Unbecoming Nadie: Feminism and the Epistolary Form in María Lourdes Pallais’s Novel La carta(1996)Greg C. SeverynSusqniversity

https://acontracorriente.chass.ncsu.edu/index.php/acontracorriente/article/view/1944/3440 Nadie: Feminism and the Epistolary Form in María Lourdes Pallais’s Novel La carta(1996)Greg C. SeverynSusquehanna UniversityMaría Lourdes Pallais’s epistolary novel La carta was published in 1996, not long after the February 1990 general elections in Nicaragua that gave way to a Sandinista electoral defeat and the presidency of Violeta Barrios de Chamorro.1While thepresidency of Chamorro was based on an image of “maternal reconciliation” after the Contra war, an imagethatpaired well with her representation as wife and widow, it did not align with the predominant vision of feminism at the time (Kampwirth 47). Thispolitical transition,at once marking a notable loss of revolutionary power andthe affirmation ofmoretraditional gender roles,was accompanied by widespread sociopolitical disenchantment that quickly became reflected in Nicaraguan literature. Guatemalanand Salvadoran literature wouldreflect similar phenomenasoon thereafter, as critics like Beatriz Cortez and Misha Kokotovic have theorized with their concepts of the aesthetics of cynicism and neoliberal noir, respectively.Under these circumstances, Nicaragua also witnessedthe concomitant rise of the Movimiento 1Though María Lourdes Pallais (1953-) was born in Peru, the topics of her fictional literary production are decidedly Nicaraguan. This has much to do with her Nicaraguan heritage, including familytiestothe Somozas,as well as connections with theSandinista revolutionary project.Pallais has also lived foryearsin Mexico and the United Statesand ultimately considers herself “Latinoamericana,”per her Twitter account@mlpallais. Unbecoming Nadie: Feminism and the Epistolary Form153Autónomo de Mujeres, an autonomous feminist movement that increasingly distanced itself from the Sandinista Revolution.2Within this historical context, La carta tells the story of Claudette, a former Sandinista supporter and intelligence agent who is betrayed by her fellow compañero, Antonio, a betrayal that leads to her incarceration in a South Carolinajailfor having infiltratedthe realm of U.S. intelligence.Due to the accumulated weight of the betrayal, the demise of the revolutionary project, and her imprisonment, Claudette begins to identifyherself as Nadie.Before long, shealso refers tothe other inmates, who are all women, as Nadieas well. This title establishes a common experience among these women as it alludes to their collective anonymity in addition to the diminishing value that society has afforded them, especially when we consider that their crimes relate to maternity and womanhood(27).3Ironically, herjail cell comes to serveas an impromptu room of her own (àla Virginia Woolf) from which she can reflect upon the revolutionary experience and deeply embedded patriarchal structures, consequently yielding this letterwritten for Antonio.4Claudette’s imprisonment, as I discussbelow,intends to intervenenot only on her body and its liberty, but,more so, on her soul: it is a “punishment that acts in depth on the heart, the thoughts, the will, the inclinations” (Foucault 16).In other words, following Foucault,this type of punishment is primarily ideological and, undoubtedly, is apatriarchal imposition since Antonio remains free despite his greater involvement in the Revolutionand with the United States (23).La cartaintertwines a number of literary genres and tendencies which, in turn, allows the novel to challenge strict categorization within the prevailing periodization of 2As ShellyGrabeand Anjali Duttexplain, the combination of male Sandinista leaders who had marginalized women—in addition toVioleta Barrios de Chamorro’s neoliberal policies that exacerbated women’s rightsviolations—gave way to a prolific rise inautonomous organizations (90).Growing awareness of injustice towards women throughout the 1980s had already sparked the productionof counter narrativesof which, I suggest, we may consider Pallais’s a part,as she seeks to elevate women’s voices from positions of marginality (Grabe and Dutt 92, 99). Nicaraguan feminists quickly gained momentumindeed: “between 1990 and 1992, the Movimiento Autónomo de Mujeresbecame a network comprised of 150 women’s groups in 38 locations throughout the country that coordinated efforts, met annually, and had by-laws to direct their action” (100). As Karen Kampwirth affirms, “By 1992, the autonomous feminist movement was large, diverse, capable, and increasingly daring” (63). Before long, the movement also began to connect withthe globaldiscourse on women’s rights(Grabe and Dutt100).3One inmate, Camila, killed her mother for never revealing who her father was, while another, Manuela, had drowned her baby because he