"Are the chain link fences and the armed guards a solution or simply a band-aid to the greater problem at hand?"
When my retreat group and I first touched down at the airport in Guayaquil, I didn’t totally know what to expect. Staggering and intermittently, we all left baggage claim only to be greeted by a small, cheering crowd of people in maroon polo shirts. The cheerleaders, we later learned, were the volunteers from Rostro de Cristo, the organization that we were staying with during our time there. But as we left the confines of the airport and walked out into the heavy South American air, the group quieted and led us to a truck and two vans. Four Ecuadorian men armed with rifles occupied the truck.
The men, the Rostro leaders explained to us, were going to accompany us back to the house for safety reasons. A bunch of gringos with luggage leaving the airport was a high profile type of event in Durán, and some added protection couldn’t hurt as a precautionary measure. And so, in a mandated silent ride back to the retreat house, I was introduced (albeit briefly) to crime and violence in Ecuador.
In Mobilizing for Human Rights in Latin America, author Edward Cleary writes that, in a survey taken concerning whether or not one feels safe walking in the dark, 82 percent of Americans voted in the affirmative. Similarly, 89 percent of Americans believe their local police do a satisfactory job. Conversely, only 16 percent of Argentines and 33 percent of Brazilians believe the same thing.
The men, the Rostro leaders explained to us, were going to accompany us back to the house for safety reasons. A bunch of gringos with luggage leaving the airport was a high profile type of event in Durán, and some added protection couldn’t hurt as a precautionary measure. And so, in a mandated silent ride back to the retreat house, I was introduced (albeit briefly) to crime and violence in Ecuador.
In Mobilizing for Human Rights in Latin America, author Edward Cleary writes that, in a survey taken concerning whether or not one feels safe walking in the dark, 82 percent of Americans voted in the affirmative. Similarly, 89 percent of Americans believe their local police do a satisfactory job. Conversely, only 16 percent of Argentines and 33 percent of Brazilians believe the same thing.
Crime and safety issues in Latin America are a relatively recent issue. Or rather, they have only gotten significantly worse in recent (20 to 30) years. According to Mobilizing, in the 1960s and 70s, tourists who visited Latin America felt safe when partaking in the nightlife of the countries, and in the 90s Buenos Aires was even considered the safest capital in the developing world. So what has changed?
High unemployment, guns left over and plentiful from Central American civil wars, and drug production, transportation, and addiction are all cited as contributing factors. And, on the smaller scale of Ecuador, these reasons don’t vary much.
In Violence and Insecurity in Ecuador, a documentary by PRESS TV Documentaries (see video below), officials from universities and sociologists alike agree that, until only 10 or 15 years ago, people in Ecuador could walk freely without fear of violent crime or attack. Now, however, “the current level of public insecurity, violence, and crime is a concern of most of the residents of this country,” the documentary asserts. And generally in Latin America, as Mobilizing points out, “as fear of crime climbed considerably in the last twenty years, an explosion has taken place in private security forces, walls with razor wire, and gated communities.”
High unemployment, guns left over and plentiful from Central American civil wars, and drug production, transportation, and addiction are all cited as contributing factors. And, on the smaller scale of Ecuador, these reasons don’t vary much.
In Violence and Insecurity in Ecuador, a documentary by PRESS TV Documentaries (see video below), officials from universities and sociologists alike agree that, until only 10 or 15 years ago, people in Ecuador could walk freely without fear of violent crime or attack. Now, however, “the current level of public insecurity, violence, and crime is a concern of most of the residents of this country,” the documentary asserts. And generally in Latin America, as Mobilizing points out, “as fear of crime climbed considerably in the last twenty years, an explosion has taken place in private security forces, walls with razor wire, and gated communities.”
Though most of my time in Ecuador was spent in Durán, we did venture into downtown Guyaquil one or two times, as well. Both times, we drove by gated communities like the ones mentioned above. These communities weren’t just sectored off for neighborhood division reasons, but the houses inside the walls were lavish and worth millions of dollars a piece. In a place like Guayaquil where extreme poverty and wealth border each other so often, and in a place like Latin America where crime appears to be running so rampant, these walls are necessary…right? My own house in Durán was gated, locked, and guarded at all times, and we had two (more beautiful than ferocious) guard dogs named Oso and Wooky to further scare away intruders. And while not everything in Ecuador can be compared to the U.S., my experience of being locked in while the rest of the world was locked away can be.
In the Spring of 2013, I went on a different, domestic service trip to Camden, New Jersey. As the poorest city in the richest state in the country, Camden is no stranger to crime and violence and, as a result, the house I stayed in there was also locked up with a hefty chain link fence that surrounded the building, especially at night. At the time, both in Camden and in Ecuador, these added security features made me feel safe. But now that I’m back in the comfort of my own gated college campus, I’m finding myself wondering if locking up at night is doing anything in the long term. As someone who believes in writing as a form of connection and action, are the chain link fences and the armed guards a solution or simply a band-aid to the greater problem at hand?
Cleary, at the end of a chapter in Mobilizing, notes that NGOs demanding more public safety became commonplace in the 90s. “One of the potential venues for reform,” he says “is the neighborhood.” I think back to Arbolito, the neighborhood of Guayaquil that I spent most of my time in those eight days, and all the wonderful people I met there. But I also think of how my group leader mentioned that drugs were a major problem in the households of the neighborhood, and then how drugs are a contributing factor to the increased crime rates in Ecuador and Latin America alike. So while the fences and the locks and the dogs all make sense and helped me feel safe, I can’t help but wonder about those on the other side of the fence, those without locks and dogs. Those who live alongside and with the causes of the crime in their neighborhood. Maybe we should reconsider the venue of the neighborhood—in the U.S., in Ecuador, in Latin America. Maybe then we wouldn’t need documentaries like the one below or books like the one mentioned above. But in the meantime they contribute to understanding the problems and solutions better, and, for now, they are Ecuador’s best shot at true reform.
In the Spring of 2013, I went on a different, domestic service trip to Camden, New Jersey. As the poorest city in the richest state in the country, Camden is no stranger to crime and violence and, as a result, the house I stayed in there was also locked up with a hefty chain link fence that surrounded the building, especially at night. At the time, both in Camden and in Ecuador, these added security features made me feel safe. But now that I’m back in the comfort of my own gated college campus, I’m finding myself wondering if locking up at night is doing anything in the long term. As someone who believes in writing as a form of connection and action, are the chain link fences and the armed guards a solution or simply a band-aid to the greater problem at hand?
Cleary, at the end of a chapter in Mobilizing, notes that NGOs demanding more public safety became commonplace in the 90s. “One of the potential venues for reform,” he says “is the neighborhood.” I think back to Arbolito, the neighborhood of Guayaquil that I spent most of my time in those eight days, and all the wonderful people I met there. But I also think of how my group leader mentioned that drugs were a major problem in the households of the neighborhood, and then how drugs are a contributing factor to the increased crime rates in Ecuador and Latin America alike. So while the fences and the locks and the dogs all make sense and helped me feel safe, I can’t help but wonder about those on the other side of the fence, those without locks and dogs. Those who live alongside and with the causes of the crime in their neighborhood. Maybe we should reconsider the venue of the neighborhood—in the U.S., in Ecuador, in Latin America. Maybe then we wouldn’t need documentaries like the one below or books like the one mentioned above. But in the meantime they contribute to understanding the problems and solutions better, and, for now, they are Ecuador’s best shot at true reform.