Author: diazenciso

(Scroll down to read in English) 

Uno se asoma al panorama en México y ya no duele lo duro sino lo tupido. Los motivos de indignación, desolación o furia van desde los relativamente triviales hasta los que tocan asuntos de vida o muerte (sobre todo muerte).

        Ahora que, tras aproximadamente mes y medio de ocupación de las calles de Oaxaca, la PFP empieza a retirarse –retirada que se vuelve borrosa por una ambigüedad que nos suena familiar; “es sólo un relevo”, dice un alto mando, y mientras la policía del Estado continúa los patrullajes con armas de alto poder–, todavía es difícil creer que la arbitrariedad, la brutalidad e ilegalidad de semejante ocupación hayan sido posibles. Incluso en México, todavía resulta difícil de creer. Quizá porque nadie quiere creer que estamos regresando a los peores momentos de la brutalidad policíaca en nuestra sangrienta historia a pasos agigantados.

        Igualmente increíble es que Ulises Ruiz no se vaya.       

¡Y qué amargo resulta que lo increíble sea cierto!       

Calderón apenas ha cruzado el umbral de su mandato de risa y ya nos ha mostrado el cobre. ¡Dios ampare a los mexicanos de su flamante gabinete! Y como si no hubiera otras cosas urgentes qué defender, los mexicanos hemos tenido que salir de inmediato a defender también la cultura, porque una de las primeras ideas de un hombre que le debe su aún –y para siempre— dudoso triunfo a una ideología que ve en todo amor por el conocimiento y en toda expresión del arte una amenaza, fue recortarle el presupuesto a lo que considera un elemento prescindible, cuando no peligroso, del entramado social.       

¿Y López Obrador, con su otro mandato de risa? A él también ya se le olvidó que los mexicanos todavía no sabemos quién ganó las elecciones, y se proclama el triunfador indiscutible y legítimo. ¡Vaya! Tanto pedir el recuento del voto, y ahora resulta que ya desde antes sabíamos que él era el bueno.  Me dirán que son matices del lenguaje. Pero los escritores sabemos cuánto importan esos matices, y hasta qué punto la verdad puede quedar comprometida por pequeños deslices como éste.       

Y para que nos quedara todo muy claro, en su toma de posesión de mentiritas hizo acto de presencia ni más ni menos que Silvio Rodríguez. Risible hubiera sido, pero la aclamación y complacencia de los seguidores de AMLO lo vuelve de plano repugnante.       

Respeto enormemente a Silvio Rodríguez como artista. Sería hipócrita decir lo contrario, cuando yo misma he gozado tanto con muchas de sus canciones –aunque siempre me he preguntado cómo pudo destruir muchas de las mejores con una sola frase, a veces incluso una sola palabra, de lamentable panfleto–. Dudar de su genuino talento como letrista y, digamos, trovador, sería absurdo, y hasta ahí ratifico mi respeto. Respeto a un artista a secas, pero no puedo respetar a un artista del régimen. De ningún régimen. No podría respetar al artista oficial ni siquiera de la más benigna democracia que se haya soñado en la mejor de las utopías, ya no digamos al artista oficial de la dictadura de Fidel Castro.

Que buena parte de la izquierda mexicana haya estado tan emocionada por su aparición en el circo de AMLO me deja de plano sin habla. Su sola aparición ahí es un mensaje que debería habernos puesto a dudar, pero esta izquierda sentimental no sólo no dudó, no sólo no se preguntó cuál es entonces el ideal de nación que propone López Obrador, sino que se conmovió hasta las lágrimas.

Las ideologías –la derecha reaccionaria, brutal y totalitaria, y la izquierda ciega, brutal y totalitaria también si le dan chance— se pelean las primeras planas de los periódicos, y mientras tanto la inconcebible arbitrariedad de la violencia oficial contra el pueblo de Oaxaca es como una pesadilla en la que ninguno de los dos bandos ideológicos mete la mano, por miedo a que se la muerdan. El narco, desatado, hace de las suyas. La violencia se extiende a Chiapas, Atenco sigue impune, y sigue impune el asesinato de no menos de 400 mujeres en suelo mexicano (miles siguen desaparecidas).

En Inglaterra, durante las últimas semanas un asesino serial ha matado a cinco mujeres, y todo el país abre los ojos; se habla de la defensa de las mujeres y de las prostitutas (las cinco mujeres eran sexo-servidoras en Ipswich); el jefe de la policía y el Primer Ministro condenan el crimen y prometen justicia. Vaya, lo que en cualquier país más o menos civilizado sucedería. Y no puedo evitar pensar en esos cientos de mujeres anónimas mexicanas, ¡cientos!, cuyo asesinato nuestras autoridades no condenan sino que o ignoran, o de plano alientan, protegiendo a los asesinos.

¿Cómo pueden algunos sectores de la sociedad mexicana pretender siquiera que nuestro país es una democracia, una sociedad justa, una nación que va “saliendo adelante”?Al mismo tiempo, la esperanza está en esos otros sectores que siguen luchando, alzando la voz, diciendo “No.”Por supuesto no es México nada más. El planeta entero vive un momento particularmente lúgubre en la historia. Es cierto que ha habido momentos peores. Pero en definitiva, también ha habido momentos mejores; de eso no hay duda. Es necesario saberlo. Es necesario actuar en consecuencia. Pero también es necesario saber, creo yo, que la dimensión política no es la única que le da forma a la experiencia humana. Digo esto en este blog y también me lo digo a mí misma: ante el horror, la rabia y la impotencia que siguen a la lectura de los periódicos o la investigación de tantas atrocidades, es necesario recordar que no somos nada más este animal político, este pobre alimento de la Historia.De ahora en adelante me propongo –y espero cumplirlo, no importa cuánta sea mi indignación–, no escribir sólo de política en este blog. Con el gobierno de Calderón voy a pelearme también hablando de una de las cosas que más lo amenazan. Hablando, por ejemplo, de literatura. Sí, sí somos más que esto, más que esta humanidad toda confundida y vapuleada. Y si hay grandeza en las luchas heroicas de tantos pueblos, entre las que incluyo por supuesto al pueblo mexicano, es justamente porque somos más que esto, más que cifras, más que instrumentos para llevar al poder a tal o cual ideología.Hay grandeza en el corazón humano, sin duda. Hay otras dimensiones en eso que significa “humanidad”.  

Todo esto, supongo, viene a cuento para desearles feliz navidad, no importa cómo la celebren, o no la celebren. Es nada más el deseo de una pausa invernal para mirar otros paisajes.  

If we look into the Mexican scene we don’t know anymore if we should count the misfortunes or measure their intensity. The reasons for our indignation, desolation or fury range from those relatively trivial to those that are a matter of life and death (mostly the latter).        

Now that the Federal Police starts to withdraw from the streets of Oaxaca, after a month and a half of occupation—and we can’t help noticing how blurred that withdrawal is thanks to an all too familiar ambiguity; “it’s just a reshuffle”, says a high-ranking official, while the State police is still doing patrols quite heavily armed—, it is still hard to believe that the arbitrariness, brutality and illegality of such an occupation were possible in the first place. Even this being Mexico, it’s hard to believe, perhaps because no one wants to believe that we’re going back to our bloody history’s worst moments of police brutality by leaps and bounds.       

It’s equally incredible that governor Ulises Ruiz is still there.       

It’s bitter, indeed, when the incredible is true!        President Calderón has just crossed the threshold of his joke of a mandate and he’s already shown his true colours. May God succour the Mexicans from his brand new cabinet! And, as if there were not other urgent things to defend, the Mexicans have had to take to the streets immediately to defend culture as well, because one of the first ideas coming from a man who owes his still—and forever—doubtful triumph to an ideology that sees a threat in all love for knowledge and in all art’s expressions was to cut the budget for what he considers a superfluous, when not downright dangerous element in the social structure.       

And what about López Obrador, with his other joke of a mandate? He too has forgotten that the Mexicans still don’t know who won the elections, and claims himself to be the unquestionable and legitimate winner. Oh well! So much demanding the recount of the votes, and now it turns out that from the beginning we all knew he was the man. You may tell me these are just language nuances. But we writers know how important such nuances are, and to what extent may the truth be compromised because of small slip-ups.       

And, to make everything crystal clear, during his mock swearing-in ceremony Silvio Rodríguez himself put in an appearance. It would have been laughable, but the acclaim and complacency of LO’s followers makes it downright disgusting.       

I do respect enormously Silvio Rodríguez as an artist. It would be hypocrisy on my side to deny it, when I have myself enjoyed so much many of his songs—though I have always wondered how could he destroye many of the best ones with just a single phrase, sometimes even a single word, of lamentable pamphlet—. To doubt his genuine talent as a lyrics author and, so to speak, as a troubadour, would be absurd, and my respect goes as far as that. I respect an artist just like that, but I cannot respect a regime’s artist, whatever that regime may be. I could not respect the official artist of even the most benign democracy that has ever been dreamt of in the best utopias, let alone the official artist of Fidel Castro’s dictatorship.That a good deal of the Mexican left was so moved by his appearance at LO’s circus leaves me quite speechless. His showing up there alone is a message that should have made us doubt, but this sentimental left not only did not doubt, not only did not wonder which is then the nation’s ideal proposed by López Obrador, but they were actually moved to tears.Ideologies—the reactionary, brutal and totalitarian right, and the blind left, brutal and totalitarian too if only given a chance—fight for the press headlines, and meanwhile the unconceivable arbitrariness of official violence against the people of Oaxaca is like a nightmare where none of either ideological camp sticks its hand for fear of being bitten. The drug traffickers are loose and enjoying it. Violence extends itself to Chiapas, Atenco is still in impunity, and the murder of no less than 400 women (thousands are missing) in Mexican soil is still unpunished.

In the UK, during the past weeks a serial killer has murdered five women, and the whole country opens its eyes; the defence of women and prostitutes is discussed (the five women worked for the sex industry in Ipswich); the Chief of Police and the Prime Minister condemn the crime and promise justice. I mean, we’re witnessing what would happen in any country moderately civilized. I can’t help thinking of those hundreds of anonymous Mexican women–hundreds!—whose murder not only is not condemned by our authorities, not only is it ignored, but frankly encouraged, the murderers protected.

How can some sections of Mexican society even pretend that our country is a democracy, a fair society, a nation that is “getting through”?

At the same time, hope is in those other groups of society that keep on fighting, making themselves heard, saying “No”.

Of course it’s not only Mexico. The whole planet is going through a particularly lugubrious moment in history. It is true that there have been worse moments. But definitely there have also been better ones, no doubt about it.

We need to know this. We need to act accordingly. But I believe it is also necessary to know that the political dimension is not the only one that gives shape to human experience. I say this in this blog and I also tell it to myself: in the face of the horror, the fury and impotence that follow the reading of the papers or the research on so many atrocities, it is necessary to remember that we are not only this political animal, this poor food for History.

