movimientos.org
Las mujeres indígenas reunidas en las tierras sagradas del Lago Titikaka después de dos días de debates, deliberaciones y siendo quienes aportamos al proceso histórico de transformación de nuestros pueblos con nuestras propuestas y acciones en las diferentes luchas gestadas desde los movimientos indígenas, elevamos nuestra voz en estos tiempos en que el vientre de Abya Yala esta nuevamente con dolores de parto libertario, que engendrará el nuevo Pachakutik para el Buen Vivir del planeta.
Siendo las mujeres portadoras, trasmisoras de la identidad, generadoras y criadoras de la vida, ejes de las familias y la sociedad en complementariedad con los varones, unimos nuestros vientres al vientre de la madre tierra para parir los nuevos tiempos, en la que en diversos países de Latinoamérica millones de empobrecidos por el sistema Neoliberal levantan su voz para decir BASTA a la opresión, explotación y saqueo de nuestras riquezas, por lo que nos unimos a las luchas libertarias que han sido desplegadas a lo largo y ancho de nuestro continente.
Con el propósito de buscar alternativas para eliminar la injusticia, la discriminación y la violencia contra las mujeres, el machismo y volver a las formas de respeto mutuo y armónico en la vida planetaria, nos congregamos en esta Cumbre y unimos nuestros corazones, nuestras mentes, nuestras manos y nuestros vientres.
Considerando que las mujeres somos parte de la naturaleza y el macrocosmos, estamos llamadas a cuidarla y defenderla puesto que de ella se desprende nuestra historia milenaria y nuestra cultura que nos hacen ser lo que somos pueblos originarios bajo la protección y la guía espiritual de nuestros padres y abuelos que engendraron a todos los seres que habitan en este maravilloso planeta, mismo que unos pocos oligarcas e imperialistas pretenden plagarlo de muerte en nombre de su dios llamado codicia.
Por ello, ante la memoria de nuestros mártires, héroes, líderes y lideresas, presentamos a nuestros ayllus, a las comunidades y a los pueblos y nacionalidades del mundo las conclusiones de nuestros corazones rebeldes: RESOLUCIONES Y ACUERDOS
* Construir una agenda continental en la que refleje la defensa de los derechos colectivos y derechos humanos de las mujeres indígenas y dar seguimiento a los mandatos emanados de la I Cumbre Continental de Mujeres Indígenas.
* Constituir la Coordinadora Continental de las Mujeres Indígenas de Abya Yala, para defender la Madre Tierra; fortalecer nuestras organizaciones, impulsar propuestas de Formación Política y generar espacios de intercambio de experiencias en distintos ámbitos, económico, político, social cultural entre otros. Asimismo, será el ente representativo y referencial de las mujeres de Abya Yala, ante todos los organismos nacionales e internacionales.
* Exhortamos a los Organismos Internacionales la reforma de los Instrumentos relacionados a Pueblos Indígenas, de manera que se incorpore los derechos de las mujeres. Asimismo, presentar informes alternativos de los avances y cumplimiento de los mismos.
* Nos solidarizamos y respaldamos las luchas de los pueblos amazónicos del Perú y demandamos al gobierno del Perú, de manera inmediata, derogar todas las leyes y decretos que atentan contra los Derechos Territoriales de los Pueblos Indígenas de la Amazonía, y al mismo tiempo exigimos que se derogue el estado de emergencia en los departamentos en donde se ha decretado.
* Manifestamos toda la solidaridad y apoyo al gobierno del presidente Evo Morales.
*Respaldamos la Minga de Resistencia emprendida por los Pueblos Indígenas de Colombia y condenamos los actos de genocidio y exterminio en contra del Movimiento Indígena Colombiano y de otros países.
* Rechazamos enérgicamente la persecución de la protesta social y la represión oficial a las manifestaciones y acciones de defensa de los derechos de los territorios y de la vida de los pueblos indígenas.
* Exigimos a los Estados nacionales una verdadera reforma agraria integral, que garantice la tierra para conservar la soberanía alimentaría.
* Que los Estados crean instancias y políticas de atención y defensa de las y los migrantes, tomando en cuenta la diversidad cultural.
* Demandamos al Estado que se declare inembargables, inalienables e inajenables nuestras tierras y territorios, exigiendo la titulación respectiva.
*Apoyamos la instauración del Tribunal de Justicia Climática para exigir a los países desarrollados y a las empresas transnacionales para reparar y no dañar la biodiversidad de la Pachamama.
* Rechazamos los biocombustibles porque empobrecen la tierra y ponen en riesgo la soberanía alimentaria y toda la vida del ecosistema natural.
* Demandamos la despenalización del cultivo de la hoja sagrada de COCA.
* Que cese el genocidio y el etnocidio, que afectan especialmente a nuestros pueblos indígenas, perpetrados por militares, paramilitares y otros actores, que agreden, intimidan y violan los derecho de nuestros pueblos en todos los países. Las mujeres de la I Cumbre Continental de Mujeres Indígenas, no queremos más viudas, más huérfanos. Luchamos por la paz, por la vida y por la dignidad del mundo.
* Detener la violencia implementada por parte de : militares y multinacionales, trasnacionales y algunas ongs, que generan divisiones al interior de nuestras comunidades, especialmente en las mujeres. esto trae consigo diferentes tipos de violencia; fisica, psicologica, sexual, politica, economica, simbolica, institucional , entre otras.
* Libertad de mujeres y hombres que se encuentran detenidos en cárceles militares y civiles por su luchan en defensa de la Madre Tierra y Territorios y defensa de los derechos colectivos de los pueblos indígenas, como en el caso de Leonard Peltier, condenado a cadena perpetua en cárceles de los Estados Unidos.
* Exigimos el retiro inmediato de las empresas extranjeras multinacionales que se encuentran en nuestros territorios y que están explotando nuestra madre tierra y deteriorando el ecosistema ambiental.
* Las mujeres indígenas de Abya Yala, exigimos al gobierno de Allan García, no dar asilo político a personas violadoras de derechos humanos, como en el caso de los ex ministros de Gonzalo Sánchez de Losada.
* La I Cumbre Continental de Mujeres Indígenas decide que la II Cumbre se realizará en Bolivia en el marco de la V Cumbre Continental de los Pueblos y Nacionalidades Indígenas.
* Dar seguimiento de la implementación de la declaración de los derechos de los pueblos indígenas de las Naciones Unidas en los diferentes países, en especial a los temas que correspondan a las mujeres indígenas.
* Impulsamos la movilización continental en defensa de la Madre Tierra a ser realizada el 12 de octubre.
“He andado por todos los lugares, pero jamás he negociado con la sangre de mi pueblo” Transito Amaguaña
Puno, Peru, del 27 y 28 de mayo, 2009.
MESA CONDUCTORA DE LA I CUMBRE CONTINENTAL DE MUJERES INDÍGENAS
Las resoluciones completas se encuentran en: http://www.movimientos.org/enlacei/iv-cumbre-indigena/show_text.php3?key=14473
Más información sobre las Cumbres Indígenas en Puno, Perú: http://www.movimientos.org/enlacei/iv-cumbre-indigena/
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6/1/09
Star Trek and the Continuing Mission of American Imperialism
I Liked It So Much and I'm Very Worried
CounterPunch
By SOPHIA MIHIC
It is set years in the future, but the new Star Trek movie is a sixties nostalgia film. I sat riveted to the screen and to the present moment with my husband and our daughter between us. At the same time, I was transported back to the original run of the series between 1966 and 1969, and I was transported back to the reruns that still pop up now and then. That's what the sixties are in American political culture: a history that actually happened, has been replayed, and has not yet played out. In the repetitions, there is much fabricated and passed off as what really happened. And with the original show, as with nostalgia for the sixties, what's going on now is always the most important story line. So, what is going on over the past couple of weeks or so since the film was released? What are we longing for? And what are we refusing to let go of?
I didn't have these questions sitting gaga watching Spock publicly make out with Uhura and whisper her first name. (Forget the red goop they carried around in a bottle that could cause the formation of a black hole. The Vulcan public display of affection was the most unrealistic moment in the film. But so many of us want such lapses for so many different reasons that it played as true to life as transporter technology (which, face it, we all accept unconditionally.)) No, most of my worry came later. But sitting there, first viewing, I did have the thought that this show appeals only during a certain kind of rise in the power of American hegemony.
I worked hard, like many others, to make American empire Obama-style happen. I worked because a state as powerful as the U.S. propelled by fear is too much of a danger to the world. Fear or hope is apparently the only choice on offer, so I picked hope. But returning to the myths of the sixties, to understand the present, we have to remember that hope can be a problem too. Doesn't our confidence about American hegemony right now protest too much? Are we so frantic to be hopeful that it seems as if, maybe just maybe, we are still quite fearful?
The sixties, personified by James Tiberius Kirk, were in large part hope and power spiraling closer and closer and closer toward an explosive core of over-confidence. And God they do over-confidence well in the new movie. These kids are the characters of those then-kids without being William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, Nichelle Nichols et al. Kirk remains blessedly a whorish asshole, but Spock out-sexes him. Uhura in this iteration is as hot as ever and she attends to her man, but she is over-educated too. J.R. Jones, writing in the Chicago Reader, is right: the new film is about the characters first and about ideas second or only vaguely, and that's not what science fiction is about. But if the red goop is, well, merely goopy and the dimensions of the genre are lacking, the representations of empire enacted by the characters are solid and scary. The film's nostalgia may be out-photon-torpedoed by its realism.
