We are Q

Nope, this is not an obituary in memory of "Q" who passed away in the last James Bond movie. "We are Q" is the new slogan that the city of Quito has launched a few months ago, and now features many billboards, bus stops and several big public events. For some weird reason, it just occurred to me recently how this slogan contrasts with the well-known city-phrase of Amsterdam: I amsterdam. At first sight, it clearly epitomises the contrast between the 'traditional' individualism of modern, Western society, and the socially-oriented, inclusive society the Ecuadorian government is constructing with its vision of the Good Living.

With all the benefits of the new Quito, why would you loose your sense of humour when they rob you on the bus?

Of course, this Good Living society is work in progress. As recent as 2008 the Ecuadorians overwhelmingly approved a new constitution, embracing the foundations of a new society that is to include all cultures and nations, as well as grant rights to nature (the first and only constitution in the world to do so). This implies a whole new change in the lives of the Ecuadorians, contrasting firmly with decades of political chaos and social instability. Hence the need to accompany all these changes towards the good living with big campaigns nudging people into a different kind of behaviour. No more encouraging street children to beg by giving them money, no more hopping on and off buses wherever you feel like, no more speeding (or you risk a hefty fine and three days in jail).

In a similar vein, the municipality of Quito is accompanying its city revival projects with a campaign to promote ownership of the revamped Quito. As the billboards go, being "quiteño" equals humour, respect, public spaces, culture, courtesy and living together. After all, we all are Quito! Are we really? All of us? Benign though the rationale for this campaign may be, it can also have very far-reaching unintended consequences, ending up excluding the very people who are most in need of inclusion.

The goal of the "We are Q"-campaign is clearly to create a new collective imaginary, that unites all the citizens of the city and encourages them to embrace their renewed urban environment, treat it and its citizens with respect, and elevate their urban life to a new, more cultured level. After all, the municipality has been investing a lot to make this new life possible. However, this kind of campaign smells a lot like the "Asian values" debates, where a created vision of united and harmonious society is imposed onto an ethnically mixed constituency, aspiring to undo diversity for the benefit of social order. The people identifying themselves with Quito, will be the middle class and those segments of the lower class that have access to the new services offered by the city. They will make the new collective imaginary their own, moving up to a new level of urban experience facilitated by the city's mayor and his crew.

In fact, the auto-identification with this new life-style will strongly induce them not to pay attention to all that goes wrong and all those excluded from this new society, for whatever reason that may be. The same goes of course to the national societal project, which deliberately uses the we-tense on its billboards ("Avanzamos patria" - We are moving forward, motherland) over a general declaration of the country's progress. In so doing, it adds to the creation of a new collective imaginary that makes citizens associate the governmental efforts with a better, more harmonious and prosperous life. At the same time, it helps the government to justify the exclusion of groups and individuals that do not fit the new Ecuadorian dream and model society, be it for wanting to express critical opinions or for living atop of vast oil and mineral reserves. The majority, however, will not take notice of these political inconsistencies, enjoying the Good Living at the deliberately marginalised cost of those 'dissidents' and 'outcasts'. Ecuadorian public opinion, shaken not stirred.

Sacándole el jugo

I barely dare to look at the date of my last post... How time has flown! The reason is quite simple, though. As they put it here in Ecuador: estoy sacándole el jugo, which roughly translates into "I'm squeezing the juice out of it" - say, I'm making most of my time here. My job has become very busy and interesting, leaving me little room to let my thoughts wander around; I've been on holiday to the States for the wedding of a good friend of mine; went on an inspirational study trip to El Salvador, to learn about the participation of women's organisations in the local economy; and I had my brother over for a visit, to name but a few highlights of the last months.

But I have been also quite literally squeezing out juice here. One of the absolute delights of living in a tropical country (although there are few to no palms, beaches or crystalline seas to be spotted around Quito, don't get up your horses yet) is the fruit. It comes in a dozen different varieties, flavours and colours, and you pay but a dime for it in comparison with prices in Europe or the US.

