Systematic persecution of the sons and daughters of war victims

The Guatemalan youth group H.I.J.O.S. refuses to forget and forgive. It pays dearly for that.

By Eva Rasmussen

26. July 2005

“Gentlemen of the government. We have not the least fear of you. No fear. H.I.J.O.S.” This is what it says on the sign in large and colourful letters placed outside the office of the youth group Sons and Daughters for Identity and Justice against Pardon and Forgetting (H.I.J.O.S.) in downtown Guatemala City. It is not a provocation, but rather an expression of anger and impotence after on May 12 the office was once again broken into by unknown persons, who took with them photographs, a tape recorder and a laptop computer. 

H.I.J.O.S., an acronym which in Spanish also means “sons and daughters”, are the offspring of persons who fell victim to the civil war in which they were murdered or disappeared. Their sons and daughters got together for the first time in May of 1999, and by Army Day on June 30 were carrying out their first activity.

“We struggle to keep the collective memory alive so that those guilty of the death of our parents be punished”, says activist Florencia Calderón, who stresses that part of this struggle is intended to deal with the root causes of violence, something which the 1996 Peace Accords failed to do. In the opinion of H.I.J.O.S., neoliberal globalisation forms a part of this structure, and they therefore work together with the National Co-ordinator of Campesino Organisations (CNOC) against the Free Trade Agreement between the United States, the Dominican Republic and Central America (DR-CAFTA). 

H.I.J.O.S. is visible

H.I.J.O.S. is very visible. It introduces itself creatively to the debate, as when for instance on Army Day, which human rights organisations celebrate as Victims Day, they placed large skulls made of papier-mâché on a wall behind the marching troops, in such a way that the photographers could not avoid including them in their photos. “We have been persecuted since we took our first action”, says Vladimir Najer. “Our office is under surveillance, we receive death threats by telephone, the office is routinely photographed, including the people coming in and out. Two years ago an investigation offered documented proof that eight of ten youths in the morgue at the police station showed evidence of having been tortured. We carried out a campaign against police violence directed at youth, and were able to draw the attention of the communications media. They wrote quite a bit about the investigation, almost always using us at H.I.J.O.S. for their source. This in turn unleashed a wave of threatening telephone calls, during one of which they played funereal music. Almost immediately thereafter they broke into the office and spread earth around, symbolising a funeral. One colleague of ours was arrested. He died in jail. That was a hard blow. The Interamerican Human Rights Commission demanded that the authorities provide us with police protection, but that didn’t help much. The threats continued as soon as the police left the office. So we decided to move.”

Recent break-ins

“On January 8 we were ready to inaugurate our new office. It was a Saturday. On Sunday the group Nueva Resistencia (New Resistance) came to practice. However, it wasn’t to be”, relates Cecilia González. “The main door was open. Boxes with files had been opened, photographs lay strewn on the floor, and our computers and loudspeakers had disappeared.”  “It was a double blow. Computers are indispensable tools, they took away a lot of strategic information. The loudspeakers were our main source of income with which to pay the office rent”, says Florencia Calderón. “We have for a principle not to become dependent on money from donors. This is why the loudspeakers were important. They were a gift from a union which we in turn had helped out during a strike. We rented them out for parties and demonstrations.”

“Of course we filed a complaint regarding the break-in and theft, but that came to naught”, continues Florencia. “We agreed to not allow this to defeat us, but, really, it did have an influence, in emotional terms. They were able to break up our rhythm of doing things, our pace. For over a year we had been working on a plan to strengthen our organisation. It was finally finished and now we were ready to implement it. However, it was difficult to get started after this.”

“It took almost two months to regain our the old enthusiasm for work”, adds Cecilia González. “Later, after the DR-CAFTA demonstrations in March, little pieces of paper in different colours started being pushed under our front and back doors. At first we didn’t pay much attention, but little by little it dawned on us that they were trying to tell us something, namely, “We know where you are and we’re there too.” 

“On May 12 we met with a representative from the World Lutheran Federation. When we got back we were received by the already well-known scene of boxes spread all over the place, photographs on the floor and an empty spot where the office’s only computer had been sitting. The colourful little pieces of paper were everywhere”, Vladimir Najer told us. 

That same day the World Lutheran Federation vehicle was stolen.

H.I.J.O.S. is convinced that these break-ins have two goals in mind: to demobilise the movement and to obtain information about its activities and members.

“We are far from being feeling as strong as the repressive apparatus seems to think we are”, states Florencia Calderón. “Still, we have been able to create some degree of mobilisation, and this is what the state is trying to repress. We have planted a small seed, and it interferes with their neoliberal plans.”