An indigenous woman passes graffiti depicting former dictator Efrain Rios Montt in Guatemala City (Daniel Leclair/Courtesy Reuters).

This is a guest post by Natalie Kitroeff, a research associate here at the Council on Foreign Relations who works with me in the Latin America program.

Without fanfare, or so much as a public arrest, this weekend Guatemala took another historic step toward justice for a genocidal civil war that took the lives of more than 200,000 innocent, mostly indigenous civilians. Just a week after losing his diplomatic immunity, General (Ret) Efraín Ríos Montt was ordered to testify in court about his role in abuses that occurred between 1982 to 1983, when he was de facto President of Guatemala. If judge Patricia Flores decides there is enough evidence to proceed to trial, Ríos Montt will be prosecuted on charges of genocide and crimes against humanity (including 626 massacres of civilians in Chimaltenango, Quiché, Huehuetenango and Baja Verapaz).

Ríos Montt has made his defense quite clear. Over the past month, he has repeatedly said that he can’t be tried for any human rights violations because he wasn’t in charge of the military’s on-the-ground operations as the country’s political leader. His lawyer has echoed these claims, telling the press recently, “We are sure that there is no responsibility, since he was never on the battlefield.”

This strategy is a radical new approach in the Guatemalan context. Until now, the military has consistently denied that genocide was ever a part of the civil war. Even the current president, Otto Pérez Molina, said that he doesn’t believe the findings of the UN truth commission, and that he could “prove that [genocide] did not occur,” during the conflict. But Ríos Montt is now arguing not that the atrocities didn’t happen, but that he is not culpable.

While this doesn’t yet amount to an open acknowledgement of genocide, it does suggest that things have changed (if slightly) since the Association for Justice and Reconciliation (AJR) first brought charges against Ríos Montt in 1999. The discovery of mass graves by the Forensic Anthropology Foundation of Guatemala (FAFG) and the tireless work of victims groups in pushing for trials – finally winning convictions for four ex-soldiers this year – has made it untenable for the military to negate the genocide outright, at least in a court of law.

Whether or not the “I didn’t make the call” line of defense will work remains to be seen. To win, public prosecutors will have to prove that the army’s brutal scorched earth tactics were part of a coherent state policy designed by the president (not just the work of individual rogue officers). This concept of “intellectual authorship” has yet to be tested in Guatemala, as so far only low-ranking soldiers – the material authors of the crimes– have ever been convicted for war crimes (the one exception is Colonel Juan Valencia Osorio, who was convicted as an intellectual author of Myrna Mack’s assassination, but escaped imprisonment and is now a fugitive).

Ríos Montt is also taking a further risk with this legal strategy, threatening the military chain of command by deflecting responsibility for wartime violations onto military commanders. His three top officials are now in police custody, including an ex-minister of defense, an ex-military chief of staff and an intelligence officer, undoubtedly alienated from their old boss. As the Chilean and Argentinean justice processes have shown, once the military turns against itself it becomes much easier to prosecute human rights violations. Though Guatemalan prosecutors say they have documents proving a rigid, top-down chain of command, witness testimony from former high-ranking officers would certainly boost their case. And if he isn’t careful to maintain military loyalty, that may be just what Ríos Montt hands them.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

Former Guatemalan dictator Efrain Rios Montt leaves the public prosecutor's office in Guatemala City (Jorge Lopez/Courtesy Reuters).

This is a guest post by Natalie Kitroeff, a research associate here at the Council on Foreign Relations who works with me in the Latin America program.

Last Thursday, former de facto President of Guatemala during military rule, General (ret) Efraín Ríos Montt walked into the Attorney General’s office to ask whether they planned on trying him on ten-year-old war crime charges anytime soon. He stands accused of committing genocide and crimes against humanity against indigenous civilians in the early 1980s – the most violent years of the country’s civil war. Flanked by his lawyer and a gaggle of reporters, he calmly told public prosecutors, “I’m here, I’m healthy, and I’m not afraid… if there’s a criminal investigation against me, it should go forth according to due process and I should stand trial.” While this may seem like an ill-advised move, it’s actually quite cunning given the weak hand he now holds.