I have made it my own personal ritual to stop by the weekly fruit and veg market on my way home every Monday, and pick up my weekly ration of vitamins. As you can imagine, by now I am on joking basis with Don Luciano and Doña Blanca, who provide fresh babacos, naranjillas, pineapples, papayas, pitahayas, apples, pears, uvillas, taxos, mandarines, granadillas, tunas, guavas, strawberries, raspberries (both all year long!) and many more delicacies to caseros such as me. (Other than simply meaning 'client', casero immediately brings to the mind the good husband/(house)wife garnering all the necessary ingredients to feed the many mouths waiting at home.) And as it bestows loyal customers, I always go home with a yappa, a little extra fruit - usually some mandarins, a small papaya or some bananas - to make sure you come back next time.

Last week's catch at Don Luciano's

I usually save up most of it until the weekend, when I have time to prepare my renowned super-jugo. This magic potion generally contains five different fruits, but I have made creations of up to nine fruits. For sure, a smoothy with just two or three fruits has the advantage of letting you savour more every single fruit you've put in it, but there's just something about these super-juices. They're unrebuttably massive V-bombs, injecting a dozen or more vitamins directly into your veins, boosting your body with every glass you drink. And they are simply delicious!

Turning fruit into liquid gold...

Most people laugh at first, for it is not common to find such rich smoothies around here. That is, until they taste the liquid gold themselves, and get hooked on this papilla-titillating treat. My Ecuadorian friends still laugh at me for my craziness, but I don't care. As long as I have all this natural wealth at hand's reach, I'll keep on abusing the blender for my weekend breakfasts. Intrigued? Just come over and try it for yourself!

Naivety vs. disingenuousness on the streets of Quito

The weirdest story happened to me this week. I was on my way to work, just a block from my office, when a man on the street asked me to help him find a road. It turned out to be the very road we were on, but I wasn't able to locate the pharmacy he was looking for. He identified himself as coming from the province of Azuay, illiterate and a first-timer in the city of Quito (henceforth he shall be called province-guy). When I told him there was another pharmacy three blocks up the road, another man walked by, whom province-guy asked the same question. That man was on his way to run some errands for work, wore a tie and a leather jacket (henceforth he shall be called tie-guy), and told him the same thing as I had.

Then the story began: province-guy had to ask Dr. Luis from the pharmacy for help with a task his boss had given him, he explained. To which tie-guy asks if he has some address, which could help us locate Dr. Luis. Province-guy gives a small piece of paper, addressed to Dr. Luis, with the request to help province-guy to cash the cheque he has, but only to give him a third part of it, and split the rest between the two of them. That was weird, to say the least, so tie-guy asks province-guy to show what the cheque is all about. He pulls out of his jacket a lottery-ticket, triggering the reaction from tie-guy that we should check the results of the ticket in a shop nearby. Province-guy asks us for help in this endeavour, as he cannot read. He also tells us that when he got the ticket last week, his boss had tried to buy off his ticket for 10,000 USD, but that he had refused, to which his boss had cornered him and started to hit him with his leather belt. Now he was in Quito, on his own, without any acquaintances or any knowledge of the city.

I accept to accompany them to verify the lottery ticket, thinking province-guy doesn't fully trust tie-guy and wants a third party to witness. Tie-guy leaves us a moment alone to fetch a copy of the lottery-results of July 31st in the shop around the corner, while I stay with province-guy waiting in the street. Province-guy marvels at my ability to read and talks in the meantime about how his grandmother kept on insisting he'd be careful in Quito, because the city is full of malicious people, and that he was grateful to us for helping him. Tie-guy returns with a copy of the results, and my-oh-my, it turns out to be the winning lottery ticket, for the grand total of 200,000 USD! This made province-guy feel somewhat uneasy, what to do now, so he offered each of us 3,000 USD to accompany him and cash the prize money. Before accepting our help, however, he needed to know if we were able to provide for our daily meal, because his grandmother had told him only to trust people who can provide for their own daily meal. To which tie-guy says that he owns a shop nearby, in which he has 1,500 USD, and that he has some 5,000 USD on his bank account. I said that it was no-one's business how much money I had, to which province-guy replies that this is they way people in the province know how to truly trust someone. In fact, before coming to Quito, his grandmother had shown him how to do it, while pulling up her mattress and reveiling all her savings. Tie-guy backs up the story, urging me to understand that this is how people from the province reason, and that he'd go fetch his bank-records to proove his solvency. That was enough of fun and frolics to me, so at that point I wished them the best of luck and bode them farewell.

