Chilean Chronicles, Part 66: Carlo Gutierrez and the Fight for Public Emails

Carlo Gutierrez, head of the legal team in Melipilla. As part of my work as a Fulbright scholar here in Santiago I’m looking at the impact of the landmark 2009 Transparency Law on investigative reporting.

I’ve written before about how the focus of my research has changed after I arrived here and found that my initial plan of doing a pre-and post-law analysis of content in the country’s leading news outlet was fundamentally flawed.

Instead, I’m taking the pulse of a range of folks who have been involved with the law.

Carlo Gutierrez, who heads the legal team of the municipality of Melipilla, is one of them.

We met briefly last week during our meeting with Melipilla Mayor Mario Gebauer.

Gutierrez was the point person for the municipality’s ultimately unsuccessful effort to gain access to emails that contained communication about how to distribute reconstruction funds after the devastating earthquake of February 2010.

I took the bus again to Melipilla, made my way to the city hall, and was directed to the back of a series of single-story buildings.

After asking three people for directions, I found Gutierrez’s modest office.

His name is printed on the wooden door. Neatly organized piles of paper sit like rows of cards in a solitaire game.

Gutierrez, who has a boyish face and longish black hair, arrived a couple of minutes after I did.

He had prepared a folder of material relative to the precedent-setting case he had filed and that led him eventually to present for the first time in his life before the country’s Supreme Court.

For Gutierrez, who had previously worked in the Interior Department, the initial request as well as the subsequent legal arguments, seemed straightforward.

The Transparency Law gives citizens the right to information by and about their public officials.

Digital communication like emails that are written from official accounts are covered by the law.

The subsecretary of the Interior, then, had a responsibility to supply the information he had requested on behalf of the community.

It didn’t go that simply.

Gutierrez explained that the agency answered neither the first nor the second request he sent.

When they eventually did answer, they refused to provide the information, citing privacy concerns of the public officials.

This struck Gutierrez as strange because they explicitly had asked for information from public officials written on public accounts about public business.

The community then appealed to the Transparency Council established by the law. It accepted the municipality’s argument and said that it had a right to the emails it had requested.

This time the government appealed to the regional court in Santiago. It’s the middle of three levels within the Chilean court system.

Gutierrez offered an oral argument before the court.

Again, he felt the issue at hand from a legal perspective was straightforward.

But the court of three judges found otherwise.

It held in favor of the defendants, accepting the argument that emails written by public officials on public accounts are not subject to the law.

On to the Supreme Court, the highest in the land.

Gutierrez again went and presented his oral argument. A lawyer for the Transparency Council joined him.

As opposed to the United States, where lawyers arguing before the Supreme Court have exactly 30 minutes and can be peppered at any minute by any of the nine justices, in Chile the lawyers have about an hour, Gutierrez said.

Also in contrast with the United States, where the questions the judges ask often can reveal the justice’s orientation in a case, Gutierrez explained that the lawyers only received a few questions, none of which sparked a meaningful exchange.

Earlier this year the court rendered its decision.

It held in favor of the defendants.

The decision was a bitter disappointment to Gutierrez, who felt that it was made for political reasons.

The court has reiterated its stance in ensuing cases filed by non-profit organizations like Ciudadano Inteligente. But what is perhaps of even graver concern is that Secretary General Cristian Larroulet is seeking to codify in law the restrictions that the court has placed through the cases on which it has ruled.

In Chile, legislation originates from the executive branch, then goes to the Congress and Senate for discussion and a vote before returning to the president to be signed.

As Secretary General, Larroulet has President Sebastian Pinera's ear and is doing his bidding. (Pinera already showed his anti-access position in 2011 when he sought to have members of the Transparency Council removed because of their support for releasing emails.)

Gutierrez holds some hope on the new government that he hopes would propose legislation that goes in a more, rather than less, open direction.

But he also is strongly concerned that the courts’ actions have struck a strong blow against the nation’s still fragile democracy.

Chile has been an authoritarian country in the past, Gutierrez said. A key tool in the transition to democracy is the access to information.

They have closed the window on that, he said, a trace of sadness crossing his face.

Chilean Chronicles, Part 59: Looking into Transparency in Chile

Our time in Chile has already been filled with extraordinary experiences, and we’re not even at the halfway mark.

We´ve spent a magical day at the home of Alejandra Matus and her family.

We´ve been witness to what amounted to a smidgen of the available activities through the build up to, and commemoration of, the 40th anniversary of the Pinochet coup.

We´ve atended a bunch of fondas, eating anticuchos and drinking terremotos, during the weeklong celebration of Fiestas Patrias.

I´ve also had the great pleasure of teaching and learning from my Data Journalism students at the University of Diego Portales.  They´ve finished their first of three projects.  Their work and grasp of the concepts impressed me, while the work they´ve produced has made me feel proud.

Beyond that, we’ve all kinds of red wine, empanadas, pisco sours and cazuelas.

Of course, I’m not just here to teach a class, meet incredibly generous and interesting people, improve my Spanish and eat delicious food.

