As
Greece threatens the European order with its inability to pay a suffocating
debt, Puerto Rico teeters on the verge of similar collapse. The crisis has
driven millions of American citizens into poverty, out of their homes and –
increasingly – on to the US mainland.
Years of migration and mismanagement have left San Juan,
once one of the wealthiest ports in the Caribbean, in a state of decay. Windows
gape open on gutted colonial homes. Aluminum siding seals off store after store
where “liquidation” or “for sale” signs hang. Graffiti overwhelms whole blocks
of high-rises, and the street art is swallowed by vines.
In
downtown San Juan, upscale restaurants and shops sit amid empty apartment
blocks and the angry insect hum of damaged power lines. In Old San Juan, the
colorful facades and cobblestone streets end at the cliffs, where a mound of
ramshackle homes – a project named the Pearl – juts over the ocean, and
confronts tourists with some of the 45% of Puerto Ricans who live below the
poverty line.
In
the market plaza of Santurce, restaurant employee Rafael Fernandez, 22, said
the crisis has pervaded life: “It affects everything we do or can’t afford to
do. We’ve lost our dignity, our standing. We feel bad.”
Puerto
Rico’s “death spiral”, as governor Alejandro García Padilla has called it,
stems from decades of government mismanagement and dependency on federal aid,
the high-risk investments of Wall Street firms chasing tax breaks – and the
domino effect of trying and failing to pay back billions of debt. Years of
borrowing and poor planning has led to water rationing and intermittent
electricity.
Unemployment
drives crime, crime devastates real estate, and except for the most vulnerable
– the poor, sick and elderly – almost everyone who can leave does. Hundreds of
thousand have left in recent years, a swing of about 1.5 million people since
2003.
Life
on the island mirrors conditions in Detroit when the Michigan city confronted
its $18 billion debt – except Puerto Rico’s total bill amounts to $72 billion.
Months
of crisis have created an atmosphere where despair and resignation alternate
with anger and fear. Behind the counter at a coffee shop in the market strand
of Rio Piedras, Beatriz Perez, 34, said she didn’t know how she will be able to
help support her family if the crises worsens.
“Half
the stores have closed, so nobody has money,” she said. “So nobody comes
around, and we work fewer hours. Salt, bread, the basics cost more, but we
can’t charge customers more because so few come by.”
Perez
said that family kept her in Puerto Rico: “I hope it gets better, but honestly
I don’t know. It’s so bad.”
But
Puerto Rico’s unique relationship with the U.S. adds another layer of
complexity: as it is a United States commonwealth rather than a state, the
island lacks authority to have its cities restructure debt or file for
bankruptcy as Detroit did in Michigan. Instead it must ask permission from
Congress for financial powers or for exemptions from restrictive trade laws,
rules that benefit US shipping companies and investment firms.
Meanwhile
the terms of Puerto Rico’s engagement with the mainland restrict its ability to
open up trade or investment. As a commonwealth, it is bound by laws drafted not
long after Americans forced the Spanish off the island in 1898. The 1920 Jones
Act requires Puerto Rican ports only do business with American ships,
prohibiting deals with many of the island’s Latin American neighbors and giving
American shipping companies almost total control of prices.
Although
Puerto Ricans don’t pay federal income tax – an attraction for companies – the
island has raised local taxes, increasing the cost of living and warding many
businesses away. Residents can pay as much as 33% in local taxes, gas prices
hover over $3 a gallon, and the same amount of milk costs almost $7. In Miami,
gas costs $2.80, milk nearly $3 less.
Music shop owner Tony Cuñarro, 46, was blunt: “Business is
terrible – there are no customers.”
Cuñarro
waxed fatalistic about whether Democratic governor Padilla – who last week said
the debt was "unpayable" – could handle the crisis. “They won’t fix
anything,” Cuñarro said.
“They’re
all the same, red or blue, they all misuse the money.”
The
slow-motion crisis has already caused a wave of migration. Departing
professionals and people with higher degrees have drained the island of
doctors, engineers and others who could help solve the crisis.
Jose
Miguel Saavedra, 62, a retired professor for the University of Puerto Rico,
said he had told his two daughters that he’s been talking with realtors in
Miami.
“When
the ceiling’s coming down you don’t wait to get squashed by your house,” he
said. “I see the writing on the wall.”
