Plaza de la fe – July 19, 2013

The anniversary of the victory of the Nicaraguan Revolution is celebrated today much the same way as it was on July 19, 1979. Jubilant Sandinistas from across the country flood into Managua.  Instead of celebrating at the Plaza de la República as they did in 1979, they gather at the larger Plaza de la Fe.  Hundreds of thousands of Nicaraguans squeeze into the square and millions more watch on television.  In the center of the plaza an obelisk honors Pope John Paul II’s two visits to Nicaragua.  On one end there is a Concha Acústica (acoustic shell) that holds a stage for concerts.  On Nicaraguan Liberation Day the stage in the Concha Acústica is used as a platform for public speeches.

July 19th – Then and now

In some ways, July 19th is celebrated like Independence Days in other countries with parades, speeches, even fireworks.  However, it is explicitly political.  The American Overseas Security Advisory Council (OSAC), which issues warnings to Americans traveling abroad, warned “U.S. citizens that even political rallies intended to be peaceful have the potential to escalate into violence.  American citizens are therefore urged to exercise caution.”  They classify Nicaraguan Liberation Day not as a public holiday but a political rally.  By celebrating the victory of the Sandinista revolution, Daniel Ortega and the Sandinista party reaffirm their legitimacy as the purveyors of Nicaraguan freedom and prosperity.  Anyone who opposes them is siding with the repression of the Somoza dictatorship.

Ortega and Maduro

This year Daniel Ortega invited Nicolas Maduro, the the leader of Venezuela, to the festivities.  In his speech Ortega defended Maduro, who faced a referendum to remove his mandate from Venezuelan opposition.  Ortega said Barack Obama’s “obsession” with Venezuela stemmed from a belief that “defeating Venezuela, destroying Venezuela, first affects the morale of the American people” and would boost votes for Hillary Clinton.   He continued, “The battle (the elections) is not decided in Venezuela but it is decided in the US…Venezuela’s battle is decided in Venezuela, not in the US.”  Ortega’s message is clear: opposition to Maduro is colluding with the enemy (the United States).

Across the world in Tokyo, the ambassador of Nicaragua in Japan—Ambassador Saúl Arana—led an event to commemorate the success of the revolution.  Diplomats from Cuba, Colombia, Costa Rica, El Salvador, Guatemala, the Dominican Republic, Uruguay and Venezuela attended along with Japanese scholars and journalists.  Ambassador Arana summarized the Sandinista struggle and called for greater cooperation and solidarity amongst Latin American countries.

Nicaraguan Liberation Day is a moment of national unity and pride, a nationalistic celebration of freedom.  Yet it is also a glorified, ginormous political rally.  The Sandinista Party uses the anniversary of the revolution to publicize their accomplishments, promote their political agenda, and advertise Nicaraguan socialism to other Latin American countries.

Below is Daniel Ortega’s speech this year (2016) commemorating the revolution.

July 19th, 1979. Victorious Sandinistas enter Managua.

Somoza may be a son of bitch, but he is our son of a bitch. – Franklin D. Roosevelt

Augusto Sandino

As I began researching the events of July 19th, 1979 I thought back to the final research paper I wrote for AP US History in high school entitled “United States’ Intervention in Nicaragua.”  With a little digging through old computer files I was able to pull it up.  The roots of the Sandinista Revolution trace back, unsurprisingly, to 20th century American imperialism.  Below I have excerpted a paragraph of my high school essay to contextualize the rise of the Sandinistas.

