Among verdant mountains and brightly colored political murals, more than 1,000 activists, Indigenous leaders, and community members gathered at CIDECI, an Indigenous center for integral learning, in San Cristobal de Las Casas, Chiapas, Mexico, for an international meeting entitled “Global Corporate Capitalism, Planetary Patriarchy, and Autonomies in Rebellion.” Their mission: to unite, resist, and collectively mobilize against large-scale infrastructure projects.
The meeting, held on the weekend of May 6, 2023, marked the culmination of “El Sur Resiste,” a ten-day resistance caravan organized by the National Indigenous Congress that traced the path of the Train Maya—a $6.5 billion tourist railway under construction in the Yucatán Peninsula. The caravan and subsequent meeting aimed to foster solidarity among affected communities, amplify Indigenous voices, and shed light on the violent consequences of megaprojects in southern Mexico like the Train Maya.
Branko, a caravan participant and German climate activist, spent those ten days talking, singing, and protesting alongside communities resisting climate degradation and megaprojects. He declined to share his full name to protect his security. Branko tells The Progressive that the movement's commitment to the “fight [against] capitalism and climate change in general” drives their efforts to raise global awareness and collectively mobilize against neoliberal developments.
By Trainspotting34 - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0
Ruta y estaciones del Tren Maya
Once finalized, the Train Maya project will establish connections between current railway systems, such as the Interoceanic Corridor, with the objectives of bolstering tourism, facilitating resource transportation, and advancing neoliberal development in the region.
Carlos Gonzalez, a lawyer and member of the National Indigenous Congress, contended in his speech during the international meeting that these megaprojects collectively serve a broader agenda to privatize the Yucatán Peninsula and “significantly restructure [Indigenous] territories and populations.”
The privatization of the Yucatán Peninsula is a matter of great concern for the National Indigenous Congress, particularly due to the potential intrusion of various forms of violence and surveillance into their communities as a result of the Train Maya project. Gonzalez argued that these interconnected megaprojects in southern Mexico will act as an informal “curtain” against migration, extending the violence experienced at the U.S.-Mexico border further into southern Mexico.
“What does a company do when they privatize territory?” Branko asks. “They build a fence around it. So, more fences, more streets, more surveillance, and more militarization will cause more violence against migrants.”
Gonzalez argued in his speech that privatization, militarization, and tourism will also fuel the rise of cartel violence in the region. Tourists’ demand for drugs and illegal sex work creates economic opportunities for drug traffickers, who also frequently collude with government officials to offer protection to the international corporations involved in megaprojects—sometimes, as Gonzalez noted, even participating directly in these extractive development projects themselves.
“The capitalists and the narcotraffickers are the same,” Branko says. “They have the same goals. They want to get rich and they don’t care about how [to get there].”
Juan Valerio
Angel Sulub, a Maya activist, speaks to a crowd gathered in Xpujil, Campeche, at a construction zone for a section of the Train Maya in the Yucatán.
This expansion of cartel presence, coupled with the displacement of local and Indigenous communities due to gentrification and urban development, leads to many Indigenous people resorting to work as narcotraffickers. The international meeting emphasized that this phenomenon will fracture the cultural fabric of communities and provoke patriarchal violence in the region.
In addition to these social issues, the Train Maya project poses significant threats to water and ecological systems in the Yucatán Peninsula. The construction of the railway, especially in areas directly above the surface of the Great Maya Aquifer, jeopardizes the drinking water supply for millions of Mexicans.
Moreover, the project will lead to increased urban development and illegal city planning practices, contributing to water contamination, deforestation, and other forms of ecological degradation.
Branko recounts the words of a protester in Pijijiapan on the first day of the caravan: “If your progress means that you’re going to cut down my mango tree, I don’t want this progress; I want my mango tree.”
The international meeting and caravan sought to draw international attention to the Mexican government’s blatant disregard for significant environmental, political, and social concerns among Indigenous communities—which constitutes a violation of international law.
“The International Labor Organization Agreement 169 says that if an Indigenous community is being threatened by an infrastructure project, [they] have to be consulted,” Branko says. In the case of the Train Maya, the consultation process didn’t begin until after construction of the railway had already started, “so it was already too late.”
The consultation process for the Train Maya project came under scrutiny from the UN Commission on Human Rights, for failing to meet international human rights requirements. The commission’s report highlighted various flaws, including inadequate language translation, financial barriers preventing many affected community members from participating, and a disproportionate representation of municipal authorities in the interview pool. Additionally, allegations of corruption further cast doubt on the integrity of the consultation process.
Juan Valerio
Caravan participants walk along a highway in Calakmul, Campeche, Mexico.
The caravan and international meeting was a beacon of hope for many affected communities, and an opportunity to cultivate international solidarity. On the second day of the assembly, participants were divided into groups to share about territorial struggles in their own communities and brainstorm future collaborations and actions. Collectively, activists from the global north vowed to publicly shame major stakeholders in their countries, amplify the stories of the El Sur Resiste Caravan in their local media, and organize a global day of action.
“Everyone has a very big responsibility,” Branko says. “Our solidarity role is to put pressure on the international companies [in our countries] that are supporting these new colonial policies.”
Participants left the caravan and international meeting infused with profound inspiration and drive to resist the Train Maya development and capitalist degradation of the planet. Many shared that the remarkable displays of collective action and power during the meeting offered a glimpse into a brighter future.