Oaxaca: Aftermath of the Ambush


San Juan Copala Calls for Second Human Rights Caravan to Break Siege.
by Ramor Ryan, Oaxaca May 12th.
UpsideDownWorld.com


In an act of implacable defiance, the Autonomous Municipality of San
Juan Copala has called on civil organizations to organize another
Human Rights caravan to attempt to break the paramilitary blockade
surrounding their besieged headquarters in the indigenous Triqui
region of Oaxaca, Mexico. The caravan, called for May 30-31, hopes for
the participation of hundreds of national and international human
Rights observers and activists, and will be convened by Diocesan
Commission of Peace and Justice, and the Bartolomé Carrasco Regional
Human Rights Center .

The first Caravan which attempted to break the San Juan Copala siege
was ambushed on the isolated road to the community on April 27 by 25
masked and heavily armed paramilitaries, resulting in the death of two
activists, while injuring a dozen more.

Blame for the attack was attributed by the Autonomous Municipality
authorities to “groups of paramilitaries from the Union of Social
Welfare for the Triqui Region Organization [UBISORT, in its Spanish
initials] linked to the PRI [the governing party of Oaxaca State, the
Institutional Revolutionary Party].”

The two dead were well-known and respected human rights defenders.
Bety Carino Trujillo, director of the local NGO Cactus, which focuses
on indigenous and communitarian rights, was one of the primary
organizers of the fated caravan, and had recently toured Europe giving
testimony to the violence suffered by indigenous communities in
resistance in her home state of Oaxaca. Her words, somewhat
prophetically dwelling on the life and death struggle of her people,
are recorded here in Dublin, Ireland. The Finnish citizen Jyry Antero
Jaakkola was a popular activist who worked on a (as yet unrealized)
project to send a ship full of humanitarian aid from Europe to
beleaguered communities in Mexico–from Oaxaca to Chiapas. Jyry was
currently working closely with the Oaxaca City- based, and
predominantly anarchist group VOCAL (Oaxacan Voices Constructing
Autonomy and Freedom). Understanding the dangers faced in the struggle
in Oaxaca, he expressed his willingness to stand alongside his Mexican
companeros and the social movement in their resistance against
government repression.

“We know the risks involved in social activism in Oaxaca, and we knew
the risks going into San Juan Copala on April 27,” explained one of
the survivors of the ambush in an interview given to to Upside Down
World this week in Oaxaca City. The radical activist who asked to
remain anonymous for reasons of security, maintains they did the right
thing despite criticisms from other activist sectors that it was a
dangerous and foolhardy expedition.

“When the autonomous municipality put out a call for observers to
break the siege, we answered that call because of the terrible
situation faced by the people. These companeros had come to Oaxaca
City during the uprising of 2006 and now it was our turn to go to them
in their time of need. Solidarity, togetherness–this is what the
movement is all about.”

While the first caravan was initially imagined as far bigger, various
actors pulled out at the last moment out of fear, while others simply
couldn’t find the meeting point, and so the eventual group that set
off on the road numbered a much reduced 22 people. The group agreed
amongst themselves that at the first sign of trouble, they would turn
back. They didn’t want to provoke anything with the paramilitaries,
but they also wanted the beleaguered community to know that they were
not alone. And so they set off hoping to get as close as they could,
and maybe even achieve the goal of delivering humanitarian aid in the
form of food and medicine thus breaking the 5 month long siege, both
materially and psychologically.

The Autonomous Municipality of San Juan Copala, created in January of
2007 by a breakaway group of Triqui’s inspired by the Zapatista model,
was an act of rebel impudence that did not go unnoticed by the state
authorities, who immediately began consolidating other Triqui groups
into an armed opposition. The state government, according to Proceso
magazine, “ channeled millions of pesos into the Triqui organizations
Ubisort and Mult to contest the newly created Autonomous
Municipality.” That financial support was used to arm and train the
paramilitaries and a reign of violence engulfed the zone – there have
been 19 politically-linked assassinations in the Trique region since
December 2009 alone.

