).
Oh pure and burnished sun,
imprisoned in the tropic's ring;
Oh clear and rounded moon
above the sleep of monkeys!
So many ships, so many ships!
So many Blacks, so many Blacks!
So much resplendent sugarcane!
How harsh the trader's whip!
A rock of tears and blood,
of veins and eyes half-open,
of empty dawns
and plantation sunsets,
and a great voice, a strong voice,
splitting the silence.
So many ships, so many ships,
so many Blacks!
Shadows which only I see,
I'm watched by my two grandfathers.
Don Federico yells at me
and Taita Facundo is silent;
both dreaming in the night
and walking, walking.
I bring them together.
"Federico!
Facundo!" They embrace. They sigh,
they raise their sturdy heads;
both of equal size,
beneath the high stars;
both of equal size,
a Black longing, a White longing,
both of equal size,
they scream, dream, weep, sing.
They dream, weep, sing.
They week, sing.
Sing!
(translations from Spanish by Roberto Marquez, colleague and new friend in the valley...)
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Nas quintas, uma foto ou duas // Thursdays, a photo or two
Quem diria que tem (outros tipos de) elefantes em Idaho? Fotos tiradas num museu caseiro numa cidadezinha (esqueci do nome... alguém ajuda?) do norte de Idaho, durante uma visita à minha família dois anos atás.
Who would have thought that there are (other sorts of ) elephants in Idaho? Pictures taken in a little museum in a tiny North Idaho town (I’ve forgotten the name ... can someone help?), during a visit to my family a couple of years ago.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
A Poem a Saturday (well, almost)
Carlos Drummond de Andrade
Congresso Internacional do Medo
Provisoriamente não cantaremos o amor,
que se refugiou mais abaixo dos subterrâneos.
Cantaremos o medo, que esteriliza os abraços,
não cantaremos o ódio porque esse não existe,
existe apenas o medo, nosso pai e nosso companheiro,
o medo grande dos sertões, dos mares, dos desertos,
o medo dos soldados, o medo das mães, o medo das igrejas,
cantaremos o medo dos ditadores, o medo dos democratas,
cantaremos o medo da morte e o medo de depois da morte,
depois morreremos de medo
e sobre nossos túmulos nascerão flores amarelas e medrosas.
The International Congress of Fear
For the time being we will not sing of love,
which has taken refuge in subterranean depths.
We will sing of the fear that sterilizes embraces,
we will not sing of hatred, because this does not exist,
there is only fear, our father and our companion,
the enormous fear of the wilderness, of the sea, of the desert,
the fear of soldiers, the fear of mothers, the fear of churches,
we will sing of the fear of dictators, the fear of democrats,
we will sing the fear of death and the fear of what comes after death,
then we will die of fear
and upon our graves will grow flowers, yellow and tremulous.
Congresso Internacional do Medo
Provisoriamente não cantaremos o amor,
que se refugiou mais abaixo dos subterrâneos.
Cantaremos o medo, que esteriliza os abraços,
não cantaremos o ódio porque esse não existe,
existe apenas o medo, nosso pai e nosso companheiro,
o medo grande dos sertões, dos mares, dos desertos,
o medo dos soldados, o medo das mães, o medo das igrejas,
cantaremos o medo dos ditadores, o medo dos democratas,
cantaremos o medo da morte e o medo de depois da morte,
depois morreremos de medo
e sobre nossos túmulos nascerão flores amarelas e medrosas.
The International Congress of Fear
For the time being we will not sing of love,
which has taken refuge in subterranean depths.
We will sing of the fear that sterilizes embraces,
we will not sing of hatred, because this does not exist,
there is only fear, our father and our companion,
the enormous fear of the wilderness, of the sea, of the desert,
the fear of soldiers, the fear of mothers, the fear of churches,
we will sing of the fear of dictators, the fear of democrats,
we will sing the fear of death and the fear of what comes after death,
then we will die of fear
and upon our graves will grow flowers, yellow and tremulous.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Jaula / Cage -- Astrid Cabral
We were honored here at Smith to host this Monday a visit by the Brazilian poet, Astrid Cabral, and her translator, Alexis Levitin, for a lunchtime reading of poems from her collection, "Cage," newly published in a biligual edition by Host Publications. These are beautiful poems, in both languages, many evoking the animals, real and imagined, of Astrid's childhood in the Amazon region of Brazil -- Astrid grew up in Manaus. It was great to hear them in her voice, and it was exciting to see such interest expressed here on campus, with more than 40 people in attendance.