Spoiler alert in all senses of the words: genocide is a casual gesture in the new movie. Two entire planets are destroyed. And they're not just any two planets. They are Vulcan and Romulus. Okay, I'll admit it: I was sitting there waiting for a full resolution of the time travel trope, and hence the time distortion, in the movie's plot. I was seriously expecting them to fix everything so that Romulus was not actually destroyed and then Vulcan would be saved too. The destruction of Romulus couldn't really happen, because it would be like living in this world with China or the Middle East completely destroyed. Right? (Perhaps, too much like that?) I was sure there would be no way they would let the movie end with planet Vulcan a cloud of dust. I mean, Vulcan!? But that's how the movie ends. Earth's closest friend-think United Kingdom here (the foundations of our own constitutionalism)-and one of Earth's most powerful peers are both wiped out. We are the only super-power left standing in the movie. Is that what Americans would like to believe?
The story of the film turns on how the protagonists deal with devastation and loss. The Romulan, Nero, becomes a terrorist bent on destruction after seeing his family and planet destroyed. The surviving Vulcans are stoic, sad but stoic, refugees; and they have what the movie takes to be the appropriate response. The Vulcans are the good survivors and Nero is the bad one. Think of him as the kind of person the president thinks we will get when all of the photos from Abu Ghraib are released. He does not represent all of Romulus-let us be clear on that-but is instead the leader of a rogue ship. He is quintessentially the evil terrorist asking to be smoked.
How did the first atrocity, which sets the action in motion, occur? Mr. Spock, the elder of the movie's future played by Leonard Nimoy, made a "mistake" and did not save Romulus as a super nova threatened. His timing was a little off and that sort of thing just happens in an inter-galactic order sometimes. Sad and tragic, but we have to know how to deal with such things with calm maturity.
The invasion of Iraq was certainly a mistake that the calm and mature guy now needs to go in and clean up. But it only makes sense to think of Iraq as a mere mistake from the center of American hegemony. And it is from this center that the myths of the nineteen-sixties, all of the Star Treks, and the American present no matter how hopeful issue.
My biggest problem with the new movie is how very much I enjoyed it. It is perfectly familiar, comfortingly arrogant, and blithely pernicious.
Throughout the film, the very young and very cute Kirk and Spock play around with and banter about the idea of cheating: it's okay sometimes for, say, reasons of state and other matters of survival (and maybe just for proving one's prowess). And they play around with and banter about our higher democratic and humanist values. Finally confronting the Romulan rogue Nero-with the capacity to destroy him (he's cornered and as good as dead already)-Kirk offers the possibility of negotiation. But our heroes make a joke of the offer. Spock pulls Kirk aside to ask what he is doing. Turned from the screen Nero is projected on, Kirk says he's doing the logical thing and offering to negotiate. Flirtatiously, "I thought you would like that." Spock, turned away from the screen, whispers that now is not the time. Is the joke here on Palestine, Iran or Pakistan? The young studs face the screen, face their enemy, and pounce with glee when negotiation is refused and they can boldly kick ass, one more time, where ass has not been kicked before.
We all know we've got to stop doing this at some point. Don't we?
I was roughly my daughter's age when the original television show ran-she's eight now, I was between six and nine-and I watched it with both of my parents. My mother's relationship to the show helped me understand my first viewing of Spock/Kirk lesbian porn years later in the nineties. What we all want-and get often enough in the original show and the new movie-is more and more of the word "Jim" uttered emotionally by Mr. Spock. But all of the many possibilities of the new politics of the sixties were firing through my mother's viewing of the show, and I grew up along that trajectory. Everything in it and in the period was packed with possibilities for transformation and we needed the reruns and the many spin-offs, just as we cling to sixties nostalgia, to keep in touch with and work through all of those potentials. There was this thing, though, called criticism that went with all of that ya-ya stuff and the current cinematic romp is criticism, counter-criticism free. During the hopeful exuberance of the sixties, the facts of the death and destruction we were wreaking remained present to mind. The images were tough to hold together in a package. Spandex clad men and women were on television, and so was a naked little girl running through her napalmed village. But we looked at all of it. No turning away from the screen back then. Not with my mom and dad, at least.
The new movie's dubious art as an exercise in sixties nostalgia is that it destroys the best of what it would have us remember. And it does this without our noticing. The uncritical response to this movie has been astounding. So let me remind you: until now, the two power sources making the Star Trek franchise go have been sex and intellect and the latter unequivocally fueled the former. In the new movie, the sexuality punctuates the brutality of imperialism and there's nothing imaginative or smart about it. We're hot for them, but it's dumb empty lust. The movie is about fear and force and little else.
The new Star Trek is totally Bush: like military tribunals at Guantánamo, but it's dressed in sheep's clothing just like . . . military tribunals at Guantánamo are now. Look hopefully off into the future as you hold captives without charge or trial? There's no dressing up Obama's fear that all of the images from Abu Ghraib will be released. What has been going on over the past week or so? The new genocidal, war on terror Star Trek movie has been wildly popular at the exact moment when the president of hope started holding tight to the outrages of the president of fear. Why are both presidents petrified that we will look closely at the screen? It's not what Iraqis will do if they see all of the images from Abu Ghraib. Obama, like Bush, is afraid of what Americans will do. Here's my nostalgic, please happen myth-making belief for you (both presidents may share it with me, but not in the good way): Americans are not idiots when we are allowed to see and think and hope and fear for ourselves.
Will American empire be able to explore new worlds? A lover of the new movie, offended by my concerns, may want to counter that the newly minted Kirk and Spock have lost their parents in the space-time continuum of the film-Kirk his father and Spock his mother-and that I'm being a little hard on the kids by forgetting their loss. Yes, they've suffered too and that is the problem. Isn't it? The good survivors have had their home world destroyed and there's very little context for boldly moving forward, for procedural justice or for any other object of nostalgia you might want to call up and replay.
Sophia Mihic is an associate professor of political science at Northeastern Illinois University. She can be reached at: s-mihic@neiu.edu.
CounterPunch
By SOPHIA MIHIC
It is set years in the future, but the new Star Trek movie is a sixties nostalgia film. I sat riveted to the screen and to the present moment with my husband and our daughter between us. At the same time, I was transported back to the original run of the series between 1966 and 1969, and I was transported back to the reruns that still pop up now and then. That's what the sixties are in American political culture: a history that actually happened, has been replayed, and has not yet played out. In the repetitions, there is much fabricated and passed off as what really happened. And with the original show, as with nostalgia for the sixties, what's going on now is always the most important story line. So, what is going on over the past couple of weeks or so since the film was released? What are we longing for? And what are we refusing to let go of?
I didn't have these questions sitting gaga watching Spock publicly make out with Uhura and whisper her first name. (Forget the red goop they carried around in a bottle that could cause the formation of a black hole. The Vulcan public display of affection was the most unrealistic moment in the film. But so many of us want such lapses for so many different reasons that it played as true to life as transporter technology (which, face it, we all accept unconditionally.)) No, most of my worry came later. But sitting there, first viewing, I did have the thought that this show appeals only during a certain kind of rise in the power of American hegemony.
I worked hard, like many others, to make American empire Obama-style happen. I worked because a state as powerful as the U.S. propelled by fear is too much of a danger to the world. Fear or hope is apparently the only choice on offer, so I picked hope. But returning to the myths of the sixties, to understand the present, we have to remember that hope can be a problem too. Doesn't our confidence about American hegemony right now protest too much? Are we so frantic to be hopeful that it seems as if, maybe just maybe, we are still quite fearful?
The sixties, personified by James Tiberius Kirk, were in large part hope and power spiraling closer and closer and closer toward an explosive core of over-confidence. And God they do over-confidence well in the new movie. These kids are the characters of those then-kids without being William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, Nichelle Nichols et al. Kirk remains blessedly a whorish asshole, but Spock out-sexes him. Uhura in this iteration is as hot as ever and she attends to her man, but she is over-educated too. J.R. Jones, writing in the Chicago Reader, is right: the new film is about the characters first and about ideas second or only vaguely, and that's not what science fiction is about. But if the red goop is, well, merely goopy and the dimensions of the genre are lacking, the representations of empire enacted by the characters are solid and scary. The film's nostalgia may be out-photon-torpedoed by its realism.
Spoiler alert in all senses of the words: genocide is a casual gesture in the new movie. Two entire planets are destroyed. And they're not just any two planets. They are Vulcan and Romulus. Okay, I'll admit it: I was sitting there waiting for a full resolution of the time travel trope, and hence the time distortion, in the movie's plot. I was seriously expecting them to fix everything so that Romulus was not actually destroyed and then Vulcan would be saved too. The destruction of Romulus couldn't really happen, because it would be like living in this world with China or the Middle East completely destroyed. Right? (Perhaps, too much like that?) I was sure there would be no way they would let the movie end with planet Vulcan a cloud of dust. I mean, Vulcan!? But that's how the movie ends. Earth's closest friend-think United Kingdom here (the foundations of our own constitutionalism)-and one of Earth's most powerful peers are both wiped out. We are the only super-power left standing in the movie. Is that what Americans would like to believe?
The story of the film turns on how the protagonists deal with devastation and loss. The Romulan, Nero, becomes a terrorist bent on destruction after seeing his family and planet destroyed. The surviving Vulcans are stoic, sad but stoic, refugees; and they have what the movie takes to be the appropriate response. The Vulcans are the good survivors and Nero is the bad one. Think of him as the kind of person the president thinks we will get when all of the photos from Abu Ghraib are released. He does not represent all of Romulus-let us be clear on that-but is instead the leader of a rogue ship. He is quintessentially the evil terrorist asking to be smoked.
