Left-Wing and the 'Other' History: The Zapatistas

*Part of this post has been adapted from an essay written by myself for the University of Edinburgh

On January 1 1994 in the forests of Chiapas, southern Mexico an uprising took place. An armed libertarian socialist group calling themselves the Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional, (the Zapatista National Liberation Army), better known as the EZLN, or the Zapatistas. Originating as a white or mestizo guerrilla movement in 1983 they quickly evolved into a movement specifically fighting for indigenous and women's rights - they believed, and still do, that the liberation of oppressed groups can be done through socialism. Today we will be taking a quick look at the EZLN's history, and what they believe.

Origins 

Chiapas is one of the most southernmost states in Mexico, bordering Guatemala, and was deeply divided. Despite being rich in natural resources with good farmland most of the population were landless and in poverty. This was heavily racialised as well. Despite most of the population being indigenous and having a long history of resistance to exclusion, quoting Philip Russell, ‘for centuries, Indians and non-Indians have occupied separate domains’.  The distance between neighbouring communities lends itself to othering – a lack of understanding leads to the reinforcement of stereotypes – but what reinforced the subalternity of Chiapas’ indigenous population was exclusion from hegemonic society through poverty and racism. In 1990 30% of the adult population was illiterate, 34.9% had no access to electricity, 41.1% of workers relied on more than one minimum wage, and in the town of La Realidad a fifth of children died of curable diseases.  As these figures disproportionally affected indigenous communities this led to them becoming subalterns. Illiteracy prevents communities from engaging in wider civic society while low paid jobs and a lack of access to basic needs solidifies this exclusion. Indigenous communities cannot break their subalternity when basic rights to education, employment, and health care have already been denied to them, so access to these rights become the greater concern. These issues become accentuated by racism. A member of the Regional Union of Craftswomen of Chiapas, formed after the Zapatista Uprising, stated that ‘they [white and mestizo Mexicans] make fun of indígenas who come to school in their traditional clothes’.  The disparaging of indigenous clothing, and by extension culture, was due to their exclusion from accepted cultural hegemony – even if they could attend school they were still objectified as an ‘outsider’. 

Chiapas, however, had a long history of indigenous resistance dating as far back as to 1712 when indigenous peoples constantly tried to fight Spanish colonialism. The Zapatistas emerged as part of this long history of resistance, and can be firmly seen in their own name - 'Zapatista' was the name of the Mexican Revolution's radical revolutionary Emiliano Zapata. According to the Zapatistas, the practice something called 'neozapatismo' - a political philosophy emphasising liberation, collectivisation, radical democracy, feminism, and indigenous liberation. Originally, the EZLN were not a movement for specifically women and indigenous rights, instead they emerged in Mexico City as a leftist guerrilla movement. Mainly white and mestizo students went to Chiapas, seeing it as Mexico's poorest region, with the intention of organising the local people. However, the reality on the ground changed drastically what they aims were. Poverty and oppression were intrinsically linked to gender and race, and the actions of indigenous activists helped shape the early EZLN. For example, in 1973 the First Indian Congress of Chiapas was formed. This aimed to bring activists together in order to implement education in indigenous languages; prevent the increasing commercialisation of Chiapas's main crop, coffee; and land redistribution for the primarily indigenous tenant farmers. A shift therefore happened. The guerrilla movement started moving towards indigenous liberation. Although the EZLN's most famous spokesperson is a white, or mestizo, figure with subcomandante Marcos, now called subcomandante Galeano, indigenous people started coming to the forefront. Marcos himself said that their most important weapon was the Tzotzil-speaking woman Comandante Ramona. Even the name EZLN came from this shift of perspective.

The Uprising

subcomandante Marcos

Through the 1980s neoliberalism started becoming the accepted economic policy across the world, and in North America this led to the creation of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA). This aimed to increasingly integrate the economies of the US, Canada, and Mexico by removing tariffs, eliminating barriers to trade, and making investment easier. However, this would have a devastating consequence on the poorest in society, especially in Mexico - labour laws were repealed and austerity measures were implemented as they were seen as inhibiting investment. This particularly affected the indigenous peoples of Chiapas as it meant the removal of Article 27 of the Constitution. Article 27 kept land reform and prevented foreign capitalists from owning Mexican resources - this revocation allowed foreign investors to take Chiapas's land further disenfranchising the landless. As a result, the EZLN began to act. In 1993 they issued the Lacandon Declaration, the first of several, declaring the illigetimacy of the government, and governmental reforms inspired by Emiliano Zapata's Plan of Ayala (1911). The day that NAFTA came into being, January 1 1994, the Zapatistas rose up. Coming from the Lacandon forest the Zapatistas captured the towns of Ocosingo, Las Margaritas, Altamirano, and San Cristobal de las Casas. The surprise uprising took the world by storm. Commentators said that the Mexican president 'went to sleep in a First World country' on New Years Eve and 'woke up in a Third World country' on New Years Day. 

