Sendero Luminoso: A Legacy of Terrorism

In September 1992, Peruvian security forces captured several heads of Sendero Luminoso (PCP-SL), a Maoist revolutionary group with designs on overthrowing the government. Shining Path, as the group is known by its English translation, had been resurrected twelve years earlier in the May 17, 1980 Cuschi attack. The ideological leader of the attack and the group, Abimael Guzman Reynoso, was among those captured in the September raid. With Guzman’s proclamation days later that the remaining members achieve their goals through peaceful political means, Sendero lost the psychological edge it had achieved through bombings, assassinations, and mass executions...The question is not whether...Shining Path thus retains the position it achieved more than a decade ago—it clearly does not; but, whether conditions are apt that it may again shine—so to speak.

Now, more than a decade hence, Peru’s highest court has ruled the country’s anti-terrorist legislation unconstitutional. As a result, many who were tried and jailed under the country’s anti-terrorist legislation are either being released or retried: Guzman, among them. Meanwhile, attacks bearing Sendero’s MO have signaled that the group may again be on the rise (particularly, the bombing of the US embassy in Lima early 2002; the 20 March 2002 bombing of Lima’s El Polo shopping mall; and the 10 June 2003 kidnapping of 71 workers of the Argentine company Technit SAC).

The question is not whether by these acts Shining Path thus retains the position it achieved more than a decade ago—it clearly does not; but, whether conditions are apt that it may again shine—so to speak. Several aspects are significant: 1) There is currently no official strategy to defeat those who wish to carry on Sendero’s legacy; 2) The government’s coming to terms with Fujimori’s dictatorship has ironically magnified the inequities still remaining in society; and 3) the Latin American political cycle.

Cyclical
Before giving the former two aspects their due, we must first deal with the latter: doing so will put the former—which are specific to Peru—in the broader context of political life in Latin America for the last half century. Why the third aspect is not first is purely due to rhetorical reasons; not because of where it falls in its significance to the discussion at hand.

In just over three decades, Peru has lived through two military coups and a dictatorship. All totaled, the country has known more years of non-democratic rule—20—than democratic—13. Such glacial upheavals are not exclusive to Peru; they are the norm in Latin America. For this reason, politics are a zero-sum game.

“Managing Oil Wealth”, Benn Eifert, Alan Gelb, and Nils Borje Tallroth’s article based on a paper presented at the International Monetary Fund Conference “Fiscal Policy Formulation and Implementation in Oil-Producing Countries,” (June 5-6, 2002) groups countries into five categories: Mature democracies, Factional democracies, Paternalistic autocracies, Reformist autocracies, and Predatory autocracy. Granted, as the author’s admit, these classifications “…are not exhaustive, and some countries have a blend of features from different categories,” (3). Putting this side, for it is not pertinent to this argument, unlike in “Mature democracies”, where there is a “Stable party system”, a “Range of social consensus”, and a “Long policy horizon” (2), Peru has these qualities of “Factional Democracies”: military intervention in politics is not uncommon; wide social disparities, lack of confidence; and a short policy horizon.

The absence of the “Mature democracies” qualities, and the presence of the “Factional Democracies”, makes for a society in which change is not limited to the administration, it is also structural. In other words, though inequalities exist in all societies, unlike in “Mature democracies”, where such inequalities are largely seen as being a result of poor administrative policy, for Peru, having the qualities of “Factional democracies”, inequalities are disproportionate to the extent they become a foundational argument for the inherent efficacy of the system as a whole. Simply put, it is again Democracy’s turn for blame.

This brings to light the aforementioned irony of the government’s position as it comes to terms with the Fujimori dictatorship. Though, theoretically, politically advantageous; in reality, attempts to right the wrongs of former government officials often calls to the fore the imperfections still remaining in society. In addition, in societies such as Peru it may evoke sympathy for the opposition by those citizens and/or their families tortured and/or killed by government officials.

