Part 1: The Diaspora Stadium

Visas, Belonging, Unaffiliated fans, and the 2026 World Cup

Julia Lisco, Researcher at American University’s Center for Latin American & Latino Studies and the Immigration Lab, International Affairs Policy Analysis in Global Migration MA candidate

Image by Julia Lisco of the June 14th, 2026, Ecuador v Côte d’Ivoire FIFA World Cup 2026 game, with a Team USA jersey visible in the crowd.

With exorbitant prices required to attend the matches due to dynamic pricing and the extensive immigration bans instituted by the US, many fans were unable to make the expensive pilgrimage to witness their national team compete in the 2026 FIFA World Cup.

Of the 48 participating countries, only a handful had a 100% success rate for fan visa applications, disproportionately excluding smaller and poorer nations. Canada was also extremely strict when issuing visas for both players and fans. While soccer may not be the most popular sport in the U.S., it does have something that made it uniquely equipped to welcome the world: vast and diverse diaspora communities. In fact, it was largely diaspora communities that filled the stands and made up the heart of the tournament.

Many diaspora communities have complex relationships with their homeland; often separated by generations, political ostracism, or forced relocation, bringing with it a host of complex emotions. As Daniel Alarcón discussed on The Athletic’s “Pablo Torre Finds Out” podcast in June 2026, supporting one’s national team is often a less emotionally complicated way for diaspora members to connect with their homeland without the socio-political baggage that comes with other attachments and the history they carry.

The homeland relationship is complicated, but diasporas overwhelmingly brought their hearts to the tournament and made every team feel like they had a bit of home with them. But it wasn’t just diaspora members and local fans filling the stands.

As was the nature of ticket sales for this tournament, many fans, eager to pay the cheapest rate, committed to matches not knowing who would be playing, only the time and location of the match. This led to significant portions of every stadium being made up of observers who held no particular affinity or affiliation with either nation. Some would select a side to support for the day, letting themselves get wrapped up in the energy, while others, refusing to wear a jersey for any other nation, would wear their team’s shirt to the match, despite them not playing.

Ecuador v Côte d’Ivoire

I was one of the many fans who secured tickets to a match without knowing who would play. That game ended up being the June 14th, 2026, Ecuador v Côte d’Ivoire game. I didn’t have any loyalty toward either team, and, not wanting to spend a small fortune on a jersey for either, I wore the Scottish Women’s new alternative shirt to the game. Once in my seat, directly in front of me was a group of men in various USA jerseys. Throughout the stadium, I also noticed many people wearing Colombia jerseys, which look extremely similar to the Ecuador shirts, both sharing a similar solid yellow base. Once I saw one, I saw many, and I was nowhere near the only person in a non-represented team’s jersey.

On the way to the stadium, which was, by my estimation, roughly 85% (at least) filled with Ecuadorian fans, we were swept up in their songs on the subway. Once in the stadium, during the national anthem (as for all matches), the lyrics are displayed on the jumbotrons, and my family, surrounded by Ecuadorian fans, joined right in in their joyous rendition of Salve, Oh Patria, pulled into the expression of their passion for their country and team.

This is not to say that there weren’t many genuine Ecuadorian fans in the stadium, while Côte d’Ivoire supporters made up a passionate minority. The disparity in the stadium between the number of fans for this match is twofold. The Ecuadorian diaspora is one of the largest in the New York metro area, and Philadelphia Stadium (more commonly known as Lincoln Financial Field when it’s not being rented by FIFA), where the match was played, is an easy day trip for the passionate community, drawing significant numbers of genuine Ecuadorian fans.

The second factor contributing to disproportionate attendance is visa restrictions. At the time of the tournament, Côte d’Ivoire had been subject to a visa ban since December 16, 2025, severely limiting possible entry for fans from the small African nation, even if they were able to secure tickets. Meanwhile, Ecuador has not been subject to any country-specific visa restrictions under the Trump administration.

France v Senegal.

One of the most anticipated matches of the tournament was France v Senegal on June 16, 2026, largely due to their shared long colonial history. Senegal was one of the many countries affected by the immigration restrictions; meanwhile, France was one of the few whose fans faced no specific legal restrictions, yet this could not be felt in the stadium.

Unlike the Ecuador match, I was in the stadium as an on-field Pre-Match Ceremony volunteer, standing along the edge of the Senegalese flag on the pitch while more than 80,000 people passionately sang the French and Senegalese national anthems. The stadium was overwhelmingly decked in blue France jerseys (with most unaffiliated fans backing the 2018 World Cup champions, and large Francophile diasporas in the New York Metro area populating the stadium), but when the national anthems were being sung, that discrepancy completely melted away, with Senegalese fans singing just as loudly as the French fans.

I’ve never seen such expressions of pure joy and excitement as than I did at the matches I got to attend as a fan and as a volunteer. National identity and pride are complicated concepts for many to reconcile within themselves, but when applied to sport, much of the weight of history is lessened, and for a moment people get to embrace the joy, whether it’s for their country or for the love of the game. 

Ecuador as Laboratory for Warfare

Luis Córdova-Alarcón, Director of the Order, Conflict, and Violence Research Program at the Central University of Ecuador

The commander of U.S. Southern Command, Marine Gen. Francis L. Donovan, meets with Ecuadorian President Daniel Noboa on March 2, 2026 in Ecuador. Photo retrieved from Wikimedia Commons.

With U.S. assistance, Daniel Noboa has turned Ecuador into a laboratory for warfare—a space for technological and psychological experimentation led by military power that is reshaping the political, economic, and social order of this small South American nation. This laboratory serves as the primary theater of operations for the “war on cartels” promoted by the Trump administration through the multination coalition known as the “Shield of the Americas.” It is also the testing ground for the “Technological Republic” envisioned by Palantir’s founders, as the state is being increasingly captured by a transnational oligarchy.

As in any laboratory, experimentation is feasible because the environment is controlled. In Ecuador’s case, state and para-state intervention is what is being controlled, while the effects of such intervention trigger key legal and illegal economies that remain beyond control. The use of lethal violence—whether by criminals or the military—acts as a source of power and is used as a mechanism that creates “invisible borders” between individuals and their daily lives.

However, a series of unusual events reveals the misleading nature of the “internal armed conflict” that was declared by Noboa in January 2024, as well as the political use of the “state of war” (1). Two events are particularly significant.

The first occurrence was in early March 2026, when an airstrike with direct support from the U.S. Southern Command was carried out on Ecuadorian soil. On March 3, Ecuadorian and U.S. authorities released a video reporting that they had bombed a suspected camp belonging to the “Comandos de la Frontera” (Border Commandos) in the Sucumbíos province (2). The Ecuadorian government promoted this event as the start of “the next phase of the fight against organized crime” in Ecuador. The day before the strike, the head of the U.S. Southern Command, General Francis L. Donovan, met with Noboa in Quito, Ecuador to announce the launch of joint military operations (3). Two weeks later, an investigation published by The New York Times confirmed that the military target that had been bombed was actually a dairy farm (4) and not a camp as had been claimed.

This psychological warfare operation marked the beginning of an “intervention by invitation” that had been in the making for a long time. Its origins date back to 2018, when the Security Cooperation Office at the U.S. Embassy—which had been closed in 2014 under the presidency of Rafael Correa (2007–2017)—was reopened, and efforts began to shape the Ecuadorian government’s security policy.

In the Integrated Country Strategy for Ecuador, approved on September 18, 2018, the U.S. Department of State established the roadmap for the U.S. Embassy in Quito. It states verbatim: “The strategic objective of Mission Ecuador […] is to support the emergence of a government that shares U.S. interests in combating transnational criminal and terrorist networks and contributes to regional security”; it adds that “engagement with the Ecuadorian Armed Forces will create commercial opportunities for U.S.-based suppliers while enhancing Ecuador’s military capabilities […]”(5).

