The Accord for a Firm and Lasting Peace signed on December 29, 1996 by the Government of Guatemala and the Unidad Revolucionaria Nacional Guatemalteca (URNG) concluded a war of nearly three decades duration, and a seven year peace negotiation process that spanned three Guatemalan governments.
In some ways, the least extraordinary aspect of the negotiation was the formal close of military hostilities, given the reduced level of military activity during much of the process. The war killed some 140,000 Guatemalans, orphaned tens of thousands, destroyed hundreds of villages, exiled tens of thousands of people and left millions of others in fear. It ripped the social fabric of the country. The importance of ending this immense destruction can hardly be overstated, nor can the treaty's contribution to the difficult but not impossible process of reconciliation.
Though beset by problems of implementation, the wreckage of war, and high levels of poverty and unemployment, the peace process has been transformative.
In addition to bringing the warring sides to the negotiating table, the Guatemalan peace process was a catalyst of change in the traditional social relationships between powerful and marginalized groups in the society:
The accords are noteworthy in the length and breadth of subject areas they cover. They open the Guatemalan polity to the possibility of dozens of legislated and mandated changes in areas ranging from education to trade unions to taxes, conduct of elections, police, forms of enhanced political participation, to the judiciary, land conflicts and rural credit. The treaty calls for an accounting of past human rights abuses.
Over time, the growing participation in the peace process of a variety of international players (the United Nations; a formal group of five countries designated "Friends" of the process; and international financial organizations) helped end the deep international isolation Guatemala's war and human rights violations had created, and provided an entry for the URNG to "come in from the cold." The presence of the UN verification mission (MINUGUA) following the signing of accords in March and June of 1994 on human rights and displaced populations changed the political landscape of the country, though human rights violations did not disappear. U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) facilitated the return of refugees. International participation had a direct impact on the content of the more concrete sections of the peace accords, and encouraged the participation of civil society.
As was the case in Nicaragua and El Salvador, the post-conflict period in Guatemala has seen an escalation of common and organized crime, as well as several dozen attacks on URNG activists. But there is widespread agreement among human rights groups that human rights conditions (not including social and economic human rights) have improved in recent years.
Since the implementation period began in early 1997 much has been accomplished.
The URNG successfully demobilized its troops under UN observation and modest reintegration programs have begun. The massive and largely involuntary civilian action patrols organized by the military (and incorporating some 600,000 Guatemalans) have been formally demobilized, and so too has the Mobile Military Police, a unit often accused of human rights abuses.
Though precise verification is difficult, it appears that the military has made a substantial reduction in force and budget in keeping with its obligation under the accords, though it has maintained bases that would seem to have, with the war over, little military purpose.
The process of forming an entire new police force has at least begun, though, with many serious problems.
The accords call for formation of numerous government, URNG, and civil society commissions to oversee and make recommendations concerning various broad aspects of the accords, and for increased participation at the local level. Fifteen commissions were formed (not without controversy) and substantially engaged in their appointed tasks, though most operated on delayed schedules.
The Historical Clarification Commission, charged with investigating wartime human rights abuses, was formed, received considerable documentation and testimony and slowly received operating funds, though it too faces challenges and has complained about lack of cooperation from the military.
Much progress was made before the final accords in resettling refugees from Mexico, and this process contributed to the peace negotiations. Less progress has been made with respect to the internally displaced. The end of the formal return of refugees in Mexico should occur this year.
The government in 1997 increased its tax yields and its expenditures on health and education in keeping with the accords, but in early 1998 efforts to continue progress toward taxation targets slowed significantly as partisan electoral dynamics began to adversely affect the peace process.
Progress in carrying out the accords has not come easily or without opposition. As has been the case with other peace processes, the specifics of implementation often seems less dramatic than what the language of the accords seemed to promise, and this can foster both frustration and a sense that the process is failing among those whose expectations have been raised by the formal end of civil war.
The Arzú government took strong unilateral steps before and immediately after the signing of the accords to establish confidence in its commitment to peace. These steps included making significant changes in the high command of the armed forces and in naming capable and committed people to key positions responsible for implementing the agreements. The aura of good will dissipated, however, as the government engaged in increasingly hostile exchanges with the Guatemalan press. In April 1997 reports that Guatemalan security forces had "disappeared" a captured guerrilla involved in a prominent kidnaping case the previous October blew up into a major and lengthy scandal that weakened all three parties to the negotiations. The head of MINUGUA was accused of covering up the case, while Arzú responded to MINUGUA criticism by naming the head of the unit implicated to be the new Chief of Staff of the armed forces.
At the beginning of 1998 the government backed off from commitments to approve new tax legislation called for in the accords, and this was followed by a growing assault against other elements of the accords by forces opposed to the peace process as a whole or various aspects of it.
By June of this year electoral dynamics appeared to be displacing the accords as the key focus of governmental actors. With presidential elections coming in 1999, the governing party, the Partido de Avanzada Nacional (PAN), seems to be reorienting government priorities to maximize its electoral chances. It may perceive that pouring resources into accord implementation or making concessions to the URNG and to organized groups of civil society, will be used against it by opponents to the right, namely the Frente Republicano Guatemalteco (FRG) which brings to the electoral fray much stronger resources than the left. The founder of the FRG is former dictator Efraín Ríos Montt.1
The strongest pressure for implementation of the accords comes from international donors who have indicated that post war funds will be conditioned on treaty compliance, particularly on meeting the budgetary and taxation goals necessary to generate resources to carry out the accords. However, a strict application of conditionality may not be feasible or desirable from the perspective of the donors.
As the Guatemalan government weighs the political and electoral costs of sacrificing a particular series of international grants, which may have long term payoffs, against the short-term risks of raising taxes, there are growing signs that the peace process is losing momentum because major power holders do not see incentives for themselves in the broad process of democratization the accords call for and require.
This report examines in detail both the progress and the problems in carrying out key components of the accords. The main problem areas involve:
The accords also established a number of more representative commissions to work out detailed plans for implementing the goals embodied in the treaty. This process has been initiated in the midst of great institutional instability, however, and instability poses dangers. The legislative and executive ability of historically weak state institutions is being severely tested by the burdens imposed by the accords. Nevertheless, the present instability can be seen in positive contrast to the previously rigid stable system (which eventually exploded into civil war).
The military has changed. It is more acquiescent to increased civilian power and to incorporation of groups with ideological bents and historical affiliations once considered anathema. Yet, the extent of change is hard to measure because the military remains largely closed. Outsiders attempting to gauge its moves have been roughly in the position of cold war Kremlin watchers. Few have inside sources. It is clear that change has limits; chief among them is accountability for illicit, illegal activities. Even among military reformers, the iron law of loyalty toward one's comrades vis a vis the outside world prevails. However, internal rivalries, differences over the scope of military doctrine, and an impulse in some military quarters to become a more modern and professional institution have created new dynamics of debate.
The electoral system is little better than a decade old. The party system has shown instability, with previously powerful parties splitting and falling drastically in popularity. The leading parties are new. The leader of the FRG, Ríos Montt, had his presidential candidacy twice disallowed because he had previously come to power, in 1982, by way of military coup. Had he been allowed to run in the last election, he might well have won. He was opposed to the peace process and concessions to the URNG. The electorate has not demonstrated much confidence that elections provide a viable mechanism for influencing political decisions. Voter turnout has been low; polls show distrust is high. There is a growing belief among the citizenry at large that the accords have little relevance to their lives.
The treaty asserts that the indigenous have never been accorded the full rights of citizens and that Guatemala can never achieve unified nationhood without correcting this. Indigenous groups (rapidly proliferating since the accords) advocate, under the accords, for a broad range of changes: expanded educational services and multilingual education, multilingual courts, police drawn from indigenous communities, use of customary law to resolve disputes, consultation with indigenous groups in all decision areas which affect them, reform of the electoral system, restitution of land usurpations, full respect paid to cultural practices and at least shared control over physical manifestation of the historic Mayan patrimony, and full access to and some control of the mass media.
The accord reflects a consensus around these goals, but is much less clear in their specificity and means of implementation. However, it is highly unlikely that such a consensus is shared by the majority of non-indigenous society which has not, in the main, yet been confronted with the implications of what full implementation could mean in terms of shifting of resources. Various public statements suggest that there are fears about what enhanced rights and demands of Mayans might imply. Given the low tax burden and the existence of racist attitudes, implementing these provisions is almost sure to meet resistance.
Even the extent to which consensus exists among the indigenous is not clear. A broad consensus that discrimination has targeted Mayans may be fairly assumed, but agreement on exactly how these wrongs are to be righted remains to be demonstrated. For example, the accord makes a strong call for multilingual education, and some prominent indigenous leaders press for the primacy of the indigenous language in educational institutions. Yet it is also clear that some indigenous parents are more worried that their children master Spanish because they see it as the path to economic success in a world combining both extreme Mayan localism and a rapidly growing Mayan urban, and even international, diaspora. The large number of Mayan groups and past tensions within umbrella groups manifest a lack of consensus.
