Forcing Grupo México to turn over this money to us was a victory that would have huge repercussions for me and the other leaders of the union in the ensuing five years, but at the time we celebrated. We were also making huge strides toward building alliances with other unions and union federations. In 2003 we joined the International Metalworkers’ Federation (IMF), which has more than 25 million union members in over one hundred countries around the world. In 2005 at the World Congress of Vienna, Austria, I was elected as a member of its Global Executive Committee, for the period 2005 to 2009.
At the beginning of 2005, I had a meeting in Phoenix, Arizona, with Leo W. Gerard, International President of the United Steelworkers Union (USW), and some of his colleagues. I had talked to Gerard on the phone before and was impressed by his intelligence and fierce commitment to democracy, but this was the first time I’d met him in person. A tall, impressive presence, he spoke in our meeting like a true visionary of the global labor movement. After hours of discussion, we came to the conclusion that if we did not form a strategic international alliance in solidarity, and if we did nothing to stop the worldwide decline in union influence, the great pressure exerted against the worker movement from the large multinational companies and the conservative governments would result in the worldwide disappearance of trade unions in ten years at the most. We knew that, to be able to put up a fight, we would have to join our respective organizations in common purpose.
Later that year, the Miners’ Union showed our solidarity with USW in a strike the steelworkers called in Arizona and Texas against the American Smelting and Refining Company (ASARCO), which at that time was a subsidiary of Grupo México. The strike, which lasted for four months, was called for the same reasons that characterized the company in our country: low wages; lack of safety in the mines, plants, and foundries; environmental damage; mistreatment of workers; and a despotic and arrogant attitude on the part of corporate ownership. We supported the U.S. strike with press conferences, reports, negotiations, and even political marches and rallies against the company in Mexico City, in Sonora, and on the U.S. border.
Following these collaborations, we signed an agreement that formed a Strategic Solidarity Alliance between the United Steelworkers and the Miners’ Union in May 2005 at the International Steelworkers Convention in Las Vegas. That agreement stated that, faced with globalization and the common policies of transnational corporations, trade unions had to design and develop a comprehensive strategy, a new way to defend ourselves in a united way, without stopping at national borders. If multinational companies join forces, there is no reason for unions not to make a similar effort. This seems fundamentally obvious in an era when global trade unionism is enduring assaults and divisions by provocation across the globe.
At every chance, I tried to present to the union’s opponents how important the labor movement is in Mexico. On September 13 of 2004, Oralia and I were invited to a private dinner held at Los Pinos, the official residence of the Mexican president, hosted by President Vicente Fox and his wife Marta Sahagún. Three other union leaders and their wives were to be in attendance. The Mexican secretary of labor, Carlos María Abascal, was also invited, as well as the president’s chief economic advisor, Eduardo Sojo Aldape. Though I’d been in the presence of President Fox in larger political events, this would be the first time I dined with him in an intimate setting. There wasn’t a set objective for the meeting; it was to be an open discussion, so that President Fox and his wife could get a closer look at the labor leaders’ views on political matters.
Oralia and I arrived at Los Pinos and were ushered to a private dining room with a view of the gardens. Mexican art decorated the walls, and President Fox offered us a white-blue agave tequila from Jalisco that had been custom made for him. Labor Secretary Abascal, whom I’d met with several times at that point, seemed tense. Though he was conservative and an active opponent of the union cause, Abascal had a kind, soft manner and probably was nervous that the dinner would erupt into argument, given the wide divergence between my views and the president’s. He knew there would be an inevitable disagreement when labor issues came up. I was committed to defending the dignity of the workers, while Fox was more interested in the interests of businessmen like Larrea, men whose money had put him in office. Abascal, like the president, looked at matters from the business perspective, but he always did his best to mediate—he likened himself to a marriage counselor, saying that he never failed to reconcile two parties. Germán Larrea and I, he insisted, weren’t going to be his first defeat.
We were served a rich meal of pumpkin flower and corn soup, cactus salad, and beef tenderloin with guacamole and salsa. It was all delicious, but I couldn’t help but have the thought that this would be a great opportunity for the president to poison several labor leaders at once. I hesitantly ate nevertheless and at one point made the comment that Mexico should review the models of advanced regions of the world, such as Scandinavia and many others. I said we should carefully analyze what we were able to learn from these countries that have achieved great progress in economic development and in their social policy in terms of education, productivity, efficiency, jobs, health, and housing.
I also mentioned the studies conducted by the International Labor Organization, the European Organization of Economic Development, the International Metalworkers Federation, and the International Federation of Chemical, Energy, Mine and General Workers’ Unions that show high levels of honesty in these countries. I also pointed out that these are nations where the availability of resources is comparable to the distribution of wealth and they are all countries where union membership is the highest on the planet. “This leads me to conclude,” I said, “that we could have governments that are honest and efficient and that show a high degree of unionization, between 80 and 95 percent of the workforce.” Neither Fox nor the others made any comment, except Marta Sahagún, who said, “Well, they are very far away and they have different customs.”
“That’s true,” I replied, “but they are examples of great success, and I am sure we can learn a lot of their experiences and policies.”
