The Power and the Money

Spain’s population is dropping … but not by very much

There has been a lot of news lately about Spanish emigration, especially since the country’s population shrank in 2012 for the first time since the Civil War.

The thing is, net emigration is almost entirely driven by returning migrants. Net emigration of Spanish nationals is tiny. In absolute numbers, we are talking about a net emigration of 20,484 Spaniards in 2011 and approximately 34,000 in 2012. (Net emigration of foreigners ran about 149,000 in 2012.) Even the gross emigration is small: 62,611 in 2011 and approximately 73,000 in 2012.

The below chart presents the components of monthly population change (at annualized rates). They sum together for total population change. (That is the black line.) I have no idea why births are so lumpy in 2011. Since that was a census year, I suspect it represents some sort of adjustment to bring the vital statistics data in line with the census, but that is just a guess.

Until 2012, the biggest component was natural increase. It ran at 124,000 in 2009, 97,000 in 2010,  103,000 in 2011, and will come to 102,000 in 2012 at current rates.

(Data from here.)

Of course, even a small emigration could have profound social effects, depending on who they are. But these numbers mean that you should take stories about the wave of Spanish immigrants descending on Latin America with a giant grain of salt. Outside the wait staff at a few chic restaurants and perhaps some specialized trades, the Spanish second conquista is not big enough to be noticeable anywhere in Latin America. Setty already noticed the dearth of Spaniards in his examination of the Chilean census, but it looks like a generalizable result. Maybe the dam will break, but it hasn’t yet.

“This old lady is worse than the one-eyed man”

That is what President José Mujica of Uruguay accidently said about President Cristina Fernández of Argentina when he didn’t know the mike was live. The one-eyed man, by the way, is her late husband and former President of Argentina.

“Esta vieja es peor que el tuerto.” In Mexico, in this context, the use of vieja would not necessarily be an aspersion against President Fernández’s age, meaning instead something like “The wife is worse than the one-eye.” I am told, however, that in the Southern Cone it translates to something more like “hag.”

Uruguay is not happy with Argentina. The tension goes back a long way (Canadians should appreciate the psychology) but the recent imbroglios began with this. Short version: Argentine activists blockaded a bridge between Uruguay and Argentina in anger over a big paper mill a Finnish company was building in Uruguay.

President Mujica’s predecessor, Tabaré Vázquez, considered going to war over the blockade, but quickly realized ... well, take a listen:

So much for sending the Uruguayan army over the bridge. (Plus, well, even a successful action would have worked out about as well for Uruguay as Pearl Harbor did for Japan: you don’t get a country to reopen its roads to your commerce by attacking them.)

Ex-President Vázquez is telling the truth about the seriousness of the conflict over the Botnia paper mill. In 2006, the Uruguayans told the American government that the Argentines were “fascists” and asked the U.S. for help. “A brother slapping another in the face needs a big uncle to put a stop to it,” said the Uruguayans, although they feared that Argentina would cut off gas imports. (The U.S. tacitly supported Uruguay.) In April 2007, in the face of Argentine threats, Uruguayan newspapers revealed military contingency plans should the plant be attacked, although the Uruguayan military attache in Buenos Aires later contradicted those reports.

In November 2007, Vázquez ordered the mill to start operations, with the blockade still underway. But the Uruguayans feared the Argentine response, so they secretly asked for closer military relations with the U.S. and stepped up security around the plant.

Uruguayan fears notwithstanding, war was not going to happen — the U.S. embassy in Buenos Aires wrote: “There is absolutely no indication that GOA [Government of Argentina] is considering a military ‘solution’ to this dispute, and the GOA’s own military operational capacity is very limited. Any suggestions of a military ‘solution’ here actually brings about expressions of humor or disbelief. At the recent Embassy-hosted Veterans Day event, a military contact only barely jokingly said that as a matter of fact, right now, the GOU [Government of Uruguay] probably has more active and usable aircraft and other military assets than does the GOA.”

That said, it is ridiculous that Buenos Aires let the situation get so out of hand. With the plant running (and causing little pollution) the crisis passed, but the reverberations continued to mess up relations between the two countries. Argentina blocked Mercosur from funding a second frequency converter on the Uruguay-Brazil border. The converter would have let Uruguay import more electricity from Brazil ... freeing it from Argentine pressure. (As well as occasional power shortfalls: Uruguay wanted it for economic as well as political reasons. Tenders finally went out in 2011, without Mercosur money.)

Then the Argentines blocked joint dredging operations to maintain the Martín García canal, under the treaty governing the Rio de la Plata. The problem has kept big ships out of the Uruguayan port of Nueva Palmira. It looks like the dredging might finally happen, maybe.

Buenos Aires proceeded to add insult to injury by imposing import licenses on 6 percent of Uruguayan exports to Argentina. It also went after Uruguay as a putative tax haven and denied its national airline landing rights in Chubut. Then Argentina stalled on attempts to build a regasification plant to allow for LNG imports. (President Mujica announced on April 2 that a plant will go ahead “with or without Argentina.”)

The most recent insult was not aimed at Uruguay specifically, but angered Montevideo nonetheless: Argentina limited the amount of money that Argentines can take out of the country ... sucker-punching Uruguay’s tourism industry.

Uruguay tried to shoot back by delaying Néstor Kirchner’s attempt to become the first Secretary-General of the Union of South American Nations, but they failed. Kirchner took over the organization shortly before his death in 2010.

It has become about as dysfunctional a relationship as one can imagine between two democratic and culturally-similar neighboring states. Argentina fruitlessly and pointlessly bullies Uruguay; Uruguay impotently pokes back. Things will certainly not get any worse, but they also show no sign of getting better.

The next time a Canadian complains about relations with the U.S., point to the Southern Cone. It could be much much worse.

More on the legalization of marihuana in Uruguay

It seems that the Uruguayan government has decided to send a new legalization proposal to Parliament. It is considerably more detailed than the original, and its text can be found at this link.

The new bill establishes a National Cannabis Institute to regulate the drug (including sales) and allows for the creation of “membership clubs” of up to 15 people licensed to grow 7,200 grams per year for the use of the members. The institute will be able to fix the price of its licenses to grow or sell cannabis. I presume that the Parliament will also be able to impose taxes in excess of the license fees. I am a little surprised as to the budgetary autonomy that the legislation seems to grant the Institute.

It appears that the Broad Front legislators have abandoned the idea of having the state control the entire value chain in favor of a more ordinary regulatory approach.

The experiment will bear watching.

Legalizing marijuana in Uruguay

So Colorado and Washington have legalized marijuana! This is a big step, although it is going to be a problem that the federal government still bans the substance.

Now, it looks like Uruguay might be the first country on Earth to fully legalize marijuana. (Or “marihuana,” as they spell it.) The Netherlands tolerates it, but it is not fully legal.

It is pretty neat that a serious country may legalize marijuana, but to give away the punchline, I doubt very much that it will be a harbinger of much until the American or Canadian federal government moves. There is a lot of opposition to legalization in Latin America, and Uruguay is not considered a bellweather. (It is one in practice, but that is more because Uruguay gets to the future first and less because other nations deliberately emulate the Eastern Republic.)

The bill is pretty vague. Here is the complete text:

“The State will assume control and regulation over the importation, production, acquisition in any form, storage, commercialization and distribution of marihuana and its derivatives, under such terms and conditions as fixed by regulation.

“Likewise, the State will undertake such material activities as are necessary before, during and after to carry out the activities referred to in the previous paragraph, under such terms and conditions as fixed by regulation.

“The activities referred to in the previous paragraphs shall be realized exclusively under a policy of damage reduction that shall, therefore, alert the population to the consequences and adverse effects of marihuana consumption, as well as the effects of minimizing the risks and damages to the population of potential consumers under such conditions as fixed by regulation.”

It is worth noting here that the Uruguayan president is quite a bit more powerful than the American president. (At least inside the country. Outside Uruguay, I do not believe that Mr. Mujica has the ability to order flying robots to kill anyone.) As long as his cabinet concurs, the Uruguayan president can send bills directly to Parliament. (Officially, the “General Assembly,” but everyone calls it Parliament.) In fact, under Article 168 the president can designate bills as urgent. “Urgent” bills must be approved or disapproved with 85 days or they automatically become law. The catch is that the president can only submit one urgent bill at a time.

The marihuana bill is not urgent.

So it is taking its own sweet time through Parliament. Of the six security measures proposed by the President (the marihuana deal is considered a security measure) the legislature has approved only one, which reduced sentences for low-level drug dealing while increasing the penalties for corruption. Right now, the marihuana bill is in a dicey spot. It can pass, but only with support from the President’s Broad Front. So far, only one opposition legislator has come out in support.  President Mujica seems reluctant to pass such a significant bill on a party-line vote.

In order to get support, the administration has announced what the regulations might look like after the bill is passed. The drug will cost ₱700 per gram, around US$36. That is higher than the U.S. price of $14 per gram, but roughly the price in Uruguay. (Since marijuana is still illegal, it is hard to come up with a standardized price, even for tolerated medical marijuana.) If the law passes, Uruguayan consumers will receive a photo ID armed with a photo and bar code (that is high tech?) and be limited to 40 grams a month.

To sum, the bill looks likely to pass, but it is still generating controversy.

But I would also bet that the Mexican government is going to consider legalization but do nothing until the U.S. federal government moves. There is a great deal of conservative opposition in Mexico, deeper and wider than in Uruguay, and with a weaker president and a divided Congress everything is tougher.

In fact, contrary to popular belief, a great book by Isaac Campos shows that opposition to marijuana actually originated inside Mexico; it was not imposed by international norms. The reverse actually: had Mexicans been less anti-marijuana, then the world might not have gone prohibitionist.*

Around the Revolution again

Hugo Chávez just won re-election by a convincing margin in Venezuela. If I may, my friend Francisco Rodríguez at Bank of America called it correctly. To be honest, although Capriles did have a few good poll results, most of them showed a Chávez win. Anyway, the Bolivarian Revolution will go on until 2019 , even if the President passes away in office in the meantime. His successor probably won’t be Vice-president Elías Jaua. If something happens to Chávez between now and January 10, 2017, a new election will be held within 30 days. If he passes away after that date, then the vice-president will take over, but the Veep serves at the pleasure of the President and there is no guarantee that the person in the office will be the person in the office then.

In Ecuador, meanwhile, the big news concerns Assange and Occidental. With the former, not a whole lot is likely to happen. The Ecuadorians are settling in for the long haul: it is an easy way for Correa to take an anti-imperialist posture and distract attention from press measures at home. Correa is ahead in the polls for the 2013 election, but there is a while yet.

What I love is that Rafael Correa is going to advise Tunisia about dealing with debt! That is awesome.

Bolivia is having a rougher time. Two different groups are in conflict over the mining industry: unionized employees and cooperative independent miners. Until June, the government could play a conciliatory role, with Glencore as the foreign villian. But by nationalizing the mines, Evo has lost his cat’s paw. Now he is smack in the middle of a fight between the union and the small independent miners, which is a bad place to be. Moreover, his nationalization fights are starting to go bad. He just told a Canadian silver mining firm to go hang, no compensation. Legal recourse is not the problem, since the investment happened after Bolivia left ICSID (although there are other options, see next paragraph). Rather, the problem is that the nationalization, like earlier ones, has put the government smack in the middle of a conflict between different local interests. This is trouble.