Many occupiers defend their actions based on legal claims ranging from usurpation of land titles decades earlier by powerful owners to failure to pay farm workers legal wages, or failure to pay them any wages at all.
The problem is far deeper than these individual claims which frequently pit poor occupiers against wealthy title holders. The URNG was unable to get agreement in the negotiations for provisions calling for a land reform that would have been a pale version of that legislated by the Arbenz government forty five years earlier because the issue is anathema to the government and the large landholders that back it. Guatemala has, by comparative standards, a large rural population, an extremely high index of land inequality, very deep, extensive rural poverty, and insufficient urban employment to begin to resolve these problems. Rural wages are low and unemployment is high. For peasants with land, their holdings are often insufficient to provide a decent standard of living. Those who most likely will get land and credit for purchasing it under the accords - returning refugees, an unknown but probably small proportion of the internally displaced, and small numbers of former combatants (small relative to, for example, former combatants in El Salvador or Nicaragua)- are but a tiny proportion of those who need land.
The accords address this larger problem often, but in only vague terms. A complex array of institutions has been mounted to take up issues, and there have been private negotiations with peasant groups beginning in late 1997. Pilot projects have begun to assess property boundaries, and to resolve conflicts. Progress has been slow and overtaken by increasing land occupations and subsequent forcible eviction of occupiers. The head of the government agency responsible for resolving these land conflicts resigned in December, reportedly because he had not been given the resources necessary to deal with the problems.
By and large that has not happened. The government committed itself in the accords to increase health and education spending by 50% by the year 2000 and for 1997 the target was a 15% increase. But Guatemala has suffered from a long legacy of very low health and education expenditures, and its upper middle and upper class citizens have enjoyed extremely low taxation rates (about seven percent of GDP), far lower than the Latin American average. Legislation to increase taxes was passed early in 1998, but quickly repealed after widespread protests. Even were it to meet the treaty requirement of a 50% increase in health expenditures by 2000, it would amount to an increase of about $4.00 per person for the year 2000 budget. The 1997 target was under $1.50 per capita. But by June, MINUGUA and international donors seemed resigned to the likelihood that electoral dynamics made it impossible to achieve the timetable set forth in the accords, and were engaged in behind-the-scenes bargaining with the government over modifying the targets. Even with maximum efficiency it would be difficult to make major improvements with an impact on the whole population.
The Guatemalan Congress has shallow institutional roots, given that the military ran the country exclusively until 1985 and was dominant after that. Additionally, though the 1993 coup by President Serrano failed, it was framed as an attempt to remove the Congress. Serrano's attack on Congress was probably due to his having lost a working majority coalition, but he claimed to have been driven, as in the case of Fujimori in Peru, by high levels of both congressional corruption and incompetence. There was considerable evidence to support Serrano's claim, and his successor, interim President Ramiro de León Carpio, though elected by the Congress, moved to purge Congress. He sought Constitutional change through a referendum resulting, in effect, in a vote of no confidence in the Congress and a reduction in congressional seats from 116 to 80 with a two term limit, and an election to finish out the 1994-95 term. The referendum was approved with an extremely low turnout of 11%, and the subsequent election only had a 20% turnout. That election vaulted the FRG (32 seats) and the PAN (24) into the forefront of the brief Congress and decimated the ranks of other parties, in effect completing the purge.
The November 1995 congressional elections resulted in the PAN winning a majority (42 of 80) with the FRG winning 22 seats. The new leftist coalition FDNG (Frente Democrática Nueva Guatemala) won six seats, the first time leftists have held (or been allowed to even run) for congressional office since the Arbenz period.2
The Congress faces difficult challenges resulting from the peace accords. They call for many new laws and constitutional changes. Despite its refurbished character it remains unclear whether it will be able to meet them. Legislators have had little or no staff, and that which has existed for committees has rotated frequently (annually) as do the main offices and committee chairs.
The institutional weakness of the Congress is mirrored by (and fed by) the institutional weakness of political parties. Perhaps the most striking feature of the 1994 and 1995 elections is that parties which had won significant seats in earlier elections were either eliminated or reduced to a seat or two. The Christian Democrats had won the Presidency in 1985 and the UCN in 1990 and, along with the far right MLN, had dominated the Congress. They are virtually eliminated.
The PAN may be the rising star, but then that is what was thought of the Christian Democrats in 1985. The PAN was not on the map in 1985. Arzú was elected by a comité cívico to the mayorship of Guatemala in 1985, and ran for President under the PAN banner in 1990 gaining 17% of the vote, when the PAN won 4 (of 116) legislative seats, and 16 of 330 municipal elections. Municipalities are the basic local unit of government, roughly corresponding geographically to U.S. counties, and have mayors and municipal councils.
The FRG, created around Ríos Montt, won (in a coalition) 12 seats in 1990 and was not on the map before that. As a former dictator, he has twice been prevented from running, despite considerable popularity even in the war zones. The party is definitely to the right, but has little program.
The defeat of the Serranazo, the 1995 election, and the signing of the peace accords may have "turned the corner," in Guatemala's dual transition from war to peace and from military government to election civilian government. The nineties have been characterized, however, by marked volatility and weaknesses: Voter turnouts have ranged from low (by the standards of other Central American countries and most developed countries) to abysmally low. There has been one major attempt to overthrow the government and several serious rumblings. A former President is in exile. The front running Presidential candidate in the first round of the 1990 election, Jorge Carpio Nicolle, was subsequently assassinated, and the case has not yet been solved. His party, which won 41 of 116 seats in 1990, the MAS of Serrano (which won 18) and the Christian Democrats which won 27 have been virtually eliminated as significant political actors.
The URNG retains a high profile as a signatory to the accords, but it faces the task of transforming itself into a civilian, electoral political party. During the demobilization phase of the accords it was revealed to have a relatively small organization and not one with a large group of cadres trained or prepared to be political or electoral organizers. It has multiple ties to organizations in the ASC, but the strength of these ties and indeed the unity among the various organizations of the URNG, remains to be tested, as do its relations with the new electoral coalition on the left the FDNG.
The ASC claimed to represent broad non-business sectors, but it has declined in importance since the final accords were signed. Many of the popular groups in the ASC maintained unpublicized links with factions of the URNG, though the degree to which these conditioned their political postures is difficult to ascertain and probably varies widely from group to group. With its ten constituent sectors and consensus-oriented decision-making procedures, the ASC has been an unwieldy body with little capacity to react quickly to breaking political developments and only modest impact on public opinion. However, despite this general character it was, during the negotiations, able in impressive fashion and under great duress and time pressure to draft wide ranging proposals for the peace accords, many of which deeply influenced the substance of the negotiations. It achieved these proposals through a rather closed and centralized internal process.4
The Catholic Church in Guatemala is a significant actor in the peace process in its own right. Monseñor Quezada Toruño moderated the ASC during the most critical period of negotiations, and the church frequently acted as a go-between and back channel for exchanges on critical issues. The church also conducted its own massive investigation of past abuses, paralleling the mandate of the "Clarification Commission" established under the accords, and in April published its findings including naming those it identified as responsible. The shocking murder of Bishop Gerardi (who headed the investigative project), three days after the publication of the findings of massive human rights violations on the part of the military, heightened tensions between the church and the government. Overall the church has maintained a certain distance from the implementation process, often criticizing delays or failures to carry out provisions of the accords but not acting in a coordinated way to mobilize people to support the accords.
There are also a number of civil society organizations which, while represented in the ASC, increasingly have been active in their own name to support provisions of the accords or to monitor and evaluate the process of implementation. The Alliance Against Impunity, comprising many key human rights organizations, has been particularly critical of all three "pillars" of the peace process (the government, the URNG and MINUGUA). Leaders of some of these groups have expressed a concern apparently shared by many civil society organizations not linked to the URNG or the government, that the peace process could strengthen and legitimate those two actors while marginalizing independent groups that are often more representative.
Though invited, CACIF refused to participate in the ASC, and in late 1994 formed its own Businessmen's Peace Commission, headed by a prominent export-import merchant, Peter Lamport, to formulate separate proposals on the peace process. In contrast to the ASC, CACIF is a tight-knit, well-organized and extremely powerful organization with a capacity for rapid political maneuver. CACIF has steadfastly opposed increases in tax rates and wholly or partially thwarted four major attempts since the mid-1980s to raise the national tax coefficient. It may have been behind the government's tax retreat this year as well. Guatemala's economic elite has also staunchly opposed measures that might attack poverty through a direct redistribution of wealth, and has been powerful enough to keep land reform off the agenda of policy debate under all the recent governments. It, along with the farther right Camera del Agro, has bitterly attacked the government for not sufficiently repelling rural land invasions in the last few years and in the last half of 1997 forced a strong response from the Arzú administration.
