Totonicapán, a highland municipality north west of Guatemala City, seems an unlikely seedbed for social unrest. Dependent primarily on commerce and microindustry — especially the cottage production of textiles and garments — the area has been largely immune to the conflicts over land and mining that have roiled other impoverished indigenous areas.¹ The Maya K’iche’ inhabitants of “Toto” were relatively unscathed by the armed conflict from 1960 to 1996 that claimed tens of thousands of indigenous victims elsewhere. The leaders of the settlements known as the “48 cantones” (cantons) pride themselves on protecting their Maya traditions and identity from the...

At the centre of San Miguel de Totonicapán’s town square stands a statue of Atanasio Tzul, draped in a black cape following the killings on 4 October. Tzul led a nineteenth century revolt against the colonial tributes levied specifically on indigenous peoples. His 1820 uprising lasted less than a month, during which he ousted the mayor of San Miguel and allegedly (some historians are doubtful) put on Spanish military garb and had himself crowned king. Troops entered the town without resistance several weeks later, whipped the residents, sacked their homes and threw Tzul and other suspected ringleaders into prison.²⁷

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The Maya of Totonicapán claim that their indigenous government is the oldest and best organised in Guatemala. The 48 cantons that make up the municipality have preserved traditions of communal service said to date from pre-Hispanic times. Each canton — they range from rural hamlets to zones within the city of San Miguel de Totonicapán — chooses a mayor and various officials charged with tasks such as maintaining order, guarding the communal forests, caring for water sources and overseeing the community thermal baths. The local mayors, who meet about once a week to conduct community business, hold a yearly assembly...

Economic concerns were at the centre of the frustrations leading up to the 4 October march, as in past demonstrations. Local Maya leaders said they have complained for years to both the municipality and the electricity distributors about rising electricity bills, malfunctioning metres, burnt-out public lighting and other problems. For the poorer populations on the outskirts of Toto, forced to spend precious time and money travelling to the city to pay bills or request repairs, rising costs and poor service were especially galling. “We were always left waiting for a response”, said Victor Gutierrez, a former president of the 48...

Miguel Ángel Balcárcel, a political analyst named commissioner of the SNDP by President Pérez Molina, said the government would open a dialogue about the electricity issue so that all the actors could understand one another. But he expressed frustration with some of the demands of the leaders, who seemed unwilling to accept that the national government could not simply order the private sector and the municipal governments to change the rates charged for consumption and public lighting. And he dismissed the demands regarding education and constitutional reform as “last-minute strategy” designed to win national attention.¹¹⁰

Balcárcel also expressed the view...

Totonicapán is at once atypical and typical of the hinterland. Its largely indigenous population is unusually well organised in the 48 cantons, one of the oldest and most respected communal structures in Guatemala. But Totonicapenses share the grinding poverty suffered by most indigenous people throughout Guatemala, with high rates of malnutrition and illiteracy. Indigenous authorities may enjoy local legitimacy, but they lack the political and economic clout to provide their people with the basic services and opportunities they demand.

Elected authorities, meanwhile, lack legitimacy. In Toto, as in much of Guatemala, local leaders and business people dismiss the political parties...