The legacy of American occupation and intervention profoundly influenced modern Nicaragua politically, economically, and socially. When the United States selected Panama over Nicaragua as the recipient for an isthmian canal and the resulting American capital in 1903, the relationship between the countries deteriorated. In 1909, the United States supported a successful coup to overthrow Nicaraguan president José Santos Zelaya because of his efforts to attract non-American capital to finance a competing canal. The flagrant promotion of the economic self-interest provoked anti-American sentiment and insurgencies against the unpopular new government. Consequently, in 1912 American troops invaded to restore order and reassert Nicaraguan dependency. The occupation continued intermittently until 1933. Amidst renewed violence, in 1927 American diplomat Henry Stimson negotiated a widely accepted peace settlement. However, the nationalist Augusto Sandino rejected the premise of continued American intervention. He recruited a peasant army and led a five-year guerilla campaign against U.S. Marines. Concurrently, in 1933, at the height of the Great Depression, maintaining a U.S. presence in Nicaragua became economically unfeasible. To uphold political stability once American forces were removed, the United States trained a local National Guard as a “non-political constabulary” and placed Anastasio Somoza García as its leader. However, the new commander abused his position, assassinating Sandino after the negotiation of a truce and seizing control of the government.

A free country or death. – Sandinista motto

Nicaraguan soldier guarding against looters after 1972 Managua earthquake

When in 1961 a revolutionary group committed to socialism and the overthrow of the Somoza regime formed, the martyred Augusto Sandino was thus the natural choice for a symbol.  The new Sandinista National Liberation Front (FSLN) called upon the long history of Nicaraguan nationalism and resistance to American intervention.  The burgeoning Sandinistas did not gain a significant following until the 1972 earthquake in Managua shook things up.  The widespread devastation and corruption that followed led to increased unrest and resentment against the Somoza government.  Throughout the 1970s the Sandinistas gained momentum, especially after the Carter administration cut off aid in 1977 to Somoza because of human rights’ abuses.  Between 1978-1979 the Sandinistas waged a fierce guerrilla war against the Somoza government.  Finally, on July 17th 1979 Somoza resigned and fled to Miami, leaving the country in the hands of a weak interim government.

It is now a free country without death. – Sandinista rebel

On July 19, 1979 the New York Times reported, “The Sandinist takeover of Managua came suddenly and almost peacefully in the wake of General Somoza’s resignation and flight into exile in Miami early Tuesday.”  With morale destroyed after Somoza’s escape, the National Guard surrounded to Sandinista forces and on July 19th the rebels took over Managua.  The New York Times described that “Excited crowds lined the streets of the capital as truckloads of young rebels, many of them dressed in olive green uniforms and carrying automatic rifles, drove around the city, waving the redand‐black Sandinist flag and firing shots into the air.” Civilians and guerrilla fighters flooded into the Plaza de la República—the center of Managua, since renamed Plaza de la Revolución—to celebrate.  At long last the fighting was done and the Somoza regime gone forever.

In 1980 the five-person junta—including Daniel Ortega—governing Nicaragua proclaimed July 19th a public holiday to celebrate liberation from Somoza and the victory of the Sandinista Revolution.

Below is a collection of footage from Nicaragua on July 19, 1979.

The summer between my junior and senior year of high school I lived in a small community in rural Nicaragua.  In July my host mother hung a FSLN—Sandinista National Liberation Front—flag outside my home.  It was very exciting.  I was living with a real socialist!

Before going to Nicaragua I had done my research.  I am a history major now and even in high school I was very interested in American intervention and Latin America’s long struggle for independence.  I therefore knew about Augusto Sandino, the Sandinista’s overthrow of the Somoza dictatorship, Reagan and the contra war, Oliver North and the Iran-Contra scandal.  I understood—to some extent—the history and significance behind that flag.

July 19th is Sandinista/Nicaragua Liberation Day, similar to America’s Fourth of July except politicized.  In preparation people throughout my community hung FSLN flags on their property.  My host-siblings invited Kelly (the other American living in the community) and I to go with them on July 19th to Managua to celebrate.  I was fascinated.  What does a socialist revolution day look like?  Especially considering that their revolution is within living memory for many Nicaraguans.  Unfortunately, we did not get permission from Amigos de las Américas—the non-profit we went to Nicaragua with—to leave our community and go to Managua.  Their decision was understandable.  They would take on a tremendous amount of risk if they allowed two sixteen year old girls to takeoff for the capital on the most hectic day of the year.  Everyone on the program (we were spread out amongst different communities in the region) was told to stay home.  While every Nicaraguan I met had been extremely welcoming to us as Americans up until that point, there was concern that on the anniversary of the Sandinista revolution anti-American sentiment might emerge.

