From Liberación Total (September 3, 2011):
The following is a list of revolutionary prisoners currently locked up in the Chilean state’s prisons. This list is being constantly updated due to transfers and the different circumstances experienced by the prisoners.
Let’s also remember the situation of various fugitive comrades, among whom are Carlos Gutiérrez (charged in the Security Case), Diego Ríos, and Gabriela Curilem. We hope they never have to be added to this list and never have to set foot in prison.
Send all contributions and updates to liberaciontotal [at] riseup [dot] net.
SANTIAGO 1 PRIVATE PRISON:
Santiago 1 Private Prison, Block 35
On July 14, 2011, Moreno was arrested during a mass student march and accused of throwing a Molotov cocktail at the Brazilian embassy, injuring one riot cop and leaving another with serious burns.
Moreno was recognized by undercover police, who supposedly identified him by his clothes as well as a photo in which he is masked up. He was ultimately charged with felony assault, attempted homicide, and weapons possession (a Molotov cocktail).
He is currently in custody awaiting trial.
Santiago 1 Private Prison, Security Wing
Gallardo and Rodríguez were arrested on August 30, 2010 and charged with attacking a Prosegur armored car in September 2009. Both were MAPU Lautaro militants and political prisoners in the 1990s. Their arrests and the proceedings against them were an attempt to link them to the Bombings Case as financiers, but the maneuver came to nothing.
They are currently in custody awaiting trial.
HIGH SECURITY PRISON:
High Security Prison, Special High Security Wing, H Block North
Villarroel was a MAPU Lautaro member and political prisoner in the 1990s. He is charged with taking part in the September 2007 Banco Santander robbery in Valparaíso and the October 2007 Banco Security robbery in Santiago during which repressive agent Luis Moyano died in a shootout while the perpetrators were making their escape.
After a period as a fugitive, Villarroel was arrested on March 15, 2008 together with Freddy Fuentevilla in Neuquen, Argentina. They were then deported to Chile on December 15, 2009.
He is currently in custody awaiting trial.
Juan Aliste Vega
High Security Prison, Special High Security Wing, J Block
Aliste Vega was a MAPU Lautaro member and political prisoner in the 1990s. He is charged with taking part in the September 2007 Banco Santander robbery in Valparaíso and the October 2007 Banco Security robbery in Santiago during which repressive agent Luis Moyano died in a shootout while the perpetrators were making their escape.
Aliste Vega was arrested on July 9, 2010 in Argentina and later deported to Chile on July 22, 2010. He is specifically charged with shooting at the police during the Banco Security escape.
He is currently in custody awaiting trial.
High Security Prison, Special High Security Wing, H Block North
Fuentevilla is a former member of the MIR (Leftist Revolutionary Movement). He is charged with taking part in the September 2007 Banco Santander robbery in Valparaíso and the October 2007 Banco Security robbery in Santiago during which repressive agent Luis Moyano died in a shootout while the perpetrators were making their escape.
After a period as a fugitive, Fuentevilla was arrested on March 15, 2008 together with Marcelo Villarroel in Neuquen, Argentina. They were then deported to Chile on December 15, 2009. Fuentevilla is accused of driving the motorcycle from which shots were fired at the police.
He is currently in custody awaiting trial.
High Security Prison, Special High Security Wing, J Block
Huiniguir is a former MAPU Lautaro member. After his home was raided on March 29, 2008 (Young Combatant’s Day), he and other residents were arrested on charges of possession of Molotov cocktails.
Out of a blatantly absurd desire to lock him up, he was sentenced to three years and one day in prison for growing marijuana, plus another 541 days for misdemeanor drug trafficking, even though only a few plants were found at his home.
He is currently serving out his sentence.
SOUTH SANTIAGO PRISON (Former Penitentiary):
Alberto Olivares Fuenzalida
South Santiago Prison (Former Penitentiary), A Block
Olivares Fuenzalida was an FPMR (Manuel Rodriguez Patriotic Front) member and political prisoner during the 1990s. At the moment, he is locked up on charges stemming from a number of expropriations. In prison, he has participated in hunger strikes and protests while writing and fomenting rebellion as a member of the January 22 Collective.
