Sunday, July 28, 2013

From the Archive: EZLN resists construction of a “new Cancún” in Chiapas


EZLN resists construction of a “new Cancún” in Chiapas



From the nearest main road, the path to the Zapatista Army of National Liberation (EZLN) autonomous community of Bolon Ajaw is narrow and long, winding through dense jungle along the edge of a steep mountainside. As the setting sun gave way to pitch darkness during my first trek to the community, one of the fifteen or so machete-wielding Zapatista security escorts walking at my side suggested we be especially cautious because we were passing by “OPDDIC territory.” OPDDIC (Organization for the Defense of Indigenous and Peasant Peoples) is an Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI)-affiliated anti-Zapatista paramilitary group that staged an armed attack against Bolon Ajaw only months before.

The attack occurred on February 6, when Bolon Ajaw residents confronted a group of some 80-90 PRI supporters—known members of OPDDIC, according to residents of Bolon Ajaw—from the nearby Agua Azul ejido and tourist site who had invaded the Zapatista community with the intent to seize valuable land adjacent to a river and a series of large waterfalls. Reports suggest that some of the PRI supporters had been occupying parts of the community since January 20th. [1] When Bolon Ajaw members, with the help of Zapatistas from other communities in the region, eventually gathered to peacefully remove their uninvited guests, a violent conflict erupted. 

Contrary to the Chiapas Attorney General’s statements [2] suggesting that the Zapatistas had been armed, David, a Bolon Ajaw resident present at the conflict stated, “The OPDDIC members arrived with the guns. There were more than 300 of us Zapatistas defending the land but only with sticks and machetes. At first, people were only exchanging blows but then it got worse.”

David went on to explain how the dispute made its way to the other side of the community where the PRI supporters eventually opened fire. According to the Fray Bartolomé de las Casas Human Rights Center (Frayba) of San Cristóbal de las Casas, Chiapas, the PRIistas began shooting houses and then ransacked the community church—after which, they turned their weapons on the people.  By the end of the shooting, one PRI member was left dead as a result of friendly-fire wound while 11 others were injured—including three Zapatistas. [3] Even though Bolon Ajaw has been relatively calm since the February attack, the community is still reeling and ultimately anticipating future incursions. 

Threats and attacks have been plaguing the community for years. [4] While paramilitary violence and intimidation have been staple components of state counterinsurgency strategy against the Zapatistas since the mid-1990s, [5] the situation in Bolon Ajaw has been particularly contentious. 

The autonomous community land—recuperated from large landowners during the Zapatista armed uprising of 1994, and eventually converted into a community in 2003—is now inhabited by some 25 families but fiercely sought after by a number of external parties. The reason: Bolon Ajaw sits along the banks of a pristine emerald-blue river that flows into a series of towering “cascadas," or waterfalls. While the residents of Bolon Ajaw see the river and cascadas as a source of livelihood in the middle of the sweltering Chiapan jungle, the other interested parties have something else in mind—profit. The campaign to seize and privatize the Zapatista land, for sale to resort developers, is part of a much larger plan to convert the entire region surrounding the river into a tourist destination.

Operating under the project name Centro Integralmente Planeado Palenque (CIPP), the Mexican government endeavors to expropriate roughly 21,000 hectares of land around the river for the construction of hotels, a golf course, and a natural theme park. [6] In the words of former Chiapas Governor, Roberto Armando Albores Guillén, the objective of this neoliberal development scheme is to essentially construct “a new Cancún in the north of Chiapas”. [7]  

To the residents of Bolon Ajaw, this plan is largely regarded as a looming death sentence that would, at best, result in their displacement if realized.

“Right now we’re working to defend our community from the construction of these megaprojects,” said Gloria, a resident of Bolon Ajaw, “We use the river for everything: to bathe, to drink, to cook. We need this land to survive.” 

For the people of Bolon Ajaw, the mere act of existing constitutes a form of resistance to CIPP and its capitalist motivations.

The Zapatistas Today—Making the State Obsolete
Despite these ongoing struggles, interest in the Zapatistas has been ever-dwindling since their armed uprising on January 1, 1994. While the present-day realities of organizing for indigenous autonomy and resistance to the ravages of modern capitalism in Chiapas may not always be sensational or gripping, they are certainly still relevant to the contemporary international movement for social justice. As sociologist Immanuel Wallerstein notes, “The Zapatistas were saying from the outset that their five-century-long protest against injustice and humiliation and demand for autonomy was linked today organically to the worldwide struggle against neoliberalism and imperialism...” In Wallerstein’s assessment, “There is no question that the Zapatista insurrection of 1994 became a major inspiration for antisystemic movements throughout the world.” However, Wallerstein is also quick to rally attention to the movement’s current work on the construction of autonomy as a source of lessons for the rest of the world. [8] Such processes are today largely characterized by the development of Zapatista support-base communities like Bolon Ajaw.

According to Richard Stahler-Sholk, a professor of political science at Eastern Michigan University who studies the Zapatistas, the establishment and consolidation of support-base communities—which are designed to function independently from the Mexican state—allow local preferences to take priority over the dictates of global capital.  The autonomous communities are a major part of the movement’s resistance to what he refers to as “neoliberal homogenization” – i.e. the marginalization and co-optation of people and cultures by market forces under the brokerage of the state. 

In the book Dancing with Dynamite: Social Movements and States in Latin America journalist Benjamin Dangl describes how the “dance”, or dynamics, between Latin American social movements—like the Zapatistas—and the state constitute a frontline in the modern struggle for global justice. Dangl explains how processes of grassroots social action erode the capacities of illegitimate and oppressive power-structures and institutions, writing, “In this dance, the urgency of survival trumps the law, people acting based on the rights they were born with makes the state irrelevant...” [9]

Stahler-Sholk, who describes the Zapatista project in its current form as a “quiet and persistent rebellion,” specifically emphasizes their various non-market alternatives for life and community development when commenting on the movement’s reshaping of socio-political landscapes. He writes, "Since 1994, [the Zapatistas] have developed a variety of self-sufficient production, exchange, and social service projects: collective garden patches, rabbit raising, beekeeping, candle making, agroecology experimentation, locally controlled schools, networks of health promoters trained in combinations of modern and traditional healing, etc.” [10] 


While community-run schools and primary health care may not be the kinds of rebellion that make newspaper headlines, Stahler-Sholk argues that these aspects of the movement are the essence of modern Zapatista resistance, stating, “What is so impressive and powerful about the Zapatistas is startlingly simple. People are just living their everyday lives as though they are in charge of their own affairs, not waiting for permission.”


The Struggle Continues
During one of my last days in Bolon Ajaw, I was approached by a young community-member with a pamphlet detailing the aforementioned plans for neoliberal development of the region. The text was entirely Mayan Tzeltal but he translated key points for me about resource and territory privatization plans under CIPP, Plan Puebla Panama, Plan Merída and other capitalist megaprojects bent on compromising the well-being of indigenous peoples for the sake of profit. “We’re really struggling for this land,” he told me, “OPDDIC and the government may want this property to make money but it is ours. It’s not for sale.”

As our conversation drew to a close, the young man said to me, “It’s like a war against the poor…it seems that our governments and these companies are just trying to kill campesinos.” I immediately thought back to a 1995 Chase Manhattan Bank internal memo I had once read in which the author, Riordan Roett, argued a “need” for the Mexican government to “eliminate” the Zapatistas in order to ease concerns about the then-fledgling rebel movement among members of the international investment community. A startlingly clear illustration of the “profit over people” mentality at the core of neoliberal capitalism.

“Yes,” I responded, “it does seem that way.”
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