The UN saw to it that the international financial institutions were consulted by both sides during negotiations of the economic accord, and the more specific language in the accord is no doubt a product of those discussions. The five friends (Norway, the U.S., Mexico, Venezuela, and Colombia) were named in the framework accord (January 10, 1994) to support the UN and give security to the commitments made. Prior to this Norway had played a facilitating role.
But there are other comparisons with El Salvador that must also be kept in mind while trying to assess how well the implementation process is going in Guatemala. The FMLN came to the negotiating table, and to the implementation period, with considerably more muscle than the URNG. The FMLN negotiated accords that addressed a narrower range of topics than the Guatemalan accords, but they were written in more specific and enforceable language. The FMLN was able to get Constitutional changes passed months before the signing of the final accord and with its troops still in the field. By contrast, the Guatemalan government promised to propose a range of Constitutional changes. These were tied up in Congress (and held hostage by the FRG's demand for a Constitutional change that would permit Ríos Montt to run for President) for months beginning in September 1997. The Guatemalan agreement contains more wide ranging language on social and economic areas, by far, than the Salvadoran accord, but a great many of the provisions are stated in sufficiently general terms as to make them virtually unenforceable. The Salvadoran accord (after a great deal of difficulty) resulted in land transfers that will probably exceed by a good deal those eventually achieved in Guatemala.
The Salvadoran agreement and the dynamics it generated through the implementation process were very party centered. Though it was not entirely predictable, the two main electoral protagonists have become the ARENA party and the FMLN, and the FMLN has done quite well in making a transition from war to electoral struggle despite a lack of experience and serious internal splits. The peace process in Guatemala has placed on the political agenda a large number of general goals and catalyzed an array of new political organizations struggling over those goals. While it is too soon to judge the results, there is at least a possibility that the Guatemalan process will produce a more plural political arena than has been the case in El Salvador, one marked by novel forms of development at the national and local level, particularly in indigenous areas.
As this report details, there are many obstacles that must be overcome for the Guatemalan accords to be successful in transforming fundamental characteristics of traditional social and political life. These include overcoming resistance from powerful sectors opposed to the accords. Yet, by comparison with El Salvador during the first two years after the signing of the agreements, the Guatemalan government has exhibited significantly more political will to make institutional reforms than did the ARENA government.
A much bigger obstacle in Guatemala is the legacy of cynicism and mistrust that pervades society. Voter turnout has been low. Polls indicate that by comparison with other Central American countries (and not just Costa Rica) Guatemalans, perhaps for quite rationale reasons, have low confidence and support in the political system and low amounts of tolerance and trust. Although Salvadorans are almost as skeptical about the political system, Guatemalans are more than twice as skeptical as citizens in war torn Nicaragua and seven times more so than in Costa Rica.7
In a certain sense the very breadth and scope of the Guatemalan accords provides more opportunities for critics to argue that they are a failure. Like all peace accords the negotiated end of civil war raises expectations that are difficult to meet in the short-term. The challenge that must be successfully met in the months ahead to avoid increasing cynicism and resentment is to demonstrate that the peace process still has momentum and that implementing the agreements is both possible and the best possible route to a better future for the vast majority of Guatemalan society. This is a formidable challenge.
No one knows how many Guatemalans were displaced by the war, nor how many still are. The government's scorched earth campaign in 1981-1983 depopulated vast areas, displacing an estimated 1.5 million people (then 20% of the population). Some fled Guatemala, mainly to Mexico, and are called "refugees" by aid agencies, while others moved within Guatemala and are called the "internally displaced."
The majority of the internally displaced who fled in the early eighties returned home within the first year or two after they fled and others followed gradually over the years. Sixteen years later there are still a few who long to return home or seek other resettlement options. Of those who haven't, a large majority have chosen to stay where they are (for economic, social or political reasons), but still suffer from having been displaced and having lost family members, land, and belongings.
No one ever attempted a complete census of the internally displaced. A census during the war would have produced skewed results given the fear felt by the displaced that they would be associated with "subversives" if they came forward. To survive, many of the displaced within Guatemala remained dispersed and anonymous, until recently. In some areas, ironically, individuals who never moved, or did so for economic reasons, have called themselves displaced to take advantage of aid or to back the demands for aid being made by groups of the displaced. Joint research efforts between organizations of the displaced and government agencies resulted in a May 1997 estimate of 324,000 (some 55,000 families) internally displaced and returned refugees. A close look at the data, however, indicates a lack of consensus over exact definitions, and the study does not distinguish between those who were displaced and those who still are.8 Organizations representing groups of internally displaced negotiating resettlement options or assistance in their present communities claim a total of 100,000 people in need of government aid.9
No one, however, alleges that there are new cases of displaced groups, so the displaced are mainly inherited from the last decade. Who represents them and how best to aid them is continually in debate between population groups, government agencies and development agencies. Like most campesinos, those who were displaced persons in Guatemala suffer from abject poverty, and lack land and economic opportunity. They might also suffer from being outsiders in communities not their own. Of the many that did return home over the years, economic recovery is slow, especially if their lands were taken over by others.
Calling oneself displaced until recently implied a potential risk to one's life and livelihood. Activists in organizations that service the displaced, founded in the late 1980's, suffered various forms of persecution until the early 1990s. The displaced also suffered harassment due to lack of identity documents, lost when they fled. Unable to obtain replacements because of fear of returning to their places of origin, or due to the destruction during the war of municipal registers, they could not register the birth of children, own land, or obtain loans, among other problems.
Beginning in 1987 refugee groups became increasingly visible and outspoken. But groups representing the internally displaced could not act openly due to repression until groups such as the National Council of Guatemalan Displaced (CONDEG) formed in 1989 and the Communities of Population in Resistance (CPR) went public in 1990. The CPR represented groups in the mountains and jungle areas of Quiché and Petén who had been evading army capture for nearly a decade. They demanded treatment as civilian non-combatants.
Refugee lobbying resulted in concrete government commitments. In November 1991 President Serrano signed a "Letter of Understanding" with UNHCR that outlined basic guarantees for returning refugees. On October 8, 1992, the government signed an agreement with the representatives of the refugees in the camps in Mexico (known as the "Permanent Commissions of Guatemalan Refugees"). The agreement reiterated constitutional rights and outlined a mechanism for land acquisition. This catapulted the Permanent Commissions into the limelight as the first group of refugees in the world to directly negotiate the terms of their repatriation with their own government.
These "October 8th" Accords led to organized returns on a larger scale. The refugee groups consciously sought to pave the way for broader peace negotiations between the state and the URNG which were picking up momentum in 1993. The renewed pace of the negotiations led to a series of fundamental accords in 1994, including one to resettle the "uprooted" (which was not to officially go into effect, save for a formation of a technical commission, until the signing of a final and global accord).
The progress made in the October 8th Accords, the involvement of organized refugee groups as well as UNHCR, and the return process itself showed a path for the larger peace accords by taking steps toward peace and reconciliation, by having people regarded as enemies negotiate, and by involving sectors of civil society and the international community. All these processes became integral features of the larger treaty negotiations, as did the formation of joint government-population commissions to oversee implementation.
Ironically, the role of the refugees in paving the way for the global peace process meant that by the time the final peace agreement was signed, most of the refugees determined to arrive home had already returned or were actively negotiating their return independent of the peace process.
By the end of 1997, over 37,000 Guatemalans had returned, according to UNHCR reckoning. Almost 20,000 of them had come in organized, negotiated collective returns. (See Table 1.) The first collective return brought 500 families in January 1993. Since then more than 35 communities have been resettled, either in their places of origin or on lands purchased through government credit schemes.
The decision of Guatemalan refugees to go home or wait in Mexico has been subject to many factors that have varied over the years. For example, the return pace quickened after the sudden explosion of the Chiapas conflict in January 1994, the downward tailspin of the Mexican economy later that year, and finally drought and then flooding in refugee camp areas. Meanwhile, refugees observed that returnees, in general, were not harassed and were resettling and reconstructing their communities with adequate assistance. Many hastened to regain lands or obtain new ones with government loans and services available on a first come first serve basis. Thus, 1995 was the year that more than 9,500 refugees returned, the highest number of any year and 25% of the total for all years since 1984.
Shortly after the return pace had picked up in 1994 and 1995, other events had a discouraging effect on repatriation. Security for collective returnees had not been a serious problem until October 1995 when an army patrol trespassing on a returnee farm called Xamán opened fire on an unarmed group leaving eleven persons dead and several more wounded. In addition to creating a public scandal (the Minister of Defense resigned), the "Xamán massacre" made refugees question a new safety in Guatemala.10
Also in 1995, the Mexican government did a turnabout in its refugee policy, formally registering those refugees interested in becoming naturalized Mexicans. During 1995, many refugees began to question anew their commitment to returning home. Many of the adolescent and young adults who had grown up in Mexico did not want to go to Guatemala and their parents were reluctant to leave them behind. Furthermore, fully half the refugee population was born in Mexico and will have full rights as Mexican citizens once they turn 18. Other refugees simply continued to postpone the decision with the justification that their children should finish school or because productive projects were just beginning to pay off. These factors contributed to make return to Guatemala a less attractive option as demonstrated by the dwindling number of repatriates in 1996 and 1997.