He is currently serving out his sentence.
SUBJECT TO PREVENTIVE MEASURES:
Candelaria Cortez Monroy
The defendants are charged with belonging to a fantasy criminal organization. Among them are anarchists, antiauthoritarians, people who have been active in occupied social centers, and former members of armed groups. They were all arrested on August 14, 2010, mixed up in the so-called Bombings Case, and charged as members of a terrorist cell responsible for carrying out 29 bombings.
None of them are currently in prison, but all are awaiting trial, either on probation (having to regularly sign in at their local police station) or under house arrest. The most frequently updated sites with information about their case are solidaridadporlxspresxs.blogspot.com and libertadalos14a.blogspot.com.
MAPUCHE POLITICAL PRISONERS:
Their situations and the list are continually being updated here.
From Hommodolars Contrainformación (February 26, 2011):
Fondly remembered brothers and sisters in the various corners of the Argentine region:
It seems like it was just yesterday when, after crossing the mountains, so many faces and hearts, names and stories, convictions and desires began to appear in my life as a result of my repressive circumstances. I felt all this brotherly and sisterly solidarity so powerfully that my 22 months of imprisonment in Neuquén province became a kind of intense complicity, whose incomparable alliances still jolt like the continuation of a war experienced by the many lives now scattered throughout the streets, mountains, forests, pampas, cities, and prison cells of these Cono Sur territories we silently roam once again. Accept, brothers and sisters, my most sincere, intimate, and affectionate greetings, full of the deepest anticapitalist love and hate, which stirs heart, desire, and reason to attack this rotten class society, this dictatorship of commodities, this democracy of nonlife.
In the daily unfolding of imprisonment, in the suffocating monotony of sensory deprivation imposed by prison here, there, and everywhere, continuous acts of resistance to the everyday totality of this human meat-grinder find echo and resonance in the most humble, rejected, and uncontrollable human beings, who have little or nothing to do with politically conscious space, with militancy, but who are mired in the reality of the most severe and unimaginable misery, in the reality of the historically stigmatized: “the lumpen proletariat.”
I say this because it is from there, from that human reality I now cope with, that I have managed to better and more completely understand the various dimensions of the diverse conditions, of the human condition, that bandits and social rebels discover in the intensity of conspiracy, in class hatred, in the solitude of the scorned, in the subversive complicity of the fugitive who fights with dignity and without fear against the police, against the vast abyss of authority. And that, that I found in Junín, in Cutral Có, in Neuquén, and now here in Santiago. I also recognize it in the experiences of many anonymous brothers and sisters who have lived and live with intensity underground, creating day-to-day affinities in which the spectacular phenomenon of politics doesn’t exist, in which formalities don’t exist, simply because when we regain control of our lives we recover our individual sovereignty, which instinctively guides us toward wider spaces of freedom. And that’s how a neighbor, a stranger, or a confidant has wound up doing much more for the potential spread of revolt than the countless politically organized groups that every day turn meetings, chitchat, and self-importance into thoroughly putrefied forms of social interaction. Politics is repugnant and rots everything it touches. Revolt has no leaders, managers, or obedient soldiers. Revolt is passion, need, and desire. It is the splendid chaos of destruction leading to boundless creation. It is the multiplication of the most sincere affections in pursuit of life in all its forms and expressions. Now, dear brothers and sisters, you must know that the shit country I was born in is controlled by power’s most devoted and vile faction, a faction entirely possessed by capitalism, neoliberalism, and ultraconservativism, repressively imposing its morals and social control. A poorly cloned mutant pieced together from the remnants of José María Aznar, Sarkozy, Berlusconi, Bush, and Uribe. A crude copy of the worst is always best for capitalist interests and their project of planetary infestation.