The masked wearing, horse-riding insurgents caught international renown. Particularly, subcomandante Marcos won attention for his openness to interviews, charm, and knowledge of languages (he could speak Spanish, English, and two native languages). The high presence of women, and especially indigenous women, in the movement gave the impression that they practised what they preached - the capture of the capital of San Cristobal was done by Ana María, a Tzotzil-speaking woman. The rebellion caused a crisis for the Mexican government - a subaltern group had managed to unexpectedly rise up against their authority. Soon peace overtures were made, and the EZLN relied on a sympathetic bishop Samuel Ruiz Garcia to help negotiate.

*The next three sections will be taken from the aforementioned essay.

Indigenous Peoples and the EZLN

Perhaps the most central aspect of Zapatista rhetoric since 1994 has been the emancipation of indigenous Mexicans. The EZLN’s most famous spokesperson, Subcomandante Marcos (now Galeano), although not indigenous himself, has regularly evoked the image of liberating indigenous peoples in his writings. For example, in 1995 he wrote that thanks to EZLN the cost of indigenous blood was no longer ‘worth less than the backyard bird’ and that they ‘rose up so as not to live on their knees anymore’.  Marcos has presented the EZLN as preventing the further abuse of indigenous peoples, but he has gone beyond this by stating that ‘they rose up’. Instead of the EZLN fighting for indigenous communities, Marcos has presented the EZLN as fighting with indigenous communities. A regular feature of Zapatistas rhetoric since 1994 is the presentation that the EZLN answers to its communities. Two decades after the initial uprising EZLN officer Subcomandante Moises still stated that ‘The EZLN cannot interfere in [a] community’s life…Here, the people rule, while the government merely obeys’.  As communities had been historically excluded from political hegemony the logic behind these statements can be explained through subalternity. While the Mexican government ruled Chiapas, the Zapatistas have presented themselves as actually giving a voice to the ‘other’ – the subaltern guides their policy instead of the powerful guiding the subaltern. Similarly, in March 1994 the EZLN stated the reasons for their uprising was ‘The unbearable injustices and violations of our human rights as indigenous people and impoverished campesinos’, and ‘More than sixty years of lies, deceptions, promises, and imposed governments’.  The protection of indigenous rights is central to these demands, but by stating ‘our’ rights highlights Zapatista usage of the subaltern; they presented themselves as not just fighting for indigenous communities, but as members of the communities.

The Zapatistas have made attempts to practically represent and emancipate indigenous communities. As stated by anthropologist Lynn Stephen, who had worked in EZLN Muncipialities, ‘By 1994, the EZLN insurgents were indigenous people of Chiapas commanded from Chiapas’  which matches with Marcos’ own assertion on the day of the uprising that ‘The leaders are mostly indigenous’.  As indigenous Chiapans were leading the EZLN this ensures that the ‘other’ was not used just for rhetoric. Furthermore, by December 1994 several villages and ejidos (communal land) joined with Zapatistas to form the ‘Autonomous Municipalities’ rejecting government control.  The aim of the municipalities was to grant indigenous communities: autonomy; direct democracy; and access to land, education, and health care. We see a clear attempt to implement the March demands independently from the central government whom they mistrusted. As the ‘othered’ were crafting the Autonomous Municipalities we see the subaltern trying to break the oppression that came with being subaltern – they could now have access to land and education previously denied to them. This was expanded in August 2003 when the Municipalities were replaced with the ‘Caracoles’ (Snails) where they would ‘move slowly but forward’, as well as making the EZLN more accountable to local communities.  The legacy of misrule and subjugation has influenced how the EZLN viewed itself and how it wished to implement its policies – just as in their rhetoric they saw a desire to serve the communities, ‘mandar obeciendo’ (to command by obeying). The Municipalities and Caracoles were constructed in order to create direct contact between the Zapatista leadership and local communities, highlighting the importance of the subaltern. As indigenous peoples had been ruled by an exclusionary state the EZLN aimed to include subaltern communities into society.

