Jeremy Simer

Just after midnight on April 20, students raised black and red banners at the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM), initiating a general strike against a recent tuition increase and demanding administrative reform. Though there was room for fun -- the masked hero "Superstrike" was one of the participants -- their act of rebellion was a call to the nation to seriously address the future of its public education.

The conflict first erupted when UNAM’s Rector, Francisco Barnés de Castro, unveiled a plan Feb. 11 to drastically raise tuition. The cost of studying at UNAM has remained static for decades, shrinking in real terms to the equivalent of a few cents. The "Barnés Plan" proposed to "update" undergraduate tuition to 1,020 pesos per semester (roughly $100 USD) and implement similar increases for UNAM’s high schools, graduate programs, and exam fees.

Half of Mexico’s population falls below the poverty line, a quarter live in "extreme poverty," and the minimum wage is less than four US dollars per day. Low tuition has long been a cornerstone of UNAM, a sprawling campus of 268,000 students and a source of national pride. But even with tuition being virtually free, the plan’s opponents argue, many young Mexicans are denied higher education because they can’t afford the costs of books, transportation, or taking time off work.

Times are also tough for UNAM. While its allocation from the federal government grows somewhat each year, its real value fell again this year because of inflation. To help make up the difference, Barnés argued that those who can pay, should, but that low-income students would be granted tuition exemptions or deferments. But many distrust the Rector’s true intentions.

His proposal offered no guarantee that tuition would not rise again dramatically in years to come. At a time when President Ernesto Zedillo, a close associate of the Rector, is calling for the sale of the state-run electrical sector, and the International Monetary Fund is recommending a shift to private education, many see the Barnés Plan as a step toward privatizing the university altogether.

Though no permanent, non-partisan student organization exists at UNAM, the University Student Assembly (AEU) soon formed to address the proposal and other problems in the university. Its first show of dissent came Feb. 25, when about 20,000 demonstrated against the plan. They argued that charging any tuition is unconstitutional, since the nation’s charter says all education imparted by the state shall be free. (UNAM’s legal team argues that because the university is autonomous, albeit created and funded primarily by the government, it is not part of the state.)

On March 11, about a third of UNAM’s 265,000 students saw their classes cancelled as activists barricaded building entrances and held rallies within. All the major media covered the action, but most played up the Rector’s claims that the dissidents were "a few intransigent youths," and that many of them weren’t even students.

The administration, the media, and even members of the federal government have gone out of their way to blame "outsiders" for UNAM’s conflict, especially the center-left Party of the Democratic Revolution (PRD). While it is true that many activists are involved in various leftist parties and that individual PRD members have lent a hand, the autonomy of the its assemblies and the size of its demonstrations show this is truly a homegrown student movement. As one activist from Sciences said, "The base of the movement is the student body … most of us weren’t involved in politics before Barnés tried to raise tuition."

Responding to student criticism and concerns from the University Council, Barnés at first expressed willingness to discuss alternatives, and suggested that the discussion could last until July. But the tone of campus debate soon changed.

Barnés refused, then waffled over demands to a public dialogue. Students then organized a one-day strike March 11 against the fee increase, canceling a third of the day’s classes. UNAM’s administration attacked their "violence and intolerance," while running defensive advertisements in all of Mexico City’s major publications. At the same time, the administration threatened disciplinary action through the University Tribunal or by pressing charges in the courts.

The AEU set March 23 as a deadline for dialogue with the Rector, and suggested a general strike could result if this condition was not met. But before that day arrived, a revised Barnés Plan was hurriedly passed by the University Council, UNAM’s legislative body.

The Council passed a revised version of the Barnés Plan March 15, with undergraduate tuition set at 680 pesos per semester (about $65 USD), while thousands demonstrated on campus. The session’s unusual circumstances generated fiery criticism. The meeting was announced just days before; the Council met in a secret location to avoid protesters, and a number of the representatives who opposed the tuition increase were not informed in time where the meeting was to be held

The way in which the Council passed the new General Regulation of Fees (RGP) — quickly, secretly, with little student input — changed the tone of campus debate. One protest poster aptly described the vote’s result: "Barnés, now you’ve created consensus." Many moderate students who previously had not taken sides were shocked by the administration’s authoritarianism.

