The New York Times June 10, 1997
Peru's Poverty and Repression Dull Fujimori's Gleam
By Diana Jean Schemo
LIMA, Peru -- Eager to show what a man of the people he was,
President Alberto Fujimori drove his jeep high into the dusty slums
where Lima's poor live. With his country's two most important guests in
tow, he rolled over stretches of new road and pointed out freshly built
schools. He waded into swarms of cheering mothers and youngsters, who
scrambled to touch his sleeve.
But after the president and the dignitaries had gone, the people who
remained behind spoke of a desperation for jobs that was not about
schools or roads or a presidential handshake.
"He comes once every five years," said Willy Saavedra, a 27-year-old
father of two. "Only when he needs something."
Less than two months after Peruvians treated him like conquering hero
and sent his popularity soaring to 69 percent, Fujimori finds himself facing
an increasingly hostile electorate. Polls show that his approval rating has
plummeted in recent weeks and now stands at 39 percent -- exactly
where it was before the raid.
For the first time in seven years in office, Fujimori is confronting public
protests stirred both by the pervasive poverty and some of his recent
actions.
There have been media exposes about corruption, killings and torture by
the intelligence services that are integral to his hold on power. And the
president came under diplomatic and domestic criticism when his
congressional majority dismissed the three judges who had ruled against
his bid to run for a third term in the year 2000.
But the most pervasive threat to Fujimori's popularity can be seen in
places like the The Carnations soup kitchen, an unlit shack more cave
than house, where the hot lunches that sell for 40 cents are gone by 1p.m.
Economic Crisis a Way of Life
Throughout the country, thousands of soup kitchens like The
Carnations began with the economic crisis of the 1980s. Now,
people here said, crisis has become a way of life.
It was to places like the soup kitchen that Fujimori invited the Unites
States' special envoy, Thomas McLarty, and Enrique Iglesias, chief of the
Bank for Inter-American Development, on one of the president's locally
famous "windshield tours" through the slums. And it is in places like the
soup kitchen that the discontent that simmered after he left helps explain
the drop in the president's popularity,
Seven years of the president's fiscal austerity program, for example, has
left countless young fathers like Saavedra waiting on the sidelines, praying
for a job.
According to figures published in Gestion, a financial newspaper, last
week, 19 percent of all Peruvians, or 4.5 million people, live in extreme
poverty, without sanitation, water, electricity or gas. Half the population
lives below the poverty level, up from 38 percent in 1985.
"We didn't even get to work on the road, because the Army did it," he
said. His wife, Yesinia Ramos, watched one of their daughters, Lady
Denise Rosa, as she fed a pebble to her doll, lying on the ground.
Like Saavedra, Luis Garcia, 22, was waiting for work. He left school at
the age of 10 to collect fares on a public transportation van. At 15, he got
his first and last steady job, at a shoe factory that went bankrupt before
the year was out. On Monday, the last day somebody hired him, Garcia
was back collecting bus fares for the day. He earned less than $4.
Last year, Garcia's wife abandoned him and their daughter, Damares
Milagros. The child is now 18 months old, with a moon face and bangs
that fall over her eyes, and Garcia is raising her alone. She wears
unmatching socks, but her clothes are clean. Her father's sneakers are
torn clear across the top.
Political analysts say the president, facing popular protests for democracy
for the first time since taking office in 1990, is at a turning point. The slack
that he was once granted, in the name of overcoming terrorist violence
and righting the economic shambles left by his predecessor, appears to be
running out.
"Only 15 percent of all Peruvians either don't know, don't care, or think
we're living in a democracy," said Hernando de Soto, an economist who
is a former adviser to Fujimori. The gutting of the constitutional Tribunal,
however, was "the last straw" for many Peruvians.
"Before, the things Fujimori may have done that weren't following the
rules, people saw them as necessary or required to end the violence," he
said. "Now, there's a sense that these measures are being taken in terms
of personal interests and ambition."
Last week, a broad base of opposition leaders, students and workers
turned out by the thousands in protests the country had not seen in at least
a decade. The Pontifical Catholic University of Peru took out a
newspaper ad to decry the dismantling of the constitutional court.
News media reports of torture, killing and corruption by the intelligence
services have triggered crackdowns, with journalists complaining that they
have received death threats and harassment in the form of sudden
problems with the bureaucracy.
Fujimori himself lashed out last week at the news media, using a a speech
at a meeting here of the Organization of American States to accuse some
journalists of taking bribes "to attack those who try to eliminate
corruption."
Fujimori's speech notwithstanding, the government worked tirelessly at
the meeting to build a fire wall between its image and the sparks of
discontent. Beatriz Ramacciotti, the Peruvian ambassador to the OAS,
worked tirelessly, and ultimately unsuccessfully, to prevent the
Inter-American Commission on Human Rights from publishing a special
section in its annual survey criticizing Peru.
