“[The State] will promote the recognition within Mexican statute law of the authorities, regulations and procedures related to internal conflict resolution of the indigenous peoples and communities, so that the law shall be applied on the basis of their internal regulatory systems, and, through simple procedures, their proceedings and decisions shall be recognized by the jurisdictional authorities of the State.”

(Excerpt from “Commitments of the Federal Government with the Indigenous Peoples,” part of the San Andres Accords signed in February 1996 with the Zapatista Army of National Liberation/ EZLN)

Much has been written about Chiapas since the armed uprising of January 1994. Little, however, is known about the daily life of the indigenous communities, of their methods for confronting the “problems” (the word they use for conflicts, retaining it in Spanish when speaking in their own languages). The question is not even addressed in the media or in much of what has been written on the issue. It is taken as a given that solutions to conflicts that arise across the region must necessarily come from “outside.” If one observes more closely, however, one comes to understand that there may be much to learn from those whom some consider to be ignorant.

Authorities at the Service of the People

Political and religious hierarchies play a key role in managing conflicts in the indigenous communities of Chiapas. Antonio Pauli, a sociologist who has worked in Chiapas for many years, points out that, in Tzeltal (one of the main indigenous languages in the state), the word ‘authority‘ means ‘he who has a task.’ The meaning, therefore, is different from the practice of western society. The indigenous understand authority as a service to the community. No one is even paid to do it, rather they have to “pay” with their work.

Pauli adds: “More than anyone else, the authorities should be working in the smallest jobs in such a way that they make ‘their hearts small.’ The one who ‘thinks much of himself,’ the one who shows off, does not have truth in his heart. This is a principle, a basic value for the indigenous: humility.”

Although it is not present in all the communities, another factor that could be surprising for outsiders is that, in the filling of ‘positions,’ the most competent, or those noted for their capacity for leadership, are not necessarily going to be the ones chosen. It is often more likely to be people on the fringes who appear to distance themselves from traditional customs. Assuming the role of a community authority is seen as a good way of learning and socialization in order for these persons to become ‘bats’il winik’ (‘true men’, a concept that exists in the main indigenous languages of Chiapas).

The authorities do not have as much time for working in their fields (the lands where they cultivate maize and beans), and some of them must take care of the expenses for the community’s fiestas. In order to carry out the responsibilities of their positions, it therefore becomes necessary for their families to be economically supportive, which strengthens relationships. Family unity is essential in order to avoid conflicts or to confront them when they do occur.

The community dimension is omnipresent. In Tzeltal, the very idea of ‘sin‘ means to ‘break a social compact.’ For example, it is not a sin to use alcohol, but it is a sin to create a problem in the community by going around drunk.

Dialogue is favored, and the majority of decisions are reached by consensus. What is important is that everyone speaks and says their piece, what they think. This can be surprising for the ‘kaxlan‘ (non-indigenous person) who attends a community assembly for the first time: each indigenous person could be speaking for twelve to fifteen minutes, and even more than one person at the same time. The person who is quiet is so because he is not in agreement, and he must be pressured to express his disagreement, although never directly. This tendency is also seen in the workshops we give as SIPAZ, or in those in which we participate in the communities, when several persons begin repeating more or less the same thing. The point for them is to assure each other that the idea is shared by everyone.

Mediation and Conflict Resolution

A human rights promoter in the Agua Azul region explained to Pauli the process of serving as mediator: “When everyone is sitting down, I ask them not to speak in that tone of voice [shouting] any longer. They almost always begin to become more reasonable. You can gauge the anger a bit by the tone of voice, by the decibel level.”

A leader of one of the main social organizations in the Cañadas region says: “As soon as we have a fight, what do we do?…We have to look at the causes. If the problem is very serious, and if it continues to get worse, we have to find someone else, another compañero who knows how to lower the tone of the dispute.”

In Tzeltal, the word for ‘mediator’ means ‘to be in the middle.’ The testimony of the same leader makes us aware of a profound experience and reflection on the issue of ‘impartiality’: “You have to see the great person, the good man, the good being in both parties. If your heart hurts, you cannot be the mediator….If you hurt as part of the community, it is one thing. But if your heart aches for one of them, no. That is why you cannot seek the father or the brother. The mediator always has to be from a family different from the two parties. That is why you need many authorities from which to choose the most suitable person. Or, rather, there is not an ‘official’ mediator. You have to look for the right mediator from among all the authorities.”

The conclusion of his statement emphasizes some values that are basic for mediation: “It is very important to tolerate, tolerate, tolerate. Because they are going to want to attack you, they are going to want to get you on their side, they are going to want to win you over so that you are with one or the other.”

The “Return of the Heart”: The Incorporation of Changes and Reconciliation

In a workshop by the Peace Education Collective (CEPAZ) near Altamirano, the participants defined reconciliation in these terms: “To reach agreement on a problem in order to resolve it,” “to live in peace, not causing problems,” “to ask forgiveness, pardon of the one you’re having a fight with before going to the community.”