From now on I mean—and I hope I do it, regardless how big my indignation—, not to write only about politics in this blog. I am going to fight Calderón’s government talking also about one of the things that threaten him most. Talking, for instance, about literature. Yes, we do are more than this, more than this confused and trampled humanity. And if there is greatness in the heroic struggles of so many peoples, among which I include of course the Mexican people, it is precisely because we’re more than this, more than figures, more than instruments for the attainment of power of this or that ideology.

There is greatness in the human heart, no doubt. There are other dimensions in that thing we call humanity.

     All this, I gather, just to wish you a happy Christmas, never mind how you celebrate it or don’t celebrate it. It’s just the wish of a winter pause so that we can look at other landscapes.

                

(Perdonen que escriba este texto en inglés. Es respecto a las protestas frente a la Embajada de México la semana pasada debido al conflicto de Oaxaca, y al altar de Día de Muertos que algunas personas instalamos ahí el pasado jueves. De alguna manera este texto es la continuación de un diálogo en la página de Indymedia del Reino Unido. Es un poco largo y no estoy segura de que tendré tiempo de traducirlo al español.)

 It is not only the conflict in Oaxaca in itself that I have been thinking about. The various demonstrations outside the Mexican Embassy in London last week have given me much food for thought.       

To start with, I’ll tell you that last Thursday, through other 5 persons and myself, an invitation was extended for people to join us at the altar for the Day of the Dead outside the Embassy. This altar was commemorating the dead in Oaxaca. We called for a peaceful demonstration, and as some of you may know, after the previous demonstration on the 30^th of October, where some people were arrested, there were some discussions in internet forums about the way we understand a call for justice.       

While we were at the Day of the Dead commemoration, a fierce battle was taking place in the city of Oaxaca, when the police and army-dressed-as-police put the University under siege, threatening with the absolutely illegal violation of its campus. It’s interesting to note that during the previous days, those same police and army forces destroyed some of the altars for the Day of the Dead that the people of Oaxaca were doing in the streets.        I guess I’ve said enough about my disappointment at the October 30^th demonstration outside the Mexican Embassy in London, and why I decided to leave. I won’t repeat myself here, but I want to tell those persons engaged in this discussion that I do understand the emotions which led them to their attitude of challenge that day, and why this was intensified as they projected Brad Will’s last video against a barrier of police officers.       

My answer to this is, though, that emotion in itself is not the answer. It’s many of us who have felt the rage and grief about the recent events in Oaxaca. Yet, a demonstration should always have as a priority to make its message clear, and I believe this is usually lost when the clashes with the police start. I also want to ask: what is more important, the cause, our rage and our emotions, the political aims, or the lives of individuals? The feelings among the demonstrators are understandable and I share many of them. Still, what they were projecting were the last minutes of a human being’s life, and further violence, the shouts, the challenge, the ensuing arrests, I still believe do little to honour such a moment. I do believe that, once having chosen the polemic action of projecting this video, it would have been much more forceful to project it in silence; on the face of the barrier of police, to continue on a silent and peaceful defiance, which would have brought the message home that this was actually the moment when a young and brave journalist was murdered by the paramilitary forces in Oaxaca.       

I believe that the demonstrations outside the Mexican Embassy in London are being done in order to convey a message to the Mexican government, and to inform people in the UK about the atrocities going on in Oaxaca. I don’t believe for one second that these demonstrations are, or should be done in order to convey a message to the British police, and I hope we all agree on the sheer absurdity of the idea.       

Now let me tell you about our own experience (4 Mexicans and two British citizens who know Mexico –and Oaxaca—and have a deep love for that country) on organising the Day of the Dead event. When the first of us arrived at the Embassy, she started talking to the police officers about what we were planning to do, why, what was going on in Oaxaca, and what does the tradition of the Day of the Dead consist on. The officers understood perfectly well and were quite helpful. Some of them were indeed interested in what she had to say and even complained about the “rubbish” news in this country, which offered no information at all about the conflict.        

When the rest of us arrived, the situation was the same. Of course the police officers were firm, but we could talk to each other perfectly well as human beings do and negotiate the terms of the demonstration. They did intercede between us and the Embassy staff, actually, so that we could display the altar the way we wanted and so that they would receive the letter we had to deliver. The officers were utterly respectful. It was a pity when another officer arrived later and told us we couldn’t stay by the altar at the Embassy’s doors and had to move to the other pavement. Of course we were annoyed at that.       

Yet, we knew perfectly well that the amount of police officers and the restrictions had all to do with the demonstration on the 30^th and its lamentable outcome. On the 30^th, when the whole thing started, there were only 2 police officers, not aggressive at all, and the demonstrators were allowed to be at the Embassy’s doors. After what happened later, circumstances had obviously changed, and our own peaceful demonstration was directly affected. I am not trying to blame anyone; I’m just stating a fact, and that fact made us understand that we would have to yield a bit in the terms of our own demonstration, as the police officers were yielding themselves.        When some of the October 30^th demonstrators arrived later at the Day of the Dead altar, we could detect in some a whiff of irritation at the way we seemed to be “cooperating” with the police. But they hadn’t seen how the whole process had developed, and it was actually quite interesting to see how human beings can understand each other when there is the will to do so, regardless the uniform.       

This goes not only for the British police. Even in my country, where the police can be so brutal and with absolute impunity, there is always the odd individual, the odd police officer you can talk to in other terms, and that should always be welcome. Unless, of course, what we’re aiming at is at having an antagonist, at all costs.        

Personally, I’m not aiming at that at all.       

 Those who have been listening to the Radio from the people of Oaxaca in these dramatic days surely have noticed how, even on the face of real violence, on the face of their city being taken by the brutality of the police and military forces, the citizens of Oaxaca have been careful enough to address these same forces reminding them they are all Mexican, that they have probably chosen their jobs out of very hard  personal circumstances, yet they should not raise their weapons against their brothers. That, to me, is very important.         Because the question is: what do we want? For the police to be brutal always so that we can prove our point? For the police to be our identifiable antagonist? I should think that what we want, everywhere in the world, is a good police force, that is accountable for their acts and whose work is to serve their community. Or am I wrong? What we all want, everywhere in the world, is a police force who is the declared enemy, who actually should treat us like shit so that we can insult them freely? And what, for God’s sake, would be the point of that?       

Some of the demonstrators that I have been talking to through the indymedia forum say there is no “good police” and that it’s all the same everywhere in the world. I may be wrong, but their hatred for the British police seems to me to surpass by far their horror at what is going on in Oaxaca, which is the reason why they’re supposed to be demonstrating in the first place.       

My answer is, if you have issues with the British police, address the real issues then: work towards the triumph of justice and transparency in the Charles de Meneses’ case. Work towards the recognition of the right to demonstrate in Westminster.       

And I’m sure many of you are already working on such issues and doing a wonderful work at that. But I don’t think anything is gained in that regard if we mix up one thing with the other and turn any demostration for whatever cause into a chance to challenge the British police. And I don’t think any triumph against impunity will come with street clashes. They all lose their meaning in the sheer repetition of it all. A clash with the police is a clash with the police is a clash with the police.       

Apart from these considerations, I still find it outrageous and unbelievable that anyone could compare the British police to the Mexican police. The realities of both police forces are utterly different, as is the history behind those realities. I am a Mexican citizen; believe me, it’s not the same.       

Yes, I have encountered a couple of nasty police officers in Britain. Nasty. Not brutal and willing to… well, everything, under the shelter of impunity. I have also had the need to ask for the police help in two occasions during the eight years I’ve been living here, and I can only be grateful. In both cases, believe me that under similar circumstances, in my country, to call the police would have been the last thing that would have crossed my mind; it would have only added to my problems.        

No, the British police, with all its horrors and flaws, is not comparable to the Mexican police. Please remember this well. It is NOT. Arrested persons after a demonstration are not tortured; arrested women are not raped. People here in general don’t go out walking in the street fearing the police. Even after the horrendous murder of Charles de Meneses, after the intensification of police surveillance with the terrorist threats and the image of heavily armed officers in the streets (something that in Mexico has always been the everyday landscape), people are not constantly threatened here by the police the way they are in Mexico. To say it is the same is a great disservice both to the Mexican people and to the British people.       

To start with, it is a very frivolous way of disregarding the real plight of the Mexican people, the way they have risked their lives, over and over again, in order to defend themselves from police brutality and impunity.

        And then there is the also frivolous disregard for the achievements both of the British people and of those people from abroad who have freely decided to come to live here. If the police here is less awful than it was and certainly doesn’t share the brutality the police displays in other countries, it is a triumph of the people, not of those in power. Of course there are still many issues to address, and they should be addressed. But first we have to start by acknowledging reality, the state of affairs.

The world is a mess, we know it, and Britain is no paradise. There are many dirty businesses going on in here, and there is injustice. Well, let’s concentrate on fighting that, not on demeaning what has already been achieved, which ends up being almost like an unconscious call for violence and despair. In spite of its horrors, and in spite of the overwhelming feeling of collective guilt built in the consciousness of many Western citizens, British society does have some good things. There’s nothing like having grown up in a country where many of such things don’t exist at all in order to appreciate them! And those good things are still the outcome of a democracy, however flawed and however disappointing it may be, however disgraceful Labour turned out to be and however huge our justified indignation at this country’s foreign policy. If we don’t acknowledge what is already working, and focus only on what’s wrong, we may very well lose the good things we have, and even if you consider they are very few and unimportant, they are still good and they still help for life here not to be as terrible as it is in other places. Furthermore, I insist: those good things are achievements of the people. To ignore it is to let the people down.       

And now I will talk a bit about my experience of demonstrations in Mexico. I have the feeling that some people in Europe don’t understand very well the importance that rituals and symbols have for us. The Mexican police understands that perfectly well, though; that’s why they found the altars for the Day of the Dead threatening in Oaxaca, and that’s why, also, we decided to demonstrate outside the Embassy precisely with that: an altar for the Day of the Dead. A ritual. Symbols.        People in Oaxaca sung the National Anthem in their barricades facing the police that was forcing its way in. We decided to sing the National Anthem in front of the Embassy, and one person questioned this. So I have to insist on what I answered to him: I don’t know in other countries, but in Mexico, after years of symbols as the National Anthem and the flag being, so to speak, held hostage by those in power, they have been recalled by the people. It’s not a matter of nationalism; it’s a matter of taking back symbols which, roughly, represent the unity of a very large and diverse country and returning them to the people.        

I’ve heard that in previous demonstrations before the Mexican Embassy the Mexican flag has been burnt. I truly, truly wish this were not true! I’m certainly glad I was not there.       

Back in Mexico, I have been involved in several events and demonstrations against the government, the police, the army, etc. As you may well know, everyday we have causes to be involved in things like these, because violence, brutality and impunity are an everyday occurrence. I have worked with very big groups of people, and we have organised events attended by thousands of persons. As opposed to here, in those cases we knew that there would never be a possibility of negotiating anything with the police. Furthermore, we knew that we absolutely should not, under any circumstance, provoke them. We did things, things they didn’t like, things we deemed necessary and that had their humble but real, and practical and tangible, positive consequences. But we didn’t provoke them, for the very simple reason that we knew that by doing so, we might be responsible for people being beaten up, killed, raped, etc.        