Under these auspices, one can see why the release and retrials of Shining Path members looms so large. As The Economist writes in the 30 October, 2004 article, “Still Shining After All These Years”:

Others…fear that it [the Guzman trial] could be a catalyst for a rebirth
of the Shining Path. The civilian trial proceedings, unlike military trials
held behind closed doors, could give Mr. Guzman and his co-defendants
a chance to preach to the public. Benedicto Jimenez, a retired police
colonel who was part of the team that arrested Mr. Guzman, says the
Shining Path sees the retrials as a chance to jump-start itself. (44)

According to the same article, a month before, eight teachers were arrested for being members of Guzman’s group. This appears to follow what W. Alejandro Sanchez writes in his article, “The Rebirth of Insurgency in Peru”, appearing in the periodical Small Wars and Insurgencies (Autumn 2003); “Shining Path members have begun to infiltrate major unions, including reportedly the teachers’ national union, the SUTEP, and universities, particularly the State University of San Marcos in Lima, which was a center for leftist ideologies in the 1980s,” (194).

The political cycle is not now—nor was it in the past—limited to Peru. Such is why Latin America’s socio-political change has swept from the dependency theory and socialism of the 1960s and 70s, to the shock-therapy and globalization of the 1980s and 90s, and now the quasi-welfare-state and moderate socialism of the 2000s. From Brazil’s Lula de Silva, to Venezuela’s Hugo Chavez, Latin America appears to again be at least politically advantageous for socialists. Chavez is particularly interesting. Not just because he has buddied-up to the Fidel Castro, helped pass an act limiting free speech, and begun social programs which are largely dependent on oil-revenues, but also due to his attempts to destabilize surrounding South American countries.

According to The Economist, Rodrigo Granda, the implicit foreign envoy of FARC, a Marxist-revolutionary group in Columbia, who was captured in January ’05, appears to have been living with his family….

…openly in Venezuela. He had been given nationality and even voted
in the referendum. Awkwardly for Mr Chávez, the FARC put him on
the spot by stating that Venezuela's government had invited Mr.
Granda to two conferences, something officials had previously denied.
The president must now choose either to quarrel with Colombia, or to
repudiate the FARC and dent his ‘revolutionary’ credentials.
(01/22/2005; 36)

Because this is not a singular incident of Chavez and FARC being in the same place at the same time it is possible, given his Marxist leanings and that many Marxist intellectuals support him (“Marxist intellectuals support arrested FARC leader”; http://en.wikinews.org/wiki/Marxist_intellectuals_support_arrested_FARC_leader), that he is at least giving moral support. Some have speculated that the support has gone
much further. Even if this latter fact remains purely speculation, the former resembles what the authors of Trends in Outside Support for Insurgent Movements find in “State Support for Insurgencies”: which is, “Through the provision of sanctuary, arms, training, and money, governments have often played a critical role in augmenting an emergent group’s resilience,” (10). Support need not be as explicit as funding or arming; it can be seemingly innocuous, as in providing “sanctuary”.

Sendero’s Legacy
Digressing. Another form of support in Trends in Outside Support for Insurgent Movements can come from diasporas: that is, “…immigrant communities established in other countries,” (41). The definition should not be limited to a physical community, however; it can be broadened to include what could be termed the “abstract immigrant community”, where like-minded individuals can lend support—even if it just moral. The internet makes for an example of this “virtual” community. Case in point, the Sri Lankan insurgency, LTTE…

…has established a prominent presence on the Internet, with many of its
web sites fully documented and indexed in popular search engines. A
number of them contain links and other jump-off points that are net-
worked—under the banner of “peace”—to internationally renowned
hu-manitarian and development agencies such as the World Council of
Churches, the International Educational Development Inc., and the
Robert Kennedy Memorial Center for Human Rights. These web sites
have enabled the LTTE to establish a truly global presence, permitting
the group to “virtually” and instantaneously transmit propaganda,
mobilize active supporters, and sway potential backers. (45-46)

Perhaps more than ever before, the internet allows like-mindedness to morph into “virtual diasporas”.

