Luis Rubio

The first vacation I remember was at the then new Oaxtepec Center of the Mexican Social Security Institute, a paradise in the state of Morelos that had just been inaugurated by the outgoing President of Mexico. There was a block of rooms for guests where we stayed and practically all of the rest of the center was still under construction or semi-abandoned. Notwithstanding this, at the entrance there was an enormous plaque commemorating the inauguration that, surely, had been only one of many Pharaonic acts that are a fixation of our political class: what is important is not the result but the intention. That malady can be appreciated in everything around us, for example, the preference for “great” reforms instead of solutions to little problems that, oftentimes, are more important and transcendent, albeit accompanied by less bogus applause.

Of course, epic reforms that can transform sectors, activities and lives are necessary for creating new conditions for the functioning of the economy, the development of society or the adoption of novel ways to solve problems. A country with such timeworn forms, structures and institutions (that were never designed to be adaptable or for transformation and development but for control and pillage) evidently requires many reforms of the most diverse nature. However, although some of the reforms of the last decades have produced great benefits, many have got stuck due to the haste with which they were conceived –and the purchasing of votes in the Legislative Branch-, which limit their capacity to delivering their entire potential. Above all, because of the manner of advancing the reforms, they tend to alienate rather than connect with the population.

Perhaps the weightiest of the absences in the reform processes has been the lack of social agreement with respect to their goodness or, even, the need for the latter. The reforms are evidently necessary, but what matters is not hanging an engraved nameplate (in the figurative sense) of the reform but that the reform gets underway and benefits the citizenry. There are countries, like India, where the negotiating process is arduous and complex because it involves all kinds of parties, groups and interests, but once a settlement is reached, the obstacles have been removed. Contrariwise, in China reforms are implemented from the seat of power. What is interesting here is that, beyond the method, in both nations reforms have been achieved that not only benefit the population, but have met with its approval. Our case has been very distinct.

Mexico has made many reforms, some ambitious and profound but, only exceptionally, has there has been the least attempt to join with the population or convince it of their potential benefits, even in the long term. The boons of many of those reforms are evident in the lower real prices (after inflation) of innumerable products, in the increased availability of high-quality goods and in general, in better life levels for the lower-income population.  However, in contrast with China and India, in Mexico pessimism and malaise abound.

My impression is that the differences lies in a very concrete factor: in addition to great reforms and with multidimensional impact, in those nations there has been the understanding that it is necessary to tend to matters that appear little but that are the ones that afflict the population day to day and that have permitted perceptions to improve swiftly. For a homemaker it can be difficult to perceive that the shoes that her children wear cost less in constant pesos, because in current pesos they cost more.   However, her perception would change radically if suddenly, a person had access to an IMSS (social security) physician in less than thirty minutes, instead of having to wait hours, and sometimes months, to be treated. Something similar could be said about public transportation: on any given morning one can observe the torrents of people arriving from places like Chalco or Ecatepec to work in Mexico City, a process to which they devote up to three and four hours every day. Resolving these problems that the population suffers through may seem like something minor, but it is much more important for the ordinary person than the “great” reforms.

How long have we been discussing public insecurity without having defined the character of the problem? Rather than recognizing the momentousness of the problem and identifying its causes, politicians strive for solutions –such as the single chain of command- that they do not recognize such simple causes, for example, as the hugely rampant corruption in the State Police. That is, instead of understanding the extraordinary and disruptive impact of insecurity on families and the daily lives of the population and the urgency of seeing to the phenomenon, those who pretend that they are “governing” seek control of municipal presidents and the population in general.

The point is that solutions are required for improving everyday life and that is much more important, and often many times over, than all the extremely consequential reforms put together. Of course, one is not a substitute for the other, but the absence of those little things helps to explain in great measure the reason that the current government is so unpopular: the worst is not only the absence of solutions, but the lofty contempt from on high.

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@lrubiof

Luis Rubio

We Mexicans have witnessed a myriad of reforms in all orders and many of these have transformed the country, in the economic as well as in political ambit; this has created opportunities for transcending toward the development, that were inconceivable in the seventies and the beginning of the eighties when the old world collapsed and the viability of the economy as well as that of the post-revolutionary system had clearly given its all. What the reforms did not solve, nor did they even propose to address, was the constitution of a new system of government, coherent with the consequences which the very reform processes brought about with them.

That is, on modifying the bases of decision making in economic matters (above all with the liberalization of imports and investments) and of the manner of access to the power (with the electoral reforms), the political reality of the country was altered -the very entrails of the power- but nothing was done to institutionalize those new realities and power sources. Even less was done to modernize the system of government that, in its essence, was created at the end of the 19^th century, under Porfirio Díaz. So many and such profound reforms have not changed a fundamental thing: the power structure.

The political parties and the political class have done a juggling act and played musical chairs, but the same have ended up continuing to bask in the system of privileges. The way of acceding power has been reformed but not who accedes to it; that is, these have been reforms for the benefit of the political parties and the political class: the citizenry has been absent from the scene and their problems and demands, although known in these ambits, are not recognized as valid or relevant. Yes, there is prodigious insecurity and violence, but what can we do; yes, there is rampant corruption, but it is something cultural; the infrastructure is of the worst kind, yes, but we are attempting to find a competent contractor to address it.

After decades of reform, it is unmistakable that a reform to make the country functional and viable will not derive from those who do not want that reform. If it is not going to come from there, could it come from the society?

