Witness To War: 7 Days In Chiapas
Witness to War
PRELUDE
On February 9, 1995, the army-occupied state of Chiapas, Mexico jolted by President Ernesto Zedillo’s call for the immediate arrest of Subcomandante Marcos, the main spokesperson and most visible member of the Zapatistas. An estimated 50,000 new troops (15-20,000) were already stationed in Chiapas after the January 1, 1994 uprising) were sent to the eastern Lacandon jungle region, stronghold of the Zapatistas. The troops were deployed to serve as back-up forces to the federal police in their search for Marcos, who had been ceremoniously “unmasked” during a press conference with the Attorney General and identified as Rafael Sebastián Guillén Vicente, a former university professor. Numerous activists accused of being Zapatista leaders were promptly arrested in the days that followed.
The massive military buildup in Chiapas included helicopters and planes, in part supplied by the United States. Originally intended to fight the “drug war” in Mexico, the helicopters and planes have been used since the 1994 uprising for prisoner transport and aerial surveillance. Since 1990, the United States has sold $40 million worth of military equipment to Mexico on credit and has essentially donated another $45 million in equipment through drug enforcement and eradication grants. Many Mexican army officers have received training in the United States and the U.S. maintains a joint radar installation with Mexico, near the Rancho Nuevo military base outside of San Cristóbal de las Casas, which provides “intelligence” information to the Mexican military regarding surrounding communities.
It’s important to recognize from the start that the current occupation of Chiapas by the Mexican Army is not about restoring peace. It’s about restoring control, order, and obedience so as to restore the “confidence” of international investors in Mexico as a “secure investment” environment. It’s about NAFTA. Zedillo ordered and supported the increased militarization of Chiapas in an effort to demonstrate the depth of his control and power as president. Investors are still waiting to see. One “Mexico expert” in Washington noted in Time Magazine (Feb. 20, 1995), “If Zedillo’s military plan works quickly, fine. Markets will be happy, everyone can get on with business.”
While the “success” of Zedillo’s “military plan” is still undecided, the toll, in terms of massive human suffering, became immediately evident when on Feb. 12 journalists and independent human rights observers finally granted access to the conflict zones. Reports of human rights violations, including the massive displacement of civilian populations into the surrounding mountains, proliferated. Numerous organizations, including the Catholic Church and the Zapatistas themselves, emphasized the importance of a strong international presence in the area to document the effects of militarization on people’s lives. I went to Chiapas to be part of that effort.
From February 19-26, I participated in a human rights delegation sponsored by Global Exchange, a San Francisco-based solidarity organization. The goals of the delegation were to provide accompaniment and protection to people affected by the escalated war and to accurately document human rights violations and the current general living conditions throughout the region.
After traveling for nearly two days by car, train, bus, and plane, I arrived on Saturday, Feb. 18 in San Cristóbal de las Casas, a small city in western Chiapas, exhausted but elated to see friends again and to begin working on the delegation. I showered, ate a simple meal of chicken soup, then wandered to the plaza of the main Cathedral-a major gathering place these days.
Seated in front of the Cathedral was a large group of primarily elderly women (members of Citizens for Peace) who have occupied the space since Feb. 9. They have vowed to remain there until the soldiers are removed and during the entire week of my stay they maintained a 24-hour presence in the Cathedral plaza. That night they prayed and sang for peace as the soft candlelight illuminated their faces. I knew right then that this was going to be a very inspirational week.
Sunday, February 19
I barely slept through the night, thinking about all of the work we had to do, and awoke at 6 am to the sounds of roosters crowing in the distance. Marty and Alejandro, the delegation co-leaders, had asked me to go to with them to the Tuxtla Gutiérrez airport to pick up the rest of the participants and help orient them to all that was happening.