Here's one of my favorites among this collection -- about watchng whales, on t.v.-- in Portuguese first and then in Alexis' translation. (Photo above courtesy of Pamela Petro.)
Baleia Albina
Pelo úmido azul
a baleia albina baila
e assombra
a sala em penumbra
barbatanas rêmiges
a massagear
volumosa massa d’água
o trêmulo transparente
corpo marinho...
Marítima mamífera
a espraiar
a cútis de elanca
enquanto as gordas vastas ancas
nadam dançam
se lançam
pelos pastos salgados
de algas e sargaços...
Será menina
a baleia albina?
Será adulta
a náufraga lua animal?
Ou centenária
a submarina cetácea nau?
Senhora dona do aquático sítio
supondo-se
solitária soberana
desfila tranqüila na líquida passarela
e revela
coreografia de estrela
e solfeja
cantiga de amor arquiantiga
e corteja
sem saber-se a prima-dona
de um mega espetáculo
sem pressentir
a intimidade exposta
à ribalta de mil olhos
pelo globo em volta…
Como o mar tão vasto
cabe entre sofás?
como nos toca o mar
se a pele não nos molha?
À noite os gatos são pardos
À noite somos jona e pinóquios
acomodados na barriga da sala
essa estranha baleia
cujas paredes entranhas
o oceano invade
e lambe até tarde…
Somos então outra casta de peixes
pescados nas malhas
de eletrônica rede.
White Whale
Through humid hued blue
the white whale weaves
a startling dance for
the darkened room
fins fanning
massaging
vast masses of water
transparent trembling
body of the sea…
Marine mammal
stretching out
its elastic sea…
while its vast and massive hips
weave wave
wander
through salty pastures
of branching thallus and sargasso…
Could it be a child,
the white white whale?
Could it be an adult
shipwrecked animal moon?
Or centenarian
a submarine cetacean ship?
Lady mistress of that aquatic place
imagining herself
solitary sovereign
she parades tranquil on the liquid runway
and reveals
the choreography of a star
and sings solfeggios
of old love songs ancient of ancients
and flirts
without knowing herself the prima donna
of a mega-spectacular
without foreseeing
that intimacy exposed
by the footlights of a thousand eyes
throughout the whole surrounding globe…
How can the sea so vast
fit between sofas?
How can the sea touch us
if it doesn’t wet our skin?
At night all cats are black
At night we are all jonas and pinochios
housed in the belly of the room
that strange whale
whose walls bowels
the ocean invades
and laps till it grows late…
And so we are another sort of fish
caught in the meshes
of an electronic web.
Here's one of my favorites among this collection -- about watchng whales, on t.v.-- in Portuguese first and then in Alexis' translation. (Photo above courtesy of Pamela Petro.)
Baleia Albina
Pelo úmido azul
a baleia albina baila
e assombra
a sala em penumbra
barbatanas rêmiges
a massagear
volumosa massa d’água
o trêmulo transparente
corpo marinho...
Marítima mamífera
a espraiar
a cútis de elanca
enquanto as gordas vastas ancas
nadam dançam
se lançam
pelos pastos salgados
de algas e sargaços...
Será menina
a baleia albina?
Será adulta
a náufraga lua animal?
Ou centenária
a submarina cetácea nau?
Senhora dona do aquático sítio
supondo-se
solitária soberana
desfila tranqüila na líquida passarela
e revela
coreografia de estrela
e solfeja
cantiga de amor arquiantiga
e corteja
sem saber-se a prima-dona
de um mega espetáculo
sem pressentir
a intimidade exposta
à ribalta de mil olhos
pelo globo em volta…
Como o mar tão vasto
cabe entre sofás?
como nos toca o mar
se a pele não nos molha?
À noite os gatos são pardos
À noite somos jona e pinóquios
acomodados na barriga da sala
essa estranha baleia
cujas paredes entranhas
o oceano invade
e lambe até tarde…
Somos então outra casta de peixes
pescados nas malhas
de eletrônica rede.
White Whale
Through humid hued blue
the white whale weaves
a startling dance for
the darkened room
fins fanning
massaging
vast masses of water
transparent trembling
body of the sea…
Marine mammal
stretching out
its elastic sea…
while its vast and massive hips
weave wave
wander
through salty pastures
of branching thallus and sargasso…
Could it be a child,
the white white whale?
Could it be an adult
shipwrecked animal moon?
Or centenarian
a submarine cetacean ship?
Lady mistress of that aquatic place
imagining herself
solitary sovereign
she parades tranquil on the liquid runway
and reveals
the choreography of a star
and sings solfeggios
of old love songs ancient of ancients
and flirts
without knowing herself the prima donna
of a mega-spectacular
without foreseeing
that intimacy exposed
by the footlights of a thousand eyes
throughout the whole surrounding globe…
How can the sea so vast
fit between sofas?
