Un juez federal absuelve al autor material del asesinato de #SamirFlores, pero confirma: el crimen fue por su activismo.
#samirflores #DefensoresAmbientales #Ambientalistas #Activistas #Protestas #Morelos #Sheinbaum #ClaudiaSheinbaum #EZLN #zapatistas #Mexico
Dialogues of San Andrés: For the First Time, Indigenous Peoples Were Placed at the Top of the National Agenda
Last February marked the 30th anniversary of the signing of the San Andrés Accords on Indigenous Rights and Culture between the Zapatista Army of National Liberation (EZLN) and various branches of the Mexican government—historic documents in which the government committed to recognizing the rights and culture of indigenous peoples in the Constitution and within the structure of the Mexican political system.
“There is no doubt that they are of significant importance,” says Carlos González, a lawyer specializing in agrarian law and a founding member of the National Indigenous Congress (CNI), “because they embody a historic process—the Zapatista uprising [1994]—and the process they managed to generate together with organizations, communities, and academics during the discussion and drafting of the agreements.”
The lawyer, who participated in the San Andrés Agreements Forum as part of the National and International Day of Justice for Samir and Self-Determination for the Peoples, highlights three elements he considers significant in the Agreements: the recognition of territorial rights; the recognition of communities as public-law entities with governmental functions; and the capacity to manage fiscal budgets within the framework of the Mexican state structure.
“The failure to comply with these agreements” is also significant, he argues. They were signed in 1996. Following that, a proposal—a legal draft—was drawn up to incorporate them into the Constitution, something that “did not happen” in subsequent constitutional amendments.
In the 2001 constitutional reform, he explains, neither the first set of rights—that is, territorial rights—nor the second set of political rights, which would allow the peoples to exercise autonomy, were recognized. “It was a true betrayal of the San Andrés Accords,” he summarizes. This betrayal led to “our peoples deepening the exercise of autonomy without seeking constitutional recognition or legal recognition from the Mexican state,” he says.
The administration of President Andrés Manuel López Obrador (2018–2024) promoted the 2024 constitutional reform, and according to its own propaganda and that of its allies, the San Andrés Accords are finally being incorporated into the Constitution. “The truth is that it didn’t do so thoroughly. This reform carries more weight for what it fails to recognize than for what it does recognize,” says attorney González.
While, on the one hand, it recognizes communities as public legal entities, on the other, it once again fails to recognize territorial rights. The concept of territory “as a legal concept with clear and precise content, as provided for in international law, conventions, and treaties, is left out of the wording of the constitutional reform. As long as the territorial rights of indigenous peoples are not recognized, it is very difficult to speak of the full exercise of autonomy.”
Furthermore, the lawyer emphasizes that the context in which the agreements were drafted was different from both the country’s current reality and its constitutional framework. “If we compare this country’s constitution before the agreements were signed with the one we have today, they are completely different.”
“After the agreements, a series of changes were made to the legal framework to adapt it to the ‘needs of dispossession and exploitation by large corporations,’” he notes. A whole cycle of neoliberal reforms ensued, beginning with the 1992 reform of Article 27 regarding land and water, and the 1994 Free Trade Agreement with the United States and Canada. “Reforms will continue with the Mining Law, amendments to the Water Law, the Biosafety Law, amendments to the Forestry Law, and a host of changes in the administrative sphere, to facilitate the dispossession and privatization of water and natural resources.”
“Given the current legal framework, the idea that—with the San Andrés Accords incorporated into the Constitution in a ‘half-hearted manner,’ as was done in 2024—our peoples will achieve full recognition of their autonomy and rights is, in our view, a pipe dream,” he argues.
The Important
Beyond the agreements that were signed, for Gilberto López y Rivas—who advised the Zapatistas at the time—the significance of this moment in Mexican history lay in the San Andrés dialogue process—which took place between November 1995 and February 1996, prior to the signing—and brought together at least 2,000 people. “It was a constituent congress from the perspective of grassroots Mexico and the indigenous peoples, where sectors of Mexican civil society had the opportunity to raise awareness, to learn, and to deepen their understanding of the collective rights of the peoples, particularly the collective right to territory and autonomy and to the defense of the codes and norms of life that these peoples uphold,” he says.