As we arrived back in San Cristóbal from Tuxtla around 2 pm we noüced a number of police officers in front of the Cathedral so a few of us went to see what had happened. A friend of mine, who had been in the square all morning, told us trouble had started around 10 am when approximately 300 business owners and supporters, largely middle-class mestizos calling themselves Los Auténticos Coletos (The Authentic Citizens of San Cristóbal), had gathered at the Municipal Palace to honor the presence of the Mexican Army on this Armed Forces Day. The Coletos blame the Zapatistas for the decline in tourism and thus in their standard of living. They also hold the Zapatistas responsible for "inciting" many indigenous people who work as laborers in their homes, restaurants and hotels, thereby upsetting the status quo which has shaped the social order for hundreds of years in Chiapas.
This morning, as in the past, the Cathedral was targeted by the Coletos because it houses Catholic Bishop Samuel Ruiz García, who has worked for social justice in peasant and indigenous communities for over 30 years. The Coletos call Bishop Ruiz “The Red Bishop" and accuse him (falsely) of being a Zapatista. The Coletos marched from the central square to the Cathedral, carrying signs stating, "Peace will be made when Samuel Ruiz leaves," some even chanting "Death to the Bishop!"
When the marchers reached the Cathedral they were met by about 100 members of Citizens for Peace who had locked arms and formed a Peace-Belt around the church to protect it and the Bishop from harm. The Coletos threw eggs and stones at the PeaceBelt participants, attempted to set the Cathedral's main doors on fire, and broke wooden chairs which they used to beat people and break church windows. Cathedral defenders, according to several accounts, maintained their peaceful stance and did not particípate in any sort of retaliation. I talked to one woman afterward who proudly declared, "We wanted to fight back because we are of strong blood, but we controlled ourselves."
During the siege of the Cathedral, Peace Belt participants were joined by residents of La Hormiga, a barrio on the outskirts of town inhabited by hundreds of evangelical Tzotzil speaking Chamulans who had been expelled from San Juan Chamula by local strongmen. Their presence illustrated the support that Bishop Ruiz has across religious lines, and their numbers helped prevent even greater damage to the Cathedral and possible harm to the Bishop.
It wasn't until around 2 pm that security police forces finally arrived and cordoned off the area, just shortly before we arrived back from the airport.
As we surveyed the situation in the plaza we learned first hand that not everyone welcomed our presence there. Many people in Chiapas believe that foreigners (basically anyone not from Chiapas) are responsible for all of the protests and demands for change. One friend of mine, a particularly tall, blonde woman from the States, was singled out by a group of well-dressed Coleta women as one such trouble-making foreigner. They jabbed at her shoulder and screamed for her to go home, stating that people "like her" were causing all of the trouble.
It reminded me of several unsolicited remarks that taxi drivers had made to me during my short time there - that all of this trouble must be the work of "outsiders" because surely indigenous people are "incapable" of such organization, of such analysis of their lives or economic policies such as NAFTA. According to the cabbies, indigenous people are just too "uneducated." I heard this repeated throughout my stay and found it indicative of the racism existing in Chiapas, whereby Indians are seen as ignorant laborers and nothing more. It is a view pervasive in the non-indigenous population which must be addressed if any sort of substantive change is ever going to come about.
Monday, February 20
While three members of the delegation left San Cristóbal at 5am to travel to Agua Azul, a highly militarized area of Palenque, the rest of us showered and met for breakfast to discuss plans for the day. We had meetings scheduled with four different organizations in San Cristóbal, all of which focus on self-empowerment and are structured along grassroots, cooperative, and democratic lines.
"Why are you forming an artisan cooperative?" I asked 40 Indigenous women, members of Maya Ik, who had gathered to discuss the goals of their organization with us. "Because together we have the support of everyone; alone we have nothing," responded Socorro, a 30-year-old Tzeltal woman with three young sons. Standing at five feet tall, her presence filled the large room as she translated the meeting back and forth between Spanish and Tzotzil. She herself is a nativeTzeltal speaker and is currently learning Tojolobal from a friend so that she can communicate with more women.
