Stories and lessons

A piece I wrote to be read at a Sunday service at my family's congregation:

There were four main reasons I wanted to come to Chiapas, Mexico this year to work with migrants. First, I wanted to understand the motivations of people who leave their home countries and embark on the difficult journey northward. Second, I wanted to understand what it was like for them on the journey, what difficulties they face and the problems they encounter. Third, I wanted to understand how this migration was affecting the people who “are left behind” in home communities. And lastly, I wanted to develop a clearer conception of the United States’ role in the current migration situation. I am grateful for the opportunity to share some of my experience with you - my own home community.

It’s lunchtime at the Jesús el Buen Pastor Migrant Shelter in Tapachula, Mexico, where I have been volunteering for the past four months. As is typical after a hearty Mexican lunch of rice, beans, tortillas, and chili, all of us, migrants and volunteers, sit around for a while, talking and digesting. After some time, the line of conversation turns towards the abuses that Central American migrants face on their journey northward through Mexico, headed towards the U.S.

One of the migrants, a twenty-two year old from Honduras, talks about how a gang of armed assailants attacked him and his group while they were traveling through an isolated strip of mountains alongside the highway in Mexico to avoid a migration check-point. He is clearly deeply affected by his memory of the event. “They raped one of girls who was traveling with us. All of the attackers. And there was nothing we could do. They would have killed us.” He now walks with a limp from one of the blows the assailants gave him while demanding his money.

Another Honduran, Antonio, who lost his leg by falling from the cargo train that many migrants use as a cheap alternative (often their only option) for traveling northward, talks about the abuses of gangs and the police. He “fell” because he was thrown off the train by gang members who boarded the train to demand money from the migrants. Antonio gave him the very little he had left at the time but they demanded more. When he couldn’t comply, they beat him and threw him. And why did Antonio have so little money? Because two days before the police had robbed and beaten him and his group of traveling companions.

Sergio, a Salvadoran migrant in his thirties, confirms the observation that police are often involved in the attacks against migrants. In this region, he states, the federal police most frequently take advantage of migrants. He tells us about a specific case in which he witnessed a number of police officers, notably drunk, beating up a group of migrants. He was lucky enough to hide in a drainage ditch before they could get to him.

Francisca, a young woman from a small town in El Salvador, tells us about how she barely escaped alive from an attack on migrants by the state police in the highlands of Chiapas, to the east of Tapachula. She had hired a pollero or “migrant smuggler” to take her northward. She and twenty-five other migrants boarded the back of an enclosed truck and the driver started taking them north. About five hours into their trip through Mexico, they reached a highway checkpoint of the Chiapas state police. The driver, fearful of being discovered, blew through the checkpoint, and, in a clear example of “excessive use of force,” the police opened fire on the truck. Three migrants died and eight others were wounded. The other fifteen, including Francisca, were left unharmed physically, but haunted by the memory of the event.

Later on, in private, a young Honduran woman of my same age tells me about how, four years ago, she was gang raped by a group of robbers. She was “saved” by Mexican migration authorities, but then one of these same authorities kidnapped her and kept her locked in a hotel room for months, repeatedly raping her. She came out of the event emotionally scarred and with HIV.

Stories of abuse of Central American migrants in Mexico are not uncommon. That day in the shelter, every migrant present at the lunch table had a story to tell, and almost every one of those stories was a personal experience. Migrants in Mexico suffer abuses from federal, state, and local police, from immigration officials, from the military, from gangs such as the Zetas, and from local robbers and assailants. Restrictive immigration policies and ramped up enforcement on the southern border cause migrants to avoid interactions with local people and often lead them to travel in isolated places where they are more vulnerable to assault. Corruption is widespread among Mexican institutions, and officers and officials often take advantage of this vulnerable position to extract extra cash and take out their life’s frustrations on migrants. This same corruption most likely is part of the reason why there is little accountability on the part of the institutions involved and the federal government to deal with the problems. There are unspoken agreements between the police and the government to not effectively counteract their activities against migrants. And, since Central American migrants tend to be a marginalized, “forgotten” population here in Mexico, there is little citizen and political pressure to take real action.
As a United States citizen, I have been curious to learn about the U.S. role (or potential role) in this situation of human rights violations. First of all, I’ve come to see that the situation of “illegality” of these migrants that leads to their vulnerability derives from the restrictive immigration policies of the U.S. If there were more visas to work in the U.S. and the process for obtaining them were less difficult, many migrants could avoid the dangerous journey and go to the U.S. legally and safely. In addition, it seems that many of Mexico’s own restrictive policies have been influenced by diplomatic pressure from the U.S.

I was also troubled when I began to learn about details of the Merida Initiative. This 1.4 billion dollar federal funding package provides support to the Mexican government to beef up their military, police, and immigration enforcement. The primary justification for this funding is to help Mexico combat drug trafficking, however the bill has been criticized on multiple fronts for not utilizing an adequate strategy to accomplish this task. For example, the bill does not do enough to combat the corruption within the institutions it funds. Therefore, it can be assumed that increased funding will most likely increase the infamous money-driven corruption that plagues these Mexican institutions. In the case of migrants, increased funding for the police and military will most likely lead to more abuses. Increased immigration enforcement, without a concurrent plan to combat the dangers migrants face in their journey, will increase the vulnerability of migrants to these abuses.

A number of criticisms of the Merida Initiative have come out in alternative media channels, however in mainstream media the plan has received little coverage and, what has come out has focused primarily on the anti-drug aspects of the plan. The current “climate of fear” created in U.S. media around drug trafficking Mexico most likely has something to do with the general acceptance of the Mérida Initiative. People are happy to see “something significant being done” about the problem. However, it is important that we ask whether or not this “something” is the right thing.

The motivations behind and true effectiveness of the Merida Initiative need to be questioned and its repercussions need to be fully analyzed and taken into account. As I have seen here on the southern border, it’s the most vulnerable populations, like Central American migrants, that suffer the consequences of corruption in Mexico. With or without funding, reforms need to be encouraged and introduced that protect the human rights and improve the situation for these vulnerable populations.

And beyond Merida, we, as U.S. citizens, need to constantly remember that U.S. legislation, both domestic and international, has significant impacts on the lives and opportunities of people all over the world. Negative impacts of these policies most often fall on the poor and marginalized. The problem is that, because these populations often don’t have a strong voice, their opinions usually aren’t considered and their complaints aren’t heard. We must learn to ask questions about the far-reaching effects of legislation and communicate our concern about these effects with legislators. In considering the big picture, while at the same time paying attention to the stories of individuals, I believe we will best be able to work to preserve and value the inherent dignity of people world-over.