How did the first atrocity, which sets the action in motion, occur? Mr. Spock, the elder of the movie's future played by Leonard Nimoy, made a "mistake" and did not save Romulus as a super nova threatened. His timing was a little off and that sort of thing just happens in an inter-galactic order sometimes. Sad and tragic, but we have to know how to deal with such things with calm maturity.
The invasion of Iraq was certainly a mistake that the calm and mature guy now needs to go in and clean up. But it only makes sense to think of Iraq as a mere mistake from the center of American hegemony. And it is from this center that the myths of the nineteen-sixties, all of the Star Treks, and the American present no matter how hopeful issue.
My biggest problem with the new movie is how very much I enjoyed it. It is perfectly familiar, comfortingly arrogant, and blithely pernicious.
Throughout the film, the very young and very cute Kirk and Spock play around with and banter about the idea of cheating: it's okay sometimes for, say, reasons of state and other matters of survival (and maybe just for proving one's prowess). And they play around with and banter about our higher democratic and humanist values. Finally confronting the Romulan rogue Nero-with the capacity to destroy him (he's cornered and as good as dead already)-Kirk offers the possibility of negotiation. But our heroes make a joke of the offer. Spock pulls Kirk aside to ask what he is doing. Turned from the screen Nero is projected on, Kirk says he's doing the logical thing and offering to negotiate. Flirtatiously, "I thought you would like that." Spock, turned away from the screen, whispers that now is not the time. Is the joke here on Palestine, Iran or Pakistan? The young studs face the screen, face their enemy, and pounce with glee when negotiation is refused and they can boldly kick ass, one more time, where ass has not been kicked before.
We all know we've got to stop doing this at some point. Don't we?
I was roughly my daughter's age when the original television show ran-she's eight now, I was between six and nine-and I watched it with both of my parents. My mother's relationship to the show helped me understand my first viewing of Spock/Kirk lesbian porn years later in the nineties. What we all want-and get often enough in the original show and the new movie-is more and more of the word "Jim" uttered emotionally by Mr. Spock. But all of the many possibilities of the new politics of the sixties were firing through my mother's viewing of the show, and I grew up along that trajectory. Everything in it and in the period was packed with possibilities for transformation and we needed the reruns and the many spin-offs, just as we cling to sixties nostalgia, to keep in touch with and work through all of those potentials. There was this thing, though, called criticism that went with all of that ya-ya stuff and the current cinematic romp is criticism, counter-criticism free. During the hopeful exuberance of the sixties, the facts of the death and destruction we were wreaking remained present to mind. The images were tough to hold together in a package. Spandex clad men and women were on television, and so was a naked little girl running through her napalmed village. But we looked at all of it. No turning away from the screen back then. Not with my mom and dad, at least.
The new movie's dubious art as an exercise in sixties nostalgia is that it destroys the best of what it would have us remember. And it does this without our noticing. The uncritical response to this movie has been astounding. So let me remind you: until now, the two power sources making the Star Trek franchise go have been sex and intellect and the latter unequivocally fueled the former. In the new movie, the sexuality punctuates the brutality of imperialism and there's nothing imaginative or smart about it. We're hot for them, but it's dumb empty lust. The movie is about fear and force and little else.
The new Star Trek is totally Bush: like military tribunals at Guantánamo, but it's dressed in sheep's clothing just like . . . military tribunals at Guantánamo are now. Look hopefully off into the future as you hold captives without charge or trial? There's no dressing up Obama's fear that all of the images from Abu Ghraib will be released. What has been going on over the past week or so? The new genocidal, war on terror Star Trek movie has been wildly popular at the exact moment when the president of hope started holding tight to the outrages of the president of fear. Why are both presidents petrified that we will look closely at the screen? It's not what Iraqis will do if they see all of the images from Abu Ghraib. Obama, like Bush, is afraid of what Americans will do. Here's my nostalgic, please happen myth-making belief for you (both presidents may share it with me, but not in the good way): Americans are not idiots when we are allowed to see and think and hope and fear for ourselves.
Will American empire be able to explore new worlds? A lover of the new movie, offended by my concerns, may want to counter that the newly minted Kirk and Spock have lost their parents in the space-time continuum of the film-Kirk his father and Spock his mother-and that I'm being a little hard on the kids by forgetting their loss. Yes, they've suffered too and that is the problem. Isn't it? The good survivors have had their home world destroyed and there's very little context for boldly moving forward, for procedural justice or for any other object of nostalgia you might want to call up and replay.
Sophia Mihic is an associate professor of political science at Northeastern Illinois University. She can be reached at: s-mihic@neiu.edu.
40 días de rebelión indígena contra el saqueo
Perú: el gobierno decreta el estado de emergencia durante 60 días para bloquear las movilizaciones
Marc Gavaldà
Diagonal
La Asociación Interétnica de Desarrollo de la Selva Peruana mantuvo cinco semanas de movilizaciones contra las petroleras para protestar contra 11 decretos legislativos.
Tras semanas de intensas movilizaciones en los departamentos amazónicos, el Gobierno peruano decretó el pasado 9 de mayo el estado de emergencia durante 60 días en nueve municipios selváticos de las regiones de Cusco, Ucayali, Loreto y Amazonas. Con la medida, quedaron suspendidos los derechos constitucionales de libertad y seguridad personal, la inviolabilidad del domicilio, y las libertades de reunión y de tránsito. Además, las fuerzas de seguridad podrán detener ciudadanos discrecionalmente, allanar viviendas o locales e impedir la circulación y las concentraciones. Los primeros movimientos de esta escala represiva se tradujeron en el envío de barcos de guerra por los cursos fluviales.
El motivo del decreto no es otro que “restablecer el orden público ante las acciones de violencia que ponen en riesgo la producción, transporte y distribución de gas natural e hidrocarburos”. La protesta indígena más masiva de los últimos tiempos se inició el pasado nueve de abril con la toma de instalaciones petroleras, corte de rutas terrestres y fluviales y anuncios de cortes del oleoducto norperuano y el gaseoducto del sur, protagonizadas por organizaciones afiliadas a la Asociacion Interétnica de Desarrollo de la Selva Peruana (AIDESEP), que agrupa a más de 60 etnias y unas 1.500 comunidades de la Amazonía.
Tras la contundente medida coercitiva, el líder de AIDESEP, Alberto Pizango, advirtió que las amenazas no amedrentan a los nativos y que éstos están dispuestos a morir para hacer respetar sus territorios y defender la Amazonía.
Concretamente, el levantamiento indígena exige la derogación de 11 de los 104 decretos legislativos que atentan contra los intereses del país. La protesta incide en varios decretos y leyes aprobados por el Gobierno y el Congreso como parte de un paquete legislativo de adecuación de la normatividad peruana a las exigencias de un tratado de libre comercio con Estados Unidos. Según los indígenas, las normas cuestionadas afectan los intereses nacionales y propician la depredación de su hábitat, al viabilizar la entrega de la Amazonía a intereses privados. La protesta exige además el cese o la severa regulación de actividades depredadoras mineras y petroleras.
El nuevo Pizarro Repsol ha invertido 2.200 millones de dólares en Perú, siendo este país el tercer receptor de inversiones de la compañía. Durante la última reunión mantenida entre el presidente de la petrolera y el presidente de Perú, Alan García, se explicaron los avances del trabajo en el Lote 39, así como en la Refinería de La Pampilla, en los cuales existe un enorme potencial de cara al futuro. Precisamente, el futuro de los pueblos no consultados se ve gravemente amenazado por las intenciones de la empresa de penetrar esta región, limítrofe con las Zonas Intangibles preservadas por el Gobierno ecuatoriano para salvaguardar a los grupos indígenas en aislamiento voluntario Tagaeri y Taromenane.
Existen evidencias de la existencia de otros grupos en contacto inicial como los Aushiris o Abijires, los Pananajuris y Taushiros. Estos pueblos ubicados en la frontera, fluctúan entre Ecuador y los bloques peruanos 67 y 39.
El Bloque 39 fue concesionado en primera instancia a la norteamericana Barret, la cual, en 2001 abrió 383 km de líneas sísmicas. En 2003 fue transferido a Repsol Exploración Perú (filial de Repsol) duplicando su extensión a 886.000 hectáreas. Hace unos meses, Alan García festejó públicamente el descubrimiento de crudo en estas áreas. Ahora el proyecto espera la aprobación de los Estudios de Impacto Ambiental para iniciar la fase de explotación petrolera.
Organizaciones indígenas y de solidaridad con AIDESEP o Survival Internacional denuncian que las intenciones de Repsol de ingresar en el Bloque 39 suponen rubricar un homicidio anunciado, porque los índices de mortalidad durante el contacto de pueblos aislados supera el 50% en los primeros años. Los pueblos Nahua y Murnunahua, contactados en los ‘80 y ‘90 respectivamente por petroleras y madereros ilegales, refrendaron tal funesta estadística.
Otros bloques amenazan a puebles aislados. La colombiana Ecopetrol pretende ingresar en los Bloques 110 y 117, con presencia de grupos de Murunahua, en aislamiento voluntario. Por su parte, la francesa Perenco, opera en el bloque 67, vecino al bloque 39, amenazando a los mismos pueblos que lo hace la petrolera Repsol.
Marc Gavaldà
Diagonal
La Asociación Interétnica de Desarrollo de la Selva Peruana mantuvo cinco semanas de movilizaciones contra las petroleras para protestar contra 11 decretos legislativos.
Tras semanas de intensas movilizaciones en los departamentos amazónicos, el Gobierno peruano decretó el pasado 9 de mayo el estado de emergencia durante 60 días en nueve municipios selváticos de las regiones de Cusco, Ucayali, Loreto y Amazonas. Con la medida, quedaron suspendidos los derechos constitucionales de libertad y seguridad personal, la inviolabilidad del domicilio, y las libertades de reunión y de tránsito. Además, las fuerzas de seguridad podrán detener ciudadanos discrecionalmente, allanar viviendas o locales e impedir la circulación y las concentraciones. Los primeros movimientos de esta escala represiva se tradujeron en el envío de barcos de guerra por los cursos fluviales.