Now you see it, now you don't! Probably the second oldest profession in town... (source)

The two men really pulled of a great piece of very convincing theater, I must admit. There were always new elements added to the story that appealed to my goodwill and sense of empathy, such as the illiteracy of the province-guy lost in the big city, his boss hitting him with a belt, fear of being scammed by Dr. Luis, the hard-working shop-owner who offers to help province-guy. It took me a while to digest the whole story, but looking at it with hindsight, there were so many inconsistencies in the story, which I didn't take properly into account at the moment itself due to a feeling of compassion and the urge to counter the general tendency to consider any person asking you for something on the street as having bad intentions. But of course: why would the family of province-guy send him on his own, they sure must have some relative who can read and who could help him? Why would province-guy trust his boss and his pharmacist friend, after what his boss had done to him? Why telling he got the ticket last week, when the 31st of July was two weeks ago? Why insisting on me accompanying them, while it is obvious I don't know anything in relation to the matter presented? And for sure, the lottery results turned out to be a fake, a quick search on the official lottery website revealed.

I felt pretty stupid afterwards - after all, I had sensed from early on something wasn't right; I should have just walked away from the start. I was very lucky, indeed, that nothing bad had happened to me, because at some point in this story they would have pulled out scopolamine or some other rape drug, in order to rob me or inflict whatever other calamity on me. But I just couldn't help fighting the common-place scaremongering not to trust anybody on the street asking you for something. I guess this is one of the toughest parts of living here in Quito, the fact that your first reaction with inter-personal contact should be that of distrust instead of trust, also in circumstances that should generate trust. Even a secure, licensed taxi ride can turn into a secuestro exprés, taking you on a millionaire tour to get as much money as possible out of ATMs with your bank cards (true story!). I refuse to become paranoic, distrusting every single person on the street, because that would make life unliveable to me. I just hope there's a guardian angel out there inspiring me in time to run when I have to...

The sum of steps is more than a summit reached

It was a chilly and clouded morning, that Sunday the 5th of July. We had been climbing for almost 7 hours in the darkness of a windy Ecuadorian summer night, our steps lit by ice-topped headlights and our hearts pumping to fight the lack of oxygen. I had fallen several times into glacier cracks en route. Climbing out of them demanded an extra toll on my already low energy levels; staring into them and seeing nothing but a black void made me appreciate even more the special training we had received in glacier-climbing. It was 7am on the dots: we had made it to the top of the southern slope of the Cotopaxi, Ecuador's second highest and still active volcano. 5860 meters above sea level, and all I could do was drop dead, exhausted by this supra-humane nocturnal effort.

Camera freeze at 5860m - summit reached!

I had always enjoyed hiking in the mountains. At high-school, two teachers used to organise ten-day sports-and-hiking camps in the Austrian Alps, which I joined several times. I hadn't been much in the mountains since, but it only felt natural for me to join a group of friends who wanted to climb the Cotopaxi three weeks into my fresh arrival in Ecuador. I thoroughly enjoyed that experience - although unsuccessful due to rather harsh weather conditions - but I also quickly realised that climbing at 5000 meters above sea level is a different cup of tea from hiking at 2000 meters.

