WA Delegate: None.
Embassies: Madrid, The White House, Aztlan, Revolutionary Vietnam, The Alternative Left, and 28 others.The Great Soviet Union, The Partisan Commune of Naliboki Forest, Antifa, Managua, The Sovereign Socialist States, Alliance of Socialist Nations, The Internationale, Angola, FARC, Communist International, Machu Picchu, National Liberation Front, Filastin, Al Quds, North Pole_, Sucre, FMLN, Luanda, Ireland, Kampuchea, Phnom Penh, Zapatista Colony, Leipzig, VICTIMS OF CAPITALISM MEMORIAL, Democratic Left, The Pentagon, Guatemala City, and Mexcaltitlan.
The embassy with Mexcaltitlan is being withdrawn. Closure expected in 2 days 6 hours.
Lima is home to a single nation.
Today's World Census Report
The Most Eco-Friendly Governments in Lima
The following governments spend the greatest amount on environmental issues. This may not always be reflected in the quality of that nation's environment, however.
As a region, Lima is ranked 6,965th in the world for Most Eco-Friendly Governments.
|1.||The Tupac Amaru Sendero Luminoso of La Movimiento Revolucionario de Lima||Left-wing Utopia||“Con las masas y las armas - ¡venceremos!”|
- 20 hours ago: The Cuban Revolutionary Fervor of Zopilote Negro of the region Mexcaltitlan ordered the closure of its embassy in Lima.
- 8 days ago: The Confederated Councils of Mushet of the region The American Indian Confederacy proposed constructing embassies.
- 42 days ago: Embassy established between Lima and Mexcaltitlan.
- 45 days ago: The Tupac Amaru Sendero Luminoso of La Movimiento Revolucionario de Lima agreed to construct embassies with Mexcaltitlan.
- 45 days ago: The Cuban Revolutionary Fervor of Zopilote Negro of the region Mexcaltitlan proposed constructing embassies.
- 50 days ago: The United States of Delantras of the region Dutopia proposed constructing embassies.
- 55 days ago: The Nightmare Communism of Arggggh of the region Communists for Communist Communism proposed constructing embassies.
- 61 days ago: Embassy established between Guatemala City and Lima.
- 65 days ago: The Free Land of Otto Rene Castillo of the region Guatemala City agreed to construct embassies.
- 65 days ago: The Tupac Amaru Sendero Luminoso of La Movimiento Revolucionario de Lima proposed constructing embassies with Guatemala City.
Lima Regional Message Board
The Generalfeldmarschall of Konggratz, don't want to be the leather-obsessed SS Nazi if you can't speak German, dimwit.
Lima is a free city, but not to the likes of you. The Hammer and sickle signal the empowerment of the rural and urban worker, a symbolism you have not a clue about as you are a Fascist wannabe who desperately tries to crack off at pictures of Hitler's moustache and Pinochet's swagger stick.
"Lima is a free region, all are welcome, but Fascists/Imperialists will be thrown in the Rimac river."
Are you wearing your inflatable Nazi armbands, Konni?
The rising of Latin America - the genesis of 'The War On Democracy'
13 June 2007
In the 1960s, when I first went to Latin America, I travelled up the cone of the continent from Chile across the Altiplano to Peru, mostly in rickety buses and single-carriage trains. It was an experience my memory stored for life, especially the spectacle of the movement of people.
They moved through the dust of a snow-capped wilderness, along roads that were ribbons of red mud, and they lived in shanties that defied gravity. "We are invisible," said one man; another used the term abandonados; an indigenous woman in Bolivia unforgettably described her poverty as a commodity for the rich.
When I later saw Sebastiao Salgado's photographs of Latin America's working people, I recognised the people at the roadside, the gold miners and the coffee workers and the silhouettes framed in crosses in the cemeteries. Perhaps the idea for a cinema film began then, or when I reported Ronald Reagan's murderous assault on Central America; or when I first read the words of Victor Jara's ballads and heard Sam Cooke's anthem A Change Is Gonna Come.
The War On Democracy is my first film for cinema. It follows more than 55 documentary films for television, which began with The Quiet Mutiny, set in Vietnam. Most of my films have told stories of people's struggles against rapacious power and of attempts to subvert and control our historical memory. It is this control, this organised forgetting, that has always intrigued me both as a film-maker and a journalist. Described by Harold Pinter as a great silence unbroken by the incessant din of the media age, it assures the powerful in the west that the struggle of whole societies against their crimes is merely "superficially recorded, let alone documented, let alone acknowledged... It never happened. Even while it was happening it never happened. It didn't matter. It was of no interest".
