Luis Rubio

Mexicans longed for -such was the spirit of the moment thirty years ago and again in 2018- a successful country, developed, more equal and without the corruption that corrodes everything. But they were never willing to do what was necessary to achieve those aspirations. The result was to be expected: many promises, great expectations, followed by enormous disillusionments and their consequent political impacts.

Reform or transform, the two verbs employed to promote changes in the structure of the economy, the society, and Mexican politics during the last decades, mean the same thing:  modify structures to procure a better social and economic performance. What exists is changed to build something better. However, what happens when those changes are inadequate, insufficient, erroneous, contradictory or non-existent?

This is the history of Mexico in the last decades and now it is repeating itself, but inversely: formerly attempting to construct something new, now seeking to restore what there was before. The easy part is to blame this or that on what was done in the past or what is being done now, but the reality is that Mexico has for decades been subject to experimentation without the commitment (or even the real intention) or carrying out those reforms or the present “transformation” in integral fashion.

The countries that have executed flourishing transformations are characterized by political negotiations -among the politicians who represent the society and their diverse interests- to define and agree upon the final objective, and the costs they are disposed to assume.  The case of Spain is exceedingly eloquent: the famous debates of Felipe González during his years as leader of the Spanish Socialist Workers Party (PSOE) show how he faced his counterparts head on to define objectives, arrive at solutions, and attend to the consequences of these. Once the political negotiation was resolved, the “technicians” were put in charge of implementation, the way already paved.

In Mexico the process was exactly the opposite: here the objectives and strategies were defined by the technicians and then the politicians, lacking any incentive to cooperate, had to deal with the consequences. Yet more importantly, though it may seem paradoxical, that manner of proceeding limited the reach of the proposed reforms because the technicians themselves adjusted them to the political realities that they perceived. That is, instead of subjecting the transformation that they envisioned to broad political negotiation, they resorted to the circus stunt of preserving the status quo (maintaining the political system in form and the party in power) while the structures of the economy were altered, with evident impacts on the social order.

In this context, it is not by chance that in Spain a democracy was consolidated while the economy was being transformed, while Mexicans ended up with a split economy (modern and old, exporter and protected, productive and unproductive) and a political system in permanent strife. Additionally, Spain is not exceptional: there are multiple nations in Asia, South America and Europe that have carried out sensitive transformations in an integral way.

President López Obrador has been a stubborn critic of the reforms initiated after the 1982 economic collapse, but his own proposal, beyond his moral streak (attack corruption, poverty and inequality), suffers from the same transgression as that of his very indefatigable predecessors: he tries to impose it relentlessly, without discussion and, in the best of cases, with rigged surveys, and an interminable gift of gab designed to hush up a most incommensurate reality. Worse still, in contrast with the “neoliberals” he so revels in berating, on eliminating the entire technical capacity the government used to possess there can be no advancement of projects susceptible of generating income, wealth or jobs.

Looking back, past the scope of individuals and political parties, the results produced by governmental management since the end of the sixties to date are atrocious. Certainly, advances in various rubrics are impacting (and AMLO himself benefits from the financial stability as well as from the vitality of the export sector), but it is equally certain that an immense portion of the population does not sense improvement, above all in contrast with the expectations and promises accompanying those reforms (former and present).

López Obrador delights in beleaguering his predecessors, but before the cock crows, he will find himself on the other side of the podium with infinitely fewer valuable results (in fact, the majority of these negative) with which to defend himself.  Suffice to observe the corruption typifying his government, the burgeoning poverty and the incessant insecurity. Worst of all for him would be a scenario in which whoever succeeds him were to persist in the tactic of confrontation: confrontation with him.

The question now is what is it that is required to get out of the hole in which Mexicans find themselves and the one that the president continues to dig deeper one a.m. press conference after another. AMLO built his career by enlivening and exploiting social resentment which, while containing and diminishing the risk of a social explosion, has done nothing, aside from his narrative, to channel that capacity of mobilization toward the transformation of the national structures to achieve a more vigorous and equitable economy. No one, beginning with the president himself, should harbor the expectation of a promising future.

