On July 23, 2025, Indigenous Guatemalan activists descended to the shores of their beloved Lake Atitlán and, with nets, tubs, and buckets, removed thousands of farmed tilapia. For months, they had argued that the fish contaminated the lake and should be confiscated. Dissatisfied with the authorities’ passivity, they finally decided to take matters into their own hands.
Over two months later, the incident remains a flashpoint in a larger power struggle in Santiago Atitlán, a city of approximately 50,000 in the Guatemalan highlands. Led by traditional Indigenous authorities, protestors are now surrounding the city’s Municipal Building day and night, demanding the resignation of Mayor Francisco Coché.
The public anger centers on allegations of corruption, but protesters are also upset at the mayor’s perceived inattention to environmental issues, including the contamination caused by the tilapia and the number of vehicles on city streets.
For over two weeks, the Municipal Building has been closed, and Mayor Coché is working from an undisclosed location.
The conflict serves as an example of common concerns in Latin American politics: popular disdain for endemic corruption, debates over the sovereignty of Indigenous peoples, and demands for environmental protection. In this mid-sized Guatemalan town, a hemisphere’s struggles present themselves in miniature — to the soundtrack of vuvuzelas and on the shores of a massive volcanic lake.
Contamination of the World-Famous Lake Atitlán
Once described by the writer Aldous Huxley as “touch[ing] on the limit of permissibly picturesque,” Lake Atitlán is a major Guatemalan landmark. Covering 126 square kilometers and ringed by mountains and volcanoes, the lake is a major tourist attraction renowned for its beauty.
For the 380,000 people living in the Lake Atitlán basin, most of them Indigenous, it’s also a source of drinking water, pride, and identity.
“The lake gives us life,” said a speaker at a recent protest in Santiago Atitlán. This is a common refrain among civic and educational leaders in the community.
In recent years, 11 farmers set up tilapia enclosures alongside the lake in Santiago Atitlán. While the tilapia sold well in the city’s central market, residents worried that processed fish food was dirtying the water.
“If the water of Lake Atitlán is being contaminated,” said Indigenous leader Diego Petzey, “that’s the same water that’s going to people’s homes.”
Research confirmed that the tilapia caused pollution. A study conducted by Guatemala’s Ministry of the Environment and Natural Resources (known by the Spanish acronym MARN) found that the chemical oxygen demand (COD) within the tilapia enclosures was 2.6 times higher than in the lake’s center, indicating significant levels of contamination.
MARN also announced that the cultivation of tilapia, an invasive species, is prohibited in Guatemalan territory.
Community Leaders Take Action
In their efforts to combat contamination, the people of Santiago Atitlán rallied around Juan Mendoza, the leader of the community’s ancestral authorities. Mendoza’s official title is “Cabecera del Pueblo Tz’utujil,” or “Head of the Maya Tz’utujil People” — the Indigenous group that makes up 98% of Santiago Atitlán’s population.
In April 2025, Mendoza organized a march of concerned citizens demanding that the tilapia be removed. Protestors carried signs displaying their support. One read, “[w]e defend the lake for future generations,” while several others declared “the people, united, will never be defeated” — a popular protest slogan derived from an old Chilean song.
Meanwhile, the federal agency MARN filed an official complaint to federal and local prosecutors, denouncing tilapia cultivation in Santiago Atitlán and three other communities along the lake.
Much to the consternation of Indigenous leaders, the pressure campaign did not produce results. For his part, Mayor Coché remained largely passive, saying, “I can’t give declarations on any active process. This is in the hands of the relevant authorities.”
But those relevant authorities also failed to act. Guatemala’s Public Ministry, the prosecutorial authority considered corrupt by large swaths of the international community, never completed the proper paperwork to proceed with a legal case for the tilapia’s removal.
Petzey, a Mendoza ally and official “scribe” of the community’s ancestral authorities, argued that the government institutions were passing the buck. “Nobody wants to take the responsibility. No government institution or judicial organization is committed to this.”
