Where is Luciano Arruga? Disappeared in Argentina’s Democracy

Demanding Justice at Police Station

Written by Marie Trigona, Photos by Mimi Schiffman

Toward Freedom

"Everything is kept in the spine of memory that is life and history. The memory picks at people until they bleed when they keep it moored and don’t let it fly free like the wind" - Leon Gieco, Argentine folksinger and songwriter.

"‘Where is Luciano Arruga?’" His mother, Monica Alegre, struggles to answer this question, responding with hopelessness and despair in her eyes, the look of a mother who has lost her child. "Luciano Arruga is a 16-year old boy who was forcefully disappeared on January 31, 2009."

One year since his disappearance authorities, relatives and neighbors still have no trace of Luciano’s whereabouts. A growing movement of relatives demanding justice for and an end to crimes committed at the hands of police against their loved ones has joined the cries of "Where is Luciano Arruga?"

Luciano Arruga, working class youth from the suburban de-industrialized beltway of Buenos Aires, was disappeared in democracy. According to witness accounts and the little evidence collected in the investigation, his disappearance points to the model of police corruption and ‘easy trigger’ police who’ve turned violence against poor youths into an institution in the marginalized outskirts of the nation’s capital.

Luciano’s life

Luciano lived in a two room cement brick house with his mother and two younger siblings in the neighborhood of Lomas del Mirador, in the Greater Buenos Aires municipality of La Matanza. Like most boys his age in Greater Buenos Aires, he liked music, played the guitar and worked for months selling collected cardboard to save up for his first MP3 player. He was the oldest brother in his family, a heavy burden for a boy who lost his father at the age of 8.

"I don’t have hopes of finding Luciano if the police continue to operate in a similar fashion with complete complicity from the political and judicial system," says Vanessa Orieta, Luciano’s sister. The two siblings had a special relationship; Luciano looked up to his sister who is a student at the University of Buenos Aires. Shortly before he was last seen, Luciano decided that he wanted to go back to school to finish high school and give his sister his diploma as a present.

Leading up to his disappearance, Luciano was the victim of harassment from local police. According to his sister and mother, on several occasions he was offered to ‘work for’ the police who promised him that he would be able to buy himself brand name sneakers and take care of his mom. When he declined, the threats began. Twice, Luciano was detained at the local police station in Lomas del Mirador, on June 22 and September 21, 2009. "Luciano couldn’t walk over to my house, because the police would stop him, threatening him that he would end up in a ditch," said Orieta.

Luciano's mother, Monica Alegre, in front of a banner that reads the date of her son's disappearance. Photo by Mimi Schiffman

Officials admit that police corruption in the Greater Buenos Aires police force remains widespread. Pablo Pimentel, human rights lawyer from the Permanent Assembly of Human Rights says the recruitment of poor youths to commit crimes for police is a rampant trend. "What happened to Luciano Arruga is not an isolated case. It’s part of a culture of the provincial police who recruit vulnerable youths from poor neighborhoods to go out and rob for the police. The police accuse you of crimes you didn’t commit if you don’t work for them." He adds that because residents fear police repercussions they avoid reporting corruption. Luciano’s mother says the mistake she made that she will pay the rest of her life for is not taking action against the police harassment her son faced following his refusal to work for the police.

The last time his mother saw her son was the night of January 31, 2009. Luciano told his mother that he was going out and asked her for money, he gave her .25 cents, all that she had. He exchanged with her a smile and kiss. According to witnesses, Luciano was last seen on a corner four blocks from the police station. "At midnight, my son was disappeared. It happened at night when no one was around to see, my son was alone, defenseless and they took advantage of him," says Alegre.

Faulty investigation

Hours after Luciano didn’t return home his mother began to worry. When his mother went to the police station, they told her, "’don’t worry, he’ll show up.’ And they laughed in my face." Public prosecutor Celia Cejas told the national daily Pagina/12 that "the strongest hypothesis is that police are responsible." However, during the first 45-days of the investigation, no evidence was collected because the former prosecutor suspected Arruga of selling drugs. The previous prosecutor was removed and Cejas conducted a rescue dog search. From the dog search, traces of Luciano were found in a patrol car parked in the precinct’s driveway. Police records also recorded that the patrol car were stopped in municipal lot where traces of Arruga were also detected.

A prisoner identified Arruga from a photo, and testified that he had seen the youth in the station after being tortured. However, the prosecutor Cejas discounted the testimony. The eight officers on duty the night of Arruga’s disappearance were removed from precinct to be transferred to another by provincial Security Minister Carlos Stornelli. Arruga’s family lawyers have requested that the police officers on duty be asked to testify as witnesses in the case, to evaluate whether their testimonies contradict.

The social stigma of forced disappearances

"Until his body appears, we can’t say that the police killed Luciano Arruga. We can only suspect that police killed him," says provincial Human Rights Minister Sara Derotier de Cobacho. The Human Rights Minister is an expert on the stigma of disappearances. Her two sons and daughter in law were disappeared during the dictatorship, kidnapped in the night by commando groups, taken to clandestine detention centers, tortured and later their bodies were never to be found. She forms part of the human rights group, Mothers of Plaza de Mayo who still after 30 years continue to search for the whereabouts of their children and justice for those responsible for the disappearances.

"Where is Luciano Arruga?" Photo by Mimi Schiffman

The act of forced disappearances has left deep wounds in Argentina. More than 30,000 were disappeared during the nation’s bloody military dictatorship from 1976 to 1983. The Latin American Federation of Associations for Relatives of the Detained-Disappeared (FEDEFAM) was formed in 1981. FEDEFAM defines forced disappearances as a method to instill terror and a violation of all basic human rights. "The objective of forced disappearance is not simply the victim's capture and subsequent maltreatment, which often occurs in the absence of legal guarantees. Because of the anonymity of the captors, and subsequent impunity, it also creates a state of uncertainty and terror both in the family of the victim and in society as a whole."

Even after the return to democracy in 1983, the legacy of forced disappearances has continued in Argentina. Miguel Bru, a student from La Plata, was killed in a police station in 1993 but his body was never found. Julio Lopez went missing three years ago on September 18, 2006 in his hometown of La Plata, Argentina. The disappearance of the witness Julio Lopez in 2006 has reignited painful memories of selective repression with impunity and fears about the possibility of violent repercussions against survivors and witnesses participating in human rights trials.

