Grenada After "Intervention"
ST. GEORGE'S, Grenada
--October 25 is Thanksgiving Day for the 94,000 residents of this 133-square-mile
island in the southeast Caribbean, the annual government holiday celebrating
U.S. "intervention" on the same day in 1983. Almost everyone here calls
that event "the intervention," though it was actually an invasion by nearly
6,000 U.S. troops to quell the chaos which followed the murder of Prime
Minister Maurice Bishop and dozens of his supporters on October 19, 1983.
More than 100 people died in the intervention; Grenadians, Cubans and 19
U.S. servicemen.
Prime Minister Herbert Blaize, 70, interviewed at his
office, puts the best face on the situation. "From 1979 [when Bishop's
New Jewel Movement seized power in a nearly bloodless coup], everything
went upside down. We--the New National Party--were elected [in December
1984] to reconstruct, to try to put the country back on its democratic
feet. We have provided an atmosphere of stability and growth. Most important,
self- confidence has returned to the people. "We're a small country, everybody
knows everyone else. Our resources are limited. Looking back from where
we're at I can say, without prejudice, that we're moving ever upward."
George T. Brizan, 45, one of the Grenada Parliament's 15 members, disagrees.
Brizan, an educator who was a Blaize cabinet member until splitting away
to form the National Democratic Congress party last year, spoke in his
"constituency office" at Snug Corner Junction. "Our economy is managed
on an ad hoc basis. There's a good deal of migration to Canada and the
U.S.-- we're losing our brightest people. Unemployment is anywhere between
30 and 33 percent of the workforce.... In Bishop's time it was slightly
lower, about 25 percent, because a lot of people were in the army. "Our
number one problem is that the cost of living is extremely high for incomes
that are relatively low. Our average wage is about $185 in U.S. dollars
monthly."
An American professor, who requested anonymity, adds: "Grenada
is a microcosm of the hemisphere, but here the terms are starker, more
clear-cut. We have to demonstrate that democratic governments are relevant
and seen to be relevant to the population. The intervention was the easy
part. Now, we have to work together to meet the needs of the people. We
have to help provide a context so democracy has a chance of working. "Things
are improved," he emphasizes. "There's dramatic improvement in roads, phones,
electricity, water supply, sewage, all basic stuff. There's much domestic
economic activity. The streets are hustling and bustling, construction
is booming and Grenadians abroad are sending remittances home, lots of
money."
Peter Orr, who directs the U.S. Agency for International Development
(AID) program here, says the United States has sunk about $120 million
into Grenada since the intervention. Of that, some $26 million has gone
directly to Grenadian budgetary support. At the same time, Orr notes, the
U.S. budget crunch is cutting help here and throughout the Eastern Caribbean.
In fiscal year 1988, ending September 30, new U.S. AID funds amounted to
only $7 million, of which $3.8 million went to help the deficit- ridden
Grenadian budget.
No one really knows what Grenada's jobless rate is. Indeed,
the International Labor Organization is just starting to survey the size
of the workforce and unemployment. But Blaize and his government economists
say joblessness ranged between 18 and 22 percent this year in a labor force
of about 32,800.
The gross national product (GNP), the sum of the value
of all goods and services produced, was estimated at $129.7 million for
1988 against $82.7 million in 1984. Per capita income for 1988 was put
at $1,378, up $108 from 1987 and far above 1984's $907. Consumer prices
have been rising at an annual rate of one to four percent since the intervention.
"There's been no big boom," says Franklin St. Paul, who owns a grocery
store on the edge of this capital's Market Square, a shoe shop and a small
hotel. "Expectations were too great," he adds. Those dashed expectations
have created a slight anti-American undercurrent in parts of the island.