It is in this reality that the most radical expressions, located on the subversive fringes of anarchist autonomy, have had to continue their decisive attacking operations against the social peace of the rich. In the midst of skillfully technologized state repression, an exasperating social fog, and paralyzing fear, we have witnessed the most fantastic series of television-style set-ups to justify the repressive, fabricated, shameless machinations of a state = prison = capital that bases its way of life on oppressive wage-slavery and blind obedience to the police-boss. This is “my Chile,” brothers and sisters. The day-to-day and the geographic distances may be different, but the goal is the same: Proletarians at war, subversion is our motto! And here there are encounters and proximity, differences that limit us, homes, hearts, affections, ideas, and practices that unite us, emphasizing the same path. Rebelling, attacking, radicalizing, respecting the intensity of each one who imparts her own experience. Here there are neither boundaries nor excuses. Here there is nothing to stop us from fighting.
Also know that here is the actual reciprocity of your brotherly and sisterly complicity and affection, that there are brothers and sisters who lend a hand to foster closeness and integration, that there is the will to come together and think, carrying out an attacking resistance whose origin is the historical memory of the oppressed, knowing that each and every one of us clashes with domination because we are the rebel children of the proletariat, because we hate each nation’s judges, each homeland’s bourgeoisie, each country’s gendarmes.
In any home on this strip of earth, whether in Santiago or Buenos Aires, Temuco or Neuquén, Iquique or Salta, wherever we may meet again, it will be to continue experiencing the intensity of the war to be free, dignified, and happy to never again put up with all this shit.
An embrace, a kiss, thousands of dreams of rebellion and social revolution.
For the spread of autonomous anticapitalist cells.
Toward assistance and collaboration on prisoner escapes.
While there is misery, there will be rebellion!
—Marcelo Villarroel; Anarchist Prisoner; High-Security Prison; Santiago, Chile; Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Like Marcelo Villarroel and Freddy Fuentevilla, Juan Aliste Vega is a former MAPU-Lautarista facing charges for the October 18, 2007 Security Bank robbery in Santiago, Chile during which Carabinero Corporal Luis Moyano was shot and killed.
From Hommodolars Contrainformación (January 5, 2011):
“Concentration camps and death camps were created with the deranged intention of destroying lives, mentally and physically.”
It seems like a quote from the past, from some black-and-white war. The standards of another era, disassociated from the exemplary social order of the present.
Democracy functions, and prison is one of the pillars that supports the state. It is the result of an unjust and fundamentally unequal system, the symbol and cruel reflection of a repressive model that crushes poor people, capturing them and locking them up to be controlled and exterminated.
Everything reeks of imprisonment. It’s not just the stench of prison itself, but also the streets, the stairways, the government buildings, the bus, the metro, high school, university, work, the hospitals—an entire model ingrained, legitimized, imposed.
It is now administered by the democracy of the rich, who are protected by a strategic discourse that criminalizes and stigmatizes poverty. The contemporary political scene is enthralled by crime and the profitable prison business. The repressive state, perpetuating the status quo that guarantees extreme poverty and extreme wealth, responds with more repression and more prisons, constructed and operated under private-sector contracts.
Thus, prison is a great deal, more profitable than state investment in housing or education. A prisoner is a safe economic investment and a rewarding political investment. Private-sector contracts make prosperous businessmen out of those who would profit from cruelty, from the lives of the poor, from the guarantee of a fixed nonrefundable payment for each prisoner locked up in their modern dungeons. In Chile, we prisoners are an abundant commodity for the hyenas of the business world.
Their Methods and the Emotional Battle
Isolation is a weapon of vengeance, inhuman and degrading. Its lethal effects are managed to perfection (medical and psychological experts have confirmed this). Maximum security is a prison within the prison, where the sinister game of emotions and sensations is considered won in advance, exerting maximum control over the possibilities of mind and body: It aims for the slow destruction of convictions, of ideas, of our rebelliousness and dreams, of our joys, our loves, our lives.
Isolation is the state’s vile method of applying the death penalty in disguise, a sentence that is carried out every time a prisoner dies. We can verify this with the crude, sad, secretly buried statistic of one dead prisoner per week in this country’s prisons.
Every death in prison is an unpunished crime whose inescapable responsibility is borne by the state, its government by the rich, and its apparatus of social control: a system that criminalizes the poor, thus generating lethal conditions.