Furthermore, this process allowed for the participation of nearly 40 indigenous peoples who, a few months later, in October 1996, joined the CNI. “I believe that the most important aspect of the San Andrés process—in organizational and political terms—was not the San Andrés Accords themselves, but rather the formation of the National Indigenous Congress and, subsequently, the Indigenous Governing Council. In this sense, the formation of the CNI was one of the most significant outcomes.”
Before, During and After the Accords
Similarly, Carlos Beas, coordinator of the Union of Indigenous Communities of the Northern Isthmus (UCIZONI), who also advised the EZLN during this process, focuses his analysis on the San Andrés talks and, furthermore, on the Mexican context before and after the signing of the agreements.
According to Beas, indigenous peoples have always been present in Mexico’s major social struggles, but they were not recognized as indigenous peoples. Mexico’s democratization struggles in the 1950s and 1960s—the teachers’ and doctors’ union movement of that era, for example—“were led by indigenous leaders, who were recognized as union leaders but not as indigenous peoples.” Or then in the 1970s, “a major independent movement of struggle that would build an initiative for mobilization and land seizures—there were many indigenous organizations that did not call themselves indigenous organizations; they were peasants.”
According to him, it was in the 1980s, when changes began to take place. In Oaxaca, for example, a proposal for self-determination and autonomy emerged in the Sierra Norte. “It is important to focus on the agreements reached in the dialogues that took place within society itself. On this occasion, indigenous organizations were already openly raising the demand for indigenous rights.”
He points out that, in the first declaration from the Lacandon Jungle, in the ten points announced by the EZLN, “not a single one called for indigenous rights. It called for housing, health care, water, justice. But it did not speak of the specific rights of indigenous peoples.”
It will be in the discussions taking place within the framework of the San Andrés Accords “that the EZLN recognizes and takes up this demand; this is the importance of the agreements—more than the dialogue with the state, more than the state’s legal recognition—it was the dialogue between society and the indigenous peoples that placed indigenous rights as the first item on the national agenda,” he maintains.
He points out that “the idea that there was an atmosphere of complete harmony among the EZLN’s advisors is false. There were intense internal debates; it was a struggle to impose the vision of prioritizing the rights of indigenous peoples.”
The Ucizoni coordinator emphasizes that the San Andrés dialogues “gave rise to various reflections and processes.” After 1996, he notes, three major independent currents within the indigenous movement in Mexico began to emerge. On one hand, the indigenous current aligned with the PRD (which has since migrated to Morena). On the other hand, those we “call the ‘legalists’ (who ended up in López Obrador’s government), mainly comrades from Oaxaca who advocate for constitutional recognition.”
“And a third current, which remains alive to this day as an independent movement, is the one that has been advocating for the defense of our territories and the rights of our peoples—but from an autonomous perspective, free from any state oversight—because we know the state will never recognize the rights of our peoples, much less our rights to self-determination,” Beas asserts.
For him, we must “dispel the illusion of the State as a great benefactor” that will recognize the rights of our peoples. “We have paid dearly for this approach, diverting our focus toward legal recognition. The only thing that has come of it is that a bunch of bastards have taken over the Supreme Court of Justice and the INPI [National Institute of Indigenous Peoples]—it’s that simple. We believe the path forward is very clear. The path that the peoples’ struggle must follow is one independent of political parties and the state—a truly autonomous struggle.”
The Agreements
The Tzotzil municipality of San Andrés Larráinzar, located in the Los Altos region of Chiapas, Mexico—renamed San Andrés Sakamch’en de los Pobres by the Zapatista Army—served as the venue between 1995 and 1996 for a dialogue process involving the EZLN, the state, indigenous movements, and various sectors of Mexican society. Both government delegates and Zapatistas were accompanied by advisors and experts for each of the topics at the four negotiating tables: Indigenous Rights and Culture, Democracy and Justice, Welfare and Development, and Women’s Rights in Chiapas.
As a result of the first round table, Indigenous Rights and Culture, the San Andrés Accords were signed. Following the signing, progress was made at the second roundtable, Democracy and Justice, which continued until September 2, 1996, when the EZLN suspended negotiations, arguing that the government was not fulfilling its commitment to enact legislation. The last two rounds were scheduled to take place between late 1996 and early 1997; ultimately, they did not occur.
