In Hindsight: On Daniel Ortega’s Return to Power

Discourtesy does not spring merely from one bad quality, but from several--from foolish vanity, from ignorance of what is due to others, from indolence, from stupidity, from distraction of thought, from contempt of others, from jealousy.
Jean de la Bruyere

Hind-sight: n. Perception of the significance and nature of events after they have occurred.
American Heritage Dictionary


I write these thoughts the morning that Daniel Ortega is to be sworn in as President of Nicaragua. I never dreamed that he’d return to power. In fact, in the article “A Time to Step Aside,” which appeared in this blog and in The Panama News, I predicted that the Nicaraguan people would not be foolish enough to reelect him.

I was, indeed, far off the mark.

Today, in retrospect, I believe I understand why Nicaraguans have chosen, once again, to trust a man with such an ignoble past. (And I refer not to his politics, but to behavior and deeds that reflect poorly on his character.)

Throughout the years I lived in Nicaragua, I frequently witnessed the degrading way in which the upper class treated—and still treats—their hired help. In fact, when I first moved to Nicaragua—as an eleven year old gringo-nicaragüense—the contempt with which Nicaraguans of means regarded their less fortunate compatriots left me speechless. Moreover, although I was only entering my teenage years, I could clearly see that the government of the rich didn’t care about the needs of the vast majority: the poor.

Almost every day of my Nicaraguan adolescence, and I say this without exaggeration, heartrending funerals would pass in front of my home, the pallbearers carrying tiny coffins—an indication of the nation’s alarmingly high infant mortality rate. Without doubt, the armed revolution against the US-supported Somoza dynasty had much to do with the desperate conditions in which most Nicaraguans lived. And during the family’s reign, the underprivileged stored up half a century of resentment while the bank accounts of the wealthy swelled, via blatant corruption, and the military acted ruthlessly in silencing the voices of conscience. Ultimately, though, the long-contained anger of the poor erupted with the fury of a once-dormant volcano and the world soon witnessed the crumbling of one of Latin America’s longest-standing dictatorships.

As the Sandinistas’ crowning moment approached, Nicaragua’s privileged fled. As tens of thousands descended upon the runways of Miami’s airport, I prayed that during their stay there they’d come to understand the reasons for their exile.

But, alas, when I returned to Nicaragua after a nineteen year absence—and ten years after the Sandinistas had been voted out of power—I was saddened to see that the poor were worse off than under the Somozas. Part of the reason, of course, was the Contra War and the economic embargo with which the Reagan administration punished the Sandinistas for their leftist agenda. But upon my return I was also dismayed to see that the wealthy, if anything, were even more scornful, if not downright vengeful, toward the poor.

It troubles me that in exile Nicaragua’s elite found it easier to blame the Sandinistas, Fidel Castro, Che Guevara, the poor, and communism for their misfortunes when, in truth, they should have been looking into the mirror and asking themselves some probing questions.

And today—the day of Daniel Ortega’s return to power—although deep down Nicaraguans realize that he will not lead them to the Promised Land of prosperity, the poor are rejoicing in his return simply because they had once again grown weary of being the object of the upper class’ disdain.

It’s now clear to me now that the failure of the wealthy to have learned the most significant lesson of the 1980s is what made it possible for the former Comandante de la Revolución to win this election—in spite of an unremarkable record as a leader and his highly questionable character.

The key to redemption is to change one’s behavior. And this is the lesson that Nicaragua’s elite failed to learn.