An international summit on human rights held in the Netherlands in 2002 concluded that: “Isolation is one of the most extreme forms of repression, comparable to physical torture or murder. It is a means to destroy ideas in general and political ideas in particular, a white torture conceived to eliminate the prisoner.”
Cruel revenge also buttresses the penitentiary system’s application of isolation—vengeance by the machinery of domination against those who fight back, those who resist and reject submission.
Let’s now give skin and bone to what we’ve been describing with words and concepts. Let’s add body heat to what would otherwise be mere discourse.
I was imprisoned for 12 years, then controlled by the parole system for nearly six more years, until I went underground. After three years of clandestinity, I was captured in Argentina and extradited to Chile via an abduction reminiscent of the methods of Operation Condor. I am currently facing trial in both military and civilian court. I write these lines from confinement inside a special Maximum-Security Wing (MAS) of High-Security Prison (CAS). Here I remain locked up for 22 hours a day in a concrete-and-metal box measuring two meters by three, all white and artificially lit, with a toilet, a shower, and a radio.
I get one hour under the sky in a six-by-five-meter area that could hardly be called a yard, surrounded by massive concrete walls. I get two-and-a-half hours a week of face-to-face visitation time with a maximum of five people, family only. This takes place in a narrow basement hallway that leaks waste water from the first floor. I live on the ground floor of the complex, completely alone. Despite the existence of eight cells similar to mine, they have been kept empty since I got here. The hallway has four cameras, and I am under 24-hour guard, with three gendarmes dedicated exclusively to watching me in eight-hour shifts. I am searched each time I enter or leave the cell. Any letters or news must be authorized. Whether coming in or out, our letters of love, friendship, and affinity are scanned and stored. Any books I receive must be original (no photocopies, reproductions, or independent/pirate editions). All the utensils are plastic. The food is restricted to three fruits. The colors I use to sketch the images in my memory and imagination are limited to ivory, grays, and blacks. The stench is of decay and more decay.
Visitor searches are excessive and unregulated. Our affections, joys, tears, kisses, and loving caresses are observed and controlled by cameras and the open ears of the gendarme in the stinking hallway. Added to the isolation is the impossibility of making love to my partner, as this is the only prison in Chile that doesn’t have conjugal visits. Thus, they nullify our ability to love. This maddening punishment is also extended to our children, since these spaces don’t even meet the minimum standards of dignity or hygiene for adults, much less children—our cherished children.
Now They’re Talking About Us
About the events of December 8:
National radio interrupts the hits. Television pauses the litany of Christmas market consumption, with its faces and tits.
The front pages of the newspapers carry no photos of the Copa Libertadores.
Now they’re talking about us, the poor, the marginalized. The Internet is overloaded with images. The world finds out there aren’t just miners in Chile, and we are among the top-three online search terms.
Now they’re talking about us, even in the name of god, and not just the one. There’s god the president, god the minister, god the specialist.
Now they’re talking about us, the poor, the maladjusted. Before the sun could even rise, the demented smiles of the jailers were consecrating their foul position in the service of the rich. Their cackling and their attitude were the fuel that fed the flames—the bloody inferno that incinerated the lives of 81 fathers, sons, brothers, and partners.
This time there was no big rescue. Eighty-one lives gone.
Now they’re talking about us, the poor, the prisoners of Chile.
—Juan Aliste Vega, Subversive imprisoned by the government of the rich
From Hommodolars Contrainformación (December 15, 2010):
My mind is once again overwhelmed by a sad mixture of shock, rage, and pain. This time, a new dose of harsh reality is exposed to the world, as solid evidence of society’s sickness wakes me from my dreams to daybreak in a punishment cell.
It was 6:30 a.m. on Wednesday the 8th, and in the distance, among bars and cold hallways, I heard the murmur of a conversation in a wing adjacent to the disciplinary unit of the Maximum Security Section (SMS), where I had been staying for the past nine days as a penalty for “contravening the internal regime of High-Security Prison.” I initially thought I had misheard, that I was still sleeping and it was all a horrible nightmare, but regrettably the murmur was clear and precise, and I was totally awake and alert: “81 dead and 14 injured in tower 5 at San Miguel prison.” In a matter of minutes, information began to flow from the tiny screened windows on the various floors and from the different voices of prisoners with television and radio access, unable to hide their shared despair.
