Topic 6: Gender Empowerment and Family in a global context... (perception/acts of gender equity, double shift, home-host dichotomy); 2. Topic 7a: Understanding Migration and Incorporation (push-pul

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Printed in the United States of America DRAFT To Margo, Luther, Fred, and especially Jill who has been there since thebeginning. DRAFT DRAFT Contents Acknowledgments ix 1 Introduction: How Does Racism Impoverish Indigenous People? 1 Huaytabamba In the Village Neoliberalizing through Race Peru: Authoritarianism and Racial Splintering Institutionalized Racism Indirect Rule and Native Racial Subordination Andean Racism through Time Book Overview Book Cover Notes 2 Historical Arc: Centuries/Sentries of Contested Racism 19 Conquest and Colonization, 1532–1820 The Toledo Reforms Andean Insurrection Independence, Pacific, and Civil Wars, 1820–1895 Nation Formation and the Third Race, 1895–1968 The Agrarian Reform, 1969–1980 Note 3 Exploiting through the Guise of Helping 35 Exploitative Development The Developmentalist Indian Question Exclusion through Developmentalist Inclusion Institutional Racialization Cultural Racialization Institutionalized Cultural Capital Making Racism Normal Conclusion: The Racist Success of Failed Development Notes 4 Evangelical Ethnic Revitalization 59 Evangelical Social Change The Evangelical Rise The Evangelical Worldview Contents DRAFT The Evangelical Revolution Evangelism Takes Change Evangelical Impact Creative Resistance Notes 5 Racially Reinventing Privatization 75 The Neoliberal Indian Question Privatization’s Strategic Lie Why Lie?

Mustering the Urbanites Land Law Promoted Coercion Comunidad Resistance Notes 6 The Privatization Battle 93 Alienating Villagers from the City Cutting Urban Socioeconomic Support Undermining Villagers from Within Severing Political Support The Fall of the Church Racism Conquers Democracy Coup d’Etat, Coup de Grâce Neoliberalism as a Ritual of Subordination Notes 7 The Localities and Globalities of Racism 113 The Political Economy of Global Racism Creative Resistance Note Bibliography 125 About the Author 133 DRAFT Acknowledgments [B02.0] In its long gestation, this book has amassed many debts. I first need to thank everyone in the village. I hope I was at least mildly entertaining and not too much of a burden. Special thanks go to the man I call Pedro here. Tercero and Consuela initially invited me to the village and gener- ously hosted me, opening up not only their home but also the complex village history to me, thank you. I am much obliged to all the folks at CEDAP who provided such incredible openness and my initial connec- tion to the village. Rómula Haritza and Max Carrasco in particularly eased the daily toils of living. Thanks to Edilberto Jimenez Quispe who I thank in more detail in chapter 1. Jaymie Heilman and Caroline Yezer were fantastic roommates in Ayacucho, sharing peanut butter, debating perspectives, and otherwise dealing with the traumas of fieldwork. I blow you a wet supi siki. [B02.1] Undertaking an ethnographic study through the Wisconsin Sociology Department proved a strange and perhaps unwise experience. I would not be the first or nearly the most prestigious person to say it is a place one has to survive rather than embrace. I had many good folks in my corner, though. Thanks go out especially to my advisor Gay Seidman and my committee Jane Collins, Karl Zimmerer, Jess Gilbert, and Phil Gorski.

Is it odd to say that my dissertation defense was one of the best experi- ences I had in graduate school? My greatest resources were—and contin- ue to be—my peers. Special thanks to Mark Harvey and Brad Manzolillo.

When are we going to New Orleans again? Jeff Rickert: I will never forget those early years of struggle, and your shaking hand bombing the coffee all over the keyboard in our windowless computer lab. I am still mad at you for dying. Susie (née McDermott) Mannon, you were incredibly gen- erous with that big old brain of yours. Thanks for everything. Steve McKay, Molly Martin, Gary Chinn, Dimitri Kessler, Spencer Wood, and Cliff Westfall really helped make graduate school a good place. Brian Dill, thanks the Wisconsin soiree. I feel lucky for our ongoing friendship.

Diana Toledo and Scott Barnwell were amazing Madison friends—we will see you and the girls soon. Blake Gillespie and Joy Elizando should get a full paragraph at least—I will just say thanks here and fill in the details when I see you and your family next. [B02.2] Since Wisconsin, I want especially to thank Eduardo Bonilla-Silva for encouraging me in my work. Thank you so much for reaching out. Tony Lucero and Maria Elena García have been unbelievably generous and Acknowledgments DRAFT positive. You have really helped me keep going. Thank you, too, David Stoll for your very positive words and critical readings of my works. And thank you for reviewing this book. Thanks to my editorial team at Lex- ington Books: Joseph Parry, Sarah Craig, Jana Hodges-Kluck, and Jay Song. Speaking of reviewers: I am glad for all the critical input from my anonymous reviewers throughout the years. You have made my work much stronger. But I have unfortunately experienced too much lack of professionalism with peer review as well. “Haters gonna hate,” my stu- dents tell me. But editors at least should reject reviews that do not back up their condemning criticism. Yes, the work may be controversial. The litmus is whether it is original and well argued, not whether you agree with it. [B02.3] I am so happy with my job at Boise State. I love my department and everyone in it. The students are incredible: open minded, passionate, smart, and dedicated. I only wish you were freer to pursue your educa- tions. I have learned a lot from you. I hope this is mutual. In this, I would love to see the upper administration become more enlightened and be- holden to the core concept of shared governance instead of seeing faculty as the problem and students as income. And speaking of imagining the impossible, I want to thank Slavoj Žižek whose works have taught me, among other things, of the tawdry cynicism that has bankrupted my generation. [B02.4] And of course, my greatest thanks goes to my family. Thanks to James Scarritt for way more than I can even mention, but especially in this context for my entrée into the privileged world of academia and all the help with navigating its fierce, low stakes battles. We’ve got to figure out the Scarritt and Scarritt publication. Thank you Prudence Scarritt for all you have done, particularly your steadfast critical and radical mind that I hope to do some justice to here. Thanks to Mimi and Eddye Lawley for making me part of your family and taking such good care of mine. As everyone knows, Jill Lawley has been and continues to be amazing. I am loving this journey with you. And I am lucky to be with you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Margo, Luther, and Fred: I love hanging out with you and watching you grow. I do not want to miss any of your antics.

You bring me nothing but joy. Thank you. DRAFT ONE Introduction How Does Racism Impoverish Indigenous People? [1.0] “ . . . the farce is more fearful than the tragedy it follows.” [1.1] —Herbert Marcuse, Epilogue to Marx’s Eighteenth Brumaire, 1969 [1.2] When Damian1 mysteriously vanished from Huaytabamba, fellow villag- ers thought—even hoped—that someone had killed him. His swindles had robbed them of their wealth and left the village in shambles. Six years later, he returned unannounced and penniless. During his absence, residents had employed the unlikely means of converting to Evangelical religions to rebuild the trust and village institutions that Damian’s machi- nations had shattered. And their new faith converted their wrath away from violent revenge and towards forgiving. Nevertheless, once home this same man again succeeded in cheating the villagers. Only this time it was for their lands, the core resource on which they depended for their existence. [1.3] This is not a story about hapless isolation or cruel individuals. Rather, this is a story about racism, about the normal operation of society that continuously results in indigenous peoples’ impoverishment and depen- dency. This book explains how the institutions created for the purpose of exploiting Indians during colonialism have been continuously revitalized over the centuries despite innovative indigenous resistance and epochal changes, such as the end of the colonial era itself. The Huaytabamba case first shows how this institutional set up works through—rather than de- spite—the inflow of development monies. It then details how the turn to advanced capitalism—neoliberalism—intensifies this racialized system, thereby enabling the seizure of native lands. Comparing these two in- stances reveals what is central to this form of domination. Contrasting Chapter 1 DRAFT them addresses the changing nature of domination under global capital- ism. [1.4] HUAYTABAMBA [1.5] “It is hard to believe we are so close to the city with all this poverty.” [1.6] —NGO visitor to Huaytabamba [1.7] This statement typifies the reactions of the few urban visitors to Huayta- bamba, surprised at impoverishment despite such geographic proximity to the urban core. Other studies in the Andes share such sentiments, looking at remote locales and concluding that such conditions result from neglect and abandonment. 2 The poor Peruvian infrastructure hobbles the wellbeing of the many far-flung villages. And, indeed, the ideology of social neglect pervades the villages themselves—mixed in a rich cocktail of distrust, resentment, and fatigue with all things urban. While remote- ness and poverty do correlate, they fit only weakly with the record of colonialism. Thus, in looking at the highly proximate village of Huayta- bamba, I investigate how poverty persists because of—not despite—its articulation with the city. In this way I can speak beyond the experiences of a single village to the complex social web of institutions and cultural practices—of which the village is but a single organization—that heavily bind community and villager experiences. [1.8] While I initially came to Huaytabamba to look at other issues, the domination of local life by a small group of men quickly became the most pressing concern. Adding complexity, villagers regularly denounced these men for malfeasance, yet continued to entrust them with policy decisions, labor, and money. Explaining their power became the obvious focus of my work. Where does it come from? How is it so extreme? Why did villagers continually support them despite open acts of corruption?

