A Presidential Speech

The President of the Republic of Ecuador Rafael Correa Delgado is a hero for the young, open-minded student body at the University of Cuenca where I work. As an accomplished economist and former professor of the University of Cuenca, mention of him creates a lot of enthusiasm. That’s why I was bewildered to discover of his visit to the university by chance. For me, his unique appearance and lecture on the Dollarization came unannounced. No fliers, no memo, no trumpets nor red carpet, but somehow everyone knew. I figure they must have learned of his visit through an encrypted Ecuadorian telepathy system. I can safely say that it was not an undisclosed, surprise visit for security purposes, as was illustrated by the below-average crowd control during his presentation. Therefore, I must suppose that either I am sadly, ill-informed or like most Ecua-things, even the most significant of events are not given a lot of forethought.

Yesterday, two hours before the big event, a professor politely warned me that there would be no classes after 6pm. “Great, thanks for letting me know,” I responded and then luckily thought to ask, “and what’s the reason we’re canceling class?”

I assumed that classes were cancelled for typical excuses, such as faculty meetings, frequent and/or unclear holidays, or big soccer games. Indeed it surprised me to discover that it was nothing typical.

“Well,” the professor responded, “The President has a speech at 6 pm in the Coliseum. You should go if you’re interested.”

If I’m interested, I thought. Of course this interests me; I’ve never seen any president speak in public before, and especially not in an academic presentation geared toward university students to keep the public and the university body informed.

Fortunately, en route to the lecture I ran into two other professors and tagged along to the big event. We arrived at quarter to 6 to the Coliseum. Please don’t let your mind run away with the name Coliseum because it is less Roman and more a smelly, old gymnasium. The grand arena seated 700, but with fifteen minutes to go- it was not even half full. Of course, I’m not good with estimating, but I would figure that the entire facility was half the size of my high school’s basketball arena. So, even for a non-desirable basketball game, my basketball team’s numbers would have crushed the president’s numbers. “Where is everybody?” I asked a professor.

“The President is not known for being punctual, so perhaps the students will arrive late, when they expect him to arrive,” she responded.

Of course I have been privy to a number of events that did not start on time and yes, a large part of living in Ecuador is about re-calculating for Ecua-time. For example, “right now” could literally mean anywhere from 3 days to 6 months time. Yet, for some reason I assumed that this momentous occasion would be different. I now realize that I it was naïve to presume that the president of Ecuador would operate on a different time schedule than his fellow citizens.

My co-worker continued to explain that in the city of Ambato people are very punctual and will stage opening acts in case the main event delays. In one case, she said that the people of Ambato invited the President to crown the Queen of Carnival, but he was so late that by the time he arrived she was already crowned.

Well, to our luck Correa arrived at five past. Before Correa was to begin his discourse, the leading official of the University of Cuenca made his introductions. As the official rose, a leftist student-run political organization, called FEUE also rose with fervor. In a way that surprised me and also made me uncomfortable, the group began chanting and booing the university official. They held up a sign which “suggested” not so politely that he lower tuition costs and called him names. Another professor leaned over to explain to me that the student body is notorious for preventing guests from speaking when they disagree with their policies.

The crowd had prepared a very different welcome for their dear and respected president Correa. As Correa rose to speak, the crowd gave him a warm reception. At least I think that is what they were doing, but to be honest I lost track of where I was for a moment when the student (and faculty) body of women began screaming, charged the stage and thousands of camera phones snapped photos. I looked up at the stage half expecting to see Ricky Martin and his Latin hips or the Beatles and their hair, but then remembered that this was a lecture on the Dollarization and well, the Beatles broke up. I don’t know anyone besides my dad that would be so excited about a detailed discussion of economics, but even he would keep it on the inside.

I looked over to show my “what is happening?” face to my co-worker and saw that she was blushing, her eyes fixed on Mr. President. I had heard many women found Correa to be handsome, but this professor was weak in the knees for the man. In that moment, I realized that she wasn’t exaggerating or mocking ill-educated students when she confessed to she was attending the lecture, not because she gave a rip about economic policy, but because she wanted to be in his presence. More than anything, I was shocked that it did not damage her credibility as a professor; if anything, I appreciated her honesty.

Correa was quite the charismatic speaker. I was impressed by his poise, specifically in his ability to continue lecturing in a room of ringing cell phones, children selling gum and cigarettes, political groups chanting and people milling about. He had an outstanding way of playing the crowd and found a balance between using language that was complicated and economic language as well as informal to connect with his audience. For example, a few times during his lecture he said “chuta”, which in the context of a formal lecture translates to “damn”. When the economic discussion became less of Correa’s dreamy celebrity persona and more economic policy and algorithms, many female students stood up and left the arena.

The president spoke for two hours and answered several audience questions on the topic of whether or not the dollar had been beneficial for Ecuador. He definitely proved to be an accomplished economist as he clearly explained his central idea that Ecuador’s relative economic improvements since 1999's recession were not due to the dollar, but rather in spite of the dollar and as a result of exponential remittances and increasing prices for oil. Not surprisingly his point was the dollar ain’t good, but I was impressed by his openness to include strong counter arguments and detail the benefits of the dollar for Ecuador since 2001 as well its foibles. It made his lecture seem like a more rounded investigation rather than a loosely linked political rant or censored propaganda.

I walked away from the Coliseum filled with excitement and wonder. I felt charged having witnessed living history and having experienced an authentic political speech, chanting, blushing and all. Also, I wondered about the implications of electing a president with sex-appeal and wondered whether my president would ever give an academic lecture using algorithms.