In a recent investigation on this phenomenon, I applied myself to the study of what the society has been doing while the politicians pretend they are governing. What I found is an immense social effervescence: a society that is no longer willing to wait, essentially because it has no choice but to deal with the insecurity that is its reality.

The Mexican society has appropriated an uncustomary militancy over the last decades. All types of civil organizations have come into being, accusations are presented, manifestos proliferate and discontent grows. There are organizations that propose solutions, others that evaluate the government; some denounce corruption, others engage in combating delinquency and criminality. Some of these entities are the product of specific circumstances or events –an abduction, a murder, the construction of a new airport-, others respond to more general concerns. Some seek immediate impact, other a long-term one.  Many of these organizations are not visible, other are permanent protagonists. There is some of everything in the public arena.

Much more transcendent, and revealing, is the manner in which innumerable communities, in all nooks and crannies of the country, have organized themselves to attend to their most basic needs, the needs that, in a serious nation, would have been seen to by the government. There are extraordinary examples of communities that, as in Cheran, Michoacán, have taken the initiative, above all in matters of violence and criminality, and have taken it upon themselves to safeguard their localities and convert them into territory where the entry of bands of criminals is not permitted. In Santiago Ixcuintla, the story is distinct, but the result is similar: in this municipality in the state of Nayarit there has not been a sole abduction in more than six years. In Monterrey, Sister Consuelo Morales of the CADHAC human rights league has achieved the adoption by the Attorney’s Office of a model for more efficient work by the public prosecutors; in the states of Veracruz and Morelos (Tetelcingo) the families of missing persons have come together as groups, have trained themselves in forensics (women who have become experts in DNA and forensic samples) and in the search for clandestine grave sites. In some cases, the authorities have accompanied them in their efforts. These are mere examples of the thousands of stories that proliferate throughout the entire country: years of violence and criminality have forced the population to stop hoping that the government will respond and they have organized themselves to attend to their community needs.

It’s impossible to conclude from these few examples that the country is at the brink of a grand scale transformation. The obstacles for such a feat are immense and the capacity to organize and mobilize is obviously limited; however, nothing impedes that, little by little elements or organizations will arise that catalyze these initiatives and change the political reality of the country. This plainly offers obvious opportunities to the traditional mountebanks, but also to social organizations with a national presence.

What is beyond question to me is that the country will change when individuals and organizations of very distinct origins join together despite their differences and, then, take the step that the old system persisted for decades in rendering impossible.

www.cidac.org
@lrubiof

Revista R – REFORMA – July 09, 2017

The dilemma is as follows: evidencing the corruption and impunity or tackling them. This is not wordplay but a political standpoint. In a hypothetical scenario, it would be possible to differentiate between those that propose or emphasize one type of action over the other, according to their perception on what is possible. Those that are sure of the prevailing decay, tend to be activists and prefer public scandals as a way to create a breeding ground to tackle the core issue. On the other hand, those that know the insides of the beast know very well that there are endless mechanisms, all of them perfectly established and renowned, which make corruption possible. The former are political activists; the latter tend to be auditors, managers and pragmatic politicians. The decision on how to face this issue is deeply political and entails real consequences in everyday life of both society as well as politics.

Let us start with the obvious: everything in the country seems designed for corruption to flourish. The institutional rules are defined in such an ambiguous and discretional manner that it is always possible to unmercifully punish a perfectly legitimate and adequate action when it is convenient for a given politician. In brief, corruption is not a product of chance but of an implicit design that makes it possible and everlasting. If it is to be eliminated, the rules that enable it ought to be modified. On the other hand, if the goal is political, corruption will not end: as suggested by the examples in this chapter, it will simply continue to mutate.

Regarding corruption, the relevant question is not moral but practical. If assuming that there is an equal number of honest and dishonest individuals, then the key is not the people but the environment and institutions that limit their acts. If this was not the case, we would have to accept that the morals of an individual determine the possibilities of corruption of an activity or public post and we would immediately fall in the lack of definition that a lot of PRI members referred to when they said: “do not give me anything. Just put me where everything is”. It is obvious that the issue is not about morality but opportunity. The question is what creates the opportunity of corruption.

Corruption flourishes under two evident conditions: darkness and discretionary powers. When there is no transparency and clarity on the processes taking place in a specific state or region, its public officers have plenty of opportunities to take advantage of the situation. In other words, the existence of decision spaces that are not subject to public scrutiny becomes an opportunity for dishonest public officers to use the circumstance in their benefit or that of their cronies. A similar thing occurs when the legislation or regulations ruling the functioning of a public company or a government entity grants their workers with discretionary powers so vast that they enable all kinds of interpretation when making a decision. That way, when authorities have the power of approving or rejecting a petition, permit or acquisition without a scrupulous analysis or procedure and without having to provide any kind of explanation, then the possibility of incurring  in situations of corruption is endless. In addition, this possibility is increased when there are no sanctions for violating the regulations (including, for example, the lack of transparency, even if it’s enshrined by law).

The point is that corruption does not emerge from a vacuum.  The rules that regulate the decision-making process are the ones that create or prevent the existence of opportunities for corruption. If this is blatantly obvious, then the way to end corruption is with the rules of the game (whether it is in the judicial framework or in the way decisions are made) that will make arbitrariness impossible: that is to say, that they provide the authorities with the necessary, but no so ample, discretionary powers, that will entail a substantial change in regulation.