And, perhaps most importantly, how does it speak to the integration of indigenous populations into national and global society? [1.9] Huaytabamba is a one-hour, twelve-kilometer bus ride from the city of Ayacucho. The main, paved highway to the coast makes up half of the route, while poorly maintained narrow dirt roads more typical of the contemporary Andes cover the rest. Though villagers had built a road all the way to the community, cars almost never visited. Yet villagers regu- larly made the trip to the city, as it was the hub of socio-economic activ- ities. Villagers therefore did not overly suffer from geographic isolation; but the ability to visit the city did not readily translate into access to its institutions. [1.10] At 9,000 feet above sea level, the city of Ayacucho itself is literally the end of the paved road, boasting a population of 100,000. The macadam ribbons its way from the coast, over the Andes and back down to Ayacu- cho, a bus trip of over eight hours. The central highway passes through DRAFT Introduction Ayacucho from Huancayo in the north on its way to Cuzco to the south.

This gravel highway narrows to one lane in places and is frequently washed out in the rainy season. The climate is arid and moderate except when the rainy season brings torrential downpours flooding the city. [1.11] The economy is almost exclusively agricultural. Huanta just to the north, lower in elevation and hotter in temperature, is a major production area, particularly for tropical and semi-tropical fruit. But the most lucra- tive connection runs over a 15,000 foot pass and down the Andes to the east to the lush coca growing areas at the edge of the Amazon basin, what they call the ceja de la selva , the eyebrow of the jungle. A variety of small towns and villages spread in all directions from Ayacucho. Higher eleva- tion locales can easily get frost and focus more on cattle and Andean tubers while more fertile inner montane valleys grow a variety of fruits and vegetables. [1.12] The city is known for its high amount of Catholic churches, one for every year of Christ’s life. Though many residents say this lavish outlay was required to quell the rebellious indigenous groups of the area. Elab- orate Carnival and Holy Week celebrations give the normally sleepy city a lively party atmosphere. As the departmental capital of one of the poor- est regions, Ayacucho holds the dubious honor of birthing the extremist Maoist guerrilla group Sendero Luminoso—and being a primary victim of the army’s ruthless counterinsurgency campaign. Now a battle rages between nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) who struggle to access international funding, especially as the government has dramatically re- duced social spending. Indeed, city workers covet NGO positions more than any other, both in terms of prestige and income. [1.13] The road westward climbs to Huaytabamba after passing through its small provincial capital. This sports a large cement main square sur- rounded by a grid of gravel streets for three blocks in all directions. The small bus or combitrudges up beyond the provincial seat, passing the turn off for two villages until it stops on a ridge. Huaytabamba villagers have to walk uphill from this point, following the road until a footpath cuts up a small drainage to more directly reach the village. The commu- nity itself has two parts separated by this drainage. The upper section hosts the central square, communal house, elementary school, and most of the houses. The village sits at 12,000 feet in a crescent shaped bowl of patchwork hills climbing to over 14,000 feet. [1.14] Villagers primarily speak Quechua, the indigenous language spread by the Incan Empire. No electrical services come to the village, though a power line passes directly through. Villagers live in small compounds of three or four squat adobe buildings. Each has a living quarter, a kitchen, and then dedicated farming buildings for storing potatoes, grains, and tools. Cooking takes place over an open fire of eucalyptus, filling the small kitchens with eye burning smoke. The women cook and then clean the dishes in small plastic basins. I ate with a family once whose little Chapter 1 DRAFT lamb “Bebito,” that the children carried around like a doll, trod all over the clean dishes after a meal much to everyone’s amusement. [1.15] The drinking water system, installed through a grant from the Ayacu- cho hospital but using villager labor, runs pipes down from the high pastures. While passing through purification tanks, the system is actually creatively patched together. Villagers creatively use any material to in- sure water flow—though what is delivered desperately needs boiling to purify. Most people have spigots at or near their houses. People have access to outhouses. And, together, the water and latrines mean that the village meets the minimum standards for elevation above dire poverty. [1.16] IN THE VILLAGE [1.17] The average villager holds three acres of lands in diversified plots, though there is a range from the landless to over ten acres. Only about ten percent of the land, in the lowest corner of the village, has irrigation.

The remainder relies on rain so sit idle in the dry season. A large stand of eucalyptus crowns the hill immediately above the village. Pastures spread beyond that, with only a few high fields employed for hearty tubers. Villagers practiced several forms of mutual labor exchange, pre- dominantly the faena, in which all families worked on village projects (such as cleaning irrigation canals), and the ayni, where some mutuality (including limited paid labor) regulated groups working in fields con- trolled by individuals. [1.18] The comunidad generally governed itself, periodically electing a pres- idential junta, though was also connected to a district mayor and district governor. Villagers served as representatives of each system. And no external funding came to any of the bureaucracies. The comunidad guar- antees access to land, safeguarding against taxation and expropriation through requiring participation in labor parties and regular meetings—or compensating in cash or kind. Until the 1960s, a hacienda occupied this spot. Four main families—workers on the hacienda—established the vil- lage by gathering sufficient people together to purchase the land from the hacienda. The patriarchs of those families are known collectively as the cabecilla , a title that comes with high local influence. Though all four cabecilla members are illiterate. The terrible violence of the 1980s civil war touched but did not radically alter the village, pushing many villag- ers to spend more time in the city and commute to their lands. [1.19] The median villager income floated below US$300 a year, well less than the requirements for caloric reproduction. But this is not a fully cash economy. Barter existed with villages in different production zones. And villagers paid no taxes so incurred no running costs on their houses and lands. Wages and market sales were more about accessing cash for pur- chases. Villagers needed money for basics like clothing and school sup- DRAFT Introduction plies. But they also bought a host of farming inputs such as fertilizer, pesticide, and tools. There were also many sociocultural practices requir- ing money, such as festivals, soccer tournaments, and weddings. [1.20] Accessing cash was one of the major struggles for villagers. While dedicating much of their harvests to self-reproduction, they also sold to wholesalers in Ayacucho. They marketed some of their livestock, though these served more as a form of long-term savings. Income mostly came through wage work. Sometimes aynis paid in cash or kind, so people did not have to leave the village. But people generally had to travel to work.

Short term, people bussed to Ayacucho to seek manual labor. This paid the minimum wage of US$3.50 per day, with transport to and from the village sucking up twenty percent of this. Especially in the dry season, people migrated to other areas for paid wages, such as the jungle areas or where there were ongoing large infrastructure projects. Families sent members to different places to diversify their income streams and miti- gate risk. Though migration incurred risks and costs of its own. [1.21] I lived in both the village and the city of Ayacucho, as did several of the residents themselves. In the village, I stayed in a small extra room belonging to one family with which I shared many meals. My lack of working Quechua made immediate, intimate communication difficult.

But my alien presence created just as many difficulties, both in learning what was going on in the village and by increasing the hardships in- volved with conducting my work and generally getting by day to day. I was happy I could curl up into my sleeping bag when the sun went down at six and not wake until it returned in twelve hours. As the weeks wore on, I continued living and working in the fields alongside villagers. With this stability, my position became less of a curiosity, with villagers calling me a yerno (son-in-law) of the community, but still regarding me some- what as a mascot they could be proud of. [1.22] While I always felt a deep sense of alienation, my relationship with villagers changed dramatically once I became directly embroiled with Damian’s struggle to privatize everyone’s fields. I cannot overemphasize how successful this interventionist or activist method proved in terms of quality and quantity of information (Hale 2008). Leaders on both sides of this polarized debate began seeking me out and explaining their actions and perspectives. Almost all of the other villagers similarly desired or were willing to discuss this major issue with me, and to tie it to other events in the community’s history. While some of the more astute players, Damian in particular, plied me with an overabundance of infor- mation, they strategically kept things from me. But Huaytabamba is a small village, with all residents sharing some form of kin relation. Secrets did not stay secret long. While my role in these events proved of little significance, the sheer quantity of information made triangulation re- markably straightforward. This not only allowed me to tell a coherent story. It enabled me to read deeply into my various sources, such as Chapter 1 DRAFT actions by urban personnel, interviews, and the community minutes largely written by the elite sons of the village. [1.23] Overall, my strangeness, persistence, and interference helped me gain a relationship with villagers sufficient to dialogue with them about their lives. But, really, it was the continued generosity and humor of villagers that enabled whatever achievement I have gained. To my knowledge, I acquired several nicknames. The most persistent one was pala chaki, a Quechua-Spanish amalgam meaning shovel foot, a nice reference to my relatively towering size. I hope this at least testifies to villagers humor- ously enduring my presence. Though I was in pretty good physical shape when conducting my research, my hands blistered under the toils of farming. And when otherwise “reciprocating” with my free labor, people could not help but make comments such as: “so large but so little strength.” Hopefully, though, the strength of my training will shed light into Huaytabamba’s place in the larger world. [1.24] NEOLIBERALIZING THROUGH RACE [1.25] The global capitalist system has always had populations superfluous to its functioning, but neoliberal reforms have dramatically increased these numbers. William I. Robinson (2004) estimates these as up to half of the people in some third world countries, and up to a third of the global population. These populations have been reduced to what social scien- tists term bare life conditions. In cases like those of native peoples, capi- talist interests “covet the dowry, but not the bride” as Israeli Prime Minis- ter Levi Eshkol said of the Palestinians. Lands no longer serve as holding grounds for relative surplus labor, but as potential areas of resource ex- traction in which the populations only worthy of removal. Further, these outcomes prove highly racialized, with the mechanisms of expulsion dis- proportionately targeting darker complected peoples (Robinson 2013). [1.26] At the same time, the financial capital that dominates global ex- changes exerts an ever-increasing demand for public resources to convert into private profits. Before financial deregulation, capitalism made prof- its through the production process adding value to the sum of the overall inputs. Manufacturing therein generated an unprecedented abundance.

