In an act considered historic, the Mexican Armed Forces and victims of the so-called “dirty war” met on June 22 at Military Camp Number 1, the largest military base in Mexico and where the existence of clandestine prisons for members of the counterinsurgency movement in this country has been documented. But from the perspective of the survivors and relatives of victims, it was a revictimizing act in which the perpetrators of crimes against humanity were acquitted and which called into question their confidence in the newly created Commission for Access to Truth, clarification and promotion of justice of the serious violations of human rights committed between 1965 and 1990.
This chronicle reconstructs the details of the encounter, the preparation, motivations and experience of the survivors and relatives of victims who decided to attend the place where, 50 years ago, they or their relatives were illegally imprisoned, tortured or last seen before disappearing, as well as impressions about the future of the commission.
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Entering the place that since childhood evokes your worst nightmares, which is the epicenter of horror and pain, is not an easy decision to make, says Tania Ramírez, a militant of the organization H.I.J.O.S. Mexico, made up of daughters and sons of disappeared people, most in the period considered as “dirty war” in Mexico. Tania refers to Military Camp No. 1, where her father, Rafael Ramírez Duarte, was illegally imprisoned, tortured and disappeared in June 1977, when she was just a baby. At least 13 other people known to him or his family were clandestinely detained there.
Military Camp No. 1 is the largest military base in the entire country. There are the headquarters of the Armed Forces and its main prison; there are also housing units for soldiers and their families. It is a land of 1 million 522 thousand 140 square meters, totally latticed and guarded by groups of uniformed men who all the time remain vigilant behind the closed doors.
This military territory, located in the State of Mexico, is key to understanding the period known as “dirty war”, a time that goes from the mid-1960s to 1990s, during which the Mexican government deployed police and military strategies to persecute insurgent movements. The testimonies of the survivors, as well as documents found during the previous three governments, show that people, many members of insurgent movements and many non-militants, were imprisoned, tortured and disappeared there. Currently there is no accurate figure on how many people were sent at that time to that military base because, for 50 years, the Ministry of National Defense (Sedena) has refused to fully open its archives.
On June 22, 2022, 45 years after her father was disappeared, Tania and other families decided to attend an event at Military Camp Number 1, invited by the Undersecretariat of Human Rights, Population and Migration of the Ministry of the Interior (Segob). The invitation, sent just five days before the event, promised the “Start of the coordination work for access to the truth and historical clarification between Sedena and the Commission for Access to truth, clarification and promotion of justice of the serious violations of human rights committed from 1965 to 1990.”
In this public act, the president of Mexico and head of the Armed Forces, Andrés Manuel López Obrador, would order the Army to open for the first time its files and facilities for the Commission for Access to the Truth, a mechanism promoted by the victims and created by the Segob in 2021.
But in the end it was just a ceremonial act. What happened next was not suspected by the victims or the commissioners.
Prepare to enter the perpetrator’s home
“It’s one of the heaviest decisions of my life,” says Tania, a 45-year-old woman, small but with a defiant speech. Tania was on a work trip and didn’t know if she would have the emotional strength to enter the wolf cave. At the last minute, he decided to go. She took a plane in the early morning from the place where she was to Mexico City and met with her colleagues from the collective to prepare.
What led Tania to decide to enter the place where her worst nightmares begin and end? A childhood fantasy, he explains, that over the years has matured into a current and collective yearning: to reach the basements of the prisons that his uncles told him, to review the documents so jealously guarded by the soldiers and to encTo embrace the truth and justice they have longed for for so long.
“I don’t know if there is anyone who measures that (the emotional impact of entering the perpetrator’s house). There were personnel of the CEAV (Executive Commission of Attention to Victims) that the most they carried were boxes of kleenex. When we were furious with all the screaming that was put together, they came to give us emotional restraint. They have good intentions, but they have no idea of the trajectory in crisis management that one has to do with things like that,” says Tania.
Alba Santiago Navárez, another of the victims, learned of the event convened at the Military Camp a day earlier. Like Tania, she was also very hesitant to go. But the idea of her mother, Elda Navárez Flores, returning alone to the place where she was illegally held in 1979, convinced her. Also the sense of community that has forged over decades of belonging to the Committee ¡Eureka!, an organization born in Mexico that brought together mothers and relatives of disappeared from 1970 to 1980.
