Loss in Translation: Ayotzinapa and Mexico’s More than 27,000 Disappeared

by Maggie Ervin

At its best, a translation can be sublime and elevating. I dare say Edith Grossman’s English version of One Hundred Years of Solitude is almost as stunningly delicious as Garcia Marquez’s original. And I wonder if Rilke’s original Sonnets to Orpheus could possibly be more transcendent than Stephen Mitchell’s take on it. At its worst, translation can be awkward and disappointing. When trying to convey the layers of Portuguese’s saudade, or those long, precise German nouns stuck together to make one single word.

Translating certain words from Spanish to English can be complicated too. In English, "disappear" is not normally a transitive verb. Something or someone disappears by its own will, or by negligence, but it’s not something you do to someone else. There are plenty of cruel things you can do to people in English, but disappearing folks is simply not part of our linguistic repertoire of barbarism. Here in Mexico, someone can be “bagged.” No, not "fired" or "arrested." In this case it means a dead body is wrapped in a garbage bag and most likely left somewhere other than the local morgue. Ever heard of a “goat’s horn?” (Hint: not the one you find on the animal.) That translates to AK-47. Similarly, “el derecho a la verdad” sounds odd in English too. “The right to the truth?” When was the last time you heard that victims have “the right to the truth?”

43 students, disappeared. Or would the right word be “missing?" Or "taken?" Or "unaccounted for?" No, they are indeed disappeared; no ambiguities or euphemisms in this case. In fact, the more accurate term for what happened in Iguala six months ago was forced disappearance. To English speakers, this term might also need some explaining. In spite of the many injustices in the U.S. - class inequalities, crazy rates of incarceration, demonizing of immigrants, bankruptcy due to sickness, police killing unarmed black men, a merciless minimum wage - forced disappearance is not part of our daily reality or rhetoric. So a little clarification. There are three basic elements to forced disappearance: 1) the denial of someone’s freedom against their will, 2) the involvement of state authorities either by commission or omission, and 3) the denial of the incident by state authorities. On the night of September 26, 2014, all of these elements were gruesomely at play. 

Over these last six months, the 43 students of Ayotzinapa have gotten widespread, worldwide attention, as well they should have. But forced disappearance has been a major problem in Mexico since 2006. In the year 2014 alone, over 5,098 Mexicans were disappeared. That’s more people than fit in a typical high school gym. (So imagine that varsity basketball game during a winning season, and then stuff in about 500 more people.) The story of the 43 students has gotten more attention than others, probably because of a confluence of factors: the grisliness of the massacre, the clear collusion between organized crime and the state, the government’s slow response and premature attempts to close the book on the case, and the shameless levels of corruption and putrefaction of political parties embodied in the event. But family members of the forcibly disappeared in Mexico have been speaking out for years.

Not only speaking out, but also alerting authorities. Surely the numbers are low compared to actual disappearances, since family members are often too scared - of narcos or state authorities, or both - to report them. (There are currently over 27,000 disappeared Mexicans.) But perhaps they’re also skeptical that justice will be served. Unfortunately, the evidence strongly supports this skepticism. Between 2006 and 2011, 390 complaints of forced disappearances were filed before Mexico’s National Human Rights Commission. Out of those, there have been zero convictions. And despite the number of forced disappearances having increased since Peña Nieto took office in December 2012, by April 2014 (the last date available) there was still not one single conviction for forced disappearance in all of Mexico. 

All of this is happening in the context of the Drug War. It’s been 34 years since Nixon declared it, fifteen years since it was unleashed on a massive scale in Colombia, and eight years since Mexico became its main frontier. No matter how you measure it, in terms of its stated goals the Drug War has been a colossal, undeniable failure both in the U.S. and south of the border. The availability and consumption of drugs hasn’t decreased, it’s corresponded with a surge in human rights abuses, it’s led to more incarceration and broken families in the U.S., and the deaths keep mounting in Latin America. Much has been written - in many languages, and quite eloquently - about this evidence. And more than a handful of Latin American current and past presidents have criticized the policy, even a few from the right. Yet somehow U.S. politicians of both major parties continue to stubbornly ignore the data. What will it take to stop this war?