Even the renewed outbreak of violence in Chiapas in December 1997 was not enough to increase the number of returnees in the first half of 1998 (from January through June less than 1500 people had arrived) although some refugees living in the most conflictive areas stepped up pressure on the Guatemalan government to purchase lands under negotiation. Although a detailed census in late 1997 predicted that up to 6,500 refugees still wanted to come home, apparently most will wait until the last possible minute and evaluate the situation on both sides of the border before deciding either way. In any case, at least 21,000 of the refugees are slated for permanent and legal integration in Mexico.
Repatriate communities in general have been no worse off than other rural villages, and, in many cases, they live in considerably better conditions. In some cases neighboring communities see them as unfairly privileged. But for many returnees, particularly those who lived in Mexico in more developed settlements (in the Mexican states of Campeche and Quintana Roo) with community services normally unavailable in Guatemalan rural areas, their new reality has seemed harsh. Young people, unfamiliar with agricultural villages without roads, have often been the most disappointed, and sometimes have deserted to cities or migrated back to Mexico or to the U.S.
Given the absence of available national lands, the Guatemalan government provided for the purchase of private lands at high prices, to be repaid into a community fund by returnees. The rationale: better lands will break the typical cycle of poverty. For the some 20,000 who have come in organized, collective returns, about one third were able to return to their original lands, often because their land was in war zones and had never been taken over by new occupants. The rest, including many young families, went to new lands.
Between November 1993 and May 1998, the government had purchased land for 25 returnee communities (and in one case used state land) benefitting almost 10,000 people. The lands purchased equal some 120,000 acres. Given that high prices were being paid to well-off farm owners to benefit relatively few families, sectors within the government wanted to limit, and eventually end this land program. To outside observers as well, the program was seen as economically and politically untenable as a model for resolving the land problems of Guatemala's poor rural majority. In the absence of other kinds of agrarian reform and land access, however, the refugees were given little option but to pressure for the purchase of more private farms.
Two credit mechanisms were used for returnees to obtain new lands.11 Some communities ended up with larger tracts of land per family in areas where the agricultural potential is limited, especially in the remote Petén region. Over time, however, more returnee groups opted for a lesser quantity of better quality lands already under production. This increased the investment per family to U.S. $10,000 just for land purchase as calculated by the government in March 1998. The amount of land per family (including urban areas, forest reserve and other land not used for cultivation) ranges from 10 acres to nearly 100 depending on land quality. This represents larger quantities of land than most Guatemalan peasants have, to say nothing of the rural poor who have no land at all.12
But the economic future of the returnee communities is problematic independent of the amount and type of land received. Production has been uncertain. Resources are put into building houses and community infrastructure first. New farm communities have been formed by returnees from different refugee camps who agree to organize as cooperatives, without necessarily having the ethnic or historical ties on which to build a solid community. In some cases returnees have no experience managing the resources found in their new communities (natural rubber plantations, large-scale cattle ranching, forest reserves). The communities are highly dependent on outside funding and technical support which may not be available in a reliable way. Historically, throughout the world, land reform or land grant programs often founder, once land is obtained, for lack of technical and credit support and organizational experience.
But vague wording and the lack of concrete mechanisms undermine the commitments. The right to recover land is strongly worded, but leaves open the possibility that the displaced be compensated if lands cannot be recovered. The accord falls short of fully committing the government to provide new lands under favorable terms for the internally displaced, in contrast to the benefits outlined for returning refugees in the October 1992 accord signed with refugee groups.
The 1994 agreement called for a Technical Commission to be formed with two representatives each from the government, the displaced populations, and the international community (the latter as non-voting participants) in order to advance the preparatory work in anticipation of its eventual implementation.
The Technical Commission was formalized July 26, 1994. Initially the Commission was weakened by struggles over who would represent each sector, and government objections to the displaced being represented in the commission by the Consultative Assembly of Displaced Population (ACPD) made up of organizations that the government considered antagonistic and politicized. Membership in the ACPD includes the Permanent Commissions of Guatemalan Refugees, the CPR, CONDEG, the Campesino Unity Committee (CUC), the National Coordinating Committee for Guatemalan Widows (CONAVIGUA), the Mutual Support Group of the families of the disappeared (GAM) and others. After several months of in-fighting over who would convene and run the Commission, participants agreed to form task forces to discuss issues in the agreement. The Commission would endorse strategies, not implement them, and international actors would help seek funding.13
Mixing representatives from diverse backgrounds with different political agendas to form common proposals did not remove long standing distrust. Nonetheless, over time participants discovered that there were articulate and able counterparts on the other side of the table. These factors led to substantial gains in the form of decision-making by key government officials, influenced by the beneficiary populations even when the concrete outcome is not always what the population groups had advocated. The Technical Commission formed a model for the peace accords' broader framework of joint commissions to oversee treaty implementation. By early 1997, the Commission had reached consensus on a resettlement and reintegration assistance plan for displaced populations with a trust fund for resettlement projects under the auspices of the UNDP. The resettlement plan is supposed to guide the Commission in approving funding proposals. The trust fund by mid 1998 had received funding from Japan, Denmark, Sweden, the Netherlands and Finland totaling 8 million dollars covering community or regional projects in health, agricultural production and infrastructure, and national projects in documentation and land acquisition. Nevertheless, given the long list of concrete development needs in the communities, these projects only begin to address the overall problem.
The Ministry of Education and representatives of displaced groups painstakingly revised a UNESCO draft proposal for meeting education needs and an education plan was adopted in early 1998.14 A law to facilitate personal documentation for the displaced, also stipulated by the agreement, was passed in August 1997.15 Furthermore, ongoing negotiations to resettle the CPR displaced populations in the Ixil area of El Quiché and in Petén bore fruit in 1998, resulting in the relocation of these groups.
On the negative side, Commission representatives of the internally displaced and refugees were disappointed when, in 1995 and 1997, the government presented unilateral proposals for international funding without including them, thereby undermining the spirit, and perhaps the letter, of the peace accords.16 The commitment by the government to guarantee the legalization of lands held by returnees, especially national lands held in many cases for 20 years, has not been respected to date given the lack of coordination among government agencies and bureaucracy associated with the National Agrarian Transformation Institute (INTA). The full incorporation of women into the process and the application of a gender focus in all projects implemented has yet to be addressed in a serious way despite the emphasis in the accord on the issue. In general, there is increasing frustration on all sides as frequent meetings haven't necessarily resulted in even the "minimal goals" set forth by the selfsame Commission.17
Debate continued into 1998 about the extent to which the government was willing to place special emphasis on the land and social service problems of the internally displaced, as opposed to including them incidentally in government programs aimed at alleviating extreme poverty in general. In February 1998, the Technical Commission signed an agreement with the new Land Fund created by the peace accords with the stated goal of giving priority and special conditions to internally displaced groups. But six months later none of the groups that had applied had made any progress.18 The government has also opposed stretching definitions of the displaced, fearing this would open the floodgates to demands for special help.
In sum, returning refugees have fared relatively well over the years, compared to the internally displaced and compared, in many cases, to other campesinos (which is to say they are quite poor, but less poor than the others.) Their relatively good treatment is mostly due to international attention and resources. Implementation of the peace accords has a long way to go to benefit significantly the internally displaced. The Technical Commission has proved an important experiment. While mutually critical and skeptical of each other's representativeness and effectiveness, both government and population actors involved in the Technical Commission recognize the usefulness of the forum that brings them together and ultimately rely on the legitimacy that each party confers upon the other for the broader political objectives that each seek. Only when the projects envisioned in the agreement are designed, funded and carried out in the rural communities of the displaced can the lasting results be evaluated.
The Accord on the Strengthening of Civilian Power and the Role of the Military in a Democratic Society (henceforth Civilian Power accord), signed on September 19, 1996 is arguably the cornerstone of the Guatemalan peace process. Earlier accords aimed to mitigate human rights violations; called for the return of tens of thousands of Guatemalans uprooted by the civil war; the redressing of wrongs committed against the huge indigenous population; and the improvement of a host of economic and social conditions. But in the long run, the reduction and restructuring of internal security forces encysted for decades in the Guatemalan state, and the eventual elimination of the overwhelming impunity enjoyed by those forces, is the key to solidifying peace and building a more just, democratic society.
The accord on civilian power confirms the subordination of military to civilian authority. It removes internal security from the Army's mission, leaving it to defend the nation's sovereignty and territory, and establishes a police force under civilian direction. It required the army to reduce in numbers by one-third in 1997, to demobilize and disarm the civil defense patrols (PACs), and to reduce its budget by 33% (as a proportion of GDP) from 1995 levels. The accord permits the Minister of National Defense to be either a military official or a civilian. It calls for a constitutional reform to provide for trials in civilian courts of military personnel accused of crimes against civilians.