One night before entering the Military Camp, Tania and the other daughters and sons of victims of the “dirty war” wondered: will it be prudent to go, to participate, to enter that place? They decided to go. They chose a few phrases they would carry on posters, printed them out, and the next day hid them under their clothes so they wouldn’t be discovered. Until that point they weren’t sure how they would use those posters.
“It was important to convey in some material object the nerves of the previous night – which of course there were those of us who could not sleep well – and to have something in our hands to keep us standing and with dignity in there. Not only feeling that we were going to fill an event in which we were invited for the photo of the bride and groom, “reflects Tania.
There were also those who decided not to enter “because of a matter of political principles, of who you cooperate with and with whom you don’t.” Outside the military installations were some members of the Eureka Committee, wives of missing militants, handing out flyers that they themselves wrote, printed and cut. “I always believe that when you can’t have all the capacity and strength of the state, and the resources, dignity is maintained in those small enormities that people make by printing at home the day before, cutting with their scissors in their kitchens,” says Tania.
Military loyalty
The appointment was at 8:00 in the morning, although the event began until 10:00. At gate three of the Military Camp, the soldiers asked for names and credentials, checked their computer-printed lists, and spoke on their radios. They did not let anyone who was not on the guest lists drawn up by the Governor’s Office, the Office of the Presidency or them.
The soldiers asked the press to enter in line, guarded and walking where they indicated, without the possibility of exploring or delaying. Inside, the predominance of the color green, in the buildings, in the countryside. Cleanliness, silence, stillness. Halfway through, a helicopter from which hung a doll representing a soldier and pretending to jump interrupted the parsimony of the route. “Loyal among the loyalists,” read in large, unmovable letters in one of the central buildings of this Military Camp No. 1.
They did not announce it, but the esplanade on which the “reconciliation” event took place, as the president would later say, was the Glorieta de Las Águilas, of the Parachute Rifle Battalion, named after one of the most important elite groups of the Army, used in the counterinsurgency in the 1970s.
The victims of the “dirty war”, approximately 70 people, recorded these symbols from the Segob buses they entered.
The event – organized by Sedena, the Office of the Presidency and the Undersecretariat of Human Rights – was intended to be a symbolic act of opening the institution to deliver its files and submit to public scrutiny to allow the clarification of the facts in the “dirty war”. However, it was replete with symbols of military loyalty and ended up becoming what Tania called “an unlikely apocalyptic wedding.”
On the esplanade of the Military Camp in which the seats were arranged, on one side were several rows of uniformed men, while on the other were the invited victims. In addition, after listening to the speech of the Secretary of Defense, Luis Cresencio Sandoval, Tania understood that some civilians who were on the side of the military were retired elements or relatives of some fallen in combat during the “dirty war”.
Although this meeting was promoted by the Segob as a key part of the work of the Commission for Access to the Truth, which formally began on December 10, 2021 (Day International Human Rights), Sedena prevailed in every detail.
In the screens that are usually placed behind the podium at official events, Sedena changed the name “Commission for Access to Truth, Historical Clarification and the Promotion of Justice for Serious Human Rights Violations Committed from 1965 to 1990” to “Commission for Access to Truth, Historical Clarification and The Promotion of Justice of the events that occurred between 1965 and 1990”, replacing the concept of “serious human rights violations” with “events that occurred”. The difference is not minor: a serious violation of human rights is conduct against the rights to life, personal integrity, dignity and liberty (such as enforced disappearances, torture and extrajudicial executions), committed by agents of the State, in accordance with international law.
In addition, the master of ceremonies of the Sedena named the officials, the elements of the Armed Forces and their families present. But he never named the families of those who were disappeared, tortured or killed by the counterinsurgency.
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The first to take her seat on the podium for the ceremony was the current head of the National Human Rights Commission, Rosario Piedra Ibarra, daughter of Rosario Ibarra de Piedra, founder of the emblematic Eureka Committee. She went up accompanied by Micaela Cabañas Ayala, daughter of Isabel Ayala Nava, detained, imprisoned and tortured in that same Military Camp. Almost 48 years ago, in November 1974, Micaela, two months old, was taken to that place with her mother, both of them, because they were relatives of the guerrilla Lucio Cabañas. She learned to speak and walk in seclusion, and her presence was used by the military to torture her mother, she said during her speech.