A Caracoles mural

Furthermore, the EZLN has placed great emphasis on the Revolutionary Indigenous Clandestine Committee (CCRI) – a civilian body elected in popular assemblies, representing regions and ethnicities, and had greater authority than the Zapatista military command.  For the Zapatistas, the CCRI is a practical attempt to institute direct democracy and engage with local communities. Civilians ordered militias, and indigenous peoples could decide who encompassed the CCRI; democracy at a local level offered a chance for subaltern communities to actively engage in policy making. Since 1994 the Zapatistas ostensibly have subordinated themselves to civilian leadership. For example, the decision to put forward an indigenous woman, Marichuy, in the 2018 general election was due to the civilian-ran National Indigenous Congress (CNI) in 2016 seeing rebellion as not achieving the goals of 1994.  Although Galeano supported this measure it is important to note that it was the CNI, not the EZLN, who put forward this plan. As the Zapatistas were willing to engage in electoral politics and forsake armed revolt at the request of civilians it highlights how important the subaltern is in determining Zapatista policy. As civilians were guiding the policies of the Zapatistas the declaration of mandar obeciendo does not seem like empty rhetoric – it appears that the ‘other’ was genuinely influencing the EZLN.

Comandante Ramona

However, there are important limits to the rhetoric and actions concerning indigenous peoples. The centrality of Marcos is testament to this. Marcos is not indigenous, and many of the EZLN’s major comandantes, most notably Ramona, ‘shy away from interviews because their native tongue is Tzotzil’.  Lynn Stephen has further placed emphasis on Marcos’ own politics and love of history in influencing the ideas of the Zapatistas, specifically when he stated, ‘I went to teach what the people wanted: literacy and Mexican history’.  Marcos does not lead the Zapatistas, hence why he is known as ‘subcomandante’ and not ‘comandante’, but the reason for his centrality to the movement links to the subaltern nature of the EZLN. In his own words, he is a ‘person who comes from an urban culture, one of the world’s biggest cities, with a university education’ where Chiapas was ‘another planet’ to him initially compared to other Zapatista figures, most notably Ramona, who were rural and indigenous.  As Marcos came from the hegemonic culture he was more acceptable to Mexican society compared to a figure like Ramona, so he became the movement’s figurehead. The subalternity of the EZLN comandantes meant that they could not be legitimate in the eyes of the public, whereas the educated and non-indigenous could be used to grant them legitimacy. Consequently, the centrality of Marcos reinforced the subaltern rhetoric which the Zapatistas aimed to challenge – as they were indigenous, they had to use Marcos to be heard. 

Moreover, in the early stages of the uprising, insurgents in majority indigenous cities, like Oxchuc, came from wealthier families.  Although this has since changed, the initial domination of wealthier insurgents in the urban ranks of the Zapatistas further highlights the inability to fully strike against subalternity. Wealthier individuals had the mobility and agency to engage with the armed movement compared to their poorer neighbours who could not afford to engage in the uncertainty of an armed rebellion. This is further seen with the initial peace talks at San Andres in 1996. In violation of the ceasefire the military and paramilitary groups, particularly Paz y Justicia, increased their presence in Chiapas and attacked pro-Zapatista villages.  Unwilling to risk the peace talks the Zapatistas gave little aid and only threatened to pull out of the talks if the abuses against civilians continued. The inability to protect civilians, and the reliance on the state to accept the ceasefire, further highlights how the Zapatistas did not fully protect indigenous communities. Their own subaltern nature meant that the Mexican government felt that it could engage in human rights abuses, and break the terms of the ceasefire, as the EZLN could only look on. Prioritising peace with those with hegemonic power was an acquiescence of their own failing to break the state’s hegemony; they had only managed to briefly threaten the government and sustained resistance was not possible. Consequently, the military could continue brutalising communities regardless of Zapatista protests.