A new routine begins in the SMS. It’s a routine marked by hatred for the jailer, combined with a generalized commotion inside this heavily shrouded unit, also known as the High-Security Block (MAS).
As the day goes by, the avalanche of information becomes more and more irrefutable, while the conviction grows in my mind that I am bearing witness to indolent butchery on the part of gendarmes who, as executioner-slaves, bear the responsibility for this blatant new State crime. How can I think otherwise when I have lived and felt the Nazi-Fascist treatment of these “Penitentiary Officials” thousands of times. It’s they who give orders, administrate, and govern the prisons that are coldly designed to feed off of the daily deaths of dozens of prisoners across the entire country.
How many prisoners commit suicide, tormented by prison experiences they can’t endure? How many prisoners are brutally beaten, tortured, or isolated for their dignified refusal to support the abuses that are part of the “rehabilitation process”? How many prisoners are murdered in fights manufactured and encouraged by gendarmes applying their internal policy of divide and rule? How many prisoners are transferred, their roots arbitrarily pulled up out of their home soil, destroying their families and depriving them of the little they’ve managed to build in the way of real human relationships? How many of those who talk about, propose, decide on, and live off the criminalization of poverty, the prison business, and the construction of a substitute reality have intimate knowledge of what it is to experience the stress of imprisonment and the strain of punishment, solitary confinement, white torture, and utter helplessness?
In this sick Prison-Capital-State society, the indiscriminate death of prisoners has become something “normal.” At the beginning of the decade, under the Lagos government, around 26 prisoners burned to death in the old Iquique prison. Also 10 years ago, seven prisoners burned to death in San Miguel, and another 10 people in Colina II. They may officially say those deaths were the result of massive brawls or riots, but that in no way absolves all who sustain Capital and the State of their responsibility. Capital and the State are not empty words or subjective, abstract structures. They are concrete things comprising people who take part in a project that integrally serves domination, which looks to perpetuate itself in the form of a prison society we must necessarily destroy in order to put an end—once and for all!—to this exasperating state of things.
The rich are happy, and they secretly enjoy the indiscriminate death of imprisoned proletarians. It would be “politically incorrect” to say so openly, but one can clearly perceive their indifference in the face of such a massacre. Politicians on the left and the right reach consensus, seek “solutions,” and attempt to be “creative.” The fourth estate, capital’s propaganda apparatus known as the press, once again delights in being able to sell all this backstage drama. But the Social War is relentless, ferocious, and bloody. It will not be distracted, and it will certainly not forget.
In the country’s prisons, there is a sense of indignation and a feeling of fury toward authority, and I hope it won’t be fleeting. There is also an instinctive will to organize, mobilize, and break away from the debilitating functional passivity shown in the face of the jailer.
As an Autonomous, Anarchist subversive, I can’t ignore the pain of the families. I can’t—nor do I want to—think that anticapitalist consciousness has been seized by indifference and that these events will remain shelved in the “red archives” of our unyielding, rebellious, and insurgent proletarian memory. Above all, it’s our humanity that makes us decide to struggle for revolutionary transformation and the destruction of the capitalist order. Experiences like these keep our senses sharp and validate our chosen path.
UNTIL PRISON SOCIETY IS OBLITERATED!!
PROLETARIANS AT WAR, SUBVERSION IS OUR MOTTO!!
WHILE THERE IS MISERY, THERE WILL BE REBELLION!!
—Marcelo Villarroel S.; Anarchist Prisoner; December 14, 2010; High-Security Prison; Santiago, Chile
Marcelo Villarroel, from High-Security Prison: “Sustained attacks on the social peace of the rich will continue”
By Pablo Vergara
From High-Security Prison (CAS) in Santiago, Marcelo Villarroel—a former Lautarista charged with the October 2007 Security Bank robbery during which Carabinero Corporal Luis Moyano died—agreed to answer part of a lengthy questionnaire we sent him a few weeks ago. Villarroel, who was a prisoner at CAS during the 1990s, was part of the Kamina Libre collective, which District Attorney Alejandro Peña now considers one of the progenitors of the “Bombings Case.” Here, despite the awkwardness of answering a questionnaire, Villarroel explains his ideological evolution and what it means to be an anarchist.
