We Are All Like Pope Francis

The term Latino is a social construction, a pan-ethnic identity that puts under one umbrella several more specific identities. While, the idea of Latino exists outside the United States now, it is still an American creation, and as we have written before, it is a creation that even people of Latin American descent in the United States don’t really embrace. If you ask a “Latino” in the U.S. who has origins in Mexico, what ethnicity she is, the odds are that she will say, “Mexican.” This is not an opinion, but a finding that is backed up by large-scale national research. I would assume that if you asked someone born and raised in Mexico who currently lives there what their ethnicity was, the likelihood of saying, “Mexican,” would go up even higher. It is not true 100% of the time as we can always find exceptions, but most people in the U.S. who have roots in Latin American will use their country of origin as their ethnic identity; most people in their country, also probably think of themselves in terms of their nationality (i.e., Mexicans in Mexico, Guatemalans in Guatemala, etc.)

Latino represents something of a compromise. When Cubans or Puerto Ricans stand as separate groups, they have a more cohesive collective cultural identity, but they lose numbers and power. Banding together allows them to share slightly less, but wield more influence.  Compromises are often about politics and power.

Dr. Alvarez’s post about the new pope focuses on the issue of identity, showing that from a cultural perspective, it is not a real clear case that the new pope is Latino, if at all. His parents were European, Italians who immigrated to Argentina, and he never lived in a multicultural Latino community like the United States where a label of Latino makes more sense.

But with regards to power and influence, compromises are sometimes made and the newly named Pope Francis is a compromise all around. First, he is a Jesuit, an order which itself has a complicated history with the church leadership in Rome. On the one hand, they have been called the church’s “elite troops” because of their role as missionaries, their direct work with the poor, and their commitment to education. On the other, they have been subject to suppression from Rome for activities that are not in line with the doctrines of the church. As recently as seventies, Pope John Paul II struggled with the Jesuits who advocated a liberation theology that sought to give voice and power to the poor, with movements throughout Latin America. Jesuits spoke truth to power and corruption in Latin American governments and in some cases paid for it with their freedom and lives. The then Jorge Bergoglio was the leader of the Jesuits in Buenos Aires when several Jesuit priests were imprisoned for speaking out against the government. It is unclear whether Bergoglio could have done more to protect the priests of his order, but his moderation in dealing with their imprisonment is indicative of his style. Aside from being a moderate Jesuit, almost an oxymoron, he also has ties to Europe and Latin America. For a church that has already shifted to the global south, Latin American and Africa, for its member base, many saw it as an imperative that the new pope would represent this geographical area; again, we see a compromise. While Jorge Mario Bergoglio was born in Argentina, his parents are Italian-born, allowing Rome to claim ties to his papacy just as Latin America does. Pope Francisco also splits the difference in terms of his theology. He is noted as being humble and committed to the poor, eschewing the extravagance of Rome, living in a small apartment, cooking for himself, and taking the bus; he does this while also holding the conservative line on issues such as gay marriage, the celibacy of priests, and abortion.

Father Michael Garanzini, the current Jesuit leader of the country’s largest Jesuit University, Loyola University Chicago, where both Dr. Alvarez and I attended for undergraduate studies, has noted Pope Francis’s history of moderation. He says that we probably should not expect great changes, but that his selection itself is in fact a great change that relates to many.

Because many people feel that they can claim a connection to Pope Francis, conservative and liberal, Europe and the Americas, and notably Latinos, why would we deny this sense of empowerment? So, perhaps we can decry his moderation as being too conservative, or we can say he is not us, that he is not authentically [insert identity here], but by opening the door to other groups, even a crack, perhaps a new light will shine through.

Pope Francis and Identity: Some Initial Thoughts

Readers of The Mexican Intellectual know that one theme we regularly address is ethnicity and ethnic identity.  I have written before, for example, about the limitations of a “Latino” ethnic construction for United States-born populations of Central American, South American, or Caribbean descent; arguing essentially that it obviates the national and cultural heritages of entire groups of people.  Thus, it should come as little surprise that I find the characterization of the recently-elected Pope Francis as Latino - as some in the press, among the faithful, or both have done - as misguided.  Not only does this characterization test the limits of a Latino ethnic construction, but it also is patently incorrect given the Pontiff's national origin, and it continues the tradition of American cultural hegemony in the region.