This was true of Nicaragua in the early 1980s, when a popular revolution began to turn back poverty and bring literacy and hope to a country long dismissed as a banana republic. In the United States, the Sandinista government was successfully portrayed as communist and a threat, and crushed. After all, Richard Nixon had said of all of Latin America: "No one gives a sh*t about the place." The War On Democracy is meant as an antidote to this.
Modern fictional cinema rarely seems to break political silences. The very fine Motorcycle Diaries was a generation too late. In this country, where Hollywood sets the liberal boundaries, the work of Ken Loach and a few others is an honourable exception. However, the cinema is changing as if by default. The documentary has returned to the big screen and is being embraced by the public, in the US and all over. They were still clapping Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 two months after it opened in this country. Why? The answer is uncomplicated. It was a powerful film that helped people make sense of news that no longer made sense. It did not present the usual phoney "balance" as a pretence for presenting an establishment consensus. It was not riddled with the cliches, platitudes and power assumptions that permeate "current affairs". It was realist cinema, as important as The Grapes of Wrath was in the 1930s, and people devoured it.
The War On Democracy is not the same. It comes out of a British commercial television tradition that is too often passed over: the pioneering of bold factual journalism that treated other societies not as post-imperial curios, as useful or expendable to "us", but extraordinary and important in their own terms. Granada's World in Action, where I began, was a prime example. It would report and film in ways that the BBC would not dare. These days, with misnamed "reality" programmes consuming much of television like a plague of cane toads, cinema has been handed a timely opportunity. Such are the dangers imposed on us all today by a rampant, neo-fascist superpower, and so urgent is our need for uncontaminated information that people are prepared to buy a cinema ticket to get it.
The War On Democracy examines the false democracy that comes with western corporations and financial institutions and a war waged, materially and as propaganda, against popular democracy. It is the story of the people I first saw 40 years ago; but they are no longer invisible; they are a mighty political movement, reclaiming noble concepts distorted by corporatism and they are defending the most basic human rights in a war being waged against all of us.
Cinema and television production are closely related, of course, but the differences, I have learned, are critical. Cinema allows a panorama to unfold, giving a sense of place that only the big screen captures. In The War On Democracy, the camera sweeps across the Andes in Bolivia to the highest and poorest city on earth, El Alto, then follows Juan Delfin, a priest and a taxi driver, into a cemetery where children are buried. That Bolivia has been asset-stripped by multinational companies, aided by a corrupt elite, is an epic story described by this one man and this spectacle. That the people of Bolivia have stood up, expelled the foreign consortium that took their water resources, even the water that fell from the sky, is understood as the camera pans across a giant mural that Juan Delfin painted. This is cinema, a moving mural of ordinary lives and triumphs.
Chris Martin and I (we made the film as a partnership) used two crews and two very different cinematographers, Preston Clothier and Rupert Binsley. They shot in high-definition stock, which then had to be converted to 35mm film - one of cinema's wonderful anachronisms.
The film was backed by the impresario Michael Watt, a supporter of anti-poverty projects all over the world, who had told producer Wayne Young that he wanted to put my TV work in the cinema. Granada provided additional support, and ITV will broadcast the film later in the year. The extra funding also allowed me to persuade the late Sam Cooke's New York agents to license A Change Is Gonna Come, one of the finest, most lyrical pieces of black music ever written and performed. I was in the southern United States when it was released. It was the time of the civil-rights movement, and Cooke's song spoke to and for all people struggling to be free. The same is true of the ballads of the Chilean Victor Jara, whose songs celebrated the popular democracy of Salvador Allende before Pinochet and the CIA extinguished it.
We filmed in the National Stadium in Santiago, Chile, where Jara was taken along with thousands of other political prisoners. By all accounts, he was a source of strength for his comrades, singing for them until soldiers beat him to the ground and smashed his hands. He wrote his last song there and it was smuggled out on scraps of paper. These are the words:
What horror the face of fascism creates
They carry out their plans with knife-like precision ...
For them, blood equals medals ...
How hard it is to sing
When I must sing of horror ...
In which silence and screams
Are the end of my song.
After two days of torture, they killed him. The War On Democracy is about such courage and a warning to us all that "for them" nothing has changed, that "blood equals medals".
The War On Democracy
'The War On Democracy' (2007) was John Pilger's first for cinema. It explores the current and past relationship of Washington with Latin American countries such as Venezuela, Bolivia and Chile.