How can the sea touch us
if it doesn’t wet our skin?
At night all cats are black
At night we are all jonas and pinochios
housed in the belly of the room
that strange whale
whose walls bowels
the ocean invades
and laps till it grows late…
And so we are another sort of fish
caught in the meshes
of an electronic web.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Open Letter to Senator Obama on U.S. policy in Latin America
October 12, 2008
Dear Senator Obama:
We write to offer our congratulations on your campaign and to express our hope that as the next president of the United States you will take advantage of an historic opportunity to improve relations with Latin America. As scholars of the region, we also wish to convey our analysis regarding the process of change now underway in Latin America.
Just as the people of the United States have begun to debate basic questions regarding the sort of society they want-- thanks in part to your own candidacy but also owing to the magnitude of the current financial crisis-- so too have the people of Latin America. In fact, a recent round of intense debate about a just and fair society has been going on in Latin America for more than a decade, and the majority are opting, like you and so many of us in the United States, for hope and change. As academics personally and professionally committed to development and democracy in Latin America, we are hopeful that during your presidency the United States can become a partner rather than an adversary to the positive changes already under way in the hemisphere.
The current impetus for change in Latin America is a rejection of the model of economic growth that has been imposed in most countries since the early 1980s, a model that has concentrated wealth, relied unsuccessfully on unrestricted market forces to solve deep social problems and undermined human welfare. The current rejection of this model is broad-based and democratic. In fact, contemporary movements for change in Latin America reveal significantly increased participation by workers and peasants, women, Afro-descendants and indigenous peoples-- in a word, the grassroots. Such movements are coming to power in country after country. They are neither puppets, nor blinded by fanaticism and ideology, as caricatured by some mainstream pundits. To the contrary, these movements deserve our respect, friendship and support.
Latin Americans have often viewed the United States not as a friend but as an oppressor, the guarantor of an international economic system that works against them, rather than for them-- the very antithesis of hope and change. The Bush Administration has made matters much worse, and U.S. prestige in the region is now at a historic low. Washington's tendency to fight against hope and change has been especially prominent in recent U.S. responses to the democratically elected governments of Venezuela and Bolivia. While anti-American feelings run deep, history demonstrates that these feelings can change. In the 1930s, after two decades of conflict with the region, the United States swore off intervention and adopted a Good Neighbor Policy. Not coincidentally, itwas the most harmonious time in the history of U.S.-Latin American relations. In the 1940s, every country in the region became our ally inWorld War Two. It can happen again.
There are many other challenges, too. Colombia, the main focus of the Bush Administration's policy, is currently the scene of the second largest humanitarian crisis in the world, with four million internally displaced people. Its government, which criminalizes even peaceful protest, seeks an extension of the free trade policies that much of the hemisphere is already reacting against. Cuba has begun a process of transition that should be supported in positive ways, such as through the dialogue you advocate. Mexicans and Central Americans migrate by the tens of thousands to seek work in the United States, where their labor power is much needed but their presence is denigrated by a public that has, since the development of opinion polling in the 1930s, always opposed immigration from anywhere. The way to manage immigration is not by building a giant wall, but rather, the United States should support more equitable economic development in Mexico and Central America and, indeed, throughout the region. In addition, the U.S. must reconsider drug control policies that have simply not worked and have been part of the problem of political violence, especially in Mexico, Colombia and Peru. And the U.S. must renew its active support for human rights throughout the region. Unfortunately, in the eyes of many Latin Americans, the United States has come to stand for the support of inequitable regimes.
Finally, we implore you to commit your administration to the firm support of constitutional rights, including academic and intellectual freedom. Most of us are members of the Latin American Studies Association (LASA), the largest professional association of experts on the region, and we have experienced first-hand how the Bush administration's attempt to restrict academic exchange with Cuba is counter-productive and self-defeating. We hope for an early opportunity to discuss this and other issues regarding Latin America with your administration. Our hope is that you will embrace the opportunity to inaugurate a new period of hemispheric understanding and collaboration for the common welfare. We ask for change and not only in the United States.
Sincerely,
SIGNED:Eric Hershberg, LASA President 2007-09, Professor of Politics and Director of Latin American Studies, Simon Fraser University
Sonia E. Alvarez, LASA Past President (2004-2006), Leonard J. Horwitz Professor of Politics, University of Massachusetts-Amherst
Charles R. Hale, LASA Past President (2003-2004), Professor of Anthropology, University of Texas at Austin
Marysa Navarro-Aranguren, LASA Past President (2003-2004),
Charles Collis, Professor of History, Dartmouth College
Arturo Arias, LASA Past President, (2001-2003), Professor of Spanish and Portuguese University of Texas, Austin.
