Paper Presented at CASCA, May 2013

Constant Disruptions: Flickering Electricity and FalteringSocial Security in the Dominican Republic

The continuous blackouts and electrical surges thatpunctuate the terrible electrical service in the DominicanRepublic add further dimensions to the precariousness ofpeople’s lives. In a context where basic services areunreliable and contested, daily life is unpredictable andpeople live with an awareness that anything can happen asthey go about their daily routines. Accidents such aselectrocutions are common and violence and theft escalatealongside the rhythm of the blackouts. In contrast to sometheoretical approaches to disruption in the United Statesthat focus on disruption as a deviation from an otherwisesupposedly rational and orderly life, disruptions in theDominican Republic emerge as integral but often profoundlyunsettling parts of the everyday. The corporate andgovernment bureaucracies that attempt to instil orderoperate through corrupt internal logics that render dailylife absurd and sometimes futile. Many live with an acuteawareness of the frailty of their families and communitiesas they struggle to cope in a context where nothing isconsistent or dependable.

Shadows marked the hallway as the warm afternoon light

seeped through the bedroom windows. Our host guided us

through his darkened home during the power outage that

occurs every afternoon in his mid-sized coastal city. He

took us to his middle-aged children’s uninhabited rooms.

“This one’s working in Atlanta.” My husband and I peered

through the darkness at the double bed covered with a floral

bed spread, and the books, papers, and obscured photos on

the walls. We continued down the hall. “This is my son’s

room. He’s in Spain.” My eyes strained to make out the

jagged silhouettes of baseball trophies and a small

television on his dresser. My toddler tugged on my jeans,

begging to watch Dora the Explorer on the large screen T.V.

in the living room. My host offered to turn on his diesel-

powered generator to run the television. I told him not to

worry, but after a few moments the sound of the generator

hummed below the sounds of cartoons, and my daughter sat

transfixed in the living room.

My husband and I were sitting on the back patio

discussing my research about the electrical problems in the

Dominican Republic. I’d heard something unbelievable the

other day; a story that I would have assumed to be false

except that it was told to me by a reliable acquaintance. I

wondered if my friend had heard the story.

“Someone told me that a high-ranking official in the

government electrical office, CDEEE,1 ran an exclusive

electrical cable underground from Herrera to his barrio in

Santo Domingo so his street would have 24-hour electrical

service. People living nearby learned about it when they

saw the chewed up pavement and the new hole in the street.”2

He smiled slightly, I think at the disbelief in my

voice. He said that he hadn’t heard the story, but he didn’t

look surprised.

I had just finished traveling for three hours on the

bus with my husband and toddler to visit his family. I was

exhausted and overwhelmed by the trip and I felt embarrassed

that I couldn’t remember the last name of the official who

had supposedly run the underground cable to his barrio. It

was a name that I had heard many times during my research,

1 CDEEE stands for The Dominican Corporation of State ElectricalCompanies, or Corporación Dominicana de Empresas Electricas Estatales.2I wonder if running 24-hour electrical service to the homes of upper-level government officials is as much to spare them the embarrassment ofhaving to answer their doors like everyone else in the DominicanRepublic as to secure other kinds of prestige and social relationships.People often answer their doors with an apologetic look on their facesexplaining “no hay luz” (“there’s no light”) and suggest that theirguests sit outside in the shade.

but in this instant it escaped me. “His name is . . . is . .

.”

My friend interrupted and spat out the syllables of the

official’s last name with anger. His eyes narrowed and his

voice changed pitch. I barely recognized him from the calm,

smiling man who I had been speaking with moments before. I

was surprised that regular people in the Dominican Republic

know the names of the upper-level officials who work in

their government electrical offices. In Canada we do not.

He spoke of this man as if he had personally betrayed his

family.

“It is corruption like this that has ruined my country.

These thieves are the reason we spend the better part of

everyday in the dark, why there is barely any industry and

no jobs, why our children leave the country to work

elsewhere, why it has become normal for people to steal from

each other without shame.” His voice cracked with

bitterness. He gestured towards his darkened, empty home

with frustration.

Everyday life in the Dominican Republic is often framed

in terms of economic and political upheaval, crisis, and

collapse. Theorizing disruption in this context begs the

question, “what is normal or consistent?” in the midst of

rapid change, escalating violence, and political infighting.

Life in the Dominican Republic is unstable and uncertain and

many forms of “disruption” and “interference” seem

unexceptional. People live with a gnawing sense that

anything can happen at any time in their homes and

communities, as unpredictability emerges as the rule. Their

social security is fraught and their lives are disposable.

Also, disruptions are often planned or staged, such as when

a blackout occurred during the opposition leader’s speech

after the contested 2012 election.

Disruption itself may be a Euro-North American concept.