In contrast, financial capitalism centers on rent collection. Rather than paying for the value added through production, profit comes from mak- ing people pay to access things that have become privately owned and operated. Advanced capitalism has therefore innovated a wide range of mechanisms to expropriate all manner of goods into its circuits. This includes services like education and health care, but also converts a varie- ty of former rights and regulations into moneymaking ventures, such as windfalls from currency speculation. With the financialization of the economy, previously protected areas have become increasingly subject to DRAFT Introduction raw material extraction, generating booms in countries like Peru. Open- ing resources to privatization and speculation creates spectacular though short-lived growth—bubbles. But overall economic growth stagnates.

David Harvey (2005) terms this accumulation by dispossession because it is about taking rather than making things. [1.27] Advanced capitalism therein invigorates the age-old practice of land expropriation through providing titles. Regularizing documentation may seem like a process of protecting land holdings. But titling amounts to powerful interests imposing a new system onto an old. Though there are some exceptions, this makes titling the archetype of primitive accumula- tion, of taking rather than making. In England, as Karl Marx (1867) fa- mously recounts, centuries of such processes, written only “in letters of blood and fire,” robbed people of their land, eventually generating enough funds to underwrite capital-intensive industrialization while supplying factories with powerless workers. In the United States after the Mexican-American War, the government imposed private titles on Span- ish and Mexican communal land grants, initiating a rapid process of land loss. And Tania Murray Li (2010) describes a huge variety of such pro- cesses stretching from colonialism to the present day. This dynamic, now expanded into a wide range of goods and services beyond land, allows capital access to cheaper inputs for increasing profitability and lowering risks (Harvey 2003, 139). [1.28] The rentier economy also enables an unprecedented concentration of wealth and power. Elites can easily capture and hoard the windfall prof- its now not attached to the costs of production. Further, rentiers have incurred no obligation to redistribute wealth to the general population.

With production deemphasized, compliant middle and working classes become peripheral. The elites of financial capital therein do not face the old issues of how to reliably exploit populations. Instead they confront issues of how to control them. The managers of global capitalism therein face a double-sided question: (1) how to make more resources renderable to the needs of financial capital, and (2) how to control the growing population of the dispossessed. [1.29] Especially as manifest in highland Peru, this book argues that this neoliberal question is actually a colonial question, in fact, theColonial Question, also termed the Indian/Native Question/Problem: how does a small foreign minority dominate a much larger and potentially hostile indigenous majority? Much more forcefully than previous works, this book argues that the answer is race, particularly the way it has been historically institutionalized, practiced, and contested. In other words, rather than this being a neoliberal process with racial outcomes, this is a process of colonial racial domination vitalized through neoliberal re- forms. As such, this book can help more deeply theorize the racial role in neoliberalism, particularly how this colonial legacy enables the rapid and broad spread of the class project for the restoration of elite power. Chapter 1 DRAFT [1.30] The beginning insight for my argument is that the neoliberal challenge has long been the primary ruling conundrum of elites in peripheral capi- talist countries like Peru. Lacking any real industrial base, such elites depend for their economic wellbeing and their means of social control on selling natural resources on the global market, a traditional form of rent collecting. Instead of raising standards of living, elites used the profits gained under the rationale of comparative advantage to police the popu- lace, preserving their ability to collect rents and their monopoly on pow- er. Extraction generates popular alienation that needs policing. But ex- traction inherently involves ever increasing costs of production as the goods do not become replenished but rarer with each shovel full. The volatility of the global markets in raw materials exacerbates this precari- ousness. Maintaining any kind of consistent income, let alone increases, presses elites to ever expand the territory dedicated to extraction and thus their policing activities. Hence the traditional ruling conundrum of peripheral capitalism: how to simultaneously increase resource extrac- tion (rents) and control over the increasingly alienated population. Elites have most robustly answered this colonial question through creating and exploiting stark racial divides. [1.31] PERU: AUTHORITARIANISM AND RACIAL SPLINTERING [1.32] “Peru, today and in the past, is best characterized by the presence of islands of governmentality in a sea of sovereignty.” (Drinot 2011, 186) [1.33] Over twenty years of intellectual common sense insists on the inherent unity of native communities and the irrelevance of race in their social dynamics. At its best, the unity claim asserts patrimonial rights about indigenous self-determination, offering protections to some of the most vulnerable populations. But this holds the people who have experienced some of the worst traumas up to the highest expectations, with the corol- lary that a lack of unity forfeits native rights, a racial trope that too fre- quently has disempowered indigenous interests. Further, in obscuring local divisions this idea can enable the most ruthless and exploitative to speak on behalf of natives. At their best, the anti-race claims attempt to counter essentialist thinking about the inherent inferiority of natives. This denial, however, sweeps up the social category of race, negating the real group experiences of oppression and the cumulative socio-economic out- comes of existing systems of subordination. Race truly has no biological basis. But denying its social reality is a classic colorblind racist trope that leaves a whole host of deleterious outcomes only explained by the fail- ings of individuals, further disempowering the racially marginalized. [1.34] Against this grain, Rudi Colloredo-Mansfield (2009, 13) finds that “old racial markers did not so much disappear as metastasize . . . have become acknowledged internal differences of native communities.” Indigenous DRAFT Introduction spaces are riven by difference and conflict. In the epigraph above, Drinot says that the islands of urban inclusive citizenship are surrounded by an authoritarian-run sea of the rural. In his larger argument, Drinot moves beyond the limits of his metaphor to argue that the capitalist project of the central state relies on fostering a racist “essentialist fear” of native populations. This marks natives as hostiles in need of being controlled rather than governed, and without legitimate claim to the various natural resources over which they inconveniently reside. [1.35] While showing the local importance of race, Colloredo-Mansfield also indicates that the village is not the primary race-making institution even as these dynamics get played out here. What then are the institutions that make race matter and how are they related to the village? Drinot shows the state as a primary race-making institution and its ideological role in perpetuating authoritarian rule. “García’s capitalist revolution,” he finds, “ultimately, is an attempt to overcome indigeneity, to de-Indianize Peru,” and as such is a highly racist attack on natives, justifying the continuance of disciplinary rule (Drinot 2011, 183). This model represents an intensification of state mestizaje, or the assimilation of Indians into the improved mestizo race—or their destruction if unwilling or unable. He therein further stresses the colonial aspect of such rule. In this, however, he insinuates but in no way specifies the means through which sovereign rule is actually exercised. He establishes solidly that urban mestizo real- ity depends on authoritarian rule of the native countryside and that the state empowers it. But he leaves unspecified the actual processes through which native subordination is achieved. [1.36] Putting these analyses together insinuates a relationship between ru- ral authoritarianism and racial fracturing. Colloredo-Mansfield rhetori- cally asks as a major driving question of the age: “do indigenous commu- nities really challenge racism or replicate it, hoarding opportunities among prosperous sectors and isolating poorer ones?” To this Drinot’s analysis adds: how does the situating of villages within the larger rela- tions of rule work to reproduce or challenge the racist projects of the central state? In sum, these two quotes stress (1) the relegation of native spaces to authoritarian forms of control and (2) the racially splintered nature of local reality. But they leave the connections between these un- addressed. This book looks to specify these connections, highlighting cru- cial processes through which localized racial splintering brings about central state priorities for controlling indigenous populations through excluding them. [1.37] INSTITUTIONALIZED RACISM [1.38] One route for inquiring into these issues that is highly underdeveloped in the Latin American context entails investigating the racialized social Chapter 1 DRAFT structure: how society is organized so as to perpetuate racial disparities.