Original text by Renata Bessi published in Avispa Midia on March 11th, 2026.
Translated by Schools for Chiapas.
The Damned and the Ants (Love and Heartbreak According to a Zapatista Child)
(A note of clarification for those unfamiliar with certain terms: GAL stands for Local Autonomous Government, and GALes is the plural. CGAZ is like the coordinating body for the GALes, organized by geographical proximity. ACEGAZ is the assembly of the GAL coordinating bodies. The INTERZONA is where those in charge of all the Zapatista zones meet (the comandantas and comandantes, that is). The PERMANENTE is an assembly of comrades who are learning to govern. But don’t pay too much attention to these names because, as the COMMON is still being built, the structure keeps changing in form and name. End of explanatory note.)
Once upon a time, there was a boy. A Zapatista. Not very big, but not very small either. He is of Mayan descent and lives with his family in a community where there are Zapatistas and partisans—that is, what we now call “non-Zapatista brothers and sisters.”
This kid is a real handful. As soon as he learned to walk, he’d wander out of the house and off he’d go. When they went out to look for him, his parents always found him in trouble: he’d tried to catch a wasp, or he’d covered his whole body in mud—completely naked, but covered in mud—because he’d started playing with the little pigs. Another time they found him in the pasture, apparently talking to a cow that had just had a calf. “I was just asking her about her calf,” he said when they scolded him.
Well, since the boy was so mischievous, his dad and mom took turns watching him.
But you know how men are—they say they’re watching him, but they’re just on their phones, checking Facebook or WhatsApp and stuff like that.
Moms, we know, if they’re going to watch you, they’re really going to watch you. And it’s like they have eyes everywhere, even in the back of their heads, because any mischief you try to pull off in secret, they catch you right away.
Well, we also know that moms scold a lot. It’s not just that they say, “Don’t do that”—no, they start telling you a whole bunch of things that sound like they’re praying, and what’s worse is that they scold you in your native language, in Spanish, and sometimes even in English, French, Italian, German, and even Farsi.
This boy’s mom scolded him, saying, “You goddamn devil child, you’re going to hell for all the mischief you get into.”
And that’s how this boy’s day went: him getting into mischief, his dad playing dumb, and his mom scolding both of them.
Well, the day finally came when the boy had to go to the public school. So all the boys and girls are at school on the first day of class, and the education promoter arrives.
So the rumor goes that the education promoter was head over heels in love—in a way you wouldn’t believe—with a health promoter. But the problem was that she and he were from two different puyes, that is, from two different caracoles (“puy” means “caracol” in the Mayan language). She was in one puy, and he was in another puy that’s out in the middle of nowhere. She and he met at an anniversary party for the uprising. They didn’t say a word; they just danced together. And even though it was freezing cold, they didn’t feel the cold. He was even sweating, and she was blushing, blushing bright red with embarrassment. They didn’t say a word to each other, but the education promoter looked into it thoroughly.
You see how our comrades are—they have a secret system of investigation and communication—so this comrade first investigated the most important thing. That is, whether or not the guy has a wife.
Once she found out he didn’t have a wife, the compañera looked for a good excuse to see him.
And the idea came to him because the theater folks frompuyes get together every so often when SubMoy calls on them to put on a play.
And she figured out a way for the boy to join the theater group too, so they could see each other, and maybe talk, and maybe hold hands, and maybe hug, and maybe share a little kiss, and maybe… Oh my goodness!
Well, it was known that there would soon be an arts festival and that the theater folks would be called upon to prepare a play about community and nature. So, is the education promoter even paying attention in class? No, she’s completely distracted, thinking about something else; she can’t concentrate and is just sighing, wondering when she’ll get to see her beloved. But all the girls and boys are already here, and they’re already fighting over a chamoy candy that Verónica, Ceci, and Hermelinda Damiana brought (who are the new recruits of the Popcorn Command).
So, since the class monitor is distracted because she’s in love, when she goes to take attendance using the list the teacher gave her, she can’t find it. She looks for the list, but it’s not there.