Maya Ik is a sub-group of FIPI (Independent Front of Indigenous Peoples). Like the other groups we visited, the members of Maya Ik are committed to certain principles: member control over the terms of their own labor process, internal democracy, and insistence on a fair wage for members' labor - all ideals enshrined in the Mexican constitution and brought to the fore by the Zapatistas. Later that afternoon, our delegation met with Anna, the wife ofJorge Santiago Santiago who has been falsely accused by Zedillo of being a Zapatlsta leader. Mr. Santiago is the director of the internationally known DESMI , AC (Economic and Social Development of Indigenous Mexicans), an organization which has been working in impoverished communities in Mexico for over a decade. The arrest of Mr. Santiago illustrates the extent to which militarization signifles a crackdown on the work of non-governmental organizations working for justice and self-determination in the thousands of impoverished communities throughout Chiapas.
After Zedillo named him as one of the main "Zapatista leaders," Mr. Santiago remained in hls Teopisca home awaiting the arrival of the police. He was arrested, charged with rebellion, sedition, treason, terrorism, and conspiracy and taken to a maximum security prison in Mexico City for interrogation. He stands accused of being the main link between Subcomandante Marcos and Bishop Ruiz.
Anna held strong, despite the great pain and frustration she felt as she and many others attempted to gain her husband's freedom. She spoke with passion of Mr. Santlago's commitment to change in Chiapas and noted, "for that, he is now in prison."
Tuesday, February 21
This third day of our delegation’s visit began with a series of meetings with indigenous farmers living on the outskirts of San Cristóbal. Many tourist books describe San Cristóbal as an idyllic highland city, complete with sturdy colonial architecture and cobblestone streets. Few mention that the communities surrounding it are largely inhabited by indigenous peoples who have been forcibly expelled from their lands due to political and religious conflicts.
We packed ourselves into Alejandro's 1968 VW bus and traveled on dusty, bumpy roads to the barrio of Molino Utrilla where dozens of Tzotzil families, who had been kicked out of San Juan Chamula, have been living for some 20 years. In fact, since 1975 an estimated 30,000 people have been forcibly expelled from their communities throughout the highlands, with no legal recourse. Particularly in San Juan Chamula, cacíques (indigenous political bosses) and Indian religious leaders have worked with the PRI party in a grotesque symbiotic relationship. Community bosses guarantee PRI party votes while government officials take a hands-off approach when opposition political party supporters are threatened, intimidated, and forcibly expelled.
Cacíques and PRI officials invoke “culture” as a way of explaining and justifying the expulsions. PRI officials disingenuously explain that, “Indians have their own ways which must be respected.” Most of those forced out are evangelicals-as well as PRD members-who have renounced their participation in community festivals to which people are expected to contribute large amounts of cash, alcohol, cigarettes, candles, firecrackers, and Coca-Cola. Not surprisingly, local bosses control the sale and distribution of such products and thus feel their economic power threatened. Evangelicals have also been unsupportive of PRI corruption and have been ousted from their communities for refusing to particípate.
After visiting the residents of Molino Utrilla, we traveled back to the city's center where Torn Hansen of Pastors for Peace requested that our delegation accompany two men (José and Mateo) back to Pasté, the community from which they- and about 600 others - had been violently forced to leave three days earlier. The men, as representatives of the expelled group, wanted to document the damage done to their homes and property.
We drove to the Public Ministry office in San Cristóbal to pick up the two men we were to accompany and to meet with others from the 108 families who had been forced to leave Pasté. A group of about 50 men had gathered at the Ministry at 10 am to report their expulsión as well as the destruction to their homes and property. Without this report no investigation would be pursued. It was 4 pm when we arrived and Ministry officials still had not spoken with any of them. Even the doctor who was present refused to examine several wounded people since this would begin an official Investigation process. These are the kinds of stalling tactics which have been used for years when groups of expelled people have appealed for justice and have guaranteed impunity for PRI supporters in charge of the expulsions.
