Federal authorities have rejected suggestions that 42 presumed drug cartel affiliates who died in a police operation at a ranch near Tanhuato, Michoacan were victims of a massacre.
The government says that a group of armed criminals, the majority of whom were from Jalisco, fired on a security convoy at dawn on Friday, 22 May.
“A pursuit began that led to the ranch,” National Security Commissioner Monte Alejandro Rubido said. “The rest of the criminals inside the ranch started to attack the federal forces with intensity.” A lone federal police officer died in the operation.
The lopsided death toll and photos of the aftermath have led social media users to question whether the presumed criminals were in fact massacred after surrendering.
In one photo, a dead man lies in the grass with a badly broken arm and missing front teeth. In another, a man lies face down wearing no shoes and only his underwear, as if he had been dragged from his bed.
Some photos suggest the scene may have been manipulated. One of the presumed criminals is next to an automatic rifle but is not wearing the shoulder strap. Another is empty-handed but is next to a magazine belt in a second photo.
According to Animal Politico, witnesses said that most shots were fired from a federal police helicopter.
Enrique Galindo, head of Mexico’s federal police rejected suggestions of a massacre. “There was not one single execution, I can say that categorically.”
Rubido, meanwhile, said that all of the dead had fired shots.
“Of the 42 presumed criminals that died, every one tested positive for sodium nitrate,” Rubido said, suggesting that gunshot residue incriminated the dead.
Yet security analyst Alejandro Hope identified two problems with the government’s version of events.
“First, the photos that appear to show some bodies were moved. Second, they recovered fewer weapons than there were victims,” Hope said. “It’s very strange.”
Authorities say the presumed criminals were members of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel, the organization responsible for downing a military helicopter and organizing a wave of coordinated road blockades on May 1. Officials have yet to release the names of the 42 dead, although most were reportedly from Jalisco, with at least 28 originating from Ocotlan, a town of 90,000 inhabitants on the north shore of Lake Chapala.
On Monday, May 25, funerals for the deceased were held throughout the town. Ocotlan has made headlines for drug violence twice in the past few months. On March 19, five members of Mexico’s new militarized police, or gendarmerie, were killed and eight wounded when they were ambushed by members of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel.
Shortly after the news broke of shooting in Tanhuato, the National Human Rights Commission sent a team to investigate the scene. Concerns of a possible massacre stem partly from the recent history of extrajudicial killings carried out by state forces. In the past year, Mexico has seen at least three cases of unarmed people being murdered by security forces: the army massacre in Tlatlaya, Mexico State, the Ayotzinapa student killings in Iguala, Guerrero, and the execution of civilians in Apatzingan, Michoacan.
Mexican folklore, mythology and local gossip are full of cryptids: animals or plants whose existence has been suggested but has not been scientifically proven. Many of them have their origins in Aztec legend, still more were created when the Spanish arrived and some appeared in more recent times.
The Goat Sucker
The Chupacabra, literally “goat-sucker,” has been spotted across the Americas, with frequent and numerous reported sightings in Mexico. While physical descriptions of the creature vary, it is purportedly a large, hairless animal that stands upright like a kangaroo and has a row of spines running down its back.
Stories of a reptilian Chupacabra originated in Puerto Rico in 1975 after slaughtered goats and sheep were discovered bled dry, with mysterious teeth marks on their necks.
By the time the creature arrived in Mexico it had undergone something of a transformation. Now more commonly identified as wolf-like, skeptics have suggested that sightings of coyotes or stray dogs keep the legend alive.
A Texas man unintentionally backed this claim when he killed a Chupacabra in 2004. The creature, which had been preying on his livestock, was later identified as a coyote suffering from severe mange.
Forest sprites
In Aztec folklore, Chaneques are tiny, forest-dwelling fairies that guard nature and frighten away intruders. In the Nahuatl language their name means the “ones that inhabit dangerous places.” Chaneques are responsible for punishing people who show insufficient respect for the wildlife of the forest. The sprites are capable of causing such terror that people lose their tonalli, (the spirit associated with the day of their birth, roughly equivalent to a soul). Following the theft of their tonalli, victims are required to undergo a magical ritual to avoid certain death. Stories about Chaneques are particularly prevalent in Southern Mexico. While potentially very dangerous, the creatures have a more positive aspect, representing the attitudes of indigenous communities, who use stories of the little creatures to safeguard natural resources and protect the environment.