The siege on the autonomous municipality began in November, 2009.
Paramilitaries from Ubisort set up road-blocks and cut the town’s
electricity and telephone lines. The town market closed as the flow of
goods and services ceased, and the schools shut down. Some 700
families were trapped within the blockade. Meanwhile, the governor
Ulises Ruiz Ortiz and state authorities looked the other way or
insisted, cynically, that it was an “internal Triqui issue.” Citing
“ancestral conflicts and inter-community strife”, they washed their
hands of the situation. “The Mexican State benefits more than anyone
else when the Triqui are fighting amongst themselves. But the region’s
political and economic bosses also benefit,” explains lawyer and
investigator Francisco López Bárcenas, emphasizing the political
interests in maintaining the violence. Why send in the security forces
or army, when the paramilitaries are doing the job of destroying the
Autonomous Municipality for them?

“Mexico is a dangerous country to defend Human Rights,” commented
Amnesty International in their Demand Dignity report, highlighting the
case of two young Triqui women, Teresa Bautista Merino and Felicitas
Martinez Sanchez who worked on the autonomous community radio station
The Voice That Breaks the Silence. The duo, presenters of a radio show
denouncing human rights abuses, were similarly ambushed and killed by
paramilitaries in the region in April, 2008.

Nevertheless, even in a country where according to the Office of the
High Commissioner of Human Rights of the United Nations, eleven human
rights activists have been murdered since 2006, the ambush of the
Human Rights observers caravan is unprecedented in its audacity.

“These kind of brazen attacks on Human Rights missions don’t even take
place in war zones like Colombia, Iraq or Afghanistan,” pointed out
Contralinea, an investigative magazine who sent two reporters on the
caravan.

So nobody on the caravan expected what came next as they approached a
makeshift blockade of stones strewn across the road in a quiet,
deserted part of the hilly terrain on April 27.

The human rights defenders, sensing danger, decided to turn around
immediately and head back. As they u-turned the three vehicles,
legions of masked figures started streaming down the rocky hillside
towards them, pointing AK-47’s. Without warning or indication the 20
or so gunmen opened fire and didn’t stop for a quarter of an hour. “A
rain of bullets enveloped us,” explained one survivor. In the panic
and confusion of the assault, Bety and Jyry were both shot dead on the
spot, while others fled into the surrounding hills seeking cover,
pursued by the attackers.

A few days later, sitting in a dark bar near the bustling Oaxaca City
market, the radical activist and ambush survivor is pondering upon his
escape, while his good friend Jyri perished.

“It’s the fourth attempt on my life since 2006,” he explains. “I’ve
been lucky so far. I’m just trying to be as effective as possible as
long as I’m still alive.”

As we talk, news comes through on the attack on another militant from
the Popular Assembly of the Peoples of Oaxaca (APPO) on his way to
work that morning. Marcelino Coache, a well known public speaker and
movement activist who last year was kidnapped and tortured by unknown
assailants presumed to be a death squad, was once again attacked by
assailants, who stabbed him and left him for dead. But he survives.

“Here in Oaxaca such is the level of state-sponsored aggression and
total impunity,” explains the activist, “that these death-squads or
the paramilitaries can pull off yet another stunt like this on
Marcelino or the ambush in Copala without fear of consequences. They
can do whatever they want to do. They have backing right to the top.”

Indeed, State Governor Ulises Ruiz Ortiz insists on referring to the
ambush as a “confrontation between the community and national and
international activists.” The governor, publicly denounced recently as
a tyrant (by members of his own PRI party!), when asked about the
death of the Finnish Human Rights activist Jyri, countered by asking
about the visa status of the foreigner. “It is against the
Constitution for foreigners to be involved in Mexican politics.”

Which brings to mind the problematic of the second caravan to break
the siege of San Juan Copala. Not all activists in the city are in
agreement in sending another caravan into the “intractable Triqui
situation.” Add to the measure the suspicion that Ubisort are involved
in narco-activities and therefore, like in other parts of the country
wracked by the "Drug War", where narco-lords, state officials and
security forces are in tight collaboration (‘Colombiaization’), the
security of the caravan is anything but certain. Members of the
Autonomous Municipal Authority have called for State police protection
for the caravan, while Governor Ruiz Ortiz has promised to block the
caravan, and deport any foreigners on it.

