Luis Rubio

Corruption was a matter for profound reflection when the Founding Fathers of the North American nation deliberated on the elements that would be embodied in its new Constitution. Alexander Hamilton argued: “Purge [the British] constitution of its corruption… and it would become an impracticable government. As it stands at present, with all its supposed defects, it is the most perfect government which ever existed”. For Hamilton, corruption was an inevitable cost of public life. In the end Hamilton lost, to the integral system of checks and balances postulated by James Madison.

Two hundred thirty years later, the public argumentation in Mexico is nearly identical. The notion that swarms the environment is that, first, it’s always been like this, so it always will be. Second, since corruption permits things to function, its costs are minor. Although there are measurements suggesting an incremental cost (more than 1% of the annual GDP), it is evident that it has been mutating and that what might have been valid in the past is currently not necessarily so.

Beyond the specific characteristics of the phenomenon and how it has changed,  what should now be of concern to all of us is not the fact that a public servant enriches himself while in power (something usual), but the fact that corruption has become generalized, its tentacles affixed to all the political parties and increasingly penetrating all of society. If it previously had been a factor that allowed for attenuating conflicts or accelerating the implementation of projects, above all public works, an ancestral wellspring of corruption, today it comprises a metastatic phenomenon that could end up paralyzing not only the government but the country in general.

In his excellent essay in the February issue of Nexos, Luis Carlos Ugalde describes the nature and dimensions of the phenomenon, illustrating the manner in which the pyramidal corruption of the era of authoritarian presidentialism has been “democratizing” itself on becoming incorporated into all levels of government, parties, and branches of government. What previously was concentrated and an instrument of political cohesion has transmuted into a mechanism of political control in the hands of a growing number of actors. Worse yet, its ubiquitousness has generated widespread repudiation in society, ire that has become hatred.

The democratization of corruption has engendered a working-example effect that, combined with impunity, has spread to other ambits of the society. While the corruption of the past was typical of the availability of privileged intelligence within the government (for example buying land on knowing that a highway would be built there), use of the public expenditure for private gain or of the interaction between public and private actors (such as governmental purchases), corruption at present is frequent in transactions between private actors (such as purchasing advertising) and has become deeply entrenched in the definition of standard procedure (for example, hospitals demanding unnecessary studies that swell patients’ bills).

Rationalizing corruption as something ancestral and cultural authorizes the spawning and nurturing of political clienteles. The parties have devoted themselves to legislating increasingly extreme (and absurd) regulations for financing their campaigns, rules that they are the first to breach:  one calculation suggests that the average political campaign costs twenty times what the legislation sanctions.

More than an exclusively monetary phenomenon, corruption has altered the lexicon, the discourse and the modus operandi: this might appear to merely be a shift in semantics, but in what it in reality implies is that corruption has ceased to be merely a “necessary evil” and proceeds to be the only way of conducting public life. That “small” step infers that there are no longer limits and that anything goes: all vestige of community, organized society or dominion of the law disappears and becomes unattainable. History shows that this is the best culture medium for messianic, populist and authoritarian leaderships to emerge.

The greater part of the proposals for solution do not attack more than the symptoms. Law making in matters of transparency has become mired in a set of exceptions that diverse governmental entities have attempted to interpose, some more logical than others. But the dynamic of that discussion is revelatory in itself: every effort is concentrated on rendering transparency and auditing (which are important), but not on eliminating the causes of the phenomenon. The very name of the instrument proposed for combating it is suggestive of its limitations: the “national anti-corruption system”.

The problem of all of the formulas presented for combating corruption is that they do not dare to recognize the backstory, above all the reason why it has “democratized”. In a word, Mexico’s problem is not one of corruption, violence, criminality or drugs. Its problem is the absence of a professional system of government. Mexico went from an authoritarian patrimonialism of controlled corruption to a patrimonialistic disorder in which corruption has metastasized. Nothing is going to change until a modern system of government is constructed, with a professional and apolitical bureaucracy, secured by anchor to the Reign of the Law.

Until this takes place, the decomposition will persist and the economy will continue to yield mediocre results. Reforms are necessary, but without government and without law nothing will change.

www.cidac.org

@lrubiof

FORBES – Febrero 2015

Luis Rubio

An entrepreneur arrives at the inspectors’ office of the Ministry of Labor to inquire about a fine that he’d been issued. The person in charge explains to him that the inspector visited his company and found that the strips on the floor were 9 cm in width while the code establishes that these be 10 cm. That violation of the code entails a fine of 16,000 pesos to be paid within the next 30 days, but the person in charge informs him that there is nonconformity procedure and that it’s easy to win because the code has distinct measurements for floor strips depending on the part of the code applied. Act 2. A person seated next to the receptionist’s desk approaches the businessman and offers to represent him in the nonconformity procedure. They move over to a corner and the alleged attorney informs the entrepreneur that it’s easy to win the dispute and that his fees would be 5,000 pesos for the entire process. The entrepreneur reluctantly accepts the offer and in 24 hours the case is resolved for the modest sum of 5,000 pesos. The expeditiousness of the procedure leads one think that it‘s an artful ambush, a modus operandi devised for extortion pure and simple.