With Guillermo Lasso’s assumption of the presidency in May 2021, the Department of State strategic objective outlined in 2018 was realized. The Department of State acknowledged this in April 2022, with the Integrated Country Strategy for Ecuador, noting: “President Guillermo Lasso—the most pro-U.S. president in over two decades—has strengthened the bilateral relationship between the United States and Ecuador, offering a significant opportunity to expand the security partnership.” It also noted: “Ecuador will need to significantly increase defense spending to adequately train and equip its armed forces. Relying solely on U.S. security cooperation funding will not be sufficient to meet security objectives. The Mission intends to mitigate these risks by advocating for increased defense spending through Foreign Military Sales and Direct Commercial Sales” (6).

In December 2022 the U.S. Congress passed the “United States-Ecuador Partnership Act of 2022” as part of the “James M. Inhofe National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2023” (7). It authorized the initiation of a broad-spectrum intervention across all areas of Ecuadorian society and mandated that the State Department, together with other relevant federal departments and agencies, submit a comprehensive strategy for the law’s implementation within 180 days.

On July 19, 2023, Ecuador’s Minister of National Defense, General Luis Lara, traveled to Washington to sign a Memorandum of Understanding with the Department of Defense. This document outlined 169 tactical objectives with an implementation timeline extending to 2030 (8). This was followed by the signing of the Status of Forces Agreement on September 27, 2023, and the Agreement on maritime interdiction in Ecuadorian waters on October 6 of the same year.

By the time Daniel Noboa won the presidential election on October 15, 2023—following a turbulent campaign marked by the assassination of presidential candidate Fernando Villavicencio on August 9, 2023—the United States’ “intervention by invitation” was already in the works. The gun was loaded; all that remained was to pull the trigger.

The second event worth highlighting occurred on January 13, 2026. The vessel “Fiorella” set sail from Jaramijó with a nine-person crew to carry out artisanal fishing operations. Days later, the boat vanished. Relatives reported the incident, and one crew member was found alive; he recounted that they had been attacked by drones. To date, the other eight fishermen remain missing, with neither the Ecuadorian nor the U.S. government having issued a statement on the matter. However, in August, an investigation published by The Washington Post reported that the “Fiorella” had likely been intercepted as part of a covert action program led by the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) (9). Meanwhile, The New York Times analyzed flight data and discovered that a maritime patrol aircraft—based at a military facility in El Salvador and owned not by the Pentagon but by a Virginia-based company—had flown toward the vessels in the days leading up to the attack (10).

Frequent attacks on suspected drug-trafficking boats in the Caribbean Sea and the South Pacific —carried out as part of the Pentagon-led “Operation Southern Spear”—are not only leaving a trail of deaths and disappearances but are also forcing the displacement of artisanal fishermen who wish to avoid risking their lives. Harassed by criminal groups that extort or recruit them, and facing stealthy attacks by U.S. drones, families who rely on artisanal fishing are experiencing an accelerated process of “dispossession through militarization.”

The military operations carried out by the Department of Defense are deeply intertwined with Silicon Valley’s Big Tech companies. It is no longer just a matter of billion-dollar contracts, but also of the ongoing fusion of cutting-edge technological expertise and military innovation. On June 13, 2025, the Pentagon announced the creation of “Detachment 201”—known as the “Executive Innovation Corps”—and granted the highest military reserve rank to four senior executives from Palantir, Meta, and OpenAI (11).

On March 12, 2026, Cameron Stanley, director of artificial and digital intelligence at the Department of Defense, presented Palantir’s new software called the “Maven Smart System.” This comprehensive decision support system is based on artificial intelligence and can combine 8 to 9 separate massive data streams to deliver military objectives in real time (12). The Southern Command has already enlisted this system to operate in Ecuador. By automating the attack chain (find, fix, track, attack, and assess) using AI, the most sensitive decision-making process is delegated to an algorithm to generate attack targets continuously, replacing human discretion, which is modifying the nature of war. This subverts the concept of selective warfare. War becomes an infinite interface.

The use of Lavender software—designed by Palantir—to bomb the Gaza Strip by the Israeli Defense Forces is a dramatic example of this mutation in asymmetric conflict (13). The incessant attack on fishing boats in the Ecuadorian Pacific is helping the Southern Command to calibrate the use of these tools in aquatic spaces.

In August of this year, it was uncovered that the U.S. army was building an airfield at the Taura Air Base, the largest in the Ecuadorian Air Force (14). In September, the Southern Command reported that it had deployed its brand new HANX military drone in Ecuador, manufactured with 3D printing and designed by the United States Air Force (15). Later in October, Ecuador’s Minister of National Defense, Gian Carlos Loffredo, reported that two MQ-9 Reaper drones were already flying through the skies of Ecuador. The use of this military technology of “war without risks” confirms that Ecuador is a great field of military experimentation.

At the same time, a “digital cage” managed by Palantir is taking shape in Ecuador. In January 2025, with the backing of the United States Embassy, ​​the national government signed the “Alliance Framework Agreement” (AFA) with Google Cloud for the digital transformation of the public sector (16). In May 2025, Noboa signed his first agreement with Palantir, granting the corporation access to all data from Ecuador’s National Customs Service (SENAE) and Internal Revenue Service (SRI) with the goal of strengthening Ecuador’s border and customs control through artificial intelligence and data analysis tools (17). In January 2026, President Noboa used his visit to the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, to meet with Alex Karp, the CEO of Palantir. The only detail to emerge from the meeting was that Palantir would open a business office in Cuenca (18). However, by October of this year, it was revealed that the Financial and Economic Analysis Unit (UAFE)—a government entity attached to Ecuador’s National Intelligence Center—would use Palantir’s platform to track and monitor money laundering (19).

Ultimately, the critical situation of insecurity remains unresolved. Daniel Noboa’s government has chosen a path of convenient strategic subordination to Washington in exchange for the Trump administration’s approval to weaken democracy and leverage the business interests of a transnational oligarchy—featuring capital from the UAE, the United States, China, and Israel. The political cost for Ecuadorian society is immense: the republic is succumbing, becoming a vast laboratory for warfare.


