Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Murder of Human Rights Witness Sparks Fears

Americas Program Report

Americas Program, Center for International Policy (CIP)

by Marie Trigona April 19, 2010

The recent murder of Silvia Suppo, a key witness in a human rights trial on crimes committed during the Argentine dictatorship, has sparked fears for the safety of witnesses who testify publicly in the cases. Suppo, a torture survivor, was stabbed to death on March 29 at her crafts shop in the province of Santa Fe in an alleged robbery. In 2009, Suppo testified in a human rights trial against a former judge for his role in abuses during the dictatorship. Human Rights groups suspect that Suppo was killed to send a message to those still willing to testify as human rights trials progress.

2010 has been a year of reckoning with the past in Argentina. Close to two dozen high-profile military officers have been prosecuted for torture, kidnapping, murder, and disappearances. Although justice for crimes dating back to 1976 has taken a slow course in the South American nation, Argentina has finally taken the lead in breaking the impunity that shielded members of violent dictatorships from prosecution for human rights abuses.

The human rights proceedings have also fueled a campaign by supporters of the dictatorship, who openly defend the military's actions during the 1976-1983 military junta that disappeared more than 30,000 people.

Human rights activists have reported threats against torture survivors, witnesses scheduled to testify in the upcoming trials, and judges and prosecutors since the trials were reopened in 2005. The concern for witness safety culminated in 2006 with the disappearance of Julio Lopez, a key prosecution witness. Lopez disappeared three years ago after testifying in the case of a police chief who was convicted for crimes against humanity and genocide. He is presumed dead and was scheduled to testify in more trials. More than 10 high-profile trials are underway to prosecute dozens of military, police, and civilians accused of participating in the systematic plan to disappear so-called "dissidents." Julio Lopez and Silvia Suppo would have testified in trials currently taking place in La Plata, Lopez's hometown, and in Santa Fe, Suppo's home province. Instead, their absence in the courtroom sends painful memories of repression with impunity and fears about the possibility of violent repercussions against survivors and witnesses participating in the human rights trials. However, witnesses, relatives of victims, and human rights activists want the trials to speed up and for the state to dismantle judicial roadblocks tying up the proceedings.

Silvia Suppo

Santa Fe held its first human rights trial, involving a judge and five others, in 2009. Víctor Brusa and former police officers Héctor Colombini, Juan Calixto Perizotti, María Eva Aebi, Mario Facino, and Eduardo Ramos were sentenced to 18-23 years in prison for crimes against humanity committed during Argentina's military dictatorship.

Silvia Suppo was detained at the age of 17 by a commando group in Santa Fe. She was taken to Police Precinct Number 4, where she was raped repeatedly. When it was discovered that Suppo was pregnant, Juan Calixto Perizotti and his secretary María Eva Aebi transferred her to another clandestine detention center for an abortion. It was there Suppo met Patricia Isasa, a 16-year-old also detained in Santa Fe. "Silvia spoke of sexual violence and rape as a method of torture, a systematic practice and a separate crime against women," said Patricia Isasa, a fellow torture survivor, in an interview with national daily Pagina 12.

Suppo, 51 years old, provided key testimony in the trial against the judge and police. The military protected their identities by forcing detainees to wear hoods or blindfolds. While she was at the La Casita clandestine detention center undergoing an abortion, Suppo was able to see her perpetrators' faces when they removed her blindfold.

Since 1997, Patricia Isasa gathered exhaustive documentation to put her perpetrators behind bars. However, the so-called "full stop" and "due obedience" laws implemented in the early 90s foreclosed any successful prosecution of ex-military leaders for human rights crimes by the courts. In 2005 the Supreme Court struck down amnesty laws that protected former military officers who served during the dictatorship.

Many of those prosecuted since the amnesty laws were removed not only enjoyed impunity from prosecution for their crimes, they often held prominent government positions, even in the justice system. Brusa climbed the ranks of the judicial hierarchy to hold the post of federal judge. Following torture sessions, 18 torture survivors testified that Brusa participated directly in interrogations and forced detainees to sign confessions by threatening to send them back to the torture room if they didn't confess to participating in armed struggle, for example.

Fasino served as mayor of San José del Rincón, Santa Fe in the 90s. Ramos was appointed secretary of culture in Santa Fe. Colombini was in charge of the illicit drugs division in the police force. "The misfortune of failing to put these people on trial not only resulted in impunity, rather they were rewarded for their crimes," said Isasa in an interview in 2006.