President Morales has made a habit of nationalizing something every May Day, usually with compensation, but Rurelec has taken Bolivia to arbitration over a 2010 electricity nationalization. Since ICSID is no longer available, the arbitration will be held under looser U.N. rules. The nationalization beat the hell out of Rurelec: it lost 80% of its revenues and its share price crashed from 16p to 9p (U.K.). So it wants its money. It is less clear if it can collect, although the new nationalizations are making its life a little easier. The company sounds confident.

Finally, all-quiet on the Nicaraguan front, including a giant sigh of relief that President Chávez won re-election, what with this project getting underway. We think.

Ecuador is not a colony of China

Since its big default on its foreign debt (which I should really write about, it was ingenious) Ecuador has made a lot of oil-for-loans deals with China. The FT reported that Ecuador sold oil at $14-$15 per barrel. Felix Salmon wrote a post entitled “How Ecuador sold itself to China.” Neat stuff.

But exaggerated. The Bolivarians in Quito have not sold their sovereignty to China. Here’s the deal. The China Development Bank (CDB) loans money to Ecuador. Petroecuador repays by shipping oil to China. The Chinese pay for the oil at market prices. The money is deposited in the CDB, which withdraws 21% of the revenue to repay the loan. China has made three of these loans, at fairly cheap interest rates: 7.25% for the first , 6% for the second and 6.9% for the third, at a time when Ecuador basically could not borrow and paid 8.45% on its outstanding issues.

OK, so no Chinese empire ... but is China freeing Ecuador from dependence on the United States? (We will ignore that whole dollarization thing.) Not really. There are some reports that the country is now exporting all its crude to China and Latin America. The official figures for the first half of 2012, however, tell a different story. By value, 59% of oil exports went to the United States; another 11% went to Chile and 10% to Peru. Only 2% worth (or $137 million) went to China. Ditto, imports of refined products from the U.S. of A. came to 55% of Ecuadorian petroleum imports; an additional 8% came from Panama. Only 5% came from Venezuela and nothing from China. Ecuadorian crude isn’t the best quality, but it’s good enough for Chinese refineries ... except they do not seem to really want it.*

(A useful resume of different oil blends is here: scroll to Table 1.)

OK, then. Unless something drastically changes, Ecuador is going to pay Occidental. Maybe not for a while, but it will pay. And China does not have a colony across the Pacific, fun as it is to imagine such a thing.

I should mention that the international courts thing runs both ways. Maybe Ecuador will pay Occidental with assets taken from Chevron ...

* UPDATE: I imagine that Petroecuador is swapping its oil for oil from other sources to send to China. PDVSA does this all the time, so it would not be unprecedented, and it would explain why the Central Bank reports almost no crude exports to the PRC despite the loan deals.

Ethiopia, North Korea, and Some Half-Formed Thoughts on Dictatorship

North Korean dictator Kim Jong-Il died late last year. He was promptly succeeded by his twentysomething son. Some observers questioned whether the son would be able to take over and impose effective personal rule, but nearly a year has passed and he seems to be doing just fine.

Ethiopian dictator Meles Zenawi died last month. He hasn’t been succeeded by anyone yet. (Formally, officially, the Deputy Prime Minister has stepped up. But nobody seems to be taking him too seriously. He’s a mild-mannered guy, not a member of the revolutionary generation, and the wrong ethnicity to boot.) Zenawi was a “slash the tallest flowers” kind of guy; years of life on the run as a guerrilla in the bush seem to have rendered him permanently paranoid. Anyone who seemed too popular or too competent got demoted. At best demoted. So there’s no obvious successor.

I think the odds of Ethiopia staying a dictatorship are pretty good. It’s a country that has never known democratic rule or any sort of pluralism. Since the Emperor Haile Selassie consolidated his rule in the late 1920s, Ethiopia has had exactly three rulers: Selassie himself, Stalinist dictator Haile Meriam Mengistu, and the recently deceased Mr. Zenawi. That’s just three guys in almost 90 years, all of them absolute rulers with little or no tolerance for dissent. The country has almost no liberal traditions. Civil society does exist — there are NGOs and labor unions and even a few lawyers who are willing to sue the government — but it’s young and small and weak. It won’t be too surprising if a new strongman emerges. But it may take a while, and Ethiopia may go through a period of oligarchic rule and jockeying for power before things sort out.

Regimes with clear lines of succession are generally stronger regimes. Part of the reason is that they’re slightly harder targets — you not only have to take out the top guy, you have to get rid of his designated successors as well. But I think the bigger reason is that everyone knows what’s coming next after the dictator. Even if the successor is a dubious character, he’s likely to seem better than chaos and uncertainty.

Traditional monarchs have known this for millenia. But the lesson applies to dictatorships as well. We currently have at least five extant examples of non-royal dictatorships that have been successfully transferred to a son or brother of the dictator: Azerbaijan, Congo, Cuba, Syria, and North Korea (twice). Gabon and Togo are authoritarian regimes run by sons of former dictators; if we include them, the club expands to seven.

Examples of transfer to a non-relative are much much rarer. There have been a couple in the past. (Ataturk hand-picked his successor; Mexico in 1934-94 had an extremely powerful president who chose his successor from the party leadership, but they did not meet the definition of dictator. After all, they had to leave after six years in office.) But not a single extant dictatorship fits this pattern! (Burma’s dictator chose a successor who is still in power, but the successor seems to prefer being primus inter pares to being a true lone ruler.)

Now, it’s a long established principle that old age is a dangerous time for a dictator. All three of the dictators picked off by the Arab Spring were in their golden years. (Porfirio Díaz in Mexico and Juan Velasco in Peru also went down in their dotage.) More generally, an old dictator with no clear successor is pretty clearly putting himself at risk. That said, some dictators do run the course and die, more or less peacefully, in office.

So what happens when a dictator manages to pull this off — grows old and dies without first being overthrown or losing an election or whatever? Well, we can sketch out a tentative typology.

1. A son or other close relative steps up. (Several extant examples, see above.)
2. A hand-picked successor takes over. (Rare; no extant examples.)
3. There is a party or other system independent of the dictator that chooses a new dictator. (Rare outside of the Communist world; Mexico in 1934-94 comes closest. No extant examples, though we might see one soon in Cuba.)
4. After a period of uncertainty, brief or prolonged, a new dictator takes over. (A couple of extant examples — Turkmenistan, South Sudan.)
5. There’s a shift to authoritarian but non-dictatorial rule, either by a single ruler, an oligarchy or junta, or a party system. (China, Vietnam, Ivory Coast.)  This seems to be the single most common outcome in the last decade or two.
6. There’s a relatively rapid shift to relatively liberal or democratic rule. (Portugal, Spain. In the former, it took six years and revolution to get democracy.) This happens, but it’s less common than we might like to think. A shift in the direction of liberalism is much more likely when the dictator has been overthrown, or has voluntarily stepped down (Indonesia, Tanzania, Singapore), or agreed to elections (Chile, Zambia, Senegal). A system that lets the dictator die in office seems less likely to produce democracy at first go.

Numbers 2 through 6 include the possibility of foreign intervention; the United States, France and the Soviet Union have all intervened in this manner at one time or another. We may call these 3a (party picks a new dictator, foreign approval makes the difference: the Eastern European model, 1945-1990), 4a (new dictator takes power subject to foreign approval) and so forth. There aren’t really any extant examples of these at the moment — the U.S. seems to have lost interest in installing dictators in Central America and the Caribbean — but I would not be surprised if Russia’s “near abroad” in Central Asia were to throw up a 4a or 5a in the next little while.

6a is damnably rare, actually nonexistant: Panama would be one of the rather few cases since WW2 in which foreign intervention replaced a dictatorship with a democracy. Iraq sort of maybe kinda if you squint really hard. The jury is out (to be charitable) in Libya. And all of those interventions happened when the dictator in question was very much still alive and in power.

Anyway. There are enough elderly dictators out there that we should expect to see some more examples in the next few years. I expect that (5) “a shift to authoritarian but non-dictatorial rule,” will continue be the most common outcome. Which means that some countries that are currently dictatorships will drop off the list! If the number of dictatorships is to remain constant, then new ones will have to emerge. How likely this is ... well, this post is long enough. In a bit.

Play it again, Cristina!

 What will happen? Well, Setty pointed out that we have seen this movie before. In general, I think he is correct ... with a wrinkle. 

1. Nationalization;
2. Giant compensation claims from Repsol ... say, I dunno, $10.5 billion;
3. Long loud wait;
4. Long drawn-out arbitration;
5. Payment from Argentina ... well after Cristina’s term ends in 2016!

There is, however, a wrinkle. That wrinkle is that Argentina is the first country to try to stick it to ICSID. They have just said no. That has, shall we say, annoyed other countries. Consider that the Obama Administration has imposed sanctions on Argentina ... the first time that an American president has used the 1974 authority. The diplomatic reaction from Spain ... and Britain, and the European Union, and Mexico and Chile and (OMG!) Bolivia ... has been ferocious. This is looking much more like 1968 or 1938 than it is like more recent expropriation events.

It might play out quicker than we expect. The big if is the European Union. If it uses its muscle, regardless of legality, then Argentina is going to hurt. If it does not, then the Setty calendar will play itself out.

Either way, it will be a show.

America has been at war for a long long time

 Rachel Maddow has a new book, Drift. I’ve skimmed it; it isn’t bad. In it, her contention is that for a variety of institutional reasons, it has since the 1980s become far too easy for America to go to war. 

The book started a debate between Kevin Drum and Jonathan Bernstein. Bernstein suggested, “U.S.-sponsored interventions of one form or another are hardly unusual, even before Maddow’s apparent jumping off point in the Reagan Administration. Perhaps the idea is that there was a golden age of sorts after Vietnam, but if so it lasted less than a decade. I’m not really sure it’s become easier to deploy troops for controversial missions or to begin interventions in other nations.”

Bernstein was supported by Armando at TalkLeft, who wrote, “That is not historically accurate in my view. The times getting into war was not easy was after wars that had been very costly and not particularly successful from the US point of view. Think World War I and Vietnam. Otherwise, going to war has been one of the great American pasttimes. I’m all for making going to war hard, but the history does not demonstrate that, except for isolated periods, that was ever really the case in the United States.”

Drum conceded the point, but suggested that there was still a difference between then and now: “So what’s different? I’d say this: it’s one thing to periodically wage brief, smallish military actions. The Dominican Republic occupation of 1965 falls into that category. So do Grenada and Panama ... the last couple of decades seem quite different. The Gulf War, followed by Somalia, followed by Haiti, followed by Kosovo, followed by Afghanistan, followed by Iraq, followed by Libya and Yemen, and all against a background of drone warfare that now seems all but perpetual, feels very different. It feels like we’re simply in a constant state of military action. In the last 20 years, there have only been three or four in which the U.S. military wasn’t at war.” Matt Yglesias supported Drum, adding that there might be an economic element: technology has made it cheaper and easier to project conventional military force, and therefore we do it more.

Bernstein is right. Everyone else, including Armando, is wrong. And none of it relevant to the argument in Drift.

In 1898, the United States went to war with Spain. Between 1898 and 1902, American troops battled Philippine insurgents. Peace came to Luzon in 1901-02, but fighting continued on Mindanao until 1912. In 1904, the U.S. navy bombarded rebel positions in the Dominican Republic; eventually U.S. Marines wound up (with the permission of the local government) occupying the customhouses. In 1906-09, we occupied Cuba, although there was (to be fair) not much fighting. In 1907 and 1911, we deployed to Honduras to halt Nicaraguan invasions. Between 1912 and 1925, U.S. Marines actively hunted insurgents (the original Sandinistas) in Nicaragua. In 1914, we once again bombarded Dominican rebels; we also occupied Veracruz to prevent arms from getting to the government. Between 1914 and 1934, we occupied Haiti: unlike Cuba in 1906-09, that one did involve quite a bit of fighting. We did the same on the other side of Hispaniola in 1916-24. In 1916-17, we invaded northern Mexico after Pancho Villa attacked Columbus.