The
writing has long been ominous. Ratings agencies downgraded Puerto Rico’s credit
and bonds to junk earlier this year. Hedge funds that bought up high-risk bonds
now demand 100% returns. Since 1996, tax exemptions for corporations have been
expiring, and companies promptly left. Last week former IMF economists released a report that not only said the island’s
economy was in tatters but recommended radical cuts to services.
In
practical terms, the debt spawns problem after problem, Saavedra said: “Nothing
works here, nothing.”
Poor
planning means water rationing during drought and “kind of risky” tap water, he
said. His sister lives in a gated community that pays for private security;
Saavedra does not. Electricity will occasionally conk out, and driving home at
night he noticed that many roads are conspicuously dark.
“I
thought the government was saving money on public lighting. Then I discovered
that the copper was burglarized from the wires.”
More
than 150 schools have closed in the past year, and many economists and
lawmakers urge even greater cuts to education staff. Enrollment in public
schools has plummeted as tens of thousands migrated away – forcing many
families to travel long distances to get to a working school.
“In
the middle class, if we want our children to learn anything we have to send
them to private schools that cost a lot.”
Saavedra helps one of his daughters pay tuition for his
grandson because despite her master’s degree she can’t find work. He said he
would have to cut her off soon, and that he’s encouraged her to follow him to
the states.
‘It’s all bankrupt’
Thousands
have lost jobs in the past few years. Edgar Correa, an accountant, said that in
2006 his construction firm employed about 1,200 people; today it employs fewer
than 400. The island’s 12.4% unemployment rate is more than double that of the
50 states.
Correa
remains in Puerto Rico to care for his mother, who depends on Medicare, a
federal benefit that the commonwealth receives in lesser measure than do the
states. “It’s a hard situation to see people that you love leave, to see empty
spaces on every block,” he said. “There are no easy solutions anymore.”
Manuel
Rodriguez Banchs, a labor attorney, said that the unions he represents have had
more than 1,500 jobs cut in recent years as hotels, canning and distribution
companies closed. “Without work, people can’t make mortgage payments,” he said.
“I’ve never seen so many workers filing for bankruptcy.
“Politically,
economically and fiscally, it’s all bankrupt.”
At
least one city employee agreed, asking that her name not be used for fear that
her hours would be cut as she had seen for others. She likened Puerto Rico to a
house whose owners never learned how to build one: “Better to blow it all up and
start over.”
City
lawmaker Luís Gallardo had a different metaphor: “It’s sort of like a drug
rehabilitation program where we first acknowledge the debt is unpayable, that
we can’t necessarily keep schools open on the one hand and pay bondholders on
the other.”
Gallardo
opposes further austerity measures, noting that continued tax hikes to pay off
debt would convince more people to leave. “It’s very hard to make long-term
projections when our labor force is literally jumping ship.”
Ataveyra
Hernandez, a former adviser to the governor, said that cycles of desperation
and poverty would send the island spiraling into even worse conditions should
the government cut off services to pay debt.
“It
always reminds me of Louisiana,” Hernandez said. “We’re going to be the next
New Orleans when a Katrina happens, but we don’t even have the resources or aid
or options they have.”
She said domestic violence was increasing alongside
poverty, and that unemployment was driving men and women into “the informal
economy” – an economy manifest in the rail-thin, haggard man who paid no heed
to nearby casino security as he snorted powder off his nail, and in the
handicapped man peddling packets of spice in Rio Piedras.
“It’s
more lucrative to sell drugs than to work in Burger King, and Burger King wages
won’t pay for a home,” Hernandez said. “People are making decisions to
survive.”
“We were all living on a fantasy for 40 years that just
came to an end,” said senator Ramón Nieves, about Puerto Rico’s dependency on
federal money and the tax breaks doled out for decades to corporations. “We
have to deal with reality, but we cannot become a country in the service of our
public debt.”
He
said that Puerto Rico was ready to make sacrifices so long as those on the
mainland – hedge funds and the federal government – could also renegotiate and
sacrifice. But he and most others opposed a bailout, and no one appealed to the
U.S. based on any shared responsibility or identity as Americans.
“Nobody
here celebrates the Fourth of July,” Nieves said. “We don’t consider that a
celebration of our country.”
His
constituents agreed – or were at least indifferent. Near monuments to Juan
Ponce de Leon and Simon Bolivar in Old San Juan, 15-year-old Diego Del Real
called the holiday “an excuse to barbecue”. Fernandez said “the whole world
celebrates an independence day, but we don’t. We’re strange.”
No comments:
Post a Comment