wouldn’t stop crying, a situation that she could not alleviate since herbreasts would not produce milkand she didn’t have “ni un cinco para comprar comida” (27).Lucía, Claudette’s cellmate, had murdered her son-in-law forimpregnatingher 13-year-old daughter and then abandoning her (26).4Claudette explicitly references Virginia Woolf on multiple occasions, making comparisons between herself and the isolated Rhoda from The Waves (1931)(93)andEleanor, “la intrépida viajera”,from The Years (1937)(113). Severyn154recent Central American narratives. Unlike the testimoniothat held prominence throughout the 1970s, 1980s, and into the 1990s, La carta, as Werner Mackenbach maintains, breaks from the representative nature of testimonio in order to concretely center the individual, a dynamic that serves to separate the testimonial text from the revolutionary project: “En Pallais, funcionan [las formas narrativas testimoniales] para conferir al desencanto, en estos proyectos, su expresión literaria” (“De exclusiones” 212). Pushing further, Mackenbach affirms that the designation of Nadiethat Claudette assumes as her identity is one that deconstructs the revolutionary myth of unity between the individual and the people: “La protagonista no es la encarnación sinecdótica del pueblo que lucha por su liberación, sino una ‘Nadie’” (“De exclusiones” 211). In this way, Mackenbach interprets the novel as a parody of the testimonial form (“El testimonio” 412). Likewise, literary critic Leonel Delgado Aburto also approaches La carta from a generic positioning as testimonio, appealing to the fictional editor’s epilogue at the novel’s close that assesses Claudette’s letter as “un interesante testimonio” (159). Delgado Aburto does point towards the work’s disarticulated nature of the testimonial form, however, by citing the “exiling” of revolutionary discourse along with the evident ambiguity of the literary characters (148). The novel, while dialoguing with testimonio, alsoinvokes, in part, the prison-writingsub-genreof this narrative form.5Nevertheless, Lacarta mayalso be read as part of the “post-war” narratives that explore the psychological aftermath of the armed struggles, fictional works that develop a stronger focus on aesthetics, notably those of profound disenchantment in the neoliberal era (Browitt 1-2).6A relevant sub-genre within this tendencyfor Pallais’s work would be the post-Sandinista narratives.In conjunction with thesetendencies, La cartaalso incorporatesa feminist agenda that was particularly prevalent in the region’s poeticproduction during the 1970s and 1980s. Many of these (women) poets frequently employed what literary critic Magda Zavala calls an autobiographic referentiality: “La referencialidad autobiográfica o, por lo menos, la creación de un efecto estético de 5While La carta arguably shares stylistic tendencies with prison narratives such as Nicaraguan Pedro Joaquín Chamorro’s Diario de un preso(1961), Salvadoran Ana Guadalupe Martínez’s Las cárceles clandestinas de El Salvador (1978), and Salvadoran Nidia Díaz’s Nunca estuvesola (1988), Pallais’s fictional text does not seek to have Claudette represent a revolutionary ideology in the same fashion.Rather, the novel supports anarray of autonomous women’s organizations and collectivesreflecting a wide variety of ideologies.As such, the novel offers what may seem, in comparison, to be amore “subdued” ideology.6Literary critic Emiliano Coello Gutiérrez, who describes Central American literary tendencies along the same lines as Browitt, points towards Horacio Castellanos Moya’s Insensatez (2004) as an example of how ideologicallydriven testimony has given way toaestheticized questions of psychology, trauma, and disillusion (49). Unbecoming Nadie: Feminism and the Epistolary Form155referencia autobiográfica, será otra constante de relativa importancia en los textos de las poetas centroamericanas” (87). Not surprisingly, autobiographical stylistic elements are also manifest in La carta. Sucheclectic merging of literary tendencies and genres permits the novel to establish its own, distinct space as epistolary fiction, a notably absent genre in contemporary Central American literary production. This combination of particularities presents a compelling reason to study this fictional narrative in greater depthas opposed to a justification for the critical disinterest that the novel has largely experienced, a reality that the protagonist Claudette foresaw becauseher letter is not especially“sexi”(62).Thus, from amarginalized position within Central America’s recent literary periodization, La cartais a transgressive counter narrative, onethat generically exemplifies the notions of autonomy, the recuperationof literaryterritory, and the creation of space for new (women’s) voicesthat the text so adamantly seeks.In this sense, Pallais’s novel contests the dominant