On March 24, a second 24-hour strike showed the student movement was gaining force. The action closed 95% of UNAM’s classrooms. All day and night students gathered in their departments to hold rallies and cultural events. They formed committees to prepare food and keep guard against agitators, and the stronger departments sent brigades to leaflet Metro stations and to support other activists. Participants called the strike a success; the administration continued to claim they were a minority.

Like at many recent actions, administrators filmed and photographed participants at every turn. "Porros," or young agitators widely thought to be aided by the administration, scuffled with students. Various media played up these events despite the day’s overall peaceful resistance.

As they gained steam, students took a stand alongside the nation’s other leading social movements. The same week the revised RGP was passed, the Mexican Electricians’ Union (SME) turned up the heat against President Zedillo’s proposal to privatize the electrical industry. Nearly 100,000 people marched to the National Palace March 18, where a rally began with an UNAM student attacking the privatization of electricity and higher education. Along the parade route, large student contingents chanted "University … Electricity!" and electricians answered with the UNAM rallying song.

Also that week, hundreds of members of the Zapatista Army of National Liberation (EZLN), the indigenous movement from the state of Chiapas, criss-crossed Mexico to promote the National Consultation for Indigenous Rights and the End of the War of Extermination, a plebiscite organized to end their stalemate with the federal government. At various events hosted at UNAM, Zapatistas in ski masks spoke about living conditions in Chiapas, sang the national and the Zapatista anthems, and asked questions about city life.

Closer to home, dissident students found other important allies. The Union of UNAM Workers (STUNAM) voted to support the movement with donations, tactical advice, even use of the union’s bus the night of the second 24-hour strike. (There were barricades to be built.) Parents and faculty have also lent a hand; both groups formed assemblies to make public statements in favor of the movement, contribute financially, and attend demonstrations. At a recent march, hundreds of parents lined the parade route with supportive banners, chanting a new version of an old standard: "¡Estudiante, escucha, tus papás están en la lucha!" ("Student, listen, your parents are in the struggle!")

The Rector still refused to budge, and the word huelga — strike — was now on everyone’s lips. Though some of its members were not convinced the movement was strong enough, the AEU voted April 7 to begin a general strike less than two weeks later, arguing that the Rector’s intransigence left them no other option. Some traditionally conservative departments such as Medicine, Engineering and Accounting opposed the strike; many students said they were against the tuition increase but didn’t want to miss class.

On April 15, the AEU organized the "General University Consultation" to sound out campus opinion, with the goal of debunking some of the administration’s propaganda. Modeled after the Zapatista Consultation, the plebiscite asked students, faculty and administrators six questions, including whether "the General Regulation of Fees is illegitimate because of the antidemocratic way it was passed,"" and whether "public higher education should be free and as such the General Fees Regulation should be abolished." Of the 109,000 students who voted, 73% answered yes to these questions. In a battle for legitimacy, the students now had another bow in their quiver.

Thousands filled the "Che Guevara" Auditorium once again for the April 19 AEU meeting, to see the General Strike Committee take shape. An UNAM high school student was chosen by lottery to read the "Manifesto to the Nation," which stated the strike’s demands: a repeal of the RGP and the academic reforms passed in 1997 (these ended automatic passage from UNAM’s high school to undergraduate programs); a public dialogue on the university’s problems; removal of all sanctions against students, faculty and staff for involvement in the movement; and make-up days for all classes missed during the strike. Then students dispersed to their departments, built barricades around entryways, painted signs demanding universal education, and hung banners of black and red cloth, or of paper if no cloth was to be had. Campfires burned through the night as security committees kept watch.

The next morning, the administration countered with a demonstration of its own. Departmental directors organized an on-campus march against the strike, overestimating participants at 25,000. The significance of the demonstration was debatable, but the Televisa network, widely considered to be in the government’s pocket, took the opportunity to deride the strike once again. A newscaster reported that "These images speak for themselves; clearly they are the majority." He neglected to report that roughly a fourth of the march participants were administrators, or that many students had been coerced into attending.