There are four ways in which it would be possible, at least in principle, to break the vicious circle of corruption and impunity in Mexico. The first is by ending the incipient democracy that the country has been experiencing. This is precisely what President Putin did in Russia: in only a few months, he ended the direct election of Governors and returned to the old system of centralized appointments; later on, he cornered the Parliament, limited the opposition and took control of the internal processes. By recentralizing power, the Russian President built new institutions, strengthened the police forces and obtained a widespread popular support. Although the current Russia is nothing like the old communist system, the democratic system of the eighties was quickly vanished; and, not least importantly, these actions had popular support.

A second avenue for tackling the problem is modifying the power structure that lives off the ambiguity inherent to all of the political system, an ambiguity that favors ample discretionary powers and which border in complete arbitrariness. If Mexicans truly wanted to end corruption and impunity, this would be the best alternative.

A third idea for breaking the vicious circle is to change the power apparatus, ceding, in altruistic fashion its sources of power and financing. As this will not occur, the question is whether society can force a change within the power structure. That was my proposal in A Mexican Utopia, where I argued that the President should lead this change, albeit knowing it would not happen. In fact, in the following book, The Problem of Power, I analyzed why that was an impossible task: given the structure of interests and privileges in the country, the notion of attempting a transformation “from within” was quite naïve.

A fourth line of action, subscribed by a large group of activists, is often based on publicly displaying the issues rather than analyzing them.  Its goal is not to change – amend, correct or solve the problems – but change the system altogether. Indeed, there is a growing number of organizations dedicated to constructing institutional solutions in aspects such as transparency and accountability but they are the exception: the line that separates the institutions that base their work in a serious analysis and propose solutions from those led by activists advocating exposing and fighting cases that they consider, without analyzing, to be examples of corruption, is a thin one. Generally, activists base their activities in the abuse of information and they follow precooked political agendas in their protests and publications. Some of those that follow this line of action have a clear goal, others think that public scandal is an acceptable way to carry out the necessary changes. In any case, the problem of this strategy is that it is based on the principle that it is not possible to change or improve the current system but that it is necessary to eliminate it. This way, either consciously or not, it’s about political movements rather than projects dedicated to tackling the current problems within the available institutional frameworks.

These four alternatives ask the obvious question of whether the change in the country can come from society. The evidence suggests that, for whichever reason, some discussed before, Mexican society has shown severe limitations in its ability to lead transformative processes; some polls commissioned by Mexico’s National Electoral Institute[i] even suggest that this society is particularly passive, although, with time, nothing prevents this passivity from changing, especially with a growing perception of freedom and a bigger appearance of corruption. Rather, activists have become more important due to the lack of a society that is willing and capable of organizing and acting on its own. Thus, there remains the key disquisition on how can society make its own rights worthy in an era of competition and democratization. It is not a trivial dilemma.

The Mexican political system was built to pacify the country and to reward the winners of the Revolution. The system that emerged from it achieved both goals but had the effect of being frozen in time, preventing its natural evolution, in pace with the growth and development of both society as well as the economy. Corruption, impunity, informality and other problems mentioned in this chapter are symptoms of a political and legal system specifically designed to favor certain sectors of society, to pick winners (and, unavoidably, losers) and, thus, became a structural obstacle to the existence of strong, independent and permanent institutions. That is to say, in the heart of the arbitrariness that makes corruption and impunity possible – and needed – lies a power structure benefitting from it and which sees no reason to alter the established order.

The Mexican society has reached the conclusion that corruption and impunity are the two great evils that cause violence, unproductivity and discomfort. There is no doubt that these phenomena have changed Mexican society and have granted it with a sense of militancy and restlessness that did not previously exist. The question is whether these elements could become a catalyst to transform society and turn into a real factor for political change in Mexico.

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Luis Rubio

“Politics”, wrote the great and irrepressible comedian, Groucho Marx, “is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly and applying the wrong remedies.” The problem in Mexico does not lie in the elections, the vote, the alliances, the single command, the second round, the “opposing front,” the corruption or the reelection of legislators, but in the capacity of the political class –the extended one, including all of the parties that, since 1996, comprise part of the world of privilege- to preserve the status quo. That is, the true problem is that there is no disposition in the least to change the existing reality by those with the power to not change anything. Those who followed the last elections in the State of Mexico or in Coahuila could conclude nothing other than that the problem does not reside in the electoral procedure but in the essence of the political system itself.

Perhaps there is no better way to describe the phenomenon characterizing the debate (read conglomeration of monologues) during recent months than that which recounts the old PANist saying: “Don’t have any illusions, then no one will be disillusioned.” For some strange reason, the notion has emerged that the country’s political problems can be reduced to unbalanced electoral processes that lead to useful-vote calculations and to the absence of legislative majorities that allow whoever is governing at the time to get away with his or her preferences. That is to say, the problem, in this characterization, is that the citizenry is stupid and that, instead of their expressing their inclinations, they should be led by persons who better understand how the problems of the country should be solved.