In the case of Luciano Arruga, activists participating in the campaign to bring to the alarming increase in police violence and corruption to public view have received threats. Juan Tevez, a 22-year-old activist with a grass roots movement of unemployed workers, Frente Dario Santillan, received a phone call on January 31, after attending an anniversary event for Arruga’s case. The caller asked Tevez ‘if this was his number’ and proceeded to say that he knew this date was special for him. The call ended with the caller playing a funeral march. "The case of Luciano Arruga represents the stigmatization of poor youths. The media tells the public that poor kids are criminals, which allows the police to commit abuses," says Tevez in an interview with Toward Freedom. He adds, "Our campaign into the whereabouts of Luciano Arruga questions the repressive state institutions like the police. Those of us who are receiving threats are young people who’ve chosen not to stay quiet and not to accept police violence; this is why they are upset because they want to silence us."

Movement against police violence

On the year anniversary of Arruga’s disappearance, hundreds gathered in La Matanza for a festival against police repression. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers and compañeros carry photos of their loved ones who fell victim to police violence. Since 1983, 2,826 people have died at the hands of easy trigger police or inside prisons or juvenile institutes. Half of those deaths were of young poor males under 25 years of age, reports the human rights group, Coordinator Against Police Repression (CORREPI).

"The state is responsible. The state trains the police. Police officers are given honors, a diploma, a badge, a gun to kill and a license for it to be legal," says Alegre. "Our youths need opportunities, not police." Luciano Arruga has entered the lexicon of terror and impunity, where security forces stigmatize society with the uncertainty of the victim’s whereabouts or ultimate fate. However, a growing movement against state repression wants to break the walls of impunity.

Marie Trigona is a writer, radio producer and documentary producer based in Argentina. She can be reached through her blog www.mujereslibres.blospot.com

Landmark Human Rights Case in Argentina Puts Torture on Trial

Americas Program, Center for International Policy (CIP)

Argentine courts have launched an investigation into crimes committed at the ESMA Navy Mechanics School during the nation's military dictatorship. The landmark human rights trial is one of the most far-reaching attempts to bring crimes of Latin America's bloody past to justice.

For more than three decades, survivors and their families awaited the trial that finally began on Dec. 11, 2009. During Argentina's 1976-1983 dictatorship, the ESMA Navy Mechanics School served as a clandestine detention center, used to torture and disappear thousands of people. Now 17 former ESMA officers face charges of human rights abuses, torture, and murder.

The ESMA trial was scheduled to begin in November but was postponed at the request of the defense. Those on trial include Alfredo Astiz, Jorge Acosta, Ricardo Cavallo, and Adolfo Donda—cited by human rights groups as among the most brutal and sinister repressors in the Argentine security forces. In total, 13 marines, two police, one coast guard, and one army official are on trial.

More than 200 witnesses will testify in the historic trial. Groups have stressed the need for witness protection following a wave of threats and the disappearance of a key witness, Jorge Julio Lopez, three years ago. Even President Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner, who has supported the human rights trial, has received threats. While traveling in her presidential helicopter, the helicopter's transit radio signal was intercepted at almost exactly the same moment as the ESMA trial opened. Anonymous voices were broadcast saying the words "kill her," followed by the military hymn that was played when Jorge Rafael Videla took power in the March 24, 1976 military coup. Interior Minister Anibal Fernandez says the threats could be "closely linked" to the ESMA trial.

ESMA, Symbol of State Terrorism

During Argentina's 1976-1983 military dictatorship, more than 30,000 people were forcefully disappeared. Kidnapped by commando groups in the middle of the night, they were taken to clandestine detention centers. The largest and most notorious torture center, the ESMA Navy Mechanics School in Buenos Aires, still stands today, but as a museum to remind the nation of the terror of the coup regimes.

Victor Basterra inside the ESMA, in the officers' barracks basement used to torture detainees.

Victor Basterra is among the "lucky" ones who survived the torture at ESMA, where he was held from 1979-1983. As he walks through the basement of the ESMA Officers' Quarters, Basterra recalls the place where he and detainees underwent unimaginable terror. He points out a small room. "This area was called the 'huevera' or 'egg cup' because the walls were lined with egg cartons to drown out screams."

Naval officers, along with other police and military groups, devised a complex system for the forced disappearance of individuals using the ESMA facilities. Most of the prisoners were held at the Officers' Quarters, where high-ranking officials lived while women and men were tortured in the basement and attic.

"There were different teams of torturers. The police, coast guard, naval guard, secret service, and the penitentiary service all had torture teams. They rotated," said Basterra. "They were always active, especially when they had a prisoner who had information. They would torture the person for days. On one occasion they tortured me for two days without stopping. They would constantly change posts, because the torturers would get tired."

Torture survivors from the ESMA provided much of the information on what is known about how the ESMA operated. Basterra, who will testify in the trial, took photos of officers and prisoners during his detention at the ESMA, risking his life to smuggle them out to later provide evidence for the trials. The photos were used in the first Junta Trial in 1985.

This trial includes only a handful of the military involved in the complex lexicon of torture inside the ESMA. More than 5,000 people were detained and disappeared at the ESMA Navy Mechanics School. Hundreds of officers, cadets, and high-ranking officials worked at what was comparable to a concentration camp.

Juan De Wandelaer, from the Peace and Justice Service (SERPAJ), says the ESMA trial is a landmark case for Argentina. "The Argentine Navy has never faced trial. The ESMA is a symbolic building and carries a lot of weight for Argentines. Thousands of people were disappeared from the ESMA, most of whom were thrown from planes into the sea after being drugged," says De Wandelaer.

"This trial will bring to light the evidence showing how the ESMA functioned, because not only navy and military officers are facing trial, but also police and civilians. In this aspect, the trial is important because it will further dismantle the wall of impunity."

Landmark Trial

The ESMA was also used as a maternity ward, where pregnant detainees were forced to give birth blind-folded.

Many of the crimes that the trial will examine were previously held up in court in the mid 80s. The perpetrators enjoyed freedom for the past 20 years thanks to the Due Obedience and Full Stop laws passed in the early 90s, which prevented any successful prosecution of ex-military leaders for human rights crimes by the courts.

Appropriately named "the blonde angel of death," Astiz was 22 when he infiltrated the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo posing as the brother of one of the disappeared. He marked his victims with a kiss outside the Santa Cruz Church. On Dec. 8, 1977 the founders of Mothers of Plaza de Mayo, Esther Careaga and Maria Eugenia Ponce, were kidnapped from the Santa Cruz Church along with 8 others. Azucena Villaflor, another founding mother, was kidnapped outside her home just days later. The three women were taken to the ESMA, and later dropped into the sea from death flights. The Argentine Forensic Anthropology Team identified their bodies in 2005. Astiz was tried in Argentina in 1985 but the amnesty laws halted the proceedings. He has since been sentenced to life in prison by a French court in connection with the disappearance of French nuns, Léonie Duquet and Alice Domon.