Then there was World War 1. After which ... 

In 1917-19, U.S. troops again garrisoned Cuba. In 1919, we landed in Honduras to protect a neutral zone during a civil war. Between 1918 and 1920, American forces blundered pointlessly around Siberia doing something or other, and sustaining a lot of casualties. For a few days in Guatemala, Marines saw combat during a civil war in that country. In 1925, we invaded both Honduras and Panama during periods of unrest.  In 1933 and 1934, we waved gunboats around Cuba, but no war was necessary, since we succeeded in overthrowing the government by what would today be called covert action.

And then, peace until 1941.

Counting ... between 1898 and 1934, the United States was at peace for all of ... well, never, actually.

It is true that only the Philippine War rivalled the Iraq conflict in terms of intensity. (World War One, obviously, was hugely worse.) U.S. force levels rapidly grew from 12,000 in 1899 to 70,000 in 1900, by which point U.S. combat deaths approached two soldiers every day. By most metrics, the war (fought by a small all-volunteer army) was as intense as the Iraq War — proportional to the U.S. population, the peak force of 70,000 represented a per-capita commitment twice as large as the peak Iraq deployments in 2008. 

Because the Philippine War lasted 28 months, as opposed to the 102 months of the Iraq War, the total proportion of Americans who served in the conflict was about a third of the recent level. The 126,000 soldiers who served in  the Philippines over the entire course of combat operations amounted to 0.2% of the U.S. population, compared to the roughly 0.6% of the U.S. population who served at least one tour of duty in Iraq between March 20, 2003, and the official end of combat operations on August 31, 2010. The combat casualty rate, meanwhile (excluding deaths from disease) ran at 596 per 100,000 troops in 1900, almost exactly matching the 2004-07 rate of 608 in Iraq. (Iraq casualty rates per 100,000 ran at 718 in 2003, 650 in 2004, 588 in 2005, 583 in 2006, and 610 in 2007. They then plunged to 199 in 2008, 135 in 2009, and 121 in 2010.)

But ... that is fine. The Drum argument does not hinge on the big wars of the past decade; rather it hinges on the continual small wars since 1989. In that respect, 1989-2012 looks pretty much the same as 1898-34: lots of small wars punctuated by two big ones. Nor does Armando’s argument hold up. World War 1 had little effect on the American government’s propensity for military intervention. It is true that the U.S. avoided a potential big war during the Mexican Revolution, but that decision was made before we entered WW1; before, in fact, it was clear that we would.

The history is both worse and better for Matt Yglesias’s argument, depending on how you interpret it. In the Dominican Republic, for example, early insurgencies depended upon the seizure of customshouses to gain resources: naval bombardment, therefore, presented a cheap means of intervention. In general, I would venture to say that Yglesias’s hypothesis is correct: cheaper war probably means more war. (Someone should test that!) What the history does not support, however, is the rather specifc hypothesis that military intervention is cheaper today than it was in 1898-1934.

Let me add that this has little bearing on Rachel Maddow’s overall argument. She wants to explain why the post-Vietnam reforms designed to make intervention difficult failed. She does not claim that 1989-2012 (actually, 1983-2012 for her purposes) is unprecedented or novel. Other readers in the blogosphere have extended her argument, however, and I think it is probably worth adding a little historical corrective.

The Nicaraguan exception?

 One story that doesn’t get enough attention has been the collapse of public order in Central America. Why has that happened? Well, there are several possible hypotheses, including the U.S. decision to begin deporting violent felons at the end of their sentences ... but the clear problem is drug trafficking.

Why would drug trafficking suddenly become much worse? The above maps present a suggestion. In 2003, “suspect air activity” was a jumble, mostly over Colombia. As of three years later, in 2006, a lot of “suspect maritime activity” still went directly to Mexico. Over time, that changed. By 2010, Honduras had captured most of the air traffic, while sea traffic migrated to Guatemala, Costa Rica, and Panama. In essence, interdiction efforts by the Mexican government worked, sort of: fully-loaded 727s no longer landed in Sinaloa, and for all the hype over long-distance submarines, boats also stopped coming. Instead, planes diverted to Honduras, and maritime traffic to Panama and Costa Rica (mostly to supply local markets) or Guatemala (where the stuff was then moved overland to Mexico).

Activity in 2011 (see left) shows the pattern even more clearly, but with an interesting gap. Planes fly over Venezuela and land in Honduras, with a few stragglers heading on to Hispaniola or the USVI. Ships head into violence-torn Guatemala and Honduras, where whole tracts are outside the remit of the state.

Also in 2011, lots of maritime traffic heads directly into Costa Rica and Panama. (See right.) 

But where doesn’t it go? Nicaragua. For all his faults, and there are many, Danny Ortega seems to have kept his country from being overrun by drug traffickers. The maps are revealing. (Click on the maps to enlarge.)

Flip the question. Why are ships headed into Costa Rica and Panama? The two countries don’t seem to be a source of transshipments elsewhere. There is nothing flying out, and there is little reason to go to either country if you want to move drugs overland into Mexico, given how easy it is to get to Guatemala and Honduras. But there is a lot of sea traffic into both countries directly from Colombia. If drugs from Guatemala and Honduras could easily pass through Nicaragua, then there wouldn’t be much traffic into the Costa Rica-Panama pair. Back in 2006 neither place showed much direct traffic; the implication being either that a Nicaraguan supply source was cut off, for which there is no evidence, or that as the cocaine markets in those countries grew over the last five years the suppliers were unable to send much through Nicaragua.
 
The question is why Nicaragua is aloof. Is Danny Ortega less corrupt than Laura Chinchilla of Costa Rica? That seems unlikely in the extreme. His fellow Bolivarians (and patrons) in Venezuela have no problem with overflights from cocaine-producing regions. Is the Nicaraguan state stronger than the ones in Guatemala and Honduras? That seems possible, but anybody who’s been to Nicaragua will report that generalized public order is little greater than in the countries to its north (in fact, at first glance, it seems rather worse) and quite a bit less than in Costa Rica or Panama. Nonetheless, Nicaragua not only is bypassed by the drug traffic, it seems exempt from the inexorable rise in violent crime that’s plagued the rest of the Isthmus.  The homicide rate in Nicaragua has been bouncing around 13 per 100,000 for several years, up from the early part of the decade, but little different from the 1990s.  It is, in short, a mystery.

Is it just luck, or is Managua doing someting right? Here is a suggestion that it is the country’s socialist legacy what’s to credit. The idea is that community policing and greater community-police connections (established by the Sandinistas during the 1980s) have kept crime low. Here is a suggestion that it might be because Nicaragua sent immigrants to Florida instead of California, where they putatively became less exposed to organized crime. As someone with a lot of family (and time spent) in South Florida, I doubt this. The same article also suggests that it may simply be that the Zetas haven’t gotten to Nicaragua yet. That is possible: some in Nicaragua have the same fear. But it seems unsatisfying, what with trafficking and violence increasing to both the north and the south.

Nicaragua’s non-participation in the drug trade is striking, as is its (relative!) non-violence. But in order to predict whether it will last, we need to know more Any ideas?

Bolivian energy and the neighbors

 The New York Times has an article today entitled, “Neighbors Challenge Energy Aims in Bolivia.”  It is quite informative.  But it gives the wrong impression about the effects of Bolivia’s energy policy under Evo Morales.  The article makes it seem as though Bolivia shot itself in the foot by nationalizing the gas.  That is probably not true.  Rather, Bolivia has shot itself in the foot by refusing to build a pipeline to Chile.

Argentina’s energy policy has nothing to do with Evo.  In fact, inasmuch as Argentina has a coherent energy policy, it currently revolves around importing more Bolivian natural gas. Its roots lie in the peso devaluation of January 2002.  The government froze the peso-price of natural gas, in order to protect Argentine consumers who were already suffering an economic downturn considerably worse than the Great Depression.  The effect was to knock down the residential gas price from $1.88 to 66¢ per MMBTU. 

That wasn’t a problem until the southern hemisphere winter of 2004, when gas companies cut supplies to large industrial customers. After all, they could get much higher prices from exporting the gas to Chile.  Well, the Kirchner administration reacted much as you’d expect:  they banned gas exports. The Interior Minister of Argentina apologized to the Chilean government for the interruptions — but in May 2005 the Argentines once again slashed exports to Chile. The story repeated itself in 2006, when Argentina cut exports altogether for two weeks.  In fact, Buenos Aires added insult to injury when the government raised export taxes from 20% to 45%.  

Eventually, however, as the economy recovered, Argentina stopped being an exporter.  So the Fernández administration began to walk back the policy.  First, she allowed prices to rise to around $2.50 per MMBTU. Second, she created incentives to increase the domestic supply.  Finally, she moved to try to lock-in relatively low gas prices from Bolivia. Argentina imports LNG, but it costs twice as much as Bolivian gas.  The country’s LNG terminal offers a useful hedge against any Bolivian attempts to renegotiate the contract, but both parties would prefer to buy Bolivian gas for $5 instead of Trinidadian gas at $10.  (In fact, the terminal goes unused for long periods.)  

What about Brazil?  Well, what about Brazil?  It is true that the nationalization provided some impetus for the country to become self-sufficient, but less than you might think.  First, the Brazilians pushed back hard, even threatening to dismember Bolivia if it messed with the price or volume terms of the contract.  And Brazil won.  So while Petrobras may have been disillusioned, the situation worked out well from Brazil’s point of view. 

In fact, Brasilia had a good reason to want to allow Bolivia to retain more of the rents from resources, as long as Brazilian consumers weren’t affected.  Simply put, the bet was that a wealthier Bolivian government would result in a more stable Bolivia, and it’s politically easier for Brasilia to aid La Paz by resisting pressure to defend Petrobras profits than it would be to write checks.  The logic is identical to that behind the 2009 renegotiation of the Paraguayan hydropower contract — the primary difference being that since Brazil initiated the hydropower deal, it has been able to extract more political benefits from Asunción than it has been able to receive from La Paz.

Now, many people in Brazil say that Petrobras is upping domestic production in response to Bolivia’s tax hike. It may even be true.  But we don’t know!  Domestic exploration was good business with or without  Evo Morales.  The increase in Bolivia’s government take made it more so, but we don’t have the numbers to say that domestic supply would not have increased regardless.  I’m not faulting the article;  it’s a subtle point. I am faulting them for getting Argentina backwards ... but with Brazil, we just don’t know if Evo really mattered.

Chile is where the article is spot on.  After Argentina cut the taps, the Chilean government attempted to strike an agreement to build a pipeline from Bolivia, but the negotiations ignited a firestorm in Bolivia.  The anger surged over the fact that the pipeline would pass through territory that Chile had seized from Bolivia in 1878.  Horrors!  The Chilean government periodically floated a trial balloon of transferring a strip of land along the Peruvian border to Bolivia, but Lima protested, since Chile’s far far north had been originally seized from Peru. 

Nobody in Peru seriously contested the border ... but accepting a century-old annexation and allowing the annexed land to be transferred to a third country were very different things.  After a brief and goofy Bolivian flirtation with the idea of building an underground pipeline that would surface far out to sea, the idea died. And thus Bolivia lost a natural market, and whatever possibility it had of producing LNG. 