Critical race theory emphasizes that racial inequality is not so much the result of disparaging attitudes or the holdover from historical events, but an evolving political system grounded in the initial European colonial project (Omi and Winant 1994; Goldberg 2004; 2009; Ansell 2006). Con- quest and colonization created the current concept of race and reshaped the world around it, operating through a “logic of circular and cumula- tive causation,” in which inequalities build further inequalities to create a durable system (Tilly 1998; Winant 2001). As such, race became a central defining aspect of modernity: global capitalism was built on trafficking African slaves; the nation-state depended on an uncivilized dark “other” for its coherence; and Enlightenment ideas championed and even scien- tifically proved wealthy European males inherently superior to all others (Winant 2001). This established a global system of European male privi- lege predicated upon the subordination of darker peoples, leading to the naturalization of a de facto “two-tiered, morally partitioned population divided between white persons and nonwhite subpersons” (Mills 1998,108). [1.39] These works emphasize that, once racialized, the normal organization and practices of society perpetuate racial subordination, engendering ra- cial contestation while simultaneously rendering it largely invisible (Bo- nilla-Silva 1997). Rather than a discreet variable, race permeates all as- pects of society so that the “mundane features of the social world that at first sight do not appear to be racialized but, when analysed within an inductive, theoretical framework, are found to be directly and indirectly relevant to the construction of race as a social phenomenon” (Holdaway 1997, 396). Racism, rather than an aberration or an individual psychologi- cal disturbance, largely entails perpetuating the system of inequality. The system ensnares the individuals it produces into perpetuating racial in- equality through their everyday actions. While troubling for well-mean- ing whites, this dynamic creates serious dilemmas for minorities who, in some way or another, must participate in their own subordination (Col- lins 1996). Overall, then, understanding durable racial inequalities re- quires investigating how the interacting structures and everyday prac- tices of society generate a historically emergent racialized social structure (Bonilla-Silva 2001, 48). [1.40] INDIRECT RULE AND NATIVE RACIAL SUBORDINATION [1.41] So what does the Peruvian racialized social system consist of and how does it subordinate native peoples? In exploring this question, my work continues the tradition of investigating the “Indian Question” or “Native Problem,” namely: how does a small minority of European descent domi- nate a larger and potentially hostile indigenous population? Throughout DRAFT Introduction Peruvian history, dominant groups have most robustly answered this question with indirect rule. Indirect rule provides a deeper key to under- standing indigenous subordination in that it elucidates a historically emergent structure through which localized authoritarian power is linked to urban citizenship regimes. In other words, this provides a means for understanding the articulation between Drinot’s islands and sea: how the self-government by free mestizo people in the city depends upon the arbitrary despotic rule over native people in the countryside. In this, indirect rule must be seen as the preeminent state form linking Fou- cault’s (2000) governmental and sovereign power, as the most efficient and effective way for a small minority to dominate a much larger major- ity regardless of the trappings of any explicit colonial leadership. [1.42] This system racially subordinates natives through dividing them eth- nically. This amounts to an institutional segregation of two distinct but hierarchical governing frameworks. While most obviously manifest in the geographic divide between the native countryside and the European town, it is the bifurcation of the state that causes this physical separation.

Urban institutions operate through modern inclusionary forms of civil government, but with this civilization predicated upon the disenfran- chisement of the Indian Other. Rural governance, in contrast, consists of the (central authority defined) traditional practices of vesting all legisla- tive, administrative, executive, and judiciary power in single individuals. [1.43] Since its establishment at conquest, dominant groups have regularly revitalized this system, providing it with new resources to adapt it to changing circumstances and the diverse challenges pushed by native peoples (see chapter 2). Overall, the governance of native peoples amounts to a system of decentralized despotism (cf. Mamdani 1996).

Dominant groups rule over native areas “on the cheap” by creating au- thoritarian local positions granted carte blancheto provide rural quies- cence. Natives in turn must depend upon these intermediaries for their personhood. The system generates its own resistance, though this tends to be focused on the local despots, therein exacerbating the ethnic splin- tering that undergirds racial domination. In all, the preservation of local authoritarian positions dependent upon native fragmentation, and upon whom natives depend for access to the urban core, ensures that the goals of the central state are achieved: a fractured and compliant peasantry. [1.44] Ethnicity, though, plays a much more complex and contestatory role, even as the bifurcated state skews it in favor of its fracturing function.

Ethnicity, with all apologies to Stewart Hall, is the modality in which race is lived. In terms of socio-cultural practices aimed at group betterment, ethnicity in highland Peru assumes two forms: one of group mutuality and another of allegiance to the locally powerful. Local groups attempt to improve themselves either through enabling horizontal connections facil- itating working together for mutual interests, or through capitalizing on the privileges of the elite by concentrating power in their hands. These Chapter 1 DRAFT are qualitatively different but they are not mutually exclusive. In fact, local social stability generally requires the obscuring of their distinction. [1.45] Group mutuality lies at the core of ethnicity in general and in the Andes specifically. But such coordinated efforts work better with greater resources (see Lucero, 2008). This makes more privileged members more valuable and the mutuality asymmetrical. Elites can therein draw on local strictures against shirking in order to make people participate in the eth- nic projects they initiate, and potentially increase their power. At some point the asymmetry can shift to predominate so that group wellbeing depends mostly on elite wellbeing—meaning that the system turns large- ly exploitative. The opacity between these forms means that (1) the extent of both exploitation and group betterment can largely only be seen retrospectively, and (2) the system is highly enabling of exploitative ac- tivities by the elite—group mutuality is variously a tool of elite exploita- tion. The larger racialized state structure further biases these relations to favor the elite-centered version, making ethnicity a primary tool of domi- nation and exploitation. [1.46] The ethnic character of racial domination does not generally mean that ethnicity spans different races, but rather speaks to the hybrid char- acter of elite figures whose emphasized racial status shifts according to their institutional setting. These are contingent and contested grounds.

But they are the primary terrain through which local politics occurs. Fur- ther, the contours and content enabling racialized indirect rule have made important changes across history. [1.47] ANDEAN RACISM THROUGH TIME [1.48] As I explore in chapter 2, the Peruvian system has endured despite crea- tive indigenous resistance and epochal transformations such as Indepen- dence and neoliberalism. Spanish colonialism racialized the natives in order to exploit them, classifying them ideologically and institutionally as inherently inferior beings. This ushered in draconian policies that deci- mated the population through degrading living and working conditions and cycles of genocidal violence (Wolf 1982; Klarén 2000; Postero 2006).

But a simultaneous re-ethnicization splintered regional populations into highly localized identities based on the European-backed authorities who provided the only, albeit highly paternalistic, protection in this exploita- tive system. These local state proxies have had various names throughout history, including cacique,gamonal ,caudillo ,tinterio , andhacendado . [1.49] Patronage has long fueled this Peruvian variety of racialized rule. The Crown had to control a huge new territory and population dwarfing its home domain. Racialized patronage enabled it to do so. Spanish settlers enjoyed the unique rights granted only to the “civilized” people of Eu- rope, as established in the Régimen de Castasand other laws enforcing the DRAFT Introduction racial hierarchy (Morner 1965). Lavishing rewards upon these citizens, including land tracts larger than many current U.S. states, ensured a continual flow of goods and labor from the “primitives” in need of En- lightened European guidance (Klarén 2000). As their sole link to the out- side world, native wellbeing depended upon the success and beneficence of their local patron. The system thereby forced natives to provide trib- utes to the extremely powerful local individual whose own position de- pended upon continuing native fragmentation. Moreover, this extreme form of paternalism heavily enforced the racial hierarchy by forcing the native “sub-persons” to depend almost exclusively on their local Euro- pean citizen without the possibility of ever achieving this personhood themselves (cf. Mills 1998). [1.50] The preeminence of paternalist exchanges has thereby long enabled racialized governance. This system dominates through providing rather than denying resources. And it does so in order to enable an efficient if cruel means of control—rather than other ostensible goals such as saving souls, personal fulfillment, or raising standards of living. Further, the state structure made paternalist racialization the easiest path to follow— any deviation requiring tremendous effort—ensuring the continuation of racial inequality. [1.51] State policies have reproduced this racialized authoritarian model as an explicit part of the major transitions since colonialism—independence, nation-state formation, land reform, developmentalism, and globaliza- tion (cf. Mallon 1995; Thurner 1996). As van den Berghe and Primov (1977) found for rural areas in the 1970s: [1.52] The mechanisms for maintaining inequality are so solidly entrenched and so thoroughly routinized that unequal relations take place under a veneer of benevolent despotism on the part of the dominant group and ingratiating subservience on the part of the dominated group. (127–30) [1.53] While these historic disruptions presented major opportunities to shift to more inclusive models, the regular outcomes retrenched decentralized despotism through providing it with new resources and innovations.

Further, as the above quote indicates, these exploitative relations have become thoroughly naturalized, understood as a normal aspect of daily relations and therefore not fully necessitating coercive enforcement. [1.54] Three important and intertwining changes altered this system during the last half of the twentieth century without changing its overall authori- tarian form. Throughout Latin America, governments and societies vari- ously turned from ideas of inherent racial superiority towards an all- inclusive model of the mestizo “Cosmic Race”—a sui generispeople emerging from the union of natives and Europeans (Vasconcelos [1925] 1979). Mestizaje (becoming mestizo) newly promised universal citizen- ship through a celebration of the native heritages of the Americas— though only as a mix with European stock. As it strove for inclusivity, Chapter 1 DRAFT then, state mestizaje simultaneously renovated racism, delivering “a dou- ble blow, denigrating the unassimilated while inciting the assimilated to wage an endless struggle against the ‘Indian within’” (Hale 2004, 17).