In downtown St. George's, graffiti on walls demand "Yankees go home," and
"Yankees out." Another large wall scrawl says "African struggle is our
struggle," while another refers to "Bro. Bishop." On the streets of the
northerly towns of Gouyave and Victoria, teenagers hiss "CIA" at a Peace
Corps volunteer. Bishop was particularly popular in that agricultural region
and remains revered island-wide. Though the "Yankees" have been the biggest
single providers of aid, Canada, the European Economic Community (EEC),
Venezuela, the United Kingdom, France and South Korea have provided substantial
aid, probably equal to the U.S. amount. Thus, nearly a quarter-billion
dollars has flowed into this tiny island in five years. And it is still
coming, as the new Venezuelan taxi vans, new South Korean ambulances and
the newly-paved roads to the north--funded by Canada and the EEC--prove.
But Grenada is still very dependent on agriculture. Nutmeg and mace (the
outer covering of nutmeg) comprise two-thirds of the nation's export crops,
and Grenada has profited from a cartel arrangement established two years
ago with the world's only other major nutmeg producer, Indonesia. Most
of the rest of the crop exports consist of cocoa and bananas. Cocoa output
plunged to 3.8 million pounds last year in a weak market. The lowered output
(from a peak of six million pounds in 1969) is attributed to aging of trees.
AID and Canada are rushing in new plants. Bananas lose their trade preference
in the British market in 1992.
But the biggest agricultural problem is
a labor shortage. The young men on the streets of this city, without jobs,
do not want low-paying agricultural work. Manufacturing, which was supposed
to be the solution to Grenada's problems in the heady days soon after the
intervention, has finally taken root, but on a very small scale. Smith-Kline
Beckman manufactures cases for contact lens cleaning kits here; Abbott
Labs makes units for internal feeding of hospital patients; Johnson &
Johnson makes surgical caps; Schering Plough is about to open a plant to
make Maybelline lipcare and Dr. Schoal's footcare products. Together, these
plants employ just over 200 workers.
Tourism has not boomed to the extent
expected after the visit of President Reagan on February 20, 1986. In the
1970s, tourism did well here, peaking in 1978 at 148,667 visitors, with
more than 116,000 of those on cruise ships, the rest "stayovers." In the
Bishop years, these numbers fell dramatically and since 1983 tourism has
risen, reaching a new high of 184,620 visitors in 1987, including 57,406
stayovers. But tourism cannot do much better because Grenada, despite its
long, Cuban-built airfield and huge, under-used air terminal built by the
United States, has only 700 hotel rooms. Blaize says he is now negotiating
on two fronts to increase tourism. Talks are underway with investors interested
in building a 140-room hotel (the largest built since 1983 is 30 rooms),
and several airlines, including American Airlines, are "exploring" the
possibility of extending service to the island.
But Blaize conceded that
tourism, which would bring U.S. dollars and other hard currencies to stanch
the outflow of his deficit- ridden budget, is a chicken and egg problem:
which comes first, more hotel rooms or more flights? Keith Mitchell, who
holds seven ministerial portfolios in the cabinet and is Blaize's heir-apparent,
summed up the feeling here: "We've achieved reasonable success. Incomes
are on the rise, people are much more comfortable in their life styles
and there's a growing entrepreneurial spirit. Our people have confidence
in the future. Grenadians felt humiliated by the trauma of 1983. Now, there's
genuine freedom, an atmosphere of relaxation. That's our biggest area of
success--you can see it when you look at people's faces."
-William Steif
Mexico at the Polls
WHEN CARLOS SALINAS de Gortari is sworn in as president
of Mexico on December 1, 1988, two serious obstacles will confront him:
a lack of political legitimacy because his election is widely viewed as
fraudulent and an economy squeezed by burgeoning debt and low oil prices.
When Mexico's current president, Miguel de la Madrid Hurtado, selected
Salinas, his former student and Minister of Planning and Budget, to succeed
him, Salinas' future seemed assured. The ruling Institutional Revolutionary
Party (PRI) had not lost a senatorial, gubernatorial or presidential election
since its inception in 1929 and no serious opposition was on the horizon.
But the party did not count on the strength or popularity of a few disaffected
members within its own ranks. A group called the Democratic Current was
calling for a U.S.-style primary to choose a presidential candidate. When
de la Madrid followed tradition and named Salinas as his successor, the
group broke off to form a rival party, the National Democratic Front (FDN).