My older host-siblings got up very early on July 19th to catch a bus to Managua.  It felt like every single young person in Nicaragua was streaming towards the capital.  On the television we watches buses and buses of rowdy Nicaraguans dressed in red and waving FSLN flags.  In Managua there were plazas overflowing with people shouting and cheering.  In the United States Fourth of July celebrations are localized.  Maybe a town parade, family barbecue, fireworks at the baseball field.  Not so in Nicaragua.  Managua was the pulsing heart of the country, the center of everyone’s attention, the beacon of socialist aspirations. If there were Nicaraguans opposed to the Sandinistas I did not see them or hear them.  On the television screen it seemed that the whole country was united in their exuberance and pride.  Nicaraguan identity was Sandinista identity.

Daniel Ortega and Rosario Murillo greet supporters on July 19th, 2016

I watched as Daniel Ortega and Rosario Murillo addressed the crowds. This was their day. As a revolutionary in war and political leader in peace, Ortega, more than anyone, is the Sandinista Party.  An almost mythical figure from the past who still graces the present with his wisdom and experience.  On July 19th the crowds were roaring to honor him.

My ‘About Nicaragua’ page will provide historical context for the July 19th holiday and examine how it is practiced today.  I could find very little to no information on Nicaragua Liberation Day from American/English sources.  If I had not been to Nicaragua over the summer I would never know that it existed.  Nicaragua faded from American national consciousness after the contra war.  While there is a plethora of research on the revolution, what happened next is forgotten and an anniversary celebrating the once-important socialist uprising is entirely overlooked.  My sources on how it is currently practiced are thus primarily Spanish-language/Latino newspapers documenting the festivities.

Exercising in Nicaragua (2013). While I have many photos with my Nicaraguan host family, after this class I no longer feel it would be appropriate to post them on the internet without their permission.

Amigos de las Américas gave me my first taste of Nicaragua.  The summer before my senior year of high school I lived in a rural community in the departamento of Madriz through this amazing organization. Along with another American Amigos volunteer I spent six weeks teaching health and safety classes to local youth and organizing a community based initiative project. With the $400 that Amigos provided, my community built a communal kitchen at the local elementary school so that classes would not have to end for the children to return home for lunch.

It was an unparalleled experience.  I was living and working in a community that could not have been more different from my comfortable life in San Francisco.  From my host family I learned so much about hospitality, family, hard work, and perseverance.  Yet returning home I was uncertain about the efficacy of our community development. We had developed real relationships with community members and our host families, but I did not know if local leaders would continue our work after we were gone. In 2013 Amigos de las Américas was transitioning to focus more on developing local youth leaders and partners in the communities American volunteers were assigned. This was not the primary emphasis at the time, however, and I do not believe my partner and I had found someone willing to fill that role. I have no idea if the community kitchen is still being used or if the community that built the kitchen continues to collaborate on other communal projects.

When I was in Nicaragua, I once joked with my host sister about being princesses.  She looked at me and replied, this is not a castle, this is the house of a poor person.  Up until that point, I had almost not noticed the poverty.  There was food to eat and a bed to sleep on.  I felt like I was in an entirely different world, not an impoverished version of my own.  My host sister’s words made me realize that while I was enjoying my escape from reality, she had ambitions that transcended her rural community.  Maybe she wanted running water and a hot shower.  A computer at home.  A job outside the home.  In that moment I was flustered and frustrated because I knew that she would probably never have those things.  Systemic poverty runs deep and there was nothing I could do to change that.

Coming into this class, I was thus very skeptical about the effectiveness of global service learning.  I suspected real change could only come from large-scale societal transformations.  On the other hand, I was uncomfortable with just letting Nicaragua suffer in poverty.  In high school I wrote my final AP US history paper on the United States’ relationship with Nicaragua so I was familiar with American culpability.  We must have some responsibility to clean up the mess we made.  Yet how to do so without repeating the crime of unwanted intervention?

