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For months, the Lof Pailako Mapuche community, which claims territory in Los Alerces National Park —35 km from the city of Esquel (Chubut)—has been in the crosshairs of the courts and the government of Javier Milei. The threat of evicting a group of families living there is not new, nor is it the only legal case its members face. The legal dispute is full of back and forth, but above all, of backtracking and rejections of the community's requests, which continue to demand a dialogue table, a peaceful solution, and the protection of the children living there.

Everything has accelerated in recent days. At the end of December, Federal Judge Guido Otranto authorized the National Parks Department to evict the community. On the first business day of 2025, at 8:00 a.m. on Thursday, January 2, Federal Police personnel patrolled the Pailako territory with the superintendent of the National Parks Department, Danilo Hernández Otaño, and left a notice. The notice states they have five business days to leave. If they don't leave by January 9, " public force will be used."

"The Supreme Court never ruled on the complaint we filed, and the judge understood that he would wait for the Court's decision, but the Comodoro Court ordered him to vacate immediately. Now we have to see how the community organizes," Gustavo Franquet of the Lawyers' Association, which represents them in court, Presentes

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The community is not alone. It is joined by many others, including the Third Peace Raid of Jujuy, social organizations, and a solidarity network that has been growing since Pailako called on the entire community to stop the eviction.

Last weekend, various activities in support of Pailako took place across the country. A survey of the territory and a press conference at 11 a.m. at the Melipal Cultural Center in Esquel have been announced for Wednesday the 8th.

The communities' request

Pailako, the communities they support, and the Lawyers' Association vulnerability of the community's children, on social media and in the press for months .

A technical report prepared in November by psychologist Ruth Vargas highlighted that “a forced eviction involves the participation of state officials and militarized police officers, all with the knowledge and acquiescence of their superiors. This action would potentially generate horror in children and adolescents, which can have a perverse effect on the developing bodies and minds of Mapuche children and adolescents, as well as on their families and community. It is also important to understand the subsequent cumulative harmful effects in the medium and long term on children and adolescents’ cognitive, emotional, and developmental development.”

Behind the legal battle lies a political conflict with Indigenous peoples, which was pending and escalated under Milei's administration. It is enough to recall that on November 11, 2024, Argentina was the only UN country to vote on a resolution against the rights of Indigenous nations at the General Assembly in New York. Furthermore, on December 10, Law 26.160 , which declared a territorial emergency until 2025 and required the National Institute of Indigenous Affairs to conduct surveys and suspend evictions,

These days, the indigenous movement is demanding that the State, through a statement signed by more than 130 communities, respect and fulfill its constitutional obligations toward Indigenous peoples. 

In the statement signed by the communities, the Argentine State is accused before international organizations of committing crimes against nature, humanity, and culture against Indigenous peoples, in complicity with extractive transnational corporations. The Argentine government is also urged to fulfill the commitments it made upon signing ILO Convention No. 169 and issue community titles for Indigenous territories.

Lof Pailako: where, how, when

Presentes was in Lof Pailako a few months ago. To get there, you have to go deep into Los Alerces National Park, crossing its forests. During our visit, the remains of ancient trees scorched by last summer's fires were part of the surroundings. Members of Lof Pailako have also been charged in connection with those fires, and Governor Ignacio Torres and National Parks Director Cristian Larsen have made statements to the press incriminating the community.

For security reasons, only one of the people we spoke with one afternoon around the fire and mate in one of the rukas (houses) will be named. The names of the other two people will not be published. They are all young and wear colorful silk scarves covering their heads. Also present at our meeting was a baby born in this same ruka.

The Lof Pailako is made up of around twenty people, mostly families with children, who have been claiming this territory since 2020. In the midst of the pandemic, the emerging community settled on a plot of land in the Andean mountain range in Los Alerces, where they built their rukas (houses) and an educational center.

They're in constant communication. They use solar energy, even though the batteries are ruined by the cold. They try to communicate in person. "That way, a lot of misunderstandings can be avoided." They all agree on a time to sit down and talk.

To reach the house where we are meeting, we must climb the hill and pass through a gate where the Mapuche flag flies. Now, that flag (the Wüñellfe) and the Whipala have been banned since May by Larsen through a resolution. "In the National Parks, no flag other than the Argentine flag will be flown," said presidential spokesman Manuel Adorni on May 3. In June, the National Parks intensified its racist practices by requesting, in a message sent by Communications Director Iael Gueler, the publicity of indigenous festivals such as the Mapuche New Year, which was celebrated that month.