The FDN chose Cuauhtemoc Cardenas, the former governor of Michoacan and
son of a revolutionary hero and legendary president to run for president.
Cardenas' nationalist and populist message attracted a strong following
among small farmers, many of whom had been deeded land by Cardenas' father,
and students and intellectuals tired of the bureaucracy, corruption and
hegemony the PRI had come to represent. Labor, squeezed by a recessionary
austerity plan designed by Salinas which forced per capita income down
50 percent in six years, also joined the Cardenas camp.
On the evening of the vote, the government's computers crashed-- at about the time when
the first figures should have been announced--and when the results came
in, Salinas was declared the winner. Government figures gave Salinas 50
percent of the popular vote and Cardenas 31 percent. Opposition results
gave Cardenas 54 percent and Salinas 24 percent. Opposition groups on the
left and right charged widespread vote fraud. El Porvenir and El Norte,
daily newspapers published in the north of Mexico, reported that local
unions organized workers to support the ruling party with "tacos"--ballots
folded in half and stuffed with up to 50 other ballots for the PRI.
There were also reports that thousands of conservative National Action Party
(PAN) supporters may have been struck from registration rolls, that opposition
representatives were prevented from observing either voting or the vote
count and that some boxes arrived at the polling places already full. In
the state of Guerrero, opposition groups found bags of ballots marked for
the FDN thrown in a river, according to news reports. The figure which
raised the greatest suspicion was the 50 percent abstention rate. The July
14, 1988, edition of El Dia carried a column by Raul Moreno Wonchee, in
which he noted that the "total number of votes barely reached the number
of votes that Miguel de la Madrid obtained six years before.
What happened? ... Was it that in reality [this was] the most rejected election in history?
Or--as many claim--were an enormous number of ballots misplaced?" The FDN,
faced with a choice between fighting within the system to have the election
results overturned or trying to incite massive popular protest, chose the
system. Cardenas filed formal charges against Interior Minister Manuel
Bartlett Diaz, accusing him of abuse of authority and conspiracy to defraud
the Mexican people. The party demanded to see the results from 24,642 ballot
boxes, some 46 percent of the total, contending that the results from those
boxes had not been accurately represented in the nationwide polls. "The
hiding [of the results] over such a long period indicates a fraud has been
fabricated," the statement said. The PRI National Executive Council issued
a statement rejecting the charges, labelling them "irresponsible" and "lies."
Meanwhile, the presidential vote had ignited one of the stormiest congressional
sessions in the history of Mexico. The newly-elected Chamber of Deputies
was required to ratify the elections of its members and the president.
The only opposition tool was the quorum. Discipline within the PRI, which
held a two-seat majority, never wavered, leaving the FDN and other opposition
groups no room to maneuver as they would lose any vote. An opposition walk-out
led to speculation of an impending constitutional crisis, but the ruling
party was able to force through votes and Salinas' victory was ratified.
Salinas' presidency, however, will not be an easy one. He has made overtures
to disaffected groups, calling his victory "a clear mandate for change,"
and has promised political reforms such as strengthening the legislature
and decentralizing decision-making. It is unclear whether these actions
will enable Salinas to regain legitimacy. Another problem for Mexico's
president-elect is the deepening recession. Salinas, who served as de la
Madrid's planning and budget minister, is well-known in international financial
circles. Bankers and other observers expect that he will maintain payments
on Mexico's $105 billion debt. Cardenas, on the other hand, has repeatedly
called for a moratorium on debt servicing. Salinas, a 40-year old Harvard-trained
economist, designed the Economic Solidarity Pact, a thinly-disguised wage
and price freeze implemented in December 1987. As a result, he will rule
a population hit by a 50 percent decline in per capita income over the
past six years. This decline, diminished oil revenues and Salinas' damaged
credibility present Mexico's new president with many challenges.
-Diane K. Bartz
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