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August 20, 2002

Narco News '02

How the Victory at

Atenco Was Won

The Death of the Texcoco Airport

...and the Struggle Goes On and On

By Maria Botey Pascual

Special to the Narco News Bulletin



With Historic Photos of Insurgent Mexico

By Tina Modotti

Part I of a series

On August 1, the Mexican people won a new victory against the corrupt and
authoritarian system that still rules this country, a victory of
international proportions against the advance of neoliberal looting of the
most humble for the economic enrichment of the greedy.

With the precedents of the struggles that halted the golf club in Tepoztl�n,
Morelos, or that stopped the hydroelectric project in Alto Balsas, Guerrero,
among others, and above all the light that was turned on by the Zapatista
uprising beginning in 1994 in Chiapas, the people of the former lake of
Texcoco, with those of San Salvador Atenco as the spear, had the courage to
say it anew: "Enough Already!"

They took another step to stop the abuses by those who govern, in a process
that unmasked the political simulation by three levels of government (that
hide, of course, behind the supposed "rule of law"), awakened consciences
and gave root to a new force in the fight for a more just world, where there
ought to be a balanced distribution of wealth and governmental authorities
must allow a role for the true representatives of society.

On October 21, 2001, in the morning's first hour, the church bells rang
throughout the affected towns to announce the terrible news: A large part of
their lands had passed into government hands through an eminent domain
decree that had, as its goal, the construction of a new International
Airport in Mexico.

With an investment, in its first phase, of $2.8 billion dollars, they tried
to build a giant infrastructure for an airport on 5,400 hectares straddling
three towns: Atenco, Texcoco and Chimalhuac�n, the first was the most
affected in terms of the percent of land expropriated (70-percent), where
some of its inhabitants would lose almost all of their crops as well as many
of their houses.

Tearful, but also enraged and indignant because they had not been consulted
on the matter - in violation of Chapter V of Mexico's Article 115 governing
municipal governments and land use - hundreds of townspeople blocked the
road between Lecher�a and Texcoco for various hours on that same morning.
They were armed with sticks, stones and machetes, the rural tool used by the
multitudes in these latitudes that became the symbol of this struggle. The
slogan during nine months of conflict was: "We will not give up our land,
even if it means giving up our lives."

Anyone who investigates the causes of this spontaneous and generalized
attitude against the construction of this airport project will hear many
reasons that converged in a word - Dignity! - a word that emerged from each
mouth, youth, adult or elder. Behind it, the famous phrase of Emiliano
Zapata: "It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees," and
the histories of the struggle by Pancho Villa and he, of the communiqu�s of
the 1970s guerrilla movement articulated by Lucio Caba�as and Genero
V�squez, and of the words of Subcommandante Marcos and the indigenous of
Chiapas, the most recent Mexicans to turn the world downside-up again.

The most basic is "The land is life, because it feeds us." In spite of being
one of the most forgotten regions in the Valley of M�xico, the inhabitants
of the land that once held, before the conquest, the great green lake of
Texcoco, they have survived by farming, raising domestic animals,
cultivating corn, beans, lima beans, string beans, alfalfa, barley, wheat,
carrots, squash, onion, tomato, lettuce, and also wild plants like
verdolagas, quelites, quintoniles, hollyhock and rosemary, and medicinal
plants that above all are utilized and understood by the women, and they
have produced all this at a level more or less equal to their level of
consumption.



They spent more than eighty years recuperating this former lake bottom
yard-by-yard - using ashes and dung (and without government aid) - the salty
lands were delivered at the end of the Revolution, with its history of blood
spilt for "Land and Liberty" (beforehand the zone belonged to just five
gigantic haciendas), lands that were passed on from ancestors to
grandparents who, bequeathing their parcels, said, "Never ever sell it, the
land is worth more than gold."

Faced with the seizure of their lands, the farmer men and women asked
themselves: "We're already poor. If they take away the land, how will we
eat? Where are they going to send us to live? Will there be water in those
lands? If they send us to other lands will be able to take those lands from
us, too? Will they rob other farmers for the lands where they put us? If
they send us to the city, how will we live, when all we know how to do is
farm the land? Will we be able to leave our children a place to live and
build their homes? Who will we have to ask for help if they leave us without
land?"

Here, we arrive at the most basic reason: "The land is my life, my identity,
and to lose it is my death." And in spite of the gigantic advance of the
largest human headquarters in Am�rica (Mexico City and its satellite
cities), Texcoco's land has maintained its rural essence, organized among
communal lands most of which are divided in family ejidos, where the
titleholders, peasant farmers and day laborers work. Above all, the area of
Atenco maintains the community organization of collective life during
important feasts and moments marking life or death, traditions whose origins
go back to the pre-hispanic era (with pride, they speak of the park of Los
Ahuehetes, where the Texcoco-born philosopher-king and poet Nezhualc�yotl
walked amidst its millenarian trees).