For the first couple weeks of the term I remained a skeptic.  Our readings and discussions dissected the many problems with short-term service trips, voluntourism, “good intentions,” public health, foreign aid, etc.  With so many challenges and obstacles to success, was there really anything we could do?  Perhaps staying away and not making the situation worse was the best course of action.

Fortunately, the tone of the class got decidedly more optimistic over time.  We looked at non-profits such as Bridges to Community and Compas de Nicaragua that have been extremely successful.  Instead of trying to tackle problems from the outside, these organizations are community based.  By building leadership structures and community engagement over a long period of time, they give communities the tools to create their own sustainable development.

On the scale of international development, I was extremely impressed by Michael Rich’s description of Partners in Health.  Their “Secret Sauce” tackles public health from a holistic approach.  By addressing and negotiating the many challenges to health care, Partners can (and has) fundamentally changed the health of a population.

The final presentations were also very inspiring.  My classmates’ came up with extremely thoughtful and viable projects to promote community development.  For example, locally sourced chicken feed and introducing camote to create a more nutritious diet were creative solutions.  While it is unlikely any projects we could implement would radically transform the lives of poor Nicaraguans, small-scale programs could slowly improve their standard of living.

After taking this class, I think the premise of Amigos de las Américas is fundamentally flawed (at least in terms of community development).  While Amigos volunteers try to build local leadership in Latin American communities, there is only so much they can do over the course of a couple months.  Non-profits should be based in communities and supplemented by foreign volunteers, not the other way around.  Amigos is still an amazing organization and incredibly successful at its goal of cross-cutlural exchange and youth leadership.  It struggles, however, to create sustainable community development.

Ultimately, I am optimistic that thoughtful development and global service learning can be successful and worthwhile.  I am very excited to return to Nicaragua this winter for the CCESP, especially to work in a different region of Nicaragua and within a different model of community development.  There is still so much to learn and do.

I was struck by how thoughtful and deliberate all the final presentations were.  For example, proposals such as locally sourced chicken feed and introducing camote to create a more nutritious diet responded directly to the needs and resources of Nicaraguan communities.  I am going to discuss two of the presentations that focused on healthcare—Angela, Hana, and Dave’s on traditional medicine and Kate, Leah, and Valentina’s on maternal mental health. Both these presentations looked at marginalized groups in Nicaragua and their relationship with the healthcare system.

Angela, Hana, and Dave did a great job putting the use of natural healthcare into a larger socio-political-economic context.  There are many factors that prevent an easy understanding of the benefits and limitations of traditional medicine.  Tensions within indigenous groups, and the Sandinistas lack of cultural competencies, means certain groups are underrepresented and ignored.  Western/”modern” science’s bias against traditional methods is confounded by the cultural differences of Nicaraguan doctors coming from the Pacific to work with indigenous populations on the East Coast.  Health behavior depends location of household, ethnicity, education, and wealth and thus difficult to predict.  As they note in their presentation, “Health behavior is complicated.”

It is important to honor cultural traditions, and some natural methods have proven to be very effective.  But with maternal morality rates representing almost 4% of all deaths in Nicaragua along with other diseases and health challenges, traditional medicine should be integrated with modern care to produce the best health outcomes.  Yet all the factors above make this very difficult.  Their marginalized statues makes it harder for indigenous populations to work with the external healthcare system. Angela, Hana, and Dave proposed that one possible solution is local nurses who understand cultural practices and are willing to work with healers as well as modern medicine.

Kate, Leah, and Valentina discussed maternal mental health.  With already limited access to healthcare, mental health is scarce in Nicaragua.  For rural women this is particularly true, with 55% of women in rural regions giving birth at home. This group proposes beginning a conversation about mental health among mothers and allowing them to express (through words and drawings) their feelings.  Mental health is part of a healthy lifestyle and should not be overlooked simply because there are other problems with the health system.

Both indigenous populations and women face unique healthcare challenges because of their identities.  These two groups did a great job exploring these obstacles to healthy living.  It is important we also address the challenges only minorities face because their marginalized status often makes these problems much more difficult to solve.