political, social, and literary narratives.With these assessments of the novel in mind, I propose a reading of La cartathat pushes further intoitsgeneric “situación fronteriza”via anexploration of itsepistolary form (Delgado Aburto 150).WhileI agreewith Mackenbach’s conclusion that La carta mocksthe testimonio, I disagree with the conclusion that Pallais’s novel rejects “toda posibilidad de construcción de un sentido, incluso bajo el signo feminista” (“De exclusiones” 215). Instead, I see the text’s disenchanted tonegivewaytoa deeper reflection regarding the imperfect revolutionary project and patriarchy generally that, in turn, allowsfor theexpression and subsequentrise of a feminist ideology, onethat makes strides towards collective-basedsocial change. This is the caseeven more soif we read Claudette as representative ofthe autonomous feminist movement, for her individualityand separation from the Revolution, in a way, allegorizes the “autonomous”status of the various feminist collectives.This dynamic is compounded if we consider thesolidarity between Claudette and other women that already exists,likethe shared experience of being Nadiein jail in addition to the connections with the women serving as pseudo-mothers after her ownmother’s recent passing: “las otras madres, esas que, cuando supieron que la mía había muerto, quisieron tomar su lugar, esas madres de otras y de otros” (29). These “faceless mothers” would sendgifts and messages of support to Claudette in jail despite never having met her (15). This solidarity serves, in part,as a catalyst for the “rebirth” of Claudette from revolutionary-mindedNadieto feminist self. Taken altogether, I contendthat La cartarepresents a feminist vision that develops an understanding of the collective by centering individual experience in order to challenge patriarchal social structures. Furthermore, I argue that Severyn156it is precisely the epistolary form that allows thenovel to transform its seemingly overwhelming resignation into a powerful act of feminist ideology. Such an interpretation of the novel allows for the reframing of Claudette and her imprisonment to be understood not as a victimization due to patriarchal politics that deserves sympathy, but rather as a voice that questions authority, knowledge, and manipulation as discursive tactics employed to maintain society’s hegemonic status quo. Therefore, I explorethe “un-becoming” of Nadieas the protagonistat once regains her identity as Claudettewhile simultaneously appropriating and finding resolve in the very name of Nadie. I further maintainthatthe employmentofepistolaryfictionis a subversive literarychoicethat challenges patriarchal structures, a mannerof resistancethat somein positions of powermight deem“unbecoming” of a woman sinceClaudette refuses to conform to traditional gender roles.It is also my hope that thisexploration of Pallais’s workmay contribute to the broader exploration of the notablyunderstudied epistolary formin Central America.Claudette’s transition toNadie is easily perceptiblebased onthenovel’s tone thatexpresses significantdissatisfaction withgender relations andthe Revolutionary project, as made evident through Claudette’sconclusion that it was all a “tremenda tontería” (13). Compounding the resignation that Claudette faces is the fact that she now sees herself as defeated, tamed, and ugly (10); the notion of a revolutionary love has failed her, and this resentment comes through powerfully when she states that the revolutionary project was merelyanillusion, a deceit (108). It is no wonder that literary critic Nathalie Besse describes the imprisoned Claudette as a degrading image of waste, an absence similar to death (np). This death, or rather, if we consider the parallel between waste and Claudette as a discarded human being, may be traced back to complex patriarchal politics throughout the Sandinista armed struggle and Revolution: “if the revolution did not demand the dissolution of women’s identities, it did require the subordination of their specific interests to the broader goals of overthrowing Somoza and establishing a new social order” (Molyneux 229).7Not only had the idea of collective love failed Claudette, “la causa, [el] proyecto de las pequeñas y grandes mentiras” (113, emphasis in the original), had converted her from an independent 7Once the Sandinistas gained powerin 1979, one of the first legislative changes made was to revise gender-related laws (Kampwirth 21). This momentum, however, quickly folded as the Contra war escalated, at which point gender equality fell by the wayside as resources were diverted to the war effort, an obstaclefurther aggravatedby leadership concerns over feminism in the revolution (Kampwirth 21-24). As Maxine Molyneux points out, women’s emancipation thus became subordinate to keeping the revolution alive out of necessity (238). Unbecoming