The idea of forgiveness requires more explanation, since their understanding is different from western understanding. In Tzeltal, they speak of the “return of the heart.” The aggressor asks his victim to “return his heart,” which reveals a profound concept of reconciliation as the rebuilding of relationships. It should be noted that this action is undertaken in a community context.

Forgiveness, however, is not forgetting. One example of this is the case of Las Abejas (the 45 victims of the Acteal massacre of December 1997 belonged to this group). Following the massacre, they publicly forgave the murderers, but that did not prevent them from seeking justice.

Indigenous Justice: Reparation More than Punishment

One characteristic of indigenous resistance has been its ability to fluctuate between custom and modernity, exclusion and integration. On the other hand, regarding justice, the western legal system is conceived in a fairly rigid manner. The procedures seek to establish whether or not the accused is guilty and the possible sentences, which are already written down in the penal code. For the indigenous, however, the key to justice is reaching agreement. Generally speaking, the “enforcement of the law” is not above the will or the desires of the people. A satisfactory solution must prevent future conflicts. In effect, if one of the persons involved is not satisfied with the agreement, it is likely that there will be reprisals and an endless spiral of revenge, instead of reconciliation.

At a workshop in Chilon facilitated by CEDIAC (Center for Indigenous Rights; see “An Outbreak of Hope,” elsewhere in this issue), the group of traditional judges performed a socio-drama concerning a fairly common problem in the communities: a fight between a drunk and the brother of a girl the drunk had tried to seduce. They noted: “Public Ministry [the constitutional legal authority] did not look for the root of the problems. In the socio-drama, the problem is not because of the woman, but rather because of the person who sold the alcohol in the first place. Public Ministry did not ask who started the problem, and they saw nothing other than its consequences. That is not how a good agreement is reached.”

As for the idea of punishment, there is, similarly, not an individual perspective, but rather a more global and comprehensive one. In the same workshop on reconciliation, an indigenous human rights promoter in the municipality of Altamirano commented on the Mexican legal system: “It is not good justice. When someone is killed, the government takes the person to jail. The rights of the family are not recognized. But everyone is suffering: the one who was killed, the one who killed, the families of both. Measures must be taken for the families, agreements must be sought, so that the community is not disrupted.” Another promoter in another region added: “Seeking justice is looking for the way for us to remain as brothers and to stop thinking of ourselves as enemies.”

More than punishment, it is important to ‘make amends’ for the damage done. To return to the example of a murder, the idea of reparation would mean that the murderer should take responsibility for the subsistence of the victim’s family. It should be noted that, at the present time, the federal penal system prevails in those cases.

Breakup of Unity, Crisis of Authority

In spite of their richness, traditional methods of indigenous conflict resolution do not appear to be sufficient for responding to the current social order in Chiapas. In circumstances of widespread violence, it becomes difficult to find paths of reconciliation. Also, secondary conflicts, even those that appear minor, are worsened because of the polarization generated by the “macro” conflict between the EZLN and the federal government. Divisions, a high level of tension among the different groups (whatever their nature, whether political or religious), violent incidents, deterioration of the social fabric: this is the reality in Chiapas since 1994.

The heartrending statement by a 60-year-old displaced person from Las Abejas, who lives in a refugee camp close to Chenalho, vividly illustrates the situation we are trying to communicate here: “My son is one of them, of the paramilitaries. He is 28. I don’t know what is in his heart. He came twice to kill us. He said to me: ‘Papa, we are with the PRI (ruling party). We don’t want the Zapatistas or the civiles [a term used to refer to Las Abejas, a civil society organization]. They only come to cause problems.’ And I said to him: ‘But son, the civiles don’t do anything. They don’t steal or cause problems.’ But he didn’t want to listen. One night he came and said to me: “Papa, I burned my hand, my hand is hot. But I still have to kill. I want to kill more.’ Yes, he participated in the Acteal massacre. They didn’t take him prisoner. I don’t know where he is. He’s out there, he’s free. So it is. I don’t know what is in his heart. I don’t know.”

In this context of extreme divisions, traditional methods are seen to be insufficient, given that everyone does not recognize the same authorities in order to present their grievances. These authorities lose strength when they belong to, or are identified with, one or another political group. They do not have the same power to call the parties together, even though a meeting is the first step in any process of conflict resolution.

For example, in areas where the Zapatistas have established autonomous counties, there are two parallel systems of justice: the state system – seen as under the control of the ruling PRI – and the one chosen by the autonomy authorities – identified as Zapatista. The official system is generally more costly, sometimes corrupt, and difficult for the indigenous to understand. Facing this system, the indigenous are seen to be more defenseless, because of their poor command of Spanish and their lack of knowledge of their rights. Many are fearful in the face of a system that is perceived to be, and has been, arbitrary and not very efficient. Nonetheless, and although there are exceptions, political affiliations and/or ideological distrust make it quite unlikely that an indigenous PRI supporter would turn to the corresponding official of an autonomous county.

In other areas, the difficulty of integrating differences has led communities to become more closed, defending their customs even to the point of violence, and also to develop caciquismos (the concentration of political authority in the hands of an individual or small group), with their attendant corruption and arrogance.