That word, of course, is easy to translate: Guerra. War. And it has several derivative words, like the name of the state where the 43 were disappeared: Guerrero. Warrior. We need warriors these days, the kind who fight for an end to state brutality and militarization, who condemn the lucrative business of war, and who defend the “right to the truth.” That is what it will take. 

• Take action to stop the U.S.’s funding the Merida Initiative. Through it the U.S. government has spent over 2.4 billion dollars, most of which has been used to militarize Mexico. Tell your Representatives to stop funding the Initiative.
  
  

• Join the U.S. Caravan of the 43 (through April 28,2014). Show your solidarity with family members of the disappeared students.
  
  

Corruption, Impunity, and a Stunning View of Central Park

by Maggie Ervin

Oaxacan resident Claudia Trujillo was eating lunch behind the cash register as she does every day, her elderly mother sitting next to her. “It makes me angry…Here I am breaking my back, facing higher electricity and phone bills and sales tax, and they’re off buying properties in New York, Miami, and who knows where else, and opening bank accounts in Switzerland.” She was reacting to one of the latest political scandals in Mexico, which sometimes feel as much a part of daily life as warm tortillas and hour-long lines at the bank. 

The latest one hits close to home for Claudia. An exhaustive investigative report in the New York Times last week revealed that ex-governor of Oaxaca José Murat has bought at least six high-end properties in the U.S.: in Utah, in Texas, and in the extravagantly expensive Time Warner Tower in New York City. Murat is from humble beginnings, and rose up through the ranks of the PRI party starting in the 70’s. He is a man known for his stentorian voice and larger than life presence, but when it came time to buy luxury property in the U.S., he became more discreet. By using names of relatives, altering his own surname, and founding a shell company, he was able to buy millions of dollars worth of property, much more than his government salary could have afforded. This may sound like the back-cover summary of a John LeCarré-meets-Horatio Alger novel, but this is the stuff of non-fiction.

Let’s go back to his home state for a moment. Oaxaca is Mexico’s second poorest state out of thirty-one. Over half of its citizens live in poverty, and about a quarter in extreme poverty. Home to diverse cultures and languages, archeological wonders, culinary riches that make mouths water the world over, more biodiversity than many nations can boast, and a blinding variety of crafts - not to mention alluring beaches - it’s no wonder Oaxaca is one of Mexico’s main tourist destinations. And yet this hasn’t translated into wealth for many Oaxacans. Perhaps it’s not surprising, then, that the state has a long tradition of emigration that started during the Bracero Program in the 1940’s and increased over the last twenty years, after NAFTA rendered small-scale farming a profitless endeavor. Remittances are essential to many families throughout the state. But not only in Oaxaca. Currently 10% of Mexicans live in the U.S., and in 2013 they sent a total of 21.6 billion dollars in remittances, the most significant sector of the Mexican economy after petroleum.

“José Murat...was a bad governor whose administration was marked by repression of social movements, co-optation of community leaders, and corruption,” ruminated Miguel Angel Vásquez de la Rosa of a local NGO, EDUCA. “In Mexico and in Oaxaca there are many politicians like José Murat, but unfortunately the Mexican justice system doesn’t take any actions to bring them to justice.” Indeed. The last few months alone have offered a wealth of examples: President Peña Nieto’s wife purchased a palatial $7 million home from a contractor cozy with her husband, Guerrero’s governor Aguirre had to step down due to suspected links with drug cartels, former governor of Veracruz Fidel Herrera was discovered to have multi-million dollar properties in New York, and ex-president Salinas’ brother Raúl, who amassed 84 million dollars and 41 properties during his brother’s administration, was exonerated of all charges. 

