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Last Updated: Jul 4, 2009 - 8:22:35 AM |
In a country where an average of 17 murders are committed each day and
98 percent of criminal cases remain unsolved, the May 10, 2009
assassination of prominent Guatemalan lawyer, Rodrigo Rosenberg, could
easily have been dismissed along with thousands of other ill-handled
and heavily manipulated political murder investigations. Instead, the
dramatic elements of a video recording shown at the attorney’s funeral,
in which Rosenberg forewarns the viewers of his own death as a result
of the alleged plotting of President Álvaro Colom, his wife Sandra
Torres, and Colom’s chief of staff Gustavo Alejos, has brought
Rosenberg’s murder to the height of national attention.
Revelations of the 2007 Presidential Election: Social Divisions and the
Disloyal Opposition
In light of the recent sharp protests that erupted in the aftermath of
the video’s release, the political divides of Guatemala’s economically
and culturally conflicted society are even more obvious now than before
the garish Rosenberg murder. The government bussed thousands of Colom’s
supporters from the country’s rural area to the capital to counter the
protests of equally large numbers of urban middle and upper class
residents using the event as a wedge to call for Colom’s immediate
resignation. While the prevalence of violence and corruption is a
common matter of concern among Guatemala’s citizens, effective
solutions to these problems are a point of persistent division and
predictable ineffectuality. The counter protests in the days following
Rosenberg’s funeral mainly stem from denouncements by the political
factions, which had become even more manifest during Guatemala’s 2007
presidential election.
Guatemala’s ballot of that year was less a matter of determining the
best candidate than the lesser of two evils. Otto Pérez Molina, the
founder and candidate of the right wing Partido Patriota (PP), is a
graduate of the School of the Americas. From 1992 to 1993 he
murderously commanded Guatemala’s infamous army intelligence unit known
as G-2, and also served as the head of the Presidential General Staff
(EMP) of President Ramiro de León in 1994. Human rights groups have
repeatedly implicated the D-2 and the EMP in political assassinations
and massacres led by death-squads throughout Guatemala’s 36-year civil
war that cost the country some 200,000 victims, particularly during the
years of Molina’s command. Colom, the center-left candidate of Unidad
Nacional de la Esperanza (UNE), was investigated in 2004 for illegal
transfers of government funds into accounts belonging to his political
party. He eventually “found a check” and returned the $65,000, while
managing to maintain his freedom at the same time that the authorities
had imprisoned Controller General Oscar Dubón Palma. Since this
incident, Colom has continued to face allegations of corruption as well
as charges of using political influence to evade justice.
The campaigns of both candidates addressed the issues of violence,
crime, and corruption that have plagued Guatemala since the signing of
the 1996 Peace Accords. These agreements were supposed to end the
longest civil war in Latin American history, but instead left the
country with a fragile system of quasi-democracy, if that. Colom’s
campaign, symbolized by a dove, promised increased spending on social
programs, improvements in the country’s violence-prone security forces,
and a review of the status of Guatemala’s notorious judiciary. Molina’s
campaign, under the slogan “mano dura, cabeza y corazón,” (tough hand,
head, and heart) predictably called for increasing the involvement of
the military in domestic politics, reinstating the death penalty, and
using the tough “mano dura” policy of the civil war era to solve
Guatemala’s manifold security problems.
During his campaign, Molina established a sizeable base in Guatemala
City, where rates of drug violence are so elevated that citizens prefer
the risks of a “mano dura” approach to any alleged benefits introduced
by the Colom administration. In contrast, most of Colom’s support
during the election campaign came from poor, rural and indigenous
voters and his plans to enact a tax increase pushed the country’s
wealthy and business elite—who adamantly do not want to “hand their
money over to a corrupt state”—even closer to the opposition. While the
support of the rural poor was necessary for Colom’s victory, elements
coming from low social and economic status that have been continuously
marginalized, have had little influence beyond, episodically, the
ballot box in a government that is easily and frequently bought over by
the highest bidder. Rifts between the elite and the marginalized have
provided a fertile habitat for the Rosenberg assassination and a long
line of political killings to destabilize many of the country’s all-but
failed political institutions.
