Local couple observes historic Salvadoran election

BY MITCHELL TROPIN

For only the third time in recent memory, the people of El Salvador went to the polls in March to elect a president. The success of the elections was helped tremendously by international observers, who took time from their own work and lives to oversee the fragile democratic process. Peter Kent and Sharyn Neuwirth, two Takoma, D.C. residents, were there to witness Salvadoran history.

Neuwirth grew up in the Washington area and is an English professor at Montgomery College’s Takoma Park campus. She has taught classes in almost every part of the world, from China to Mexico. Kent is a Wisconsin native and an active member of Takoma Village Cohousing, and has been an active participant in folk music organizations and anti-globalization efforts. With all their experience, neither had witnessed a foreign election before, much less taken on the responsibility of being an election observer.

The job was suggested to them by Kent’s friend, Jose Artiga, who is executive director of alternative development for the SHARE Foundation. SHARE supports economic growth in Salvadoran communities, and has sent delegations to El Salvador to bear witness to implementation of the country’s peace accord and provide a shield for residents, Kent said.

Under the government’s new plan, all Salvadorean citizens are automatically registered to vote and all have received identification cards. To ensure a smooth election, representatives from several countries were called in as observers for the process. Kent and Neuwirth joined citizens from around the world and from a variety of organizations, such as the National Lawyers Guild and Pax Christi.

Trouble began almost immediately, however. Reports were coming in that government officials were detaining international observers, including 40 from the United States. The government was attempting to deny them visas, but officials from the U.S. Embassy soon arrived to make sure the observers were not delayed any further, Neuwirth said.

On the 40-minute drive from the airport to the capital, Kent and Neuwirth were amazed to see an especially Salvadoran campaigning strategy–what Neuwirth calls the "paint wars." Every lamppost and highway post they saw featured thick bands of paint, with each color representing one of the country’s political parties. They saw no political signs like those in the United States, no slogans written on walls, or even names of the different political parties–only paint. Most dominant were the colors of the two largest parties: red, white, and blue for the right-wing Arena (National Republican Alliance), the ruling party whose founders are associated with military death squads; and red for the leftist FMLN (Faribundo Marti National Liberation Front),which had ties to the Communist rebels during the civil war.

As Kent and Neuwirth neared San Salvador, the number of items covered with paint increased until even the median strips were red or red, white, and blue. Sometimes the paint of one party overlapped on the paint of the other party, creating wild color combinations. Kent was amazed by the painting spectacle. "Did they have some kind of machine?" he wondered.

Their first night in El Salvador was spent in a neighborhood of wealthy families, which had all of the typical security features: houses surrounded by high walls and iron gates; razor wire coiled along the wall tops; and private security guards strolling with their automatic weapons. Neuwirth remembers speaking with one of the guards, who said that even upscale neighborhoods have terrible crime and the residents are frustrated with the local police, so they hire their own guards.

The following morning Kent and Neuwirth arrived at the municipality of Chalchuapa, where they were assigned to observe. For Neuwirth, the town’s rough terrain was welcoming and familiar, and she felt the excitement among the people.

"It felt similar to when I taught. I saw dust-covered houses with a large square in the middle with a gazebo–similar to what I found in rural Mexico," Neuwirth said. "There was a festival atmosphere."

The elections were held on a Sunday, with some families coming straight from church in their colorful Sunday clothing, and some having traveled for more than two hours to exercise their right to vote. The festive mood increased as crowds began forming, with food vendors setting up stalls, Neuwirth said.

Chalchuapa’s election was held in several polling centers, all set up with several rows of rectangular tables. Each table was assigned 400 voters, so depending on how many voters were registered, a polling center could have anywhere from nine to 100 tables. Next to the tables was a huge 130-foot wooden board that listed each voter’s name and to which table he or she was assigned.

Finding a name could be trying, Neuwirth said, especially for those with a fairly common name, but everyone managed.

"Locating the right table was a family affair, with parents and small children looking together to find their own their names," she said. "The smaller children would help their grandfathers, who were having trouble seeing the small print."