The accord also authorizes the president to replace the Estado Mayor Presidencial (EMP), a secretive military unit that has controlled the actions of Presidents, with new civilian entities. Two civilian intelligence agencies are called for, one organized in the Ministry of Governance to combat organized crime, the other, a "Strategic Analysis Secretariat", to function directly under the presidency.
Given the traditional power of the military there are many Guatemalans who doubt that the language of the accords will be transformed into reality. A year and a half after their signing, there has been only partial fulfillment of the requirements described above. Nevertheless, regional realities of the 1990s, the peace process, and expanded political space for civilian government have subjected the army to pressures to adapt itself organizationally and politically. A changing army leadership has attempted to refurbish the image of and restructure the military institution, but implementation is taking place in the context of intra-military faction struggles that are at least partially rooted in differences over accountability for past abuses and whether or not to reform key military structures responsible for those abuses.19
The 1985 elections, won by civilian Vinicio Cerezo, initiated an era of military controlled pluralism.20 Then Defense Minister Gramajo and the Estado Mayor Presidencial maintained control over the new civilian president. Within the EMP, a "presidential security directorate," known colloquially as the archivo ("archive"), gathered intelligence and carried out selective repression. The EMP enveloped President Cerezo and his successor, Jorge Serrano, controlling even their daily appointments and discretionary budget.21
The army continued to be involved in multiple forms of corruption. Cerezo and Gramajo were forced to beat back two major coup attempts in 1988-89 led by military officers who opposed the "softer" line of Gramajo. By the beginning of the Serrano administration more "hardline" officers occupied most of the top positions in the army, but the continuing internal struggle over strategic directions was reflected by the fact that the "Oslo peace process" got under way during Serrano's administration and military officers became involved in the talks.22
Serrano and military hardliners attempted to dissolve Congress in May 1993. But vigorous national and international reaction made it clear to the majority of the army leadership that powerful forces, including CACIF and the United States, would not countenance the "autogolpe," a reversal of the trend toward electoral democracy emerging in Central America. Opposition from military intelligence, headed by Col. Otto Pérez Molina, led to the collapse of military support for Serrano, whereupon a more "institutionalist" grouping of officers came to power. Emerging as defense minister was Gen. Mario René Enríquez. He had participated in the peace negotiations from the beginning, and defined himself as "a general for peace" leading "an army for democracy."23
Whereas the peace process had stalled under Serrano, by early 1994 the Framework Accord was signed. Four more accords would be signed during the term of President de León Carpio, elected by the Congress to replace Serrano. The increased prospect of a negotiated peace forced the army to rethink its role in a society at peace.24
A weak civilian leadership did not put them to the test. The de León Carpio government had no political base or popular mandate, and was even more dependent that its predecessors on the EMP, under the command of Otto Pérez Molina, who became the eminence grise of the government by helping the president control restive hardliners. The "archivo" continued to flourish. Dr. Monica Pinto, the independent UN human rights expert appointed by the UN Human Rights Commission, reported a continuing high level of human rights violations throughout this period, despite the fact that de León Carpio had gained national prominence during the Serrano period as an active government Human Rights Ombudsman.25
The army stubbornly resisted efforts to reform the National Police which began in late 1993, when de León Carpio named Arnoldo Ortíz Moscoso as Minister of Governance and Mario René Cifuentes as head of the National Police. Key to the reformers' strategy was the expulsion from the police of elements from military intelligence. But in March 1994, the army forced the president to remove the reformers.
During de León Carpio's administration, however, the first steps were taken to place limits on the armed forces and subject it to greater civilian control. The Human Rights Accord reached in March 1994 stipulated that military forced recruitment could not continue, and the President declared, in June 30 Army Day ceremonies, that obligatory conscription was being suspended. In June 1994, the Congress revised the Code of Penal Procedure to partially abridge the historic "fuero militar," which permitted the military to avoid trial in civilian courts. The code's passage sparked hopes that an instrument for combating impunity had been forged.
The most important criminal case involving the army under the jurisdiction of a civilian tribunal during this period was the so- called "Xamán" massacre of October 1995, in which 25 military men and their commanding officer were accused of slaying eight unarmed peasants belonging to a group of returned refugees at a farm ("Xamán") in Alta Verapaz. The president forced the resignation of defense minister Enríquez as well as a local military commander.26 The dismissal of a defense minister over a human rights case was unprecedented. The long-run significance of the case in terms of ending impunity is still unclear, since the Xamán case trial did not begin until April 1998, and then was suspended after a week on charges that the judge was partial toward the defense.
Arzú initially refused to take up residence in the presidential palace in an obvious effort to get out from under the EMP, and at one point even bid to establish his office in the army's Escuela Politécnica ("our alma mater!", a military source reportedly complained).27 Then Arzú quickly ordered sweeping changes in the military high command, officially justified as necessary to relieve the generational bottleneck. These changes, in January 1996, seemed to strengthen the institutionalists including new defense minister Julio Balconi Turcios and chief of the general staff Sergio Camargo Muralles, both officers not associated with gross human rights violations.
By contrast, those consigned to limbo (disponibilidad) included seven more hardline generals led by the outgoing chief of staff, Gen. Carlos Enrique Pineda Carranza.28 Former EMP head Pérez Molina, another contender for the top spot, found himself relegated to a post removed from command of troops. The nomination of air force Gen. Marco Tulio Espinosa as new EMP head appeared, at the time, to signal a downgrading of that body, as air force officers traditionally have little influence over Guatemala's ground-based army structure.
At the beginning of Balconi's tenure, the Guatemalan press began to display an unprecedented aggressiveness in pursuing stories about malfeasance in the military, a campaign perhaps orchestrated by the high command itself to weed out elements connected to car theft rings, drug smuggling, and kidnaping. In March of 1996, agents from the Public Ministry, the Treasury Guard, and the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration raided a home belonging to army Col. Mario López Serrano and found evidence implicating him in drug trafficking and car theft. The raid, the first of its kind against a high-ranking officer, led the defense minister to suspend López Serrano as chief of the military zone in El Quiché.29
In May 1996, the President ordered military intelligence to assist the Ministry of Government in an investigation of a smuggling and drug trafficking ring eventuating in the September arrest of the ostensible ringleader, Alfredo Moreno Molina, whose ties to the military extended back to the early 1970s. Documents and computer files discovered in Moreno's home implicated an extraordinary array of high-level military, police and civilian officials. Balconi then removed nine high-ranking officers from their posts, including the vice-minister of defense, pending an official decision about whether to try them.
The offending officers were known, as Crónica magazine put it, as "icons of counterinsurgency" and "over the last fifteen years, pillars of the military intelligence apparatus." They included Gen. Ortega Menaldo, head of the EMP during the Serrano period, Col. Mario Roberto García Catalán (implicated in the 1990 murder of U.S. citizen Michael Devine), and Col. Juan Oliva Carrera (implicated in the murder of Myrna Mack). In the opinion of Crónica's analyst, the removal of the nine "not only broke up a structure which had become an independent power within the army, but also...an immense locus of corruption and impunity."30 The blow against a generation of military corruption was unprecedented.
In a sign of the extensiveness of the network, local judge Osmundo Villatoro, later accused of being in Moreno's pay, showed up at the capture site in an attempt to impede the capo's detention. Suspicious delays by other judicial officials in granting search warrants allowed a number of Moreno's closest associates to flee the country. Although Minister Balconi promised an independent investigation into the dealings of the nine accused officers, information about the involvement of other military figures was not forthcoming even when press stories alleged that Gen. Manuel Callejas y Callejas (ret.), head of intelligence under the dreaded Lucas García in the early 1980s, masterminded the corruption run out of customs. General Balconi publicly absolved Callejas of any blame in the Moreno case,31 giving rise to allegations that the high command could not afford to bring the accused officers to a public trial without opening a Pandora's box of revelations that would spatter mud into far flung corners of the military institution.
The origins of the case lay in the kidnaping for ransom of Señora Olga Alvarado de Novella, member of a prominent and wealthy Guatemalan family, on August 25, 1996. A $6 million ransom was demanded by her captors. The kidnaping was carried out by members of ORPA, one of the constituent groups within the URNG. On October 19, 1996, two members of ORPA were captured by security forces after conducting negotiations with members of the Novella family. The individuals captured were Augusto Rafael Baldizón Núñez (known as "comandante Isaias") and José Cabrera Rodas (known as "Mincho"). A few hours later an exchange was arranged and Señora Novella was released while Isaias was freed in Mexico. The Guatemalan government announced that it was suspending the peace negotiations because of the kidnaping, and they did not resume until November 8. Mincho was not mentioned publicly, and has never been seen again. The first public mention was in press reports on January 12, 1997, which said that a second guerrilla, named Mincho, had been captured with Isaias.