Electoral Divides
The pervasive divisions in Guatemala’s civil society make underhanded
maneuvering by the opposition an inevitable fact of life. Colom
defeated Molina by a 5.5 percent margin in the second round run-off
election, in which only 48.2 percent of the voters participated in
comparison to 60.5 percent in the first round. Analysts have suggested
that apart from being a case of voter fatigue, the low turnout was a
result of the negative and often violent campaign tactics that have
characterized this election cycle. More than 50 political activists and
candidates from all parties were killed during the campaign, in which
some voters claimed that the violence surrounding the election was
sufficient to either scare them from casting their votes or to
encourage them to withhold their votes in protest. If the violence
emanating from both sides during the election was enough to deter such
voters from participating, then perhaps it is sufficient evidence of
the dangerously antagonistic atmosphere in which the administration and
the opposition have existed. This might be enough to render a
destabilization plot crafted by the opposition sufficiently plausible
to begin explaining the Rosenberg assassination.
Of further significance are the backgrounds of radio and T.V.
journalist Mario David García and former Guatemalan liaison to El
Salvador’s rightwing extremist ARENA party, Luis Mendizábal. As the
presidential candidate for the ultra-right Nationalist Authentic
Central party (CAN), García lost the 1985 election to Vinicio Cerezo,
Guatemala’s first civilian president since 1970. Cerezo proposed tax
and minimum wage increases, much like Colom has done. García’s
controversial television program “Here is the World,” was shut down
after he was charged with being involved in an attempted coup on May
11, 1988. Twenty-one years later, Luis Mendizábal and Mario David
García, reportedly close friends of Rosenberg, distributed video copies
of Rosenberg’s accusations, which they had helped him record a week
before his death.
In addition to its response to the Rosenberg case, the Colom
administration has labeled this year’s surge in the murders of bus
drivers as related to the destabilization plot spearheaded by the
opposition. At first, such claims might seem far fetched and intended
to perpetuate the twisted moves of Guatemala’s corrupt politicians and
their rightist supporters, but with suspicious figures like García,
Mendizábal, Molina, and even Colom purportedly involved in the affair,
Guatemala’s history of corruption and violence is too appalling for
anything, no matter how garish, to be simply dismissed.
What have you done for me lately?
Apart from viciously exacerbating divisions that already were being
emphasized in the 2007 election, the Rosenberg case reiterates a raft
of challenges being faced by the Colom administration and provides an
opportunity to examine the successes and failures of his administration
since its January 2007 inauguration.
Despite the potential pressure on the Colom administration to flirt
with the idea of joining Molina’s iron-fisted campaign, many observers
expected that as the country’s first genuinely left-leaning president
since the 1954 CIA-backed coup of Jacobo Arbenz, Colom might want to
take advantage of the public support associated with his 2007 campaign.
In his 2007 essay, “Incoming Government: ‘Trojan Horse’ or ‘The Old Man
and the Sea?’,” political analyst Matthew Creelman suggests that the
Guatemalan political process, in focusing mainly on market control and
prevention of political crises within areas directly under government
influence, has led only to a superficial tranquility in previous
administrations. The new administration, he maintained, should use the
initial momentum afforded by the election to “gain entry to the
sanctums of illicit power and attack its own corrupt supporters.”
Creelman points out one of Colom’s most daunting challenges: although
the president needed the support of corrupt individuals to be elected,
he must work against these same officials to pursue constructive change
once in office. If Colom were to act quickly, Creelman suggested, he
could convince the population of his seriousness and honesty by 1)
targeting and then removing corrupt permanent members of the
bureaucracy and 2) establishing a “legal channel” in which uncorrupted
judicial workers could prosecute a number of selected high-profile
cases. The goal would be to flush out impurities from the system. Such
a channel would be used to establish a government-led anti-corruption
campaign as a social movement, strengthening the relationship between
the government and its citizens and encouraging “corruption-compliant”
media to follow suit.