When I traveled to Nicaragua in 2013 with Amigos de las Américas almost everyone on the program was sick at some point—from contaminated water, Dengue, you name it.  One girl was bitten by a dog and would have had to be evacuated to the United States for rabbis treatment if they had not been able to capture and observe the animal.  I personally had to leave my community for the nearby city, Somoto, to be treated for a high fever and diarrhea. Twice.  First we would go to a clinic to have our pee, poop, blood, etc. tested.  Then we would go to a private doctor for a further examination.  Used to the systemic, comprehensive, centralized healthcare of the United States it was an exhausting process to trek back and forth across the city.  As Americans we were receiving the best healthcare possible but most of us never even received diagnoses.  Healthcare in Nicaragua—particularly for the majority who cannot afford to pay for multiple inconclusive visits to clinics and doctors—is scarce and not thorough.

Which makes the consequences of Nicaragua’s abortion ban even more severe.  In 2006 Daniel Ortega and the Sandinistas formed a political coalition with the Catholic Church and enacted a total ban on abortion, even for rape victims and when the woman’s safety is in danger.  According to the United Nations, in 2013 only six countries in the world did not permit abortions under any circumstances.  Obviously this has many consequences.  Rape victims are forced to not only undergo the emotional trauma of their violation but also have their rapist’s child.  Young girls (and, as Catholics for the Right to Choose stated in an ad campaign, “All pregnant children were raped) lose their childhood and are forced to prematurely take on adult responsibilities.  Illegal, unsafe abortions lead to maternal deaths.

The impact of this law within the healthcare system is also devastating.  Nicaraguans already receive less and worse care than most Americans.  With the abortion ban, doctors are afraid to treat pregnant women for fear they may harm the fetus and face legal consequences.  And they have a right to be.  According to the Nicaraguan penal code: “Whosoever, by whatever method or procedure wounds the unborn or causes an illness which has grave consequences for normal development, or causes a grave and permanent physical or psychological wound will be punished by between two to five years in prison and a prohibition on exercising any medical profession or providing services of any type in a clinic or gynaecological practice, public or private, for between two and eight years.”  The wording of the code—”whosoever, by whatever method or procedure”—clearly states that doctors could be prosecuted for saving a woman’s life at the expense of their fetus.

The care a pregnant woman receives thus entirely depends on how much personal risk an individual doctor is willing to take.  Will the doctor provide the best care and risk the consequences? Or avoid care that could harm the fetus even when it would save the mother?  According to Amnesty International, “Treatment for obstetric complications has become a lottery” because the healthcare provided depends on the doctor rather than standards for best practice.  Even when pregnant women are able to access healthcare services, they thus may not receive the care they need.

During a research mission to Nicaragua in 2007, the Human Rights Watch documented the consequences of such harmful delays in care.  They also interviewed government and health officials who admitted concern about the impact of the abortion ban on women’s health.  Below are narratives from their report that illustrate the devastating consequences.

Excerpts from the 2007 Human Rights Watch report on Nicaragua’s abortion ban:

“She was bleeding … That’s why I took her to the emergency room … but the doctors said that she didn’t have anything. … Then she felt worse [with fever and hemorrhaging] and on Tuesday they admitted her. They put her on an IV and her blood pressure was low. … She said: ‘Mami, they are not treating me.’ … They didn’t treat her at all, nothing. … When her husband came to bring her food, he heard screams. … They took her to [another hospital in Managua], but it was too late. She died of cardiac arrest. … She was all purple, unrecognizable. It was like it wasn’t my daughter.”

— Angela Morales [real name withheld], mother of a 22-year-old woman who died from pregnancy-related hemorrhaging at public hospital in Managua in November 2006, only days after the blanket ban on abortion was implemented. From comments made by the doctors at the time, Morales believes her daughter was left untreated because doctors were reluctant to treat a pregnancy-related emergency for fear that they might be accused of providing therapeutic abortions

“The effect [of the ban] has been in the medical personnel. … There have been situations that should have been treated [but] out of fear they haven’t been treated fast. … For example, in one hospital we have a patient with an ectopic pregnancy, it was ruptured, there was nothing to do [to save the fetus] but [the patient] was not treated. … It’s like an excuse. … The doctors don’t want to put themselves on the line. … We have received complaints.”

