THE FOREIGN SERVICE JOURNAL | JANUARY-FEBRUARY 2026 51 capture and torture of the perpetrators. Then someone read a poem by one of the more than 300 “martyrs” who had died in the Shining Path’s 1986 prison uprising: “Poetry is not just a flower, pretty and beautiful, but also a machinegun that gives birth like a star.” Another poem emphasized the role of women: “I saw you, Carmela, light the dynamite’s fuse …” The last presentation was the re-enactment of a Chinese Communist Party play about the Chinese Revolution. A group of peasants, suffering exploitation and starvation, join the Communist Party and embrace the armed struggle; they overthrow and execute their cruel landlord. The transformed peasants then raise their rifles and the Party’s red banner toward the sky. The folks around me cheered. Next it was the audience’s turn. A Shining Path member shouted an order, and attendees lined up by rank and file—it was the first time I’d done so since my military training. We were instructed to sing the “Internationale,” the 19th-century Marxist and socialist anthem. The organizers ran out of copies of the lyrics, so I could only repeat the chorus and lip sync as I tried to blend in. Then came the climax. As the singing ended, a young Shining Path woman belted out slogans, repeated by other members and even some of the attendees around me: “Long live MarxismLeninism-Maoism-Gonzalo thought!”; “Down with the dictatorship!”; “Long live President Gonzalo!”; “Long live the people’s revolution!”—and multiple times, “Long live the armed struggle!” Clearly some attendees had found something they could believe in. Their lives now had a purpose. When the slogans stopped, we broke ranks, and I chose that moment to leave while I was ahead. I slipped into the dark corridor and walked out unnoticed. After hours of Shining Path rhetoric, the adrenaline rush of being outside was invigorating. When the slogans stopped, we broke ranks, and I chose that moment to leave while I was ahead.
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