Lemu

One of the first to claim the Lof Pailako territory was Lemu Cruz Cárdenas, a 35-year-old Mapuche man. For seven years, before claiming the land, he was a National Parks brigade member. Today, he says, he faces harassment from the authorities of the institution for which he worked and from the provincial government. In addition to the crime of trespass, he was accused, with the support of the local press, of being behind the fires.

When we met him in person, eviction was on the horizon, but not as close as the recent fires and the accusations that held him responsible. “The case is for recovery; the fire is a lie. They're making it up. They called me the arsonist,” Lemu told us, having become the community's scapegoat.

In the Mapuche language, Pailako can have several meanings. “For us, it's a quiet stream,” explains Lemu. The stream that gives the community its name is formed by several smaller streams that flow down the hill and form a larger one. “We lived on the banks of that stream,” he recalls.

Lemu knows he must tread with extreme caution. His presence attracts attention and arouses suspicion. When he worked at the parks, he says, he refused to sing the anthem or raise the Argentine flag. Like other young people in Bariloche and Esquel, he began his Mapuche identity process several years ago. “At that time, we were already starting to hear more about the Mapuche struggle in all the regions here, like a resurgence of recovery, and I'd been hearing all of that. But it hadn't crossed my mind yet.”

Until a niece of hers on the Chilean side of the Andes declared herself a machi (spiritual authority). The family was forced to seek that knowledge in Chile, where several machis still exist. These machis guided them, and so one thing led to another. "I began to accompany the machi process, to bring lahuen (medicine). This forced me to deepen my knowledge as a Mapuche." The machi reminded Lemu that he had Mapuche blood. 

Lemu's grandfather arrived from Chile, from Gulumapu, at a time when there were no borders. He arrived at Lake Futalaufquen. It was a gaucho way of thinking. As a child, Lemu, who grew up in that area, was fascinated by the cave paintings. He dropped out of school to work odd jobs in the villages. And when he met his partner, the mother of his children, he decided to settle there.

“Even though I don't have a Mapuche surname, I'm a Mapuche. From that moment on, I became fully aware of my identity. It was a radical change. We were in the process of being recognized as Mapuche, accompanying people from other communities, with the machi. And it was like the people in the surrounding area, out of fear of the imposition of the bad Mapuche, terrorists, criminals, that many people turned against us here. Family acquaintances, neighbors, park rangers. Even my father-in-law, who works in the Parks Department,” he says.

It was another machi Lemu consulted who predicted the recovery of the territory. “The spirits will guide you. You have to go out and walk,” she told them. “And that was the beginning, so to speak, of a long story,” says Lemu. 

They entered with determination. They entered, closed the roads, built a place to sleep, and decided to confront the security forces. And that was also the beginning of the problems with the neighbors and park rangers. "The problem wasn't that we lived here, but that we called ourselves Mapuche," he told Presentes when we visited his community. "We are protected by the Mapu," he told us. The flames from the fires, presumed to be intentional in a highly coveted area where all kinds of interests intersect, didn't touch the houses, but they came close.

Lemu worked on the fire brigade. He knows that the wind helps the fire. In Los Alerces, the wind comes from the northwest. And a delicate line separates provincial and national jurisdiction. “Fires always enter the provincial area; they set them on fire knowing they're going to enter there. And almost always at night. The fire creates an imbalance. It was and is very stressful. They gave me a name and surname. They make things up, repeat things, and add to them. There are a lot of racist people in here,” says Lemu.

Strange things happened. Lof Pailako believes it has to do with projects seeking expansion in the area linked to names like Joe Lewis, to ventures like a hydroelectric turbine, and to mountain ranges coveted by mining companies. "Sustainable tourism in the area is a front," they say. 

Born again

W was born in another town in the Andean region. He's 40 years old and has a grandmother who spoke to him in Mapudungun since he was a child. "In my family, there was always this clarity that we are Mapuche. Although I feel that being Mapuche from the guarría, the village, or from the countryside or territory is different, because there are other practices within the guarría that are predetermined and socially imposed, for example, work, time, and even vacations. On the other hand, in the territory, there are other Mapuche practices, such as performing ceremonies, knowing what's around, sustaining oneself in that territory, relating to the forces that inhabit it. I didn't have all of those things in the village; perhaps there are people in the village who did; this is what happened to me."