In the courtroom, Astiz wore jeans, a navy blue sweater, and a sinister smile. During the opening allegations, which included over 80 accusations of forced disappearances, torture, and rape, the accused sat under the scrutiny of dozens of media outlets who were filming and taking photos. After seven hours of accusations, as the former officers were being handcuffed to be transported to their jail cells, rights activists in the courtroom chanted: "Like the Nazis, you'll get it too." Astiz looked at the activists and with a smile displayed the book he opted to read during the trial—Return to Kill (Volver a Matar) by Juan Bautista Yofre, ex-chief of the nation's State Intelligence Agency. Rights advocates responded, "30,000 disappeared—present! Now and Forever!"

Outside the courtroom, survivors and relatives reiterated the need to keep the historic memory alive and seek the truth. "They tried to deny us justice for so many years," said Enrique Fukman, a torture survivor detained at the ESMA. Fukman spoke to hundreds of supporters at the trial opening, expressing his relief that the trial has begun. Another survivor of the ESMA, Graciela Daleo, said that the military officials who decided who would live and who would die are now vulnerable in the justice system. "Those of us who survived detention, when returning to the ESMA for the first time collectively understood the power of those buildings, because those buildings sheltered the people who owned life and death. Now they are the ones being photographed and handcuffed."

Slow but Overdue Justice

Since the Supreme Court overturned amnesty laws barring courts from trying officers involved in rights abuses during the dictatorship, 26 trials have begun and 58 former military and police officers have been sentenced. Carolina Varsky, human rights lawyer and director of the Center for Legal Studies (CELS), says that while justice has been slow, lawyers must follow strict procedures to ensure that the sentences served will be lengthy. "Argentina has progressed in the trials, using its own judicial system and not an international court. While we are proud that we can carry out justice in our own country, I wish the trials were faster. Because relatives of victims are dying; the ones who repressed us are dying. The number of accused who have not testified because they are declared incompetent or who have died before going to trial is quite high."

Groups rally outside the courthouse.

CELS is a human rights organization formed in 1979. The push by CELS for the Trials for Truth in the 90s, when justice was not possible under the amnesty laws, led to the Supreme Court's decision in 2003 to overturn the laws. "We must play by the rules of the courts. The difficulty is presenting evidence to the courts 33 years after the actual events took place, and after the State destroyed much of the evidence, burning papers that could incriminate the military," says Varsky.

The persistent work of survivors, relatives, and human rights advocates over the past three decades has resulted in the collection of overwhelming evidence, and more military personnel will face trial in the coming year. The proceedings in the ESMA trial are expected to conclude in six to eight months. "These are not the trials that we want, but they are the trials that we have," said Daleo, hoping that human rights groups can continue to make strides against impunity for crimes against humanity.

Human rights continue to be an open wound for much of Latin America, especially the countries that survived brutal military dictatorships in the 70s and 80s, such as Argentina, Brazil, Bolivia, Chile, Paraguay, and Uruguay. Patrick Rice, a former Irish priest detained by a commando group in a Buenos Aires shanty town in 1976, said that while many countries have made progress in seeking justice for crimes committed by military juntas, some countries still have impunity laws protecting the military. "We have an ambiguous situation in Latin America regarding human rights, with a coup in Honduras and U.S. military bases in Colombia. There have been a number of progressive governments in Chile, Brazil, and Bolivia that have made strides in the broad sense of human rights. Argentina is taking a clear lead on human rights, with its trials on crimes committed during the past. This is very hopeful for Latin America."

The ESMA trial is a welcome step toward justice, however much remains to be known about the whereabouts of 30,000 people who were forcefully disappeared. Argentina's military continues to deny human right lawyers' requests for the release of archives and top-secret information about the crimes the military coup committed. The disappearance of the witness Julio Lopez in 2006 has reignited painful memories of selective repression with impunity and fears about the possibility of violent repercussions against survivors and witnesses participating in human rights trials.

Despite hard evidence concluding that thousands of officers were involved in the crimes against humanity and disappearances, only 280 former officers are facing trial, and many of those charged with crimes are under house arrest rather than awaiting trial in jail. Without the decades of dedication from survivors, relatives of victims, and human rights advocates, convicted assassins like Alfredo Astiz might never have been tried in the country where they committed the crimes. While there is hope for Latin America, even in Argentina the human rights trials have limited scope in the fight against impunity.

Marie Trigona is a journalist based in Argentina and writes regularly for the Americas Program (www.americaspolicy.org). She can be reached at mtrigona(a)msn.com.

Memory and Justice: A Photo Essay on Argentina's Human Rights Movement

Photos and Text by Marie Trigona
for Upside Down World

Some 30,000 people were disappeared during Argentina’s 1976-1983 military dictatorship. Kidnapped by commando groups in the middle of the night, they were taken to clandestine detention centers. The largest and most notorious torture center, The ESMA Navy Mechanics School in Buenos Aires still stands today, but as a museum for Memory.

At the ESMA the Navy along with other police and military groups devised a complex system for the forced disappearance of individuals. Most of the prisoners were held at the Officer’s Quarters, where high ranking officials slept and lived while women and men were tortured in the basement and attic.

Torture survivor Victor Basterra was held at the ESMA from 1979 until the end of the dictatorship. In the basement of the ESMA’s Officer’s Quarters, Basterra traversed through the same space where he and detainees underwent unimaginable terror. “This area was called the ‘huevera’ or ‘egg cup’ because the walls were lined with egg cartons to drown out noises.”

More than 5,000 people were detained and disappeared at the ESMA Navy Mechanics School. Hundreds of officers, cadets and higher ranking officials worked at concentration camp. Prisoners were also held and tortured in the attic also known as the “Capucha” or “Hood.” The military gave this sinister name because detainees were held handcuffed and hooded.

Many of the victims from the ESMA were drugged and dropped into the sea in the death flights. Few bodies have been recovered.

The ESMA housed a clandestine maternity ward where pregnant women held at the ESMA were forced to give birth in captivity. Doctors and nurses assisted in the delivery. Shortly after birth, newborns were separated from their mothers and appropriated by marines or other members of the military forces. It is estimated that 35 children were born while their mothers were held in illegal captivity at the ESMA.