Inspired by the ever-present mountains and volcanoes that I can see from my office on a clear day, and the unique páramo-ecosystem typical of the Andes in this part of the continent, I decided to continue the hiking and step it up to the next level. So I joined the Rocks meet ice climbing programme of Ruta Cero, a local agency that organises these kind of adventure trips. The goal was clear: get yourself prepared, both physically and technically, to reach the highest, snow-capped tops of Ecuador's awe-inspiring volcanoes. The remaining third part required to reach this objective - mental perseverance - was something you had to come up with yourself.

Although we started off with a huge group, only 18 of us made it to the first big challenge, the Cayambe volcano (5790m). There we got our final lesson of the programme, taught to us by Mother Nature herself: when the volcano doesn't let you to reach her summit, there's nothing you can do about it. Relentless stormy winds of up to 120km/h, gently carressing our faces with icy hail, and temperatures of 15 to 20 degrees below freezing devoured our energy levels in a whimp. At 300m below the summit, mildly hallucinating from exhaustion and the lack of oxygen, our team decided it was safer to head back to the refuge instead of continuing to fight a battle we could only loose. The Cayambe had thinned our ranks to a core group of 7 die-hards - three of whom women! - who would attempt to reach Cotopaxi's southern crown...

After a three-hour hike from the refuge, we set up our tents at base-camp, at 4700m. Fortunately it hadn't started snowing yet, so it was fairly easy to do so. Meanwhile, our guides started preparing dinner in the kitchen-tent. As we joined them to warm up with a cup of tea, the atmosphere couldn't have been better. We had known each other now for quite a few trips. These kind of extreme experiences - and, honesty abides, Halli Galli - had made us bond pretty well, so we had plenty of stories and banter to share. 

Base camp 

The crew in the kitchen-tent

Being at 4700m is no excuse not to keep up with your dental hygiene!

At 6pm it was time to hit the tents and try to get some rest, for we had to rise and shine at 11pm. The biggest challenge was to get dressed in that tiny tent - think of heavy skiing shoes with laces, three layers of clothing, a climbing harness and gaiters. After a quick breakfeast - let's be honest, your stomach doesn't hold much at that time of the night - and filling up our thermoses with hot water, we were set to go at 12:15am. It wasn't until the glacier began that we put on our crampons and formed teams of three (two lunatics and a guide), tied to each other with a rope. We generally took a rest every hour and a half or so, unless something unexpected happens, such as falling into glacier cracks - a trick I turned out be quite good at.

Time to get the crampons on

The toughest part was no doubt keeping up my energy levels - and along with them, morale. Some five hours into our ascent, I didn't have much energy left. I had been eating energy bars and sucking panela for some energy boosts, but after a while exhaustion becomes so omnipresent that whatever rest I got, I literally wanted to fall down and do nothing but rest. The thin air was not only affecting my ability to breathe normally, it also got me a headache (or was it from the exhaustion?) that pushed my morale down. At that point, it was just a matter of climbing step by step, relatively straight forward when on ice, but less so on snow, where every step you make turns into half a step you slide down.

Reaching the summit was just a momentary experience. It was clouded and everybody was pretty freezing, making it a matter of resting a bit, grabbing that camera to make a few shots (they came with a natural frost effect) and climbing down to a more sheltered part of the slope, so we could get a decent rest before rushing down (it took us just 2 hours and half to reach base camp). As the sky started opening up a bit, we got a sight on the vast plains surrounding the Cotopaxi and we could catch a glimpse of Ecuador's highest dome, the Chimborazo. Despite the majestic sights, all I could think of was my bed and how much I wanted to rid myself from that terrible headache. (Note to self: next time just ask your companions if they have a pill for that with them.)

Reaching the summit, on two or four feet (courtesy of Diego Villacres)

Back down at the lowest part of the glacier (courtesy of Diego Villacres)

The true, lasting experience from these adventures, however, has no doubt been the companionship of the whole group. I did not just reach the summit on my own, we had all made it together. At every moment there has been someone to lift up spirits, to share your agony or to grab your thermos out of your frosted backpack. The ultimate goal is not to reach the summit, for it doesn't tell much about how you got there. No, the true challenge is to make sure that your team stays safe while crossing mental and physical boundaries you had never imagined you would cross. The reward the mountain spirits offer you is the unique experience of sharing these life-altering moments with like-minded people. They make you forget all the hardship and suffering you experienced, making you long instead for the next summit to be shared.