Tales of Torture Raise Public's Ire
The report condemned Peru for maintaining a state of emergency in
many places, even though the threat of terrorism had generally
diminished. It also attacked two 1995 laws Congress passed in the
middle of the night, the first granting amnesty to all agents of the state and
the second barring judicial review of the law.
"Some of the crimes covered by the amnesty, including acts of torture,
forced disappearances and extrajudicial executions, have been
considered an affront to the conscience of the hemisphere and are crimes
against humanity," the Commission's report says.
Though Cesar Gaviria, the secretary-general of the OAS, would not
comment on the firing of the judges, the Human Rights Commission issued
a statement criticizing the firings and heard a rundown of the cases that
have been the focus of popular ire.
They heard about Mariella Baretto, a whistle-blower in the military, who
was killed and quartered. They heard about Leonor La Rosa, another
whistle-blower who revealed the "Bermuda plan," which she said was a
secret strategy to silence the press.
Ms. La Rosa's lawyer said she was tortured by her former colleagues in
the basement of military headquarters, nicknamed the Pentagonito, where
suspected terrorists were also tortured. Despite a court order, Ms. La
Rosa was still being held against her will at the Military Hospital while the
OAS met.
The commission also heard about Baruch Ivcher, president of a television
station, who was now being threatened with losing his citizenship and his
station after his investigative news shows reported on the La Rosa and
Baretto cases, and raised questions about the annual income of Vladimiro
Montesinos, the shadowy head of intelligence and Fujimori's adviser.
Montesinos, who seldom appears in public, has not denied a report that
he receives a yearly salary of $600,000. Nor has he answered the
questions Peruvians inevitably began asking: who could be paying him
so much money, and why?
'Step Backward for Democracy'
After the broadcast, Ivcher, a naturalized Peruvian born in Israel,
became the target of accusations that he was an agent of Israeli
intelligence who sold weapons to the Ecuadorians during that country's
brief border war with Peru. The accusations, which Ivcher maintains were
based on forgeries, were printed in publications friendly with the military,
but remain so far unsubstantiated.
Fujimori declined a request for an interview. But both Iglesias and
McLarty said the president of Congress, Victor Joy Way, had defended
the dismissal of the judges. He said the constitutional Tribunal had no right
to rule on the re-election law, since three of the seven judges had
abstained.
Iglesias, who five years ago froze the development bank's funding of
projects here after Fujimori dismantled other branches of government,
said he found Joy Way's explanation for the current actions "interesting."
McLarty, though he backed a statement by American Ambassador
Dennis Jett branding the firing of the judges "a step backward for
democracy," called Joy Way "impressive."
Aside from lashing out at unnamed, nefarious interests in the media,
Fujimori has not addressed the accusations or protests directly. But in a
sense, his answer to his critics is the practice of making visits to the poor
districts of Lima. Here, he can show the practical results of his
administration, and the appreciation of poor people. The poor, after all,
make up 49 percent of Peru's population.
In the slums Fujimori visited with his American guests, nearly all of the
signs announcing works in progress bear Fujimori's name. Even a
vocational program in a small, empty restaurant carries a plaque with his
name. But the need is vast, and what people in the slums notice is not the
number of signs, but how thinly the money is spread -- too thinly to give
them hopes of a better life.
Fears That Power Breeds Corruption
While ministries and various programs -- like the newly-paved
road where he waited -- are funded with government money,
Saavedra said, he was troubled by the concentration of power in the
presidency. "I just hope that when Fujimori leaves, it doesn't turn out that
he took everything, like Alan Garcia." He was referring to Peru's previous
president, who fled to France after he was accused of enriching himself in
power.
The local soup kitchen says it receives some $170 a month from the
government, and a couple of sacks of rice. Though Garcia is blamed for
sacking the country's coffers, people at the soup kitchen's said they
received more substantial help under his administration.
"He may have been a crook, but at least we could eat meat," said Pablo
Correa, a 32-year-old taxi driver who said he works 14 hours a day. At
Peruvian prices, his family of four gets to eat meat no more than twice a
month, he said.
Some do not rule out Fujimori moving toward greater democracy under
the new-found pressure from Washington, the broadening opposition and
the streets. Until now, a former ally of the president noted, there has been
no counterbalance to the repressive tactics of the military and intelligence
branches.
But there has been a unexpected turnaround since the special forces killed
the guerrillas: the two men Fujimori paraded through the house after the
raid, Montesinos, and Gen. Nicolas Hermoza Rios, have become his
greatest liabilities. Because of the amnesty, neither has ever answered for
cases of human rights atrocities with which they were associated in the
past. According to polls, they are the most reviled public figures in Peru.
And the misgivings over the president's respect for institutions like courts,
which arose with reports guerrillas were executed instead of arrested
when they tried to surrender, appear to have grown, and pushed
Peruvians near their breaking point.
