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Title: Mexico Insurgent Author: Chuck Morse Date: February 2003 Language: en Topics: mexico, book review Source: Retrieved on September 15, 2015 from https://web.archive.org/web/20150915062933/http://www.newformulation.org/2mexico.htm Notes: Published in New Formulation, Vol. 2, No. 1.
Everyone knows that Mexico has a long and vibrant revolutionary
tradition. This fact is easy to discover, whether you read Wall Street
preoccupations about Chiapas or crack open any given left-wing magazine.
What is more challenging is to understand the inner logic of the
tradition, both historically and in its contemporary manifestations. It
is also essential: U.S. activists need to develop a substantive grasp of
this tradition to build meaningful alliances with comrades south of the
border as well as a movement in the United States that embodies the best
aspects of the political traditions brought by the millions of Mexican
immigrants.
Ross Gandy and Donald Hodges’s Mexico under Siege: Popular Resistance to
Presidential Despotism and Bill Weinberg’s Homage to Chiapas: The New
Indigenous Struggles in Mexico provide excellent points of entry into
this topic. Both books offer a comprehensive introduction to the Mexican
revolutionary tradition and thus should be read by all U.S. activists
seeking to develop a more international perspective. Their problems are
also helpful because they indicate some of the difficulties we will face
while envisioning a revolutionary movement in the Americas.
These books should be especially attractive to anarchists given that the
authors all share a genuine connection to the anarchist tradition.
Weinberg is a longtime participant in New York’s anti-authoritarian
milieu, and Gandy and Hodges have their own links to the movement; for
example, Hodges is the author of Mexican Anarchism after the Revolution
(Austin: University of Texas Press, 1995), and Gandy describes himself
as a participant in anarchist collectives (among other things) in the
“About the Authors” section of Mexico under Siege.
Mexico under Siege chronicles the popular opposition to the Partido
Revolucionario Institucional (PRI), the party that governed Mexico
through a web of violence, corruption, and deceit for seventy years
under the pretense of democracy. (This mix of authoritarianism and
democratic fiction led Mario Vargas Llosa to label the PRI’s Mexico as
the “perfect dictatorship.”[1]) Mexico under Siege can be read
profitably as a companion to Gandy and Hodges’s Mexico, the End of the
Revolution (Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 2002), which analyzes the course
of the Mexican Revolution from its beginning in 1910 to its
disappearance from the political scene as marked by Vicente Fox’s
election in 2000.
The Mexican Revolution was one of the most far-reaching revolutions of
the twentieth century, and its victory heralded major conquests for
economic and political democracy. Mexico’s 1917 Constitution promised
government support of popular movements for social justice, the
nationalization of economic resources, the formation of cooperatives,
and the spread of collectivism against capitalism. It offered land
reform to the peasants as well as the right to unionize, strike, and
share in employer profits to the workers. In other words, from the ruins
of the Porfirio DĂaz dictatorship and bitter years of civil war, a new
social contract emerged between the people and state guided by a joint
movement toward democracy and equality.