The case exploded into public view on April 15, 1997, when an articles in Prensa Libre suggested that Jean Arnault, the UN mediator during the talks and now Chief of Mission of MINUGUA, had known of the disappearance and implied that he ordered a coverup by MINUGUA. A flurry of even stronger accusations appeared in subsequent days. While denying the allegations of coverup, MINUGUA launched an investigation into the case and on May 20 issued a preliminary report suggesting that the Estado Mayor Presidencial was likely involved in the capture of Mincho.32 The report noted that the EMP, while comprised of military officers, is not under the direct control of the Minister of Defense. It also stated that functionaries of the government and of the URNG had not cooperated with it's investigation. On the same day the Guatemalan government categorically denied that Mincho had been captured or killed, and rejected MINUGUA's assertion of EMP involvement as being without foundation.33
The Mincho case represented the first time under the Arzú government that government agents had been publicly involved in human rights abuse. Because of the serious damaging impact of the case on the peace process, Hemisphere Initiatives has conducted an extensive investigation of the charges and counter charges made over many months. The HI investigation included a review of primary and secondary documents, a detailed analysis of press coverage, and interviews with a wide range of official and unofficial actors who had knowledge of aspects of the case. In an appendix to this report we present a chronology of events and the findings of our investigation, key elements of which are summarized below. There remain important unanswered questions, including the ultimate fate of Mincho.
The Mincho case resulted in lasting strains between some Guatemalan human rights organizations and MINUGUA. Some in the human rights community had opposed the naming of Arnault as head of MINUGUA because they believed that the mediator should not also be the verifier of compliance. They believed that he would give undo weight to the URNG and the government, potentially marginalizing civil society groups not linked to either. The accusations of coverup heightened these fears and led them to launch an open campaign for his removal. The HI investigation found no evidence to support claims that Arnault encouraged a coverup by MINUGUA. In November, with Arnault moderating the negotiations, top MINUGUA officials independently received information about the Mincho case from the URNG. They did not open an investigation nor, under their reporting rules, did they inform Arnault. In February 1997, the same officials deliberately withheld information about the case from the Guatemala City Regional Office of MINUGUA, which, following press reports about Mincho, had opened its own investigation. The HI investigation found no evidence that they took these actions on orders from superiors, and they made no written report of the information they had to their superiors. Arnault became director of MINUGUA on March 1.
The continuing repercussions of the case hit the armed forces directly on July 3, 1997, when President Arzú again unexpectedly changed the high command. Just three days after traditional Army Day ceremonies in which General Balconi was again confirmed as defense minister, Arzú suddenly announced a decision to remove both Balconi and Chief of Staff Gen. Sergio Camargo from their posts. Replacing them were Gen. Hector Barrios Celada as defense minister and Gen. Marco Tulio Espinosa, the former head of the EMP, as Chief of Staff. While some analysts saw the appointment of an air force officer as Chief of Staff as a further assertion of civilian control over the army-dominated armed forces, the appointment of General Espinosa was clearly a direct slap at MINUGUA.34 That it coincided with the replacecment of top level MINUGUA figures was interpreted by some as the government triumphing over MINUGUA and by others as Arnault using the crisis to rearrange his staff.
Former EMP head Pérez Molina and Camargo were opposed to an operational role for intelligence units. Camargo had complained privately about Espinosa bypassing the chain of command to give orders directly to military intelligence units, and under Espinosa's leadership the EMP had been aggressively involved in anti-kidnaping and other operational activities.35 A further sign of Espinosa's consolidation of power was that the officer replacing him in charge of the EMP was only a colonel, and was his brother-in-law.36 The EMP continues to be accused of illegal intelligence gathering, including repeated charges by government opponents that their phones are being tapped.37 The anti-kidnaping unit, according to sources, has been tucked away in the General Command. Although the peace accords require the dissolution of the EMP, President Arzú has refused to set a timetable for its abolition. In late 1997 he stated that it would not disappear until the year 2000, i.e., after the 1999 elections.
The accords call for a civilian-run intelligence apparatus. In 1997 the administration placed two men in prominent positions in the new Strategic Analysis Secretariat who were believed to have longstanding ties to military intelligence. Asked about this, an army spokesperson interpreted the phrase "strictly civilian" to mean that civilians must be in command, but military men may take part. How many and at what level was unclear, and remained so when, according to press reports, Arzú backtracked on his nomination of civilian Oscar Montoya after the latter attempted unsuccessfully to rid the new intelligence service of the aforementioned officers. In this version, Gen. Espinosa, then head of the EMP, reversed the dismissal of the two men.38
Then, in late 1997, the government, in keeping with its accord obligations, sent a draft law to the Accompaniment Commission (which oversees the overall peace process and is made up of the government, the URNG, members of civil society and MINUGUA) to establish a presidential intelligence service. The Commission unanimously rejected it. A redraft is being debated, but critics in civil society argue that the government does not have the political will to move against military control of intelligence.
Failure to significantly change patterns of military deployment that characterized the period of armed conflict appears to be related to continued internal faction fighting within the military. Staff officers in the Defense Ministry under Gen. Balconi had drafted a sweeping reorganization plan that would have eliminated many regional commands, curbing opportunities for graft and corruption among high-ranking officers. But Balconi was unable to get other senior officers to back the plan in February 1997, and the idea was shelved. After Balconi's ouster in July 1997, reorganization appears to have slowed.
Military officials also envision a role for the armed forces in protecting natural resources and assuming some "development" functions. They mention protecting coastal areas against shrimp pirates, and controlling illegal loggers in the Petén forest (although press reports have suggested that army personnel are involved), road building and health and vaccination programs. The Accord charges the army with overhauling military education, emphasizing respect for human rights. Defense spokeswoman Col. Edith Vargas told HI that human rights training had replaced counterinsurgency as a subject in the General Staff and Command course given in the Centro de Estudios Militares (CEM). The army seeks to receive international assistance for the purpose of establishing a "war college" on the U.S. model.41
The army dissolved the Policia Militar Ambulante (PMA), the only army unit to be disbanded under the accord. When contingents from the 2,420-strong force received notice of their fate in late January 1997, they mutinied, but the high command enforced the dissolution.43
During negotiations the URNG wanted the PACs disbanded at once; the army wished it to coincide in time with the disarming of the URNG. President Arzú decided in August 1996 to disband the PACs in anticipation of the accord. In December 1996, the army held sendoff ceremonies in which PAC weapons were collected. In some places, however, local military commanders were active converting the PACs into unarmed, local-level "peace and development committees" (CPDs). Although civilian officials denied that such a process was underway, army sources in San Marcos told a visiting researcher from the Robert F. Kennedy Center in late 1996 that the conversion was "official policy" and that of some 393,132 members of PACS, 127,633 had already been incorporated into the new concept.44
MINUGUA disputed the high estimates of PAC membership, noting that many members had deserted, and reported a genuine military pullback from the countryside. This assessment appeared to be buttressed by a December 1996 Defense Ministry report that 216,734 patrulleros had demobilized, and that 62,687 elements from the CPDs had also been disbanded. Ex-patrulleros have on several occasions engaged in protests to pressure the government to provide them money for years of service. Several thousand occupied an oil refinery in the Petén in July 1997. They eventually dispersed when the government promised a dialogue, but President Arzú later declared the full weight of the law would be brought against such illegal occupations.45
However, the accord does little to strengthen the weak budgetary oversight exercised by the Congress. Nor does it contest the army's economic assets controlled through entities such as the Instituto de Prevision Militar (IPM, or Military Retirement Institute), the Banco del Ejército, and a complex of military industries developed in the late 1970s with help from Taiwan and Israel. The accord only stipulates that the army's economic holdings should be managed on a "non-profit" basis. Of the army's known assets, only two are mentioned by name in the accord, and only one, TV Channel 5, was to pass out of the military's hands. The accords state that the munitions factory should be a candidate for supplying the needs of the "civilian public security forces."46
The National Reconciliation Law approved by Congress on December 18, 1996 posed another threat to the military. Though most human rights groups criticized the bill, the Law does not provide blanket amnesty for all military behavior during the period of armed conflict. Some military men implicated in past rights violations have demanded amnesty under the new law. So far, Guatemalan courts have rejected these petitions, which include a number of celebrated cases-the murders of Myrna Mack and Jorge Carpio-that bear no direct relation to the armed conflict.48 Human rights organizations say that the practice of intimidating judges and prosecutors by military sources has declined, but not disappeared, since the peace accords were signed. The level of fear among judicial personnel has therefore declined.
But prosecution of army involvement in common crime continues to falter, as evidenced by the fitful proceedings against Alfredo Moreno.49 Only in the area of drug trafficking has some progress occurred, perhaps due to U.S. pressures. In May 1997 police arrested retired colonel Carlos René Ochoa Ruíz for cocaine possession. Years earlier, the U.S. government had demanded that this officer be extradited to face drug-running charges. Upon hearing of his arrest, President Arzú reportedly suggested that Guatemala could consider a new request from the U.S. for Ochoa's extradition. In June 1997 the army permitted for the first time the anti-narcotics division of the Treasury Police to arrest an officer, Major Edgar Mendizabal, on military premises. Mendizabal was among 15 officers under investigation for belonging to a drug ring called "Los Tenientes."50
In tandem with the 1994 procedural reform, the "Historical Clarification" accord has implications for civilian trials of military personnel. In principle, this agreement appears to pose no threat to individual officers, as it prohibits assigning criminal responsibility for specific acts, nor will the information be usable in court proceedings. The Commission had at peak a staff of around eighty people, with offices in the capital and in eleven cities and villages to which citizens could bring information. Human rights groups presented the Commission with massive files on human rights abuses, and the U.S. government also delivered significant information to the Commission. It has no power to subpoena people. The Commission is not allowed to publicly name names, perhaps an advantage in that it might encourage people to come forward, though a disadvantage if the goal is "clarification."