In 2006, Patricia Isasa received a series of disturbing phone calls on her cell phone and at her home. She entered a witness protection program and left the country for several months, hoping the trial would begin soon. Following Suppo's murder, Isasa once again has entered a witness protection program.

Police detained two men in the murder of Suppo, however, human rights witnesses and relatives have pushed for authorities to continue to investigate the case. Isasa and Suppo's relatives have expressed doubts that the crime was a simple robbery given the profile of the victim and the circumstances of Suppo's death. The crime occurred in the morning hours at Suppo's shop and violent robberies are uncommon for the town of Rafaela, where the victim was killed. More than 1,500 people marched to the local court house to demand that authorities continue with the investigation.

Like many other witnesses in the proceedings for crimes against humanity, Suppo had received threats. Nearly two years ago, when opening proceedings began in the Judge Brusa trial, two men stood at the entrance of her shop to intimidate her. Suppo unrelentingly gave her testimony of the terror she endured and refused to enter a witness protection program.

Julio Lopez and the Paradigm of Forced Disappearances

Julio Lopez went missing three years ago on September 18, 2006 in his hometown of La Plata, Argentina. However, September 18, 2006 was the second time the father, construction worker, activist, and torture survivor was disappeared. Julio Lopez's first forced disappearance occurred during Argentina's 1976-1983 military dictatorship, when he was kidnapped from his home during the night by a commando group, taken to a secret detention center, and tortured in several different police barracks that served as a clandestine network for disappearing thousands. During his 1976 kidnapping and torture sessions he was tortured repeatedly with a Picana [electric prod]. It was there he met Miguel Etchecolatz, the police chief who coordinated kidnappings and torture in clandestine detention centers in La Plata, 30 miles from Buenos Aires.

Lopez's testimony during a historic human rights trial in 2006 led to Etchecolatz's conviction. The police chief was sentenced to life in prison for crimes against humanity and genocide during the dictatorship. Julio Lopez missed seeing the face of his torturer, Etchecolatz, dressed in police clothing and a bullet-proof vest, kissing a rosary as he was sentenced to life in prison. In what many consider an ominous sign of new cycles of impunity, Lopez—at age 77—had been disappeared for the second time in his life before learning the results of the trial he had worked so hard and risked so much to bring about.

Nearly four years after his disappearance, relatives and fellow activists have no information as to Lopez's whereabouts. Lopez would have testified in another high-profile trial this year. The trial involves the prosecution of 14 police officers and security guards who worked at the prison, "Penal 8," which the courts described as a "regimen of terror and extermination." When the trial opened, the seat in the front row of the courtroom reserved for Lopez was empty. A white handkerchief lay on the seat to commemorate the missing witness.

Lopez's disappearance has re-opened painful wounds. Little hope remains that Lopez will be found alive. Investigations have provided no answer as to where Lopez could be located, alive or dead. "Three years after the disappearance of Julio Lopez, the investigation into his whereabouts is practically paralyzed," said Myriam Bergman, prosecuting attorney who represented Lopez during the trial against Etchecolatz. "We feel as if there's been an absolute negation of justice." The only suspect police questioned, Osvaldo Falcone, was Etchecolatz's personal physician who visited the convicted torturer in jail just days before Lopez went missing.

Human rights groups presented a formal letter to the Supreme Court accusing authorities of delaying the investigation into Lopez's forced disappearance. Groups suspect police and court authorities with ties to officials who participated in rights abuses have disrupted the investigation into Lopez's disappearance.

Unrepentant Military

Faces of the vicitims.

The military, police, and civilians charged with an array of counts of kidnapping, torture, and murder have been escorted into courtrooms handcuffed to face the accusations. Defense lawyers have relentlessly requested sick leave for the accused and tried to hold up proceedings with last-minute changes in legal representatives.

Unrepentant, many military officers have testified in their defense, refused to provide information, and discarded proposals to confess. Some openly defend their actions as following military orders to "fight a war against subversion." For the first time this year, Rafael Videla appeared in court in March. Hundreds of police protected the former dictator from news cameras as he was hurriedly shuttled in and out of the courtroom. In a shocking incident, a police officer pointed a gun at a photographer trying to take a photo of Videla, who led the coup and the plan to forcefully disappear 30,000 people. Videla will have to take the stand again in another mega-trial in the province of Cordoba, along with 24 others charged with crimes against humanity in the murder of 32 victims.