I´m also doing research into the impact the 2009 Transparency Law has had on investigative journalism in the country.

Passed during the administration of former President and current leading presidential candidate Michelle Bachelet, the law was hailed as a landmark piece of legislation that would move the former dictatorship state in a far more open direction.

Exactly how far it’s gone is what I intend to find out during the next three months.

The structure is in place, according to open government guru Moises Sanchez.

We met over Skype in 2008, the first year I applied for the Fulbright in Chile, and in person over coffee about a month agao.

Moises said that Chile and Mexico have the strongest laws and best supporting infrastructure in Latin America.

He ought to know.

His “region” is the entire continent, and he spends much of his time traveling from country to country monitoring the state of public access to information.

That’s helpful background information, and I will say that I my original research plan was to emulate the noteworthy example set by James Painter, a BBC journalist turned Oxford academic who did a fascinating content analysis of climate change denial.

My adaptation would be to look at a year´s worth of coverage by El Mercurio, the nation´s largest paper, before the law changed, and a year´s worth of coverage after its passage to evaluate what, if any, impact it had had.

There were one small, all right, major, problem with this idea.

El Mercurio doesn´t really do investigative reporting.

At all.

Beyond that, as I later learned from watching Patricio Lanfranco and Elizabeth Farnsworth´s outstanding documentary, El Diario de Agustín, the paper was not only complicit with the Pinochet regime, it was actually funded by the United States government and worked hand-in-hand with the dictatorship in its fight against what the paper´s leaders perceived as the Communist menace.

Learning that caused me to scrap my original approach.

Digging deeper, I’ve found that investigative reporting is in very scarce supply here in Chile.

This is with the major exception of CIPER, an investigative non-profit outfit headed by the indefatigable Monica Gonzalez.

Time and again CIPER, which has a small staff, has brought official misconduct to light.

One of their most recent exclusives broke the news about the comprehensive failure of the 2012 Census.

Their investigation and follow up coverage sparked a chain of events which culminated in the Census being declared invalid and needing to be redone in 2015.

CIPER has also participated in hard-hitting international collaborations with the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists about key issues like the offshore bank accounts of elites in countries around the world.

I’m excited to meet the dedicated folks at CIPER, and have come to understand that beyond them, the list of investigative reporters is a very short one.

We met Waldo Carrasco, the head of libraries for the Providencia community where we live, at one of the events leading up to the September 11 anniversary.

He was working in public information at the time the law was passed.

“We had an expectation that there would be an avalanche of request, especially from the press,” he told me.  “It didn’t happen.”

I’ve also heard from some very high-level journalists that the Transparency Council is slow, picky and unresponsive.

The combined effect of this information has been that I´ve readjusted my approach froma primarily quantitative one  to a more qualitative method.

This means that rather than mostly crunching data, I’ll be talking with people.

A lot of them.

I’m shooting to talk with a range of media executives and reporters at major publications and news outlets to get their take on what the impact of the law has been.

I’m going to talk with lawyers who helped shaped the legislation to understand their sense of what the legislation has and has not done.

I plan to download and analyze data from the Transparency portal to assess how many and which people have been asking for public information as well as what the results of those requests have been.

But I also intend to connect with people in smaller outlet like Miguel Paz, whose Poderopedia, a site that details relationships between Chile’s elite, has already been exported to several other Latin American countries.

I’m also going to reach out to people in the burgeoning coding community who are using their coding skills to access and built applications that both have a greater volume and flow of data than their non-coding counterparts.

My goal is to be able to say something specific about the degree to which the promise of a more open society has been met by the reporters who have asked for information and the government which has it.

I also want to be able to paint some kind of picture of how other forces like technology and globalization are acting on the nation that University of Vina del Mar Sociology Chairman Luis “Tito” Tricot memorably called a small nation in the southern part of the world with a view of the sea.

I don’t know exactly what I’ll learn.

But I do know both that I’ll have fun along the way and that our remarkable set of experiences is only going to get richer.

Especially if red wine and pisco sour are involved.

Chilean Chronicles, Part 57: Good Things Happen When I Listen to Dunreith

Chris and Brian Beaton at Peru Gustoso. Although it's not quite an unalterable a law as death and taxes, I have found over and over again that good things happen when I listen to my wife. Now, I have to be honest and say that sometimes my awareness that listening to her is a good idea occurs only in retrospect.

On Friday night, though, I acted promptly, and, in so doing, added to aline of examples that stretches back to September 4, 2000, the day we wed for the first time.

It began with a simple nudge to help a couple at the next table.

It ended with a two-hour conversation, a cup of coffee, and an entry into an entire world courtesy of two new friends.

Dunreith and I had stepped into Peru Gustoso, a Peruvian restaurant near our apartment, for a pisco sour in honor of my beloved mother-in-law helen.

The place was largely empty, and, of the eight customers, eight of us spoke English.

Dunreith noticed that the couple at the table next to us was having some difficulty communicating their order to the waiter.

"Help them," she told me.

The assistance I gave was meager.

