I’m writing this week from Costa Rica, the only non-militarized country in the Western Hemisphere. In 1948, following a five-week civil war, Costa Rica dissolved its army (it had lost the war to a band of rebel upstarts). At the same time, the nation launched a political experiment unique to the region. It took the form of an intricate dance. Industries like banking, education and health care were nationalized, while economic powerhouses like coffee and banana plantations were left in the hands of the families who had owned them for generations. Literacy and public health indicators shot up to levels usually associated with socialist states. Indeed, Costa Rica had become a socialist state, but under the watchful and paranoid eye of the U.S. in mid-century, it was a socialist state that took pains to suppress the Communist Party.
For all its dance steps, Costa Rica did not become idyllic, except perhaps in the minds of tourists. A gulf divides poor and rich, economic power is concentrated in a few sectors and those sectors are dominated by a few people. Those same few people swing most of Costa Rica’s political power as well. Still, people can read, they can see a doctor when they need to and, most important, they don’t worry about when the next band of soldiers will arrive to kill, rape and kidnap.
Investment dollars, because of the dance, flow from the U.S. to Costa Rica in increments not seen in other Central American countries. A quarter of Costa Rica’s forests have been preserved and tourists – both eco-tourists and beach bathers – arrive by jumbo-jetfuls throughout the winter months. This semi-prosperity in due in large part to the decisions made in 1948 and 1949.
The oil and subsequent economic crisis of the late 1970s helped burgeoning revolutionary movements in El Salvador, Guatemala and Nicaragua; Costa Rica remained stable although it was forced to borrow heavily from the International Monetary Fund to make it through the lean years. Attached to those loans has come pressure to privatize national industries and to reduce tariffs and protections for agricultural products.
In the 1980s, Costa Rica resisted demands from the U.S. to remilitarize or allow U.S. troops on its soil; former President Oscar Arias was awarded the 1987 Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts to bring peace and economic health to the region.
Fifty-six years into the great democratic experiment, Costa Rica needs to perform another delicate dance. A quick scan of last week’s English-language newspaper, the Tico Times, tells the story. One front-page article details to collapse of an effort to site the International Law Enforcement Academy in San Jose, Costa Rica’s capital. A U.S. initiative, it was feared the academy would evolve into something resembling the notorious torture college, the School of the Americas, with oppression hiding behind a policeman’s badge instead of the soldier’s helmet. It appears the U.S. will abandon the project in the face of stipulations from the Costa Rican Congress that the academy not be used to train military personnel.
While making a bold step on the police front, Ticos –as Costa Ricans are known – did a shimmy step on trade. Next to the ILEA story was a report on a new requirement that all shipments into the country carry a document with such information as the name of the shipper and receiver and the weight, type and value of the good shipped. Such a document doesn’t seem like bureaucratic intrusion, especially in the face of ever more draconian measures imposed on U.S. border transactions. The requirement was, however, thoroughly rejected by the many U.S. companies doing business in Costa Rica. The Costa Rican-American Chamber of Commerce landed on the requirement with all four feet and Costa Rica’s director of customs was forced to hurriedly convene a press conference and declare the whole mess a “misunderstanding.”
Ads in the back of the paper continue the theme, touting the “friendliest casino in Costa Rica” and St. Patrick’s Day parties in bars. Every restaurant in Costa Rica has bottle of salsa picante on the table with the salt and pepper. The only two brands I’ve seen are Banquete, made in Costa Rica, but owned by Heinz, Inc. of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania (and a good chunk of the profits going to Senator John Kerry’s wife, Teresa Heinz Kerry) or Lizano, made in Costa Rica, but owned by Unilever, of the United Kingdom (which also owns Vermont’s Ben&Jerry’s Ice Cream). Ticos produce, Ticos consume, but the profits go north.
Costa Rica and the U.S are on the verge of ratifying a free trade agreement. Anti-free trade graffiti splashes the walls around the University of Costa Rica – “Nestle is mortal, Kellogg is lethal.” Costa Rica’s middle class is disappearing, the gap between poor and rich is growing. Campesinos, who can no longer compete with cheap imported foodstuffs are leaving the land and flocking to the cities, hoping to find work in the maquiladoras, but they must compete with tens of thousands of illegal immigrants from Nicaragua, where the economy is in a free-fall.
It’s time for Costa Rica to dance again, and as in 1948, she cannot afford a misstep.