The article makes no effort — not that it should! — to produce a cost-benefit analysis of Bolivan policy for Bolivia. The country lost opportunities in Chile and it may have lost opportunities in Brazil ... but it got a lot more revenue at a politically-dicey time. That, I have to say, is not nothing. 

What should Evo do now?

Aliens attack Montevideo!

  I always said that if you were piloting a spaceship to Earth and had to choose a place to settle, you'd pick the River Plate.  Fertile soil, easily extractable oil, great climate, nearby resources when you'll need them.  So it makes sense that's where the giant alien robots would invade!

Man, I hope Sam Raimi makes that movie.  Won't the Argentines be annoyed that the aliens didn't go for Buenos Aires first!

Hat tip:  Will Baird.  It sent me right into a coughing fit that still hasn't abated, so maybe I should be annoyed.

Honduran crisis over?

 It seems as though we may have an agreement to allow Zelaya back into office until the election.  Emphasis on “may.”  Congress and the Supreme Court need to approve it, and we still don’t know what limits it will place on Zelaya’s executive authority.  That said, the crisis may be over.

Once the Brazilians signed on to the Secretary General’s declaration that the clock won’t run out with the November 29th presidential election, some sort of resolution became imperative.  Yesterday the U.S. declared that it backed the Brazilian position, and a resolution become inevitable. 

One of the most striking things about the entire imbroglio has been the utter political incompetence of Roberto Micheletti.  Maybe he wasn’t responsible for the idiot decision to put Zelaya on an airplane out of the country instead of placing him under house arrest, but every dumb move after that lands on his desk.  He tried to justify the ouster with a fake letter of resignation from Zelaya.  He imposed and removed and imposed and removed restrictions of civil liberties that he had to know would neither stick nor intimidate the opposition.  He went head-to-head with Brazil for God’s sake, with an empty threat to storm their embassy. 

Honduran politics ain’t beanbag.  How did such a political incompetent ever get anywhere?  I mean, one usually expects politicians to be good at politics, right?

Not that the OAS (or even Brazil) showed itself to be particularly slick.  We’ll know more details later.  Still, I understand why the Brazilian government chose not to be slick.  The OAS, well, I have less sympathy for Insulza. 

Anyway, it does look as though the United States may have brought this mess to an end.  Of course, some idiots seem to think that we should have angrily backed Micheletti, regardless of the whole plane-packing  and opposition-from-rest-of-hemisphere issues.  Thank God that didn’t happen. 

Passing the buck

  Most of you probably know by now that Manuel Zelaya has returned to Honduras and taken up residence in the Honduran embassy.  That is unexpected, but neither good nor bad.  What is both unexpected and bad is the reaction from the United Nations:  Secretary-General Ban Ki Moon just declared that the U.N. “does not believe that the conditions exist to organize credible elections that will bring peace and stability.” 

The good thing is that Lula is going to meet with President Obama in Pittsburgh to discuss the crisis.  If the U.S. is smart about this, and I have every reason to believe that our government will be, then we will defer to Brasilia.  It is probably true that our beloved hemisphere still needs a hegemon to preserve stability and insure prosperity.  It is also true that it would be better for my beloved country that said hegemon (a) not be the United States; (b) be a country a lot like the United States; and (c) be at the end of the day somewhat less powerful than the United States. 

Considering the low import of this crisis, I would once again recommend exactly the opinion what probably cost me my shot at a State job that I would not have accepted:  the United States does not need a Latin America policy ... as long as Brazil has one.

Then again, I have been blindsided by the possibility that this crisis might outlast the Honduran election.  So I ask you, gentle readers, what should Washington do about the situation in Honduras?  What should Brasilia do?

This movie looks really bad

  Well, I guess I'm not really all that much of a lefty, all things considered.  This movie looks really really bad.  Although what Raúl Castro says in the below clip is true.

Caray.  I am not sure that Stone is doing Lula or Lugo any favors with this film.  And I find it sort of amusing that he lumps President Fernández in as a Venezuelan ally.  Very ironic portrayal, considering her government's reaction to Venezuela's nationalization of Argentine-owned assets. 

Revolutionary comrades-in-arms they are not.

This blog’s intellectual foundations

  A friend in the Philippines, looking over the blog, concluded that it seemed all over the map.  And that’s true!  I put up plenty of personal stuff and random musings.  But there is a core set of interests that parallels the evolution of my academic work over the past few years.  The geographic focus is on Latin America, of course, but it goes beyond that.

(1)  Instability.  This is what I started out studying.  I was intrigued that Mexico had a pretty well-developed banking system by the 1930s, despite having gone from a dictatorship to bodies-bloating-in-the-sun chaos and back to dictatorship.  It also had steel mills and copper mines and produced a boatload of oil.  How did that happen?  You might say that most historians who get interested in Latin America start by asking the following:  “This place is much poorer than the United States!  Let’s look for the malfunctioning institutions and ask why they’re malfunctioning.”  I took the opposite approach.  “Man, stuff doesn’t work well here at all.  Property rights are all messed up. Why then is it so much richer than the DRC?”  In other words, how did businesses work around the lack of functioning political institutions?

(2)  Empire.  Now that’s a loaded word!  Let’s just define as the violation of one state’s Westphalian sovereignty by another.  In extremis, the violating state can end the sovereignty of the other. If it doesn’t then proceed to make the conquered population full citizens and create a legitimate shared political community, then you’ve got an empire.  In the other extremis, one government can tell key political actors in another, “Do this thing here and we’ll bribe you, otherwise we’ll sanction you.”  My interest in empire, thus defined, grew right out of the aforementioned interest in political instability.  The U.S. mucked around in Mexico for some time.  In some industries, U.S. mucking was key to compensating for the negative effects of domestic instability and political violence.  The general questions, then, became impossible to avoid.  Can foreign governments (or other supranational authorities) substitute for poorly-functioning domestic institutions?  When and why will they try?  What effects will they have?   Others have developed interest in empires and imperialism from a very different direction, of course.  The serious ones write good books about the rise and decline and collapse of empires.  The unserious ones wind up writing strange novels about worlds where meteor showers wiped out civilization in the 1870s, or some such.   Me, I come at the same interest from another direction:  curiousity about the economic causes and economic effects of the widespread phenomenon of strong states violating the sovereignty of weaker states. 

(3)  Energy.  Whaa? you may ask.  Well, what industries are most affected by political instability?  Oil and gas:  the resources are where they are.  When institutions fall apart, they remain viable.  (This applies to other hard-rock mineral resources as well, of course, but they tend to be less profitable.)  What industry has prompted (over the last century, at least) the most violations of sovereignty?  Once again, oil and gas.  (No, I am not suggesting that most such violations are over resources.  They are clearly not.  But if you limit yourself to economic motivations, you wind up again and again looking at the energy business.)  In the course of writing about issues (1) and (2), I got more and more interested in (3) ... and not just how it related to questions of instability or empire.  It is a fascinating business!  The economics of energy are just so weird, the politics are weirder, and it affects everyone’s life.  Moreover, the future of the planet is tied up in the future of the energy business.  Can we move away from fossil fuels?  What will we need to do?  Can it be done politically?   In short, my growing interest in the energy business came naturally, ever since that article on Mexico in the 1920s. 

Thus the progression:  Latin America --> Instability --> Empire --> Energy.  And thus the big theme tying together much, if not all, of this blog.  Even much of the random travelblogging falls into those categories.  Not all, of course.  I enjoy posting random political blather, talking about New York or Miami or elsewhere, and putting up pictures of my wonderful wife.  But here, at least, you have the three big themes of the blog, and why I believe that they fit together.

Brazilian magnaminity explained

  A while back, we discussed Brazil's decision to grant Paraguay a greater share in the rents from their joint hydroelectric project.  There were a number of excellent hard-headed reasons for the Brazilian government to do this, but we've just discovered another:  persuading the Peruvian government that it is worth getting into bed with Brasilia. 

Brazil is contemplating five hydroelectric projects in Peru that would cost about $15 billion and generate 6 gigawatts of power, 80 percent of which would go to Brazil.  That represents about 4½ percent of the country's current installed capacity.  The expansion will involve Electrobras purchasing Peruvian energy companies, something the Peruvian government won't accept lightly unless it trusts that it can negotiate with Brasilia.   After all, as things stand now, Brazil approaches its neighbors much as Teddy Roosevelt did:  it speaks softly, but it carries a big stick.  That makes people nervous.

By showing grace towards Paraguay, the Brazilian government showed Peruvians that it would be a reliable partner and take their interests into account, rather than using its power to take up all of the surplus.  We'll see if that attitude lasts (power corrupts and all that) but for now Brazil is managing the sudden and surprising emergence of its informal empire in South America with grace, aplomb, and plausible deniability. 

Waterloo on the Choluteca?

  This is not helpful.  It isn't that I'd expect thoughtful foreign policy analysis from Senator DeMint, but holding up our ambassador to Brazil in order to try to get the Administration to oppose the policy supported by entire rest of the hemisphere does nothing for anybody.  Is there really a domestic return to this sort of posturing?

In my own fair and balanced way, however, I'll add that the absolutist stance recently taken by the Brazilian foreign minister is also not helpful.  Like Senator DeMint's calls to have the U.S. back Micheletti, Celso Amorim's demand for “the unconditional return of the deposed Honduran to the presidency” is also aimed at some domestic audience.  I suppose that the Brazilians should enjoy their ability to make such statements unworried about their international consequences; with the country's relative power growing, and the U.S. slowly withdrawing, they won't have that freedom much longer.

The Honduran government just expelled Venezuelan diplomats.  It's sort of funny, in a way, since those diplomats didn't recognize the Honduran government to begin with.  That, at least, is comic opera.  What is more worrisome is the recent statement by said diplomats that they aren't leaving.  Meanwhile, Zelaya is in Nicaragua making vague threats and stirring up some anger on the part of that country's beleaguered opposition. 

I think the pressure is going to get ratcheted up.  One possible sanction that the U.S. could quietly impose without tanking the Honduran economy would be to suspend business and tourist visas.  Of course, what we don't know is whether the block to a compromise is on Micheletti's side or on Zelaya's ... and without that knowledge, it's hard to figure out the best way forward.

UPDATE, JULY 22:  The recent compromise talks have collapsed.  The Supreme Court appears to have rejected a proposal put forward by a representative of the Micheletti government.  Then again, the attorney-general has issued a 16-page indictment against Manuel “Mel” Zelaya.  Congress has approved a budget of $5.9 billion, eight percent lower than last year.  It counts on $554 million in foreign financing; it isn't clear how the sanctions on Honduras by multilateral lending institutions will affect that, since they seem to be counting on around $100 million in such financing, and access to other private funds is often contingent on lending by the multilaterals. 

For those of you who want a run-down on what to read:  El Heraldo is the conservative newspaper.  Consider these two simultaneous headlines:    “People’s bloc opts for neighborhood protests” versus “Today, great march for patriotism and valor.”  No points for guessing which favors what.  La Tribuna is a little more fair and balanced, although it is also fairly conservative by American standards.  El Tiempo is okay, I'm not thrilled by its coverage. 

An admonition to Micheletti supporters and an admonition to his opponents

  In a previous post, I mentioned Mexico in 1936 and Argentina in 1945 as possible parallels for what the Honduran military was thinking when it exiled President Zelaya instead of simply arresting him.  Steven Taylor mentions a third parallel, a cautionary tale:  Colombia in 1953. 