When the new legislature takes office next month, Ríos Montt will officially lose his congressional seat, and with it his immunity from prosecution (granted to all members of congress unless they’re removed by court order).  What’s more, the party he led for over two decades – the Guatemalan Republican Front (FRG) – is weaker than ever – winning just 2 percent of the vote in local elections last September. This is not good news for Ríos Montt, who has had his differences in the past with incoming president Otto Perez Molina. Longstanding tension between the two came to a head in 2000 when Perez Molina left army ranks to form his own Patriot Party (PP) after the ruling FRG government denied him a top spot in the military.

The newly strengthened Attorney General’s office may be an even bigger problem for the aging ex-General. With Claudia Paz y Paz at the helm this year, the Public Ministry has shown that it is willing and able to aggressively pursue his case, convicting four soldiers and charging five more for their roles in two massacres that occurred on Ríos Montt’s watch. But if he leaves the country he risks facing an even fiercer opponent in Spain’s National Court, which issued an international arrest warrant for Ríos Montt on genocide charges in 2006.

An obvious reason why Ríos Montt turned himself in voluntarily is that he wants to avoid the embarrassment of a very public arrest. He also may be angling to get in the good graces of public prosecutors, who have already detained his third in command, former Chief of Staff Hector Mario López Fuentes for acts of genocide. He has made clear that he intends to shed all responsibility onto his subordinates, using the excuse that he was the political, not the military leader during the civil war and was not aware of any human rights abuses. Regardless of his motives, the fact that Ríos Montt has to engage with the charges at all shows that something may finally be right with Guatemala’s fledgling justice sector.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

Soldiers stand guard in their military vehicle outside a clandestine drug processing laboratory discovered in Zapotlanejo (Courtesy Reuters).

There are many theories out  there about why we have seen a huge uptick in violence in Mexico – now running close to 25,000 homicides a year. An interesting academic paper by Melissa Dell, PhD candidate at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT),  tests one particular theory – elaborated by Eduardo Guerrero among others — that the policies spearheaded by Calderón and the PAN more generally have actually caused the increase in violence.  To do so she uses statistical models to examine how PAN victories in close mayoral elections affect violence locally, and whether they have “spillover effects”, causing traffickers to divert their routes to neighboring municipalities.

She finds that when a new PAN mayor comes in after a close election, homicides become 9 percent more likely, and drug traffickers are much more prone to have confrontations with the police. The movement of drugs also shifts to nearby towns  — causing an increase in violence there — confirming the so-called cucaracha, or cockroach, effect.  Dell argues that government’s policy is behind these statistically significant differences, and specifically that  the PAN’s decisions — from top to bottom — to take on drug traffickers more aggressively than other parties is behind the surge.

This rigorous analysis is extremely helpful, and is the type of work that academics should be sharing with policymakers on both sides of the border. Yet we should also be mindful of the limitations.  For one, Dell only considers locally produced drugs – marijuana, heroin, meth – leaving out the biggest cash cow, cocaine. Her analysis also exclusively focuses on drugs and not organized criminal groups’ other businesses such as extortion, kidnapping and human trafficking (she does nod to these, but finds no adequate dataset to use). As the business model has changed, so too have the targets, bringing these criminal groups much closer to the general population –as customers and as prey.

This leads to the third limitation – the assumption that “more than 85 percent of the [drug] violence consists of people involved in the drug trade killing each other,” a figure repeated a number of times without any footnotes. Though this has also been the mantra of the federal government over the last five years, so far neither the Mexican government nor outside sources have provided any proof that this is true. Of the nearly 50,000 drug trade-related deaths since 2006, the Attorney General’s office has investigated less than 1,000 (and solved less than 350). Given the shifting commercial interests of the criminals (bringing them closer to innocent civilians), it seems doubtful that the deaths are  still almost all between the gangsters themselves, or that the percentage of bad guys killing bad guys hasn’t changed.  Indeed, as a recent Human Rights Watch report points out, there are many cases of misclassification, where the authorities presume that murder victims are linked to drug traffickers until proven otherwise (which they rarely are, since the Attorney General’s office investigates less than 2 percent of the killings). The rise in extrajudicial killings by the military, also laid out in detail by Human Rights Watch, further questions these claims.