El motivo del decreto no es otro que “restablecer el orden público ante las acciones de violencia que ponen en riesgo la producción, transporte y distribución de gas natural e hidrocarburos”. La protesta indígena más masiva de los últimos tiempos se inició el pasado nueve de abril con la toma de instalaciones petroleras, corte de rutas terrestres y fluviales y anuncios de cortes del oleoducto norperuano y el gaseoducto del sur, protagonizadas por organizaciones afiliadas a la Asociacion Interétnica de Desarrollo de la Selva Peruana (AIDESEP), que agrupa a más de 60 etnias y unas 1.500 comunidades de la Amazonía.
Tras la contundente medida coercitiva, el líder de AIDESEP, Alberto Pizango, advirtió que las amenazas no amedrentan a los nativos y que éstos están dispuestos a morir para hacer respetar sus territorios y defender la Amazonía.
Concretamente, el levantamiento indígena exige la derogación de 11 de los 104 decretos legislativos que atentan contra los intereses del país. La protesta incide en varios decretos y leyes aprobados por el Gobierno y el Congreso como parte de un paquete legislativo de adecuación de la normatividad peruana a las exigencias de un tratado de libre comercio con Estados Unidos. Según los indígenas, las normas cuestionadas afectan los intereses nacionales y propician la depredación de su hábitat, al viabilizar la entrega de la Amazonía a intereses privados. La protesta exige además el cese o la severa regulación de actividades depredadoras mineras y petroleras.
El nuevo Pizarro Repsol ha invertido 2.200 millones de dólares en Perú, siendo este país el tercer receptor de inversiones de la compañía. Durante la última reunión mantenida entre el presidente de la petrolera y el presidente de Perú, Alan García, se explicaron los avances del trabajo en el Lote 39, así como en la Refinería de La Pampilla, en los cuales existe un enorme potencial de cara al futuro. Precisamente, el futuro de los pueblos no consultados se ve gravemente amenazado por las intenciones de la empresa de penetrar esta región, limítrofe con las Zonas Intangibles preservadas por el Gobierno ecuatoriano para salvaguardar a los grupos indígenas en aislamiento voluntario Tagaeri y Taromenane.
Existen evidencias de la existencia de otros grupos en contacto inicial como los Aushiris o Abijires, los Pananajuris y Taushiros. Estos pueblos ubicados en la frontera, fluctúan entre Ecuador y los bloques peruanos 67 y 39.
El Bloque 39 fue concesionado en primera instancia a la norteamericana Barret, la cual, en 2001 abrió 383 km de líneas sísmicas. En 2003 fue transferido a Repsol Exploración Perú (filial de Repsol) duplicando su extensión a 886.000 hectáreas. Hace unos meses, Alan García festejó públicamente el descubrimiento de crudo en estas áreas. Ahora el proyecto espera la aprobación de los Estudios de Impacto Ambiental para iniciar la fase de explotación petrolera.
Organizaciones indígenas y de solidaridad con AIDESEP o Survival Internacional denuncian que las intenciones de Repsol de ingresar en el Bloque 39 suponen rubricar un homicidio anunciado, porque los índices de mortalidad durante el contacto de pueblos aislados supera el 50% en los primeros años. Los pueblos Nahua y Murnunahua, contactados en los ‘80 y ‘90 respectivamente por petroleras y madereros ilegales, refrendaron tal funesta estadística.
Otros bloques amenazan a puebles aislados. La colombiana Ecopetrol pretende ingresar en los Bloques 110 y 117, con presencia de grupos de Murunahua, en aislamiento voluntario. Por su parte, la francesa Perenco, opera en el bloque 67, vecino al bloque 39, amenazando a los mismos pueblos que lo hace la petrolera Repsol.
The Philanthropies and the Economic Crisis
Where Were the Foundations?
By JOAN ROELOFS
CounterPunch
We in the United States have been endowed with enormous philanthropic foundations, which have been fixing up the world for the last 100 years. One might wonder how their activities relate to the current economic crisis. News on this subject is not found in the headlines, or even on page 23. There is more exposure of foundation garments than of the opulent structures overpinning our system.
We should remember that these institutions, taking to heart the “robber baron” accusation, were not intended to dispense charity, but to apply resources and “social engineering” to forestall the “evils of capitalism.” Thus the Sage Foundation created the field of professional social work. The Rockefeller Foundation, directly and through its subsidiary, the Social Science Research Council, helped to shape New Deal programs, including social security. Its massive manual, Recent Social Trends, was a blueprint for the reform of laissez-faire capitalism. The Ford Foundation created prototypes for the “War on Poverty” programs, and more recently was the designer of Individual Development Accounts to provide funding for worthy low income people.
In addition to the billions donated to non-profit organizations, economic development, and policy-oriented think tanks, foundations have been prime creators of international organizations designed to promote and defend capitalism against any and all threats. After World War I, Rockefeller and Carnegie foundations originated the Council on Foreign Relations. Coordinating with its foreign affiliates, it is still going strong. Post World War II, the Bilderberg group was formed (named after the hotel in the Netherlands where the first meeting was held in 1954), an informal palaver that meets in secret (no press and don’t tell) at a different high-security location each year. It gathers the elite of North America and Western Europe; its originators included David Rockefeller, Dean Rusk (then head of the Rockefeller Foundation), Joseph Johnson (head of the Carnegie Endowment), and John J. McCloy (Chairman of the Board of the Ford Foundation), along with European notables. While this encounter does not conclude with any formal plan of action, the idea is that these powerful people have the means to implement the sense of the meeting. The list of attendees provided by aggressive investigative journalists at www.bilderberg.com will give an idea of the clout involved. As with similar gatherings, Bilderberg is an arena where rookies are fielded for selection to the big leagues; Tony Blair, Bill Clinton, and Mary Robinson were invited when aspiring politicians.
Bilderberg was too narrow a selection, as “non-Western” nations are becoming economic “giants.” Primarily initiated by Rockefeller institutions, the Trilateral Commission (Europe, North America, Japan) was convened in 1973 to deal with political threats and economic instabilities in the capitalist world. An even more inclusive gathering became necessary, and foundations and corporations created the World Economic Forum in 1974. In addition to the prime ministers and corporate and foundation executives, it includes rock stars, “emerging young leaders,” and representatives of non-governmental organizations such as Greenpeace, Amnesty International, and Third World Network. While some of its sessions are in secret, it has a vast public component, welcoming the press, webcasting the panel discussions, and so forth. Its consistent theme is that globalization and economic growth will promote wealth and happiness for all, although participants are divided among advocates of the “free market” and government regulation.
Foundations are concerned about the dysfunctions of globalization, and consequently fund many groups active at alternative summits such as the World Social Forum, initiated as a radical response to the World Economic Forum. The protesting organizations at the WSF receive grants from pro-globalization foundations and corporations, which also provide general support for the Forum and its regional affiliates. There is now a Funders Network on Trade and Globalization created primarily for the WSF that includes the Ford, Rockefeller, Mott, Tides, and Levi Strauss Foundations, along with progressive funders such as the Funding Exchange and the Unitarian Universalist Veatch Program. The group of 160 funders sends a special delegation to the WSF. A major purpose: “The participation of funders and donors has allowed them to build a common analysis, in partnership with their grantees, of the underlying structural causes of community problems: the institutions involved, the flow of money, the constraints on democracy and other factors.”
While promoting/saving/improving capitalism over the long term, foundations are also deeply entrenched in the corporate sector, including the military-industrial complex and finance capitalism, through their trustees and investments. In 1971, the Ford Foundation established the Commonfund for managing the investments of private universities, schools, and foundations. Its charge was to break away from the traditional conservative investment policies of these entities in order to produce more robust returns.
As a consequence, the largest foundations became “powerhouses” in investing, seeking to increase their yields through hedge funds, distressed debt, venture capital, buyouts, real estate, and international resource and energy ventures. The investment committee of the Ford Foundation’s board is headed by Afsaneh Beschloss, who was recruited from the Carlyle Group where she was a specialist in hedge funds. According to Commonfund’s report, about 40% of foundations screen their investments; however, the major evil avoided is tobacco.
While critical scrutiny of foundations is rare, it is almost entirely absent from major media. A notable exception was Charles Piller’s 2007 investigation of Gates Foundation investments (published in The Los Angeles Times) that concluded: “The Gates Foundation reaps vast profits every year from companies whose actions contradict its mission of improving society in the United States and around the world, particularly the lot of people afflicted by poverty and disease.”
Foundations are quick to publicize their “cause-related” investments, but for the bulk of their portfolios they go along with the crowd, and that has made all the sameness.
Joan Roelofs is Professor Emerita of Political Science, Keene State College, New Hampshire. She is the translator of Victor Considerant’s Principles of Socialism (Maisonneuve Press, 2006), and author of Foundations and Public Policy: The Mask of Pluralism (SUNY Press, 2003) and Greening Cities (Apex-Bootstrap Press, 1996).Contact: joan.roelofs@myfairpoint.net
By JOAN ROELOFS
CounterPunch
We in the United States have been endowed with enormous philanthropic foundations, which have been fixing up the world for the last 100 years. One might wonder how their activities relate to the current economic crisis. News on this subject is not found in the headlines, or even on page 23. There is more exposure of foundation garments than of the opulent structures overpinning our system.