Citizenship became more inclusive, but only through creating a new sec- tor whose rights depended upon continually proving their deservingness by denigrating natives. [1.55] Soon after mid-century, mestizaje became interwoven with the emerg- ing developmentalist ideas of progress through industrialization spear- headed by an interventionist state (Drinot 2011). The governments not only promoted a specific capitalist agenda, they tied it to novel assimila- tionist policies. This was evidenced most obviously when states, re- sponding to rural discontent, turned natives into peasants with a quick slash of their pens. While promising greater enfranchisement, these re- forms traded native patrimonial rights for the class rights to work the soil, effectively divorcing any local victories from demands for larger changes to the system of racialized rule. At the same time, state mestizaje created a new middle stratum that personified the developmentalist progress that promised to transcend the old governing ideas of racial degeneration. This group carried a powerful authority regarding modern progress. “Developing” meant becoming mestizo. Thus the contrast with indigenous peoples only became sharper, natives now denigrated as anti- modern barriers to economic advancement. Specific policies institutional- ized this, such as cheap food making the growing urban mestizo working class depend on the stagnation of rural indigenous agricultural produc- tion. Chapter Three details the key racialized processes through which the rural links to the urban core exclude indigenous people through mes- tizo developmentalist inclusion. [1.56] By the end of the twentieth century, rapid policy changes beginning with President Fujimori’s authorship of a new constitution in 1992, ushered in a transition from developmentalism to neoliberalism, and sig- nificantly altering the terms and resources for decentralized despotism.

Worldwide neoliberal reforms simultaneously generated massive in- equalities, extractive commodity booms, and a dramatic increase in pop- ulations superfluous to capitalist production. Under these conditions, the controlling function of Peruvian indirect rule became ever more impor- tant (chapter 5). But these reforms also greatly exacerbated the major social divisions in Peruvian society. By removing the ideological cover of developmentalism, neoliberalism required much more open coercion. In some countries like Guatemala and Bolivia these reforms amounted to neoliberal multiculturalism, a hegemonic form of exploitation through (selective) inclusion. In Peru, however, the central state variously re- trenched indigenous racialization in order to advance neoliberalization, up to the point of marshaling a primitive fear of natives to leverage authoritarian state powers. DRAFT Introduction [1.57] While concerned with the longer-term and contested construction of decentralized despotism, this book primarily focuses on the how devel- opmentalism and neoliberalism unfurled in the village of Huaytabamba, and identifying how the enabling institutional and cultural practices per- petuated a system of racialized indirect rule. [1.58] BOOK OVERVIEW [1.59] The remainder of this book intertwines a narrative of village politics with an explanation of the social dynamics enabling them. Chapter 2 details the historic emergence, transformation, and continual renewal of racial- ized indirect rule from Conquest to 1980. This chapter argues that, rather than through path dependency, preserving this largely aristocratic sys- tem required tremendous resources and incurred considerable costs, such as contributing to Peru’s military routing and loss of rich nitrate deposits to Chile in the nineteenth century. Despite creative and diverse native resistance, inter-elite conflict, and large-scale social transforma- tions like the transition to a liberal state, mestizaje, and ostensibly pro- native agrarian reform, the ruling group regularly poured tremendous resources into predicating their own advantages on indigenous disen- franchisement. Through a narration of the contentious politics across the centuries, this chapter shows how the specifics of the Indian Question regularly changed as did the means of answering it. But the general an- swer preserved the key aspects of indirect rule: an authoritarian but con- flicted local leadership dependent upon fracturing and exploiting native peoples. [1.60] Chapter 3 spells out the different elements of the developmentalist incarnation of indirect rule through narrating how Damian employed multiple development projects to generate a cycle of increased villager exploitation until he “stripped all the community members of their mon- ey.” This chapter starts with a brief account of two large Damian-bro- kered projects that promised to increase village lands by 30 percent and triple local cattle holdings. After years of villagers investing money and labor, once “they sold their horses, cows, pigs, everything in order to supply money and have [the project] finally come out,” the projects final- ly ended with Damian disappearing with all their funds. [1.61] With Damian’s departure, villagers “lost all trust in the authorities then and . . . they didn’t even want to work together in the fields so the [later] authorities couldn’t do anything.” Over the next four years, how- ever, new leaders emerging from the local Evangelical church successful- ly revitalized comunidad institutions and ethnically based proclivities towards mutuality. Chapter 4 details the rise, characteristics, and village leadership of the local church, specifically focusing on the particularly Chapter 1 DRAFT Evangelical means through which the church revitalized the community, altering but not fully overcoming the dynamics of racialized indirect rule. [1.62] Chapter 5 addresses the Huaytabamba privatization struggle that be- gan at the height of Evangelical domination. It explores the myriad ac- tions of the pro-privatization group, the countermoves of the pro-com- munity faction, the interactions with urban institutions, and how these engaged with the legacy of indirect rule. As the privatization battle esca- lated, it infected all aspects of village life, polarizing them into dysfunc- tion. The chapter finishes by spelling out the implications of the eventual triumph of the privatizers, and the new authoritarian character this brought to indirect rule. [1.63] The concluding chapter reconsiders Huaytabamba’s developmentalist exploitation and its neoliberal authoritarianism as two different regimes of racialized indirect rule. Initially, this enables an analysis of how differ- ent globalizing forces leverage racism to achieve their localized out- comes, and therein alter the nature of racialized rule. Considering these together, I next draw the larger implications of these regimes for better understanding the racialized nature of the global political economy, not- ing that neoliberalism’s heightened emphasis on extractive logics only makes colonial divisions more empowered and important. All in all, ra- cial analyses need to assume much greater primacy for understanding social dynamics in Latin America (and beyond) and this book provides some key routes for doing so. [1.64] BOOK COVER [1.65] I never could have learned so much about Huaytabamba except through the help of my incredible research assistant, Edilberto Jimenez Quispe, whose artwork graces the cover of this book. I had gotten to know Edil- berto through his work with local NGOs. He was from a famous family of artists from another part of the department. But he had worked several times in Huaytabamba, with villagers knowing and liking him. I hired Edilberto once villagers and I began discussing more complex issues.

Simply having another person in the field, who understood the research endeavor, proved a tremendous boon. Moreover, I was happy to see Edilberto as wiped out by fieldwork as I was. But Edilberto was extreme- ly talented at conducting interviews. He became intimate with the local issues I had been gathering information on. And his Spanish-Quechua bilingual skills fully enabled him to conduct penetrating interviews in which villagers could more fully express themselves. [1.66] He had recently honed his skills through working with the Truth Commission and other groups to document the violence of the recent civil war. This including toiling through the remote area of Chungui that had experienced such a “limitless violence” that the Commission itself DRAFT Introduction refused to enter for the lawlessness that still reigned. Edilberto developed his artistic pictures to document these atrocities, adapting to two-dimen- sional pen and ink the three-dimensional form ofretablosof which he and his family were renowned. Retablo literally means altarpiece, but has evolved from its syncretistic origins depicting local gods cum Catholic saints to depict a wide and frequently subtle picture of various social realities, generally amounting to a folk idealization of rural life. Edilber- to’s mixture of this comic styling with the excessively grim (scenes of torture, mass murder, and other) horrors of civil war portrays the kind of dark humor through which many Andeans both face and live through the hardships of their lives. I am eternally grateful that he agreed to turn his artistic eye to the issues of this book. [1.67] NOTES [1n1] 1. All names, including that of the village, are pseudonyms. [1n2] 2. See, for instance, the otherwise excellent Poole (1994) and Heilmann (2010). DRAFT TWO Historical Arc Centuries/Sentries of Contested Racism [2.0] Towards establishing a more systemic understanding of the racial domi- nation of native peoples, this chapter offers a retelling of Peruvian history with race at its core. 1 Such a broad sweep of history is necessarily provi- sional and cannot hope to account for variation. While later studies can address these issues, this chapter simply aims to demonstrate the histori- cal tenacity of indirect rule and its subordination of indigenous peoples.

Continually facing native pressures for more inclusive forms of govern- ance in a radically diverse set of historical circumstances, the dominant sectors have consistently refashioned indirect rule to fit the changing landscape, providing it with innovative resources rather than diminish- ing or even dismantling it. The specifics of the Indian Question have changed dramatically through the centuries. But the dominant groups have persisted in asking it and providing it with new answers, consis- tently reinforcing the conflicted sentries that straddle the bifurcated state. [2.1] I argue that once the Spanish instituted the notion of racial superiority within the organization of society, maintaining racial dominance mainly required participating in the institutions as they were designed, and bol- stering them in times of crisis. Conquest and colonization deliberately created a complex institutional structure through which to maintain ra- cial domination. Once the society was racialized, racial subordination mainly occurred through the routine practices and organization of the core social institutions. Racial domination was the normal, desired, and easiest outcome of the way society had become organized. And racist ideologies arose as justifications for the perpetuation of this unequal sys- tem. But crises have wracked Peruvian history. These provided many opportunities to reshape society in much more inclusive ways. The tre- Chapter 2 DRAFT mendous scale and diversity of resources the dominant groups spent to close these opportunities demonstrates their great dedication to main- taining the racial hierarchy. [2.2] CONQUEST AND COLONIZATION, 1532–1820 [2.3] While conquest established the very racist economy of plunder, the later colonial project actually intensified racialized rule. More specifically, con- quest established the rough parameters of indirect rule that the Spanish accelerated in response to crises arising from a diversifying society.