Finally Dell makes the assumption –  repeated in the press and elsewhere – that drug-related violence picked up with Calderón and his “war against narcotraffickers.” But the data show that the uptick started earlier, under president Fox, increasing some 40 percent from 2004 to 2005, and another 25 percent from 2005-2006. This doesn’t necessarily disqualify a PAN-ista effect (given both Fox and Calderón hail from the same party), but it needs to be explored more, as the security policies of the two differed in some respects.

The paper provides some policy suggestions, particularly regarding how to best use scarce law enforcement resources (for starters, don’t set up roadblocks). But the other more ominous implication is that if drug traffickers are rational economic actors, and PAN victories are so costly for them (in terms of relocating their routes or bringing in competitors), it makes sense for them to invest up front – and buy more local elections. As we head into 2012, all should be worried about this conclusion.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

Mexican Gov. Enrique Pena Nieto answers reporters' questions at the National Press Club in Washington (Molly Reilly/Courtesy Reuters).

It seems the campaign book so popular in the United States has headed south of the border. After a recent tour through Washington, DC, and New York, former governor and likely PRI presidential candidate Enrique Peña Nieto just released Mexico, the Great Hope. An efficient state for democracy with results.

Arguing that the successive PAN administrations have left the country worse for the wear, Peña Nieto lays out his vision for a government based on guaranteeing citizens’ basic rights (such as security), getting the economy growing at its full potential, and reaffirming Mexico’s leadership as an emerging power on the world stage. He calls for a number of economic reforms, including opening Petróleos Mexicanos (PEMEX) to private investment (still maintaining state ownership), as well as widening the tax base and simplifying the tax code. On security, he favors a more comprehensive strategy geared first and foremost to reducing the violence.

Most of his positions are quite sensible. Mexico needs to (and is already starting to) focus on lowering the escalating levels of violence, as opposed to concentrating on taking down drug kingpins. Economically, opening up PEMEX would increase foreign investment and improve Mexico’s overall competitiveness, boosting jobs and growth in the process. Reforming the tax code would also go a long way to enhancing and diversifying government revenues and  hopefully make it easier to start up businesses. But these two  reforms are also politically difficult — having been on the legislative table for years now, and repeatedly stymied by Peña Nieto’s own party. If he wins, perhaps the former governor will be Mexico’s equivalent of a “Nixon in China” – able to change the dynamics precisely because of his party’s ties to PEMEX’s union – but that remains to be seen.

Much will also depend on the United States. For Mexico to reach its economic potential, the United States will have to grow as well, as the economies today are indelibly intertwined. A U.S. immigration reform – if it happens — also could change things for Mexico. For all its big vision, the book makes clear that there is much that needs to happen during the next presidential term in Mexico to fulfill  this “great hope.”

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

Photographs of missing people are on display at a square in Queretaro (Courtesy Reuters).

Last Wednesday, Human Rights Watch (HRW) released its report “Neither Rights Nor Security: Killings, Torture and Disappearances in Mexico’s ‘War on Drugs’.” The report is incredibly thorough – based on two years of research in the states of Baja California, Chihuahua, Guerrero, Nuevo León and Tabasco, and incorporating information from over 200 interviews. It charges Mexican security forces with routinely violating citizens’ most basic rights during President Felipe Calderón’s six years in office, and further argues that these horrific tactics are not incidental, but endemic to the government’s drug war strategy.

Some of the most worrisome statistics and findings include:

·       Formal human rights abuse complaints increased seven-fold, from 691 during the 2003-2006 period, to 4,803 from 2007-2010

·       Of some 3,700 military investigations into human rights abuses in the past four years, just 15 – less than one half of one percent — resulted in convictions

·      Formal complaints of “degrading treatment” – read torture — at the hands of security forces more than tripled since 2006

Based on witness testimonies and material evidence in specific cases HRW investigated they find:

·       Law enforcement – including the Army, Navy, Federal Police as well as local and federal judicial investigative police — participated in over 170 specific cases of torture – including beating,    asphyxiating, water boarding, electrically shocking and sexually torturing detainees

·       Others facilitate this torture –  medical examiners fail to document signs of physical abuse on detainees, and judges admit confessions and other evidence acquired through torture, even when the victim protests

·       Law enforcement played a part in 39 “forced disappearances” and 24 extrajudicial killings of civilians

After a meeting with HRW representatives Calderón agreed to investigate the findings, though he did say that the “main threat to the human rights of Mexicans is from criminals”.