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 Luis Rubio

In 2014, when Russia invaded and took control of the Crimean Peninsula, President Obama’s reaction was that this is “so 19th century” and no longer done in the 21st. Everything indicates that this memorandum did not reach the Kremlin. The invasion of Ukraine, of which Crimea was then a part, shows that geopolitics is as alive as ever. Nations are moved by interests, not by ideology, a memorandum that has not reached Mexico’s national palace either.

Behind the invasion of Ukraine there are two elements: one is the strategy of the West (the United States and Europe) throughout the decades after the end of the cold war; and the other is Russia’s ambition to restore its sources of strategic depth. For many years, US policy focused on distancing the then Soviet Union from China, with the aim of preventing the other two major world powers from approaching each other. However, starting in the 1990s, this strategy was abandoned less for clarity of direction than for the inertia generated by the victory of the West over the former communist power.

What the West did not contemplate was the impact that this would have on Russia, a nation that, under the leadership of Putin, has devoted itself to recreating its zone of influence. In 2008 it invaded part of Georgia, in 2014 it took Crimea, in 2020 it forced an electoral result in Belarus, which was followed by Nagorno-Karabakh and, more recently, it restored peace in Kazakhstan, remaining as the guarantor of internal order. The strategy is evident, leaving only two weak flanks: Ukraine and the Baltics. Putin has employed a variety of means, not all of them violent, to achieve his goal. The invasion of Ukraine -direct action and without proxies- could well change the course of the world because now no one can ignore its implications.

The reverberations of Ukraine are beginning to be felt in immediate indicators, such as the prices of raw materials, particularly oil, because that region is especially relevant in this matter, and grains, and, eventually, in the growth rates of the economies most affected, especially in Europe. But the greatest impact of this intervention will foreseeably be felt in the return of the zones of influence in the world, a phenomenon that had already been taking shape in the South China Sea and around Russia. The one that is missing, and the one that affects Mexico, is the Western Hemisphere.

The end of the cold war was interpreted very differently in Russia and in the West. Although history could have been different (newspapers, magazines and social media these days are saturated with lamentations to this effect), the tangible fact is that instead of converging, the West and Russia moved in opposite directions. Beyond recriminations, some valid others not, the West took advantage of the end of the cold war to focus on improving the lives of its citizens, assuming that Russia was nothing more than, in the words of a famous politician, “a gas station with nuclear weapons.” Well, now it turns out that this gas station is forcing the West out of its lethargy and that has fundamental implications for Mexico.

In the 1980s, just as the cold war was winding down, Mexico chose to approach the United States to solve its economic problems. Contrary to the prediction of the catastrophists, the rapprochement gave Mexico enormous freedoms in terms of foreign policy because NAFTA constituted an agreement on the essence of the relationship, a shared vision of the future. The point was not to agree on each and every issue, but to commit to resolving them so that closeness would confer security to the Americans and development to Mexico.

In terms of development, the scheme worked less well than desired because Mexico did not carry out the internal transformation that this would have required; however, in terms of the bilateral relationship, perhaps the most complex border in the world, problems were resolved and both governments did what was necessary to avoid unnecessary conflicts.

Two things have changed. One is called Trump and the other López Obrador. Trump violated the essence of the understanding of 1988 in two ways: one, attacking Mexico and blaming it for his country’s problems; and the other, by link issues (migration vs. exports) he violated the explicit agreement never to do that.

López Obrador was key in the process of ratifying the TMEC, but his vision is clearly opposed to such closeness. Step by step, he has distanced Mexico from American priorities and, like the kid who challenges his teacher, he flirts with China and Russia as if it were a game.

In recent weeks, the Americans have abandoned their obvious decision not to respond to López Obrador and have begun to define their “red lines” clearly and precisely, most of these aimed at forcing Mexico to avoid further internal deterioration. Putin’s actions can only accelerate this process because the US will once again begin to see the world with a geopolitical logic, where Mexico is in the front row. The Mexican government no longer has much room to maneuver, especially if it wants to protect what little is left of economic growth, all linked to exports to the US.

