Parliaments

Luis Rubio

Angela Merkel launched into her speech as would any president or head of state: with aplomb and clarity of message; but what followed was in no manner like typical presidential discourses. It was at an international congress in Berlin ten years ago; the governing party, the Christian Democrats, had loaned their headquarters for the realization of the event and the Chancellor was the speaker on one of the afternoons. After her speech was over the questions began and she avoided not even one: with absolute equanimity she went segued from one to the other; when the tone or complexity of the questions escalated, she responded with intensity. Parliamentary systems are very different from presidential ones, the latter protecting heads of state. Not so with parliamentary systems, where political leaders take on all issues daily, they confront questionings -reasonable as well as visceral- which obligates them to defend their cause and debunk their opposite numbers. For parliamentary leaders, there is no place to hide.

I remembered that scene when I saw President López Obrador speak about his “political testament” several weeks back. The contrast was stunning between a combative chancellor, ready to respond -and listen to- all refutations, and a president in an absolutely controlled atmosphere where nothing is left to chance. Parliamentary and political systems are very distinct one from the other, and each has its virtues and defects, but where parliamentary systems are exceptional is in the inability of the political leader to control the scenario. There we have Boris Johnson trying to save his skin on facing a rebellion of his own party or the permanent debility of the most recent Spanish governments because any movement could lead the opposition to the government.

Control of the scenario is precisely what characterizes the government of President López Obrador and the secret of his popularity. Nothing is left to fate: the narrative is home-brewed, the seat of the early-morning press conferences is that of the president, and the members of the press present, with eventual exceptions, are nearly always paid shills. Nothing is left to chance. If to that is added the absence of a united opposition with a narrative rivaling the presidential one, the scenario explains not only the control of the political discourse, but in good measure the popularity. As well as the risks that the very actor produces.

When AMLO invented the morning press conferences, at the beginning of his term as head of the Federal District government (2000), the context was decidedly distinct, reminiscent of the contrast between a prime minister and a president. At that time, AMLO was the pugilist who debated everything and responded to any questioning presented to him, while Fox was the protected president, isolated, tired and disinterested in defending a political project or even democracy itself.

Today’s AMLO, although obviously very dissimilar in personality and mode of acting, is like the Fox of back then, controlling his territory to protect his popularity. The relevant question is whether the finale of both protagonists will be very different.

Fox took office having achieved the historical milestone of defeating the hegemonic party. There was no way of outdoing that feat as president. If to that one further adds that he never understood the forces, hopes and changes that his electoral triumph had unleashed, the atmosphere would seem to guarantee a shipwreck. The combination of these two elements was lethal. On the one hand, his victory led to the “divorce” between the PRI and the presidency, which dramatically altered the structure of the traditional political system. The all-powerful presidency stopped being that (in addition to its diminishing by the very limitations of the personage), while all sorts of “de facto powers” acquired singular relevance, starting with the narcotraffickers. On the other hand, the overthrow of a party devoted to the control and submission of the citizenry had opened huge expectations for a democratic transformation. Fox demonstrated a lack of capacity to comprehend both dynamics. As so he fared.

López Obrador came on the scene with the mission of transforming the country from stem to stern: imposing a new system of government (well, the old system) and controlling the economy, the population and all the decisions. He rolled out lavish and historically overshot projects and remarkably soon ended up committed to the only thing that has come out right for him: his popular recognition. In contrast with Fox, who at least saw that no government or president can control everything in this era of the world, López Obrador tried to turn back the hands of time, only managing to freeze investment, in turn reducing the growth of the economy and the population’s employment opportunities and incomes. The pandemic, and Ukraine, became a good excuse for him in the light of a dismal administration, but migration to the United States informs against this, showing that there was indeed another way of governing and that the responsibility for the ongoing Mexican stagnation is exclusively his.

Will AMLO play out like Fox? The only thing for sure is that popularity is always fleeting, as illustrated by Fox himself and other presidents who preceded him. Dedicating oneself to popularity rather than to development entertains only one possible ending. The question is how bad.

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