Using archive footage sourced by Michael Moore's archivist Carl Deal, the film shows how serial US intervention, overt and covert, has toppled a series of legitimate governments in the Latin American region since the 1950s. The democratically elected Chilean government of Salvador Allende, for example, was ousted by a US backed coup in 1973 and replaced by the military dictatorship of General Pinochet. Guatemala, Panama, Nicaragua, Honduras and El Salvador have all been invaded by the United States.
John Pilger interviews several ex-CIA agents who took part in secret campaigns against democratic countries in the region. He investigates the School of the Americas in the US state of Georgia, where Pinochet’s torture squads were trained along with tyrants and death squad leaders in Haiti, El Salvador, Brazil and Argentina.
The film unearths the real story behind the attempted overthrow of Venezuela's President Hugo Chávez in 2002 and how the people of the barrios of Caracas rose up to force his return to power.
It also looks at the wider rise of populist governments across South America lead by indigenous leaders intent on loosening the shackles of Washington and a fairer redistribution of the continent's natural wealth.
John Pilger says: "[The film] is about the struggle of people to free themselves from a modern form of slavery". These people, he says, "describe a world not as American presidents like to see it as useful or expendable, they describe the power of courage and humanity among people with next to nothing. They reclaim noble words like democracy, freedom, liberation, justice, and in doing so they are defending the most basic human rights of all of us in a war being waged against all of us."
'The War On Democracy' was a Youngheart Entertainment, Granada and Michael Watt production. It was released in UK cinemas on 15 June 2007 and broadcast on ITV1, 20 August 2007. Directors: John Pilger and Chris Martin. Producers: Chris Martin and Wayne Young. Editor: Joe Frost. The film was made with the support of the humanitarian financier Michael Watt.
Awards: Best Documentary Award, 2008 One World Awards, London. The panel's citation read: "There are six criteria the judges are asked to use to select the winner of this award: the film's impact on public opinion, its appeal to a wide audience, its inclusion of voices from the developing world, its high journalistic or production standards, its success in conveying the impact of the actions of the world's rich on the lives of the poor and the extent to which it draws attention to possible solutions. One film met every one of these. It was the winner of the award: John Pilger's 'The War on Democracy'."
The War On Democracy (versión en español)
2007. La historia del manipulación de países latinoamericanos por Estados Unidos durante los últimos 50 años, inclusive la verdad detrás del derrocamiento procurado del Presidente de Venezuela Hugo Chávez en 2002.
Peru and Ecuador Set to Auction Off More of Amazon for Oil
Written by Darrin Mortenson
Tuesday, 30 October 2012 20:20
Source: Alianza Arkana Blog
Even as indigenous people struggle to cope with current levels of contamination and illness caused by years of oil production in the Amazon, the governments of Peru and Ecuador are preparing to sell off even more Amazonian territory to the oil industry in coming months.
Starting in November, Peru's state-run leasing agency Petroperu plans to start auctioning licenses to 36 new oil blocks for exploration, 19 of them in the northern region of Loreto. Just across the border, Ecuador is set to lease at least 13 blocks on or near waterways that eventually flow south into Peru and join the Amazon River.
Many of the blocks overlap or abut protected areas and indigenous territories and threaten the forests and rivers that indigenous people and other river people depend on for their lives.
Indigenous groups are rallying to stop their governments' plans, and some talk of making a stand for a total moratorium on all exploration until both countries come up with a regional environmental plan.
"Oil production is an activity that definitely alters our territory, our environment, our health and our culture," said Alfonso Lopez Tejada, leader of the federation of 57 indigenous Kukama communities along the Maranon river region in Peru, where three new lots overlap Kukama communities and threaten the famous Pacaya Samiria National Reserve.
"Again they impose these lots on us just as they did not consult us when they leased our territories before," Lopez said.
In Ecuador, indigenous groups are planning demonstrations and marches to protest the new round of concessions begin on November 28.
"We are defending our land. We won't allow oil activity," said Franco Viteri, president of a Confederation of Indigenous Nationalities of the Ecuadorean Amazon (Confeniae), according to a recent article in the Wall Street Journal.
Ecuadorian indigenous leaders say they will make an appeal to the country's Constitutional Court.
"Yes to Life! No to Gold!" Indigenous Communities in Peru Struggle to Defend Land From Mining
Written by Roxana Olivera
Monday, 26 November 2012 18:41
Source: New Internationalist Magazine
Behind the rhetoric of Peru’s economic boom and corporate social responsibility lies the struggle of indigenous communities to defend their land and their right to clean water. Máxima Acuña is one of the faces behind that struggle.