Nadie: Feminism and the Epistolary Form157woman into “una digna y leal perra de raza” (54).Antonio was successful in manipulating Claudettein this regardbecause he, like the other revolutionaries, waswell aware that to advance their cause, they needed to take advantage of certain people. Everyone hadtheir price;for some it was money, but for Claudette, it waslove(54).Antonioalso took advantage of Claudette’s youthful fantasiesknowing that she was “motivada por la rebelión típica de las niñas que nacieron ricas, que se rebelan por haberlo tenido todo” (67).Now, however, Claudette realizes to what extent she had been manipulated by and even participated in such an oppressive, patriarchal ideology: Creyéndonos dueños de la verdad, no creo que ni tú, camarada Antonio, ni yo Nadie, hayamos alguna vez pensado que podríamos estarle haciendo daño a alguien—que no fuera el enemigo—, construyendo más vacíos y elaborando más mentiras en las vidas de quienes nos rodeaban. Asumimos, creo, que cualquier cosa se justificaba para cambiar el mundo en el que vivíamos” (112, emphases in the original). This realization tangibly marks the process of deideologization, a vitalstep in separating herself from the dominant Sandinista narrative in order to adopt a more autonomous feminist vision, one that she developswith certain urgency throughout her letter:“Me urge romper tantos años de silencio para empezar a hablar de nuevo” (47).Claudette, now at a distance from the struggle,has also inevitably come to understand that Nicaraguan women still face significant social inequalities despite an approximately 30% participation rate towards the end of the armed struggle against Somoza, for such access to the public sphere “stopped short of transforming gender relations in the family and society” (Babb 59).Suchserious contradictions within the Sandinista ideologyhavenowbecome much easier to identifyand serve to informClaudette’snew understanding of patriarchy and her nascent feminist perspective.Claudette’swritingtherefore hands Antonio back his half-lies and half-truths, a process that allows for liberation from her past (50). This untangling of herself from a previous ideology is a fundamental step to theprocess of re-identification: “The letter-writing female protagonist uses the pen not only to affirm herself, not only to bridge the gap between self and other, but often to rewritethe self, presenting a personal self-definition that contradicts, supersedes, or supplements the identity others have assumed her to have” (Bower, Epistolary14, emphasisin theoriginal).Claudette’sreflectionsrecorded in her letter, then,are precisely what begin to invert the power-knowledge dynamic, for as Foucault reminds us, these concepts work not only to re-enforce authority, but also to facilitate resistance (28). Claudette, from Severyn158her “noble cuna”origins(112), comes to understand that she is no longer a submissive woman: “Lo más raro—sólo ahora me doy cuenta—era que a mí, que nunca quise tener dueño ni sentirme subyugada a nadie, me parecía lógico, natural, así tenía que ser” (58).While the mundane, bourgeois life that Claudette once maintained has disappeared, the broken woman before us recognizes that traces of her are still left (17); the passivityoflife before Antonio has, in a certain sense, returned. Claudette understands that even now in jail she still holds ontocertain class privileges (15). Nevertheless, her original domesticity has been unlearned; it now unfolds, not as a Sandinista, but rather as an autonomous feminist: she writes, she speaks out. Such a decision is reminiscent of Grabe and Dutt’s discussion of rightsand duties regarding the Movimiento Autónomo de Mujeres, where a right is something to be demanded and a duty is a sense of responsibility and an action taken on behalf of others to ensurethoserights (91). Claudette’s sense of duty has not only developed as a result of her reflections, it has manifested in concrete forminher narrative. This act is significant, for the autonomous women’s movement sought to recognize that “women could and should take action based on their unique social locations,” and for Claudette it is from a space of isolation and imprisonment (Grabe and Dutt 99). In this regard, Claudette recognizes the power that such concrete action inspires as it at once drivesidentity formation and subversion of the patriarchy.She subsequently recalls the demands she made of Antonio and other compañeros, including the right to opine first regarding plans (99), the elimination of all condescension towards her (100), and the necessity of knowing her as a person (101). As Nicaraguanfeminist María Teresa Blandón indicates, this type of equal involvement in the decision-making process is more important than just carrying out various actions (Blandón 98). This step towardsgender equality would ultimately become an