The Mermaid Goddess
The Teo Mixtli Xicualli is a beautiful mermaid who swims in Lake Chapala and is worshipped by nearby indigenous communities.
Every year in November, a ritual ceremony is held in San Juan Cosala. Worshippers of the goddess put gold and a drop of blood in a miniature clay pot which is cast into the lake to draw positive energy, personal favors or miracles.
Devotees appealed to the female goddess of the lake well before the Spanish arrived in the region. Yet the mermaid is a European concept which was grafted onto the local legend after the conquest. While in European tradition the sea creature was reviled as a vain temptress, lakeside indigenous communities revised the concept and the mermaid became a goddess, miracle worker and provider of sustenance.
Shape-shifters
A nagual is a sorcerer who can transform themselves into an animal, most commonly a dog, jaguar or puma. This ability can be used for good or evil depending on who exercises it. The individual normally takes on an animal form for the night in order to disguise themselves or perform a feat impossible to humans. A person’s birth date often determines whether they are born with this power.
In indigenous communities, those who purport to be naguales often occupy a position of respect and double as curers and seers. Yet in rural mestizo Mexico, naguales are often feared as blood-sucking predators and accusations of nagualism have sparked violence.
Debate rages as to whether nagualism is a pre-Hispanic belief or a European import. While indigenous myths refer to the concept, these were collected by Spanish priests long after the conquest, and some experts argue that it comes from the medieval belief in werewolves.
Hand tailed monster
The ahuizotl, or spiny aquatic creature, is a legendary beast in Aztec myth. The creature is believed to resemble a dog, with fur that forms into spikes. On the end of its tail is a monkey or human-like hand which it uses to drag its prey into the water. The creature lives in the watery depths of caves and attracts its prey by wailing like an abandoned baby. Concerned humans follow the cry, fall into the hands of the ahuizotl and are dragged down into the water. When the body is retrieved it appears as before, except the ahuizotl has removed the eyes, teeth and nails.
“I came here to find healing for my arthritis,” said Valeria, sitting on the pew of the Universal Church of the Kingdom of God, known as Pare de sufrir, or stop suffering. “I was raised Catholic, but I came to know God in a different way here.”
The pastor, a Mexican national who had never lived abroad, addressed the congregation in a distinctive Brazilian accent. He promised healing to the faithful, and told them God wanted them wealthy. After the service, a line was formed. Members of the congregation filed to the front to have bottles of water blessed and made holy. Some brought photos of their family, rubbing them in the “Dead Sea salt” heaped across the floor.
Outside the church, a poster advertised the Monday service. “A prayer for prosperity,” was the theme, printed in bold alongside pictures of a sports car, a stack of money, and a flash apartment.
Pare de sufrir is one of a new breed of evangelical churches preaching prosperity gospel, a theology that says that success and health are a mark of divine favor. According to these beliefs, the promises of the gospel are for the here and now.
The church originates from Brazil, but its central theology has diverse influences. It is a message espoused in the mega churches of the United States, by polished preachers like Joel Osteen and Creflo Dollar.
It is also deeply rooted in homegrown Mexican movements, such as The Christian Friendship Church.
“When I received the Holy Spirit, I was instantly empowered,” said Javier Gomez Rubio, Director of The Christian Friendship Church. “Did you know that God gives us the power to make money?”
To many, this is an appealing and comforting message. Yet it is also a controversial one.
Church leaders are often criticized for abusing the faith of their followers by enriching themselves through the donations of their (often marginalized and impoverished) parishioners. Central to their message is the “Law of Compensation,” which teaches that when Christians give generously, God returns the favor.
“There is no place in Holy Scriptures that guarantees wealth or health,” said Reverend Kenton M. Wood, an evangelical pastor working in Zapopan. “There is nothing wrong with being wealthy or healthy, but it’s not guaranteed. Usually those who preach this false gospel gain wealth by manipulating their congregations into giving in order to be blessed by God.”