Yet this social contract disintegrated quickly, and people came to
understand that the government was not an ally of the revolution but its
opponent; Mexico under Siege tells the story of those who rose up in
revolt. It describes the emergence of movements against the status quo
along with their strategies and personages, and evaluates them
comprehensively. Its introduction is structured around the revolutionary
novels of B. Traven—a German anarchist who settled in Mexico after
fleeing a death sentence due to his participation in the 1919 Bavarian
soviet—and, from there, describes post-revolutionary resistance
movements up to the contemporary period. It chronicles the militant
labor protests of the 1940s, the revolutionary peasants’ movements of
the late 1940s and 1950s (which provide the link between Emiliano Zapata
and the guerrilla movements of the 1990s), the massive teacher and
railroad workers’ strikes of the late 1950s, the guerrilla movements of
the 1960s, the student movements of 1968 and 1971, the radical labor and
peasant movements of 1970s, and of course the Zapatista uprising in
Chiapas.[2]
This book has no parallel in English or Spanish. Although there are many
works on specific movements in Mexico and some on particular aspects of
the Mexican Left’s broader trajectory—such as Barry Carr’s Marxism and
Communism in Twentieth-Century Mexico and Jorge Castañeda’s Utopia
Unarmed: the Latin American Left after the Cold War—this is the first
comprehensive treatment of Mexican popular resistance movements as a
whole. Although this is a small book (256 pages) and thus overlooks
important movements as well as crucial aspects of the movements that are
considered, Gandy and Hodges demonstrate a consistent and evolving
legacy of opposition. They do so not only by examining the historical
evolution of the movements but also by providing a feeling of the
organic continuity between them (wherein different tendencies and
individuals interacted with and influenced one another). They also
supply biographies of many of the leading activists and offer some
unprecedented documentation to the historical record; for example,
included in the appendix is a translation of The Plan of Cerro Prieto, a
program distributed by peasant revolutionary Rubén Jaramillo before an
uprising he led in 1953. This translation is based on the sole surviving
mimeograph of the original document.
Gandy and Hodges’s panoramic study of the opposition ends on a sober
note: the Mexican resistance failed to realize its primary goal of
breaking the PRI’s stranglehold on political power. Although it is true
that the PRI was dislodged from power through (relatively) clean
elections in 2000, they point out that this was not an achievement of
the popular resistance but primarily the result of many different forces
and pressures (including pressure from the Right).
Weinberg’s Homage to Chiapas is an excellent complement to Mexico under
Siege. While Gandy and Hodges analyze the Mexican popular resistance, as
shaped by the legacy of the Mexican Revolution and in engagement with
the state, Weinberg provides a topical exposition of the social
dislocations and revolutionary movements that have emerged with Mexico’s
integration into the global economy (particularly as represented by
NAFTA). Homage to Chiapas and Mexico under Siege overlap in many key
areas, but Weinberg’s work is much more international and contemporary
in focus.
Although the Zapatista uprising in Chiapas frames the book, Weinberg’s
work is really more than an “homage to Chiapas.” His book, which also
begins with a Traven quote, is divided into five parts. The first
describes the long history of exploitation and indigenous resistance in
Mexico generally and Chiapas in particular (from colonization, to the
Mexican Revolution, to NAFTA). The second section (“A War Cry from
Chiapas”) shows how this history exploded to produce unfathomable
suffering as well as a revolutionary movement that has inspired millions
in Mexico and across the globe. The remaining three sections (roughly
the latter half of the book) place the first two in a much broader
context: they analyze peasant movements throughout Mexico and the
circumstances that have catalyzed them; the insidious confluence of
political corruption, violence, and crime (especially drug trafficking);
and the connection between misery in Mexico and the miserable schemes
hatched by U.S. elites.
Weinberg is a journalist (for High Times magazine and Native Americas)
and he wrote this book in a journalistic style. His analysis is not
shaped by academic debates or concerns; for instance, he does not
contest prevalent theories of social movements or speculate on the
meaning of ethnicity in the twenty-first century. On the contrary, his
goal is to tell the story—in a straightforward, entertaining way—of the
various crises and historical trajectories that have pushed Mexico into
a maelstrom of distress and revolt. And he is remarkably successful at
this task. Weinberg not only does an excellent job of tracing the
sometimes obscure (and sometimes not so obscure) forces and
personalities that have shaped the present but also skillfully weaves
this together to depict a country torn between five hundred years of
colonization, militant indigenous resistance, and new forms of conflict
that are radically transforming the social and ecological fabric.
Weinberg’s journalism is clearly a form of activism for him, and his
commitment to radical social and ecological reconstruction gives him a
sensitivity to issues that are often invisible to others. For example,
he is exceptionally attentive to the ecological dimensions of Mexico’s
current crisis: he illustrates how anti-ecological and anti-democratic
practices come together to create a desperate present for the poor, and
knowledgeably describes the very different relationship between nature
and culture found among indigenous people. Likewise, his
anti-authoritarian commitments are reflected in his ability to portray
social movements that have radically democratized community life and to
distinguish these from movements that merely claim such priorities. As
strong as his commitments are, however, he completely avoids the
temptation to sanctify the opposition or gratuitously demonize elites.