The crimes committed are unimaginable for their cruelty, and the terror and pain that was inflicted. The ESMA—Navy Mechanics School, served as the military's largest clandestine detention center and has been compared to Auschwitz for the nature of the abuses and thousands of people who perished within the military barracks. Alfredo Astiz, also known as the "blonde angel of death" is one of the 17 former ESMA officers charged with crimes against humanity in the ESMA. The day he was to answer to allegations, he dressed in jeans and a ratty navy blue sweater. He didn't deny the crimes he is charged with. He didn't show repentance. He didn't ask for forgiveness. He admitted to the crimes, justifying his acts as the need to "exterminate terrorists," and stating that the "armed forces acted in defense of the nation."

The junta devised a complex system of hundreds of clandestine detention centers, 370 according to the National Commission on the Disappearance of Persons, to systematically torture and disappear anyone considered a dissident. Among the doleful roll call of the list of disappeared included high school students, professors, artists, unionists, university students, workers, priests, nuns, social workers, activists, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, husbands, wives, and compañeros. Given the magnitude of disappearances and the number of torture centers, thousands of individuals were involved, said Estella Carlotta, president of the Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo. On the 34th anniversary of the nation's bloody military dictatorship, tens of thousands flooded into the historic Plaza de Mayo for the commemoration with cries of nunca más—"never again."

Brave Witnesses

Jose Shulman, a survivor from the Brusa detention center in Santa Fe, said that despite the threats and disappearance of Lopez, none of the 2,500 witnesses have withdrawn their testimony or refused to testify in the human rights trials. He interpreted the threats as a "sign that those dictatorship supporters feel weak from the judicial defeat that they are now facing."

In the same courtroom where Astiz defended his actions, the sister of French nun Alice Domon, who was disappeared in a raid led by Astiz, testified. The first witness in the trial, Gabrielle Domon affirmed that her sister "was not a terrorist" and that she hoped that as a result of the ESMA trial relatives of victims "will get the truth and some answers to our questions."

Many witnesses include children of the disappeared, who are now in their 30s and 40s. Along with the grandmothers and grandfathers who have lived to see the trials, they are testifying on how the absence of mothers and fathers who were disappeared affected their lives. Ramiro Poce's father, Ricardo Cesar Poce, was disappeared in 1978. "It's important that the trials are done by circuits of clandestine detention centers to avoid witnesses having to testify repeatedly in separate trials on a case by case basis," said Poce on the opening day of the Atlético, Banco, and Olimpo trial, which will examine the crimes committed at three separate secret detention sites where thousands were tortured and disappeared.

Although the trials have progressed, with 1,464 military officers, police, and civilians accused of crimes against humanity committed during the dictatorship, only 75 have been sentenced, says the Center for Legal Studies (CELS). In addition, courts have convicted 649 people, and only 75 have been sentenced. Of the 649 awaiting trial, 421 are under arrest while 228 are leading normal lives in their homes.

Relatives of the military charged with crimes against humanity, genocide, kidnapping, torture, rape, and murder have attempted to rally support in defense of the dictatorship's actions. Former interim president, Eduardo Duhalde, hoping to run for presidency in 2011, has called for a plebiscite on whether to grant amnesty to military, which he called a "witch hunt."

During this year's massive march for the commemoration of Argentina's 30,000 disappeared, protestors and human rights groups expressed immediate concerns about delays in legal proceedings and resistant judges contributing to delays in the human rights trials. "Only a few who formed part of this genocide are being tried in the justice system. There are still a lot left to be charged," said Estela Carlotta.

Human rights groups say that to ensure witness safety, the trials need to progress in a timely fashion and to ensure that those charged be sent to regular jails and have surveillance in their contact with the outside world. Adriana Calvo, who was kidnapped and forced to give birth in a detention center run by Etchecolatz, has admitted that Silvia Suppo's murder "has spawned fear, like the disappearance of Julio Lopez. Unless authorities can prove the motives behind the murder, we think that Suppo's death was politically motivated to brutally threaten the witnesses."

Calvo, a torture survivor who has participated in the human rights movement for over three decades, added that if Suppo's murder was meant to intimidate witnesses it didn't work. Calvo said that those responsible for the crimes during the dictatorship haven't accomplished their mission because activists continue to fight and "the terror hasn't paralyzed us."

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.