Of course, impunity in Mexico is a problem Mexico ultimately has to solve. But it's not the only issue at play here. Lax property laws in the U.S. which allow millionaires to buy property virtually anonymously are also to blame in this dynamic. By permitting sales in cash, or in the name of limited liability companies, shell companies, or trusts, these laws facilitate the movement and concealment of millions upon millions of dollars of dubious origin from all around the world. As Louise Story explains in her NYT piece, “In many ways, the (U.S.) government has allowed the real estate industry to turn a blind eye to the source of money used to buy luxury properties…Foreigners who buy real estate in the U.S. often have an easier time keeping it out of reach of investigators, victims and plaintiffs back home.” Which is to say, these laws contribute to the impunity that criminals like José Murat enjoy in Mexico and in other countries. The fact that it’s so difficult to trace the money makes prosecutions and convictions extremely unlikely. There is another troubling issue in this interplay of geopolitics and geocapitalism: a certain double standard. At the same time that the flow of people to the U.S. has become more restricted, cumbersome, and risky (i.e., a more militarized border, stricter immigration laws, higher deportation rates), the flow of money to the U.S. has become less restricted, easier to conceal, and more difficult to trace. 

Meanwhile, like Claudia and Miguel Angel, other Oaxacans I spoke to about the Murat revelation also expressed anger and fatigue. “Politicians are allowed to make a living, that’s fair. But steal from the people? That’s not right.” said Carlos Figueroa, who works six days a week at a local hardware store for $11.66 a day. “We know this goes on all the time, but every time there’s new proof I get pissed off all over again.”

December 1: Mexican Presidential Power Transitions from one Human Rights Violator to the Next

by Carlin Christy, Mexico Team

Felipe Calderón and Enrique Peña Nieto. Photo from lamendigapolitica.com

This December 1^st, it might have been possible for Mexicans to breathe a collective sigh of relief. The day will mark the official end of President Felipe Calderón’s 6 year term. His presidency is commonly referred to as “el sexenio de la muerte” or ‘the six year term of death,’ given the murders of around 80,000 people which began after Calderón launched a militarized war on drugs shortly after taking office in late 2006.  However, a respite from the massacres, kidnappings, disappearances, and human rights abuses does not seem to be on the horizon, as the presidential power will transition to Enrique Peña Nieto, a member of Mexico’s Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) which ruled Mexico for 71 consecutive years until the year 2000. 

Peña Nieto comes into office under questionable election results and with an already tarnished human rights record from his time as governor of the State of Mexico from 2005-2011. Certain actions he has taken since winning the July election also seem to indicate he won’t stray too far from the course of Calderón, or Mexico’s financial and strategic partner in the war, the U.S. government and military contractors. 

Although he has stated he will no longer seek to confront cartels head on by taking out capo leaders, Peña Nieto plans to create, strengthen, and professionalize a unified 40,000 strong police force, continue the use of the army until no longer necessary, and expand prisons. He will continue to cooperate strategically with the U.S. and just this week met with President Obama to discuss the continued economic and security integration of Mexico and the U.S.   

Considering Peña Nieto will not drastically alter the approach to fighting organized criminal groups, it is worth looking at the impact this militarized drug war has had on Mexican society under Calderón, with support from the U.S’s Mérida Initiative.

Statistics from Mexico’s National Human Rights Commission (CNDH) recently shared in a meeting with the Senate’s Human Rights Commission paint a dismal picture. The CNDH cited information compiled from January 1, 2005 to July 31, 2012. Five out of the seven and a half years were under Calderón’s administration. 

CNDH data reveals:

·         Cases of torture have increased 500% (In 2005 only 1 torture complaint was received, compared to over 2,000 complaints of torture and cruel treatment in 2011)

·         9000+ complaints of arbitrary detentions, which demonstrates that this is a recurring practice utilized by security forces. Arbitrary detentions increased 121% during this time period.

