STRANGE SOUPS AND BRASS BANDS

STRANGE SOUPS AND BRASS BANDS
Photographs of Zacatecas by David Bacon

A maze of constricted alleys spreads out at the bottom an old stone staircase that doubles back on itself, so convoluted that Zacatecanos call this place "El Labarinto", or "The Labyrinth."  Here Primitivo Romo sits in front of a wall of herbs packed into tiny bags, in a botanica stall he inherited from his mother when she died a few years ago.  He inherited her knowledge as well, and now his nephew runs another stall down a nearby alleyway with the knowledge passed on in the Romo family.

The stalls are half hidden in the lowest level of the Mercado del Arroyo de la Plata, or the Silver Canyon Market.  Two more levels are above.  Stalls on one sell Zacatecan mole, either picoso or dulce, hot or sweet, from big plastic buckets in front of the candy display.  On another workers and women shopping for their families sit on plain stools at the comedores economicos, or affordable eateries, where cooks spoon the famous goat mole, cabrera, into bowls.  

Unless you know the cook well, there's no point in asking for two other famous dishes, caldo de rata (rat soup) or caldo de vivora (snake soup).  These are soups from the traditions of people from the countryside, used to eating the animals that live there (the rat is a country creature, not the urban variety), and some think of them even as a kind of medicine.  Says Guadalupe Flores, a member of the state legislature, “Anybody that tries it once is going to love it and it will become their favorite dish. It is very similar to rabbit – only much more flavorful.”

Nevertheless, some laugh at these country traditions.  But once in a while a campesino will come in from the farm, and from his pack at the back entrance will pull the skinned bodies, along with those of rabbits and chickens. The meat counters in the market sell the meat from larger animals - the cows, the goats and the pigs.  For them, a truck pulls up at the same back entrance.  The driver climbs into the rear, and up a mountain of meat, to fetch a beef quarter ordered by a market stall.  Ernesto Serna lifts a several hundred pound piece onto his shoulders, and walks unsteadily beneath it into the labyrinth.  

Other farmers come into the city with fruit.  Francisco Cordero sells piles of strawberries, guavas and figs from his Campo Real farm in an impromptu stall on the sidewalk.  Another country seller comes with his donkey.  In the wooden saddle on its back it carries the big jars of pulque and colonche, agave and tuna (nopal) drinks with a little kick, under leaves to keep off the sun.

The streets of Zacatecas fill with people, selling and buying, walking or sitting.  Workers paint the buildings next to the Alameda Park.  A brass band and speeches celebrate the birthday of Benito Juarez, Mexico's first indigenous president.  Soldiers in the local contingent of the National Guard, the new police created by President Lopez Obrador, stand in the hot sun, submachine guns at the ready.

Like most Mexican cities, popular protest is part of Zacatecas' culture as well.  The women's movement is strong, and a recent march was met and prohibited by police protecting a government that somehow fears its own mothers, sisters and daughters.  Activists then went to the former cathedral of San Agustin, now repurposed as a municipal gallery.  At the inauguration of a show of paintings of peaceful landscapes, they confronted the government representatives there to open the exhibition.  Each held a card with two letters.  Standing together they read "Estado Terrorista" or Terrorist State.

And tucked away in this city filled with artists is the extraordinary project of the Fototeca Pedro Valtierra.  Here Carlos gives lessons in ways to create extraordinary prints from negatives, in a process invented 150 years ago.  In a vault behind a heavy metal door, aided by high tech climate controls, Karina Garcia protects the fototeca's archive of prints and negatives.  The most prized come from Pedro Valtierra himself, Mexico's renowned radical photojournalist and native son of Zacatecas, for whom the institution is named.

Today people joke that there are more Zacatecanos in Los Angeles than in Zacatecas, but this is still a city that remembers its working class history.  Aldo Alejandro Zapata Villa recalls on Facebook, looking at a photo of the market, "Memories of my childhood, of hard-working and entrepreneurial people, offering their merchandise, in those times when we learned all work has dignity."

THE STRATEGIC CROSS-BORDER ALLIANCE

THE STRATEGIC CROSS-BORDER ALLIANCE
David Bacon | February 27, 2024
Interview with Benedicto Martinez and Robin Alexander
UCLA - Institute for Research on Labor and Employment/NACLA Report on the Americas
https://nacla.org/strategic-cross-border-labor-alliance
https://irle.ucla.edu/2024/02/27/the-strategic-cross-border-alliance/

Benedicto Martinez and Robin Alexander march together in Mexico City, in a 2014 national protest on the 20th anniversary of the implementation of the North American Free Trade Agreement. The marchers protested the economic and political reforms by the Mexican government and the then-ruling Party of the Institutionalized Revolution, setting the stage for the privatizing oil and electrical industries, implementing corporate education reform and social benefit policies, and changing the country's labor law.

This interview forms part of a series of interviews with prominent Mexican labor leaders conducted by photojournalist, author, political activist and union organizer David Bacon. These interviews are a collaboration between IRLE, the Labor Center and the Center for Mexican Studies at UCLA. NACLA Report on the Americas, a quarterly magazine and leading source of research and analysis on Latin America and the Caribbean is publishing an abridged version of these interviews.  Read Part 1 here.


For over two decades, Benedicto Martinez was General Secretary of the Authentic Labor Front (FAT), one of the most important independent and progressive union federations in Mexico. During the same period, Robin Alexander was Director of International Relations for the United Electrical, Radio and Machine Workers of America, an industrial union originally founded for workers in the electrical industry, and a bastion of democratic, rank-and-file unionism in the U.S.

In the leadup to the implementation of the North American Free Trade Agreement, the two unions formed a strategic alliance to help organize factories in Mexico and the U.S., and to advocate for political change to meet the needs of the workers of both countries. The alliance has been a model for relations between U.S. and Mexican unions.

