By Francesca Fiorentini, War Times/Tiempo de Guerras

It has been a cruel, cruel summer. With the record-breaking heat that has hit the U.S. come other record breakers:

*June and July have seen the highest number of U.S. casualties in Afghanistan since the war’s beginning in 2001.

*The Army reported 32 soldier suicides in June, the most for a single month since January 2009.

*In July the total of immigrant deaths along the Arizona-Mexico border reached an all-time monthly high.

*The full tally of damage from the biggest oil spill in U.S. history has yet to be compiled.

*And with soaring incarceration rates of Blacks and Latinos there was the minimal but still double-edged verdict of “involuntary manslaughter” for the BART police officer who shot the unarmed 22-year-old Oscar Grant point blank in the back. (Double-edged because popular outcry did create the context for a first-ever Bay Area conviction of a police officer for murdering a Black man.)

Then – despite the WikiLeaks document release with on-the-ground evidence that the war in Afghanistan is indeed the nightmare we believed it to be – Congress closed out the month by passing the “war funding supplemental” providing another $37 billion for military operations in Afghanistan and Iraq. This brings the total spent on these wars to over $1 trillion (just about the estimated cost of a true universal public health-care system). The bill’s passage – while 102 Democrats and 12 Republicans voted no – gave another green light to conflicts skittering further from Washington’s control. It is a stinging reminder of just how out of touch Congress is with the citizens it claims to represent, 56% of whom believe the war in Afghanistan is “not worth fighting” according to a June Washington Post/ABC News poll.

In moments like these the U.S. no longer appears like a functional country but a large, unwieldy monster chomping at its own tail: funneling billions to unpopular, unwinnable, and morally disgraceful wars while its population is strapped with economic crisis. And monsters beget monsters. The government the U.S. created and now backs in Afghanistan, the devastation the U.S. has wrought in Iraq, Washington’s version of a “peace process” between Israel and the Palestinians: these projects are turning out to be just as monstrous and deformed as the U.S.’s own dwindling democracy.

NATION-BULLDOZING IN AFGHANISTAN

With the pace of U.S. deaths in 2010 double that of 2009 and one incident after another of NATO troops killing Afghan soldiers and civilians, it is clear that there is a more chaos than order to the U.S.’ “nation-building” in Afghanistan. And if any more evidence of the war’s senselessness was needed, WikiLeaks just supplied it with 90,000 damning documents straight from the source. Written by soldiers and intelligence officers, the documents confirm what the antiwar movement has argued for years: this war is horrific, mismanaged, and futile. The documents also add new details and expose the cover-ups and under-reporting of civilian deaths that have become common military practice. For Phyllis Bennis’ assessment of the significance of the WikiLeaks revelations, go to:
http://www.yesmagazine.org/peace-justice/pentagon-papers-2.0-afghanistan

The most significant short-term reaction to the leaked documents is likely to be in European countries whose populations are massively opposed to the war. It was no accident that WikiLeaks sent the documents to Germany’s Der Spiegel and The Guardian UK in addition to the New York Times. And no accident that those papers’ coverage stressed revelations about Afghan civilian casualties rather than the main thing emphasized by the Times – the role of Pakistan’s intelligence agencies in assisting the Taliban (and implicitly the need for Washington to “get its ally into line.”)

An antiwar surge in U.S. public opinion may take longer. But the WikiLeaks documents stand as a semi-official validation of previous criticisms of the “counterinsurgency” strategy adopted by the Obama administration. WikiLeaks provides important back-up, for instance, to the memo from U.S. Ambassador to Afghanistan Karl Eikenberry that was leaked back in January. Eikenberry warned that an increase in troops will “increase Afghan dependency… and will deepen the military involvement in a mission that most agree cannot be won solely by military means.” He expressed concerns that the longer-term goal of a secure and sovereign Afghan nation will be undermined, and went on to say that President Hamid Karzai is “not an adequate strategic partner” who seems to “shun responsibility for any sovereign burden” and who would be glad to see the U.S. dig in deeper into the country. He pointed to the rampant corruption (including Karzai’s fraudulent re-election), and the lack of a “political ruling class” that can provide a “national identity.”

Eikenberry’s observations earned him a New York Times editorial suggesting that the White House fire him as part of a “wider housecleaning” after giving Gen. Stanley McChrystal the boot. The Times described Eikenberry as having a “lack of enthusiasm for the counterinsurgency strategy.”

But the main point is that the counter-insurgency strategy – which war reporter Ann Jones describes as a process by which soldiers kill civilians and then apologize over tea – deserves no enthusiastic support. It is a rolling set of war crimes and needs to be abandoned, period.

AFGHANS WANT THE U.S. OUT

Instead of “winning hearts and minds,” the U.S. has turned more Afghans toward the Taliban. As former U.S. State Department official in Afghanistan Matthew Hoh who resigned in 2009 told Democracy Now!, the Taliban is “a very large organization that’s not monolithic” but “composed of separate groups that have joined together, basically to repel foreign occupation…and resist a central government that is very corrupt.” He clarifies that Afghans joining the Taliban don’t do so out of “kinship with Al Qaeda or because they’re terrorists, but because they do not want to be occupied.”

The results of a recent poll by the International Council on Security and Development in Afghanistan are therefore both staggering and unsurprising. They show:

*75% of Afghans believe foreigners disrespect their religions and traditions.

*74% believe that working with foreign forces is wrong

*55% believe that foreign troops are in Afghanistan for their own benefit, to destroy or occupy the country, or to destroy Islam.

This evidence – which cries as loud as World Cup vuvuzelas – has fallen upon deaf ears. The Obama administration and others seem to have put their faith in General David Petraeus, the last sailor deranged enough to swear he can conquer the stormy waves of Afghanistan by brute force. In his latest move of insanity, Petraeus decided to go forward with a NATO plan to arm Afghan villagers to fight the Taliban. This despite protests from Karzai himself against a tactic that has a history of failure – creating anti-government militias and building dependence on fighting as employment. These are not the sustainable jobs Afghans sorely need, no more than Karzai is a democratically-elected president.

One year from now, the 100,000 US troops will supposedly begin to leave Afghanistan. But the White House itself admits the date will be almost assuredly be pushed back. Even one more year – one more day – in Afghanistan mean more lives lost and a society further divided and uprooted. Withdrawal cannot wait. Commitment to total U.S./NATO withdrawal has always been the pre-condition to peace in Afghanistan, key to national reconciliation backed by a regional agreement, and a pledge by Washington to finance rebuilding the infrastructure of a country battered by decades of war.

THE FRANKEN-STATE OF IRAQ

“I had desired it with an ardour that far exceeded moderation; but now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart.” –Dr. Victor Frankenstein

Upon realizing he had created what he considered a monster, the infamous Dr. Frankenstein was horrified and abandoned the creature to fend for itself. Kind of like the U.S. and the U.S. media when looking (or not looking) at Iraq. Political stalemate, continued violence, and a gaping lack of infrastructure describe the nation many in Washington have the nerve to refer to as a democracy, while a Senator John McCain can say with a straight face that it is the welcome fruit of U.S. “victory”!

Since parliamentary elections nearly five months ago, politicians have been unable to form a government. Power is largely suspended between Ayad Allawi and Prime Minister Nuri Kamal al-Maliki, essentially seen as “expats” out touch with the average Iraqi. The standstill reveals among other things that Iraqis are wholly disenchanted with the current politicians, who have not been able to keep them safe, give them jobs, nor provide basic infrastructure. In the lead-up to the parliamentary elections, 57% of Iraqis in Baghdad said they felt conditions for peace in the country had worsened. Since the elections, the country has seen a spike in bombings and targeted killings of politicians, police, and members of The Awakening, a Sunni militia paid directly by the U.S.

Iraqi police and military reports show that just from July 1 to 18, 189 Iraqis (including women and children) had died in various attacks, with close to another 700 wounded. A plan for parliament should come with broader national reconciliation if Iraqis are to ever go a week without violent loss of life. The U.S. – which was happy to fund and utilize ethnic conflict as part of its “defeat the insurgency” campaign from 2004-2008 – now issues patronizing calls to Iraqis to “get it together.” Iraq’s failure to form a government will ultimately be blamed on Iraqis themselves, seen through a twisted and racist lens about Arabs and their “endless sectarianism,” as if the U.S. invasion and occupation were not at the heart of today’s problems.

Add to this the lack of basic services like roads, water, and electricity. This month riots broke out across the country demanding more than the few hours of electricity Iraqis receive per day. Back in 2008, Siemens and General Electric signed a $7-8 billion-dollar agreement with the Iraqi government to upgrade the country’s power grid. Iraqis have yet to see the fruits of that contract. Earlier this month, the Times reported that U.S.-led projects have either been scaled back or abandoned altogether, like a $102 million sewage system in Fallujah waiting to be completed after six years of work.

But Washington says “not our problem” like the mad scientist deserting his creation. The U.S. wants it both ways: preserve influence (in part by “renegotiating” an agreement so U.S. troops can stay indefinitely), but take no responsibility for the destruction and displacement (several million refugees) that the U.S. war caused. Iraq is rarely on the front pages now, but the antiwar movement must fight to make sure Washington does not slink away from responsibility to help heal the country it ravaged.

ISRAEL: THE DIPLOMACY OF FORGIVING AND FORGETTING

The outrageous attack on the flotilla carrying humanitarian aid to Gaza in May seemed to shift a few pebbles beneath Washington’s Israeli policy. It ruffled the feathers of many who are afraid Israel has become a liability for the U.S. and called into question blanket support for its every land-grab and military adventure. Among Israeli politicians and Israel’s many cheerleaders within the U.S., there is growing worry that Israel’s next military outburst could lead to serious consequences. As the New York Times’ pet pundit Thomas Friedman put it in a recent op-ed, Israel must “buy its next [military] timeout with diplomacy” or it “could be forced to kill even more civilians.” This way of treating Israel as a forever justified victim with anger management problems is replicated in Washington.

At the White House meeting between Obama and Prime Minister Netanyahu early this month, there was no mention of the flotilla or Israel’s defiance of Washington’s demand for a moratorium on settlement-building. Instead, it was all smiles and warm handshakes along with a White House endorsement of Israel being exempted from what is required of all other countries when it comes to nuclear weapons possession. Conversation focused on re-starting peace negotiations, a pitiful process on an ever-uneven playing field: the State of Israel with a nuclear arsenal estimated at 200-300 warheads vs. Palestinian population fragmented by occupation. That same week the Israeli human rights organization B’Tselem released a new study showing that there are currently Israeli settlements on 43% of the West Bank.

Numerous commentators attributed Obama’s royal treatment of Netanyahu to Democratic worries about the 2010 mid-term elections and maintaining the favor of the “pro-Israel” lobby and vote. But as proves the recently released video from 2001 of Netanyahu bragging about manipulating and ultimately scuttling the Oslo Accords–politically out-maneuvering the so-called “pro-Palestinian” Clinton administration–Israel is also quite adept at playing U.S. politics. What Netanyahu said then summed up the Israeli right’s attitude about its relationship with the U.S.:

“America is a thing you can move very easily,” he said, “move it in the right direction. They won’t get their way.”

But Israel’s attack on the Gaza aid flotilla and the spike in media coverage about the real impact of the Gaza siege has opened the door to changes in U.S. public opinion. Palestine solidarity activists within the U.S. will need to harness the energy of this moment in their favor and hammer away at the point that the main obstacles to peace are Israeli policies of settlement expansion, collective punishment and occupation.