He raises a good point:  breaking the law in order to save it is always risky and often stupid.  But the specific parallel doesn't apply.  General Gustavo Rojas Pinilla took power in 1953 and established a dictatorship that lasted four years; Roberto Micheletti ascended to the interim presidency with a vote of Congress and seems to be waiting until the November election to hand over power to either Elvin Santos or Porfirio Lobo. 

In other words, the typical historical parallels really don't apply in this situation.  An inability to recognize that is the main reason why the OAS is botching the diplomacy.  (As opposed to the U.S., which is playing it very well ...  but very much in the national interests of the United States and nothing else.)  They keep seeing Pinochet when what they've really got is an unelected Liberal government marking time until they can hand over to an elected government ... preferably also Liberal.  If the OAS diplomats can recognize that, then they can get inside the other guy's head (and his decision loop) and start brokering compromises that will allow everyone to win.

But I have my doubts that insisting on constitutional purity and making absolute demands will accomplish anything.  Demanding that some soldiers be punished, or agreeing that Zelaya should be tried while remaining titular president, those could get somewhere.  But so far that isn't the tack the OAS is taking. 

See also my comment and Steven's response here.  The short version below the fold.

Bad politics at the OAS, updated

  It strikes me that the diplomats trying to reinstall President Zelaya, particularly Secretary General José Miguel Insulza of the Organization of American States, are employing a lousy strategy.  The problem is that Honduras is a still a democracy.  The new government is conducting everything with an eye to the November elections, and unless the diplomats recognize that, they won't succeed.

You can't understand the coup in the context of a military takeover, because the military has not taken over and does not appear to be calling the shots.

The interim government needs to be persuaded that any compromise or backdown on their part will be a vote-winner.  There are a number of ways that could be accomplished.  The government could agree that Zelaya's expulsion was unconstitutional, give one of the military leaders a slap-on-the-wrist, and invite Zelaya back to reassume the presidency while facing trial.  (The same way, say, President Clinton faced trial.)  They could have Zelaya reassume the presidency after issuing a public apology for violating the Supreme Court order.  They could sit down and hammer out a third compromise.

The problem right now is that the OAS seems to have only sticks.  Getting hit with sticks, however, might just increase Liberal support at the polls in November; nationalist sentiment tends to work that way.  Delegitimization is a good prod, but Micheletti can't only be offered a choice between admitting his party is undemocratic and running out the clock, because he'll choose the latter.

Instead, we have Insulza in Tegucigalpa refusing to negotiate with anyone.  The military has admitted that it screwed up in banishing the President, and the OAS can't figure out a way to broker a compromise.  Instead, we've got a tragedy:  the death of an innocent. 

Anatomy of a coup

  The op-ed for Forbes is up. 

 I co-authored it with Steve Haber of Stanford University.  When I say we co-authored, I really mean co-authored:  Steve and I write by continuously tossing ideas past each other, dissecting them to death (and usually rejecting them) scribbling and re-scribbling versions, reading out loud to each other, and then finally finishing.  It's a lot of fun.  

The more expanded analysis is below the fold.  It takes into account some (surprisingly heated!) discussions with colleagues, Steven Taylor's blogging, and several of the comments on this blog.  I don't think I'll be dropping this issue anytime soon, so more comments and questions are highly welcome.

The importance of form

  The heat is turning up on Honduras’s new government.  Ambassadors are leaving, the borders are closed, World Bank money is gone, as are the U.S. military’s training programs.  Meanwhile, the hemisphere is united against the new government.

There would seem to be three lessons here.  (Note my weasel phrasing!  It isn’t accidental, as all three regular readers know by now.)  First, form matters.  Steven Taylor alluded to this point, and I think he’s correct.  Now, I don’t think that he’s correct about the underlying legality.  The Honduran constitution makes no provision for calling a second constitutional convention.  The Supreme Court, therefore, was completely within reason to tell Zelaya to knock it off with the referendum. 

Nor (given the facts so far) am I sure that Taylor is right as a matter of domestic political strategy.  If it was simply a matter of domestic calculus, a Supreme Court order followed by a quick bundling of the president out of the country might have been the best way to avoid worse conflict.

But Professor Taylor is completely right that hustling the President out of bed at 3am looks terrible. In retrospect, it was certain to produce a bad international reaction, even though I wouldn’t’ve predicted how bad beforehand.  (Hey, I was wrong.  Yes Bernard, I’ll get to Ecuador one of these days.) 

What the Honduran military and Supreme Court and I missed was the reverse Chávez effect.  Once Hugo (inevitably) started tub-thumping and threatening war, the best way for the United States to undercut him was to walk back its initial position and bandwagon on the international opprobrium.  And man, has the United States been successful.  Nobody seems to note that Washington was behind the international curve. 

In short, Honduras has gotten itself into a pickle.  The Supreme Court and military should have thought more about the politics.  The confused messages about resignations and drug-dealing and all the rest did not help; it was propaganda aimed at five-year olds, people who watch Glen Beck, not serious observers.  Now, it would have been damned risky for the Court to issue an order removing and arresting the President, but it would have been much better to have done that (preferably with a concurring Congressional vote ) and hope that Zelaya would be a little slow in mobilizing support, giving you time to bundle him off to Costa Rica after having crossed all the constitutional T’s ... or at least having seemed to. 

Form matters, even when the substance is uncertain and impossible to determine.  Perhaps especially so.  And that goes double in a hemisphere where electoral democracy enjoys the contradictory status of being simultaneously hegemonic and fragile. 

A lack of leverage

  The U.S. really doesn't give a whole lot of aid to Honduras.  Look at the figures, including military aid, from the USAID Greenbook:

That isn't a whole lot of leverage.  Of course, small amounts of aid may make it more likely that they'll be yanked, since such yanking won't wreck the national economy.  But that is the problem with using aid as an instrument of empire.  Contingent bribes — e.g., do good and we will give you more money — are fairly easy to administer.  Contingent threats — do what we want or the cookie jar will be taken away — are a lot harder.  You need to be giving enough money for the recipient to care, but not so much that withdrawing it would cause drastic adjustments that would reverberate back upon the donor. 

To put the above figures in perspective, remittances from the U.S. averaged 16% of GDP over the same period, peaking at 21% in 2006. 

In short, the U.S. didn't have a whole lot of leverage to keep the military-Court combo from ousting President Zelaya, even if the Obama Administration had wanted to.

(Say, should I add a “Honduras” tag to the blog?) 

A dog not barking in Honduras

  The fact that none of my posts about the Honduran coup carry the “Empire” tag is remarkable, considering the history of U.S. involvement in Latin American politics.  Even more remarkable is the idea that should events evolve in such a way as to warrant such a tag (which I consider unlikely), it will probably be either due to either direct meddling by the Alba countries or pressure from Unasur/Río Group/Brazil, not the interference of the United States.  That is quite a shift. 

Of course, the U.S. is still quite hip-joined to Honduras.  There is Soto Cano Air Base.  There is CAFTA.  There is the Millenium Challenge Account.  There are remittances.  Honduras isn’t dollarized, but it is a great case for dollarization, what with remittances above 14% of GDP, a fixed exchange rate and about 24% of all loans denominated in U.S. currency.  And we train its military. 

But Washington isn't leading events.  Sure, maybe it could, but it’s resisting temptation.  (Thank God!)  And that is a very big change. 

More on the Honduran constitution

  Hmm.  My opinion of the coup is moving back towards legal. 

In November 2003, the Honduran government (still under President Maduro) amended the constitution.  (You can find a history of all Honduran constitutional reforms here.)  The reason, ironically, was that they wanted to repeal the traditional absolute immunity held by high government officials in both the executive and legislative branch.  Thus, they repealed Article 205, clause 15, which had read: 

[Congress has the power] To declare if there is cause against the President, presidential delegates, Congressional deputies, Supreme Court justices, members of the National Electoral Tribunal, Chief of the Armed Forces ... and Subdirector of Administrative Probity.

They also altered Article 313, clause 2, as follows:

Original:  [The Supreme Court of Justice has the power] To begin initial proceedings against high state officials, when the National Congress has declared cause.

New:  [The Supreme Court of Justice has the power] To begin initial proceedings against high state officials and deputies.

The implication, I think, is that the Supreme Court has the power to remove officials from office when it determines that they have broken the law.  President Zelaya pretty clearly broke the law when he refused to obey an order from the Supreme Court to call off the referendum, and as I pointed out earlier, the Honduran constitution clearly (if stupidly) bans any consultatory referenda touching on presidential term limits. 

So my new version is:  Zelaya broke the law, the Supreme Court called him on it, and the military took the initiative in enforcing the Court's order.  (Maybe too much initiative.)  That interpretation will depend on how closely the armed forces and the Supreme Court cooperated in the ouster.  (The more it looks like the Court got the ball rolling, the more legal the coup will seem.)  Given the legal fog, the Obama Administration seems to be taking a pitch-perfect tone here.  Some other governments, like Brazil and Colombia, may have walked themselves into positions that they are going to regret. 

Be sure, though, to take my positions with a grain of salt.  I change them as the facts change, and as radically as necessary.  For a subtler discussion of the implications of the coup, go here.                            _{(Photo courtesy of Steven Taylor.)}

UPDATE:  The whole mess is filled with judgment calls.  Zelaya wanted to call a constitutional convention, which he publicly admitted would be intended to change the constitution to allow for re-election.  The referendum question that the Supremes kiboshed, however, only called for a convention, with no other stipulations.  So ... were the Supremes justified?

It all comes back to the problem that a constitution which declares procedural matters to be forever inalterable is a badly-written constitution.

An Andrew Jackson moment

  “The decision of the Supreme Court has fell still born, and they find that they cannot coerce Georgia to yield to its mandate.”
                                                                        —President Andrew Jackson

The common misquote of the above is much sexier:  “John Marshall has made his decision; now let him enforce it!”  Which is not a bad summary of Manuel Zelaya’s throwdown when his country’s Supreme Court told him that he could not go ahead with his planned referendum on repealing term limits.  Zelaya’s “No one will stop Sunday’s vote!” is on a par with Jackson’s aphorism.

In fact, it is worth considering what was in Zelaya’s televised speech on Sunday, after the Honduran Supremes slapped him down.  “The Court of Justice, which makes justice only for the powerful, the bankers and the rich of this country, has declared illegal the people’s participation in a legitimate and constitutional poll ... What a shame for all Hondurans, this Court of Justice!  We’re in the presence of a technical coup d’état.  It’s a swipe at Honduran democracy.  I want to appeal to the commanders of the Armed Forces, the officers and the soldiers.  They are part of the people, they should not play this game of the media elite and economic oligarchy, of a deviant bourgeoisie.”

Why is this significant?  Because Honduras could have avoided this crisis with a better constitution.  The Honduran constitution had two major flaws.  First, it took re-election off the table forever.  I mean that quite literally.  Read: 

Article 5:  Voting in advisory plebiscites is mandatory.  Projects intended to reform Article 374 of this constitution will not be objects of referenda or plebiscites.

Article 373:  The National Congress can alter this Constitution in ordinary session with two-thirds of the votes of all members. 

Article 374:  In no case can be reformed the previous article, this article, the constitutional articles that refer to the form of government, the national territory, the presidential term, the prohibition that no citizen can again be president who has carried out the role under whatever title, and the one referring to those who cannot become president of the republic for the subsequent period.

It is a bad bad idea to declare any procedural part of a constitution to be forever inviolable.  The U.S. constitution does this in respect to the apportionment of the Senate, and that is a bad idea that may yet come back to haunt us. 

