From the Visual Book: Yuyanapaq, Para Recordar

I have recently been engrossed in Peru’s Truth and Reconciliation Report, which was published in 2003. The report is an exhaustive, frank, and sometimes horrifying confession-of-sorts about the country’s civil war from 1980 to 2000. The paragraphs below are my translation of the final section of the report’s preface. (No translation appears to be available on the web.) The writing here is not only lyrically beautiful but also serves to remind me that the notion of democracy—even a democracy as imperfect as our own in the U.S.—is truly a privilege and not a right. As Lerner writes, “A democracy that is exercised stubbornly each day loses the loyalty of its citizens and falls without tears.”

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In a country like ours, combating oblivion is a powerful form of doing justice. We are convinced that the rescue of the truth about the past—even a truth so hard, so difficult to bear as the one we were entrusted with discovering—is a way of coming closer to that ideal of democracy that we Peruvians proclaim with such vehemence and practice with such inconsistency.

At the time of the TRC [Truth and Reconciliation Committee] was established, Peru undertakes, once again, an enthusiastic attempt to recover lost democracy. And yet, so that this enthusiasm has a foundation and a horizon, we must remember that democracy was not lost on its own. Democracy was abandoned little by little by those who did not know how to defend it. A democracy that is exercised stubbornly each day loses the loyalty of its citizens and falls without tears. In the moral vacuum in which dictatorships thrive, good reason is lost and concepts invert themselves, depriving the citizen of any ethical orientation: exceptional emergency becomes normal permanency, massive abuse becomes “excess,” the innocent are taken to jail; death, in the end, is confused with peace.

Peru is on track, once more, to build a democracy. This is thanks to the courage of those who dared not to believe the official truth of a dictatorial regime; those who called a dictatorship, dictatorship; who called corruption, corruption; who called a crime, crime. Such acts of moral strength in the voices of millions of ordinary citizens demonstrate to us the efficacy of the truth. We should undertake a similar effort now. If truth served to lay bare the ephemeral nature of autocracy, truth is called now to show its power to purify our Republic.

This purification is an indispensable to achieve a society reconciled with itself, with truth, with the rights of each and every one of its members. A society at peace with its possibilities.

This report speaks of shame and of dishonor; however, on these pages also are spoken acts of courage, acts of generosity, signs that demonstrate to us that to be human is most essentially to be magnanimous. Here can be found those who did not relinquish the authority and the responsibility entrusted to them by their neighbors; here can be found those who defied abandonment to defend their families using nothing more than tools of the land; here can be found there are those who put their fate next to those who suffered unjust imprisonment; here can be found those who assumed their duty to defend their country without betraying the law; here can be found those who fought the uprooting of communities in order to defend life. Here they can be found in the heart of our memories.

We present this report in honor of those who stood up to protect us. We also present it as a mandate of the missing and the forgotten throughout whole nation. The story here speaks of us, of what we were and of what we stopped being. This story speaks of the work we have ahead of us. This story begins today.

Salomón Lerner Febres
Presidente
Comisión de la Verdad y Reconciliación

From the NY Daily News

Look, I’m not a big fan of Wall Street either. I think the money they make—and the bonuses they dole out—are way out of line with their true value to our nation’s economy. To turn a Street-speak expression on its head: Where’s the “value-added”? Here is what I wrote in December in my post “Solely to shuffle money around“:

When I briefly worked in investment banking, the same idea frequently popped in my head: What exactly is being produced here that is so valuable? I doubt it was our spreadsheets, however attractive in appearance they might have been (no gridlines!).

Nevertheless, I am dismayed at the SEC’s and media’s treatment of Goldman Sachs employee Fabrice Tourre. Did he commit fraud? I don’t know. Did he screw over a client? Yeah. But based on what we know, is he an “asshole“? No, I don’t think so; that’s just piling on.

