Amid Guatemala’s turbulent political landscape, the arrest of indigenous leaders has sparked a wave of outrage. The detention of Luis Pacheco and Héctor Chaclán Batz—both key figures of the 48 Cantons of Totonicapán and, in Pacheco’s case, Deputy Minister of Development and Sustainability—has exposed what many communities see as an offensive by the Public Prosecutor’s Office against indigenous peoples.
“I am not a criminal, I am not a terrorist,” Pacheco declared after his arrest. “That makes me laugh, but it also fills me with indignation. I encourage all ancestral authorities to keep fighting for democracy.”
Tensions between the Public Prosecutor’s Office and the new government of Bernardo Arévalo, president since 2024, have escalated since Attorney General Consuelo Porras attempted to block his inauguration. The European Union responded with sanctions, including a ban on entry to its territory for Porras and other officials accused of undermining institutional integrity.
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From the government’s perspective, the accusation is clear. “The criminalization of indigenous authorities and anyone who defends democracy is an attack on all the peoples of the country,” Arévalo said at a press conference alongside indigenous representatives. Shortly afterward, a legal injunction was filed with the Supreme Court against the Attorney General for discrimination and racism.
Faces of Resistance
The persecution is not limited to indigenous leaders. Among those arrested or exiled are journalists such as José Rubén Zamora, anti-corruption prosecutors like Stuardo Campo, and human rights defenders. NGOs such as UDEFEGUA speak of “selective persecution” and warn of institutional capture by powers seeking to silence dissent.
“We must not return to the past,” warns Jorge Santos, coordinator of UDEFEGUA. “Guatemala’s history is marked by repression and oblivion. We cannot allow that to happen again.”
Indigenous peoples recall that the civil war left between 140,000 and 200,000 dead and disappeared, many of them indigenous. That collective trauma is revived in every arbitrary arrest, every ignored protest, every unfounded accusation.
“We are heirs to a history of struggle and dignity,” proclaims one of the Totonicapán leaders. “We will not allow impunity to become the norm.”
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The Rivers That Also Protest
Defending the territory is also part of this resistance. Through water protests and demonstrations in front of mines like Cerro Blanco—which threatens waters shared by Guatemala, Honduras, and El Salvador—indigenous communities denounce the environmental impact of extractive projects pushed forward without their consent.
“This is a disaster even for those who have not yet been born,” says activist Fernando Arrieta, denouncing the consequences of mining that promises jobs but leaves destruction.
Justice or Political Revenge?
While Attorney General Porras denies any persecution and assures that “justice does not stop,” international bodies such as the Inter-American Court of Human Rights have condemned the instrumentalization of laws for political purposes. The line between justice and repression grows ever thinner in Guatemala.
Guatemala stands at a historic crossroads. Democracy, justice, and the rights of its indigenous peoples are at stake. In plazas, networks, and streets, citizens demand that the voices of those marginalized for centuries be heard. And as long as that voice remains unheard, they will keep shouting: in their native language, in Spanish, through symbols and rituals, in defense of a fairer nation.
