Collapse of Dignity (44 page)

Grupo Peñoles's reaction to this attempt at peaceful dialogue inside the union was to put together a group of armed paramilitaries backed by a gang of civilian drug addicts and thugs to suppress the workers loyal to Los Mineros. Led by Pavón, Pavón's brother Héctor, and David Navarro, these attack forces were sent to meet the group that had traveled to the Fresnillo mine to discuss Pavón's new union. At 7:00 a.m. on June 10, the armed men began a surprise attack in a parking lot outside the mine.

To disguise the attack, the assailants used posts, baseball bats, stones, and metal tubes to beat the Miners' Union members—high-powered firearms would have indicated federal police and the army, which would have led observers back to the true source of the aggression: the government and Grupo Peñoles. The attackers did have firearms, but they simply flashed them and shot them off into the air to intimidate the union members.

During this aggression, the buses that brought the union members to Fresnillo were burned, and the representatives of Los Mineros were savagely assaulted. Ten union members received severe injuries, and our colleague Juventino Flores Salas was beaten on the head by the men hired by Grupo Peñoles so badly that he died at the scene. Another man, Alejandro Vega Morales, was stuck so violently that he today still suffers from brain damage. With this terror and abuse, the leaders of Grupo Peñoles warned Los Mineros that coming back to the silver mine at Fresnillo would be a bad idea.

It was clear to everyone present that this aggression was premeditated and that the assault groups had been prepared inside the company: the pipes and sticks with which Pavón's supporters were armed were all identical, and the attack was too coordinated to be spontaneous. And as we tried in the days and weeks following the attack to prosecute those responsible for the death of Juventino Flores, it also became clear that, once again, this aggression was fully supported by the government.

When they heard about the death caused by Pavón and his cronies, union sections throughout the county protested loudly. The members of the national executive committee went straight to Amalia García Medina, governor of the state of Zacatecas, to demand the prosecution of those responsible for this aggression, with criminal charges brought against the men who did the killing. García, a member of the Democratic Revolutionary Party (PRD) and thus presumably a leftist, began an investigation at the insistence of our workers, calling witnesses to present testimony and evidence in order to assign criminal responsibility for the murder. And there was plenty of evidence that pointed to the responsible parties, including statements from eyewitnesses, expert testimony, photographs, and news accounts. At least initially, Governor García seemed committed to completing an investigation so that, as the governor said, “justice will fall where it may.”

But García broke her word and did absolutely nothing to bring Juventino's killers to justice. Months passed, with no action being taken against Pavón and the other traitors. By the fall of 2009, it had been several months since the attack, and we were becoming impatient. In a meeting of delegates from all the union sections in the country, both the executive committee and the union's Safety and Justice Council agreed that a delegation of union members would travel to Zacatecas's capital city (also called Zacatecas) to demand that the state government meet its responsibility to apply justice.

On November 25, 2009, more than four hundred workers began a bus trip to protest the aggression against Los Mineros and the death of Juventino Salas. When they reached the border of the city of Zacatecas, however, they were intercepted by a heavily armed group of federal and
state police who told them they could not enter. The union members were treated like criminals who were on a mission to assault the city, not like workers exercising their constitutional right to free association and freedom of movement.

For hours, the authorities blocked the exits from the buses and would not allow anyone off, denying the riders food, water, and the ability to relieve themselves. It was an outright act of repression; photographs taken that day have been seen throughout the country and around the world. Only after fifteen miserable hours would the supposedly leftist governor send word that the delegates were allowed to enter the city, but only on the condition that they leave Zacatecas the following day. The next day, the delegates met some of their colleagues who were demonstrating in the main plaza outside the state capitol, increasing the size and visibility of the protest significantly.

I personally spoke with Governor García Medina a couple of times after the outrageous mistreatment of the union members who were seeking justice for Juventino. I demanded justice and respectful treatment of our colleagues. I told her that we were not going to allow such shameful repression to occur with impunity. She agreed with me, in word anyway, that justice would prevail, but said that she did not want any violence. I assured her that our colleagues were on a mission of peace, expressing solidarity with the victims of the June 10 attack. She again promised to abide by the law and apply justice.