  1. Córdova-Alarcón L. El Estado de Guerra como mecanismo de dominación política en Ecuador. Sociología y Política Hoy [Internet]. 2026 Feb 23 [cited 2026 Oct 7];11:137–57. Available from: https://revistadigital.uce.edu.ec/index.php/hoy/article/view/9714
  2. Ministerio de Defensa Nacional del Ecuador. Ministerio de Defensa Nacional del Ecuador [Internet]. 2026 [cited 2026 Oct 7]. Operación “Exterminio Total” destruye a los Comandos de Frontera”. Available from: https://www.defensa.gob.ec/operacion-exterminio-total-destruye-a-los-comandos-de-frontera/
  3. Rueda R. Daniel Noboa se reúne con el Comando Sur de Estados Unidos, que ve a Ecuador como un socio clave. Primicias [Internet]. 2026 Mar 2 [cited 2026 Mar 15]. Available from: https://www.primicias.ec/politica/daniel-noboa-reunion-comando-sur-estados-unidos-anuncio-operaciones-coordinacion-seguridad-117122/
  4. Ferré-Sadurní L, León Cabrera JM, Correal A, Schmitt E. The U.S. Said It Helped Bomb a Drug Camp. It Was a Dairy Farm. The New York Times [Internet]. 2026 Mar 24 [cited 2026 Mar 23]. Available from: https://www.nytimes.com/2026/03/24/world/americas/us-ecuador-drug-camp-bombing-dairy-farm.html
  5. Department of State. Integrated Country Strategy. Ecuador [Internet]. 2018 Sep [cited 2024 Sep 28]. Available from: https://2017-2021.state.gov/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/ICS-Ecuador_UNCLASS_508.pdf
  6. Department of State. Integrated Country Strategy. Ecuador [Internet]. 2022 Apr [cited 2024 Sep 28]. Available from: https://www.state.gov/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/ICS_WHA_Ecuador_Public-1.pdf
  7. 117th Congress. James M. Inhofe National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2023. 2022 Dec 23.
  8. Televistazo. El acuerdo de cooperación entre EE.UU. y Ecuador para fortalecer las Fuerzas Armadas se firmará el 20 de julio. Ecuavisa [Internet]. 2023 Jul 9 [cited 2024 Sep 28]. Available from: https://www.ecuavisa.com/noticias/ecuador/militares-estados-unidos-ecuador-acuerdo-cooperacion-YY5540346
  9. Echeverría G. La CIA estuvo detrás de los ataques a pesqueros en Ecuador, según The Washington Post. Expreso [Internet]. 2026 Aug 13 [cited 2026 Aug 16]. Available from: https://www.expreso.ec/justicia/cia-estuvo-detras-ataques-pesqueros-ecuador-the-washington-post-292401.html
  10. Abi-Habib M, Melen R, León JM. Hablaban inglés, llevaban banderas de EE. UU. y atacaron a los pescadores. ¿Quiénes eran? The New York Times [Internet]. 2026 Aug 12 [cited 2026 Sep 28]. Available from: https://www.nytimes.com/es/2026/08/12/espanol/america-latina/ecuador-ataques-barcos.html
  11. U.S. Army Public Affairs. Army Launches Detachment 201: Executive Innovation Corps to Drive Tech Transformation. U.S. Army [Internet]. 2025 Jun 13 [cited 2026 Jan 5]. Available from: https://www.army.mil/article/286317/army_launches_detachment_201_executive_innovation_corps_to_drive_tech_transformation
  12. Stanley C. @PalantirTech [Internet]. 2026 [cited 2026 Oct 7]. “This is Maven Smart System—Palantir’s software as a service product that we are deploying across the entire department.” Available from: https://x.com/PalantirTech/status/2032142543022960980
  13. Abraham Y. ‘Lavender’: The AI machine directing Israel’s bombing spree in Gaza. +972 Magazine [Internet]. 2024 Apr 3 [cited 2024 Dec 29]. Available from: https://www.972mag.com/lavender-ai-israeli-army-gaza/
  14. DVIDS. LCF-24: CLB-8 Airfield Clearing [Internet]. 2026 Sep [cited 2026 Sep 16]. Available from: https://www.dvidshub.net/image/9913386/lcf-24-clb-8-airfield-clearing
  15. Primicias. Estados Unidos despliega en Ecuador el HANK, un nuevo dron militar impreso en 3D, en medio de operaciones contra el narcotráfico. Primicias [Internet]. 2026 Sep 26 [cited 2026 Sep 27]. Available from: https://www.primicias.ec/seguridad/dron-hanx-militar-ecuador-estados-unidos-comando-sur-133498/
  16. U.S. Mission Ecuador. U.S. Mission Ecuador [Internet]. 2025 [cited 2026 Oct 7]. The United States supports Ecuador’s digital transformation through an agreement with Google Cloud. Available from: https://ec.usembassy.gov/the-united-states-supports-ecuadors-digital-transformation-through-an-agreement-with-google-cloud/
  17. Primicias. ADuanas de Ecuador busca una suscripción a la plataforma de Palantir por USD 17 millones, tras un año del primer contrato. Primicias [Internet]. 2026 May 27 [cited 2026 Jun 7]. Available from: https://www.primicias.ec/politica/aduanas-suscripcion-contrato-palantir-millones-cnt-123736/
  18. La Hora. Palantir Technologies abrirá oficina en Ecuador, Daniel Noboa se reunió con el CEO en Suiza. La Hora [Internet]. 2026 Jan 21 [cited 2026 Oct 7]. Available from: https://www.lahora.com.ec/politica/palantir-technologies-abrira-oficina-en-ecuador-daniel-noboa-se-reunio-con-el-ceo-en-suiza-20260121-0026.html
  19. Vélez R. Ecuador utilizará Palantir para detectar lavado de activos en apuestas deportivas desde 2027, dice Neira. Primicias [Internet]. 2026 Oct 6 [cited 2026 Oct 7]. Available from: https://www.primicias.ec/economia/ecuador-palantir-jose-julio-neira-apuestas-deportivas-lavado-activos-134294/

*This post continues an ongoing series, as part of CLALS’s Ecuador Initiative, examining the country’s economic, governance, security, and societal challenges, made possible with generous support from Dr. Maria Donoso Clark, CAS/PhD ’91.

Lifestyle Migration from the United States and Canada to Ecuador

By Ernesto Castañeda

American University

Matthew Hayes looks in depth at a population that moves from one country to another without asking for permission. They expect to keep their cultures and worldviews intact and to be respected. They live together in the same part of town. They talk to each other in their native language and are slow to learn the local language. Some start new businesses. They increase economic activity and revitalize urban areas, sometimes pushing long-time residents out.

A street in Cuenca, Ecuador

We are talking about the many North Americans that have moved to an area of Cuenca, Ecuador, as described by Hayes in his original book: Gringolandia: Lifestyle Migration under Late Capitalism (University of Minnesota Press, 2018). The author interviewed 108 American and Canadian retirees in Cuenca and a rural area also favored by them, along with Ecuadorians, while conducting ethnographic fieldwork during visits across seven years – all before the COVID-19 pandemic and the acceleration of this phenomenon. This book vividly describes an interesting case study and helps improve our overall understanding of human migration and how race affects immigrant reception.

These North American communities are not unique to Ecuador. For example, well over one million Americans live in Mexico today. Some estimate that, currently, more people move from the United States to Mexico than the other way around; this includes white retirees receiving social security benefits to finance their stay and many tourists overstaying their visas. Therefore, the discussions in this book are relevant for other expatriate communities. Many interviewees in Ecuador frame their migration as an adventure, a way to stay active and gain new experiences,  or a bold instance of individual freedom and self-expression.

Many of the participants in Hayes’s study call themselves gringos or expats; others call themselves ‘‘economic refugees’’ because they needed to move abroad to find a place with a lower cost of living. Yet others see themselves as ‘‘medical refugees’’ because they would be unable to afford healthcare in the United States, but can access health services and other subsidies and social programs in Ecuador (p. 109). Therefore, inequality, economic and geopolitical reasons motivate the decision to migrate, justifications that are similar to those offered by many people moving from the global South to the global North.

Nevertheless, these retirees not only benefit from a retirement income that goes further in their new location, but also from their whiteness. This arrangement is what allows them to frame precarity-led displacement as an adventure and a personal decision. Hayes finds that ‘‘North Americans think of their relocations mostly in terms of their own lives, even as they continue to be rooted in unequal global social relations’’ (p. 7). Problems created by neoliberal policies are met with individual neoliberal solutions that transfer the burden of some of those individuals aging into poverty in North America to the global South.

Another big difference between Latin American immigrants in the United States and U.S. emigrants in Ecuador is that the latter group can easily obtain immigration papers. One can get an Ecuadorian residency visa by demonstrating at least 800 dollars of continuous income, which can include Social Security payments. Indeed, most of Hayes’s respondents reported monthly incomes between $800 and $1,500. Foreigners can also get an investor visa if they deposit $25,000 in an Ecuadorian bank. Many others choose to overstay their tourist visa, and they rarely face consequences for this. Local officials are welcoming, offering integration courses and help with relocation.

By receiving income from the global North and moving to a place with a lower cost of living in the global South, these retirees profit from ‘‘geoarbitrage.’’ Migration allows them not only to make ends meet but to be financially better off. Retirees have been doing this within the United States for decades, but as retirement incomes and inequality in the U.S. increase, even retirement communities in Florida or Arizona can be unaffordable to many. Thus, some people move to places in the global South. Colonial cities in Latin America such as San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, Cusco, Peru, or Cuenca, Ecuador, offer the appeal of Mediterranean European-like cities but are much more affordable.

