The Face of Fear

by Stan Gotlieb

In 1968, when Luis Echeverría was Secretary of the Interior (and in charge of all the police functions of the government) in the cabinet of Gustavo Diaz Ordaz, Mexico was about to host the summer Olympics. Stadiums had been built, hotels had been refurbished, and everyone awaited the flocks of tourists that were expected to spend millions of dollars, to the benefit of a small percentage of the population. The vast majority of Mexicans who lived at or below the poverty line wouldn't notice the difference, of course; and they had in fact suffered cutbacks as money was diverted from school building, hospital funds, and University development.
In response, and to expose what to them was the hidden face of Mexico to the world, students at the national universities began a series of demonstrations and teach-ins, street blockages, and press conferences. Diaz Ordaz ordered Echeverría to stop these activities by whatever means necessary. Echeverria called on an elite and secret “anti-terrorist” unit of the Army.
On the 2nd of October, 1968, a rally was being held in the plaza of a student housing project in the barrio of Tlatelolco. The streets leading to the square were blocked by Army units armed with 50-caliber machine guns and the roofs surrounding the square were occupied by riflemen, some in uniform and some not. Shots were fired, and when it was over some 300 students were dead, and over 3,000 students detained, of which 86 were imprisoned (for “murdering” two soldiers killed in the crossfire).
Diaz Ordaz is dead. So is General Marcelino García Barragán, then Secretary of the Army, and General Crisóforo Mazón Pineda, then the leader of the Tlatelolco operation. That makes Echeverría the only one left to tell the tale, a story which he has heretofore been protected from telling by a law that gives all ex-presidents (he succeeded Diaz Ordaz at the nation's helm) immunity from investigation and prosecution—a law now abrogated by legislative fiat and an order of the nation's Supreme Court. Forced to appear before a congressional investigative committee looking into the “dirty war” against dissent that was waged by the PRI for 20 years (some say, up to today, pointing to recent political killings in Oaxaca and Guerrero), he was handed a list of written questions, and given 30 days to submit written answers. Those answers are due this month.
Echeverria was one of a long line of presidents selected from within the hierarchy of the Partido Revolucionario Institucionál (the Institutional Revolutionary Party; PRI), which ruled Mexico for over 70 years, until 2000.
Echeverria may still get out of answering the questions, and certainly he can stall: tame judges, bought and paid for by the PRI over many years, will be willing to provide him with amparos (injunctions) if asked. Many PRI thieves (most PRI are not thieves; many thieves are not PRI; still, the majority of high crimes by politicians and their supporters over the years can be laid at the feet of the PRI) are free today, having been convicted years ago and then been released on an amparo; or never having had to stand trial due to an amporo issued after indictment. However, he is a very macho guy, and may consider an amparo cowardly, preferring to bluster and bluff his way through.
Certainly, he never would have found himself in this position if the PRI still controlled the presidency and the legislature. In that sense, his ordeal can be credited directly to President Vicente Fox Quesada's win in 2000. More important, however, are the survivors of the 1968 student movement, and of another massacre in 1971 in which Echeverría was also involved. Now in their 50s and at the height of their academic, economic and political power (the cabinet of MexCity mayor Lopez Obrador has a few, as does the congressional delegation of the PRD), they have kept the memory of Tlatelolco alive.
Everyone knew the truth, but nobody could “prove” it until, by Fox's order, the heretofore secret and sealed secret police archives from the relevant period, stored in the basement of the infamous “black hole,” Lukemberry Prison (now, ironically, a “prison museum”) were opened to public scrutiny.
After appearing before the committee, Echeverría decided to accede to the requests of some reporters standing outside the building, covering a demonstration by a survivor group. Eschewing his bodyguards, he walked out the door by himself, an act of foolish bravado. When the mob moved in on him, the security people inside the building came out and extracted him without injury, but the look of fright on his face (captured by a photographer from the leftist daily paper La Jornada) must have been very satisfying to the hundreds of thousands of Mexicans whose friends and family members were killed, imprisoned, or disappeared during the “dirty war” of the 60s, 70s and 80s.
By the way, don't kid yourselves. Vicente Fox doesn't give one small hoot for all the victims of the dirty war. He and his party (National Action; PAN) are from the right of the political spectrum and regard protest of any sort as unseemly if not unpatriotic. This is about settling of political accounts, and providing Circuses for the people (as in “bread and circuses”). Fox is currently in vast trouble himself, having been caught accepting large donations from foreign sources during his campaign in 2000: a high crime under the Mexican Constitution.
Political corruption, repression of dissent, imprisonment of dissident leaders: did they learn it from us? Did we learn it from them? Some days the only way I know if I ever crossed the border is the freshness of the tortillas.

Stan Gotlieb lives in Oaxaca, Mexico. His writings and memoirs can be read on the Internet at www.realoaxa.com . He publishes a twice-monthly subscriber newsletter, a sample of which can be seen at www.realoaxaca.com/newsample.html . His e-mail address is stan@realoaxaca.com