THE UNEXPECTED CONNECTION: SOCIAL UNREST IN THE UNITED STATES AND CHILE

BY SAMANTHA PETTIGREW

As a former expat, I experienced military rule and national curfews in Santiago, Chile, in October 2019. Once my initial jarred reaction was calmed, it was something I felt disgusted with, and I was horrified for the citizens that had to bear this crude aggression and oppression. I associated it with something that would never have happened in the United States.

Friends and families were worried sick for me, stuck in my apartment for days on end. Supplies were scarce, and I was unable to safely get to work. They told me—and I rationalized—that the United States was more “civilized” than this; social unrest today was something only seen in “other” countries. I should come home where I would be safe.

Fast forward seven months, and here I am, living in the capital city of the country deemed leader of the free world, scrambling to get my pets inside at 6:57 p.m., having flashbacks of military tanks in Santiago hunting down any man outside his home even a minute after the curfew set in. I witnessed it out of my 11th story window in 2019, a city burning, literally exploding with ire.

Citizens came together in the millions to protest systematic inequality, much of the injustice directed toward minority skin tones (in this case, any indigenous Chilean from non-European descent). In Santiago, citizens ran, yelled, and threw things. They were brutally greeted in return by police with batons, tear gas, and water cannons. As of November 2019, 285 people had suffered severe eye trauma from rubber bullets. Helicopters circled the city center, the spotlights and megaphones threatening anyone in their way.

Now that I’ve seen two very different countries that suffer from surprisingly similar ailments impose parallel “solutions” during this short time, I ask myself: How can this be?

On June 1, only blocks away from the scene playing out in front of me, I watched on TV as the “president of the free world” directed his military to violently disperse a crowd of peaceful protestors in front of the White House, provoked only by his need to take a stroll at 7:05 p.m. to pose with a Bible in front of a church scarcely visited by the man himself. Of course, we now see that the curfew does not apply to everyone.

I feel oppressed by this curfew, not because I want or need to go outside, but for the symbolic significance of what it means for a nation to be stifled, undermined, and ignored. Was it slightly irrational that I thought a military tank would come by at 7:00 p.m. on the dot? Probably, but then again, after seeing recent footage of tanks and ground troops shooting rounds at people on their front porches in Minneapolis, and after my experience in Santiago, I’m not so sure the fear was unfounded.

Now that I’ve seen two very different countries that suffer from surprisingly similar ailments impose parallel “solutions” during this short time, I ask myself: How can this be? If the United States is as exemplary as we all think, and if Chile as foreign and less developed, then what is going on? How could the United States be taking plays out of the South American oppressors’ handbook on its own citizens? How could police in both countries shoot rubber bullets and fire tear gas, and how could citizens in both countries tag façades with graffiti and destroy their own pharmacies, banks, churches, and public transportation systems? Aren’t these people the ones who will suffer the most from the damage?

Well, yes, they are. And yes, they will. But shouldn’t that signal something larger? Is it not significant that people are willing to tear down their city in hopes of tearing down the system? But why would they want to tear down the system, you ask? Don’t we need order? Well, if you looked at it from their perspective, maybe you’d have a clearer picture.

Although things have gotten out of hand in the United States, this all started because people were standing up for their fellow humans, their fellow citizens, their fellow neighbors.

As an extreme example, you probably don’t think twice about the fact that people in “third-world” countries are willing to die for democracy. Why would you, when it’s just a sad story from a faraway land? But if you’re curious, look it up. It happens much more than you’d probably be comfortable reading about. So, if people are willing to die for democracy, then tearing up the town might just start to sound a little less irrational.

These are not choices that have been made lightly. Given the implications, these are actions taken out of clear desperation. Of course, some will always take advantage of the situation, and no, I do not condone violence or looting. But for the protestors with signs and masks and full hearts, do you think they enjoy the tear gas and pepper spray in their eyes? Do you think it’s fun to have rubber bullet marks piercing their skin? Do you think the street full of sad, angry, and betrayed citizens is a happy place to be right now? And most importantly, do you think this country is a happy place to be right now?

All of these questions are clearly rhetorical and give further evidence that these choices are not made lightly, and that they are a sign of deeper desperation, anguish, and despair. In both cases, both in the United States and in Chile, the people fighting had no platform. They didn’t have a voice; they suffered in silence for years on end. So what did they do? They made a platform. And it wasn’t pretty, but given the options, they did what their government forced them to do: make themselves heard.

Remember that in the case of the United States, protestors are out fighting for their fathers, brothers, husbands, sons, and friends. The ones not guaranteed to come home at the end of the night because they might have gone for a run (Ahmaud Arbery), gotten a traffic ticket (Philando Castile), or used a fake $20 bill (George Floyd). Hell, they might have gotten home, but not even that would have stopped them from being killed (Breonna Taylor; Botham Jean).

Let me remind you why that was all necessary in the first place: Police brutality and systemic racism. Let’s do better. Let’s set an example for other countries.

Have you ever seen one of those hostage situations in the movies where someone good gets so desperate they end up turning “bad,” threatening somebody else just to get their loved one back? Well, sometimes things get out of hand, and when emotions are high and love is involved, people can lose sight of the big idea. Some have certainly now lost sight of George, Ahmaud, and Breonna. But do you blame them? I don’t, and I don’t think it’s your place to blame them, either.

Although things have gotten out of hand in the United States, this all started because people were standing up for their fellow humans, their fellow citizens, their fellow neighbors. And let me remind you why that was all necessary in the first place: Police brutality and systemic racism.

So, as I finish writing this and my heart beats a little faster as I hear the helicopters hover, let’s do better. Let’s set an example for other countries, and when we can’t, let’s swerve left and follow someone else’s lead.

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Samantha Pettigrew is a Pacific Council member and a communications associate at the International Council on Clean Transportation.

The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the Pacific Council.