Sources

http://www.cels.org.ar/home/index.php

http://hijos-capital.org.ar/

http://www.patriciaisasa.com.ar/index.php?lang=es

http://30anios.org.ar/wordpress/

For More Information

Landmark Human Rights Case in Argentina Puts Torture on Trial
http://americas.irc-online.org/am/6634

Argentina: Missing Witness Awakens Dark Past
http://americas.irc-online.org/am/3595

Argentina 30 Years after the Coup
http://americas.irc-online.org/am/3170

Thursday, April 01, 2010

Argentina Revisits Dictatorship: A Year of Human Rights Trials

Written by Marie Trigona
Thursday, 01 April 2010
Toward Freedom

Image"With regular jails overflowing, you (the military) turned the principle garrisons in the country into virtual concentration camps, where no judge, lawyer, journalist or international observer enters. The military keeping the proceedings as secret, invoked as the need for interrogation, has transformed most detentions into kidnappings that allow you to torture limitlessly and execute prisoners with no trial." -- Rodolfo Walsh, political writer disappeared after he penned the text, "Open Letter to the Military Junta" published on March 24, 1977, the first anniversary of the coup.

Tens of thousands in Argentina recently marked the 34th anniversary of the nation’s bloody military dictatorship, flooding into the historic Plaza de Mayo with cries of nunca más, or never again. On March 24, 1976 the military ceased power and instituted one of Latin America’s darkest chapters of terror. During the 1976-1983 junta, the military disappeared more than 30,000 people.

Since the 30th anniversary of the coup, in 2006, protests to repudiate the military coup have grown in size and political importance; at this year’s protest more than 25,000 people overflowed the Plaza de Mayo while major human rights trials are underway. The Mothers and Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo led the march carrying a banner with photos of the disappeared. The black and white portraits extended for blocks, with thousands of photos of unionists, students, artists, intellectuals, workers, lawyers, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters and compañeros, many of whom were only in their 20s when commando groups kidnapped them to take them to clandestine detention centers, torture and later disappear this generation which dreamt of a better world. This generation was reflected in the outpouring on March 24, 2010, and in the collective screams of "30,000 disappeared—present! Now and Forever!"

Open door to justice

Nearly 27 years after Argentina’s return to democratic rule, the country is revisiting its painful past with human rights trials. Many have called 2010 the year of the human rights trials. More than eight high-profile trials are underway, prosecuting dozens of military, police and civilians accused of torture, murder, kidnapping and disappearances. The recent release of classified military files may also lead to more prosecutions and answers as to what happened to Argentina’s 30,000 disappeared.

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Until 2003, amnesty laws foreclosed any successful prosecution of ex-military leaders for human rights crimes by the courts. Even when prosecution was impossible, human rights groups continued to gather information as to the whereabouts of the disappeared, collect evidence and testimonies, and to demand justice and an end to impunity. However, a 2003 Supreme Court order overruled the Due Obedience and Full Stop laws passed in the early 1990’s which protected officers from the possibility of facing charges.

The dimension of the crimes of those prosecuted is unimaginable. And the number of prosecuted and facing criminal proceedings falls short considering the complex system of kidnapping, torture, murder and disappearance that ensued during the dark years of the dictatorship. The most painful component for many is the significance of disappearances, and the open wounds left behind by not knowing exactly what happened to the victims and their bodies. Disappearances, a cornerstone in the lexicon of terror devised by the military dictatorship, persist as a social stigma and an uncomfortable void of the recent past.

ESMA trial

"March 24 not only compels us to reflect on the past, but also to reflect on our future and current challenges," says Victoria Donda, a national deputy whose parents were disappeared at the same detention center where her mother gave birth. Donda was born at the ESMA Navy Mechanics School while her mother was in captivity at the clandestine detention center. She lived most of her life with appropriators, who never told her about her past. She recuperated her identity in 2003 at the age of 26. More than 500 children were kidnapped by the dictatorship and raised with false identities. The human rights group Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo, has strived to find all of the children, so far they have recuperated the identity of 101 children, who are now in their 30’s.

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The ESMA trial, one of the largest human rights trials in Latin America’s history opened in December 2009. In total, 19 officers who worked at the ESMA face charges of kidnapping, torture and murder of 86 people. However, it is estimated that nearly 5,000 were disappeared inside the ESMA barracks, as the largest clandestine detention center that operated during the dictatorship. Donda will testify in the trial, and says, "We are living in a country where the people who participated in the crimes during the dictatorship are being tried, [but] these are not the type of trials that we want, nor are they as fast as we’d like, nor are all the people involved in the abuses on trial; however, these are the trials that we have and they are progressing."