The next to appear on the scene were the head of government of Mexico City, Claudia Sheinbaum; the governor of the State of Mexico, Alfredo Del Mazo; the general director of Human Rights of the Sedena, Ángel Primitivo Flores González, and Alicia de los Ríos, daughter of Alicia de los Ríos Merino, militant of the Communist League September 23, arrested in that place and later disappeared. President Andrés Manuel López Obrador, The Undersecretary of Human Rights, Alejandro Encinas, and the Secretary of Defense took the stand together.
The first to speak was the Undersecretary of Human Rights, who recounted: “In this place, in the month of July 46 years ago, one of the most feared repressive groups in the country was installed: the White Brigade, composed of elements of the Federal Directorate of Security of the Segob and the Federal Judicial Police, the Judicial Police and the General Directorate of Police and Traffic of the Department of the Federal District and the Military Police. From this place, 51 years ago, the ‘Plan Telaraña’ was implemented to combat and dismantle the guerrillas led by professors Genaro Vázquez Rojas and Lucio Cabañas Barrientos. From this area, in Lomas de Sotelo, a telegram was issued to the command of the military zone of Chilpancingo, Guerrero, ordering (…) to locate, harass, capture or exterminate the guerrillas operating in that region.”
Encinas called that moment an “unimaginable day” in which torture victims returned to the place that was their hell. An event in which the military, from the Secretary of Defense, through high command and uniformed, heard from the mouths of the victims: “Here our fathers and mothers were interrogated, tortured and mutilated,” while they looked at them just a few meters away.
For having the opportunity to unmask the perpetrating institution in her own home, Alicia de los Ríos considered the event a historic day. However, he highlighted the great absent actor: the Attorney General’s Office, which did not participate in the act. Their presence was key because many of the victims have open court proceedings that have lagged behind for decades. “There will be no truth without justice. And without justice there can be no peace either,” Alicia said in her speech.
Sitting on the side of the presidium, Alicia observed the two actors of this unbalanced and unequal dispute: on the one hand, her companions from collectives of relatives and survivors of the “dirty war”, who have dedicated their lives to social protest to demand truth, justice and reparation, and are still not recognized; on the other, the families of the fallen perpetrators, who have for years received recognition, financial support and protection from the military institution.
Like most people, Alicia did not notice at the time the change from “serious human rights violations” to “events that occurred.” Now that you know, re”It is clear to me that there is a resistance to accepting that they committed serious human rights violations. They are sophistry. As much as they try to change it in the screen there, there is a decree. I think it’s uncomfortable with this concept, these categories, but changing them in a screen does not change the legal background they have.”
***
The victims listened silently to each intervention, until it was the turn of the Secretary of Defense. They let several minutes of General Sandoval’s speech pass calmly, who referred to the serious violations of human rights as “the events that occurred”, “the actions carried out”, “the events that marked a milestone”, “the measures that sought to guarantee security and constitutional order”, “the facts of the past”. In his presentation he never used a term that spoke of crimes against humanity committed by the Army.
After the Secretary of Defense began to list numbers of pages, requests for transparency and documents that he has delivered for the resolution of other cases of disappeared persons, mainly of the 43 students of Ayotzinapa, Octaviano Garvasio Serrano, son of the disappeared Octaviano Garvasio Benítez and member of the Collective of Disappeared Wives and Children of the Dirty War of the municipality of Atoyac de Álvarez, Guerrero shouted, “Tell us where our relatives are, Secretary!”
“We never thought it would get to this extreme. All the indications that we have been observing point to it being a simulation and a systematic impunity. We have been denouncing every meeting (of the Commission for Access to the Truth) and documents, and when they notified us of this meeting, last Friday, barely, because they did not explain to us. Previously they explained to us what the dynamics of these events were with the president and who was going to speak,” says Octaviano.
“They didn’t tell us about the mechanics (…) they remain silent when we ask them some questions that we believe are pertinent. For example, where is the participation of the MP (Public Ministry)? After that act, what does it mean? Here it is not a question of protocol acts, it is a question of the MP appearing and taking each of the proceedings. And they kept quiet,” he adds.