Women and the EZLN

Another key aspect to Zapatista identity is their rhetoric concerning women’s emancipation, and like with indigeneity, women have played an integral role in the EZLN. During the initial uprising it was Major Ana María who took the city hall of San Cristobal, one of Chiapas’ largest cities, and the CCRI itself was formed by Comandante Ramona.  Furthermore, it was Ramona who attended the San Andres talks in 1996 as ‘The Zapatistas say that Ramona, not Marcos, is their most ferocious weapon’.  The presence of indigenous women, both Ramona and Ana María were Tzotzil, in the highest positions of the Zapatistas indicates a clear attempt to emancipate subaltern communities. As women were able to physically lead the EZLN, including a body which superseded the movement’s armed wing, their claims of emancipating women do not become empty rhetoric. This is further seen in the twenty-ninth demand of the EZLN, the ‘Indigenous women’s petition’, which included demands that could practically alter the life of Chiapan women including day-cares and schools for women.  In these demands the Zapatistas have directly stated how they wish to dismantle patriarchal structures in order to emancipate subaltern women. Requests for day-cares, schools, and services to create co-operatives aimed to democratise domesticity and allow women to leave the domestic sphere, something which had historically reinforced patriarchy. During the ‘Other Campaign’ in 2005 – an attempt by the EZLN to create a united national alliance – Ramona was put forward as the one to represent the movement.  Ramona was to practically and symbolically show the importance of women in the EZLN; her existence in the movement was to show a rejection of patriarchy. The influence of women in the Zapatista leadership are key to understanding why this became a desire – coming from subaltern communities they understood what was stripping them of agency. 

Women further engaged with opportunities offered by the Zapatista uprising – primarily to challenge racism and misogyny which had forced them into a subaltern status. A part of this was due to a long history of indigenous female resistance to repression – in 1994, independent from the EZLN, indigenous women organised the Congress of Indigenous and Peasant Women of Chiapas in order to represent themselves.  Consequently, the emancipatory language of the EZLN strengthened women’s attempts to challenge their own subalternity. For example, Natalia, in the EZLN aligned Union of Craftswomen of Chiapas, argued that just a year after the rising ‘They [the authorities] treat us badly. But…there is more respect. Because now the indigenas know their rights’.  This partially could be explained by Natalia trying to show the benefits of the EZLN for the international community, but a desire to do so highlights subaltern support for the Zapatistas. In her interview Natalia felt that the EZLN were capable of representing women’s rights, and, slowly, bring about equality. Furthermore, in 1998 X’oyep women were visibly present at pro-Zapatista protests against increased military presence in Chiapas.  Women were willing to directly challenge the instrument of state repression in support of the Zapatistas showing that women actively engaged with the rhetoric of the EZLN. The urge to break subalternity helped influence women in directly defending those whom they believed would guarantee their own emancipation. As a result, the EZLN’s usage of the subaltern encouraged resistance against hegemonic power.

However, particularly in the first decade of the uprising, there was a notable gap between rhetoric and action. As argued by Hilary Klein, figures including Ana María and Ramona, were exceptions due to the continued presence of machismo which reinforced patriarchy.  This is shown by the number of women delegates to the National Democratic Convention in 1995 – only 19 out of 100.  Despite calls for the emancipation of women the Zapatistas failed themselves to represent women in their own leadership, and calls into question some of their demands. It is not clear who wrote the women’s petition, and although it was progressive it still reinforced the subalternity of women. The requests for day-cares and ovens for bakeries were specifically in the women’s petition and not the wider demands – for the EZLN childcare and cooking were still viewed as jobs for women. Mercedes Olivera found, through interviews with Zapatista women, that while pregnant women were expected to leave ranks in order to care for their child, new fathers were allowed to remain.  Continued subalternity of women meant that a gap emerged between action and rhetoric – the idea that women were the natural caregivers meant that, even in a supposed subaltern uprising, patriarchal views remained unchallenged. As figures like Ramona were exceptions in the EZLN leadership, this meant that rhetoric and policy were largely constructed by men, so hypocritical actions could occur without thorough questioning further marginalising Zapatista women. Although Marcos has shown his support for women taking lead roles, as seen in his statement that without women history ‘is nothing more than a badly-made fable’, his presence indirectly reinforces subordination of women.  Like with indigeneity, Marcos is thrust into public spotlight to grant legitimacy to the movement due to his own limited subaltern identity. The EZLN had the assumption that an indigenous woman, like Ramona, could not be the figurehead for the movement, so indirectly showed how degrading attitudes towards the subaltern continued in the EZLN’s ranks. 