Why have human rights violations expanded so drastically?  One explanation lies in the use of the military.  Armed forces are trained to kill the enemy on the battlefield, not police neighborhoods to ensure basic public safety. With some 50,000 soldiers now on the front-lines of the drug war, this disconnect can lead to abuses of the rule of law.

Another reason is the profound weakness of Mexico’s judicial system.  Most crimes – likely 80 plus percent — are never even reported. Of the few complaints filed, the Attorney General’s Office (PGR) investigates only one in every five; even fewer go to trial. In the end, only one to two of every hundred crimes end in a conviction. Once prosecutors do move forward with a case however, the chances of acquittal are slim, as roughly 9 in 10 of all suspects brought to court end up in jail. This has less to do with the stellar cases built around airtight evidence, and more to do with the underlying system, which is stacked against defendants – resulting in few safeguards and a de facto presumption of guilt.

Finally, Mexico doesn’t even have the laws needed in some cases to prosecute bad behavior. For instance, only eight of Mexico’s thirty-two states have laws against forced disappearances and only sixteen have formally criminalized torture. What it does have is opportunities to limit citizen rights – such as the arraigo procedure, which lets prosecutors lock up individuals for up to 80 days if they’re allegedly involved in organized crime, and vaguely defined “flagrancia” rules that dictate when police officers can make arrests without a warrant.

The spike in human rights complaints is worrisome on many levels. First and foremost, it reflects the government’s utter failure to protect thousands of citizens from itself. But more strategically, the abuses described in the report run counter to the state’s long-term aims.  In order to “win” the war on organized crime, Mexico’s government must have society’s support. Egregious human rights violations will just push away the one force the narcos can’t match. To end drug related violence, Mexico must construct a truly democratic rule of law, in which the means to and the ends are one and the same. To do so, the government must track and punish human rights abuses and abusers as fervently as it does those on its Most Wanted lists.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

Source: Corporación Latinobarómetro, Informe Anual 2010 (Santiago de Chile, December 2010).

Steven Levitsky’s recent article in the Journal of Democracy explains why Humala won the Peruvian elections last summer. He points to a mix of campaign particulars  — most importantly the divisions within the center-right – Humala’s effective shift from the left to the center, and most fundamentally, state weakness (which tends to push voters toward anti-establishment candidates). The Peruvian state has always been weak – as Hillel Soifer’s work has shown.

This weakness means Humala faces a huge challenge — and not just from the Lima-based political and economic establishment that voted against him. As the graph above shows, Peruvians in generally have little faith in their government, their parties, their political institutions in general. This hints at Humala’s bigger problem. He has few tools – especially outside of  the country’s larger urban centers – to do much to drastically improve Peruvians’ standard of living. Even if economic growth continues and can pay for it, delivering social programs, better schools, and safer streets  will require building a stronger state (almost from scratch) – quite a tall order.

Still, Humala is off to a decent start – he appointed a “market-friendly” cabinet that pleased even Alan Garcia,  then raised the minimum wage without upsetting the economic elite too much, and most recently passed a prior consultation law many years in the making. Whether he can build and strengthen the Peruvian state will define his presidency. If he can’t, it will lead to Levitsky’s most likely scenario – a mediocre government.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

Members of Venezuela's militia and supporters of Venezuela's President Chavez attend a ceremony in Caracas (Jorge Silva/Courtesy Reuters).

Today, chances are Hugo Chávez will face off against Henrique Capriles Radonski in the 2012 October presidential elections. The 39-year-old former mayor of Caracas’s Baruta Municipality (2000-2008) and current Miranda state Governor is leading the opposition candidates, and polling just 2 percentage points below Chávez. He is a lawyer who entered politics at the age of 26 to become the youngest member of the Chamber of Deputies until it was dissolved in 1999.