The Honduran constitution then added insult to injury with its second flaw:  a complete lack of procedures by which the courts, legislature, or popular opinion could remove a sitting president for breaking the law.  The closest is Articles 321-327, which lay out the responsibility of public servants and organisms that break the law and cause civil damages to individuals, or Article 233, which lays a pretty draconian anticorruption law.  But neither really apply in this situation. 

In short:  Zelaya broke a stupid constitutional clause.  Twice, in fact, first by firing an officer who refused to administer an unconstitutional referendum and second by proceeding with the referendum anyway.  Congress could not do anything.  At that point the increasingly-angry military, acting in concert with the Supreme Court, decided to extraconstitutionally remove the president from office. 

I do not like it.  But I am also not sure that this is an abrogation of democracy either.  Judging by their statements, the Obama Administration is equally torn:  they would like Zelaya back, but they aren’t going to wade into another country’s Andrew Jackson moment. 

What do you think?

P.S.  I am not a fan of Andrew Jackson.

Coup in Honduras, updated

  It seems as though the Honduran military just deposed President Manuel Zelaya.   That said, this is not a stereotypical South American coup:  Congress appears to have ratified the Army's action, and a civilian is taking control. 

In an unsurprisingly pointless move, Hugo Chávez put his military on alert.  (Or at least he says that he did; it would not surprise me to find that no official orders have been given.)  He went on to declare, “The people of Alba are in combat, because this does not end today.”  The leaders of the Alternative Bolivariana have condemned the “coup” and its leaders will hold a summit in Nicaragua today. 

But Alba's declaration is less political than it sounds.  Unasur, the OAS, and the United States have all condemned the ouster, although the U.S. is not calling for Zelaya to be reinstated.   

I don't know why the military moved before Congress did, or why the new leaders are going through this charade of pretending that Zelaya resigned before he actually resigned.  But I do know that Zelaya ignored a Supreme Court ruling on June 25th that ordered him to reinstate the general that he had fired because the general refused to use to the Army to organize an unofficial referendum on abolishing term limits.  (I met Zelaya's predecessor about a year ago;  he didn't have a lot of good to say about his successor.)   I'll add here that Article 374 of the Honduran constitution, stupidly, declares that the ban on re-election can not be reformed in any way, no how, forever and ever.  A dumb provision, however, is still a provision. 

For what it's worth, my guess is that the coup will stand.  There is enough of a fig leaf of legality about it to allow OAS governments to walk back their condemnation.  Now, escalating street protests could force the U.S. to pressure the Honduran congress into reversing its vote.  But if I had to bet right now, based on what I've heard from Tegucigalpa, Zelaya will remain out of power.

UPDATE:  The legality of the situation is shakier than the above implies.  Hell, it seems to be blatantly illegal, a good old-fashioned coup.  Why have I changed my mind?  Well, as far as I can figure, the Honduran constitution has no provision for the congressional removal of the president.  The closest provisions are as follows:

Article 205, Section 12:  [Congress has the power to] accept the constitutional oath of office of the elected President and Vice-president of the republic, and other appointees they select; grant them permissions and accept or reject thier resignations and fill vacancies in the case of the complete absence of one of them;

Article 205, Section 20:  [Congress has the power to] approve or disapprove the admistrative conduct of the executive branch;

Article 242:  In the case of a temporary absence of the the President of the Republic, the Vice-president will carry out the functions of the President.  Should the Presidency be permanently vacant, the Vice-president will exercise the powers of the executive branch for the remainder of the constitutional term.  Should the Vice-presidency also be vacant, the powers of the executive branch will be exercised by the president of the National Congress.

Thus, the need to declare that President Zelaya had “resigned” before giving the executive powers over to Roberto Micheletti.  (The office of Vice-president is currently vacant, so having the power pass to Micheletti is kosher ... it's the whole removing of Zelaya what appears to be illegal.)  Note that while Micheletti says that everything is constitutional, this article from the Honduran press cites no clauses or precedents. 

The whole thing looks much shakier upon skimming the text of the constitution in the light of day, or least what passes for it in this, the fourth straight week of rain in New England.  I'll go ahead and call it a “coup.”  It's chances of standing are less than I originally believed.

Bolivarianism and Mercosur

 The Bolivarian Republic is seeking to join Mercosur.  Brazil's government supports the idea, but the Congress is a bit wary.  Foreign secretary Celso Amorim defended Venezuela's accession in a stormy committee meeting the day before yesterday.  In it, Amorim had to point out, loudly, that there is no evidence that the Venezuelan government stole elections.  A few days earlier Amorim was in Caracas attempting to persuade President Chávez to eliminate Venezuelan tariffs on 500-odd products before the Brazilian senate votes on the accession treaty, so as to reduce opposition. 

The thing is, I'm having trouble understanding how any of this matters.  Mercosur has a parliament, with members appointed from national Congresses, but it doesn't do anything.  (Which isn't surprising, but Brazil hedged its bets anyway:  as of 2011, Brazil will appoint 75 of the parliament's 154 members.  That kinda makes it unlikely that the other members will want to give it any serious power.)  Mercosur has a tribunal, but it doesn't do anything either.  Private individuals, unlike in Europe, can only bring suits by acting through their national governments.    Anyway, its decisions are regularly ignored.  In fact, its first decision was ignored.  And it failed its really big test, the Argentine blockades against an Uruguayan paper mill.  There's really nothing about investor protection or property rights in the founding treaties; the decision against Argentina rested on the fact that the blockades were in fact blocking trade.

In short, Mercosur is neither much of a confederation nor an effective tool for an informal Brazilian empire.  Which explains why Chávez wants in.  Why not?  But does not fully explain why Brazil wants him in, or why Brasilia insists on effective control over a powerless parliament. 

There is something going on here that I don't understand.

UPDATE:  The picture comes from Jussi in comments.  It had to be posted.

Oh no he di’n’t

  Well.  One of the leaders of the Republican party, a former Speaker of the House, and a plausible presidential candidate, goes to the Bronx and calls Cristina Fernández a “semi-dictator.”   

No, seriously.  Chávez, though, got to be a full dictator, while poor Danny Ortega got lumped in with Cristina among the “semis.” 

Now that is funny.  Ortega, who unlike the other two has in fact engaged in election fraud, becomes the same as Fernández.  Now, it is true that about a year ago she tried and failed to make an end-run around Congress in order to impose an agricultural export tax.  But our last president tried and succeeded to make an end-run around Congress in order to detain suspects indefinitely and monitor all communications crossing the country's border ... and while George Bush the Younger was many things, a “semi-dictator” was not one of them. 

Meanwhile, I really do need to repeat that Venezuela is not a dictatorship.  Most of the anti-Chavista opposition recognizes that.  And even should Chávez turn it into one, Venezuela poses no threat to the United States.  Let him slosh money around!  He gets nothing for it.   

Still, I can understand how he makes a useful foil for American conservatives.  I've heard lefties say stupider things about President Uribe ... although never anyone as prominent as Newt Gingrich.  But making Argentina into an enemy of the United States?  Huh?  Argentina??

So I've really got to wonder.  Can somebody explain what's going on with the GOP and the crazy pills?  I'm at a loss.

I guess I must reluctantly come around to the position that it is time to eliminate the filibuster. 

Another senate

  One rather strange thing, when you think about it, is the incredible influence that the United States Constitution has had over political structures in Latin America.  None of those polities developed under similar circumstances — the Argentine Republic comes closest, and it's not very close — and none of them had similar political traditions.  So its rather strange when you realize both how universal the American presidential-bicameral model has become and how durable it's proved.

It turns out that Bolivia also has a U.S.-style senate.  Before the recent constitutional reform, each province enjoyed three senators.  Now each one has four.  Not much of a change there, unless the system for electing those senators (still undetermined) has the result of dividing the delegations from the other provinces while united the Media Luna ones, or vice versa.  That's remotely possible:  the old system worked like Argentina, giving the election winner two senators and the runner-up one, while the new system is proportional.  Depending on the election rule chosen, the effect would be to strengthen parties with overwhelming support within their province and split delegations from provinces with more divided electorates.  But we'll need to see both what proportional rules is chosen (the constitution seems unclear on whether the provinces or the legislature will set the rules) in order to know the actual effect.

In short, in terms of the Bolivian legislature, the new and awfully-named “Plurinational Legislative Assembly” doesn't change much.  Not only is equal representation preserved in the Senate; the new reserved “indigenous” seats in the lower house are designed to insure that the Media Luna's current representation will not change. 

My opinion of the Bolivian senate, however, is very different from my opinion of the Argentine, American, and Brazilian senates.  Those are undemocratic travesties that need to be reformed.  (Here's a much more democratic way of apportioning the U.S. senate among the states.)  Inertia and the power of special interests are the only reasons to keep them. 

The Bolivian senate, on the other hand, is a necessary compromise to hold a deeply-divided country together. President Morales's original proposal for a single-house FTFP legislature with a block of reserved “indigenous” seats would most likely have served only to keep fueling the political violence that wracked Bolivia last year.  Given that it's hard to see anyone benefitting from a breakup of the nation, the undemocracy of a senate is a price worth paying. 

Wisdom

  I had a post about the Cristina-Hugo summit and all that good stuff, with two pretty cool pictures, but the damned Typepad editor crashed and the autosave appears to have failed.  Since I have two books and one case to finish, that's the end of that.  Apologies!

But here is some very sage advice about Latin America policy for the Obama Administration.  Short version:  be wary of having a Latin America policy.  My instinct tells me that the Obama-Clinton team will heed this advice.

Senates

  There is a debate going on downblog over the United States Senate. 

Let's take a brief tour of Senates around the hemisphere.  (To which we'll include the Philippines, due to its political history.)  The American example set in 1787 proved very influential, particularly for the larger nations of América.  Did their adoption of an upper house with equal representation for federal subunits make sense?  Did they keep it? 

Argentina:  The Argentine senate gives each province three senators.  That's obviously undemocratic.  Argentina, however, has a historical justification for the practice.  Like the United States, the Argentine Republic began as a federation of independent states.  Unlike the United States, the states that formed the Argentine Republic had very little autonomous political history; most had been created from city councils that simply declared independence in the wake of the political chaos that enveloped South America after 1808.  After a great deal of civil war, including the loss of Bolivia, Paraguay, and Uruguay, provincial forces decisively defeated Buenos Aires in 1852.  A convention that excluded representatives of Buenos Aires hammered out a constitution the next year.  That same constitution has remained in effect since then, at least juridically. 

The convention accepted equal provincial representation in the Senate in order to limit Buenos Aires's dominance.  It also had senators elected for nine-year terms by state legislatures and required them to be able to show a minimum annual income of 2,000 pesos.  (That's approximately US$67,000 today in terms of purchasing power.)  Thankfully, later amendments got rid of those latter features, but equal representation remains.  In short, while there isn't really any good reason to keep the apportionment of the Argentine senate, the institution has deep roots in Argentine political history.  The resemblance to the U.S. case is quite strong.

Brazil:  The senate of the Federal Republic of Brazil gives three senators to each state.  The historical roots of this institution, however, are rather shallower than in Argentina or the United States.  The 19th-century Imperial senate did not provide equal representation for the provinces.  When the empire fell to a military coup in 1889, the new leaders had to find ways to convince provincial elites to support the new government.  One of the ways that they did so was to provide the provincial governments with equal representation in the upper house, in open imitation of the American example.  (In fact, the constitution of 1891 named the country the United States of Brazil.)  Brazil has gone through multiple constitutions since then, but the institution of the Senate has remained.  Unfortunately. 