The few torture victims which survived the ESMA provided much of the information as to what is known about how the ESMA operated. Basterra, who will testify in the trial, took photos of officers and prisoners during his detention at the ESMA, risking his life to smuggle them out later providing evidence to try the officers. The photos were used in the first Junta Trial in 1985.

For more than three decades, survivors and their families anticipated the trial of officers who worked at the ESMA and now face charges of human rights abuses, torture and murder.

For 29 years the human rights group Mothers of Plaza de Mayo has held their annual March of the Resistance on International Human Rights day to demand justice and information as to the whereabouts of their children. Marta Ocampo de Vazquez is the president of the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo – Founding Line. “Today we are holding the 29th March of the Resistance, remembering our past. And remembering that we still don’t have truth and justice. We still don’t know the whole truth and what happened to our children.”

Since 1977, the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo have protested in the historic Plaza de Mayo. Because many of the mothers are now in their 80s, some worry that they will not live to see the military held responsible for its crimes. This year’s march of the resistance came a day before a major human rights trial began.

At the opening day of the ESMA trial, survivors, relatives and rights activists wore T-shirts displaying the message trial and punishment. Victoria Donda, who was born at the ESMA while her mother was in captivity attended the trial (second from left). Donda recuperated her identity in 2003.

The ESMA trial is one of the biggest human rights trials in Latin America’s history. Among those on trial include Alfredo Astiz, Jorge Acosta, Ricardo Cavallo and Adolfo Donda, referred to by Human Rights groups some of the most sinister repressors among the ranks of the military. In total, thirteen marines, two police, one coast guard, and one Army official are on trial.

The ESMA trial is a welcomed step toward justice, however much remains to be known about the whereabouts of 30,000 people who were forcefully disappeared. The trials were made possible by the work of human rights activists who have endlessly demanded justice for the crimes committed against their loved ones.

This photo essay originally appeared in Upside Down World http://upsidedownworld.org/main/content/view/2261/1/

ESMA: Survivors of torture in Argentina await historic human rights trial

Listen to the report
In Argentina, the President and a council of judges postponed a human rights trial for crimes committed during the nation’s military dictatorship of the 1970s and 80s. The trial was supposed to examine crimes committed at a Navy Mechanics School, which served as a clandestine detention center, and was used to torture and disappear thousands of people. FSRN'S Marie Trigona visited the detention center and files this report.

Argentina: Disappearing Farmers, Disappearing Food

Written by Marie Trigona for TOWARD FREEDOM

Thursday, 29 October 2009

Worldwide, industrial mono-culture farming has displaced traditional food production and farmers, wreaking havoc on food prices and food sovereignty. This is particularly true for the global south, where land has been concentrated for crops destined for biodiesel and animal feed. In response, peasants and small farmers organized actions in more than 53 countries on October 15 for International Food Day as an initiative of Via Campesina, one of the largest independent social movement organizations, representing nearly 150 million people globally. The National Indigenous Campesino Movement of Argentina joined the protests taking place on around the world by organizing a march in Buenos Aires for International Food Day. Argentina has often been described as South America’s bread basket because it once produced grain and beef for much of the region. But with the transgenetic soy boom the nation has shifted to a mono culture production for export, displacing traditional food production and farmers. Hundreds of campesinos marked the day with protests against this agricultural model outside of Argentina’s Department of Agriculture. “For the government, the countryside [is made up of] the landholding organizations and the agro-businesses, we practically don’t exist,” says Javier from the campesino movement in Cordoba, an organization that includes more than 1,500 families who have depended on traditional agriculture for generations. “We are also part of the countryside. We are the ones who live on the land and protect the land. We want to continue to live on our land, for future generations.” Evicted Farmers According to Argentina’s 2008 agricultural census, more than 60,000 farms shut down between 2002 and 2008, while the average size of farms increased from 421 to 538 hectares. The shift to soy has replaced cultivation of many grains and vegetables and even the country’s beef production. Researcher at the nation’s social research institute CONICET, Tamara Peremulter outlines the affects of monoculture soy on food production. “Soy historically hasn’t been grown in Argentina. Soy was brought in during the 1960’s during the Green Revolution. Transgenetic soy has been brought to lands where before cultivation wouldn’t have been possible. The low production cost of soy helped this process. Soy has replaced other crops, invading areas that were historically for cattle grazing and dairy production. Soy has also invaded indigenous and traditional farming communities. This model also implies deforestation and loss of biodiversity” Land access and disputes over land titles has become one of the central issues for traditional farmers being replaced by machinery and high tech mono-culture farms. The National Indigenous Campesino Movement of Argentina (MNCI) reports that 82 percent of farmers live off of 13 percent of the nation’s land used for agriculture, while 4 percent of large land holders or “growing pools” financial investors in the agro industry own more than 65 percent. The disparities in land titles have lead to violent evictions. On October 12, 2009 a day on which indigenous communities commemorate the genocide of their people following Christopher Columbus’s arrival in 1492, an indigenous farmer, Javier Chacoba was murdered during a protest against the forced eviction of indigenous people off of lands. The 68-old farmer died of a gun shot wound to the abdomen by Dario Amín, a landowner. Members of the Chuschagasta community had been camping along a provincial highway bordering the lands to demand land recognition for the Chuschagasta when Amín and two ex-police officers showed up at the protest. “On the day commemorating 519 years of genocide in Latin America, we suffered the loss of our brother (Javeri Chacobar) for simply standing up for his rights, defending his dignity and land that belongs to him,” said Margarita Mamaní, member of the Chuschagasta community. “They have been evicting farmers and members of the indigenous community from lands. People have been killed in the evictions,” says Ricardo Ortiz is an indigenous representative from The Campesino Movement of Santiago del Estero (MOCASE). More than 9,000 families make up MOCASE, a grassroots movement of traditional farmers and indigenous groups. “Now they killed a farmer in Tucuman, a brother. He was in a march to demand their rights and the man who bought the lands took out a gun and shot the man and injured four more. The government has been blind, deaf and mute; this is why we are worried.” Police Repression In 2008 alone more than 35 campesinos were arrested and arrest warrants issued for 95 more, in Mendoza, Formosa and Santiago del Estero, in communities rejecting the agro-industrial model. Santiago del Estero is a province once rich in forest land and untouched by soy. This changed as the boom in soy prices has made these remote areas now profitable for soy growers. This is a “witch hunt,” as the MNCI has described the situation for campesinos resisting land evictions, and defending traditional cultures. Local police enforce eviction orders and meet any resistance with police force, clubs and many times bullets. “Campesinos resisting are suffering a violent political persecution. We demand that detained farmers are released, that officials, judges and police that violate human rights be investigated and that evictions are stopped,” declared the MNCI. Agro Industry Creates Joblessness The shift to mono-culture crops and land concentration has stretched into cultivations traditionally employing small farmers such as vineyards. Argentina’s wine industry has boomed in recent years, with the total value of Argentine wine in the US increasing from 75 million to 146 million dollars between 2006 and 2008. Mendoza is Argentina’s largest wine producing region, with a micro climate perfect for the Malbec grape. Access to water is a major issue for rural and indigenous communities there. Marcelo Quieroga from the Union of Rural Workers (UST) says that much of the vineyards in Mendoza have been monopolized by French and Swiss investors, who buy land and mechanize wine production. “They are using machinery to replace workers. By producing high quality wines for export the wineries have essentially monopolized the production. Who suffers is the rural worker who can’t find work, and ends up living in a shanty town due to rural unemployment.” Rural displacement results in poverty and joblessness; the poorest provinces in Argentina have ironically hosted a boom in soy industry, with soy fields replacing forests and even cattle grazing land. The MNCI has reported that the soy model creates only one job post for every 500 hectares cultivated. Meanwhile, traditional agriculture provides 35 job posts for every 100 hectares cultivated, while also guaranteeing food diversity, production or local markets and sustainable use of resources such as land and water. Food Sovereignty Industrialization and the globalization of Argentina’s food system has led to spikes in food prices, and increasing rural poverty. This has become a global trend. “A billion people are without food because industrial monocultures robbed them of their livelihoods in agriculture and their food entitlements,” writes Vandana Shiva in the Nation Magazine. Via Campesina does have an alternative to the agro industry, pushing for governments to promote local, traditional farming which provides communities with real food. “It’s time for all civil society to recognize the gravity of this situation, global capital should not control our food, nor make decisions behind closed doors. The future of our food, the protection of our resources and especially our seeds, are the right of the people,” said Dena Hoff, coordinator of Via Campesina North America. Food sovereignty as defined by Via Campesina is the peoples’ right to define their agricultural and food policy, and the right of farmers and peasants to produce food. Worldwide communities are seeking an alternative to a model controlled by Cargill, Monsanto, General Foods, Nestle and Kraft foods. Starved by industrialization and concentration, citizens are now hungry for traditional production methods and diversity in the food system. *** Marie Trigona is a writer, radio producer and filmmaker based in Argentina. She can be reached at mtrigona@msn.com