indelible part of Claudette’slife: “parte de la piel que uno lleva” (101).In another memory, Claudetterecalls announcing to Antonio that the revolutionary causewas her destiny, yet Antonio respondsthat “el destino no existe [...] sólo existe la lucha contra el imperialismo” (36). This remark brings to mind thethen extantbelief that “the transformation of women’s roles would be the automatic result of other revolutionary policies”(Kampwirth 25). This, however, was not, nor could it have been, the case, as feminist critics like Margaret Randall have vehemently emphasized(21-22).Along similarideological lines, Claudette’s lawyer, Bernie, informs her that since her imprisonment began 25 months ago in late 1988 that capitalism has wonout and the Cold War has ended;ideologies and economic borders are disappearing (37). Within this context, Bernie declares that the guerrilla fighters, or at Unbecoming Nadie: Feminism and the Epistolary Form159least their leaders, now desireto become fully integrated in and take advantage of the lifestyle that capitalism offers, for they now see this as the way of the future, of freedom and democracy(37), a blow that parallels Antonio’s betrayal as if these actions represented anatural course ofevents (51). Claudette, in fact, draws a similar connection as she speaks of Antonio’sbetrayal: “Lo tuyo, que no fue solamente tuyo, me lo escondiste con la tranquilidad del inocente que desconoce la mentira de sus gestos y el doblez de sus verdades” (52).8Claudettedoes not respond to Bernie’sstatements with surprise orhorror, but rather ironicallyas one of the Surrealist strategiesfor social changepops into hermind: “habría que transformar al hombre antes de cambiar la sociedad, y no al revés” (38).This challengethat focuses concretely on individual (and male) transformationpoints towards Claudette’s concrete vision for a restructured,feminist society.Whilesocialism remains a prizedideologyfor achieving this vision, she describesit as a “utopía que no deberá asociarse con ningún sistema hasta la fecha instaurado y muchomenos derrocado” (48).This utopic vision of society is paralleled by a desire for gender equality,as expressed in one of Claudette’s dreamswherethere exists a world with beings “sin sexo, sin vientre, sin pene, sin tener que hacer el amor, sin luchar por nada” (19-20).This Surrealist challengeis,in my interpretation, one that Claudette’s letter writing takes up as she confronts Antonio, the revolutionary project, patriarchy, and, undoubtedly, the reader.The letter form that Claudette employsas she addresses Antoniohas traditionally been deemed “feminine,” not feminist,by literary scholars (Gilroy 1). Nevertheless, it is the selection of this particular genrethat allows Claudette to transform and appropriate aform of literary expressionin order to reclaim cultural territory that had previously been lost to patriarchal judgments. In this way, Claudette’s recuperated voice may be more forcefully asserted as she breaks with gendered writingnorms. Unlike the traditional epistolary novel, where “[l]as implicaciones ideológicas [...] presentan la temática de la mujer, silenciada y aprisionada en un mundo patriarcal” (Morales Ladrón 295), Claudette refuses to be confined to the private and domestic sphere, she refuses to be silent, and she refuses to accept patriarchal impositions. In a 8Claudette’s comment calls to mind the “piñata,”where Sandinista leaders held onto and distributed state property after the 1990 electoral loss.Claudette later remarks:“En todo caso, sigo pensando que los que llegan al poder—independientemente de sus orígenes—se apropian de los bienes de todos y no permiten compartir nada con esas grandes mayorías que tú y los tuyos llamaban las masas” (108, emphasis in the original).This type of “selling out,” for Claudette, is claimed by society to be natural and expected, just like Antonio’s betrayal of her, yet we clearly see that women in particular have been “sold out” in post-revolutionary times (Molyneux 230). Severyn160sense, then, Claudette employs a subversive tactic by utilizing a “permitted” form of “women’s writing” to discuss her personalexperience and to speak out against dominant voiceswithout question or suspicion.This is largelyso because the epistolary form typically does not raise concern among men and, therefore, can be a strong vehicle for the insertion of her ideas into the public sphere(Pulido Tirado 437).9Letters therebyopen spaces for voices where social conventions and restrictions on public discourse may have otherwise stifled such expression (El Hamamsy 152). This carving out of cultural and literary space for her voice, though, is intended to be more than just finding room to speak out; rather, Claudette is reclaiming and inhabiting spaces that the patriarchy had previously taken awayfrom her.According to Randall, only an autonomous