Decades of observing the national political dynamic have taught me at least three things: first, that there are no magic solutions and that problems are not solved with the adoption of superficial responses that do not deal with the core problem. The second round, or runoff, is all of that:  a magic solution, a fetish, because it would appear to respond to the problematic of the moment, but does not strike at the quintessence: it supposes that all of the players in the game are honest and that they play by the rules. The latest batch of elections demonstrate that this is a fallacy and that political change on a much grander scale is necessary for the power relationships themselves to be altered because therein lies, at the end of the game, the phenomenon perpetuating the status quo.

The second learning is that Mexico lives in two worlds: that of debate, discussion and easy solutions, on the one hand, and that of power on the other. The one discusses, analyzes and advocates -honestly so- for solutions to the problems of the day. The other stands guard over the status quo. There may be no better example of this that the legislation apropos of the reelection of legislators. The basic concept underlying reelection consists of placing the legislator in greater proximity to the citizen whom they (supposedly) represent. However, at the time of approving the respective law a “small” prerequisite was incorporated into the latter in order for a legislator to be reelected: procuring the backing of the party leadership. With that “minor” restriction, the defenders of the status quo and of immobility trimmed down the link that rendered reelection relevant and useful; the result will be that we will have legislators for life without their ever having acquired the endorsement of the citizenry. It is most likely that something similar would take place with the second round.

The third learning is that all of the actors are engaged in a perverse game. Opinion writers, analysts and critics propose solutions, but thereafter cling to myths, magic solutions and fixations that do not solve the problems at the core. On their part, the owners of the power accept the recommendations and subsequently generate solutions that do not attend to the real problem. Some hold fast to their interpretation of the problem, others undermine the viability of the tendered proposal. The fantastic part is that myths are engendered that serve to elude the problem at heart. The beneficiaries will celebrate, as occurred after the elections a few weeks back, while the critics embark upon the next fetish.

The heart of this issue is quite clear: the problem is not the form in which the elections are held, although there one can appreciate -in living Technicolor- the symptoms of the political-electoral chaos into which the country has fallen, but rather in the power monopoly that has had the capacity of paralyzing everything, making the electoral processes irrelevant and corrupting the Legislative Branch. From that perspective, we can go on changing all the laws we want, promoting modifications to the law in electoral matters or press for “coalition cabinets,” but none of these is going to alter the essence of the status quo. And that is the pivotal matter:  the problem is not one of laws or of forms, but of the divorce between those who govern and those who suffer them. And that translates into absence of government.

Over the last several years we have witnessed the renaissance of the vision of the government controlling everything that could not be less concerned with the sensibility of the citizenry, the vision that believes that it can manipulate the vote and impose itself on the choices of the citizens. In this the current government is not distinct from its main challenger: both live in the Mexico of the 1960–1970s.

Mexico will change the day that the society, and its opinion makers, join in unison to modify the essence and not only the symptoms. All the rest is illusion.

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Luis Rubio

The majority of arguments in favor of the second electoral round or runoff in Mexico are sustained on a fallacy of Mexico’s realpolitik, while simultaneously ignoring one of the reasons why the second round could be a significant solution: everything depends on the question that is being addressed. The fallacy resides in the notion that a legislative majority guarantees governance; the opportunity lies in the elimination of the incentives that today propitiate grotesque campaigns such as the most recent one that characterized the state of Mexico.

The most frequently claim brandished for the second round is that of obtaining legislative majorities that permit governing. However, President Peña demonstrated that the existence of a legislative majority is not a necessary condition: all of his reforms were approved by a coalition of legislators of various parties, nearly always with the integral vote of the (then) three most prominent political forces. That was not achieved thanks to a keen and convincing substantive debate, but rather to a costly but successful “spending spree,” old style legislative vote buying. That is, in Mexico’s reality, skillful, power-oriented politicians find it easy to build legislative majorities.

In the recent elections we were able to appreciate an enormous distortion of our much-buffeted democracy: we have a Rolls Royce electoral system, including a governing council and the office of electoral fraud, that does not get its hands dirty with even the suggestion of a formal complaint, but a reality of dirt roads full of potholes and mafias in their stomping grounds on which campaigns are waged. This terrain is fertile for the proliferation of strategies geared to provoking fear, lies, manipulation and intimidation that procure the generation of a vote that is useful for preserving the status quo. The clash of the reality on earth and the easy life at the higher echelons of the National Electoral Institute (INE) is flagrant, nullifying the supposed arbiter and engendering incentives to protest.

From this perspective, for the purists of the electoral system and the promoters of the second round of elections, the country’s core problem lies in “a democracy without democrats,” that is, a dysfunctionality that has led the parties to systematic abuse, to approve laws that they know they will break, to take no heed of campaign expense limits and, in a word, to behold the government as spoils of war and not as a responsibility. That is, the problem is one of culture.

Years ago, the political scientist Guillermo Trejo evidenced the fallacy of this argument: “The functioning of democracies is a problem of effective institutions. Cooperation and governmental efficiency are not the product of individual virtues, but instead of a system of checks and balances that provides incentives for the good functioning of State institutions. The problem is not finding a Mexican Roosevelt, Churchill, Mandela, or Adolfo Suárez. Madison knew it: ‘If men were angels, no type of government would be necessary.’ But since no society is governed by angels, but by men and women with interests and passions, the Federalists devised an effective formula: institutional arrangements to oppose human ambitions. The formula is simple:  rather than await the advent of great statesmen, the objective is to provide incentives so that those in government, even the worst of the ruffians, will guarantee the Rule of Law and be accountable, for the sake of their own interests.  It is not, then, a problem of wills, as we are prone to saying, but one of incentives. It’s not Freud, it’s Madison”.

