The Dirty War in Oaxaca

BY STAN GOTLIEB

There were more drive-by shootings last night. Reports are that one striker was injured, though not seriously. So far, depending on who’s telling the tale, about six people have been killed, all strikers, and dozens injured. The number of “disappeared” is somewhere around 20.

The shootings and disappearances are the work of “death squads” comprised of local state and (some say) federal police, and professional gunslingers, who tear through the streets wearing ski masks and are armed with heavy caliber automatic weapons (the AR-15 seems to be their favorite: it’s military issue). None are in uniform.

Except for the strikers and the death squads, the only other people on the streets after dark are the freelance armed robbers looking for a quick score. Oaxaca, once one of the safest cities in Mexico, has turned into one of the most dangerous.

To understand what is going on here, one has first to comprehend the meaning of the otherwise bland statistics. Oaxaca, one of the largest states in the Union and one of the most biodiverse in the world, is also one of the poorest in Mexico. With illiteracy rates and malnutrition, infant mortality and cervical cancer much higher than the already appalling national figures, Oaxacans are in desperate shape. Primarily an agricultural state (there are few manufacturing facilities of significant size here), Oaxaca has suffered enormously from the forced removal of tariffs on corn and beans (Mexico’s dietary staple) by the NAFTA treaty, and the subsequent dumping of subsidized U.S. product on the Mexican market. Added to this is the proliferation of (illegal) biogenetic corn, forcing farmers whose crops are contaminated to buy expensive fertilizers and pesticides to match the strains, at inflated prices. The result has been a massive dislocation of farmers from their lands, first to the cities (Oaxaca city alone is estimated to have an “unofficial” population of about 20 percent), then to the agribusiness belt to the north, and then to the trail of tears that crosses the Rio Bravo (Rio Grande to you). Whole villages exist on remittances from family members working illegally “al otro lado” (on the other side). All the working age men and some of the women are gone, leaving the old and infirm to raise the children.

The situation has gotten so bad that there is actually a nongovernmental agency funded by U.S. charities going around from village to village to teach the women to drive so that the local bus, which has been sitting idle for months because everyone who knew how to drive is gone, can once again be used to cut a four- hour walk to a 20-minute ride.

In the mountains where the majority of Oaxacans live, the few working schools have no roofs or windows; no bathrooms (not even an outhouse); no chairs, no books, and no qualified teachers. They rarely go past the ninth grade, but that doesn’t matter because the students rarely stay past the fourth. Not that it matters much: Children suffering from severe malnutrition have trouble learning anyway.

Oaxaca has tens of thousands of teachers. Most of them are conscientious, qualified people who want desperately to do a good job. Many are time-wasting hacks who hardly ever teach anybody anything and are in their jobs because they pay a kickback to their union. In Oaxaca, the union controls where each teacher will go to teach. They also control who gets appointed to the state board of education. The teachers’ union leadership in Oaxaca makes Jimmy Hoffa look like a piker, and they are a distinct improvement over what they were before they revolted against the national leadership. So, when they came to Oaxaca city to tie up the center for a couple of weeks this year, as they have for the last 26 years, everybody ho-hummed and, as much as possible, went about their business, expecting that the strike would end as it always had: with the government making promises about furnishing more books, more shoes for students, more hot lunches, and a higher salary for teachers (most of which would never be delivered upon). Only they didn’t count on the new governor.

Ulises Ruiz, elected (as is normal) by fraud—stuffing ballot boxes, buying votes, intimidation of voters, and killing some key opposition organizers—was off campaigning for his protector, Roberto Madrazo, running for president of the Republic, when the teachers came to town. Whether or not he ordered it , the State Judicial Police, along with local cops, attacked the maestros, destroyed their encampments, tear gassed and beat them and their children. Outraged by this tactic, tens of thousands of ordinary citizens and advocacy organizations responded, drove the police out of the center, and declared war on the governor. “Ulises Fuera” (get out), and “Ulises se Cayó” (he has already fallen) became the slogans, and the forced closure of all government offices of every level became the tactic, along with blockades of major highways, and the cutting off of the center to all traffic. The idea was to prove that Ulises should not be governor because he could not govern.

Then came the death squads. A new website appeared, called Oaxaca en Paz (Oaxaca in Peace), with names, pictures and addresses of opposition leaders and key sympathizers; journalists and university professors: the usual laundry list of undesirables from the point of view of the ruling class. And here we are. A city in ruins. A population in a high state of agitation. Completely opposing propaganda emanating from the radio, television (the strikers have taken over some stations) and newspapers. Rumors flying in every direction. Nothing resolved.

That’s where we are today (August 30). Tomorrow, the popular assembly, self-named, that subsumed the teachers into their ranks when they came to town after the original police attack, will be meeting with the Internal Secretariat in Mexico City to try to negotiate a settlement. But even if they do find a way to end the occupation, the basic injustice and brutality of the political system will not go away. For better or worse, Mexico has entered a stage of struggle that has to change—and will continue to change—the face of Oaxaca and the country: Rebellions and repressions are occurring all over the map.

Stan Gotlieb lives in and writes from Oaxaca, in southern Mexico. He publishes a subscriber Newsletter, samples of which can be read at www.realoaxaca.com/newsample.html