Here’s Tourre’s famous email as referenced in the SEC civil lawsuit against Goldman Sachs:

The famous 'Fabulous Fab' email

Make sure to read the part highlighted in gray. Tourre looks really bad there. Who would call himself “Fabulous”?

Well, it turns out Tourre didn’t either. He was paraphrasing what some guy named Mitch called him. Here’s the real context of the email:

Darling you should take a lock at this article … Very insightful … More and more leverage in the system … only potential survivor … the fabulous Fab (as Mitch would kindly call me, even though there is nothing fabulous abt me, just kindness, altruism and deep love for some gorgeous and super-smart French girl in London, standing in the middle of all these complex, highly levered, exotic trades he created without necessarily understanding all the implications of those monstruosities !!! Anyway, not feeling too guilty about this, the real purpose of my job is to make capital markets more efficient and ultimately provide the US consumer with more efficient ways to leverage and finance himself, so there is a humble, noble and ethical reason for my job ;) amazing how good I am in convincing myself” !!!

Sweetheart, I am now going to try to get away from ABX and other ethical questions, and immediately plunge into Freakonomics … I feel blessed to be with you, to be able to learn and share special things with you, I love when you advise me on books I should be reading, I feel like we share a lot of things in common, a lot of values, topics we are interested in and intrigued by … I just love you !!!

Your chtit Fab

Let me emphasize this line again: Tourre writes to his girlfriend: “…[t]he fabulous Fab, (as Mitch would kindly call me, though there is nothing fabulous abt me, just kindness, altruisim and deep love for some gorgeous and super-smart French girl in London!)…

The SEC selectively quoted Tourre to make him emerge in the worst light possible. Actually, it was worse than just “selectively quoting”: the SEC snipped parts of Tourre’s sentences in order to damage his character and make their case stronger. “Selectively quoting” is too kind for the SEC’s actions; a better phrase would be “deceitfully quoting.” This kind of referencing would never fly in an academic paper, for example. Why should it in court? Furthermore, there’s some irony in the SEC being deceptive in a fraud case. Fraud is a synonym of deceit, according to thesaurus.com

It seems to me that Tourre was just a French guy in love with a French girl in London when he sent these emails. Not that he didn’t commit fraud—again, I don’t know—but I don’t see what this email has to do with a fraud case. He comes across as especially likeable at the end of the second paragraph, when you see he’s having doubts about the broader purpose of his contributions as a banker to society “… amazing how good I am in convincing myself [of my job's utility],” Tourre writes.

In fact, he seems like a decent guy to me. Maybe we’d be friends. From a personal perspective, although I’m not particularly fond of the industry of investment banking, I am very fond of my investment-banking friends. In general, they are nice, interesting, and thoughtful people. I would vouch for their character. In this context, and based on the above email, I will give Fabrice Tourre’s ch~aracter the benefit of the doubt. Let’s see what happens in court before we assess him and his behavior.

The more important issue here for me is a structural and systemic one. Thousands and thousands of bright, driven, and kind students every year eschew careers in development, medicine, science, engineering, teaching, etc. to work on Wall Street. This is a bigger outrage than any email Fabrice Tourre has written. Why does our society create incentives for our best young men and women to enter a field that has little discernible impact on furthering society’s broader goals? First-year investment bankers may earn $150,000 in salary and bonuses. First year PhD students live on the poverty line. Medical doctors graduate from school with an average debt of $156,456, and that doesn’t even include the opportunity cost of foregoing four years of income potential. What’s wrong with this picture?

Fabrice Tourre is one of the best and brighest as well. He graduated with a degree in mathematics from École Centrale, a famous French university, and later earned an M.S. from Stanford. Think of the potential of this guy to make valued contributions in, say, energy research or environmental policy or development work! Instead, he made millions creating exotic financial products that are “pure intellectual masterbation.” Now that seems like the real crime to me.