“If we can get 1000 people, or more, they can’t stop us,” says the
radical activist. This seasoned militant is hopeful that the teachers
union, Section 22, the backbone of the 2006 uprising, will mobilize in
big numbers for the second caravan. But the teachers have been in a
state of disarray of late and will be overseeing a state-wide teachers
strike at the same time. Meanwhile the formerly powerful social
movement is also heavily divided, and feeling the pressure of years of
unceasing repression.

“We reaffirm our commitment to never give up, because the future we
yearn for is near,” ends the communique from the San Juan Copala
Autonomous Municipality, sent out from the municipal headquarters now
under its fifth month of blockade. “We know that the night is darkest
before the dawn."

Celebrating Indigenous Culture, Zapotec Autonomy and Uncontaminated Corn



Written by by Ramor Ryan, Photos by Ali Tonak
Monday, 15 February 2010

Santa Gertrudis, Sierra Juarez, Oaxaca
- The 4th annual Zapotec Feria of the Cornfield - Globalization and the Natural Resources - was held in Santa Gertrudis, Sierra Juarez on February 7-8. Organized by the Union of Social Organizations of the Sierra Juarez of Oaxaca (UNOSJO), this year´s event was attended by representatives of UNOSJO´s 24 affiliated communities, participants from all over Mexico, along with a large international presence of activists from Uruguay to Wales, Turkey to the United States, as well as a 17-strong delegation of German Organic farmers and anti-GMO activists.

This year´s theme was focused on the dangers of contamination from Genetically Modified (GM) Corn, with a showcase of indigenous corn based culture and food sovereignty.

“We plant corn for the well-being of the communities,” said community leader, Rodrigo Santiago Hernandez during the opening plenary, emphasizing the importance of the culture of corn for the Zapotecs.“If we don’t cultivate corn, we have no life. It is central to our existence. We are the people of corn.”

Or as the old saying goes – no hay pais, sin maiz (there is no country without maize).

Community President, Baltazar Felix, elaborated, “To be a campesino or campesina allows us to respect and understand the profound worth of our madre tierra (mother earth). Corn is the basis for our expression of autonomy and central to our usos y costumbres (practices and customs), which represent our Zapotec culture and indigenous way of life. “

Contaminated maize was first detected in Oaxaca in 2001, resulting in a serious threat to the biodiversity of the native species, because, as explained by Ana de Ita from CECCAM (Center of Studies for Change in the Mexican Countryside), “ genetically-modified crops have the potential to cross-breed with native crops, altering the evolution of the entire population”.

Pandering to the lobbyists from the bio-tech and agricultural industry interests like Cargill Corporation and Monsanto, the Neo-liberal PAN government of President Calderon reversed the 1998 ban on genetically-engineered seeds this March. Twenty-five pilot projects sowing transgenic seeds were begun in Northern Mexico. Genetically modified pollen has the capacity to travel great distances via wind or water sources, thereby threatening to contaminate the hundreds of unique and well-adapted land races of corn throughout all of Mexico, which is the center of origin of this staple food crop.

Canadian Mining Companies, US Pig Factories and Imperialist Mappers

Beyond the contamination of native corn, other pressing issues facing rural farmers in Oaxaca were outlined by the Zapotec representatives during the first day of the meeting.

The resumption of heavy mining in the Ocotlan region by Canadian multinational Fortuna Silver was heavily criticized by a representative from the front-line community of Capulalpam:

“We don’t want the mine. We don’t want our water source polluted and our environment destroyed. We, the local inhabitants were never consulted but now we are making our presence known.” Communities surrounding the mining region have being carrying out direct action against the mining company, mobilizing the population to block access on the roads, and stopping trucks and heavy machinery."

Canadian mining companies are not the only foreign industry negatively impacting the lives of the Zapotec indigenous. Concerns are raised about large-scale industrial farm animal production overseen by US agro-giants Tyson and Smithfield, generally held responsible for the outbreak of Swine Flu in November 2009, emanating from their enormous pig-factory facilities in nearby Valle de Perote, Veracruz. 64,322 cases of Swine Flu were confirmed in Mexico, resulting in 573 deaths.