However, since 2004 (when the EZLN looked at their actions after a decade of revolution) younger women have used their own subalternity, and the rhetoric of the Zapatistas, to challenge machismo within the EZLN’s ranks. For example, a Tojolabal woman in 2004 told Olivera that she felt bold enough to reject men if they wanted her to abandon her career in education.  This offers two insights: firstly, machismo continued despite a decade of the uprising; and secondly, the policies of the Zapatistas had encouraged women to become independent. Gaps between rhetoric and action, and the language of the EZLN, gave women the agency to challenge the continuation of their own oppression. In 2007, the Zapatistas formed a panel discussion for 200 women to express their desires, and criticisms, where men were barred from talking, and were asked to cook and clean if they wished to take part.  Women made their own spaces to discuss their own oppression, with no intervention from men, thanks to the idea of the subaltern. Zapatista rhetoric on autonomy created an avenue for women to express their own criticisms of misogyny in the EZLN, and a way for them to criticise their own subalternity. The idea of the subaltern, therefore, allowed the subaltern to express their existence. Similar to how the Municipalities and Caracoles aimed to grant autonomy for indigenous communities, the opportunities of self-rule gave women an opportunity to exercise their agency. Rosa Isabel of the Production Commission in 2007 stated that, ‘Working together in the women’s collective is where we get over the fear and embarrassment that we feel’.  This statement may have been made to show outside observers the success of the Zapatistas, but viewed uncritically it indicates how the idea of liberating the subaltern allowed women to liberate themselves. Working independent from women it shattered notions of female inferiority and limitations to domesticity. By creating their own agency women managed to actively challenge the patriarchal social structures which made them subalterns.

Reaction to the EZLN

Aftermath of the Acteal Massacre

The reaction to the Zapatistas by the Mexican state is intrinsically linked to the image of the subaltern which they have constructed. As argued by Antonio Gramsci, a ‘movement of the subaltern classes is accompanied by a reactionary movement…of the dominant class’.  In this case the Mexican state’s ‘reactionary movement’ was characterised by military and paramilitary violence, and the delegitimising of the movement – both actions were rooted in attitudes towards subalterns. The military and paramilitary groups, principally Paz y Justicia, reacted to the movement by primarily attacking unarmed, but pro-Zapatista, civilians. The most famous of these killings was the Acteal Massacre where 45 people, including children, of a pacifist group, Los Abejas, were shot on December 22, 1997 by the government backed paramilitary Mascara Roja. As Los Abejas supported the Zapatistas, but not the armed uprising, they were targeted by Mascara Roja.  As Los Abejas were pro-Zapatista and pacifist Tzotzils their subaltern nature made them a target for reactionary repression. Their indigeneity meant that they were already victims of repression, while their pacifism was seen as Los Abejas lacking agency making them ‘ideal’ targets. As the violent EZLN were seen as having agency, so were not targeted, Los Abejas’ pacifism was seen as a safe way to attack the Zapatistas. Furthermore, state-sanctioned repression disproportionally affected those ‘othered’ through multiple ways. The vast majority of the 6,000 people displaced by military attacks were poor women who were also regularly subjected to sexual assault as ‘punishment’ for association with Zapatistas.  Poor, indigenous women were so excluded from political hegemony that they were viewed as entirely lacking agency. It became acceptable for the military to target indigenous women as they lacked a voice to make their repression heard by those who could make the military accountable for their actions.

According to Bill Weinberg, the ruling Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) in 1996 hoped that the Zapatistas would break the ceasefire so began increasing military presence and the funding of paramilitaries in Chiapas.  A subaltern uprising, especially when Mexico was positioning itself as a member of the ‘First World’ for its involvement in NAFTA, was incredibly damaging for the hegemonic structure of society. Furthermore, a subaltern rising had managed to bring the Mexican state to negotiation with the intention of radically changing indigenous life in Mexico. This helps explain the willingness of the PRI to continue harsh retaliation against the Zapatistas, or fund others to work on their behalf – an anonymous Paz y Justicia member alleged that ‘There was an agreement for 4,600 pesos…[with] The Mexican army and Public Safety’.  The EZLN had not only embarrassed Mexico internationally by rising on the day that NAFTA came into being, but by directly challenging state power as apparent subalterns had brought the state into negotiations. A hegemonic structure built on the subordination of indigenous communities and women could not remain intact in the face of subaltern agency. When a symbolic constitutional amendment was passed in 2001, due to the San Andres talks, to avoid the inevitable criticisms from the EZLN president Vicente Fox went as far as to avoid mentioning the Zapatistas entirely in his speech concerning the passing of the act.  This was largely done to avoid legitimising the EZLN – by not mentioning the Zapatistas the amendment could be presented as an act willingly performed by the state. However, as even a symbolic amendment was forced by a subaltern guerrilla group into existence, acknowledgement of said group would fully expose the weakness of traditional hegemony. If apparently ‘voiceless’ peoples were capable of changing structures the entire system could, in turn, be challenged.