This week’s declaration by British Prime Minister David Cameron – a conservative! – that the attack on the Gaza flotilla was “completely unacceptable” and that Gaza is a “prison camp” is the kind of statement that can provide a lever for getting our viewpoint into the mainstream. The Presbyterian Church USA’s vote this month to support a proposal that calls for an end to U.S. aid to Israel as long as settlements expand is also a heartening and important step in broadening the justice movement for Palestine.

A MOVEMENT MOMENT

In these troublesome times, it is critical to rescue our anti-war activism from cynicism and isolation. Now is the moment to show what action really looks like beyond Facebook. Now is the moment to wake up from the stupor many fell into after the new administration did not make the changes much of his voting base hoped for. Grassroots change-makers – antiwar, economic and racial justice, and environmental activists – must connect the dots that outline the monster of empire and the monster mess it is making in Central Asia and the Middle East. There is a dormant majority against Washington’s wars and its backwards priorities. With some hard work and smart campaigns, that majority can be galvanized to act and make its power felt.

Francesca Fiorentini, a member of War Times’ new “Month in Review” writing team, is also an editor of Left Turn magazine and an independent journalist based in Argentina.

You can sign-on to War Times/Tiempo de Guerras e-mail Announcement List (2-4 messages per month, including our ‘Month in Review’ column), at http://www.war-times.org/. War Times/Tiempo de Guerras is a fiscally sponsored project of the Center for Third World Organizing. Donations are tax-deductible; you can donate on-line at http://www.war-times.org/or send a check to War Times/Tiempo de Guerras, c/o P.O. Box 22748, Oakland CA 94609.

Patricio Guillamón

The World Cup is in full swing and Argentina is wired. This month, Argentines enjoy and suffer each moment their national team graces the stadium, freely opinionate and critique in the down time, and preemptively fantasize about winning that glorious final match. But there is one half of the country that has been subtly absent and even depicted as being against the football craze: Argentine women.

In television commercials men turn into possessed zombies groaning “Fooooootbaaalll” as women scream and run for their lives, and in radio ads all a man hears from his girlfriend is “Blah blah blah South Africa blah blah blah”. Perhaps the most depressing example are the street posters for the premiere of Sex and the City 2, in which a high heeled foot stands over a deflated ball, the slogan announcing: “We also know how to have fun”. Yippee.

Yet despite the popular image of football as a man’s sport, Argentina like many countries around the world has female teams that participate in the same local and international tournaments as their male counterparts, including FIFA’s often-ignored Women’s World Cup to be held in Germany in 2011.

However while Argentina’s national male team tries to ascend toward the finals in South Africa and is favoured thanks to its collection of super star players such as Lionel Messi, the national women’s team ranks 29 out of 116 teams around the world. It not only trails behind countries such as the United States and Japan, whose men’s teams have struggled in the first round of the World Cup, but countries whose teams did not even classify for the championship such as Sweden, China, Ireland, and even Iceland.

Can this poor state of female participation in a country where football is religion, where club affiliation is as strong as family, and the place that produced the best player in the history of the game, Diego Maradona, be attributed solely to machismo? Sure.

Still, the strides that female football has made both internationally and within Argentina are significant, as is the uphill battle female players face to gain recognition and the reasons why they have been left out of the game.

One Horse Town

Global Movement
Though it had been played by women internationally almost since its creation, female football did not see major advancement until the 1970s, largely propelled by the second wave feminist movement. Up until then, it was mainly seen as an amateur sport played for fun and gained some traction in countries like Germany, Norway, Sweden, and Italy around the first and second world wars. In 1969, England, which had gone as far as placing a ban on female football that lasted for 50 years, finally saw the creation of the Women’s Football Association. And after years of playing without recognition, Norwegian women were accepted into the Norwegian Football Association in 1976. Overall the decade saw the rise of 35 national teams worldwide who self-organised local and regional competitions.

“The increasing presence in numbers and commitment of women in sports is due to the work of feminists, that began to talk about sports as a place of power managed by men,” said sports sociologist Adolfina Janson in an interview with Pagina 12. Janson is author of the 2007 book ‘The Game You Used to Love is Over,’ the first in-depth look at female football in Argentina. She went on to say that feminism promoted the notion that women “must fight to obtain these spaces.”

Nowhere was this clearer than in the United States, where in 1972 feminist organisations such as The National Organization of Women (NOW) fought for the passage of Title IX of the Civil Rights Act, which ensured equal federal funding to both men and women’s sports in educational institutions, and required equal athletic participation from both genders. Women and girls’ participation in football in the country went from one million in 1980 to three million in 1990, and by 2003 there were a striking 8.5 million females playing the sport.

But the biggest advance for women’s football was when FIFA finally came to terms with the rise in female players and teams worldwide. Prompted by the critiques of Ellie Wille of the Norwegian Football Association at the FIFA Congress held in Mexico City in 1986 (the first woman to ever utter a word at a FIFA Congress), FIFA began overseeing international women’s games and promised to create a Women’s World Cup. That promise was fulfilled in 1991 as twelve teams descended on Beijing and the US claimed victory after defeating Norway in the final.

Since then, the Women’s World Cup has taken place every four years, with Germany and the US taking home two titles each, Norway with one, and China, Sweden, Brazil, and Canada chomping at the bit. With millions of spectators, billions of viewers worldwide, and the sponsorship of major corporations, the Women’s World Cup has earned a spot in international sporting events, though it – along with women’s football overall – still remains relegated and fragile.

Apart from the US and its Women’s Professional Soccer League, most clubs and national teams are not professional: they don’t get paid. In countries such as Germany, Norway, and England, teams are semi-professional—perhaps with a full-time coach or minimal pay—and continually struggle to find funds to sustain the sport. Compare this to men’s football, a US$400bn global industry whose top teams take in half a billion dollars annually. The disparity is glaring.

Y Argentina?
For the country in which football is not just a game but a way of life, female football has struggled to establish itself. While women’s clubs have existed in Argentina for decades, especially in the provinces outside of Buenos Aires, it wasn’t until 1991 that a handful were admitted into the AFA (Argentina Football Association), thanks to FIFA’s international push for inclusion. Initially with 7 teams, the country saw the number of clubs with female teams reach 35 in 1998, and then steadily plummet – due to a lack of funds an institutional support – to its current number, 11, the strongest being Boca, River Plate, and San Lorenzo. Teams participate in local tournaments as well as the regional Copa Libertadores, the South American Championship, and the World Cup. However the prospects for Argentine victory are slim given the precarious state of women’s football within the country.

In its Women’s World Cup debut in 2003 Argentina did not even make it past the first round. It was the same story in 2007 with an excruciating 11-0 loss to Germany. In recalling the 2003 World Cup, one Argentine player described the other teams “passing over us like airplanes” to Adolfina Janson.

In her research and interviews with players, the sociologist highlights the main barriers faced by female players in Argentina. First and foremost is (surprise!) male chauvinism and the idea that women don’t belong in the world of football, that playing the game isn’t “feminine,” and that women are physically inferior to men. She points out that physical differences between men and women are seen as operating against females rather than simply differentiating them, and plainly attributes this to sexism.

Janson also notes how homophobia is key to stunting female football. She quotes the Norwegian sociologist Karin Fasting who says that “the lesbian label is used to define the boundaries of acceptable female behavior in a patriarchal culture,” and that the stigma of women’s sports being a lesbian activity has been used to “intimidate” women and prevent them from participating.

In Argentina, as in many places, male bonding often comes through the sport, and is often seen as a sacred “NO GIRLS ALLOWED” zone. The idea of women in football is therefore seen as a threat, perhaps upsetting some higher machista order. The media is key in fueling this notion. Outside of small provincial papers, women’s games are not covered and most outlets either “ignore or belittle female achievements,” says Janson.

One Horse Town

Money money money

To simply see football in Argentina as a passion of the people would of course be naive. It is a near billion-dollar industry in which a handful of managers and intermediaries buy and sell players for big money, acquire major corporate sponsors, and sell millions of jerseys and tickets each season. It is run by the AFA, which rakes in multi-million-dollar contracts from corporate sponsors such as Adidas and Nike, and owns the broadcasting rights to all games, which were sold last year to the government at 600 million pesos (US$160m) after 18 years of private ownership by the channel TyC. AFA’s 78-year-old president Julio Grondona, was elected to the post in 1979 under the military dictatorship, and has been discreetly and indisputably re-elected ever since. Grondona also happens to be the vice-president of FIFA, leaving no mystery to his nickname as “the godfather” of Argentine football and beyond.

Though the AFA has taken female football under its wing, it has done little to concretely expand it. Referees (when provided) are often not professional, coaches are inexperienced, and some teams have to rent space to even practice. Women are often given leftover jerseys from the men’s teams and must fundraise and seek sponsorship to pay for proper sportswear. Whereas an average male player in River Plate earns US$7,000 a month (though contracts in all clubs rise into the multi-millions), River Plate’s female players are thrown a mere 150 pesos (US$38) a month. Actually beyond a few clubs, most don’t even pay female players for travel costs, medical support, or food. According to Janson’s research, many players come from low-income neighbourhoods or poor shantytowns and are often not properly nourished when coming to practice. Former River Plate player, Karina Morales told Janson that the National Team receives 25 pesos per training for food (US$6.50), which she likens to “charity, when there are girls who do not have anything to eat.”

Despite the movement of hundreds of millions of dollars, many clubs face extreme administrative corruption and have found themselves nearing bankruptcy in recent years. Funds for the low priority of women’s football have therefore dwindled, and many like Janson believe that this corruption also plays a part.

“I believe that AFA does not designate all that the FIFA gives them to the development of female fútbol,” she told Pagina 12. In an interview with Janson, former player and one of the few coaches to graduate from the AFA, Monica Santino says that the association organizes women’s games “unwillingly, only because there is a regulation from FIFA.”

Santino currently coaches adolescent girls in the shantytown of Villa 31 in Buenos Aires as apart of the project Goles y Metas (Goals and Goals), which uses football as a tool of social inclusion and empowerment of young women living in significant poverty.

“The issue is that the same clubs that are members of AFA are suffering from financial problems or are practically bankrupt,” she says. “Male football is going through a crisis with strikes organized by players and all the trouble that we know of. Then female football within this framework is practically nonexistent.”

Rightfully, Argentine female players are frustrated. Karina Morales says that female football has stagnated in the country. “It hasn’t changed in 10 years,” she tells Janson. “It is as if all the other countries were moving upwards, and we remain always in the same place.”

Patricio Guillamón

For the love of the game
In between weekday trainings and weekend games, female players have regular jobs: some are domestic workers, others work in factories, and a few are able to study at the college level.

On a cold morning at the Club Athletico Platense, Patricia Alderete Corsich, 31, gets ready for practice. With the club for ten years, Corsich also has a culinary degree and works evenings as a chef in a pizzeria. Talk about talent.

“I come to train, I get changed, I do things in the house, and then I go to work,” she says. “I’m running at full capacity.”

When asked about institutional support from AFA, Corsich says calmly that the association “looks down” on female football, in part because men’s football is “much more a business for AFA.”

“A women’s game is useless for AFA because it doesn’t make a profit. And that hurts,” Corsich laments.

“Notice how female football is not transmitted,” she continues. “It’s not in the newspapers, it’s not on TV. It’s a sport that they leave out. They want to leave it out,” she says, adding that media support or funds for girls’ clubs would be a big encouragement for the culture of female football in Argentina.

Still, Corsich says she isn’t bothered that Club Platense doesn’t pay her a dime.

“I do it because I love it. I’ve always loved it,” she says. Having played football since she was a little girl with her family, Corsich says she will always make time to play.

You are born with this, you carry the sport inside of you.”