How would you describe what’s going on right now?
At the moment, the entire domineering legal-political-police-prison structure—mandated by the State to imprison, harass, and accuse at any cost all individuals who have clear anti-capitalist tendencies and undeniable histories of struggle—is operating with gross impunity and immunity in order to resolve what Power calls “the Bombings case.” Nothing can surprise us now. Fourteen people have been locked up and charged with constituting an “illegal terrorist organization” thanks to a mountain of evidence fabricated by the police, and it’s very likely that this State offensive will continue. Bear in mind that the Government is interested in using the police to resolve a matter that resonates in ways that are much more profound. Subversive anti-capitalist activity is based on the everyday decision by many individuals to rebel against their condition of wage-slavery, thus becoming human beings who rise up in an attempt to be free. Therefore, as long as more arrests are made and repression grows, sustained attacks on the Social Peace of the Rich and all expressions of Capital will continue.
What does it mean to be an anarchist?
These days, I understand and respect those who consider themselves anarchists and walk the Path of illegality, making their lives an eternal fight against Power. It’s currently impossible to think about an integral Anarchism from an academic or intellectual perspective, or from the perspective of what many call a Space of Social Organization, without denying the historically effective subversive dimension of the anarchist way of viewing and understanding the world. Those who adopt such a definition—harmlessly skirting reality, rejecting violent direct action against Capital—are nothing more than social-democrats who are completely integrated into the participatory logic of “diversity” kindly offered to them by Democracy.
And even though there are many different types of Anarchists motivated by a great variety of interests, it is my conviction that being an anarchist today means being a Subversive who fights to the death against Power for the total destruction of class society, without waiting for anything other than the decision that springs from one’s own conscience.
What does it mean to be a libertarian?
The concept of libertarianism originated in Spain at the end of the 1890s, during a period of the Criminalization of Anarchism due to the rise of Violent Direct Action known as “Propaganda by the deed.” Libertarianism was a way of continuing to act openly and publicly, avoiding reasons for persecution. Since then, the concept—always associated with the world of Anarchism—has mutated fundamentally toward non-militant individual and communal practices that recreate a collective universe of codes and values like Mutual Aid, horizontal human relationships, anti-authoritarianism, the rejection of Private Property via collectively recuperated spaces, etc., as well as the creation of a counterculture that basically allows us to realize a way of viewing and understanding the contemporary world that has nothing to do with the bourgeois teachings imposed on us by Capital. Therefore, whoever experiences, understands, and goes about their practice in the world on this kind of life path can now calmly and freely call themselves libertarian.
You’ve been linked to the Lautaro Movement for Popular Unitarian Action (MAPU Lautaro). What is your response?
What can I say? Yes, between the “Security Case” and the “Bombings Case,” there are seven of us who at some point in our lives were militants in said organization and served prison sentences in excess of ten years as a result of that choice. Without needing to ask each of these comrades what they thought of the experience, I can be certain that each one lived through it with the pride and dignity of knowing they gave the best of themselves at a time in the country’s political history when the bourgeois readaptation known as the Transition was being promoted by Capital. This was the opportunity used by many to cowardly renounce the struggle for the radical transformation of society and instead safeguard their pocketbooks, selling themselves to the highest bidder. Meanwhile, as a result of our struggle and militancy, we became familiar with the darkest corners of this democracy—the Carabineros Police Intelligence Directorate (DIPOLCAR) police stations where we were savagely tortured under the supervision of the now deceased General Bernales; the Dirty War instigated by Jorge Burgos, Marcelo Schilling, Mario Fernández, Enrique Krauss, Belisario Velasco, Nelson Mery, Isidro Solís, and Claudio Martínez, among others; and all the weight of the law, with visiting ministers who had acknowledged Nazi affiliations, as well as totally biased sentences decreed by the “distinguished Military Justice System.” But that’s Democracy, right?