Mexico:  The constitutions of 1824, 1857, and 1917 all granted equal senate representation to each state.  There was never much historical justification for doing so, other than imitation of the United States.  (Mexican states gained much autonomy during the 19th century, and several declared independence, but that came about after the end of Spanish rule.)  Since the country's governments rarely ruled by the constitution, however, legal stipulations didn't matter.  Under Porfirio Díaz, for example, all legislative votes were unanimous after 1893.  Nor did senators necessarily come from their putative state.  Under those circumstances, the number of senators per state didn't make a difference.  The Revolution didn't change that.  Under President Álvaro Obregón, for example, recalcitrant legislators were often shot.  Then came the creation of the PRI, with its iron-lock over politics, and ‘nuff said.  Constitutional stipulations didn't become more important than party rules until the 1997 midterm election. 

Mexico, however, is now ruled by a democratic government, and the constitutional rules matter a lot.  As part of the transition to democracy, Mexican politicians amended the constitution in 1993 and 1996.  In theory, the reforms granted each state four senators, up from two.  In practice, the reforms created an upper house selected by a weak form of proportional representation.  The winning party in each state receives two seats.  The runner-up receives one.  The remaining 25% of senate seats are then allocated to each party in proportion to their popular vote share.  In effect, the Mexico's current senate keeps the form of equal representation for each state while abandoning much (but not quite all) of the substance. 

The Philippines:  The Philippine Autonomy Act of 1916 created a 24-person senate.  The act grouped the country's 50 provinces into 12 districts, each of which received two senators.  The 1935 constitution of the Philippine Commonwealth dumped that crazy system, but selected something even crazier in its place:   at-large Senate elections.  That is, every voter writes in 12 names.  The top 12 vote-getters then become senators for six years.  The exercise is repeated every three years, making for a total of 24 senators.  The 1987 constitution of the Philippine Republic retains the feature.

The only polity that I can imagine justifiably imitating the United States, Argentine Republic, and Federal Republic of Brazil in the 21st century is the European Union.  Then again, I may suffer from a lack of imagination.

The empire's demise has been prematurely reported

  The United States just announced that the the Millenium Challenge Corporation will suspend $60 million in grants to the government of Nicaragua.  The reason?  Rigged local elections.  Now, I don't expect the aid suspension to accomplish much.  It's important to bear in mind that the U.S. still provides more aid than the Bolivarian Republic to most putative members of the Bolivarian alliance. 

In other Revolutionary news, the Bolivarian summit in Caracas announced that the alliance would consider establishing a common currency.  That is rather weak brew, and I will be very (albeit pleasantly) surprised if it happens.  Why pleasantly?  Well, a common currency spanning Venezuela, Nicaragua, Cuba, Honduras, Bolivia, Dominica and possibly Ecuador would be a fascinating monetary experiment to watch.  Sadly, I feel pretty confident that it isn't going to happen. 

Around the Revolution

  “You know, I’ve always wondered what South America would look like if no one gave a damn about coca or Communism.  It’s always impressed me the way you boys have carved this place up.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, coming from a Brit.” 

Now that the U.S. election is over and James Bond is officially a friend of Evo Morales, it's time to take a trip around the Bolivarian Revolution.  How is the red banner faring around the continent? 

Imperialism can pay

There's a debate out there about imperialism.  Did it pay?  The consensus answer is:  no, it did not.  The British spent far more in defense than they earned from imperial investments; in fact, by the 1880s, the profitability of imperial investments had fallen below domestic and non-imperial ones.  The French believed that their empire after WW2 helped them maintain their balance-of-payments; the numbers don't support that idea either.  The big counterexamples involve the Nazi conquest of France, and the Soviet occupation of Eastern Europe after 1945 ... but after 1970 or so the balance on the Soviet empire hinges on how much you believe control of the Warsaw Pact armies was worth to Moscow. 

But there is a case of imperialism paying, and paying quite well:  Panama in 1903. 

Canals and Costa Rica

Peter asks about past Nicaragua canal plans; Randy asks about the environment and Costa Rica.

Nicaragua was in fact considered for a trans-Isthmian canal.  Only one project got past vaporware:  between 1887 and 1893, the Maritime Canal Company excavated 1½ miles of canal and built 11½ miles of railroad in pursuit of the project.  Their planned route to the Atlantic followed the dashed line above.  Meanwhile, their plan to avoid the rapids and shallows of the San Juan River east of its junction with the San Carlos River was brilliant in its simplicity, if not in its feasibility:  build a giant dam at Ochoa and flood everything all the way to Lake Nicaragua.

Nicaragua dreaming

Somehow I just don't think that this is going to happen.  I mean, it's nice that Managua recognized South Ossetia and Abkhazia, but Russia just doesn't have the money right now.  No, if you're going to reward your faraway friend (although I'm at a loss as to why Moscow would want to) this seems like the way to do it.

And much as Nicaragua is a full-up member of the Alternativa Bolivariana, Venezuela doesn't have the money to toss away on such a megaproject right now.  Astoundingly enough, Caracas is going to have to cut back spending if oil goes below $90, a level of fiscal irresponsibility to rival Washington. 

Still, for a guy who proposes transcontinental railways and really likes to build stuff, I'm surprised that a Nicaraguan canal hasn't caught his eye. 

A new constitution

Rafael Correa is the president of Ecuador.  He has a Ph.D. in economics from the University of Illinois.  Anti-Chávez well-educated high-earning professional Venezuelan women told me on multiple occasions that they consider him very attractive.

That, however, is not why he's in the news.  He's in the news because Ecuadorean voters approved a new constitution today.  Opponents call it “Bolivarian.”  Even non-opponents have called it “socialist.” Both are silly.  Correa is far from Bolivarian.  (Update:  It has been pointed out in comments that he declared himself Bolivarian in 2006, although he is generally considered to have distanced himself from Venezuela.)  Those same professionals who called Correa handsome also called him sensible, and I tend to agree.  Correa is relatively radical.  But he's also sensible and clearly a democrat. 

Which doesn't mean that the new constitution is a good thing for Ecuador.  More below.   

Postmodern commentary

Here is some excellent commentary on recent commentary on the events in Bolivia:

Two different takes on Bolivia’s political crisis, one from Larry Birns and Jessica Bryant, and the other from Marcela Sánchez. The first argues that the escalating tension is a result of a pattern of American disrespect to Latin American democracy. The second argues that Latin America showed a great deal of maturity in resolving the problem themselves, neither waiting for Washington nor using the crisis as a pretext to take pot shots at the Bush administration. I find Sánchez’s argument about ten million times more convincing.

Not everyone who blames the U.S. at every moment should be accused of blaming America first, but Birns and Bryant certainly seem predisposed to pointing the finger at Washington. Evo Morales kicks Ambassador Philip Goldberg out of La Paz, and its Goldberg’s own fault because “he failed to be helpful.” That’s a pretty high standard. Why is it in incumbent on a foreign ambassador to help in an internal political crisis? Any time there is a crisis in a foreign capital, should the American ambassador be tossed if he fails to be helpful? Also, how could the U.S. help by inserting itself into a complex and longstanding local political issue? Hasn’t that usually been a recipe for problems? Short of endorsing Morales, what could Washington do to satisfy Birns and Bryant? It essentially avoided stepping on Morales’ toes publically, which shows admirable restraint, given the number of times Morales has thumbed Washington in the eye, and that Washington is ideologically more closely aligned with the opposition than with Morales. At the risk of supporting W, it seems like the U.S. played this one right. It’s better to let Latin America solve its own problems without U.S. mediation.

The Birns-Bryant piece is also needlessly (and bizarrely) wordy. For instance, the phrase “the baleful consequences of the inherent disrespect the U.S. historically has exhibited toward the region” has about a third more words than necessary. Later, they refer to the need to “architect a new relationship with the region that can be deemed credible.” Architect as a verb? Why, when the Queen’s English offers us build, construct, create, develop, erect, carve out, and many other possibilities that are, in fact, verbs?

By the way, after the scare from the marches, it looks like things are calming down in Bolivia.  Evo deserves props for putting his constitution on the table and agreeing to sit down and talk with the opposition governors about the new constitution. 

(Semantic note:  the Bolivian title is in fact “prefect.”  A symbol of the crisis was, in fact, the self-promotion of the Santa Cruz “prefect” to “governor.”  That said, they've already got more power than the English “prefect” implies, so I'll be sticking with “governor” as my translation of “prefecto” until convinced otherwise.  I'll also stick with “province” as my translation of “departamento” because it sounds way way better and less confusing than “departament” in American English.)            

Going south?

Cooler heads may not have prevailed in Bolivia.  I'm not sure what to make of this report from Pronto, but is sounds doubleplusungood:

From email from my parents (who live in Santa Cruz): Evo has just announced an alleged a coup plot between Goldberg (the US ambassador expelled a few days ago), Costas (the Santa Cruz prefect), and a number of high-ranking military officers. Meanwhile, reports from Pando suggest that five of the bodies were Venezuelan soldiers, who are being repatriated. Costas has also asked Evo to call of the MAS protests who are still marching towards the city of Santa Cruz; he’s also called for a suspension of labor & a public assembly in the main plaza for a cabildo (a “popular assembly”) to decide what to do. (FYI: The last Santa Cruz cabildo proclaimed Costas “governor” & demanded regional autonomy.) Also, as of now, the 24 de Septiembre celebrations are cancelled — the first time that has happened in more than 50 years. This doesn’t look good at all.

The part about “Venezuelan soldiers” is particularly perplexing.

   

The good news is that it seems as though Evo agreed with Costas and got the marchers to stop.  So sanity still might prevail.      

Old news from Santa Cruz

So Hugo declared on September 12th that he was prepared to intervene militarily if Bolivia's constitutional government came under threat.  The reaction in Santa Cruz?

As a patriotic American, I can't tell you how much it warms my heart to see demonstrators burn somebody else's flag.

UPDATE:  It gets better!  When the commander of the Bolivan troops sent to Pando arrived at the Cobija airport, he had to insist to an angry mob that he was not heading a Venezuelan invasion force.

No, it gets much better.  Chile's foreign minister, Alejando Foxley, publicly complained that President Chávez's antics nearly wrecked the Unasur summit.

Thankfully, Evo realized that Caracas wasn't helping him, albeit belatedly, and told his defense minister to reject Venezuelan overtures.  (It obviously would have been a bad idea for Evo to have done it himself.)  So far, negotiations with the Media Luna provinces seem to be going well.  Here's hoping. 

Cooler heads prevail

  An agreement has been reached to settle the conflict in Bolivia, at least for the time being.  The “Great National Agreement” is, IMHO, a thing of great beauty.  Basically, everyone involved realized that they were all going to lose if the violence escalated and decided to take a deep breath and calm down. 

Judge for yourself.  The text is below the fold.

Full moon rising?

Cooler heads may be prevailing in Bolivia.  The Army has taken control of Cobija, the capital of Pando province.  Governor Leopoldo Fernández has fled, accused of masterminding a massacre of government supporters.  Meanwhile, the National Democratic Council, which consists of the five governors of the Media Luna provinces (including Chuquisaca), announced that it will call off the roadblocks, although their supporters still occupy government offices outside Pando. 

Council representatives met throughout last night with Vice-President Álvaro García and the Vice-minister for Decentralization, Fabián Yaksic.  They seem to have arrived at an accord, which while not a resolution of the dispute, is at least an agreement to sit down and talk about it. 

Hugo Chávez, unfortunately, is being his own typically helpful self.  He's declared that Venezuela will intervene if Morales falls.  He's hurled accusations of treason at the head of the Bolivian armed forces, General Luis Trigo.  “I am willing to die for Bolivia,” said the President of the Bolivarian Republic. 