Future is Female?
With top player contracts reaching jaw-dropping heights (like 23-year-old Messi’s 11 million euros—US$13.5m—per season from Barcelona) and corporate sponsors gone wild with billion-dollar deals (a good shave apparently equals a good game nowadays), many football fans long for the days when the game was more about, well, the game.

Back in 1999, as reported by the Guardian UK, FIFA delegate Keith Cooper called female players’ approach to the game “very refreshing”.

“Their motivation is more sincere,” he said. “The problem with male professional football is that it has become all about agents, clubs going to the stock market, and large amounts of money. The game itself is almost becoming peripheral…” He went on to call female footballers “ambassadors for the sport, not just for themselves.”

With more than 26 million women currently playing football around the world and with many becoming referees and coaches, maybe the future of the sport will have a female face. That is if the culture of money and machismo can be beaten back, even just a bit.

Before joining her teammates to warm up, Corsich says me she holds out hope for women’s football in Argentina.

“People have changed. Before they used to say ‘Oooh, you play football? But that’s a men’s sport … Now they ask me when the next game is. You can see a shift … Besides, there are many teams with talent … there are many girls that tear it up,” she says laughing.

As teams continue the fight to take home the cup, women around the world will cheer and have the backs of their countries and its male players the whole way. But the question is, in their pursuit of the same dreams, will their countries have theirs?

Continuing Left Turn’s coverage of Latin America, in the following section independent journalist Kristin Bricker will take us into the heart of the Mexican government’s war on its own working class, solidarity activist Lisa Fuller exposes the dirty world of Canadian mining in El Salvador and the powerful movement to stop it, and author and journalist Garry Leech looks at the Obama Administration’s continued militarization of Colombia and Latin America.

In other Latin America news, there continues to be unsettled business and important movements that aren’t making the headlines they should be: political repression and organizing in Honduras after January’s illegal elections, the need for long-lasting reconstruction for Haiti, and perhaps the most visionary gathering on climate change this world has seen.

The coup that wasn’t

In Honduras, the media focused on democratically-elected President Manuel Zelaya’s violent removal from power and his risky return to the country, where he was holed up in the Brazilian Embassy for four months. The untold stories however, were those of the people—the students, teachers, union leaders, journalists, indigenous, campesinos, and particularly LGBT and women’s rights activists—who were brutalized, detained, raped, tortured and murdered by the Honduran Armed Forces during their consistently nonviolent protests against the military coup.

Despite this campaign of terror, Hondurans have grown one of the largest social movements in the history of the country. On January 27, tens of thousands of people from the National Popular Front Against the Coup came out to protest the illegal elections, which were supported by the US State Department (that never admitted to a military coup in the first place) and opposed by international human rights groups and labor unions, including the AFL-CIO. The election-day protests were either ignored by international corporate media or painted as overly-allied with Zelaya and violent. In fact, the National Popular Front Against the Coup, now known as the Popular Front for National Resistance (FNRP), has decided to remain nonviolent in the face of such repression and media blackout.

Though many Hondurans boycotted the heavily militarized elections, others voted out of fear after receiving threats of job loss or violence. In the end, despite a mere forty-nine percent of the electorate voting, landowner and former presidential candidate Porfirio Lobo claimed victory and was sworn in in February. Saying he would create a government of  “national reconciliation,” Lobos was quickly recognized by the US as the legitimate Honduran president, and has since normalized relationships with fifty-one countries.

But since the elections, the repression has continued, with four journalists and thirteen members of the FNRP murdered—nine of whom were unionists and one a teacher. The violence that has rained down upon the country is reminiscent of the US-trained death squad networks that targeted social movements in the 1970s and 1980s, and a reminder that the same forces are alive and well today. In fact, the School of the Americas (SOA) trained Billy Joya, a former military officer who worked with Battalion 3-16 that carried out torture of political opponents in the throughout the 1980s, is now a special advisor to Lobo. Another SOA graduate and orchestrator of the 2009 coup, Romeo Vasquez, is now head of the national phone company.

Still, the 60,000 people who make up the FNRP continue to resist and expand their movement, hoping to write a new constitution for Honduras through the creation of a national constituent assembly made up of representatives from all sectors of society. Their sights are set on the 2013 national elections.

Post-disaster posturing

As coverage of the devastating earthquake that hit Haiti in January wanes, now is the time for those who wish for a just and sustainable reconstruction to pay close attention. With more than 300,000 people dead and one and half million people left without homes, Haitians have found themselves living in makeshift refugee camps, in fear of further displacement as the country tries to “normalize.” Residents have two fundamental concerns: food and safety. However it is the latter, the anti-crime and policing efforts that have been prioritized, as over $422 million of US aid out of a promised $1.5 billion has come from the Department of Defense (DoD).

This money will be directed to the DoD-funded Haiti Stabilization Initiative, a program in place since 2007 under the State Department’s Office of the Coordinator for Reconstruction and Stabilization, a body that “coordinates and leads US government efforts to plan, prepare, and conduct stabilization and reconstruction operations.” In 2008, the Haiti Stabilization Initiative awarded a $3 million dollar contract to the private security firm DynCorp International to refurbish the police station and train police in the slum of Cité Soleil. Bad sign.

With the Obama Administration pledging over $1 billion and the UN raising nearly $10 billion for reconstruction, Haitians and human rights groups are concerned about overspending on anti-crime measures instead of on long-term relief, and are worried about the role private contractors will play.

Long-term relief in a country largely unemployed and heavily dependent on imported food and food aid might look something like Haiti of the past: a soil-rich country worked by small farmers able to provide for their communities. In fact one of the most agriculturally rich areas of the country was the Maribahoux plain that in 2002 was destroyed to create one of a series of World Bank-loan-financed free trade zones for textile manufacturing, or better put, sweatshops. Thanks to IMF loans and the opening up of the country to subsidized US agricultural imports, the majority of Haitian farmers have been priced out and forced off their land, left to find work sewing Hanes underwear.

Merely one month after the earthquake, despite the deaths of thousands of workers on the job, factories on the brink of physical collapse began to re-open, their owners claiming that time and money had been lost. Haitians went back to work at $3 a day with intensive and unpaid overtime. The garment industry is now reporting it is back to functioning at near full capacity.

Yet rather than a way out of devastation for Haiti, the garment industry, as it has been for impoverished and post-war countries like Cambodia, will only further entrench the country in poverty. And leaders of the reconstruction efforts like Bill Clinton and US Congress are the pushers. At the end of April, the US Congress passed a bi-partisan law giving favor to the Haitian garment industry by renewing and extending the Caribbean Basin Trade Partnership Act (NAFTA of the Caribbean) and the Hemispheric Opportunity through Partnership Act (guaranteeing Haitian garments tariff-free access to US markets) until 2020, and increasing the overall amount of Haitian garments that qualify for tax breaks.

Clinton, as UN Special Envoy to Haiti has been a staunch supporter of the garment industry, and in October 2009 spoke to international investors at a conference in Port-au-Prince to encourage further investment in the sector. This is the person leading the allocation of billions of dollars through the UN Haiti Rebuilding Commission. Let the clothing importers rejoice.

Despite this, the Haitian people continue to resist. In May, thousands of demonstrators poured into the streets calling for the resignation of President Rene Preval, who Parliament announced would remain in office three months beyond the end of his term if proper elections are not able to take place. Protesters, who decried the hands-off attitude of the president during the aftermath of the earthquake and are suspicious of his use of the disaster for political gains, were met with tear gas from the police while a US Army helicopter circled overhead.

Cochabama calling

Though ignored by corporate media, one of the most important gatherings around the problem of and solutions to climate change converged on the Bolivian city of Cochabamba in April. In response to the pitiful non-binding rhetoric that came out of December’s Convention on Climate change in Copenhagen that established no mandatory limits on greenhouse gases, Bolivian president Evo Morales convoked the World People’s Conference on Climate Change and Rights of Mother Earth.

More than 35,000 delegates from 140 countries attended, representing movements of those most negatively affected by climate change such as campesinos and indigenous peoples from local organizations, as well as larger networks like Via Campesina. Also in attendance were environmental NGOs such as Friends of the Earth, 350.org, and the Canada-based Blue Planet Project.

Panels, workshops, and 17 thematic working-groups met and discussed issues of deforestation, agriculture, and food sovereignty, the effects of the carbon market, distribution of technology, and climate migration among other topics. Each group arrived at final written conclusions that included problems as well as concrete proposals for addressing them. Unlike Copenhagen, delegates to Cochabamba’s climate conference emerged with immediate steps for action.

In May, Morales, along with delegates from distinct geographic areas and organizations submitted these steps to the UN in a “People’s Accord,” to be included in the debates under the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC). Though compared to the political machinery of the UNFCCC process, the People’s Accord may feel like a drop in the bucket, its proposals are bold, smart, and look to long-term change.

The People’s Accord calls for a 50 percent reduction of greenhouse gases by 2017, and the creation of an International Climate and Justice Tribunal with the capacity to enforce it through fines or further lowering of gas limits. It also calls for a global referendum on climate change and puts forward a Universal Declaration on the Rights of Mother Earth to be adopted by the UN. Mother Earth’s rights include the “right to life and right to exist; the right to regenerate biodiversity free of human disruption; the right to be free from contamination, pollution, and toxic or radioactive waste; and the right to not have its genetic structure modified.” Sounds reasonable.

The Accord also states that it is the disproportionate responsibility of developed countries to tackle climate change, and that the process by which agreements are made must be “inclusive, transparent, and participatory,” unlike the bi-lateral backdoor discussions seen in Copenhagen. The most critical aspect of the people’s accord, however, is that it puts into plain language what many have tried to water down or evade: capitalism is bad for Earth. It says:

“a system of unfettered and unregulated markets has resulted in prioritizing the extreme competition for profits and growth, and that this has separated humanity from nature, establishing a logic of domination over it, turning everything into a commodity: water, earth, the human genome, the ancestral cultures,biodiversity, justice, ethics, rights of peoples, and life itself.”

Now that’s what many would call real progress. The Accord also states that the roots causes of climate change must be addressed, like the “unsustainable patterns of consumption and production” and “unlimited development in a finite planet.”

In a speech to the G-77, Morales denounced the now 70 billion dollar carbon market that promotes the trading of carbon credits as a “lucrative business that commodifies nature favors a few intermediaries, and does not significantly contribute to the reduction in greenhouse gases.” Dispelling the market-based solutions to climate change, Morales concluded, “We have two paths to save capitalism, or to save life and Mother Earth.”

The choice couldn’t be clearer. Either a path of democracy for the people of Honduras, a path toward sustainable reconstruction for Haiti, and sovereignty for the people of Latin America and the world, or a path that time and time again will prove to fail the life on this planet.                                                              

by Francesca Fiorentini
The Argentimes, May 2010

The afternoon was grey and warm for autumn in Buenos Aires. Many locals were out shopping, having a coffee, or trying to get through the workday, when sounds of music – flutes, bells, drums, and voices – rang through the downtown streets. They paused, perhaps momentarily forgetting where they were going or what they were doing, and watched a procession of faces, colorful flags and clapping hands. A few stepped out into the street to join, while others added their applause, as others stood in awe, their eyes tearing up with emotion at the sight before them.

Photo byPatricio Guillamon

It was the Mapuche of Patagonia, the Wichi and Toba of the central and northern plains, the Diaguita and Huarpe of the Cuyo region, the Coya of the North, and the Guaraní of the Northeast. These were the Argentines, though rarely recognised as such, who descended on Buenos Aires on 20th May in a March of Indigenous Peoples just days before Argentina celebrated its 200 years of nationhood.