What was your ideological evolution like during the 1990s?
Since the mid-1990s, a vast distance has gradually opened up between me and the Castroist-Guevarist-Marxist-Leninist culture that created and sustained the various political-military groups and movements that fought Pinochet, which were hit hard during the early years of the Coordination of Parties for Democracy. Since then, I’ve moved toward autonomous and horizontal organizational practices in recognition of the need to destroy the entirety of the existent, since a dignified life is impossible under Capital’s alienated and decadent social reality. I’ve arrived at the total conviction that the only thing we should construct is the Capacity to Offensively Resist the continued ravages of Power, which is attempting to annihilate all vestiges of the proletarian memory that guides us in our inevitable dreams of total liberation.
When you get out of prison, what will motivate you to stay organized?
The clear conviction of knowing that the function of all the changes that have taken place during the last 20 years has been to maximize profit margins via the worst kinds of exploitation, thus making the rich even richer. Thousands of other reasons as well: Because we don’t believe in Capitalism; because the extent of misery is irrefutably growing; because the criminalization of poverty is creating more prisons and jailers, which lock up the poor 99% of the time; because social repression is intensifying; because of the extreme violence exemplified by the opulence of the rich and the bourgeois, who spend more money in a single weekend than a proletarian manages to accumulate during a lifetime of work. And there are thousands of reasons more, believe me.
What relationships do you have with past political organs?
None. In my case, there is no interest.
What is the Kamina Libre Collective?
The Kamina Libre Collective was a political prisoner collective that existed between 1998 and 2004, when it was dissolved as the result of a collective decision taken at the time of its formation. We were a space that always related horizontally to groups, individuals, and organizations in order to establish an anti-prison practice that broke with the classic Leninist-left vision of dividing the reality of imprisonment between political prisoners and ordinary prisoners, which ignores the fact that all varieties of marginalization and crime result from the social conditions of existence in contemporary Class Society. Therefore, every prisoner is a political prisoner, regardless of the concrete fact that we know we are prisoners whom the State deals with differently because of our subversive practice and militancy. This means that we have been made to experience “maximum-security treatment” for the last 16 years, which justifies every kind of injustice, endorsed by Judicial Power with absolute silence and complicity.
Through Kamina Libre, we formed a vast universe of relationships with anti-prison expressions in different parts of the world, developed countless days of protest in prison and on the streets, and in a way coordinated the basis for what—with its highs and lows—has become the last decade of clearly Anti-Capitalist Anti-Prison Resistance in Chile.
You talk about Social War. What is that?
The Social War imposed on us by Power and the State is the daily struggle to free all Social Rebels via an insurrectional perspective that attempts to confront the totality of the oppressive, repressive, and exploitative existent. By demanding constant attack on all aspects of Capitalist Life, combat develops simultaneously in all spheres of reality. It’s not a strategy of War defined by a group that focuses on a leader, a Vanguardist concept, or military strikes and advances. Rather, it’s the diffuse, everyday multiplication of autonomous action by Rebels and Insurrectionists who can no longer tolerate this shitty life, this social spectacle called Democracy.
Is violence a valid political tool?
First of all, our violence is more than a political tool because it is situated in a human-scaled space called Dignity. That’s what motivates us to respond to the dishonorable Violence used by Capital and the State, understanding that it is they who hold the monopoly on violence. Global Capitalism, the history of the formation of the Chilean state, and the daily life of the oppressed and exploited of this country tell the story of Violence used as a tool of subjugation. When some individual or collective then takes action against it and rebels, the result is criminalization, persecution, defamation, or death. This paradigm of inverted reality is perhaps most evident as applied to the Nation of Mapuche People. The Chilean state has done nothing but violate them systematically for 200 years, yet when they organize and fight back, they are considered terrorists. During these 20 years of democracy, the selective murder of popular fighters and combatants has not stopped, nor has the torture in prisons and police stations. Permanent harassment through threats and beatings, arbitrary arrests, set-ups, and repression directed at specific groups of people in struggle has been the method used by the State and its police—in conjunction with the press and the Judiciary—to maintain its practice of Political Violence. We are only defending ourselves.