And it’s a big problem, but the class monitor may be in love, she’s not stupid, and she says, “Okay, everyone is going to say their name so we all know each other’s names.”
So every girl and boy goes around saying their name, and when it’s the mischievous boy’s turn, he says, “My name is Condenado (Damned) and my last name is Chamaco del Demonio (Devil’s Child).” “That’s what my mom calls me all the time—‘Damned Devil’s Child’—so that’s my name.”
The promoter, as I said, was head over heels in love, so she didn’t care and wrote him down on the list: “Condenado Chamaco del Demonio. 4 years old, almost 5, from GAL such-and-such,” and all that stuff about cgaz, acegaz, interacegaz, permanente, interzona, and those weird names that are common among the Zapatistas.
When he checked the list, the teacher trainer didn’t notice because he was arguing with his wife, who was scolding him for supposedly flirting with their friend Ruperta.
And the teacher defended himself: “But how could you think that, woman? Ruperta is 80 years old.” “It doesn’t matter,” said the jealous wife, “she’s got 80 years of tricks—so many that not even a truck could carry them all—and she’s a husband-stealer.”
And there they were, fighting and fighting, and the teacher didn’t notice that on the list there was a boy named “Condenado” whose last name was “Chamaco del Demonio.”
And so that boy’s name remained on his school record. And that’s how his classmates knew him.
But the matter reached the meetings of the Word of God. And there they heard the tunel (pronounced with an acute accent, who is in charge of the sacraments) say that one must be careful with bad people, “they are the damned,” he said, “and one must not associate with the damned.”
And sure enough, the next day, no one went near the boy named “Condenado,” and they didn’t play with him or anything. So they left him alone.
But Condenado, the Devil’s Child, wasn’t sad; instead, he organized his own games and went into the woods to gather herbs, because his grandmother knew about medicinal plants and he used to accompany her.
He also went with his dad when he went to the milpa, and with his mom when she went to gather firewood, and there his dad and mom taught him which animals are dangerous and should be avoided, which are harmless and won’t hurt you, which look alike but are different, and what they’re called.
So the boy learned the names and habits of many animals, as well as the names of many plants and what they’re used for. And the boy made a notebook: on one page he wrote the names of all the animals he knew, and on another page the names of the plants.
Then one day the boy was looking through his notes and noticed that the ants weren’t there. So he went and asked his dad about the ants.
His father was arguing with his mother because the pozol was sour, it just wasn’t right, and the two of them were nagging each other, just as couples who love each other tend to do. The boy asked again if ants are good or bad. And the man, since he was still arguing, just told him, “Ants are ants.”
So the boy thought that meant no one knew whether ants were good or bad, and that’s why he had to study them.
And the boy began to study the ants: where they walk, where they live, what they do. And he learned that there are different kinds of ants. He observed and analyzed several anthills, and saw how organized the ants are—that is, they have divided up the work and roles: some go out to explore, some gather food and bring it back to the anthill, some care for the young, some defend the colony, and some just slack off, depending on the situation—that is, they’re lazy.
But the boy wasn’t satisfied and thought he needed to investigate further. So he came up with a mischievous plan: he went to see the Monarch and told him he had to find and show him videos of the ants. The Monarch looked at him—he was just a little kid—and asked who had told him to do that. The boy told his lie that it was an order from SubMoy.
The Monarch didn’t believe him and asked the boy his name. The little boy said his name: “Damned Devil’s Child,” and then the Monarch got scared that maybe he really was the devil’s, and, no matter what, he had to find the videos and show them to the boy.
That night, the Monarch couldn’t sleep because he was afraid of the devil. Because the Monarch gets scolded by SubMoisés, and he gets scolded by Captain Marcos. If the devil is going to scold him too, well, that’s just too much.
But that’s how the boy learned more about the ants, how they’re organized, and the roles and jobs they have.
-*-
Once, after a really intense rain—that is, after a storm—the boy went to check on an anthill near his hut. There were little streams of water around the entrance to the anthill.
And the ants coming out of the ant hill’s entrance seemed confused, wandering back and forth. Suddenly, one of them crawled into the hole, and other ants followed behind her, marching as if they were an army.
