The Legacy Project: Guatemala Report

February 10: Report from Guatemala City, Guatemala: The Unknown Genocide

If you believe the guidebooks, Guatemala City is a warzone, a place from which you'll be lucky to emerge intact. Should you hope to visit from nearby Antigua, experts will steer you towards $10 minivan shuttles instead of the local chicken buses; the latter, they will lead you to believe, will surely be boarded by armed gunmen who will leave you shaking on and sticking to your old vinyl seat in nothing more than your underwear.

The mistake those guidebooks make in trying to prepare tourists for potentially adverse conditions is that they present Guatemala City in its worst, most exceptional aspects. In all but the worst of places, life proceeds implacably, undeterred by the bleakest historical stigmas or contemporary plagues. Sure enough, in Guate you will witness a universal panorama - young people making out in the park, adults rushing from "important thing" to "another important thing," old people talking to pigeons, and mangy dogs anxious to spread the seed.

That is not to suggest that Guate is not scarred by violence. Indeed, the country has faced great challenges in recent years, despite the hope that followed the civil war's conclusion in 1996. 12 years of peace and democracy sounds good on paper, but those have been 12 years of continued impunity for the 1980s genocide, 12 years of economic stagnation, and 12 years of what has been declared the worst democracy on earth. As Benito Morales of the Rigoberta Menchu foundation says, "We are still at point zero."

Seeing the word "genocide" applied to Guatemala should give pause to many. In recalling the different cases of genocide in the 20th century, one thinks quickly of Germany, Rwanda, Bosnia, Cambodia, Darfur, Armenia, the Belgian Congo. But Guatemala, so recent and so close to us?

There is a risk, at this point, of getting mired in a semantic debate over what constitutes a genocide. In the process, a sense of perspective can be easily lost. Some identify certain acts during the Guatemalan civil war as a matter of genocide, others would disagree. Regardless, this is not a disagreement over whether bad things happened; it is simply a matter of where one draws the line between state-mandated mass murder and genocide. Nobody is attempting to justify one morally over the other; both are undeniably reprehensible.

Sticking to solid ground, let's focus on the facts: during the civil war, at least 200,000 people died. More than a million people lost their homes, as hundreds of villages were destroyed. The vast majority of the human rights abuses - 93% of them - was attributed to the government. Throughout, the Mayan population was targeted.

Guatemala's Truth Commission outlined its findings in 1999. To this day, none of the perpetrators have been held accountable for their crimes. In fact, the most condemnable figure from that period, Efrain Rios Montt, has twice been made president of congress since then. The impunity that plagues Honduras and El Salvador permeates Guatemala as well. As Juanita Batzibal of the Center for Legal Action for Human Rights (CALDH) says, "You might get laws passed here, but they will never be applied." Indeed, the problems are so grave in Guatemala that the UN pushed for the creation of the International Commission Against Impunity in Guatemala (CICIG) in 2007.

In discussing the problems related to indigenous rights in Guatemala with Morales and Batzibal, two different points of focus emerge.

For Morales, an attorney specializing in human rights, dressed in business casual and sipping coffee, the problems today are largely sociopolitical. An attitude exists among the ladinos towards the Mayans that "they're indigenous, they're worth nothing." As a result, there is no political obligation to develop social programs that could redistribute agriculture (an even greater concern in Guatemala than Honduras) or provide other opportunities for local development. Batzibal agrees in that regard, noting that institutional racism exists in all levels of the government, ensuring that ladino communities have access to resources far superior to those in Mayan towns. Even when Mayans with superior educational backgrounds compete with ladinos for jobs, they lose.

Morales believes - or he at least says he believes - that the government today has good intentions, but that the system blocks reforms, especially given the severe economic problems which bind the government's hands. As an example of the systemic limitations, he notes that Guatemala's political system blocks a single political party from maintaining control of the government for more than one four-year term at a time. In other words, at the end of each term, a new party must rise to power. So, how can policies be developed that are consistent over time? Each new party makes new policies, employs new strategies. Even the best of plans will be condemned to the dustbin of history, typically before the paint has time to dry.

Democracy has its limitations, especially when it is born the bastard child of serial compromise.

Batzibal, a Mayan woman in traditional floral dress, points to economic matters and explores them through a much wider lens. "The search for well-being and the search for better living are not the same thing," she asserts. To achieve well-being, one has a healthy environment, clean rivers, a vibrant community. However, Batzibal explains, the pursuit of "better living" in Guatemala tends toward environmental devastation, through extensive mining and other mega-projects. Whereas individual communities were massacred two decades ago, today Mother Earth is being killed. In moving well beyond local crises to issues of global concern, Batzibal follows the pattern I have seen Carrie Dann, a Western Shoshone elder, move through in the 15 years I have known her. At some point for each, I imagine, the personal causes were subsumed by the universal ones, not as a sign of resignation but transcendence.