For eight days, thousands of native Argentines travelled over 2,000km to the capital in three caravans from the Northern, Northeastern, and the Southern regions of the country. Along each route, they made stops in major towns, rallied in plazas and picked up more to join them for the rest of the journey. Arranged by the National Gathering of Indigenous Peoples, the Tupac Amaru Movement, and many regional indigenous groups such as the Confederation of Mapuche in Neuquén and the Peoples Union of the Diaguita Nation, the march arrived in Buenos Aires to demand recognition of an Argentina that is “plurinational” and “pluricultural”.

“The trip was beautiful,” says Amani Asusena, a young Coya from the northern province of Jujuy in Buenos Aires for the first time. “A little tiring but an unforgettable experience.”

Photo by Patricio Guillamon

After rallying in the historic Plaza de Mayo, leaders of the march delivered the ‘Pact of the State with the Indigenous Peoples for the Creation of a Pluricultural State’ to President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner. The document included a list of proposals that highlighted the key issues facing the indigenous in Argentina. Among them were territorial recognition and access to land titles, environmental protection of glaciers and forests, a halt to mining and the expansion of soya monoculture, the inclusion of Quechua and Aymara as official languages and an incorporation of indigenous history into education curricula.

Part of this history is the often-ignored reality that Argentina and its 23 provinces were founded precisely through violent territorial battles with indigenous communities that ultimately ended in the murder, enslavement and imprisonment of thousands. One of the most well known military campaigns against the indigenous was led by General Julio A Roca in 1878 which pushed soldiers from the Pampas region into Patagonia. It was ironically named the ‘Conquest of the Desert’, as if the area was previously uninhabited.

Rather than celebrating, 200 years ago the over 30 indigenous nations that had pre-existed Argentina (some for 6-8,000 years) were fighting for their lives while the world around them changed dramatically.

“We are alive”

Though two centuries have passed, native communities find themselves in similar struggles for life and against invisibility. Many have worked in slave-like conditions on land that used to belong to their parents and grandparents, or have been displaced altogether by the expansion of the mining and agricultural industries, forced to look for work in urban areas.

“We have been silent for 518 years,” says Lidia Manqueo, a Mapuche from the province of Río Negro. “They have done everything to the Mapuche people and to the indigenous … We read the books that don’t tell the truth and won’t tell it. They never tell children that they killed so many people, so many ‘Indians’ as they say vulgarly. So many Mapuches, so many Diaguitas, so many Calchaquies.”

She says that the water in the valley of Río Negro is polluted, that the area has been deforested, and that pesticides from nearby apple crops have been harming her community’s health.

“We left with a proposal to request from the government that we all be equal,” she says. ”We are not conflictive, we want a solution.”

A Second Independence for Argentina

by Francesca Fiorentini

The Argentimes May, 2010

“We were capable, We are capable.” The slogan has repeated itself on government radio and television adverts throughout Argentina, which is celebrating 200 years since the 25th May revolution that eventually led to the country’s independence on 9th July 1816. The natural question such a slogan begs, “of what exactly?” One assumes its independence from Spain. Yet two centuries later, though nobody’s colony, many are still asking: How independent is Argentina really?

Bicentenary Blues

Despite a flurry of festivities that rang in Argentina’s third century, beyond the exhibitions, concerts, and flag-waving, the bicentenary has also been an opportunity to reflect on the country’s past, present and future. What exactly has the country been capable of and what are the challenges that it faces? This is what many Argentines – particularly intellectuals, academics, and those active in social movements – have been attempting to do: remind us of the issues that get lost in the shuffle and to celebrate with eyes wide open.

I spoke with Argentine historians Hilda Sabato and Elsa Bruzzone to gain insight into the significance of the bicentenary and the state of Argentina today and throughout its 200 years. Both have been actively working to contribute their voices to the bicentenary buzz: Sabato through the website ‘Historiadores y el Bicentenario’ (Historians and the Bicentenary) which hopes to “give a space in which historians can publicly circulate questions that we have been debating in recent years with respect to our history”; and Bruzonne through her contribution on Argentina’s natural resources to the newly-released ‘Pensar la Nación’ (Thinking the Nation), a collection of essays written by a host of academics in order to not only discuss the country’s history but what is “the best Argentina we can have”.

These and a host of other events – like ‘The Other Bicentenary’ encampment in Plaza Congreso on 24th and 25th May sponsored by a host of social movement groups and community radio stations – have sprung up because of what many see as a lack of depth and discussion around the occasion.

Photo by Guilermo

“There is a lot of noise but not too much beyond that,” says Sabato, a professor at the University of Buenos Aires (UBA) and principal investigator of the National Council of Scientific and Technical Investigations, CONICET.

With the famous Avenida 9 de Julio set up like a tourist brochure – each province of the country on display in its own colourful stall – and events like an antique auto show, Sabato reflects, “It’s going to be fun maybe, tomorrow, day after tomorrow … then we’re going to go to the World Cup. I see the tone of the bicentenary on the same level as that or even less so.”

The issues at hand are neither pleasant nor obscure, but those that all nations must address: economic stability, the quality of life of its citizens, social division, land and the use of its natural resources, and political and democratic freedom and participation. And with more than 20% of the 40 million citizens living below the poverty line, 60% of families without medical coverage, a public education system in deterioration, and 40% of its workers labouring “off the books”, all while battling rising inflation, Argentina has plenty to discuss.

“It’s not the bicentenary that one dreamed in their youth,” says Bruzzone, author of three editions of the book Water Wars. “We dreamed the dreams of the liberators of this continent, like Bolivar and San Martín. One dreamed of arriving at the bicentenary with this dream totally fulfilled, with a county without social inequality, without poverty and exclusion, without misery, of a country with jobs and healthcare and housing and education for everyone.”

Weakened State

In talking with Sabato and Bruzonne, it became clear that understanding Argentina today is impossible without particularly understanding the last 100 years and what both see as the dismantling of the powers of and protections by the state. Major events? The rise and fall of Peronism, the military coup in 1976 and the junta’s stranglehold until 1983, the neo-liberal economic policies of Carlos Menem’s populist government, the devastating crash of 2001, and the rebuilding that has been taking place ever since.

In the first half of the 20th century, particularly after the economic crash of 1929 and 1930 and after WWII, Argentina saw a strengthening of its industry – the state-owned oil enterprise YPF was created and the Central Bank and railways were nationalised, which helped finance the construction of hospitals, schools, and used to combat disease. Workers rights were respected, wages were high, and unionisation skyrocketed.

However the last military dictatorship, many of whose key economists had been trained at the University of Chicago under free-market guru Milton Freidman, not only pushed a policy of political violence but economic as well. The dictatorship dismantled gains made under Perón, as economic minister José Alfredo Martínez de Hoz outlawed strikes, lifted price controls and restrictions on foreign investment and sold off thousands of state enterprises. Prices and poverty rose dramatically and the dictatorship accumulated enormous amounts of debt. As it was losing ground in 1982, the military junta appointed Domingo Cavallo as head of the Central Bank who implemented policies that allowed the country’s top private enterprises to shift billions in debt to the state through secured exchange rates, a process that continued after the dictatorship under Raúl Alfonsín.

“When the government of Isabel Perón was overthrown, the external debt of the country in 1976 was around US$4bn,” says Bruzzone. “When the dictatorship left, the debt had risen to US$40bn.”

Though a self-proclaimed Peronist, Carlos Menem who came to power in 1989 gave the position of economic minister to Domingo Cavallo and other top slots to former employees of the International Monetary Fund (IMF). What followed was a series of billon-dollar IMF loans, the selling off of the majority of state enterprises, and the creation of the Argentine peso that was linked to the dollar, all of which resulted in massive layoffs, a freeze on local industry in the face of expensive production costs and cheap imports, and even more debt.

This free-market frenzy ended in the notorious crash of November and December of 2001, in which recession and unemployment caused investors to pull huge sums of money out of the country and get out of town. The De La Rúa government froze bank accounts of millions of Argentines, who, when finally allowed access, were left with a fraction of their savings. Food riots broke out and on December 19th and 20th a mass of Argentines swarmed Plaza de Mayo demanding that all the politicians who had gotten the country into this mess, leave immediately. De La Rúa was helicoptered from the Casa Rosada to escape the angry crowds. It was clear to many that the state had turned against its people.

“The destruction of the state, not just the welfare state but as an agent of change and intervention in society, was gradual,” says Sabato. “The dictatorship and Menem’s government were key to that destruction.”

Two hundred years later

Which brings us to the Argentina of today, a place where you can eat a five-course meal for US$30 in a trendy restaurant while a family sifts through street garbage nearby.

“We have had poverty in the last few years as never before,” says Sabato. “The distribution of income has been one of the worst in history, and many people have fallen well below the poverty line.” She calls this income gap “one of the worst aspects of Argentine society today”, which she says should be “unacceptable in a country like this”.

The external debt remains (US$120bn to be exact) and though former president Néstor Kirchner and current president Cristina Fernández de Kirchner had spoken against repaying it, the government since reversed its position and after heated arguments about how to repay the debt earlier this year, Congress voted to do so with reserves from the Central Bank. The question of whether to pay the debt has all but vanished from Congress. This despite a ruling presented by Judge Ballestero in 2000 that found 470 illegitimate financial operations surrounding the debt, calling it “illegal, immoral, illegitimate, and fraudulent”. Congress made no further investigation into the ruling, and according to Bruzzone, “it doesn’t look like they will.”

“This is the debt that every man woman and child of this country pays,” she says, and asserts that there is a much more urgent “internal debt” that must be paid. “The external debt can wait,” Bruzzone claims, “but the internal debt cannot – healthcare, education, and life which is above all else.”

Bruzonne commends the Kirchners for the re-nationalisation of things such as water and pensions, and for leaving behind the neo-liberal economic policies of previous decades, save for one key sector.

“With the issue of natural resources, this government does what all governments have done since 1976 … where the process of selling all our natural resources to foreigners has been consolidating and growing.”

She mentions that 20% of land in Argentina is in the hands of multinational corporations and/or foreign millionaires, and warns that this is “incredibly dangerous” and would put any country “on the brink of territorial disintegration”.

Bruzonne says that her travels and studies have convinced her that “the country that does not exercise its sovereignty fully, truly and effectively over its natural wealth will always be on its knees before the international financial and economic organisms, the transnational corporations, and will never be able to be independent, autonomous and sovereign because the development of those strategic natural resources depends also on the existence of a strong nation.”

Photo by A. Serra

South America has some of the world’s largest fresh water reserves, those in Argentina being also stored in its glaciers. Bruzonne has warned in her research that as the world’s fresh water supplies deteriorate, they will become a strategic resource over which future conflict and wars will be fought, and therefore must be protected. Though Congress passed the Ley de Glaciares in 2007 that restricted mining in glacial areas, the president vetoed the law just a few months later. No measures have yet been taken to protect the country’s fresh water resources.

Argentina’s native forests have suffered similar neglect. According to Greenpeace Argentina, the country has lost 70% of its native forests to deforestation and the Secretary of Environmental and Sustainable Development estimates that between 1998 and 2006, 2.3 million hectares were deforested, or one hectare every two minutes.

After a bitter fight, Congress passed a law in 2007 that limited the cutting of native forests depending on different levels of severity of deforestation. However the implementation of the law has been another story, to be fought out on a provincial level, often pitting small-scale agricultural producers and environmentalists against well-resourced agribusinesses.

Sustainable economics?

But the practice of cutting down native forests and the often forced removal of small-scale local producers has been used to make way for large-scale agricultural enterprises, mostly the planting of transgenic soya, Argentina’s principal export. Each year the country increases its export of soya to places like China and Europe. According to the National Institute of Statistics and Censuses (INDEC), Argentina will export 50 million tonnes of soy in 2010 earning it the title of number one soya exporter in the world.