movement is capable of creating this type of room that womenneed, which speaks once more to Claudette’s representative support for the autonomous feminist movementof the time (83-84). Pursuing this line of thought, El Hamamsy goes even further along gender lineswhen it comes to epistolary fiction: “Letter writing becomes a question of identity that has to do with a whole gender’s choice to speak, instead of being silent, and to subvert, instead of being subservient” (153-154). In other words, Claudette’s letter elevates not only her own voice, it seeks to elevatethose of many other women as well.As Claudette becomes more autonomous, she finds the capacity, like Nidia Díaz, to reclaim her own story: “The act of narrating her prison experiences grants Díaz verbal agency by allowing her to reclaim those moments of her life which, at the time of their occurrence, seemed to belong to those individuals who were violently exercising power over her body” (Hutson Mihaly 79). Claudette’sletterto Antonio, then, is really about empowerment, and, as we know, “[p]ower is a feminist issue, perhaps the central feminist issue” (Randall 16).The novel, then, effectively serves to divorceClaudette from the Revolution: “escribirte esta carta, camarada Antonio, sería la única manera de adaptarme al mundo de nuevo, de adueñarme de otra identidadpara impulsarme, para lanzarme [...] directo hacia una vida, una vida sin ti y los tuyos” (46, emphasis in the original).The ideaof marriage surfacesonmore concrete termswithin the narration as well whenClaudetteconsiders the incompatibility between matrimony and independence, with Claudette going so far as to say that marriage is a “cárcel atrofiada de rutinas y de almuerzos” (72-9Evidence for this ideological literary strategy comes from the editor’s epilogue. We know that the editor is male and that his evaluation of the letter is anything but politicalor subversive: “es un interesante testimonio de una mujer que se enamoró de la lealtad a un hombre que nunca conoció” (159). Unbecoming Nadie: Feminism and the Epistolary Form16173).It comes as no surprise that she also likens her commitment to the revolutionary cause as one of marriage that has relegatedher toa subordinate role (72).Similarly, in the span of a few pages, Claudette recallsher indecision regarding marriage. First, she claims,“me casaría con Michael y punto” (94). However, when a comrade joins her for coffee, one she calls“el patriarca observador”,a brief conversation with him leads her to reflect on what defines a romantic hero(96, emphasis in the original). For her, it isnot subordination to reason and certainly not passivity, characteristics that define Michael;she thus concludes: “De pronto me di cuenta que nunca podría casarme con la razón, yaún menos con lo pasivo” (97).This particular episode reveals just how the epistolary form captures not only to what extent “[p]atriarchy profoundly affects how we see ourselves” (Randall 160-161), but also theinterior struggle that Claudette faces even as she recognizes her daunting task of confronting such a deeply embedded social structure.Thisvacillationlikewise reflects a certaininternal anguish that parallels the astounding difficulty of closing past wounds and of coming to terms with the downfall of revolutionary power and idealswhile also realizing their imperfection.Not only is this hesitation evidenced in some of the letter’s section titles, such as “El primer intento,” “El primer receso,” and “El segundo receso”,Claudette’s letter to Antonio canalso simultaneously be interpreted as both a love letter and asa break-upmessage.10Epistolary fiction, as literary critic RafaelCabañas-Alamán asserts,is an ideal form wherecontradictory opinions frequently coexist given that letters reflect varyingemotionalstates as the author writes at different moments(138). As a result, letter writing freely permits, if not encourages,the incorporation of feelings and thoughts, a stylistic aspect that honors what manycriticsconsider integral to a feminist agenda: the subjective and personal experience (Randall 21). Such a divulgence of emotions and interior thoughtssignificantly improvesClaudette’sself-esteem;she feels a significant burden lift as she writes, recuperating a sense of self through the written expression of what she has carried within for so long (61).This process of what is essentially self-discovery ultimately shapesClaudette’snew identity, which we may understand as a form of liberationin and of itself(El Hamamsy 164).While the Revolution’s betrayal of Claudette and her gender iswhat effectively imposed upon her the identity of Nadie,onethat would presumably continue 10We might read the constant address of “camarada Antonio” as both a painful departure of relinquishing thepastas well as a sarcastic attack on revolutionary ideology and valuesas understoodthrough itsactors.