Simulation is the Mexican’s daily bread. Some are extorted from their money by organized crime, other by government inspectors, but the act of extortion is exactly the same. In both cases, the asymmetry of power is such that the citizen in the street has no alternative other than dealing with the consequences. Bureaucratic extortion dons a halo of legitimacy but it’s not distinct from the other: both are designed to increase the overhead of commercial operations just enough as to not wipe them out. What’s interesting about the governmental case is the simulation that characterizes it: the guise of legality that an act of flagrant abuse takes on.

Examples of simulation abound. A Physician friend of mine who was engaged in his social service stint in a population in State of Mexico came down with measles. However, the State of Mexico government had informed the public some months previously that measles had been eradicated in the entity. Thus, the case of measles could not exist. Act 2. An ambulance drove my friend home with a certificate of termination of his social service, although months were left until its conclusion.

The recently approved legislation on telecommunications matters, supposedly oriented toward generating greater competition in the sector, has not impeded the industry’s ongoing “consolidation”, that is, the dominant players buy out their lesser fellows.

For years, the Mexican National Electricity Company (CFE) anointed itself a “world-class enterprise”. The only problem is that it was alone in its league because it was not competitive under any of the relevant rubrics by which the industry is gauged. Luckily PEMEX to date has not had the audacity to adopt a similar point of comparison, perhaps realizing that a simulation of that magnitude would not be tolerated even by its own exalted personages.

Now that Mexicans are in the full throes of the electoral season (June 7), we find that it’s also the stage of the grasshoppers: politicians who abandon posts for which they were duly elected for the sake of coming by a new one. The responsibility assumed in the prior election to govern a municipality or entity or to represent a district in Congress is the least of their worries: what’s important, as the old saying of Mexican politics goes, is not whether the glass is half full or half empty but being inside the glass. Some civil servants entertain the urgent need to occupy a new post because they would thus be protected by legal immunity from misdeeds committed during their prior terms-of-office. The point is that there never was a commitment with the citizenry whom they’d sworn to govern (this latter, in a manner of speaking) or represent. The important thing was to have a post. Everything else is simulation.

Simulation is the true essence of Mexican politics. The discourse touts democracy but the reality is one of despotism; representation is advanced in the rhetoric but the objective is personal enrichment. The citizenry, economic progress and the nation’s well-being is the least of it: what’s relevant is staying alive in the power and corruption loop. What is truly astonishing is the ease with which the PAN and the PRD mimicked the PRI, the old and the new.

The simulation-corruption-impunity triad bestows respectability on the pillage, on the so-called vested rights, on the abuse, thus, on the country’s lagging behind. A country that lives in and from simulation is not one that can bestir itself or achieve development. There are contradictions that simply do not stand up under the light of any scrutiny.

www.cidac.org

@lrubiof

                                                                                                                                 Luis Rubio

Joaquín Villalobos, strategist and extraordinary reader of the criminal reality, wrote a long article* in which he clearly and precisely describes  the dilemma that Mexico is confronting. I transcribe here the core sentences of his argument:

• The State develops from the monopoly of violence, that is, from the capacity that a governing class possesses to exercise authority over a determined territory in order to protect those who inhabit it.
• Security is the first right of the citizens and the prime responsibility of the State. Thus, the coercive power of the State is the main power because the certainty of being protected with respect to life, patrimony and human rights are preconditions for everything else.
• Every void in the State’s authority derives in the growth of criminal power. This vacuum facilitates the convening and hierarchizing of small groups until they become great criminal organizations that eventually control the territory and co-opt the institutions.
• During the Cold War, police and military were deployed to the territory in considerable amounts to react to protests, uprisings and coup d’états. It is with institutions founded on those ideas that emerging democracies now intend to respond the tsunami of criminal violence.
• The police officer in the street was left with fewer resources, a low salary, debilitated authority, without social recognition, with doctrine and know-how learned from authoritarianism and nevertheless obliged to respect human rights.
• It is not possible to face the present criminal violence without a transformation of the security institutions, without a new deployment of these into the areas-of-concern and without a substantial increase in manpower. Preventive social policies will not be effective if citizens lead lives terrorized by crime; it is indispensable for the coercive power to quash the fear and reestablish the authority of the State in the communities. The police is the first line of contact between the State and the citizenry and the foundational pillar of all security; if it fails, the entire system fails.
• The way that authority was exercised in the past forged the base for the confusion between authoritarianism and strong State; when the former did not imply the latter, contrariwise the State was weak.
• The debate to find solutions to security problems has revolved around emphasis placed on repression or prevention. The first current of thought attests to impunity being what multiplies crime; therefore, the punishment should comprise the preeminent instrument to reduce it. The second establishes that the delinquent is a social victim, thus supposing that social programs should reduce crime.
• It is understandable that some demand decriminalization or regulation of the drug consumption, commerce or production…; however, in our case the criminal violence would simply move on to other crimes, with the aggravating circumstance of an increase of consumption that could create a public health problem for us that we do not have.
• Our security will only improve if we make advances in the construction of State and citizenry.
• For us the main task at hand is to strengthen the authority of the State and to protect our citizens. A strategy based on prosecuting drugs does not imply, necessarily, our fortifying our security; however, if we do strengthen our own security we will doubtlessly be more effective in combating narcotrafficking and any type of crime.
• The intent to solve problems with weak institutions that are the legacy of authoritarianism gave crime the time to put down cultural roots in our societies.
• The primordial task in security is to avoid there being victims; a society is safe when no crimes occur and not because the number of criminals who are processed and imprisoned.
• The criminal activity that chiefly evidences the defeat of the dissuasive power of the State is the massification of extortion.
• In the case of Mexico, the PRI regime preserved the peace by means of extensive and effective social control throughout the territory exercised by an extensive network of organizations that were the premier component of the so-called “inclusive authoritarianism”.
• The old Mexican security model was based on social control and institutional weakness… It was a derivation of authoritarian periods, therefore not repeatable.
• Recovering the territory implies that delinquents be deprived of stability, comfort, mobility, the power of intimidation and the capacity to concentrate on acting with impunity… It is not enough to catch and jail delinquents, it is crucial to counteract all of the attempts of these to intimidate, flaunt their power and act with violence.
• Pacifying communities and arresting delinquents are not contradictory undertakings… Capturing delinquents depends on being able to rely on intelligence and special forces, while avoiding crime requires territorial control.

In sum, says Villalobos, the current security crisis is a crisis of the State, by its absence, by its co-opting or by its weakness. Every vacuum of authority in the territory is occupied by another power, be they criminals, insurgents or   paramilitaries. Without reforming the security institutions bequeathed by the authoritarian regimes it is not possible to protect the citizens. If the police resemble delinquents, they will end up delinquents.

*Bandidos, Estado y ciudadanía, Nexos, enero 2015

www.cidac.org

@lrubiof

Luis Rubio

Four years is a long time: in this space a country can establish the foundations of its transformation toward development, but also to destroy what was accumulated over decades. The difference lies in the existence of a viable economic and political strategy and the leadership capable of leading the way through. As Martin Luther King affirmed, “darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that”. The question is from whence will come the light?

This president embarked with flying colors upon a long list of reforms and a political mechanism –the so called Pact for Mexico- for their approval. What followed makes plain the nature of the problem: the log jam set in when implementation of the constitutional reforms had to begin, a process by definition involving the affecting of special interests because reform inexorably entails modification of the status quo, but it opted not to do this. Some reforms were shelved, others watered down and yet others were in practice renegotiated. The result: many changes but little probability of achieving tangible benefits, while a dangerous propensity to undermine the existing (and weak) institutional structures was created.

As the months went by, it was evident that the criterion for putting the reforms into effect had no bearing on the success of these, but rather with not affecting specific interests. The case of the educative reform is illustrative: every single union section that rebelled against the reform was granted an exception. The same went with the National Polytechnic Institute.  It is natural and even commendable for the government to privilege peace and stability, making circumstantial concessions. However, exceptions are useful if only to buy time for subsequently forcing implementation of the reform required: contrariwise, they would become political facts that annul all possibility of the government’s achieving its own objectives.  Cancelling the implementation of the reforms can only provoke an expansive and endless wave of new petitioners: Does anyone remember the so called “concerta-cesiones” of the 1980’s, before the 1996 electoral reform, when each concession led to ever more complex demands?

As de Tocqueville once wrote of the reform process as the most dangerous moment for a government, the great risk that President Peña now confronts is having altered the foundations of the old constitutional order without having anything to show for it, undermining the groups and interests that sustain his party without having constructed a new coalition to support it.