José and Mateo joined us - eight international accompaniers from Pastors for Peace and Global Exchange, and one Mexican lawyer - in our VW bus for the 20-minute ride to Pasté, where three days earlier over 500 PRI (Institutional Revolutionary Party) supporters wielding clubs and stones had attacked more than 100 PRD (Democratic Revolutionary Party) supporters as they held a meeting In the community. Members of both political parties are Pasté residents. PRD members' houses were ransacked and 24 were completely destroyed; 70 tons of corn and 9 tons of beans, as well as bicycles, tape recorders, a corn mill, and money were stolen. That night 12 people were wounded and 600 were chased out of their homes and off their lands, warned never to return.
We had agreed to accompany José and Mateo back to Pasté so that they could accurately document the destruction to their homes and belongings and thus submit a detailed complaint to the Public Ministry in San Cristóbal. We had been assured by officials at the Office of Indigenous Affairs (a PRI institution) that someone would be there to greet us so that we could survey the damage.
As we approached the church courtyard in Pasté, I began to get nervous. Someone was there to greet us, many people in fact. Hundreds of men wearing traditional pink woven tunics, signifying their ethnic and community identity as Tzotziles from Zinacantán, were awaiting our arrival. José and Mateo wore the same tunics yet they were evangelical supporters of the PRD; those gathered in the courtyard were Catholic Costumbristas (who follow a hybrid form of Catholicism) and PRI supporters.
During the drive to Pasté, Torn Hansen had reminded us that "When we get out of the van, if people start to come after José and Mateo we have to encircle them and shield them with our bodies." At the time, I had nodded in agreement. That's what we were there for - accompaniment and protection. Yet as several hundred angry men surrounded our van, my stomach turned and I questioned whether I had the courage to really go through with this. The men pressed their hands and faces on the windows and started to rock the van. I avoided their eyes, breathed deeply to control my fear, and imagined how I might safely escape if they were to topple the vehicle. There was no way out. I turned my attention to José and Mateo and saw in their faces both fear and sadness as they witnessed the profound division and hostility which had taken hold of their community.
The dozen police officers present kept their distance as some finished their lunches, then proceeded to record our license plate number. They had been notified of our arrival and posted there in case of trouble. Only the lawyer was allowed to leave the van and was promptly told by community authorities that we could not accompany the men to their homes - but that they were free to go alone. They declined "the offer." As we drove away slowly, I felt relief but also great frustration. Most of us in the van were driving off to safety; yet for the men we were accompanying, and their 600 compañeros, this was only the beginning.
When we arrived back at the Public Ministry in San Cristóbal at 5:30 pm, Ministry officials still had not taken reports from the expelled group. We began to pressure them, first by making our own report of how we had been surrounded and intimidated in Pasté, and then by making phone calls to the Interior Ministry in Mexico City complaining about the lack of response by employees in San Cristóbal.
Meanwhile, the men had not eaten all day and so while most of us waited, some went to get bread, cheese, and ham. Using an ever-so-useful Swiss Army knife and a backpack as a table, we prepared food for the group as night fell and a chill crept around us. At 9 pm Public Ministry employees finally emerged to begin taking reports- an unprecedented event! It illustrated in powerful ways for me the very sick reality that as U.S. citizens we had more influence and rights than did a group of Mexican citizens when dealing with their own "justice" system.
That night over dinner in San Cristóbal, the delegation reflected on the fear that we had felt in the van while in Pasté. My stomach was still nervous so I gnawed slowly at a piece of bread and drank mineral water. Some of us in the group had been active in the Civil Rights Movement and had experienced such confrontations before; some had no prior experience. Some, like myself, had been active In accompaniment work and were aware of the possible dangers but had never come face-to-face with them before. Our experience highlighted for me the very privileged position we in the group occupy as we are not forced to confront violence head-on in our daily lives. It saddened and angered me to think that as Chiapas continues to be militarized, more and more innocent people are going to be confronted everyday with this kind of terror and violence.
