"Of Fishes & Seas: The Role of the Salvadoran Peasantry in '80s-'90s"

 The past few weeks, I've been doing research for a final paper in my colloquium class (Latin American Refugees from 1970-Present) and, due to the pandemic-induced lack of events otherwise occurring on campus, I figured that sharing my research made for a decent blog post.

As the course name suggests, we're focused largely on refugee movements—which means that, by extension, we're focused on human rights violations in Latin America. The 20th century was hotbed of human rights violations in Central America especially, seeing numerous attempted coups (failed and successful). 

El Salvador actually saw two attempted coups during the 20th century: one in the '30s and one in the '80s. Neither saw a decisive victory for the rebels. In the '80s, the so-called Civil War began as a last resort. With the clear precedent that democratic attempts at reform would not put an end to the massive structural inequality that plagued El Salvador, guerrilla leftists took up arms out of desperation. The government had made it clear that peaceful attempts to enact change would go nowhere; the rebels felt as though they were left without another option.

The government repression that followed is infamous for its brutal nature. Paramilitary death squads—many funded and trained by the U.S.—roved through the countryside, exterminating entire villages at a whim. "The guerrilla is the fish, the people are the sea," one government general proclaimed. "If you cannot catch the fish, you have to drain the sea."

Thus, the Salvadoran state drained the sea, killing guerrillas and campesinos indiscriminately. Because of this, modern scholarship often falls into the trap of assuming—like the aforementioned general—that "peasant" was synonymous with "rebel." After all, it makes sense—the left was purportedly fighting for greater equity. Why wouldn't every campesino join up with the revolution? Well, many did. The rebellion was largely mobilized in rural, grassroots efforts. But nevertheless, some peasants joined the counterinsurgency. One source mentions that, in a sample of one counterinsurgency battalion, 11 out of 12 soldiers were members of the rural peasantry. Why is this?

I've identified four reasons that a campesino may have felt obliged to join the counterinsurgency:

1. Economic Gain: The monoculture in El Salvador created little more than fiscal inequality. As coffee prices plummeted, so did chances for social mobility. To grow up a peasant was to grow up without. 

However, members of elite military academies reaped the benefits of a corrupt military society. Upon graduation, a cadet was afforded the opportunity to import a car duty-free; he often sold this privilege to a civilian. Military officers maintained "phantom soldiers," enlisted men who did not really exist. The officers would then deposit these men's wages into battalion slush funds, and grow rich from the proceeds.  Even second lieutenants could be seen driving BMWs—a staggering difference in wealth from the landless peasantry.

Thus, joining the military may have provided opportunities for personal advancement and the ability to provide for loved ones.

2. Political Opposition to the Guerrillas: One report from 1988 details the FMLN rebel force storming into the hamlet of Nahuaterique, (falsely) accusing the villagers of working with the counterinsurgency, and then executing an 18-year-old for emphasis. Such interactions would surely have functioned as incentive to distance oneself from the FLMN, if not to work against them entirely.

3. Self-Preservation: It is also reasonable to think that many peasants may have sided with the government out of fear. If the paramilitaries provided a join-or-die ultimatum, many may have opted for the former. Furthermore, one peasant-turned-soldier in Guatemala echoes this concern in an interview: Once he joined and abandoned his village, he lost all respect in their eyes. Thus, he had no incentive to turn his back on the government and return to his old life. In prioritizing his wellbeing, he irreparably burnt bridges; there was no reason for him to endanger his life by defecting now that his village had disowned him.

4. World Context: Around the same time, failed leftist revolts in Chile and Guatemala surely weighed heavily on the guerrillas' consciences. The precedent that the government, backed by the U.S., would stop at nothing to crush the rebellion would have discouraged many from siding with the left. Furthermore, one dossier from a USMC Major General cites U.S. legitimacy as a major reason that the counterinsurgency succeeded. The aura of legitimacy provided by the support of the world's foremost military power should not be understated. On one side, you had bushwhackers with stolen pistols; on the other, a military with the aid of the most powerful martial force on the planet. There may have seemed to be little choice.

Importantly, seeking to understand is not the same as seeking to justify. I don't mean to sanction the actions of the right during the civil war by any means, nor am I trying to imply that a difficult situation excuses atrocities. Instead, I simply wish to better comprehend the circumstances that pushed many peasants to side with the counterinsurgency so as to better prevent them in the future.

