Debts, Hard Work, and Lazy People
What a barn robbery and evangelical sermons on Chiloe Island tell us about neoliberal Chile
This is the final piece in a three-part series on Chile's recent past, present, and future. The first article is Pinochet's Ghosts and the second Changing Toward the Modern and Traditional.
Chiloe Island, Chile
October 2018
I descend the bus in front of the empty guard house next to the main road just as my host Joana had instructed. Hoping this is the right road -- and by all signs it is -- I begin my walk up the road. A few minutes into my walk, a car rumbles down the road. I hail it to ask if I am in the right place. Although the driver clearly makes eye contact with me, he continues on his route. Taken aback by the lack of help, I begin to lose confidence that I am in fact in the right place. The buses are infrequent, I do not have cell service, and I am tired, hungry and thirsty after an all day bus ride. I continue on and after another 10 minutes I am rewarded by finally meeting Juana in front of her house. She immediately serves me homemade cheese and bread with delicious well water.
“That guy [who sped by you on the road] was definitely not from Chiloe,” lamets Juana while I eat. “More and more people come from the city and buy second homes, retire here, or come to create businesses.”
Juana and her husband Cero have lived on the island their entire lives save a few years in their twenties. Chiloe used to be a place where you could leave your doors unlocked and neighbors all looked out for each other.
The change goes beyond someone speeding by a stranger asking for help. The previous year, someone stole thousands of dollars of tools from Juana and her husband while they were at church. These tools are what make their farm run and allow them to make a living. “It was completely traumatic,” says Juana. “We had to buy all new tools and to do so take out a loan that will take time to pay back.” I decide not to ask about whether there are homeowner policies in Chile.
The Chilean justice system, however, is another casualty of neoliberalism. The police in Chile will not pursue prosecutions until the aggrieved individual has an attorney who serves as a prosecutor. I was incredulous but yes, Juana repeated this is as if it were normal. The police told Juana that until she hired her own attorney to prosecute the case, no investigations would move forward. Still incredulous, I asked if this meant that a rapist would not be investigated or prosecuted if that individual could not afford an attorney to prosecute the case. She said yes.
Juana also told the story of her brother who lives on the southern tip of Chile. Her brother's store was robbed and the thief’s face caught on camera. The police, however, refused to pursue the case for the same reason -- lack of an attorney. “When criminals know they can commit crimes and not face prosecution, what is there to stop them from committing crimes?”
To top it off, an accused has a state-provided attorney. “I honestly don’t think that someone accused of a crime deserves a defense attorney,” she says.
“What if someone is wrongly accused and can’t pay for an attorney?” I ask.
“The person should not have put themselves in that position to begin with,” she retorts.
The concept of the aggrieved paying for their attorney, the sense of helplessness of the aggrieved, and Juana’s rejection of state-provided judicial representation for the accused all confound me greatly. (Months after leaving Chiloe I consulted with a Chilean attorney about this topic. He said victims of crimes have the right to petition the state for an attorney through the Corporación de Asistencia Judicial if they cannot pay for the attorney themselves. Additionally, state prosecutors do occasionally open investigations even if a victim does not have an attorney. I considered phoning Juana to ask why they did not petition for an attorney but considered this poor taste given the traumatic experience of the robbery. Regardless of whether they could have petitioned for representation, the onus was on the victim to seek justice and start an investigation. This is not easy while working seven days a week on a family farm that produces limited profit.)
The outrage at impunity leads to a nostalgia for Pinochet’s rule. “During the dictatorship, no one stole. No one was assaulted. Now, we have been robbed. We worry all the time about our daughter in Valparaiso [a large city] getting assaulted,” Juana says.
I press Juana on those who disappeared under Pinochet. She seems to have a moment of doubt and then responds, somewhat shakily, that, “many of them were protesting and likely doing something wrong.”
Juana’s husband Cero, however, has a very different view on Pinochet. In his terse, plain-spoken manner he states, “Nothing was good about it” without further elaboration. I find out later that his brother, Joel, hid during part of the dictatorship for unspecified reasons. It is hard to find people in Chile without a strong opinion on Pinochet.
While Cero views the dictatorship negatively, Pinochet’s neoliberal economic ideas have penetrated the church he and Juana attend. I ask Juana what she thinks about higher taxation of the rich to fund state benefits such as state-provided medical care and assistance to the poor. “Our pastor says that there are hard-working and lazy people in the world,” Juana responds. “People shouldn’t just get something for doing nothing.”