Samuel Ruiz

In the first decade of the uprising a recurring theme from state, or pro-state, media were attempts to downplay the subaltern nature and rhetoric of the EZLN. President Carlos Salinas in 1994 stated that, ‘This is not an Indian uprising, but the action of a violent armed group’, whereas the conservative paper Diario El Dia accused bishop Samuel Ruiz of being the ‘Red Bishop’ who was ‘fermenting rebellion’ in league with communists.  One explanation for this is a standard attempt to delegitimise the EZLN and shift causation away from the state – if the uprising can be blamed on a small group of far-left radicals then inequality in Chiapas can safely be ignored. By looking at the subaltern we see a new, indirect reason for blaming the uprising on a small group manipulated by the local bishop. Decades of disenfranchisement had forced indigenous communities and women from accepted socio-political hegemony, and with the overlooking of a tradition of resistance these subaltern communities were consequently seen as being silent. Hence, an apparently sudden uprising was seemingly unthinkable for those within the hegemonic sphere.

A recurring aspect of anti-Zapatista rhetoric in the 1990s was that the group was made up of, or being manipulated by, foreign and non-indigenous agents. For example, in 1994 labour leader Fidel Velázquez blamed ‘Peruvians, Nicaraguans, Guatemalans and Salvadorans’ and the social-democratic Party of the Democratic Revolution (PRD) for the uprising.  As late as 1998 this narrative was being repeated. On February 13 journalist Lolita de Vega was chased away from the Autonomous Municipality of La Realidad, and she put the blame on foreigners ‘manipulating our Indians’.  The Zapatistas did encourage both national and international leftists to Chiapas to report on the Rising – the majority of non-Zapatista sources used in this post was part of this initial interest, such as Nettie Wild’s 1998 documentary, A Place Called Chiapas. This was used by pro-state media to paint the Zapatistas as a new ‘other’. Instead of indigenous Mexicans they were instead foreigners, or their willing dupes, working to undermine Mexico. Opponents of the EZLN used a xenophobic fear of the foreign other to try and discredit the movement – suppression of Mexico’s subalterns was unacceptable, but suppressing foreign infiltrators was. 

Furthermore, this is a continuation of the same rhetoric which blamed Bishop Ruiz for the uprising. Through a wilful misunderstanding of Chiapan history, and centuries of silencing of indigenous peoples and women, meant that Chiapas’ subalterns were seen as passive and unable to exert agency. Hence, we see the reaffirmation of the view of the passive subaltern – left-wing supporters of the Zapatistas were recast as their masters. De Vega’s choice of words was particularly telling – by stating ‘our Indians’ it implies that Chiapas’ indigenous population were part of Mexican society until the EZLN took them away. By casting the Zapatistas as rejecting Mexico there was a clear intent to further justify their subalternity; they held allegiances elsewhere. It is telling that the same year that de Vega claimed that foreigners were behind the EZLN, Nettie Wild was stopped by a state-ran ‘immigration checkpoint’ – the state itself was crafting the EZLN as being a foreign body.  By casting the Zapatistas as foreign through rhetoric and action it showed the state’s view on the subaltern – when attempts were made to break political hegemony they were seen as entirely rejecting Mexico.