In this interview, the two explain how the alliance was formed, what its principles were and what it achieved. They reflect on the changes caused by Mexico's new labor law reform and the new Mexico, U.S., Canada Agreement (called T-MEC in Mexico), which replaced the old NAFTA. The interview has been edited for clarity.

Alexander deals in more detail with this history in her new book, International Solidarity in Action, available from the UE here.



Alexander: When we began the UE's relationship with the FAT, neoliberal economic policies had caused the loss of thousands of jobs in our union. Companies moved them to other countries, mainly to Mexico. Our leaders thought it might be possible to find a union ally in Mexico, willing to try to reorganize these companies. In the United States, we could help, because we still had a presence in U.S. plants. At that time we had a relationship, more a paper one than a deep relationship, with the Mexican Union of Electrical Workers (SME). It is a very democratic union, but at that time it was in a more conservative period. The free trade agreement was on the horizon, and the SME's leader, Jorge Sanchez, supported the policy of the Mexican government, which was negotiating it.

At a UE convention, the UE in Canada talked about the very negative impact of the U.S-Canada free trade agreement on Canadian workers. Then a representative from the SME spoke in favor of a trade agreement with Mexico. This clash was the point when UE leaders thought, we have to look for another relationship.

 
Workers and organizers of the garment workers' union UNITE demonstrate outside a sewing factory in Vernon, California. The factory closed and moved to Mexico in the wake of NAFTA's passage.


Martinez: At that time the Authentic Labor Front (FAT) had a relationship going back many years with the National Union Confederation of Quebec, the CSN. We had both left the Latin American Confederation of Labor because we didn't agree with the policy of Christian Democracy. When we began to hear about a free trade agreement between Mexico, the United States and Canada, the CSN came to Mexico to meet with us. They described their experience with the trade agreement between Canada and the United States. For them, it led to a loss of jobs and they wanted to organize a defense.

At the same time, the FAT began working with other organizations in Mexico to form the Mexican Action Network Against Free Trade (REMALC). The network gave us a way to look for allies in the United States, but our relationships had been with non-governmental organizations.  The AFL CIO at that time had an open relationship with the CTM, which supported the policies of the government of President Carlos Salinas.

In 1992 a representative of the UE came to a REMALC meeting in Zacatecas. I was negotiating a contract in Aguascalientes, and on a day when we didn't have talks, I went to the Zacatecas meeting too. One of the FAT comrades, Manuel García, told me there was another trade unionist there, the only other one at the event. That's how we found Bob Kingsley (former political director of the UE), who was also searching for an alliance with a Mexican union. A month later we were invited to Pittsburgh to meet with the UE leaders, Amy Newell, John Hovis and Ed Bruno.

The UE felt the loss of jobs moving to Mexico, and wanted a relationship between workers in the United States and Mexico from the same company so that we could organize the runaway plants. We chose two plants that were among the largest - General Electric and Honeywell. We began a strategic alliance with an organizing approach. The speed surprised us - nothing was bureaucratic. We were soon working on putting together our contacts in Ciudad Juárez and Chihuahua.

We made the decision to start in Ciudad Juárez because there was already a study of the plants.  There were possibilities in other states, but we did not have bases in some areas and in others, the FAT had been driven out. General Electric and Honeywell both had plants in Chihuahua, and although we did not really have a base of members in Ciudad Juárez, we did know people, so a small team went there.

I had been a member of the national FAT leadership since 1990, and had several organizing successes. So naturally the FAT said, we need a victim to coordinate this work in Ciudad Juárez and that victim was me. I was put in charge of the project and establishing the UE-FAT relationship.

I had not had the opportunity to go to the United States before. I was still very stuck in the factory. However, some things surprised us, like the way we were received at the meeting with the UE's leaders, as if we had been old friends. We quickly established things that were important. Respect for autonomy was treated as a principle, and everyone took responsibility for making decisions in their own area. In Mexico, it was up to us how to do things.

 
Benedicto Martinez, in the offices of the FAT in Mexico City, points to a mural by Mike Alewitz celebrating the binational solidarity partnership between the FAT and the United Electrical Workers. 

 
Alexander: There were two agreements between the UE and the FAT in '92. One was to support the organizing in Mexico, involving plants belonging to companies where the UE had contracts in the U.S. We also agreed to organize a tour against the Free Trade Agreement in the United States, where representatives of the FAT would explain to workers why they thought it was a bad idea. The UE decided to establish a position of director of international relations.

It was a great challenge to develop international work in a way consistent with the UE's principles, that we are a union led by the rank and file. That is a fundamental difference from the hierarchical way most unions operate. Many of our ideas then became key principles of the relationship between the UE and the FAT. We did things by consensus. The UE was responsible for what happened in the United States and the FAT for what happened in Mexico. There was permanent communication about what we were doing. In all the UE conventions from then on FAT representatives would speak with our members and we would develop the program for our work. We would exchange experiences about what we had done and plan for the future.

The first thing I did was accompany a delegation of grassroots UE representatives to Ciudad Juárez to support the organizing by the FAT against General Electric. This delegation was the first of many exchanges between the UE and the FAT. We didn't just organize delegations from one country, but from both - by the UE to Mexico and by the FAT to the United States. We had cultural exchanges where murals were painted in both countries. There was a book project, in which a writer in the U.S. worked with a writer in Mexico to produce two books, one in English and the other in Spanish.

The relationship with the FAT was possible because we had a shared perspective about politics.  We both had a commitment to organize democratic, independent unions.  

The campaign at General Electric failed, and we realized that we had not really understood well the complexity of organizing in Mexico, and all the barriers to it. I give a lot of credit to the UE leaders of that time because the reaction of many unions would have been "we cannot do it," or "it was a good try." But the UE, recognizing all the difficulties, said, "this is an important relationship and we are going to continue supporting the FAT."

The FAT at that time also made the decision to continue. To support them we made the first complaints under the NAFTA labor side agreement. We had no confidence that we were going to win by making them, but they provided a platform for the FAT and allies in Mexico to denounce the illegal actions of the companies. 