From his perspective, with these statements, Sedena is justifying the actions of the Armed Forces in that period: an “extermination of the State, actions of extreme repression, forced disappearance, torture, cruel and inhuman and degrading treatment”, and “shelving” the matter. “In front of us they were endorsing barbarities committed,” he laments.
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With the cry of Octaviano the audience began to be frightened. But it wasn’t until the secretary equated the soldiers killed in combat with the people who suffered serious violations of their human rights that Tania, Alba and their comrades decided to protest and also unfurled posters for the eyes of those on the stand. They entered with a spirit of openness, listening and not provocation, “until the viscera did not give us,” says Alba.
The closing in which Luis Cresencio Sandoval referred to the request for the inscription of the names of fallen soldiers was also interrupted by the cry: “Alive they took them, alive we want them!” Alba took in her hands a sign that she put together right there with four letter-sized sheets, which said: “If justice does not enter, it is useless to enter!”
Even though the spirits of the victims were no longer in tune to continue, the general was followed by the president’s presentation, who spoke of the need for an “act of reconciliation.” He was not interrupted, but as he progressed in his tirade, more people on the side of the victims stood up with signs. The president’s speech came and went like a pendulum, as if trying to balance the same message for two opposing actors: at one point he appealed to one of the values that are most exalted from the military institution saying: “I appreciate your loyalty, your true loyalty”, and the next he added: “The instruction is let’s not hide anything, zero impunity.”
After singing the national anthem, the attendees began to disperse. Tania, Alba, her mother, Elda, and others approached the reporters. While a group of victims and public officials attending greeted and hugged each other, as in a celebration, they expressed to the cameras and press recorders how aggrieved they were after the event. Tania, for example, finished the event in front of the press and with her back to the presidium; He held the banner that read: “If justice does not enter, there is no point in entering!” and, with both hands occupied, he stuck in the cap of his jacket a stick with the image of his missing father with the question “Where is he?”.
A “last”or penny of credibility”
A day after the event, Alba evokes the struggle of her grandmothers and mothers, who for years did what the state did not do: look for their relatives and investigate. The only thing they didn’t do was do justice on their own “because they’re not the same as the perpetrators,” he says.
Faced with this effort that the families have sustained, he complains of having received, sexennium after sexennium, for more than 40 years, the mockery, indolence and even humiliation of the authorities. “In the best case: good intentions, which always stay in that, in the intention of doing something,” Alba laments. And despite this, victims always come to events clinging to the “last penny of credibility,” Tania says.
“Suddenly,” Alba reflects, “acts like yesterday occur that collapse those hopes again. They bring us back to anger and pain. That’s what I felt yesterday. To have put all your expectations back, believing that this time someone does care, this time it will be different, because this government is different, because it is represented by people who do understand the substance of the situation. And suddenly you realize that in the best of cases, the issue is still not understood: what is the demand of the relatives, what is the difference between talking about dirty war and talking about state terrorism? And those emotions of frustration and pain return, and maybe even enhanced because we were really somewhat convinced that there was a real intention for change in this six-year term.”
The meeting with Sedena has not yet resulted in the opening of the archives and occurred seven months after the creation of the Commission for Access to the Truth, whose mandate will end in 2024. Like this one, most of the acts of the commission have been protocolary: its formal installation on December 10, five regional meetings with victims and four ordinary sessions of the plenary. In addition, the five mechanisms that make it up have advanced in the creation of work plans, but they are still preparing methodologies and diagnoses to start fieldwork, in accordance with the work schedule and other documents requested via transparency.
In addition to the historical clarification, the search for the disappeared, reparation and compensation, and the impulse to memory and non-repetition, this commission has as its mandate the promotion of justice for the serious violations of human rights committed in that period. The latter is one of the most important demands for the victims and a key moment to start the investigations is the opening of two actors: the FGR and the Armed Forces.
For Alicia, as for other victims, the resistance shown by Sedena at the event at Military Camp Number 1 is not unknown. “We must know what we want from the Army today. It is clear to me that anything we want from the Army involves them in what they already call facts, but which are serious violations of human rights. (We want) the experts in the facilities, we want to talk to the commanders or retired troops and we need files. We’re not hesitating, we know it was them.”
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