The Other Campaign and After

Shortly after the decade anniversary the EZLN planned a new campaign: The Other Campaign. We have already discussed this campaign briefly, but it is worth discussing it here. To expand the liberatory rhetoric the EZLN sent Marcos and Ramona across Mexico to create alliances with a wide range of groups. These included LGBTQ+ rights advocates, student protesters, trade unions, feminists, indigenous activists outside of Chiapas, factory workers, peasants, prostitutes, and teachers. Marcos said the aim was 'to listen to the simple and humble people who struggle', but they also hoped for a countrywide campaign which could make the government rewrite the constitution. Unfortunately, since then there has only been the one campaign, and for over a decade the EZLN has largely focused on Chiapas. Albeit, they were setback by Ramona's tragic passing due to cancer. However, they have continued to work towards liberating local peoples, and this last decade have focused on challenging long-standing sexism in their ranks. In 2017 they broke their two-decade long opposition to electoral politics by sending Marichuy, a Nahua woman, to run for president. This exposure allowed them to expand into eleven new districts at the end of 2019, and, just a few days into 2020 they have already declared their intention to prevent mega-infrastructure projects being constructed in Chiapas.

The EZLN continues to inspire people across the world for their actions. We are sorry for the inconvenience, but this is revolution.

The sources I have used are as follows:

-People Without Faces, Directed by Elena Karykhalova, Oleg Myasoedov, and Vera Vorobyeva, (St Petersburg: Free Travel, 2016)

-A Place Called Chiapas, Directed by Nettie Wild, (New York, NY: Zeitgeist Films, 1998)

-Zapatistas: Crónica de una Rebelión, Directed by Victor Marina and Mario Viveros, (Mexico City: Canalseisdejulio, 2007)

-Castro, Y., ‘Interview: Regional Union of Craftswoman of Chiapas’, in Katzenberger, E., (ed.), First World, Ha Ha Ha! The Zapatista Challenge, (San Francisco, CA: City Lights Books, 1995), 111-118

-Edmonds-Poli, E., and Shirk, D., Contemporary Mexican Politics, Second Edition, (Plymouth: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers, 2012)

-EZLN, ‘Demands at the Dialogue Table’, in Joseph, G., and Henderson, T., (eds.), The Mexico Reader: History, Culture, Politics, (Duke, NC: Duke University Press, 2009), 638-645

-Gramsci, A., ‘The Modern Prince’, in Hoare, Q., (ed.), Selections from the Prison Notebooks of Antonio Gramsci, Trans. Smith, G., (London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1971), 123-205

-Klein, H., ‘“We Learn as We Go” – Zapatista Women share their Experiences’, Toward Freedom, (2008), towardfreedom.org/archives/women/qwe-learn-as-we-goq-zapatista-women-share-their-experiences/, accessed 11 April 2019

-Mallett-Oultrim, R., ‘The Story behind the EZLN’s Decision to enter Mexico’s Presidential Race’, New Internationalist, (2016), newint.org/features/2016/10/25/ezln-enters-mexicos-presidential-race; accessed 8 April 2019

-Marcos, ‘The Zapatistas Hike up the Price of the Indigenous Mexican Blood’, in Vodovnik, Ž., (ed.), ¡Ya Basta! Ten Years of the Zapatista Uprising, (Oakland, CA: AK Press, 2004), 83-86

-Marcos, ‘12 Women in the Twelfth Year’, in Vodovnik, Ž., (ed.), ¡Ya Basta! Ten Years of the Zapatista Uprising, (Oakland, CA: AK Press, 2004), 226-233

-Olivera, M., ‘Subordination and Rebellion: Indigenous Peasant Women in Chiapas Ten Years after the Zapatistas Uprising’, Journal of Peasant Studies, (2005), 32:3-4, 608-628

-Petrich, B., ‘Voices from the Masks’, in Katzenberger, E., (ed.), First World, Ha Ha Ha! The Zapatista Challenge, (San Francisco, CA: City Lights Books, 1995), 41-54

-Poniatowska, E., ‘Women, Mexico, and Chiapas Revolutionary Women’s Law’, in Katzenberger, E., (ed.), First World, Ha Ha Ha! The Zapatista Challenge, (San Francisco, CA: City Lights Books, 1995), 99-108

-Russell, P., The Chiapas Rebellion, (Austin, TX: Mexico Resources Center, 1995)

-Stephen, L., Zapata Lives! Histories and Cultural Politics in Southern Mexico, (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2002)

-Weinberg, B., Homage to Chiapas: The New Indigenous Struggle in Mexico, (London: Verso, 2000)

-"El CNI esboza su estrategia contra el Tren Maya". Proceso. January 4, 2020

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