 
Buses line up to take maquiladora workers from the "Derechos Humanos" and "Fuerza y Unidad" barrios in Matamoros to the factories where they work. The neighborhoods are contaminated by the dumping of white powder chemical waste from the Quimica Fluor plant, which makes hydrofluoric acid, onto the dirt roads between the houses.


Martinez: Sometimes it felt a little uncomfortable. Usually, when someone provides financial support they make the decisions, they command. In this case, it was different. We were fighting for the same cause in Mexico, and money meant more help organizing the workers. The situation in Ciudad Juárez was so difficult. We built a democratic movement based on the strength of the workers and were finally able to present the demand for a collective contract. But the state government flatly denied us. They openly said, "we are not going to process your claim." It was a brutal blow, but they were the authority. They could do it.

The UE understood that under normal conditions, we would surely have won, but at GE and Honeywell we couldn't, because the state forces were so strong. The principles we raised in those NAFTA complaints were finally written into the Federal Labor Law reform. That reform came out of those attacks against freedom of association and collective contracting, and the lack of justice at the federal and local conciliation boards. Today we have some protections in the law, but they came from the battles we fought 30 years ago.

It was difficult because the resources the UE provided came from workers' dues. If we didn't win, how could they justify the expense? Asking that made us see ourselves differently - that we had to have a long-term perspective. If we had said 30 years ago that we would reform Mexico's labor law in 2019, people would have said we were crazy. But we planted the seeds for it little by little. Our approach was to make visible the reality in Mexico - the lack of freedom, the lack of democracy, the lack of rights of Mexican workers - and to get other organizations and unions to take it on. Eventually, they did, even questioning these violations at the ILO. We also had allies, like the CGT in France and the CGIL in Italy, the Brazilians and the Chileans.

Because of the complaints under the NAFTA side agreement and another at the ILO, we began to have more influence on other unions in the U.S. At first it was just with locals of national unions like the autoworkers. But eventually, we were able to exert pressure in the AFL CIO itself. I participated in a tour of Teamster union locals in the U.S., at the time of their democratization when their president was Ron Carey. There was a march in San Francisco and another in Santa Ana.

We did grassroots work in local unions because the leadership of most U.S. unions maintained a relationship with the CTM and the Congreso de Trabajo (the government-controlled union federations). But it was hard. On the first tour, I was attacked by people who would call us "fucking Mexicans who come here to ask for help" or "they are the ones who are going to get the jobs." They said Mexico was willing to accept low salaries to get those jobs. We knew people in those meetings were not going to receive us with applause because they did not know the conditions - that it was not a policy of the workers, but of companies in alliance with neoliberal governments. We'd explain that losing jobs was a product of the companies' policy of transferring them.  

Our relationship with the UE was very different. Although we worked mainly on organizing workers in Mexico, we needed to have allies from the same company in the United States, to be able to negotiate together. Our dream was to one day negotiate a contract with General Electric that would also cover Mexican workers. And little by little this relationship came to include a vision beyond that.

At the beginning of the UE-FAT relationship, we tried talking with workers at a plant belonging to DMI/Metaldyne, but it was difficult. Workers had relatively good salaries. Many worked on numerically controlled equipment and were specialists not interested in the union. But time passed and we kept at it because it had a sister plant in the United States where workers belonged to the UE. About 15 years after we started workers got interested because the salary conditions changed. It took two years before we could demand recognition, but it became our first success organizing a plant with a sister plant in the United States.

We had the first meeting with coworkers who came from the U.S. plant to Mexico and later a delegation from Mexico to the plant in the United States. It was a little like family. They could see their machines were the same, although they were working under different conditions, and obviously different salaries. But it was a big success for our alliance, after many years. In this long-term relationship, it's not always the immediate gain that is the most important.  We may want results tomorrow, but things are not like that in the union world.

 
UE International Affairs Director Robin Alexander, at a conference in Los Angeles, denounces the attacks of Mexican trade unionists, including Juan Linares, a leader of the miners' union.

Alexander: Another early campaign was a company called ISKO. One of the workers from the General Electric struggle in Ciudad Juárez became an organizer. He was sent by the FAT to work in Milwaukee in December. Because of the cold, it must have been the worst season of his life, but with his help, we won that campaign. It was very important because when he went home he could say the UE was not like other Mexican unions and this had an important resonance in his plant. Solidarity is not only about economic support, or just from north to south. Solidarity also meant supporting organizing in the United States.

One delegation we sent to Mexico asked to focus on the legal right to bargain. These were workers from North Carolina, a state where public sector workers do not have the right to collective bargaining. After this exchange, they returned to North Carolina saying they'd learned this was a violation of international law. They organized the North Carolina International Justice Campaign, which had a great impact. Then the FAT also filed a lawsuit under NAFTA's labor side agreement. In other UE locals, workers began talking about it, that the FAT was fighting for the rights of UE members. It was very encouraging.

Martinez: Now things are changing because of the labor reform. Companies in Mexico that used to have a protection union (a company-controlled union) now think they're better off without a union at all, in the style of the United States. So one lesson we have to learn is that solidarity and support doesn't just flow from the north to the south, but in both directions.

The reform of the Federal Labor Law and the constitutional reform have led to the disappearance of the old labor boards and mandated free, direct and secret personal voting. Whatever comes next I think it will be difficult to reverse this, because another reform would require a 2/3 vote both in the chamber of deputies and senate. I'm not saying it's not possible, but it would be complicated. So I think there is a certain security.

However, to date, the 12 complaints using the new T-MEC treaty only cover certain sectors of the industry. The treaty has not affected all unions or all national industries, but only those affected by the T-MEC mechanism. In terms of the country, that's quite slow. Mexico has more than 50,000,000 workers, and these complaints cover at most 20,000 - small compared to our larger class.