Grossly racist acts abounded under early Spanish rule, such as slaughter- ing, enslaving, and hunting natives with dogs for sport, a sadism Gonza- lo Portocarrero (1997) regards as still influencing contemporary social relations. Institutionally, the Spanish Crown granted lordly oversight to Spanish settlers. Theseencomiendasmade up the backbone of the econo- my of plunder, with Spanish encomenderosgranting indigenous villages corporate control over a set piece of land in exchange for tribute (Klarén 2000, 42; Wolf 1969; Wolf and Hansen 1972). Encomenderos centralized power through town councils, or cabildos, which provided the separate and authoritarian administrative apparatus necessary for indirect rule. A modified cabildo that still lacks any means of accountability continues to govern rural communities. Impunity and random violence characterized encomienda rule, making these figures reviled by the native populations, even inspiring massive gifts to the Crown to eliminate the encomienda system. [2.4] While bloody and exploitative, the Indian Question at this time actual- ly concerned the relatively simple issue of placing the new powers on top of existing systems in order to exact as much native wealth as possible and minimize discontent. Indeed, this early system relied almost exclu- sively on preserving the native socio-economic system. As Steve J. Stern (1992, 44) describes it, “the colonials remained foreign, extraneous ele- ments superimposed on an autonomous economy in which they served little purpose.” In particular, the colonials relied upon reciprocal relations with local native lords ( curacas) who controlled native labor and re- sources. The most successful encomenderos lavished gifts upon their cu- racas to assure both the continual flow of tribute and the safeguarding of their own positions. While many abuses occurred, the curacas, in turn, could legitimate their vaunted position as safeguarding native society, and even present themselves as liberators from Incan rule (Stern 1992; Klarén 2000, 45). Many native groups thereby entered into strategic—if uneasy—alliances with the colonials in order to preserve the integrity of local society and gain protection from rivals. From the start, though, highly powerful intermediaries maintained the social system largely through the back and forth flow of patronage. Little challenged by their DRAFT Historical Arc Spanish patróns or native constituents, contradictory impulses between protection and exploitation still characterized curaca rule. [2.5] While the initial conquest may have happened through the Spanish “taking advantage of [Indian] differences, whipping one against the oth- er,” the means of domination were subtler (Portocarrero 1997, 57). The Spanish ability to quickly divide the natives and rule them through the local native aristocracy was due in large part to pre-existing conditions and the nature of Incan rule. The Inca partially dominated through exac- erbating the divides between different ethnic groups and vaunting the local curacas to high positions of wealth and status (Spalding 1970, 655).

When the Spanish removed the Inca, most natives gladly refocused their organization around their local group, particularly as their complex net- works of kinship ties were the primary means of accessing resources (Spalding 1970, 653). Under these conditions, alliance with the Spaniards became a route to social mobility due to the removal of Incan restrictions and the establishment of the new religious and political organizations through which the colonials sought to exercise control (Spalding 1970,656). [2.6] These overlapping Spanish and native routes to wealth and status began splintering native society, generating new sources for conflicting alliances and interests (Spalding 1970). The Spanish also exacerbated in- cipient class differentiation inherent in Andean social relations, and deepened ethnic rivalries, such as for the spoils of Incan imperial ware- houses and other resources. While the native cultures and economies preserved their overall integrity, internal discord grew, as did native recourse to Spanish intervention to solve local ethnic problems (Stern 1992). But the central governing dynamic of early colonialism hung on the contradictory position of the curaca who, backed by Spanish coercive power, preserved local society by providing a steady stream of labor and tribute to the colonists. [2.7] The Toledo Reforms [2.8] By the 1560s, however, Spanish rule faced serious crisis. As the white population grew and diversified, the shared desire to exploit native labor exacerbated competition and rivalry amongst colonials, especially as they lacked the institutional capacity to directly recruit labor. Rather than building the infrastructure for coordinated policy implementation, how- ever, they persisted in their self-splintering strategies of relying on their own patronage networks, increasing their dependence on and exploita- tion of the curacas. At the same time, colonials faced deteriorating eco- nomic output at the silver mines in Potosí, increased demand for labor from the entire mining sector, heightened threats of rebellion from the neo-Incas, and the debility of the encomienda system, inspiring ever greater extractions from the native populations. Chapter 2 DRAFT [2.9] In the countryside, meanwhile, the fracturing of ethnic relations in- creasingly made colonists the final arbiters in local disputes. Concomitant with this rise in political power and legitimacy, the Spanish continually increased their demands for labor and tribute. But such wringing eroded the local system of control. In particular, it dramatically sharpened the contradictory role of the curaca middlemen, threatening to turn them into agents of colonialism. The increased penetration and demands of Spanish authority undermined the motivation for natives to make strategic, autonomy-preserving alliances with the colonists. Instead, Spanish de- sires to consolidate natives into a more fully racialized “Indian” group for the strict end of colonial extraction became increasingly evident.

Under these circumstances, appeasing Europeans came to resemble par- ticipating in ones own destruction much more than preserving native autonomy. [2.10] The overall colonial strategy still centered on fracturing native society in order to make them exploitable on the cheap, that is, without building a distinct colonial infrastructure requiring coordination from a dysfunc- tional colonial society. The Spanish grasped ever harder onto this model even as it unfrayed. Among other things, this meant the preservation of generally self-sustaining and autonomous indigenous spheres that ena- bled natives to construct widespread anti-colonial movements in the midst of colonial rule itself. Thus, an array of native groups responded in diverse manners to the heart of the matter: Spanish insistence on in- creased wealth extraction. Thousands joined Taki Onqoy, the dancing sickness movement that promised a total overthrow of the Spanish and their God through Andean ethnic unification. New rebellions sprouted up amongst the centrally located Huancas. The neo-Inca state in the jun- gle city of Vitcos continued regular guerilla incursions into Spanish areas.