The famous Pisco Sour cocktail (photo from El Comercio)

Robin Kirk has written that “it takes a stubbornness, perhaps arrogance, and a certain faith in the face of long odds to write about someone else’s country.” I could hardly agree more. And Kirk’s maxim is perhaps most true when it comes to writing about food, where the conflation of culture, history, and national pride create a veritable Gringo landmine. Undaunted (and stubborn), I ignore these important intercultural conventions and offer you my personal Pisco Sour recipe.

What is a Pisco Sour, you ask? You have come to the right place. Allow me the audacity to quote myself:

Pisco is a liquor distilled from grapes. As such, it is technically a type of brandy. The story goes that, in the 16th century, Spanish settlers along the Peruvian coast began to plant and harvest grapes for wine production. The best grapes were harvested for export, while lower quality grapes that weren’t exported were distilled and fermented to produce a liquor. Pisco was born.

Fast forward to the present day. Pisco has become one of the most important symbols of Peru. The “pisco sour” — a cocktail made from pisco, limes, sugar syrup, egg whites, and bitters — is an international sensation. I must concede that they are fantastic drinks; as one review majestically describes, a pisco sour is “like a climb in the Andes: drink it too fast and you’ll need oxygen.”

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And here we go with my personal recipe:

• 1 cup fresh jugo de limones (lime juice). Peruvian limes are the best, but, in the U.S., key limes are an acceptable if imperfect substitute.
• 1 1/2 cups pisco acholado.
• 2/3 cup jarabe de goma (simple sugar syrup). Approximately ½ cup white sugar can be substituted without problem.
• 1 cup crushed ice
• 2 egg whites
• 1 dash Angostura Bitters

Blend everything save the Angostura Bitters until the ice turns to liquid and the foam copious. Pour immediately into cocktail glasses. Serves about 8 drinks.

Tip: the colder the Pisco Sour, the better. Chill all ingredients before use. I freeze the pisco and refrigerate the eggs and sugar syrup. I also like to chill the cocktail glasses, which is a nice touch.

Also, in Peru, all of these ingredients are common, and it’s the relative proportions that are most important in creating a perfect Pisco Sour.

And remember, la perfección de Pisco Sour no es un destino sino una jornada. (Pisco Sour perfection is not a destination but rather a a journey.)

Ángel Serrubio, who lived in the jungle town of Iquitos, said his condition was made far worse by inexperienced doctors, who gave him potent but erroneous medications that had painful side effects. He grew so sick that he told his friends he was planning to hang himself. But after being confined to bed for nine months, “I was not strong enough to commit suicide,” he said.

This beautiful video comes from Washington Post digital reporter Francine Uenuma, who over the course of three days visited many of the project sites of Socios En Salud in Lima, Peru. I was able to accompany Francine for much of her visit, and I’m impressed with how well she explained the overall problem of MDR-TB while at the same time detailing the lives of patients.

The original video comes from this site:

http://www.internationalreportingproject.org/stories/detail/1506/

Manco leads an Inca rebellion at Cuzco.

I recently read John Hemmings’s book The Conquest of the Incas (1970), a weighty tome considered probably the best account of the Spanish Conquest in Peru. I’d like to share a passage I found very illuminating and also like to highlight a few important points about the Conquest.

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[Quotation begins on page 109.] The Inca empire did not, as is sometimes supposed, go under without a struggle. Whenever the native armies were led by a determined commander they fought with fatalistic bravery. In the course of the Conquest the Incas, who were themselves formidable conquerors against the other Andean tribes, tried to adapt their fighting methods to meet the extraordinary challenges of invasion by a more advanced civilization. The mounted knight had dominated European military history for eight centuries. This formidable figure could be stopped only by other horsemen using similar equipment, by archers, pikemen or elaborate defences. His domination of the battlefield ended only with the evolution of rapid-firing firearms. Whenever American natives had time to assimilate European weapons they were able to mount an effective resistance… But the Incas did not have time to make these adaptations to their fighting techniques, and their bare mountainous country did not possess suitable wood for pikes or bows.