Therefore, unless another electoral reform is undertaken that does not lead to solving the problems of Mexico’s reality, the key question is what is required to develop incentives that favor different behaviors.  The fundamental problem is not that our politicians are oblivious to the problem, but that they do not see why a system that has been so good to them should change. Consequently, the issue is one of power: the society versus the privileged individuals of the political system.

It has been forty years since the first electoral reform and we still have not achieved the construction of a political system capable of delivering the obvious and essential: proper governance and accountability. In France, the Fourth Republic made its appearance after the Second World War, in 1946, but it turned out to be dysfunctional. In contrast with our politicians, the French decided to devote themselves to correcting the errors of that system and in 1958 they inaugurated the Fifth Republic, which has ruled them ever since. If we were to copy one of their mechanisms (the runoff), we should perhaps understand the context within which it was built and the full scaffolding that integrates it.

The only reason why I believe that a second round might make sense is that it would eliminate the benefit, thus the incentive, to manipulate, buy votes, fabricate surveys and attempt to promote or castigate candidates in the interest of inducing voters to abandon their preferred choice in favor of (or against) the party-in-power, the so-called “useful vote.” When there are two rounds, the campaigns are cleaner, the parties seek to obtain the maximal vote possible and there is no benefit for negative campaigns.  The second round can solve this problem, but not all of the problems. Everything depends on the incentives.

The key question ends up being what the citizenry can do to change the incentives of the politicians.

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@lrubiof

Luis Rubio

Any solution must always address a specific problem. However, one of the peculiarities of Mexico’s political life rests on the propensity to turn into mantra half cooked ideas that do not necessarily respond to the problem that needs addressing. Such is the case in the presidential elections’ second round or runoff.

The runoff in France was the product of two rounds of reform after the Second World War -the Fourth and Fifth Republics-, which resulted in a process of trial and error regarding the specific conditions of that country. Copying the mechanism does not guarantee that the problems that Mexico faces will be solved.

The political reform of 1977 had a precise, specific and clearly defined objective: it sought to incorporate into the world of institutions a segment of political life that, for decades, had existed under the cloak of clandestine life. On not engaging in formal participation in the political institutional framework, diverse forces of the Left had become radicalized: some had opted for the guerilla path and, even, terrorism. The objective of the reform was, in consequence, very clear and very simple: to bring into the fore, and to legitimacy within a formal political existence, all those forces living in the underground. The reform was a great success.

The electoral reform of 1996 was more diffuse because it attempted to solve diverse problems at one and the same time. On the one hand it endeavored to create consensual and transparent mechanisms of access to power. On the other hand, it procured the creation of conditions for a political transition, that is, for an eventual defeat of the PRI. There does not necessarily have to be a contradiction between these two purposes, but the reform only solved the first part of the equation, giving rise to the Federal Electoral Institute (IFE) and establishing rules for the political parties to interact compete and entertain the same possibility of acceding to power.

What that reform did not solve, as is patent today, twenty years later,  was the structure of the government: it did not occur to any of the parties -government and political forces- that a change in the rules of access to power could be enormously disruptive to daily life, for example, in security matters.  Likewise, it was not considered that the country had maintained its (declining) stability thanks to the centralization of power in the presidency and that, when the PRI was defeated, that power concentration would disappear, engendering a crisis of governance.

What we are faced with at present is a chaotic situation in security, absence of checks and balances, above all at the state and local levels, and the inexistence of institutional mechanisms to make public officials accountable. That is, we have a governability crisis: what there is does not serve to solve the problems currently afflicting the country, ranging as they do from security to the regulation of the economy.

In addition to the latter, since 2006, Mexico has undergone a grave (and paradoxical) problem of legitimacy. Approximately one third of the electorate does not recognize the legitimacy of the electoral results, despite the exceptional solidity and professionalism of the administration of the elections and of the mechanisms of conflict resolution. The obvious question is: What would happen if the candidate favored by that crowd fails to join the second round? Unless one were certain that the legitimacy problem would end, the second round would not solve this essential problem.

In this manner, we have two problems and now a magic solution. Advocates of a runoff argue that the second electoral round will solve all the problems and that, on adopting it, we would enter into a political nirvana. However, the second round comprises a possible solution to a problem, not to all of the problems. Thus, it is indispensible to define what the problem is whose solution is quested after. The political reforms of 1977 to date have attempted to solve the problems of the political parties, but not the one about 99% of Mexicans who daily experience the consequences of the dreadful system of government.

The second round deals with the problem of perception: a triumph with 29% of the votes is not the same as one with 51%. If the problem is one of legitimacy –that is, of the acceptance of the electoral result by all Mexicans (and the certainty that this stands for all)- then the second round is the most fitting response.  On the other hand, if the problem is one of the institutionalization of power –that is, of establishing counterweights to future presidents so that they, by such means, are unable to act capriciously, and making the Congress accountable to the citizenry- then the second round may or may not form part of the solution, but it would have to include many other elements. In one word, there is no magic solution or silver bullet.

On the other hand, if the problem is one of governance, solving it should be the objective. The incipient Mexican democracy finds itself in problems because it has an electoral system that is much more advanced than the system of government.  It is urgent for Mexico to undertake a reform of the government so that the elected officials work for the citizenry, solve the problems and create conditions for development. None of that is of an electoral nature, nor would it be fixed by a runoff. It is imperative to start by defining the problem well. Will continue.