On a smaller but more widespread level, multiple forms of subversion accelerated encomienda decline, Indians creating many ways to undercut colonial obligations of wealth and labor. Rather than tempering extrac- tive demands, however, the Spanish responded by dramatically scaling up racialization. This not only severely exacerbating the multiple system- ic problems, it also cut into the revenues flowing to the Spanish throne. [2.11] Responding to this severe crisis and the obvious inability of colonials to address it, the Crown dispatched a new Viceroy to impose a dramatic remaking of social relations. Rather than somehow negotiating a more humane social system (of which there were several contemporary mod- els), the Toledo reforms of the 1570s refashioned the Indian Question to ask how colonial society could increasingly penetrate and exploit the Indian Republic to eventually break the back of the native economy and have its labor directly serve the Spanish. [2.12] To accomplish this, Toledo had to work on multiple fronts simultane- ously, confronting the natives militaristically, religiously, politically, and socially. The reforms sought a radical transformation of the native popu- DRAFT Historical Arc lations so they could be systematically administered and exploited by the Spanish while quelling resources for rebellion. He also had to discipline the colonial upper classes, aligning their interests into a civil society de- signed for native exploitation. This was a civil society largely forced upon the citizenry through strong state action. Toledo explicitly set it up in direct conflict with natives, predicated upon their disenfranchisement, and with the explicit goal of extracting as much labor and wealth as possible. In other words, the wellbeing of colonial society came to de- pend on the undermining of native society. Herein Toledo established the racial legacy of institutionalized segregation: distinct governing bodies for the colonials for the purpose of exploiting the distinct Indian institu- tions that engendering dependence. Perhaps not surprisingly, the archi- tect of these plans, Juan de Matienzo, justified them in unabashedly racist ways, finding that even after the decades of extracting huge quantities of material wealth, the natives still owed the Spanish for the gift of Christian civilization (Stern 1992). [2.13] Toledo unleashed a huge military expedition against the neo-Incas culminating finally in the public execution of the last Inca, Tupac Amaru, thereby completing the conquest project. Inquisition-like religious purges brutally rooted out the leaders and practices upon which millenarian uprisings had been based (Stern 1992). The Crown eliminated the reviled encomenderos but replaced them with state functionaries called corregi- dores de Indios who enjoyed much more direct control over and ability to exploit native populations, more systematically extracting tribute and la- bor recruitment (mita). To further profit from and offset the onerous costs of their office, the corregidores introduced the illegal but widespread forced “sale” of merchandise (reparto) upon natives. Corregidores also frequently usurped Indian reserves (caja de comunidad) for their own enrichment, many seeing the office as a way to enhance their own social and economic positions. [2.14] The reforms consolidated the patrimonial nature of the state with in- creased tributes enabling the Crown to appoint and maintain loyal and worthy subjects (Klarén 2000, 64). Additionally, corregidores could new- ly grant lands, thereby giving rise to the haciendas which would domi- nate social relations in subsequent centuries. As these reforms came to predominate, the 1633 move to sell imperial offices caused government corruption to become endemic, establishing the long-enduring practice of using such offices for personal gain rather than disinterested public ser- vice (Klarén 2000, 89). [2.15] As a result of the reforms, overall native wellbeing deteriorated pre- cipitously. To wrest control of the natives from the curacas—who had become more demanding and less willing to deliver tribute and labor— the reforms forcibly relocated indigenous populations onto concentrated land holdings. As one of the most brutal parts of the reforms, relocation to these “reductions” truncated traditional dispersed settlements, mas- Chapter 2 DRAFT sively displaced the native populations and generally uprooted them from the physical terrain through which they reproduced their local cul- tures. Natives lived in much more squalid conditions, reliant on external labor markets for their reproduction, and were much more susceptible to pathogens, both because of their population concentration and their dete- riorated living conditions. Malnutrition and famine spread. While earlier alliances with the Spanish may have staved off the demographic collapse witnessed in other parts of Latin America, Toledo’s breaking of native self-sufficiency now brought population collapse to the Andes. [2.16] Instead of creating a colonist-staffed colonial apparatus for ruling the natives directly, the corregidor system remade the native power structure so it was dependent on the benevolence of the state and served the inter- ests of the colonial authorities (Stern 1992, 92). Toledo set up Indian cabil- dos and other official positions that received direct remuneration, creat- ing a privileged native managerial class dependent upon reproducing the institutional arrangements of the colonial regime. These new native au- thorities undermined the demands of the “troublesome” curacas, and their ability to marshal native labor to serve these demands. In this way, the new corregidor system revitalized the position of the largely authori- tarian intermediary upon whom indirect rule depends, creating a new group more willing and able to serve Crown interests, while pushing the curacas towards more market forms of interchange rather than the kin networks of reciprocity through which they controlled native labor (Spalding 1973; Stern 1992). [2.17] The major contradiction of the Toledo reform era was that it sought to dramatically increase the amount of native labor available for Spanish exploitation at the same time that it eroded the ability of native labor to reproduce itself. But several other contradictions undergirded this central dynamic. While the Toledo reforms largely destroyed the basis of the self-reproducing native economy, they did not aim at undercutting na- tive self-sufficiency. The reforms were designed primarily to redirect na- tive labor from the Indian to the colonial economy, preserving native land access because viable local food production enabled the Spanish to pay wages well below the costs of labor reproduction. Indeed, most colo- nial prosperity was due to this ability to super-exploit native labor (Stern1992). [2.18] Nevertheless, much of the new system undermined native self-suffi- ciency. While the viability of the colonial economy rested on native sub- sistence production, individual colonists profited to the extent they ex- ploited native labor, thereby lacking incentives to guarantee native labor reproduction. Indeed, some figures became extremely wealthy through famously overworking their labor allotments. The monetization of tribute and the new labor draft system dramatically increased the capacity and geographic reach of labor conscription. But these practices also cut into the physical and social resources necessary for native self-sufficiency. DRAFT Historical Arc With locals either regularly drafted or migrating away as rootless forest- eros, combined with the rise in epidemics and disease, local food systems suffered major setbacks. The slowness of the erosion of local self-suffi- ciency, however, enabled natives to take advantage of rising commercial activities offered by a diversifying economy. In this way, many groups amassed wealth and became largely independent, and therefore much less willing to participate in labor conscription—though these Indian cof- fers made lucrative targets for rapacious corregidores. [2.19] Despite the draconian changes, natives still managed to find innova- tive means of resistance. These included competing commercially with the Spanish, filing lawsuits, and attempting to form closed corporate communities in area of little interest to the colonists (Grieshaber 1979; Stern 1992). Nevertheless, as indicative of a system of indirect rule, with these new tools also used against other natives, they provided more local- ized splintering effects than real challenges to the system of racial domi- nation. The system therein usurped the native “culture of resistance” to insulate the dominant group from enacting more inclusive changes. Rath- er than being passive victims of European racism, or agents able to trans- form the entire colonial system, natives found creative ways of challeng- ing and thereby shaping the colonial system so as to address some of their own interests. The point made by Stern, though, is that challenging the Europeans through the system made the overall system stronger and the natives much less able to overcome colonial domination as a whole. [2.20] In sum, the Toledo reforms were a bald coercive act, using multiple fronts of brute force to break the back of the native economy and recon- struct indigenous societies to more directly fit the diversified needs of the colonists. The multipronged attack on native societies transformed na- tives from independent socio-cultural groups into splintered dependents of colonial society. Through this coercion, though, the state established a revamped institutional structure of indirect rule that could stably main- tain Spanish domination. After the dismantling of the key resources of native independence, the reforms reinvigorated the institutional segrega- tion, conflicted leadership, and localized fracturing central to racialized indirect rule. Post-reform, the colonists regularly resorted to various forms of violence. But these actions were much more strategic than in the earlier period, and largely served to keep the institutional structure run- ning rather than the much more ambitious action of transforming it. All told, the reforms poured tremendous resources into honing the system of indirect rule, finally completely racialized the native peoples, so that “[b]y the end of the sixteenth century, in fact if not in law, native re- sources in land, labor, and goods were regarded as a reservoir upon which members of Spanish society could draw with relative impunity” (Spalding 1973, 589). That is, Toledo transformed the natives from di- verse, largely independent groups into a single group of Indians marked for full and open exploitation. Chapter 2 DRAFT [2.21] In the post-reform social reality, the new Indian Question came to ask:

as labor supplies diminish, both from death and from out-migration as rootless foresteros , how can colonials maintain access to pools of power- less workers? The hacienda, existing alongside Indian villages and in direct cahoots with the state, emerged as the most robust answer. Hacien- das were relatively small landed estates producing largely for internal markets in Peruvian cities. But this system formally introduced the figure of the European “racial exception” living (some of the time) amidst In- dian territory for the purpose of social control and surplus extraction. As with other feudal-like social arrangements, these exceptions enjoyed the clearly spelled out special rights and privileges conferred to the landed aristocracy, while clearly exempted from any of the demeaning obliga- tions imposed on the native populations of the same geographic area. [2.22] Hacienda survival depended upon (1) paying below subsistence wages to a self-sustaining labor population that (2) was coerced to work on the haciendas (Spalding 1975, 116). A captured population on the haciendas, mainly of foresteros, provided some labor, and helped curtail the native strategy of flight. But the self-sustaining aspects of villages provided the most cost-effective and flexible answer. The state therefore protected the much altered traditional native landholdings as a reservoir of cheap labor, run by the new native authorities, such as privileged hacienda workers like caporales, whose social position increased marked- ly simply through representing the threat of violent state power. That is, the state deliberately, and in direct alignment with highland power hold- ers, institutionalized a space for natives so colonials could exploit Indians as Indians—rather than directly incorporating them as citizens. Further, many curacas became hacienda owners directly vested in maintaining the system of Indian exploitation, truncating this possible source of pow- erful discontent. And to stave off competition from market-integrated Indians, the state forcibly reduced native landholdings and thereby the capacity to produce a surplus (Spalding 1975; Grieshaber 1979). [2.23] Andean Insurrection [2.24] By the eighteenth century, exploitative pressures within this system increased dramatically, especially with the new Spanish Bourbon monar- chy siphoning more American resources in an attempt to revitalize Spain’s world position. Charles III, the new Spanish King, pressed corre- gidors to dramatically increase Indian tax collections, amounting to the pillaging of rural society (Klarén 2000, 120). But these new policies also alienated hacienda owners and other intermediary commercial interests by absorbing a much greater share of Indian surplus exclusively for the Crown. And the reforms angered the criollo (American born white) pop- ulation by reasserting the authority of the Iberian born. The extreme and fairly naked exploitation tapped into much of the general Indian peasant DRAFT Historical Arc discontent about colonial relations. Thus, all strata of society shared hos- tility towards the new Crown policies. This included the intermediaries who acted for and largely defined colonial rule over Indians. Their tradi- tional dilemma between exploiting and protecting their native wards therein became largely resolved in favor of the Indian. Such brokers be- gan using their privileged positions to serve Indian interests. Revolts erupted throughout the Sierra. [2.25] In contrast to the Crown policy of redoubling exploitative relations, several new ideas emerged from the Andean populations. Many created small strategies that exploited the contradictions of the system. On a larger scale, some groups, such as those led by Juan Santos Atahualpa, established their own small nations in more remote and easier to defend areas (Mallon 1983). But Tupac Amaru II, the leader of the Great Rebel- lion (1780–1781), the most notorious event of these times, was clearly influenced by ideas about a much more inclusive society based on En- lightenment thought filtered through idealized versions of Andean na- tionalism (Flores Galindo 1988). And notions of undoing Spanish coloni- alism had swelled his ranks with the general Indian populace—at the same time that it alienated those natives enjoying some relative privilege from the system (Garrett 2004). The Great Rebellion cost the lives of near- ly ten percent of the native population and “opened an enormous breach between Indian and Spanish Peru that has still not been closed more than 200 years later” (Klaren 2000, 121). The Spanish tried to ensure against any future mass Indian uprisings, unleashing a reign of terror upon sym- pathizers, including killing every fifth able-bodied male in some villages (the quintado ). [2.26] As native political power plummeted and the Crown now needed more Indian tribute to pay the costs of the Rebellion and Spain’s wars in Europe, the new subdelegadosystem, replacing the hated corregidores, generally intensified exploitation. With the 1787 abolition of the curacas, the “indigenous aristocracy withered, losing whatever status and posi- tion it had held as ‘intermediaries’ in the colonial order,” making natives ever more vulnerable while increasing their homogenization as a racial- ized but splintered Indian underclass (Klarén 2000, 120). While the colo- nials preserved native areas as reservoirs of cheap labor, local authorities became much more dependent upon exterior support, and less able to leverage more favorable relations. The European-identifying hacendados became increasingly more central and powerful in rural indigenous soci- ety. To maintain the bifurcated state, racial distinctions became more pronounced in the countryside, rural Europeans enjoying titles, such as vecino notable , which distinguished them as urban citizens amidst a geog- raphy of Crown subjects. The more immediate dependence on the hacen- dados, however, enabled the colonial economy to diversify and take greater advantage of the new international trade opportunities arising from British industrial ascendancy (particularly in wool). Chapter 2 DRAFT [2.27] INDEPENDENCE, PACIFIC, AND CIVIL WARS, 1820–1895 [2.28] The early nineteenth century Latin American independence movements, of which the Peruvian elite was a reluctant part, presented several oppor- tunities to end racialized indirect rule. Foremost, they toppled the coloni- al state and established a new system based on Enlightenment liberal inclusiveness. In their military actions, the elites relied significantly on natives, making Indians central players in the establishment of the newly independent state, and giving them some power and social connections through which to express their ideas about creating a more inclusive society. More importantly, these ideas meshed with criollo critiques of the colonial state and modern notions of popular sovereignty upon which the new state was founded (Thurner 1995; 1997). [2.29] But Independence instead revitalized the system. In fact, indigenous racial domination actually intensified to such an extent that some native groups struggled to reinstate the more protective colonial state form (Thurner 1995; 1997). Independence remade the dominant group, criollos reasserting their control of the state. With the fall of the beleaguered colonial state and the disorganization of the wars of Independence, how- ever, the Indian Question changed to ask: how can a liberal state, impov- erished by history and war, and dependent upon a colonial Indian head tax (newly coined the contribución indígena) for forty percent of the nation- al budget, exercise control of the territory? [2.30] Privatization provided the answer. The state privatized native land- holdings, resulting in the massive growth of haciendas as a private means to control native labor, formerly achieved through direct state intervention (Spalding 1975). But, more importantly, the state privatized much of its coercive force in the hands of the post-war emergent highland strongmen (gamonales and caudillos), scattering these powers to those landholders who could muster sufficient personal and military power to hold them. Economically, beyond seizing natives’ lands and forcing their labor, gamonales eventually fully privatized the contribución in 1854 once the central state replaced this income with exporting rich coastal guano reserves. The criollo state therein answered the new Indian Ques- tion with a fractious compromise with highland elites, granting them carte blanche powers over natives in exchange for social control and maintaining the flow of Indian tribute. For natives, the liberal state meant the consolidation of European-identifying citizens into the authoritarian positions, ruling colonized subjects now stripped of protections either from an indigenous aristocracy or colonial forms of appeal. [2.31] As in previous eras, these new figures ruled through the traditional “webs of clientage and modes of coercion that penetrated deep into post- independence Indian society” (Klarén 2000, 137–8). They used their pow- er to perpetuate the racial division of labor that relegated natives to the most grueling agricultural work (Appelbaum et al. 2003). Contrary to a DRAFT Historical Arc more generous reconstruction of caudillismo (Walker 1999), the ascen- dant gamonales followed their predecessors in stunting economic diffe- rentiation in order to keep natives unskilled and dependent upon pater- nalistic largess. Indeed, any kind of market differentiation and rise of a native entrepreneurial class occurred only in the few areas like the Man- taro valley where haciendas did not exist but lands were productive (Mallon 1983). But even in these areas differentiation was limited, with the commercial intermediary figures benefiting from the racial division of labor and using various means for its retrenchment. 3 [2.32] Under these conditions, disorder reigned amidst bald power plays, the presidency changing hands twenty-three times in as many years, 1821–1845. The corruption and disorder of the Peruvian state squandered the fortunes of the guano boom (1840–1880), and led to Peru’s routing by invading Chilean forces in the War of the Pacific (1879–1883) in which Peru lost its rich nitrate producing areas (Bonilla 1974; Gootenberg 1991).

The disparate European gamonales rallied indigenous troops; but they foundered in front of the organized Chilean army who occupied Lima and won tremendous peace concessions. [2.33] Civil war filled the vacuum until one of the warring generals, Andrés Avelino Cáceres, emerged triumphant by making promises of inclusion to the indigenous populations who famously rallied to his cause. Cáceres, however, reneged on his promises of infrastructure and the elimination of colonial taxes, and instead reinstated the aristocratic state, granting the traditional means of social control to the landlords on whom he de- pended. Indeed, Cáceres famously brought to heel the nationalist aspira- tions of some former indigenous allies through such means as slaughter, torture, and public execution (Mallon 1995; Thurner 1997). [2.34] NATION FORMATION AND THE THIRD RACE, 1895–1968 [2.35] The fractious state of the nineteenth century presented coastal elites with a new question in the twentieth. How can they cohere the nation while maintaining the aristocratic system conferring highly unequal privileges?

This national question entailed a new Indian Question: how can the coastal elites create a purportedly all-inclusive Peruvian identity without empowering the native nationalist aspirations that would threaten elites’ gamonal allies? Through complex, multifaceted struggles, the imperfect answer became: mestizaje. [2.36] As with much of the rest of the Americas, the Peruvian elite sub- scribed to Spencerian ideas of inherent white racial superiority, particu- larly as manifest by the complexity of industrialized society. To improve their own society, then, the Peruvian elite attempted to whiten the popu- lation through promoting immigration from northern Europe. Failing Chapter 2 DRAFT this, they settled for a strategy of racial improvement through intermix- ture between Europeans and indigenous populations. [2.37] This proved a more inclusive strategy than the previous policies based on ideas of pure whites, inherently inferior Indians, and degeneration through miscegenation. While relenting on notions of racial purity, for elites this move addressed several key threats to their power. Most im- portantly, it dampened discontent through a strategic inclusion of select popular sectors. Elites could then legitimately draw on these labor pools for the more dynamic, non-agricultural costal enterprises. The labor mar- ket therein began to bifurcate between these mestizo jobs and their Indian counterpart still highly racialized as undifferentiated brute manual work.

Mestizo inclusion therein divided popular sectors against themselves. [2.38] Elites retrenched Indian racial domination by placing the once highly marginalized “worst of both worlds” cholos and mestizos above natives in the racial hierarchy. Culturally, Indians faced a new form of racism as their route to political inclusion now came through assimilation to mesti- zo practices. Finally, as mestizaje involved denial of the indigenous parts of the racial mixture, the newly enfranchised middle stratum served as a strong racial police. Racial contestation riddled mestizos, forcing them to compete for resources through asserting their less Indian-ness within their endless internal gradations, and giving rise to expressions like “you let the Indian out of you.” Thus, mestizo inclusion meant buffering for the white elites, retrenched marginalization for Indians, and internal dis- cord for mestizos. [2.39] For the most part, the Aristocratic Republic of 1895–1919 managed its oxymoronic contradictions through a tight alliance with international capital—though at the expense of the tremendous penetration of foreign corporations (Thorp and Bertram 1978; Burga and Flores-Galindo 1987).

By the twentieth century, however, the coastal elites’ own actions created inroads for competing demands on the state: from other elites, the rising middle class, and from multiple popular groups. Preeminently, an in- creasing coastal economic dynamism in both agro-exports and manufac- turing altered the socio-political landscape. Highland residents increas- ingly abandoned gamonal rule and its stifling of economic differentia- tion. Lured by higher wages on the coast, they became the new, mestizo- associated urban masses. In coastal cities, a new working class culture emerged that enabled mobilization based on class interests and identity (Stokes 1995). Working class demands employed European anarcho-syn- dicalist frameworks, but also followed the deep forestero tradition of asserting a non-Indian, and therefore non-servile, position. With the gen- eral strike of 1919, workers became a political force, with labor unrest seething throughout the century in the cities, coastal plantations, and Andean mines alike (Klarén 2000, 271). [2.40] In the highlands, the native populations engaged in passive resistance but also seized lands when possible. With the dramatic growth of wool