Photo credit: Paul Haring, Catholic News Service.
Available at http://www.catholicnews.com/data/stories/cns/1301150.htm

To be clear, “Latino” is a label of ethnic identity; socially constructed by and for populations from Central America, South America, or the Caribbean (regions loosely referred to as Latin America) who reside in the U.S.  Thus, in the U.S. context, people of Mexican, Guatemalan, Puerto Rican, or other national descents of these regions living in the U.S. identify as or are categorized by others as “Latino.”

Pope Francis, née Jorge Mario Bergoglio, is the son of an Italian immigrant to Argentina, and was born in the capital city, Buenos Aires, in December 1936.  As such, we can say we have an Argentinean Pope, or a South American Pope, or even a Latin American Pope, but we cannot say we have a Latino Pope.  Further, U.S. Latinos may have a sense of pride that a son of Latin America is the new Pontiff, but they cannot claim him as one of their own - as a Latino.  To project their U.S. constructed ethnic identity on a native Argentinean is naive at best, and imperialistic at worst.

A New Latin America Says "No" to Torture

In 1991, during my senior year of college, I partook in an alternative spring break trip to Guatemala. While I had visited parts of Mexico during the late 1980s, this was my first foray further into Latin America.  Prior to this – and I hate to admit it – I was pretty naïve about Latin American history.  Although I have written before about the United States’ involvement in the region, I did not appreciate the full extent and long-lasting effects of that involvement until this sojourn.

It is no accident that Loyola University sponsored the trip.  Loyola is a Jesuit school and Jesuit priests at the time were the leading proponents of liberation theology. Liberation theology offered a revised interpretation of the Bible, specifically the New Testament Gospels, and had significant influence in Latin America.  That interpretation held, in a nutshell, that the poor and powerless were not on this earth to suffer towards a greater reward in heaven, but rather should work with the religious and others to improve their lot in this life.  In short, liberation theology offered an early response to the question “What would Jesus do?”  The answer was that Jesus would uplift the poor.

As one can imagine, liberation theology was an attractive notion to a young college student - just the right mixture of politics, activism, and revisionist Catholicism.  The two weeks I spent with my classmates at the Catholic mission in the Guatemalan countryside, some miles from the capital city, had a profound influence on me that continues up through today.

Carmelo de Nazareth Catholic Mission, Guatemala, 1991
Source: Author's private collection

One reason this experience was so profound is that my visit occurred when Guatemalans were engaged in a civil war, with the United States having supported the repression of indigenous populations conducted by various ruling military dictatorships over the years.  It is no wonder then that a recent New York Times piece grabbed my attention.  Thankfully, a lot has changed in Guatemala over the 22 years since my visit, evidenced by the impending public trial of former military dictator, Efraín Ríos Montt.  Charged officially with genocide, Montt is responsible for numerous cases of murder, torture, rape, and other human rights violations conducted during his rule.  Montt’s trial marks a significant turn for Guatemala and promises to provide some measure of justice and closure for the victims and survivors of Montt's cruel reign.

Some of the locals and I pause from our work - building a new church.
Guatemala, 1991. Source: Author's private collection

But what is as equally significant as Montt’s impending trial is not only the measure of justice it offers the people of Guatemala, but also that Guatemala as a nation has learned from its past.  Other nations in the region also seem to have learned from their own experiences with repressive dictatorships.  As it happens, the announcement of Montt’s trial for human rights violations coincided with a recent Washington Post analysis of those countries that have or continue to cooperate with the United States in its transnational torture program of suspected terrorist suspects - a program consisting of among other things, rendition by way of secret late night flights to undisclosed and officially non-existent black sites.  As discussed at Tom Dispatches.com, seemingly every country on the planet has fallen into the US’ imperial sphere of torture – every country that is except for those in Latin America.

Speaking almost uniformly, Latin American nations have said "No" to their imperial neighbor to the north.  In so doing, they have taken a stand for human rights and against the most violent forms of repression by denying the US the use of air space to spirit away suspects, the use of it territories to establish black sites, and the other types of support needed to conduct rendition and torture.

This is a positive and hopeful development for Latin Americans as they emerge from the darkness of their histories while simultaneously gaining the confidence to refuse US demands rather than capitulate under US economic, military, and political intimidation.  Still, while admit my youthful naiveté about how the world works, I cannot do so now.  I realize that Latin American nations’ stance against US-sponsored torture will not bring about the practice’s immediate end, but it does provide an example other countries – including our own – can and should follow.

The Guatemalan countryside, 1991
Source: Author's private collection