Many North Americans feel entitled to a secure life of

privilege where disruptions emerge as an exception to an

otherwise balanced existence. The binary division that

supposedly separates disruption and calm does not make sense

in the Dominican context where life is fragile, fragmented,

and rarely entirely predictable. For some, there is no

consistency or freedom to interrupt. For others, the

disruptions that mark their lives are counterbalanced by

disturbing continuities, or a sense of endless repetition

and “more of the same.”

The nagging blackouts form a social and cultural milieu

through which people think about the many disruptive

systemic failures that mark their lives. People often

described the many disappointments that constrained their

lives—the loss of their family and friends due to labour

migration and political violence, the dispossession of their

land, their economic degradation with fewer job

opportunities, and the decline of the social networks

through which people care for and help one another. The

flickering electricity stands in for the corporate and

government shortcomings that shape the social problems that

cause a decline in the quality of people’s lives.

Social science theories in general tend to focus on

romanticized understandings of cohesion and connection,

while disruptions and anomalies are left out of these

models. Theories of globalization and modernization may

focus on the flows and interconnections that consolidate

different transnational networks, without exploring the

contested ruptures that form the negative spaces that mark

global processes. The blackouts themselves expose the myths

of supposed continual ‘evolutionary’ improvement that

buttress development and modernization projects.

Electric technologies are experienced through their

flickering presence and absence in the Dominican Republic.3

Domestic luxuries, comforts, and conveniences are enjoyed

intermittently and with the awareness that they will be gone3 Many people’s tempers rose in June and July of 2010, when increasedblackouts became normal not only in marginalized barrios, but also inmiddle class neighbourhoods where many pay for their expensive services(Ramirez July 5th, 2010:5A). Housewives, colmado owners, hairdressers,and bakers were harshly affected by a rash of extended blackouts thatmany blamed on the breakdown of the Itabo generator and the constructionof the second subway line in Santo Domingo (Plasencia June 19th,2010:4A). One colmado owner noted that he is coping with an extra dailyexpense of approximately four-hundred pesos to cover the fuel for theiremergency diesel and gas generators (Plasencia June 19th, 2010:4A). Abaker in Villa Mella explained that the blackouts last twelve hoursevery day and he must pay $1, 800 pesos daily for fuel for his generatorto work his ovens and his electrical bill does not drop from 20,000pesos (Plasencia June 19th, 2010:4A). Inverters break or cannot chargein short periods between blackouts (Plasencia June 19th, 2010:4A). In2004 the total economic cost of self-generated electricity fromgenerators and private plants was estimated at approximately $1 billionor 3.4 percent of the GDP in the Dominican Republic (World Bank2008a:1).

unexpectedly or in sync with the rolling blackout schedule.4

This consistent unreliability weighs heavily on everyday

life like a politician who doesn’t follow through on his

promises.

The blackouts compromise more than people’s everyday

routines; they also threaten essential services such as

public health care. The services in public hospitals are

often curbed by unworking generation plants. People

frequently die on the operating table. Medical equipment

stalls without electricity, if the hospital has access to

such equipment and if it is working. In extreme situations

blackouts are a matter of life and death, and a constant

reminder of the precarious nature of people’s lives.

The Dominican electrical grid is formed through an

unstable assemblage of generation stations, transmission and4 Rolling blackouts often occur on a rough schedule, but during periodswhen the system has a decreased energy supply blackouts are surprisingand may last for many hours or days. The Rolling Blackout Program(started in 2002-3) attempted to decrease and regularize the power-outages on a schedule. The program provided partial electrical servicesto low-income areas for a flat rate (World Bank 2008a:6). The RollingBlackouts Program is being phased out and replaced by the 24 Hours ofLight Program which attempts to regularize community payment forelectricity by convincing community leaders to sign agreements with theelectrical company in exchange for more reliable, full (or almost full)service. However, blackouts remain a feature of neighbourhood lifethroughout the country.

distribution lines, public-private contracts, and human and

non-human agents. These unstable linkages are overwhelmed

by growing household electrical consumption and

unpredictable forces such as hurricanes. The frayed and

broken connections of the grid mirror people’s irregular and

disjointed relationships with their government,

corporations, and neighbours.

Power failures have redefined everyday life in the

Dominican Republic and many situate the electrical problems

as the dead weight that hinders the country’s economic and

social development. Transnational corporate and political

networks shape the flow and disappearance of capital and

interrupt community life, as resources are exploited,

businesses relocate, and international loan money is

mismanaged. The frequent blackouts and electrical problems

reveal the instability of the corporate and government

relationships that halt the flows of energy to people’s

homes.