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Luis Rubio

The catastrophe to come was ever more evident. Errors and losses accumulated, the destruction was uncontainable and the end was imminent, yet no one rebelled. The population backed the government to the end, though this would imply total destruction. Thus begins the book of Ian Kershaw entitled The End: Hitler’s Germany, 1944-45. The historian relates the last months of the government of Hitler, a tragic moment at which the Soviet and American troops advanced systematically from opposite sides, the bombings destroyed entire cities, devastating apartments and iconic buildings, leaving the population in the street. The rational thing to do for the German government would have been to begin negotiations for a conditional surrender, but it wasn’t like that: the obsession with not reproducing prior historical moments (Germany’s surrender in 1918) led to total collapse. The relevance of this anecdote lies in that it was not only the government that that was obsessed: the population (with natural exceptions) was hand in glove with its government and not willing to think differently.

What renders this fascinating and tragic story relevant, and the conclusion at which Kershaw arrives, is that the population had been blinded to the surrounding reality because of its obsessive devotion to the leader. Nothing could make them grasp an alternative even if that meant the physical destruction of the cities or of their living conditions. The charisma was so powerful that no one seemed capable of thinking for themselves, of recognizing how dramatic the situation was, understanding the consequences of their actions throughout the war or realizing the massive disaster that the government and its messianic project had been.

Mexico is not Nazi Germany nor is the president Hitler, but there is an obvious similarity in the manner in which a certain part of the Mexican population follows López Obrador blindly and refuses to recognize that the deterioration is growing, and the absence of solutions is crystal-clear. The charisma of the president has permitted him to build a narrative that (so far) dominates the political panorama, controls the public discussion, holds in distain any critical posture or alternative. The problem, which will be increasingly apparent as the inexorable political cycle advances, is that people do not live by words alone.

The success of the narrative, which is also reflected in the president’s popularity, will not be sufficient to compensate for the absence of investment, jobs or opportunities. Without doubt, the strategy of social transfers aids in solidifying the credibility of the government, given that the latter represents a source of sustenance that is of utmost importance for a massive portion of the population. However, there are two factors that suggest that the strength of the charisma in Mexico’s case is very different from that described previously. First and foremost, after a decade during which the migration of Mexicans to the United States was minimal, in this last year it has literally exploded, amassing hundreds of thousands of aspirants to cross the Rio Grande in order to incorporate themselves into the U.S. workforce. Those individuals are going because they do not see opportunities in Mexico. Receiving a “support”, as the president terms it, is very nice, but does not compensate for the lack of economic growth, the only way that poverty can be reduced in a definitive manner. People are voting with their feet.

The other factor is that Mexicans have withstood decades of unkept promises, governments of diverse stripes that promise nirvana, only to end up with business as usual. All those governments offered solutions that were, nearly always, unfulfillable, and the population understands it thus. The handouts that a family receives are always welcome, but the recipients of   this largesse know that it is in essence a mere exchange of favors, a process that is repeated every six years: the names and the methods vary, but however charismatic the figure, that same population that discerns so few options in their daily lives knows that someone else will come to offer more funhouse mirrors, reinitiating the cycle once more.

None of this diminishes the extraordinary capacity of the president to manipulate perceptions and expectations, hence his popularity indexes, but for decades Mexicans have been observing the same phenomenon and there is no reason to expect something different this time around. Of course, there are many imponderables along the road that will determine how this all ends, aspects concerning the economic performance (especially the exchange rate), the appearance (or not) of some alternative figure outside the presidential entourage, and the ability of the president himself to avoid greater fragmentation in the Morena party. The coin is in the air.

The story that Kershaw tells is terrorizing because of the suffering, fear and irrationality that dominates the thought processes not of the leaderships (who understood perfectly well what was coming) but also of the population in general in the face of the certain defeat. No one had the capacity nor the desire to drive a change of course to evade a catastrophe. To follow the leader blindly was its nodal characteristic and determined how all ended. With luck, the nature of the Mexican and a long history of shattered expectations, will avert a catastrophe, but nothing will diminish the extraordinary costs of a government that knew how to foment the conflict but not to resolve the problems or create conditions for progress.