The Commission faced two central obstacles. The sheer mass of human rights violations could not be fully investigated in the limited time allotted to the Commission, even with the extension granted. And even before the Clarification Commission was established, the army indicated that it would hand over information when asked but would not permit access to its files. In 1997 and 1998, Historical Commission head, Christian Tomuschat, a German and former observer for the UN Human Rights Commission, complained of lack of cooperation from the military.
There was also a reluctance on the part of many victims to testify. Otilia Lux de Coti, a Mayan, serves on the Commission. Her extended family suffered one disappeared, three killed, and several women violated. She told HI that like many others, her family would probably not bring testimony to the Commission. Despite the fact that they were forced to "guard a terrible silence" during the war in Santa Cruz del Quiché, "to walk as if dead, in a sense," her family members do not want "to relive" those events of the early 1980s, a decision that must be respected.51
The Commission has completed its investigatory phase and has been granted a new extension to prepare its final report. In May and June 1998, the Commission organized private and public meetings with a broad range of organizations to solicit input on what it should recommend. Guatemalan government and military officials have questioned the propriety of this process, arguing that the recommendations must flow directly from the investigation. These reservations are shared by some international observers, including some MINUGUA officials.
The most recent signs of continuing tensions within the armed forces over accountability came in July 1998, when the former Army Spokesman, Col. Otto Noack, was placed under arrest for giving an interview to a Dutch news organization in which he said that both the army and the URNG should apologize to the country for excesses committed during the conflict. He was charged with violating military regulations about speaking to the press.
As a junior partner to the military, the PN was deficient in technical, material, and human resources. Guatemala had, at the signing of the accords, some 12,500 to 13,000 police agents. But if one subtracts those on administrative duty, or off shift, on a daily basis there were but one operative police agent for each 4,500 to 5,000 Guatemalans. By contrast, New York City with 3.4 million fewer people has 2.3 times as many police agents.53 It was estimated in 1997 that over 60% of Guatemala's 330 municipalities had no, or very little, police presence. Panajachel, La Democracia and 34 other municipalities had but six police assigned and another 24 municipalities only had four. This overall weakness has led to reliance on the military, including, as discussed above, the EMP.
The low police\population ratio has fueled an increase in crime and impunity, as well as a proliferation of private companies offering security and investigation services to those who can afford them. The government has virtually no control over these services.
Nearly 90% of the police force had no formal professional training, either because they lacked the minimum educational level for it or because they received police jobs through political connections. Lack of training has resulted in the spoiling of evidence at crime scenes and ineffective investigations. Many PN agents never received arms training. When they entered the force they were often provided old, defective weapons and six cartridges, which they were required to give back when they retired - unless they engaged in any shootout with criminals, in which case they had to pay for the used cartridges!
There has been no formal civil service system establishing norms for recruitment, promotion or job security. Some recruits took an entry exam; others came in on the recommendation of influential friends. Many higher officials also received no formal officers' training. It is estimated that 70% of the PN officers had not attended officers school and that the other 30% only did so for a brief period. The overall result: widespread influence peddling, bribery and political favoritism in getting promotions. It is suspected that some of the old PN officials belong to the organized crime bands that exist today.
Further complicating the transition to the PNC was the military's control of the local Civil Defense Patrols (PACs). In many instances PACs not only patrolled against the guerrillas, they became local power structures, and were often accused of arbitrary practices and human rights abuses. Officially disbanded, their members remain present in local communities.
The transition to a new police force, then, encounters a host of starkly difficult realities: a vast crime wave; increasing public pressure on the government to reduce crime; growth in vigilantism and lynchings (120 in 24 months according to the June 1998 MINUGUA Human Rights report); the legacy of past abuses by the Civil Defense Patrols; a weak and corrupt old police structure; and an inevitably weak new structure. As elsewhere in the region, there are calls to have the military become involved in fighting the disastrously high crime wave.
A considerable body of expert opinion has argued that the transition in police functions should be thoroughgoing and radical, and that this will require a solid plan and take time. An April 1996 report by police experts Gino Costa and Manuel Núñez Pedraza stated that all international missions that have studied the public security situation in Guatemala agree on the need to reform the system drastically. They also concluded that to achieve needed change in the police would require limiting the role of the traditional police, particularly its intelligence gathering capacity. They emphasized the lack of shared government criteria about strategy and tactics. "What exists is a clear desire to obtain results against crime in the shortest time possible. It is important to be very clear that no matter how rapidly actions are taken, immediate tangible results in stopping the crime wave cannot be obtained. The problems, above all of the security forces, are of such a magnitude that they will not be resolved only by providing better equipment or raising the salaries." Costa and Núñez assert that the new police must prioritize creation of an investigation division, with complementary actions in the judicial branch and the public prosecutor's office, must avoid contamination by negative forces or elements in the traditional police (above all in the investigation unit), and must promote political support.54
The involvement of local communities in police recruitment represents an improvement over the Salvadoran accords. Unfortunately, the accord does not make any reference to the internal and external control mechanisms (Inspector General, internal investigations, internal disciplinary tribunal, internal control unit, etc.) that were crucial components of the Salvadoran accords. The most glaring weakness of the Guatemalan accord is that it provides no clear mechanism to evaluate, vet, or retrain current members of the National Police and Treasury Guard.
Implementation has been troubled. Despite varied offers for international help the government contracted with one agency, the Spanish Civil Guard, for a program to retrain (or recycle) existing police agents before the peace negotiators had finished their own deliberations. There was no proposal to analyze the agents' past, their academic formation, their participation in illicit acts, or their links to the armed forces. The Civil Guard proposal predicted that 90% of the retrainees would have the ability to pass its final exam. Indeed, 90% passed. But with no other outside assessing agencies, the appearance of simply meeting its own prediction was inevitable.
The government passed a police law in February 1997, mere weeks after the signing of the accords, which failed to include commitments established in the Accords, and in its unilateral formation ignored the accords' many provisions calling for the participation of citizens and groups. The law did not set out the structure or departments of the PNC, nor spell out the professional standards or human rights requirements. Ironically, the police force was put in charge of enforcing Guatemala's laws, but was itself left by the new police law without its own internal rules.
The Accord establishes that entry into the police career and advancement and specialization within it will take place through the Police Academy using objective selection criteria and providing highly professional training. Basic police training is to take a minimum of six months. But the February 1997 law did not elaborate the Police Academy's required emphasis on democracy, nor its rules for entry, promotion, transfer or removal of personnel, nor the qualifications for rank and responsibilities of various ranks and positions, nor the importance of the Academy as purifier and career filter.
The law was silent on the multiethnic issue. There was no evidence of government recruitment of Academy cadets from the interior of the country. MINUGUA developed a pilot project of this nature in Nebaj, Quiché, where the population elected various aspirants to apply to the Academy. But they were unable to stay in the Academy, because the Ministry of Government failed to provide the necessary funds for travel to the distant Academy.
The quick approval of the police bill with little attention to the recommendations of MINUGUA or organizations in the ASC triggered a counterproposal of reforms to the law from the Mack Foundation, Institute of Education for Sustainable Development (IEPADES) and the Institute of Comparative Studies in Penal Sciences of Guatemala (IECCPG).55 They submitted their proposal to the Accompaniment Commission along with a request that it intervene to get the law sanctioned for contravening the Peace Accords. The proposal was endorsed by the ASC.
An Accompaniment Commission's technical committee recommended that at least 15 articles of the law be changed. The government did not move to amend the law, but promulgated regulations in August 1997 taking some of the recommendations into account, but ignoring ones that related to the Academy, recruitment and police career civil service rules.
Initial practice has seemed to contradict the proposed objectives. In recruiting the initial recycling cohort of 1400 current police agents, there was no review of the aspirants' backgrounds, no vetting of past corrupt elements, and no consultation with the internal control offices of the National Police and Treasury Police. MINUGUA, which had not had broad access to police records, was able to detect 14 agents with records of serious human rights violations, including three who were accused of homicide. The Ministry of Government responded to MINUGUA that it would investigate only these 14.
In the retraining course crucial themes received little attention. Human rights and judicial process received an "average" of two to eight hours. Eight is insufficient, but particularly distressing is that some cohorts may receive as little as an "average" of two hours. The "national reality" including recent history, geography and multicultural issues received three hours in total. The first evaluation requirements did not seem very strict. Cases occurred in which a student failed up to four exams and still passed the retraining course.