The rich and abundant natural resources of the stunningly beautiful Sierra Juarez have also come under the scrutiny of more high-tech intruders. In 2009, Zapotec communities led by UNOSJO expelled US geographers mapping the region with GPS and data processing technology for failing to reveal their connections with the US military or their use of Pentagon contractor Radiance Technologies. Charging the Kansas University geographers with geo-piracy – stealing the traditional knowledge of the indigenous communities – the academics left in disgrace and subsequently were not heard from again. UNOSJO outlined how the military-funded geo-pirates had successfully been stopped in their tracks, and through the employment of people-power and media pressure, the affected Zapotec communities were able to protect and preserve their cultural heritage.

Usos y Costumbres

Nevertheless, the 4th annual Zapotec Feria of the Cornfield - Globalization and the Natural Resources - is not only concerned with the problems and struggles facing the Zapotec communities, but is also a celebration of their rich culture and food sovereignty. Day two of the feria brought a festive culinary demonstration of a myriad of corn dishes and locally produced food.

Among the various bustling stalls, the cooks explained their skills and techniques. A range of mouth-watering corn recipes were on the menu, including atole blanco, tortilla de platano, totpos de maiz, pozol, pozoncle, atole, tamales de 3 picos, mazorcas, and canavalia. Each dish can trace its origins to a particular place or district mapping the diversity of corn uses in Sierra Juarez. Alongside the dishes are source community names like Silvano Cruz Cruz, Santa Maria Temaxcalpa, San Cristóbal Lachirioag or Asunción Lachixila.

“Without money I can’t buy corn or beans. But if I plant the seeds, I can eat even if I don’t have money,” said Dona Maria from Lachixila. Explaining the connection between food self sufficiency and autonomy, she outlined the philosophy of the usos y costumbres. “A people who have to buy their seeds – in place of having a local bank of seeds held over from all the years – and who have to go out and buy their own food, these are people who cannot govern themselves.”

Autonomy is the cornerstone of the culture and political struggle of the Zapotec indigenous. With legal recognition of their traditional usos y costumbres, they are afforded a sense of identity and continuation with the past. The absence of state presence, or federal police and the army, in the communities is noticeable. We foreigners were treated to the somewhat surreal sight of autonomy in action as community authorities bundled a definitely worse for wear drunk in the community jail. “Before he hurts himself,” whispered Don Armando into my ear, himself enjoying the fine locally produced mescal that was the cause of that disheveled prisoners misfortune. Somewhat comically, the cheerfully painted village jail is positioned underneath the village comedor, or restaurant.


Looking Towards the Future

The drunk tank dweller undergoes a rude awaking on the third and final day of the Feria with the appearance of a 12-piece local brass band thundering their tunes directly outside the jail cell during the communal breakfast. More autonomous community punishment?

The highlight of Day Three was a tour of a cornfield and an exhibition of traditional small scale agricultural methods.

“The government would prefer that we all emigrated or worked in maquiladoras,” said Don Carlos, proudly showing the visitors his family corn patch, straddling the side of a steep mountain side, every inch of which he had patiently and painfully worked with machete and hoe. “They don’t want us to remain as campesinos. They say we are unproductive and useless. But we are going to stay here, in our cornfields, in our communities because this is what we want; this is what the people want.”

Back at the plenum, Zapotec leader Aldo Gonzalez of UNOSJO sums up the themes of the feria and articulates the conclusions of the event.

“The contamination of corn by means of transgenic seeds is a crime, because in this way, not only the food chain, but also our culture is contaminated. Corn is the base of resistance; it is water, land, culture. We have an intimate relationship with the land. That’s why we protect and conserve the diverse varieties of criolla maize which we have improved over the length of history and in this manner, we are defending our ancestral knowledge.”

Dispersing Power - Social Movements as Anti-State Forces

by Raul Zibechi
Translated by Ramor Ryan



Raúl Zibechi is one of Latin America's leading political theorists. This, his first book translated into English, is an historical analysis of social struggles in Bolivia and the forms of community power instituted by that country's indigenous Aymara. Dispersing Power gracefully maps the "how" of revolution, offering valuable lessons to activists and new theoretical frameworks for understanding how social movements can and do operate independently of state-centered models for social change.

