Republished from the Earth First! Journal

Resistance Against the Wall
A Report from the No Borders Camp
By Non Servium

On November 7-11, more than 500 people gathered at the US-Mexico border between Calexico, California and Mexicali, Baja California, for the first ever No Borders Camp on Turtle Island. The camp was meant to be a temporary autonomous zone, networking forum and manifestation of resistance against the border regime and its concurrent violence against people and the planet.

The idea for the camp came from efforts to develop a No Borders network in North America. Workshops, meetings and encuentros (consultas) took place throughout 2006 and 2007, in various locations (including San Diego, Tucson, Mazatlán, the Zapatista Intergalaktica in Chiapas, the US Social Forum in Atlanta and the Earth First! Rendezvous in Indiana) in order to plan the camp and catalyze this network. Similar No Borders camps have been taking place across Europe, Africa and Oceania since the late 1990s.

Building and defending the camp began on November 7, with a march on both sides of the border to the campsite about three miles east of downtown Calexico/Mexicali. Along the way, roads were blocked on the Calexico side by the US Border Patrol (la migra). There were also unmarked vehicles tailing us and surveillance cameras on top of nearby buildings. Despite this intimidation, energy was high as we shouted chants from one side of the wall to the other. Periodically, a black flag would surface over the border wall in Mexicali, to rousing cheers from the Calexico march.

We were welcomed at the campsite by dozens of migra, including numerous agents clad in riot gear, holding pepper-ball guns and what appeared to be sonic weapons. After about a half-hour, it became clear that they were most concerned with keeping our compañer@s from Mexicali from joining us. A perimeter was built using fallen branches and debris, and we proceeded to set up camp. Within hours, the Calexico side had a community kitchen, water, latrines, communal shade structures, an independent media center with wireless Internet and a pirate radio station.

The campsite that we’d chosen was right at the space where the wall ends and the All-American Canal begins, with a short vehicle barrier between the two. The area south of the canal, on the east side of the boundary wall, was technically US territory, thus creating a constant threat that either side could be attacked by la migra at any time. At first, la migra concentrated at the vehicle barrier, preventing access between the east (Mexicali) and west (Calexico) sides of the camp. La migra would allow people to go from the west to the east side, but would not allow people to come back.

On the morning of November 9, we decided to occupy the vehicle barrier by moving en masse around it and serving breakfast across the border. A group of kids with a breakfast table locked down to block la migra’s vehicle access, while dozens of people moved to fill in the space between. La migra responded by deploying dozens of agents in riot gear—about 15 of whom crossed in formation into the east side of the camp, where folks kept their distance and remained tranquil. Finally, after a tense standoff and negotiation with la migra, we were able to unify the two sides of the camp, as well as limit la migra’s access to our compañer@s.

Later that day, about 200 people marched to the Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) Detention Center in El Centro, California. This is one of the largest detention centers in the country. Hundreds of children, women and men are interned there awaiting immigration hearings and deportation. Although there were scores of law enforcement amassed in the area, they kept their distance as protesters redecorated the signs in front, took over all six lanes of traffic nearby, removed the visual barriers from the surrounding chain-link fence and made a humongous ruckus to let the folks on lockdown inside know we were out there to support them.

On November 10, a march and memorial traveled to the Holtville Cemetery, where more than 600 migrants who’ve died in the nearby desert are buried. The groundskeepers have instructions to remove anything memorializing those buried within (flowers, crosses, etc.) and to pile these in an adjacent ditch. It was here that we saw the human toll of border militarization in its stark reality, with rows upon rows of gravesites with nothing to mark those within except a small brick with the word “desconocido” (“unknown”).