Certainly, some aspects of the Pare de sufrir movement smack of fraud. The “Dead Sea salt” has been found to be indistinguishable from table salt. The miracles performed during services have likewise been questioned by skeptics. Most significantly, the church’s Brazilian founder, Edir Macedo, has been accused of siphoning off billions of dollars in donations.
Edir Macedo
Gabriel Guzman is a former pastor at Pare de sufrir who now campaigns against the “commercialization of faith.” He objects to his old church’s theology because it involves the Christian using God as a mere tool to obtain blessings.
“In this configuration, the church is no longer a place of community and worship, but a place of simple solution.”
He has further revelations about the movement’s structure. “The church sets monthly goals for donations. If the pastors achieve them, they are given different rewards in addition to their salary. Sometimes they are sent to a larger church, which increases their own revenue, sometimes they are given a better car or are sent on expensive trips. If they fail to achieve their goals, they are embarrassed in front of the other pastors or are sent to a smaller church. In short, it is a company camouflaged as a church.”
Pare de sufrir refused to the respond to these claims. What is certain is that the church is part of a broader movement teaching that material reality, our health and wealth, can be used to measure immaterial faith. It is by definition, a materialistic theology.
Gordon Gekko, the central character of “Wall Street” famously claimed that “greed is good.” Yet with its corruption and drug war, Mexico is not a place that proves it. So what effect could the rising influence of this theology have on a society already weighed down by the effects of materialism and inequality?
“The theology scorns poverty and promotes a love of money,” said Dr. Renee de la Torre, a local academic who specializes in religion.
“While many religions, including Catholicism, teach that material poverty aids spiritual wealth, these congregations promote the idea of earthly success. Of course, eternal salvation remains a goal but they want to achieve it without sacrificing the satisfactions of this material world.”
Yet isn’t this desire for the good life entirely natural? Doesn’t the church promote hope and ambition? Doesn’t it offer a practical message of hard work, as well abstinence from drugs and alcohol, two factors that further entrench the poor in cycles of deprivation?
Pastor Sergio Soto
Pastor Sergio Soto certainly believes so. A prosperity preacher who came to Guadalajara from Sinaloa as part of an evangelical organization that splintered due to theological differences, he was forced to “go it alone” and establish his own church, Faith and Power. He preaches on weekends in Guadalajara, but works as a chartered accountant during the week.
For him, there is no contradiction between wealth and Christianity. “Jesus was not poor. The kings of the earth brought him gifts of gold, incense and myrrh when he was a baby. He had a treasurer. He owned a boat. He could multiply food.”
Yet Pastor Soto is no fan of Pare de sufrir, “Many have manipulated this gospel for their own purposes. God knows our hearts and it is about the heart of the giver. It is a message of love. Miracles and health cannot be bought.”
An investigative journalist has reported that security forces executed at least 16 unarmed civilians during a confrontation in the western state of Michoacan in January.
The report, which was presented by Mexican journalist Laura Castellanos, puts into doubt the government’s claim that members of the civilian vigilante group died after firing on the federal police in the city of Apatzingan. Three major media outlets, Univision, Proceso and Aristegui Noticias have published the findings, which were based on the testimony of 39 people, as well as video and images captured by bystanders.
“All of the witnesses, the survivors, the prisoners and the wounded, even hospital staff, incriminated the federal police,” Castellanos said.
After publishing the report, the website for Aristegui Noticias, linked to award-winning journalist Carmen Aristegui, was brought down by cyber-attacks, presumably carried out by government sympathizers.
The confrontation on January 6 stemmed from the occupation of the city hall by protesters angry about the government decision to dissolve the security force, G250. Members and sympathizers of the group had been occupying the building since December.
While then-Michoacan Federal Security Commissioner Alfredo Castillo maintained that the police convoy came under fire first, video and eyewitness evidence indicates that the occupiers carried no more than six pistols between the group of more than 100.
A second attack took place a little more than five hours later, when a dozen federal vehicles transported 44 captured demonstrators. A group of sympathizers armed with sticks attempted to free the detainees, some of whom were badly injured. Police responded with machine gun fire, killing several of the fleeing group. None of the protesters were carrying weapons despite photographs showing guns lying next to their dead bodies.
What’s more, hospital staff report that several victims died from wounds suggesting close range, execution-style shots.