With a blue plastic sheet and an alpaca blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Máxima Acuña, 42, walked through torrid rain for 10 hours to appear in court in the picturesque Andean town of Celendin. From the splendid hills of Sorochuco, she tracked down slippery roads and winding footpaths to hear the case that the owners of the Yanacocha mine in northern Peru have launched against her and her family. It is not the other way around.
‘These Yanacocha people are just trying to rob me of my land!’ Acuña tells me, tears swelling her eyes. ‘God is my witness! He knows that I am the rightful owner of that land,’ she adds between sobs, as she shows me a set of loose sheets of paper that she grips in calloused hands.
In 1994, Acuña and her husband Jaime Chaupe purchased, according to the property documents, a parcel of 27 hectares of land in a remote corner of Peru’s northern highlands known as Tragadero Grande. It is situated in the district of Sorochuco, province of Celendin, department of Cajamarca. Set at 3,249 metres above sea level and against a backdrop of rolling mountains and natural water sheds, Tragadero Grande offers a breathtaking, colorful landscape. It looks a bit like Tuscany – but with potato fields and a few llamas. Acuña built a small shack atop one of those rolling mountains. And, like most campesinos – indigenous peasants – in her community, she, her husband and three children, have been, and still are, engaged in subsistence production as farmers and herders.
Sadly, beneath those majestic mountains, particularly beneath two of their pristine lakes, lie rich deposits of gold and copper, minerals that Minera Yanacocha is determined to extract at any price.
To do so, Minera Yanacocha – 51.35 per cent owned by US giant Newmont Mining Corporation, 43.65 per cent owned by Peru’s Compañia de Minas Buenaventura, while the World Bank holds the rest of the shares – has mounted an aggressive campaign to promote the development of the Minas Conga. Minas Conga will be an open-pit gold and copper mine in the heart of the region. Worth an estimated $4.8 billion, the project is slated to become the largest single investment in the country’s mining history, with an annual output of 580,000 to 680,000 ounces of gold and 155 million to 235 million pounds of copper during its first five years of operation. The total surface area of the proposed open pit is 2,000 hectares – 20 km2.
A section of the prospective Minas Conga sits on land that Acuña owns, and she has refused to sell it.
The proposed open-pit mine would destroy four mountain lakes while it also threatens to contaminate and deplete groundwater supplies in the high Andes region of Cajamarca. Two of the lakes would be drained for mining exploration and mineral extraction and the two others would be turned into tailings ponds for mining waste.
There are concerns that the contamination may even leach into the Marañon River, an important headwater of the Amazon. Needless to say, the mining project also threatens to endanger the health of the local indigenous communities.
Yet, Minera Yanacocha claims that the Minas Conga venture meets rigorous environmental standards, and it promises to build four water reservoirs to replace the mountain lakes. ‘Water management practices incorporated in the Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA),’ the company proclaims on its website, ‘were based on more than 10 years of hydrology and engineering studies conducted by respected independent firms.’
But the company has a questionable reputation in Cajamarca.
With a 19-year-history of mining operations in the region, it was responsible for a mercury spill that poisoned more than 1,200 villagers in the nearby community of Choropampa.
And, according to health records featured in a documentary film that is currently on the festival circuit, it appears that many workers at the nearby Yanacocha mine – the largest open-pit goldmine in Latin America and the second largest in the world – are suffering from severe mercury poisoning.
As for promises of greater benefits from gold extraction, it is noteworthy that after 19 years of mining activity in Cajamarca, the province has sunk from being the fourth poorest province in Peru to the second poorest.
Defending the real treasure
Fully aware of that dubious past, Máxima Acuña doesn’t buy into any of Minera Yanacocha’s public relations rhetoric on economic opportunities and corporate social responsibility.
As she puts it, ‘I may be poor. I may be illiterate, but I know that our mountain lakes are our real treasure. From them, I can get fresh and clean water for my children, for my husband and for my animals!’ She then adds, ‘Yet, are we expected to sacrifice our water and our land so that the Yanacocha people can take gold back to their country? Are we supposed to sit quietly and just let them poison our land and water?’
In spite of her valid property documents, and without being served an official eviction order, according to Acuña, Minera Yanacocha has made several attempts to forcibly remove her from her land.
In May 2011, she says, a team of mining engineers from Minera Yanacocha, along with private security guards and police, marched into her property, tore down fences, and dismantled her shack. She went to the Sorochuco police to report the incident, but, she says, they simply told her to go away.