We had to think very carefully about our role as a group and about our own feelings as individuals in this accompaniment work since caciques, ranchers, and landowners from surrounding areas had called for a large (perhaps 5,000-person) armed march to take place on the Cathedral in San Cristóbal the next day in order to bum it down. We had been asked to be part of a resistance mobilization to peacefully protect the church.
Wednesday, February 22
I slept throughout the night, thinking about what might happen at the Cathedral the next day and about the courage of those who had been protecting it for weeks now, 24 hours a day. Everyone looked slightly haggard at breakfast as we discussed whether or not to join the Peace Belt but each one of us came alive as we decided unanimously that we would do it. We walked as a united group to the Cathedral where we joined hundreds of people, each donning a white plastic sash for peace. The security police were still present and had been joined by dozens of riot police in full regalia. Photographers and reporters were out in full force as well.
Five hours later no massive counter demonstration had materialized. The ranchers, caciques, and landowners had called off their march, only to reschedule it for the following Sunday (during which a black coffin with Bishop Rilz's name was paraded around the plaza area).
Thursday, February 23
This was a full day of travel outside of San Cristóbal for me. The delegation split into three groups, each of which documented human rights abuses in areas outside of San Cristóbal. I joined a group of Mexican solidarity and non-governmental organization workers on a trip to the Ocosingo/Lacandon jungle region to document the damage inflicted by the army and to deliver some basic aid supplies to a group of displaced people who had fled from their homes in fear as the army approached their communities.
We left San Cristóbal at 7 am in a three-ton truck piled high with blankets, food, medicines, and human rights observers. As we descended from the highlands to the fowland Ocosingo region we peeled back the heavy tarp In order to get some fresh air and sunshine. The damp chill of San Cristóbal was no longer with us.
(SEE NEXT PAGE) 7 DAYS IN CHIAPAS
After about three hours, we headed off the paved road on to a system of dirt roads predominant throughout Chiapas. We passed through numerous army checkpoints along the way and were promptly waved through, presumably because one of the largest civilian political organizations in the region, ARIC (Regional Association of Collective Interest) Union of Unions-Independent and Democratic, had called a three-day press conference in the Lacandon jungle to bring worldwide attention to the direct effects of militarization on the area. This apparently had put pressure on the government to let reporters and aid through - for now. Soon, however, the dirt roads on which we traveled will become virtually impassable with the rainy season - except of course by tank. I'm fearful that this is when major military actions could take place.
We traveled for about four hours on these dirt roads and passed two military convoys complete with jeeps mounted with machine guns, heavy trucks loaded with soldiers, and two tanks. Our first stop was La Estrella, a completely abandoned community of over 300 people. An eerie feeling pervaded the setting - half-dead dogs and pigs scavenged for food and ran in and out of houses whose walls had been left standing but whose insides had been completely destroyed by the army. Handmade furniture was overturned and chopped apart, clothing ripped to pieces, and the basic water system destroyed. The few medicines and syringes stocked in the community clinic had been smashed by heavy boots into the mud floor. Sacks of salt had been cut open and spread on the ground, as had the stores of corn - the mainstay of people’s diets. This was particularly painful for me to see, knowing how much back-breaking work it takes to plant and harvest the crop without the use of any modern machinery.
There have been no documented large scale massacres in Chiapas to this date- yet destruction of people's homes and stores of food means that families will endure great suffering in the coming months, perhaps years. Fearful of the army, the people of La Estrella fled into the surrounding mountains with nothing. They are suffering the effects of the cold, of hunger, of illness, and fright. Some 20,000 others have done the same. In their absence, the army proceeds to destroy their meager belongings such that people have nothing to which they can return. It is an attempt to break the spirit and will of the people and to drive them to the point of complete compliance; it is a form of prolonged and slow massacre.
We left La Estrella and conünued along the dirt road, heading into the Lacandon jungle. Massive deforestation, accomplished largely by logging companies and ranchers, marked the landscape and shade was rare in this "rainforest". Zapatista forces are concentrated further east where the fauna is still lush and dense.