Community on the Airwaves: End to Dictatorship Media Law in Argentina

Written by Marie Trigona

UpsideDownWorld

Like the United States, media laws in Argentina favor big corporations over small community groups. But this changed recently when Argentina passed a media law which will radically transform media ownership regulations. Senate approved the bill, which could open the airwaves to community groups with a 44 to 24 vote. Media conglomerates have been fighting the bill in an attempt to preserve their control over news and information. The passage was met with celebrations outside of congress, where thousands of government supporters, union representatives, human rights groups and artists converged in support of the law.

This law overturns dictatorship era legislation which limited media ownership to private corporations. President Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner presented the law in June. At a televised conference at the government palace, the president outlined the project: “Today the media is controlled mostly by private commercial groups. The bill will change this. One third of licenses will be for commercial groups, a third for government and public use, and a third for non-governmental organizations. Freedom of press can’t be confused with freedom for private media owners.”

The law was spearheaded by the Coalition for Democratic Broadcasting, a coalition of more than 300 groups, including unions, community media organizations, and human rights groups like the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo. For more than two years the coalition acted as an advisory committee to develop the bill.

Media in the Dictatorship

This is the first attempt to revise broadcasting legislation since 1980, when a law passed by the military dictatorship banned community associations from accessing broadcast licenses. Dictator Jorge Rafael Videla sanctioned the law, which guaranteed private media holders large profits, promised support for the dictatorship from media outlets, and silenced journalists from reporting on the systematic genocide taking place in the nation. During the dictatorship 84 journalists were disappeared and 12 were assassinated, adding to the long list of over 30,000 disappeared by the bloody junta.

That law placed the few TV stations existing at the time in the hands of the military. Article 96 of the law, which was still in effect until new legislation was passed in October, states that the Federal Broadcasting Committee (COMFER) falls under the control of the State Intelligence Agency. In a Big Brother paradox, the law essentially allowed only private media conglomerates, the Intelligence Agency, and the military to control and regulate the media.

Since Argentina's return to democracy in 1983, only minor reforms have been made to the law, but always to promote private media ownership and concentration. According to the law, only an individual or commercial group established in the country has the right to acquire a license to broadcast a television or radio signal. Non-profit groups, universities, cooperatives, or community associations do not have the right to apply for a broadcast license. For community radio and television stations, this law is a holdover from the days of authoritarian rule that has literally blocked any possibility of gaining legal permission to broadcast.

Media Consolidation

Claudio Caussandier is a regulator at COMFER, the state agency that regulates media broadcasters. “There has been a tendency toward media concentration since the 1990’s when the regulations were modified. The current law was passed in 1980 by a military dictatorship. Media conglomerates haven’t had any competition, so now it’s a big fight. The few companies that have broadcast licenses have been pressuring the government to not open access to the airwaves.”

This led to media concentration. Two media conglomerates control most of Argentina's airspace: Grupo Clarin and Telefonica. Clarin holds more than 264 broadcast licenses nation-wide. The media group also owns more than 50 percent of cable television, more than a dozen print publications, 2 national radio stations and shares in telecommunication and internet providers. Clarin has attracted international investors, including Goldman Sachs which holds 18 percent of shares in Grupo Clarin. Media concentration is reflected in the lack of diversity in programming. Clarin owns two of the three nation-wide television networks.

As the main beneficiary to the dictatorship’s media law, Clarin reported that the 1976 military coup was “inevitable.” In addition to annihilating all competition for Clarin, the military junta also allotted the sale of Papel Prensa, the largest paper producer and supplier in Argentina in 1977.

The heiress to Clarin, Director Ernestina Herrera de Noble, has been investigated since 2004 in connection with the appropriation of two children born to parents held in captivity during the dictatorship. Human Rights group Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo has issued legal requests for Noble’s children to have DNA tests, following evidence of irregularities in the adoption of her two children in 1976.