The book includes a fascinating discussion about who benefited from UNESCO’s designation of Cuenca as a World Heritage City. Hayes discusses the intermediaries that have popped up to lure North Americans into Cuenca and other areas, as they profit from it. They lure customers with neoliberal phrases such as ‘‘Half the Cost, Double the Freedom’’ or ‘‘Living a Six-Figure Life . . . on Much Less.’’ Interestingly, the relocation of North Americans leads to price increases in Cuenca and helps to propel the gentrification of certain downtown neighborhoods and areas in the idyllic countryside, resulting in the relocation of poorer Ecuadorians, often of indigenous origin. Hayes cites work calling these processes ‘‘transnational gentrification.’’

By moving to South America, working class retirees, burnt out professionals tired of their work schedules, recent widows, and new single mothers a few paychecks away from homelessness in the U.S., are suddenly closer to the top of the social hierarchy in Ecuador and are able to afford many comforts that they could not in the global North. They cannot pass as local white elites, though; they are identified everywhere and mostly benignly as gringos. Hayes shows how self-conscious long-time gringos are about how locals perceive their group, as their numbers increase, and why they themselves openly critique ‘‘obnoxious gringo’’ behavior (p. 93).

North Americans benefit from white privilege in Ecuador, but ‘‘the visibility of their somatic whiteness contrasts with its invisibility in North America’’ (p. 95). Furthermore, some interviewees felt that increased numbers of North Americans might change ‘‘gringoness from something unique and interesting into something humdrum and even somewhat of a hassle’’ (p. 105). One interviewee complained about being increasingly seen as a part of a group. This sense of the loss of individuality racialized their whiteness and deeply bothered those who were used to being in the majority and in the dominant racial group in North America. They became concerned about the behavior of other gringos in Cuenca because they felt it could affect them. Many respondents saw their new home in Cuenca as like America in the 1950s, partly implying nostalgia for a white-dominant America with a stronger social safety net and economic security.

One takeaway is that migration creates change in the short term, but overall and in the middle and long-term, it is good for migrants and locals (See Castañeda 2026); another is that short- and long-distance relocations cannot be understood outside the context of population growth, capitalism, global inequality, and power dynamics. Thus, the book is not only about expats but also about political economy and whiteness. It is a captivating read and a solid contribution to the growing body of academic work on migration, global inequality, and race.

References

Castañeda, Ernesto. 2026. “Immigration and Urban Vitality: How Newcomers Make

Cities Strong.” Washington, DC: Center for Latin American and Latino Studies and the

Immigration Lab, American University.

Hayes, Matthew. 2018. Gringolandia: Lifestyle Migration under Late Capitalism.

Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

Ernesto Castañeda is Professor and Director of the Immigration Lab and the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies at American University

Edited by Vincent Iannuzzi-Sucich

*This post continues an ongoing series, as part of CLALS’s Ecuador Initiative, examining the country’s economic, governance, security, and societal challenges, made possible with generous support from Dr. Maria Donoso Clark, CAS/PhD ’91.

The Illusion of Progress? The Rise of Women in Ecuadorian Politics Despite Ongoing Gender Violence in Its Indigenous Communities

(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

By Isabella Serra & S. Shrestha  

On January 24, 2006, Estuardo Remache was criminally charged with domestic violence and removed from his position as head of Ecuador’s Human Rights Commission. The case was brought forward by his wife, Maria Lucrecia Nono, who had spent years seeking justice for the repeated abuse she endured. On numerous occasions Maria’s attempts to report the violence were dismissed, her credibility questioned, and her intentions painted as vindictive.

When Maria first turned to local authorities and Comisarías, state-run women’s centers meant to support survivors of gender-based violence (GBV), she was told her case was a personal matter to be resolved at home. Officials cited Article 191 of the Ecuadorian Constitution, which separates the federal and Indigenous legal systems, and told her she must seek justice within her own Kichwa community. 

Gender-based violence, which includes emotional, physical, and sexual harm rooted in gender inequality, is a widespread and deeply structural form of oppression. Maria’s abuse didn’t stop at home; it was reinforced by the very institutions intended to protect her. Each time she sought help, she was met with indifference, disbelief, or outright rejection, despite returning with visible bruises and ongoing emotional trauma. Her story points to a more systemic issue: the absence of female political power in Ecuador to challenge and transform these injustices. 

Maria’s ordeal highlights a troubling paradox: the greater presence of women – particularly Indigenous Kichwa women – in Ecuador’s political sphere, alongside the continued high rates of GBV in their communities. Why, despite growing political representation for women, does gender-based violence remain so entrenched, especially among Indigenous communities?

 Legal and Structural Context 

Ecuador’s 2008 Constitution marked a turning point, officially recognizing the country as plurinational and intercultural, thus legitimizing Indigenous governance structures alongside the national legal system. Yet this dual system has limitations. While intended to acknowledge indigenous sovereignty, in practice it often creates conditions of legal marginality, particularly for Indigenous women. In Maria’s case, the national judiciary abdicated responsibility, claiming the Kichwa system to be the appropriate jurisdiction, while Kichwa authorities sought to silence her to avoid casting their communities in a negative light. 

This tension reflects a broader legal failure: the promotion of state-sponsored multiculturalism but the failure to protect vulnerable populations within specific communities. The burden of representation falls heavily on Indigenous women like Mirian Masaquiza Jerez, a Kichwa woman staffing the UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues. In an interview, she explained that any missteps are seen not as individual failings, but as reflections on her entire community. Despite these pressures, her greater visibility, along with that of many others, marks a notable shift in the gendered landscape of Ecuadorian politics 

 Gender-Based Violence in Context 

Ecuador has made substantial progress toward increasing women’s political representation, thanks in part to gender quotas implemented since the early 2000s. These measures mandate a minimum number of female candidates in national and local elections, enabling more women to ascend to political leadership. Despite recent infighting and a diminished presence in the national legislature, Ecuador’s Indigenous-led Pachakutik party has played a pivotal role in this shift over the past three decades, advocating for environmental justice and Indigenous rights, including those of women. 

Yet political representation does not always translate to structural change. The existence of women in positions of power can obscure the continued suffering of those on the margins. Indigenous women in rural areas still live under deeply patriarchal norms, face high rates of GBV, and often lack access to justice, health care, or safe housing. Nearly 6 in 10 women in Ecuador report having experienced GBV. The rate rises to 68 percent among Indigenous women, 10 percentage points higher than among their non-indigenous counterparts. These figures expose the intersectional nature of GBV: it disproportionately affects women who are poor, Indigenous, or otherwise marginalized. GBV is not just a personal issue; it is a societal failure sustained by socioeconomic inequality, cultural norms, and weak legal protections. 

In many Indigenous communities, patriarchal expectations remain strong. Divorce and contraceptives are taboo, and women who speak out like Maria risk being ostracized by their families and communities. Maria’s relatives warned her that if she pursued legal action, she might lose custody of her children. And she nearly did: Estuardo Remache was awarded custody of four of their five children before he was convicted. 

Eco-Politics, Exploitation, and Gendered Harm 

The entanglement of environmental exploitation and gender inequality has further exacerbated the issue. Since the 1960s, Ecuador’s adoption of a free-market model encouraged the expansion of oil extraction in the Amazon. While economically beneficial in the short term, these projects have devastated Indigenous lands and polluted vital resources. The resulting health effects, such as increased miscarriages and birth defects, are disproportionately born by women. 

Historically oil companies, empowered by deregulation, offered large financial incentives to communities in exchange for land. Communities that resisted remained poor and resource scarce. Those who accommodated faced social stigma, displacement, and environmental degradation. Both paths potentially deepened indigenous poverty. 

These developments have reshaped gender roles. As men leave to work for the very oil companies that displaced their communities, women are left to manage households, often under increased financial and social stress. This dynamic has continued to entrench patriarchal authority and contributes to higher rates of domestic violence. Workers exposed to exploitative labor, drugs, and alcohol often bring that trauma home. Women, already made vulnerable by poverty and legal liminality, often suffer the consequences. 