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Luis Rubio

“The curse of man, and the cause of his worst woes, wrote HL Mencken, is his stupendous capability for believing the incredible. He is forever embracing delusions, and each new one is more preposterous than all that have gone before.” That’s what Mexican politics seems like these days.

The great question with an eye toward 2024 is to what degree will the social base of the president and his popularity be relevant. Though it is not the sole pertinent variable, its transcendence is more than evident.

Three factors appear to be true. First, to date there has not been a single individual who agglutinates the opposition. This variable is key because the president dominates the stage, as if he were the only actor, scarcely complemented (or distracted) by the pre-candidates in his own stable. Although there are some individuals and potential candidates who occasionally show their face, none has been able to capture the imagination of the electorate nor who has come to represent a salient point of competition (or confrontation) for the presidential rhetoric. Time will shape potential options, but only one recognizable and accepted by the wide-reaching electorate would be prone to altering the current vectors of national politics.

Second certainty: popularity is not transferred. The surveys demonstrate that the president’s popularity is not linked to traditional gauges, such as economic growth, which benefits him. But this has the effect of isolating him from day-to-day life, including the fate of his candidates, which could exert an effect on what happens in 2024. One election after another has shown that the party of the president and its candidates wins or loses due more to the mobilization capacity of the Morena party (and of the threatened governors) than to the popularity of the president; where the (diminished) opposition has achieved mobilizing the electorate, Morena has confronted greater rivalry. But where it has lost has been to a greater extent the product of the electorate itself than that of any mobilization.

And, third certainty, the president is a communications genius and has procured that his narrative dominates public discourse and discussion in all orders of Mexican politics. However, as Emilio Lezama fittingly argues, everything has its consequences: “from the pinnacle of political power, AMLO has wrested a convincing narrative that he is not the power, but instead the spokesperson for the general struggle against the ‘true power’… the president has maintained his popularity but has lost a historic opportunity to transform the country. His confrontation with institutions and public personages empowers him but weaken the State. In the final analysis, that is one of the great differences between Lázaro Cárdenas and AMLO, the former employed his coming into power to transform the country and the latter to nurture his popularity.”

The narrative of AMLO has triumphed, but he has done this at the price of his project of national transformation; the president’s success in monopolizing the narrative has come at the cost of forfeiting the advance of his agenda. The president has also distanced himself from his government and Morena, to the degree that on more than one occasion he threatened to withdraw from his party. That distance also enriches his popularity and creates a peculiar phenomenon that will moreover be accompanied by its own consequences: in Fidel’s Cuba, the suffering of the population was legendary because his revolution did not translate into more production, better services or products or a better quality of life. But the Cubans did not blame Fidel Castro: “they don’t tell Fidel how things are, they fool him,” “if Fidel only knew.” That is, the fault was of the government, not the president’s, his strategy, or his poor decisions. Perhaps this explains the enormous and bourgeoning gap between the popularity of the president and that of his government.

Each of these factors obeys its own dynamic, but the totality furnishes a panorama that is increasingly more complex and simultaneously clarifying. The country lives under the spell of a narrative that exalts accumulated resentment and deposits it in the limelight as the political factor that is concurrently the mobilizer of the social base, but also the paralyzer of the economy. One feeds the other, limiting the potential for the country´s development and, paradoxically, impeding the articulation of policies likely to resolve the causes of the inequality and resentment. The strategy of political confrontation is in the end very useful for boosting a person’s profile, but not for improving life levels or the possibility of achieving it.

Nothing better illustrates the imbroglio that national politics is presently undergoing than a December 2021 Alarcón comic strip on the so-called “revocation of the mandate” of the president: “We don’t want him to go, but we want to be asked whether we want him to go to say that we don’t want him to go.” The objectives of the president in promoting the referendum are transparent, but not for that reason does it not end up as a mere deception. Yet another.