Violence has not ended in Guatemala, she says. Instead of the political violence of the 1980s, today the Mayans are ravaged by economic violence. Whole communities are forced to move to clear space for mining operations or other major industrial efforts. This displacement is often at gunpoint, with no assistance or funding provided to assist with the transition. Many ultimately will labor in the mines or other mega-projects, most of which follow the most minimal of environment regulations. When the veins are tapped out, the businesses will close up shop and leave behind ravaged land, poisoned water, unhealthy people.

"Given that Guatemala has a terrible economy," I ask, "doesn't the government have an obligation to pursue new sources of revenue and employment?" A wry smile comes across her face. "Only one percent of the revenue from those projects makes it back to the Guatemalan people." Foreign companies make huge profits, while Guatemalan politicians stuff their offshore accounts. Meanwhile, the Guatemalan population is divested of its natural resources.

At the end of each interview, I ask whether the US could be considered a contributor to the human rights problems in the country today, or a help. In Nicaragua, the US was identified as a problem, without hesitation. In Honduras, the problem was not so much US actions, but a lack of involvement - that we had disappeared after helping to make a huge mess that we left for them to clean up.

Benito Morales thinks for a moment before finally deciding. "No, I don't think the US is a problem for human rights in Guatemala at the moment." I feel like holding a parade.

Both Morales and Batzibal agree that the biggest problem at the moment is the major mining operated by GoldCorp. Now, one might ask, where is GoldCorp from? The answer?

Canada.

THE CANADIANS! They're the ones to blame for every problem that exists in Guatemala. As if there was ever any doubt.

---------------------------------------------

Back on the chicken bus, happy to have actually scored a seat for once, I watch Guatemala City pass by. Soon, I realize that I'm humming "Living on a Prayer" by Bon Jovi. Seconds later, I realize it's also playing on the radio.

Out the left window, I see a Hooters pass by.

I turn to look out the right window. A dead body lies on a blocked road, covered by a sheet.

Take my hand and we'll make it I swear...