Clarin has attacked the president and the bill, accusing Fernandez de Kirchner of violating freedom of the press. Other opponents of the bill include other media leaders such as Telefonica and the Argentina’s Association of Cable Television providers, Kirchner’s political opposition and The International Association of Broadcasting. Opponents of the new law have criticized the President for trying to turn Argentina's privately controlled media landscape into a model like Venezuela's state supported community media stations, linking Argentina’s decision to a regional trend in democratizing media. Leading up to the October Senate vote, television stations aired apocalyptic ads describing the law as “death of freedom of press” and “end of our stations.” The campaign didn’t end there, for months the media has included coverage of all protests against the president, attacking progressive policies, while favoring the opposition.

The International Association of Broadcasting (IAB) opposed the newly passed law saying that the law would put freedom of the press in the South American nation in jeopardy. The IAB criticized Argentina's government, saying that the project creates "more vulnerable and dependent" media, during a meeting in Washington with the head of the Organization of American States earlier this year. In an alarmist editorial in Clarin, Argentina's largest national news daily and media conglomerate, titled "Don't Violate Freedom of Expression," Luis Pardo Sainz warns that Argentina may be at risk for a state takeover of the media, saying that the state would be a worse monopoly than the corporate media monopoly.

In his editorial, Sainz also said that the IAB was right to warn of weakening the media, and accused Venezuela of controlling media editorial lines under the guise of community purposes by building a wide network of media that seem diverse but only have one ideological tendency. Ultimately, Sainz’s protests seem to make a paradoxical claim that the building of community media for and by the people is dangerous for diversity.

New Space for Community Media

Despite opposition, community groups' efforts paid off. A coalition of more than 300 groups, including unions, community media organizations, and human rights groups like the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo participated in the advisory committee that developed the bill. President Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner presented a bill to change the current dictatorship law on March 18, 2009. Many journalists, actors, and media figures have supported the president's imitative, called the Audiovisual Communication Service law (SCA, by its Spanish initials). The law states: "Airwaves belong to the community, they are the patrimony of humanity ... they should be administered by the State with democratic criteria."

The SCA law calls for several fundamental changes to media legislation. The most important aspect of the law is the mandated 33% of airwaves reserved for non-profit groups. This would ensure that community associations, non-profits, and universities have guaranteed access to broadcast licenses.

COMFER Vice President Sergio Fernandez Novoa said in an interview with the state press agency Telam that "the previous law only allowed individuals or commercial businesses to apply for licenses, meaning that any individual without commercial purposes couldn't have a television or radio station in Argentina, like cooperatives, civil associations, or community radios. Now not only can they, but they should be guaranteed a third of the broadcast airwaves currently controlled almost completely by private commercial companies."

Now, however, community media and grass roots organizations will have to compete with all “non-profit entities” to win the spaces opened by the law. The term “all non-profit entities” opens the door for private associations, funded by corporations and church groups to compete with community media groups. Other criticisms of the law include the lack of legislation for funding for community media and guarantees for indigenous representation in local media.

Outside of Congress, community media groups from the National Network of Alternative Media broadcast live video and radio programming. They have hung a banner that reads: “Even though we’re not inside the law, we exist.”

“The new legislation recognizes communication as a right, which is a move in the right direction,” says Fabiana Arcencibia from the media collective Red Ecco, “but the current bill does not recognize us as community broadcasters, as alternative media outlets, and we’re demanding that the bill include us.”

Many hope that the new legislation will foster local media to cover issues which have been ignored by the corporate media for decades. Time will tell whether this shift to local, non-corporate media will foster a new age of free press in Argentina, or if the law was only the government’s attempt to quiet opposition. Either way, the legislation opens new doors for Argentina’s community media groups to legally access to the airwaves.

Marie Trigona is a journalist, radio produce and filmmaker based in Argentina. She can be reached through her blog www.mujereslibres.blogspot.com

Argentina farmers fight soy industry monoculture

Listen to story
And now we go to Argentina, a country that has often been described as South America’s bread basket because it once produced grain and beef for much of the region. But with the transgenic soy boom the nation has shifted to a mono culture production that has displaced traditional food production and small farmers. FSRN’s Marie Trigona reports from Buenos Aires.

Argentina lawmakers vote on media reform; community radio stands to gain

Listen to Radio Story

In Argentina Friday, lawmakers are expected to vote on a media reform bill that could open the airwaves to community groups. Media conglomerates have been fighting the bill in an attempt to preserve their control over news and information. FSRN’s Marie Trigona reports from Buenos Aires.

http://www.fsrn.org/audio/argentina-lawmakers-vote-media-reform-community-radio-stands-gain/5575

Kraft Firings Feed Protests

Americas Program, Center for International Policy (CIP)

Mass firings at Kraft Foods' plant in Argentina sparked protests throughout the nation, and ignited a new wave of worker organizing. In August, Kraft fired 160 workers after they went on strike to demand proper health measures at the company's factory in suburban Buenos Aires during the swine flu epidemic in Argentina. Most of the fired workers were active union members; almost all of the factory's union delegates were fired.

Kraft workers carry out a series of road blockades and a total work stoppage for more than 40 days. Photo: Marie Trigona.

Kraft workers responded by taking over the plant. They staged a 40-day work stoppage, with the majority of the 3,000 workers participating in the strike. The U.S.-based company has accused protesting workers of prohibiting personnel from leaving the plant, but the union says that they were camping inside the plant peacefully to demand their jobs. On Sep. 25, police attacked the workers and removed them by force so Kraft could resume plant operations.

The factory looks more like a prison than a factory. Barbed wire borders the gates, guards walk the perimeter with attack dogs, and police patrol on horseback. Union members are barred from entering.

"There are police inside the plant. The inspectors are going to the lines and forcing people to work. Outside the plant, there are police surrounding the factory," says Carlos Mores, a union delegate fired from Kraft.

Kraft: King of Consolidation

Kraft's history is laden with acquisitions, buyouts, consolidations, and the raw concentration of market power. The company dates back to 1903 when James L. Kraft opened a cheese distributor in Chicago, Illinois. In 1913, Kraft opened its first plant to manufacture cheese. Kraft's claim to fame came through consolidation and following Andrew Carnegie's motto: "Put all your eggs into one basket and then watch that basket, do not scatter your shot. The great successes of life are made by concentration."

By World War II the cheese giant was sending 4 million pounds of its patented pasteurized processed cheese to Britain weekly. Founding itself on the coattails of the military-industrial complex, its next frontier was the American housewife's modern kitchen, encouraged to cook easier, tastier, faster foods with a much lower nutritional value.