On 9 August 2011, the mining engineers returned with heavy machinery to Acuña’s plot of land. They were escorted by a large contingent of Peruvian riot police and soldiers. On this occasion, they destroyed what was meant to be her new shack. They confiscated all of her possessions: her bed, her clothes, her cooking utensils, even her food – cooked and uncooked.
‘Then, they beat me and my daughter without compassion,’ Acuña recalls, her voice cracking. ‘And, the police had their machine guns pointed at the heads of my husband and small son.’
She wipes tears off her face with her poncho. ‘These mining people have tried to kill us, and they have threatened to come back again to kill us,’ she whispers, looking at me intently. ‘I fear for my life, for the life of my husband, for the lives of my children and for the lives of the people in my community who defend us and our water.’
Holding his wife’s hand, Jaime Chaupe steps in to fill in the blanks. ‘I saw the police beat and kick my wife. I saw them whack my daughter on the back of her head with their machine guns,’ he tells me, his voice fading away, despite his attempts to hold back his tears. ‘When I saw my wife and daughter lying unconscious on the ground, I thought they were already dead!’ he mutters. ‘While they tried to catch me, I heard my children scream in fear. They cried: “Help us! Help us! They’re gonna kill us all! They’re killing us!”’
Asked about media coverage of the eviction attempts, Acuña speaks bluntly. ‘Our national media have completely ignored our struggle and our suffering.’ Pause. ‘They have failed to report on how mining companies are stealing land from us, the poor; how they’re taking away our only source of food,’ she adds, more tears streaming down her face. ‘And, they have failed to report on how our authorities at the district attorney’s office and at the public ministry have sold their souls to the devil. The world ought to know all this, but they don’t write about any of it!’
The forced eviction that Acuña and Chaupe describe took place under the watchful eye of Minera Yanacocha’s team of engineers. Acuña’s 23-year-old daughter Ysidora captured images on her mobile. The clips are now available on YouTube.
With forensic photographs and video images in hand, Acuña and her family reported the violent assaults to the authorities at the Celendin district attorney’s office. But the authorities simply shelved their complaint.
Although mining representatives and government officials claim that there is full local support for the Minas Conga project, recent polls show that 78 per cent of the people in the area reject it outright.
Protests against the Minas Conga open-pit mine have become widespread.
On 3 July 2012, Peruvian police and soldiers open-fired on a crowd of protesters against the project. Four people were killed in Celendin and one in Bambamarca. Dozens were seriously injured.
Immediately after the bloody incident, President Ollanta Humala declared a state of emergency in the region, suspending civil liberties.
On 21 October 2012, more than 200 campesinos – many of them with infant children – mobilized to defend their mountain lakes. Acuña welcomed the protesters to stay on her land.
Vida Sí, Oro No! [Yes to Life! No to Gold!]
Back in court, on 29 October 2012, Acuña crosses herself while she awaits the judge’s decision.
The judge finds Acuña and her family guilty of the charge of squatting on Minera Yanacocha’s property. She gives them a three-year suspended jail sentence, orders them to pay civil reparations in the amount of $200 soles (roughly US$70) to Minera Yanacocha, and to leave the contested land – within 30 days. Acuña faints. She is taken to hospital, and everyone leaves the courtroom.
The lawyer representing Acuña and her family has appealed the ruling, arguing that Minera Yanacocha has not established proof of ownership.
In the meantime, the 200 protesters, bearing signs that read ‘Vida Sí, Oro No!’ (Life Yes, Gold No!) and ‘Agua Sí, Oro No!’ (Water Yes, Gold No!), continue to camp on Acuña’s land in order to protect their mountain lakes. More than 400 heavily armed riot police and military soldiers surround the protesters. More are on the way.
Facts about mining
In order to extract one (1) gram of gold, vast amounts of water mixed with toxic substances, including mercury and cyanide, are required. A mere 0.1 gram of cyanide can be lethal.
Approximately 10,000 litres of water are required to produce one single gram (0.0032 troy oz.) of gold.
While a peasant family uses 30 litres of water per day, a small mine – much smaller than that proposed by Minas Conga – consumes 250,000 litres of water per hour. In other words, in a single hour, a mining company uses the same amount of water that a peasant family consumes in 20 years.
Minas Conga predicts that it will have an annual output of 580,000 to 680,000 ounces of gold and 155 million to 235 million pounds of copper during its first five years of operation.
Roxana Olivera is a freelance journalist and regular contributor to New Internationalist.
I'm Leaving behind a complimentary 24 of San Miguel beer.
Thanks for letting me visit.
A nice beverage, that. Thank you. :)
Thanks also for visiting and happy wandering. :)