Photo by Claudio Mufarrege

The biggest exporter of soya and other staples in Argentina is Cargill, which leads Forbes top ten private corporations in the US, reporting profits of over US$120bn annually. Cargill also owns the largest soya, wheat, and corn processing plants in Argentina, and is integrated with other top corporations in the country like fertilizer and seed producer Monsanto. Money is clearly being made, but how has it benefitted the people of Argentina?

Soya production is notorious for needing an increasing amount of land yet very few workers. Consumption of soya, as any Argentine supermarket will reveal, is not designated for Argentines but for people and cattle feed abroad. This might be seen as a cruel irony for a the two million Argentines who, according to UBA, go hungry each year, while living in a country with enough fertile land to feed its population multiple times over. Beyond the profits made by a dwindling pool of producers, the best chance Argentines have of seeing any of the benefits of soya production is through the hotly contested 35% government tax which generates an estimated US$5m per year. How this money is distributed and whether it can give back what soya production takes is, of course, another story.

The question then becomes: Is the soya model, reliant on large amounts of land and at the whim of the international price market sustainable for Argentina’s economy and its people? With the ups and downs international finance has seen as of late there is reason to worry.

However some, like Sabato, believe that the fact that Argentina is producing goods required by the world market is a good thing, saying that the country has “a good chance of growing”. She believes that what is done with the growth is the real issue.

“What do you do with the money that pours through this commodity exchange? That’s the problem.” She says that the government often says one thing and does another, talking against soya “without trying to create alternatives for the long run.”

“They’re not doing anything to change the structure,” says Sabato. “There could be state policies devised to re-arrange this economy, without, because it’s an expanding one, restricting investment.” She laments what she calls the “improvised” way the current government handles things like taxes and prices controls and inflation.

“You have to have a plan. You have to have some horizon,” she says.

Big “D” and little “d”

When it comes to democracy, Argentina can be divided into big “D” Democracy of its politicians and the little “d” of its social movements. In terms of the current government and politicians, both Bruzonne and Sabato see little to be proud of.

“Our political world is poor. Not in terms of money. Poor in terms of capacity,” says Sabato. She goes on to discuss the inability of politicians to generate genuine political debate and criticises the “dangerous way” politicians face conflict. Instead of pluralism and diversity, Sabato says current politics centre around “defining and enemy and crushing it relentlessly”.

“This notion of politics, which was very common in Argentina in the second half of the 20th century and until the end of the dictatorship has caused a lot of pain,” she remarks.

In the face of pressing issues like the environment, Bruzonne notes the lack of “political courage” to make change, and directly calls the political classes and leaders “a disaster”.

“They are ignorant and generally very compromised – lots of corruption, lots of bribery … They don’t have a real and true commitment to their people,” she says.

Bruzzone believes politics “must be an act of service” to the country, rather than what she calls a “medium through which one fills their pockets” but “remains screwed to their seats” when decision time comes.

In a time of reflection like the bicentenary, Sabato sees the national government as offering no national agenda, and “doing nothing to reconstruct the state in a solid sense”.

Photo by Emmanuel Frezzotti

Calling herself a survivor of the politically-repressive dictatorship that disappeared thousands young intellectuals, activists, and artists, Bruzzone says the challenge is not only to re-establish the state but “the social fabric” of society.

“We had a military dictatorship that destroyed a generation not for nothing. The generation that was assassinated and disappeared, which I was a part of, was the best of the best, with its dreams, its utopias, and with commitment. That’s what’s now missing in my country.”

Though dismantled during the dictatorship, this little “d” democracy has, however, been resurgent. Social movements of the poor and working-class have fought particularly through the rise of the piquetero movement in the 1990s and since the economic crash of 2001 to be heard and addressed. Their cries have been directed explicitly against the neo-liberal economic policies of privatisation that that have hit the poor and most vulnerable sectors of society the hardest. In response to economic crisis and the lack of social services, many having taken matters into their own hands as unemployed workers movements, community centres, soup kitchens, and recuperated factories have sprung up throughout the country. Bruzonne takes note of these movements, calling them the beginnings of a reconstruction of the “fabric of solidarity,” and the “revalorisation of human values”.

“In Argentina there is a long history of public participation,” observes Sabato. “One of them is the street. Since the 19th century, the street really has been a space for public participation. People go out into the streets and demonstrate.”

Argentina’s politicians may remain silent around key issues but everyday Argentines are certainly not quiet about their discontent.

Second independence

Though Argentina may be 200 years old, national intellectuals like Sabato still find themselves asking questions like: “Are we able to create some common ground upon which to build this society?” With the amount the Argentine people have faced in the country’s 200 years, the question is both apt and deserving of an answer.

Photo by Guilermo

Bruzzone puts it differently, claiming that in order to confront the country’s challenges, “a second independence remains to be realised.

“Together we liberated ourselves of Spain but then we fell into the hands of the British and then the North Americans, and then into the hands of the multinational corporations and the international financial and economic organisations,” she says.

As the fanfare of the bicentenary fades away, the pressing issues of Argentina remain; those that when addressed will push the country toward an independence that won’t be shown in parades but in the concrete changes in the lives of its citizens.

“It’s our turn to complete the project,” says Bruzzone, “And I think it’s worth completing.”

the Unnamable

You’re at an asado talking politics with an Argentine, of course. They then make reference to a certain former president by the wrong name. Perhaps they said Menen or Mendez. Funny you think to yourself, and begin to ask “Don’t you mean Mene–?” when a hush comes over the table, forks freeze in mid air, even the chorizos sizzling on the grill seem to stare at you. “What?” you say innocently. But didn’t you know? Finish that sentence and that asado might just be your last. Therefore as a service to you and your long, happy and healthy life, do take heed.

President of Argentina from 1989 to 1999, the Unnamable is infamous for selling off the country’s national industries in a neoliberal yard sale and plunging the country further into debt with the one-dollar/one peso scheme and a series of billion-dollar loans from the International Monetary Fund. He is generally accepted as the father of the devastating 2001 economic collapse and has faced countless charges of corruption including accepting US$2m in bribes from German engineering conglomerate Siemens and the illegal sale of weapons to Ecuador and Croatia for which he continues to be prosecuted. He has yet to declare personal assets held outside of Argentina, which are said to be around US$10m, and oh yeah, in the 90s he pardoned a host of leaders of the 1976-83 military dictatorship such as Jorge Videla and Emilio Massera for leading the torture and murder of an estimated 30,000 of their own citizens.

But as if this knockout resume weren’t enough, the Unnamable has an additional reputation as being mufa or yeta in Spanish, or in English, very very bad luck. From lost football games to lost limbs, the Unnamable is attributed with having directly or indirectly caused a running list of minor and major tragedies. Argentines both rich and poor, River and Boca, and even his former supporters avoid saying the name like the plague, for fear they may be next series of strange incidents that have happened after encounters with the Unnamable, incidents far too strange to be merely coincidental. Let’s look at what has them so spooked.

Photo courtesy of Wikimedia

the Unnamable, 1973

Early years

Like the chicken and the egg, it is unclear whether the Unnamable’s bad political reputation is what spawned the myth of his curse or whether it in fact started much earlier. Believers will remind you of Miguel Roig, former vice-president of the agro-giant Bunge and Born and named Minister of Economy by the Unnamable upon taking office. Five days after accepting the position, Roig suffered a heart attack while driving in his car and died. Two months later, the Minister of Health and Social Action died in an aerial accident.

Incidents have also struck much closer to home for the Unnamable. The day after taking office, his first son Carlos Saúl Facundo was in a terrible motorcycle accident but survived. Six years later however, Carlitos was not so lucky, dying in a suspicious helicopter crash that many, including his mother (ex-Unnamable) Zulema Yoma, believe was in fact an assassination. A message to Dad?

Diehard fan

For sports fans, rumours of curses are often a light-hearted half-excuse for a struggling team. But for the football fans of Argentina the myth of the Unnamable’s negative powers is no laughing matter.

Still high off their World Cup victory of 1986 and with Diego Maradona at his peak, the Argentine national team sauntered into Milan for the opening game of the 1990 World Cup against the clearly outmatched Cameroon. Without question the then recently-elected Unnamable attended to cheer on his team. As the story goes, the Unnamable  approached Argentina goalkeeper Nery Pumpido before the game in an attempt to shake his hand and wish him luck. Aware of the curse but not wanting to slight the president, Pumpido politely raised his hands and pulled away from the Unnamable’s outstretched palm with a smile, perhaps feigning unworthiness or gently letting the man know that this might be a dangerous interaction. Embarrassed but understanding, the Unnamable laughed and gave Pumpido a chummy pat on the knee. The result? Argentina lost the game to Cameroon in a humiliating 1-0 defeat in which Nery Pumpido fractured his kneecap. Though Argentina made it to the final match against Germany, it lost and has never been back to the finals since.

In May of 1999, local club San Lorenzo was in second place for the Argentine Championship until the Unnamable, known for being sporty, found himself playing a friendly game in San Lorenzo stadium in a San Lorenzo jersey. He was even named honorary president of the club. The following week San Lorenzo lost 3-2 week to the second-rate Gimnasia de Jujuy and fell from reach of the title.

Though a huge fan of the team River Plate, the Unnamable was banned from the stadium by the club for fear of what might happen were he to show his loyalty in person. The team coincidentally had its greatest success during his presidency, winning numerous national and international championships, as the Unnamable enjoyed games from his living room with a glass of champagne.

Michael Schumacher racing a Ferrari, photo courtesy of Wikipedia

In other sports, the Unnamable also: played a friendly game with tennis star Gabriela Sabatini provoking a sudden slump in the athlete’s otherwise soaring career; shook hands with Michael Schumacher before the Argentine Grand Prix in 1998 in which the top Formula One driver was surprisingly caught out in the initial laps and barely won; and invited a well-known Argentine racing driver to dinner in Olivos before the World Rally Championship in which the driver popped three tyres and eventually abandoned the race after crashing into the side of a mountain.

Life and Limbs

In most other circumstances, receiving a visit from a president while in the hospital would be a rejuvenating honor. If that president happens to be Señor Innombrable however, you might just ask him to send a card. At least that’s what filmmaker and tango singer Hugo del Carril should have done in 1989 while recuperating from heart trouble. Perhaps it was the emotion of such an important visit, but hours after the Unnamable (also a lover of tango) dropped by with flowers in hand, the recovering Carril was no more.

Photo courtesy of Wikimedia

Astor Piazzolla

In 1990, tango composer and bandoneon player Astor Piazzolla suffered thrombosis in Paris and returned to Buenos Aires where he was hospitalised. The Unnamable did not pass up the opportunity to visit the legendary artist who had been fighting for his life for two years. Days after the visit Piazzolla’s conditioned worsened and he passed away soon after at the age of 71. Fairly aware of his reputation as yeta, the Unnamable himself admitted to talk show host Mirta Legrand that hours after paying a visit to his much older first girlfriend, the healthy 91-year-old fell dead.

Yet in perhaps one of the strangest incidents to date took place in 1989 along the Río Paraná with current governor of the Province of Buenos Aires, Daniel Scioli. A champion of offshore powerboat racing, Scioli had invited the Unnamable to join him on his boat the day before the Delta Argentino race. During the race a wave from an oil tanker flipped Scioli’s boat and the politician wound up losing an arm. It was the same arm he extended to the Unnamable to help him onto the boat. Though a talented speaker, Scioli is a politician of few gestures.

Beginning to wonder, aren’t you?