This issue of like-mindedness brings us to the relationship between FARC and Sendero. In the late 1990’s, FARC’s “…incursion into Peru was promoted by Fujimori’s deal with the Columbia rebels over the 10,000 AK-47 rifles,” (193). FARC has also been noted as slowly expanding its sphere of influence into Peru, Brazil, and Ecuador. When combining this with the following—“The remaining members of the PCP-SL appear to have learned that they need foreign aid if they want to re-arm and re-organize themselves to continue their struggle,” (193)—one need not have an active imagination to see the potential consequences. Such cross-border meddling—be it government sanctioned or rebel-inspired—has led to instability in other parts of the world (Congo, Cote d'Ivoire, and Chenya, to name a few).

One potential consequence is—as Sanchez, the author of “Rebirth”, states— Sendero is becoming “Columbianized”, “…meaning that it is learning from the ongoing war in neighboring Columbia and mutating into a group that operates like the Columbian guerilla movement….” (190). What this means for Peruvian security forces will be discussed later. Presently, this mutation is worth noting, for, when placed in context, it appears less of an anomaly than it would otherwise.

From its genesis, Sendero Luminoso was split between those who wanted to gradually faze in Maoist reforms by encircling the government—literally and figuratively—thus creating leverage in which to enact reform, and those who saw violence as Sun Tzu saw it “‘kill one, frighten ten thousand,’” (93). How these two strands were able to co-exist was largely due to the group’s leader. In reference to this, Cyrus Ernesto Zirakzadeh, in his article, “From Revolutionary Dreams to Organizational Fragmentation: Disputes Over Violence Within ETA and Sendero Luminoso”, states the following: “Part of the explanation involves Sendero Luminoso’s highest-ranking official, Abimael Guzman Reynoso, whose political energy and adroitness helped contain centrifugal forces. A master tactician and a Leninist in his vision of political discipline, Guzman skillfully played factions against one another,” (79).

With Guzman in jail the axis has been mostly demolished from a strategic and organizational standpoint. Still left is the ideology. Also, as is the case with most insurgencies, the board has splintered. For PCP-SL, these splinters have taken the names Sendero Rojo (Red Path) and “Proseguir”, from the Spanish verb prosegar—to proceed (it also goes by the name Comite Regional Principal, or Principal Regional Committee). Under its leader, Victor Quispe Palomino (a.k.a., Comrade “Jose” or “Martin” Palomino), the latter “…has broken away from the main PCP-SL group, and it no longer sees Abimael Guzman as its ideological and political leader,” (190).

Poetic it is to state that, as a board may be dangerous when wielded, the splinters are as dangerous—if not more so should they infect the body politic. It is also true. For, as other splinter groups (al Aqsa Martyrs Brigade for one) have shown, they are not as inclined to be subtle. They are also less inclined to be choosey about where their finances come from, and who they associate with. For example, in addition to drug smuggling and making-nice with the cocaleros, Alberto Bolivar, author of the “Peru” chapter of the compendium, “Combating Terrorism: Strategies of Ten Countries”, points out the following—paraphrasing: in late November 2001 the joint Mossad and Peruvian counterterrorist unit, DINCOTE, captured a group of alleged Pakistani terrorists in southern Peru (114). Granted, this same unit captured a cell of Abu Nidal back in June 1988, thus it is not just a product of this splintering.

That being said, Bolivar also points out a post 9/11 world lives with the existential knowledge of networked terrorism: stating, “With these groups, Osama bin Laden has something in common: the drug business…Why wouldn’t bin Laden try to expand his worldwide terrorist web in this region?”