There were lots of other events all week long on both sides of the camp. The border wall was thoroughly redecorated, with gorgeous murals and profane statements against the organized violence that the wall represents. Among the workshops were a presentation by the Beehive Collective, a forum about I-69, a hands-on audio/radio training, a street medic training, a discussion about consent and dealing with sexual violence in radical communities, resistance in Oaxaca, and at least three different workshops and discussions about the environmental impacts of militarization and neoliberal development in the borderlands. There were also a number of cultural events, including videos and slideshows projected against the wall and from one side to the other, a transnational “freedom of movement” dance party, a florescent exercise bloc, musical performances, puppets, samba and more.

All of the logistics of the camp were self-organized in teams (comisiones), including translation, security, sanitation, health and wellness, independent media and legal support. One criticism of the camp was about the impact of so many people gathering in the middle of a fragile desert landscape. Not to shame the US side of the camp, but the environmental impact of the camp on the Mexican side was far lower, owing to a more thorough clean-up and a large, combined humanure/food-waste compost. Still, any impact from the camp was mitigated by the fact that the land we were on is run with drag lines (for tracking) every day by la migra, not to mention all of the other environmental impacts of ongoing border militarization.

The Mexicali side of the camp had a slightly more mellow tone than the Calexico side, due partially to smaller numbers. A lot of human energy went into sustaining and maintaining the camp. There were folks from a handful of different countries and indigenous communities, as well as one person who rode a bike 1,500 miles to be there. At times, the process was challenging, as people adjusted to changes in circumstances (dust storms or la migra posturing) or changes in numbers as campers from the Calexico side came over. There were a number of bilingual trainings and workshops, but fewer large, organized actions occurred specifically on the Mexicali side of the camp.

Still, some of the most inspiring moments occurred when actions were happening simultaneously on both sides of the wall. It would be difficult not to be moved by cross-border call-and-response chants like, “Queremos Un Mundo” (“We Want One World”) on one side, followed by, “Sin Fronteras!” (“Without Borders!”) on the other. Communication was maintained in spite of the wall—either over it by people atop ladders or face to face at the vehicle gate. The resources shared and friendships forged were testaments to the camp’s overall success. This is not to say that we thoroughly and finally dismantled the internal, abstract borders that separate us, but that the spirit of camaraderie and solidarity was undeniable from the Mexicali side.

The construction of the border wall has had a tremendous impact on ecosystems and ecological corridors in Arizona, California, New Mexico and Texas. Numerous species that have historically migrated across what is today the international boundary have been cut off from their habitat, separating populations from one another and depleting genetic diversity. Lands that once were set aside for conservation have become a war zone, with thousands of federal agents, motorized vehicles, heavy equipment and enforcement infrastructure tearing apart desert, mountain and riparian ecosystems.

The wall has already been partially constructed through the San Pedro River Valley and the Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge. The Secure Fence Act of 2006 mandated that the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) build up to 700 miles of physical barriers along the international boundary. In November, DHS released an Environmental Impact Statement for the construction of 70 miles of border wall in south Texas, without having completed any engineering or biological surveys. Only two public meetings have been planned before the project is railroaded forward.

In 2007, more than 70 miles of border wall were constructed in California and Arizona. DHS has announced plans to complete more than 330 miles of wall by the end of 2008, through areas including Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, Cabeza Prieta National Monument, Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge, Bentsen-Rio Grande Valley State Park and World Birding Center, and Sabal Palm Audubon Sanctuary. Groups that are organizing against the wall include the Texas No Border Wall Coalition and Tohono O’odham Voices Against the Wall.

The violence that is inflicted on the Earth by the border is a mirror of the violence inflicted on people. One of the focal points of resistance against the wall construction has been the Tohono O’odham Nation, whose traditional lands have been bisected by the international boundary and who endure constant harassment by Border Patrol agents occupying their land and communities. O’odham organizers hosted the second Indigenous Border Summit of the Americas at the same time as the No Borders Camp, including representatives from 19 different indigenous nations from across Turtle Island who are affected by borders and the militarization they bring.