By the time the events in Iguala came to be known the government already had problems. Iguala had the effect of unifying all who felt threatened, affected or aggravated by the government, mixing Greeks and Trojans together, some exceedingly innocent regarding the nature of their new “partners”. The absence of government response magnified the event (which I don’t want to minimize but it’s obvious that this also is not exceptional in a country that has witnessed over 100,000 deaths in recent years) and altered the political equation. What didn’t change was the governmental script and frame of reference, which have proven unviable and unsustainable.

The question is what’s next. Countries with solid structures that don’t rely on the skill or fitfulness of individual persons can navigate for a long time without anything happening: examples of this are plentiful, as with the U.S. today. But the contrary is also true of countries where the absence of institutions confers so much power, but also responsibility, on the individuals in charge. In one word, there’s no way that the country could survive without setbacks after four years astray. The government has to act –act differently- or will confront the actions and strategies of those bent on exploiting the roiling river. The strategy of no conflict at any price is leading the country towards anarchy.

The paradox of the moment lies in that the present government possesses the characteristics necessary to advance an ambitious reform project but appears to be unwilling to take the crucial step, which would inevitably imply affecting interests near the heart of the President himself, as well as building an alliance with the natural beneficiaries, although the majority still don’t know this: the citizens.

Successful reformers have been those who bestow privilege their reforms over and above their friendships. In their Praise of Betrayal, Jeambar and Roucaute affirm that “Everyone understands that it is very praiseworthy for a prince to keep his word and to live with integrity, without tricks or reprimands. Notwithstanding this, the experience our era demonstrates that the princes who have done great things have not put themselves out to keep their word”. That’s the tessitura in which President Peña finds himself: captain the ship into a safe port or be sunk by corruption, the keepers of agendas of non-institutional change and an economy that does not grow.

The best way of bringing the matter into focus is to acknowledge that the key resides in satisfying the population’s most basic needs, starting with the hope of a better life and the certainty that things will not get worse. The economic policy pursued to date goes counter these principles and endangers the viability of the country. Juan Perón observed that the most sensitive organ in the body is the pocketbook, a saying that applies equally to the most modest worker and to the loftiest businessman. The overarching uncertainty of the present can only be defeated with credible and lasting rules: clear-minded stewardship and a growing economy.

The President urgently needs to revert the destructive wave in which he finds himself and that can only happen with a game changer. Leading the nation towards the rule of law would be a grand place to start.

www.cidac.org

@lrubiof

Luis Rubio

The student assassinations in Iguala altered the political dynamic of the country and recast the fate of the government definitively. The crucial question is what the implications are. Judging by the discourse and communications of the President and his team, there is a certain number of insidious individuals who are guilty of having conspired against the government and having consciously engendered the current crisis. With this diagnosis, instead of coming to grips with resolving the situation, the government has devoted itself to pinpointing conspirators and guilty parties, destroying, step by step, its own capacity to advance.

Aside from some actors who are intentionally pledged to undermining the country’s stability and ousting the government, as various guerilla groups could be, it is difficult to believe that established businesspeople, other nations, or diverse institutions would have the least interest in, not to mention the capacity for, defying the government in this manner. In addition to that these actors live off the stability of the country and can only develop and prosper within that context, the basic question is, what would the government gain by flushing out the alleged guilty parties?

If anything has been evident throughout these exceedingly long months it is that the only big loser due to its paucity of action has been the government itself. Worse yet, the search for the guilty has led to aggravating the crisis, evidencing the government’s lacks and inabilities and emboldening its enemies. In this sense, beyond whether or not there are in reality conspirators, it is impossible not to arrive at the conclusion that the blame for the present moment, beginning with the situation in which the government now finds itself, lies in the initial error of a poor reading of the succession of events, from the strike of the Polytechnic students to Ayotzinapa. It was that error that led to the loss of credibility in the government, which still has not come to recognize the situation in which it finds itself. Some days ago, columnist Salvador Camarena recalled a citation of General Obregón that more fully explains the situation than all of the conspirators traipsing through the minds of our esteemed functionaries: “The first error is the one that counts: the rest are consequences”.

The problem with conspiratorial approaches –the first error- is that they get lost in their own labyrinth. Rather than advancing the governmental project, it ends up paralyzed in the “who did this to me?”, making it impossible to resolve the situation. The question that the government should be asking itself is “what did we do wrong?”, because that way of focusing the problem conveys concrete answers and the possibility of solving it. Inasmuch as the government persists in searching for the “bad guys” and in the inanity of continuing to engage in what has already proven not to work, its situation, and inexorably that of the country, will continue to pursue the inevitable course of systematic deterioration.