Just ask around and you might be told some personal stories of bad luck with the Unnamable. I did and was contacted by Rodolfo Jeckeln of Buenos Aires. Sixteen years ago he was an award-winning professional golfer playing in minor tournaments in the country with a handicap of 6. One sweltering summer day Jeckeln went golfing with his instructor and his mother when along came the Unnamable golfing behind. Jeckeln’s instructor, an acquaintance of the president, stopped to say hi. Despite the heat and his sweaty palm, Jecklen did not wish to be rude.

“I go to give him my hand and he comes up to me and gives me a kiss, with all that sweat, a sticky mess. I’d say unpleasant to avoid saying disgusting,” says Jeckeln.

Photo by Eve Fraser-Corp

San Francisco neighborhood, Marina, after the Loma Prieta Earthquake disaster in 1989

“From that day forward I had 12 years of bad luck, cursed, not being able to win a single tournament since that day,” recounts Jeckeln. The sweaty kiss of death.

Some even blame the Unnamable for large-scale disasters. The day after he returned from a visit to the US in 1989, the San Andreas faultline in California slipped, causing the 6.9 Loma Prieta earthquake. In 1990 the Unnamable took the ambassador of Peru on his jet back to his country from a visit to Africa. The following day a 6.8 earthquake hit the San Andreas region killing 300 Peruvians. And finally, the night before the 2000 US presidential elections, the Unnamable is said to have called his good friend George W. Bush to wish him luck. Need I say more?

To some these stories are mere coincidences, strokes of bad luck. Others plainly pronounce that the Unnamable made a pact with the devil. How else would one explain such bizarre tragedy associated with one man? Whatever the reason and whether or not you have been convinced, you may consider swapping that “NEM” for a “DEZ,” pick one of his various nicknames, or just trail off whenever you say the name Meneee…

You know, just in case.

April 9, 2010, The Argentimes

http://www.theargentimes.com/feature/delta-divided-locals-combat-big-real-estate-in-tigre-/

Photo by Patricio Guillamón

“El pobre tiene que volar. Ya no hay más campo. Todo country, todo country.” The poor man has to disappear. There is no more countryside. It’s all private neighbourhoods. All private neighbourhoods.

They are the words of Sara Espinosa, 94, who lives in Punta Canal in the town of Tigre, just metres away from the waters of Canal Villanueva. Though she has lived here for more than half a century, in the past few years Espinosa has found herself increasingly isolated from the world beyond her home thanks to fences and a wall of mud built around it by real estate giant EIDICO (Common Interest Real Estate Undertakings). The company has purchased the area and is currently constructing two gated communities on either side. While most of her neighbours have sold their land and moved away, Espinosa remains, perhaps unaware of the profit to be made off the land where her humble home stands.

She is talking to Graciela Satalic of the Movement for the Pacha or ‘Mother Earth’, the organisation of neighbours and indigenous people that has been fighting for four years for the preservation of Punta Canal. Satalic later tells me that the EIDICO has isolated the elderly Espinosa to the point where “she can’t even get out”. When I ask her what the company expects the old woman to do she tells me plainly: “They are waiting for her to die.”

‘Nuevo Tigre’

In Tigre, located in the province of Buenos Aires about an hour up the river from the bustling capital, the ground begins to break off into a series of islands separated by canals and streams, giving way to an abundance of marshlands rich in vegetation and wildlife. Dotting the tall grasses of the wetlands are many poor and working-class communities that use the canals for fishing, recreation, and transportation. One of those communities is that of Punta Canal that runs along Canal Villanueva between the unpaved Brazil street and the Garín stream. The area has long been used by locals and considered public as it holds a portion of an old railway line also known as Punta Canal that belongs to the state.

“When I came to this place that we’re defending now, it was a paradise. A marshland with a lot of native vegetation; fauna with birds, water animals, otters, partridges,” says Satalic who lives in Intendente Maschwitz, the next town over. But in the past ten years a new species has become the most dominant in the Delta: the private neighbourhood, which has increasingly encroached on the marshlands, displacing residents and endangering the ecosystem.

Photo by Patricio Guillamón

The private neighborhood of Santa Catalina and the pipes of EIDICO’s dredger stationed in the canal.

Today upon arriving at Punta Canal, one is greeted with a handful of tents, a van that holds up a tarp covering a table and chairs, and two indigenous rainbow flags that make up the encampment of Movement for the Pacha. However it is what lies directly in front of the encampment, across the still waterway, that is the real sight: raised embankments covered with palm trees, eucalyptus, and pristine lawns in front of large modern homes. The scene looks ripped from a trendy living magazine and plastered on top of the marshland. It is Santa Catalina, the exclusive nautical neighbourhood that is part of EIDICO’s 850-hectare complex Villanueva made up of nine other neighbourhoods. These, along with other urban mega-developments like NorDelta (complete with private schools and shopping centres) are part of what is becoming known as ‘Nuevo Tigre’.

Sandwiched between two of EIDICO’s neighbourhoods under construction, San Benito and San Marcos, the movement has been working to protect and preserve two precious hectares of Punta Canal for what many believe good reason.

Burial grounds and bulldozers

In 2001 after ten years of living away from the place that she had grown up, Graciela Satalic moved back to the area to find “the entire landscape of the marshlands changed” due to new developments. Still, she enjoyed taking walks along the water by the old railway. During these walks she began to discover what seemed like indigenous pieces of pottery.

Photo by Nicolás Solo of Indymedia

Punch of Guanaco Metapodio from Punta Canal.

“I picked them up and some clearly had native etchings on them. Then I found some arrowheads, needles made of bone, things that were really hand-worked, ” she says.

She began collecting all that she could, returning to the shore every day to look, and eventually took them to the museum of Escobar (the next district over) to be looked at by a specialist. From there she was referred to Daniel Loponte, an archeologist of the National Institute of Latin American Anthropology and Thought (INAPL – an organisation of the Secretary of Culture) who is responsible for sites in the Delta. In 2006 he finally came to recognise the area as one that had supposedly been previously discovered and then lost. Though he didn’t carry out a full excavation at the time, Loponte identified the items Satalic had found as being more than 1000 to 1500 years old, belonging primarily to the Querandí people as well as a variety of other indigenous groups such as the Guaraní.

Satalic along with residents of the area and members of indigenous organisations began making regular trips to Punta Canal (now dubbed Punta Querandí), holding traditional prayer circles and paying respects to what they consider a sacred site. That is until 2007 when EIDICO began to lay the groundwork for San Marcos just metres away, and it became clear that ‘Punta Querandí’ would be the next to go.

Photo by Patricio Guillamón

Alberto Aguirre, a native Toba, is one of the indigenous members of the Movement for the Pacha.

In December 2008, in an attempt to attend to the concerns of residents and archeologists, EIDICO hired Loponte to lead small dig on the site that uncovered more than ten thousand different pieces, from instruments to tools to pottery. Despite no bones having been discovered, the movement claims that the site was also once a burial ground as in many locations along the Delta human remains have been found. In an interview with Indymedia Argentina archeologist Loponte explained that “all these sites have burial grounds. It’s rare they wouldn’t have them”.

By simply walking around the area one finds pieces of pottery in plain sight and it is clear that there is an abundance of artifacts. Movement member Alberto Aguirre of the native Toba community shows me around the now muddied and deforested area. He pauses and asks painfully: “How would they like it if we went to a cemetery where they have their loved ones buried and build our homes?”

Members of Movement for the Pacha aren’t satisfied with what they see as a dig of a few square metres on a two-hectare site, claiming that there are thousands more pieces to be uncovered. “EIDICO financed the excavation so that we would stop coming here,” says Satalic. “But we keep fighting.”

Encampment ensues

On 18th February 18th the situation became elevated when EIDICO bulldozers entered Punta Canal and began ripping up trees and levelling the land. Satalic and another member of the group happened to be nearby, went immediately to the site and placed themselves in front of the machines. Soon EIDICO lawyers and police came to threaten the two with arrest.

“Fine, arrest me if you want,” says Satalic recounting the day. “But the police didn’t do anything. So I said, fine, I’m leaving, and the next day we were here with tents and all.”

Now over a month into their encampment, the hundred members of the Movement for the Pacha take turns spending days and nights along the waterway, fearing to leave the area alone for more than a few hours.

“They are continually pressuring us by taking different measures,” says Julio Maiz, a native Colla. “They put a guard who asked to see our identification and where we were going and wouldn’t let us enter, until one day we said, ‘Look this is public space and this is a street, and you are going to have a lawsuit on your hands.’ They stopped bothering us.”

The guard, stationed at the end of Brazil street, marks the border what EIDICO hopes will become part of their developments. Only problem is, homes of locals like Sara Espinosa have been trapped inside that border. Carlos Arrambide and his family’s home is another that has been encircled. In 2008 Arrambide filed a lawsuit against EIDICO, denouncing the illegality of the sale of land on behalf of the state and managed to get two precautionary measures against the company not to further destroy the land. EIDICO however paid no mind.

Photo by Patricio Guillamón

A pricetag on nature

During the week the few members able to remain at the encampment watch a dredger stationed in Canal Villanueva pull mud up from the bottom of the river into its tubes and fill in the lower areas of the the site, readying the land for construction.

Member Liliana Leiva is a beekeeper from Tigre who has been working against pollution in the area with the Assembly of the Delta and Río de la Plata. She explains the environmental damage of dredging and filling, a staple method in the construction of private neighbourhoods.

“The marshlands serve a very important function. They are like the kidneys of nature,” she says. She explains that the vegetation and nutrients from the marshes filter water that enters the canals from upstream, water polluted by industry and urban development. “If you fill in the marshland, they fail to carry out that function of cleaning the water.”

Discussing the process of dredging, Leiva explains that the dredgers take mud from the riverbed that is made of saltwater, which when disturbed creates a saltwater system inside one of freshwater. “They break the riverbed and break the equilibrium,” she says, and that ultimately “the beautiful indigenous vegetation will die”.

In an area that must strive to combat annual flooding, the creation of private neighbourhoods on raised ground drastically impacts those left on low ground who “will suffer floods much more than before,” says Leiva.

“Since the locals are ending up in a ditch because they are raising the streets and the lands, they are hoping that the next flood, the people will grow tired and sell for 20 cents what they [EIDICO] will resell for thousands of dollars.”

Shady business

EIDICO has become known one of the largest land developers in Argentina through its tactic of selling ready lots to future residents in advance of the neighbourhood’s construction that then pays the costs of development. In 2007 the company declared more than 41 projects throughout Argentina worth more than US$400m, spanning from the northern province of Salta, down to Ushuaia, and even in the exclusive beach town of Punta del Este, Uruguay.

To turn a profit, land purchased by the company must come cheap. Though EIDICO has never shown deeds to the area, it has come up with a receipt. The 20 hectares purchased – which include Punta Canal – ran the company one million pesos, five pesos per square metre or US$1.3. Current price per square metre in the neighborhood of San Benito now under construction? Forty-four dollars per square metre. That is a staggering 3,284% increase in value on land that many say should never have been sold in the first place.

Disturbed by the potentially illegal sale of state land in addition to the cultural and environmental destruction, national and provincial politicians have joined in the struggle. In May 2009, the Chamber of Representatives of the province of Buenos Aires solicited reports from executive powers regarding the sale of land and authorisation of construction. That November, the province’s Senate led by Daniel Expósito of the Coalición Civica, declared an interest in protecting the land, declaring that the State should not sell the public land belonging to the Administration of Railway Infrastructure and should work to preserve the archeological sites of aboriginal peoples.

Early this March in a press conference held by the Movement for the Pacha, national congresswoman Silvia Vázquez talked about the “dramatic social impact” of private neighbourhoods in the Delta and EIDICO’s potentially illegal purchase of Punta Canal.