A major force driving migration from Mexico, Central America and elsewhere into the US and Canada has been the impact of neoliberal globalization on indigenous communities and subsistence farmers, who’ve had their livelihoods and communities destroyed and have gone north searching for work. This economic violence is concentrated in the borderlands, where maquiladoras assembling consumer goods bound for the US market employ workers for $6 a day, while dumping industrial chemicals in nearby waterways. The result is some of the highest rates of cancer, lupus and other diseases in the world. A member of the Cucupa Nation who attended the camp in Mexicali gave a talk about how they are no longer able to fish in their traditional waterways due to industrial pollution from Mexicali.

Free trade and environmental contamination, piled onto problems of organized crime, a lack of social infrastructure, and a culture of impunity related to public officials and law enforcement create a chaotic environment along the border, rife with social and environmental injustice and the systematic violation of people’s human and political rights. The femicides in Ciudad Juárez and the complicity of the US border agents in the drug trade are examples of this.

Over the past 10 years, more than 4,000 people have died while attempting to cross through the borderlands. In Fiscal Year 2006 alone, more than 195,000 people across the US were kidnapped by ICE, torn from their families and communities, detained and deported. This modern-day ethnic cleansing is legitimized in the name of the Homeland Security state. It is part of the ongoing repression and militarization of daily life, as reflected in the Green Scare and the criminalization of dissent.

On the last day of the camp, this violence was inflicted directly upon us. To end the camp, we organized a binational march back from the campsite to downtown Calexico/Mexicali. By this time, many people had started heading home, leaving much lower numbers than days before. Thinking that things would be mellow, a lot of people on the west side of the camp crossed over to the east side. The march retained a festive spirit; when we arrived at the downtown port of entry, folks began playing volleyball back and forth over the wall and continued drumming and chanting. People in Mexicali began a “die-in,” blocking traffic through the port for brief periods of time, as others walked around to talk to passersby about the demonstration, the camp and the reasons why we were there. A few people tried to start a binational kissing booth through a hole in the border wall.

After about 30 minutes, la migra began to move into the area. Soon we were flanked on all sides. Without warning and without an order to disperse, about 100 migra attacked the crowd of about 40 demonstrators, randomly injuring people with pepper-ball guns and batons, tackling, isolating and beating individuals. When small groups of demonstrators attempted to leave the area, they were followed, surrounded and assaulted again. In all, about 30 people were detained and then allowed to leave, five at a time. Three people were arrested, one of whom, Juan Ruiz, is currently facing charges of assault on a federal officer.

All three people who were arrested were severely beaten and in need of medical attention—including medication for pre-existing conditions. While in detention, they were denied medical treatment despite repeated attempts to obtain it by doctors, attorneys and the detainees themselves. This experience is shared on a daily basis by thousands of detainees in the borderlands who, after as long as six or seven days in the desert, are denied medical care despite suffering from severe heat exhaustion, dehydration, and other injuries and illnesses. Ruiz, a Colombian citizen who faces deportation if convicted of his charges, is a classic example: He has been charged with assault after being brutalized at the hands of the Border Patrol.

Despite the violent repression on the last day of the camp, as well as other mistakes made throughout the week, we succeeded in reclaiming and holding a space that has too long been one of violence and death. We built relationships and resistance across borders, taking a leap forward in our struggle to tear down the walls that surround us. Together, we created an autonomous space—an experiment in what it would be like to live in a world without borders, capitalism and the arbitrary separations within and between us.

Prior to the attack by la migra at the closing march, I walked around downtown Calexico, speaking with passersby about the demonstration and our reasons for being there. People talked about their families divided by the wall, working in the fields and factories of the US, being arbitrarily stopped and searched by la migra. I responded, “This is why we are here: to speak out against these borders, these walls, to struggle on both sides together. Es decir que, algun día, el muro va a caer. (It is to say that, one day, these walls will come down.)” Invariably, whenever I said this, whomever I said it to would grin, and a glint would shine in their eyes.