U.S. Activists Seem Strangely Silent About Chiapas.
By Tim Vanderpool
IT WAS DECEMBER 31, 1993, twilight of another corporate
banner year. Wall Street was bullish, the White House was compliant,
and the country's global marketeers were giddily breaking ground
for an unprecedented, cross-border harvest called the North American
Free Trade Agreement.
As a whole, life in the boardroom was quite rosy. And business
relations between the United States and Mexico--long marked by
peevishness, bruised sensitivities and outright aggression--had
never been better. Tomorrow, NAFTA would begin busting through
trade barriers, wrenching down tariffs, and flushing Mexico with
technical innovation. Thousands of jobs and billions in investment
would follow. At the same time, American business could begin
loosening Mexico's fierce protectionist grip over its own vast
markets.
Finally, the two long-squabbling neighbors were standing hand-in-hand
on the brink of a New World Order.
Or so it seemed.
But in the remote, mountainous, nearly-forgotten Mexican state
of Chiapas, changes were afoot that would shake the fledgling
international architecture to its foundations. Led by a charismatic
intellectual called Subcommandante Marcos, a makeshift force of
several hundred Indian peasants, modern-day descendants of the
ancient Maya and Olmec cultures, were poised for revolt in their
rugged region bordering Guatemala.
When the dust cleared they would have taken the mountains by
storm, peeling away Mexico's fragile facade of political and economic
progress. And they would demonstrate that huge notions like NAFTA
were of little benefit to the country's poverty-stricken majority.
They called themselves the Zapatista Army of National Liberation
Army (EZLN), after the popular peasant hero of the Mexican Revolution,
Emiliano Zapata. And at dawn on January 1, 1994--the very day
NAFTA took effect--they seized San Cristóbal de las Casas,
a colonial city deep in the heart of Chiapas. Not surprisingly,
the Mexican government responded with brutal indignation. The
area was sealed off, human rights monitors were turned away, and
the ensuing 12-day siege left scores dead on both sides. The rebels
eventually retreated once more to the hills, but their point had
been made.
International pressure then forced the government to negotiate,
eventually resulting in an interim pact called the Law for Peace
in Chiapas. The accord recognized the Zapatistas as a legitimate
"non-conformist" group, and promised reforms throughout
the region. It also officially ended all military operations against
the rebels, and opened the door for change.
Four years later, NAFTA remains an experiment. But in the short-term,
it's had a cataclysmic effect on the Mexican economy, as thousands
of small, family-owned businesses are displaced by multi-national
companies. American-style marketing has strengthened its foothold,
and most major Mexican cities now have a Taco Bell.
Even in Chiapas, foreign investors are surveying the state's
vast reserves of oil and lumber, threatening even more displacement
of the area's indigenous residents. Meanwhile, the government
has stalled talks with the rebels. Under Mexican President Ernesto
Zedillo, the Mexican Army has continued its policy of intimidation
and attack, invading countless Indian communities with near impunity,
and allegedly funding a growing wave of ruthless paramilitary
forces.
This atmosphere resulted in a massacre in Acteal, a small Chiapas
hamlet where 45 unarmed Zapatista sympathizers, mostly women and
children, were gunned down with government-issue weapons in late
December. The marauders came from a neighboring village, but ultimate
responsibility is suspected to reach high into the Mexican government.
So today Chiapas remains in a defacto state of war, its jungles
teeming with military units, terrified peasants, and squads of
armed criminals.
IN 1994, LONGTIME political activist Cecilia Rodriguez
traveled from her Los Angeles home to San Cristobal as part of
a human rights delegation. The army refused the group entry, but
18 months later she returned. Following a personal meeting with
Subcommandante Marcos, she was appointed U.S. representative for
the EZLN, and coordinator of the National Commission for Democracy
in Mexico.
Since then, Rodriguez has visited Chiapas many times. And she
has felt the lawless region's brutality firsthand: In 1995, while
enroute to a Zapatista village, she was gang-raped by a band of
paramilitary thugs.
On March 25, Rodriguez spoke on the UA campus. Earlier in the
day she'd joined a protest outside the Mexican Consulate on South
Sixth Avenue, and that night she lashed out at the government's
growing record of human rights abuses in Chiapas, describing the
Acteal massacre as an event "that opened a great many hearts.
"But the important thing to understand is that there have
been many deaths," she told the crowd, "there has been
a history of suffering." The Zapatistas hope to give voice
to the dead, she said, and "keep talking about new human
relationships, new political relationships, and a new way of being,
one that has wholeheartedly rejected the future that has been
mapped out for Mexico by the (International Monetary Fund), by
the World Bank, by NAFTA, by the United States, by Wall Street."
Sitting in a downtown Tucson coffee shop a few days later, Rodriguez
discussed the Zapatista's ongoing fight in the face of inconsistent
international, support. She took American human rights groups
to task for their uncharacteristic timidity over the issue, called
American media coverage of Chiapas a disgrace, and described the
Zapatista's place in the history of Latin American armed struggle.
"We've had to deal with a low-intensity war for a long time,"
she said. "At this point, we feel the process (in Chiapas)
is at a critical juncture, and that we have to be able to exert
at least double the pressure as before. We need to remind people
what the Zapatistas are fighting for."