And of course, in the convoluted political scene, there are always groups of people calling for confrontation. Groups of people who regarded our pacifist events as weak, submissive. Groups of people who wanted clashes with the police. Some of us call them the “ultras”. It is no secret that many among them are police themselves, and that such is the perfect shelter for infiltrators.        

I have no doubts whatsoever that the demonstrators I have talked with here are a hundred per cent well meaning and sincere. I just want to invite you to reflect on why, in places such as Mexico were violence is so endemic, the attitude of challenge and confrontation always ends up being penetrated by some of the darkest forces of the conflict. I think the answer is, because the heat of confrontation brings a lot of confusion and noise along with it. The strength of words, the strength of reason and actions gets lost in the turmoil.       

This is what I think and what I have learnt from my experience. I may be wrong, but I also appeal to what I have witnessed: in my country, during my lifetime at least, much more has been won by reason, dialogue and peaceful opposition than by direct confrontation.

And I know it’s not enough. I lose heart many times, I lose my hope very often. I don’t have the answer as to what must really be done for my country, or the world for that matter, to be a better place. But I do believe that the intensification of contradictions is not the answer.

So I truly hope that what all demonstrators want is justice, and not to heighten contradictions. That may work very well as a political tactic. It also works, I think, above human beings. Maybe that’s why I trust politics very little. I don’t believe in any cause that can be set above the lives of human beings. I may be wrong, of course. I just don’t believe we have any need of yet more bloodshed.               

(Scroll down to read in English) 

Dolor. Dolor encajado en el estómago. Parálisis. La honda, cada vez más honda sensación de impotencia. ¡Y yo que creía que mi próxima entrada en este blog sería sobre Gérard de Nerval!

          No, Nerval espera. Porque la hermosa ciudad de Oaxaca, en México, está tomada. Tanquetas contra el pueblo lanzando chorros de agua a presión, helicópteros con francotiradores sobrevolando la ciudad, llevándose detenidos que luego llevan a enfrentar quién sabe qué horrores a un campo militar. Sueltan, de despedida, bombas de gas lacrimógeno. Todo esto, ¿para qué? Para reestablecer el estado de derecho, dice el presidente Vicente Fox: palabras temidas por todos los mexicanos. Suelen ser seguidas por la fuerza, el ejercicio brutal de la fuerza.

          Anoche escuchaba por internet, desde Londres, Radio Universidad de Oaxaca. Sabían que las fuerzas desatadas del Estado se acercaban cada vez más a sus instalaciones; esperaban, transmitiendo el inconcebible desarrollo de los acontecimientos mediante enlaces en vivo, atrincherados en la estación. Luego se suspendió la transmisión, ya no pude escuchar más.         

Soñé con temblores, con soldados. Hoy despierto para enterarme de que, en efecto, ya fueron tomadas por policías y soldados las instalaciones de Radio Universidad. Ahora estoy conectada a “Kehuelga Radio”.

          Acabo de ver el último video del periodista neoyorquino de indymedia, Brad Will. Paramilitares, matones vestidos de civiles disparando contra las barricadas de la APPO. El video documenta el enfrentamiento; los matones son seguidos, el pueblo les lanza piedras y la sombra de la violencia se derrama, a gritos, por las calles. Son las últimas tomas de Brad Will, que terminan con el ruido sobrecogedor de las balas que recibe, su grito de “Ayúdame”.

Náusea, rabia, dolor. No tengo palabras.          

En el extranjero, la palabra Oaxaca trae imágenes de un mercado pintoresco, playas paradisíacas, maravilloso destino turístico. Y sí, Oaxaca es un estado lleno de belleza, de historia, de cultura y de placer. Pero yo no puedo pensar en Oaxaca sin ver, también, la pobreza. La pobreza, siempre, los mismos pobres olvidados, perseguidos, torturados, asesinados del pueblo mexicano.         

Cuando suceden cosas como lo que en estos instantes está pasando en Oaxaca en otros países, países oficialmente reconocidos como “atrasados”, bárbaros, salvajes, eso que llamamos la comunidad internacional se horroriza, manda a sus periodistas, los mandatarios del “mundo civilizado” condenan esa violencia intolerable.

          Cuando estas cosas pasan en México, la prensa y los mandatarios de la comunidad internacional se quedan callados. Se sigue hablando en el extranjero de ese país próspero, cargado de triunfos democráticos y floreciente economía, ese México imaginario que quieren hacernos creer que es mi país. ¿Por qué? ¿Por qué callan en el extranjero, y mienten, o –voluntariamente– ignoran? ¿Es por los negocios que hacen con los ricos y los poderosos de México?

          Me callo. De qué sirve dar rienda suelta a mi rabia… Me callo con mi dolor.          

Si estás leyendo esto hoy lunes 30 de octubre, y vives en el extranjero, ojalá quieras ir al Consulado o Embajada de México que te quede más cercano, a las 5 de la tarde. ¿Para qué? Para que el gobierno mexicano y el mundo escuchen nuestra voz. ¿Para qué? ¿Sirve de algo? No lo sé, no lo sé, pero es lo único que tenemos: nuestra voz. El silencio es la muerte.         

 Grief. Pain gripping the stomach. Paralysis. The ever deeper feeling of impotence. To think that I expected my next entry in this blog to be about Gérard de Neval!           

No, Nerval will have to wait. Because the beautiful city of Oaxaca, Mexico, has been taken. Armoured personnel carriers dispersing the people, helicopters loaded with snipers flying low above the city, taking people away that are later landed in a military camp, to face only God knows what horrors. Their farewell gesture are tear-gas bombs.          

What for, all this? In order to reinstate the rule of law and democracy, says president Vicente Fox; these are words feared by all Mexicans. They are usually followed by the brutal abuse of force.         

 Last night I was listening, here in London, the University Radio of Oaxaca through internet. At the station, they knew that the loose State forces were approaching their premises; entrenched in the station, they waited, while they broadcasted through live links what was happening outside. Suddenly the transmission stopped. I couldn’t hear more.         

I dreamt of earthquakes, of soldiers. Today I woke up to learn that, indeed, policemen and soldiers have already taken the University Radio’s premises. Now I’m connected to “Kehuelga Radio”.         

I have just seen Brad Will’s –NY journalist for indymedia—last video in Oaxaca. Paramilitary men, hit men in civilian clothes, shooting against the APPO (organized civilian resistance, including the teachers’s movement) barricades. The video is a chilling document of the clash. The hit men are followed; people throws stones at them, and the shadow of violence overflows the streets, screaming. These are Brad Will’s last takes, which end with the horrifying sound of the bullets that hit him, his voice shouting “Help me”.           

Nausea, fury, grief. I have no words.

Abroad, the word Oaxaca evokes images of a colourful market, paradise-like beaches, a wonderful tourist spot.  And Oaxaca is indeed a state full of beauty, history, culture and pleasure. But I cannot think of Oaxaca without seeing the poverty as well. Poverty, always, the same forgotten, repressed, tortured, murdered poor; the Mexican people.         

When things like what is happening in Oaxaca in this very instant take place in other countries, officially conceived of as “backward”, barbarian, savage, what we call the international community is horrified, sends its journalists in, and the rulers of the “civilized world” condemn such intolerable violence.

          When these things happen in Mexico, the international community’s press and rulers keep silent. Abroad, they keep on talking about that prosperous country, loaded with democratic triumph and a flourishing economy, that imaginary Mexico they want us to believe is my country. Why? Why do they keep silence abroad, and why do they lie or –voluntarily—ignore? Is it because of the business deals they’re making with the rich and the powerful in Mexico?

          I won’t say more. What’s the point of unleashing my fury here… I keep quiet, with my grief.          

If you’re reading this today, Monday, October 30th, and live abroad, I hope you’ll go to the nearest Mexican Consulate or Embassy at 5:00 pm. What for? So that the Mexican government and the world listen to our voice. What for? Does it make any change? I don’t know, I don’t know, but that’s all we have: our voice. Silence is death.                     

(Scroll down to read in English) 

Me he cambiado, al menos temporalmente, a este “sitio blog”, que al parecer me permite subir un número ilimitado de imágenes. Por el momento, entonces, el sito en freewebs estará detenido.          

Le agradezco a Simon Strantzas su ayuda y su paciencia; él, desde Canadá, se encargó de reorganizar las páginas en este espacio de una manera funcional.

          Pasado el furor postelectoral en México, por momentos se percibe la extraña sensación de que nada hubiera sucedido. Ésta es la veleidad de la política. Hubo un fraude en las elecciones presidenciales mexicanas. El escándalo y la acción se diluyen, sin embargo, en el carnaval delirante encabezado por López Obrador. Es hondo el desencanto; no vale la pena gastar más palabras en eso.

          Ya hablé de mis dudas y otros desencantos tras el incidente Marcos-Poniatowska. Al mismo tiempo, leo los últimos comunicados del EZLN y vuelvo a ver en ellos y en su particular forma de lucha la única salida, la única razón. Olvidados y traicionados por casi todos, ellos se desembarazan de todo lo que les pesa y no les sirve, incluyendo las proyecciones que otros sectores sociales quisieron imponer sobre ellos, y se deshacen, particularmente, del lastre de los políticos.  Y eso es lo único sensato. Sobrevivir a la política y empezar a vivir, simplemente.

          En los meses pasados, entre el circo de nuestras elecciones, el horror de la guerra en Líbano, la renovada amenaza terrorista en el Reino Unido y el resto de las desgracias y bajezas que desfilan por nuestros periódicos y pantallas, leer La guerra y la paz me mantuvo cuerda. Nuestras ideas de lo que es la historia cambian, y las teorías esbozadas por Tolstoy pueden quizá horrorizarnos ahora. Sin embargo, es difícil evadir la certeza de que los horrores de la historia son desatados por la naturaleza humana, y que así ha sido siempre. A cada hombre y mujer sobre la tierra le es dada, creo, la mirada para ver el momento histórico en que le tocó vivir. Sustraerse a las imágenes que le otorga esa mirada, a su responsabilidad de responder con honestidad, generosidad o valentía a los acontecimientos de su tiempo, a la búsqueda de la verdad y la justicia, equivalen a renunciar a buena parte de lo que nos hace humanos: nuestra conciencia, nuestra inteligencia, justamente nuestro sentido de humanidad. La responsabilidad y la acción frente a la historia son importantes, necesarias.          Pero esa respuesta y esa acción son decisiones del individuo. Ninguna idea, ninguna causa, está por encima del individuo. Sí, esto que vivimos “es la Historia”. Pero todos y cada uno de los muertos, los refugiados, los hambrientos, son antes que nada individuos. Al carajo con la historia, al carajo con nuestras opiniones deformadas por la ideología, armadas sobre los muy endebles cimientos del exceso y a la vez total ausencia de información en que estamos sumergidos. La vida, el verdadero drama humano están muy lejos del juego de los políticos, muy lejos de los grandes postulados de la Historia. Hay que destruir el espejismo.         