About 15 years ago, after her mother passed away, W felt the weight of a legacy, “which I somehow accepted,” a break, she says, in her way of life. She set out to explore Mapuche territories in conflict. “I began to understand the Mapuche being more deeply. My mother couldn't receive that kimu , that wisdom from my grandmother. My grandmother is documented as being about 90 years old, but for me, she's over a hundred. She speaks the language and understands the spirit, but she denies it. Since there isn't that generational transition of language and culture, I have to make the effort to recover it, to learn to relate and navigate in that universe. It was like being born again.”

On the path to recovering his Mapuche identity, W became a nomadic for a time. He traveled along the coast and the plateau, returned to the region, and crossed into Gulumapu to visit other communities on the Chilean side. W says it wasn't just the path, but also the decisions made by others before him and who accompanied the process, that led him to Pailako. 

First, she received an invitation from the Lof (National Association of Women), came to a trawn , then arrived with her partner, and they began participating, trying to create a community life. Later, they had a son, L, born in this ruka in the middle of winter. "It's part of what the territory also proposed: that Pichis (children) be born again, but in a free state, not in a hospital or in an institutional setting," says M, W's partner.

"The ideal that is proposed as a political foundation is to live with what nature, the mapu, offers us . But there's a gap between the political ideal and what's happening. This means that we can obtain part of our food in the territory and part in the village, until we can fully sustain ourselves from the territory," W. summarizes.

M highlights a difference between environmental and indigenous movements because it's a defense that also has a spiritual dimension. "National Parks arrived in 1937. It proposes conservationism. But protecting the forest also means supporting the forces. Forces come before us. We respect them and want them to continue. We ask their permission for everything we do; in other words, this isn't simply a housing need or just a natural way of living."

Why does it bother us so much that we're here? members of Lof Pailako were recently asked. They were left thinking. “Those who are here have the minds of soldiers or businessmen, because it's a business they're losing. They talk about protecting the ancient trees, but they're surrounded by steel. There's a native forest here, and as long as the community is here, they won't be able to set it on fire or profit from it. And that's what bothers me the most.” 

The governor of Chubut, Ignacio Torres, has already said he will be in the area on the day of the eviction. So has Larsen, the president of the National Parks Department. "Torres went to speak with Otranto to get us evicted."

The Lof has a strong network of support from indigenous communities and national organizations, as well as from other countries.

We need to stop the eviction of Lof Pailako, says the document, which calls for national and international solidarity "with the Mapuche-Tehuelche people, to expose the violence perpetrated by the Argentine and Chilean states, extractive corporations, and National Parks." The document circulating online demands "the opening of a dialogue table with the authorities of the National Parks Administration. The civil lawsuit, which could resolve the ancestral rights of the members of the lof, is lying dormant in the Argentine courts, thus providing no opportunity to bring to light the traditional occupation of this territorial space by some of its members, who are the fifth generation of the families who lived there long before the creation of the National Parks. The eviction order results from the application of an internal law regulating the operation of the parks, passed during the last civic-ecclesiastical-military dictatorship. The area is coveted by real estate, mining, forestry, and hydroelectric interests. Today, the lof constitutes an obstacle to the advance of capitalist extractivism."

On Wednesday, January 8, there will be a conference at the APDH (Permanent Assembly for Human Rights) Esquel region, the League for Human Rights, and the Committee for the Freedom of Mapuche Political Prisoners in Puelmapu.

“Here, we've always been very protected by the forces of the land. In the territory, the Mapu protect us. There are many who want us removed and evicted. There are park employees who, even if they don't come out and say so, agree with the demand, but they can't express it,” they say.

“We are protecting an ancient forest, the water. We want our children and grandchildren to recover the Mapuche way of life. Part of that way of life is protecting the land from any threat. It's like a mission, and people need to know this, because if they get carried away by what people say, they think we're usurping. It's like a hunt. The criminalization of the Mapuche is happening in every community.” Lof Cayunao. Lof Winkul Mapu. Okay. These are just a few. In Pailako, two people have been prosecuted so far: Lemu and his partner, “forced into the country for being with me.”

"They want to imprison most of those leading the struggles and thus instill fear in other communities by bringing them to justice. They know that, legally, under the Constitution, what they're doing is completely legitimate. What would be appropriate is for this to remain Mapuche territory."