Surviving testimonies

More than 300 clandestine detention centers operated during the dictatorship, shedding light on the magnitude of state terrorism carried out from 1976-1983. Many of the victims in Buenos Aires and surrounding neighborhoods were thrown from planes into the sea after being drugged.

Aside from the ESMA, other clandestine torture centers operated in the nation’s capital. Inside the Atlético, Banco and Olimpo, three separate secret detention sites, thousands were tortured and disappeared. Ramiro Poce’s father was disappeared from the Garage Olimpo, one of the clandestine detention centers in a trial of the Buenos Aires circuit of clandestine detention centers. "The Due Obedience and Full Stop laws prohibited the proceedings against military. Thanks to the reversal of those laws we are able to slowly begin the trials," says Poce. He will testify in the trial, to give testimony of his father’s kidnapping by a commando group. Some 17 military and police are being prosecuted in this trial. For many, the trials mark a new chapter in Argentina’s history. "Each time the trials began, it is a step towards building a true democracy and prosecuting those who staged a coup against the nation and the entire population."

Military officers have begun to testify in their defense, failing to provide information or confess; on the contrary some defend their actions as following military orders to "fight a war against subversion." For the first time, Rafael Videla appeared in court in March; however hundreds of police protected the former dictator from news cameras.

Slow justice

During this year’s massive march for the commemoration of Argentina’s 30,000 disappeared, protestors and human rights groups expressed immediate concerns about delays in legal proceedings and resistant judges contributing to delays in the human rights trials. "Only a few who formed part of this genocide are being tried in the justice system. There are still a lot left to be charged," said Estela Carlotta, president of Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo, reading from a document written by human rights groups on March 24. Organizers from this year’s march demanded, "the political decision to give more resources to the Justice system, in larger court rooms and truly public trials. Society has already condemned the murders and we won’t allow for forgiveness, amnesty or reconciliation for those responsible."

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The government official Victoria Donda admits that the judicial system has been slow to reform and is filled with accomplices from the dictatorship who still have not been prosecuted for their actions. A recent article in the national daily Pagina/12 revealed that several judges are being investigated in the province of Mendoza for human rights abuses committed during the dictatorship. Other irregularities have surfaced such as the same judge overseeing trial proceedings in two different provinces, which has delayed another major human rights trial of the Massacre of Margarita Belen for over a year and a half. The higher courts have also agreed to change judges, following the defendants’ request, all with the purpose of tying up proceedings. "In the provinces of Salta and Jujuy they do not have an adequate space to hold the trials. And they purposefully held the ESMA trial in a court room so small [that] space for observers, media and activists from attending all the court sessions has been limited," says Donda.

Breaking the wall of impunity

This year’s massive march reflects the passionate cries for the trials to continue, and that all military and accomplices involved in the brutal terror be brought to justice. But protestors came out not to close the dark chapter of history, but to turn the pages in the construction of a new future that values democracy and human rights.

March 24 is now considered a national holiday, "a national day of memory for justice and truth," a day on which schools and public offices are closed. President Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner has supported the trials, but has also polarized the human rights movement. The president turned the official commemorations into a rally for the President, while creating tensions between human rights groups critical of the government’s economic policies and failure to provide the judicial system with enough resources to carry out the trial. While the president released an important document with the names of 4,300 people who worked in the armed force battalion 601, one of the largest intelligence agencies of the Armed Forces, more documents remain to be disclosed. The agency was used to collect information on activists which led to their disappearances, among the ranks of the thousands of names of people now in their 50s and 60s are not only military but civilians, professionals who have yet to be tried for their participation in the dictatorship. Human rights groups report that intelligence officers continue to infiltrate social movements and political organizations.

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Among those demanding justice are the Mothers and Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo, which for over 30 years have used pacifist tactics to demand justice and truth about what happened. For Latin America, these groups have exemplified the regional struggle for democracy and sovereignty, in a hemisphere plagued by dictatorships in the 1970s and 1980s which disappeared over 90,000 people according to The Latin American Federation of Associations for Relatives of the Detained-Disappeared (FEDEFAM). Argentina, thanks to the endless work of human rights groups, is paving the way for other countries to revisit their painful past. Without justice for crimes committed in the past, the military and repressive forces in the region will have the power to act with impunity as we are seeing with an active coup in Honduras, military in the streets of Chile and U.S. military bases in Colombia. Militarization remains a risk for the region, and with long-standing impunity for military crimes Latin America could lose another generation. However, a new generation of human rights advocates in Argentina is trying to break this wall of impunity through the legal system for long-standing justice.