On July 11, Mendoza and his fellow ancestral leaders hosted an assembly attended by an estimated 12,000 followers. There, they delivered an ultimatum: If the tilapia farmers didn’t remove the fish by July 23, protestors would act on their own. Despite the demand, the fish remained in their enclosures.
On the morning of July 23, led by Mendoza and accompanied by flags, banners, and vuvuzelas, hundreds of Indigenous townspeople marched to the municipal docks on Lake Atitlán. From there, they moved from one tilapia farm to another, scooping the fish with nets and destroying 235 enclosures. The fish were later donated to local families.
By the end of the day on July 24, the shores of Santiago Atitlán were free of farmed tilapia.
Tuk Tuks, Corruption, and Further Demands for Change
Mendoza’s movement isn’t stopping with tilapia. Prompted by evidence of corruption, Indigenous leaders are now demanding the resignation of Mayor Coché.
The supposed corruption involves the permitting process for tuk tuks, the miniature taxis that have become ubiquitous in Guatemala. With traffic increasing and accidents appearing to grow more common, many in Santiago Atitlán demanded a cap on the number of tuk tuks in the city.
Nonetheless, Mayor Coché allowed more tuks tuks to enter circulation. According to allegations levied by ancestral leaders, he “sold” the additional permits — and only a small portion of the resulting income appears in municipal records.
For Mendoza and his movement, this apparent corruption, combined with the previous inattention to the tilapia and taxi issues, rendered Mayor Coché’s position untenable. On September 15, Guatemala’s Independence Day, Mendoza hosted an assembly in the city center and distributed a petition calling for Coché’s resignation. According to Mendoza, over 7,800 people signed.
The next day, Mendoza and his team brought the signed petition to the Municipal Building. Mayor Coché didn’t appear, but he released a video stating his intention to see out the remainder of his term. Mendoza’s team eventually gained access to the Municipal Building and asked the employees there to leave.
Since September 16, the Municipal Building has remained closed, and protestors surround the entranceways at all times to ensure nobody can enter. Mendoza’s team has even organized a system of rotating guards, with dozens of residents from a particular neighborhood watching the Municipal Building each night.
Mayor Coché has maintained his innocence, arguing that the charges against him “lack any foundation.”
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The Indigenous Struggle Across Latin America
The Tz’utujil people are far from the only Indigenous group fighting corruption and advocating for environmental protection.
In the Guatemalan community of El Estor, members of the Maya Q’eqchi Indigenous group blocked highways to protest the contamination caused by a corporate mine. On the national level, Indigenous leaders from across Guatemala united for a general strike in 2023 to ensure President-elect Bernardo Arévalo would assume power.
And across Latin America, from the Amazon Rainforest to the Andean highlands, Indigenous leaders are taking legal and political action to protect their environments.
But activists are finding progress hard to come by. “As Indigenous peoples, we’re a force that can protect global biodiversity,” said Indigenous leader Norma Catú at a 2024 panel on environmental issues in Guatemala. “All the same, after all the effort we’ve put in, we haven’t made advances in the country, or on the global level, to combat climate change.”
It’s within this context of frustration that the Indigenous leaders of Santiago Atitlán decided to act.
Hope in the Midst of Political Turmoil
The tilapia have been removed from Santiago Atitlán, but the town’s political situation remains far from stable.
Juan Mendoza and his team have lodged an official complaint with local prosecutors, demanding an investigation into Mayor Coché’s alleged corruption. Meanwhile, rumors swirl that the ancestral leaders themselves could be detained for their role in blockading the Municipal Building. Some worry riot police could arrive to dislodge protestors by force.
Despite the tension, Indigenous leaders remain hopeful and determined. “Our fight is peaceful, legitimate, and collective,” Diego Petzey said recently in an address to the international community. “Today we say, with a firm voice and a fiery heart, that when the law becomes a weapon of the oppressor, dignity becomes the people’s shield — and our dignity will never be surrendered.”
Editor’s Note: The opinions expressed here by the authors are their own, not those of Impakter.com — In the Cover Photo: An Indigenous fisherman paddles a traditional canoe along the surface of Lake Atitlán in Guatemala. Cover Photo Credit: Parker Hilton