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Luis Rubio

 From “perfect dictatorship” Mexico became the “imperfect democracy.” Over the last decades, the old system collapsed but did not disappear: while today there are regularly held elections that are impeccable in their operation and management (independently of one of the candidates and his party disputing them), Mexico´s government is far from being functional, effective and at the service of the citizenry. The consequences of this new reality are tangible.

The old system gradually lost its capacity of control fundamentally as a result of its own success in pacifying the country after the Revolution and establishing the bases for growth. High growth rates throughout various decades (1940s–1960s) generated enormous differentiation in Mexican society, extraordinary urban growth and the development of professions, universities and all types of factors that, in time, emerged as incompatible with the old system of control. Little by little, Mexican society was freeing up spaces in the face of centralized power control, weakening the traditional structures that, additionally, proved excessively rigid for it to adjust and adapt.

One must not lose sight of that the system was created to appease the country and to establish an institutionalized process of decision making after the feat of the Revolution. The mechanism of attraction –the carrot- for the leaderships that were incorporated into the new organization was the promise of access to power and/or wealth through the system; the cost of being incorporated consisted of relinquishing freedom of operation outside of the system, given that belonging to the new Party -PRI’s grandfather- entailed acceptance of the system’s “unwritten” rules whose essence comprised submission to the presidential power. The system was so effective in terms of compliance with its discipline that Mexico engendered a caste of affluent and powerful politicians as a result of their appertaining to the exclusive club. The so-called “Revolutionary Family” took care of its own and compensated them generously.

The presidency of Carlos Salinas was illustrative of the incentives found: a modernizer president, the only statesman that we living Mexicans have known (in terms of constructing a long-term, visionary, development project, affecting important interests along the way), dedicated himself to transforming the foundations of the country’s economy with the objective of raising its growth rate. Innumerable reforms followed in matters of foreign trade, in addition to the privatization of enterprises that were up to that point state-owned, such as telephony, television and the banking system. Reforms in economic matters were ambitious and thoroughgoing but, at the same time, limited because of the ulterior objective that, while not explicit, was nonetheless obvious: it procured elevating the growth rate of the economy to avoid a political change, that is, loss of control of the system and the benefits that the latter bestowed on its beneficiaries. The price of that duality came to be evident in the crisis of 1995 and has yet to be eradicated.

The era of Salinas coincided with that of Gorbachev in the Soviet Union: both presided over reformist moments in their countries. Gorbachev headed a process of political liberalization (Glasnost) that he conceived as necessary to bring about the economic transformation (Perestroika) possible. The outcome was that Gorbachev lost power and the Soviet system collapsed. In that context, Salinas, a keen observer of what was occurring in those latitudes, concentrated on economic reforms, even though these were limited in view of the political conditioning. The consequence was two-fold: on the one hand, the reforms sowed the seeds of a new economy, competitive and productive, but one limited in its reach, leaving an immense number of Mexicans in the old industry, distant from modernization processes and with very low productivity levels. On the other hand, in one of the ironies of history, that of Mexico as well as that of Russia, each in its own manner and its own historic tradition, eventually rebuilt part of their old political systems.

The relevant fact was that the Mexican economy underwent a profound transformation but not a generalized one; by the same token, the old political class, much of which opposed the reforms of these decades, has pursued a gradual but systematic process of re-concentration of power, guided to a greater extent by nostalgia of the old system than by a new political model or an economic alternative. The question is, Can this change?

There are innumerable signs of extraordinary effervescence throughout Mexico. In some cases, groups of women have risen to eradicate narco traffickers from their towns; in others, entire communities have organized to search for their disappeared relatives, victims of the violence of the last years. There are many more examples of citizen mobilization than one would imagine from the outside. However, it isn’t obvious that from these cases a serious, systematic capacity to exact change could emerge, but that is probably the only opportunity Mexico will have to break away, in an institutional, non violent way, from the obstacles that today keep the population in such state of anxious unease.

* Extract from the book: A World of Opportunities http://bit.ly/2supStM

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Luis Rubio

Everyone assumes that the president will have the possibility of imposing the candidate of his preference to the presidency, as if nothing had changed in Mexico and in the world during these last decades, but especially since PRI’s defeat in 2000. The old system began to deteriorate -and produced endless crises- not because of the capacity or incapacity of individuals, but rather due to that the system conceived after the Revolution had become already incompatible with a modern, big and demanding country. Now, after the pathetic electoral result of last week -it just got through by the skin of its teeth and with an enormous conflict brewing-, the mere pretense of being able to decide on a candidate from the lofty heights of the presidency seems ludicrous. As Marx remarked, history repeats itself, the first time as tragedy, then as farce. In the face of this scenario, perhaps there is no more important question for the upcoming 12 months -and, likely, for the next decade- than the way the PRIists will act.

The history of the PRI is the history of being handpicked by the President (the dedazo), of the concentration of power –of unipersonal power-, of peace exacted from the center and from vertical control. That is the model that President Peña has attempted to create anew during these years, but its unviability has been the result of the new political, -as well as social, economic and technological – reality that characterizes Mexico and the XXI century. Today’s PRI is no longer that of before, because Mexico has changed and the control systems of latter day produce only confusion and then chaos.

