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Indigenous movements and democracy

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The focus of academic and political debate about indigenous movements on what they have done for their followers and their ethnic constituencies, and on what external forces have done or should do for them, has distracted from what they do for society as a whole. By fighting discrimination, they also fight for civil and human rights. By demanding recognition, they raise awareness of a nation’s history and of the neglect of their social exclusion and maltreatment in dominant as well as dissenting (Marxist and marxisant) narratives of a nation’s history. This is most glaringly visible in the standard phrase voiced when Argentina’s indigenous people are mentioned: ‘there are no longer any Indians in this country: they were all massacred in the nineteenth century.’ The phrase manages to recognize yet also to relativize the appalling violence unleashed against the Araucanian Indians by the Campaña del Desierto in the 1870s. It is also untrue: Argentina has in recent years ‘discovered’ or rediscovered a significant and vocal indigenous population. The recognition of these populations and of their right to full citizenship is a contribution to the democratization of a society – in Bolivia, it has gone together with an incorporation of a mass of the population whose previous political participation had been extra-institutional. In Chile, growing awareness of the Mapuche demands has contributed to the atmosphere of dissent and disillusion underlying the 2020 referendum and opening the way to a new Constitution. In Brazil, what began in the 1990s as a demand for quotas in universities for black students has extended into many walks of life, for example into the fashion world, into the allocation of funds for political campaigns, and into the appointment of public servants. Meanwhile, more and more Brazilians were declaring themselves black or brown so that by now there is a consensus that more than half the population count themselves as negro or moreno (brown) and thus as part of the quota-eligible class formally described in censuses as pretos, pardos and indígenas (black, brown and indigenous). The effect can be called democratizing in two senses: increasing awareness of racial discrimination and inequality in society; and an ever-broadening access to affirmative action. Unfortunately, as of 2021, the country’s president has no interest in democracy, yet despite expressing hostility to quota systems, he has not attempted to reverse them.

If these movements have indeed contributed to a democratization of some kind in society, we must at the same time recognize that Latin American political institutions, that is, Latin American democracy, broadly speaking, has entered a retrogressive phase since 2010: authoritarianism and abuse of power are on the increase under governments of the right as well as others thought to be of the left.

Indigenous and anti-racist movements are openings. Assembled under a broad banner of identity, they are able to absorb, or shelter, a range of ideas and ideals and varied racial and ethno-linguistic groups. Indigenous movements represent indigenous people and are carried forward by their leaders, but the restoration or protection of indigenous culture is but one part of their demands and activities. Their most notable other achievements are in the spheres of institution building and the position of women. Because of the weakness or absence of the state, or to avoid co-optation, they build institutions of land tenure and collective self-management, and sometimes they construct development agencies with the help of international NGOs. Women are becoming more and more prominent in their ranks and among their leaders, often challenging deeply embedded practices. The democratic impetus embodied in movements of ethnic and excluded racial populations can eventually nurture embryonic forces that join with others to democratize society as a whole.

That impetus has also provoked a reaction. The abrasive conservatism that led to the election of Bolsonaro was justified by hostility to race quotas, to the reservation of land for Indians in the Amazon, and to liberal openings in the field of sexuality and gender. Repressive and patriarchal notions of family and male dominion have bolstered resistance to women’s reproductive rights in many countries. The backlash is sometimes frightening.

But is there a choice? We have seen in Europe the consequences of different countries’ ways of dealing with their Nazi past – compare Germany with Austria, Poland or Hungary. We see the never-ending rifts in the United States.

Some Latin American countries, through truth commissions and judicial processes, recognized human rights violations by recent authoritarian regimes, punished a few of those politically responsible and a few leading perpetrators and instituted reparation schemes. But the ghosts have not always been laid to rest – defenders of those regimes are sometimes elected even as presidents (in Brazil and Guatemala), and impunity and denial continue under elected governments. In Guatemala, Bishop Juan Gerardi, author of the Recovery of Historical Memory Report (REMHI, Recuperación de la Memoria Histórica) documenting responsibilities for human rights violations on an unimaginable scale, was murdered the day after its publication in April 1998.

Behind these recent traumas lie deeper and more ancient historical wounds: in England, the legacies of slavery, of imperialism and of Ireland underlie the separation from Europe and the possible dismemberment of the United Kingdom. In Latin America, the legacies of colonialism, of slavery and of Republican assaults on indigenous land and institutions weigh on contemporary resistance to recognizing injustice and discrimination: the weariness and the resentment will not go away … nor will the suppressed guilt that haunts the generations of beneficiaries.

To remember, to restore, to repair … and then to forestall and control the backlash. That, translated as a compromise between identity politics and social justice, could stand as the motivation for the chapters that follow.

After the Decolonial

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