The accounts contradict the official version proposed by Castillo, who said the deaths were caused by friendly fire from fellow vigilantes.
The National Security Commission said that it had reviewed the video “from which one can infer the alleged excessive use of force or abuse of power by federal policemen.”
Apatzingan is a city of 120,000 in Michoacan’s dangerous Tierra Caliente region.
The violence in January joins a list of recent state atrocities, including the kidnapping of 43 students by police officers in the neighboring state of Guerrero last November, and the army execution of 22 civilians in Mexico State last June.
The hashtag #FueronLosFederales (it was the federal forces) is currently a top trending topic on Twitter.
When Josefina M. was cold-called by the Green Party of Mexico (PVEM), she politely responded to their telephone survey, answering questions on crime, education, jobs and other issues.
She was careful not to give out her address or any other personal details, nor agree to further correspondence. A few days later, however, she was surprised to find an envelope hand-delivered to her Guadalajara home stamped with the tag, “For Green Party Affiliates.” Inside, she found a gift card in her name, containing the Green Party logo, along with a letter explaining how she could use it to obtain discounts in a variety of stores such as Sears, Chedraui and Farmacia del Ahorro.
The card is one of thousands distributed by the Green Party in the run up to the June 7 local and legislative elections, which will bring in 500 new federal deputies, nine governors, new state legislatures and 900 mayors. It appears to be part of a flagrant “vote buying” campaign that has astonished international observers, as well as many Mexicans, 90,000 of whom have signed an online petition calling for the removal of the party’s political registration.
The discount cards are not the only questionable tactic the Green Party is using to curry favor with voters. They have also given away cinema tickets, made illegal use of the electoral roll to access the contact details of potential voters and distributed four million calendars made from non-recyclable material.
The petition on change.org cites the Green Party for “serious, systematic and repeated violations of the constitution and electoral regulations.”
The National Electoral Institute (INE) has ruled the cards, and some of the other transgressions, as violations of the law and slapped the party with fines on 11 separate occasions to the tune of more than 180 million pesos (US$12 million). Forced to apply for a loan from a financial institution to pay off some of its rapidly accumulating debt, the Greens remain unrepentant, offering little justification for their campaign tactics, although Senator Carlos Puente Salas has defended the distribution of cinema tickets as “a cultural promotion exercise.”
Dysfunctional democracy
Many commentators argue that the Green Party epitomizes the dysfunction that hinders Mexican democracy. Parties are mostly financed by the government as a way of encouraging pluralism and keeping organized crime profits out of politics. The unintended consequence of this is that small parties can collect profitable government handouts and secure favorable deals in alliances with the bigger parties at election time.
“It is profitable to run a political party,” said Ulises Corona, a political scientist at the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM). “We’re talking about billions of pesos that the central government gives these parties for their campaigns and administrative costs.”
Jorge Emilio Gonzalez, popularly known as the “Green Boy.”
The Green Party, currently a close ally of the ruling Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI), has an extensive history of controversy. Formed in 1986, founder Jorge Gonzalez Torres initially paid lip service to environmental concerns. The focus shifted when leadership was passed to his son, Jorge Emilio Gonzalez, popularly known as the “Green Boy.” The passing of the baton from father to son was controversial at the time, epitomizing Mexico’s problem of inherited privilege.
Just 29 when he became party leader, Gonzalez was recorded negotiating a US$2 million bribe with a businessman to give a construction permit to a hotel in an ecologically protected area. He later claimed he was “testing” the situation and wasn’t interested in the bribe.
In 2008, the European Green Movement withdrew its recognition of Mexico’s Green Party after it launched a campaign in favor of reintroducing the death penalty.
The distance from the European movement was further represented by the Green Party’s support for fracking, the controversial gas extraction technique that uses vast amounts of water and may damage the local environment.
Chiapas State Governor Manuel Velasco is the party’s most visible politician and has himself been the center of considerable controversy. With his youthful looks and actor fiancé, Velasco has been held up as a possible successor to President Enrique Peña Nieto. Although he denies he has plans to run in 2018, posters with his face and name have appeared in Mexico City, despite the fact that Velasco is not involved in policy making in the capital.
His multi-million dollar campaign sparked a torrent of bad press, as it was financed by tax money from Chiapas, the poorest state in all Mexico, where 75 percent of the population live in poverty.