We have won a mechanism, the voting, and a process for the recognition, but this process leads to rapid struggles and union formation. But building democratic unionism, with class-conscious workers, does not happen overnight. It requires education, which in the past came through conflicts. I don't want to say that what happened in the past was good, but the more conflict and the longer the struggle, the more people learned. Their consciousness grew also because they had to prepare and read. When workers had to sustain a long-term struggle, they would gain more awareness of what is possible.

 
The closed Friction Brake plant in Costa Mesa, California. The plant relocated operations to ITAPSA in Mexico City in the wake of workers' organizing with the UE. ITAPSA workers traveled to Costa Mesa to show their support for the workers' effort to organize. 

Today organizing is faster, but if we do not manage to create class consciousness, and commitment to democratic and militant unionism, I don't know what the result will be. It could easily be a purely economic struggle. And that's where I have my doubts and concerns.

Neither the CTM unions nor the established independent unions are organizing. It is not on their radar. The new actors are ones that have obtained resources through the Solidarity Center, like La Liga Obrera Mexicana, which are completely new, or like Julia Quiñones, who has spent her life working on the border, or Hector de la Cueva and CILAS (the Center for Labor Investigation and Union Counsel). But the campaign at General Motors came from a previous struggle among a group of workers who started the movement in the Silao plant. Resources came in and we know what happened. So those who are using the T-MEC process are the ones who are organizing.

Not all are successful and often present a new set of problems. VU Manufacturing in Piedras Negras, where they also used the T-MEC, is about to close the plant. In another plant with 1600 workers about 700 voted and 900 did not. SINTIA (the new union that won the election and contract at General Motors) won with 20 votes. It's going to be very difficult to form a union if they win the support of 300 workers in a plant of 1600. It is really a minority union.

But the traditional unions, the old independent unions, don't even appear in this. It's as if they are not interested, and just administered what they have. It is not clear where our labor movement is going, or what it will really be after the reform process. The (old formerly government-controlled) unions of the Labor Congress - the CTM, the CROC, the CROM - are supposedly now in compliance, with legitimized contracts, and elections they say were free, with direct and secret voting. How can workers tell the new unionism apart from these unions that still operate as they did before?

Nevertheless, the economic situation for workers has improved with the considerable increase in the minimum wage. A larger budget for social expenditures has also made life better, especially for the most unprotected workers. It has not reached the level we would like, but it is on an upward path.

Alexander: Important things have happened, like this administration's policy of putting the poor first. There are programs for older people, for students, and for young people. They've provided many more resources to the poorest people. For workers in particular the big increase in the minimum wage was a very big change.

During the years of our alliance, the Mexican government resolved labor issues directly or through the labor boards. That has also changed. Now the federal government says it is up to the parties to resolve labor issues, and they do not take sides. This is encouraging for the future. And, obviously, labor reform has created opportunities to organize without many of the obstacles that existed before.

However, there has been a lot of money, millions of dollars, coming from Canada and the United States to support this new unionism. We won't know its impact for a while. Unionism in the United States is not a model workers should follow, and I don't know the purpose of so much money. This is not a criticism of what has happened, but I am concerned about the unions that are being formed now. How democratic will they be? And if the money comes from the United States and Canada, what will happen when it's taken away? The new unions are depending on T-MEC's new rapid response mechanism. I hope that Trump does not win, but if he does, I cannot imagine that the rapid response mechanism will work as it has.

However, the organizing situation for workers now in the United States is very encouraging. There is movement, especially among young people, and we will also see where it goes. The UE has been very successful in organizing graduate students from universities, who are starting to win contracts. If this process continues, the UE will be in a much better position to focus again on international solidarity.

 
Benedicto Martinez, general secretary of the Frente Auténtico del Trabajo, challenges the head of the Junta de Conciliación y Arbitraje during an election with open voting for workers at the Han Young maquiladora in Tijuana. JNCA officials ask workers how they'd vote - for the independent union or the union the company preferred, Mexico Moderno. Declarations were typed by government clerical workers, and workers were required to sign them making their votes public. After years of challenges by the FAT, the system of open voting was ended.

Martinez: I worry that the growth of new unions is based a lot on the present resources. But the status of the people who organize has changed, with high salaries for an organizer. In the past, you couldn't even dream of this. If these resources stop, will the organizers continue?

In our old culture workers paid the costs, which kept expenses low. For a meeting today 40 or 50 people might attend, all paid, in good hotels. That wasn't the case in the past. I don't want to say that we should live in misery, but you get used to it and that's the problem. For the worker, if a meeting means going to a good hotel with good meals, traveling by plane, what will happen when there are no resources for this?

I hope the union movement will re-emerge as all of us dream - strong, democratic organizations, with a relationship beyond our borders, as we managed to build with our alliance. The FAT's dream for more than 40 years is organizing unions by industry branch and by company. With General Motors, a contract covering the whole company could be powerful, or a strong alliance able to negotiate collective contracts in different countries, respecting autonomy and cultures. The capital is the same, right?

Alexander: It's a very important moment, and I feel a little bad about being retired. I would like to be 20 years younger and get back into it. But I believe that the experience we had with the FAT provides some lessons. I hope it's something we can contribute to this new generation.

 
Benedicto Martínez marches in a demonstration of independent trade unions, farmer organizations, and the left-wing Party of the Democratic Revolution to Mexico City's main square, the Zocalo, on the 20th anniversary of the implementation of NAFTA. The march included members of U.S. and Canadian unions and organizations protesting NAFTA.

THE SECOND DEMOLITION OF WOOD STREET

THE SECOND DEMOLITION OF WOOD STREET
By David Bacon
Contexts, Winter 2024
https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/15365042241229709

Gawit (David) Mesfin tries to move the many bicycles and parts next to his living area before the earthmovers arrive.  He repaired bicycles, and sometimes stored them, for many residents and other unhoused people. Mesfin was born in Ethiopia.  "I left when I was 8, because of the wars, after my parents were killed.  I finally I got to the U.S. when I was 18, and I'm 38 now.  I've been living here for seven or eight years.