In a speech days prior to his assassination, Robert Kennedy revealed an idea that seems to be expressly conceived for this moment of Mexico: “Some look for scapegoats, others look for conspiracies, but this much is clear: violence breeds violence, repression brings retaliation, and only a cleansing of our whole society can remove this sickness from our soul”. That is the true theme of Mexico: the urgency to construct a new platform for its development, something that does not depend on more legal reforms, more controls over society, budgetary actions, or scapegoats, but instead on a transformative vision appropriate for the XXI Century.

The country suffers from all kinds of ills, but the main one is the absence of a sense of direction and a skilful and committed government to head it. That absence, the reflection of a weak and inadequately professional system of government, creates a “roiling river” environment in which the more extremist interests and groups flourish and profit, the unruly of whatever stripe wax courageous and investment, thus the generation of wealth and jobs, is inhibited. All of this undermines governmental projects and postpones, if not nullifies the potential for economic growth.

In this manner, a government that wagered on its mere presence transforming the country is finding that the entire system has feet of clay. This reality admits two possibilities: one, start to correct the problems distressing the country and that now have had the effect of paralyzing the government; or, second, leave no stone unturned in seeking out the guilty, which would lead to an increasingly dangerous and risk-ridden scenario for the stability and viability of the country in its entirety.

It is evidently impossible to solve ancestral problems that this government and all its predecessors, have inherited from history.  What is possible is to change the tone, head up transformative processes and prove to the citizenry that there is a future that is not only promising but wholly possible. The government’s problem is that a cynosure of this nature would imply a radical departure from its initial project.

The government took the country by surprise with its reforms and the capacity for processing them in the legislative environment. What it didn’t do was recognize that this is the XXI Century, within the context of economic globalization and in the midst of an immense security crisis. Only by adopting the rules inherent in the globalization era can the government begin to change the nation’s course and, at the same time, leave a lasting legacy. The only way that the government can break the vicious circle in which it finds itself lies in becoming the paladin of the Rule of Law, practically the opposite of what fueled its venture at its outset.

www.cidac.org

@lrubiof

 Luis Rubio

Beyond its (enormous) economic impact, the true transcendence of NAFTA was its exceptional character in the public life of Mexico. NAFTA resolved the main source of uncertainty that impeded the flow of private investment. However, its exceptionality resides in that the government accepted limits to its capacity of action vis-a-vis those investors and in that altered one of the core characteristics and tenets of the so-called “system”, the way Mexico had been governed ever since the Revolution by the victors and according to their own will. I ask myself whether it will be possible to take the next step: construct a mechanism that limits the government’s capacity of action –thus, the main source of arbitrariness that exists at present, in reality or potentially, in front of the citizenry- but in the world of politics.

In its original conception, the objective of initiating the negotiation of a North American trade agreement was the creation of a mechanism that would grant long-term certainty to the investor. The context within which that objective was procured is important: Mexico was just emerging from a stage of financial instability, high levels of inflation, bank expropriations and, in general, an investment regime that repudiated foreign investment and that sought to regulate and limit private investment in general. Although the rules had changed in this respect, investment did not exhibit a willingness to pour into the nation as the government at the time pretended. Risk-averse investors needed certainty. NAFTA was the factual recognition that a much more audacious step was required to attract that investment.

At the end of the day, the governmental response constituted a milestone in the political life of the country because NAFTA entails a set of “disciplines” (as trade negotiators call them) that are nothing other than impediments to a government acting as it feels like or as the various interests that operate within the political apparatus might prefer. Acceptance of this set of disciplines implies the decision to “self-limit”, that is, to accept that there are rules of the game and that there is a severe cost to be paid in the case of violating these norms. In one word, the government ceded power in order to gain credibility, in order to attract investment. This ceding of power allowed the country to generate a huge new engine of growth in the form of foreign investment and exports. Without this ceding of powers, the country would have at best muddled along for the last twenty years.

Beyond the economic challenges the country encounters today (which are not few in number or simple), Mexico continues to face a fundamental challenge in politics and this one is not conceptually distinct from that which existed when it was decided to accept these economic and commercial disciplines. To the extent that the governor can say yes or no according to his own personal, political or party calculations without a concern for whether that decision violates the law, the rule of law is irrelevant; it does not exist. This circumstance is the one that makes the country dependent on one individual (a factor that tends to reproduce itself at the state level), thus impeding the consolidation of plans, projects or careers because everything is limited to the time lapse of a that individual’s six-year term in power.