I think about how Cero by himself built their current house. Cero used money he made from gold scavenging on the southern Chilean coast to buy the land on which they live and farm. Both are tireless farmers who rarely take days off. Nothing has been given to them and they are rightly proud of their efforts. It is clear why the pastor’s argument resonates.
“But do people have a right to life and healthcare?” I ask.
“Yes, of course!” Put another way, healthcare is a right for all. Just don’t discuss it in the same breath as higher taxation and government benefits for the undeserving.
In neoliberal Chile, however, the elderly are denied a right to life. Joel, Cero’s brother we met in an earlier piece, was cut off from his life-saving medicines at 65. Moreover, Juana and Cero have no feasible retirement plan. Currently in their mid-50s they will inevitably grow fewer crops and produce less cheese (their main source of income). As they slow down, their plan is to depend on the less laborious but less lucrative breeding and selling of farm animals. Their state pension will only provide a few hundred dollars a month, well below their needs. The state pension system is another casualty of Pinochet’s rule as discussed in Pinochet’s Ghosts.
Juana and Cero’s inability to save is due to a constant cycle of debt. Their daughter went to college in the city which they helped pay for with debt. After the robbery, the replaced tools were paid for with debt. Now their son is about to go to university which signifies further debt. “Once we get out of one debt, another comes,” says Juana. I consider asking whether a more heavily state-subsidized university system might be the answer but decide against it. Let Juana tell her story. No reason to pick a battle.
In addition to healthcare, pensions, education, and prosecution the state also neglects fire departments. Before coming to Chiloe, I visited the city of Valparaiso near Santiago. While eating in a restaurant, local firemen came by to ask for donations. Aghast, I asked our Chilean host what was going on. She said that firemen in Chile are volunteers and must raise their own money.
The role of the state is not completely absent, however. Until the early 2000s, Juana and Cero lived without electricity but now enjoy this modern comfort. Beyond the domestic comforts, this makes milking the cows and making cheese far easier. The freeways in Chile are newer and top-notch.
Chile’s response to COVID-19 has been more competent than most Latin American nations. Although as of early April 2020 Chile had the second highest number of confirmed cases in the region, their early death rate was amongst the region’s lowest. According to BBC News Mundo, widespread testing and follow-up facilitated by the government have been the keys. While there was a spike in the Chilean winter months, new COVID-19 infections were under control as of October 2020.
The state has also secured rights for indigenous Chileans — albeit belatedly and after a brutal history of dispossession. Juana, who is indigenous, discussed how there are scholarships specifically for indigenous youths. Cero, who is also indigenous, has along with his siblings received land rights on other parts of Chiloe through their membership in an indigenous organization. As noted in a previous piece, the government provides subsidies for rural houses which, while not designated for the indigenous, do greatly benefit many indigenous due to their heavily rural composition.
The state — currently controlled by the right — also successfully demonizes homosexuals and uses them as a wedge issue. According to Juana, the current president, the conservative Sebastian Pineira, “believes that marriage should be between a man and a woman.” It is clear she agrees as well. Currently, only civil unions are legal in Chile and Pineira has activated the conservative, Christian forces of Chile in this cause. Chile is still strongly Caholic with a growing Evangelical population (to which Cero and Juana belong). As George W. Bush and Karl Rove know well, mobilization against gay marriage is an excellent way to deflect attention from inequality in society.
The previous president, the center-left Michelle Bachelet, attempted to rectify some of the neo-liberal failings in Chile such as the cost of higher education. Bachelet likewise attempted and failed to legalize gay marriage. She was also accused by the right-wing — as echoed by Juana — of being highly corrupt. As such, the conservative mining executive Pineira — himself with conflicts of interest and stains of corruption — won in a tight election in 2018.
The profile of Juana fits perfectly with that of the rural U.S. Republican. Despite this, I greatly admire Juana. She is welcoming, interested in getting to know new people, hard-working, stubborn and very patient -- all traits I see in myself (minus the patience perhaps). Her stubbornness is perhaps a barrier to seeing beyond her conservative mindset. Likewise, my stubbornness may stop me from looking beyond my liberal biases. We both agree, however, that a victim deserves justice and all humans have a right to healthcare. If only politics itself was as easy as an agreement on an end goal.