Harta del ruido y de la farsa, busco en todos los espacios una cueva. 

I have moved to this “blog site” at least temporarily, as it seems that here I can upload an unlimited amount of images. Thus, for the time being, the freewebs site will be stopped.          I want to thank Simon Strantzas for his help and patience. From Canada he looked after the reorganization in a functional way of the pages in this space.          After the postelectoral furor in Mexico, one feels for a moment a strange sensation, as if nothing had happened at all. Such is politics’ fickleness. There was a fraud in the Mexican presidential elections. Yet, scandal and action get diluted in the delirious carnival headed by López Obrador. Disenchantment is deep; it’s not worth it to waste more words on that.

          I’ve already talked about my doubts and other forms of disenchantment after the Marcos-Poniatowska incident. At the same time, I read the latest EZLN communiqués and I still see in them, and in their particular way of fighting, the only answer, the one and single good sense. Forgotten and betrayed by almost everyone, they get rid of everything that weighs on them and is not useful, including the projections that other social sectors wanted to impose upon them, and they get rid, particularly, of the burden of politicians. And that’s the only wise thing to do. To survive politics and start, simply, to live.

                                              During the past months, amidst our elections’ circus, the horror of the war in Lebanon, the renewed terrorist threat in the UK and all the other disasters and vileness that parade everyday through our newspapers and screens, reading War and Peace kept me sane. Our ideas about history change, and those theories outlined by Tolstoy may perhaps horrify us now. Yet, it is very difficult to get away from the certainty of the horrors of history being unleashed by human nature, and knowing it will always be so. Each man and woman on earth is given, I believe, his or her eyes to see the historical moment they live in. To keep out from the images their eyes present them with, to shirk their responsibility to answer with honesty, generosity or courage to the events of their times, to shirk the quest for truth and justice, are equal to giving up a great deal of that which makes us human: our consciousness, our intelligence, our sense of humanity, precisely. Responsibility and action in the face of history are important, necessary.         

But such a  response and such an action are the individual’s decisions. No idea, no cause is above the individual. Yes, this we are experiencing “is History”. But each and everyone of the dead, the refugees, the hungry, are individuals before anything else. To hell with history, to hell with our opinions, deformed by ideology, built upon the rather feeble foundations of the excess and, at the same time, the total lack of information we are submerged in. Life, the true human drama, are quite far away from the politicians’ game, far away from the great postulates of History. To hell with the mirage.         

 Fed up with the noise and the farce, everywhere I seek a cave.                    

(Scroll down to read in English)

¡Qué día! Acá el partido laborista amaneció con gran escándalo y pleito, todo por ver si ahora sí ya se va Blair o todavía no. Ya casi parecen el PRD. Las noticias de México, aunque esperadas, no podían ser más desalentadoras, y mientras escribo esto todavía huele a quemado en el cuarto: acabamos de ver incendiarse un autobús por la ventana, espectáculo sumamente dramático, afortunadamente sin víctimas. Sólo espero que no haya sido una bomba, o bomba fallida (no escuchamos ningún tipo de explosión). En fin. Escribí otra carta al Embajador que entregaré el próximo lunes. Si eres mexicano en el Reino Unido o vives en este país y te importa lo que está pasando en México, puedes añadir tu firma en la sección de comentarios o escribiendo a mi dirección de email.
Después de la carta viene la carta que envié hoy a The Independent. No sé si la publicarán, y en ese caso, qué tanto la editarán, pues es larga. Pero espero que si alguien que haya estado leyendo lo que se dice de este conflicto en la prensa británica pasa de casualidad por aquí, y lee mi carta, las cosas le quedarán un poco más claras.
Ya después hablaré sobre lo que pienso del último discurso de López Obrador. Ahorita estoy simplemente agotada.
What a day! Here, the Labour party started the day in the midst of great scandal and quarrel, trying to see whether if Blair is finally leaving or not yet. They almost sound like the PRD. News in Mexico, though expected, couldn’t be more disheartening, and while I write this I can still smell the fumes from a bus we just saw burning through the window. Quite a dramatic spectacle, luckily with no victims. I just hope it wasn’t a bomb, or rather a failed bomb, as we heard no explosion. Anyway… I wrote another letter to the Mexican Ambassador which will be delivered next Monday. If you are a Mexican in the UK or you live here and care about what’s happening in Mexico, and want to sign this letter, you can do it through the comments section or writing to my email address.
After the letter you can read another one, which I sent today to The Independent. I don’t know if they will publish it and, if they do, how much will they edit it. It’s long. So I hope that if someone who’s been reading what the British press says about this conflict finds him or herself here by any chance and reads my letter, he (or she) will have things a bit clearer.
Later I will talk about López Obrador’s last speech. Right now I’m simply exhausted.

CARTA/LETTER
(Scroll down to read in English)
C. Juan José Bremer
Embajador de México en el Reino Unido
16 St. George Street
London W1S 1LX

Estimado Señor Embajador:
Quienes firmamos esta carta somos mexicanos radicados en el Reino Unido, o ciudadanos británicos y otros extranjeros viviendo en este país que conocemos y queremos a México.
El motivo de esta carta es hacer de su conocimiento que, tras el fallo del Tribunal Electoral del Poder Judicial de la Federación (TEPJF) del pasado 5 de septiembre de 2006, nos rehusamos a aceptar dicho fallo y desconocemos al Sr. Felipe Calderón como presidente electo de México.
La exigencia de un recuento total de los votos en las pasadas elecciones presidenciales se volvió más apremiante tras el recuento parcial de una muestra representativa de casillas, que arrojó el resultado de graves irregularidades en más de un 60%. El TEPJF rechazó las denuncias recurriendo a una descalificación del procedimiento legal, en lugar de abocarse a allegarse las pruebas correspondientes y ampliar sus investigaciones. Nos dice que las elecciones no fueron ni transparentes ni intachables, pero que son sin embargo legales simplemente porque ellos han decidido calificarlas así. Es decir, como por desgracia sucede con demasiada frecuencia en nuestro país, esta instancia ha abusado de su poder para volver legal lo que no es legítimo.
No firmamos esta carta con ningún ánimo partidista. No sabemos, y suponemos que ya no vamos a saberlo nunca, quién ganó realmente las pasadas elecciones. Pero sí sabemos que no fueron unas elecciones ni limpias ni transparentes, y que el partido que ahora se declara triunfador recurrió a la alianza con otras fuerzas políticas para imponer este triunfo sobre los mexicanos. Nosotros entendemos, entonces, que nos hemos quedado sin presidente, y le agradeceríamos que les haga saber al presidente Vicente Fox y al Sr. Calderón que hay personas en el Reino Unido siguiendo los acontecimientos que desconocen categóricamente el triunfo del candidato del PAN en estas elecciones.
Muchas gracias. Saludos cordiales,
Adriana Díaz Enciso

Dear Ambassador,
We signing this letter are either Mexicans living in the UK or British citizens and other foreigners in this country who know and love Mexico.
We are writing to you in order to let you know that after the Mexican Highest Electoral Court’s (TEPJF) ruling last September the 5th, 2006, we refuse to accept the mentioned ruling and do not recognize Mr. Felipe Calderón as the elected president of Mexico.
The demand of a total recount of the past presidential election’s votes became even more urgent after the partial recount of a representative sample, which revealed grave irregularities in more than 60% of the urns. The TEPJF rejected the claims by dismissing the legal procedure through which they were made, instead of concentrating on gathering the relevant proofs and broadening their investigations. They tell us that the elections were neither transparent nor flawless, yet they are legal simply because they have decided to call them so. This means that, as unfortunately it happens all too often in our country’s institutions, the tribunal has abused its power in order to make legal what is illegitimate.
We are not signing this letter because of any particular party alliance. We don’t know—and we guess we never will now—who really won the past elections. But we do know that those elections were not clean nor transparent, and that the party that now declares itself the winner allied itself to other political forces in order to impose this supposed triumph on the Mexican people. We therefore understand that we don’t have a new president, and would be very grateful if you informed Mr. Vicente Fox and Mr. Calderón that there are people in the UK following this sad events who categorically refuse to acknowledge the alleged triumph of the PAN’s candidate to these elections.
Thank you very much.
CARTA A “THE INDEPENDENT”/LETTER TO “THE INDEPENDENT”
Dear Sirs,
I must say I’ve been appalled on following the UK’s media coverage of the post-electoral conflict in Mexico. It makes me wonder, if all international news is covered in such a sloppy manner, whether if there is any point in reading the international section of newspapers at all.
True, Mexican politics are convoluted. That shouldn’t justify, though, the mistake The Independent has made, along with other British media, namely to simplify the conflict and polarize its different aspects, following in the steps of the deep division between the adverse parties and accepting unquestioningly the “winner’s” version.
I should start by making clear that I’m no supporter of López Obrador or the PRD, for reasons too long to describe in this space, but which include his (in my view) mistakes in the handling of the electoral conflict. Yet, I do care about democracy in my country, and I am convinced that the past presidential elections were by no means as crystal clear as your coverage of them would make us believe.
Leaving aside the fact that López Obrador has not precisely “taken to the streets in an effort to overthrow the final count by brute, popular force”, as your editorialist of September the 6th says—there’s been no ‘brute’ force or any form of violence in those amazing demonstrations, which would deserve a whole reportage on their own regardless the PRD’s and ‘Coalition’ leader—I’m afraid that, for Mexicans, recognising ‘the court as the final arbiter of the Constitution” is no simple matter, and ‘graciousness’ is certainly not involved in the question.
We cannot jump to the conclusion that such acknowledgement of the court’s decision is desirable without mentioning that the Mexican highest electoral court chose to ignore that the partial recount of the votes for the elections supposedly won by Calderón revealed irregularities in more than 60% of the revised voting booths. Those irregularities were no mean insignificant details: they involved illegal opening of the urns after the actual elections, discrepancy between the number of voters and the votes emitted, and other niceties we Mexicans are sadly all too familiar with. If the partial recount diminished, even if slightly, the already razor-thin ‘triumph’ of Calderón, it would be logical to expect the same would happen with a total recount of the votes. That’s supposed to be one of the virtues of statistics, and given the turmoil we’re in, after such results from the partial recount only the total recount of the votes would have given transparency and legitimacy to whoever had truly won the elections.
Some commentators are astonished because millions of Mexicans are questioning the cleanness of the past elections; they’re astonished even though they surely know the only clean presidential election we’ve had in generations is the last one, won by Vicente Fox, and even though there’s no Mexican who’s not well acquainted with the many devices by which electoral fraud has systematically been exercised within our utterly corrupt political system. These commentators’ stupor stops them even from noticing the blatantly immoral alliances and negotiations between the PAN and the PRI—the latter being the not-so-extinct dinosaur and master party in electoral fraud.
You wonder why so many Mexicans don’t trust our institutions, and such ignorance of our recent history truly makes me despair. Mexicans have endlessly suffered massacre, repression, fraud, theft, corruption and indiscriminate violence, with total impunity, on the hands of those representing even our most sacred institutions. Why should we trust them?
Basically, what the high electoral court said yesterday was: after the partial recount of the votes, we agree there were irregularities in the elections, but we can’t be bothered to push further for the gathering of proofs—something they are perfectly entitled, and of course expected, to do—, nor to investigate the matter any deeper. Therefore, the elections, though by no means transparent or flawless, are legal, because we say so, and by law no one can challenge our decision.
That, to me, is far from being an incontrovertible state of affairs.
Many Mexicans—back in Mexico and abroad—feel in a wilderness right now; many of us are not at all convinced by López Obrador’s motivations or methods in his protests and are not endorsing him. We’re very worried that violence may unleash. We’re confused and sad and angry. But we do care about the truth, and about the future of our very young and still flawed democracy. I only wish your correspondents and editorialist had the same concerns about the truth!