(I know, I shamelessly breached my five-at-a-time rule. The experience largely exceeded my self-imposed space, and this way you got a better impression of it, I hope...)

Bathroom with a view

Three months into my stay in Ecuador, I figured it would be nice to give you an insight into life at 2,800m. I inherited the room of a friend of mine, in the apartment of an Ecuadorian guy in the historical centre of Quito. Some of the big advantages of this apartment are its character and that of the condominium (as opposed to living in a concrete building, where you know that people six floors up and down live in exactly the same apartment as you do), the cobbled streets with their colonial-era houses and a gamut of small shops, the panoramic view over Quito on my way to work, and the daily exercise from having to walk four steep blocks uphill to get home. Oh, and did I mention the view from the bathroom?

Huasipichay (housewarming) in my new apartment

My street, running down all the way into the convent of St. Francis

Panoramic view over the historical centre on my way to work

 Bathroom with a view (on the Basilica and St. John's monastery)

My first preoccupation in Quito was to get the hang of city and how to move around here. The centre is extremely well connected with the rest of town through public transport, and (cheap) taxis are abundant. Quite rapidly I stumbled onto some nice people, expats and locals, with whom I play football and basketball on a weekly basis. Ecuador being relatively small, we often go on a trip in the weekend to contrast the hectic city-life. And if not, a nice stroll in the centre is always a relaxing way to spend the afternoon.

The procession on Holy Friday is as good an occasion as any other to sell some soap bubbles

Stuck at 5,400m due to bad weather conditions during our ascent of the Cotopaxi

Crazy fun at the Green Waterfall (Cascasda Verde)

With so much activities at hand, it took me a while to sort out my room - for it had only come with a mattress. A few trips down to the furniture shops of Santa Clara, the helpful hand of our neighbour carpenter and a Sunday afternoon stroll along the local painters' exhibitions at Parque El Ejido gave my room the touch it needed to feel more at home in my new home. Latin America being Ikea-free zone, it's been quite a new experience to have had some of that stuff custom-made, like my desk and leisure pillows.

My room, with a view on the Cayambe...

... and a comfy wobbly chair

As for my new job, I have been lucky to land into a great team of Ecuadorians, an energetic Italian lady and a charismatic Cuban boss. This week off to my first field mission and trying to get a regional project started together with Bolivia -  busy times. And boy, what a view do I have from my office. That's right, envy me!

View from my office at the 10th floor

Juan Montalvo's good ruler

Ok, I promise, I will stop writing about this subject for some time now, but it was just too much of a coincidence yesterday night, when I was reading a chapter in The Ecuador Reader by Juan Montalvo, a 19th century writer from Ecuador, and one of Latin America's greatest literary minds. In his essay On the Spirit of Association, he writes the following two passages which struck me in the light of recent events:

The good ruler has a clear conscience and does not lift his head in fear when he hears that a certain number of people have gathered together.

The government that sees only danger in whatever occurs in the Republic is a Polyphemus, having only one eye: a cruel and villainous giant, he seizes his guests and devours them; a formidable son of the earth, he makes all tremble. But no one lets pass the opportunity to throw a stone at him and, when the moment comes, to deprive him of his sight.

Juan Montalvo, detractor and wise insulter (source)

Ecuadorian democracy in action

As promised, Correa v El Universo was to be continued. In fact, already the week after the Supreme Court's ruling in the case, president Correa invited the whole crême de la crême of the international diplomatic community present in Quito, to assist his pardoning of the condemned directors and editorialist, as well as the authors of the book El gran hermano. The Ecuadorians, the actual target audience in this case of their democratic system and press freedom, were invited to watch the screening of Correa's speech outside the presidential palace.



