There's a bus that leaves the indigenous town of Altamirano, Chiapas, near the Zapatista headquarters at Morelia, that sets out for Cancun full with temporary construction workers. The workers, tseltal and tojolabal campesinos, work 6 or 7 days a week for 12 hours a day, for the paltry sum of 40 pesos a day, about $4. They labour to construct the ever expanding hotel industry of the monstrous elite tourist playground . There are over 50,000 rooms in Cancun and the average price is around $100 a night to stay.
20 years ago Cancun was a sleepy Mexican village looking out over the beautiful Caribbean. Today it is more like a US colony modeled after Disneyland or a Hollymovie set in Los Angeles. The graceful shoreline is now choc-a block with astonishingly ostentatious hotels of enormous proportions. Some are post-modern representations in the style of ancient Mayan pyramids, others, are more reminiscent of gangster run Havana casinos in bygone eras; all cater for the rich, the vast majority of clients foreigners from the US and Europe. The sweeping avenue down the peninsula is a veritable wet-dream for American shopping mall fanatics, with every brand store and logo commodity represented in abundance.
Jose Alfredo, a young Zapatista from a village near Altamirano returned a few months ago from his first stint of work at Cancun. (I thought I had left Mexico! he commented, (I thought I was in another country. And he is right in one sense ; Cancun is a model of a new kind of Global space. It is an embodiment of global village as the neo-liberals would have it. A sanctuary for the wealthy where poverty does not exist. A utopia without poverty, hunger, illiteracy, any of the everyday realities of life for the majority, not because they have come up with some fine neo-liberal solution, but because they are excluded. Cancun is a world of illusion where everything is shiny and happy, nothing can disturb the idea of this fanciful paradise; and just in case anybody foolish or crazy enough to disagree or raise their voice in dissent, there is a huge security apparatus, both private and public, to deal with that.
It is quite apt, and quite ironic that the World Economic Forum chose this location for their latest reunion to discuss the liberalization of Latin American Markets and the consolidation of the Neo-liberal economic strategy for this region.
Globofobics are everywhere. Everywhere the globalizers have gone since the breakdown of the Seattle round in November of 1999, they have been pursued and harried by a plethora of protesters at every location they have chosen. This meeting in Cancun continues with this successful strategy on behalf of the anti-globalisation movement. A diversity of people have come to this absurd resort to organise and demonstrate, and possibly blockade and disrupt the proceedings. By their very presence alone, the globofobics have affected the meeting, as various mouth-pieces for the Economic Forum dispatch their press releases in defence of their doctrine, and try desperately to disarm the dissenting voice by engaging them in vacuous dialogue.
Today in Cancun, February 26, the numbers are low, only a few hundred protesters, but the numbers climb steadily as the day unfolds. This disappointment is no doubt to do with location, Cancun situated at the far end of the Yucatan peninsula, more than a 1500km from Mexico City. The costs of arriving here are huge. As for the local community,the indigenous population of the town is small, as the workforce is in the most part, in classic neo-liberal fashion,, temporary, migratory and ununionised. And finally, most Mexican activists are organising the mobilization in support of the Zapatista Caravan to DF which unfortunately coincides with this event. Nevertheless the 500 or so who made the journey are aware they represent the millions nationally and globally who are not present ....
The first march on Monday the 26th is celebratory and peaceful in its manifestation. The protesters are grouped around four main organisations, F-26, Civil Disobedience, the student CGH, El Barzon and the radical Black-block and Maoist contingents making up the numbers. They are predominantly young and radical, dressed in punky and counterculture attire, peppered by the obligatory Zapatista balaclavas and paliacates. Boisterous and colourful, they march as far as the fortified police cordon at the entrance to the Tourist Zone, where they taunt security forces, a few cheekily exhibiting their backsides to the sullen lines of riot cops before heading back to the centre of commercial Cancun. Avenues around the city are lined by loitering police forces and riot police, some with their gas masks at the ready, and a helicopter hovers menacingly overhead. Migration watch out for foreigner participation. Agent provocateurs mingle with the marchers, and every inch and every face is monitored and filmed.
Back at the Palapas, a quiet little grass park littered with old mangled trees that functions as base camp for the globefobicos, the protesters assemble. Around campfires and gaggles of tents, they meet and organise all evening for the big day tomorrow.The mood is industrious but a little pessimistic. The numbers are dangerously low to attempt the professed aim of the mobilization- to blockade and disrupt the meeting. Rumours abound of the arrival of hundreds more Barzon activists the next day, but this never materialises. Stupendously outnumbered- there are several thousand security elements in Cancun- still the 500 continue with their plans. Rubber inner-tubes are inflated and tied together to make mobile barricade defences. The Civil Disobedience people are to attempt to break through the Police cordon like the Ya Basta group at Prague, wearing white jumpsuits and fortifying their shoulders and arms with cushion and padding to protect from beatings, and taping on a variety of colourful helmets.
Others plan to enter the Convention Hotel from the beach, masquerading as tourists, as the main body of the march battles with the police on the main road. Militant Maoists hold there own breakaway meeting, closed to outsiders. They have their own plans, disrupting the unity of the other groups. Comrades! screams an older masked man, to the assembled gaggle of about 30 youths, We are not afraid of the police or jail! Remember the glorious martyrs and prisoners! as the group break into another round of ultra-militant chanting about death to this or that. A corrosive assembly the previous night had revealed a serious division between these radicals hell bent on destructive ideas, and the majority who preferred the tactic of non-violent direct action for the protests. Despite the industriousness of the preparations, the cheerful hum of the labours, there is an unmistakable mood of foreboding and fear.