Indeed, this may be unnecessarily heightening the situation; but, if the U.S. can legitimately claim the foolhardiness of taking the nuclear option off the table in the time of war, then it should be at least considered that al Qaeda—a master of strategic and political thinking—may eye/is eyeing this region. True, there is an argument to be made that it would be a clash of ideological thinking—al Qaeda’s religious fundamentalism and Sendero’s scientific Atheism—but it is for another discussion. That being said, pragmatism may be outweighing ideological differences.

Taking a page from Sebastian Junger’s Vanity Fair article of December 2002 (pgs.194-206) entitled “Terrorism’s New Geography”, the Federal Research Division of the Library of Congress—under an Interagency Agreement with the Director of the CIA Crime and Narcotics Center—wrote a report entitled “Terrorist and Organized Crime Groups in the Tri-Border Area (TBA) Of South America”, in which the following is stated:

This review of the available open-source information on Islamic terrorist
group activities in Tri-Border Area (TBA) during the 1999 to 2003 period
provides substantial evidence for concluding that various Islamic terrorist
groups have used the TBA—where Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay meet
—as a haven for fund-raising, recruiting, plotting terrorist attacks else-
where in the TBA countries or the Americas in general, and other such
activities. (1)

The report cites one of the reasons for this rise is the area is less closely watched than the countries from which many of these individuals come. In the past, spatiality was a key
consideration in decision-making. The further a terrorist group was from a country the less likely it seemed that it would be susceptible to attack. A terrorist group a half a world away was mostly seen as that. September 11 dashed such ideas. In addition to the TBA being on the same continent as Peru, it “…provides a haven that is geographically, socially, economically, and politically highly conducive for allowing organized crime and the corrupt officials who accept their bribes or payoffs to operate in symbiotic relationship that thrives on drugs and arms trafficking, money laundering, and other lucrative criminal activities,” (3). Thus, the TBA would be a prime marketplace for a group that has “…learned that they need foreign aid if they want to re-arm and re-organize themselves to continue their struggle,” (193) such as Shining Path.

Gameplan
This brings us to the first part of the first stated aspect at the beginning this paper: that is, the government of Peru has no official strategy for defeating those carrying on Sendero’s legacy. The effect: a security apparatus which is even more ill-equipped to deal with the nuances of counterinsurgency/counterterrorism than it was in the 1980s and 90s. Essentially, the problem then was two-fold—governmental and militaristic. Or, to put it concisely, “Instead of coping with it politically and psychologically, the Peruvian government took a purely militaristic approach to the problem, forgetting that if political and psychological warfare plays an important role in revolutionary insurgency the same can be said for counterinsurgency strategy,” (100).

Belaunde, Garcia, and Fujimori all failed to see what Sir Henry Gurney, the high commissioner in Malaya, saw in the British campaign: “…that on no account must the
armed forces have control over the conduct of the war. This…was a war of political ideologies…what was needed was armed support for a political war, not political support for an army war,” (101).

Especially in the case of Fujimori, who was all too eager to generalize any political dissent as giving aid and comfort to or being inspired by the insurgency, Peruvian society was repressed to the point that although Sendero did not necessarily gain supporters there were fewer individuals willing to help flush them out. And, from what Bolivar states, this is exactly what Sendero wanted, for “…insurgents try to provoke arbitrary and indiscriminate government reprisals, calculating that this will increase local resentment against the government, which they hope to convert into support for their insurrectionist cause,” (102).

For the most part the apparent defeat of SL in the 90s was less due to the organizational sophistication of Peruvian security forces than it was due to, ironically, the proletariat. Aside from the ronderos, or Self-Defense Committees comprised of peasant rural patrols, popular support for Sendero never materialized. Some reasons for this: inherent prejudice within SL—such as, the Ashaninka concentration camps where the natives were forced to work for the party; the massacres of 12 or more people between December ’87 and February ’92; and the use of terrorism as an end in itself has no message other than death for most of the populace.
Several reasons exist as to why the Peruvian government is presently ill-equipped to handle SL.