Marie Trigona is a writer, radio producer and translator based in Argentina. She can be reached through her blog www.mujereslibres.blogspot.com All photos by Marie Trigona

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Resisting Mining: Brutal Repression and Uprising in Argentina

From Upsidedownworld.org
Written by Marie Trigona
Tuesday, 23 February 2010 14:19
Repression of anti-mining activists

World-wide, mining operations have been associated with exploitation, corruption, violence, environmental devastation, human rights abuses, and impunity. However, despite threats and violent attacks, local movements resist mining operations and associated devastating effects. Residents in Northern Argentina have protested the opening of an open pit mining site in the town of Andalgala in the province of Catamarca. A recent police crackdown on the protest has sparked a popular uprising of citizens saying, ‘no to the mine’. Following massive protests in response to police repression this month, a judge temporarily halted further mine works planned to open in 2012.

Andalgala, man of the high mountains

The word Andalgala, in the ancient indigenous language of the Andean region, means ‘man of the high mountains’. The river Andalgala that flows between the high Andes Mountains of Catamarca has spawned an oasis. The pristine mountain water and rich valley has given life to a land of olive groves, peach orchards, sheep herds and mineral deposits. Transnational mining companies now threaten this Andean oasis, the social network in Andalgala and the entire water basin. If the company finds gold from drilling expeditions and decides to build the open pit mining site, the entire population of 20,000 inhabitants could be displaced, leaving transnational mining interests as the only man of the high mountains.

The mine is owned by Agua Rica, a subsidiary of Yamana Gold Inc., a Canadian-based gold producer which plans to begin mining operations in the town of Andalgalá in 2012. Yamana Gold has mining sites in Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, Mexico and Honduras. Yamana failed to comply with the law in conducting a study on the environmental impact required by the provincial Mining Secretary, making exploration illegal. The Agua Rica site in Andalgala would be three times the size of another mining operation in Catamarca, La Alumbrera which has caused environmental and health risks for residents since it opened in 1998. La Alumbrera is currently the largest open pit mining site in Argentina.

Police repression

Activists from the Citizen’s Assembly of Andalgalá have been blockading the mine site for two months. The Assembly, made up of a wide array of residents, has called for a local plebiscite on mining operations. Their request was met with police force.

More than 60 people were injured on February 12 when police escorted excavating equipment through a protest blockade to the controversial open pit mine site. Police fired tear gas and rubber bullets at protesters –women and children are among the injured. Nearly 50 demonstrators were arrested, of which 12 are still being detained. The passionate police attack against anti-mining activists sparked an uprising, with protestors breaking windows, attacking mining offices and trucks owned by Agua Rica in response to the arrests and crackdown. Less than 20 hours after the police attack, more than 4,000 gathered in Andalgala’s center to protest the mine.

Leading up to the February 12 repression, the mayor of Andalgala, Jose Perea, who is so enthusiastic about the prospects of a mining invasion said in an interview with a local radio station, FM Z “if it is necessary we would kill the people maintaining the blockade against Agua Rica.” The mayor also lead a pro-mining march with nearly 100 public employees participating, which prompted a march of over 4,000 residents resisting the Agua Rica mine.

Empty promises

Andalgala resist the mining site having seen the negative effects of the La Alumbrera which has contaminated water sheds provincial wide. “After 12 years since the La Alumbrera, the largest open mining operation, the promises of wellbeing and distribution of wealth from mining has not been fulfilled in the province of Catamarca,” says the Union of Assemblies of Catamarca. The Alumbrera site uses between 600 million to 1 billion liters of water of day from depleted water tables to process the ore in a process which involves exploding mountains, removing ore, crushing the ore and mixing it with chemicals such as cyanide to make a metal rich slurry. The slurry is process and de-liquefied. The contaminated water is pumped back into aquifers and rivers. The site at Andalgala would be three times the size of Alumbrera and estimated to use 3 billion liters of water a day. The pristine waters from the mountain springs will be the source to be mixed into the pools that contain cyanide and heavy metals.