The new panorama, just one year prior to the ensuing presidential elections, is not encouraging for such an unpopular government and, above all, for such a sensitive and delicate moment, both internally as well as externally. It is not only the anger of the populace, the criminality that the politicians ignore and disdain or the poor economic performance for an enormous number of Mexicans, but also the evidence of corruption and the flagrant impunity. It is not obvious that these circumstances are distinct from those of the past, but the perceptions indeed are. As David Konzevik says, “the poor are currently rich in information and millionaires in expectations.” For whatever reason, the PRI that is gearing up for next year’s presidential contest is not living its best moments.

The problem of the PRI is certainly nothing new, but the present government has made it worse. To begin with, it has alienated the PRI base: the governing coalition includes essentially politicians from the State of Mexico and excludes practically everyone else, a situation that has riled up PRIists left and right. In second place, perhaps the most impacting trademark that distinguished the PRI has disappeared: its discipline -almost Leninist in nature- in the quest for power. In the 2015 elections, for example, the government played against the PRI in a palace intrigue but with unmistakable consequences for the party. Third, so distant from the reality has it become that it lost itself in petty tactics to fragment the electorate, ending up becoming the finest promoter of its Nemesis, the Morena -i.e. Lopez Obrador’s- political party.

Wherever one looks, the government has turned into a headache for the PRI itself. It is under these conditions that the PRI Party Assembly next August draws nearer. Given the performance of the government and of the party, everything heralds an enormous rebellion among the PRIists, a rebellion against the government or, more specifically, one about how will the new presidential candidate be nominated and by means of which mechanism or criterion. That is, a mutiny against being tapped by the President’s finger.

A rebellion does not have to imply shouts or blows of necessity, but it can entail a radical transformation of the Mexican political system and therein lies its transcendence and complexity. Transcendence because the system that prevails in governing us, the one that Plutarco Elías Calles built employing as his model -Roger Hansen would say- Porfirio Diaz, remains essentially the same despite the immense transformation that the country (and the world) has experienced in the last century; that is, an anachronism. On the other hand, the complexity of a rebellion such as the one I anticipate resides in that some of the “rebels” would seek to preserve the old system and its privileges, but without the dysfunctionality that the presidential imposition of a candidate entails. In other words, they want to have their cake and eat it too. Others, however, probably a minority, would be promoting a radical reform of the system.

There are to come, consequently, complex months during which the foundations could be set in place for the reconfiguration of the old political system or for its final collapse. Anything is possible, above all because it is easy to start a rebellion, but much more difficult to control its outcome: once it starts, nobody knows how it will end. In a scenario like this, the PRIists would have in their hands the opportunity to create conditions for the construction of a new political system (and initiating the funeral rites of the old one), or to generate chaos by attempting to preserve the privileges without economic or political viability. The difference would be found in who or, rather, what wins: the edification of a novel institutional structure that the country badly needs, or the attempt to preserve, but under new rules, the world of corruption, privilege and impunity that has been the house insignia from the outset.

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Luis Rubio

Mexico has spent decades confronting the past with the future without wanting to break with the former to decidedly embrace the latter. The situation is overwhelming and particularly visible in the interminable collection of governmental actions oriented toward pretending to change without there being any change.

In the two ambits in which politico-governmental activism has been greatest in the last decades -the electoral and the economic-trade- the country has been characterized by enormous reforms with relatively poor results. I doubt whether there are many countries in the world that have undergone so many electoral reforms in so few years and, despite an extraordinarily exemplary and professional system, emulated around the world, we continue to live through an uncontainable electoral dispute and, above all, one of credibility, whenever there are elections. In the economy, the country has striven to orchestrate trade agreements all over the world and has carried out ambitious reforms that never end being thoroughly implemented.

It would not be exaggerated to affirm that, thanks to the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and the job opportunities that U.S. economy contributed for decades, the Mexican political class has not had to change its customs or diminish its privileges. While the average economic performance has been, to say the least, mediocre, it has been sufficient to keep the ship afloat. In the political arena, the many electoral reforms have not changed the nature of party interaction, although they have made it much more complex: rivers of money continue to flow, outgoing governments and the Federal Government persist in manipulating the results and the elected positions continue to be sources for the acquisition of wealth, not for good government. All these reforms have failed to produce an effective system of government, as illustrated by the security crisis.

Another way of saying this is that the country goes on living in the past while paying homage to the future. Deidre McCloskey expressed this idea in a most revealing way: “The Left and the Right join in opposing the future: the one because it is not a planned future, and the other because it is not identical to the past.” The future that everyone promises ends up being a mirage because no one has the least intention of building it.

Today, Election Day, it is necessary to reflect on the candidates’ promises vis-à-vis the lags, lacks, problems and gaps that persist and that are the product of a past that created them but that is incapable of solving them. How can these two realities, these two sides of the same coin, be reconciled?

Historically, Mexico has been the spoils of war –to steal or to construct another, future, post, but the spoils nonetheless- for the parties and the politicians, begging the question of whether the ongoing and unstoppable exercise of postponing solutions is sustainable. That is, although the economy has grown at a rhythm of more or less 2% in recent decades, that number, like any average, conceals more than it reveals. Some states and regions grow at almost Asian rates while others contract. The potential for social conflict in the latter is infinite and, in many senses, constant. Despite this, governments come and governments go but the lags –and their consequences- linger on.