A November 1997 evaluation of progress in implementing the police reform provisions of the accord by the Washington Office on Latin America (WOLA) found major problems with screening procedures, selection and training, and with a new police law approved by the congress, and concluded that:
During the first half of 1998 many of these problems remained, according to MINUGUA and international donors providing technical assistance for police reform. HI and WOLA are preparing a more detailed evaluation of the current status of the police provisions of the accord which will be published separately later this fall.To date, the Guatemalan government has made a series of hasty decisions that, rather than contributing to real reform, may actually serve to undermine its long-term prospects. Signing up with the first donor in sight, rushing a poorly prepared law through Congress, deciding to keep up to 90 percent of the current police force, failing to develop a real recruitment process before beginning Academy operations, and then putting thousands of current and new police though hastily prepared and truncated courses, are actions that generally would have been better handled in a slower and more deliberate fashion.56
Reductions in the army's numbers and budget are real. Though the high command may have violated a private understanding in not cutting its officer ranks, it has disbanded the much-criticized Mobile Military Police as promised. The army has taken the first steps in what is apparently a genuine effort to revamp military education consistent with an ethos valuing democratic civilian politics and the observance of human rights. New training efforts in the police have been less impressive.
Bringing ranking officers to justice for atrocities committed during and directly related to the armed conflict, or even holding them publicly accountable without penalty, remains a distant, perhaps unrealizable goal. But progress in trying army personnel for other rights offenses and for common crime is possible. Though its overall attitude toward such cases is unclear, the army command appears to be adapting its behavior toward the civilian justice system in ways that permit at least some trials to proceed.
The biggest question mark concerns the willingness of the army to dissolve operational intelligence units that have been responsible for serious human rights abuses in the past. The long and debilitating debate about responsibility and coverup in the Mincho case revealed a bitter internal battle within the armed forces over this issue. When the smoke cleared, those favoring a continued operational role for intelligence emerged victorious. It remains to be seen whether the advances in establishing civilian control will gradually eliminate the most dangerous threats such a victory portends, or whether those advances will prove ephemeral.
Implementation of the Civilian Power Accord would end impunity and guarantee respect for human rights, both preconditions for consolidating peace and democracy. But in shaping Guatemala's long-term future, the Accord on the Identity and Rights of Indigenous Peoples, signed March 31, 1995, may well be more important. If the spirit of the accord is fully realized, Guatemalan nationality will be reestablished on a pluriethnic, plurilingual and multicultural basis. In turn, this would reshape relationships between indigenous communities and organizations and the state, and greatly reduce the ingrained racism and open contempt that has poisoned relations among Guatemala's diverse social groups since the Spanish conquest.57
While other accords demand fulfillment of the ideal of juridical equality that underpins the modern doctrine of human rights, the Indigenous Accord involves something more-a drive to see indigenous cultural forms placed on a plane of both constitutional and real equality with those of Spanish-speaking Guatemalans. The accord also aims to strengthen the material basis of the predominantly impoverished indigenous communities, and seeks to empower them to govern their local affairs according to their norms and practices.
Initially, many Mayan leaders expressed reservations about what they saw as limited political autonomy. 58 A UN expert nonetheless called the resulting product "an ambitious exercise in nation-building without which the peace process in this ethnically-diverse country can never be truly consolidated." 59
As one commentator has pointed out, this is not simply a matter of recognizing that indigenous groups exist -the 1985 constitution already does this. Instead, it means reformulating the constitution so that it recognizes the indigenous as original parts of the nation.60 This aspiration underpins the constitutional reforms called for in the Accord, especially the most important reform-that which "defines and characterizes the Guatemalan nation as a multiethnic, pluricultural and multilingual national unity."61
The accord enjoins the government to take affirmative policy actions designed to help create a "new consciousness of belonging and co-existence" on the part of all Guatemalans.62 Other planks call for a national law banning all discrimination, and in particular discrimination against indigenous women with specific mention of their use of Mayan traje ("dress"). Along with other accords, the Indigenous Accord calls for the state to broaden participation, to decentralize power profoundly (through a reform in the Municipal Code to be negotiated), to respect customary law, and to promote equitable distribution of public finances to the municipalities and among the indigenous communities.
Fulfillment of these goals faces mammoth obstacles rooted in a system of power in which the indigenous have been subject to brute exploitation and violence, the particularly traumatic changes created by the war, displacement, migration, and economic impoverishment. In the postwar context, moreover, the government is pursuing an economic agenda that conflicts in important ways with the logic of indigenous empowerment.
The Guatemalan government was willing to consider indigenous demands and demonstrated the political will to agree to the accord. However, government willingness to implement and withstand what could be severe political counter pressures remains in doubt.
For the moment, hope prevails. In many respects this accord is open-ended, a kind of general bill of rights waiting to be specified and thus subject to renegotiation, expansion-or negation-as its implementation unfolds. Realizing the promise of the accord will depend heavily on the capacity of Guatemala's indigenous peoples to organize themselves. Although they have made enormous strides in recent years, indigenous organizations have a very long way to go in mustering their potential force and achieving the unity needed to make their weight felt.
Whether the indigenous are a majority has been a matter of dispute about weak census data. The much-questioned 1994 census put the indigenous portion of Guatemala's population at 42%; the 1973 official estimate was the first to put the Mayan population at less than a majority (48%). 63
There is general consensus among anthropologists that the Mayan worlds have been transformed by enormous changes and traumatic economic, religious and war-like political forces. Case studies suggest responses to these forces may have varied from village to village.66 The counterinsurgency war which began in 1976 took the indigenous population as a special target, and in the early 1980s set about consciously to destroy "ethnic" identity as a means of defeating Guatemala's guerrillas. The subsequent massive dislocation of rural populations did untold damage. Though there have been important case studies, referenced above, the broad damage to the fabric of indigenous beliefs and community structures is largely unassessed.67 At issue for anthropologists and for the Mayan movement is the extent to which essential Mayan characteristics with historical continuity remain or have been replaced by other characterisics defined by opposition to ongoing oppression and other historical forces which have afffected the Mayan world.
Despite this damage, a distinct "Mayan movement" has emerged over the last decade which is redefining indigenous identity as part of an emerging political project. It asserts that there is an underlying cultural unity spanning the range of present-day Mayan groups that justifies reference to the term "the Mayan people"-el Pueblo Maya-in movement discourse. It sees "Mayan identity" as bound up with adherence to an indigenous belief system or cosmovision that is being recovered.
The cosmovision may be described as an integrated nexus of relations among human beings, the natural world, and a sacred world populated by multiple spirits, all of which in the end are expressions of a single God-principle which must be appeased. Acting in harmony with these not only ensures the success of human endeavor, but also preserves a necessary equilibrium between human beings and nature.68 The term "Mayan spirituality" in the peace accord refers to this nexus. The extent to which these features of traditional Mayan belief are extant or vary has not been thoroughly assessed.
A typical indigenous village in the era before the 1944 revolution would have contained a council of elders (consejo de ancianos) standing atop a series of kinship groups or lineages; and a religious brotherhood (cofradía) in charge of local, syncretic Catholic rites and involving an age-graded hierarchy of offices through which members of the community ascended in authority and status, at the cost of bearing heavy ritual obligations. At the municipal level an indigenous mayor (alcalde indígena) usually existed alongside a ladino-dominated "official" government mayoralty and municipal council.69
Indigenous mayors, lineage heads, and traditional shamans resolved local community conflicts over land, inheritance, marriage rights, etc. through resort to customary law rather than taking them to municipal courts where the Guatemalan state meted out justice in Spanish and where the "Indian" was at a disadvantage. However, in the syncretic tradition developed over the years, Catholic priests, many only intermittently present in the villages, effectively shared religious authority.
These rural communities have been rent by conflict. In the 1940s, the battle waged by Catholic Action against what the Church regarded as heretical indigenous superstitions (la costumbre) divided indigenous communities along religious lines. Religious change built on and reinforced complicated patterns of economic differentiation in which religious innovation-abandoning the "costumbre" and rejecting the authority of shamans and elders-often went hand in hand with success in an expanding mercantile economy.
From the 1960s, Catholic Action, however, also encouraged the indigenous population to demand social betterment. These pastoral efforts gave rise to new schools, local community associations, cooperatives, and cultural entities out of which grew a new generation of indigenous leaders. The concomitant advent of political parties such as Christian Democracy created further complications by providing a new means of ascent to local power. In the 1970s, all would be swept up into the dynamic of guerrilla war, with which the Guatemalan military assumed Indian complicity.70
Though the range of current village organization is difficult to determine given limited case studies, evidence suggests several hypotheses. Most indigenous villages today still have Mayan priests, but their grasp of the traditional sacred calendar is not nearly as extensive as it once was, nor is the extent to which they are consulted about life decisions. Although many villages may still harbor cofradías, the links between these religious brotherhoods and the exercise of local political power have been severed or atten