 
For the people evicted from Wood Street, Oakland, the largest unhoused encampment in northern California, housing is a human right.  Residents had even painted their assertion in bright colors on a placard at the gateway to their dwellings.  But the California Department of Transportation ("CalTrans") disagreed.  It owns the land under an enormous freeway interchange called The Maze, where over 300 people lived for years.  The U.S. Constitution, CalTrans asserts, does not recognize a right to housing.

In the dispute over the mass eviction, Federal Judge William Orrick came down on the side of the state.  "I don't have the authority-because there is no constitutional right to housing-to allow Wood Street to stay on the property of somebody who doesn't want it," he admitted.

Early in 2023, 60 residents were forced to vacate the strip of land occupied by RVs, tents, and informal homes, extending for 25 city blocks.  A series of reports by Nuala Bushari and Sarah Ravani in the San Francisco Chronicle documented the dire situation: Oakland's homeless population had increased 24% in just three years.  The city had 598 year-round shelter beds, 313 housing structures, and 147 RV parking spaces.  All were filled.  According to a census of the unhoused in early 2022, more than 5,000 people were sleeping on Oakland's streets.

Wood Street Commons, the name many residents gave to the now-empty camp, and which became the name of their community (which still survives), had a long history.  Houses were cleared from the original area in the 1950s to build the freeway maze leading to the Bay Bridge.  In 2016, as gentrification and the city's housing crisis grew increasingly acute, displaced people began setting up what would become Oakland's longest-standing settlement of the unhoused.  In one small section, residents and supporters erected a number of makeshift homes and a common area for meetings.

In recent years, however, fires became frequent on Wood Street; there were more than 90 in 2021.  In April 2022, one man lost his life in a blaze in his converted bus, while, in July 2022, propane cylinders used for heating exploded in flames so hot that vehicles were incinerated.  Of course, Wood Street wasn't the only camp to suffer blazes.  A city audit documented 988 fires in 140 encampments in 2020 and 2021.

But after the July 2022 fire, CalTrans announced that it would evict Wood Street's residents.  Lawyers for the unhoused convinced Judge Orrick to temporarily bar the action.  In 2022, the state gave Oakland a $4.7 million grant to house 50 people, but as evictions proceeded, city administrators announced that non-profit developers planned to build 170 units of housing on the site.  While Oakland needs housing desperately, virtually none of the evictees would ever be able to buy or rent one of these units.

One resident said that in the four years he'd lived on Wood Street, he felt safe and protected from violence that often affects people sleeping on sidewalks.  By contrast, a man was shot and killed in the "Tuff Shed" cubicles the city provided for the camp dwellers (calling them "alternative housing").  "That city housing is surrounded by a fence.  You can't have visitors, and it feels like a prison.  And it's not safe," he said.

In 2018, United Nations Special Rapporteur on Adequate Housing Leilani Farha visited Oakland.  "I find there to be a real cruelty," she observed, "in how people are being dealt with here." She compared Oakland to Manila, Philippines, Jakarta, Indonesia, and Mexico City, where she said homelessness is basically tolerated.  In the United States, a far wealthier country, being homeless is instead criminalized.

The Wood Street eviction exposed the bones of capitalism.  The right to property is enshrined in law, and the legal structure of the state will enforce it, even if it leaves people on the street with no place to sleep or live.  Land is a commodity, and it is bought and sold.  If the right to live on it comes first, the property right of any landowner is in danger. That requires the expulsion of people in land occupations.

As camp residents departed, a group of day laborers took away belongings and discarded the trash left behind. They were some of Oakland's lowest-paid workers, Mexican and Central American jornaleros who daily look for work on city streets, (such as those documented by sociologist Gretchen Purser in her 2009 ethnography, The Dignity of Job-Seeking Men).  While the jornaleros hauled out debris, another group of impecunious Oaklanders-the unhoused people who would soon be joining them on those streets-watched.

The workers cleaned out the camp for the lowest wages possible, demonstrating yet another aspect of municipal neoliberalism, alive and well in a city and state known for their progressivism. 

 

 
Wood Street encampment of unhoused people stood under a freeway and railroad overpass.  Volunteers organized to help its hundreds of residents try to resist eviction, but the city and CalTrans forced the encampment's demolition. 

 

Benjamin Choyce died from smoke inhalation in a fire in the converted bus where he lived. 

 

A living room or artist studio Wood Street resident Jake built under the trestle. 

 

Jason, a resident, looked over the remains of homes and belongings after the big fire.

 

A car burned in the last big fire. When cars were burning, CalTrans had to close the freeway above. 

 

 
Some residents and volunteers built small homes with straw and mud, called cob, in a section of the camp they called Cob on Wood. 

 

After BNSF Railroad and CalTrans announced they would force people to leave, notices were put on vehicles warning of the impending eviction. 

 

Adam Davis poured water into a tank in his car, readying himself to move to another location

 

Heavy equipment was brought into the Wood Street encampment to frighten residents into leaving without more protest. 

 

 
As a resident watched, a forklift hoisted a resident's SUV and took it out of the camp under the freeway. 

 

 

Day laborers were brought to clear the encampment. 

 

 
The day laborers brought to clear the encampment were Mexican and Central American workers, who find temporary jobs by waiting on Oakland sidewalks. 

 

 
Residents and supporters wrote their last appeals, posting them on a fence they built to protect their meeting area. 

 

 
A volunteer brought in sound equipment for one last jam before the eviction. 

 

 
Day laborers hoisted a sofa left behind into a dumpster as trucks left the huge port of Oakland on the freeway overpass above. 

 

 
Dolls and a flag were the ironic comments left on a vehicle under the freeway, about to be towed away.