What a certain cynic called the “sexennial metric system” (everything starts and ends within the span of a presidential term) is a national reality that not even the recent PAN governments (2000-2012) altered. The propensity for reinventing the world every time a new government takes over and to negate the value of everything that exists has its consequences in all ambits. For example, there are no master plans for the development of cities; investment –public as well as private- is conceived for the short term; pacts and agreements among parties are understood as personal, rather than institutional, issues; decisions on matters of permits and appointments are guided by choices of friends; there is no State policy in elemental affairs such as education, health, the fight against poverty or foreign policy.

The point is that each government feels itself to be the country’s owner and does not see its management as part of a long-term development process. Of course each governor believes that his projects will last and that he personally will join the ranks of the leaders of the nation’s Independence and Benito Juárez, the Founding Fathers, and that his name will go down in history as one of the great builders of the country. Few take note of the fact that the latter is infrequent because the country’s way of being impedes the growth and consolidation of independent institutions, leads to pernicious dependencies, and limits the very potential for success of any individual administration.

There’s a reason why some nations achieve access to development and that has less to do with the rates of economic growth than with the strength of the institutions that render growth feasible in the long term. A governor attempting to transcend would do much better to cede those arbitrary powers, what Mexicans call “meta-constitutional” attributions and power in the interest of consolidating an institutional system. In the history of PRI, personal power was everything and was never institutionalized. Institutionalizing power would be a much more effective way to transcend than to endorse grand projects that are none other than the reinvention of the wheel.

What nations such as Chile and Korea, among others, have achieved is instituting the Rule of Law as their prime institution. Each of these countries pursued its own process but the common denominator, was the acceptance of the governor to self-limit. This crucial step, which in the case of NAFTA transpired in a specific ambience, is the most tangible example of the challenge that Mexico faces. The country will not move on to the major leagues unless it takes that step.  Until that point in time, everything is a mere child’s play.

*From the book A Mexican Utopia: The Rule of Law is Possible, www.WilsonCenter.org

www.cidac.org

@lrubiof

http://www.wilsoncenter.org/sites/default/files/Mexican_Utopia_English.pdf

Luis Rubio

There are two ways to focus on the challenges facing Mexico at present. The first is to assume that the Rule of Law reigns for everybody without distinction. The other is to set out from the recognition that what does exist does not work and requires a transformation. The two pathways constitute avenues with possibilities, but everything depends on the port one wishes to arrive at. Dante offers a reading on what the alternative implies: “The path to paradise begins in hell”, he tells us in a well-known passage. In another he affirms that “midway upon the journey of our life, I found myself within a forest dark, for the straightforward pathway had been lost”. Whichever the preferred perspective might be, both imply insinuating that the country is facing fundamental predicaments.

In recent months note has been made of all types of proposals for a solution. These vary depending on the personal experience or outlook that motivates the proponent: some are radical in content, others ambitious in their reach and some clearly entail a personal interest. Diagnoses also vary, quite paradoxical in a society in which it’s been said that the country’s problems were perfectly diagnosed and that all that was required was the approval of a set of reforms (“The Reforms,” with capital letters) to attain Nirvana. As it turns out we have lived through the period of greatest legislative “turbulence” from the existence of the standing Constitution and, however, the problems have not receded from view.

With this I do not wish to criticize the reforms ratified but rather the misleading tendency in vogue today of assuming fads as certainties and changes on paper transformed realities. Thus the national discussion has become one of diagnoses: whether the problem comprises the reforms themselves or the corruption, impunity or the political class, the political parties or the absence of the Rule of Law. Some are symptoms, others potential causes, but it is essential to determine which is which and what is what prior to continue grooming pacts, passing laws or pretending that the solution to such a complex situation lies just around the corner. The only thing that’s evident is that all of these are elements -components- of an intricate photograph with which the nation –and, above all the government- must deal.

In his most recent book, Political Order and Political Decay, Fukuyama offers some viewpoints that can be useful for understanding the complexity of the moment Mexico is currently traversing. His main conclusion is that the order of the factors indeed does change the product, but not deterministically: for a country to achieve the stability and order that allows it to progress requires a competent government as well as an effective system of checks and balances, but if the former does not exist, the latter will only serve to render the functioning of the government impossible.

Countries that first developed competent and efficient bureaucracies and then moved on to democracy, argues Fukuyama, are usually more orderly, efficient and uncorrupt, but their governments tend to be less responsive to the demands of the citizenry. The prototypical case that illustrates this example, says the author, is Germany, a country that he compares with the United States, where democracy preceded the development of a strong state. In the latter, organized citizens have enormous influence on the decision making process. The first example in the extreme would be China (very effective but not at all democratic), the example of the second Greece (very democratic but terribly dysfunctional). Where would you situate Mexico?