“It is necessary to be conscious of this violation because more than real estate value, these fiscal lands have tremendous social value and should be utilised to preserve the natural and cultural goods, and also ensure the neighbours right of passage and free access to the river,” she said.

But perhaps the more troubling still are the apparent crossovers that exist between the real estate giant and local government. A member of Opus Dei, the radically conservative sector of the Catholic Church, EIDICO owner Jorge O’Reilly has had an intimate relationship with the mayor of Tigre, Sergio Massa. According to a January 2009 article in La Nación by Gabriel Sued, the two met in 2000 at a folklore festival in Tigre, soon after which O’Reilly asked Massa to “intervene on behalf of EIDICO regarding delays in paperwork”.

When Sergio Massa served a year as cabinet secretary for president Cristina Fernández de Kirchner from 2008-9, he called on O’Reilly to be a consultant. Additionally, EIDICO’s former director Pablo Dameno is now the current sub-secretary of urban planning of Tigre, a direct violation of the national Law of Ethics of Public Duty that forbids former business functionaries from serving on regulatory commissions of the same industry.

“The fight is unequal because we are confronting very powerful interests that have relationships to those in political power,” says Leiva. “But we know we are right.”

Photo by Patricio Guillamón

Members gather for a weekly ceremony to bless the site.

Road ahead

Though up against large moneyed interests, the movement holds out hope of winning protection of the site.

“We aren’t asking for all of what they bought. They can delegate these two hectares that have sufficient reasons for which to be preserved,” says Maiz. Rather than a private neighbourhood, he and the other members dream of a museum to educate locals and visitors about indigenous of the region and preserve indigenous culture.

“We would try to recuperate and rescue that, and construct an open museum. Many people say that in Buenos Aires there weren’t indigenous peoples. That’s what they made up,” says Aguirre.

There is also concern for other archeological sites nearby. No more than two kilometres from Punta Canal lies Rancho Largo, a site registered by the INAPL in December of 2008 though not yet excavated. It too is owned by EIDICO and lots have already been sold for the forthcoming neighbourhood San Rafael. Additionally in the neighbouring community of Villa La Ñata lies a 70-hectare stretch of land for sale, under which are three excavated sites long recognised by the INAPL as La Bellaca 1, 2, and 3. Many suspect this will be EIDCO’s next conquest.

“We are trying to spread the word so that people become conscious of this, because what we are preserving is not only our history as people of the area, but for the future of the generations to come,” says Levia. “We can’t leave them a world in ruins for economic interests.”

by Francesca Fiorentini, The Indypendent

http://www.indypendent.org/2010/02/26/with-avatar-poised/

With the Oscars upon us, many eyes will be on James Cameron and his sci-fi digital adventure, Avatar, which has already grossed $2.5 billion worldwide. It will win best special effects and may win for best director, best film, and six other awards for which it is nominated. But amid the clever jokes from lovable entertainers, the behind the scenes look at its making, the armfuls of awards and lists of people to thank, the actual message of the film may well be lost in the fray. How to preserve it? Put the money made from the blockbuster where it’s needed most: into indigenous communities struggling for the conservation of their land and livelihood.

All critiques acknowledged, it is fair to say that Avatar is a good, if not great, movie. The profit alone, earned in just over two months, speaks for itself. The film is the highest grossing in history in North America and in 25 other countries around the world. And don’t forget the merchandising, TV licensing, DVD sales, video games and, of course, the sequels. Let’s just say there are little slot machines flashing dollar signs in the eyes of everyone who has managed to get a cut of the Avatar jackpot.

And what a jackpot! The film has everything going for it: action, romance, more action, and a three-dimensional digital world that is stunning. Of course it has the obligatory Hollywood plot line — white guy somehow becomes hero of native tribe and saves them from extermination – that continues to be dependably appealing and problematic.

Beyond the blockbuster formula, the film has captivated and even inspired people worldwide, thanks to its timely and lamentably applicable message for this world. Loudly, clearly, and convincingly, it’s a message of conservation, environmentalism, the rights of native peoples to life and land, and one hell of a case for communities to organize and defend both. In other words, it’s about the vital flow and interconnection between all life, be it plant, animal, or 10-foot blue alien.

Where on Earth could James Cameron have come up with such a unique storyline? Oh, right.

Not so sci-fi

Though it doesn’t glow in the dark or have neurons growing out of trees, Earth has an uncanny resemblance to the fictional planet of Pandora. The forests of the film are as thick, lush, and in danger as those of the Amazon, the Congo Basin, or the Greater Sunda Islands of Southeast Asia, all of which have fascinated scientific researchers for years. It is said that more than half the world’s estimated 10 million animal, plant, and insect species live in tropical rainforests, and that the number of species of fish found in the Amazon exceeds the number found in the entire Atlantic Ocean. Avatar creators confess that the looming granite peaks of the Huangshan mountain range of southern China directly inspired Pandora’s floating “Hallelujah Mountains.” It is no fantasyland, but our very own planet, perhaps after a few hallucinogens.

The central conflict of the film – the invasion of a foreign corporation and army, the killing of innocent civilians, and destruction their way of life for the sole purpose of extracting a high-priced natural resource – also strikes a familiar chord.  Haven’t we seen this film before, somewhere in the Middle East, circa 2003? This time, however, we are aligned with those civilians who are resisting (and winning), and no one is buying the humanitarianism shtick. Avatar has even been dubbed “anti-imperialist” by some reviewers, and Bolivian president Evo Morales went so far as to call it a “profound show of resistance to capitalism and the struggle for the defense of nature.”

How poignant. Great message. Don’t forget to drink Coca-Cola Light.

A small reclamation

As a dweller of the planet that inspired such a film, I want to register a complaint. Having been overwhelmed with the seemingly sincere message of biodiversity and resistance to injustice, I can’t escape feeling morally cheap when then encouraged to collect all the Avatar characters in McDonald’s Happy Meals. After selling our heartstrings for over $2 billion, don’t we earthlings deserve a bit more?

Beyond generalities, we might do well to take a closer look at the parallels between this film and this world. For instance, who are the Na’vi of this planet, those protagonists of the story we are brought to root for, believe in, and admire? They are those who, as you read this, are embattled in struggles for their land and livelihood.

They are the Cofán, Siona, Secoya, Kichwa and Huaorani of the Ecuadorian Amazon who are knee deep in a landmark lawsuit against oil-giant Chevron for the dumping of more than 18 billion gallons of toxic wastewater into rainforest rivers for more than 26 years. Dependent on the forests and rivers for survival — fishing, hunting, and small subsistence agriculture — the more than 30,000 inhabitants of the region now face high levels of cancer and birth defects, and many have been completely forced off their ancestral land.

They are the people of Cabañas province in northern El Salvador, who in 2008 successfully prevented Pacific Rim Mining Corp. of Canada (homeland of director James Cameron) from continuing their gold mining operation in the area. Organizations like the Environmental Committee of Cabañas say that the consequences of gold extraction, which requires the use of toxic materials like cyanide and 30,000 liters of fresh water per day, could be drastic in a country where merely a third of the water is safe to drink and thousands die each year from waterborne diseases. Pacific Rim is now suing the Salvadoran government under the Central America Free Trade Agreement for $100 million, and anti-mining organizers have been met with violent threats and assassinations. Last year three leading organizers were shot and killed: the first found in a well, the second killed in front of his daughter, and the last eight months pregnant. Though fearing for their safety, residents of Cabañas continue to protest the company’s actions, some holding signs that read simply “Yes to life.”

They are the Dayak villagers of Landak in the Indonesian rainforest and the people of Kararata in the pristine forests of Papua New Guinea, both facing displacement due to the spread of palm oil plantations. They are the indigenous Penan of the Malaysian island of Borneo, fighting industrial logging on traditional burial sites; sacred land like the gelatinous forest of the Na’vi’s Tree of Souls.

The list, unfortunately, goes on.

And in a time of dramatic climate change, swine and bird flues, and food and water scarcity thanks to the pollution and other consequences of the mining, logging, and agricultural industries, we might remember that this world’s Na’vi have been history’s greatest conservationists. Maybe they don’t ride dragons and their aesthetic appeal didn’t go through test audiences, but the indigenous of this planet have long understood the providing and regenerative nature of the Earth when treated with care.

A proposal

Last July, after a preview of the film at Comic Con, San Diego’s annual comic book convention, director James Cameron told the audience that “the Na’vi represent something that is our higher selves, our aspirational selves, what we would like to think we are” and that the Avatar humans “represent what we know to be the parts of ourselves that are trashing our world and maybe condemning ourselves to a grim future”. An insightful yet defeated reflection from Avatar’s talented creator. (Then again, the future might not actually look so grim from a $4.5 million home on the Malibu coast.)

But why the defeat? If anything, the $2.5 billion (and the billions to come over the next few years) presents a unique and poignant opportunity to put the money where it, well, belongs.

For the indigenous of the Ecuadorian Amazon, it could go a long way in helping plaintiffs win their class-action lawsuit against Chevron, by publicizing and pressuring the company to pay the $27 billion in damages, implement a clean-up and provide communities with health care and water. This would be a historic victory that would set an important precedent for the behavior of oil giants and other extractive industries. The US-based organization Amazon Watch that is working with the people of the region on the campaign would gladly accept a check, tax-free of course.

El Salvador, which now faces a lawsuit from the Pacific Rim Mining Corp. for its refusal to grant further mining permits, won’t be able to hold off the company for long if it can’t pay the potentially huge cost of arbitration and settlement. Could be nice gesture. Or maybe a call to Barbara Henderson, vice president of investor relations at Pacific Rim Mining Corp, asking her to forget the lawsuit and kindly leave the people of Cabañas in peace. The number is 1 (888) 775-7097. Then press ‘1’.

This is not a rhetorical statement or some moral exercise. It’s a proposal. Shouldn’t Avatar be associated with organizations that don’t also happen to be international emblems of obesity, diabetes, and overall poor health, not to mention their legacies of water pollution and human rights abuses against workers, such as Coca-Cola and McDonalds?

I won’t hold my breath for 20th Century Fox to have a change of heart; they are busy saving their pennies to bring us such classics as Alien Vs. Predator or Wrong Turn 3: Left for Dead. But as director and co-producer, Mr. Cameron could make some better marketing choices and also directly lend a hand. According to one source, when Avatar had made just $830 million, Cameron had taken home $50 million; now that the film has reached $2.5 billion, he may be looking at over $150 million. Multiple that by three (for the sequels to come) and add a percentage of the merchandising and DVD sales which will be around $500 million for each film, and you’ve got a rough and conservative total of $700 million for Cameron himself.

With money clearly not an obstacle, all Cameron might need is the will and some courage to truly stand with the protagonists of his film by offering support to the indigenous of this world.

On “Oscar Sunday” there will be red carpets, best and worst dressed, stunts by performers, envelopes, awards, and surprises. We are told in ads for the event that we have “never seen the Oscars like this.” But in the end, nothing will be all that moving. Because to most people of the world, Nicole Kidman in Versace and George Clooney in Armani are more alien than the fictional protagonists of Avatar. And after all, maybe the Na’vi are not the beings we aspire to be. Maybe they are the beings we are.

So how about it?

by Francesca Fiorentini

They have come from all over Argentina. Some have even come from parts of Paraguay and Brazil. Most have come by bus, many by car or motorcycle, and some by good old fashioned hitchhiking. They have come with their spouses and children, aging parents and grandparents. They have come alone, leaving their families behind. They have brought tents, blankets, lawn chairs, guitars, portable barbeques, charcoal, snacks, and foam coolers. They have brought nothing but themselves. Most importantly they bring well-loved statues—whether small or as large as their torsos—of the man whom they have traveled to thank, remember, and ask of; the homegrown saint of Argentina, Antonio “Gauchito” Gil.