But yet again, the governor of Zacatecas did not honor any of her promises or meet any of the dates agreed upon to arrive at a resolution against the aggressors. There was no justice. And so our worker colleagues, once they were in the main plaza, decided to stay there in a permanent sit-in, during which they held daily demonstrations, distributed leaflets, denounced the arbitrary acts committed against the colleagues under attack, and decried the complicity of the government of Zacatecas with Grupo Peñoles.

The mineworkers stayed for fifteen days in Zacatecas, demonstrating peacefully. Since it was close to Christmas, the governor asked them if they could end the sit-in, promising that before Christmas justice would
be done. The members of the executive committee trusted her word and agreed to vacate the portion of the plaza the demonstrators had occupied. The governor reassured us that with this action they were agreeing to her offer and that there would be legal measures before the holiday.

Christmas went by and nothing happened. New Year's passed with similar results. In the first week of 2010, the government of Zacatecas, through a judge, decided to deny the arrest orders that had already been issued based on the complaint against Carlos Pavón, his brother Héctor, and David Navarro, as well as seven more thugs responsible for the killing of Juventino Flores.

The judge also denied that there were material damages, even though the evidence presented in videos, photographs, and oral and written testimony indicated the contrary. Evidently Governor García was afraid of angering Alberto Bailleres and decided to protect these criminal thugs from the law. In doing so, she proved herself to be among several Mexican governors who refused to show any decency in the face of the attacks on the Miners' Union. Had these governors had the strength and integrity to stand up to the aggressors, much of the repression we experienced would not have been possible.

The situation at the Fresnillo silver mine, which continued under Pavón's gangs and his puppet union, deteriorated from there. The work site, without a powerful union to protect it, became something equal to or worse than a concentration camp. Jaime Lomelín, CEO of Grupo Peñoles subsidiary Fresnillo PLC, oversaw an operation marked by virtual slavery and frequent instances of torture, with full support of the “new union.” In this mine, they punished the noncompliant by exposing them naked to the inclement cold of the nights and forcing them on their knees in front of their comrades as a “lesson” for their rebellion. In 2011, the Miners' Union would file an official complaint regarding the degraded state of the Fresnillo mine, but it would pass to federal and state authorities without prompting a response of any kind.

Although Juan Linares remained unjustly jailed, Carlos Pavón's
betrayal stung, and Grupo México, Grupo Peñoles, and Altos Hornos de México continued their aggression, the Miners' Union kept up negotiations with the other seventy companies with which it had contracts, obtaining the highest wage increases in the entire country, with 14 percent raises per year for its workers on average. (In 2012, we would receive increases at this level for the seventh consecutive year.) We also kept up the centerpiece of our fight against corporate corruption and governmental complicity: the ongoing strike at the open copper pit in Cananea. At this mine—the birthplace of the modern Mexican labor movement and the place where our forebears in 1906 had fought to establish the eight-hour day, to defend respect for collective bargaining agreements, and to stop the exploitation of children in the mines—the majority of workers continued their work stoppage faithfully, even in the face of continued belligerence from Grupo México and continuing declarations from the JFCA that the strike was illegal.

From the day we declared the strike, on July 30, 2007, everything about it was legal. When unionized workers begin negotiations with any company, they draft a list of demands. That document always states that, according to the collective bargaining agreement, the workers are entitled to strike if an agreement isn't reached by a certain date. If the date arrives and the company has refused to negotiate, we file the strike with the JFCA. We followed the rules and had extremely good reason to strike at Cananea. It was, in the words of many miners, a “Pasta de Conchos waiting to happen.”