There is no one in command, but the soldier ants quickly organize themselves and grab each other’s legs, forming a bridge over one of the streams. Then the other ants follow, crossing the bridge and heading where they need to go to find food and explore.
Once the sun dries up the little streams, the soldier ants let go and return to the anthill, and then head out again to do their assigned work.
The boy is very impressed by what he saw and is left thinking about it.
-*-
On another day, while they are at school with the love-struck and distracted education promoter–the poor thing, sighing with love—the GALs from that town arrived and told her that at the GALs’ general assembly, the highest Zapatista authority, it had been decided to invite SubMoy to give a talk, and he would be in town that day, and SubMoy asked about the school and they showed him, and SubMoy said: “I’m going to give a talk to the girls and boys, so that from a young age they understand what is being done.”
And with that, SubMoy comes into the classroom, but the education promoter barely notices him and is just in a corner sighing and sighing for her distant love.
Then SubMoy realizes that the compañera hasn’t even seen him and greets the boys and girls. “Good morning,” he says to them, “my name is Subcomandante Insurgente Moisés and I’m going to give you a little talk.”
And, right away, SubMoy begins to explain what the común is, and the pyramids, and political work, and the sciences, and the arts, and military training to defend oneself, and all that.
And the children remain silent, as if they didn’t understand a thing, just as those from the Interzona remain silent, not wanting to participate because it quickly becomes clear that they didn’t understand a thing since they were distracted by their cell phones or picking their noses.
So, since everyone is quiet and even the town’s GALs are staring at their muddy boots—basically, they’re just standing there like ducks—SubMoy asks the boys and girls if they understood the explanation.
No one says a word; it’s completely silent. Even SubMoy thinks he’s at an Interzona meeting, and he’s about to leave when a boy raises his hand.
SubMoy stops at the door, turns back, and tells the boy to speak up.
The boy just says, “Ants.”
SubMoy raises an eyebrow, as if he doesn’t understand, and says, “Okay, go ahead and explain that about the ants.”
And the boy begins to describe what he saw in the anthill—how the ants were organized, how each one had its own job, how they support each other, teach each other, and even heal one another, and what happened after it rained, and how one group of ants was tasked with caring for, protecting, and supporting their ant community.
SubMoy listened carefully, turned to look at the committee members accompanying him, and gave them a look that seemed to say, “Aren’t you ashamed that a kid gets it, but you grown-ups can’t even explain it?” The committee members kept playing dumb, acting like they weren’t even there.
Then SubMoy congratulated the child and asked him his name. And the child replied, “Condenado Chamaco del Demonio,” but one of the GALs approached and told SubMoy that he is the grandson of an elderly couple, Zapatistas since before the uprising.
SubMoy asked the boy why he was called that, and the boy looked at the education promoter, who was still sighing, and said, “Because of love”; then the boy looked at the teacher trainer and added, “And because of love lost.”
SubMoy laughed heartily for a while, shot a dirty look at the promoter, shot a dirty look at the teacher trainer, and invited the boy to eat with him the raw tamale that the local women cooks had prepared.
“All single women,” said Captain Marcos, “because they don’t know how to make tamales, and that’s why they never even catch a cold, let alone find a partner.”
In reality, it was SubMoy’s trick to get the boy to eat the tamale first, and if it didn’t make him sick, then SubMoy would eat it too.
-*-
No one even said hello to the Captain. That’s what he gets for talking trash about the cooks.
But the Captain didn’t care, because he ate all the chamoy candy and marshmallow pops that were meant for the Popcorn Command.
And in the end, the Captain’s tummy still hurt from eating so much candy.
Tan-tan.
From the Mountains of the Mexican Southeast
The Captain
January-February 2026.
Originally published at Enlace Zapatista on March 18th, 2026.
Translation by Schools for Chiapas.