Classics Reading Group — "The Pearl" (In Syriac)

Shortly after Dr. Zainaldin's lecture, I also sat in a discussion with the Classics Reading Group. We examined a poem, originally written in Syriac, titled "The Pearl." Written by Ephrem the Syrian (the dashing fellow shown below), it extolls a pearl, held in the hands of the narrator.

Why a pearl? Well, per Dr. Scott Johnson, Matthew 13:45-46 gives us the answer: "Again, the Kingdom of Heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it." (ESV)

Apparently this "pearl" metaphor became popular in theological texts following the Biblical era. Furthermore, nature and scripture were seen to be the "two lyres" by which the Creator could truly be revealed. It was not enough to solely perform scriptural exegesis; one needed to seek God's influence in the physical world to fully appreciate him.

I was unfamiliar with the language of Syriac prior to the lecture, but the language forms the third largest corpus of in the Roman Empire, behind Greek and Roman. Syriac is a Semitic language (a cousin to Hebrew and Arabic) and its usage peaked ~7th century. 

I was especially interested to learn about Ephrem because of his involvement with the city of Edessa—a key facet of the Second Crusade. I'd be fascinated to look into whether the crusaders, upon capturing, losing, and subsequently re-assaulting Edessa, understood the significance of Syriac. By and large, the crusaders were xenophobic and uneducated; it's unlikely that they would have been able to parse Syriac. Thus, did they seek to purge Edessa of theological texts in Syriac, even if the texts in question (unbeknownst to them) espoused Christian principles?

Fun to be able to draw parallels to the things I study.

 

"Warfare is a Great Affair of the State" Lecture

Earlier today, I had the privilege of attending a talk with Dr. James Zainaldin, a guest lecture at Harvard University. Zainaldin, a specialist of ancient Roman-Chinese relations and philosophies, discussed the role that military hegemonies play in shaping our philosophical understanding of warfare. 

 

Zainaldin's hegemony of choice was, understandably, Rome, highlighted by two case studies: The treatises of Onasander and Frontinus.

Onasander and Frontinus were dissimilar lads. Onasander appears to have been a philosopher himself, writing expositions on the art of generalship from a layman's perspective. He was based outside of the empire, writing in Greek, and offered an outside-looking-in vantage point. Onasander's style was abstract and cerebral. He gave flexible, one-size-fits-all advice: Things like It's better to have more soldiers than to have fewer soldiers and Try to hit him before he hits you.* Onasander's advice was like a tool in a toolkit; an effective general would memorize a repertoire of "tools" and deploy them when necessary.

Frontinus, by contrast, wrote with clinical specificity. A powerful Roman consul himself, Frontinus infused his treatises with his own familiarity with Roman military deeds. In the year 84 AD, he might write, consul X performed Y maneuver and routed the forces of Z. Audiences here must unpack the wisdom of former generals for themselves. What made these maneuvers successful? What lessons were to be learned?

Of course, Frontinus was also motivated by his loyalty to portray Rome's military in a favorable light. In a recent reading of a USMC dossier about counterinsurgency in Iraq, I noticed that Major General Glynn (the author) referenced specific examples in U.S. military history that he felt should be replicated, much in the style of Frontinus. Is it reaching too far to say that we adopt a "Frontinian" approach to the art of war because are living "inside the empire"? The United States is undeniably the military titan of the contemporary world, much as Rome dominated its own era. I would be interested to see if contemporary treatises in non-U.S. nations are more akin to Onasander's style.

*Not verbatim Onasander.

Phi Alpha Theta State Conference

Due to the lack of International Events last semester, I'm doing a few extra this semester to catch myself up.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to present the findings from my capstone research at the annual Phi Alpha Theta history conference. Though the organization is based in the U.S., my lecture material was decidedly international. Plus, events are hard to come by in pandemic times. Thusly, I thought I'd give a summation of what I presented—it's cool stuff.

My research looks at Viking witchcraft and drug use—already a sexy branch of academics. Viking witchcraft, or sei∂r, as it's known, was practiced for a variety of reasons in medieval Scandinavia. Practitioners might transform into whales to travel long distances by ocean, predict coming crop yields or military outcomes, petition a god(s) for success in a business venture, etc. One saga except even tells of a battalion of "battle mages" who are deployed to curse the enemy infantry. Upon casting their spell, their opponents are rendered blind and are dispatched with ease.