Conscious that the siezure of 5,4000 hectares would be only the first phase
of a larger number of land-takings and the spreading urban development and a
brutal infrastructure to connect the new International Airport with the
industrial corridors that are part of the larger "Plan Puebla Panam�,"
strongly pushed by President Vicente Fox� the inhabitants of this place saw
themselves being sucked up by a hurricane of development and later expelled
like garbage on the side of the highway, surrounded by cyclone fences (in
Atenco, the project would take 80-percent of its terrain and almost the
entire town of Ixapan). They saw their families would be dismembered, the
inevitable increase in alcohol and drug addiction, and being sent to live in
apartments, risen up in the air of places largely unknown to the farmers
called cities: "We don't want it, we would drown there."

"And who really believes that later they will employ us in their luxury
hotels, or even allow us into the airport with a little cart of tamales or
atole? The only time they'll come for us will be when, on the other sideof
the fence, they'll be looking for some criminal," was the final comment of
one of the Atequenses interviewed by your correspondent.



But the principal cause of the rage and indignation that filled the town of
Texcoco last April 22nd, was the cynicism and trickery they suffered at the
hands of three levels of government that did not notify nor consult with
them at any time about what was planned. This, in spite of multiple
solicitations for information to the different agencies based on a
suspicion, and reports in the media for some months before hand, that it was
possible that the invasion would fall upon their heads.

Also, of course, the pay granted by the land-taking decree was 7.2 pesos
(about 73 U.S. cents) per square meter, whether seized from farms or
developed areas (without any other subsidy or secure proposal for their
laboral and habitational relocation). "It doesn't add up to enough for our
families to live on," said an elderly. "Let the rich of this country give up
their haciendas (maybe five-percent of the Mexican public has been on an
airplane), and see which of them will give up their land for seventy cents
per meter," said an elderly woman, shedding tears of a powerlessness felt.
To all this you could add the lack of confidence that the Mexicuan public
has in its own currency that, they know from experience and awareness of the
current economic situation of the continent that the peso may be devalued at
any moment.

The idea of building a new International Airport in Mexico began in the
1970s and was pushed by the Atlacomulco group presided over by the late
Carlos Hank Gonz�lez. He achieved it when President Ernesto Zedillo
approved, as his government was passing to the openly neoliberal
administration of Vicente Fox, who, up to his neck in his commitment to
build the airport project - a necessary step to achive the completion of
Plan Puebla Panama in the South - kept this powerful branch of Zedillo's PRI
party in the government by naming Pedro Cerisola as Secrertary of
Transportation and Ernesto Velasco Le�n as head of the national Airports and
Auxiliary Services.

Under the direction of Governor Arturo Montiel Rojas of the State of M�xico,
the current chief of the Atlacomulco group with the constant "collaboration"
of the state attorney general, Alfonso Navarrete Prida - the one who scorned
the dissidents and threatened them with arrest warrants - all of them were
cornerstones, among others, of the frustrated mega-business of the Fox
presidency in which huge Mexican and foreign corporations (and, it is
supposed, a handful of private speculators) had hoped to reap juicy benefits
on the backs of the most humble. If the people had not risen up against it,
they would have been kicked off their only goods by a corrupt action that is
sadly common in this country, where there are hundreds or thousands
(depending on which source does the counting) of examples of common farmland
zones ("ejidos") in many states that were never economically compensated for
the expropriations in spite of having had been legally established at their
foundation. Or they were paid not seven pesos but twenty centavos (one-fifth
of a U.S. cent) per meter, or after being kicked off their lands they were
charged rent to have a smaller parcel in the same place and at a high price,
or, as recently happened in Acapulco, where although the court ruled in
their favor, the businessmen didn't want to let go of their dam. In fact,
the former farmers of lands taken for the Lecher�a-Texcoco highway say they
were never paid anything.

Suspecting the possible construction of the famous airport in Texcoco back
in the 1970s, say some leaders of the Atenco uprising, and at least once in
1997, the communal lands of the region were divided among the residents with
the objective of counting with more communal farm councils ready to fight
for the land.



This was the first strategy of resistance against the airport from a social
movement that, in spite of the reports broadcast by the media, was not born
in October 2001, but long before. By the end of the 1970s, various towns of
Atenco together with other municipalities expressed their dissent over a
rise in housing taxes in a zone that is among the most marginalized in the
State of M�xico, and back then without the minimum services that would merit
the exaggerated sum that the authorities tried to collect from townspeople
who basically live from meal to meal. The police squashed the protests by
students and farmers, but the tax was eventually cancelled.

A number of the participants in the resistance to the airport project by the
peoples of the former lake of Texcoco had already participated in the social
struggles to improve the conditions of life of the residents of the area. In
the 1990s, they were able to organize into, first, the Popular Regional
Front of Texcoco, and after that the Popular Front of the Valley of M�xico,
with the goal of uniting the communities through its local representatives
and pushing social development against the existing lack of the most
elemental services such as electricity, potable water, drainage, schools,
health centers or projects to stimulate farming.

It was at the end of 1995 when, with these demands, they blocked the
Lecher�a-Texcoco highway and when the Atenquenses experienced a trick pulled
on them by the government, which agreed to a dialogue. The farmers lifted
the blockade but the government only sent police in, and never showed up at
the negotiating table.

