Republic Mexico City Bureau
Sept. 12, 2006 12:00 AM
OAXACA, Mexico - This is a city on the edge of anarchy.
Militants with clubs roam Oaxaca, raiding government offices and dragging out employees who refuse to leave. Barricades and torched vehicles block the streets. Captured radio stations broadcast leftist manifestos day and night. Police have fled the city, and the governor is in hiding. The once-beautiful downtown is covered with revolutionary graffiti. "Tourist, go home," one message warns.
The anti-government rebellion raging in this city of 256,000 is the most serious in a series of protests that have rattled Mexico, fueled in part by a bitter July 2 presidential election. Officials are meeting today to try to work out a truce.
"The government wants everyone to think that Mexico is progressing," Rosie López said as she guarded a barricade made of sheet metal and boulders. "But a lot of people still live in very bad conditions. We're not satisfied with the way this country is being run."
The siege in Oaxaca, 210 miles southeast of Mexico City, began in May as a simple teachers strike but snowballed after Gov. Ulíses Ruíz Ortíz used tear gas and riot police against the demonstrators.
Since then, dozens of leftist groups have rallied to the teachers' side and are demanding the governor resign. They have formed an umbrella group, the Popular Assembly of the People of Oaxaca, or APPO, and have seized control of the entire city.
Seeds of conflict
Oaxaca (pronounced wah-HA-kah) is the capital of a state with the same name. It's an impoverished, mountainous region peppered with tiny Indian villages. For centuries, people here and in other southern states like Chiapas and Guerrero have been the victims of racial discrimination and government neglect.
The state's schools are run-down and badly equipped, and teachers earn only about $500 a month. Because the towns are so remote, many teachers spend weekdays at the schools and return to their families only on weekends, or sometimes every two weeks. For some, the commute involves an all-day hike along mountain trails.
For several summers straight, the state's 70,000 teachers have demonstrated in the state capital to demand higher wages and better working conditions. This year, their main demand was an increase in the cost-of-living allowance.
On May 22 union members began camping out in the capital's main plaza. As the protests began growing more rowdy, tourists started avoiding the city. Gov. Ruíz Ortíz decided to take action.
Before dawn on June 14, riot police fired tear gas into the plaza and began tearing down tents. The teachers fled down side streets.
"It was terrifying," teacher Liboria Martínez said. "A lot of us had our children with us, and they were suffocating on the tear gas."
Soon, the tide of the battle turned. Members of other labor unions flooded into the streets to attack the police with sticks and stones. Outnumbered, the police retreated.
The conflict quickly became a rallying point for radical political parties, student activists and trade unionists. It also attracted local "people's organizations," groups that represent squatters, unauthorized street vendors, gypsy cabdrivers and other outlaws.
City under siege
Oaxaca now lives in a peculiar state of occupation. During the day, the few remaining tourists, mainly young European backpackers, browse through handicraft stalls. Just a few miles away, club-wielding militants from APPO's "mobile brigades" systematically invade government offices and drive out employees.
On Thursday, one employee at the Civil Defense Secretariat resisted. The militants beat him, doused him with green ink, marched him down to the plaza and put him on display as a crowd jeered.
The governor and Legislature are in hiding, reportedly moving among hotels and private homes on the outskirts of town.
At night, the militants mount barricades all over the city. Earsplitting booms from signal rockets echo over the downtown all night. One boom means to be alert for government forces, two booms means imminent danger, three means a barricade is under attack.
Petty crime has soared, especially at night, because police have fled the city. The militants have torched several police cars, along with more than a dozen city buses.
Pro-government people, possibly plainclothes police, occasionally speed through the city in trucks, shooting at the militants. On Aug. 21 they opened fire on protesters guarding a television transmitter, killing one.
There are fears that things could get much worse after guerrillas carrying AK-47 assault rifles briefly blocked a highway in Oaxaca last month. The federal government is now trying to mediate a truce. The negotiations resume today after a four-day break.
"We cannot permit these scenes," presidential spokesman Rubén Aguilar said last week. "The violence, the brutality, and the loss of control of the players involved must be condemned."
Nationwide discontent
Meanwhile, political strife and labor disputes elsewhere in Mexico have only fueled the unrest in Oaxaca.
Like most of the poor states in southern Mexico, Oaxaca voted overwhelmingly for liberal candidate Andrés Manuel López Obrador in the July 2 presidential election. When conservative Felipe Calderón won by a razor-thin margin, López Obrador's supporters accused the government of massive voter fraud and blockaded a main avenue in Mexico City, wreaking havoc.
The country was already shaken by a deadly clash between police and striking steel workers in Michoacán state in April and riots in the town of San Salvador Atenco in May.
Some of the organizers in the Atenco riots are believed to be active in Oaxaca. And most of the groups protesting in Oaxaca supported López Obrador. The clashes and demonstrations have exposed simmering discontent in Mexico, especially in the poor south. About 40 percent of the country still lives beneath the poverty line, and wages have not risen much despite six years of relative economic stability.
President Vicente Fox has been slow to intervene in the demonstrations, partly to avoid allegations of oppression during the election controversy. "The current president is afraid to use force to establish order," said Andrés Avelino Soriano, president of the Business Union of Oaxaca. "He is a person of very weak character . . . and he has an erroneous idea of what democracy is."
Last week, Mexico's Interior Ministry began mediating talks between APPO and the state government. There has been little progress.
Many Oaxacans are fed up with the demonstrators but say they are equally disgusted with the federal government for years of neglect.
"Fox doesn't care about Oaxaca because there are no factories here. It's too poor," said Juan Carlos Sandoval, a bathroom attendant at the November 20 Public Market.