Mostly, it was a self-congratulatory speech, highlighting the righteousness of his own position and pointing out the lack of journalistic ethos of the international media, who hadn't bothered asking him for his version of the facts when reporting on the Court's ruling. At the very end of his speech, Correa took an interesting turn countering the accusations of disrespecting press freedom and freedom of expression. "Our answer," he says, "are the kids going to Millennium schools, disabled people accessing well-functioning health care facilities, and first class highways connecting our cities." In short, socio-economic well-being trumps democratic principles, an argument not unfamiliar with some other rulers across the globe. (Did I hear you say Paul Kagame or Lee Kuan Yew?)

In the weeks following this mediatic show, huge billboards in support of the president and his policies appeared across those very same highways (paid for with public money, needless to say). Conveniently, this coincided with the start of a huge march of indigenous peoples in defense of water, protesting against the reckless public policy to promote huge mining investments across the Andes. Even before the protesters made it to Quito, Correa didn't leave an opportunity go by without disqualifying the protesters' motives and arguments, arguing that the march has blatantly failed.

As the protesters were about to march into the capital, the president tried to cut their roads of access and means of transport. In the meantime, he started rallying his own supporters with the same buses he forbid the indigenous people to use to enter Quito. From all over the country thousands of pro-Correa protesters marched to his palace to express their support for his government. Ironically, if these people already knew why they were in Quito (except for the free transport, food and drinks, that is), most answered quite vehemently that they were here "to protect our democracy".

Yes, the very same democracy that their star had put to the second stage just a few weeks earlier. In defense of a democracy that delegitimises and impedes the exercise of the constitutional rights of its citizens to gather, use public roads and present individual or collective protests and proposal to the competent authorities. A democratic system in which a governor sends a letter to the president with the names of public servants who did not attend the pro-Correa protests, recommending he shows them the door. Shouldn't this democracy rather open the debate on how to finance social progress (c.q. whether or not mining is the most adequate economic policy to generate sustainable economic growth) in the face of the constitutional rights granted to nature?

Overwhelming history at the sound of a theorbo

It's Semana Santa, and Quito has a wonderful way of celebrating this week before Easter. At several sacred and less sacred locations in the city centre, top notch artists are performing several performances as part of the XI Festival de Música Sacra. Here's to living in the historical centre! I just have to walk a few blocks down the road to enjoy these musical delights. And the best part is, it's all for free!

The other night, I attended a performance of the Colombian 'early music ensemble' Musica Ficta, in the magical Iglesia de la Compañía, just a block down the road from the presidential palace. This baroque ensemble is renowned for playing Hispano-American baroque music, with scores dug up from archives in Bogotá, Quito, Cusco and other cultural centres of the 15th, 16th and 17th centuries. By default, these historical notes beg for equally historical instruments such as the baroque guitar, the vihuela, the shawm, the dulcian and the theorbo.

As the church got filled with the warmth of guitar strings, graceful puffs and flaring chantings, Carlos Serrano shared with his audience how thrilled they all were to be playing their baroque music in that church, the perfect setting given their historical coincidence. That comment of his made me think back at some of the texts from The Peru Reader that I had read on the Viceroyalty of Peru (stretching from the Carribean beaches of Colombia to Potosi's ore-filled Cerro Rico in present-day Bolivia), the geo-political framework of the very same period in which that music was written and the Jesuit church built.

Musica Ficta performing in the Iglesia de la Compañía

All of sudden, history came alive. Realising I was listening to 16th century music in a baroque church in Latin America, it daunted to me how alien all of this experience was to these lands. Back in the day, locals didn't compose such music; they weren't catholic; and their concept of a fun night out most certainly wasn't attending a baroque music ensemble. Those who did attend such nights out (or, more likely, afternoons), were the nouveaux riches, the local elite seeking social acceptance among the Spanish colonialists, who had imposed their rites and customs on these promised lands.