FORCED MIGRATION AND DETENTION ARE THE REAL IMMIGRATION CRISIS

FORCED MIGRATION AND DETENTION ARE THE REAL IMMIGRATION CRISIS
By David Bacon
Jacobin, 2/11/24
https://jacobin.com/2024/02/migration-detention-ice-immigration-crisis

 
A migrant looks over the fence between Mexico and the US in Tijuana, Baja California Norte, 1996, trying to find a moment when the Border Patrol may not be looking so that he can go through the hole under it and cross. A Nahuatl legend says that when people go to the underworld, they are guided by a dog. (Courtesy of David Bacon)

Review of Humanizing Immigration: How to Transform Our Racist and Unjust System by Bill Ong Hing (Beacon Press, 2023)

A photograph by Brandon Bell, distributed by CNN, shows fifteen beefy men in military caps and fatigues, standing in front of a chain-link fence on a concrete boat ramp. It is evening in Shelby Park, the city park of Eagle Pass, Texas. The frigid water of the Rio Grande flows just footsteps away. On the other side in the distance is a riverbank: Mexico.

It was here in the dark, on January 14, that Victerma de la Sancha Cerros, a thirty-three-year-old mother from Mexico City, stepped into the water holding the hands of her two children, ten-year-old Yorlei Ruby and eight-year-old Jonathan Agustín Briones de la Sancha. We don't know how they got into trouble in the strong current or if they even knew how to swim. Grupo Beta, Mexico's border rescue service, saw them struggling and called the US Border Patrol. Agents went to the park gate, a couple of miles from the boat ramp. The beefy men in fatigues, soldiers of the Texas Military Department (TMD), refused to let them through.

Mexican authorities tried to rescue the mom and her children but were only able to save two others. The three drowned, and Grupo Beta could only return to Mexico with their bodies. Later the TMD said its soldiers, standing behind their chain-link barrier, had shone high-powered lights on the water and used their night-vision goggles, but somehow had seen nothing.

The White House called the event "tragic" and used it as evidence to support its case before the US Supreme Court, challenging Texas's assertion that it is entitled to erect razor-wire border barriers and use its own soldiers to stop migrants from crossing the river. "The Texas governor's policies are cruel, dangerous, and inhumane," said a spokesperson from the federal Department of Homeland Security (DHS). "Texas officials . . . allowed two children to drown," Congressman Joaquin Castro added.

Yet within days, President Joe Biden told a campaign rally that if Congress passed a bill to continue funding war in Ukraine and genocide in Gaza, he would agree to anti-migrant provisions that are part of the reason de la Sancha and her children drowned. "I will shut down the border immediately," he promised.

Biden didn't mean that trucks carrying jeans and TV screens from Mexican factories would be stopped from crossing or that he would halt the flow of respectable people with visas. He meant stopping migrants like de la Sancha, who are treated as though they are a threat and an enemy. She might have been fleeing from drug violence in her neighborhood or perhaps she couldn't make enough money to keep food on the table, or maybe she was trying to find a family member working on the US side of the border. Regardless, she had no visa.

 
A memorial at the border fence for those who have died trying to cross in Tijuana, Baja California Norte, 2001. (Courtesy of David Bacon) 

 
Migrants found dead on the border between US and Mexico, in the area of the Imperial Valley and Colorado River, are buried in a potter's field graveyard in Holtville, California. The identities of many are not known and are buried as "John Doe" or "Jane Doe." Immigrant rights and religious activists have made crosses for many of the graves, most of which say "No Olvidados" or "Not Forgotten." About 450 bodies are buried here. This image was taken in 2010. (Courtesy David Bacon)

No money, running from something or someone, trying to keep a family together and give it a future, or just needing a job at whatever wage - these are the commonalities of the thousands who arrive at the US border every year. In his 2023 book, Humanizing Immigration: How to Transform Our Racist and Unjust System, Bill Ong Hing rises to their defense. And migrants need defenders like him, especially now. Texas governor Greg Abbott has pushed through a law that makes being undocumented a state crime. Republicans in Congress last year proposed to build more border walls, create barriers to asylum, force the firing of millions of undocumented workers, and permit children to be held in detention prisons with their parents.

But Biden and centrist Democrats are very willing to agree to modified proposals like these, even if he promised in his 2020 campaign to undo similar measures put in place by Donald Trump. In return for war appropriations, Biden agrees that he'll close the border to asylum applicants if their number rises beyond five thousand per day, and make it much harder to navigate the process for gaining legal status, for those even allowed to apply.

In Humanizing Immigration, Hing describes the tenacious battles fought by radical immigration lawyers and community defenders (himself among them) to beat off these efforts to twist the legal process into a maze few can navigate. At the time of writing, Biden has already said he would cut short the time for screening asylum applicants to ninety days. According to Hing, "rocket dockets" and "dedicated dockets" already reduce the ability of migrants to find lawyers and make a case for asylum. Cutting screening time would make winning permission to stay much more difficult.

An onerous process already exists, Hing charges, in which an arcane difference between a "well-founded fear" and a "clear probability" of persecution govern life-and-death decisions by immigration judges hearing asylum cases. He quotes one asylum officer featured in the film Well-Founded Fear who denies a claim because the person fleeing can't remember if he was kidnapped by two men or three. "Let's face it," Hing says. "Most of the problems with decision-making over asylum cases are tinged with racism."

To keep people imprisoned while their cases are in process, instead of releasing them, Biden agreed to more detention centers, a euphemism for immigrant prisons. There are already over two hundred, according to the group Freedom for Immigrants. Under a law signed by President Barack Obama, Congress required that thirty-four thousand detention beds be filled every night. At the end of 2023 those beds held 36,263 people, and another 194,427 were in "Alternatives to Detention" - wearing the hated ankle bracelets that bar travel more than a few blocks. Over 90 percent of these jails are run for profit by private companies like the Geo Group, familiar to labor activists as the current incarnation of the old Pinkerton detective agency of strikebreaking fame.

Even if de la Sancha and her kids had made it across the river, these compromises would likely have meant their new home would be a cell. Ending family separation was tenaciously fought for in the suits Hing describes, and won in a reform that Biden did implement when he took office. But like other protections, these are granular advances (or the regaining of previous rights) that are never safe and must be defended again and again. Humanizing Immigration recounts the many courtroom battles that won them, naming and profiling the courageous migrants willing to stand up, and their equally courageous and tireless lawyers.