Meanwhile, many of the measures implemented by the state government, or from the federal level, on indigenous rights and culture are unilateral, not taking into account the opinions and concerns of the indigenous themselves with regard to what they would see as real solutions to their problems. The effective implementation of the San Andres Accords – fruits of the negotiations between the EZLN and the federal government in 1996 – would allow the indigenous peoples’ own forms of conflict resolution to be taken more into account, even though in and of themselves, they are not sufficient to respond to the current problems either.

Certainly, when greater homogeneity and unity existed in the communities, it was easier to reach consensus. But it is important that that system not be idealized, since it often meant the exclusion of any “dissident” voice and the expulsion of many. This is why we believe it is important to highlight and to save the best of both worlds, learning to develop a deep tolerance of difference.

An Outbreak of Hope – Reconciliation in Practice

At the end of May 1999, SIPAZ was invited to participate in the celebration of the first anniversary of the return of a group of displaced persons in a community in the highlands of Chiapas. This return took place following a long process of negotiation and mediation, carried out in great part with the help of the Center for Indigenous Rights, CEDIAC.

History of the Conflict

In 1997, the community accepted a government project for the construction of a road leading from the main highway. EZLN sympathizer families were opposed to this decision, because they feared that the road would facilitate the entrance of the Army. These families decided not to participate in the communal work on the project, and this was perceived as being a violation of a community agreement. Because of this, some PRI-affiliated persons decided to take drastic measures, burning the houses of some families from the other group. In response, various EZLN sympathizer families, including their leader, had to flee the community and take refuge in the mountains. The aggressors sold some animals and belongings of the families who had fled, in order to buy weapons.

A few months later, some of the displaced Zapatista sympathizers returned in order to take revenge, murdering four PRI persons and wounding others. Following this tragedy, the other Zapatista sympathizer families fled the community out of fear of reprisals.

Reconciliation Initiative

The departure of these families left the community dispirited. The leader of the community took the initiative of asking the diocese for help. That was when the Jesuit Mission and CEDIAC entered into a process of reconciliation, with the help of a traditional Tzeltal judge (Melsanwanej) and his wife. They also invited elders and their wives from other communities to accompany the reconciliation process.

One of the roles of the Melsanwanej and the elders is “to strengthen the heart” of each person (the women’s as well as the men’s), giving words of encouragement. Unlike judges in western society, Tzeltal judges seek to secure an agreement between the parties involved, instead of only punishing the guilty.

In order to achieve this, the first work of the Tzeltal judge and his wife was to speak separately with the two parties. The displaced informed them that those responsible for the murders had fled. These families also said that they were thinking of establishing a new community. However, upon speaking with the Melsanwanej and his wife, they realized this would not be very feasible, since they had neither land nor money. On the other hand, what the PRI supporters from the community wanted was the punishment of those guilty of the murders. The Melsanwanej told them their demands were valid, but they would have to deal with them through the legal system (in order to carry out the investigation, issue arrest warrants, etc.). They also made them see that they were part of the problem as well, through the burning of houses and the stealing of animals.

A Solution

At first there was much resentment against the displaced over the death of the four PRI supporters. Many talks were necessary in order to reduce tensions and in order for everyone to accept their responsibility. In the end, everyone was in agreement that the return of the displaced was the best solution. It was agreed that the community would help in the rebuilding of the homes of the displaced and pay for the roofing and that the lumber would be taken from the ejido (community lands). Those responsible for the murders still have not been found, and the case remains open at the Public Ministry office.

The return took place a little more than a year ago. During the first months following the return, CEDIAC monitored the situation. At the present time, the indigenous of the community continue the reconciliation process. Sadness is still present among some persons, and the tension can be felt, since it is a process that requires time. In this case, however, the two parties involved continue to be willing to actively try to find a solution that will be shared and respected by both sides and that will create the space that will enable them to live together in mutual respect.

On the Office of Melsanwanej…

The work carried out by the Melsanwanej (Tzeltal Judge or ‘Arranger‘) gathers together the ancestral experiences and the practices of Mayan forebears in seeking justice. It was in 1995 that the office of Melsanwanej began to be formalized. It began with an initiative from the communities, with the help of CEDIAC, the Jesuit Mission and the county president of Chilon at the time (a member of the PRD). Since then, men and women from the Tzeltal communities began being formally trained to assume the office of Tzeltal Judges. The work of the Melsanwanej takes in hundreds of communities, in some five counties in Chiapas. The Melsanwanej are chosen to serve their communities, working jointly with the Principals in order to seek just solutions to the problems that occur in the communities, exploring the possible paths for re-establishing lost harmony. The Principals are moral authorities, chosen by the community, who safeguard the tradition inherited from their ancestors. When they make their judgement, the Melsanwanej receive the ceremonial staff and kneel on a mat. The mat signifies that the authority is taking charge, in order to keep the leaves that make up the mat interwoven, that is, in order to maintain unity and harmony with justice and truth within the community. The Melsanwanej are also helped in their work by the Coltaywanej, that is, by human rights promoters who support and educate concerning individual and collective rights in their communities and who denounce violations of those rights.