He Who Pays the Piper…
I’m writing this week from Costa Rica, the only non-militarized country in the Western Hemisphere. In 1948, following a five-week civil war, Costa Rica dissolved its army (it had lost the war to a band of rebel upstarts). At the same time, the nation launched a political experiment unique to the region. It took the form of an intricate dance. Industries like banking, education and health care were nationalized, while economic powerhouses like coffee and banana plantations were left in the hands of the families who had owned them for generations. Literacy and public health indicators shot up to levels usually associated with socialist states. Indeed, Costa Rica had become a socialist state, but under the watchful and paranoid eye of the U.S. in mid-century, it was a socialist state that took pains to suppress the Communist Party.
For all its dance steps, Costa Rica did not become idyllic, except perhaps in the minds of tourists. A gulf divides poor and rich, economic power is concentrated in a few sectors and those sectors are dominated by a few people. Those same few people swing most of Costa Rica’s political power as well. Still, people can read, they can see a doctor when they need to and, most important, they don’t worry about when the next band of soldiers will arrive to kill, rape and kidnap.
Investment dollars, because of the dance, flow from the U.S. to Costa Rica in increments not seen in other Central American countries. A quarter of Costa Rica’s forests have been preserved and tourists – both eco-tourists and beach bathers – arrive by jumbo-jetfuls throughout the winter months. This semi-prosperity in due in large part to the decisions made in 1948 and 1949.
The oil and subsequent economic crisis of the late 1970s helped burgeoning revolutionary movements in El Salvador, Guatemala and Nicaragua; Costa Rica remained stable although it was forced to borrow heavily from the International Monetary Fund to make it through the lean years. Attached to those loans has come pressure to privatize national industries and to reduce tariffs and protections for agricultural products.
In the 1980s, Costa Rica resisted demands from the U.S. to remilitarize or allow U.S. troops on its soil; former President Oscar Arias was awarded the 1987 Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts to bring peace and economic health to the region.
Fifty-six years into the great democratic experiment, Costa Rica needs to perform another delicate dance. A quick scan of last week’s English-language newspaper, the Tico Times, tells the story. One front-page article details to collapse of an effort to site the International Law Enforcement Academy in San Jose, Costa Rica’s capital. A U.S. initiative, it was feared the academy would evolve into something resembling the notorious torture college, the School of the Americas, with oppression hiding behind a policeman’s badge instead of the soldier’s helmet. It appears the U.S. will abandon the project in the face of stipulations from the Costa Rican Congress that the academy not be used to train military personnel.
While making a bold step on the police front, Ticos –as Costa Ricans are known – did a shimmy step on trade. Next to the ILEA story was a report on a new requirement that all shipments into the country carry a document with such information as the name of the shipper and receiver and the weight, type and value of the good shipped. Such a document doesn’t seem like bureaucratic intrusion, especially in the face of ever more draconian measures imposed on U.S. border transactions. The requirement was, however, thoroughly rejected by the many U.S. companies doing business in Costa Rica. The Costa Rican-American Chamber of Commerce landed on the requirement with all four feet and Costa Rica’s director of customs was forced to hurriedly convene a press conference and declare the whole mess a “misunderstanding.”
Ads in the back of the paper continue the theme, touting the “friendliest casino in Costa Rica” and St. Patrick’s Day parties in bars. Every restaurant in Costa Rica has bottle of salsa picante on the table with the salt and pepper. The only two brands I’ve seen are Banquete, made in Costa Rica, but owned by Heinz, Inc. of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania (and a good chunk of the profits going to Senator John Kerry’s wife, Teresa Heinz Kerry) or Lizano, made in Costa Rica, but owned by Unilever, of the United Kingdom (which also owns Vermont’s Ben&Jerry’s Ice Cream). Ticos produce, Ticos consume, but the profits go north.
Costa Rica and the U.S are on the verge of ratifying a free trade agreement. Anti-free trade graffiti splashes the walls around the University of Costa Rica – “Nestle is mortal, Kellogg is lethal.” Costa Rica’s middle class is disappearing, the gap between poor and rich is growing. Campesinos, who can no longer compete with cheap imported foodstuffs are leaving the land and flocking to the cities, hoping to find work in the maquiladoras, but they must compete with tens of thousands of illegal immigrants from Nicaragua, where the economy is in a free-fall.
It’s time for Costa Rica to dance again, and as in 1948, she cannot afford a misstep.
(c) Mark Floegel, 2004