La “nueva normalidad” entre México y Estados Unidos El Pais México https://elpais.com/mexico/opinion/2021-01-21/la-nueva-normalidad-entre-mexico-y-estados-unidos.html?utm_medium=Social&utm_source=Twitter&ssm=TW_MX_CM#Echobox=1611248215

El futuro de la cooperación en seguridad y narcotráfico va a condicionar el resto de la agenda bilateral, ya no la relación personal entre los jefes de Estado Adiós al espectáculo de “cacique a cacique” entre Andrés Manuel López Obrador y Donald J. Trump, quienes tienen al menos un rasgo en común: son arbitrarios y muchas veces optaron por obviar la institucionalidad de sus gobiernos. El vínculo entre ambos —aunque breve y ajustado a un guion— “hermanos de diferentes madres”, como ha escrito Jeffrey Davidow, exembajador de Estados Unidos en México, ha muerto.

Al margen de ese singular capítulo en la relación bilateral, a ninguno de los antecesores de Trump le interesó México, salvo para lograr una frontera segura. Posiblemente, López Obrador crea que ha perdido un aliado —uno inestable, racista y narcisista— y ahora, con el demócrata Joe Biden, el Gobierno de la 4T se enfrenta a un político del status quo no racista cuya prioridad no será México, pero ya ha anunciado una revisión “radical” de las leyes de inmigración, incluida la posibilidad de dar la ciudadanía a inmigrantes sin estatus legal y ampliar la admisión de refugiados. El demócrata, quien al asumir anunció que será “un socio fuerte y confiable”, es todo lo opuesto a Trump. Es producto del sistema con medio siglo de experiencia en relaciones internacionales y muchos años como legislador. Prefiere la vía institucional y el presidente mexicano tendrá que adaptarse. El país con la sartén por el mango y el mango también es Estados Unidos. Que López Obrador en su momento no lo haya reconocido ni felicitado como lo hicieron la mayoría de los presidentes, cuando quedó claro que Biden había ganado las elecciones, fue pecata minuta para él. El “reconocimiento” solo fue una expresión mexicana de discusión interna. Hoy le deseó suerte y aseguró que coinciden en el tema de la reforma migratoria. Lo mínimo que podría hacer a estas alturas. Aunque le urge abordar la epidemia de la covid-19, Biden llega al Gobierno en un país polarizado con una agenda cargada con desastres heredados que deben ser reparados. En medio de la contingencia y de la crisis económica, deberá garantizar estabilidad y paz social en su país. Su reto es gigantesco. Barack Obama lo nombró vicepresidente porque escoge sus batallas. Concilia y escucha a opositores; es institucional y moderado. Lo suyo es seguir las reglas, aunque se atrevió a una sabia decisión, polémica para muchos: nombrar a Kamala Harris como su vicepresidenta, la primera mujer en ese cargo que representa el crisol estadounidense. Aunque en política exterior tenga un lugar subordinado en los conflictos estratégicos que Biden hereda (OTAN, Irán, Rusia, China, Medio Oriente, Acuerdo de París), México es un carril separado como “problema de frontera”; un asunto de seguridad interna para Estados Unidos. Con Alejandro Mayorkas, el nuevo jefe de Seguridad Nacional —el primer latino en ese puesto, quien estuvo a cargo del programa DACA (Acción Diferida para niños inmigrantes indocumentados que llegaron a Estados Unidos con Obama)— la migración cuenta con un gran aliado. Pese a la huida de sus padres de la Cuba comunista de Fidel Castro, Mayorkas regresó a la isla en 2015 como secretario adjunto de Seguridad Nacional para promover la histórica normalización de relaciones entre Barack Obama y Raúl Castro, que Trump intentó revertir. Según fuentes cercanas a Mayorkas, como está “emocionalmente involucrado”, la reforma migratoria le es importante. La propuesta legislativa del nuevo Jefe de Estado le cae como anillo al dedo. Otro aliento para el cambio drástico que busca su jefe es la elección de la exembajadora de Estados Unidos en México, Roberta Jacobson, al frente de los temas relacionados con la frontera sur y el asilo. Sin embargo, la nueva Administración se enfrenta a un obstáculo con el que Trump —apoyado por López Obrador— buscaba