“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” reads Dante’s inscription above the gates of hell. Many Mexicans must feel like this: that history has betrayed them. Crises, leadership styles, and promises generate expectations and hopes, to wind up quashed in a sea of tears. Causes and circumstances change, but the result is the same: the Mexican feels victimized and believes that everyone owes him a living. In lieu of not resigning himself to and breaking with the vicious circles, the Mexican tends to cling fast to them, therefore losing all hope and possibility. The question is why.

The contrast with other cultures is striking. Avatars in the history in some Latin-American nations are not so distinct, but some countries achieve a split with the ties of the past, while others stay where they are. Independently of his activity frameset, the Mexican tends to be dependent: he wants someone else to solve his problems, the government to protect him and get him out of jams, a leader to work things out, or a perfectly-set, catch-all development project. There are excuses for everything, but few solutions.

The contrast with Brazilians is impressive: their governmental and regulatory system blocked them from progressing; as soon as they introduced appropriate, but far from perfect, reforms, their repressed creativity and ability blossomed forth and they now flex their muscle in entrepreneurial, technological, and industrial spheres. Beyond their recent successes, financed with the export of commodities and foodstuffs to China, the astounding contrast with the Mexican is their drive and willingness to take risks. While we Mexicans tend to see ourselves as victims, the Brazilians perceive themselves as a power in the offing, and see the world as theirs.

None of these observations are new. Samuel Ramos and Octavio Paz devoted their studies to explaining these phenomena and to analyzing the implications of our culture and way of being. Some historians attribute the origin of Mexican nationalism and the sense of victimization accompanying it to the 1847 U.S. invasion. Others explain it as due to the clash of cultures represented by the syncretism of the Conquest and the indigenous world. Yet others attribute the destruction of all individual initiative to the PRIist system and its cultural authoritarianism. Each of these perspectives explains or contributes to understanding the personality of the Mexican. What they do not tell us is whether it is possible to break the vicious circle, and if so, how.

What is certain is that, with all of our differences, poor nations that over the most recent decades have been able to break with underdevelopment entertain great similarities. What makes them alike is the transformation that they have experienced and the attitude with which they have opened up a world of opportunities to their respective populations.

Paraphrasing Tolstoy, it may perhaps be said that all successful nations resemble each other, while each unsuccessful nation is unsuccessful in its own way. Just as it is possible to attempt to elucidate the origin and causes of the personality and culture of the Mexican as brilliantly as these philosophers that I mention here have, I am sure that there are those who do the same for Argentine and Venezuela, Cuba and Nigeria. Explanations abound. What is lacking is some way to break with the gridlock in order to become successful.

An eager and well-experienced observer of our region affirms that the common denominator in nations that have achieved success is clear leadership that establishes a course and does not devote himself or herself to undermining it for his or her own interests. This way of seeing the world is exceedingly pragmatic, but entails enormous risks and leaves everything to the mercy of a savior. Our own experience throughout the past decades is suggestive: there have been very capable leaders who generated impressive expectations and gave hope to the population, only to end up ruining lives, estates, and families.

How, then, to break the vicious circle? Years back, in the 2000 electoral contest, I remember that one of the candidates declared that he was certain of what there was to do to solve the country’s problems. The first two elements on his list were a new constitution, and changing the Mexican. The prescription was simple.

Perhaps the least burdensome way to decipher the riddle is to analyze the unifying elements or common denominators of societies that have transformed themselves. Each successful nation has achieved the conferring of certitude on their populations. This is the true recipe for success. In the same way that the donkey was not born stubborn as a mule, but rather, reality made him so, people safeguard themselves and balk against any change because they are not sure of the future, and, on occasion, not even of the present. It suffices to see how entrepreneurial the Mexican is individually to perceive the immense potential.

Our daily life is a master of uncertainty. Straightforward observation of the quotidian event could stupefy even the most adroit among us. Let’s look at some recent examples: days ago, the Supreme Court ruled to deny the government’s commitment to provide pensions of up to 25 minimum salaries for Mexicans caught up in the transition between the old Mexican Institute of Social Security (IMSS) pension system and that of the Retirement Funds Administrators (Afores). In Chile, this money was submitted by means of a “bond of acknowledgment” the same day that the pension fund administrators (APs), the Chilean equivalent of Afores, were created. In Chile there is certitude; here, deceit.

A second example: in days past, the U.S. Federal Aeronautical Administration (FAA) downgraded the score of Civil Aeronautics services in Mexico, which, in addition to revealing serious procedural gaffes, positions us worldwide as pariahs. The government’s response: budgetary woes. There was not even an attempt to offer solutions, or an indication that the gravity of the problem is understood and that they intend to solve it. Something similar happened with the recent announcement that we have fallen dozens of places as foreign investment recipients. The transcendence of this fall from grace is monumental for the growth of the economy and for the generation of jobs. Notwithstanding this, there is no response or the proposal of a solution by the government or by the remainder of public powers: some self-satisfied; others resigned to the fact.

