Reverse engineering the mind of big thinkers

And my theory on their relative absence in Latin America

This idea came to me as I read a book by Mario Vargas Llosa more than two years ago, and I it has resurfaced in my mind ever since. The evidence I keep accumulating has solidified this idea, transforming it into a personal belief, just as some people believe in a certain god or an economic system, mostly convinced and without further questioning. Most recently, it returned with greater force as I began reading “The selected letters of Stendhal”.

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What would you say is the main reason for which there aren’t many writers or “big thinkers” in Latin America?

Lack of access to quality education. Simple, no?

I believe that, even more than what I will call “local quality education” (attending a good school, applying your knowledge, graduating), what we truly lack is worldly education (traveling as a non-tourist).

In the Mario Vargas Llosa book I mentioned, he reflects on liberal thinkers who shaped his political views. As I read, I started paying attention to where their lives unfolded, and I realized none of them were born, lived, and died in the same place. Yesterday, while reading Stendhal’s letters, the same pattern emerged, big thinkers who roamed the world, absorbing its complexities.

Perhaps living in different countries, immersing oneself in other cultures, and absorbing new perspectives is an essential ingredient for becoming an academic who dares to think critically. I am none of these, yet I have seen firsthand how people who migrate, and migrate again, gain an edge in their thinking that would be harder if not impossible to get had they remained in their place of birth. They see the world from outside themselves.

This reality, I suspect, might continue to perpetuate the absence of “big thinkers” in Latin America. Mario Vargas Llosa himself, though born in Peru, lived for many years in Spain (Madrid) and France (Paris). But the obstacles for many Latin Americans are insurmountable: their lack of purchasing power (compared to North America or Northern Europe, where published writers proliferate) and the bureaucratic burdens of obtaining visas, with their high fees, consulate visits, interviews, and letters of invitation. All these barriers prevent them from gaining the worldly education that others take for granted.

Perhaps this is what Juan Luis Guerra was referring to when he wrote “Visa para un sueño (Visa for a dream).” A dream that, for too many of Latin Americans, remains distant, elusive, trapped behind borders.