(Scroll down to read in English)

Antes que nada, perdonen por favor el estado de esta página web. Ya pronto me voy a cambiar a otro… ¿servidor?, ¿host?, ¿dominio? Bueno, lo que sea. Es un milagro que alguien todavía se asome por aquí, con lo dañada que está la página. Gracias, y muchas gracias también por sus comentarios, en este espacio y vía e.mail. Nomás porque me están leyendo sigo peleándome con la computadora, en lugar de abandonar la página y volver a refugiarme en mi paraíso pre-tecnológico.
Quería compartir en este espacio algunas reflexiones sobre esta parte del mundo, las amenazas terroristas, la guerra en Líbano y las muchas otras guerras de que somos traumatizados e inútiles espectadores, además de hablar sobre temas menos sangrientos y más literarios, pero me temo que volveré, primero, a las reflexiones sobre México. Debo decir que en Inglaterra las noticias al respecto brillan por su ausencia. He leído dos o tres breves artículos sumamente desinformados (uno escrito desde Washington; yo creería que los corresponsales hablando sobre el tema tendrían que estar en México, ¿o no?), y poco más. Ya sé que los medios tienen que cubrir las noticias de todo el mundo, y en estos momentos hay tanto drama y horror por todas partes peleándose los titulares que México quizá parece irrelevante, pero me parece escandaloso que, pese a que la lucha por la democracia que está teniendo lugar en estos momentos en mi país es de una enorme relevancia en la historia de América Latina, leyendo la prensa británica en estos días (que usualmente me parece de muy alta calidad) cualquiera diría que México no existe siquiera en el mapa.
Ayer, primero de septiembre y día del informe presidencial, confieso que no quería ni levantarme de la cama. Tenía pánico de las noticias que recibiría de México al final del día, considerando el despliegue de soldados, policías y francotiradores que rodeaba el palacio legislativo en la Ciudad de México, y el plan de López Obrador y sus seguidores de ir a plantarse a sus puertas en pacífica protesta. Luego oí por la radio las más recientes noticias sobre el estira y afloja entre Irán, la ONU y los gringos, otro soldado británico muerto en Afganistán, otra masacre en Irak, y me tapé la cabeza con el edredón, con ganas de poder contar hasta 10, quitarme el edredón de encima y aparecer en otro planeta. Realmente creo que no es sano oír las noticias por la mañana.
Por la noche soñé con enfrentamientos armados en México, así que al consultar hoy las noticias por internet sentí un alivio infinito. Por un lado, la decisión final de López Obrador de suspender la marcha hacia la Cámara de Diputados, para evitar caer en provocaciones y posibles enfrentamientos, fue de lo más sensata. Por otro, el que diputados y senadores del PRD y el PT hayan ocupado la tribuna, impidiéndole a Vicente Fox dar el informe hasta que fueran retiradas las fuerzas militares y policíacas que rodeaban el edificio –cuya misma presencia era, para empezar, una franca violación constitucional, y esto va para los panistas y priístas que ahora andan gritando por todas partes su respeto a las “instituciones”—fue un acto pacífico, digno y contundente. Fox tuvo que contentarse con entregar su informe por escrito, cosa que nunca había sucedido hasta ahora, frente a la realidad de un país dividido y harto de la impunidad que en nada se parece a su versión oficial de nuestra patria, o foxilandia, como algunos le dicen acertadamente a esa imagen alucinatoria de México que le gusta invocar en sus torpes discursos.
Las negociaciones entre el PRI y el PAN, las pruebas concretas de unas elecciones sucias que arrojó el reconteo parcial de los votos, desechadas con inigualable cinismo por las mismas instituciones que se supone existen para proteger el voto y a los ciudadanos, la cloaca de falsedades, compraventa de privilegios políticos y las muy deshonrosas alianzas entre PRI y PAN, la ilegalidad, desinformación deliberada por parte de buena parte de los medios de comunicación, amenazas de violencia invocando la temida –y por desgracia conocida—mano dura de ejército y policía, debería ser motivo de vergüenza para los votantes panistas que, ya sin argumentos para defender el muy dudoso triunfo de su candidato, se limitan a pavonearse con orgullo por la impunidad con que, creen, nos será impuesto. No sé cómo pueden respirar en ese miasma. De los priístas, por supuesto, no se puede esperar ya ni la vergüenza, pero no deja de ser curioso ver a estos panistas tan enamorados del color blanco y supuestos promotores de la pureza en todas sus variantes, nadando en este estercolero sin sentir el más ligero atisbo de náuseas.
Por ahí anda circulando una carta convocando a una “marcha pacífica” hacia el zócalo, donde los manifestantes, todos vestidos de blanco como angelitos, le irán a pedir a López Obrador que por favor levante sus campamentos y acepte a Calderón como triunfador de las elecciones. Como buena parte de la discusión postelectoral ha sido entre “los violentos” y “los pacíficos”, cada partido acusando al otro de violencia, la elemental lógica panista cree que con llamarle “pacífica” a su marcha y vestirse de blanco ya está haciendo una declaración política inapelable. Lo que yo no entiendo es cómo les puede parecer pacífico ir a pedirle a nadie que acepte unas elecciones fraudulentas y pedirle a todo un país que, ante el fraude, se calle la boca. Cursilería aparte, sus manifestaciones públicas dejan claro que estas personas no tienen la más remota idea de lo que significa la resistencia civil. Ni siquiera el admirable plantón que ya lleva más de un mes en el zócalo les ha enseñado nada.
Yo a estas personas quisiera preguntarles cómo pueden defender un status quo en el que, por ejemplo, los crímenes de Ciudad Juárez siguen sin resolver; en el que, todos los días durante esta contienda postelectoral, el estado de Oaxaca ha sido y sigue siendo víctima de la violencia institucional con una impunidad que realmente es para dejarlo a uno sin habla; en el que sigue gente inocente en la cárcel tras los incidentes de Atenco y no se ve por dónde se les va a hacer justicia a las verdaderas víctimas. Más el largo etcétera que todos los mexicanos ya sabemos. Cómo estas personas creen que se puede gobernar tranquilamente un país donde, además de la infinita injusticia y miseria padecidas por millones de habitantes, estos incidentes son parte de la realidad cotidiana, y el abuso, impunidad y/o indiferencia vienen de parte de los gobernantes mismos y las llamadas “fuerzas del orden” públicas, yo nomás no lo puedo entender.
Y ahora la pregunta a López Obrador. ¿A qué se refiere cuando habla de un “gobierno paralelo”? No entiendo, y creo que somos muchos los que no entendemos. Dada la gravedad de las circunstancias, no veo cómo se puede hablar de establecer un gobierno paralelo sin hablar de una revolución. Al llegar aquí siento que me estalla la cabeza. Confieso que no veo qué más pueda hacer AMLO, la Coalición, el país entero que lo que están haciendo ahora para rechazar este escandaloso robo del voto. Pero mi limitada cultura política no me permite entender qué forma de gobierno paralelo no va a llevar a la consecuencia (para mí) lógica de una revolución. Y me pregunto si eso es lo que queremos los mexicanos.
Yo creo que no. Es decir, una revolución de conciencia, sí, una revolución en nuestra realidad política, sí, pero no otra revolución armada. De entrada, es un hecho que nuestra revolución de 1910 no le llevó justicia realmente a muchos de los pobres de nuestro país. Nuestra revolución tuvo sus partes gloriosas, pero también, y sobre todo, su caos sangriento y sin dirección, suficientemente documentado, y nos dejó de herencia a largo plazo no precisamente la justicia en el campo, sino… bueno, al PRI. ¿Era necesaria nuestra revolución de 1910? Sí. ¿Fue sumamente exitosa? Estamos en el 2006 y todavía lo seguimos discutiendo, sin llegar a ninguna conclusión definitiva. Lo único claro es que buena parte de nuestra población sigue hundida en la miseria.
Ahora, ¿con qué fuerza moral va a encabezar López Obrador, el PRD, la Coalición por el Bien de Todos, una revolución? Dios nos agarre confesados. No olvidemos, por favor no olvidemos que en el 2001 los legisladores perredistas, junto a panistas y priístas, le dieron la espalda categóricamente a los indígenas de México. Aún si en estos momentos preferimos olvidar la deprimente, tristísima corrupción que ya hemos visto en el PRD (y no estoy diciendo que permee a todo el partido, pero eso no lo podemos decir tampoco del PAN, vaya, ¡ni siquiera del PRI!; siempre hay buenos ciudadanos por ahí que intentan servir a su patria desde su partido), o si optamos por ignorar sus patéticas divisiones internas, no podemos darnos el lujo de olvidar –porque es un crimen olvidarlo– que, en darle la espalda a los más pobres de nuestro país, en traicionar a los indígenas mexicanos, el PRD es tan culpable como los otros partidos. Yo, por eso, con el partido no salgo ni a la esquina, ya no digamos a una revolución.
Lo que la gran mayoría de los mexicanos no queremos –y ha quedado demostrado innumerables veces; nunca hemos escatimado esfuerzos en demostrarlo–, y lo que ciertamente no necesitamos, es más derramamiento de sangre. Y digo más, porque en nuestro país, desde que tenemos memoria, el derramamiento de sangre no se ha detenido nunca y es, todavía, cotidiano, ya sea por la muerte de inocentes mediante la violencia a secas, o mediante la violencia de la miseria. Esta revolución que necesitamos tiene que ser pacífica y sensata; si acaso necesitaba de sangre, ¿no hemos derramado ya suficiente, todos los días? Quienes creemos que hubo fraude en las elecciones pasadas, quienes creemos que tenemos pruebas suficientes de que se nos está tratando de imponer un gobierno ilegítimo, tendremos que defender nuestra democracia y nuestro voto sin desatar la violencia, y aquí la Coalición por el Bien de Todos tiene la enorme responsabilidad de no exponer la vida de sus seguidores, simpatizantes, votantes. La decisión de ayer de permanecer en el zócalo fue, en este sentido, prometedora.
El gobierno de Fox y la alianza PRI-PAN recibieron ayer una lección: el pueblo de México rechaza contundentemente la violencia, y no acepta las amenazas implícitas en el despliegue de las fuerzas militares y policíacas del país. Eso, por fortuna, creo que está claro para todos. Ante el uso de la fuerza, los mexicanos decimos: NO. Ahora, cómo vamos a salir de este impasse, no tengo la menor idea.
Sigo pensando que los únicos que han entendido cómo defender su propia causa han sido los zapatistas. No deja de parecer broma, cuando López Obrador habla de un gobierno paralelo, imaginar el país que va a quedar, con un gobierno oficial ilegítimo y por lo tanto endeble, un gobierno paralelo dirigido desde una casa de campaña en el zócalo, y un montón de comunidades autónomas zapatistas por todo el país. Por supuesto, la gran diferencia entre los zapatistas y la Coalición es que los primeros no buscan el poder; por eso pueden darle la espalda a un carnaval político representado por diversas facciones de traidores, y buscar las soluciones a sus problemas a su manera, descubriendo cuál es el verdadero sentido de la autonomía. Por eso los admiro y los respeto: han logrado lo inimaginable en las condiciones más adversas posibles. Acusarlos de que han dividido a la izquierda es irrisorio, porque, como ya dije antes, la izquierda mexicana está fragmentada desde hace mucho tiempo.
Por lo mismo, no puedo entender cómo se le ocurrió a Marcos correr a Elena Poniatowska del zócalo durante el pasado primero de mayo, en el mitin de “la otra campaña”, con la amenaza de que si no se iba no podrían dar inicio al mitin. Elena Poniatowska, quien durante varios años apoyó abiertamente al EZLN, está entre quienes los acusan de dividir a la izquierda y ciertamente ha apoyado sin reservas a López Obrador en su campaña. ¿Y? Podemos estar de acuerdo o no con las acciones de la señora Poniatowska, o con sus decisiones respecto a quién es merecedor de su apoyo o lealtad. Lo que no podemos es, primero, ignorar que es una intelectual mexicana honesta y comprometida, digna de nuestro respeto. Deberíamos sentirnos orgullosos de una mujer capaz de habernos dado, por dar ejemplo, La noche de Tlatelolco. ¿Cuántos otros escritores y periodistas tenemos así? No muchos, la verdad.
Pero esta consideración no es la única, y acaso no la de más peso. Lo deprimente, lo triste y enfurecedor de ese incidente es que el vocero del EZLN se mostró como todo lo peor que representa la izquierda radical, la de nuestro país y la de cualquier parte: la intolerancia, la estrechez de miras, la irracionalidad, la arrogancia. No termino de recuperarme de mi coraje y mi tristeza. Quienes hemos apoyado al EZLN durante todos estos años hemos visto en ellos la única salvación posible de la izquierda; la dignidad en la defensa de lo que es justo, el respeto por el pensamiento y las acciones de los otros, la tolerancia, la apertura, la acción política imaginativa, creativa y pacífica para alcanzar la igualdad y la justicia. El primero de mayo Marcos le dio tremenda puñalada a todo eso.
El EZLN no es Marcos nada más. Eso hay que recordarlo también. Los logros de las comunidades zapatistas, invisibles para buena parte de la sociedad por el simple hecho de que a buena parte de la sociedad le importa muy poco cómo viven las comunidades indígenas, siguen siendo la lección más valiosa de organización, dignidad, defensa propia y fe en el futuro de nuestra historia reciente. Por eso el incidente del primero de mayo duele más.
Mucho me había dejado pensando la Sexta Declaración de la Selva Lacandona, con su llamado a un acuerdo con “personas y organizaciones mero de izquierda, porque pensamos que es en la izquierda política donde mero está la idea de resistirse contra la globalización neoliberal y de hacer un país donde haya, para todos, justicia, democracia y libertad.” Y es que, en México, muchas de las personas y organizaciones que se consideran a sí mismas “mero de izquierda” son intolerantes, autoritarias, retrógradas y enamoradas de la sangre derramada. Muchas de esas personas y organizaciones siempre han querido apropiarse del movimiento zapatista. Cuando yo aún vivía en México, según lo que pude ver en mi experiencia, nunca lo lograron; los zapatistas no lo permitieron, pero sí recuerdo claramente que quienes apoyábamos el movimiento zapatista y los seguíamos de cerca teníamos que espantarnos a esos individuos como moscas todo el tiempo, y nos traía mareados su “patria o muerte”. Ahora que estoy tan lejos, no tengo elementos para saber cuál es la naturaleza en estos momentos de las relaciones entre el EZLN y ese vasto espectro de entidades comprendidas por lo que llamamos la izquierda mexicana, pero lo que vimos el primero de mayo es muy poco alentador.
Los mexicanos estamos, entonces, quizá más divididos que nunca. Hace mucho ya que pasé mi trago amargo de decepción del PRD. Si habrá que pasarlo con el EZLN es una pregunta que me causa mucho dolor. No encuentro, ante la realidad de este momento, ninguna respuesta alentadora. Y lo mismo me pasa cuando pienso en los problemas que enfrenta el resto del mundo. Lo único que veo con claridad es que todas las estructuras mentales que nos habíamos formado para entender el mundo están rotas, y que no tenemos de dónde agarrarnos. Para mí, y supongo que para muchos otros, es un momento lleno de dolor e incertidumbre, de parálisis. Y la parálisis horroriza. Estamos metidos en un caos alarmante que exige acción: ni la violencia ni la injusticia ni la miseria dejan de cobrar víctimas ni un solo día. Pero ya no sé hacia dónde debe estar dirigida esa acción. Si pienso en mi país, o en el mundo, lo que siento es impotencia y desesperación.
¿Será por eso que escribo este blog?
No lo sé. Me siento sola, e intuyo que somos millones y millones de personas las que nos sentimos igual. La revolución que necesitamos es, sin duda, de conciencia. Siguiendo líderes a ciegas, creyendo (¡a estas alturas!) en las promesas de los políticos, no vamos a llegar a ningún lado. México nos exige ahora defender nuestra democracia, defender, simplemente, a nuestro país de los pillos que, desde dentro y como siempre, lo están pisoteando. Eso es una cosa. Defender al PRD es otra, pero en este río revuelto es cada vez más difícil entender la diferencia.
¿Cómo defender al país, entonces? ¿Cuál es el camino, y hacia dónde?