One way of understanding the author’s argument is observing systems of patronage: a system devoted to handing out favors ends up drowning in corruption and is highly obstinate to being reformed. Patronage, says Fukuyama, is an “ambiguous phenomenon” because it is “more democratic” but also “systematically corrupting”. Governments dedicated to constructing, nurturing and exploiting clienteles generate incentives so that everyone can see politics as an opportunity for personal gain.

When Fukuyama evaluates underdeveloped countries he says that the difference between nations such as Korea, Vietnam or China and those of the African sub-Sahara is that the former possess “competent, high-capacity states,” in contrast with those that “do not possess strong state-level institutions”. The key, says the author, resides in institutional strength and competence, not on any ideological or ethical (that is, cultural) orientation. Where there are strong institutions, there is a competent government, and vice versa.

Whatever the correct diagnosis of the Mexican problematic, it is clear that the country’s weakness in institutional matters is legendary, which leads us to two crucial questions: first, is the government willing to confront a problematic that it didn’t have on its radar and that sailed right past it in recent months? Second, will Mexican society have the capacity to accept that some advances in democratic matters are also part of the problem because some of them make impossible the existence of a functional and accountable government?

With respect to the first, the country lacks governmental capacity even for the most elemental: security, justice, infrastructure and the disposition for generating   certainty among the population. Regarding the second, the ability of the government to approve reforms would be sufficient for a great exercise of leadership that permits discerning between the desirable and the necessary. What’s not expendable is a functional and functioning government.

www.cidac.org

@lrubiof

FORBES – January, 2015

Luis Rubio

It is easy to forget what the Berlin Wall was, its reality and significance, above all because in Mexico’s ambiance it often seems that the wall is still there. In Mexico, the wall was, and sadly continues to be, a great excuse for not solving the country’s basic problems, but also for justifying them and, in practice, perpetuating them.

The fall of the Berlin Wall entailed enormous symbolism: the West had won a great historic battle that had gestated from the moment that the powers divided Europe at the end of WWII. With the opening, the political geography of the Euro-Asian continent was altered, reestablishing German might and bringing the former Soviet empire to a close. Perhaps of greatest import was that the fall of the Berlin Wall annihilated Marxism as an ideology, although it didn’t disappear, especially outside of Europe.

The impact on the fall of the Wall in Mexico was distinct. The Mexican Left and, in good measure, the Latin-American Left, has preserved Marxism as dogma and a lodestar for action. While throughout history, and from much before Marx, the Left has always been defined by its opposition to an unacceptable status quo (such as poverty, inequality or lack of access to diverse types of satisfiers), its persistent proximity to Marxism is significant and revelatory. Marxism provided a unifying and justifying vehicle for opposition to the status quo and continues to be so. For those of us engaged in our university studies in the seventies, Marxism was the backbone of the social sciences. In some places it was learned as a science or as an analytical tool, in others as dogma, but its penetration was practically universal. With the fall of the Wall, the nature of Marxism changed, and with it the disappearance of the financing source for activists useful to Moscow. However, in Mexico Marxism persisted in part because it supplied an explanation for the social reality, but also for the absence of academic options. This fact had consequences, which can be appreciated directly, as well as indirectly, in the failed attempt at bring pressure to bear for a new presidential election at the end of last year.

Of course, the problem is not Marxism or the fact that well-entrenched nuclei of believers are alive and well in Mexico or in other latitudes. The problem is two-fold: on the one hand, within university ambits something very similar to what took place in the economy, where very often there is no competition either. Competition of ideas is one of the most important sources of advancement and transformation, because that’s how knowledge makes headway. To the degree that are no dissident ideas (because there aren’t any or because the environment does not permit them), knowledge stagnates.

The other problem is that the reality had not changed: as long as poverty exists, in combination with the absence of opportunities of participation for generations of teachers, academicians and students, frustration accumulates and permanent foci of extremism are generated. Much of the radicalism characterizing the country has its origin in real factors that derive from the political structure and the socioeconomic reality. Any political strategy that would aspire to attend to the nation’s sources of radicalism would have to recognize the factors that give it life.

The Ayotzinapa Teachers College, to cite the most apparent example, is known as a source of radicalism and it’s not the only one that shares this characteristic. These past months illustrate the absence (historical) of the understanding of the factors that generate permanent social conflict and that, for example, make Marxism attractive as an ideological source and battle strategy. In the seventies, it was combated by violent means (the so-called dirty war), those same means that did not alter the historical pattern but rather secured it.

