Guatemala's State of Siege: Gangs vs. Government

From the grey rooftops of El Mezquital, the capital's skyline seems impossibly distant. This sprawling settlement on the outskirts of Guatemala City is not a traditional neighborhood but a chaotic overlay of concrete and corrugated metal. The view from here offers a stark visual metaphor for the nation's current state: the centers of power and commerce appear as tiny, unreachable lights.

These same streets served as the breeding ground for the Barrio 18 and Salvatrucha gangs, organizations that have evolved into a formidable force challenging the state. As President Bernardo Arévalo implements a state of siege, the reality on the ground suggests that the old laws of silence still hold more power than the new decrees of the government.

The nation is currently navigating its first week under a state of siege, a drastic measure triggered by a targeted massacre of police officers. This event forced the government to confront the scale of the criminal threat, which has been described as an army of 30,000 gang members operating within the country's borders. The declaration represents a significant escalation in the state's strategy to reclaim control over territory.

However, the legal framework of the state of siege has yet to permeate the complex social fabric of areas like El Mezquital. The decree, which officially passed its first week in effect this past Sunday, faces a different set of unwritten rules in these communities. The atmosphere remains one of caution and observation, where the presence of state authority is often viewed with suspicion rather than relief.

• Declaration of state of siege follows police massacre
• Estimated 30,000 gang members nationwide
• Focus on reclaiming territorial control from criminal groups
• First week of implementation ongoing

El Mezquital represents the physical and social periphery of the capital. Once a distinct neighborhood, it has transformed into a dense, haphazard collection of housing where the infrastructure struggles to keep pace with the population. The yellow school buses that rumble through its main streets are a lifeline, but they are also symbols of the precariousness of daily life here.

For the residents, the journey into the city center is more than just a commute; it is a passage through zones of influence. The unwritten code that governs these streets is simple and brutal: "Ver, oír y callar"—See, hear, and say nothing. This code ensures that information flows to the gangs, not the authorities, creating a barrier that the state of siege has not yet managed to breach.

See, hear, and say nothing.

The mobile phones of residents are often hidden during travel, a small but telling detail that illustrates the pervasive fear and the control exerted by the gangs. In this environment, the government's challenge is not just legal but deeply cultural, requiring a shift in the fundamental dynamics of trust and safety.

The conflict is not between random criminals and the state, but between a sovereign government and a structured, territorial force. Barrio 18 and Salvatrucha are not merely street gangs; they are sophisticated organizations with a clear hierarchy and a defined territorial footprint. Their ability to operate with such brazenness, culminating in the attack on police forces, underscores their capacity to challenge the state's monopoly on violence.

President Arévalo's administration is now tasked with dismantling this parallel army while maintaining public order. The state of siege grants the government expanded powers, but it also raises the stakes. Every action taken under this decree is a test of the state's capacity to protect its citizens and enforce its laws in areas where those laws have long been ignored.

• Barrio 18 and Salvatrucha operate with military-like structure
• Control over specific territories and neighborhoods
• Challenge the state's monopoly on violence
• Forced a national state of emergency

For those living in the shadow of the capital, the conflict is a daily reality. The distant lights of the city center symbolize opportunities and safety that remain out of reach. The state of siege is a headline in the news, but on the streets of El Mezquital, the immediate concern is navigating the complex web of loyalties and threats that define their existence.

The government's ability to project power into these areas will be the true measure of the state of siege's success. It requires more than just a legal decree; it demands a sustained presence and a strategy that addresses the root causes of gang recruitment. Without a tangible change in the daily lives of residents, the old laws of silence may prove more resilient than the new laws of the state.

The journey from the grey rooftops of El Mezquital to the centers of power in Guatemala City remains long and fraught with obstacles. The state of siege has opened a new chapter in the struggle against organized crime, but the ending is far from written.

Guatemala stands at a critical juncture, balancing the legal powers of a state of siege against the entrenched social realities of gang control. The conflict is a direct confrontation between the government of Bernardo Arévalo and a criminal structure that operates as a shadow army.

The path forward will be defined by the state's ability to penetrate the silence that protects the gangs in neighborhoods like El Mezquital. Success will require more than force; it will demand a fundamental shift in the relationship between the state and its most marginalized communities.