I told the waiter, a gentle black-haired gentleman whom we had learned in previous visits manages the place that and who is the brother-in-law of the restaurant owner, that the señora would like her carne media, or medium.

It turned out that he had understood.

Dunreith and I turned back to our our pisco sour peruanismo, a delectable lemony concoction with a deceptively strong punch.

We clinked glasses in memory of helen and talked about how she would have stayed with us here for a month, soaking in every morsel of language and art and culture she could.

We were preparing to leave and asked our neighbors if the steak had indeed been medium.

This part wasn't, said the wife, pointing to a bloody section of meat she had left on an otherwise clean plate. But it was a big enough piece that I had plenty, she added.

And with that we met Brian and Chris Beaton, a down-to-earth Australian couple who were just in Santiago for the day before returning home after a two-week jaunt to Peru. We started talking about their trip to Macchu Picchu, the glorious train ride they took to arrive at the Incan ruins and our plans to visit there in December.

The pair, who exudes an easy comfort with themselves and with each other, were married in England in the 70s.

Just 11 people were there-a number that included Chris' parents, who wrote and asked permission to attend after learning of their daughter's plans. ("I did all the cooking," she said with a wry smile.)

Since then the couple has raised their two boys in their home about 30 minutes outside of Perth, the capital of Western Australia. The place is in the bush, with kangaroos walking or jumping freely around the area. Two of Brian's brothers lived nearby for years and had children of similar ages, so the cousins grew up together in a safe environment full of natural wonders.

Living there had its dangers, too.

The bush fires that have caused so much damage in many parts of Australia nearly got their home, too.

Chris, who conveys a steady strength and was wearing a light blue sweater over her white turtleneck, told us about filling their car with all the pictures and mementos they had agreed she should take in case the house burned to the ground.

You can replace a house, she said, but you can't replace photographs.

She packed everything in 15 minutes.

And she did it more than once, sometimes leaving the possessions in the car.

We talked about our boys, each of whom are young men who are making their way in the world. Chris glowed with quiet pride and anticipation when she talked about their oldest son getting married in February to his fiancee, a broadcast journalist in Perth.

The couple met at college in California while they were both scholarship swimmers. He proposed on the same spot where he first met his eventual soul mate in Malibu, California, but not before he asked her parents for their daughter's hand in marriage.

We talked about our time here in Chile.

I told them about my having watched the great Dennis Lillee bowl in the late 70s when I spent a year in Oxford, England.

That was a good time to be Australian, said Brian, who's tall and genial and was sporting a scarf and a black leather jacket.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YaUw1ycAwj8&w=420&h=315]

We talked and talked, Dunreith and me standing all the while as if we were about to leave any second. (This had, in fact, had been our original plan.)

After about half an hour, Brian and Chris asked us to join them for a coffee.

Which we did.

The two of them, along with Dunreith, ordered a cortado, heavy on the milk.

Brian told us about his work as a documentary film maker.

He's been doing it for more than 30 years. In 1999, Brian merged his company, Reel Images, with Cecilia Tait's Tait Productions to form Artemis International.

In recent years the company has made the Australian version of "Who Do You Think You Are?" Originally a project of the BBC, the show traces famous people's family history. In England, this meant digging into the roots of people like Harry Potter author J. K. Rowling. The United States version has featured celebrities like Lisa Kudrow, Spike Lee and Chelsea Handler.

The Australian edition started with film icon Jack Thompson, whom I first saw as the widowed father of a gay Russell Crowe in The Sum of Us.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-eqRqq-GywM&w=420&h=315]

It has gone on to include other notable Australians like Olympic gold medalist Cathy Freeman, legendary wicket keeper Rod Marsh and actor Michael Caton, who played Darryl Kerrigan in the classic Australian comedy, "The Castle."

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TM-GVRvsZrA&w=420&h=315]

They're extensive productions.

Brian said research can take several months and involve a team of as many as 15 people.

The show has had a life-changing impact on many of the people who participate in the program, and has also helps pay the bills for the company's other projects, he said.

They're on a wide range of topics, many of which involve critical historical moments or key issues in Australian society.

Like the bombing of Darwin Island in Feb. 19 1942. that led to more damage than Pearl Harbor but had rarely, if ever, been talked about openly in the country.

Brian explained that the Japanese military had learned from their errors in Pearl Harbor and made the attack that much more deadly.

Or the film about Harry Carmody, who was one of the "Stolen Generation," those aboriginal children who were taken from their parents to live with white families.

Or the movie about three refugee children as they venture outside of the shelter of an intensive English language primary school and into mainstream Australian society.

The cups of coffee had long been drunk.

While we could have talked longer, Chris and Brian understandably wanted to go to their apartment to rest before their long journey home the next day.

We exchanged contact information, pledged to keep in touch,hugged goodbye and went our separate ways.

Dunreith and I had not eaten dinner, and the supermarket we had planned to visit was closed. But somehow that didn't matter as we walked down Andres Bello Avenue and back to our apartment.

Listening to Dunreith had unlocked a chance meeting that led to a shared evening, a slightly smaller world and broader horizons.

I'm glad I did.