The discussion ended there.
Though President Fox’s wife had politely sidestepped the issues at the heart of what we at the Miners’ Union work for every day, I knew that the government officials at that dinner held beliefs that ran counter to my wishes for Mexico to follow in the footsteps of countries with more progressive labor policies.
What I didn’t know was how much of a threat the Miners’ Union was becoming to both President Fox and the businessmen—Germán Larrea and the other metal magnates of Mexico—who supported the PAN party and the Fox presidency.
In June of 2005, Carlos María Abascal was promoted from labor secretary to secretary of the interior, a position similar to vice president in the United States. Abascal was an active opponent of the union cause and came from a conservative background—his father was one of the founders of the PAN and former leader of the Cristeros, the violent fundamentalist group that had killed enemies of the religious faith in the name of Jesus Christ the King in the 1920s and ’30s. His whole career in government was something of a sham. He’d been fast-tracked into the position of labor secretary based on one credential: he had served as president of COPARMEX (Confederación Patronal Mexicana), the Mexican Employers’ Association. In Fox’s eyes, Abascal’s time at the helm of a massive employers association—the antithesis of a labor union—qualified him overnight for the position of labor secretary. He had no knowledge of government or labor law, but he was firmly probusiness and antiunion, and that was enough.
Despite all this, Abascal and I had managed to maintain a cordial relationship at the time. We violently disagreed on almost everything, but we were still able to talk like two decent men. And apparently Abascal had enough respect for me to warn me of the coming storm.
On December 1, 2005, in Saltillo, Coahuila, Abascal was part of the presidential party attending the inauguration of the new governor,
Humberto Moreira Valdés. He greeted me and steered me away from the other guests to make me some comments that he said he wanted to make personally.
After Abascal told me that the federal government was concerned about the growth of the national Miners’ Union and how its growth was overtaking the others, he said that some employers were upset and angry about our struggle to organize and recruit more and more workers. They were particularly upset by such high increases in wages and benefits, upsetting the government’s scheme to keep these costs at low levels that would allow, he said, competitiveness and rapid increase in business profits.
He also said that businessmen in the Chamber of Mines had also expressed their opposition to this strategy, to union wage demands, and to the further spread of our ideas and theories, which might complicate operations and future growth.
I stared at Abascal. “First of all, I’m an economist,” I said. I told him I could prove that the companies were exaggerating the risks of our strategy regarding economic policy and controlling inflation, and all I wanted personally was to improve the welfare of workers and their families. I told him that increases in wages are not inflationary when linked to productivity and that, in contrast, they extend the purchasing power of people and thereby stimulate demand, thus strengthening the internal market. I told him that this strategy was appropriate and fair for all, and added that the productivity of the miners had grown tremendously over the past five years, so there was no excuse for not improving the welfare of workers.
Furthermore, the recovery in demand for metals and their high prices was historically unprecedented, allowing benefits to be shared with workers and their families without creating a mismatch or imbalance in the finances of companies. I told him this could all be proven.
I said the wage strategy of companies and the government was based on the absurd and unreasonable exploitation of labor and natural and financial resources that prevented these businessmen from seeing beyond immediate profits and interests.
If our social programs in education, training, health, housing, and life insurance were obstructing the companies’ plans, I added, then I asked him to tell me what they wanted or what they were looking for to satisfy their ambition. I warned him that such wage-control policies were generally linked to abuse and that sooner or later these transform into pressures and conflicts that lead to social crises. I said that the government of Mexico should become allied with democratic, accountable, and modern unions to transform the entire society. I said that we were open to dialogue based on respect, justice, and equity.
Finally he asked if I had recently met with the businessmen Larrea, Bailleres, or Villarreal Guajardo, and I said no. Then he told me, “Look out for them because they have been meeting and have communicated to President Fox their anger and concern.” I immediately questioned Fox’s response to those negative comments from this group.
Abascal said, “You know that the president is very sympathetic and deferential because they have always supported him and his government, too.”
“I suppose,” I replied, “but in this case they are wrong and are distorting reality, because what they want to avoid is improving the welfare of workers and their families, preferring instead to keep the boot on the workers’ neck and perpetuate the highest level of exploitation.
“You in the PAN government always talk about the ‘common good’ and the social equality that we should all have, but when it comes to the interests of workers, that concept seems to disappear,” I said. I finally reminded Abascal that the Catholic church recognizes the value of work and the respect for those who provide labor, and that such value and respect must exist. Such a value is well above wealth, which is nothing more than an accumulation of material goods. I ended by telling him that it took more than crossing oneself every day, going to Mass and Communion every Sunday, then appearing at the office on Monday with the Bible and a rosary in the left hand to make a person righteous, especially if in his right hand he carried a stick to beat the working people, to suppress their fundamental rights and their chance for a better life.
We said good-bye but not before he insisted to me, “Search for them, meet with them, and find solutions before things get complicated.” And in a tone of warning he added, “I know why I am telling you this.” Then he left.
Of course I knew that as secretary of the interior he must be aware of all political issues in the country, since in Mexico this position is nearly equal in power to a vice president. Abascal at least made, at that time, a kind gesture to prevent a larger conflict that he saw coming.