As people struggle to work, study, organize, and

complete chores in the dark, their anger flares over theft,

corroded infrastructure, and elite and corporate greed.5

The World Bank cites a 2004 survey that describes the social

impacts of the blackouts and energy problems in the

Dominican Republic as follows: “small businesses have been

forced to close, provision of social services such as

education and health was disrupted, and the lack of public

lighting increased the risk of crime” (World Bank

2008a:14).6 Some feel that the normal and “modern” life of

convenience that they were promised and felt entitled to has

been disrupted by privatization schemes and corrupt

5 During early to mid-July of 2010, some parts of Santo Domingo reportedblackouts for 15 hour stretches, including Capotillo, La Zurza, SimónBolívar, Espaillat, 27 de Febrero, Luperón, Villas Agrícolas, and othermarginalized barrios (Ramirez July 5th, 2010:5A). One restaurant ownerin Santo Domingo complained that his electrical bill is approximatelyRD$17,000 (or over $430 Canadian), which is more than his profits eachmonth (Ramirez July 5th, 2010:5A). Severino explained that thepersistence of blackouts across the country in September of 2010 wasprimarily due to CDEEE’s debts to the generation companies and technicalor systemic problems relating to power generation (Sept. 17th, 2010:3D).Vice-President of the CDEEE, Marranzini promised in July of 2010 thatthe blackouts would stop by 2012 under his leadership (Gilbert July 8th,2010:8A).6 In the 2008 loan assessment document, the World Bank attempts toquantify the social and economic costs of the electrical problems in theDominican Republic. A 2004 survey (NRECA International Ltd., “Analysisof Tariffs and Subsidies in the Electrical Sector of the DominicanRepublic”, 2004) estimates that US $37 million per month is spent onalternative sources of light and power, such as emergency generators,fuel, candles, kerosene, and oil lamps. The amount of money spent isestimated to be 6-10 percent of the income of poor households (WorldBank 2008a:14).

contracts. However, people often take up old pastimes

during blackouts in ways that reveal continuities with the

games and conversations that people participated in before

electrification.

People grapple with the lack of continuity or

consistency in their lives alongside an awareness that the

things they cherish the most may be quickly taken away.

This escalating insecurity also interferes with people’s

hope and faith. The rising structural violence, such as

electrocutions from the power surges that mark the beginning

and end of the blackouts, is impossible to anticipate or

prepare for. Ordinary domestic routines are marked by a

sense of danger and uncertainty. However, disruption should

not always be framed negatively; upheaval may also bring

positive change. Many people dream of changing their lives

by getting a visa and traveling abroad, falling in love with

a wealthy foreigner or member of the elite, getting an

exciting new job, or living to witness positive radical

political and economic changes.

Blackouts emerge as sensual nodes through which people

think through their deteriorating social and cultural

relationships. At night, darkness cloaks the crowded shacks

off the gravel roads of marginalized neighbourhoods where

even the police hesitate to enter. They are literally

“barrios calientes” or “hot neighbourhoods” during the power

outages as people live with their windows and doors sealed

off from the breeze in fear of violence and the sweltering

air that will not circulate without a power source for the

fan. Some live with a sense of loneliness and fear during

night time blackouts. The echo of a strange noise near the

periphery of darkened homes sometimes reminds the people

inside of the ever-present possibilities of violence and

theft. Many marginalized Dominicans and Haitians live with

an awareness that their possessions and lives can be taken

quickly and with total impunity, as has been the case in

different ways throughout most of the 20th century.

Scattered affective sensations link different kinds of

violence as the partitions that some erect to try to

compartmentalize intense emotions such as fear sometimes

rupture during the darkness of the blackouts and the

violence and terror are overwhelming and fresh. The past

and present claw into each other.

People’s experiences of fear and political and economic

turmoil emerge in relationship with the long histories of

foreign occupation and violent authoritarian rule that have

pitted people against one another and fostered distrust.

However, the modernization projects during Trujillo and

Balaguer’s dictatorships offered continuity, but the changes

that they brought were sometimes unwelcomed and not

necessarily consensual. These modernization projects

encroached on people’s cherished routines and relationships

until they felt a profound sense of upheaval and

disjuncture.

People’s memories of social disintegration often

intimately narrate the cutthroat casualness of betrayal: the

wide smiles and intimate gestures that camouflaged a

neighbour’s lies to powerful people; a valuable object that

was left by the door and turned up, through black market

channels, in the home of a trusted friend and was never

returned; the disturbing death of a precocious teenager who

became aggressive in the middle of random street violence;

the social shunning from siblings who turned their backs on

their sister to support and receive benefits from her

wealthy, European ex-boyfriend living in the area. A

sticky, rancid sweetness like dried blood lingers around

strange attempts to dismantle and destroy everything a

neighbour, family member, or former friend has—work, family,

community, sanity, will. Some described their difficulty in

reconciling themselves with the brutal, sadistic textures of

everyday betrayal—the soft, slow cuts--and the mundane

contours of the damage.