"A coordinator from my thesis committee said that there could be problems with receiving my degree if I participated in the activities against the tuition increase," said one Accounting student who asked to remain anonymous. "She pressured me to be here [in the march], to support the movement against the strike, and to not say what I was thinking."

Students from Medicine, Business, and other schools reported similar threats from instructors and administrators. They felt pressure not only to attend the march, but to also sign a petition against the strike circulated by authorities. The administration’s full-page newspaper ads claimed more than 90,000 signatures on April 20, but as was reported later, these included repeated names and pseudonyms such as "Michael Jordan."

Being on strike doesn’t have to mean walking in circles on the picket line. Students in various departments organized lectures, workshops, and even salsa lessons. The administration’s counterattack did little to dampen the strikers’ spirits.

On the contrary. According to journalist Blanche Petrich, "A shock hit the classrooms of Medicine when people saw the tremendous contradiction between the falsified information of the media and the events they lived day to day," she wrote in La Jornada. "The strike surrounded them and the need for a second referendum was made clear. The result changed: 53 groups in favor, 38 against."

That night, something similar happened in the Law school. After a student assembly reversed a previous vote against the strike, its participants pushed their way into the Law building, guarded by students and staff loyal to the director, who soon snuck out with an entourage.

By April 22, the entire campus was shut down. Every department, including UNAM’s high schools, was occupied by its students. (Graduate programs and investigative centers were the exceptions; the AEU agreed they should remain open.) Vehicular access was blocked, and administrators fled campus with hard drives and vital documents in hand. Over the weekend, a sense of calm exuberation seemed to take over many students as their fear subsided and committees began to run smoothly. "The campus is ours!" said Miguel Ángel Santoyo Galiano, a seismology grad student.

In departments such as Architecture and Law, where the decision to strike was particularly contentious, the situation remained tense. Rumors and attempts to take back the buildings kept some strikers edgy, while others seemed euphoric at their preliminary success.

The next day, at least 30,000 students, parents, labor unionists and UNAM workers marched to the central square known as the "Zócalo," following in the footsteps of the 1987 UNAM student movement that overturned a tuition increase. The current movement has its weaknesses — painfully contentious assemblies, for example — but its massive march to the heart of Mexico City showed it had come into its own.

The organizing continues

At this writing, both sides hold their ground. Students say they will not give up until their demands are met; Barnés is quoted as being "ready for a long strike." Though this impasse makes it hard to guess the end result, the student movement has already produced measurable gains. An entire generation of college students has come into direct contact with a formidable grassroots movement, and many have joined its ranks. While their American counterparts have allowed public universities to become increasingly unaffordable, Mexican students have brought the issue of higher education access to center stage.

An even larger student movement appears to be growing out of the fight against tuition. The first National Student Encounter was held at UNAM April 24, when representatives from 15 universities gathered in the barricaded Chemistry department and called for national action in defense of public education. The group maintained a minute of silence for Martha Alejandara Trigueros Cruz, a student killed by a bus at the April 23 march. They then agreed to form a coordinating body of student activists, which will reconvene May 5 to plan a student strike across Mexico, and possibly a shutdown of the nation’s highways.

Standing up to the administration of the largest university in Latin America, despite threats of physical violence and judicial reprisal, involves great risks. Perhaps the most impressive aspect of this movement is that its participants are not taking these risks to save their own skins, since the new tuition policy will only affect new students beginning August 1999.

As one Architecture student said, "The battle of force is over. The second battle is that of the imagination. This is a radical struggle to open broader spaces for dialogue and ideas. We’re not fighting for ourselves, but for those who will follow us."

For updated information about the UNAM strike, see Jeremy Simer's UNAM website. Jeremy Simer, a UW graduate, is currently researching Mexican student politics for the Center for Campus Organizing. Email: jsimer@hotmail.com.