In December 2008, Colom took important steps in line with
recommendations like Creelman’s. As an effort towards eliminating
political corruption and professionalizing Guatemala’s security policy,
Colom replaced his Defense Minister, Interior Minister, Deputy Defense
Minister, Deputy Chief of National Defense, and Inspector General of
the Armed Forces. In March 2009, he established a presidential
anti-impunity committee, created a panel to review and declassify
military archives from the country’s bloody civil war, and strengthened
the country’s police force with a U.S.-trained anti-drug body. Perhaps
the most promising indicator of Guatemala’s new path under Colom was
his pledge to renew the mandate of the UN-backed International
Commission Against Impunity in Guatemala (CICIG), which is due to
expire in September 2009 upon the completion of a two-year period of
service.
CICIG: Inherent Insufficiencies of Form and Function
The December 2006 agreement between the UN and the government of
Guatemala on the establishment of CICIG lists ten factors that prompted
the creation of the commission, including the government’s duty to
protect its citizens and pursue its commitment to respecting human
rights as required by the UN Charter. The most significant obligations
involve the Comprehensive Agreement on Human Rights of March 22, 1994
and the Framework Law of the 1996 Peace Accords, which legally binds
the state “to combat illegal security groups and clandestine security
organizations.” The agreement also considers a March 13, 2003 political
compact between the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Guatemala and the
Human Rights Ombudsman to create a Commission to Investigate Illegal
Groups and Clandestine Security Organizations operating in the country.
CICIG did not begin work until September 2007 due to a slow-moving and
fractious Guatemalan Congress. The UN hoped CICIG would enjoy complete
functional independence in discharging its mandate, but the Guatemalan
Congress rejected the initial agreement involving the UN initiative on
the grounds that it threatened Guatemala’s sovereignty and security.
Ultimately, the UN decided in what was considered an “unprecedented
approach,” that the commission would function as a complement to the
State of Guatemala rather than as an independent tribunal, meaning
CICIG investigates cases and promotes prosecution but cannot prosecute
or make decisions. Either ideally or practically, through this
“assistance function,” CICIG strengthens the state institutions that
are intended to fulfill judicial obligations.
The successes of CICIG have been slow in coming and lie predominantly
in the commission’s policy recommendations concerning criminal
procedure. At the end of March 2009, after an eight-year holdup had
taken place due to the influence of security companies in the
legislature, the Guatemalan Congress approved a reformed arms law
proposed by CICIG. As of September 2009, the commission had submitted
to Colom reforms for the Immunity Merit Procedures Act, the Code of
Criminal Procedure, and the Organized Crime Act to become draft laws
for Congress to act upon. Seven months later, Colom signed a national
“security and justice” accord that incorporated a number of recommended
reforms that came from the top.
Issued in September 2008, the UN’s first annual report on CICIG
suggested that the adoption of these reforms would demonstrate the
extent to which the commission could fulfill its mandate, but more
importantly, “the extent to which justice [could] be expedited and
impunity ended in Guatemala.” Yet, like the challenge of Congressional
efficiency that CICIG faced in the battle for its initial
establishment, the limited implementation of CICIG’s recommended
reforms has revealed an inherent weakness of the commission in that
“CICIG is forced to cooperate with the institutions it is tasked with
investigating.”
CICIG’s failures stem from its mandate requiring cooperation between it
and Guatemala’s judicial institutions. In March 2008, the commission
became involved in a drug-trafficking case involving eleven fatalities
in Zacapa, a city near the Honduran border. With the hope of achieving
a high profile success for its criminal justice procedures, CICIG
demanded that the case be tried in a court in the capital city. As of
February 2009, the case had been transferred back to Zacapa more than
four times. The Guatemala City daily El Periódico reported that the
Acting Director of the Supreme Court of Justice, Eliu Higueros,
admitted the reluctance of Guatemala City’s judges to take on the case.