Kraft grew to become one of the largest food companies in the world after acquiring Nabisco Brands in 2000. Soon after, the Marlboro Man purchased Kraft in 1992. Altria (the new name for tobacco and food giant Phillip Morris) by 2000 planned to spin off control of Kraft Foods, which now is the second largest food company in the world, after Nestle.

The company produces in more than 70 countries, and distributes in more than 150 countries. In many countries, like Argentina, the food processing leader quietly buys out local brands and markets the brand under the same name. Consolidation of market power throughout the food industry has been a creeping trend, and Argentina's food market is no exception. Kraft's largest gem in Argentina is the Terrabusi cookie brand.

In 1994 Nabisco foods purchased Terrabusi, the nation's largest cookie/cracker manufacturer. At the time, the factory employed 8,000. By 2009, that number shrunk by half to only 4,000 workers. The company cornered nearly 50% of the nation's cookie market, making Kraft's plant in the working class suburb of Pacheco one of the most important outside the United States.

The U.S. multinational reaped record profits in 2008, taking in $42 billion dollars in revenue. "Kraft is one company that has managed to do well in spite of the economic downturn, because hey, people have to eat," boasts a Kraft online video. With skyrocketing food prices, many consumers turned to more economical, processed food, helping Kraft's stocks peak at an all-time high on Sep. 18, 2008 at $34 a share.

Anti-Union Practices

Around the country people organized actions in solidarity with the workers of ex-Terrabusi, today Kraft Foods, Inc. Photo: Marie Trigona.

During the swine flu outbreak in Argentina in July, the health ministry issued guidelines for workplaces. These included providing anti-bacterial soap, alcohol gel, and paper towels for increased hygiene and granting leave to pregnant women working in enclosed spaces, who are known to be at greater risk from the virus.

"The conflict started during the H1N1 epidemic," says Fernando, a worker fired from Kraft. "We were demanding improvements like paper towels, toilet paper, alcohol gel, and other health measures. Because we made our demands, they fired 160 workers."

In addition, the company refused to give pregnant women and women with children maternity leave. The Labor Ministry requested that Kraft Foods take health precautions, as schools, public spaces, and workplaces were shut down throughout the country to prevent the H1N1 virus from spreading, but the corporation refused. In addition, the company shut down the company daycare center offering women 200 pesos (70 dollars) to find their own private child care. The Labor Ministry or Food and Beverage Union did not intervene, but the ministry described Kraft as a "hard company" in respect to the labor conflict.

During this time, the company brought in police to guard the factory. According to union representatives, the company went so far as to bring in managers to interrogate workers with the police present, but without the workers' labor lawyers. The workers decided to hold a work-stoppage, showing up for their shifts and then camping inside the factory.

The U.S. company accused protesting workers of prohibiting personnel from entering the plant and threatening managers, but the union says that they were peacefully protesting to assert their demands. After striking workers went to the factory administrative offices, Kraft decided to fire 160 of the workers inside the plant.

A month-long campaign followed, to demand that the workers be rehired and persecution of union activists be halted. Workers carried out a series of road blockades and a total work stoppage for more than 40 days. Around the country, students, union activists, unemployed workers, and human rights groups organized actions in solidarity with the workers of ex-Terrabusi, today Kraft Foods, Inc.

For Kraft Foods, unionists and strikes blemish the company's public image. According to Sara Jones from the Say No to Kraft campaign in the United States, Kraft's headquarters have been following developments in Argentina closely. "One of the main reasons we're creating a solidarity campaign from here in Chicago is because the headquarters is located in Illinois and we are well aware that they are managing this 'operation.' On websites dedicated to news about the struggle we have seen the IP addresses of 17 computers that are connected from EDS/Kraft Glenview, IL."

Activists in Kraft's home state Illinois began the campaign in solidarity with the Argentine workers following the firings and have led a boycott campaign against the food leader, with products in 98% of American homes.

In the midst of a global economic crisis, job losses can literally destroy a family. At a time when Kraft has reported record profits, it decides to fire workers. Kraft has admitted that it fired the workers for participating in protests against the company. However, many of the delegates say that in addition to purging union activists from the company, Kraft planned to restructure shifts by cutting an entire shift and imposing extended hours on the others.

"The company wants to implement 12-hour shifts, but they need to cut personnel. First they had to remove all of the labor organization inside the plant—our elected union delegates and internal commission at the factory," says Fernando.

Signs point to a premeditated decision to fire the workers, with Kraft using the protests as an excuse to lay-off 160 workers en masse and rid themselves of union activism. In an interview published in Pagina/12 Labor Minister Carlos Tomada said that the conflict at the Kraft factory was "a conflict where the company made a decision to get revenge on its workers."

Kraft's Hopes for a Banana Republic

Following failed negotiations between the Labor Ministry, Kraft, and union delegates late on Sep. 25, police surrounded the plant and attacked protestors. They arrested 60 people and injured 12, police shot tear gas and rubber bullets, beating others and attacking protestors while on horseback. "Kraft is a North American multinational that has the money to finance repression and pay fines to the Labor Ministry when they violate Argentina's labor laws," says Fernando. The corporation has violated the Obligatory Conciliation period ordered by the Labor Ministry which would enforce the temporary rehiring of all fired workers until both sides of the conflict reached an agreement. Kraft even called for the U.S. embassy to take its side in the increasingly costly labor conflict.

Since the strike, the company has only reinitiated normal production on five of its 36 product lines. During the 40-day work stoppage, the production lines were paralyzed, including the Oreo line, clogging pipes with the white cream used in the cookies. The factory's silos have accumulated bugs contaminating flour supplies. Kraft's Director of Corporate Affairs Pedro Lopez Matheu said that the company has seen "significant losses," compared to 2008 sales in Argentina topping 370 million dollars.

During the eviction, police detained protesters inside the factory in a scene reminiscent of when unions were persecuted, detained, and disappeared inside the Ford factory during the nation's 1976-1983 military dictatorship. Human rights lawyer Maria del Carmen Verdu says Kraft is in violation of Argentina's criminal code because it used the plant as a detention center. "Instead of being taken to the police stations, prisoners were detained inside the factory, in an unprecedented circumstance where lawyers couldn't even enter the place where the prisoners were being detained."

Business leaders of the Industrial Union of Argentina (IUA) are pushing the government to get tough on rising protests. They fear the protests could interfere with their plans for massive layoffs using the economic crisis as an excuse. The UIA reports that since 2008 there have been more than 220,000 layoffs in Argentina.