For instance, he conveys Subcommandante Marcos’s charismatic genius, but
also represents him as a bit of a playboy. Similarly, he shows the
heinous role of many individuals and groups, but does not saturate them
in derogatory adjectives. Weinberg’s restraint, willingness to be
critical, and desire to let the facts speak for themselves renders his
work much more compelling than it would be otherwise.
Mexico under Siege and Homage to Chiapas offer a broad picture of the
Mexican resistance in its past and present-day forms. They do so on the
basis of original historical research and express a genuine enthusiasm
for popular revolutionary movements. Nevertheless, these books both have
instructive limitations for those who want to build on their
accomplishments.
Although Mexico under Siege studies popular resistance to the Mexican
state, it is unfortunately not anti-statist enough. There are three
reasons why this is the case.
First, Mexico under Siege is very much a political history of the
leaders, organizations, and programs that guided the resistance to PRI
and not a history of the emergence of oppressed classes or groups into
historical subjects. For instance, their chapters on the 1958 teacher
and railroad worker strikes focus on the organizations and leaders, not
on changes in the constitution of the Mexican working class. Likewise,
their chapter on the Zapatistas focuses overwhelmingly upon Marcos—his
history, political style, and so forth—instead of the development of a
revolutionary identity among indigenous people in Chiapas. Although such
a political history needs to be told—and certainly the leadership and
organizations are important—this approach has a tendency to diminish the
political subjectivity of the very people the opposition claims to
represent (and who give these organizations meaning).[3]
Furthermore, the treatment of the organized opposition in isolation from
the classes or groups they represent tends to enable those in power to
define the key moments in the history of popular resistance. In other
words, if the emphasis is on the evolution of a revolutionary class
consciousness among workers or an insurgent sensibility among peasants,
then events of historical significance occur when this group’s radical
identity is either fortified, diminished, or transformed. For example,
Gandy and Hodges cite an interview with Marcos in which he discusses the
moment when the Zapatistas substantively joined the indigenous community
of Chiapas: this was an enormously portentous event for Chiapas, and yet
completely invisible to the state and its local agents. But what is a
historically crucial event for the organized opposition when it is
understood outside of its relation to oppressed classes or groups? In
many cases, the state is permitted to define what is or is not
significant: that is, the movement becomes important when the state
decides it is worth repressing. Unfortunately, this approach is evident
in Mexico under Siege, which can be read as a long list of clashes
between disenfranchised people and the system. But, really, what kind of
history do we want—a history of us standing up or them beating us
down?[4]
Finally, the isolation of the organized opposition from those it claims
to represent tends to diminish the centrality of ideological
commitments—particularly a commitment to democracy—in the resistance.
This question simply loses significance when the people are not
theorized as historical actors. Unfortunately, this problem is also
evident in Mexico under Siege: Gandy and Hodges treat democratic
movements and Marxist-Leninist movements as more or less continuous with
one another, despite the fact that there is a vast difference between
groups that want to impose a dictatorship of the proletariat and those
fighting for popular self-organization. This distinction is vital for
members of the opposition as well as the state being opposed because
movements that want to democratically reconstruct political life pose a
much greater challenge to the state than those that merely want to
confront it. Indeed, this is revealed in the history of two movements
treated by Gandy and Hodges: the student movement and the Zapatistas.
The student movement sought to radically democratize political life with
its counterculture and advocacy of participatory democracy and, even
though the movement has passed into history, the state is still burdened
by its legacy in the form of an enduring political sensibility and
ongoing inquires into its repressive actions against the movement. The
Zapatistas have also made crucial attempts to radically democratize
political life (through their autonomous municipalities and democratic
consultas, for instance) and of course their uprising has troubled the
state for more than eight continuous years. By contrast, the
Marxist-Leninist groups have utterly disappeared from the political
scene and their memory does little to trouble those in power.