“Not only has mining generated pollution and health problems, in addition it hasn’t created jobs or resources. Catamarca continues to be or is more poor than before, Andalgala has the highest unemployment in the province,” said Urbano Cardozo in an interview with Lavaca, an alternative media collective in Argentina. No more than 40 local residents from Andalgala, out of a population of 20,000 are employed by the mine, which Mayor Parea has admitted.

“We share the air and soil, work with local suppliers, hire local employees and build relationships in the same regions in which we operate,” says Yamana Gold Inc on its website. Public relations for the Canadian company adds, “We listen to and value input from communities, embrace the rich local cultural and economic opportunities and as a result our community relations are incredibly strong.” The citizens’ demands against mining operations and the threat of displacement have fallen on deaf ears.

Threats and abuses

Anti-Mining Protest, Argentina Indymedia

In a report conducted by the UNESCO Chair of Higher Education Management, from the Technical University of Catalonia in Spain reports serious human rights violations and environmental pollution as a result of mining activities in Argentina. The report titled, “Human Rights in Northeastern Argentina 2008-2009,” describes “pressures and threats against the populations that protest against damage caused” from mining activity. In Andalgala, Raul Martinez, Diola de Martinez, Ruth Vega, Carmen Chaile and Teresita Nieto, all participants in the Andalgala Citizen’s Assembly resisting mining activities have received threats on separate occasions. The activists were called into the police station and were warned by the police chief that “if they don’t change their attitude about the blockade, next week the Border Guard and police will evict them by force, and we will beat you.” The citizen’s assembly says that one long time activist, Aldo Flores, has been the target of death threats and police harassment in the days leading up to the crackdown.

The UNESCO report defined the social responsibility of the mining companies as “an example of private assistance, that seeks to manipulate and condition freedom of thinking and consciousness of the residents in the affected that receive minute benefits from mining firms with the only objective of gaining a ‘social license’ to extract natural resources.” Among the companies mentioned in the report include Barrick Gold, Meridian Gold, Xstrata, Wheaton River Minerals y Northern Orion Resources. Currently in Argentina, there are more than 200 mining sites operating. In many of the communities, companies construct libraries, schools, public health clinics that resemble cheap warehouses, which will likely collapse shortly after the mining companies operations dry up.

Mining companies only have to pay 3 percent in royalties on minerals extracted from Argentine territory and are allowed to pollute the environment with chemicals like cyanide, used to extract mineral ores from open pit mining sites. Three percent is a small price to pay for the billions of dollars extracted in mineral ores from Argentina’s soil. Minerals have become Argentina's largest export, valued at nearly 80 billion dollars over the past decade. In places like Catamarca, royalties represent nearly 80 percent of fiscal income. “Which is why the government does not investigate or control studies conducted by the companies,” according to the UNESCO Study.

Disappearing communities

Community groups throughout Argentina have tried shut down open pit mining sites, which national legislation permits. The struggle against mining in Andalgala has lead to a court order temporarily suspending Agua Mina from conducting further explorations. Now residents want a permanent sanction against the mining site which could literally displace the entire population, since one proposed site is located directly under residents’ homes. Nearly 600,000 people have been displaced due to mining operations and the expansion of agro-industry such as soy since 2000 according to a study conducted by environmental group Redaf, Red Agroforestal Chaco Argentina. Throughout Argentina, social movements are resisting mining, which they say is turning the nation’s natural resources into a cheap commodity for foreign transnational companies to exploit.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Radio Report: In Argentina human rights groups raise alarm over police violence against youth

Listen to story
In Argentina, government efforts to confront corruption and brutality in the police force have gone through starts and stops, with attention in the 1990s falling to economic and political pressures in more recent years. Now, human rights groups report an alarming increase in police violence against poor youth. The disappearance of a 16-year-old in a Buenos Aires suburb has shed light on police corruption and officers who are quick to use force. FSRN’s Marie Trigona reports from Buenos Aires.
Photo credit: Mimi Schiffman

Friday, February 12, 2010

Where is Luciano Arruga? Disappeared in Argentina’s Democracy

Photo by Mimi Schiffman
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.

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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.

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"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

Tuesday, January 05, 2010

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.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

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/

Friday, November 20, 2009

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.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Argentina: Disappearing Farmers, Disappearing Food

Written by Marie Trigona for TOWARD FREEDOM
Thursday, 29 October 2009
ImageWorldwide, 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.

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Marie Trigona is a writer, radio producer and filmmaker based in Argentina. She can be reached at mtrigona@msn.com

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