Peru x Chile: Struggle for the High Seas

The International Court of Justice in The Hague’s decision this week (01/27/14) regarding the maritime line of demarcation between Peruvian and Chilean waters generated high spirits in Lima and clenched teeth in Santiago. The Court’s findings actually balanced tradition – in the form of historical practices and signed treaties – with a perceived need to adjust to modern realities.

For the last few hundred years, the territorial waters recognized for the two countries have been in dispute, especially since the War of the Pacific (1879-84). Chile’s advances in that war also left Bolivia a landlocked nation. According to the Menas Border blog (www.menasborders.com), Chile considered the matter of the maritime border with Peru definitively settled after two treaties in 1952 and 1954 that addressed fishing rights in the Pacific Ocean. Chile claimed territorial waters along a latitudinal parallel originating at the established international land boundary. Peru claimed maritime territory along a south-westerly line extending from the international border essentially perpendicular and equidistant from their coastline.

http://s.wsj.net/public/resources/images/WO-AR133A_PERUC_G_20140127184204.jpg

The progressive nature of the decision attempts to address knowledge regarding the value of natural resources that did not exist at the time of the treaties, and conform to more recent traditions of equidistant maritime demarcation. Conversely, Chilean critics see the findings as undermining the necessary stability inherent in international accords, and lament the impending loss in revenue from fishing rights.

Importantly, Chile’s president, Sebastián Piñera, expressed his strong disagreement with the court’s finding but assured that Chile would abide by the ruling. This is no small development given the long history of the dispute. Writing for Reuters, Thomas Escritt and Rosalba O'Brien projected that the decision would ultimately strengthen relations between Chile and Peru, whose growing bilateral trade reached US$ 3 billion last year.¹ Robert Kozak and Ryan Dube reported in The Wall Street Journal that tensions have been higher lately, especially among Peruvians living in Chile. They cite Michael Shifter, president of U.S.-based think tank Inter-American Dialogue, who said, "The loss of quite a bit of ocean territory will not go down easily with many Chileans."² However, the article indicates that Shifter as well as analysts from the Eurasia Group do not believe that there will be lasting negative effects from the finding but tend to agree with the assessment that the settlement will lead to better economic stability.

The new demarcation line runs along the parallel recognized by Chile for 80 miles, and then veers southwest to the 200-mile boundary of international waters. This confusing arrangement transfers some 8,000 square miles from Chilean to Peruvian territory, nevertheless preserving much of the most strategic fishing regions for Chile. Ultimately, the court opted for a compromise between the two claims, reaching a settlement that the court clearly hopes will finally bring to a close the dispute. A century ago in Latin America a conflict like would have been resolved by armies and navies. The present outcome is indicative of the region’s political and economic development.

1. http://www.reuters.com/article/2014/01/27/us-chile-peru-court-idUSBREA0Q1ER20140127

2. http://online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424052702303277704579346682451335434

2666

The most interesting book that I read in 2012 was 2666 published posthumously by the Chilean author Roberto Bolaño. Debuted in 2004 by Editorial Anagrama (Barcelona), this 1,000-page novel presents an intricate structure of numerous, seemingly unrelated narrative lines that eventually intersect in the Chihuahua desert of northern Mexico. In some ways reminiscent of Brazilian Ivan Ângelo’s A Festa that focuses on corruption and oppression in a “read-between-the-lines” narrative, 2666 is ultimately a denunciation not only of the violence against women occurring along the US-Mexican border, but also of the de facto governmental complicity in the crimes. The unstated perpetrators of the heinous violence are the savage drug cartels; the implicit target of Bolaño’s harshest criticism is the government that only pays lip service to enforcement and on many levels indirectly and directly abets the illicit cash flow with its ensuing atrocities. This view eventually emerges from a five-part structure that encompasses the arcane world of scholars of obscure European literature, a New York sportswriter, the German army at the Eastern front during World War II, and most importantly the fictitious town of Santa Teresa standing in for Ciudad Juárez. Although he wrote it as a single work, just before his death Bolaño instructed that 2666 be published as five separate novels in order to ensure the patrimony he left for his family. Indeed, each section could conceivably stand alone, while sharing some characters and themes with the others. However, Bolaño’s heirs decided to come out with the novel as a single tome, and the impact of the work gains from this integration. In the end, Roberto Bolaño constructed a narrative as disturbing and desolate as the countryside that he depicted.