A culture of life, a culture of death
by Katharine Ainger
New Internationalist magazine, November 2001
It is the end of September and, as US war planes mass in dark
swarms over the planet, in Bolivia it is spring. Fat humming birds
thrust their heads deep into. the purple blossoms of the jacaranda
trees that line the streets of Cochabamba.
This is the city whose citizens rose up last year to reverse
the World Bank-imposed privatization of its water system. In the
hills surrounding the town, irrigation ditches built by the people
were sold off by the Government to a US multinational, the Bechtel
corporation - just one of many insults that instigated a popular
insurrection here in defence of water and life'. The radical history
of Cochabamba is written on its walls in the poetic graffiti and
murals dotted around town.
This place has become a symbol of resistance to globalization.
I am here for the third conference of Peoples' Global Action (PGA),
an international gathering of grassroots movements from North
and South that have been a catalyst for the increasingly vociferous
opposition to global capitalism. The PGA network is made up of
an unlikely constituency: Asian peasant unions a million strong;
European and Canadian anarchists; indigenous peoples - Mapuche,
Maori, Aymara and many others; landless movements from everywhere;
South African activists against privatization; Thai sweatshop
unionists; Chilean human-rights workers; and a mind-boggling array
of other assorted grassroots radicals of man: shapes, colours,
sizes and beliefs. They were pioneers of global grassroots resistance
to the World Trade Organization's free-trade agenda, and have
been involved in the growing anti-globalization protests from
Bangalore to Seattle to Genoa.
This motley gathering is the embodiment of 'globalization
from below'. In its multiplicity and chaos, in its opposition
to hierarchy, capitalism, patriarchy and nationalism, and in its
maddening contradictions, it challenges the basic premises of
fundamentalists of all stripes. It challenges both the market
fundamentalists and their pact with transnational finance, and
the religious fundamentalists who, threatened by the power that
pact has given to Western elites, respond with fascism and terror.
But these are dangerous times to be fighting the free-trade
agenda when one of its most potent symbols - the World Trade Center-
lies in ruins. Italian Prime Minister Berlusconi noted the 'strange
unanimity' between the movements resisting economic globalization
and Islamic terrorists, who were both 'enemies of Western civilization'.
In the British periodical New Statesman, Johann Hari went as far
as to draw parallels between the writer Naomi Klein and Osama
bin Laden. As George Bush has made clear: you are with him, or
with the terrorists. The Governor of Cochabamba District absorbs
these instructions rapidly and announces to the press that the
PGA conference is a meeting of 'international terrorists'.
Duly, on arrival in La Paz I am interrogated by an intelligence
official. With the correct visas but the wrong political beliefs,
dozens of us are threatened with deportation; many are trapped
for a week in a bus on the border with Peru. Meanwhile, US Drug
Enforcement officers take upon themselves the powers of local
immigration officials and haul foreigners off the buses into Cochabamba
to conduct on-the-spot identity checks.
Stanis, an unflappable Papua New Guinean, has had possibly
the most nightmarish journey to the conference. In a sense his
journey began when he started using the internet connection of
a friend who lived two hours' walk from his village. In this way
he discovered, to his delight and astonishment, how many others
around the world there are who, like him, oppose the policies
of the World Bank. To come to this conference he made the long
trek to his capital, Port Moresby, then took a plane to Sydney.
Flight disruption after the attacks in the US delayed him there
for three days. Despite the fact that he was in transit, in Los
Angeles he was held in a hotel under armed guard for two nights
- then sent on to La Paz. Here he was detained for two more days,
sitting in a small office in the customs lounge with no bed, no
food and $10 in his pocket. He demanded to be imprisoned, in the
hope of having a bed to sleep on. Occasionally officials brought
him hamburgers, which he refused, lining them up along the shelf
'I've been eating junk for eight days. I did not come to Bolivia
to sit here,' he told them calmly. Finally he was released when
they realized they didn't have a flight to send him home on.
The conference is held in a local school while small children
play around the 'terrorists'. The meetings and workshops concentrate
on exchanging realities, developing strategy, and reshaping the
PGA manifesto - workshops on Plan Colombia, campaigns over community
control of water, land, a global call to action for the upcoming
World Trade Organization meeting, and so on. But the developments
of 11 September loom large over the proceedings.
Oscar Olivera, a key figure in the Coordlnadora del Agua y
de la Vida (Coordination for Water and Life) that won the water
war in Cochabamba, sends condolences to the US victims of the
attacks. But he also says: 'Terrorism is bringing the police and
the soldiers on to the streets to repress the hunger and legitimate
protest of the people 1 who suffer the policies of neoliberalism.'
Agnes, who has worked with Southeast Asian women sweatshop workers,
makes clear the 'difference between this kind of terrorism and
our political dissent'.