Although the organization lived through a crisis due to the crudeness of
this event, and some of its leaders then suffered manipulations by the
government through slanders promoted by some of the most corrupt individuals
within those communities, some of those social fighters, at the end of 2000,
began to pay attention to the publicity, according to many of them, of the
"supposed" competition between different States to have the airport located
within their territories.

There, from the first months of 2001, some inhabitants of Atenco began
asking for information from the local governmental authorities, which pled
total ignorance of any airport matter (false statements, as they would later
come to know, and that's why they consider these authorities to be sell-outs
and traitors). They began to assemble facts collected through the media and
Internet, although it still wasn't clear if the ex-lake of Texcoco would be
the airport construction site "because the maps published on the Internet
were imprecise and kept changing."

It should be stressed that in this time the media manipulation had already
begun, above all on television news, that presented the airport project as
an opportunity for progress that would noticeably improve the lives of the
residents of the area selected and that would generate thousands of jobs and
a great economic boom that would benefit the people and the environment:
propaganda based on supposed studies (later it would be known that there
weren't that many) that never took the opinion of the majority of the
townspeople into account. (This can be proved in the document that the State
of M�xico published, but that was not made public, which spoke of airfields,
highway infrastructure, soils and fauna, but never referred to any human
problems, those humans whose small towns didn't even appear on the map.)

According to statements by one of the leaders of the movement, it was in the
summer of 2001 that a representative of the government finally came to the
town (the only time that any authority came near the community, although
many townspeople didn't know about it at the time) to promote the airport
plan with the same tone that it would be a project of "progress." In a
meeting "in which it was never determined what land-area would be affected
but they told us that if some communal land-owner resulted to be outside of
the perimeter, the farmer would be paid commercial prices for the land," as
well as other confusing, tricky and shameful messages by the authorities who
have been involved throughout this process. (The government would later come
blasting into the community, trumpeting the decision to put the airport in
Texcoco as if the locals had won the lottery, saying that with the airport
their sons would have the opportunity to gain careers as jet pilots.)

While the pressure from the media began to take root among some residents of
the zone, and others doubted that it would really be brought about in
Texcoco, a small group of people organized Sunday assemblies in the
municipal auditorium of Atenco to question the consequences of the possible
airport. They invited professors from a nearby university to inform about
the potential impacts, and tried, together, to plan actions that might be
necessary for any contingency. At the same time the tension rose in the
community after the discovery, on the lands of various communal farmers,
topographers that, upon being questioned about their presence, answered only
that "we're just looking," but never explained the reason for being there,
and a mayor who never answered the questions that the populace had for him.

These suspicious actions culminated in the discovery, in early October last
year, of soil-extraction machinery in lands adjacent to San Salvador Atenco
without any permission from the property owners. Angry already about the
violations to their rights while the government had still not given them the
courtesy of communicating openly about the new airport (although some
political leaders were made suspicious by the secret nature of media
questions), the communal farmers drove the trucks and the soil drill to the
Town Square, where they were guarded night and day by what became the first
Popular Guardians. It was then that various residents of the towns held the
first marches in the region demanding an explanation from the government for
the trespass upon their lands and demanding that the airport project be
stopped. Meanwhile, the mayor of San Salvador Atenco claimed he knew nothing
about the protests, and accused the participants of being outside agitators.



When the order finally came to sieze the lands, the non-believers awoke from
their dream, and the opposition to the construction of the International
Airport in Texcoco rose in volume: Hundreds of neighbors blocked the
highway, while declarations against the airport multiplied. The opposition
included the government of nearby Mexico City, as well as university
students and environmentalists who warned about the dangers of flooding in
the city caused by the destruction of the natural drainage of the area. They
also warned of the disappearance of a migratory bird sanctuary where birds
from Canada and the United States stop to rest, and this later provoked a
legal complaint under the environmental clauses of the North American Free
Trade Agreement. The issue of the birds launched a national joke, after the
Secretary of Transportation Pedro Cerisola y Weber said that if the birds
had accepted the airport in Mexico City, they then also accept the new one.

Those who were not in agreement were never consulted nor duly informed at
any moment, and they were the residents of the towns affected. From the
first day they established a permanent occupation of the Town Square of San
Salvador Atenco and they organized to resist. But they were also opposed
because it was already clear that, because of the powerful interests at
play, they would have to take effective measures against the project before
the first shovel of dirt was removed.

There, they constructed the first barricades and walls to impede the passage
of the machines, and they organized in a more or less spontaneous form with
distinct commissions for vigilance, collection of supplies and funds, a
kitchen to feed the popular guardians and communications, while support from
other towns in the region began to arrive, as well as from the first
national civil organizations that declared solidarity with the movement.


Next, in Part II: How the Local Battle of Atenco Grew into a National and
Global Cause

Maria Botey Pascual is the author of "A la recerca d'El Quemado" ("In Search
of Burnt Mountain") (2002, Columna Press, Barcelona), is a correspondent for
the Mexican daily Por Esto!, and participant in the journalistic coverage by
Narco News of the 2001 Zapatista Caravan. She reported this story from San
Salvador Atenco.


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