 
A worker is deported back into Mexico at the border gate, from a bus that has taken deportees from the detention center in El Centro in the Imperial Valley, under the watchful gaze of a National Guard soldier, Mexicali, Baja California Norte, 1996. (Courtesy of David Bacon) 

 
Immigrants, workers, union members, people of faith, and community activists called for a moratorium on deportations. Almost 400,000 people had been deported every year for the previous five years. Photo taken in East Palo Alto, California, 2014. (Courtesy of David Bacon)


Criminalizing Existence

Of those profiled by Hing in Humanizing Immigration, one person stands out: Reverend Deborah Lee, who coordinates the Interfaith Movement for Human Integrity (IM4HR). She and a tiny staff constantly mobilize a network of faith activists throughout California, marching from one detention center to the next, speaking in working-class black churches and morally outraged suburban congregations.

They are extremely effective. When California legislators voted to do away with privately run migrant prisons, their action (not surprisingly overturned by a federal court) owed much to Lee and people like her, willing to go into the streets for justice. A memo from US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), an agency of the DHS, admitted that the California ban on private detention centers would be "a devastating blow to the ongoing ICE mission." That mission was, and is, incarcerating migrants.

Lee's odyssey is worth a book in itself. I met her when we both helped organize workers at the Pacific Steel foundry in Berkeley, California, to resist another form of immigration punishment, the I-9 check. ICE had gone through the documents of hundreds of the factory's workers and accused over two hundred of not having papers and demanded that the company fire them. Some had spent over two decades working the foundry's heavy, gritty jobs. For two years, workers and their allies built a community support base that, in the end, couldn't save those jobs, but that helped them survive, not a small accomplishment. Hing and I authored an article afterward, "The Rise and Fall of Employer Sanctions," about the brutality of this form of immigration enforcement.

One lesson underscored at Pacific Steel was that the vulnerability of undocumented immigrants has economic consequences for other workers too. Good union organizers know this - a union has to effectively oppose immigration raids and firings if it wants to protect workers and win their loyalty. At the same time, immigrants under attack must find ways to unite with the community around them - an indispensable lesson for this political moment. Overcoming today's increasingly reactionary and dangerous right-wing threat requires the unity of immigrants and nonimmigrants: each must fight for the other. A Biden strategy that throws immigrants under the bus will make that impossible and could lose the election in 2024.

As the workers' battle in Berkeley unfolded, Lee started another, organizing monthly vigils at the ICE detention center just a few miles from the plant (and even closer to many workers' homes). It took seven years of speaking before the social justice committees of Jews, Catholics, Protestants, and Buddhists, and then bringing congregations out to protest, before they could force the center to close. IM4HR became a formidable force battling ICE and taking its closure campaigns to communities around other jails and prisons.

Lee and her coworkers developed an understanding about the relationship between class and immigration, between race and the migrant carceral system, and about the roots of migration itself. She took delegations to Honduras and Guatemala, in support of activists there. On their return, faith activists alerted congregations and communities to the fights in those countries for political and social change - for an alternative to forced migration for survival.

I described those fights as they took place in Mexico, from factories on the border to cornfields in Oaxaca, in my books The Children of NAFTA: Labor Wars on the US/Mexico Border and Illegal People: How Globalization Creates Migration and Criminalizes Immigrants. These books documented the impact of US policy, displacing millions of people in Mexico, and then criminalizing them as they became border crossers and immigrant workers. Another book I wrote, The Right to Stay Home: How US Policy Drives Mexican Migration, gave a voice to migrant activists demanding a double set of rights - the right to migrate, with social and political equality, and the right to not migrate, i.e., for political change in communities of origin so that migration is not forced by the need to survive.

This understanding was the basis of Hing's earlier book Ethical Borders: NAFTA, Globalization, and Mexican Migration. "Instead of addressing the contemporary causes of undocumented Mexican migration that are linked to NAFTA and globalization," he wrote, "the United States has addressed the symptoms of the challenge by adopting an enforcement only approach."

 
People of faith and immigrants in front of the West County Detention Center, where immigrants have incarcerated before being deported. Victor Aguilar and Hugo Aguilar were recently released detainees and embraced each other in front of the detention during the last vigil before the center was closed, showing the friendship that had developed between them during months inside. Rev. Deborah Lee looked on. Photo taken in Richmond, California, 2018. (Courtesy of David Bacon) 

 
The Mixteca region of Oaxaca is one of the poorest areas in Mexico. Indigenous Mixtec, Triqui, and other groups from this region now make up a large percentage of the migrants who have left to work in the United States. Photo taken in Santiago de Juxtlahuaca, Oaxaca, 2008. (Courtesy of David Bacon)


Ignoring the Root Causes

Hing puts forward a basic truth: winning public understanding of immigration is the only way to decisively defeat anti-immigrant hysteria. Yet centrist Democrats, caving in to the onslaught of Republicans and MAGA acolytes, won't acknowledge the causes of immigration. This failure long predates Biden.

When large numbers of unaccompanied children started coming from Central America during the Obama administration, as it faced midterm elections in 2014, the president told mothers not to send their children north, admonishing them as though they were bad parents. "Do not send your children to the borders," he said. "If they do make it, they'll get sent back. More importantly, they may not make it."

President Obama made some acknowledgement of the poverty and violence that impelled them to come despite his warning, but drew the line at recognizing this migration's historical roots, much less any culpability on the part of our government. President Biden sent Vice President Kamala Harris to Central America in his first year in office with a similar message - don't come.

Today this unwillingness to look at US responsibility for producing displacement and migration is starkest in relation to Haitians and Venezuelans, who have made up a large percentage of the migrants arriving at the Rio Grande in the last two years.