While the 2008 Constitution granted new rights, Ecuador’s laws have failed to notably improve conditions for indigenous women, and in some cases, have exacerbated hardships. The continued expansion of extractive industries under new hydrocarbons and related environmental laws, has led to further environmental contamination, social disruption, and increased gendered violence. 

Reassessing “Progress” 

After years of litigation, Ecuador’s Constitutional Court issued a judgment in 2014 finding that María Lucrecia Nono’s constitutional rights had been violated. Yet the ruling did not bring closure: the prolonged process left her struggle for justice fundamentally unresolved.

Maria’s story is often held up as an example of progress, offered as proof that Indigenous women can now access justice. But this interpretation is dangerously reductive. Maria’s case dragged on for years. She endured physical and emotional abuse, not only from her husband but from a system that refused to believe her. Even after winning she paid a steep price: continued violence, loss of custody, and pressure from Indigenous political leaders urging her to remain silent to protect their image. 

Her case exposes the limits of symbolic victory. Representation alone is not enough to dismantle cultures of impunity and deeply rooted systems of oppression. Real justice requires the transformation of legal systems, political norms, and economic structures that continue to marginalize Indigenous women. 

Conclusions  

Ecuador presents a complex landscape: a country lauded for increasing female political representation, yet plagued by high levels of GBV, especially within Indigenous communities. Maria Lucrecia Nono’s case is not a victory; it is a warning. It illustrates how cultural recognition, extractive capitalism, and patriarchal power can conspire to silence women, even when they appear to be gaining political stature. 

The emergence of Indigenous women in Ecuador’s political sphere is long overdue. But without corresponding reforms in legal protections, community norms, and economic structures, political power will remain largely symbolic. True liberation for Indigenous women in Ecuador will require dismantling the intersecting systems that perpetuate gender-based violence, which requires listening to women like Maria not only when they win, but when they are silenced. 

Isabella Serra & S. Shrestha  are Research Assistants at The Immigration Lab

*This post continues an ongoing series, as part of CLALS’s Ecuador Initiative, examining the country’s economic, governance, security, and societal challenges, made possible with generous support from Dr. Maria Donoso Clark, CAS/PhD ’91.

Trapped by Debt? China’s Role in Ecuador Oil Dilemma

Photo credit: Xinhua, https://images.app.goo.gl/rBnL1kuwMixrzmCh7

Ecuador’s struggle to move beyond oil is deeply tied to its financial obligations—especially to China. Over the past 15 years, oil revenues have not only funded public spending but also serviced billions in external debt, locking the country into a path of continued extraction. This tension was already visible when the Yasuní-ITT Initiative collapsed in 2013: efforts to protect the rainforest were ultimately sidelined as social spending and budgetary needs remained—if not deepened—the country’s dependence on oil income. A decade later, Ecuadorians voted to halt drilling in the same region, but implementation has slowed. While officials have cited fiscal pressures and legal complexities, it is also clear that a significant portion of Ecuador’s oil production remains tied up in long-term prepayment arrangements—including those linked to past oil-for-loan agreements with Chinese lenders. 

Following Ecuador’s 2008 debt default, China quickly emerged as the country’s primary financier. According to the China-Latin America Finance Database, since 2010 Chinese policy banks—primarily China Development Bank and Eximbank—provided over $18 billion in loans to Ecuador. Many of these were backed by future oil shipments. The structure followed a two-track model: financial agreements with policy banks, and parallel supply contracts with PetroChina or Unipec. In practice, this meant that while Chinese banks lent Ecuador billions in cash, PetroEcuador committed to deliver oil to Chinese traders as repayment—regardless of market prices at the time of shipment. This arrangement locked in large volumes of crude in exchange for upfront cash. By 2013, nearly 90% of Ecuador’s oil exports were committed under term contracts with Chinese buyers, giving Beijing outsized leverage over the country’s oil trade. 

These deals have had long-lasting implications. By committing barrels years in advance, they reduced Ecuador’s ability to adjust production in response to new priorities—such as conservation mandates or global price shifts. Pricing terms further undercut the country’s earnings. Although contracts referenced international benchmarks like West Texas Intermediate (WTI) or Brent, additional fees, quality discounts, and opaque delivery terms often meant Ecuador received significantly less than market value. In fact, in 2017 Petroecuador sought to renegotiate oil-for-loan contracts with Chinese firms precisely to secure better pricing and reduce the volume of barrels exported under onerous terms. A 2022 audit cited by Infobae estimated that Ecuador lost nearly $5 billion in revenue due to oil sold at below-market prices under those contracts; up to 87% of crude exports were tied to formulas that paid less than the spot market could have yielded. 

Independent investigations by journalists have also found that Chinese firms profited by reselling Ecuadorian crude at higher prices, while Petroecuador captured only a portion of the potential revenue. Contractual provisions—such as repayment accounts held abroad and sovereign immunity waivers—further limited Ecuador’s flexibility to renegotiate terms without risking legal or financial penalties. 

In this context, many of the barrels extracted today are already earmarked through older pre-sale deals. This complicates efforts to curb drilling, even when doing so in response to a clear public mandate. Contractual rigidity—not just fiscal reliance—has narrowed the government’s policy space. Reversing course isn’t just a matter of political will; it requires untangling years of embedded financial commitments. 

The 2022 debt restructuring with China offered a glimpse of what greater flexibility can unlock. By renegotiating loan maturities and rescheduling oil deliveries, Ecuador freed up dozens of cargoes that had been tied to repayment. Instead of shipping them under discounted terms, the government was able to sell them on the open market—during a favorable price window—generating millions in additional revenue. The volume of oil remained the same. What changed was when and how it could be sold. This shift in marketing autonomy directly expanded Ecuador’s fiscal space, without requiring increased production or new drilling. 

While extractive arrangements remain deeply entangled with prior commitments, recent developments suggest Ecuador is gaining modest room to pursue a different path. In mid-2025, the country secured $400 million from China’s PowerChina—part of a broader $1 billion renewable energy package that also included Spanish financing—to support solar and energy storage projects. This marks a shift in Chinese engagement away from fossil-backed infrastructure toward cleaner investments. At the same time, Ecuador has turned to debt-for-nature swaps to ease financial pressures without expanding oil production. Although these were led primarily by multilateral lenders and NGOs, they reflect a broader shift. The 2023 Galápagos blue bond refinanced $1.6 billion in debt to fund long-term marine conservation, while a second swap in 2024 unlocked $460 million for Amazon protection. Together, these efforts point to the possibility of more climate-aligned partnerships—offering early glimpses of how Ecuador, with support from external actors, including China, might gradually move beyond extractive dependence. 

Three lessons stand out. First, oil-for-loan deals may offer quick liquidity, but they impose long-term constraints that complicate democratic and environmental decision-making. Second, transparent and flexible oil sales consistently outperform opaque pre-sale contracts weighed down by discounts and delivery restrictions. And third, while China’s engagement has historically centered on extractive finance, recent shifts—such as investment in renewable infrastructure—suggest there is room for more climate-aligned and cooperative models. Deepening this kind of engagement, alongside support for flexible financing tools like debt-for-nature swaps, in line with its constitutional commitments, could help Ecuador reduce oil dependence.  

There is no easy path out of an oil-dependent economy for Ecuador. Oil still plays a major role in the country’s budget. But the choice is no longer between drilling or defaulting. The 2022 restructuring showed that smarter financing—focused on freeing future production from rigid terms—can create space to act on social and environmental goals. Greater control over the extractive model would not mean extending Ecuador’s reliance on oil, but rather using what production remains in a more strategic and limited way. This includes regaining flexibility over how and when oil is sold and ensuring that any revenues are used to actively support, rather than delay, the transition toward a more diversified and sustainable economy. The 2023 vote to halt oil drilling in the Yasuní reserve signaled a shift in public priorities. Whether Ecuador—and its partners—can align financing with that vision will determine whether Yasuní becomes a turning point or just another deferred promise. 