So how do drugs factor in? Well, the usage of intoxicants as a means of supplementing shamanism is widespread throughout history (i.e., peyote, ayahuasca, etc.). If we choose to interpret Viking shamanism through the same lens of drug use, we are afforded interesting insights. By reading through the Icelandic Sagas, we can list each occurrence of sei∂r. Then, we can detail the symptoms that practitioners commonly experienced (e.g., fleeing of flight, hallucinations, etc.). By comparing these symptoms to the symptoms of geographically-available intoxicants, we can form a shortlist of likely candidates that the Vikings were consuming:

So what? The Vikings knew how to have a good time. Well, yes, but attributing Viking sorcery to extended drug use gives us another insight: It helps to explain the motif of a "third gender of sorcerers" that emerges alongside the practice of sei∂r.

Sei∂r was solidly the domain of women. Men who practiced the art—or were suspected of practicing the art—were viciously stigmatized. They were branded "ergi," a term which carried connotations of uselessness and passive homosexuality. Indeed, seid-men became their own social class; not quite men, not quite women. There was a liminal space between the gender binary which they occupied.

Obviously, gender in a social construct. But, could there be a sex-based hormonal cause behind this gender-based societal perception? I'm thrilled that you asked.

Here are few charts that document the effects of drug use on the body's hormones:

Note the highlighted items. These are the same categories of intoxicants that are outlined in the chart of likely drugs. Across the board, male sexual performance plummets. Anorgasmia and erectile dysfunction plague drug users, testosterone drops, luteinizing hormone increases and causes testicular damage, and prolactin surges may have caused male lactation.

With these pieces, we can start to paint a picture of this third gender. A young male sorcerer starts practicing sei∂r. Maybe for the money. Maybe for the chicks. Regardless, he consumes intoxicants and hallucinogens regularly as he performs the rituals. Because of this, his hormones go awry; his endocrine system is haywire, and he begins to develop effeminate features (e.g., gynecomastia, higher pitched voice, etc.). Word gets around of his drug-induced sexual impotence, which may have been interpreted as disinterest. Either way, he's no longer viewed the same way by his male peers, who value the traditional warrior ethos.

Ultimately, we're left with a chick-egg scenario. Did connotations of male sorcerers get reinforced by the coincidental repercussions of drug use? Did the observed effects of male drug use during sorcery affect their perception?

Hard to say, but the drug-based theory for Viking gender roles in witchcraft seems plausible.

"Race, Massacre, and Historical Memory" Lecture

Due to the lack of International Events last semester, I'm doing a few extra this semester to catch myself up.

On the docket this week was Dr. Salvadó's talk, "Race, Massacre, and Historical Memory." While the discussion focused on Guatemala, I found numerous parallels that tie in to El Salvador, a country which I'm studying in-depth in my Latin American Refugees course with Dr. Hines.

One of the memoirs we read this semester was Roberto Lovato's Unforgetting. The title alone suggests how harmonious the messages of the book and lecture are—this motif of "undoing" and "remembering" pervades nearly every Latin American revolution that I've studied so far.

Far example, the Salvadoran amnesty laws, only recently declared unconstitutional helped provide legal solace for the perpetrators of the human rights violations of the '80s-'90s. In an attempt to "heal" the nation, human rights violations are swept under the rug. Don't ask, don't tell. A series of American journalists traveled to El Salvador (like the forensic scientists of Salvadó's lecture) to document the crises, but few were able to do so. Thus, egregious massacres like that of El Mozote have flown under the public radar, buried by soil and time, unmentioned by those in power.

The idea of unforgetting is important because it emphasizes the conscious choice that many have made to let these violations slip through the cracks. Only recently (as of January 2020) are members of the Atlacatl Battalion in El Salvador speaking out against their supervisors. Even now, they testify anonymously, for fear of lethal retaliation. El Salvador, like Guatemala, is determined to remain forgetful.

This is why scholars like Salvadó are vital—they help (literally and figuratively) dust off the memories of those who have fallen victim to brutal repression throughout Latin America. To uncover the bones of those who perished is to name them, to acknowledge them, to honor their experiences.

Vaccine Passports: Communism or Common Sense?

 

I'm planning to get my vaccine the moment I'm eligible. I've spent too much of my undergraduate career cooped up in my room, away from my friends, away from some of the parts of college that make it fulfilling. Besides, it would be selfish not to get the vaccine, right? Why on earth would I risk transmitting the virus to Grammie the next time I go in to give her a hug? No, I'm sold on it; vaccination is a nonnegotiable for me.