THREE
TOMA DE NOTA
Man is the process of his actions.
— BENEDETTO CROCE
When President Fox removed Carlos María Abascal from the position of labor secretary and appointed him secretary of the interior, I was gravely concerned by the man Fox chose to take his place. Having dealt with Abascal before, I was familiar with his style and knew how to handle him, but that was not the case with Francisco Javier Salazar, whom Fox moved up from undersecretary of labor to take Abascal’s place.
I’d met Salazar, a former chemical engineer, in Abascal’s office during negotiations regarding the assets Grupo México owed the union, and he hadn’t impressed me. He was a short, stout, shifty character from the conservative state of San Luis Potosí, and he rarely looked anyone in the eye—not someone who inspired confidence or trust. In our meetings, he acted like it was his job to defend the interests of Grupo México, neglecting his obligation to act as a government official who acts on behalf of the Mexican working class. I have little doubt that Grupo México and other actively companies supported his new appointment to the head of the labor department.
Salazar also had personal reasons for defending Germán Larrea and his company. The new labor secretary owned two companies—Latinoamericana de Productos Químicos and Productos Químicos de San Luis—that supplied raw chemicals to Grupo México. On top of that, Salazar is a religious fundamentalist and rumored to be a member of El Yunque (“The Anvil”), a right-wing and virulently pro-Catholic secret society that grew out of the Cristeros movement of the 1920s. The group is violent and heavily armed and counts many high-level politicians in its ranks. Salazar’s code name in El Yunque was supposedly “Capablanca”—“White Cape.”
With this development, the Mexican people went from a labor secretary who was the former president of Mexico’s staunchly procorporation employer’s association and the relative of a right-wing militant—Abascal—and got in his place an antiunion religious fundamentalist and active leader of a militant, ultra-right group. We shouldn’t have been too surprised. What else would one expect of Fox, who during his a campaign rally in 2000 had flouted Mexican law by waving a banner depicting the Virgin of Guadalupe, the emblem of the Cristeros movement, and declaring her an inspiration for his political career?
About two and a half months after Abascal’s warning at Governor Moreira’s inauguration party, Mexico’s labor leaders were scheduled to gather in the capital for a meeting of the Labor Congress, the leading federation of labor unions in Mexico. The Congress was founded in 1966 to give laborers a stronger voice in the political arena and help Mexican unions achieve their goals more efficiently. Over the years, though, it had become a supporter of the government’s labor policies and had begun acting more like a corporation than an alliance of labor unions. The Congress had originally been closely tied to the PRI, but by 2006 it had aligned itself with the PAN government’s political agenda, much to the detriment of workers’ rights.
The occasion of the February 2006 meeting was to elect a new set of leaders to head up the Congress for the next year and also to hold a celebration of the organization’s fortieth anniversary. Despite my misgivings about the Congress’s recent cooperation with President Fox’s reactionary agenda, I prepared for the meeting with hope. I was confident that my fellow labor leaders were also unhappy with the Congress’s direction and would join me in making a democratic change
.
When it was founded, the Congress elected a new president every six months, in order to give many union leaders the opportunity to serve and contribute their own ideas and experiences. As the organization matured, though, the president was elected for a one-year term with the possibility of reelection for a second year. The outgoing president was Victor Flores, head of the railway union, and he was at the end of his second term. I was glad that, according to the Congress’s bylaws, he would have to be replaced; Flores himself was a big part of my dissatisfaction with the Labor Congress. As leader of the railway union, he had proven himself more loyal to the government and business interests than the workers he represented. He had cooperated with the government to sell state-owned Mexican railroads to foreign companies like Union Pacific and the Kansas City Southern Railways and to Mexico-based corporations like Grupo México and Grupo Peñoles. During those privatizations, 100,000 people lost their jobs, and Flores had willingly worked with the government to fire any remaining workers who protested the sales.
On Tuesday, February 14, 2006—Dia del Amor y la Amistad (“Friendship and Love Day”) in Mexico, and Valentine’s Day in the United States—I attended a meeting at the Melia Hotel with several members of the Miners’ Union and other delegates from the Labor Congress to discuss who would take over Flores’s presidency now that his time had run out. In attendance were Isaías González Cuevas, from the Revolutionary Confederation of Workers and Peasants (CROC); Cuauhtémoc Paleta, from the Regional Mexican Workers Confederation (CROM), Joel López Mayrén, from the Revolutionary Workers Confederation (COR); Mario Suárez from the Workers Revolutionary Confederation (CRT), and several others—all of whom were committed to democratically electing new individuals to the leadership of the Congress. At the breakfast, we planned to discuss our options for Flores’s replacement and then make the decision final at an official meeting the following day. All members of the Labor Congress had been invited to the Melia that day, but we began noticing conspicuous absences: Victor Flores himself was missing, along with about half the delegates expected. We were missing delegates from the Confederation of Mexican Workers (CTM)—the largest federation of labor unions in Mexico—and several other smaller organizations. This was especially strange, given that they were the organizers of the election.
Collapse of Dignity Page 6