The worlds of the past and of the future do not communicate, but one depends on the other and it is there that governmental activity clashes. The problems of the past -insecurity, poor education, lousy infrastructure, absence of authority- impede the future from being built, a future that would require conditions for individuals to be able to develop their capacities to the maximum. It should appear obvious that it is necessary to deal with the past for it to be possible to construct the future, but that obviousness is not within the terrain of governmental action because that would imply undermining vested interests: insecurity or poor education can be solved, but the solution involves corralling the political groups, unions and, in general, interests beholden to, and benefitting from, the status quo. Therefore, the past –abiding as it does in the present- sabotages the construction of the future.

A new government would have to think about moving from the past towards the future. It is not possible to deliberate on attracting investment –the State of Mexico (Edomex), for example, has been driving it out- unless the problems of security are tackled. The insecurity (a by-product and the disagreeable aftertaste of the old political system) can only be confronted with a new system of government, founded on the concepts and realities of the XXI century, not those of the old PRI inherited from the era of Porfirio Diaz in the XIX century. Without security, the future is inconceivable. The same is true with education: education conceived for control and for the benefit of the Teachers’ Union is incompatible with the knowledge economy and is the main cause of substandard jobs and low salaries. It is not by chance that the union’s bastions are the principal supports of the most reactionary summons to vote in the election of the Edomex of today.

With Trump, the old system has been stretched to the limit. The question is who offers a better alternative.

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Luis Rubio

There’s hardly more contrast than that of Singapore and India: order and disorder, government and the absence thereof, planning and chaos. Two radically distinct worlds that, notwithstanding this, have more in common with Mexico than would appear on first glance. After a week of participating in a study group on these two countries, it seems to me that there are tremendous lessons for us, above all one of immense consequence: development can be planned, in millimetric way as in Singapore or China, but it can also be the product of a few well-made decisions that, little by little, create a breeding ground for change that later becomes unstoppable and to which the entire population teams up with convincingly and enthusiastically.

My first lesson in the study group was the scale and depth of the integration that the region is experiencing. Were it not for the fact that there lies a vast sea in between, the productive processes give the impression of being indistinguishable from what transpires in North America. Components produced in Japan merge with others deriving from Taiwan and Singapore for their subsequent integration in Vietnam and Bangladesh for product assembly in China.  Although there are many economic activities and sectors that function independently from the rest, the numbers reveal a history of growing industrial consolidation that evidences an increasingly productive regional economy, raising the income levels of all of the countries.

Not by chance do Trump’s attacks on China scare everybody, to the point of hysteria. The fear is perceptible because a change of trade patterns would disproportionally affect Japan, Taiwan, Korea, Singapore, and Vietnam, all of these close allies of the U.S. The words of a Japanese participant in the group said it all: it is paradoxical that the country historically devoted to building and maintaining stability in the region would now comprise the major factor of instability in the world. All of us Mexicans can sympathize with that.

But the most interesting of my learnings this week originated from India. While the contrasts between rich and poor continue to be as brutal as ever, what’s perceptible and ubiquitous is a social milieu of expectation that is in radical contrast with Mexico. At one of the schools of engineering that has become key in explaining both the sustained growth rate of 7.5% that has been achieved as well as social mobility, 90% of the students come from families found within the first two deciles of the population, that is, the poorest fraction. One million engineers graduate each year from these schools.

India, a highly democratic nation and impoverished at the same time, is perhaps the most complex country the world. Its diversity of ethnic groups, religions, regions and resources is impacting. Each state has its own tax regime and there are customs barriers on every highway at the crossroads between the states, paralyzing internal commerce. In contrast with China, where vertical control is implacable and has permitted the implementation of reforms and the planning of economic development from above, India is exactly the opposite: a country that is complex, diverse, disperse and nearly ungovernable. At the same time, whereas any reform tends to take years to be approved, once that occurs, putting it into effect is much less complex because its components have already been negotiated and processed. For example, this year a general tax (a VAT) will enter into operation that will make internal customs inspections obsolete. This reform took more than fifteen years of negotiations…

While India’s complexity is infinitely greater than that of Mexico, there are many lessons that are applicable. To begin with, India has not undergone “great” reforms that are approved behind closed doors. Instead, although there have been important reforms, the most transcendental changes were the product of disperse actions that, taken together, have triggered growth. Many argue that the recent reforms of Prime Minister Modi were possible because everything else was happening at the time and that his genius had consisted of becoming a key leader at an essential moment. His dedication to solving problems (e.g., the fiscal one) has made it possible to clench deals that were long in the making, but had failed to consolidate. That is, his has been a very effective leadership not because he is enlightened or comes from high, but rather, because he has been effective in resolving ancestral hangups along the way.

These schools of engineering and of the sciences, some governmental, many private, are not centers of academic excellence, but are factories of talent and technical skills on which an impressive service economy has been constructed. Despite that the number of beneficiaries of the growth is yet small in relative terms, the middle class is estimated at almost three hundred million persons, a huge number that is still diminutive in a nation of 1,300 million souls. What is patent in many indicators, chiefly in the number of applicants for admission into these technology polytechnics, is the spirit of transformation and contagious optimism that these graduates exude, and which recently showed enormous electoral benefits. In this the contrast with Mexico is astounding.

My greatest learning: it is the little things that make an enormous difference.

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