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And while the conclusion of the peace process last December enjoyed its 15 minutes of fame, the heroic efforts of Guatemala's unarmed activists passed virtually unmentioned. They, as much as anyone, have paved the way for a more participatory democracy and a humane social contract for the country's marginalized majority.
What gives their stories an interesting twist is the fact that some of their work has been made possible by the protection of unarmed international witnesses, including volunteers right here from Washington state. They chose to enter Guatemala at a time when all other international non-governmental organizations were leaving.
Few Latin American countries have escaped the grip of authoritarian excess in recent decades, and no people have endured more epic atrocities than the Guatemalans. In the early 80s alone - a time when US military aid flowed to Guatemala - an estimated 140,000 civilians were killed or "disappeared," while more than one million were forced to flee their homes. That's roughly 15 percent of the population. By the army's own count, 440 Mayan villages were completely destroyed.
Now, the completion of the Guatemalan peace accords marks the end of Latin America's Cold-War conflicts. The peace is still shaky. But there is reason to believe that the agreements forged between President Alvaro Arzu's administration and the URNG guerrillas (Guatemalan National Revolutionary Unity) offer space for democratic advances in a country beleaguered by 42 years of military repression.
I personally came to know some of Guatemala's most courageous dissidents this last year when I joined the ranks of Peace Brigades International. PBI is formed by volunteers from around the world who work to promote peace and protect threatened human rights activists. Like those they accompany, Peace Brigades volunteers are unarmed.
When PBI's first team set up shop in Guatemala in 1983, volunteers had no idea that a year later they would be acting as "unarmed bodyguards" for members of the Mutual Support Group (GAM) or future Nobel Peace Laureate, Rigoberto Menchu. At that time, all they had was a commitment to help promote social justice while adhering to a strict code of nonviolence, noninterference, and nonpartisanship. How they would do that was still unclear.
GAM coalesced in 1984 following the scorched-earth campaigns of Generals Lucas Garcia and Rios Montt. GAM demanded that the government reveal the whereabouts of loved ones who had been arrested by state security forces or disappeared by death squads.
Suddenly, Peace Brigades was enlisted to provide a protective international presence for targeted GAM members. If something were to happen to a GAM activist, PBI volunteers would notify their embassies and groups like Amnesty International and urge them to pressure the Guatemalan government to ensure GAM's safety. The hope was, of course, that PBI's presence would pre-empt the need for that kind of work.
Dan Clark, a lawyer from Walla Walla, helped found PBI in 1981. He also suggested that Peace Brigades begin working in Central America after a series of exploratory trips through the region convinced him that an unarmed international effort had the potential to do some good there. Clark later convinced Pablo Stanfield, a Seattle activist, to join the fledgling Guatemalan team in 1983.
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"This kind of thing was needed," says Clark, whose Quaker practice embraces nonviolent action. "And people who are committed to struggling for justice by nonviolent means need to take some risks. We [the first PBI volunteers] felt that we had nothing to hide, and that gave us a sense of confidence."
The same could be said about the women who organized GAM. But whatever they lacked in confidence or political safety was compensated by their urgent need to find out what happened to their loved ones.
Lilian Martinez de Rivas, now president of the Relatives of the Detained/Disappeared of Guatemala (FAMDEGUA), described the situation in those days. "At first we were 12 women that got together to form GAM. We were brave women, because protests weren't allowed. We opened the door for other protest groups and made it possible for unions to function again. We, from GAM, took to the streets to demand the whereabouts of our children."
It was a bold move. Until recently, anyone who criticized the government was likely to be considered a communist, a URNG sympathizer, subversive, and dangerous.
GAM's main leader, Nineth Montenegro, requested full-time PBI accompaniment for herself and her daughter throughout much of the 1980s. She, along with Amilcar Mendez, became one of Guatemala's most outspoken human rights critics and a thorn in the government's side. Both Montenegro and Mendez are now members of Congress, representing the leftist Guatemalan Democratic Front (FDNG). Both state unequivocally that without PBI's accompaniment, they would surely be dead.
PBI's shielding capacity, however, would not go untested. In the summer of 1989, one incident demonstrated that even foreigners were not immune to attack in Guatemala.
On the evening of August 15, two grenades exploded in front of the Peace Brigades house in the capital a half an hour after the GAM office had been bombed. Though no one was seriously injured in either incident, a message had been sent.
Instead of leaving the country, PBI countered by rallying its supporters in the diplomatic corps and alerting all of its international contacts. European and North American officials soon contacted Guatemalan President Vinicio Cerezo and demanded that their constituents be protected.
Spanish volunteer Maria Gabriela Serra explains how this kind of official support helps protect PBI. "From the moment of the bombing, we achieved a legitimacy with the authorities that we'd never had before," says Serra. "When you have government ministers and ambassadors coming to your house, that's sending a clear message to the death squads. They'd better take care, because this is who they're messing with."
The aims of accompaniment, however, involve more than creating political space for threatened activists. By providing information to international NGO's and governmental offices, accompaniment can bolster a political network in solidarity with those who choose a "middle path" between warring factions. And at a very basic level, accompaniment provides both encouragement and psychological respite to brave people in risky situations.
Reynaldo Gonzalez, leader of the Bank and Insurance Workers Union (FESEBS), is a case in point. In March, 1996, Gonzalez fled Guatemala after his sister was kidnapped, tortured, and interrogated about his activities. These actions were expressly directed against Gonzalez's efforts to bring the unions together in a national coalition: the Grand Union Alliance. Following his departure, the Alliance unraveled.
Six months later, Gonzalez returned to Guatemala. For the next week PBI volunteers accompanied him 24 hours a day while he met with other union leaders and activists. After assessing the risks and the possibilities involved in staying, Gonzalez decided to remain in Guatemala and pick up where he left off. He still maintains a close contact with PBI.
While PBI's longest-running project is based in Guatemala, volunteers also join teams in Chiapas, Colombia, the Balkans, Eastern Canada, Haiti, and Sri Lanka.
*Each project's work is tailored to the needs and possibilities of each situation. In Colombia, for example, PBI does not consider its presence effective in deterring violence related to the drug cartels. After all, the cartels tend to function above or outside the political channels that are used to protect international volunteers and human rights activists. Still, accompaniment is an effective tool when used intelligently in the appropriate contexts.
Dan Clark became interested in the idea of nonviolent forms of national defense decades ago. Now he muses about the potential of this relatively young field. "Most people don't think twice about the thousands of people committed to military service. But what if every church in this country supported one accompaniment volunteer? You'd have 50,000 volunteers from the US alone."
Even if a fraction of that figure were to join the human rights movement, a powerful, civilian, grassroots network could add to the clout and effectiveness of structures already in place. Given the fact that military spending around the world continues unabated, the successes of creative and effective peace-building alternatives are worth another look - even in places that appear to be hopeless.
PBI seeks volunteers ages 25 and up who can commit to a minimum of seven months of service. Fluency is required for certain projects. Training for those interested in joining a PBI team will be held at Paradox, NY, October 3-10, 1997. The cost on a sliding scale is $250-$350. Subsidies are available for those interested in Colombia. Applications are due September 1. Contact PBI-USA: telephone (510) 540-0749; email pbiusa@igc.apc.org; address: 2642 College Ave, Berkeley CA 94704.
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Contents this page were published in the September/October, 1997 edition of the Washington Free Press.
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