Santo Tomas Resists

On 1 January 1994, NAFTA, the free trade agreement signed between the United States, Canada and Mexico, officially entered into force. That same day, the Zapatista Army of National Liberation occupied seven towns in the state of Chiapas, Mexico. From the town hall of San Cristobal de las Casas, Subcomandante Marcos issued the famous “Primera declaracion de la Selva Lacandona,” formally declaring war on Mexico’s central government and promising freedom, justice and democracy to all oppressed indigenous peoples.

Throughout 12 days the guerrillas, their faces covered with scarfs and balaclavas, fought the regular army, leaving a hundred dead on the field. In the end, then Mexican president Carlos Salinas had to come to terms with the insurgents.

There were no social networks in those days. All the same, the message of that armed, clandestine, anti-capitalist movement standing in defence of the poorest and the oppressed went viral.

The myth of the peasant rebelling against the multinational corporations, unbridled neoliberalism, exploitation and corruption spread like wildfire around the world. Work, land, housing, food, health, education, independence but above all freedom, democracy and justice became recurrent slogans and the Zapatista army became a symbol.

This year, exactly 25 years since the movement began, the Zapatista National Liberation Army (EZLN) has changed profoundly. In Chiapas the five great caracoles (Zapatista self-ruled areas) are now acknowledged self-governing districts, though poorly tolerated.

The Indigenous Government Council (CIG), although without resolving the problem of indigenous communities, has managed to gain widespread recognition and concessions to protect the ethnic minorities of Tzeltal, Tzotzil, Zoque, Tojolabal and Chol, of Maya origin.

Every year, during the meetings of the “CIG Support Networks”, Chiapas is invaded by tourists and sympathisers from around the world to take part in “Zapatours”, radical-chic jaunts into the heart of the movement, complete with souvenirs and selfies in balaclavas..

And what was founded as a no-global movement has ended up being globalised, becoming media-friendly and touristic. While the balaclavas and red scarves are no longer used to hide their identity, the campesinos continue to use them to claim membership in the movement.

It might almost seem that the revolutionaries have achieved their goal by conquering their corner of paradise in one of the most beautiful places in the world. But the reality is different. Outside the five large strongly militarised caracoles, there are about 2,000 other indigenous-occupied enclaves where everyday life takes place in a state of permanent guerrilla warfare, fighting for a piece of land or a watercourse in extreme poverty.

This is the case of the Comunidad de Santo Tomas, a Tzeltal enclave settled on 200 hectares of untilled land 60 kilometers from San Cristobal. InsideOver ventured into the Lacandona Jungle, also known as the Selva Negra, to learn about the living conditions of this small indigenous community of some 500 people.

Here the days begin early and slowly. In the first light of dawn the men gather in the central square where the men keeping guard have kept a fire burning all night long. Before starting each activity, the assembly plans the day. It assigns the land to be cleared and cultivated, indicates the oak trees that will be turned into charcoal by each family, decides who will carry out special tasks, collects money for the cash fund and organises the collective expenditure.

There are no schools here. The children speak broken Spanish and their perception of the world is limited to the 200 hectares of land on which they live. There is a church, but it is almost always closed, since its officiant, the highly respected Juan Perez de La Cruz, was murdered in an ambush just a year ago. “His widow,” recount the guerrillas, “was forced to move with her children to the city where she lives by begging. But we’ve kept her hut. Because when we conquer this land, she will be entitled to a piece of it.”

This land, for which so much blood has been shed, in actual fact offers nothing. It is dry and stony, with a small stream trickling through it. The indigenous people cultivate corn and frijoles (corn and beans, Ed.). But every year the harvest is hardly enough to feed the community.

Some extra income comes from making charcoal in keeping with ancient Mayan rituals. But after a month’s work an average family is unable to bring home more than 1000 pesos, about 50 Euros, barely enough to buy sugar, coffee, soap and other bare necessities.

Since it was founded, Santo Tomas has been attacked several times by the government military. On several occasions, they have tried in vain to completely evacuate the area. The former “gringo” owners (as the Americans are called here) also tried to evict the people by hiring mercenary commandos. The men tell of a two-day battle that forced women and children to fall back into the forest, won only thanks to faith in God.

And the people’s living conditions are made even more difficult by the inhabitants and the authorities of the neighbouring municipalities, who harbour a deep hatred for them. Every now and then the police show up and demand protection money to leave them in peace. At the same time, ambushes by unidentified assailants are frequent.

The last unpunished murder dates back to 23 January of this year and brought mourning to Santo Tomas. The victim, Estelina López Gómez, was shot dead while leaving the community with her husband.

Life here is incredibly hard but these guerrillas have no alternative. For them, giving up the struggle would mean death. There is no space in modern society for an indigenous people that lives by its ancient codes and rituals. Further, being part of an organized structure like the Zapatista Army helps them to believe in a cause and enables them to move forward with a faint hope for the future.