The true learning from the fall of the Berlin wall is that there needs to be competition of ideas and conditions must exist that make economic development possible. Above all, the great lesson is that both things –conditions for development and rivalry of ideas- go hand in hand and constitute the essence of progress. To get ahead, Mexico will have to change its way of being: it is not by controlling or oppressing that advancement is achieved but instead by generating options for the population’s participation, all within an environment of competition and freedom. This is as valid for the economy as it is for politics.

www.cidac.org

@lrubiof

Luis Rubio

The world has undergone one convulsion after another during these last years. With the fall of the Berlin Wall, the old mechanisms that (nearly) coerced stability disappeared, which led to that, in general, each nation had to develop and maintain its own sources of stability and adaptability. The Arab Spring is a perfect example because of its very differentiated impact: while all semblance of order in Libya vanished and Syria endured days of catastrophe, Tunisia achieved a democratic election, Egypt reconstructed its old forms and Lebanon emerged relatively intact. What explains the differences and what does that tell us about the disorder characterizing Mexico in the last months and years?

An article and a book throw light on what permits or impedes adaptability in the face of highly volatile political, economic or social processes. In Resilient America, which could be translated as “The Adaptable United States”, Michael Nelson describes one of those anni horribili: in 1968, explains Nelson, the U.S. experienced urban disturbances, the Tet Offensive in Vietnam (the beginning of the end of that “adventure”), the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy and the seizure  of the USS Pueblo spy ship by North Korea. “Not since the Civil War and the Great Depression, says Nelson, has the American political system been submitted to greater stress than in 1968…” and yet, to a remarkable degree, “the system survived”.

In Mexico we had one of those years in 1994 that ended up causing basic changes in the political structure of the country, sowing the seeds of the deepest financial crisis that the nation had ever undergone and forcing the transformation of the electoral system, eventually giving rise to alternation of political parties in the presidency. Although the cost in terms of legitimacy for the system was enormous, it could be argued that the country survived the crisis because it found the manner of adapting. In this, the contrast between that moment and 2014 is patent: on this occasion, and at least to date, the capacity of adaptation appears diminished if not inexistent.

Nassim Nicholas Taleb and Gregory F. Treverton offer an interesting perspective in their article The Calm Before the Storm*, a text that fine-tunes and brings some of the concepts that Taleb developed in his previous books down to earth: The Black Swan, and Antifragile: Things That Gain From Disorder. In this article the authors have focused on the way a political system administers disorder. Their central argument is that some political systems have the capacity to tolerate tremendous stress, while others collapse prior to the first tensions. The solidity or fragility of a system depends on the institutional structures of each nation.

Nelson deciphers the capacity of adaptation of the North American system at that moment because of its institutional structures (at some point he argues that “Madison rules America”, with this wishing to state that the separation of powers and political decentralization guarantees institutional behavior), as much as because the system-straining forces of discord were unaligned, they had no coherent political effect. More importantly, argues Nelson, the system includes mechanisms of dissention that allow any political force to express itself through perfectly established channels, whether these coincided or not with the government of the moment.

The Taleb and Treverton argument, more conceptual, is that taken at face value, centralization seems to make governments more effective, thus more stable. But that stability is an illusion. Centralization contributes to fragility. Although centralization reduces deviations from the norm, making things appear to run smoothly, it magnifies the consequences of those deviations that do occur. It concentrates turmoil in fewer but more severe episodes, which are disproportionally more harmful than cumulative small variations. In other words, centralization decreases local risks, such as provincial barons pocketing public funds, at the risk of increasing systemic risks, such as disastrous national-level reforms. Accordingly, highly centralized states, such as the Soviet Union, are more fragile than non-centralized ones, such as Switzerland, which is effectively composed of village-states. It would see they are talking about today’s Mexico.

The lesson would seem evident: Mexico is an extraordinarily diverse country in geographic, ethnic, religious and regional terms: While the Secretary of Finance is correct when he asserts that a development plan is required for the nation’s South that is distinct from that which has characterized the rest of the country, the solution that the current government has attempted –concentration of power, therefore concentration of responsibility- has done nothing other than exacerbate tensions. That exacerbation has translated into a disproportionate impact on the federal government, leaving it paralyzed. Instead of rendering it more effective, it has made it more vulnerable, more disposed to systemic attacks, therefore at greater risk for general stability. In retrospect, the chaotic decentralization of the last decade, as it turns out, had the benign effect of diversifying the systemic risk.

The latter does not imply that that is the lasting solution, but it does suggest that the present crisis is the product in good measure of having projected the characteristics of the State of Mexico –no alternation of political parties- to the remainder of the country, an increasingly more diverse and complex nation. Mexico must develop a political model that decentralizes power and establishes clear lines of responsibility, which in serious nations is called the Rule of Law.

*Foreign Affairs, January-February 2015

www.cidac.org

@lrubiof