The sticky point is when others get involved. Sure, I think that others should get the vaccine. I hope that they do get the vaccine. One look at the mounting COVID death tolls is enough to turn my stomach. Why risk not vaccination yourself and adding to the toll? But, can we force someone to vaccinate themselves? 

I go back and forth on the issue. However, I've seen numerous people griping on social media about being turned away from places of business for not complying with COVID regulations. I'm fine with that. I believe that persons are entitled to personal freedoms until the point where they encroach on the rights and safeties of others. If you turn someone away from your bakery because they have blue hair, that's silly. Blue hair isn't going to hurt you. If you turn someone away because they are choosing to not comply with the health code, and because your ailing grandmother lives with you at home, and anything that you pick up at the bakery will be transmitted to her after you close up and head home...I think that's an entirely different animal. 

Thus, I'm okay with the idea of vaccine passports. We already require certain vaccinations to enroll in and attend public schools. However, vaccine passports can be prohibitive if not handled correctly. What if a low-income family wants to vaccinate themselves, but lacks the means to travel to a vaccination site? What if the cost of vaccination is an impediment? What if they. can't get off work?

In matters of public health and safety, I'm a-okay with the government stepping in and making things more accessible. Like we're seeing in Oklahoma, efforts by indigenous groups to provide free vaccines, drive-up testing, accessible testing sites, etc. all make for a more inclusive public health effort. This is vital. Otherwise, we risk letting people fall through the cracks.

Ultimately, I think that—because it's a matter of personal safety—vaccine passports are not an extreme measure. I'm suggesting that we conduct stop-and-frisk missions on the street to make sure that people have their tax card on them, but if a public school wants the 4th grade class to have a vaccination? Probably not outlandish.

The solution to the anti-vax sentiment is not to bastardize the demographic, but to alter the narrative surrounding the matter. COVID shouldn't be political, yet it is. Both sides of the aisle are guilty of exploiting the pandemic to demonize the other side. Matters of public health and safety transcend partisan politics. By actively combatting misinformation that surrounds COVID and vaccinations, we can work towards a society where the concept of a vax passport isn't a political attack, but simply an effort to ensure the safety of loved ones.

"The Black Death" Lecture

 

It is not a stretch to say that there has not been a more apt time for a lecture on the Bubonic Plague in this millennium than right now. Earlier this evening, Dr. Magnusson (my closest mentor at OU, for whom I am tremendously biased) participated in a wonderful panel on the impacts of the Plague on Europe. While certain parallels to the modern age are obvious Hey look—they were getting sick, too! there are other aspects of the Plague that I've always found fascinating, which are harder to map onto the current COVID situation.

For example, the Plague was a large contributor to the collapse of feudalism. I won't go as far as to say that it was solely responsible (the Hundred Years' War and the Little Ice Age would be offended), but the massive societal upheaval that was brought about overseas helped restructure the entire socioeconomic hierarchy.

For example, think about WWII. When an entire generation of men (and typical factory laborers) left the country, the working class demographic skewed hard towards women. This is not to say that WWII broke the glass ceiling, but it help to provide women with a much-deserved increase in workforce clout. The same happened in Europe during the Plague, but on a cosmic scale.

During the Middle Ages, the real divide in society wasn't along gender lines, but along class lines. Whereas in modern America we pride ourselves on the ability of "any old Joe to run for president" (in theory), we have yet to have a Jill in the Oval Office. American labor is split along gender lines. When Joan of Arc vaulted herself to a status akin to that of a Major General, her success was not astounding because of her gender, but because of her social class. Joan was an illiterate peasant in a society that rigidly stratified social standing. 

Thus, when the Plague ripped through Europe and left 1 in 3 people dead, there was suddenly room for social mobility. An increased demand to replace laborers afforded surviving peasants with (relatively) massive bargaining clout. Slowly, the feudal scale began to tip in favor of the medieval proletariat. 

We're already seeing changes between the pre- and post-COVID working world. Zoom meetings have come to dominate all aspects of life and there's buzz that we'll never truly abandon this work-from-home system. How else will COVID shake up our social standings? 

It's important to note that there was no access to a "Black Death Vaccine" in Europe. The haves and have-nots were affected relatively equally. In the U.S., however, lower-income individuals have suffered the brunt of COVID-19. It is possible that we will witness the opposite of what we saw in Europe; the "feudal haves" may solidify their stake in resources.

For this reason, the study of history is perennially relevant: By identifying possible social trends, we can seek to establish a more equitable society.