Schism Drives Mexican Villagers From Homes : Exiles: Most are converts to Protestantism, and all challenged the status quo in their traditional Indian towns and paid a heavy price.

SAN JUAN CHAMULA, Mexico —  A struggle of faith, tradition and politics has driven 15,000 people from their villages in the tropical mountains of southern Mexico.

A few are Roman Catholics, Mexico’s dominant religion, but most are converts to Protestantism. All challenged the status quo in their traditional Indian towns and paid a heavy price.

Their plight illustrates how the tight bond between religion, culture and politics in rural Mexico can lead to violence.

Because of the expulsions, the jewel-like city of San Cristobal de las Casas now is fringed with slums that echo nightly with the sound of Protestant hymns played on Mexican guitars.

Many of the refugees live in makeshift shacks along muddy tracks, with no water, electricity or drainage.

Residents of at least eight rural districts have taken part in expulsions over the last 18 years, often beating or jailing religious converts. Some women have been raped during raids.

Gov. Patrocinio Gonzalez of Chiapas state, whose 3-year-old administration has tried to stop the expulsions, described them as “a human tragedy.”

Gonzalez has set himself a difficult task.

Leaders of the Mayan Indian villages claim that they are under attack by outsiders trying to destroy their culture. But most of the leaders also are allied with Mexico’s dominant political power, the Institutional Revolutionary Party.

Critics often accuse village leaders of using tradition as an excuse to stay in power and keep control over the sale of alcohol and such ritual goods as candles.

Many refugees, however, say their neighbors, not the village leaders, turned against them because of their religion.

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The expulsions pose a legal dilemma, Gonzalez said. Mexico’s constitution guarantees freedom of religion, but also the rights of Indians to protect their embattled cultures.

“We can’t create a political system that destroys the cultures that have defended themselves with such fervor,” the governor said, “but neither can we permit violations of human rights.”

Chamula, a mountainous district of 86 scattered communities a few miles north of San Cristobal, is where the expulsions began and reached their height.

Thousands of people have been driven from their homes in Chamula, a well-known center of Tzotzil-Maya tradition, one of the most-studied cultures in Mexico.

Tourists flock to San Juan Chamula each year to watch exuberant festivals that combine Mayan celebrations and the Roman Catholic faith imposed by the conquistadors.

Enrique Gomez Patishtan, a representative of Chamula at a recent state conference on the expulsions, accused Protestant evangelists of dividing the people and trying “to conquer our souls.”

Protestants often refuse to participate in religious celebrations, which include the ritual use of alcohol and are central to Chamulan culture.

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“When there is no drink, there is no fiesta,” said Sebastian Gomez Coyaso, a senior Chamula official, and Protestants “don’t want to cooperate.” In recent years, many Chamulans have taken to drinking cola in religious ceremonies in addition to liquor.

Chamula leaders also have rejected attempts by Roman Catholic officials in San Cristobal to become more active in the district.

On April 2, an attempted expulsion led refugees to abduct several Chamulan officials who were visiting San Cristobal. A melee began that involved thousands of people and put at least 25 in the hospital.

Many refugee leaders accuse state officials of complicity in the expulsions.

They note that expulsion-related criminal charges against several Chamula leaders were dropped days before a state election in the 1980s, when the leaders threatened not to set up polling places. The Institutional Revolutionary Party, or PRI, won in a landslide.

Village leaders admit that their vision of community unity extends to politics:

“In this community, there is only one party, only the PRI, nothing else,” Gomez Coyaso said.

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National PRI leaders encouraged Protestant evangelism in the 1940s, hoping that it would counterbalance the Catholic church.

Gaspar Morquecho, an anthropologist, traced the roots of the expulsions to the arrival in 1966 of a Catholic priest who created local prayer groups and self-help programs in outlying parts of Chamula, weakening central authority.

Opposition parties moved in and a dissident was elected municipal president, a sort of regional mayor, in the early 1970s. Evangelists began to flourish.

Traditional leaders regained control in 1974, expelled the priest and linked the town to a regional breakaway Catholic church that interferes less in local affairs.

The first expulsions of Chamula residents occurred during a dispute over election results in 1974.

Gov. Gonzalez said police could enforce the return of refugees to their homes, but “when the public forces leave, who will guarantee their security?”

Many refugees told a visiting reporter they would not return if given a chance.

“It’s better here,” said Salvador Hernandez Gomez, 18, who lives in a shack on a muddy path in a slum called La Hormiga (The Ant). “Here, there’s freedom to sing and praise the word of God.”