These problems with Mexico under Siege illuminate the vast difference
between fighting the state and empowering the people, and underscore the
necessity (and potential) of integrating this difference into theory.
If Gandy and Hodges can be criticized for some theoretical failings in
their conception of the opposition, Weinberg dispenses with theory
altogether by choosing a journalistic approach to the subject. As a
journalist, his job is to report the facts and tell a story, and as
such, he is not permitted to leave the realm of facts. While Weinberg is
good at his trade—his book is both entertaining and exhaustively
documented—his profession prevents him from speculating on the deeper
logic of events or making assertions about the character of social
institutions as such. In this sense, even the worst theory is more
ambitious than the best journalism, for at least it endeavors to grasp
the underlying principles that organize social affairs. And this is an
important difference for anarchists: we need to be able to say not only
that the Mexican state (for one) is barbaric and irrational but also
that these are essential characteristics of states as such. Weinberg’s
work provides great raw material for such arguments, yet he does not and
cannot make them.
These books’ problems are related: Gandy and Hodges employ a theoretical
structure that does not encompass the breadth of the movements they
treat—implicitly, they step away from the history of popular
self-organization in Mexico—whereas Weinberg avoids theoretical
questions entirely. Even though both books offer nuanced and
unprecedented studies of a much neglected history, our collective
imaginations will need to be pressed further to grasp the fullness of
the revolutionary tradition that has unfolded south of the border.
On the one hand, the demands of theory cannot be avoided. The emergence
of a common movement among Mexican and U.S. radicals requires the
ability to make claims about the social order—claims that do more than
indict a particular story of a particular injustice. And indeed, to
incorporate the lessons of the Mexican resistance into U.S. radical
movements, one needs to be able to grasp what is universal about its
accomplishments.
But the history of the Mexican resistance also needs to be understood in
a way that emphasizes the centrality of ordinary people in the process
of social change, whether they have risen up in arms or simply tried to
keep food on the table. In short, our theoretical premises must (and
can) be as radical as our political convictions.
These books provide valuable material for understanding the full breadth
of the Mexican radical tradition—a tradition far deeper than normally
indicated by the mainstream or Left media—and their contributions and
shortcomings indicate some of the challenges we will face while
envisioning a new revolutionary movement in the Americas.
[1] Vargas made this comment at a televised conference in Mexico City in
September, 1990.
[2] Anarchists are not a factor in the popular movements examined by
Gandy and Hodges. Although a mass anarchist movement existed in Mexico
for many decades, anarchists became marginal in the 1930s. For a
discussion of an attempt to revive the anarchist movement, see Chantal
López and Omar Cortés, El Expreso: Un Intento de Acercamiento a la
Federación Anarquista del Centro de la República Mexicana (1936–1944)
(MĂ©xico, D.F.: Ediciones Antorcha, 1999).
[3] For a different approach, see John Lear, Workers, Neighbors, and
Citizens: The Revolution in Mexico City (Lincoln: University of Nebraska
Press, 2001). This book explores the tradition of resistance and
independent organization among urban poor and workers in Mexico City
from the 1910 revolution into the early 1920s. It also has valuable
commentary on anarchist activity during this period, particularly that
associated with the Casa del Obrero Mundial (House of the World Worker).
[4] An emphasis on popular self-organization would draw attention to the
massive earthquake of 1985. This disaster killed more than ten thousand
people and ruined vast portions of Mexico City. The state’s response to
this calamity was profoundly inept and often cynical, whereas
self-organized citizens’ groups emerged to play a vital role in the
rescue. The combination of state incompetence and popular self-activity
dealt a withering blow to the legitimacy of the PRI—with more lasting
consequences than many of the Left groups examined in Mexico under
Siege—and ignited a militant urban movement. Bill Weinberg comments on
this by noting that since the calamity, “Mexico has seen a renaissance
of popular movements linked to neither the ruling nor opposition
parties” (Homage to Chiapas: The New Indigenous Struggles in Mexico
[London: Verso, 2000], 202).