Before anything else, please forgive me for the sorrowful state of this webpage. Soon I will move to another… server?, host?, dominium? Whatever! It’s a miracle anyone takes a glimpse here at all, with the page being so damaged. Thanks, and thank you very much for your comments too, both in this space and via email. It’s only because you’re reading me that I keep on fighting with the computer, instead of abandoning the page and going back to the shelter of my pre-technological paradise.
In this space I wanted to share some thoughts about this side of the world, the terrorist threats, the Lebanon war and the several other wars of which we are traumatized and useless spectators, apart from talking about less bloody and more literary matters, but I’m afraid that, first, I will go back to my reflections on Mexico. I must say that, in the UK, news about it are overwhelmingly absent. I have read two or three brief articles utterly misinformed (one of them written in Washington, though I would expect correspondents writing about the subject should at least be in Mexico), and little more. I know that the media has to cover news from all over the world, and right now there is so much drama and horror everywhere fighting for the headlines that Mexico may seem irrelevant, but I do find it a bit of a scandal that, even though the struggle for democracy taking place right now in my country is enormously relevant to Latin America’s history, anyone reading the British press these days would say that Mexico does not even figure in the map.
Yesterday, September the first, and the day of the presidential annual report, I confess I didn’t want to get up from bed. I was terrified of the news I might receive from Mexico at the end of the day, considering the display of soldiers, policemen and even snipers that surrounded the Congress building, and López Obrador’s plan to go along with his followers to stand at its doors in peaceful protest. Then I heard in the radio the most recent news about the cut and thrust between Iran, the UN and the Americans, another dead British soldier in Afghanistan, yet another massacre in Iraq, and I threw the duvet over my head, whishing I could count to ten, shake the duvet off and show up in an entirely different planet. I truly think it’s not healthy to listen to the news first thing in the morning.
During the night I dreamt of clashes in the streets of Mexico City, so when I checked the news today in internet I was infinitely relieved. On the one hand, López Obrador’s final decision to call off the march towards the Chamber of Deputies in order to avoid provocations and possible clashes was quite sensible. On the other, that the PRD and PT’s deputies and senators occupied the platform, stopping president Vicente Fox from reading the report until the military and police forces surrounding the building were removed –their very presence being, to start with, a frank violation of the Constitution, and this goes for those PAN and PRI followers who are now boasting everywhere their respect for “institutions”—was a peaceful, dignified and forceful action. Fox had to content himself with handing in his report in written form, something that had never happened so far, and facing the reality of a divided country which is fed up with impunity and doesn’t resemble at all his official version of our homeland, or as some rightfully call it, foxiland, that hallucinatory image of Mexico he’s fond of invoking in his awkward speeches.
Negotiations between the PRI and the PAN parties, the concrete proof of dirty elections revealed by the partial recount of the votes, rejected with unequalled cynicism by the same institutions that supposedly exist in order to protect the vote and the citizens, the sewer teeming with lies, the trade of political privileges and the rather dishonourable alliances between PRI and PAN, illegality, the deliberate misinformation in lots of the media, the threats of violence calling up the feared –and unfortunately known—firm hand of army and police, should be a cause of shame for the PAN voters who, with no more arguments to defend their candidate’s rather doubtful triumph, simply swagger around the impunity with which they think he’ll be imposed. I don’t know how they can breath in that miasma. From the PRI supporters, of course, we cannot even expect shame anymore, but it is indeed a curious thing to watch these PAN followers, so in love with the white colour and supposed promoters of purity in all its manifestations, swimming in that pigsty without the slightest hint of nausea.
There’s a letter circulating calling for a “peaceful march” to the Zócalo (the main square in Mexico City), with which the protesters, all dressed in white like angels, will ask López Obrador to please abandon his camps and accept Calderón as the elections winner. Since a good deal of the postelectoral discussion has been between the “violent” and the “peaceful”, each party accusing the other of being violent, the PAN thinks with elementary logic that with just calling its demonstration “peaceful” and wearing white it will be making an incontestable political statement. What I don’t understand is how they can find it pacific to go and ask anybody to accept fraudulent elections, and to ask a whole country to shut its mouth on the evidence of fraud. Cheesiness apart, their public manifestations make it clear that these persons haven’t the slightest idea of what civil resistance means. Not even the admirable camp which has stayed at the Zócalo for over a month has taught them anything.
What I would like to ask these persons is how can they defend a status quo in which, for instance, the horrific crimes of Ciudad Juárez are still unsolved; in which, during every single day of this postelectoral conflict the state of Oaxaca has been and keeps on being on the receiving end of institutional violence, with an impunity that truly leaves you speechless; in which innocent people are still in jail after the incidents in Atenco, without any sign of justice coming for the true victims. And the long etc. we all Mexicans know so well. How these persons think you can easily rule a country where, apart from the infinite injustice and misery suffered by millions of inhabitants, such incidents are part of everyday reality, and the abuse, impunity and/or indifference come from the rulers themselves and the so-called “public order forces” is something I just can’t understand.
And now the question to López Obrador: what does he mean when he talks about a “parallel government”? I don’t understand that either, and I think it’s many those of us who don’t. Given the seriousness of circumstances, I don’t see how can anyone talk about establishing a parallel government without talking about a revolution. When I get to this point, mind you, I feel my head is bursting. I admit that I don’t see what else can López Obrador, the Coalition or the whole country do besides what they’re already doing in order to reject this scandalous theft of the people’s vote. But my limited political culture doesn’t allow me to understand what form of parallel government does not entail the (to me) logical consequence of a revolution. And I wonder if that is what we Mexicans want.
I think it is not. I mean, we do want a thought revolution, a revolution of our political reality, but not another armed revolution. To start with, it’s a fact that our 1910 Revolution didn’t really bring justice to many of the poor in our country. Our Revolution had its glorious side, but also, and most of all, its bloody and aimless chaos, sufficiently documented, and left us as a long-term legacy not precisely justice for the peasants but… well, the PRI. Was our 1910 Revolution necessary? Yes. Was it terribly successful? This is 2006 and we’re still discussing it, without reaching any definite conclusion. The only clear thins is that a great deal of our population is still living in misery.
Furthermore, with which kind of moral strength will López Obrador, the PRD, the Coalition, head a revolution? Heaven forbid! Let us not forget, please let us not forget that in 2001 the PRD legislators, along with those from the PAN and the PRI, categorically turned their back on Mexico’s indigenous peoples. Even if in these difficult moments we prefer to forget the depressing, very sad corruption we’ve already seen within the PRD (and I’m not saying it affects the whole party, but that cannot be said of the PAN either, not even of the PRI!; there are always good citizens there trying to serve their country from their own party), or if we choose to ignore their pathetic inner divisions, we cannot afford to forget—because to forget it is criminal—that, on turning their back to the poorest people in our country, and on betraying the Mexican Indians, the PRD is as guilty as the other parties. That is why, in that company, I don’t go even round the corner, let alone to a revolution.
What most of we Mexicans do not want—and we have demonstrated it endless times; we’ve never spared efforts to show it–, and what we certainly do not need, is more bloodshed. And I say more, because in our country, since as far as we can remember, bloodshed has never stopped and is still a daily matter, either in the death of innocents through plain violence, or through the violence of poverty. This revolution we need has to be peaceful and sensible; if it needed blood by any chance, haven’t we shed enough already, everyday? Those of us who believe there was indeed a fraud in the past elections, those of us who believe we have enough proof that they are trying to impose on us an illegitimate government, will have to defend our democracy and our vote without unleashing violence, and in this respect the Coaliton has the enormous responsibility of not putting the lives of its followers and voters in danger. Yesterday’s decision to remain in the Zócalo was, thus, promising.
Fox’s government, and the PRI-PAN alliance received a lesson yesterday: the Mexican people emphatically rejects violence, and doesn’t accept the threats implicit in the display of the country’s military and police forces. I think that is, luckily, clear for everybody. To the use of force, Mexicans say NO. As to how we’re going to get overcome this impasse, I have no idea.
I still think that the only ones who have understood how they must defend their own cause are the zapatistas. It sounds rather like a joke, when López Obrador talks about a parallel government, to imagine a country that will then have an official government both illegitimate and feeble, a parallel government led from a camping house in the Zócalo, and a lot of zapatista autonomous communities all over the country. The great difference between the zapatistas and the Coalition being, of course, that the former don’t seek power; that’s why they can turn their back on a political carnival represented by diverse groups of traitors, and look for solutions to their problems their way, discovering what is the real meaning of autonomy. That’s why I admire them and respect them: they have achieved what was unimaginable in the most adverse possible conditions. To accuse them of having divided the left is laughable because, as I said before, the Mexican left has been fragmented anyway for a very long time.
Because of this, I can’t simply understand how could Marcos even think of expelling writer Elena Poniatowska from the Zócalo last May the first, during the “other campaign” act, saying they wouldn’t start until she left. Elena Poniatowska, who for years openly supported the EZLN, is among those who accuse them of dividing the left and has certainly supported unreservedly López Obrador and his campaign. And so? We may agree or not with Mrs. Poniatowska’s actions, or with her decisions regarding who deserves her support or loyalty. What we cannot do is, firstly, to ignore the fact that she’s a Mexican honest and engaged intellectual, worthy of our respect. We should feel proud of a woman able of giving us, just to give an example, the book La noche de Tlatelolco. How many other writers and journalists like that do we have? Not many, to be honest.
But this is not the only consideration, and it may not be the strongest. What is truly depressing, sad and infuriating in that incident is that the EZLN’s spokesman showed the face of all the worst that is represented by the radical left, in our country and everywhere else: intolerance, narrow views, irrationality, arrogance. I simply can’t get over my anger and my sadness. Those of us who have supported the EZLN during all these years have seen in them the only possible salvation for the left; dignity on the defense of what is just, respect for the thought and actions of others, tolerance, openness, imaginative and creative political action in order to attain equality and justice. Last First of May Marcos grossly stabbed all that.
The EZLN is not only Marcos. We have to remember that as well. The zapatista communities’ achievements, which are invisible for a big part of our society simply because a great deal of our society doesn’t really care about how do indigenous communities live, are still the most worthy lesson of organisation, dignity, self-defense and faith in the future in our recent history. That is why the 1st of May incident hurts more.
The Sixth Declaration of the Selva Lacandona had left me thinking a lot, with it’s calling for an agreement with “true left persons and organisations”. That because in Mexico many of the persons and organisations who consider themselves from the “true left” are intolerant, authoritarian, reactionary, and they bear a great love for shed blood. Many of those persons and organisations have always wanted to appropriate the zapatista movement. When I was still living in Mexico, for what I could see through my experience, they never managed; the zapatistas didn’t allow that to happen, but I do remember clearly that we had to scare those people away, as if they were flies, and their “homeland or death” tirades were a real pain in the ass. Now that I’m so far away, I don’t have enough elements to know what is the nature of the EZLN’s relationships with that broad spectre of entities included in what we call the Mexican left, but what we saw on the 1st of May is very disheartening indeed.
Mexicans are, then, perhaps more divided than ever. It’s been a long time since I tasted the bitter PRD disappointment. Weather if I’ll have to go through the same experience with the EZLN is a question that fills me with pain. In the reality of this moment I don’t find any promising answer. And I feel the same way when I think of the problems faced by the rest of the world. All I can see clearly is that all the mental structures we had created in order to understand the world are broken, and we have nothing to hold on to. To me, and I guess that to many others, this is a moment full of pain, uncertainty and paralysis. And paralysis is horrifying. We are in the middle of an alarming chaos that demands action; neither violence, nor injustice or misery stop claiming victims one single day. But I don’t know where the action must be directed to anymore. If I think of my country, or the world, what I feel is impotence and despair.
Is that the reason why I write this blog?
I don’t know. I feel alone and I guess it is millions and millions of people who feel that way. The revolution we need is, no doubt, within our conscience. To follow leaders blindly, to believe (in this time and day!) in the promises of politicians will lead us nowhere. Mexico is demanding from us, now, to defend our democracy; to defend, to put it simply, our country from the ruffians who, from within and as usual, are trampling on it. That is one thing. To defend the PRD is quite a different one, but in this troubled waters, to tell the difference is every time harder.
How to defend our country, now? What is the way, and where to?

