Peruvians hoping for a new era
BY TYLER BRIDGES
LIMA, Peru -- On a festive night a couple of weeks ago, 500 people
at Lima's
National Art Museum celebrated the fall of President Alberto
Fujimori and his
hated intelligence chief, Vladimiro Montesinos.
With pisco sours, they toasted those honored by a Peruvian human
rights group
who had opposed Fujimori and Montesinos, and they roared their
approval at
comments directed against the two men.
``Nobody is above the law,'' exulted Carlos Escobar, a state prosecutor
exiled for
nearly 10 years because he investigated army human rights abuses.
His cry was
hailed with ringing cheers.
After 15 years of political and economic upheaval, Peru is finally
beginning to
exhale. But recent Peruvian history offers no guarantees that
this startling
success will produce a new Peru, free of the excesses and failures
of the past.
``All of us have done a lot to get to this moment,'' said Baruch
Ivcher, a television
magnate who became a symbol of resistance to Fujimori's strong-arm
tactics
when he was forced into exile four years ago after his station
broadcast a news
report linking Fujimori and Montesinos to drug trafficking.
Ivcher made his remarks to a crowd assembled at his home as he
hosted another
party to hail the demise of the Fujimori regime.
NEW COALITION
At the moment, a new coalition government is steering the country
with a calm
hand, and new elections are scheduled for April amid a widely
held optimism that
Peru's next president should be positioned to chart a stable
course. But lurking
beneath the optimism is an acknowledgement that re-establishing
a stable
democracy will not be easy because the traditions of stability
and political liberty
have been almost destroyed.
First there was Alán García, elected president in
1985 and so charismatic that his
favorable rating reached an astonishing 94 percent two years
later.
But García proved unable to deal with Peru's underlying
political and economic
problems. He left office in disgrace in 1990, with two guerrilla
groups, the Shining
Path and Tupác Amaru, on the rampage and inflation having
skyrocketed to an
annual 7,000 percent.
Disgusted with García and traditional parties, the Peruvian
electorate turned to
Fujimori, an unknown college professor who upset the political
establishment by
defeating Peru's most prominent writer, Mario Vargas Llosa, to
succeed to the
presidency.
Over the next 10 years, Fujimori managed to tame hyperinflation
and defeat the
insurgent movements but he ran roughshod over political opponents
of all stripes,
alienating many of his political followers.
In May, Fujimori won a controversial third term over the objections
of Alejandro
Toledo, his leading opponent, and the international community.
They complained
that the Peruvian president had rigged the electoral system to
ensure his victory.
In September, Fujimori's behind-the-scenes right-hand man, Montesinos,
fled the
country after a leaked videotape broadcast on television showed
Montesinos
paying an opposition congressman $15,000 to support Fujimori.
Two months
later, it was Fujimori's turn to pull a stunning disappearing
act, announcing while
visiting Tokyo that he was stepping down as president and would
remain in Japan
indefinitely.
Valentín Paniagua, who had been the president of Congress,
replaced Fujimori,
and promptly filled his Cabinet with the ex-president's opponents,
men and
women who had spent years on the outside peering in.
U.S. ENVOY
John Hamilton, the American ambassador, who had pointedly told
Fujimori earlier
in the year that the United States wanted fair elections, captured
the country's
mood when he said in an interview at Baruch's home, ``There's
a kind of euphoria
in the air now.''
He added a caveat: ``But I just hope it doesn't raise expectations
that a future
government can't meet.''
The essential problem is economic. Despite gains during Fujimori's
initial eight
years in office, half of Peru's 27 million residents live in
poverty, defined as earning
less than $1.25 per day. The gap between rich and poor poses
a huge political
obstacle for any would-be political leader who wants to improve
the lives of
ordinary Peruvians.
Many of the poor are investing their hopes in Toledo, who grew
up in the port town
of Chimbote, in an adobe home without electricity or running
water. He was one of
16 children, seven of whom died during infancy.
As a youngster, he sold lottery tickets, shined shoes and peddled
sweetened
crushed ice drinks.
He won a scholarship to study in the United States and ended up
getting a
doctorate from Stanford University and later working at the World
Bank. Toledo
would have been the first ``cholo'' -- as Peruvians of obvious
mixed blood are
known -- to be elected president who had not previously taken
office through a
military coup.
A poll released recently by Apoyo, a local survey firm, showed
that Toledo holds
an early lead in the April presidential race with 25 percent.
Of the other 14
potential candidates, none had more than 9 percent.
Most political observers expect Toledo and someone else -- potentially
any one of
the 13 registered opponents, given the volatility here -- to
win a spot in a runoff
election, to be held in May. In the meantime, a more subdued
campaign is
expected in the coming months than Peru has seen in recent elections.
As one of
Toledo's political strategists advised him last week: ``The people
here are
exhausted from politics.''