After Haitians finally rid themselves of the US-supported François Duvalier regime and elected Jean-Bertrand Aristide president, the United States put him on an outbound plane in 2004, as it did with Manuel Zelaya in Honduras. A string of US-backed corrupt but business-friendly governments followed, which pocketed millions while Haitians went hungry and became homeless by the tens of thousands after earthquakes and other disasters. "The treatment of Haitian migrants," Hing charges, "demonstrates how immigration laws and policies are . . . a concrete manifestation of systemic and institutionalized racism."

Survival in Venezuela became impossible for many as its economy suffered body blows from US political intervention and economic sanctions. President Biden allowed Chevron, Repsol, and Eni to sell Venezuelan oil once Russian oil was embargoed during the Ukraine war, but the basic sanctions making survival precarious remain in place. Meanwhile, the ongoing effort to unseat its government continues. National security spokesman John Kirby demanded more political changes in late January, and threatened, "They've got till the spring."

These interventions produce migrants and then criminalize them. In 2023, the Border Patrol took 334,914 Venezuelans and 163,701 Haitians into custody. And while promoting military intervention in Haiti and regime change in Venezuela, the Biden administration put people on deportation flights back home, in the hope that this would discourage others from starting the journey north.

The US media endlessly interprets this as a "border crisis," but the disconnect is obvious to anyone born south of the Mexican border. For Sergio Sosa, who grew up during the Guatemalan civil war and now heads the Heartland Workers Center in Omaha, migration is a form of resistance to empire. "People from Europe and the US crossed borders to come to us, and took over our land and economy," he points out. "Now it's our turn to cross borders. Migration is a form of fighting back. We're in our situation, not because we decided to be, but because we're in the US's backyard. People have to resist to keep their communities and identities alive. We are demonstrating that we are human beings too."

 
Gina, a Haitian refugee, washes clothes in Mexico City in 2023. Several hundred Haitian refugees lived in tents in Giordano Bruno Park. They'd come from Haiti through Central America headed to the US border, but knew they'd probably be prevented from crossing. (Courtesy of David Bacon) 

 
Michelle Medina, a Venezuelan migrant, nurses her baby Salome Comenal in a camp of Venezuelan and Haitian refugees in Mexico City, 2023. (Courtesy of David Bacon)


Displacement Is the Crisis

Biden calls the border "broken" and "in crisis." That is the biggest concession to the media-driven storm that repeats these words endlessly. From them flows the hysteria that justifies repression.

Department of Homeland Security statistics show, however, that over the decades the numbers of people crossing the border and subject to deportation rise and fall, while displacement and forced migration remain constant. In 2022 about 1.1 million people were expelled after trying to cross, and another 350,000 deported. In 1992 about 1.2 million were stopped at the border, and 1.1 million deported. Over a million people were deported in 1954 during the infamous "Operation Wetback." Arrests at the border totaled over a million in twenty-nine of the last forty-six years.

Last year the number arrested at the border was higher: about 2.5 million. But the real point is that the migration flow has not stopped and will not stop anytime soon. What, then, is the "crisis"? New York Times reporter Miriam Jordan says, "In December alone, more than 300,000 people crossed the southern border, a record number." They all believe, she says, that "once they make it into the United States they will be able to stay. Forever. And by and large, they are not wrong."

In fact, the number of refugee admissions in 2022 was 60,000. In 1992 it was 132,000. According to Jordan, applicants are simply released to live normal lives until their date before an immigration judge. That will certainly be news to families facing separation and the constant threat of deportation. But this is what Republicans and anti-immigrant Democrats call an "invasion," and against it Biden threatens to "shut the border." So enforcement and deterrence are the means to stop people from coming in the first place.

Should Trump win the election in November, he promises to reinstitute the notorious family separation policy. Children who survive the crossing, unlike Yorlei and Jonathan, might not see their moms again for months and easily be lost, as so many were, in the huge detention system. Oklahoma senator James Lankford wants to reintroduce the "Remain in Mexico" policy, under which people wanting asylum were not allowed to enter the United States to file their applications, and the Mexican government was forced to set up detention centers just south of the border to house them while they waited. Trump and other Republicans would imprison all migrants who face a court proceeding, applying to stay or stopping a deportation. Pending cases now number in the millions, because the immigration court system is starved for the resources needed to process them.

 
Immigrants and their supporters, organized by the Tucson immigrant rights coalition Derechos Humanos, call for a moratorium on deportations. That call was made by many organizations in the US when the number of deportations reached 400,000 per year. Photo taken in Tucson, Arizona, 2008. (Courtesy of David Bacon)

That system, Hing says, must go. But the whole idea that the people arriving at the border must be met with deterrence and enforcement does more than justify the tortuous immigration court system and the detention centers.

"The need to abolish ICE," an oft-repeated demand among immigrant rights activists, "is a no-brainer for me," Hing says. "In fact, I count myself among those who call for the abolition of the immigration system altogether. Migrants should have the right to free movement across borders and the right to live free of harassment over immigration status. Our system must be transformed into one that prioritizes our humanity first."

To accomplish that, Hing advocates a set of tactics to make it hard for the system to function, including public oversight, marches like those that opposed the Sensenbrenner Bill in 2006, and antideportation campaigns like those of the Dreamers. He profiles as positive disrupters two lawyers: Jacqueline Brown, who fought the imprisonment of unaccompanied children, and Julie Su, who defended enslaved Thai garment workers in Los Angeles and is now the acting US secretary of labor. Until institutions like ICE and the detention centers are abolished, he says, "we should do everything we can to disrupt the system."

To win an alternative to the present system, we have to uproot the causes of the displacement that makes migration involuntary, while recognizing the ongoing reality of migration and making it easy for people to come and to stay. No matter how many walls and migrant prisons the government builds, people will come anyway. But we can easily see the consequences of this system - one that first produces migration and then tries its best to bar migrants and send them away - in the death of Victerma de la Sancha Cerros and her two children in the cold water of the Rio Grande.