(Scroll down to read in English)

Perdón por la larga ausencia. Ya no me lo van a creer, pero tuve problemas técnicos. Mi computadora se negó durante meses a aceptar el módem… ni para qué les cuento. Y perdonen la falta de ilustraciones. Pasé una hora eligiéndolas, y luego no las pude subir. No sé por qué.

Han pasado tantas cosas desde mi última entrada que no sé ni por dónde empezar. Quizá sea pertinente empezar por la patria, pues en eso me quedé.

El trauma post-elecciones, entonces. Estoy tan confundida como la mayoría. Y alarmada. Alarmada por la radicalización de las posturas, entre la defensa ciega de López Obrador a toda costa, y los ataques descabellados, vociferantes y esos sí violentos de los panistas. ¿Puede mi olvidado blog contribuir en algo al necesario diálogo, antes de que terminemos todos a golpes? No lo sé, y lo dudo mucho. Con muy débil esperanza escribo estas palabras.

Creo que a estas alturas, seguir negando que hubo muy graves irregularidades en las elecciones, y que la información que tenemos hasta el momento del reconteo parcial de los votos apunta en dirección del fraude, es ya pura desesperación, mala fe o de plano delirio. El problema central es, sin duda, el de la transparencia del proceso electoral. Los mexicanos hemos crecido, durante generaciones, en un país en que el proceso electoral ha sido una farsa. Hemos crecido bajo la dictadura de un partido, y el alumbramiento de nuestra jovencísima democracia ha estado lleno de dolor y falta de oxígeno. La corrupción, las alianzas por debajo de la mesa, la violencia como recurso para acallar la voz de la disidencia, siguen tan activas como siempre pese a nuestros incipientes logros democráticos, y ningún partido puede darse golpes de pecho o fingir inocencia. Si somos honestos y objetivos, los mexicanos sabemos que el fraude es posible y en este caso, muy probable. La cuestión de fundamental importancia que debemos defender es el respeto al voto, a la voluntad ciudadana, y esa defensa no debería ser partidista, ni debería ser pisoteada por la radicalización que ahora pesa sobre el país. Nunca había sentido a mi país tan dividido como ahora (y vaya que ha estado dividido, siempre). Si consideramos que estoy al otro lado del océano, honda ha de ser la división, que hasta acá me llegan los gritos y me quitan el sueño.

El gran insulto ahora es decir que tal o cual partido está lleno de expriístas, o que el gobierno actual recurre a tácticas priístas. Qué extraño que no nos demos cuenta de que tanto el PRD como el PAN están llenos de expriístas y que todo el espectro (en la doble acepción de la palabra) político mexicano está enfermo de tácticas priístas. Esa es la herencia de toda dictadura, en este caso la dictadura de un partido. El PRI y ese casi sinónimo, la corrupción, son parte del tejido del discurso y de los actos de todos los políticos mexicanos, para nuestra desgracia. No hay pureza en nuestros pobres, tristes partidos, y mientras sus representantes insistan en señalar al otro con el dedo y encubrir sus propios pecadillos, México seguirá dividido, traicionado, golpeado.