Edgar Aguilar is a Researcher at the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies and a graduate student in International Economics at American University 

Edited by Rob Albro, Associate Director, Research, at the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies 

*This post continues an ongoing series, as part of CLALS’s Ecuador Initiative, examining the country’s economic, governance, security, and societal challenges, made possible with generous support from Dr. Maria Donoso Clark, CAS/PhD ’91. 

Beyond the ITT Initiative: How Ecuador’s Civil Society Reclaimed the Future of Yasuní

By Edgar Aguilar

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Photo from flickr

The failure of Ecuador’s Yasuní-ITT Initiative in 2013—an internationally recognized proposal to leave oil in the ground in exchange for global compensation—sparked a nationwide civic response. Civil society actors mobilized not only to oppose oil drilling in Yasuní National Park but to redefine what environmental governance could look like in Ecuador’s constitutional context.

Indigenous federations condemned threats to ancestral territory and the rights of uncontacted peoples. Environmental organizations cited Yasuní’s status as one of the most biodiverse regions on Earth. Youth activists framed the issue around climate justice and generational rights. Meanwhile, oil producing communities, local governments and the state oil company defended drilling as a source of critical state revenue and social investment.

In this context, YASunidos was born. Formed in 2013 by a coalition of artists, students, lawyers, environmentalists, and Indigenous youth. YASunidos set out to trigger a national referendum to halt extraction in Block 43. By early 2014 it collected over 756,000 signatures—well above the legal threshold. Yet Ecuador’s National Electoral Council invalidated more than half on technical grounds, effectively blocking the referendum.

Over the next decade, YASunidos evolved. Faced with institutional barriers, the group pursued a multi-pronged strategy: legal challenges in domestic and international courts, cultural campaigns, public education, and transnational alliances. Their demands were anchored in Ecuador’s 2008 Constitution, which enshrines both the Rights of Nature and participatory democracy, a globally unique legal foundation that positioned extraction in Yasuní not only as an environmental threat but as a constitutional violation.

Crucially, YASunidos helped keep the issue in the national spotlight. Even when the media cycle moved on or administrations changed, they maintained public pressure. Through sustained outreach and alliances with indigenous federations, human rights defenders, and global environmental networks, the group broadened its message and constituency. Rather than frame Yasuní as a niche ecological issue, they positioned it as a symbol of the country’s democratic and development crossroads.

That civic pressure paid off. In May 2023, Ecuador’s Constitutional Court approved a binding referendum on oil drilling in Block 43. On August 20, nearly 60 percent of Ecuadorian voters opted to halt extraction, which marked the first time a national electorate democratically voted to leave oil in the ground. The result was globally unprecedented, representing a major step in participatory environmental governance.

Still, the vote revealed important nuances. In oil-producing provinces like Orellana and Sucumbíos, where jobs and infrastructure depend on extraction, a majority voted to continue drilling. These regional differences underscored a key tension: while many voters perceived few benefits from extractive activity despite its costs, others remain economically dependent on it. Civil society’s challenge was—and remains—to articulate a just transition that resonates across these divides.

Following the vote, the Ministry of Energy announced plans to decommission the Ishpingo B-56 well, beginning a phased shutdown of Block 43. The court-mandated timeline requires full dismantling within one year, though the Energy Ministry estimates the process will take five years and cost over $1.3 billion. Whether the state follows through remains uncertain, which makes the ongoing need for civil society oversight critical.

The Yasuní case shows how civil society can do more than resist. It can reshape national debates. YASunidos didn’t just oppose drilling; the coalition reframed it as a matter of constitutionality and democratic participation. By grounding its message in Ecuador’s legal framework and sustaining civic pressure over time, it turned an aborted referendum into a test of the country’s democratic and legal architecture.

The coalition’s success also underscores the value of adaptability. When formal avenues were blocked, YASunidos shifted tactics. They combined litigation, media, and grassroots organizing, without losing focus. Few civic movements sustain relevance over a decade, let alone drive constitutional interpretation and national decision-making. YASunidos did both.

Finally, the decade-long social discourse around Yasuní demonstrates that public debate matters. It was not just a legal battle, but a cultural and moral one about how Ecuador defines development and whose voices count. The 2023 referendum wasn’t the end of that conversation, but a civic milestone in a much longer struggle.

As Ecuador begins to implement the results of the referendum, civil society remains a critical force not only in holding the government accountable but in imagining and advancing alternatives that confront the complex realities on the ground. In many oil-producing regions, communities have received some benefits—such as jobs or infrastructure—but have also shouldered the heaviest environmental and health burdens. The perceived gains have often been limited, unevenly distributed, and insufficient to justify the long-term damage. YASunidos demonstrated that civic engagement can do more than just oppose extractivism. It can defend rights, reframe national debates, and build lasting democratic momentum.

Edgar Aguilar is a Researcher at the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies and a graduate student in International Economics at American University

Edited by Rob Albro, Associate Director, Research, at the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies

*This post continues an ongoing series, as part of CLALS’s Ecuador Initiative, examining the country’s economic, governance, security, and societal challenges, made possible with generous support from Dr. Maria Donoso Clark, CAS/PhD ’91.

Balancing Conservation and Extraction: Governance Challenges of Ecuador’s Yasuní-ITT Initiative

By Edgar Aguilar

Gas flaring at oil drilling site on the Napo river, Amazone, Ecuador (image: flicker)

In 2007, Ecuadorian President Rafael Correa launched the Yasuní-ITT Initiative, named after the Ishpingo, Tambococha, and Tiputini oil fields located within Ecuador’s Yasuní National Park in the Amazon. Correa novel proposal was to leave the approximately 846 million barrels of oil in these fields unexploited in exchange for $3.6 billion in international compensation—half the projected revenue from these reserves. This plan aimed to preserve one of the world’s most biodiverse regions and respect indigenous territories while addressing Ecuador’s economic needs. However, contradictions in Correa’s governance—marked by ambitious social spending funded by extractive industries—highlighted the difficulty of reconciling economic development with long-term environmental commitments.

During Correa’s tenure, Ecuador saw a significant increase in public spending, rising from 20 percent of GDP in 2004 to 43 percent in 2014. This expansion was largely financed through renegotiated oil contracts and an increased state share of oil revenues. Social investments, such as doubling government health expenditures from 2006 to 2016, led to substantial improvements in poverty reduction and infrastructure development.

However, this economic model deepened Ecuador’s reliance on oil, which highlighted the problem of directly linking social progress goals to environmentally destructive practices. While Correa promoted the Yasuní-ITT Initiative internationally, Ecuador simultaneously expanded oil exploration elsewhere, such as in the Amazonian blocks outside Yasuní. Oil concessions in the Amazon in 2007 covered 5 million hectares; 4.3 million of them conceded to foreign companies. In 2011 these numbers doubled with the incorporation of 20 more oil blocks. This inconsistency weakened the credibility of the initiative, making it difficult to secure international funding.

From the outset, the initiative faced skepticism. Donor countries were reluctant to provide funds without enforceable guarantees that future Ecuadorian administrations would uphold the agreement. Additionally, the initiative lacked a clear legal framework to ensure that the pledged conservation funds would lead to sustained economic diversification. Consequently, by 2013 the initiative had secured only $116 million in pledges, with a mere $13 million received, falling significantly short of the $3.6 billion target. The global oil market likely also played a role. In 2014 a sharp decline in oil prices significantly impacted Ecuador’s revenues, further reducing the feasibility of keeping Yasuní’s reserves untapped. With mounting fiscal deficits, Correa’s administration abandoned the initiative in 2013, citing insufficient international contributions.