Billboards of Chiapas State Governor Manuel Velasco have appeared in Mexico City, despite the fact that he is not involved in policy making in the capital.
Earlier this year, a video was released online showing a different side of Velasco, as he slapped his assistant in the face during a public event. The governor was forced to offer an apology for what he described as an “unfortunate accidental incident.”
Despite these controversies, the party’s campaign strategy has bolstered its support. The Green Party is one of only six political parties in Congress and is the fourth largest in terms of the number of representatives. It’s alliance with the ruling Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) has been effective, allowing it to grow under the wing of the larger, older party.
Like the PRI under Peña Nieto, strengthening democracy in Mexico is not the Green Party’s priority. The use of public money for personal publicity drives and the underhand strategies to buy influence with voters echoes the behavior of the old regime, when democracy was continually referred to, but the political system seemed closer to feudalism.
The INE is responsible for defending democracy in Mexico and the illegal behavior of the Green Party undermines its power. Unable to impose its will through fines alone, the institute has listened to calls from politicians and citizens calling for the cancellation of the party’s registration.
Political analyst Jorge Alcocer said that such a sanction is legal and feasible but difficult to engineer. “If someone wants to terminate their registration for such violations, the institute would have to reprint the ballots and they’ll say ‘there is not enough time.’ I am pessimistic. I think the party should have its registration cancelled, but I don’t think they are going to go there.”
In 2011, British journalist Johann Hari was at the top of the journalistic pile. Sharp, brave and energetic, he was the Independent’s best-known columnist and named by the Daily Telegraph as one of the most influential left-wingers in Britain. Yet a series of plagiarism allegations turned his life upside down. He returned his prestigious 2008 George Orwell Prize and stepped away from the Independent.
Now Hari’s back from the wilderness with an explosive new book, “Chasing the Scream: The First and Last Days of the War on Drugs,” complete with sixty pages of footnotes that leave little doubt about his research methods.
Garnering praise from the likes of Elton John and Noam Chomsky, the book examines the 100-year history of drug prohibition. As part of the sweeping work, Hari visits Juarez, one of the many Mexican cities that drug policies have turned into a war zone. He interviews a hitman for the Zetas, a man who dresses as an angel to protest at murder scenes and relatives of activist Marisela Escobedo Ortiz, who was shot dead while demonstrating against her daughter’s murder.
Mexican Labyrinth: You spoke to Mexicans who have been affected by the war on drugs in the most extreme ways. What most shocked you on your trip?
Johann Hari: The first thing that shocked me is that this is not something that Mexico has in any way chosen. If you look at the story of when the drug war begins, Mexico had a very good drug policy early in the twentieth century. The drug policy was run by a doctor, Leopardo Salazar Viniegra, who said that marijuana isn’t really the problem and we shouldn’t criminalize it and addicts should be treated with compassion. A pretty good policy. It would actually be pretty advanced today.
The reason why that policy changed was not because of internal pressure from within Mexico. The reason why that policy changed is the American government ordered the Mexicans to fire this guy and to change the policy. When Mexico refused, Harry Anslinger, the founder of the modern war on drugs and the most influential head of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics in the United States, ordered the supply of legal opiates to Mexico which were used for pain relief in hospitals to be cut off. So basically, Mexicans started to die in agony in hospitals because they didn’t have basic pain relief. At that point the Mexican government gave in. You see this pattern of intimidation running all the way through the imposition of the war on drugs in Mexico.
ML: Although Mexico is one of the countries worst affected by the war on drugs, surveys show that most Mexicans are anti-drug reform. How would you respond to that?
JH: The vast majority of the drug trade passing through Mexico is not for internal domestic consumption, it’s going to the United States. Internal legalization within Mexico has value, but most of the problems you’re facing are not going to be solved by legalization within Mexico.
The thing that will deal with most of the problems is a move towards regulated use in Europe and the United States, which I think has actually begun.
In terms of why people are against it in Mexico, it’s the same reason people are against it almost everywhere in the world. That is, they are totally understandably afraid of the alternatives and people like me need to do a much better job of explaining to people what the alternatives mean in practice. If legalization meant a free-for-all, where anyone could use any drugs anywhere and get them anytime, I would be against legalization. That’s not actually what legalization means, and it’s very important to explain to people, this is not an abstract conversation, we’re not talking about hypothetical scenarios. This has been tried.