We should remember that these institutions, taking to heart the “robber baron” accusation, were not intended to dispense charity, but to apply resources and “social engineering” to forestall the “evils of capitalism.” Thus the Sage Foundation created the field of professional social work. The Rockefeller Foundation, directly and through its subsidiary, the Social Science Research Council, helped to shape New Deal programs, including social security. Its massive manual, Recent Social Trends, was a blueprint for the reform of laissez-faire capitalism. The Ford Foundation created prototypes for the “War on Poverty” programs, and more recently was the designer of Individual Development Accounts to provide funding for worthy low income people.
In addition to the billions donated to non-profit organizations, economic development, and policy-oriented think tanks, foundations have been prime creators of international organizations designed to promote and defend capitalism against any and all threats. After World War I, Rockefeller and Carnegie foundations originated the Council on Foreign Relations. Coordinating with its foreign affiliates, it is still going strong. Post World War II, the Bilderberg group was formed (named after the hotel in the Netherlands where the first meeting was held in 1954), an informal palaver that meets in secret (no press and don’t tell) at a different high-security location each year. It gathers the elite of North America and Western Europe; its originators included David Rockefeller, Dean Rusk (then head of the Rockefeller Foundation), Joseph Johnson (head of the Carnegie Endowment), and John J. McCloy (Chairman of the Board of the Ford Foundation), along with European notables. While this encounter does not conclude with any formal plan of action, the idea is that these powerful people have the means to implement the sense of the meeting. The list of attendees provided by aggressive investigative journalists at www.bilderberg.com will give an idea of the clout involved. As with similar gatherings, Bilderberg is an arena where rookies are fielded for selection to the big leagues; Tony Blair, Bill Clinton, and Mary Robinson were invited when aspiring politicians.
Bilderberg was too narrow a selection, as “non-Western” nations are becoming economic “giants.” Primarily initiated by Rockefeller institutions, the Trilateral Commission (Europe, North America, Japan) was convened in 1973 to deal with political threats and economic instabilities in the capitalist world. An even more inclusive gathering became necessary, and foundations and corporations created the World Economic Forum in 1974. In addition to the prime ministers and corporate and foundation executives, it includes rock stars, “emerging young leaders,” and representatives of non-governmental organizations such as Greenpeace, Amnesty International, and Third World Network. While some of its sessions are in secret, it has a vast public component, welcoming the press, webcasting the panel discussions, and so forth. Its consistent theme is that globalization and economic growth will promote wealth and happiness for all, although participants are divided among advocates of the “free market” and government regulation.
Foundations are concerned about the dysfunctions of globalization, and consequently fund many groups active at alternative summits such as the World Social Forum, initiated as a radical response to the World Economic Forum. The protesting organizations at the WSF receive grants from pro-globalization foundations and corporations, which also provide general support for the Forum and its regional affiliates. There is now a Funders Network on Trade and Globalization created primarily for the WSF that includes the Ford, Rockefeller, Mott, Tides, and Levi Strauss Foundations, along with progressive funders such as the Funding Exchange and the Unitarian Universalist Veatch Program. The group of 160 funders sends a special delegation to the WSF. A major purpose: “The participation of funders and donors has allowed them to build a common analysis, in partnership with their grantees, of the underlying structural causes of community problems: the institutions involved, the flow of money, the constraints on democracy and other factors.”
While promoting/saving/improving capitalism over the long term, foundations are also deeply entrenched in the corporate sector, including the military-industrial complex and finance capitalism, through their trustees and investments. In 1971, the Ford Foundation established the Commonfund for managing the investments of private universities, schools, and foundations. Its charge was to break away from the traditional conservative investment policies of these entities in order to produce more robust returns.
As a consequence, the largest foundations became “powerhouses” in investing, seeking to increase their yields through hedge funds, distressed debt, venture capital, buyouts, real estate, and international resource and energy ventures. The investment committee of the Ford Foundation’s board is headed by Afsaneh Beschloss, who was recruited from the Carlyle Group where she was a specialist in hedge funds. According to Commonfund’s report, about 40% of foundations screen their investments; however, the major evil avoided is tobacco.
While critical scrutiny of foundations is rare, it is almost entirely absent from major media. A notable exception was Charles Piller’s 2007 investigation of Gates Foundation investments (published in The Los Angeles Times) that concluded: “The Gates Foundation reaps vast profits every year from companies whose actions contradict its mission of improving society in the United States and around the world, particularly the lot of people afflicted by poverty and disease.”
Foundations are quick to publicize their “cause-related” investments, but for the bulk of their portfolios they go along with the crowd, and that has made all the sameness.
Joan Roelofs is Professor Emerita of Political Science, Keene State College, New Hampshire. She is the translator of Victor Considerant’s Principles of Socialism (Maisonneuve Press, 2006), and author of Foundations and Public Policy: The Mask of Pluralism (SUNY Press, 2003) and Greening Cities (Apex-Bootstrap Press, 1996).Contact: joan.roelofs@myfairpoint.net
Las complicidades de Álvaro Uribe y Felipe Calderón
La Jornada
Gilberto López y Rivas
Los crímenes de Estado de Álvaro Uribe siguen causando víctimas, con la complicidad de quien ocupa ilegítimamente el Poder Ejecutivo en México, Felipe Calderón. Las amenazas de extradición a Ecuador de Lucía Morett Álvarez y la detención ilegal del sociólogo colombiano Miguel Ángel Beltrán Villegas cuando realizaba trámites migratorios, y su expulsión inmediata a Colombia, son dos sucesos más que lamentar de la cadena que se inicia con la acción militar del gobierno colombiano en territorio ecuatoriano el primero de marzo de 2008, en la que fueron asesinados, además de Raúl Reyes y sus compañeros de armas, cuatro estudiantes mexicanos.
Álvaro Uribe se responsabilizó públicamente de este hecho violatorio del marco jurídico internacional y el que rige los actos de guerra y el derecho humanitario, sin que hasta la fecha se le finquen cargos por este y los innumerables crímenes de lesa humanidad cometidos contra el pueblo de Colombia, como los denunciados en esta columna sobre los cientos de ejecuciones extrajudiciales, mal llamadas falsos positivos (La Jornada, 21 de marzo de 2009).
Paradójicamente, Lucía Morett, herida gravemente en ese bombardeo, es inculpada en un juicio de extradición por Wirmar Gonzabay Pérez, agente fiscal del distrito Sucumbíos, y Orellana, del Ministerio Público de Ecuador (fallecido en una zona de tolerancia de Lago Agrio, víctima de un paro cardiaco), por el delito contra la seguridad del Estado, sin que hasta la fecha se conozcan acusaciones y trámites judiciales similares en contra de los militares colombianos y su comandante en jefe, Álvaro Uribe, quienes son los delincuentes confesos de la incursión en territorio ecuatoriano. El juez local de la provincia –asimismo– dictó una orden de llamamiento a juicio en contra de Lucía. La larga mano de Uribe llega al aparato judicial ecuatoriano, tan sospechosamente sesgado que responsabiliza a las víctimas y no a los victimarios; pero también llega a México, cuyo gobierno no ha condenado el homicidio de esos jóvenes estudiantes que desarmados y sin uniforme se encontraban en el campamento, y cuyo presidente se dispone a visitar Colombia para ser recibido como un héroe de la lucha contra el terrorismo.
Los padres de esos estudiantes afirman en carta a Felipe Calderón, fechada el primero de marzo de este año: “Múltiples ataques e infundios se han manejado para desprestigiar a nuestros hijos asesinados y a Lucía como testigo, pretendiendo con ello desviar la responsabilidad que los asesinos tienen por los delitos cometidos. Categóricamente reiteramos, nuestros hijos ingresaron y transitaron legalmente por Ecuador. Su visita como civiles en un campamento de las FARC no constituía ningún delito. Eran jóvenes entusiastas, interesados en conocer los procesos sociales latinoamericanos. Su derecho a realizar investigaciones académicas in situ fue reivindicado por autoridades, profesores, trabajadores y estudiantes de la UNAM”. Se destaca en este documento la negativa de Patricia Espinosa y el titular del Ejecutivo federal a recibir a los padres, no obstante la gravedad de lo sucedido y los diversos documentos enviados sobre la masacre de Sucumbíos. Se señalan la falta de una defensa efectiva para los mexicanos víctimas de delitos en el extranjero y el nulo interés del gobierno de Calderón para que los culpables materiales e intelectuales de los homicidios de mexicanos sean juzgados. También se hace un enérgico extrañamiento a que la investigación de las autoridades mexicanas se ha centrado en los jóvenes y sus acciones, y no en la incursión extraterritorial colombiana. Se denuncian el carácter persecutorio del interrogatorio de la Procuraduría General de la República (PGR) a Lucía Morett y los dos procesos penales abiertos contra ella y otros ciudadanos sin pruebas ni fundamentos. Sobre todo, se demanda que el gobierno mexicano no otorgue la extradición de Lucía Morett, con base en el artículo 3 del tratado de extradición entre el gobierno de los Estados Unidos Mexicanos y el gobierno de la República de Ecuador, que es muy claro en negar dicho acto si existen razones fundadas para considerar que una solicitud de extradición ha sido formulada con el propósito de perseguir o castigar a una persona por motivos de su raza, religión, nacionalidad, creencias políticas o cualquier otro tipo de discriminación prohibida por la legislación interna de cada una de las partes, así como por los tratados internacionales vigentes para ambas partes. Lucía es perseguida por sus creencias políticas en favor de la solidaridad entre los pueblos de México y Colombia y en defensa de los derechos humanos de los colombianos violentados gravemente por Álvaro Uribe Vélez.