alentar a sus seguidores: militarizar las fronteras e impedir la entrada de inmigrantes ilegales centroamericanos. Aunque nunca se convirtió en un sistema coherente, con el programa Remain in Mexico, el presidente mexicano cedió a las amenazas de Trump: frenaba la inmigración centroamericana a Estados Unidos o su “amigo” imponía aranceles a productos mexicanos. Con Mayorkas al timón, Biden busca que esas amenazas desaparezcan, con lo cual podría quitarle al mexicano el peso culposo que le impuso Trump. Pero, como será imposible mantener a los inmigrantes centroamericanos en México, estos empezarán a llegar a Estados Unidos. Ya una caravana de miles se ha adelantado desde Honduras. Aunque queda claro que el tema migratorio es importante, al principio será imposible mover mucho las cosas tal y como las dejó Trump. La nueva Administración también busca cerrar las “cárceles” en las fronteras y reunir a las familias de inmigrantes, pero tampoco quiere una “inundación” de estos desde México. Con la militarización de las fronteras, este es un campo minado. Y ha quedado claro que los militares son los grandes aliados de López Obrador, como lo demuestra el caso del exgeneral Salvador Cienfuegos. Las reglas de la larga tradición de interacción al más alto nivel entre los gobiernos de Estados Unidos y México ya están en la boca de funcionarios a ambos lados de la frontera. Antes de que asumiera Biden, el secretario de Relaciones Exteriores, Marcelo Ebrard, y el nuevo asesor de Seguridad Nacional, Jake Sullivan, se reunieron y coincidieron en la importancia de trabajar juntos para atender “las causas estructurales de la migración”. Los mexicanos pusieron a consideración la implementación de un programa de cooperación para el desarrollo en el norte de Centroamérica y el sur de México, en respuesta a la crisis económica provocada por la pandemia y los recientes huracanes que afectaron la región. Una declaración políticamente correcta que se abstuvo de tocar el tema de fondo: cómo lidiar internamente con la migración. La agenda bilateral comparte temas como la pandemia, el apoyo a Centroamérica y la reactivación de la economía regional con el T-Mec, aunque en los capítulos laboral y ambiental, habrá rispidez mutua. El lavado de dinero, el tráfico de drogas, el trasiego de armas, el respeto a los derechos humanos en uno y otro lado de la frontera, el impulso a la inversión privada, la política energética que impulsa las energías limpias y renovables, así como el incierto destino de la Iniciativa Mérida, también son puntos de tensión. El tema de seguridad está en plena crispación. Es el centro de una espiral de desconfianza mutua. Por un lado, la operación silenciosa de la DEA, que se le ocultó al Gobierno mexicano, fue un agravio mayúsculo, más tratándose de un militar con el más alto rango como Cienfuegos. Por el otro, su exoneración y las restricciones a los agentes extranjeros. Y la añeja disputa por el control de armas, sin solución a la vista: el embajador Christopher Landau se despidió con la versión de que México no ha cooperado en esta materia. En el caso de Cienfuegos, con la crítica del exfiscal William Barr a la difusión de evidencia que “viola el Tratado de Asistencia Legal Mutua”, parecería que la relación entre López Obrador y Biden empieza mal. Pero habrá que ver cómo reacciona Merrick Garland, hoy juez principal de la Corte de Apelaciones de Washington, quien ha sido nominado por Biden para suceder a Barr. Fuentes cercanas al nuevo Gobierno aseguran que evitará un discurso agresivo hacia México. Garland optará por la negociación, lo que no quiere decir que estará de acuerdo con la exoneración a Cienfuegos. Habrá que ver si López Obrador permite que Ebrard opere estos temas difíciles sin interferir demasiado ni agregar ángulos innecesarios a la discusión. El futuro de la cooperación en seguridad y narcotráfico va a condicionar el resto de la agenda bilateral, ya no la relación personal entre los jefes de Estado. Habrá una nueva normalidad con dos presidentes que no podrían ser más distintos y que tendrán que entenderse cuatro años más.