As Yasuní ITT illustrates, Correa’s government struggled to maintain a coherent environmental policy, oscillating between conservation rhetoric and extractive expansion. This eroded trust among both domestic and international stakeholders. While his administration positioned itself as a defender of indigenous rights and nature, its policies often prioritized oil revenues over sustainability.

The abandonment of the initiative’s conservation goals sparked resistance from environmental and indigenous groups, leading to the formation of YASunidos, a coalition of youth activists, environmentalists, and indigenous advocates. Their activism sought to hold the government accountable, culminating in a push for a national referendum. Although the Ecuadorian government initially obstructed these efforts, the movement continued to pressure policymakers for conservation-oriented reforms.

In an August 2023 national referendum, 60 percent of voters supported the cessation of oil drilling in Yasuní National Park. In response to the vote, the government initiated plans to shut down oil operations in the Ishpingo, Tambococha, and Tiputini fields. The Energy Ministry announced the closure of the Ishpingo B-56 well, with the full decommissioning process expected to take over five years and cost more than $1.3 billion. However, concerns have been raised regarding government compliance, since the court mandated that the oil industry infrastructure be dismantled within a year.

The failure of the initiative led to the expansion of oil drilling in Yasuní National Park. Oil extraction has contributed to deforestation, biodiversity loss, and contamination of water sources, threatening endemic species and fragile ecosystems. Indigenous communities have faced territorial encroachment, social displacement, and health crises linked to pollution.

The Yasuní-ITT project illustrates the complexities of balancing economic development with environmental sustainability. Ecuador’s experience highlights the contradictions within populist environmental policies and discourse—where ambitious social programs depend on extractive revenues, ultimately undermining conservation efforts. While the 2023 referendum offers a renewed opportunity for environmental protection, long-term success will depend on sustained public pressure, policy consistency, and international cooperation.

To increase the likelihood of success 1) governments must credibly align environmental with economic policies. Contradictory approaches undermine long-term policy effectiveness. 2) Future conservation-based economic models should incorporate strong institutional safeguards, cross-administration continuity, and financial incentives for long-term compliance. 3) Reducing dependence on oil requires long-term investment in alternative sectors such as renewable energy, ecotourism, and technology.

Edgar Aguilar is a Researcher at the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies and a graduate student in International Economics at American University

Edited by Rob Albro, Associate Director, Research, at the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies

*This post continues an ongoing series, as part of CLALS’s Ecuador Initiative, examining the country’s economic, governance, security, and societal challenges, made possible with generous support from Dr. Maria Donoso Clark, CAS/PhD ’91.

The Ongoing Saga of a Chinese Infrastructure Project in Ecuador

By Julie Radomski, American University

Photo credit to Julie Radomski

Ecuador’s Coca Codo Sinclair (CCS) hydroelectric plant has become an infamous symbol of the controversies associated with Chinese development finance in Latin America. As such, the project’s performance has outsized implications for China-Latin America relations. At the same time, CCS illustrates the inherent complexities of large infrastructure projects, where political, environmental, and technical issues can blur the lines between success and failure.

When it was inaugurated by Presidents Rafael Correa and Xi Jinping in 2016, CCS was celebrated as a triumph of South-South cooperation between Ecuador and China, and a contribution to sustainable green growth in Ecuador. Yet nearly eight years after this inauguration, the project has yet to be formally “received” by the Ecuadorian government from the contractor, Chinese state-owned enterprise Sinohydro. The reason for this prolonged state of limbo comes down primarily to fissures present in the powerhouse distributor pipes: despite repeated welding, they have yet to be fully repaired, and a durable fix may not be possible. In addition, the project’s sediment removal mechanisms have proven dysfunctional, leading to frequent pauses in the project’s operation over the past year. Separately, severe regressive erosion on the Coca River is advancing towards the dam and may trigger its collapse. The erosion advanced 1.2 kilometers upriver over the course of three days last month, and is currently located 6 kilometers from the dam.

For these reasons CCS is frequently cited by U.S. media and politicians as evidence of the threat posed by Chinese development cooperation, namely that it will saddle countries with debt, corruption, low-quality projects, and environmental damage. Meanwhile, the project’s protagonists point out that CCS produces 20-30% of Ecuador’s energy consumption on a daily basis, rendering it indispensable — hardly a white elephant. But closer examination of the details of this behemoth project makes clear that neither pro- nor anti-Chinese discourses on “China in Latin America” ring perfectly true.

Negotiations are reportedly underway between the Ecuadorian government and Sinohydro to conclude a deal in which Ecuador would sign over operation of CCS to Sinohydro in exchange for “liquidity.” Under such a deal, Sinohydro would be responsible for CCS’s repair, operations, and administration and would sell electricity back to the Ecuadorian grid. The concessioning of CCS to Sinohydro is just one of the many loose ends that could once again rewrite the story of this contentious megaproject. Beyond this hypothetical deal, the international arbitration case between the Ecuadorian state and Sinohydro has yet to reach a conclusion. The regressive erosion of the Coca River is anticipated to progress further upriver towards the diversion dam within the next five years. A corruption case initiated by the Attorney General’s office could result in the conviction of four Sinohydro representatives and a former Chinese Ambassador, as well as former Ecuadorian President Lenin Moreno. Some combination of these various developments will continue to make CCS headline news in Ecuador and abroad — and in so doing, they will rely upon prevailing narratives about China-Latin America relations.

CCS provides a vantage point for considering the longer-term effects of development cooperation between China and the region. Looking forward, while the outcomes of CCS are as of yet indeterminate, the project itself has had important implications both for Ecuadorians and for “China’s rise in Latin America” writ large. Chinese economic relations with Latin America have moved away from large state-to-state loans backed by the policy banks. This is due at least in part to the high reputational costs of scandals associated with projects like CCS. While the influence of Chinese actors on Latin American political economies has by no means waned, it now takes the form of Chinese companies’ direct investments or bidding on project contracts instead of by securing market access through granting large loans.

Nevertheless, even with the China-Latin America development relationship moving on from big infrastructure projects like CCS, the project’s politics still hold considerable weight. CCS demonstrates that infrastructure is enduring even as geopolitics can be fickle; its fate will continue to shape China-Latin America relations as a function of the still-ongoing natural and political processes enumerated above. Reductive pro- and anti-China discourses are only one part of the many factors shaping the outcomes of projects like CCS, including continuously evolving local ecologies and domestic political dynamics. In an age of great power competition and the “infrastructure state,” we must pay attention not only to the politics and capital that bring projects into being but also to how they evolve after they are ostensibly completed.

This piece can be reproduced completely or partially with proper attribution to its author.

Ecuador: The Formation of Gangs in Prison Systems

By Erica Criollo

January 17, 2024

Solidarity rally in Queens, New York by members of the Ecuadorian diaspora. Photo by Erica Criollo 

On January 7th, 2024, José Adolfo Macías Villamar, alias“Fito,” the leader of one of Ecuador’s most prominent gangs, was found missing from his luxury prison cell the day he was meant to be transferred to a maximum-security prison to be held in isolation.

While Macías began his 34-year sentence in 2011, he remained the leader of the criminal gang, Los Choneros, due to their longstanding influence over government officials and extensive illicit drug networks. Following his escape, the country descended into chaos resulting in President Daniel Noboa declaring that the country was under “armed internal conflict” to mitigate gang wars and the killings of police officers.

This presidential declaration has prompted questions as to how Ecuador could have experienced such a sudden upsurge in gang violence. Along with government corruption, the escalation can be traced to the gradual formation of gangs dominating prison systems over several years. 

 In 2003, Los Choneros, who are associated with Mexican and Colombian cartels, took control of the drug trafficking route in the province of Manabí, Ecuador, from where drug shipments were sent to Mexico, the United States, and several European countries. Transnational networks and external groups engaged in the illicit drug trade utilized Ecuador’s coasts, leveraging its access to major shipping routes and ports to transport illicit drugs across international borders. 