Ironically, few deny the reality of vast economic disparity and
inequality in Chiapas, she said, or the way it colors all of Mexican
society.
"Generally, even the Zapatistas' enemies acknowledge them
as having a genuine issue," she said. "And a lot support
we've gotten is from the middle class in Mexico, which is rapidly
disappearing because of NAFTA. We've also gotten support from
farmers. Some of them are tomato growers and avocado growers.
They have small parcels of land. They can't compete. and they
can't find their way out of their problems.
"I think there's an identification with the Zapatistas,
but I also think there's a sense that something's really wrong
with Mexico, and things cannot continue that way."
On the other side are "all the Wall Street interests, the
people who want to take the mines, take the lumber, take the oil
and farm the land."
It sounds like garden-variety exploitation, Latin American style.
But Rodriguez said the Zapatistas want to respond through reform
rather than full-blown revolution. "They've said they don't
feel they are the ones who will facilitate a revolution in Mexico.
They're perhaps the entryway to that process, because a lot of
new things need to be created, new agreements, new proposals.
And for something new to be born it takes time, and Zapatistas
feel they may not have that much time."
Meanwhile, the Mexican Army controls Chiapas with a heavy hand,
she said, "using Acteal as an excuse. At one point, everyone
was saying the army had 50,000 troops there. Now the estimate
is that there are 70,000. Now they have many more checkpoints.
They had stopped having them, but now the rationale is that they
are searching for weapons belonging to the paramilitaries, and
that they are going to disarm everybody, including the Zapatistas."
Taking the Zapatista's guns would be a direct violation of the
Law for Peace, she said.
And so the delicate boundary between heightened tension and direct
warfare grows slimmer by the day, she said. "What the military
does is destroy the ability of the communities to conduct business."
In addition, she said the army uses paramilitary gangs to carry
out its dirty work, often pitting Indians against one another.
"It's not hard to do. Young men have grown up on the streets
doing day jobs, petty thievery. The government has taken those
kind of people who have been completely disconnected from their
communities, and given them a position of power that is unquestioned.
No one says anything to the paramilitaries, not the soldiers,
not the police. They have carte blanche. It's a very powerful
position to be in, in their eyes, after being in misery since
they came into existence."
Those armed bands are then used as proxy instigators, she said,
allowing the army to avoid direct confrontation with the Zapatistas,
and the international criticism--and investor nervousness--that
would result.
"If the government reacts militarily, they're going to lose
everything," she said. "They're going to lose the little
bit of legitimacy they still have. And it's going to destabilize
the economic interests, because the line of the Mexican government
is that the Zapatistas are not a problem."
The picture isn't much prettier beyond Mexico's borders, she
said, where support has wavered. "In terms of the U.S. human
rights organizations, there's a lot of policy issues involved,
military and economic issues. Human rights organizations on this
side of the border hesitate because of that.
"They've been hesitant to participate all these four years,
even though they've been the ones documenting mounting levels
of abuse. But they're less aggressive, maybe because they think
they might be exaggerating (the situation), or that they'll be
seen as not neutral.
"I just think they feel the fires too close, with all the
human rights violations that immigrants face here," she said.
"That fragments the issue. Americans want to say 'Over here
is the immigration issue,' and they want to separate that from
the human rights violations. Then 'Over here is the drug war,
and over here, separate from that, is NAFTA.'"
Ultimately, "It's too bad the human rights groups haven't
been able to verbalize a coherent position," she said, "because
if they were more aggressive, they could have twice the impact
here."
AT THE SAME time, she called media coverage of the Chiapas
struggle "extremely bad," with growing levels of distortion
reminiscent of the CIA's Central American misinformation campaigns
of the 1970s and '80s. "I think that's going to happen more
and more," Rodriguez said.
Even The New York Times misrepresents the situation, she
said. "They did a good story about the Acteal massacre, and
then a couple weeks ago they did another story, and whole line
of it was that the Zapatistas were intransigent. They had photos
showing these unarmed Zapatistas facing a row of tanks. Then they
showed an unarmed man talking to these policemen all dressed in
riot gear. They were very dramatic pictures that said the complete
opposite of what was in the story. It seemed very strange to me.
"The story was very much the official government line, which
is strange, because it was by the same woman who had written article
about the massacre. I don't know if she writes and it gets censored
or doctored. I'm not sure how it happens. But overall, coverage
of the Zapatistas has been very bad."
Never has the need for responsible coverage been more critical,
she said. "The political pressure from our allies is what
can shift the balance. The Mexican government made a very significant
mistake with the massacre at Acteal. It awoke a lot of people
who were indifferent, or ignorant of the issue. It got the churches
involved, got people taking positions on it who haven't before.
The pressure has come from people who are just outraged."
And Rodriguez said there have been other displays of concern.
"For example, on January 12 of this year we had actions in
support of the Zapatistas in 45 cities across the United States.
Now we need to sustain it, and make it larger. That's kind of
the challenge in front of us.
Such outside support is crucial, she said, "because the
Mexican government obviously doesn't give a damn about its own
people. It is a government that has disconnected from its own
people, a government that is cosmetic in the sense that it just
uses Mexico as a launching pad--a government that's in the pockets
of other people, other interests."
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