In a Mexico ‘Tired of Violence,’ Zapatista Rebels Venture Into Politics
By Paulina Villegas, NY Times, Aug. 26, 2017
The Zapatistas, the most powerful political rebels in Mexico in nearly 100 years, are renouncing armed revolution, after decades of opposing the government, for a simple reason: Mexico is so riddled with violence, they say, that the country cannot handle any more of it.
The decision is a searing commentary on the state of Mexico today, analysts say. The rebels have not reached a peace deal with the government, nor won their longstanding push for indigenous rights. But killings in Mexico are rising so quickly that even a movement rooted in armed struggle feels compelled to back away from violence.
“This shows the extent to which Mexicans are tired of violence,” said Jesús Silva-Herzog, a political-science professor at the School of Government at Tecnológico de Monterrey. “Political radicalism today has to be pacifist because the public, social and economic life in Mexico has been stained with blood for far too long.”
Subcommander Marcos, the rebel leader who became a global phenomenon in 1994 when the Zapatistas stormed into towns in the state of Chiapas, stood on stage for a brief moment a few months ago, hidden behind a throng of fighters, youngsters with piercings and indigenous followers in hand-stitched blouses.
After a few rounds of applause, photographs and revolutionary chants, he quietly walked off the stage, a stark departure from the fiery speeches on inequality and armed revolution that once drew him international attention and willing recruits.
But now, the Zapatistas say, more violence, no matter the cause, is the last thing Mexico needs.
Instead, they have decided to work within the system they once revolted against, backing a candidate to run for president in next year’s elections.
“We arrived at a breaking point,” said Carlos González, a spokesman for the National Indigenous Congress, an organization that represents indigenous groups in Mexico, who was speaking for the Zapatistas as well.
“Taking up arms was out of the question,” he said. “It was just too bloody of an option,” though he did not rule out taking up arms again at some point in the future.
Violence has long plagued Mexico, where more than 100,000 people have been killed and more than 30,000 have disappeared in the decade-long drug war.
But this year, deaths have hit new heights: May and June set consecutive 20-year records for the number of homicide scenes across the country.
Letting go of the revolutionary identity that once defined them, the Zapatistas, whose full name is the Zapatista Army of National Liberation, are venturing into electoral politics. They have endorsed María de Jesús Patricio Martínez, a healer from the indigenous Nahua people, in next year’s presidential elections.
“In Mexico, being an indigenous person means being treated as half a person, and if you are a woman, even less so,” said Mrs. Patricio, 57, who is not a Zapatista herself.
The Zapatista goal, they say, is not to win, but rather to use the 2018 election as a platform to voice the issues most pressing to Mexico’s indigenous communities.
“We couldn’t care less about the presidency; all we want to do is crash the election party and ruin it,” said Mr. González, the spokesman.
The Mexican government says that it welcomes “all political and social expressions,” including the Zapatista-backed candidate, arguing that it contributes to a stronger democracy.
When they first appeared in 1994, the threat of violence was part of the Zapatista program. A transfixed nation watched as an army of indigenous peasants, wearing ski masks and toting assault weapons, stormed several towns in the southern state of Chiapas and declared war against the Mexican state.
The rebels demanded the recognition and protection of indigenous communities, which have persistently ranked at the bottom of the country’s socio-economic ladder. With their armed insurrection, black balaclavas and fervent speeches, the Zapatistas forced Mexico to grapple with its long history of inequality.
The uprising came at a particularly sensitive time, as Mexico was in the throes of globalization and its deepening relationship with the United States. The North American Free Trade Agreement was enacted on the day the uprising started.
After a 12-day confrontation between government troops and Zapatista fighters, a first truce took place. It soon crumbled when the president at the time, Ernesto Zedillo, issued arrest warrants for prominent Zapatistas members, including the group’s only nonindigenous spokesman, Subcommander Marcos.
With the impassioned speeches from its horse-riding, mysterious leader, the Zapatistas quickly attracted legions of followers both locally and abroad. Some hailed the rebels’ fight as the first “postmodern revolution.”
A rocky negotiation process with the government ensued, leading to the San Andrés Accords, signed in 1996. It promised a constitutional reform that would grant limited autonomy to indigenous communities, such as the right to elect councils for local rule over their lands.
But when the reform was finally passed in 2001, it excluded the right to autonomous rule over their territories, prompting the Zapatistas to cut all ties with the government and political parties.
Their momentum began to fade. The rebels vanished from the public radar, returning to their hide-outs in the Lacandon jungle and quietly organizing their own communities in lieu of seeking publicity.
And then three years ago, Subcommander Marcos gave a speech reflecting on the Zapatista army and laying out what would ultimately become, this year, the rebels’ new course of action.
“We choose life, not death,” he said in the speech. “Instead of building barracks and improving our arsenal of weapons, we built schools, hospitals, and we improved our living conditions.”
The Zapatistas were changing, and so was he. He changed his name to Subcommander Galeano, to honor a fallen comrade. And he announced the death of the persona of Subcommander Marcos. There was no longer a need for it, he said, describing himself as “a suit made for the media.”
In the following years, the Zapatista-controlled territories exercised de facto autonomy, delivering broad access to education and health services. Organized crime has been unable to penetrate the area.
