Last Tuesday, theory met practice at the
Afro-Peruvian Roundtable’s discussion on “The Afro-Peruvian People and their
inclusion in the Political Constitution of Peru.” I was excited that my supervisor had invited
me to attend, as the theme of the discussion was directly related to my INDEV
474 research paper on the collective identity and rights of
Afro-Peruvians. I looked forward to
learning more about a topic that I had already researched extensively, and
hearing from Afro-Peruvians themselves, rather than North American academics’
perspectives on Afro-Peruvian issues.
I arrived early at the Afro-Peruvian Museum, where
the event was to be hosted, and so I had the chance to wander through the
exhibits while I waited for the discussion to begin. Historical drawings of African slaves waiting
on their Spanish colonial masters gave me a glimpse of Afro-Peruvians’ long
history of humiliation and exclusion from society, while rooms full of
percussive music and videos of traditional dances filled me with a sense of
their cultural richness and strength as a people, despite centuries of
hardship. After reading about their
incredible political achievements in recent years, including the government’s 2009
Historic Apology, I entered the meeting with a feeling that Afro-Peruvians were
riding a tide of success, and that there was much hope for their future.
However, as four o’clock came and went, and the small
group of eight Afro-Peruvian civil society leaders realized that no one else
would be coming to the event—not the congressmen who had confirmed, nor the
Minister of Culture—the feeling of humiliation and exclusion became real. The discussion was moved from a large event hall
to an actual roundtable, at which I even had a seat. At first, the discussion had a fairly
negative tone, as the group felt somewhat defeated before they had even
begun. However, they soon turned to
constructive conversation on the rights of Afro-Peruvians and strategies to
realize them.
From what I understood of the rapid and intense
discussion, the main issue regarding Afro-Peruvians’ inclusion in the
Constitution is that they self-identify as a distinct racial and ethnic group,
needing special civil and political, as well as economic, social, and cultural
rights. They do not, however, fit into
the state’s definition of an “indigenous people” that would be guaranteed these
rights, and so they do not receive the special protection that indigenous groups
do. My research paper explored the
justification for their claims to racial and cultural group identities, and
found that they were, in fact, justified in claiming both. I wanted to go further in my analysis and
make recommendations for policy changes; however, I struggled to determine
which definitions of racial and cultural groups were of significance to
Afro-Peruvians. At this roundtable, I
learned that the important definition is that of the International Labour
Organization, which states that an “indigenous people” is one that was present during
the period of conquest or colonization, or when the state’s borders were
established. Clearly, this definition
excludes groups that are original to Peru, but that developed after the state
was established. This leaves no path for
Afro-Peruvians to claim the kinds of rights they need for protection against
past and present discrimination, and the preservation and development of their
unique culture. I now know that for
Afro-Peruvians to be included in the Constitution, this definition needs to be
expanded.
The Roundtable discussion was necessary for
clarifying the group’s goal of modifying the state’s definition of a
“people.” However, it may be a struggle
for the group to gain the political leverage needed to accomplish this, as
government leaders clearly do not care enough to sit down and work
together. The vision for the Roundtable
is to be a space for dialogue between the political administration and civil
society, but it remains to be seen whether or not the political administration
shares this commitment.
Although
I have studied Conflict Resolution at the University of Waterloo, and have some
knowledge of the criminal justice systems in Canada and the United States, the
concept of the Reconstruction of the Facts was new to me, and I certainly was
not prepared for what I encountered in real life. What took place at the Municipal Building in
Ica on Wednesday was strange and horrific, and if it was painful for me, it was
much worse for Carmen and the friends and family who had come to support
her. Although Carmen entered the meeting
in a remarkably calm state, she fled the building hours later and sobbed in her
father’s arms, while a crowd of cameramen and photographers surrounded her, and
her supporters hurled biting insults at the municipal officials as they ducked
into their cars.
While
I am a strong proponent of Restorative Justice, which helps to bring
together victims, offenders, and the community to engage in a process of
healing and restoration, I believe that it should be a voluntary process. From what I observed on Wednesday, forcing
the victim to confront his/her attackers in a situation in which both parties
are primarily concerned with “saving face,” rather than building
relationships, pits both sides against
each other, and causes community members to take sides, escalating the conflict
and nearly eliminating any chance of future reconciliation. As a student of Development, I am deeply
concerned by the immediate emotional harm, and the long-term social harm that
this process does to individuals and communities that are required to
participate. Who is the justice system
serving, if not those who have been affected by crime? Must victims be re-victimized by the criminal
justice system?
In
light of Restorative Justice Week, which begins today, I have been moved to
envision what a true Reconstruction
could look like. What if the government
established victims’ assistance programs that ensured that low-income victims
like Carmen had the legal representation, and mental, physical, and social
support they needed to recover from violent experiences and navigate the
justice system? What if there was a
professionally-mediated space in which the mayor and his cronies could express
remorse, and Carmen could talk about the pain that she has experienced? What if, instead of leaving “justice” up to
the state, the victim and offender worked together to create their own solution,
and the community created a circle of accountability and support to facilitate
long-term development? While it seems
like Peru is impossibly far away from achieving these ideals, I am inspired by
the knowledge that what is now a worldwide Restorative Justice movement began
in my own hometown of Kitchener-Waterloo, with folks like me who just wanted to
do things a little bit differently.