— Dr. Jorge Orochena, Director for Quality Control, Health Ministry

Since high school I have been determined to become at least proficient in Spanish. Growing up in California I was surrounded by Spanish. My parents stopped at high school level Spanish and my dad claims one of his biggest regrets is that he never continued in college.   As a doctor many of his patients are first-language Spanish speakers with limited English and he either struggles communicating with them or requires a translator. As a California citizen—and as a citizen of the United States—I believe it is important to know conversational Spanish. By 2050 the US is predicated to have 138 million Spanish speakers, making it the biggest Spanish speaking country in the world.

Consequently I took Spanish throughout high school. In the summer before my junior year I did a month-long homestay/study abroad in Granada, Spain. The next summer I went to Nicaragua for six weeks through Amigos de las Américas. When she was in high school and college my aunt traveled to Mexico and Brazil through Amigos de las Américas and highly recommended the organization to me. My uncle-in-law, her husband, is Mexican and my younger cousins are now learning Spanish along with English as their first language(s). Her language skills, partly learned through her time with Amigos de las Américas, are vital to her relationship with my uncle’s Mexican family and permit a bilingual household.

At Dartmouth I knew I wanted to continue Spanish so I signed up for a class my freshman fall. I studied abroad that summer on the LSA+ in Santander, Spain where I decided I would double major in Spanish. Although I do really enjoy my upper-level Spanish classes, Hispanic studies is not my passion per se. The major, however, gives me the opportunity to continue practicing and refining my language ability. I am by no means fluent, and I sometimes struggle to understand accents, but generally I feel comfortable holding conversations in Spanish, which has always been my goal. I am excited to return to Nicaragua with the CCESP and see how my Spanish has improved since I was there in high school.

Journalists in “The World is Watching” (1988)

Along with Kate, Matt, Sawyer, and Sydney, I presented on the documentaries The World is Watching (1988) and The World Stopped Watching (2003) directed by Canadian Peter Raymont.  One of the recurring themes in these films is the role of journalists covering Nicaragua. Is it to entertain the public back home?  Provide as objective a narrative as possible on the events they cover?  Support the policies of the American government?  Or, as Newsweek photographer Bill Gentille stated in the film, “One of the facets of journalism is that we as journalists have to help set the agenda — not just pander to the lowest common denominator of reader or viewer interest. We have to converge to a certain degree, with the people and the causes and the movements that we believe are important and fight along with them to reach a higher goal. That’s our job.”

“Living dead” photograph of Sandinista leader Rafael in the film “Under Fire” (1983)

The melodrama Under Fire (1983) directed by Roger Spottiswoode and presented in class by Louise, Leah, Billy, and Clement exemplifies the type of journalism presented in this quote.  The movie follows American journalists Russell Price, Alex Grazier, and Claire Stryder as they cover the 1979 Sandinista revolution in Nicaragua in the weeks before the fall of the Somoza dictatorship.  When the revolutionary leader Rafael dies, his Sandinista followers ask the journalists to photograph the leader as if he were alive in order to preserve his popular support. By now sympathetic with the Sandinista cause, Russ decides to take the photo and subvert the truth.  The film heroizes this choice to become personally invested in toppling the repressive Somoza regime rather than remaining detached (and insensitive) American journalists.  In the words of Bill Gentille, they chose to “fight along with [the Sandinistas] to reach a higher goal.”