	Guatemala Report
Home	February 10: Report from Guatemala City, Guatemala: The Unknown Genocide If you believe the guidebooks, Guatemala City is a warzone, a place from which you'll be lucky to emerge intact. Should you hope to visit from nearby Antigua, experts will steer you towards $10 minivan shuttles instead of the local chicken buses; the latter, they will lead you to believe, will surely be boarded by armed gunmen who will leave you shaking on and sticking to your old vinyl seat in nothing more than your underwear. The mistake those guidebooks make in trying to prepare tourists for potentially adverse conditions is that they present Guatemala City in its worst, most exceptional aspects. In all but the worst of places, life proceeds implacably, undeterred by the bleakest historical stigmas or contemporary plagues. Sure enough, in Guate you will witness a universal panorama - young people making out in the park, adults rushing from "important thing" to "another important thing," old people talking to pigeons, and mangy dogs anxious to spread the seed. That is not to suggest that Guate is not scarred by violence. Indeed, the country has faced great challenges in recent years, despite the hope that followed the civil war's conclusion in 1996. 12 years of peace and democracy sounds good on paper, but those have been 12 years of continued impunity for the 1980s genocide, 12 years of economic stagnation, and 12 years of what has been declared the worst democracy on earth. As Benito Morales of the Rigoberta Menchu foundation says, "We are still at point zero." Seeing the word "genocide" applied to Guatemala should give pause to many. In recalling the different cases of genocide in the 20th century, one thinks quickly of Germany, Rwanda, Bosnia, Cambodia, Darfur, Armenia, the Belgian Congo. But Guatemala, so recent and so close to us? There is a risk, at this point, of getting mired in a semantic debate over what constitutes a genocide. In the process, a sense of perspective can be easily lost. Some identify certain acts during the Guatemalan civil war as a matter of genocide, others would disagree. Regardless, this is not a disagreement over whether bad things happened; it is simply a matter of where one draws the line between state-mandated mass murder and genocide. Nobody is attempting to justify one morally over the other; both are undeniably reprehensible. Sticking to solid ground, let's focus on the facts: during the civil war, at least 200,000 people died. More than a million people lost their homes, as hundreds of villages were destroyed. The vast majority of the human rights abuses - 93% of them - was attributed to the government. Throughout, the Mayan population was targeted. Guatemala's Truth Commission outlined its findings in 1999. To this day, none of the perpetrators have been held accountable for their crimes. In fact, the most condemnable figure from that period, Efrain Rios Montt, has twice been made president of congress since then. The impunity that plagues Honduras and El Salvador permeates Guatemala as well. As Juanita Batzibal of the Center for Legal Action for Human Rights (CALDH) says, "You might get laws passed here, but they will never be applied." Indeed, the problems are so grave in Guatemala that the UN pushed for the creation of the International Commission Against Impunity in Guatemala (CICIG) in 2007. In discussing the problems related to indigenous rights in Guatemala with Morales and Batzibal, two different points of focus emerge. For Morales, an attorney specializing in human rights, dressed in business casual and sipping coffee, the problems today are largely sociopolitical. An attitude exists among the ladinos towards the Mayans that "they're indigenous, they're worth nothing." As a result, there is no political obligation to develop social programs that could redistribute agriculture (an even greater concern in Guatemala than Honduras) or provide other opportunities for local development. Batzibal agrees in that regard, noting that institutional racism exists in all levels of the government, ensuring that ladino communities have access to resources far superior to those in Mayan towns. Even when Mayans with superior educational backgrounds compete with ladinos for jobs, they lose. Morales believes - or he at least says he believes - that the government today has good intentions, but that the system blocks reforms, especially given the severe economic problems which bind the government's hands. As an example of the systemic limitations, he notes that Guatemala's political system blocks a single political party from maintaining control of the government for more than one four-year term at a time. In other words, at the end of each term, a new party must rise to power. So, how can policies be developed that are consistent over time? Each new party makes new policies, employs new strategies. Even the best of plans will be condemned to the dustbin of history, typically before the paint has time to dry. Democracy has its limitations, especially when it is born the bastard child of serial compromise. Batzibal, a Mayan woman in traditional floral dress, points to economic matters and explores them through a much wider lens. "The search for well-being and the search for better living are not the same thing," she asserts. To achieve well-being, one has a healthy environment, clean rivers, a vibrant community. However, Batzibal explains, the pursuit of "better living" in Guatemala tends toward environmental devastation, through extensive mining and other mega-projects. Whereas individual communities were massacred two decades ago, today Mother Earth is being killed. In moving well beyond local crises to issues of global concern, Batzibal follows the pattern I have seen Carrie Dann, a Western Shoshone elder, move through in the 15 years I have known her. At some point for each, I imagine, the personal causes were subsumed by the universal ones, not as a sign of resignation but transcendence. Violence has not ended in Guatemala, she says. Instead of the political violence of the 1980s, today the Mayans are ravaged by economic violence. Whole communities are forced to move to clear space for mining operations or other major industrial efforts. This displacement is often at gunpoint, with no assistance or funding provided to assist with the transition. Many ultimately will labor in the mines or other mega-projects, most of which follow the most minimal of environment regulations. When the veins are tapped out, the businesses will close up shop and leave behind ravaged land, poisoned water, unhealthy people. "Given that Guatemala has a terrible economy," I ask, "doesn't the government have an obligation to pursue new sources of revenue and employment?" A wry smile comes across her face. "Only one percent of the revenue from those projects makes it back to the Guatemalan people." Foreign companies make huge profits, while Guatemalan politicians stuff their offshore accounts. Meanwhile, the Guatemalan population is divested of its natural resources. At the end of each interview, I ask whether the US could be considered a contributor to the human rights problems in the country today, or a help. In Nicaragua, the US was identified as a problem, without hesitation. In Honduras, the problem was not so much US actions, but a lack of involvement - that we had disappeared after helping to make a huge mess that we left for them to clean up. Benito Morales thinks for a moment before finally deciding. "No, I don't think the US is a problem for human rights in Guatemala at the moment." I feel like holding a parade. Both Morales and Batzibal agree that the biggest problem at the moment is the major mining operated by GoldCorp. Now, one might ask, where is GoldCorp from? The answer? Canada. THE CANADIANS! They're the ones to blame for every problem that exists in Guatemala. As if there was ever any doubt. --------------------------------------------- Back on the chicken bus, happy to have actually scored a seat for once, I watch Guatemala City pass by. Soon, I realize that I'm humming "Living on a Prayer" by Bon Jovi. Seconds later, I realize it's also playing on the radio. Out the left window, I see a Hooters pass by. I turn to look out the right window. A dead body lies on a blocked road, covered by a sheet. Take my hand and we'll make it I swear...
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