The Inca armies were now confronting the finest soldiers in the world. Spanish tercios were considered the best in Europe throughout the sixteenth century. They had behind them the successful expulsion of the Moors from Spain, and many who now fought in Peru had participated in the defeat of Francis I at Pavia or of the Aztecs in Mexico…

During the actual fighting of the Conquest, the Spaniards owed everything to their horses. On the march their horses gave them mobility that continually took the natives by surprise. Even when the Indians had posted pickets, the Spanish cavalry could ride past them faster than the sentries could run back to warn of danger. And in battle a mounted man has an overwhelming advantage over a man on foot, using his horse as a weapon to ride down the enemy, more maneuverable, less exhausted, inaccessible and continually striking downwards from his greater height…

Both Spaniards and Indians attached immense importance to horses, the tanks of the Conquest. To Spaniards the possession of a horse elevated a man, entitling him to a horseman’s share of conquered treasure… For the Indians, their enemies’ great horses assumed a terrible value. They thought little of a Spaniard on foot, cumbersome in armour and breathless from the altitude; but the horses filled them with dread. ‘They thought more of killing one of these animals that persecuted them so than they did of killing ten men, and they always placed [the horses’] heads afterwards somewhere that the Christians could see them, decked in flowers and branches as a sign of victory…’

It is sometimes been said that the Spanish triumph was due to their firearms. This was not so. Arquebuses (primitive muzzle-loaded firearms) were sometimes fired during the conquest, but there were very few of them, and they played no significant role beyond producing a great psychological effect when they did go off. It was not surprising that few arquebuses were used. The cavalry despised them as an ungentlemanly arm, and the Conquest was largely the work of horsemen. Arquebuses were unwieldy, from three to five feet long, and often needing a support at the end of the barrel. They were difficult to load… It was almost a century before the flintlock was introduced…

The most effective weapon against cavalry was the long bow, but this was rarely used in Inca armies. Forest Indians used bows and arrows, just as they do today—the forests produced the necessary springy woods for their manufacture and the dense conditions made arrows ideal weapons for shooting forest game. Whenever Inca armies fought near the Amazonian forests they could enlist jungle tribes with deadly contingents of archers, but they failed to exploit this fine weapon in the highlands…

Another factor commonly thought to have worked in the Spaniards favor was the natives’ identification of them with the returning creator god Viracocha. There is little evidence to support this idea. Atahualpa and his military commanders clearly regarded the Spaniards as ordinary mortals and had little hesitation in fighting them. None of the contemporary accounts of the Conquest showed that the native leaders hesitated for fear that the intruders might be divine… For the Incas, the Spaniards were awesome strangers, but not divinities. The legend of divinity grew when later chroniclers noticed similarities between Inca origin myths and their own biblical stories.

This icon is El Señor de Los Milagros. It holds a painting of Jesus.

On Sunday, October 18th, I attended la procesión del Señor de los Milagros with a co-worker, twelve of the co-worker’s friends, my two roommates, and approximately 1-2 million other Peruvians. La procesión del Señor de los Milagros, or “the parade of the Lord of the Miracles,” is a massive religious (specifically, Catholic) event that takes place each October here in Lima. Although there are actually several parades commemorating el Señor de Los Milagros during the month, the parade on October 18th has historically been the largest and most celebrated. It is worth noting that the icon I’m referring to here is actually a painting of a black Jesus, probably by Peruvian slaves black around 1600.

Limeños, people from Lima, flock to the historic center of the city, where an ancient brotherhood carries a two-ton icon of Jesus (he is el Señor, by the way) through the city streets. Flocking to the streets go millions of Peruvians, many of whom wear purple clothing — the ceremony’s characteristic color — in the hope of obtaining a miracle from el Señor, securing strength in daily life, or receiving protection against sickness, accident, and food poisoning. (Okay, that last one was only me.)

