The rigorous investigation of the New York Times exposing decades of sexual abuse by Cesar Chavez against women and girls has been described by some as devastating for the Latino community. I disagree.
It is evident that for the victims of his abuse, his perversity was and will remain an unforgivable offense. It is also true that for those of us who admired his struggle for the rights of farmworkers, learning of his profound moral failings has been a great disappointment.
However, I refuse to accept that the actions of one person ruin the reputation of an entire community, regardless of that person’s stature.
Even worse, another misperception I see among the catastrophists is the assumption that the Mexican community defines the entire Latino community in the United States.
The Hispanic/Latino community is multinational—it includes Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Cubans, Salvadorans, Dominicans, Guatemalans, Colombians, Hondurans, Venezuelans, Ecuadorians, Argentinians, Chileans; it is multiracial, including whites, people of African descent, Indigenous peoples, mestizos, Asians, and combinations of all of the above; it is culturally and linguistically diverse, speaking English, Spanish, Portuguese, Nahuatl, Quechua, Maya.
Far from being homogeneous, differences in identity, language, politics, and socioeconomic status are vast. To simplify it is to reduce it to absurdity. Chávez did not represent this enormous universe.
He was, indeed, the most well-known Chicano in U.S. history and his achievements were very important for a segment of the population.
In the 1960s, Chávez and his farmworkers’ union rose to national prominence, and in 1975 his political strength was crucial in securing the passage of the Agricultural Labor Relations Act, the first law in U.S. history to protect farmworkers’ rights to organize.
He should also be credited with promoting Latino civil rights, following the example of the “Big Six” leaders of the African American movement in their struggle for racial justice and equality.
But we should not forget that this is not the first time a professional journalist has drawn a realistic portrait of Chávez’s moral ambiguities. In the book “The Crusades of Cesar Chavez,” published in 2014, while Miriam Pawel offers a well-deserved recognition of his “profound humanity,” she challenges the traditional, almost sanctified heroic image attributed to him by his followers.
In her book, Chávez emerges as a visionary figure with tragic flaws, as a brilliant strategist who often stumbled, and as a shrewd, street-hardened organizer who was frequently insensitive.
Pawel denounces his authoritarian leadership style; his resistance to adapting to changing labor conditions; his prioritization of ideological purity over practical achievements; his protests at the border to block the entry of undocumented workers in collusion with “la migra”; and his indiscriminate use of “purges” against members of the Movement who questioned him.
I recall hearing the outraged criticisms of community leaders who, instead of reflecting on the allegations against Chávez, judged Pawel for publishing them.
And today, when I hear those who witnessed his infamies firsthand say they did not report them in order not to harm La Causa, I am reminded of the criminal silence of the left, which argued that exposing Stalin’s crimes would give ammunition to the right to damage the Soviet Union.
Fortunately for history, the truth prevailed then and will prevail now, recognizing the merits of a fighter for justice who lost his way through self-deification and his ambition for power.
Sergio Muñoz Bata previously served as executive editor of La Opinión and was a member of the editorial board of the Los Angeles Times.