ML: What would legalization look like in practice?
JH: Let’s look at two examples. The legalization of marijuana and the legalization of heroin. It’s important to understand that legalization means different things for different drugs. I am in Britain at the moment. Alcohol and sleeping pills are legal in Britain but there are different ways to access them. So if I want to buy alcohol, I have to go to a licenced shop, with licencing hours, I have to be over 18, there are all sorts of restrictions. Quite rightly, I can’t drive, I can’t go through certain parts of the city center drinking openly.
Journalist and author Johann Hari
If I want to get sleeping pills, there’s a different kind of regulation. I have to go to the doctor. I have to have a good reason. The doctor will monitor me. The doctor might stop me after a while. So both of those things are legal but they’re legal in different ways. It’s very important to understand what we’re proposing with ending the drug war will work in a similar way. Different drugs will be regulated differently.
What we have at the moment is a system of total anarchy. Unknown criminals sell unknown chemicals to unknown users, all in the dark. Legalisation is a way of ending that anarchy and expanding the regulation.
ML: How would you respond to those who say that U.S. legalization would lead the drug cartels to transfer to other forms of crime, like kidnapping and extortion?
JH: I think that’s wrong. With alcohol prohibition, where are the violent alcohol dealers today? The drinks aisle at Wal-mart doesn’t go and blow up the local liquor store. That’s not because anything has changed about alcohol, it’s because the legal framework has changed.
We don’t have to talk in hypotheticals. Professor Jeffrey Miron at Harvard University has done the most detailed study of the murder rate in the United States. The murder rate massively spikes in the 1920’s during alcohol prohibition and as soon as alcohol prohibition ended it massively falls and never rises again until the 1970’s when you suddenly have the intensification of drug prohibition. So we know that murder rates fall.
The best way to explain it is if you and I go into the local liquor store and we try to steal the beer or the vodka, they’ll ring the police and that’s that. We’ll be taken away. They don’t need to be violent or intimidating. If however we go up to the local weed dealer or coke dealer and try to steal their goods they can’t call the police, so they have to be violent and intimidating. Obviously if you’re a dealer, you don’t want to be having a fight every day, that’s an inefficient way of doing business. You want to establish a reputation for being so terrifying that no one will dare cross you.
Sociologist Philippe Bourgois calls this “a culture of terror.” You see that in a housing project in New York or London but you see it on steroids in northern Mexico.
The cartels have to establish themselves as so terrifying that no one will dare take them on. In fact they have become so powerful that they can hijack the state, which is what has effectively happened in northern Mexico.
ML: What advice would you give the Mexican government in the current phase of the drug war?
JH: If you’re the president and you’re looking at northern Mexico, Effectively, you’re out-gunned, you’re outspent. It’s like saying what could the Mayor of Chicago do in 1925 to deal with the alcohol related gangs? Well, argue for the end of prohibition is pretty much the only thing …
What I would recommend is that President Peña Nieto joins Uruguay and the government of Portugal and the government of Switzerland and the other countries that are moving beyond the drug war and make this the single biggest diplomatic issue that Mexico takes to the world.
David Simon, the great writer, said the United States is prepared to fight the drug war to the last Mexican. I think that’s true. I would say that President Peña Nieto, and every Mexican should be saying, “we won’t be sacrificed for a war that has never worked, can never work and will never work, we insist on a return to sanity.”
Former Independent columnist Johann Hari is back in the limelight with an explosiveNew York Times bestseller, “Chasing the Scream: The First and Last Days of the War on Drugs.”
Its release coincides with the centenary of U.S. prohibition and is told through the stories of the people whose lives it has most affected. Critically praised, the book has been endorsed by everyone from Elton John to Noam Chomsky.
As part of his three-year, trans-continental journey, Hari visited Juárez in Mexico, regarded at the time as the most dangerous city in the world. He spoke to a teenage assassin, a heroic protester in an angel costume and relatives of a social activist murdered by the Zetas cartel.
Anyone who has taken a bus in Guadalajara is familiar with the phenomenon: the wandering troubadours who jump aboard to sing songs of broken-hearted love in exchange for a few pesos.