Dear Senator Obama:
We write to offer our congratulations on your campaign and to express our hope that as the next president of the United States you will take advantage of an historic opportunity to improve relations with Latin America. As scholars of the region, we also wish to convey our analysis regarding the process of change now underway in Latin America.
Just as the people of the United States have begun to debate basic questions regarding the sort of society they want-- thanks in part to your own candidacy but also owing to the magnitude of the current financial crisis-- so too have the people of Latin America. In fact, a recent round of intense debate about a just and fair society has been going on in Latin America for more than a decade, and the majority are opting, like you and so many of us in the United States, for hope and change. As academics personally and professionally committed to development and democracy in Latin America, we are hopeful that during your presidency the United States can become a partner rather than an adversary to the positive changes already under way in the hemisphere.
The current impetus for change in Latin America is a rejection of the model of economic growth that has been imposed in most countries since the early 1980s, a model that has concentrated wealth, relied unsuccessfully on unrestricted market forces to solve deep social problems and undermined human welfare. The current rejection of this model is broad-based and democratic. In fact, contemporary movements for change in Latin America reveal significantly increased participation by workers and peasants, women, Afro-descendants and indigenous peoples-- in a word, the grassroots. Such movements are coming to power in country after country. They are neither puppets, nor blinded by fanaticism and ideology, as caricatured by some mainstream pundits. To the contrary, these movements deserve our respect, friendship and support.
Latin Americans have often viewed the United States not as a friend but as an oppressor, the guarantor of an international economic system that works against them, rather than for them-- the very antithesis of hope and change. The Bush Administration has made matters much worse, and U.S. prestige in the region is now at a historic low. Washington's tendency to fight against hope and change has been especially prominent in recent U.S. responses to the democratically elected governments of Venezuela and Bolivia. While anti-American feelings run deep, history demonstrates that these feelings can change. In the 1930s, after two decades of conflict with the region, the United States swore off intervention and adopted a Good Neighbor Policy. Not coincidentally, itwas the most harmonious time in the history of U.S.-Latin American relations. In the 1940s, every country in the region became our ally inWorld War Two. It can happen again.
There are many other challenges, too. Colombia, the main focus of the Bush Administration's policy, is currently the scene of the second largest humanitarian crisis in the world, with four million internally displaced people. Its government, which criminalizes even peaceful protest, seeks an extension of the free trade policies that much of the hemisphere is already reacting against. Cuba has begun a process of transition that should be supported in positive ways, such as through the dialogue you advocate. Mexicans and Central Americans migrate by the tens of thousands to seek work in the United States, where their labor power is much needed but their presence is denigrated by a public that has, since the development of opinion polling in the 1930s, always opposed immigration from anywhere. The way to manage immigration is not by building a giant wall, but rather, the United States should support more equitable economic development in Mexico and Central America and, indeed, throughout the region. In addition, the U.S. must reconsider drug control policies that have simply not worked and have been part of the problem of political violence, especially in Mexico, Colombia and Peru. And the U.S. must renew its active support for human rights throughout the region. Unfortunately, in the eyes of many Latin Americans, the United States has come to stand for the support of inequitable regimes.
Finally, we implore you to commit your administration to the firm support of constitutional rights, including academic and intellectual freedom. Most of us are members of the Latin American Studies Association (LASA), the largest professional association of experts on the region, and we have experienced first-hand how the Bush administration's attempt to restrict academic exchange with Cuba is counter-productive and self-defeating. We hope for an early opportunity to discuss this and other issues regarding Latin America with your administration. Our hope is that you will embrace the opportunity to inaugurate a new period of hemispheric understanding and collaboration for the common welfare. We ask for change and not only in the United States.
Sincerely,
SIGNED:Eric Hershberg, LASA President 2007-09, Professor of Politics and Director of Latin American Studies, Simon Fraser University
Sonia E. Alvarez, LASA Past President (2004-2006), Leonard J. Horwitz Professor of Politics, University of Massachusetts-Amherst
Charles R. Hale, LASA Past President (2003-2004), Professor of Anthropology, University of Texas at Austin
Marysa Navarro-Aranguren, LASA Past President (2003-2004),
Charles Collis, Professor of History, Dartmouth College
Arturo Arias, LASA Past President, (2001-2003), Professor of Spanish and Portuguese University of Texas, Austin.
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