Convenientemente, los aparatos de inteligencia colombianos encontraron en la ya legendaria computadora de Reyes todo un expediente contra Miguel Ángel Beltrán Villegas, maniobra que con precisión el editorial de nuestro periódico del 24 de mayo califica de montaje elaborado por la administración uribista. Ahora se tratará de relacionar a este peligroso terrorista con Lucía Morett y con otros mexicanos y extranjeros de la supuesta red internacional de la guerrilla colombiana, académicos, intelectuales y activistas que han manifestado desde nuestro país posturas críticas hacia el gobierno uribista y que podrían, por tanto, estar incorporados en la lista negra de Bogotá (Ibid.).
Apoyo a Lucía Morett y a la negativa de su extradición; a los padres de los estudiantes masacrados en Ecuador. Indignación por la obsecuente complicidad de Felipe Calderón y su gobierno con Uribe Vélez en la detención y expulsión de nuestro colega Beltrán Villegas, a quien envío un saludo solidario. Alto a las agresiones a la Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México.
Gilberto López y Rivas
Los crímenes de Estado de Álvaro Uribe siguen causando víctimas, con la complicidad de quien ocupa ilegítimamente el Poder Ejecutivo en México, Felipe Calderón. Las amenazas de extradición a Ecuador de Lucía Morett Álvarez y la detención ilegal del sociólogo colombiano Miguel Ángel Beltrán Villegas cuando realizaba trámites migratorios, y su expulsión inmediata a Colombia, son dos sucesos más que lamentar de la cadena que se inicia con la acción militar del gobierno colombiano en territorio ecuatoriano el primero de marzo de 2008, en la que fueron asesinados, además de Raúl Reyes y sus compañeros de armas, cuatro estudiantes mexicanos.
Álvaro Uribe se responsabilizó públicamente de este hecho violatorio del marco jurídico internacional y el que rige los actos de guerra y el derecho humanitario, sin que hasta la fecha se le finquen cargos por este y los innumerables crímenes de lesa humanidad cometidos contra el pueblo de Colombia, como los denunciados en esta columna sobre los cientos de ejecuciones extrajudiciales, mal llamadas falsos positivos (La Jornada, 21 de marzo de 2009).
Paradójicamente, Lucía Morett, herida gravemente en ese bombardeo, es inculpada en un juicio de extradición por Wirmar Gonzabay Pérez, agente fiscal del distrito Sucumbíos, y Orellana, del Ministerio Público de Ecuador (fallecido en una zona de tolerancia de Lago Agrio, víctima de un paro cardiaco), por el delito contra la seguridad del Estado, sin que hasta la fecha se conozcan acusaciones y trámites judiciales similares en contra de los militares colombianos y su comandante en jefe, Álvaro Uribe, quienes son los delincuentes confesos de la incursión en territorio ecuatoriano. El juez local de la provincia –asimismo– dictó una orden de llamamiento a juicio en contra de Lucía. La larga mano de Uribe llega al aparato judicial ecuatoriano, tan sospechosamente sesgado que responsabiliza a las víctimas y no a los victimarios; pero también llega a México, cuyo gobierno no ha condenado el homicidio de esos jóvenes estudiantes que desarmados y sin uniforme se encontraban en el campamento, y cuyo presidente se dispone a visitar Colombia para ser recibido como un héroe de la lucha contra el terrorismo.
Los padres de esos estudiantes afirman en carta a Felipe Calderón, fechada el primero de marzo de este año: “Múltiples ataques e infundios se han manejado para desprestigiar a nuestros hijos asesinados y a Lucía como testigo, pretendiendo con ello desviar la responsabilidad que los asesinos tienen por los delitos cometidos. Categóricamente reiteramos, nuestros hijos ingresaron y transitaron legalmente por Ecuador. Su visita como civiles en un campamento de las FARC no constituía ningún delito. Eran jóvenes entusiastas, interesados en conocer los procesos sociales latinoamericanos. Su derecho a realizar investigaciones académicas in situ fue reivindicado por autoridades, profesores, trabajadores y estudiantes de la UNAM”. Se destaca en este documento la negativa de Patricia Espinosa y el titular del Ejecutivo federal a recibir a los padres, no obstante la gravedad de lo sucedido y los diversos documentos enviados sobre la masacre de Sucumbíos. Se señalan la falta de una defensa efectiva para los mexicanos víctimas de delitos en el extranjero y el nulo interés del gobierno de Calderón para que los culpables materiales e intelectuales de los homicidios de mexicanos sean juzgados. También se hace un enérgico extrañamiento a que la investigación de las autoridades mexicanas se ha centrado en los jóvenes y sus acciones, y no en la incursión extraterritorial colombiana. Se denuncian el carácter persecutorio del interrogatorio de la Procuraduría General de la República (PGR) a Lucía Morett y los dos procesos penales abiertos contra ella y otros ciudadanos sin pruebas ni fundamentos. Sobre todo, se demanda que el gobierno mexicano no otorgue la extradición de Lucía Morett, con base en el artículo 3 del tratado de extradición entre el gobierno de los Estados Unidos Mexicanos y el gobierno de la República de Ecuador, que es muy claro en negar dicho acto si existen razones fundadas para considerar que una solicitud de extradición ha sido formulada con el propósito de perseguir o castigar a una persona por motivos de su raza, religión, nacionalidad, creencias políticas o cualquier otro tipo de discriminación prohibida por la legislación interna de cada una de las partes, así como por los tratados internacionales vigentes para ambas partes. Lucía es perseguida por sus creencias políticas en favor de la solidaridad entre los pueblos de México y Colombia y en defensa de los derechos humanos de los colombianos violentados gravemente por Álvaro Uribe Vélez.
Convenientemente, los aparatos de inteligencia colombianos encontraron en la ya legendaria computadora de Reyes todo un expediente contra Miguel Ángel Beltrán Villegas, maniobra que con precisión el editorial de nuestro periódico del 24 de mayo califica de montaje elaborado por la administración uribista. Ahora se tratará de relacionar a este peligroso terrorista con Lucía Morett y con otros mexicanos y extranjeros de la supuesta red internacional de la guerrilla colombiana, académicos, intelectuales y activistas que han manifestado desde nuestro país posturas críticas hacia el gobierno uribista y que podrían, por tanto, estar incorporados en la lista negra de Bogotá (Ibid.).
Apoyo a Lucía Morett y a la negativa de su extradición; a los padres de los estudiantes masacrados en Ecuador. Indignación por la obsecuente complicidad de Felipe Calderón y su gobierno con Uribe Vélez en la detención y expulsión de nuestro colega Beltrán Villegas, a quien envío un saludo solidario. Alto a las agresiones a la Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México.
You Can't Stay Neutral on Migration
Sin Nombre: Only Part of the Border Story
By JOSEPH NEVINS
CounterPunch
The Philadelphia Inquirer calls the film “[t]ough and beautiful,” the USA Today “a powerful and wrenching thriller,” giving it fours stars out of four. The Denver Post characterizes it as “vivid and haunting,” while The Washington Post praises he film as “an elegant, heartbreaking fable, equal parts Shakespearean tragedy, neo-Western and mob movie but without the pretension of those genres.”
The movie receiving these adoring reviews is Sin Nombre (Without a Name), directed by Cary Joji Fukunaga. His first feature-length film — “[o]ne of the most memorable directorial debuts in recent memory” according to the Post — it won the California-born Fukunaga the directing and cinematography award in the dramatic competition at this year’s Sundance Film Festival.
There is certainly much to recommend the film. It tells a visually compelling tale that takes the viewer on a journey from the streets of Tapachula, Chiapas — a mid-size Mexican city on the border with Guatemala—to Mexico’s boundary with Texas. In doing so, Sin Nombre brings the audience into the underworld of Mexican youth gangs, one depicted as often horrifically violent, while providing a window into the grueling trip from southern Mexico taken by many Central American migrants to reach the United States.
The movie revolves around a young member of the Mara Salvatrucha gang, Willy, and a young Honduran woman, Sayra, who is trying to reach the United States with her uncle and her father, recently deported from New Jersey, and whom she hasn’t seen since she was a child. The two teenagers’ paths cross on the top of a freight train, an efficient but highly dangerous form of transportation for migrants traveling to “el Norte.” On the trip, Sayra develops—rather far-fetchedly—a deep attachment to Willy as he tries to outrun his former gang brothers intent on hunting him down.
While the story in and of itself is quite engrossing, it presents a largely one-dimensional view of Mexico as a land of violence with few honorable people. At the same time, it presents no context to help the viewer understand who the gang members are, and how and why they—and the Mara Salvatrucha (MS-13) itself—came to be.
Apart from a single reference to the gang’s presence in Los Angeles, there is no mention of the MS-13’s origins in southern California, and the U.S. government’s role in facilitating its emergence and spread. Salvadoran migrants, whose very residence there was owed to U.S. support for El Salvador’s brutal military-oligarchy alliance, created the gang in the 1980s as a form of self-protection. U.S. deportations of members helped to internationalize the gang, which now has a strong presence in many Central American countries, and in southern Mexico.
Given the focus of the film, it is perhaps far too much to expect Sin Nombre to address such matters. But it begs the question of what the filmmaker is trying to accomplish by focusing on gang violence and its intersection with the Central American migrant passage through Mexico. It is in this area where Sin Nombre proves to be quite problematic and confusing.
A question-and-answer session with Fukunaga and Focus Features CEO, James Shamus, following a recent showing of the film at Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, NY, helped to shed some light onto the production- and marketing-related thinking surrounding the film.
Shamus somewhat cryptically called the film “radically political” (suggesting that it was so in a progressive sense), and praised the fact that it gives voice to people rarely heard in feature films — Latinos. He also gushed about how the film is bringing large numbers of Latinos into art-house theaters, evidence of its cross-over appeal.