Capriles appeals to the non-Chavista Left. Following in Lula’s Brazilian footsteps, he has poured money into education and social programs, drawing strong support among the lower classes as well as from a growing contingent of independent voters put off by the Chávez-centered polarization of Venezuelan politics. Comfortable among slum dwellers and businessmen alike – and unafraid to don Chávez’s signature Veneuelan flag jacket– the young candidate has won hearts and minds with his intensity and obvious passion. He has also attracted Chávez’s ire. In 2004, he was arrested for “trespassing, intimidation and ‘violating international principles’” for his involvement in a protest outside the Cuban embassy in the wake of the 2002 attempted coup. The charges were eventually thrown out and two months after leaving prison he was reelected to his post as mayor with 80 percent of the vote.

Yet while a rising star, he faces three major challenges. The first is the divisions within Venezuela’s anti-Chávez opposition. There are other worthy competitors — Leopoldo López, the former Mayor of Chacao Municipality and Pablo Pérez, another young and dynamic governor of the state of Zulia. While one of these — probably Pérez — may give him a run for the nomination, the real test will be whether the opposition can remain united. In the past, their divisions have weakened them perhaps as much as any moves Chávez has made.

The opposition’s track record has gotten a lot better. In the 2008 regional elections they were able to come together, winning governorships in 5 of Venezuela’s 22 states (including the two most populous, Miranda and Zulia). The 2010 Congressional run was their best showing yet. By uniting behind candidates chosen either by consensus or in local primaries, they managed to win the popular vote (52%) — though only  40% of the legislature due to gerrymandering. Signs look good for this coming year, as last month the three major opposition parties signed a pact promising to support the winner in February’s primary.

A second challenge is Chávez’s electoral machinations. While the ballot box itself has not yet been in question, the Chávez administration has repeatedly tilted the electoral playing field —  arresting prominent opposition leaders, silencing independent media outlets, and undercutting autonomous institutions such as the National Electoral Council (CNE). The meddling for 2012 has already started, beginning with moving up the election date from December to October 2012. This is likely just the first of many measures to take the wind out of opposition sails.

The third, less analyzed challenge is Chávez’s health. At first brush his potential inability to run for reelection should boost the opposition’s chances. But it could make it all the much harder. Left without a popular candidate, hard-line Chavistas might pull the plug on elections all together. Hugo’s brother Adán has already suggested as much, saying recently, “It would be inexcusable to limit ourselves [PSUV] to only the electoral and not see other forms of struggle, including the armed struggle.” Instead of opening up Venezuela’s political system, Chávez’s absence might put an end to Venezuela’s democratic trappings altogether.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

Andean protesters shout slogans against the government in Lima (Enrique Castro-Mendivil/Courtesy Reuters).

Last month Peruvian President Ollanta Humala signed the popular consultation law, approved unanimously by Congress in August. This new law will require all public and private investors to consult local indigenous groups if and when their activities may affect their communities or ancestral lands. This is an important democratic step forward, reaching out to citizens who have for years been left out of the political process. In Latin America more broadly, incorporating indigenous communities into politics is a key challenge for consolidating democracy. But these types of laws also have their dangers, specifically potentially negative effects on investment and economic growth. Peru is only the latest of the Andean countries to take on the so-called “indigenous question” — trying to balance economic development with greater social inclusion.

Of its neighbors, Colombia has the longest history and the best track record. It incorporated indigenous consultation into the 1991 Constitution, and then created a Division of Indigenous Affairs in the Ministry of the Interior, as well as offices of indigenous affairs within each of its military commands. To be sure, things haven’t gone perfectly – for instance some indigenous groups accuse President Santos of ignoring their interests in the latest national development plan. But overall Colombia has been successful, enabling a greater voice for all of its citizens while also attracting billions in investment in oil production, coal mining, and other industries.

More cautionary tales come from Bolivia and Ecuador. Both nations have large indigenous populations which historically have been socially and politically marginalized, and excluded from the economic benefits of resource extraction — often by foreign companies — taking place on their land. As these groups have increasingly organized and mobilized, their distrust and animosity has led to conflicts, violence, and the fall of more than one democratically elected government.