The panorama is clear; the country demands a contest to determine its future, a debate which establishes the options going forward, forces clear decisions because the current lack of definition does nothing other than deteriorate the present and cancel out the future. The way out will not come from the spell, but rather from the debate -and the evidence- that unmasks it. While that does not happen, everything will continue in limbo.

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Luis Rubio

1982 was a watershed in Mexican political life. For one part of society, that year’s financial crisis constituted an unequivocal sign of the unviability and, in fact, of the collapse of the economic model that the country had followed at least since 1970. For others, during that period the highest economic-growth rates had been reached in history and, had it not been for the excesses on the financial front, the country could have continued along that pathway in permanent fashion. That discussion is still in force because therein lies the heart of the strategy that urges President López Obrador on.

For the president, the problems that the country experiences are the product of the reforms embarked upon from 1982:  from his perspective, those reforms derived from an erroneous diagnosis, thus creating the reality of inequality and corruption, which he turned into his standard bearer to win the presidency. What were for some attempts at a solution, for others were the cause of the dilemmas of today.

That diagnostic dispute has been the essence of national politics for nearly four decades and diverse presidential candidates along the route represented contrasting opinions on the trajectory in each electoral vote-casting. A crucial issue in that confrontation of views is whether the 2018 election was the product of a change of perception by most of the electorate with respect to the road the country should pursue. Another no less relevant is whether the current government brings Mexico closer to a solution of the domestic problematic, beginning with the evils that the president himself calls central, specifically corruption, poverty and inequality.

Of course, no one truly knows what motivates each voter when expressing their electoral preference. However, the evidence suggests that there were at least three factors that were definitive in the most recent presidential result: the perception of the corruption of the outgoing administration; being fed up with the lack of results (above all compared with expectations) in terms of growth, social mobility and general well-being; and finally, manipulation of the conditions of competition during the campaign period on judicially giving chase to a candidate and impeding the other from an equitable performance.

A factor that adds another dimension to the time of that election is that of the nature of the reforms that Peña Nieto undertook. Until the arrival of that president no government had dared to recast the three sacrosanct articles of the constitution so intensely and even radically: Peña not only disrupted the three (Article 3 on education; Article 27 on energy; and Article 123 on labor), but also did so without building a coalition with the relevant political supports behind each of these reforms to attenuate the opposition that existed (open or underground), nor did he erect a political and cultural scaffold that would sustain them. That is, he ignored the need to build support for those reforms and obviated all political action despite their enormously ambitious and politically risky nature. Therefore, the innumerable interests affected were not considered or mollified. Many of these then did nothing other than, as the Japanese proverb says, “sit by the river long enough to see their enemy’s body float by.”

If to all this one adds the enormous -and evident- corruption generally accompanying that administration, everything that was lacking was a fuse that would turn that moment into a politico-electoral opportunity.  And that fuse was supplied by then-candidate López Obrador, who found himself at the optimal point in time and circumstance to take advantage of it. One needs to go no further than to observe the extraordinary coalition that he rallied under the auspices of the Morena Party to see many of those vested interests affected by Peña watching the enemy float by…

Whatever the comprehensive explanation of what happened in 2018, what is not up for discussion is that President López Obrador is convinced of the need to return to the past during which things, from his perspective, worked well. His entire focus is on the dismantling of everything reformed since 1983, for the sake of recreating the seventies, with the sole exception of minding the fiscal accounts.

In the presidential vision, there is no recognition of how much the world has changed since the seventies or, especially, of the exceptional degree of complexity that characterizes the Mexican economy of today. Nor has there been learning, further than that in the fiscal arena, of the nature of the problems confronting the country today, or of the features of the digital world of the XXI century.

Furthermore, there is not the least intention of enlisting the population in his project. Thus, his future will not be distinct from that of Peña, even if the causes are.

Lord Acton, an English politician and historian of the XIX century, wrote that the objective of a nation and its citizenry should be “to be governed not by the Past, but by the knowledge of the Past – different things.” For President López Obrador no such distinction exists: aside from his clear acknowledgment of the financial immoderation of the seventies, his objective is the recreation of that past just as it was. Much rhetoric but too little learning.