Fukunaga indirectly took issue with Shamus’s suggestion that Sin Nombre was political. “I didn’t write it as a political film,” the filmmaker asserted. “I wasn’t trying to change anyone’s mind.” Instead, he stated that he wanted viewers to have an “experience” and to “make up their own minds.” The question is, what is it that he wants people to make up their own minds about?
In published interviews, Fukunaga makes clear that the migrant journey—specifically the dangerous odyssey by train from the Mexico-Guatemala border to the U.S.-Mexico divide—and the violence and suffering that surround it is his intended focus. Yet, this is at best a secondary aspect of the film, as Sin Nombre privileges the gang-related drama to a great extent. And in doing so in the way that it does, the film paints a picture of Mexico—and, by extension, its people—that is anything but flattering. Indeed, it is difficult to come away from the film not feeling a sense of revulsion toward and fear of many things Mexican, in particular the country’s men. In this regard, the film plays into some of the worst stereotypes that fuel anti-migrant sentiment—especially as it relates to Mexico.
Undoubtedly there is a lot of brutal violence—perpetrated by Mexican authorities, gang members, and bandits—associated with the migrant passage from southern Mexico to the United States. And, in addition to the deaths and injuries brought about by such brutality, innumerable migrants lose their lives or limbs each year by falling off and underneath what many call the “train of death” or “the beast.” Sin Nombre provides a valuable glimpse into these varied forms of violence, but the film doesn’t give the viewer a sense of the frequent nature of the fatalities and injuries associated with the train itself.
At the same time, Sin Nombre makes invisible the U.S. enforcement apparatus. In terms of the actual movement across the U.S.-Mexico boundary, it only shows a single unauthorized crossing, one that is successful and seemingly challenge-free. The films does this despite the fact that the size of the boundary and immigration apparatus has exploded in the last 15 years—the U.S. Border Patrol, for instance, has more than quadrupled in size (there are today 18,000+ agents) during this period. Meanwhile, more than 5,000 migrant bodies have been recovered in the U.S.-Mexico borderlands since 1995, a tragic manifestation of the boundary’s “hardening.”
In addition to such misrepresentation, the movie effectively exculpates the United States for its role in helping to make Mexico a grueling zone of passage for migrants from Central America and beyond.
In the 1980s, during a northward exodus of Central American refugees, Washington put considerable pressure on Mexico, and assisted Mexican government efforts, to crackdown on third-country nationals migrating without authorization through Mexico to get to the United States. Since the 1990s, U.S. authorities have intensified such pressures and efforts, while extending them geographically so that the U.S. boundary and immigration enforcement apparatus is today effectively present in Mexico and in countries well beyond. In other words, the arduous and dangerous journey across Mexico that the film helps bring to light has been made in no small part in Washington, D.C.
Given this reality—and the almost omnipresent and highly charged nature of present-day debates surrounding immigration and boundary enforcement — it is, at best, pure fantasy to think that one can avoid politics in making a film that is to a significant degree about migration from Mexico and Central America. The title of one of Howard Zinn’s book says it best: You Can’t be Neutral on a Moving Train.
To pretend that you can be otherwise facilitates the myopic thinking that led Fukunaga to make a film that purports to be a sympathetic portrayal of the migrant passage, but that ends up obscuring much and inadvertently fueling some of the flames which underlie the very making of the journey’s fatal obstacles that seem to concern him.
It is easy to decry migrant deaths and the many forms of suffering endured by unauthorized migrants as they make the dangerous trek to the United States. Everyone from the Minutemen to the most ardent congressional advocates of increased enforcement does so. It is much more difficult—and important—to analyze and challenge the factors and agents that compel migrants to leave their homes and that deny them passage and entry to the relatively safety and security of places like the United States. Because it does the former without doing the latter, while reinforcing ugly images of Mexico that inform anti-immigrant sentiment, Sin Nombre is hardly progressive or radical, and is regrettably part tragedy in more ways than one.
Joseph Nevins teaches geography at Vassar College. His most recent book is Dying to Live: A Story of U.S. Immigration in an Age of Global Apartheid (City Lights Books, 2008). He can be reached at jonevins@vassar.edu
By JOSEPH NEVINS
CounterPunch
The Philadelphia Inquirer calls the film “[t]ough and beautiful,” the USA Today “a powerful and wrenching thriller,” giving it fours stars out of four. The Denver Post characterizes it as “vivid and haunting,” while The Washington Post praises he film as “an elegant, heartbreaking fable, equal parts Shakespearean tragedy, neo-Western and mob movie but without the pretension of those genres.”
The movie receiving these adoring reviews is Sin Nombre (Without a Name), directed by Cary Joji Fukunaga. His first feature-length film — “[o]ne of the most memorable directorial debuts in recent memory” according to the Post — it won the California-born Fukunaga the directing and cinematography award in the dramatic competition at this year’s Sundance Film Festival.
There is certainly much to recommend the film. It tells a visually compelling tale that takes the viewer on a journey from the streets of Tapachula, Chiapas — a mid-size Mexican city on the border with Guatemala—to Mexico’s boundary with Texas. In doing so, Sin Nombre brings the audience into the underworld of Mexican youth gangs, one depicted as often horrifically violent, while providing a window into the grueling trip from southern Mexico taken by many Central American migrants to reach the United States.
The movie revolves around a young member of the Mara Salvatrucha gang, Willy, and a young Honduran woman, Sayra, who is trying to reach the United States with her uncle and her father, recently deported from New Jersey, and whom she hasn’t seen since she was a child. The two teenagers’ paths cross on the top of a freight train, an efficient but highly dangerous form of transportation for migrants traveling to “el Norte.” On the trip, Sayra develops—rather far-fetchedly—a deep attachment to Willy as he tries to outrun his former gang brothers intent on hunting him down.
While the story in and of itself is quite engrossing, it presents a largely one-dimensional view of Mexico as a land of violence with few honorable people. At the same time, it presents no context to help the viewer understand who the gang members are, and how and why they—and the Mara Salvatrucha (MS-13) itself—came to be.
Apart from a single reference to the gang’s presence in Los Angeles, there is no mention of the MS-13’s origins in southern California, and the U.S. government’s role in facilitating its emergence and spread. Salvadoran migrants, whose very residence there was owed to U.S. support for El Salvador’s brutal military-oligarchy alliance, created the gang in the 1980s as a form of self-protection. U.S. deportations of members helped to internationalize the gang, which now has a strong presence in many Central American countries, and in southern Mexico.
Given the focus of the film, it is perhaps far too much to expect Sin Nombre to address such matters. But it begs the question of what the filmmaker is trying to accomplish by focusing on gang violence and its intersection with the Central American migrant passage through Mexico. It is in this area where Sin Nombre proves to be quite problematic and confusing.
A question-and-answer session with Fukunaga and Focus Features CEO, James Shamus, following a recent showing of the film at Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, NY, helped to shed some light onto the production- and marketing-related thinking surrounding the film.
Shamus somewhat cryptically called the film “radically political” (suggesting that it was so in a progressive sense), and praised the fact that it gives voice to people rarely heard in feature films — Latinos. He also gushed about how the film is bringing large numbers of Latinos into art-house theaters, evidence of its cross-over appeal.
Fukunaga indirectly took issue with Shamus’s suggestion that Sin Nombre was political. “I didn’t write it as a political film,” the filmmaker asserted. “I wasn’t trying to change anyone’s mind.” Instead, he stated that he wanted viewers to have an “experience” and to “make up their own minds.” The question is, what is it that he wants people to make up their own minds about?
In published interviews, Fukunaga makes clear that the migrant journey—specifically the dangerous odyssey by train from the Mexico-Guatemala border to the U.S.-Mexico divide—and the violence and suffering that surround it is his intended focus. Yet, this is at best a secondary aspect of the film, as Sin Nombre privileges the gang-related drama to a great extent. And in doing so in the way that it does, the film paints a picture of Mexico—and, by extension, its people—that is anything but flattering. Indeed, it is difficult to come away from the film not feeling a sense of revulsion toward and fear of many things Mexican, in particular the country’s men. In this regard, the film plays into some of the worst stereotypes that fuel anti-migrant sentiment—especially as it relates to Mexico.
Undoubtedly there is a lot of brutal violence—perpetrated by Mexican authorities, gang members, and bandits—associated with the migrant passage from southern Mexico to the United States. And, in addition to the deaths and injuries brought about by such brutality, innumerable migrants lose their lives or limbs each year by falling off and underneath what many call the “train of death” or “the beast.” Sin Nombre provides a valuable glimpse into these varied forms of violence, but the film doesn’t give the viewer a sense of the frequent nature of the fatalities and injuries associated with the train itself.
At the same time, Sin Nombre makes invisible the U.S. enforcement apparatus. In terms of the actual movement across the U.S.-Mexico boundary, it only shows a single unauthorized crossing, one that is successful and seemingly challenge-free. The films does this despite the fact that the size of the boundary and immigration apparatus has exploded in the last 15 years—the U.S. Border Patrol, for instance, has more than quadrupled in size (there are today 18,000+ agents) during this period. Meanwhile, more than 5,000 migrant bodies have been recovered in the U.S.-Mexico borderlands since 1995, a tragic manifestation of the boundary’s “hardening.”
In addition to such misrepresentation, the movie effectively exculpates the United States for its role in helping to make Mexico a grueling zone of passage for migrants from Central America and beyond.