Current Presidents Evo Morales of Bolivia, and Rafael Correa of Ecuador have both struggled to balance inclusion with economic development. Morales has perhaps gone the farthest in providing a voice for indigenous groups within the new Constitution, but in return has seen foreign investment plummet. Since Morales’s election in 2006 Bolivia’s natural gas output has stagnated, and proven reserves have shrunk by about a third. In Ecuador, Correa began with the backing of the Confederation of Indigenous Nationalities of Ecuador (CONAIE), but is now at odds with the country’s largest indigenous organization, backing away from many of their demands regarding new mining projects.

While Peru’s indigenous communities have yet to organize politically, there is a growing discontent among these masses, which took a toll on the previous government’s popularity and led to several uprisings around natural resources extraction. The most violent of these – known as the “Baguazo” – occurred during the summer of 2009 in the Amazonian province of Bagua, where 22 indigenous protesters and 12 police officers died in clashes over mining projects in the area.

For Peru, it remains to be seen whether Humala can channel these pent up frustrations positively into the political process without scaring off investment. As the Ecuadorean and Bolivian examples show, more than just rhetoric — or leftist credentials — are needed. But if the new government can pull off this delicate balance, it will help support continued fast paced economic growth.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

A worker at a luxury cowboy boot factory works on pairs of boots in the central city of Leon (Courtesy Reuters).

An IMF report published this week lauds the Mexican economy’s health, and credits robust  fundamentals and good policy choices for its success in weathering the storm of global economic crisis. With even more positive news, a recent study by the Mexican government shows that FDI is still pouring in despite violence, and is actually going to the most dangerous areas. But this doesn’t mean that violence is not having an effect on the economy. In this Americas Quarterly article, Dora Beszterczey and I argue that violence actually has the greatest economic impact on small and medium sized companies, not the multinationals and domestic conglomerates that receive FDI inflows. At this local level there are signs that heightened violence is taking its toll, increasingly forcing entrepreneurs to pack their bags in search of a safer business environment.

There are a number of interesting profiles of Peru’s new drug chief Ricardo Soberón in the news this week. As I talked about in the past, security issues related to drug trafficking and organized crime will be a huge challenge for Humala. While El Comercio harshly criticizes the choice, Soberón’s academic bonafides and more inclusive approach (he favors eradicating rural poverty before coca plantations, and wants to engage the coca growers movement in the national dialogue about drug policy) may enable the new Peruvian administration to balance their promises of social inclusion with a more comprehensive security policy. For those interested in a more sweeping view of drug policy in the history of U.S.-Peru relations, Paul Gootenberg’s book Andean Cocaine: the Making of a Global Drug is well worth a read.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

Peru's new President Ollanta Humala is sworn in to office in Congress in Lima (Mariana Bazo/Courtesy Reuters).

As President Ollanta Humala assumes office today, it looks as if he has chosen to emulate Lula rather than Chávez. His cabinet is full of moderates, and some even see it as leaning center-right. While growth is expected to continue at about 6 percent, the new administration will face many challenges, in particular security and the increasing presence of transnational crime, as well as high levels of inequality.

This week the Obama administration released a new directive on combating transnational organized crime (TOC). Among its 56 “priority actions” are new and deepened efforts to stop the money laundering and flows supporting these crime networks. New tools include barring TOC members entry into the U.S., freezing assets and other financial sanctions. The document also expands the role of the Justice Department and FBI in investigating transnational crime more generally. Still, many of the nearly five dozen items seem little more than aspirations– such as the commitment to “stop the illicit flow from the United States of weapons.” But generally, this revamped strategy and more focused game plan is welcome.

Finally William Rempel’s new book, At the Devil’s Table, showcases the role one individual can play in the fight against drug cartels. This gripping read chronicles the life of Jorge Salcedo, a Colombian engineer that rose to be head of security for Miguel Rodriguez Orejuela, a godfather of the Cali cartel during its heyday. The tale tells the true story of Salcedo’s introduction to crime, his rise within one of the most powerful drug cartels in the world, and the actions he ultimately took to help bring it down. It shows the power of one courageous individual, but also the challenges of going it alone in the belly of the criminal underworld. While the Cali cartel is now gone, others have willingly taken its place, and Colombian coca and cocaine continue unimpeded.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.