Nearly a year after the Zacapa massacre, the commission faced what
Director of CICIG Carlos Castresana called a “mockery” of justice in
the case of former Attorney General Álvaro Matus. Matus led the
investigation into the murder of Victor Rivera, an advisor to the
Minister of the Interior, who was fired just two days before he was
killed. At the time of his termination, Rivera was investigating the
deaths of three Salvadoran legislators who were killed while on a visit
to Guatemala. On February 3, 2009, Matus handed himself into
authorities after CICIG reported to the press that the case “involved
‘an act of organized crime which has been concealed within the public
prosecutor’s office.’” The layers of political corruption beginning
with the murder of the Salvadoran legislators to the murder of Rivera
to Matus’ alleged cover-up scheme should have resulted in a guilty
verdict and a high-profile victory for CICIG and Guatemala’s criminal
justice system. Yet, Matus was released from his cell the very day that
he had turned himself in after the Public Ministry dropped the charges
of conspiracy and perversion of the course of justice that CICIG
originally had lodged against him.
The Zacapa trial and the release of Alvaro Matus both attest to the
impediment that a lack of institutional cooperation (reinforced by
Guatemala’s reluctant judges and corrupt members of the Public
Ministry) poses a road to effective action that had been encouraged by
CICIG. However, because CICIG can only encourage, not demand reform,
the commission faces internal limitations in addition to external
questions of cooperation.
CICIG’s intentions and the parameters of its mandate are in the right
place. As of September 2008, the commission had 109 staff members
representing 24 countries, including Guatemala, and a $13.8 million
budget from the contributions of thirteen donors. By comparison, the
United Nations Verification Mission in Guatemala (MINUGUA), put in
place for five months following the 1996 conclusion of the civil war,
had $3.9 million allocated to its budget. Yet, 41 of the 109 CICIG
staff members were security officers and the commission had used 44% of
its budget by September 2008 in order to establish its “operating
structure.” Perhaps most telling is that the rate of homicides per
month actually increased from 448.15 during Oscar Berger’s
administration, to 528.07 under the Colom administration. CICIG
predicts 6,811 homicides will be racked up in 2009.
Some Small Mistakes with Big Consequences
Most of Colom’s steps toward fulfilling his campaign promises—even
those in conjunction with the CICIG—seem to have yielded only
superficial, legislative results rather than authentic progress.
Considering the lofty hopes that international observers initially had
for Colom’s administration, the recent accusations against the
President and his allies are bitterly disappointing to say the least,
and a gruesome reminder of the low expectations that Guatemalan
citizens perhaps rightfully have had for their government.
Nevertheless, international support from the OAS, the System for
Central American Integration (SICA), and the U.S. has buttressed the
country’s efforts to achieve the resolution of violence in the country.
The fate of Guatemala’s democratic institutions should have been a
matter of concern around the world and firm support is vital to
preventing a domino effect that could result in a deteriorating
security situation in Guatemala’s neighboring countries, Honduras,
Belize, and El Salvador. However, the international implications of
what transpires in Guatemala will have a reach far beyond the scope of
financial contributions to CICIG and the maintenance of stability in
Guatemala. Some analysts have suggested that the verbalized support for
Colom from Secretary General José Miguel Insulza of the OAS may do
nothing more than deny that democracy is at risk, by falsely pacifying
the country and restoring a status quo that had long since failed. It
is this status quo that permits instances of political corruption to
fall through the cracks of Guatemala’s judicial system signifying the
need for more action than CICIG is demonstrably capable of producing.
Two days after the release of Rosenberg’s graveside video, Colom called
for the investigation to be led by CICIG and the FBI. Corruption in the
Policía Nacional Civil (PNC) is so extensive that the ratio of hired
private security officers to PNC officers is 20:1 and the government
invests only three percent of its delegated funds in criminal
investigations. Thus, a sufficiently-funded, unbiased vehicle would
seem preeminently fitting. However, no matter how unbiased, adequately
staffed, or well funded it may be, it is unlikely that any
investigation by the government will proceed satisfactorily in the eyes
of suspects, victims, and observers. For example, as of six weeks after
Rosenberg’s death, U.S. Ambassador Stephen McFarland has sent only one
FBI officer to assist in the investigation. Furthermore, within 18 days
of the release of the video, none of the senior officials accused by
Rosenberg had been summoned for an interview. Such inefficiency is
inexcusable though perhaps unavoidable due to the corruption permeating
the country’s most important institutions. If the Rosenberg
investigation is to yield any payoffs when it comes to criminal
investigations and effective judicial procedures, then the players
involved must adhere to a few minimal requirements. If the FBI is to
stay involved, McFarland will need to send more than one agent to
assist in the investigation. Considering past failures, the
high-powered officials and well-placed businessmen that CICIG
investigates as well as Guatemala’s institutions charged with
prosecuting and punishing criminals, must operate with total
transparency and display at least a modicum of cooperation. Finally,
the CICIG website, which reportedly has been “down for maintenance”
since May, must be re-launched in order to demonstrate the transparency
of whatever commission actions might be forthcoming.
