certification

Saturday 2.7.2016

No pictures today, just thoughts.

We have left Cali and are on a 12 hour bus ride to the Colombian border town of Ipiales. We will spend the night in the small town and then cross the border into Ecuador tomorrow morning. Nothing has been broken, stolen, or otherwise damaged in at least 24 hours, and I have a lot of time to write. I figure that I can use this space to start exploring the difference between an American and a Colombian conception of freedom.

This thesis is supposed to elaborate on fundamental political differ des between two fundamentally different cultures. By the end of the thesis, I will have written journal entries for the time I spend abroad this summer, an essay describing my understanding of the definition of freedom in Latin America, an essay describing my understanding of that same definition in the United States, and a third essay elaborating on a new, alternative understanding of freedom that draws upon conclusions made in the first two. The thesis will also include written transcripts of the interviews that I conduct while abroad, of which I have completed three so far.

We’ve now spent a month backpacking in Panama and Colombia, and my understanding of their political identities has increased greatly. Panama has essentially become a country in the past 20 years; before, they truly were a colony, with decisions as impactful as trade policy and as minute as taxi regulations being made in the States. Panama has never been culturally assimilated with the United States, and one can see that the climate, geography, and demographics of the countries are separated by vast oceans. Culturally, Panama is related to the Caribbean coast of Colombia. The dishes are practically identical (only fresher in Colombia) and the Spanish is remarkably similar, even to novice ears.  

All of this helps a traveler understand the impact that independence has had. Before gaining control of the Canal, Panama wasn’t so much a country as a possession. Panamanians were no more culturally repressed than any other Latin American country living in the same hemisphere as Hollywood, but since independence, their ability to express themselves has grown dramatically. The country now controls the entirety of trade revenues generated by the Panama Canal and the economic and social impact has been unbelievable: formerly segregated portions of their capital are awash with Latin American tourists seeking to explore this once-defunct state, local environmental activism has reverted former ammunition dumps into parks, and the city’s skyline has become comparable to Miami.  

So what is freedom to a Panamanian? Freedom is the right to say how the product of ones’ labor may be utilized. Freedom is the ability to identify culturally distinct traits of your state that came from your neighbors. Freedom is literally the safety to explore your own country – protected by police who speak your own language, with your country’s flag upon their sleeve. Freedom in Panama is a very material trait, and the lack of rhetorical conceptions of freedom – not once did a Panamanian equate a democratic government with an ideal of freedom, or discuss rights or entitlements of any kind – was astounding to someone who hears a lot of his countrymen relish in the “freedoms” of legal technicalities and tax brackets that seem to dominate our understanding.

This understanding of freedom, as some sort of material or physical understanding, was greatly supported in Colombia, a country experiencing incredible growth economically and socially. While we were in Manizales, Guillermo rushed inside our guest house to turn on the TV and show us a historical moment – the signing of a peace agreement with the FARC, hopefully ending almost sixty years of guerrilla warfare. Guillermo went on to explain that his family’s first house was actually burned down by the FARC in 2002 because they refused to pay a protection fee. The signing of La Paz was an end to a personal torment, and the freedom that gave him was physically palpable.

Similarly, Juan explained in detail the disgust that the people of Medellin have for the legacy of Pablo Escobar. To Juan, being rid of the violence that defined his city’s reputation is an opportunity to begin anew. The freedom he gained, as he was also personally affected by cartel violence in his youth, mirrors the freedom that the people of Medellin have gained since the passing of the infamous criminal – a freedom to choose an identity, instead of having one chosen for them.
Perhaps that is the similarity between these two states and their definition of freedom: the ability to define one’s self is more pertinent than the ability to be recognized as…. As what?

I’ll come back to this idea later. I also wanted to write out some concerns that I have with the way I’ve set up this thesis.
To start, I’m worried that I’m looking for a contrast in definitions when there may not be one. Freedom may be fundamentally understood in similar ways among all Americans, as the hemisphere has a full history of actions done in the name of freedom. Maybe freedom is not an inherently relatable concept, and has simply been a bromide for idealistic young men as long as the word has been around. Perhaps the greatest struggle with this thesis is my tendency to over generalize. I mean, I’m trying to understand “freedom” (by no means an easily definable term) by spending only two months in four countries and using that experience to contrast my relatively short lifetime of understanding in a completely different country. Thoughts to consider.

Update: We arrived in Ipiales and, well… If this was the only place in Colombia we had gone to, then we would have left the country believing all of the reputations for violence and criminality that Colombia is trying to escape. No street lights. Everything is filthy. I think there’s a prostitute in a room on this floor, because… Yeah.

We found the last vacant hotel room within a lot walking distance and proceeded to pay in dollars because the only ATM was broken – looked like an attempted to robbery. A couple, two French travelers by the name of Gwyn and Kevin, met us outside for cigarettes and we offered to let the, sleep on our hotel room floor for free. Note to self: if I get afraid, try helping someone who needs it/sneaking a couple into my hotel room past the stingy desk clerk. Kindness has a calming effect.
Tomorrow, we’re crossing another border. I love crossing borders.