On October 20, 2024, Father Marcelo Pérez was assassinated in the city of San Cristóbal de Las Casas in Chiapas, Mexico’s southernmost state. The parish priest’s advocacy for the rights of the Indigenous in the rural Simojovel area had provoked death threats over the years, and was probably the reason for his murder. In this mountainous area where conflict has simmered unabated for over thirty years, such situations are not uncommon. For decades, the Catholic Church has spoken out in defense of its parishioners, supported displaced communities, and negotiated between armed groups. Its priests have often paid the price.

In Mexico, Indigenous groups’ basic rights are often not respected by the government, drug cartels, and business interests. The reasons for the unjust treatment, however, have shifted over time. In the past, disputes were largely over agricultural resources and international trade. Now, however, they are often rooted in mining megaprojects and drug cartels’ territorial disputes.

Chiapas is an impoverished state that is home to a number of culturally distinct Indegneous groups. Its wealth has been controlled by a few families for centuries, but inequality has accelerated since the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) came into effect in 1994, creating intense competition over land and resources. Free trade’s negative effects were foreseen by Indigenous groups: the day NAFTA came into force, the Zapatista Army of National Liberation’s uprising began. Around three thousand indigenous people – believing, after years of nonviolent protest, that the government only understood force – took up arms to demand basic human rights the state had denied them. The government responded militarily, and hundreds of Zapatistas lost their lives. In the years since, ongoing low-intensity conflict has displaced the people of dozens of communities, either temporarily or permanently.

The Catholic Church has long supported displaced parishioners. In 1974, Bishop Samuel Ruiz García organized the first Indigenous congress in Chiapas, which was attended by Tseltal, Tsotsil, Ch'ol, and Tojol-Ab'al Maya representative. Under the motto “Equality in justice,” they discussed key issues: discrimination, exploitation, land expropriation, the destruction of their culture, and unpunished murders. Over his forty-year tenure, Ruiz, known as tatik (father) to the people he served, set his diocese on a path of standing by its people, which often meant speaking out against government policy.

In 1997, a government-backed paramilitary group murdered forty-five displaced people who were praying in the church in Acteal, the community that had given them refuge. This event brought the plight of Chiapas’s Mayan peoples into the international spotlight. For a moment, the world saw who the Zapatistas were fighting for: villagers who simply wanted to survive, live in peace, and preserve their ancestral lands and customs. Then the news cycle moved on, and the situation continued as before.

In 2013, due to the proliferation of both mining projects and armed groups, the nonviolent protest movement MODEVITE (Movement in Defense of Life and Land) was launched by a study group in the San Cristóbal diocese. Their goal is to use their “native word and wisdom to defend our life and territory, through denouncements and concrete actions that call the local, state, and national governments to respect the natural environment in which we Indigenous peoples live.” The movement’s work, which largely consists of pilgrimages, sit-ins, and advocacy against new highway and mining projects, has spread to parishes throughout the state.

In spite of MODEVITE’s protests, forced internal displacement continued to worsen. By 2017, the official figure was 6,090 people. In the last eight years, at least two thousand more people have been temporarily displaced by land disputes. Despite changes in the federal government, protecting these people’s rights still does not appear to be a political priority.

Father Marcelo is only the latest example of how Catholic priests have continued to speak out on behalf of their people, despite the danger. And it seems they are doing it out of their own conviction, and not because of an institutional directive. In Marcelo’s case, a 2001 meeting with survivors of the Acteal massacre struck him deeply, and he recognized the feeling as a divine calling to become a mediator for peace: “Since then, I have been gradually connecting my heart with the suffering heart of the people, and as a result there is a warrant out for my arrest. But blessed are the arrest warrants, because there is hope. When everything is calm, it means we are not warming hearts, but rather numbing consciences. The word that awakens consciences will always be persecuted and slandered, but neither word nor conscience can be imprisoned or killed.”

Father Marcelo’s work took a new turn in 2021, when he started mediating between Indigenous “self-defense groups” and the government. These organizations claim that communities can take charge of their own security, rather than permit the government to seize Indigenous land for the building of army barracks near rural villages. They also reflect impatience with a government that has not improved the indigenous people’s lot or protected them from the extorsion of cartels and the abuses of government soldiers. Violence seems to increase when the soldiers show up. Although primarily focused on preventative and restorative justice, these groups will take up arms if they feel threatened. MODEVITE remains an alternative for those who wish to seek peace and justice through nonviolent means, even if there seem to be few immediate results.

For years, the Diocese of San Cristóbal de las Casas has been a leader in conflict mediation and has accompanied its people, assuring them of God’s nearness in their suffering and in their striving toward peace. Christians believe peace will be the fruit of justice, and it is with this faith that they continue their struggle.

Translated from the Spanish by Coretta Thomson.