On the eighth day of every January, the town of Mercedes in the northeastern province of Corrientes is inundated with more than 200,000 followers of Gauchito Gil. However, it is a along a stretch of road eight kilometers north of the town where the action happens. It is here where Antonio Gil is said to have been brutally murdered, and where a small sanctuary stands in his honor.

Nearing midnight on January 7, a continual procession of busses, vans, cars, real and wannabe gauchos on horseback make their way to the sanctuary amidst a chorus of crickets. Everyone wants to be there when the clock strikes midnight. When it does, most, like myself, are stuck kilometers away from the sanctuary and ditch their cars to head on foot toward the music and fireworks that light the sky. The day has begun.

The evening is warm and the air is thick with the smell of asado. Parked buses, cars, tents and venders line the road to the festival. Vans sell overpriced beer, soda, and hot water for thermoses. One man’s trunk is piled high with pigs ready for the grill.

About half a kilometer from the festival, the flow of people slows to a stop, as most have joined the ever-growing and motionless line to enter the sanctuary. Following it takes one through rows of stalls selling statues, rosaries, candles, red ribbons, posters and trinkets. There is even a Gauchito Gil brand of yerba mate. Stacks of meat simmer on grills and clouds of smoke billow from the makeshift restaurants into the faces of those stuck in line. Speakers blare songs dedicated to Gauchito Gil and televisions screen dramatic documentaries that tell the story of his life and legend of his death.

It’s one hell of a party thrown by a saint. And to an outsider, ignorant to the Gauchito Gil mystique and watching the five-hour line and its surrounding spectacle, there really is only one question: Who is Gauchito Gil? Who is this serene-faced man with a bushy mustache and long dark hair, wearing those wide-legged gaucho pants and three red bandanas, one around his waist, neck, and head? And how did so many come to adore him?

Lover, Outlaw, Savior

As one of the various legends goes, somewhere around the 1850s in the province of Corrientes, a beautiful young girl falls in love with the handsome gaucho who works on the ranch to which she is heiress. Her name is Estrella Diaz Miraflores, and his, Antonio Mamerto Gil Núñez, El Gauchito. Problem is, she’s engaged to the local chief of police, and besides, her family would never accept such a match with a humble, though charming, farm worker. El Gauchito hides in the town of Pay Ubre, what is now Mercedes, and from there enlists in the Triple Alliance war against Paraguay.

Upon his return, he is called yet again to fight, but this time in a civil war, Correntinos against Correntinos. But the Gauchito has a dream that night, in which the native Guaraní god Ñandeyara appears to him and tells him “not to shed the blood of brothers.” In the morning, the Gauchito is gone, and becomes a deserter of the army, living outside the law, and dedicating his life to helping the poor and indigenous by stealing from the rich.

One day, while sleeping under a tree after a party, the police catch up with the Gauchito, arrest him, and head for Mercedes. Eight kilometers from town, his captors decide to take justice into their own hands. They tie him to a tree and begin to fire. But he won’t die. So they string him up by his feet and slit his throat. Before they do however, the Gauchito speaks his last words to the sergeant:

“You are going to kill me now, but you will arrive in Mercedes tonight at the same time as a letter of my pardon. In the letter they will also tell you that your son is dying of a strange illness. Invoke me before God and pray for your son’s life, because the blood of the innocent serves to makes miracles.”

To which the sergeant says, “I don’t care,” and kills the Gauchito.

But much to the sergeant’s dismay, the letter does arrive as the Gauchito said it would, and his son is indeed, terribly and mysteriously ill. Remembering the Gauchito’s words, the sergeant takes his son from bed and to the now-buried Gaucho, eight kilometers north of town. There, before God, the sergeant prays to Gauchito Gil for the life of his son. The next morning, as promised, all is well. And thus, Gauchito Gil’s murderer becomes his first devotee.

At least, that’s what they say.

Not alone

For the people waiting in line, some for the first and most for the second, seventh, or thirtieth time, Gauchito Gil is not so mystical, but a saint with whom one can be intimate and talk to every day.

“To me, he is a friend who fulfills promises,” says Juan Carlos, a middle-aged man from Misiones dressed in gaucho-wear, a large red flag with an image of the Gauchito draped on his back.

“He is a reference of support for me,” says Rita who has come by bus from Esquina, Buenos Aires. “Because we all need some support and some kind of faith.”

Some could not share their thoughts on the Gaucho, as even the thought of describing what he has meant to their lives made them choke up.

A tall elderly man with a weathered face and a wide-brimmed gaucho hat tells me he does not come to ask the Gauchito for anything, “but to thank him for what he has already given me.” He eagerly launches into the story of his niece’s operation on a malignant tumor. Moments into it he stops and raises his hands to his face, pushing back tears. “She called me the next day,” he continues, his voice feeble, “And told me ‘Uncle! I got the results. Everything is okay!’ I told her it would be.”

“I work in a factory but I go out to the campo often,” he tells me. “And when I go, I don’t go alone. I say to myself, ‘Okay Gaucho, we have to do this and that.’”

Many had similar experiences with terminal illnesses or family members with health problems, and curiously, they have remained healthy enough to make the trek every year to ask for continual protection. One woman holds her daughter, less than one month old.  She tells me that the birth was hard on the baby, who will need six months of physical therapy for a dropped shoulder.

“It’s my first time here,” she says, perhaps looking at four more hours of waiting, “but everything I have ever asked of the Gauchito he has fulfilled. I don’t care how long I have to wait.”

For almost everyone, the main reason for coming is the same: To fulfill a promise. Because everyone knows that if the Gauchito answers your prayers today, you must come back.

Wait not in vain

By night, the festival is a dark unintelligible jungle of faces and sounds, music and laughter. But by day, in 40 degrees of heat and not a cloud in sight, with the line to enter the sanctuary twice as long, the event reveals itself for what is truly is: an act of faith.

Alongside a steady stream of cars and buses that kick up dust and cough out exhaust, devotee Antonio Aguirre makes his way to the end of the line not on foot, but on his knees. Carrying a couple of plastic bags with water and items for the sanctuary, he hobbles carefully along the graveled shoulder of the road.

“My promise begins at the bridge,” he says signaling to a small bridge about half a kilometer behind him, “It’s about 3 kilometers in total.”

Though he used to live in the province and would come to the sanctuary with his Correntino parents, Mr. Aguirre had since moved to Buenos Aires and had stopped coming. That is until some years ago when his son was ill and would not sleep for days. A friend asked him if he had made a promise to someone. He remembered that he had, and knew what he needed to do.

“I brought my son to the sanctuary and he slept like a king.”

If the Gauchito answers Antonio’s prayers today, next year he will travel from Buenos Aires to the sanctuary by bicycle.

The sanctuary itself is a tin roofed, 3 by 5 meter space enclosed by a metal fence. Inside is a statue of the Gauchito, a large cross and a looming cement tomb, both covered with metal placards of thanks and praise from devotees. Ten or so police officers “administer” the viewing of the sanctuary, one of which directs the entire process with a piercingly loud whistle. Followers enter in groups of 15-20, carrying flowers, red ribbons, bottles of whisky, and other offerings for the Gaucho. Upon entering they immediately rush to the statue, whose paint has been worn away under hundreds of thousands of hands. They touch it, close their eyes, and despite the chaos, find a private moment with their Gauchito to say thanks and to pray.

No more than a minute later and it’s all whistles and “Bueno, Bueno,” as the police brusquely escort the devotees out. A day-long wait in the heat for one minute inside the sanctuary. A small price to pay for prayers answered, most would agree.

Times of need

Second to asking for their health, everyone told me that they had and continue to ask the Gauchito for work. As Gauchito Gil was from the Northeast, so are many of his followers, coming from the notoriously impoverished northern provinces of Misiones, Chaco, Formosa, and Corrientes itself. Facing a shortage of work due in part to the consolidation of land and expansion of agribusiness, a large number I spoke with had moved away to urban areas, but continue to keep up the custom.

“Most people don’t have work or education,” says Carina of Corrientes, who sold hot water for mate during the festival. “There is education but there are no work opportunities. Although they [people of the area] might be prepared, they look for work outside, in Buenos Aires or Cordoba.”

Gustavo from the city of Avellaneda in Greater Buenos Aires became a follower when he saw a small red altar of the Gauchito while leaving a soccer stadium after a game one day.

“My job situation was bad and I looked to the sky and said ‘The only thing I ask for is work.’” He says he is now working with a healthcare company, and this is his first time at the sanctuary.

“I came here without a dime,” he says, “but with tremendous peace.”

Next to Gustavo are Fabian and Hector, strewn out on two mattresses placed in the open cargo space of a large bus, a shady and breezy refuge from the heat. They are bus drivers and have been making the eight-hour trip from Buenos Aires to Mercedes for seven and five years respectively.

Fabian says that coming to the procession fills him with a sense of protection “in a country where justice takes a long time.”

“We have to confront many problems—a lot of insecurity, the lack of social equality, things for which the Gauchito fought as well. His saying was ‘not to spill the blood of your countrymen, but fight for the well-being of all.’ Today if we really understood that saying, we wouldn’t be where we are.”

Festival Blues

The festival for a saint had quite a handful of not-so-saintly characteristics. Despite the number of venders selling food and beverages, one could not count a single trashcan and there were maybe five bathrooms in total, all of which cost between 50 cents and 2 pesos to use. Therefore, unsurprisingly, the flat green pastures surrounding the sanctuary were converted into one big repository—with bottles and papers scattered everywhere and the pervasive stench of urine.

Nearly every room in every hotel in Mercedes was booked, charging between 150 and 300 pesos per night, and campground space was also limited and expensive. Despite the lack of accommodations, there seemed to be no qualms with charging ten pesos for a “choripan” and 15 for a liter of beer—more than double the normal price at any kiosk in Buenos Aires.

Fabian says that the authorities of Mercedes should do more in the way of accommodations.

“It’s not justified. When one sees the social level of the people who follow the gaucho, it’s like, there’s a lot of profiting going on. Let’s hope the Gaucho doesn’t turn into a business.”

“We aren’t in Punta del Este or Pinamar,” he says, “We’re in Mercedes in 50 degrees of heat. The iguana has to cross the road with gloves.”

Who’s to saint?

Gauchito Gil is what many would call a “pagan saint,” as the Catholic Church has not canonized him as a “proper” one. And chances are that the Congregations of the Causes of Saints that oversees the canonization process aren’t making any recommendations to the Pope anytime soon.

Yet despite being devoutly Catholic, most everyone I spoke with did not worry too much about the state of the Gauchito’s sainthood, and the response was indignantly unanimous: “Take a look around.”

“It doesn’t matter that they don’t recognize him,” the elderly man tells me. “What we show him is something magnificent,” he says, “We show him that, maybe he can’t be sanctified, but with this demonstration, there is no need. This is sufficient, this act alone. There are no words.”

Fabian says, “The Gauchito wasn’t looking for fame,” and reminds me that the Church “is always late” when it comes to a lot of issues.

“I prefer the humility, the modesty, the loyalty of humble people, to the grand luxuries. You don’t have to be rich to be a saint. And you don’t have to be rich to be devoted,” he says.

Carina of Corrientes says the Gauchito is a tradition of the area, “a saint of the people even though he was a worker and robbed and did what he did.” Or perhaps it is because he was a worker, a deserter, an Argentinean Robin Hood, that Antonio “Gauchito” Gil gains more and more followers each year.

Exhausted and sun-baked, the masses pack up their tents, gather their families and friends, and climb onto the buses and into cars to head home. Leaving their prayers behind they take with them one very important promise: to return.