It has been suggested that la procesión del Señor de los Milagros is the religious event in Latin America that gathers the largest number of people on the streets, and who I am to disagree? Interestingly, the ceremony has been expatriated to various cities across the globe including New York City, New Jersey, Madrid, Miami, Milan, and Kyoto. And yes, I know New Jersey isn’t a city.

The crowd near la Plaza Bolivar spanned blocks

An Oxford academic has written a very interesting paper on religious iconography and the Peruvian diaspora that includes a tidy little summary of la procesión del Señor de los Milagros. To give some more of the fascinating story behind the ceremony, let me quote the paper liberally here:

Peruvians’ belief in the image can be traced back to the first Africans that the Spaniards brought to Peru in the 16th century to work in the plantations on the Peruvian coast. The slaves rapidly learned Spanish, converted to Christianity and, inspired by the Spaniards, formed their own religious brotherhoods. The newcomers from Africa were also influenced by the indigenous population on the Peruvian coast who taught them to make mural paintings believed to please the spiritual forces that control the earthquakes. However, instead of painting images of local Andean gods, the Africans made murals of Christ. In 1655 an earthquake hit Lima creating panic among its citizens and causing extensive physical damages. Yet according to the legend, the wall with the mural of the image of the Lord painted by an Afro-Peruvian slave remained intact. Later and stronger earthquakes in 1687 and 1746 laid large parts of Lima in ruins and prompted a growing number of mestizos and Spaniards to join the African slaves’ deification of the image. Initially, the Catholic church regarded this adoration with great mistrust but when it ordered the murals to be erased in 1671, the icon revealed its godly power once again and resisted the attempts to destroy it. In the aftermath of the event, Lima’s citizens began to make processions carrying the icon around the streets of the city to ask for protection against the terrible quakes. It was eventually recognized by the ecclesiastical authorities in Lima and the hermitage of Pachacamilla where African slaves had painted the image of Cristo Moreno and where the Lord’s miraculous revelation had occurred was turned into a convent. Later this became the church of the Nazarenas.

Since the 18th century a religious brotherhood has arranged annual processions in the honour of the Lord of the Miracles on October 18, during which male devotees organized in squads (cuadrillas) carry the icon through the streets of central Lima. Currently, there exist 20 such cuadrillos in Lima. Female devotees also participate as sahumadoras (women carrying the thuribles) and cantadoras (women who sing). Together with the cargadores they are organized in a brotherhood called Hermandad de Cargadores y Sahumadoras established in 1878. Other devotees participate as martilleros (male devotees ringing the bell to direct the march of the carriers) and capataces and subcapataces (male devotees directing the cuadrillos).

In 1996 the brotherhood decided to extend the processions to other parts of the city in response to the growing attention which the icon had received among the city’s inhabitants during the past three decades. As a result, a crowd of more than one million people participated in the procession when the icon was transported on truck around Villa María del Triumfo and Villa El Salvador, two huge shanty towns on the southern outskirts of Lima. This massive participation is proof of the tremendous popularity that the image has gained among Peru’s urban poor including many migrants from the country’s Andean hinterland. Obviously, the legendary story about the search by African slaves and later urban mestizos for religious strength and social unity to cope with natural disasters has a strong appeal to Peruvians who either descend from the country’s indigenous population or are of mixed race and who identify themselves in opposition to the Spanish rulers of Peru’s colonial society. Further, to the devotees of the 20th century, the icon represents not merely a protector against earthquakes but also other dangers and fears. To have faith in the Lord of the Miracles means to have somebody that accompanies you wherever you go in life. Indeed, there is much reason to believe that the faith millions of devotees today attribute to the icon symbolizes a general concern among Peruvians about the country’s current economic and political crisis.

Here are some more pictures from the day:

A personal favorite. Notice all the faces. Amazing!

On stage is the president of Peru, who wore purple at the ceremony

Nora captured this beautiful photo

Decorating the street in front of the Museo de la Inquisición

Many of the men wear purple robes over suits with purple ties

Awaiting the parade. Notice the bag of confetti.