Cancun is not the type
of place I would normally spend a week of my life. Like Key West or
Maui, it is
a land of opulent hotels and decadent excess. But this week, tourists
visiting
Cancun were in for a big surprise as they were greeted by fences and a
dictatorial police presence that was the opposite of the laid back
ambiance
most people associate with a Mexican vacation.
But when the World
Trade Organization, or WTO, has a meeting in your town, worldwide
opposition
causes host countries to lock-down the streets. In this way, corporate
led
globalization continues forward, despite resistance from those whose
daily
lives are affected by trade liberalization.
If anyone knows first
hand the negative effects of international trade agreements, it is the
campesino of Mexico. What free trade has meant to the poor farmer is
that
subsidized agricultural products from the United States and Canada can
flood
their country, driving down prices in an already depressed market.
Like most of the
world, real wages have dropped in Mexico since the imposition of Free
Trade
agreements like the WTO. Even in the United States, the average worker
has felt
the pinch of corporate globalization.
On Wednesday,
September 10th 2003, Via Campesino, an organization with
ties to
farmers around the world, led a march demanding that their voices be
heard.
Chanting “¡Viva Zapata, sigue la lucha!” (“Long live Zapata, the
struggle
continues”), these campesinos brought to life the spirit of the Mexican
Revolutionary leader who gave them land reform many years ago.
Joining the group were
international activists, including a contingent of South Korean
farmers. Held
in thrall to United States military occupation for over fifty years,
Koreans
understand not only the impacts of corporate globalization, but the
relation
between imperial colonization and militarization.
To demonstrate the
sanctity of corn in their lives, a group of indigenous farmers carried
an alter
with corn and soil through the streets of downtown Cancun. Full ears
and
individual seeds were flanked by chalices of burning incense and lit
candles.
Used by the people of Mexico for thousands of years, corn is life; it
is the
living representation of their culture, the root of their society.
For the world, Mexico
is where corn originated. Yet despite a law banning genetically
modified crops
from being planted, contamination of local corn varieties was found a
few years
ago. The threat of cultural extinction is being exacerbated by the WTO,
where
the United States is attempting to use the trade body to declare
illegal trade
barriers the laws of other countries that keep out genetically modified
foods.
The march, more than
7,000 strong, advanced to the perimeter, where a large chain link fence
had
been erected. A line of Mexican police in riot gear holding shields
stood
behind this barrier, looking grim in the hot, tropical sun. Undaunted
by the
show of force, the demonstrators stopped at the fence and began banging
it with
sticks and fists, pulling and tearing.
The situation rapidly
escalated as some of the most radical demonstrators began lobbing red
paint and
plastic bottles, then rocks and sticks at the police. Banners were
hung, and
then set on fire as provocation. The police responded with an equal
level of
violence by throwing rocks back into the crowd.
As the chaos
increased, a South Korean farmer climbed the fence. I saw him try to
light a
fire, which was quickly put out. Then, a moment later, he fell from the
fence
into the crowd. I looked down and saw his chest covered in blood. He
was then
mobbed in a media frenzy reminiscent of a shark feed.
People yelled “medic,”
and the mob was pushed back to make room for the fallen man. The
intensity of
the demonstration decreased momentarily as an opening was made to allow
the
medics to carry him through.
Although I stood
within a few feet of this action, it was only later that night that I
learned
that the activist, Lee Kyung-hae, had committed suicide on top of the
fence
that afternoon by stabbing a knife into his heart.
Locked out of the
meetings, ignored by the wealthy elite who made the decisions for his
life, and
faced with the destruction of his people, his family, and his
livelihood, Lee
committed the ultimate act of non-violent civil disobedience. He gave
his own
life as so many lives are taken everyday by the actions of the WTO.
Shortly after his body
was removed, the action at the fence continued. Using the force of
people
power, the fence was breached by an opening made in one small section.
About
six members of Via Campesino ran inside, and waved forward their
companions on
the outside. They held up their hands, and gave no resistance as the
police
surrounded them and moved them away from the action.
The opening was
quickly filled by a line of riot shields held by Mexican police, but
the
relentless crowd pushed against these shields, banging them with sticks
and
continuing to pelt them with rocks. The hole grew, as demonstrators
continued
pulling and ripping at the metal supports and the chain link fence.
Another section of
fence was lifted and literally turned upside down, creating more
openings for
confrontation. The police continued throwing rocks back at the crowd,
and I saw
one woman standing next to me get pelted with a square foot of concrete
in her
face, smashing her glasses. She retreated, yelling for a medic.
I then felt the
unmistakable taste of tear gas in my throat, and I expected that at any
moment
the air would be filled with gas and the streets with fleeing masses.
But
suddenly the Via Campesino truck approached, and through a loudspeaker
the
coordinator, Rafael Alegria, began saying “Compadres, pacifico. ¡No
piedrando!”
(“Friends, peace. Don´t throw stones!”)
Many people in the
crowd began to clap and cheer in support, as the truck moved further
into the
center of the action. While some of the radical elements of the crowd
booed and
yelled back in anger, the majority of the crowd definitely did not wish
to see
the violence continue. Members of Via Campesino began to move their
bodies
between the police and the crowd, creating a human shield of peaceful
protestors.
This moment marked a
definite reduction in the intensity of the action. Although some people
still
threatened the police, the barrage of rocks and sticks subsided and
calm
descended on both sides of the barricade.
People continued to
rally in gatherings near the fence, but no further chaos occurred. Corn
seeds
were placed on the street in front of the hole in the fence, spelling
out “No
OMC” (OMC stands for “Organización Mundial Comercio, the Spanish name
for the
WTO). The Korean group held a memorial in the place where their comrade
had
sacrificed his life.
Tearing down the fence
on the road leading to the conference center where the WTO talks were
being
held was mostly a symbolic act. Had the demonstrators been able to
break
through the police line, at least four more fence lines faced them
before they
could have reached the meetings.
But breaking through
the fence is one way for people to demonstrate their anger and their
desire to
be heard, to participate in the pronouncements made behind the fences
that have
been erected to keep them out of the decision making process.
And in this case there
was a direct effect. On the morning following the demonstration, the
entire
fence line was gone. The next group of demonstrators wishing to have
their
voices heard will be able to approach that much closer to the closed
doors of
the trade negotiations.
For more information,
go to the Cancun Independent Media Center,
http://cancun.mediosindependientes.org