The president of Uruguay, Luis Alberto Lacalle, had an interesting response.  “Careful.  We've got Chávez, who suffers from verbal incontinence.  It could occur to him tomorrow to send a soldier to Bolivia, and that could cause a horrible conflict in the region.” 

Half moon at bay

The consequences of persistent inequality are with us today.  They appear to be pushing Bolivia towards civil war in slow motion.  Today there was a brief flutter of news about the situation because Evo expelled the American ambassador, and the U.S. followed suit, but in general you've got media silence in America.  The split is between the central government and “autonomists” in the “Media Luna,” which is marked off in dark green in this map taken from Mark Weisbrot: 

Things are bad.  How bad?  American Airlines just stopped flying to the country.  Autonomists in Santa Cruz have seized control of most federal offices in the province.  Tarija — which produces 60% of Bolivia's natural gas — experienced bloody riots yesterday, where autonomists seized the customshouses and airport and federalistas (my term, not a Bolivian one) blew up the governor's parking garage.  Meanwhile, the nightmare that my Brazilian and Bolivian colleagues discussed in Venezuela?  Well, it came true for about 12 hours. 

Brasilia is reacting in a manner that could best be described as confused, but understandably so.  On Tuesday, the Brazilian foreign minister committed a Kinsley, when he stated that if Morales can't secure the pipeline, then his government will be forced to open relations with the Media Luna.  Today, however, the Brazilian national security advisor reiterated Brazil's position that Bolivia has but one government and intimated that his government might send troops to support Evo. 

So what's it all about?  I'm sure you all can guess, but a rough overview is below the fold. 

Inequality and history

I present to you new never-before-known knowledge about Latin America:

This simple chart masks a heroic effort at data collection that took the author to at least seven different countries and ate up a year of her life tirelessly searching through badly-organized archives.  We now have systematic data on nominal wages and land rents in Latin America where before we had just conjecture and guesswork.  More importantly, we now have more understanding as to why Latin America developed such high and persistent levels of inequality.   

More here.  Questions and comments?  The author reads this blog.

There really was a revolution

My previous post on the Bolivian hydrocarbon nationalization of 2006 made it seem like nothing changed.  And in terms of the security of supply (in price or quantity), not much did.  Ditto, the industry wasn't really nationalized.  Rather, the decree gave Bolivia's state hydrocarbon company, YPFB, a mandated 32% share of the output of the San Alberto and San Antonio fields, on top of a 2005 law that cancelled the preferential tax treatment the previous law had granted new gasfields.  Thus, Brazil's equanimity in the face of “nationalization.”

In other words, the nationalization was in fact a tax hike, and a rather large one.  According to work by Luis Carlos Jemio, the state's take of gross revenues jumped from 28% in 2004 to 41% in 2005 and 65% in 2006. 

How high is that?  Well, I just spent more time than I should have estimating the total value of taxes (including corporate income taxes) paid to the federal and state governments by oil and gas companies operating in Alaska.  The result?  In 2006, they paid 25% of their gross revenues (or 50% of their declared profits) in taxes and royalties.  Now, these estimates do not include gasoline taxes, or any other taxes on refined products ... because the Bolivian figures don't either.  They also do not include the tax hikes that the Palin administration just pushed through, but those hikes will only up the figure on gross revenues to 26%.

In other words, Bolivian tax revenues went from around the level found in Alaska to almost 2½ times that level.  There really was a revolution.  (And now you understand why the gas-producing provinces in the east are so damn upset.)

Was it a good idea?  I'm undecided.  Investment in exploration boomed in 1996, with the passage of the law favoring new fields, but started declining in 1999 and was down two-thirds by the time 2005 rolled around.  If one makes the assumption that geology drove that decline, then Morales hiked taxes at just about the right time.  If no more investment is coming anyway, why worry about discouraging it?

To be fair, foreign direct investment in exploitation (not exploration) did collapse in 2006.  That said, Bolivia could potentially make up for that via service contracts and the like.

The reason that I'm undecided is that I don't know how much of the exploration decline was due to geology, and how much was due to the increasing political instability in Bolivia.

But I'm not that undecided.  In this case, I think a massive tax hike on the industry was fully justified, and probably the best thing for the people of Bolivia.  Now if only they can figure out how to divvy up the new revenues without blockading roads or shooting at each other ...   

ICSID v Chávez

So, President Chávez nationalized the cement industry the other day.  Venezuela agreed to buy 89 per cent of Lafarge for $267m and 85 per cent of Holcim for $552m, but Cemex requested $1,300m.  Venezuela sent in troops to take over Cemex's installation, and then offered $650m.  Chávez called the Mexicans “disrespectful.”  After accusing Cemex of tax evasion and excessive pollution, he went on say, “They're as Latin as we are, but they feel closer to el Norte.”  President Calderón of Mexico was not happy, but there was not a lot that Mexico could do about it. 

But there is someone who can ... ICSID.  I've mentioned it before.  ICSID is powerful.  When lefties blather on about "empire" or whatever, things like ICSID are what they mean, even if they don't know it.  ICSID can cause pain.  In fact, Venezuela's nationalizations have consistently (so far Exxon and Conoco are the only exceptions) given the nationalized companies everything that they want. 

Of course, it costs a lot to go to ICSID, and it costs even more to get national courts to actually order attachments after a ruling, so companies usually don't start an arbitration unless they think that they can win.

Cemex appears to think it can win.

And it seems that the Venezuelan government agrees with Cemex.  Right after Cemex announced that it was going to take the Bolivarian Republic to ICSID, Venezuelan officials announced that hey, yo, don't get all upset about the troops thing, let's talk.  Sixty more days, okay?  At which point President Chávez told the world that he has a secret letter from President Calderón that will help resolve everything.  “We asked the Mexican government to give us one more chance with Cemex's executives to see if we can come to a mutual understanding,” he said. 

My money is on Cemex getting something close to the $1.3 billion that it wants.  But it will be interesting to watch.  Even if you're a Cemex shareholder.

    

Bolivia versus Brazil

  On May Day, 2006, Bolivian troops occupied the country's natural gas facilities.   

Petrobras, Brazil's national oil company, owned the largest stake in the fields and Brazilian industries depended on Bolivian gas.  Yet Brasilia reacted quite calmly.  Why?

Simply because Bolivia had no leverage.  The “nationalization” raised taxes on the gas companies (Petrobras, Repsol, British Gas, and Total), but changed nothing else.  Brazil wasn't happy about losing the profits, of course (the Federal Republic of Brazil owns a 55.7% stake in Petrobras), but all Brasilia really cared about was retaining access to the gas at a reasonable price.  And that's what they got:  the red line shows the date of the nationalization:  the big run-up in price preceeded it.

Petrobras and Bolivia had a “take-or-pay” contract, in which Petrobras promised to purchase no less than 65% of Bolivia's daily capacity, even if they couldn't use it, at rates based on this (get ready for it):

The price per million BTUs, PGt = 0.475 × [0.5 × (FO1t-1/FO10) + 0.25 × (FO2t-1/FO20) + 0.25 × (FO3t-1/FO30)] + 0.5 × PGt-1, where FO1 is the price in $/ton of fuel oil with a 3.5% sulphur content (aka, “Cargoes FOB Med Basin Italy”), and FO2 and FO3 are the price of fuel oil with a 1.0% sulphur context (aka, “U.S. Gulf Coast Waterborne” and “Cargoes FOB NEW.”

Another way of putting it is that the contract stipulated that if oil prices doubled, it would take two years for Bolivian gas prices to increase 97 percent.  Which doesn't quite seem to have been what happened, since crude oil prices don't quite track fuel oil and Brazil sometimes needed to overpay when it couldn't use all the gas on offer, but close enough.

In other words, the revolution turned out to be something of a dud.  Petrobras kept its assets and its contract.  Bolivia did get more revenues but a tax hike didn't require troops.  Political theater, it was.

Of course, whether it was good theater depends on your seat.  Investment in the gas industry has collapsed, and Petrobras now prefers to access higher-cost gas deposits at home ... not because of the taxes, but because of the uncertainty.  Similarly, the dramatic way in which the tax hikes were guised as a nationalization meant tossing out the old revenue-sharing agreements with the provinces, and thus the current autonomy crisis.

It's not clear where the country goes from here.  I had lunch with a Bolivian and a Brazilian who joked about civil war.  The Brazilian was sanguine until the Bolivian suggested that eastern rebels might cut off the taps.

“No, you can't have a war,” joked the Brazilian, “until we get the other gas projects going. Then we will happily sell you weapons.”      

Bolivarians and Bolivians

Another thing that I didn't quite realize until I got to Venezuela is just how important the international dimension of the Bolivarian Revolution is to President Chávez. 

The above photo is of a speeding red jeep, of the sort that Chávez has distributed to various functionaries, with “Viva Bolivia libre” painted on the back window.  We were up in the “Country Club” neighborhood, a wealthy part of town where the government planned to build public housing until Chavista supporters started buying homes in the area.  Those plans, mysteriously, now seem to be on hold.

It was a Saturday, the day before Bolivia's recall referendum.  Chávez is deeply vested in Evo's success, and so he organized mass demonstrations in support of Evo Morales here in Caracas.  Parts of the city were a sea of red, gold, and green, and Evo supporters could be seen everywhere.  It formed a decent counterpoint to the opposition demonstration held on the same day. 

Bolivia is a member of the Alternativa Bolivariana para las Américas (aka, ALBA), along with Nicaragua, Dominica, and Cuba.  Honduras is on the verge of joining.  It isn't entirely clear what ALBA does (there's not a lot of institutional heft to it) but the Venezuelan government has vested a lot of rhetoric.  It also seems to have invested no small amount of money.  A back-of-envelope calculation from data in this Miami Herald article implies that subsidies to Cuba alone are worth around one billion dollars a year.  Information in this Reuters piece implies an even higher cost:  34 million barrels a year, worth around $4 billion, in exchange for Cuban doctors.  Chávez has given aid to Bolivia and Nicaragua under ALBA, purchased billions and billions of Argentine debt in support of the Kirchners, and finances oil purchases in the circum-Caribbean.

There are two mysteries to Chavista internationalism.  First, what's its extent?  How many resources has Caracas put into spreading Bolivarianism?  Second, what does President Chávez get out of it?  Neither one has a clear answer, but I'll take a very superficial stab at one below the fold.

Sensitivities and censorship

Every country has their sensibilities, their things that they can criticize and satirize, but that others had best stay away from. 

www.lnteve.com

Result?  Cries for censorship! Can't let the good name of ... ah ... Juan Perón be besmirched.  After all, he didn't disappear people.  That was his second wife. 

Quoth an Argentine:  “As much as I would like to make (yet another) comment about American ignorance of world history, I am not sure this event qualifies. Reducing Argentina to Perón and the disappeared doesn't sound that far away from a summarized version of contemporary Argentine history.”

The Fernández Administration has recently reintroduced a program called the “Media Discrimination Watch.”  It isn't censorship, exactly.  Rather, it's an official program through which the dean of social sciences at the University of Buenos Aires can highlight media bias. 

The country’s journalism association responded with, “It seems that the Argentine government has decided that the press is an enemy to be defeated.”

I don’t know what to make of this.  My instinct is that it is a tempest in a teapot, and won’t have any long-term effect.  But I don’t know.  Argentine economic policy is a growing mess, and opposition is getting ugly.  It all seems solvable ... but that might have been said at many points in Argentine history.