From Behind the Orange Curtain

What is it about Oaxaca?

April 9, 2008 at 7:20 pm (Uncategorized) (APPO, EZLN, Mexico, Oaxaca, revolution, Ulises Ruiz Ortiz, Zapatistas)

This email was forwarded to me, and my response is below:

Oaxaca is a place I have heard many other anarchists refer to. What is it about Oaxaca that interests anarchists? What is it about this state that interests you in particular?

——

I first traveled to Oaxaca in the summer of 2006, shortly after the APPO formed and the first barricades were built. I went partly on vacation, but also because I was interested in what was going on. I was blown away by what I saw, it was so unlike anything I had ever seen, even at the largest American protests. There was such a level of passion and spirit that doesn’t come about at “quality of life” protests. Instead they were fighting as if (or rather, because) their lives depended on it. It is something that is nearly impossible to describe with words, there is a magical realism inherent that I doubt even Garcia Marquez could adequately convey. Because of this, I returned the following summer to conduct field work, and spent a few months working and talking with the various groups there.

I found some irony in your question, “What is it about Oaxaca that interests anarchists?” because, in my case, I went to Oaxaca that first time as a fairly radical liberal, a feingoldista if you will, and came back an anarchist. How can one not, after seeing the looks in their eyes, this look of human beings who know they are on the verge of achieving total liberation, that it is just a short distance away, but yet recognize that to get there can be deadly–totally achievable, but dangerous and trying none the less.

So what is it that interests us about Oaxaca? In some ways the same thing that captivated us in Chiapas when the Zapatistas rose up. And clearly, the two are very inseparable. There are differences: the Oaxacans did not take up arms, or form a guerrilla army. Nor do they always wear masks–some do, but many demonstrate their bravery daily by showing their faces to the press and to their repressors, in a state where dirty war is a fact of life and the newspapers were filled for months solely with reports of arbitrary arrests and murders committed by the state. There is a romanticism, yes, us anarchists, and our communist and socialist comrades, and all of our brethren who value social justice and human freedom, from time to romanticize revolution and rebellion, looking for models upon which to base our own struggles, often projecting our own visions upon them. We look for something we can display to ourselves, and to our opponents, to say: Another World is Possible. To ourselves, to remind ourselves that our struggle is winnable, that we are on the correct path, to keep us from defeating ourselves before we start. To everyone else, to show what is possible, what is just, that our current excuse for democracy and freedom is both insufficient and not the only choice.

But there is more than just romance, there is substance. We idolize the selfless fight that many have given, that our friend Brad gave to make the world a better place. We are enthralled by their conception of democracy, that while Hillary, John, and Barack turn democracy into a spectator sport, a football game that only a few are allowed to play in and the rest can only watch and cheer, the Oaxaquenos have turned democracy on its head. Now–well, at least at some points, before “order” was restored–they inverted the roles, they forced the former elite players and coaches to sit and watch while the masses played their own game in the streets and everywhere a ball could roll. They changed the name of the game to reflect its new nature: that is, from “politics” to “democracy.” It was confusing, mistakes were made, players were injured, but they were now the ones playing, and no longer had to sit idly while others made mistakes. Their victories were their own, their losses and mistakes were their own. Naturally, there have been problems, some have sought to use the assemblies as launchpads for their own political careers, or have tried to take power over the assemblies. But in any case, the oaxacans will no longer be content merely watching the game, now that they have played. We are captivated by the intricate weaving of democracy into daily oaxacan life, they didn’t merely vote once a year, but lived democratically. They attended assemblies, where all had a voice. They marched in the street, and cast ballots with every step they took. They organized barricades, radio stations and mutual aid systems to take control of their own lives and not merely demand autonomy, but create it.

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