In May of last year, a clip of one of these singers went viral online. Yet the video, titled “The Idealist of the Buses” features a young man singing ballads of protest rather than unrequited love.
Alejandro Reynoso
The busker, Alejandro Reynoso, takes aim at the federal government.
“How many poor children could you feed with the money a politician earns in a month? It is our taxes that finance their luxuries and plane trips,” he sings in “The Reforms.”
Alejandro, who is 29, and the father of two young daughters, started singing when he lost his salesman job. He blamed “the tax reforms implemented by this current government” and composed songs in reaction.
“On television they keep selling us the idea that the reforms are going to solve all our problems, which is not true. We’re in the third year of this government and nothing has changed.”
The response from the public was overwhelming positive.
“Very few ignored my singing. There are lots of singers in Guadalajara but I took people by surprise. Often, they even applauded,” he says.
Over time, he expanded his repertoire, writing songs such as “The Handsome Prince,” a satirical attack on President Enrique Peña Nieto, and “Just Another Mexican,” about the distractions of consumerism.
The reaction was never hostile, except for one occasion when a woman defended the ruling Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI). According to her, she had benefited from the alleged irregularities in the run up to the 2012 general election.
“A woman told me she disagreed with me because the PRI had given her money and gift cards. She said it in front of everyone. So I said, ‘Señora, that why I’m singing, because the PRI are taking advantage of people and encouraging them to sell their vote.’”
Despite his popularity, daily busking took its toll. After a year on the buses, health problems forced Alejandro to look for another job.
“I didn’t just get on to sing, I went to perform with my whole body,” he says. “It’s incredibly tiring. The sun, the traffic.”
While Alejandro traces his influences to rock groups such as The Doors and the Creedence Clearwater Revival, his act is very much part of a national protest tradition.
Oscar Chavez and Jose de Molina are the best known examples of this movement, yet Alejandro’s music is funnier and cruder than the sedate, metaphorical style of these artists. His music has more in common with corrido singer Andres Contreras.
Known as the “Minstrel of the Roads,” Contreras, now in his early sixties, has spent the past few decades wandering across Mexico with a beat-up guitar. He has no fixed abode.
Andres has mixed with the likes of Subcomandante Marcos and late leftist Bishop Samuel Ruiz. His best known performance was for the documentary film “Gimme the Power,” about the rock band Molotov.
Andres Contreras
Yet he has never been signed to a label and lives off the proceeds of the CD’s he peddles in public squares around the country.
Unlike Alejandro, he has drawn plenty of negative attention.
“I’ve lost count of the number of death threats I’ve received,” he says, speaking with a slight lisp. “Even priests have threatened me. I have had guns pointed at my head.”
Andres has been thrown in jail more than 50 times, arrested for promoting terrorism but never formally charged.
He became a protest singer after the 1994 Zapatista uprising in the state of Chiapas.
When the news broke that a masked indigenous army had seized state capital San Cristobal, Andres headed south.
After several months in the jungles of Chiapas, he headed to Mexico City. Like his late friend and hero Jose de Molina, he took to singing daily in the city square in support of the Zapatistas.
When the National Guard advised him to stay away one morning, he wisely did as he was told. It was May 5, 1997, and U.S. President Bill Clinton was visiting.
For Jose de Molina, who always attracted a large crowd, the decision was not so easy.
“The National Guard went up to him as well and asked him to leave.” Andres says. “But when you have people there, they don’t let you say no. If I had been in the same situation, surrounded by people, I would have stayed and the same thing would have happened to me.”
Molina was kidnapped and tortured. Having survived the massacres of Tlatelolco and El Halconazo, he died of complications arising from his injuries.
In keeping with his calling to follow unrest and injustice, recently Andres has been visiting the southern city of Iguala, where 43 student protestors from Ayotzinapa school were disappeared by the police. “Aytozinapa is my favorite rural school because they are great activists, very combative and conscious,” he says.
Mayor Jose Luis Abarca, who ordered the kidnapping, was already known to Andres. In fact, he sees that fateful night as an inevitable occurrence.
“There were antecedents to this. My friend in Iguala, the engineer Arturo Hernandez Cardona was killed by this man. His family told me. When I went to Iguala, they put me up in their house. It was always difficult.”
