The entrance to the ancient Maya city of Chichén Itzá was the scene of a dramatic confrontation as Indigenous artisans and vendors tore down newly erected metal barriers and opened the ancient site to tourists for free. The standoff marks the latest escalation in a bitter, months-long dispute over the future of the world-famous archaeological zone.
Officials at the National Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH) announced an official closure of Chichén Itzá for “maintenance.” But local leaders from the Maya community of Pisté say the closure is a pretext—a desperate move by the government to force them out of the old entrance they have worked from for generations and into a new, government-run visitor center.
“They broke the dialogue table and betrayed us,” Pablo Euán Ken, a local leader, told reporters, describing a meeting on Monday that descended into chaos. He says that while community representatives were inside negotiating with INAH officials, police and National Guard troops were outside, erecting three-meter-high fences to seal off their traditional access point.
“It was a stab in the back,” Euán Ken added.
‘A Slab of Concrete’
At the heart of the conflict is the new Centro de Atención a Visitantes (CATVI)—a modern welcome center built as part of the federal government’s flagship Tren Maya (Maya Train) project. Inaugurated in March 2025, the CATVI was designed to be the new main gateway to Chichén Itzá, funneling tourists from the nearby Maya Train station through its doors, past a new museum, and toward the Sacred Cenote.
But for the hundreds of Maya artisans, guides, and food vendors who have sold their wares at the site for decades, the CATVI represents an existential threat. They have refused to relocate there, describing the new spaces as cramped and unworkable. “The place has no trees, it’s just a slab of concrete,” one artisan told local media. More importantly, it sits several kilometers from their current spots, cutting them off from the natural flow of foot traffic they rely on to feed their families.
“The intention is to displace us from our place of work,” representatives from the Maya communities of Pisté and Telchaquillo told the newspaper La Jornada in April, calling the CATVI a potential “white elephant” built without their consent.
By Monday night, the community had had enough. After news spread that the old access road was being blocked, dozens of residents from Pisté and surrounding villages mobilized. They tore down the fences, reopened the road, and took control of the site.
On Tuesday morning, they allowed tourists to enter for free, a direct challenge to INAH’s authority. Official social media accounts for Chichén Itzá insisted the site was closed for routine maintenance, but locals mocked the claim. “They are closing it because of our mobilizations,” residents commented on INAH’s posts.
The Indigenous Government Council of Pisté issued a blistering statement accusing the state government of “an act of betrayal,” noting that the fences went up while dialogue was ongoing. “We already had everything ready for the agreement to be signed for the benefit of the Maya people,” the council wrote.
A Familiar Face and a History of Broken Promises
Anger is particularly focused on a single figure: Diego Prieto. Until July 2025, Prieto was the director of INAH. Now, he serves as the head of a new federal cultural office. For the vendors, his presence at the negotiation table is seen as a provocation. They accuse him of offering money to convince them to leave their ancestral territory, a charge of using state funds to divide the community.
The current conflict at Chichén Itzá is not new. Similar protests erupted in January 2023 and again in April 2026, when artisans marched to the foot of El Castillo pyramid, demanding to stay. In September 2023, communities from Pisté and Xcalakoop filed legal amparos (injunctions) against INAH, accusing the institute of discrimination and of failing to guarantee their rights. On that occasion, the communities requested that INAH be ordered to “guarantee their right to equality and non-discrimination”.
For now, the path forward is unclear in Chichén Itzá. INAH has not said when the site might reopen officially. But the people of Pisté are adamant. “We don’t want anything for free,” Gladis Uc, an artisan leader, told La Jornada last month. “We just want them to respect our right to work with dignity, as we have done for all these years”.
With information from La Jornada Maya.