While obviously an extreme example, I believe Under Fire reveals the problems in Bill Gentille’s interpretation of journalistic responsibility.  Journalists—especially abroad—hold a huge amount of power and influence.  The public trusts them to be their eyes and ears abroad.  By taking the photograph of Rafael, Claire and Russ abuse the power they have as journalists for what they believe is the greater good.  But they are not acting as individuals.  They’re the vanguard of American public opinion and thus have a responsibility to their audience to be truthful. (Truthful is not necessarily objective. It is important to admit bias, which is a problem explored in The World is Watching).  While Russ and Claire are fighting for what they believe is a “higher goal,” whose to say they’re in the right?  If the role of a journalist is to fight for the movements they believe are important then they’re producing propaganda disguised as news.  If every journalist followed their own agenda then the public would lose trust in the institution of journalism.  With Americans’ trust in mass media falling to an all time low, this is actually what is happening in the United States today.  Under Fire fails to interrogate the broader consequences of journalistic deceit and breaches in public trust.

I first studied ethnography last year in my “Radical Sexuality” class taught by Professor Eng-Beng Lim in the Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies Department.  We watched two movies that really stuck me with.  In The Good Woman of Bangkok, Australian filmmaker Denis O’Rourke travels to Thailand to create a documentary about prostitution.  He profiles the 25-year old prostitute Yaiwalak Chonchanakun, called Aoi, who is also O’Rourkes paid lover.  His involvement with Aoi both provides an intimate view of his subject and, obviously, raises ethical questions of exploitation.  Yet O’Rourke’s stated transactional relationship with his subject perhaps exposes the true nature of ethnography.  When studying “other” individuals and cultures, it is not possible to avoid personal entanglements.  The ethnographer’s presence always affects the subject.  Moreover, is it possible to avoid colonial power dynamics, despite the ethnographers best intentions?

Guillermo Gómez-Peña and Coco Fusco in “The Couple in a Cage”

The other movie, The Couple in the Cage documents the performance artists Guillermo Gómez-Peña and Coco Fusco.  They toured the world exhibiting themselves as caged American Indians from a newly discovered imaginary island.  It was supposed to be satirical commentary, but many of their viewers believed the fiction and no one knew what the proper response should be.  This movie showed me that no matter how thoughtfully an ethnographer approaches their work, the public can (and will!) interpret it through a colonial/racist perspective.

There are inherent problems in “studying” people, because the act of studying implies that they are the “other” and need to be “discovered.”  While we (the United States) learn about former colonies through ethnography, former colonies learn about former colonizers through the media, commercial products, and culture exported to them.  Ultimately, the risk of ethnography is unintentionally exploiting its subjects.  The reward is the ethnographer’s new knowledge and understanding.  This is not a fair exchange.  Yet ethnography cannot just be rejected because of these intrinsic issues.  The alternative to ethnography (at least until there is an equal power dynamic between countries) is staying home and never learning about people in developing nations.  The lack of understanding of other cultures has its own enormous risks and consequences.

To try to limit the risks of ethnography, I believe potential ethnographers have to be extremely thoughtful in how they conduct their research.  As we have discussed in class, we must try as much as possible to make ethnographic interviews shared exchanges (although they can never be truly equal).  While our presence in Nicaragua resembles (colonial) intervention, it is also an opportunity to share our own experiences and culture not as a commercial export but on the level of personal human interaction.

Chelsey Hauge in the article “Ethnographic Entanglements: How having multiple roles enriched my research in Nicaragua” directly confronted the entanglements and dynamics inherent in ethnography.  In her job in the program Amigos de las Américas, Hauge had an explicit, structured relationship with her subjects.  She reflects after hosting a meeting with both Nicaraguan and American youth, “Did I shape that community meeting in important ways, highlighting particular voices from my position of power? I certainly did, though had I only been an ethnographer, my presence would have shifted the meeting as well.”  Hauge recognizes that even a disengaged “researcher” influences his or her subjects.  So she embraces this role and allows her entanglements with Nicaraguans to give her an intimate insight other ethnographers would not be exposed too.  As long as she critically engages and reflects on her “conflicting roles as researcher, mentor, producer, friend, programmer, and confidant among others” I think this approach to ethnography is perhaps the most ethical.  Hauge never pretends her ethnography is something it is not, and her intentional intervention thus permits real dialogue and shared experiences with her subjects/mentees/friends.