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Luis Rubio

The objectives that defined the agenda and electoral proposal of now President López Obrador are THE problems of Mexico: poverty, corruption, inequality and insufficient growth. The strategies to defeat these wrongs can be argued, but  no one can dispute their transcendence in today’s national reality. The true dilemma lies elsewhere: it concerns structural and systemic problems that must be understood in their dimension because, contrariwise, the president -and the country- will be in pursuit of nothing more than another mirage. Another of the many that accumulate at each morning presidential-press-conference.

“Many of the problems are systemic, says Charles Murray in his new book,* but they will not be solved by going after their appearance. They will be solved, or ameliorated, by going after systemic educational problems, systemic law enforcement problems, systemic employment problems.” That is, instead of claiming that a better teacher or a better textbook is going to transform the system of education (or the equivalent in matters of Rule of Law), the only way to achieve the sought-after transformation is recognizing its structural nature and conceiving public policies expressly designed for such a purpose.

In Mexico, the latter implies beginning with the objectives of the educational system, which were never about the education of the population, equalizing opportunities, or training for life. Education in the post-Revolutionary era was always an instrument of political action oriented toward control of the citizenry and manipulating their way of thinking to construct aideological hegemony. Rather than it being a transformative factor, education was always conceived for control, due to which it not only tolerated the growth of powerful teachers’ unions, but this also was an express objective of corporativist Mexico. Just as procuring control of industrial-sector workers, control of teachers and subordination of the populace was sought through an educational system tailored with that objective in mind. In this, the Mexico of the XX century was much more like the old Soviet Union than the rest of the Latin-American nations and nothing more contrasting with the emphasis adopted by the Asian nations to convert education into the transformative factor of their societies.

In Asia, especially in countries such as Korea, Japan, Singapore and Taiwan, education became the transformative instrument of their societies. Nations without great natural resources, all of them viewed education as the means through which they could raise the productivity of their economies, improve the incomes of their populations, and enter triumphantly into the developed world. It is not by chance that the second wave of governments dedicated to the same objective -like China and Vietnam- have regarded education as the key element in their economic project. The rapid rise in their per-capita rates of income speaks for itself.

Try as the diverse educational reforms from the nineties up to those of the Peña government might, the tangible fact, measured by results, is that the country remains stagnant in this matter. Now, with a president who thinks that the sole legitimate objective of a government is political, -that is, ignoring any technological or analytical consideration- Mexico has returned to the logic of the seventies in which the express purpose of education (not merely de facto) is control of the citizenry. Moved by the notion of throwing overboard anything that does not contribute to the concentration of power and the subordination of everything and everyone to the president, the current government threatens to remit thecountry to neolithic political post-Revolutionary times.

Why educate Mexicans if all that is needed to employ Colonial-era technologies is, at most, basic education? In other words, instead of bringing about the elevation of the population’s income levels and their opportunities to make it in life, starting with the most impoverished, the government of President López Obrador is in the quest of equalizing down: for everyone to be poor. That may not be its avowed objective, but it is the one toward which its policies are advancing, and its result will be decades of lagging behind, in addition to amassed resentments that will do nothing other than complicate the panorama. Additionally, this is the reason for an enormous growth in the number of Mexicans migrating to the United States.Instead of pursuing the development of Mexico, the aim appears to be having a hand in the development of our neighbors.

Inequality and poverty are a palpable reality, the product of an entire system devoted to preserving those circumstances. Even the most ambitious governments in developmental matters omitted the attacking of structural problems -social, political, petty fiefdoms- the daily bread in the lives of most Mexicans. It is paradoxical, but above all pathetic, that the most radical government in its rhetoric in these affairs is also the most reactionary, one that will contribute most over the last half century to increasing poverty, inequality and, why not say it, corruption. Life is full of surprises.