He leído muchas, muchas crónicas de los campamentos encabezados por López Obrador en el Zócalo y en varias calles del centro del D.F. Varias de ellas han sido emails de amigos y conocidos que han estado ahí. Curiosamente, todas las vociferaciones de los panistas, cargadas de acusaciones de incitación a la violencia y de caos que he leído, vienen de gente que no se ha parado por ahí, que no se ha acercado siquiera. Leo esas crónicas y me muero de la envidia por todos los chilangos. Quisiera estar allá, no me aguanto las ganas de pasar el día en semejante fiesta ciudadana. En mi humilde opinión, lo mejor de México, ese México que milagrosamente sale a la calle lleno de imaginación, creatividad, solidaridad, humor y fortaleza pese a todos los golpes que recibe, es el que está ahora dándole vida a esos campamentos. Leo las crónicas, me cuentan mis amigos, y pienso que así debería ser diario la vida en las ciudades. Que todavía existen los paraísos urbanos, aunque sean fugaces.

Ahora, ¿es López Obrador, es el PRD, la famosa Coalición, el alma de esos campamentos? Ahí ya no estoy tan segura. López Obrador tiene sin duda carisma y capacidad de liderazgo, pero yo no sé si a él lo anima la misma voluntad democrática, la misma defensa heroica y además gozosa del país que anima a todas esas personas que lo apoyan ahora en los campamentos. Habrán de perdonar la duda, pero creo que es una duda pertinente. Supongo –espero- que no habremos olvidado los escándalos de corrupción en el seno del mismísimo PRD. Supongo, y espero, que ahora somos un poco menos inocentes. Leo los discursos del señor López Obrador, afirmando que él ganó la presidencia, y salta a la vista la contradicción. ¿Cómo está tan seguro? ¿Qué no estamos exigiendo (y me incluyo definitivamente en la exigencia) el recuento de voto por voto, casilla por casilla, para saber quién ganó realmente? Yo también espero que haya ganado él, no porque él o su partido me inspiren mucha confianza, sino porque el proyecto de país del PAN, y el cobre que han enseñado sus votantes antes, durante y después de las elecciones, me hace temer por mi país, particularmente por los pobres en mi país, que son millones. Otro sexenio bajo el PAN me parece una perspectiva francamente deprimente. Pero lo que más me importa en estos momentos es que sepamos defender nuestra joven democracia, que aprendamos a ser imparciales y justos, y eso no se logra nunca con la glorificación de los caudillos. Las fotografías que aparecieron recientemente en La Jornada de unas señoras y una niña llorando en pleno ataque de histeria porque tocaban a López Obrador, como si fuera un santo, me estremecieron. Quisiera poder decirles a esas señoras y a esa niña, a quienes apoyan ciegamente al peje, que por favor abran bien los ojos. Decirles que hay que luchar por proyectos de país, por los caminos que nos lleven a la justicia y a la igualdad. No por individuos. No, nunca, jamás debe un pueblo entregar su vida y sus esfuerzos a la glorificación de un líder. En la política no hay santos, a ver si ya nos vamos dando cuenta.

Temo, como muchos, que se desate del todo la violencia, que ya ha empezado a mostrar su rostro. Temo que la advertencia de AMLO de quedarse en el Zócalo hasta las fiestas de septiembre sea una provocación al Ejército Mexicano, que no sabe hacer otra cosa que agredir y, si se lo piden, matar, a mexicanos. Temo que se traicione el voto de la gente y a México se le vuelva a imponer un gobierno espurio. Temo la arrogancia, la ignorancia, la estupidez, la violencia, la avaricia, la incompetencia y la indiferencia ante nuestra miseria y desigualdad de buena parte de las huestes del PAN.

Y temo también que las personas que están demostrando tanto amor por su país, tanta fortaleza, dignidad e inventiva en la defensa del voto, sean traicionadas por el PRD, por la Coalición por el bien de todos, por el mismo López Obrador.

Al mismo tiempo, me queda el consuelo de que esas personas, esas que forman el rostro más noble y heroico de México, no pueden en realidad ser traicionadas. Esa fortaleza está dentro, le pertenece genuinamente al pueblo y a nadie más. No es capital particular de ningún líder, de ningún partido.

Y mientras tanto, mientras se discute el triunfo electoral, la violencia sigue desatada en Oaxaca. Los tiroteos en las calles, los abusos de policías y paramilitares, las desapariciones, las torturas, ahora contra los maestros… México, México una vez más con el rostro ensangrentado. ¿Y quién va a hacer justicia para estos muertos?

Me despido por ahora. Volveré pronto, quizá para contarles las cosas que piensa uno cuando se vive con el fantasma del terrorismo.

Sorry for the long absence. You won’t believe me anymore, but I had technical problems. My computer refused to accept the modem for months… there’s no point in telling you. And sorry for the lack of illustrations. I spent an hour choosing them and then I couldn’t upload them, I have no idea why.

So many things have happened since my last entry that I don’t know where to start. Perhaps it will be suitable to start with the homeland, since that was the subject of my last entry.

And so, to the post-electoral trauma… I’m as confused as most people. And alarmed. Truly alarmed because of the radicalization that has ensued, between the blind defense of Andrés Manuel López Obrador no matter what, and the farfetched, vociferous and truly violent attacks from the PAN followers. May my forgotten blog contribute in some way to the necessary dialogue, before we all end up in a punch-up? I don’t know and I doubt it. But it’s with that weak hope that I write these words.

To go on denying that there were rather grave irregularities in the Mexican elections, and that the information we have so far from the partial recount of the votes seems to indicate there was a fraud is, by now, I think sheer despair, bad faith or downright delirium. The main problem is, no doubt, that of the transparency of the electoral process. We Mexicans have grown up for generations in a country where the electoral process has been a farce. We have grown under a party’s dictatorship, and the birth of our rather young democracy has been filled with pain and lack of oxygen. Corruption, alliances under the table, the resort to violence in order to silence the voice of dissidence are as active as ever in spite of our incipient democratic achievements, and no party can beat their breast or pretend to be innocent. If we are honest and objective, Mexicans know that fraud is possible and, in this case, quite likely. The fundamental issue we have to defend here is the respect of our vote, of the people’s will, and such defense should not be allied to any party, nor be trampled by the radicalization now weighing over the country. Never before had I felt my country as divided as it is now (and God knows it has always been tragically divided). If we consider the fact that I’m across the ocean, that division must be deep indeed if I can hear the yells even here, keeping me awake.

Nowadays the great insult is to say that such or such party’s ranks are full of ex priístas (the PRI being the old party which ruled Mexico for over 70 years), or that the current government resorts to the PRI’s tactics. How bizarre it is, that we don’t realize that both the PRD and the PAN are full of ex priístas, and that the whole Mexican political spectrum (in the word’s double meaning) suffers from the malady of PRI tactics. Such is any dictatorship’s heritage (in this case a party’s dictatorship). To our disgrace, the PRI and its almost synonym –corruption—are enmeshed in the discourse and deeds of every Mexican politician. There is no purity in our poor, sad parties, and as long as their representatives insist on signaling the other while covering up their own little sins, Mexico will go on being divided, betrayed, beaten.

I have read many, many chronicles referring to the camps headed by López Obrador at the Zócalo and in several streets downtown in Mexico City. Several of them have been emails from friends and acquaintances who have been there. Curiously enough, all the vociferous detractions from the PAN’s followers, loaded with accusations about incitement to violence and chaos that I have read, come from people who has not been there at all, has not even got anywhere near. I read those chronicles and I’m green with envy: I’d give anything to be there right now, I’m really dying to spend my day in such a citizens’ party. In my humble opinion, the best of Mexico –that Mexico who miraculously takes to the streets full of imagination, creativity, solidarity, a sense of humour and resilience in spite of all the blows it receives–, is the one now keeping those camps alive. I read those chronicles, I hear what my friends tell me, and I think that life should always be like that in the cities. That there are still urban paradises, even if they’re fleeting.

Now to the question, does López Obrador, the PRD, the so-called Coalition, constitute the soul of those camps? Of that, I’m not so sure. No doubt López Obrador is a charismatic man and has leadership skills, but I don’t know if he’s moved by the same democratic will, the same heroic and even joyful defense of our country that moves all those people who are now supporting him at those camps and elsewhere. You must forgive my doubts, but I think they are pertinent. I suppose –and I hope—that we haven’t forgotten the corruption scandals deep into the PRD itself. I suppose and do hope that we are now a bit less innocent. I read Mr. López Obrador’s speeches, stating that he won the presidency, and the contradiction is blatant. How can he be so sure? Aren’t we demanding (and I certainly include myself in the demand) the recount of all votes in order to know who really won? I hope too that he won, not because he or his party inspire much trust in me, but because the PAN’s project for our country, and the true colours shown by its voters before, during and after the elections make me fear for my country, in particular for the poor in my country –which count millions. Another term ruled by the PAN seems to me a frankly depressing perspective. But what I care most about right now is about us being able to defend our young democracy, for us to learn to be impartial and just, and that is never achieved by glorifying caudillos. The pictures recently published by La Jornada showing a couple of ladies and a little girl crying, in full hysterical fashion, because they were touching López Obrador, as if he were a saint, made me shudder. I would like to tell those ladies and that little girl, and those who blindly support the Peje (López Obrador’s nickname), to please have their eyes wide open. To tell them that we must fight for projects for a better country, for those roads that may lead us to justice and equality. Not for individuals. No; a people must never, ever give its life and efforts for the glorification of a leader. There are no saints in politics, and it’s about time that we found out.

As many others, I fear that violence will be completely unleashed. It has already started to show its face. I fear that López Obradors’s warning as to his and his supporters’ stay at the Zócalo until the Independence festivities in September may be a provocation to the Mexican Army, which only knows how to attack and, if asked to, kill Mexicans. I fear that the people’s vote will be betrayed and we will have a spurious government imposed, yet again. I fear the arrogance, the ignorance, the stupidity, violence, greed, incompetence and the indifference on the face or our poverty and inequality from many (and the noisiest) of the PAN’s followers.

And I also fear that the people who are showing so much love for their country, so much strength, dignity and inventive on defending their vote will be betrayed by the PRD, by the Coalition, by López Obrador.

At the same time, I am comforted by knowing that those persons, those who make up the most noble and heroic face of Mexico, cannot really be betrayed. That strength lies within, it belongs genuinely to the people and to no one else. It’s not the particular capital of any leader, of any party.

And while the electoral triumph is discussed, violence is still unleashed in the state of Oaxaca. Shootings in the streets, the abuses of State policemen and paramilitary groups, the missing persons, torture, now again teachers… Mexico, Mexico once again with its face covered in blood. And who’s going to bring justice to these dead?

I’ll say goodbye now. I’ll be back soon, perhaps to share with you some of the things one thinks when living with the ghosts of terrorism.