Chile's Formula: All Realism, No Magic

Tomado de diario Washington Post, Washington - EEUU

The top student in Latin America's class. The star pupil. The teacher's pet.

That is the vision of Chile trumpeted around the world. From the snowy peaks of Davos, Switzerland, to dinner parties in Latin capitals, foreign investors and regional experts point to Chile as the model that Latin American nations should emulate to expand their economies and strengthen their democracies.

It's not an easy thing, this model business. In a sense, of course, the experts are right. Politically, Chile rebuilt a stable democracy after a military coup and a 16-year dictatorship. Its economy boasts strong and steady growth stemming from sensible free-market policies -- the "miracle of Chile," as some have put it. And on a continent where inequality has led to revolutions and populist outbreaks, Chile has managed to reduce poverty and enhance social peace. We even elected a woman -- Michelle Bachelet, a divorced, agnostic mother of three -- as our president this year; better yet, she reached the presidency on her own merits and not as the wife or relative of a famous male politician.

So, if Chile is so successful, why can't we export our model to the rest of the region? In this battle for the soul of Latin America -- as the Economist magazine has so melodramatically put it -- why isn't Chile winning?

Our problem, as an Ecuadorian friend put it to me, is that Chile is the Switzerland of Latin America: Orderly, punctual, trustworthy -- and boring. That makes us as unattractive as we are praiseworthy, an anomaly amid this steamy Latin American soil.

In the 1992 World Expo in Seville, Spain, the representatives of Chile took an iceberg as our national symbol. No surprise, for we are cold and serious; we are Latin America's anti-Latins. We don't play soccer very well. (We didn't even qualify for the 2006 World Cup.) We can't swing our hips like the Brazilians, and we haven't mastered the art of living life like the Argentines. Our climates range from dry deserts to artic winters, with none of the tropics that define so much of Latin America. We have no levitating spirits, no guayaba aromas waft through our streets. We lack the exoticism of the Caribbean. We are all realism, no magic.

And therein lies our problem. Politicians and economists from Chile's key international trading partners -- the United States, Europe and Asia -- all wish that the rest of Latin America would follow our lead. They fear populists such as Hugo Chávez of Venezuela or Evo Morales of Bolivia. By contrast, we Chileans are serious and sober, progressing without wild experiments; foreign investors love our low "country risk."

But it seems far from clear to me that the rest of Latin America cares as much for our model as the outsiders do. Our neighbors may want Chile's results, but without Chile's process, pain and effort -- a quintessentially Latin attitude.

Other countries in our region are dominated by the cult of instant gratification; their optimism knows few bounds. But in Chile, the national character is different. Our neighbors see us as prosperous, but we've grown up knowing that we live in a poor, isolated country. That has forged in Chileans the notion that we must work hard to make something of our lives. Chileans consider austerity a virtue, and even the elites regard themselves as middle class.

For all our apparent success, my compatriots live in fear that it can all end at any moment. One of our most marked traits is our sense of precariousness. That is why airs and luxury are frowned upon here, and our culture of saving is strong. That is also why Chileans go to Buenos Aires when we want to have fun. Those Argentines really know how to spend.

Even if other Latin American nations wanted to embrace our model, I'm not sure they could.

In Chile, it took unique historical traumas to produce our consensus on how to live and how to move forward. The political and economic catastrophes that began in the 1970s reinforced our belief that risky adventures are not Chile's style. First, the chaos that reigned during the era of Socialist President Salvador Allende, with its threats to private property; later, the coup by Gen. Augusto Pinochet, with the tragedy of human rights violations -- Chile has learned its lessons through blood and fire. Even our oft-praised economic reforms, such as the privatization of state enterprises and greater openness to trade and foreign capital, proved divisive at first. But supporters of different regimes had to learn to work together rather than advance petty political agendas. Now, we pass those lessons on to our younger generations, to those who did not live through our past trials and are most likely to disregard them.

Chile's model is not miraculous. It is the reward for placing clear-eyed prudence over passion. Are other Latin American countries -- their people and their politicians -- willing to pay the price? If so, why do the Chávezes of our continent, those who promise riches without sacrifice, and who blame the rest of the world for their own ills, always seem more attractive, more worthy of attention?

Alas, the student with the best grades is rarely the most popular one in school. In Chile, we don't kid ourselves -- some of our dreams will never come true. We'll never score more goals than Brazil, and we'll never dance like they do in the Caribbean. But perhaps if we continue to work and hold on to the harsh lessons of our history, we'll someday become a fully developed nation, one that can defeat the poverty that some of our compatriots still suffer. And that beats a World Cup trophy any day.

pescobar@mercurio.cl

Paula Escobar is magazines editor of the Chilean daily El Mercurio.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/08/04/AR2006080401746.html