"If this were Guadalajara, this would have been over months ago," he said. "In fact, it probably would have never begun."
Militants with clubs roam Oaxaca, raiding government offices and dragging out employees who refuse to leave. Barricades and torched vehicles block the streets. Captured radio stations broadcast leftist manifestos day and night. Police have fled the city, and the governor is in hiding. The once-beautiful downtown is covered with revolutionary graffiti. "Tourist, go home," one message warns.
The anti-government rebellion raging in this city of 256,000 is the most serious in a series of protests that have rattled Mexico, fueled in part by a bitter July 2 presidential election. Officials are meeting today to try to work out a truce.
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"The government wants everyone to think that Mexico is progressing," Rosie López said as she guarded a barricade made of sheet metal and boulders. "But a lot of people still live in very bad conditions. We're not satisfied with the way this country is being run."
The siege in Oaxaca, 210 miles southeast of Mexico City, began in May as a simple teachers strike but snowballed after Gov. Ulíses Ruíz Ortíz used tear gas and riot police against the demonstrators.
Since then, dozens of leftist groups have rallied to the teachers' side and are demanding the governor resign. They have formed an umbrella group, the Popular Assembly of the People of Oaxaca, or APPO, and have seized control of the entire city.
Seeds of conflict
Oaxaca (pronounced wah-HA-kah) is the capital of a state with the same name. It's an impoverished, mountainous region peppered with tiny Indian villages. For centuries, people here and in other southern states like Chiapas and Guerrero have been the victims of racial discrimination and government neglect.The state's schools are run-down and badly equipped, and teachers earn only about $500 a month. Because the towns are so remote, many teachers spend weekdays at the schools and return to their families only on weekends, or sometimes every two weeks. For some, the commute involves an all-day hike along mountain trails.
For several summers straight, the state's 70,000 teachers have demonstrated in the state capital to demand higher wages and better working conditions. This year, their main demand was an increase in the cost-of-living allowance.
On May 22 union members began camping out in the capital's main plaza. As the protests began growing more rowdy, tourists started avoiding the city. Gov. Ruíz Ortíz decided to take action.
Before dawn on June 14, riot police fired tear gas into the plaza and began tearing down tents. The teachers fled down side streets.
"It was terrifying," teacher Liboria Martínez said. "A lot of us had our children with us, and they were suffocating on the tear gas."
Soon, the tide of the battle turned. Members of other labor unions flooded into the streets to attack the police with sticks and stones. Outnumbered, the police retreated.
The conflict quickly became a rallying point for radical political parties, student activists and trade unionists. It also attracted local "people's organizations," groups that represent squatters, unauthorized street vendors, gypsy cabdrivers and other outlaws.
City under siege
Oaxaca now lives in a peculiar state of occupation. During the day, the few remaining tourists, mainly young European backpackers, browse through handicraft stalls. Just a few miles away, club-wielding militants from APPO's "mobile brigades" systematically invade government offices and drive out employees. On Thursday, one employee at the Civil Defense Secretariat resisted. The militants beat him, doused him with green ink, marched him down to the plaza and put him on display as a crowd jeered.
The governor and Legislature are in hiding, reportedly moving among hotels and private homes on the outskirts of town.
At night, the militants mount barricades all over the city. Earsplitting booms from signal rockets echo over the downtown all night. One boom means to be alert for government forces, two booms means imminent danger, three means a barricade is under attack.
Petty crime has soared, especially at night, because police have fled the city. The militants have torched several police cars, along with more than a dozen city buses.
Pro-government people, possibly plainclothes police, occasionally speed through the city in trucks, shooting at the militants. On Aug. 21 they opened fire on protesters guarding a television transmitter, killing one.
There are fears that things could get much worse after guerrillas carrying AK-47 assault rifles briefly blocked a highway in Oaxaca last month. The federal government is now trying to mediate a truce. The negotiations resume today after a four-day break.
"We cannot permit these scenes," presidential spokesman Rubén Aguilar said last week. "The violence, the brutality, and the loss of control of the players involved must be condemned."
Nationwide discontent
Meanwhile, political strife and labor disputes elsewhere in Mexico have only fueled the unrest in Oaxaca.Like most of the poor states in southern Mexico, Oaxaca voted overwhelmingly for liberal candidate Andrés Manuel López Obrador in the July 2 presidential election. When conservative Felipe Calderón won by a razor-thin margin, López Obrador's supporters accused the government of massive voter fraud and blockaded a main avenue in Mexico City, wreaking havoc.
The country was already shaken by a deadly clash between police and striking steel workers in Michoacán state in April and riots in the town of San Salvador Atenco in May.
Some of the organizers in the Atenco riots are believed to be active in Oaxaca. And most of the groups protesting in Oaxaca supported López Obrador. The clashes and demonstrations have exposed simmering discontent in Mexico, especially in the poor south. About 40 percent of the country still lives beneath the poverty line, and wages have not risen much despite six years of relative economic stability.
President Vicente Fox has been slow to intervene in the demonstrations, partly to avoid allegations of oppression during the election controversy. "The current president is afraid to use force to establish order," said Andrés Avelino Soriano, president of the Business Union of Oaxaca. "He is a person of very weak character . . . and he has an erroneous idea of what democracy is."
Last week, Mexico's Interior Ministry began mediating talks between APPO and the state government. There has been little progress.
Many Oaxacans are fed up with the demonstrators but say they are equally disgusted with the federal government for years of neglect.
"Fox doesn't care about Oaxaca because there are no factories here. It's too poor," said Juan Carlos Sandoval, a bathroom attendant at the November 20 Public Market.
"If this were Guadalajara, this would have been over months ago," he said. "In fact, it probably would have never begun."
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