*Facing Reality

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Luis Rubio

Ideological coherence or political pragmatism: the eternal dilemma of alliances. These last as long as their members continue to find greater benefits in participating and remaining in them than in denouncing them and breaking away. From Marxist theoreticians to the most seasoned political operators, alliances are the heart of politics. In the Netherlands there has not been a single majority government in seventy years: coalitions are a permanent factor and key element in their politicians’ civility because no one knows with whom they will associate in the future. As this year makes its debut, the alliance forged for the 2021 mid-term election will be put to the test for the grand event of 2024.

Motivations to form alliances are many and very diverse, but the principal one is always need. A political party that has an extensive majority lacks the incentive to ally itself with another; when it needs partners to achieve power, it seeks potential allies with whom to affiliate. This is customary in parliamentary systems, has been an unabridged vicissitude in Mexico, but does not for this reason discard involving an impeccable logic.

Political parties are cast with an ideological content, but their central function is that of procuring political power, engendering their flexibility at the time of setting up legislative or electoral coalitions or alliances. A party can be pristine in its objectives and fastidious in its manner of proceeding, but if it is not in power, its circumstance impedes it from being anything more than a witness to the nation’s happenings. An alliance among forces as diverse as the PAN, PRI and PRD (and, potentially, Movimiento Ciudadano [MC]) leads many to break out in hives (beginning with this latter), but it is the rational response to the quest for power.

Without doubt, an alliance entails costs owing to that on allying itself a political party it surrenders freedoms, starting with that of nominating its own candidates. When it concerns, as it did last year, an alliance for legislative power, the sacrifices are relatively minor, in that there are many seats to fill; however, this year six governorships will come into play in which there can be only one candidate from the alliance per state, which in turn will produce at least three potential losers per entity. The following year there will be two more and in 2024, the mother of all battles.

Each party that incorporates itself into an alliance does so because it sees in it a better way to advance its own interests. However much each of these political institutes perceives itself as pure and chaste, all exhibit deficiencies, corruptions and an abysmal record in terms of democratic procedures at their core. Haley Barbour, a U.S. politician, said that “in politics, purity is the enemy of victory.” Whoever allies themself with other parties does so because they entertain the objective of transcending their own individual capacities.

With a powerful president who still retains a relatively high level of popularity, an alliance is the sole mechanism offering an opportunity to the political parties that are found today among the opposition. And each of those parties encounters distinct challenges on looking at itself in the mirror. For the PAN, the party that has always assumed itself to be an unsullied entity that contrasted with the corruption of the PRI, now must recognize that its time in power was not too distinct from that of its historical nemesis. For the PRI the problem is one of survival: be extinguished if it allows itself to be absorbed by Morena or renovate itself and find a new platform and political support base. Regarding the PRD, the smallest of the alliance’s political parties, its challenge is to not disappear despite the caliber of its adherents. MC did not wish to join the alliance for the mid-term election because it did not want to “contaminate” itself with the costs of the “Pact for Mexico,” which ravaged the other three.

Undeniably, the risk of contagion is high, but so is the pigheadedness. As the authors of Éloge de la trahisonwrite, this is a fragile equilibrium in that the objective is not merely to stay in power. If the objective of the political parties is power, the question is how to structure an alliance that possesses the greatest probability of this being attained. María Matilde Oilier, the Argentinean scholar, states this in candid fashion: those who wanted to respect the norms never attained the ability to govern and those who achieved governance never respected the norms.

The reality is that for a long time Mexico has needed a political transformation because the entire political apparatus and the system of government has stagnated, as evidenced by crisis-ridden pathways of economic growth, insecurity, corruption and poverty. The way that López Obrador governs forced the opposition to unite to have the opportunity to access power. The 2021 Alliance showed that it can indeed function, but the true test does not lie in the pragmatism of joining together for an election, but in agreeing on a strategy of political transformation. Without a rationale for allying themselves that transcends the fact of a short-term electoral triumph, alliance members would experience what their constituents suffered, respectively, in 2000, 2006 and 2012: failure and the ensuing twilight.

