They demand measures to curb inflation, nationalize electricity service, and organize a plurinational constituent assembly.
On Monday, the Farmer Development Committee (CODECA), the Altiplano Farmer Committee (CCDA) and the National Front for Struggle (FNL) will hold mass demonstrations in Guatemala’s main departmental capitals.
The mobilizations aim to pressure authorities to address a broad agenda of economic, social, judicial and political demands.
In a joint statement, the organizations called on the executive branch and Congress to adopt urgent measures to curb inflation and lower the cost of living.
As part of their economic proposals, they criticized subsidies granted to companies that import hydrocarbons and proposed redirecting those funds toward the construction of a national refinery.
They also demanded the nationalization of electricity service, criticizing distributor Energuate for its high rates in communities.
#AHORA Integrantes de los movimientos sociales CODECA, FNL, CCDA y sociedad civil llevan a cabo una caminata con motivo del Día de la Raza, que se conmemora cada 12 de octubre, en protesta "por la grave situación económica, social y política que atraviesa Guatemala" | Vía Omar… pic.twitter.com/3F8OhvWutN
The text reads, “Members of the social movements CODECA, FNL, CCDA and civil society conduct a walk on the occasion of Race Day, which is celebrated every 12 October, in protest ‘for the serious economic, social and political situation that Guatemala is going through’.”
On administrative and budgetary matters, the social organizations proposed capping the salaries of lawmakers and senior public officials at a maximum of five minimum wages. The groups suggested using the savings generated by this measure to finance the purchase of medical supplies and the construction of laboratories across the public hospital network.
On legislative matters, they called for the repeal of Decree 8-2023, which introduced reforms to the Criminal Code and the Law Against Organized Crime. They also rejected Initiative 6816, concerning the Water Law, calling for any water-related legislation to be drafted with the active participation of communities.
The demands also extend to the justice system and the country’s institutions. The organizations called on the Public Ministry to investigate judicial officials, magistrates, and legislators over ties to corruption networks and organized crime.
Likewise, they demanded an immediate halt to evictions and systematic persecution of Indigenous and farmer leaders. They also called for the resignation of Walter Mazariegos, rector of the University of San Carlos (USAC), as well as magistrates of the Supreme Court of Justice and the Constitutional Court.
Finally, the Farmer Development Committee, the Altiplano Farmer Committee and the National Front for Struggle also emphasized the need to coordinate a collective process aimed at establishing a popular, plurinational constituent assembly.
Wendell Berry, who died this week at the age of 92, published dozens of books of poetry, fiction, and essays, any of which might make for meaningful connection with Berry’s ideas about place and how we engage with it. But this conversation with Amanda Petrusich, which bloomed from a personal correspondence between the two writers, feels like an especially vital tribute to Berry. Here, his decades of thought on sustainability and its human limits find gloriously vivid expression; after all, place shapes our voices, too. Throughout, Berry is luminous and pithy and discerning: “We’re alive only in some place in particular.” “Every generation is a bridge between something that’s past and something that’s coming.” “Our conversation is worth more right now than either one of us thinking separately.” The last is a perfect sentiment for any dialogue, including those on the page.
Part of manners used to be to say to somebody you just met, “Where you from?” And I quit asking it, because so many people say they’re from everywhere or nowhere. I’ll tell you a little bit of my history that may be pertinent. My mother was born and grew up in Port Royal, my father about four miles south. Both of their families had lived here since about the beginning of the nineteenth century. When I came to teach at the University of Kentucky, Tanya and I thought we would live in Lexington, and we would have “a country place.” And we hardly had laid our hands to this house, which needed some preservation work, when we realized, we’re not going to have a country place; we’re going to live here. And so we have. We bought this home and twelve acres in the fall of 1964, and moved in, in the midst of renovations, in the summer of 1965. That put our children here, and now we’ve got grandchildren who are at home here. That comes from a decision that we made to be here, and to be here permanently.
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