·         5,568 complaints were received about officials failing to follow required procedures in issuing or executing search warrants

·         2,126 cases of forced disappearances are under investigation and in general, forced disappearances saw massive increases

·         24,091 people are reported as missing

·         46,015 documented murders

·         15,921 bodies remain unidentified

·         1,421 bodies were found in mass graves

·         34,385 complaints against federal security forces were received by the CNDH. (An increase of 84% in the last three years.) Complaints mainly centered around illegal searches, forced disappearances, arbitrary detentions, extrajudicial executions, and torture.

 For me, you were “The Employment President.” 

(image taken from Mexicambio on Facebook)

In addition to data from the National Human Rights Commission, a recent national survey on the perception of citizen security indicated that 55% of Mexicans believe Calderon’s strategy to fight organized crime “was unsuccessful”. Eighty percent indicated that insecurity was worse this year than in 2011. Just 31% of those surveyed were in agreement of the use of military operatives to combat organized crime- a ten percent drop from the start of Calderón’s presidency. 

Yet behind all of the data, statistics and numbers are stories of mothers searching for their disappeared children, families mourning their murdered loved ones, communities fighting to demand justice for crimes committed by security forces. Mexico’s social fabric has been torn apart over the last six years. The pain and suffering of people like Maria Trujillo Herrera, who has four disappeared sons, is indescribable. Yet she and many other victims continue to speak out, at the risk of their own lives, against the absurdity of fighting a war on drugs. 

Another woman who speaks out against the violence and impunity endemic to the Mexican state is Paty Torres. She is among the 26 women who were arrested, tortured, and sexually abused during the violent police repression of the town San Salvador Atenco in 2006.

Paty Torres, survivor of sexual assault by Mexican Police forces in 2006.

Photo by: Liliana Zaragoza Cano  courtesy of website: http://miradasostenida.net/ 

In 2001, the community located in the State of Mexico was the site of protest by a group of farmers opposed to the expropriation of their land to construct an international airport.  Opposition to the plan was so strong it was cancelled. When a conflict broke out over a highway blockade in May 2006, the state government, some say seeking revenge for the 2001 protests, responded by sending in thousands of federal police, armed with firearms and teargas.

Over two hundreds civilians, including members of the campesino group and their supporters, were arbitrarily detained and brutally beaten. Two young people were killed and women in particular were subjected to verbal and psychological abuse as well as sexual torture.  Several detainees remained imprisoned up to four years after the attack. 

The operation in Atenco, characterized by human rights groups as the ”excessive and indiscriminate use of force” occurred under Enrique Peña Nieto as governor. To date, no state or federal police officer or official involved in the attack has been brought to justice, despite a recommendation from The United Nations Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) to investigate and bring to trial those responsible. 

Twelve of the 26 women, including Paty Torres, have brought their case to the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, after failing to receive justice in the Mexican judicial system.

The Atenco case represents the flagrant abuse of human rights, criminalization of social protest, and total impunity authorized and employed by Peña Nieto while governor. Give this history, many civil society groups, activists, and human rights organizations believe the landscape for human rights in the next Presidential administration looks bleak.

The naming of Colombian General Oscar Naranjo as his top security advisor is further cause for concern. Gen. Naranjo is the former head of the Colombian National Police, and is seen as a key figure in the dismantling of Colombia’s major drug cartels.  However, Naranjo is accused of using back room dealings, favoring certain cartels over others, and utilizing corrupt DEA and U.S. Customs officials to achieve his aims.  In addition, the naming of Naranjo signifies Peña Nieto will be favorable to the U.S.’s agenda of military intervention into Latin America as a whole.

This December 1^st, instead of exhaling a sigh of relief that should have come after six years of unimaginable violence and insecurity, Mexican citizens may have to inhale even deeper, in order to face the next six years. Or instead, they can do as so many have done throughout the country’s history—organize, resist, and struggle against the powers that for so long have marginalized and repressed those who dare to demand justice and equality in Mexico.