It is a message he reiterates in song:
“The governor knew, the president as well, the press knew and the people knew better, Iguala was governed by narcos and kidnappers.”
Andres speaks contemptuously of singers who glorify the violent.
“I have received offers of support from people but on the condition that I write different songs. One time the owner of a record company in Mazatlan, Sinaloa, wanted to help me but only if I composed narcocorridos about Maya Zamabada and Chapo Guzman.”
Andres refused but suffers for his idealism. “To make money in this, you need to let them domesticate you,” he says.
Grammy Award-winning music historian Elijah Wald profiled Andres for his book “Narcocorridos.”
“There are a lot of people making a lot of money as songwriters who are not more talented than Andres because they’re not dedicating themselves to doing stuff as politically dangerous as what he’s doing,” he told the Mexican Labyrinth. “I don’t think there are a lot of people who would be doing the same if the money wasn’t luring them away. I think what he’s doing honestly requires a lot of courage.”
In his book, Wald makes a memorable and accurate observation about his subject. “He exemplifies and exaggerates all of the characteristics of the medieval juglar, or minstrel, the man who wandered into town on market day, sang rowdy, topical songs to attract the small coin of the peasantry, then blew his earnings in the tavern.”
As Wald points out, the analogy with medieval performers is not only made by university professors, but by singers like Andres and Alejandro themselves. Their attachment to this image reflects a broader obsession with the past.
“Mexican culture has a very, very strong respect for history and for ancestry and for family. The idea that you descend from a great lineage, be it a genetic lineage or a cultural lineage,” Wald says. “History means a lot to Mexicans.”
Former police officer Domingo Villa –– who was already serving life for killing his wife -–murdered his girlfriend, two children and a step-daughter then tried to take his own life.
Acclaimed producer-director Guillermo del Toro has expressed his desire to film again in Mexico.
Speaking at the International Festival of Cinema in Guadalajara, the “Pan’s Labyrinth” and “Pacific Rim” director spoke of his longing to return.
“I owe it to myself as a person and as a narrator. I don’t want to die with this unfulfilled desire.”
Del Toro eventually hopes to shoot a vampire film based on his and Chuck Hogan’s novel “The Strain: The Silver Angel.”
“If I don’t die of a heart attack first, I’m going to do it,” he said. “I’ve wanted to do it for 15 years. I owe it to myself.”
Nevertheless, the director acknowledged the great fear that stems from the kidnapping of his businessman father in 1997.
“It’s like walking into a cantina with a pistol and there’s no structure in place to stop what happens next,” he told the crowd. “It’s one thing to talk about a social crisis, but another to talk about absolute social decay.”
His father was eventually released but Guadalajara native del Toro fled the country in response. He now lives in Toronto and the last film he shot on Mexican soil was the 2001 release “The Devil’s Backbone.”
Del Toro called for film students and aspiring filmmakers in the audience to remain true to their personal artistic vision. It was always a bad idea to compromise in order to secure financial support, the director said, pointing out that he was “the weirdest of filmmakers and was only ever interested in strange stories.”
The director added that Mexican cinema was never seen as a money spinner. In fact, when he started in the business, filmmakers had to sell their own tickets and set up the projectors doing performances.
“Mexican cinema, whether made with money or without, always provokes a reaction abroad. We exist. We continue to have a voice. Now in this digital moment, the survival of that voice is guaranteed.”
The prolific worker has a diverse range of projects on the table. He is developing the Amazon television series “A Killing on Carnival Row,” and is working on a fourth novel “The Boy in the Steel Cage.”
His next movie, “Crimson Peak” is in post-production and is set to be released in October. The horror film is set in Cumbria, England, and stars Mia Wasikowska.
Del Toro also revealed his plans to leave a legacy for young Mexican artists. He announced that he has included a scholarship in his will for novelists, scriptwriters and filmmakers to stay in his Los Angeles home and work on their own projects.
After his talk, the director collected folders, CD’s and USB’s from aspiring filmmakers, and promised to go through each of them personally.
“Nobody has the right not to be a good person,” he said when asked about directors who ignored young talent. “Being a bad guy takes a lot more effort.”