Furthermore, Ecuador’s adoption of the U.S. dollar, coupled with inadequate enforcement and prevalent corruption, has facilitated money laundering by drug traffickers through industries such as real estate, illegal mining, and the illicit timber trade. This impacted the way corruption played a role in the country’s efforts to combat such illicit activities. 

When Former President Rafael Correa took office in 2007, he gained public favor through his initiative to remove the United States from the Manta military base from which the U.S. has been controlling anti-drug efforts with targets against the Colombian illicit drug trade since 1999.

However, following the U.S. withdrawal from the Manta military base, the country witnessed a worsening of drug trafficking. Former President Correa failed to stop the activities of groups like Los Choneros and other Mexican cartels, allowing the unhindered transportation of drugs to and from Ecuador.

Before Macías, Los Choneros was led by Jorge Luis Zambrano, alias “Rasquiña,” who, while incarcerated, directed orders alongside arrested gang members. By 2010, the group had transitioned to operating within prison systems and communicating with members on the outside. This operational shift steered the group away from international drug trafficking, focusing instead on micro-trafficking, contract killings, extortion, and contraband activities.

Emerging factional gangs, including Los Choneros, Gorras, Lagartos, Latin Kings, and the Cubanos, have become more extensive and aggressive, leading to deadly conflicts in prisons. In 2019, a brutal fight claimed the lives of several inmate gang members at Penitenciaria del Litoral, and in 2021, a prison riot resulted in the deaths of 119 inmates in the same facility. These deviations of gangs were also a result of government initiative in dismantling gang groups through the transfer of leaders between prisons, but it only multiplied the presence of gang wars.

Following Zambrano’s death in 2020, Macías obtained leadership, triggering an uproar of chaos and gang violence across the country as gang leaders fought to dominate. Despite being in prison, Macías remained in control. For him, communication with members was not an obstacle, as several reports indicate Macías’ prison cell had plugs to charge his cell phone and an internet router. Macías was also open to sharing his lavish living space on social media, regularly throwing parties, and having access to weapons, appliances, liquor, jewelry, and ceramics.

Ecuador has experienced a long trajectory of government corruption which has led to an escalation in gang formation and violence in prison systems. With Macías’ most recent escape, the country has been submitted to crazed gang members responsible for several car bombings, kidnappings, and slayings of prison guards and innocent civilians. In response to President Daniel Noboa’s crackdown on gang members in prisons, gang leaders on the outside have resorted to hostage-taking, capturing military and prison guards. These captives are coerced into recording messages, pleading with President Noboa to halt military operations in prisons and cease the killing of gang members. The objective behind these threats is to secure the gangs’ dominance within prisons and ensure the unrestricted proliferation of gang members. 

In one such video shared on Facebook, a gang member asserts, “Just as you safeguard the right to life of Ecuadorian citizens, we too have the right to live…we are not afraid of your tactics.” In essence, Ecuador is confronted with a formidable coalition of gangs wielding enough power to subvert the law and pursue their objectives, fueled by their substantial numbers and collective readiness to act in unison to carry out attacks. 

Currently, President Noboa’s plan to overpower gang violence is to enforce stricter regulations in prisons. However, this raises concerns for Ecuadorian citizens alarmed by several online videos featuring hostages pleading with the government for compliance to spare their lives. As events unfold, President Noboa’s actions will require careful consideration to ensure that no more civilian lives are endangered and to respect the human rights of all people. 

*Erica Criollo is a Graduate Research Assistant of the Immigration Lab at American University. 

Creative Commons license. Free to republish without changing content for news and not-for-profit purposes. 

Ecuador: Weak Government Faces Growing Challenges

By Pablo Andrade Andrade*

Ecuadorians rallying during the paro nacional / Wikimedia Commons / Creative Commons License

Ecuadorian President Guillermo Lasso has tried to overcome the economic mess and political divisions he inherited from predecessors with neoliberal policies that, along with other missteps, have fueled growing opposition to him and undermined his agenda during the final two years of his term. Even if, unlike most of his predecessors in the past 30 years, he serves out his term, his record will be marred by policies that had failed when first attempted in the 1980s. According to Perfiles de Opinión, a respected poll, 66 percent of the population say that Lasso’s performance is either “bad” or “very bad,” and only 2.06 percent evaluate his government as “very good.” 

  • Lasso’s immediate predecessors – Rafael Correa and Lenín Moreno – left a country shaken by corruption, debt, a bungled strategy for dealing with COVID, and paralyzed public health and education services. He did not have a working majority in the National Assembly, and his CREO Movement failed to win control of key municipal and provincial governments. 
  • From the beginning, Lasso’s approach to the economic crisis was orthodox, borrowing heavily from the neoliberal fixes attempted in Ecuador in the 1980-90s. Although his administration managed to tap into the relative openness of the IMF and other IFIs, and successfully negotiated its massive debt with China, the Ministry of Economy and Finance adopted a tight budget, cutting state investments. Recovery from the pandemic slowed. Public employment – staple of the middle class – shrank, and inflation rose. 

Opposition to Lasso’s policies started weak but has grown steadily. The Confederación de Nacionalidades Indígenas (CONAIE), which had flexed its muscles during the Moreno government, was slow to mobilize at first, creating a situation that looked very much like the early wave of neoliberal politics in the 1980s, when a center-right government was able to bypass legislative opposition and weak civil society organizations. Last June, however, a new coalition of the three major rural organizations – CONAIE, Federación de Indígenas Evangélicos (FEINE), and Confederación Nacional de Organizaciones Indígenas y Negras (FENOCIN) – held a national strike (paro nacional) that effectively paralyzed the country for 18 days.  

  • The government backpedaled on its decisions to keep domestic fuel prices at international levels; to maintain low state expenditures for health and education; and to deny indigenous organizations a significant role in decision-making. Lasso reshuffled his cabinet, replacing a half dozen ministers. He opened negotiations with the rural organizations on a range of issues – spanning economic matters (i.e., fuel and food staples prices) and political ones (i.e., the designation of a new Secretario de Pueblos y Nacionalidades to replace the founding secretary Luis Pachala, who resigned in the wake of the national strike).  
  • Although the negotiations relieved some of the stress on the government, the core issues remain highly contentious, and so far, no agreement has emerged. Indigenous leaders say they are not happy with the process, and the few things agreed upon remain provisional. The Catholic Church tried to mediate but failed to progress beyond peripheral issues. In what looks like a desperate move, the government initiated a referendum process that most observers believe is intended to wrestle back the initiative on its own terms. 

The road ahead for the Lasso government is a difficult one – having essentially lame-duck status in the face of steadily mounting woes and opposition. His opponents are as strong and angry now as in June. Despite an improved fiscal stance, the government does not have the will or the capacity to expand public expenditures, so economic growth seems likely to continue at a snail’s pace, and employment will stay depressed in both urban and rural areas. The government’s unwillingness to adopt price controls will continue to fuel popular grievances. 

  • The leadership of CONAIE and others have already threatened a new nationwide mobilization and declared their opposition to the referendum initiative. Whatever support the executive was able to extract from the legislature has faded. Additionally, local government elections in 2023 are stimulating the parties to concentrate their efforts on their political fortunes.  
  • The Ecuadorian military, which played a major role in the abrupt departures of several Presidents over the past three decades, has so far avoided joining the partisan factionalism and appears united in the view that Lasso should stay. The President’s health may be as reliable an indicator as any of his fate. He recently traveled to Houston for treatment of melanoma, specifically a lesion in his right eyelid. In Quito’s churning rumor mill, convincing the population that he has been fully cured is nearly impossible. His efforts to assert his credibility as President will continue to be similarly challenged. 

* Pablo Andrade Andrade is the Germánico Salgado Chair on Andean Integration and Professor at the Department of Global and Social Studies, Universidad Andina Simón Bolívar, Sede Ecuador. He works on comparative political economy and Latin American politics.