The first reason is a matter of personnel; both politically and militarily. In regards to former, Fujimori is in exile, and his intelligence chief, Vladimiro Montesinos, is in jail on list of charges. If success were measured by the amount of energy, money, and arms used these men would be near the top of the list. Though abused, Peru also once had a state-of-the-art intelligence apparatus. Most of it was literally and figuratively dismantled by fleeing government officials in 2000.

Then there is the military. For one, it is under funded—with little to no resources for extra-military operations, such as special forces; 2) there is little to no experience in the kind of nuanced thinking that is required by counterinsurgency/counterterrorism; and 3) it has not been fully purged of those officers and soldiers who had participated in earlier campaigns when atrocities were the rule rather than the exception. At least politically, the last aspect is a liability for the current Toledo administration, as it gives the impression that inherent qualities remain which may lead to another Fujimori-like dictatorship.

When looking at the aforementioned errors of the government throughout the 1980s and 90s the mistakes were mostly top-down. Government leaders failed to set a coherent policy, thus the security forces where left with holes in the rules of engagement (ROE). Perhaps nowhere was this more apparent than in the case of Ayacucho. After Belaunde declared a state of emergency, security forces were sent into Ayacucho and several other areas. What followed was a tally of thousands killed in the subsequently named “The Dirty War”. Bolivar writes:

Lacking political objectives and a counterinsurgency strategy, the armed
forces occupied Ayacucho as if it were enemy territory. Military leaders
did not have in mind that in such cases the objective of the security forces
is to regain control of the population and not just to occupy terrain. The
purpose of territorial consolidation must be to establish contact with
the people…in order to protect them, not to treat them like presumed
terrorists and thus alienate support. (101)

Another strand ran through each successive administration since Sendero’s reemergence in 1980: the lack of legality. This is not stated so as to wander into a discussion of the
legitimacy of the law being the prerogative of the ruler—that the ruler makes the law—rather, from the outset, there was little indoctrination of the security forces by government officials in the law and the pragmatic use of it in waging the counterinsurgency. One effect was the blurring of the line between the two sides. Here, again, we look to Bolivar: “The Peruvian security establishment also forgot that since the prime purpose of destabilization is to break the rule of law, the first essential element in countering terrorism is to ensure that soldiers, police, intelligence officers, and others claiming to support the government themselves act within the law,” (102).

Apparently, Peruvian authorities have not learned the lesson. Due to the occurrence of strikes from March to June 2003, the Toledo administration ordered several regions to be declared states of emergency without asking regional presidents for their input, and placed the military in control. True, the use of the military for domestic security is commonplace in Latin American politics. This is, however, a little too dismissive of an essential historical point: even as far back as ancient Rome many understood the symbolism of the army coming within the walls of the capital city. Particularly for ancient Rome, from Julius Caesar on, no longer would the republic that was Rome’s origin be free from the precedence of having its army used against itself.

Also as before, a Peruvian administration looks to be generalizing their response: “Toledo has pushed for a violent eradication of coca fields which simply even more alienates to poor coca farmers,” (194). Coca’s importance to Peruvian society is such that, in itself, it can hold sway over whether the government succeeds or fails in their counterinsurgency efforts. Coming back to the mentioned “Columbianization”. As opposed to their methods of the 1980s and 90s, where they alienated most of the peasantry both by attacking and looking down upon them, Sendero appears to be doing the opposite. Though many peasants are still wary of the group, inroads are being made. Not only is the group offering the cocaleros protection and money but, as Toledo makes such threats to extinguish them, Sendero’s image can only be enhanced.

Geography is of concern, also. Most of the coca is grown in hard-to-reach, vegetative regions. Any attempts on behalf of authorities to administer order in these areas can easily fall victim to a scorched-earth campaign: thus why Toledo’s sentiment about their eradication is so troubling. It reflects an almost willful ignorance of what even Fujimori learned from the use of the ronderos.