"Here in Argentina the economic crisis is getting worse. Many companies need to 'restructure' and cut labor costs to maintain profits," says Carlos Mores, another union delegate fired from Kraft who witnessed the police attacks on Sep. 25. "Kraft Foods, and other multinationals that have the UIA's support, are seeking to restructure personnel. This is why the government allows violent repression against workers, in scenes we haven't seen since the military dictatorship. Because they want the workers to carry the burden of the economic crisis."

Violating its promise to stop the firings, on Sep. 26 Kraft suspended 100 more workers who they suspected of participating in protests. On Sep. 28, thousands of workers and supporters marched in Buenos Aires to demand that the workers be rehired. The Kraft case quickly became emblematic of a larger battle over who would pay for the economic crisis—workers or the companies who skimmed off record profits before the fall.

"When the conflict started over health measures for the swine flu, Kraft already had a plan to fire the union delegates in order to make cut backs, adding to poverty and unemployment throughout the region," said Nora Cortinas, from the human rights organization Mothers of Plaza de Mayo at the massive march in support of the Kraft workers.

In the end, Kraft agreed to review the dismissals "on a case-by-case basis." The only offer the company has made was to 50 of the workers, saying that the fired workers are dangerous to the company, according to Kraft's Lopez Matheu. The union delegates have refused this offer at the latest round of talks at the Labor Ministry.

The U.S. Embassy has not intervened directly. However, it issued a statement that contained the veiled threat of reduced foreign investment flows. "The embassy has been following the conflict based on our interest in promoting U.S. investments in Argentina, which have helped generate jobs for over 150,000 Argentine workers."

"Inside and outside, the plant has been militarized," says Mores. The company's most direct violation of Argentina's labor code has been to prohibit union delegates from entering the plant. According to the law, companies must allow even suspended delegates to fulfill their roles inside the plant. The Labor Ministry has reiterated the delegates' right to fulfill their duties, but provincial police and barbed wire protecting the factory has made this an impossible feat.

Kraft's Anti-Union Practices Across the Globe

"Kraft has a history of getting rid of the organized workers and union organizers that are not under their control," says Jones, from the campaign to boycott Kraft in the United States. Colombia's Food Union, Sinaltrainal, has reported persecution of union members at Kraft factories in that country.

Kraft closed five factories in South America after the acquisition of Nabisco brands. Since 2003, the company has fired hundreds of workers, cutting personnel by 37%. When firings weren't enough to stave off union activity, the company has resorted to direct threats, as in the case of a group of 30 workers who were locked inside a lunch room and told to sign letters of recognition. After workers realized that they were locked inside, they refused to sign and held a protest in front of the Colombian factory. Similar to the Argentine case, in Colombia Kraft has also used the police to forcefully remove protesting workers from factories.

"The plant managers that have passed through this company over the last six years have had rising careers, climbing through various posts and seeking promotion by strictly applying the company's anti-union policies and using coercive measures against the workers," states the Sinaltrainal union in Colombia.

The U.S. boycott campaign states that Kraft has also played a role in the recent Honduran coup. "Kraft Foods has ties with the coup in Honduras," says Jones. "The Kraft Foods Company is a member of the Honduran American Chamber of Commerce—AMCHAM Honduras, which strongly supports the coup in Honduras and has stated its support for Micheletti." Kraft joined CitiBank and Wal-Mart, also members of AMCHAM, in a public statement of support for the "new president of Honduras, Roberto Micheletti."

The Honduran National Business Council, of which AMCHAM is a member, issued a press release on the day the Honduran Armed Forces kidnapped the democratically elected president, Manuel Zelaya, and forced him onto a flight bound for Costa Rica. "President Zelaya's departure comes as a result of a systematic violation, by the government he headed, of the constitution and Honduran laws … What occurred today was the not changing of one president for another; today, framed in national unity, respect for the constitution, national laws, and institutionalism was achieved," states the press release.

The Kraft conflict in Argentina may be the straw that breaks the camel's back. It has already sparked massive protests as an outcry against further firings throughout the country. Many have said that if Kraft gets away with firings, it's a green light for companies in Argentina to follow suit. Other groups including the FUBA university student association, human rights group Mothers of Plaza de Mayo Linea Fundadora, Subway Workers, hospital employees throughout the nation, neighborhood assemblies, and unions are fighting for representation in their locales throughout the country to demand an end to repression of union activity and firings. The broad-based citizen response shows the resentment that has built up against transnational corporations that violate national sovereignty by breaking labor norms and laws, and unresponsive unions and governments unwilling to defend workers.

Kraft may have met its match in Argentina. The country has a long tradition of labor organizing and strong and active social movements. The current crisis has heightened demands for a new economic model less dependent on foreign investors and companies that use mobility as a way to control workers in developing countries.

Marie Trigona is a journalist based in Argentina and writes regularly for the Americas Program (www.americaspolicy.org). She can be reached at mtrigona(a)msn.com.

To reprint this article, please contact americas@ciponline.org. The opinions expressed here are the author's and do not necessarily represent the views of the CIP Americas Program or the Center for International Policy.

Sources

Honduran Chamber of Commerce Press Release:
http://www.cohep.com/pdf/Press%20Release%20June%20the%2029th%202009.pdf

Say NO to Kraft Campaign Facebook Campaign
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=124299898146

Sinaltrainal "Kraft Foods genera desempleo, hambre y miseria en Colombia"
http://www.sinaltrainal.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=620&Itemid=93

Mourning Mercedes Sosa

Legendary folk singer Mercedes Sosa died on Sunday at the age of 74.

Listen to Audio

Argentina mourned “La Negra” as the folk icon was called in her home country, at the national congress where thousands came to say goodbye. The folk singer shaped the consciousness of many Argentines as a voice for the voiceless, criticizing Latin America´s military regimes and speaking on behalf of the poor. In today´s edition of Streetbeat, FSRN'S Marie Trigona joined the residents of Buenos Aires as they mourned and remembered this Latin American icon.

http://www.fsrn.org/audio/streetbeat-thousands-mourn-argentine-folk-singer-mercedes-sosa/5545

Kraft firings sparks protests

FSRN Radio Report
click to listen

A Kraft Foods factory has reopened in Argentina after workers shut it down for more than a month to protest massive layoffs and anti-union measures. The Illinois-based corporation denies it was trying to break up unions and last week it obtained a court order to dislodge more than 60 workers who were blocking operations at the factory. The incident sparked street demonstrations yesterday and a response from the US embassy. FSRN´s Marie Trigona has more from Buenos Aires.