Nothing else symbolised in a better way this cultural imposition and ignorance of the local richess as the inside decoration of the church, completely guilded with gold leaf, freshly extracted from the land on which it was built, with the blood of people it had expulsed and demonised. The sounds and voices that just a minute back had sounded so warm and joyful, became distantly cool and, in a way, made me feel out of place. The performance got a whole new dimension, moving me immensly, giving me the sensation that history was overwhelming me. And that, at the sound of a theorbo...

Small Brother prevails in media clamp-down

One big item has dominated the airwaves here in Ecuador since my recent arrival in the country: the Supreme Court ruling in the Correa v El Universo case. The judges upheld the earlier verdicts that condemn Emilio Palacio, former op-ed writer of the Guayaquil newspaper El Universo, as well as the three co-directors of the same newspaper, Carlos, César and Nicolas Pérez, to a $40m fine and a three year sentence in prison, on the charge of defamation of a public authority.

Ecuadorian president Correa calls press scrutiny of his actions to a halt (source)

The reason for this hefty sentence is an op-ed written by Emilio Palacio on February 6, 2011, in which he questions the reasons behind president Rafael Correa's proposal to pardon the alleged perpetrators of the September 30, 2010 coup and attack at civilians in a hospital in Quito. The op-ed frames the president's actions in quite strong wordings (Correa is being referred to as 'Dictator'), hinting at an absence of evidence against the coup-stagers as the real motivation behind the presidential pardon. After highlighting several inconsistencies in the coup story, allegedly framed by the president himself to save face for a series of misjudged actions following the police protests of that very 30th of September, Palacio ends his piece with the advice that, given the different legal status of the pardon (compared with a general amnesty), "the president might himself face lawsuits once he steps down, for having ordered the indiscriminate shooting, without previous warning, of a hospital full with innocent civilians."

The ruling has stirred a lot of upheaval in the national and international (mainly Spanish) press, as it basically sets a dangerous precedent to restrict press freedom, whenever critical of the president's (or another public authority, for that matter) actions. Not only is the ruling's realm quite profound, several questionable procedural irregularities have occurred along the road. To name but a few: the first, 150-page ruling in this case was issued by a judge - who had just started that very day - in less than 24 hours; several judges who sat on the appeal process had been replaced while the appeal was ongoing; and the accuser's legal team has been reported to have exerted heavy pressure on the judges sitting in on this case (even up to the point that the ruling had been written in large part by Correa's lawyers).

There are some more striking elements in this case. Shouldn't the basis of the ruling be evidence presented by Correa's lawyers to prove that Palacio has willingly and knowingly written lies (ie. defamated) about the president? And why suing and condemning the directors of the newspaper, while they have offered to rectify any factual errors upon the president's providing evidence thereof (which Correa kindly declined to do)? No evidence has been reported to have been presented to justify the ridiculously high fines to compensate for the 'moral damage' Correa has suffered as a result of that op-ed (isn't a right to response more in order to rectify such mistakes written in newspapers?). Remarkably, the magnitude of the fines and jail sentence has been justified by Correa's public office, whereas the president has claimed all along this trial to have taken this case to court as a layman, to show that even laymen should not tolerate that newspapers write lies about them.

The sentencing in this case seems to have forgone any measure of proportionality, leaving little margin of interpretation other than setting an example to rein in press scrutiny of high public offices. Worryingly, this has not been the only sign of restricting press freedom in Ecuador. Upon the president's introduction, the National Assembly has passed a law limiting press freedom during elections, and another law is under discussion to set up a media regulatory board to vet the content of Ecuadorian media. Also, two other journalists (Juan Carlos Calderón and Christian Zurita) have been fined $2m for their 'defamatory' book The Big Brother (El Gran Hermano), in which they disclose evidence of cronyism in granting big state contracts to the president's older brother Fabricio Correa. Commenting on his small brother's legal escapades, big brother Correa stated that "one doesn't even observe such acts of barbarity in African dictatorships." The last word has not yet been spilled, so much is certain.