The expectation that reliable evidence exists beneath the surface and
if brought up, might be capable of resulting in a fair conviction, has
turned out to be somewhat far-fetched. For example, on May 21, an
unnamed witness provided the names of three of six people she claimed
to be involved in Rosenberg’s murder, but it was the controversial
figure Juan Carlos Solis Oliva who actually introduced the evidence. A
former judge, Oliva led the 1998 investigation into the still not
satisfactorily solved death of Bishop Juan Gerardi and allegedly
diverted the inquiry away from the soldiers who were ultimately
convicted. Oliva’s stepfather Colonel Byron Lima Estrada, and the
colonel’s son, Captain Byron Lima Oliva were two of the three military
men implicated in the murder that Juan Carlos Solis Oliva
“independently” had investigated. Clearly, corruption runs deep
regarding Guatemala’s legal system, necessitating the establishment of
checks and balances in order to conduct anything like a fair
investigation.
What to Take Away from the Rosenberg Scandal
As Ricardo Stein, Special Advisor to the Resident Coordinator of the
United Nations System in Guatemala has suggested, “every administration
since 1995 has had its Rosenberg.” The assassination is not the cause
of institutional crisis in the country but rather an indication of the
deleterious intertwining of the social, political, and economic crises
afflicting the nation’s institutions. The Rosenberg case should be used
as a means to putting an end to what Stein calls the “politicization of
the judiciary,” and the less frequently acknowledged, “
‘judicialization’ of the political system.” Stein believes the problem
afflicting Guatemala is one of court verdicts being issued based on
political preferences and a sea of bribes of corrupt officials
(“politicization of the judiciary”), which legitimizes the average
Guatemalan’s tenacious belief that the judiciary as well as the
executive branches are corrupt. However, it is the belief that the
judicial system is encouraged to target cases of political corruption
for special attention (“‘judicialization’ of the political system”)
that slows improvements in the judiciary. If the judicial system is
used to fight for rival political parties, there is little room for the
impartial investigations and trials needed to uphold democracy.
In spite of the challenges presented by the Rosenberg case, the
incident has brought about an almost unprecedented mobilization of the
Guatemalan citizenry, particularly of the youth, who have demanded
swift response to cases like Rosenberg’s. On May 14, 2009, the
authorities arrested Jean Anleu Fernández on charges of “inciting
financial panic” because of his Twitter comment encouraging Guatemalans
to withdraw their money from the allegedly corrupt government-owned
bank, Banrural. Twitter users and outraged citizens responded with
Paypal contributions to Fernández’s $6,500 bail. On June 14, 2009, tens
of thousands took to the streets of Guatemala City once again in
protest of corruption, violence, and impunity that characterizes the
country’s public life. Incidents like the Fernández case and protests
regarding the Rosenberg scandal show that the challenge of translating
campaign promises and written laws into progressive action—of giving
substance to Guatemala’s dreams of democracy—ultimately rests with the
nation’s citizens. While CICIG can help improve Guatemala’s formal
institutions, only the public can empower a head of state to undertake
the transformation of informal institutions that permit formal
institutions to effectively function. When Guatemala’s civil society
creates and holds fast to a lattice of trust and shared understanding
of social conventions and democratic beliefs and practices, then the
resolution of cases like the assassination of Rodrigo Rosenberg will be
considered victories for the judicial system rather than charades of it.
Source:Ocnus.net 2009
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