http://www.amazon.com/Dispersing-Power-Social-Movements-Anti-State/dp/1849350116

Critiquing the Trajectory of the Zapatista Movement


Upside Down World - Tuesday, 15 December 2009

It has been noted, perhaps somewhat unfairly, that by this stage there are probably more books and papers written about the Zapatistas than there are actual Zapatista milicianos. Niels Barmeyer's new work, Developing Zapatista Autonomy: Conflict and NGO Involvement in Rebel Chiapas adds to this cannon, but distinguishes itself by coming from the perspective of a militant anthropologist, an embedded solidarity activist investigating— from below—the inner workings of the EZLN (Zapatista Army of National Liberation) and the solidarity and NGO organizations surrounding it. It also distinguishes itself by being more critical than most, certainly of those ostensibly coming from a sympathetic position.
The German anthropologist went to Chiapas in the 1990s, "drawn, like most other internationals, by notions of egalitarianism, communal living and independence from globalized economies."Barmeyer relates how he was originally captivated by the dynamic Zapatista movement through his involvement in the left/autonomous scene in Berlin which exposed him to ideas about participatory democracy and horizontal forms of social organization. He put these theories into practice through working in solidarity with the Zapatistas in Chiapas , first as a human rights activist in peace camps, and later as a volunteer installing water systems in indigenous rebel villages.

But as he methodically dissects his extensive research and experience in Zapatista communities over the years, Barmeyer's gaze moves from that of a bright-eyed solidarity activist to that of a cold and critical anthropological student, thus ensuring a rigid, unsparing and often scathing appraisal of his subjects.

"Even fifteen years after the uprising [of 1994]," writes Barmeyer, "there is a great gap between the impression that the rebels have managed to create among a worldwide sympathetic audience and the realities on the ground."

But Barmeyer's experience is not simply the familiar narrative of a white European going to a foreign land in search of the exotic other, and finding only disillusionment and disenchantment with the reality there. His is a careful study of a revolutionary initiative and its repercussions, specifically the problem of reconciling the language and posture of the actors (local, national and international) and the actual situation.

"It struck me that in its portrayal of social organization in the communities under its control," writes Barmeyer, "the EZLN readily catered for utopian visions so cherished by their sympathizers around the globe. Accounts from rebel villages were rather vague, leaving it up to readers to fill in the gaps with their own favored images; poetic fiction characteristic for Marcos communiques has usually prevailed over concrete and self-critical assessments of the situation on the ground."

It is this proliferation of idealized images that Barmeyer deconstructs in this work. His focus is on the space between the actual Zapatista communities and the indigenous culture as he experiences and sees them, and the imagined and illusionary notion of the rebel movement. These idealized images are, he posits, forged in the writings of Zapatista spokesperson Subcommander Marcos, and reproduced by solidarity groups and NGO organizations working in the region. The result is "rosy portrayals" that are "stunningly uncritical" in their analysis, presenting an image that reflects more what the people outside want to hear than the reality on the ground.

What kind of idealized images is he taking aim at? Taking a closer look at the much-feted workings of Zapatista governance—generally understood as an extension of a deeply rooted egalitarian indigenous culture and a good example of the 'horizontalist' model of organizing—Barmeyer describes how decision-making structures are, in practice, less a model of grassroots participatory democracy than a process often dominated by men, older community members and those who can dispense patronage.

"Autonomous administrative structures and the way today's rebel municipalities are run have little to do with Mayan heritage but are actually a hodgepodge of practices ranging from the Catholic cult of village saints imposed by the Spanish crown to the ejidal administration structures laid down in Mexico's Agrarian Law and organizational elements introduced by cataquistas (lay preachers) and Maoist students in the 1970's," writes Barmeyer.

It could also be argued that any kind of emancipatory democracy that emerges from such authoritarian roots should be commended. While the notion of Zapatista horizontal democracy seems more aspirational than actual, the reality is that within the Zapatista movement there is a constant struggle between the old forms of exercising power and new, emancipatory ones. The inclusion of more women and youth in the decision-making process is, as Barmeyer points out, evidence of a shifting paradigm.

'Never Trust a Peasant'

Next, Barmeyer takes to task the common misconception that the Zapatistas are made up of a uniform mass of dispossessed indigenous peasants perpetually up in arms against the outside oppressor. On the contrary, the EZLN and its base of support are composed of a small, hardcore base of adherents with a larger fluctuating support base among the widerChiapas population. Barmeyer dwells a lot on the problem of shifting allegiances within the indigenous communities, suggesting that there is a fundamental lack of political or ideological commitment among the base. Ultimately, it is an economic imperative that draws impoverishedcampesinos to the rebel organization and the same motive that cause them to leave and assume a pro-government position.