In politics, wrote Camus, it is the means that justify the end. The alliance is a means, but its relevance and capacity of convincing the electorate depends on the quality of the project brandished by the alliance andits members.

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Luis Rubio

The pandemic has ended, but its aftereffects are visible everywhere. An epidemic, Ambrose Bierce wrote in 1906, is “a disease having a sociable turn and few prejudices.” Indeed, science responded with medicines that helped allay the symptoms of those who fell ill, while vaccines began to show a path forward, even though the exit, due to the enormous complexity of the logistics involved, will take time to materialize for the whole of humankind.

Through this period, I gathered a large quantity of anecdotes and quotes about pandemics through history. Here go a few that I found particularly relevant.

In his novel Death in Venice (1912), Thomas Mann tells how the pesthouse of the Ospedale Civico had filled and commerce had become very active between the port and the cemetery island of San Michelle. But there was ear of a general drop in prosperity. The recently opened art exhibit in the public gardens was to be considered, along with the heavy losses that in case of panic or unfavorable rumors would threaten businesses, the hotels, the entire elaborate system for exploiting foreigners… The policy of silence and denial was upheld… The chief health officer had resigned from his post in indignation and been promptly replaced by a more tractable personality. Nothing new under the sun.

Humanity has but three great enemies: fever, famine, and war; of these, by far the greatest, by far the most terrible, is fever

William Osler, 1896

After the epidemic began, I basically didn’t go home. I lived separately from my husband and family. My sister helped take care of my children at home. My youngest child didn’t recognize me, didn’t react to me when he saw me on video. I felt lost. My husband told me that things happen in life, and you’re not only a participant, you’re choosing to lead a team to fight this epidemic. That’s also a very meaningful act, he said, and when everything returns to normal, you’ll know it was a valuable experience to have had.

Interview with Dr. Li Wenliang, who died in Wuhan

Plagues are as certain as death and taxes

Richard Krause, 1982

When one remembers under what conditions the working people live, when one thinks how crowded their dwellings are, how every nook and corner swarms in the same room, in the same bed, the only wonder is that a contagious disease like this fever does not spread yet farther. And when one reflects how little medical assistance the sick have at command, how many are without any medical advice whatsoever, and ignorant of the most ordinary precautionary measures, the mortality seems actually small.

Friedrich Engels, The Conditions of the Working Class in England, 1844

Death from the bubonic plague is rated, with crucifixion, among the nastiest human experiences of all

Guy R. Williams, 1975

A number of people were still unpersuaded that there really was a plague. And since some victims had actually recovered, “it was said” (the final arguments of an opinion defeated by the evidence are always strange to hear), by the common people, and also by many biased doctors, that it was not a true plague, because otherwise everyone would have been dead

Alejandro Manzoni, The Betrothed, 1827

The most important consideration in the causation of disease is the body constitution that becomes afflicted. Therefore, not all people will die during an epidemic

Moses Maimonides, c 1190

The illness was so dreadful that no one could walk or move. The sick were so utterly helpless that they could only lie on their beds, like corpses… A great many died from the plague, and many others died of hunger. They could not get up to search for food, and everyone else was too sick to care for them, so they starved to death in their beds. Some people came down with a milder form of the disease; they suffered less than others and made a good recovery. But they could not escape entirely. Their looks were ravaged, for wherever a sore broke out, it gouged an ugly pockmark in the skin. And a few of the survivors were left completely blind.

Bernardino de Sahagun, Florentine Codex, 1545-1590

He who dies of epidemic disease is a martyr

Muhammad, c 630

Amid the confusion the plague spread rapidly, encouraged both by the misery and lawlessness of the people… The mayor reported that in Monte Lupo “twenty five houses had been closed, and we continually found more people sick with the contagious disease.” On June 4, Mayor Francesco della Stufa “passed to a better life,” and the gravediggers who had caused hem so much trouble in his life buried him after his death “in the cemetery of Cacciacane, because he had died of the plague…

Carlo M. Cipolla, Faith, Reason, and the Plague in Seventeenth-Century Tuscany, 1977

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