The dictatorships fostered hostilities and forms of

clientelism that contributed to the current political

infighting. The success of one rival network is contingent

on the downfall of the others, and political violence and

disputes often result in harassment and slander. Many live

with a sense that their fundamental social and cultural

relationships have been interfered with in unforgivable ways

and they struggle to cope with an awareness that something

is not right amidst escalating conflict and insecurity.

While some people in Santo Domingo describe “the

corruption of Dominican society and culture,” many seek out

ways of living otherwise. Reciprocity and care form

counterpoints to the instability, as people search for ways

to care for one another better during difficult times.

People described their strained relationships with the

growth of violence in homes and on the streets alongside the

loss of traditional values in the wake of many forms of

imperialism and dictatorship. A friend explained: “It used

to be that people in this country were ashamed to steal and

betray one another;” my friend shook his head slowly and the

small creases around his eyes deepened as we sat in front of

another friend’s house in the New City, passing a drink back

and forth. “Now people drive through the streets, proud of

their clothes, their car, and the other things they got with

their stolen money.” He puffed his chest out and raised his

chin in the air with mock pride. “They look at their

neighbour’s anger and resentment and think: you’re just

jealous because I have more than you do. It never used to

be like this.”

When people discuss the so-called “culture of

corruption,” street hustling and violence are often referred

to in the same breath as colonial and imperial exploitation,

as well as the current mafia-style networks that link the

Dominican government to diverse transnational constellations

of groups and resources.7 Complex attitudes towards

Americanization, globalization, and cultural change surface

as people live with corruption and engage with growing

materialism, individualism, and institutional and everyday

theft (Isa 2010:8A). Some situate these shifts as lingering

cultural remnants of U.S. military occupations that

attempted to convince Dominicans that their cherished ways

of living were inferior to supposedly “necessary” and

“inevitable” Americanization. Sociologist César Pérez notes

that “generalized social disorder” or popularized corruption

7 Cassá (2004) writes about the democratization of corruption andclientelism in the Dominican Republic. He elaborates that many left-wing activists attempt to challenge and subvert corruption andclientelism while also noting that activism and left-leaning politicsare not necessarily outside of these formations and sometimes rely onthem.

develops when “a society offers many things or opportunities

to the population and does not provide the means to obtain

them” (Pérez cited in Isa 2010:8A). As people increasingly

look out for their own interests and “take what’s theirs”

(“cobrar su cuenta”), the values that are important to many

Dominicans are muted.

Everyday disruptions such as blackouts materialize

people’s experiences of corruption, exploitation, and an

over-all sense of being cheated by the disingenuous promises

of democracy and development. The flickering electricity

and deteriorating services go hand-in-hand with the

escalating social insecurity and violence, and the mass

exodus out of the country by just about anyone with the will

and means to leave. Many Dominicans describe these unwanted

disruptions through the trope of theft, explaining that too

much has been taken without permission and without

consequences for those involved in the taking.

Bibliography

Cassá, Roberto

2004 Evolución reciente de la protesta social. In Desde la Orilla: hacia una

Nacionalidad sin desalojos. Silvio Torres-Saillant, et al., eds. Santo Domingo: Editora

Manatí. Pp. 183-198.

Gilbert, Manuel

2010 Marranzini garantiza fin de apagones en el año 2012. Listín Diario. July 8th.

Pp. 8A.

Isa, Minerva

2006 Se Acentúa Decadencia Moral. Hoy. Aug. 3rd. 8A.Available online at:

http://hoy.com.do/reportajese-acentua-decadencia-moral/

Plasencia, Aleida

2010 Ciudadanos enfrentan problemas poor los apagones, el calor y los mosquitos.

Hoy. July 10th:5A.

Ramírez, Juan M.

2010a Apagones castigan sectores de Santo Domingo en fin de semana. Hoy. July 5th.

Pp. 5A.

Severino, Jairon

2010 Sistema eléctrico cede ante las deudas y fallas técnicas. Listín Diario. Sept. 17th:3D.

World Bank

2008a Project Appraisal Document: Electricity Rehabilitation Project in the Dominican

Republic. Report No: 41899-DO. Retrieved on June 26th,2011. Available on-line at:

http://www-wds.worldbank.org/external/default/WDSContentServer/WDSP/IB/2008/04/30/000333037_20080430003443/Rendered/PDF/418990PAD0P08917365B01off0use0only1.pdf

World Bank

2008b Project Appraisal Document: Electricity Rehabilitation Project in the Dominican

Republic. Report No: AB3598. Retrieved on June 29th, 2011. Available on-line at:

http://www wds.worldbank.org/external/default/WDSContentServer/WDSP/IB/

2008/02/28/000076092_20080229155139/Rendered/PDF/Project0Inform1nt010Appraisal0Stage.pdf