El abogado Carlos González suelta una verdad incómoda: "Pensar que con los Acuerdos en la Constitución, ya tenemos autonomía, es una ficción"
#Ezln #Mexico #Latinoamérica #Morena #ClaudiaSheimbaum #Zapatistas #Trenzatón2026 #Resistencia #PueblosIndigenas #PueblosOriginarios #AmericaLatina #Protesta #Sheinbaum
La estrategia es clara: desactivar la resistencia. Mientras el pueblo #Otomí lucha por recuperar sus pozos de #agua, el Estado responde con acusaciones penales contra ellos
#otomi #claudiasheinbaum #mexico_maravilloso #água #resistência #queretaro #cdmx #pueblosoriginarios #pueblosindigenas #zapatistas #ezln #latinoamérica #americalatina #otomi
Die Zapatisten haben am 30. Januar eine Solidaritätsbotschaft für das iranische Volk verfasst.
"... erleben einen Sturm. Er ist weder neu noch vorübergehend. Es ist der Sturm des Kapitalismus, des Imperialismus, des Patriarchats und der Staaten, die den Tod verwalten, während sie von Ordnung, Stabilität oder Sicherheit sprechen. In diesem Sturm streiten sich die da oben um Territorien, Ressourcen und Macht; die da unten setzen ihre Körper, ihr Leben, ihre Angst und ihre Hoffnung ein."
....
Schon zahlreiche Organisationen und Einzelpersonen haben diese Botschaft mitunterzeichnet.
Die ganze Botschaft findet sich hier:
https://www.ya-basta-netz.org/fuer-das-leben-und-die-wuerde-des-iranischen-volkes/
erleben einen Sturm. Er ist weder neu noch vorübergehend. Es ist der Sturm des Kapitalismus, des Imperialismus, des Patriarchats und der Staaten, die den Tod verwalten, während sie von Ordnung, Stabilität oder Sicherheit sprechen. In diesem Sturm streiten sich die da oben um Territorien, Ressourcen und Macht; die da unten setzen ihre Körper, ihr Leben, […]
Tell Them That We Must Resist, We Must Rebel, We Must Live. Letter from Subcomandante Insurgente Moisés to Luis de Tavira.
To: Maestro Luis de Tavira.
From: Subcomandante Insurgente Moisés.
Compañero Tavira:
I send you our greetings on behalf of Zapatista children, elders, women, men, and non-binary people.
From one theater director to another, I send you a warm embrace. We are happy that your health has improved a little and that you are now able to attend this tribute organized by your closest family and friends.
Here we continue in the struggle, in our resistance and rebellion which, as you well know, also walks through the arts and sciences. A few weeks ago, the art and culture coordinators and theater artists wrote you a letter, and you responded. That warmed our hearts because we understand that you see us as we see you: as a compañero in the struggle for life.
As we well know, the storm is growing stronger and deadlier in every corner of the world, and it is the disadvantaged who suffer the most.
But, as you have rightly said on several occasions, the arts are also a way of fighting for life. And those of us who fight, resist, and rebel also learn and teach through the arts and sciences.
The struggle for life in these difficult and hard times is fought with the head, the heart, and the guts. And all three have to do with each person’s history. Those of us who are of what we call native, indigenous blood are different. We are different in our heads, hearts, and guts from those who have another language, another way, another history. But we are made equal in the sciences, the arts, and the struggles. And even more so now that the struggle is for life, because the capitalist system is determined to destroy all of humanity.
We find life on earth. Others in science. Others in the arts. Others in their history.
Perhaps some think that each person should look out for their own life, but the current situation leaves no room for individual struggle. All of us are in mortal danger. Distinct, different, each according to their geography, their calendar, their way, we become equal in recognizing the criminal and in the struggle to defeat him.
Our effort, as Zapatistas that we are, is so that the day after the death of the inhuman beast of the system, we do not do the same, and that other monsters are not born from our roots. Other pyramids, we say, we the Zapatista communities.
What we want is another world where we can be ourselves. Not all the same as copies, not all with the same way of being, but each one what they are and want to be, without oppressing those who are different, without trying to make them like us, but respecting those who are not like us. A world without exploitation, without repression, without theft, without contempt.
We salute you, maestro. Tell those close to you that geography and circumstance do not matter, nor do age or health. Tell them that we must resist, we must rebel, we must live.
A hug from your compañerxs, the Zapatista peoples.
Subcomandante Insurgente Moisés.
Mexico, February 2026.
Original text published at Enlace Zapatista on March 13th, 2026.
Translation by Schools for Chiapas.
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