Quinn Brenneke is a SALTer working with MCC Mexico partner Voces Mesoamericanas. This post was originally published on Quinn’s newsletter.
The simple answer I often give to many of the questions I get about Mexico is “it’s complicated.” Politics are complicated, environmental devastation is complicated, culture is complicated, migration is complicated. In just two words, it’s a pretty truthful answer, but not very enlightening. To untangle the complications of the context I’m living in, the most helpful tool I have found is a history lesson.
My colleague Manuel leads an activity in Chiloljá.
My colleague Manuel Gómez Hernández and I traveled to Chiloljá, a small indigenous town here in Chiapas, to facilitate a workshop with a community group a few weeks ago. Manuel asked the group in Tseltal, the local indigenous language, to draw a three-part picture of their community: what it used to look like, what it looks like now, and what they hope it will look like in the future.
Participants in the workshop in Chiloljá created a three-part, timeline depiction of their community.
The participants in the workshop presented their artwork and discussed the changes they have seen in their community. Elders in the group shared their memories of a place where people upheld their culture, where everyone ate healthy food that they grew themselves, where the land was fruitful and natural resources were abundant. Younger people noted that although they have seen improvements since then like a school and a basketball court, the forest is disappearing, people buy cheap food and snacks from little corner stores, and many people leave the community to find work in northern Mexico or the United States. I sat with the group reflecting on their reality, wondering “how did we get to this?” It’s complicated.
Young people from Chiloljá present their artwork.
If you have the same question, “how did we get to this?” and you want an answer longer than “it’s complicated,” here’s what I can give you.
Let’s backtrack a bit. The whole world was captivated with the idea of socialism after World War II ended, some with hope and others with anxiety. Some activists in Mexico were hopeful, leading protests and demonstrations. Many were looking for social reforms that were promised when the Mexican constitution was rewritten in 1917. As inequality in the country grew, these voices grew stronger. The United States and other political powers in the world were anxious. While the U.S. military engaged in the Cold War beginning in the 60s, trying to squash any hints of socialism around the world, Mexico entered its own internal Dirty War with a similar objective. During this time, the Mexican government widely used violence to quiet the unrest. Indigenous people in Mexico were among those speaking up for reforms and uniting their voices. The National Indigenous Congress, which nearly missed securing a candidate in this year’s presidential election, was formed in 1974. A more radical organizing of indigenous people came into formation in 1983 when the Zapatista National Liberation Army, or EZLN by its initials in Spanish, got its start here in Chiapas. (More on them in just a bit.) The sentiments of the revolutionaries of this period in Mexican history continued through the 1980s, but other actors began entering the scene at the same time.
A timeline of events is on display in the Jtatik Samuel Ruiz museum in San Cristobal de las Casas, Chiapas.
The world had a lot of hope in the Mexican economy at the beginning of the 80s. Investors poured loans into the country, looking to exchange a small investment for big returns in the industrializing nation. Instead, Mexico began defaulting on the loans. With this, enthusiasm to invest in Mexico sharply dropped and so did the value of the Mexican peso. One U.S. dollar could buy 23 Mexican pesos in 1980, but just five years later, the same could buy 350 pesos. By 1993, the U.S. dollar was trading for 3,000 Mexican pesos. That’s when the Mexican government stepped in to try to save the currency from downward spiral by issuing new pesos. So as the coins in Mexicans’ pockets became more and more worthless throughout the 80s, is it any surprise that many of them began looking for other options for livelihood? The Mexican immigrant population in the United States nearly doubled between the 1980 and 1990. I’ll come back to this, but first, NAFTA.
This graphic that describes the Mexican immigrant population in the United States from 1980 to 2014 was borrowed from the Migration Policy Institute.
While the country was facing a harsh economic downturn, Mexico also was in the midst of negotiating a trade agreement with Canada and the United States. The North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) was signed into effect on January 1, 1994, opening up tariff-free trade between the three countries. On the same day, the EZLN (the Zapatistas – I said I would come back to them) made their international debut by invading several cities in Chiapas by surprise, including my current home of San Cristobal de las Casas, to make it known that their interests should be considered in these policy decisions. They eventually entered into the San Andres Accords with the Mexican government, mediated by Catholic priest Samuel Ruiz, to come to a peace agreement. (As it turns out, the Mexican government didn’t keep up their end of the bargain and conflict continued, which could be another blog post entirely.)
A copy of the San Andres Accords are on display in the Jtatik Samuel Ruiz musuem in San Cristobal de las Casas, Chiapas. Samuel Ruiz was a widely-loved Catholic bishop among indigenous communities who mediated the accords between the Zapatistas and the Mexican government.
NAFTA had an immediate impact on Mexico, as the Zapatista uprising seemed to predict. The peso dropped in value again, calling for a $50 billion financial aid package from the U.S. government and the International Monetary Fund. In connection, the gross national income in Mexico dropped sharply in 1994 and didn’t recover until 2000, meaning that Mexicans were widely making less money after NAFTA than they were before. Poverty levels spiked, but they have since leveled off and remain close to what they were pre-NAFTA signing. Inequality indicators also remain about the same as they were in the early 90s. Although, Mexico’s GDP has grown since NAFTA was signed, signaling an overall economic growth, the number of Mexican migrants coming to the United States has also grown. (This phenomenon might be explained by recent research showing that country emigration rates actually tend to rise to a certain point as an economy develops.)
The Mexican immigrant population in the U.S. doubled again between 1990 and 2000 during the aftermath of the NAFTA signing. As poor Mexicans were looking for a way to survive the immediate economic turmoil, the “American Dream” caught their attention. A rise in unauthorized immigration caused politicians in the United States to take action. During the 90s, under the Clinton administration, the U.S. government started building border fences to deter migrants. However, if you pay attention to the numbers, the effort was fruitless. Migration from Mexico to the United States has nonetheless continued to grow since. The new barriers like walls and fences have only caused migrants to attempt more dangerous routes through places like the Sonoran Desert and migrant deaths and disappearances have increased. A recent RadioLab podcast series discusses this issue in depth. In response, organizations like Voces Mesoamericanas, the MCC partner I support, have begun projects using DNA databases to inform families of disappeared migrants if their missing loved ones were found deceased near the border.
This heart hangs in my office at Voces Mesoamericanas. It was created by Junax K’otantik, a group of families who have missing migrant loved ones. Their name in Tseltal means “our heart united”.
In the middle of this complicated history are individuals, families, and communities whose lives are affected by decisions made by powerful government bureaucrats. People in Chiloljá have lived through the economic downturns caused by large international partnerships like NAFTA, and they have also witnessed those agreements spur the growth of big businesses that now sell products in the little stores that sprinkle their small community. They have seen their young people leave the community – some don’t come back, while some do and bring with them a new culture. It’s complicated, but some things are clear.
Diego López Aguilar, the community leader who organized the group in Chiloljá, has a dream. He hopes to improve his community by creating a sustainable food system that will keep his family healthy and also incentivize others to not make dangerous trips north. He is studying agriculture science at a local university and has organized his community to begin experimenting with new techniques. If history is any indication, hope is in the Mexican DNA. It certainly is in Diego’s.
Diego López Aguilar, of Chiloljá, took Manuel and I to visit his land where he raises a cow and grows vegetables. He would like to make a livelihood with these projects.