You and your comrades accuse the State of persecuting you because of your past. What has that persecution consisted of?
A number of us wound up getting out of prison between 2004 and 2005. Since then, our monitoring by police intelligence has never stopped, with varied, permanent harassment being the constant: anonymous telephone threats, nighttime beatings that recall the names of dead comrades, arbitrary arrests, forced involvement in fictitious proceedings, stolen cars, home invasions and stolen computers, video and audio surveillance. And from time to time, an exasperating hostility that gets in the way of leading a relatively “normal” life. In this country, persecution as State policy exists and is reaching its zenith right now by entangling several comrades in the farcical set-up of the “Bombings Case.”
What do you think of District Attorney Peña and his work? And Xavier Armendáriz?
They perform roles typical of those who, hiding behind their jobs, make an ideological and political compromise with Democracy and class society. Each leaves his mark, which is duly noted. In the case of “Mr. Peña,” the overbearing arrogance of his appointment now sees him enjoying his 15 minutes of fame, but at the cost of the arrest and imprisonment of countless people who have nothing to do with what they are being accused of. He knows it, the police also know it, and it’s obvious they won’t take one step back, since the resolution of this case is an urgent necessity—of a theatrical nature—for the Piñera administration. The important thing is to take people prisoner who haven’t been randomly chosen, to the extent of violating the very legality they say they’re defending. Alejandro Peña’s megalomaniacal grandiloquence is the characteristic most valued by the police, who are are incredibly eager to find “culprits” now that they have suffered a permanent tactical defeat in their attempt to neutralize a reality of struggle that they are incapable of understanding.
Just remember the ridiculous attempt a few months ago to link a Pakistani citizen to former Lautarista militants involved in the “Security Case,” or the desperate stupidity of prosecutors and police when they appeared with their famous explosive traces. There’s simply no name for it.
Have you entered a plea in the proceedings? If so, why?
Regarding the Security Case, those of us arrested in Argentina haven’t entered a plea since we have nothing to say. The sentence was already determined before our arrest, and now all that remains are the formalities of an irregularity-plagued process yet to be concluded despite the more than three years that have passed since the events took place. What’s more, we’re convinced that the State and the police want us dead and that right now we’re a real legal “nuisance,” since in order to be able to sentence us the facts would have to consistently justify the staging of the whole show that put us in prison: permanent delays, shoddy investigations—in short, “a lot of smoke but no fire.”
What is the bombings phenomenon responding to? Why is it happening?
It’s my impression that no “Bombings Phenomenon” exists. Rather, what does exist is a subversive, anti-capitalist practice that expresses itself in multiple ways. And despite being purposely made invisible by the different governments of the past 20 years, it has perpetuated and distinguished itself as an inevitable expression of intensified attack on this putrid commodity society.
It’s also my impression that the operations they carry out, the arrests they make, and the fabricated culprits they show off will continue, because there is an excess of reasons and motives for all of it. It’s the Social Violence of the powerful that triggers the existence of an Attacking Resistance that responds—outside the margins of the political show—to our degrading, inhuman treatment by the dominant class.
What is prison life like? Could you describe your routine?
Prison, as a comprehensive institution created to socially command and discipline according to standardized sanctions, seeks to destroy the indomitable spirit of those who fight for Total Liberation. In our case, we are now being kept at High-Security Prison, where we already spent over 10 years and where we currently coexist in groups of no more than 20 prisoners, in limited space under a regime that provides for eight hours in the yard or outside our cells. During that time, we live collectively, playing sports, talking, reading, interacting. In general, monotony is the permanent characteristic of days that only differentiate themselves when we can be with our families during the weekly visit.
For me, prison has been an unwanted, unsought circumstance of a chosen life of struggle, which I am deeply proud of. It’s not easy to live in daily confrontation with the jailer’s repressive practices. It’s not easy to be far away from the ones you love most. It’s not easy to be locked up for so long. But those are the circumstances that temper your character and will to Resist, and that’s the life I’ve chosen.
Additionally, an imprisoned subversive is never alone and will never be alone, wherever he is and wherever they put him.