Eight hours later we arrived in La Trinidad, where we spotted three low-flying military helicopters overhead. ResidentsfromLasTazas, a nearby community located on the Jataté River, arrived on horseback and unloaded the supplies from the truck and on to their horses. Later they would transport the aid to people who were hiding in the surrounding mountains.
We walked another mile in the dense heat, crossed the Jataté River in canoes, walked yet another mile, and eventually arrived in Las Tazas, where ARIC was holding its three-day press conference. The main open area of the community was well-lit by a generator (there Is no electricity in Las Tazas, nor in 75% of all Chiapan communities despite the fact that 60% of all Mexican electricity is generated In Chiapas). A stage had been constructed and people from about 40 different indigenous communities gathered for the press conference in order to denounce the militarization of their villages. They acknowledged that they were surrounded by the army and demanded its withdrawal because soldiers were detaining, intimidating, and torturing people In their homes and at military checkpoints. Reporters from all over the world had traveled in and out of Las Tazas, mostly by small plane, to document their statements but by this third evening no one from the press was present.
We celebrated ARIC's very moving closing ceremonies with the hundreds of community members present. People sang the Mexican national anthem with pride, as they held the sign of peace high above their heads: they then sang the Chiapas anthem and saluted the Mexican flag as two men carefully folded it. It was a moving event, filled with patriotism and illustrative of the national pride which people carry deep within them. Their demands, to be fully incorporated into a democratic political process as full Mexican citizens, emanate from the reality that their present status is something much less. That night, after the closing ceremonies, we listened to numerous accounts of intimidation and torture , including the experience of Aniceto Hernández. Mr. Hernández was living in Las Tazas after fleeing from his home in a nearby community. An ARIC member led us to a house away from the lighted center from which Mr. Hernández emerged, looking distraught and tired , his wounded hand wrapped in an old bandana.
Aniceto Hernández told us that the day before we arrived in Las Tazas, on Feb. 22, his house had been surrounded by military tanks and soldiers. They accused him of being a Zapatista leader. At 2 pm, they forced him out of his home and carried him to the local school where they proceeded to interrogate him about the location of other Zapatistas as well as any weapons he might have. As soldiers questioned him, they kicked and punched him in the stomach while placing a plastic bag over his head (three times}, nearly suffocating him. They left, stating that they were not going to kill him but that they would leave orders with local ranchers to do so. He fled immediately alter the torture, leaving his wife and children behind.
Many people also spoke of being harassed and intimidated at army checkpoints where they were questioned and detained. If they did not answer the questions barked at them (in Spanish) quickly enough they were kicked and beaten: if they were carrying food (tortillas or pozole) to the fields where they work, they were accused of taking supplies to the Zapatistas. Women have been badgered about their husband's whereabouts and many have been forced to cook for soldiers. After hearing these stories we were taken back to the lighted area where the marimba and drums had been assembled. People recognized that at that moment we were surrounded by the army, but they wanted to celebrate their unity, strength, and courage - and so we danced. Young women dressed in their finest flooded the dirt dance floor, waltzing with each other as pairs of young men attempted to cut in. Few succeeded. A leading member of ARIC approached me and asked me to dance. I accepted, making us the first male-female couple in the crowd . The audience howled with pleasure and I couldn't stop laughing. What a privilege it was to share these joyful moments with them.
We danced until midnight when the generator ran out of fuel. A darkness blanketed everything and an uncomfortable silence permeated the area.I slept restlessly that nlght in Las Tazas thinking about the thousands of people trying to sleep in the mountains around us, thinking about what would happen in the coming months to all these people with whom I'd danced in the night
Friday, February 24
We awoke to the sound of roosters crowing, dogs barking, and children playing. It was 5 am. We had slept in a small concrete shelter complete with small tables on which we placed our sleeping bags. I stumbled into the emerging sunshine and went straight for the water pump to wash my face and attempted to comb my hair, which was matted with dust and sweat.