A trade unionist from Cochabamba comes fresh from a local
meeting to discuss the implications of the terror attacks: 'As
campesinos, we do not congratulate anybody for having carried
out the attacks. It hurts all of us. But the crimes of the US
in other countries have generated a lot of enemies. The US have
advisers at a military base several hours from here in Chapare,
which is used as a US surveillance base for the whole of South
America.' He shakes his head in sorrow. 'And now a lot ~ more
innocent people are going to {, have to die because the US needs
(to believe it is invincible.' )
For the US, the war has come home, but for the people at this
conference - for the indigenous Kuna living along the border between
Colombia and Panama for the cocaleros (coca growers) of Bolivia,
for the Brazilian Landless Movement (MST) - this was always a
war. The 'war on terrorism' is as vague as the 'war on drugs',
a finesounding crusade that provides a rationale for US intervention
in Latin America. We hear, via the Argentinian newspaper La Prensa,
that at a military base in northeast Argentina there are 250 US
instructors training 750 locals not just for the 'war on drugs'
but also to target 'anti-globalization activists' like MST.
Naka, an Afro-Colombian whose in ancestors fled slavery to
form free D. communities in the forests of Colombia, explains
how his people are among the most invisible casualties of the
US militarization of Colombia. 'They call it "development"
when one person is a horse and the other is the horse rider with
a whip,' he says. 'They have sent US-funded paramilitaries against
our communities in order to access the biodiversity and the oil.
Two million people have had to leave the country because of Plan
Colombia.'
South African poet Dennis Brutus is a veteran anti-apartheid
campaigner who was imprisoned on Robben Island at the same time
as Mandela. He points out: 'Nelson Mandela was on a CIA list as
a terrorist and the ANC was a "terrorist organization".'
These days Brutus concentrates on fighting economic globalization,
and he argues that the attacks on the US are 'going to make our
work very much harder'. He speaks from long years of experience,
though, when he says: 'But the struggle will continue. That is
in human nature. One does not submit to oppression. You resist
when necessary. In life, but if not in life then in death. People
will die to be free. And I think this is what we will see in our
time.'
Jim Schultz is an activist and writer based in Cochabamba
and the man who broke the story of the city's water wars over
the internet in April 2000. He says that a movement's long-term
survival relies less on its initial success, than on how it responds
to repression. It keeps building and building until it reaches
a critical mass, at which point the powers-that-be realize the
real threat it poses and crack down hard. We could see this happening
to the anti-globalization movement even before the terror attacks.
We could even see it happening before the Italian carabinieri
shot one protester dead and ~ broke the bodies of 280 sleeping
activists during the G8 meeting in Genoa last July.
A Swiss activist recalls that when the PGA convened in Prague
their meeting was broken up. He said that even before Genoa, 'the
custom of European democracy was hardening in the face of real
political dissent. And after New York, everything has been changed.'
The real test of this movement's success will lie in how it responds
to repression and builds public support.
Meanwhile, like Nero fiddling as Rome burns, the masters of
the universe continue to equate freedom with free trade, democracy
with plutocracy and outright imperialism. Their only solution
to this crisis seems to be 'more of the same'. US Trade Representative
Robert Zoellick, gunning for a new trade round at the WTO, writes:
'On 11 September, America, its open society and its ideas came
under attack by a malevolence that craves our panic, retreat and
abdication of global leadership... This President and this administration
will fight for open markets. We will not be intimidated by those
who have taken to the streets to blame trade - and America - for
the world's ills.'
In conflating this movement and the terrorists, Zoellick leads
us deeper into a world of madness, dispossession, and desperation.
But, though it faces heavy repression, this movement is not
going away. In fact, with its call for global justice, it has
never been more necessary. As US-based academic George Caffentzis
writes, 'We in the anti-globalization movement must not be caught
between the huge bombs of Bush and the smaller bombs of Islamic
fundamentalists... for the moment, our movement is the only one
capable of leading an escape from the hellish dialectic of homicide
and suicide launched by the forces of global capital and the perpetrators
of the 11 September massacre.'
Resistance is growing all across this movement's grassroots
base in the South. The dispossessed around the world are getting
more and more desperate. These people are not going to give up
their fight: they have little left to lose. Hundreds of thousands
of Indian farmers are planning, for example, to reclaim their
government's grain supplies and distribute them among the poor,
as a protest against the WTO's upcoming attempt to launch a new
round of trade liberalization.
The powers-that-be can either try to brutalize or kill off
all the myriad constituencies of this resistance movement, or
they can address the root causes of the coming unrest. The alternative
is a world come apart at the seams, a world of their own making.
An Aymara man says: 'This is a fight between two cultures.
One is a culture of life. One is a culture of death. In the West
they seem to have lost the value of this culture of life, which
has not been totally lost in Latin America.'
One evening the Bolivian volunteers of the youth group, Tinku,
put on a cultural show. They gather in the centre of the room.
With pipes and drums they play a choppy, driving indigenous rhythm
- one that was banned for years as subversive.
Farmers from Bangladesh; Afro-Colombians; Spanish anarchists;
Bolivian village kids: all the conference participants hold hands
in concentric circles around the musicians, moving in different
directions around them. This turns to hysterical chaos as gleeful
dancers lead their circle under the arms of the outer circle and
back again, until everyone is dancing and laughing in a giant,
confused tangle.
In this moment, no power on earth seems as strong, as heady
as the potential of this combined, diverse humanity. I sit down
for a rest, still laughing, and the man next to me tells me that
one of the Colombians' companeras has been killed by paramilitaries
that morning.
Like the Aymara man said. A culture of life, a culture of
death. At war.
Katharine Ainger is a co-editor of the Nl kat@newint.org
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