Regardless of our adherence to procedure, Grupo México did everything it could to have the strike declared illegal. It provided the JFCA with false documents claiming that we hadn't started the strike on time. According to Mexican labor law, strikes must start at the declared time, and a public notary must observe and record this. We had followed this policy precisely, but the company simply lied to the labor court and said we hadn't. We also ran into complications because of my lack of
toma de nota
. After Lozano denied me recognition in June 2008, Grupo México could easily criticize the strike's legitimacy by saying that I had no legal
authority to approve it. To get around this, we always had one of our labor lawyers or an executive committee member who did have
toma de nota
sign the documents that called for the strike. Loyal union members Javier Zuñiga and Sergio Beltrán did have official recognition, so they handled a lot of the Cananea paperwork.

Every time Grupo México presented false evidence, the JFCA would buy the company's lies and declare the strike illegal. Just as quickly, our lawyers would file amparo against the decision. On and on it went.

In January 2008, federal forces took over the mine and tried to evict the Cananea miners by force, but we quickly filed an amparo and were allowed to stay while the outcome was decided; the government had to withdraw its troops. But a few months later, in May 2008, as the strike continued, Grupo México representatives violated the collective bargaining agreement with the union by calling a meeting with the personnel of the Ronquillo hospital and announcing that the facility would be closed, meaning that the community would lose its only remaining healthcare facility available to the workers of Cananea. (Grupo México had shut down the union-run Workers' Clinic in the 1990s—unilaterally, without the union's approval.) The move left ten thousand miners and family members without medical care. Many of them suffered from severe sickness and disability, including cancer and silicosis, much of it directly related to their work in the poorly maintained copper mine. Under their collective bargaining agreements with the company, the union's members were entitled to medical care as a condition of their employment. Grupo México didn't care. The company refused to transport the sick—even those in need of dialysis—to the nearest hospital, in Hermosillo, several hours away. Patients in need of immediate care were forced to hitchhike. It was yet another burden piled on the backs of the workers of Cananea and their families, who were already suffering from the company's decision to cut gas, electricity, education, and potable water services.

Nevertheless, in early July we had won a court ruling that officially reversed the JFCA's second denial of the strike. Grupo México wasn't about to let that stand, though. On July 30, 2008, on the one-year
anniversary of the strike's declaration, the company appealed the court's decision, and two months later, the Sixth Collegiate Tribunal in Labor Matters of the First Circuit—led by Judges Genaro Rivera, Carolina Pichardo, and Marco Antonio Bello—revoked the decision issued by the Fourth District Judge and provided amparo to the company. Now, the JFCA would be required to hear Grupo México's arguments against the strike for a third time. After a hearing, the JFCA, unbelievably, declared the strike nonexistent for the third time. In the ensuing months, we went through the now-familiar process: We appealed for amparo and were granted it by the courts in January 2009. The JFCA's third attempt to end the strike was ruled without force.

The union's labor attorneys, led by Nestor and Carlos de Buen, had won each of these trials in a systematic manner, showing each time that the strike was indeed both warranted and legal. Despite Germán Larrea's powerful friends in the departments of labor and the economy, he was unable to completely manipulate the legal system and win control of Cananea. The judges consistently saw through the manipulations of Larrea and his lawyers. De Buen had given the company's lawyers a lesson in how to practice law.

Grupo México had now run out of pretexts to declare the strike illegitimate. Germán Larrea, however, is a man of perverse creativity. With the help of his “cat” Lozano Alarcón in the labor department, he concocted a new strategy. In March of 2009, the company requested that Mexico's General Mines Director, from the department of the economy, inspect the Cananea facilities. The company claimed that there was “destruction, deterioration, robbery, and vandalism in the facilities and special equipments of the mine, of such dimensions, that they made its functioning impossible.” According to the company, it was the workers who had done all this damage during the strike, even though we never destroyed any company property; it was the company's own negligence that had left the facilities in such a sorry state. Nevertheless, Grupo México now argued that this damage constituted a
force majeure
—the contractual clause that would have freed the company from liability in the case of a weather disaster, war, flood, or earthquake. Based on this,
the company said, sarcastically, that after almost three years of the workers' legal strike, it could no longer continue production in the copper mine. The employment agreement with the miners, they argued, would therefore have to be canceled.