An hour later, after eating a few tortillas from the night before, we began walking to an unspecified area of the jungle. No one told us where we were headed. After a few hours we stopped and waited. Slx men emerged from a small shed-like building and idenüfled themselves as Zapatista soldiers. Their faces were covered with red scarves but I could teil from their eyes and their hands that their ages ranged from 19 (maybe younger) to 40 or 50. We had been brought to this place explicitly to listen to a statement which they had prepared. They sat in a semi-circle around us and, since one woman in our group had a video camera, they asked us to tape the meeting so that we might share their words with others. As the tape rolled, one man pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket and began to read: "As soldiers of the EZLN we have decided to take up arms and declared war on January 1,1994 because of the conditions we suffer, the misery, the poverty. We don't have health, doctors, or medicines; we die from curable diseases because of the lack of transportation and communication. We live in very isolated places. As poor peasant farmers, the indigenous of Chiapas, we have organized for many years in peaceful, political organizations to reclaim our rights and justice - but the federal government never pays any attention to us. For 500 years we have died, we have been treated like animals. And so we decided to take up arms. We don't see any other way."
The truth of their words stung as I thought about the struggles that lay ahead for them - the repression they will face, and not just the armed Zapatista forces but all indigenous people in this area, who are seen as guilty because of who they are. These men noted that the Zapatistas have standing orders not to engage in combat with the Mexican army so as to minimize the military's justification for repressing civilian populations throughout Chiapas. The truth is that at this time the army, with its superior firepower, could crush the Zapatistas; only political and international pressure keeps that from becoming a reality.
The trip back that day and evening to San Cristóbal was a long and arduous one, complete with a flat tire for most of the ride. There was a lot - too much perhaps - to think about and do.
Saturday, February 25
I awoke in the hostel in San Cristóbal once again - complete with a warm, soft bed, tile floor, and shower. It was such a different reality from the one in which I had spent a mere day and a half just hours before. Yet the two are very connected.
I spent the day with my fellow travelers writing a detailed report about our trip which was later released to the press and used In numerous articles. By the evening I was trying to mentally prepare myself to come back, once again, to Ann Arbor, yet another reality connected to the one in Chiapas.
EPILOGUE
If there's one message that both the Zapatlstas and civilians organizing for change left me with, it was this: that we need to be organizing everywhere, making the links between the demands for change voiced in Chiapas with demands for change here In the United States. At the present time we are being barraged with anti-immigrant, anti-working class, anti-poor policies to which we need to exclaim BASTA! (Enough!) as people out Mexico did last January.
What else can we do? Perhaps most importantly we need to continue to pressure for demilitarization of Chiapas so that peace negotiations can begin once again. People there want peace, not war! But not at just any price. We must be vigilant of U.S. support for military actions in Chiapas as well as throughout Mexico and we must denounce any transfer of weapons, infrastructure, and technical assistance.
There are many parallels that can be drawn between the current situation in Chiapas and the counterinsurgency tactics used in Guatemala during the early 1980s. However, unlike in Guatemala, Lhere is worldwide attention being paid to Chiapas and international accompaniment makes a real difference. Few were documenting the destruction and massacres taking place in the Guatemalan highlands and the military acted with impunity. This must not be repeated in Chiapas.
FOR MORE INFORMATION For more information about parücipation In upcoming delegations, contact Global Exchange, 201 7 Mission Street #303, San Francisco, California 94110:1-800-497-1994: globalexch@igc.org. . For more information about Chiapas, cali, write, or contribute to SIPAZ (International Service for Peace), a newly-formed initiative attempting to provide an ongoing international, non-governmental, and nonviolent presence Chiapas. SIPAZ, coPhil McManus, Fellowship of Reconciliation, 515 Broadway, Santa Cruz, CA 95060: 408-423-1626: fomatl@igc.apc.org. Also, see this month 's Literary Supplement for reviews of two new books about the conflict in Mexico: "Rebellion From the Roots," by John Ross: and "First World, Ha Ha Ha!," edited by Elaine Katzenberger. Debbie Billings is a graduate student in the Department of Sociology at the University of Michigan.