In the 1980s, during a northward exodus of Central American refugees, Washington put considerable pressure on Mexico, and assisted Mexican government efforts, to crackdown on third-country nationals migrating without authorization through Mexico to get to the United States. Since the 1990s, U.S. authorities have intensified such pressures and efforts, while extending them geographically so that the U.S. boundary and immigration enforcement apparatus is today effectively present in Mexico and in countries well beyond. In other words, the arduous and dangerous journey across Mexico that the film helps bring to light has been made in no small part in Washington, D.C.
Given this reality—and the almost omnipresent and highly charged nature of present-day debates surrounding immigration and boundary enforcement — it is, at best, pure fantasy to think that one can avoid politics in making a film that is to a significant degree about migration from Mexico and Central America. The title of one of Howard Zinn’s book says it best: You Can’t be Neutral on a Moving Train.
To pretend that you can be otherwise facilitates the myopic thinking that led Fukunaga to make a film that purports to be a sympathetic portrayal of the migrant passage, but that ends up obscuring much and inadvertently fueling some of the flames which underlie the very making of the journey’s fatal obstacles that seem to concern him.
It is easy to decry migrant deaths and the many forms of suffering endured by unauthorized migrants as they make the dangerous trek to the United States. Everyone from the Minutemen to the most ardent congressional advocates of increased enforcement does so. It is much more difficult—and important—to analyze and challenge the factors and agents that compel migrants to leave their homes and that deny them passage and entry to the relatively safety and security of places like the United States. Because it does the former without doing the latter, while reinforcing ugly images of Mexico that inform anti-immigrant sentiment, Sin Nombre is hardly progressive or radical, and is regrettably part tragedy in more ways than one.
Joseph Nevins teaches geography at Vassar College. His most recent book is Dying to Live: A Story of U.S. Immigration in an Age of Global Apartheid (City Lights Books, 2008). He can be reached at jonevins@vassar.edu
"La impunidad ha prevalecido"
Comunicado en Memoria del 28 de mayo de 2004, Guadalajara
A la sociedad mexicana:
Hace 5 años, en el contexto de la III cumbre ALCUE, celebrada en mayo de 2004 en Guadalajara, cuerpos policiacos de Jalisco al mando del entonces gobernador Francisco Ramírez Acuña hicieron un uso represivo y desproporcionado de la fuerza pública en contra de cientos de manifestantes pacíficos, como dieron cuenta medios de comunicación convencionales y alternativos. Los hechos fueron documentados por organismos de derechos humanos públicos y civiles, nacionales e internacionales, como la Comisión Nacional de los Derechos Humanos, Human Rights Watch y Amnistía Internacional, los que confirmaron y denunciaron que además hubo detenciones arbitrarias, ilegales, tratos crueles, inhumanos, degradantes y tortura. Consolidándose en este caso graves violaciones a la Constitución mexicana y al Derecho Internacional.
En este sentido creemos pertinente realizar las siguientes declaraciones a la sociedad en general, pues consideramos que los hechos ocurridos el 28 de mayo de 2004 en Guadalajara sentaron un precedente de tolerancia e impunidad a la represión. Guadalajara fue el triste preludio de Lázaro Cárdenas, Atenco, Oaxaca...
1.- El libre derecho a la manifestación está establecido en nuestra Constitución y por lo tanto el uso de la fuerza policial fue desproporcionado ante una mayoritaria presencia de activistas pacíficos.
2.- Los abusos cometidos en contra de los manifestantes están documentados no sólo en lo que declararon los detenidos sino en documentos audiovisuales que pueden ser utilizados como pruebas y que incluso fueron transmitidos por las televisoras mexicanas e internacionales.
3.- El Estado mexicano no ha garantizado a las víctimas del 28 de mayo ni justicia, ni verdad, ni reparación, por el contrario existen claros indicios de que ha desarrollado estrategias para evadir sus responsabilidades al respecto.
4.- La impunidad ha prevalecido por completo en el caso. Ejemplo de esto fue el nombramiento del señor Ramírez como secretario de Gobernación y su actual postulación a diputado, en donde pretende ser designado coordinador de la bancada panista, cuyas declaraciones recientes en diversos medios de comunicación reiteran su postura en contra de los Derechos Humanos, así como su desprecio a la opinión pública y su estrategia de descalificar a quienes lo señalan como responsable por estas y otras violaciones al Derecho.
5.- Los responsables de la planeación e implementación de los operativos del 28 de mayo han evitado deliberadamente que las escasas investigaciones que se han hecho sobre abusos policíacos que en ciertos sectores fueron calificados como un “Abu Graib mexicano” deriven en el esclarecimiento de los motivos de la represión. El Señor Ramírez incluso premió a los policías de manera generalizada y pública por su actuación. Es indispensable que los organismos públicos de Derechos Humanos contribuyan decididamente al esclarecimiento de los hechos y que el Estado mexicano reconozca y proteja a quienes fueron víctimas.
6.-Especialmente grave es la situación de los cerca de 20 procesados sin sentencia, así como del total de procesados quienes no sólo fueron vejados, sino que además han tenido que cumplir sentencias injustas e infundadas. Exigimos que se haga justicia en los casos en los que aún está pendiente la resolución final, que se absuelva a los ya injustamente sentenciados y que se busque una forma digna de reparación del daño para las víctimas de tortura.
7.-Las movilizaciones en torno a la III Cumbre ALCUE en Guadalajara fueron diversas y contradictorias, fructíferas y dolorosas. Las interpretaciones históricas tendrán su momento, pero lo que resulta absolutamente claro es que la alegría y las esperanzas que se gestaron en aquellos días asustaron a más de uno con malas intenciones por su potencial transformador. En momentos tan grises como el que vivimos, vale la pena recordar que los sueños no sólo son posibles, sino necesarios.
Participantes civiles en las movilizaciones alternas a la III Cumbre ALCUE
Responsables de la publicación Mariana Espeleta, Quetzalcoatl g. Fontanot, Aracely Cortés
A la sociedad mexicana:
Hace 5 años, en el contexto de la III cumbre ALCUE, celebrada en mayo de 2004 en Guadalajara, cuerpos policiacos de Jalisco al mando del entonces gobernador Francisco Ramírez Acuña hicieron un uso represivo y desproporcionado de la fuerza pública en contra de cientos de manifestantes pacíficos, como dieron cuenta medios de comunicación convencionales y alternativos. Los hechos fueron documentados por organismos de derechos humanos públicos y civiles, nacionales e internacionales, como la Comisión Nacional de los Derechos Humanos, Human Rights Watch y Amnistía Internacional, los que confirmaron y denunciaron que además hubo detenciones arbitrarias, ilegales, tratos crueles, inhumanos, degradantes y tortura. Consolidándose en este caso graves violaciones a la Constitución mexicana y al Derecho Internacional.
En este sentido creemos pertinente realizar las siguientes declaraciones a la sociedad en general, pues consideramos que los hechos ocurridos el 28 de mayo de 2004 en Guadalajara sentaron un precedente de tolerancia e impunidad a la represión. Guadalajara fue el triste preludio de Lázaro Cárdenas, Atenco, Oaxaca...
1.- El libre derecho a la manifestación está establecido en nuestra Constitución y por lo tanto el uso de la fuerza policial fue desproporcionado ante una mayoritaria presencia de activistas pacíficos.
2.- Los abusos cometidos en contra de los manifestantes están documentados no sólo en lo que declararon los detenidos sino en documentos audiovisuales que pueden ser utilizados como pruebas y que incluso fueron transmitidos por las televisoras mexicanas e internacionales.
3.- El Estado mexicano no ha garantizado a las víctimas del 28 de mayo ni justicia, ni verdad, ni reparación, por el contrario existen claros indicios de que ha desarrollado estrategias para evadir sus responsabilidades al respecto.
4.- La impunidad ha prevalecido por completo en el caso. Ejemplo de esto fue el nombramiento del señor Ramírez como secretario de Gobernación y su actual postulación a diputado, en donde pretende ser designado coordinador de la bancada panista, cuyas declaraciones recientes en diversos medios de comunicación reiteran su postura en contra de los Derechos Humanos, así como su desprecio a la opinión pública y su estrategia de descalificar a quienes lo señalan como responsable por estas y otras violaciones al Derecho.
5.- Los responsables de la planeación e implementación de los operativos del 28 de mayo han evitado deliberadamente que las escasas investigaciones que se han hecho sobre abusos policíacos que en ciertos sectores fueron calificados como un “Abu Graib mexicano” deriven en el esclarecimiento de los motivos de la represión. El Señor Ramírez incluso premió a los policías de manera generalizada y pública por su actuación. Es indispensable que los organismos públicos de Derechos Humanos contribuyan decididamente al esclarecimiento de los hechos y que el Estado mexicano reconozca y proteja a quienes fueron víctimas.
6.-Especialmente grave es la situación de los cerca de 20 procesados sin sentencia, así como del total de procesados quienes no sólo fueron vejados, sino que además han tenido que cumplir sentencias injustas e infundadas. Exigimos que se haga justicia en los casos en los que aún está pendiente la resolución final, que se absuelva a los ya injustamente sentenciados y que se busque una forma digna de reparación del daño para las víctimas de tortura.
7.-Las movilizaciones en torno a la III Cumbre ALCUE en Guadalajara fueron diversas y contradictorias, fructíferas y dolorosas. Las interpretaciones históricas tendrán su momento, pero lo que resulta absolutamente claro es que la alegría y las esperanzas que se gestaron en aquellos días asustaron a más de uno con malas intenciones por su potencial transformador. En momentos tan grises como el que vivimos, vale la pena recordar que los sueños no sólo son posibles, sino necesarios.
Participantes civiles en las movilizaciones alternas a la III Cumbre ALCUE
Responsables de la publicación Mariana Espeleta, Quetzalcoatl g. Fontanot, Aracely Cortés
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