"Frequent shifts of affiliation among the inhabitants of the Selva Lacandona and Las Canadas [Zapatista strongholds] confirm that they are pragmatic planners of their fate, willing to throw their lot with whomever they trust to help them along the way to fulfilling their aspirations."

Coincidentally, Barmeyer's observations call to mind Lenin's infamous words - 'never trust a peasant' - questioning the revolutionary potential of the rural proletariat.

In one particularly stark passage, the author returns to a former Zapatista community and probes the residents on their reasons for desertion. Ex-Zapatista Lorena blames the ongoing level of poverty suffered by the villagers, for although she "approved of what Marcos had done and continued to do, she also said that, in her view, the EZLN had never really delivered anything of what was needed in the community." The government on the other hand, she points out, " might only give a little bit, but at least they give something."

But while the Mexican government's ongoing counter-insurgency strategy of buying off individuals or whole communities has certainly inflicted a lot of damage to the EZLN, it has not defeated them. It seems remarkable that despite the obvious economic hardship that comes with Zapatista affiliation, a sizable hardcore of the Zapatista base remain loyal to the cause. Even fifteen years after the initial uprising, the EZLN can still count on a considerable body of the indigenous population to rally to their call—even if it is a fraction of the amount they could mobilize at the height of their popularity.

This manifestation of ideological steadfastness is recognized by the anthropologist in the final words of his book, granting that a whole new generation of indigenous rebels "particularly among the inhabitants of the new Zapatista settlements where revolutionary practice is part of everyday life, bears witness to the fact that these people are indeed committed to a cause that transcends their own immediate benefit."

Informants and Informers

Academic texts are often turgid to read, and laborious to decipher. Barmeyer's work (conducted in the context of a Ph.D. course) is salvaged by a lively, informative and often witty tone of narration. Caught between his activist and academic caps, he is mischievous in his descriptions, as his friends become 'informants' (informers some would say), while his home in San Cristobal where he invites Zapatistas to stay, his 'center of research.' He befriends one local Zapatista—Cipriano, a self-described wild rover—and he and his extended family become the ongoing object of Barmeyer's research. Therein lies the dubious academic practice of befriending people on the ground to study them.

Early in the book, Barmeyer describes how one local NGO operative refused to allow him to participate in their particular solidarity project because he was an anthropologist. How could this kind of anthropological research benefit the communities, asks the solidarity worker, arguing that a publication ofBarmeyer's findings could only help the Zapatista's enemies. Indeed, in the midst of ongoing low-intensity warfare, it doesn't seem overtly paranoid to think that military intelligence and other counter-insurgency elements are not using this kind of insider information for their own ends. It is a moot point, never fully answered byBarmeyer. Perhaps by replacing one´s activist cap with an academic cap, one can distance oneself sufficiently from such moral dilemma's.

But it can also be argued that an extensive and thorough investigation into the failures of the Zapatista movement, such as Barmeyer's work, can strengthen and consolidate the movement. Despite its' stinging critique, Developing Zapatista Autonomy is a work that portends not so much to undermine the validity of the rebel project, but, at its base, to dispense with idealized or imagined images. Instead of harboring untenable illusions or offering unconditional solidarity for revolutionary groups, Barmeyer's work allows Zapatista supporters an opportunity for reflection on the development of the Zapatista project for autonomy so far.

Finally, it should be remembered to put things into perspective. As Mexico slides deeper into crisis with an illegitimate government implementing increasingly discreditedneo -liberal policies and relying on the military to deal with pressing social and political conflict, it would seem the need for an emancipatory Zapatista movement is desirable and indeed necessary now more than ever. In that wider context, the criticisms emphasized in Developing Zapatista Autonomy may seem like nitpicking, without giving enough credit for the impressive achievements of the rebel organization.

As Marcos pointed out (in one of his possibly less romantic and idealized comments), "We are not trying to make an orthodox revolution, but something much more difficult: a revolution which makes possible the revolution."