The local newspapers had contributed to fueling the tensions with their sensational reporting. They Enter The Ring! screams one front-page accompanied with a photo of masked up, fist-clenched militants. Others present the protesters as dangerous terrorists - One version ( of the police searches of the arriving buses ) indicate that explosives were found, but this cant be confirmed.... Complete nonsense, of course and they forget to inform their readers that the police also stole money and cameras from the buses.
They are going to fuck us up tomorrow! said one 20 year old philosophy student as he tried on his full-face motorcycle helmet. Even with the helmet, all the padding and his white jump-suit, he still looked terribly small and fragile. (The helmet would be seen the next day lying on the side of the road smashed in half by a police baton, and the youth in jail.) Others spoke confidently of Fox needing to keep his international image clean hence the police would be on better behaviour than usual. Wishful thinking, as the local governor spoke of not tolerating any disorder in the streets oF Cancun.
In the shadows of the trees on this warm tropical night, completely surrounded by patrolling cop pick-up trucks and undercover agents idling on every corner, they bravely prepare all night for battle, or better, for their suicide mission. Rebel dignity, pride and courage are the attributes of this raggle-taggle band of Mexican youth.
The 500 marched tentatively with much noise through the town. They arrived at a wide boulevard with a picturesque park between the two roads in and out of the Tourist Colony. An army of fortified police lines faced them behind two rows of solid metal fencing. This meant the Civil Disobedience plan of pushing through the police lines armed with their rubber tyres was thwarted, as those metal fences were not for moving. In the moments hesitation, the Maoists took the initiative, charging to the front and calling for a storming of the barricades nevertheless. This tactic is fearfully doomed, and the main body of the demonstration re-grouped to re-consider strategy, appealing for non-violence. But already the forces are divided. The Maoists rush up the police lines full of thunder and fury while the cops laughed. Their assault on the barricades falters a couple of meters short and a stand-off for an hour resumes as both sides exchanged insults and an occasional stick flies or a baton is swung. The Press horde crowded around with enthusiasm. Tourists stopped to watch. A group of nude protesters dissolved the minor tension with their antics in front of the police, and the protesters decide to stage a sit-down protest to block both sides of the road. After an hour or so, the traffic is held up for miles and why the police didn't simply divert the traffic from the start is a mystery. Instead all the tourists are left waiting and infuriated.
Meanwhile, a group of 30 had infiltrated the beach as far as the Hotel where the forum is held. There they are violently apprehended by a large contingent of riot cops and bundled off to jail.
It was when the Civil Disobedience group began to leave, and the majority of people were now sitting around the park tired from the hot sun and dehydration, when the mood had become almost festive as a few hundred tourists and the press core waited around for the next spectacle, that the barricades opened up suddenly.
With an unbridled ferocity, the riot squads came storming out at full sprint. Hundreds of them flooded out. They swung wildly and indiscrimatory at everyone in their path. First to be pummeled was the isolated group left sitting on the road. The still afternoon air became filled traumatically with screams of panic and pain, and a horrific battle-cry of the marauding cop gangs as they beat their shields...People fled hopelessly in every direction as the maddened thugs pursued them relentlessly. There was no resistance because there was none prepared. There was only running in absolute terror. It was simple savage punishment.
Scenes of utter vomit-inducing brutality ensued. A tall cop beat a helpless youth on the ground with a 3-meter pole while his buddies delivered carefully aimed blows to the victims head with their batons and boots. A silent couple clutched each other uselessly as a gang of thugs did a Rodney King on them. People with videos and cameras were singled out too for beatings. Of all the blows, most seemed to be aimed at the peoples heads. The Civil Disobedience group, encumbered with their absurd rubber tyres, were single out for special punishment, while the Maoist contingent abandoned their militant posturing to flee frantically. A few valiant ones went in defence of their bloodied companeros, and were beaten heavily for their impudence. Some paltry stones flew and then the menacing sound of gas cannisters being shot off was heard. The air filled with the poisonous fumes. The people fled in utter pandemonium. Heavily injured people were carried through the gas clouds.
The picturesque grass park resembled a furious medieval battle-field. And the beatings went on and on, the cops frantically seeking fresh victims, or else any vanquished body languishing on the ground would do. The blare of ambulances interrupted the din of violence. The rout was complete. The Neo-liberals had triumphed heroically, their mercenary soldiers delighted with their crusading victory, their little slaughter of the Globefobicos on this sunny afternoon outside the Tourist Colony.
The attempted blockade was defeated but the media coverage was a victory. Images of the unprovoked ultra-violence flashed across the television networks. Newspapers the next day were filled with powerful photos of police violence under headlines of Brutality! Police Riot! and Cowards And Savages. The resignation of the Police chief was demanded. Trolleys filled with food arrived at the protesters encampment as they bandaged up their wounds and searched to locate the 65 prisoners and the 15 hospitalized about whom the police would release no details. Locals rallied in support and warned protesters of new police movements. A solidarity demonstration was organised in the Capital. Even with small defeats, the movement grows.
The next day popular pressure helped ensure the prisoners release, and condemnation of the police came from every quarter, even, opportunistically, from PAN deputies and local representatives. A demonstration was called in front of the Town Hall. Not one uniformed cop appeared. They were withdrawn in disgrace. The authorities faltered under an avalanche of criticism and the journalists organised their own protest against the police brutality. Fox remained silent, his image tainted. The World Economic Forum finished up without a peep and the Neo-Liberals hurried away from Cancun without releasing their usual celebratory communiques. But, no doubt, business continued as usual.
The protesters mockingly charged the undefended Town-Hall, as if to say Look! Here we are... still! The message was clear ; even if they batter them off the streets, the protesters wont go away. Cancun is a watershed for the movement. New strategies and tactics will emerge, and the Neo-liberal project continues to retreat under pressure.
ends....
From the Irish Mexico Group list http://www.struggle.ws/mexico.html