Conclusion: Shadows
It is not this paper’s contention that Toledo is indistinguishable from Fujimori. Whereas the latter is of Japanese ancestry, the former has indigenous roots; whereas Fujimori could never escape the accusation that his motivations were racist, much of Toledo’s popular support in the 2000 and 2001 presidential elections came as he used his race to shore up the indios vote; whereas the latter was viewed as an elitist partially because of his academic background, the former organized the popularly led March of the Tawantinsuyo (from the Incan language, Quechua) which protested against the Fujimori dictatorship. Aside from these, however, the two men appear quite similar.

Disturbingly, Toledo proclaimed the very type of March he organized in 2000 to be illegal and unconstitutional. Add to this the aforementioned threats against the cocaleros, each fact only further alienates the people he claimed to be simpatico with. For Sanchez, the “…effect of this current anti-Toledo/anti-government syndrome is obviously not encouraging for Peru’s future. The relation between this anti-government feeling and the rise of terrorist movements is quite clear,” (194).

At approximately the same time Peru’s highest court ruled the anti-terrorism legislation unconstitutional the Peruvian and Truth and Reconciliation Commission (CVR) was established by the post-Fujimori interim government. Their task was to investigate the atrocities committed in the 1980s and 90s by each side. When the report findings were published two years later, in a comprehensive nine-volume study, it left no party spared of blame: writes Jo-Marie Burt, in her article entitled “Plotting Fear: The Uses of Terror in Peru”, “It clearly states that the armed forces engaged in systematic violations of human rights…and it documents the massive abuses by Shining Path against state officials and civilians alike, which amounted to more than half of the cases heard by the CVR,” (35).

Politically, the symbolism should have been fodder for Toledo. It offered him a chance to be the figurehead of both facing the sins of the past and reconciliation. Instead, not only was the report attacked in political circles, and “The political elite seems as myopic as it was in the 1980s, when politicians would debate arcane points even as the country was drowning in economic chaos and political violence,” (36) but it also was virtually ignored by Toledo for “…a full three months after….” (36). When he finally responded to the report, Toledo “…lamented that it was unfair that he had to ‘pay the bills’ for the sins of previous governments,” (36).

As with previous administrations, Toledo’s political astuteness appears lacking. If Toledo were a candidate running for a seat on the local council this deficiency would be rather harmless; as the chief law enforcement official for the country it is all but an actual gathering storm cloud. Then, as it is now, the insurgency problem is looked at as lacking the right military strategy, thus denying what Bard O’Neil writes as a fundamental fact in dealing with an insurgency: that is, an insurgency is essentially a result of a crisis of “political-legitimacy” (19). We need not again go over the missteps and outright ignorance displayed by Toledo except to say, in reference to the previous statement, it is another example of a regime not learning from the past. Unfortunately, it is an all too familiar theme for a country, a continent used to cycles.

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Yonah Alexander. University of Michigan Press. 2002. pp.84-115.

Burt, Jo-Marie. “Plotting Fear: The Uses of Terror in Peru.” NACLA Report on
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Eifert, Benn, Alan Gelb, and Nils Borje Tallroth. “Managing Oil Wealth.” Finance and
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(http://www.imf.org/external/pubs/ft/fandd/2003/03/eife.htm)

Hudson, Rex. “Terrorist and Organized Crime Groups in the Tri-Border Area (TBA)
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(http://en.wikinews.org/wiki/Marxist_intellectuals_support_arrested_FARC_leader)

O’Neill, Bard. “Insurgency & Terrorism: From Revolution to Apocalypse.” 2nd ed.
Washington, D.C: Potomac Books, Inc. 2005.

Sanchez, W. Alejandro. “The Rebirth of Insurgency in Peru.” Small Wars and
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“Still Shining After All These Years.” The Economist 30 Oct. 2004: 44.

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