Party representatives were not supposed to be identified, but everyone seemed to have some piece of color identifying their allegiance. Neuwirth said that the parties used various tactics to show their colors.

"They brought in lunches in styrofoam boxes that had ‘FMLN’ written all over [them], or they offered small baggies filled with red juice," she said.

The turnout at Chalchuapa was impressive, Kent said–of 40,000 voters in the region, about 69 percent showed up to vote.

Another unique characteristic of Election Day was the country’s procedure for keeping voting honest, Kent said. For each rectangular table there were four monitors, one from each party. Each monitor had an assistant, and party bosses and representatives from other groups wandered around from table to table. Such overseeing prevented tension from turning into chaos, Kent said.

"There had to be representatives from each of the parties, because of the continued total mistrust the various factions have for each other–mistrust that carried over from the civil war," he said.

"A dispute would break out at one particular table, and suddenly there would be this huge crowd surrounding the voter, as well as those waiting in line to vote. [But] we did not see any obvious signs of intimidation by any of the party representatives."

The tally process also follows a formal procedure overseen by several officials. An election judge takes out one of the folded paper ballots, opens it, and displays it to the party representatives, who examine it closely, often nodding approvingly.

Neuwirth said the voting process was sufficiently transparent and she was impressed by the overall fairness. And while the crowded scene seemed chaotic, she was heartened by the large number of people who got involved.

"The many people showed they really cared about this election," she said.

Kent seconded that view. "You saw thousands of people involved in the processing, showing real dedication for a long time."

Neuwirth said she was surprised that the candidates aligned themselves openly with their troubled parties. FMLN candidates made no attempt to distance themselves from the party’s former role as the representatives of the leftist rebels; the FMLN presidential candidate spoke plainly of being president of the country’s Communist party; and the Arena candidate had no problem with his party’s ties to the right-wing death squads.

It did not take long for the results to come in and for the announcement that the Arena party had won. The overwhelming victory was announced less than three hours after the election polls closed that Sunday. Arena had won the prior two presidential elections, so it wasn’t the victory itself but the margin of victory which surprised people, Neuwirth said. Former sports television presenter Antonio "Tony" Saca defeated the FMLN candidate, 73-year-old former rebel commander Schafik Handal, by more than 20 percentage points. Saca also took many traditionally FMLN municipalities, which surprised someºpolitical observers.

Kent and Neuwirth expressed some concern for the future of El Salvador’s democratic process. The brand new identification cards that are required for voting are already beginning to wear out, and some are probably being lost. Replacement cards cost $9–not cheap for families who typically must get by on $1 a day, Neuwirth said. Over time, the need for the cards could disenfranchise the poorest people, Kent said.

Since two of the four parties failed to get two percent of the vote, they will not be on the ballot for the next election in 2009, so there will be less oversight of the elections by the country’s own people, Neuwirth added.

The most troubling aspect of the election, according to Neuwirth and Kent, was the shadow cast over the process by the Bush Administration. State Department and other Bush Administration officials arrived in El Salvador before the election, and made it clear that if the United States was displeased with the outcome, there would be consequences. The message was understood by all Salvadorans.

"Cab drivers said it was very clear that if Arena did not win, it would go badly for El Salvador," Neuwirth said.

Kent said that business owners, especially those who run maquiladoras (small Quonset huts used for assembling inexpensive items) told their workers, "If FMLN wins, don’t bother to come back from your Sunday holiday."

The specific threat by the U.S. government was against the two million-plus Salvadoreans living in the United States who were allowed to emigrate in the wake of Hurricane Mitch and hold special immigration status.

Their status could change at any time, Kent said, which would have sweeping economic implications in El Salvador.

"Over 70 percent of the country have relatives in the United States, and depend on that flow of money," Neuwirth said.

Despite Bush’s tactics, Neuwirth and Kent see hope for El Salvador. They witnessed it in the spirit and camaraderie of the Chalchuapa officials, who worked together to record invalid ballots, tally unused ballots, and count the thousands of votes of their fellow citizens.

"Once they had successfully completed their task, the party representatives gave out a loud shout and were congratulating each other, patting each other on the back," Kent said. "Despite their differences, they were able to work together."