Certitude and credibility are perhaps the two most fundamental factors of a country’s success.  While these can be built by a great leader or a great institutional system, it takes decades for them to be sufficiently established in order for them to excel. To destroy them takes only an instant. Amidships in this rides the hope of every Mexican and the possibility of getting ahead. The bicentennial celebrations would have been an exceptional opportunity to build hope, but that would have required a visionary government.

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In a visit to Mexico at the end of the eighties, the head of a delegation of businesspeople presented himself with a pithy phrase that left the audience cold:  “I introduce to you the new Chilean business community, because the old ones no longer exist”. In Mexico, it would be difficult to make such a statement. Although many businesses have closed in the past decades, what is impressive is the small number of companies that have risen as leaders and bellwethers in a competitive market. Could it be that we have gotten the priorities wrong here?

Many categorize the decision of the government to launch a “war against the narco” as foolhardy. This criticism is not very different from that which is mustered against European and North American governments with respect to the capitalization of banks at the beginning of the crisis. The truth is that, when confronted by a chaotic and threatening moment, decision-makers in the government do not have the benefit of the retrospective view: they have to act, and to do so in the best possible way. But there is no reason for this urgency in themes of development, which can only come into being as the product of a long-term plan that creates the conditions necessary to achieve it along the way.

This has not been our case. For years, financial crises earmarked the priority; what was important was to recover stability. Then came political change, and now we have a security crisis. Successive governments have suffered from a lack of clear, long term, vision. It is indispensable to resolve a crisis situation, but it is not a substitute for development. However, in Mexico we have become accustomed to resolving crises as if this were an end in itself: for example, having healthy public finances has become an objective in and of itself.  Fiscal equilibrium is a necessary condition for economic growth, but is not sufficient in itself. On occasion, above all if the manner of achieving this entails excessive costs, the means culminate in eradicating the end. The same can be said for public security: it is a means to accomplish a superior objective.

The government is indispensable for attaining development, not running businesses, but as a key factor of social organization. To use a soccer metaphor, Mariano Grondona affirms that “if there were no referee, a player like Maradona would kick all his goals in by hand”. The function of the government is to create conditions for growth to be possible, not for it to substitute for the society in the process. The government’s priority must be to construct means for development to come about, and this is of particular transcendence at present.

We are confronting a moment of global redefinition: today, it is recognized that many of the things and activities that economies, both developed and developing, were previously engaged in are no longer those that are suitable for sustaining the next stage of development. This redefinition originates under circumstances such as the recent financial crisis, global warming, and Chinese competition. The entire world is speculating on which industries will be relevant tomorrow, or on how governments should conduct themselves in order to generate prosperity. This has led to some governments becoming shareholders in banks and companies, but those that are generating far more interesting perspectives are those that promote qualitative, far-reaching transformations that achieve exactly the opposite: creating conditions for the establishment and development of new businesses and entrepreneurship feasible. For example, in Nordic countries, governments are advocating an escalation in the efficiency and productivity levels of their economies, facilitating the transition of enterprises that are no longer able to compete under the new circumstances to new opportunities of development and creating mechanisms for the establishment of technological companies characterized by high turnover.

While this is happening, we continue to be anchored to a paradigm that has been evidencing its impracticability for 40 years. Every country must finds its own way to be successful in this world, but the great lines are well-known by all: the key resides in adding value, raising productivity, and establishing rules of the game that work. In plain language, the latter means transforming the educational process so that people can develop their creativity; drastically improving the quality of the physical and human infrastructure; and creating a framework of rules that are clear and equitable.

What have we been doing in Mexico? Exactly the opposite: we have an educational system that becomes more retrograde daily; although there has been much investment in highways, the quality of the infrastructure and access to same become progressively worse, and in matters of rules, capriciousness is the norm. There is the absence of effective mechanisms for damage control and conflict resolution in contract disputes; in a word, arbitrariness. There is no way to create more and better jobs if there are already three strikes up on the scoreboard when the ballgame begins.

The Chilean entrepreneurs whom I mentioned at the start are all concentrated in “new” industries and activities, even though these were “old”. Many were associated with agriculture, but had nothing to do with the traditional way of cultivation. Their true business was service: added value in the time-honored agricultural and cattle raising activity. In this fashion, they created spectacularly successful industries in fruits, wines, fish, and wood, becoming kingpins in each of these. The process for arriving at this new state of success took some years of penury and many changes in the structure and practicability of the enterprises that had existed formerly. That is, change was not free, but those enterprises were transformed in less than a decade. In Mexico, we have been correcting the macro for forty years, while we protect industries that are no longer economically viable, as if they were museums.

At present, diverse initiatives of the law are being debated that range from one extreme to the other. On the one hand, these are attempting to make the Commission on Competition autonomous, conferring upon it enormous discretional powers. On the other hand, there is a proposal to approve legislation of public-private associations, which would give the government opportunities to choose the winners and the losers, not on an international battleground, but rather, in the assignation of public resources.

It would be better to develop clear, simple, and fair rules, without discretional faculties, so that an individual who saves, or the entrepreneur, or the investor would know what to expect. In parallel, we must understand the context: in very large markets, there can be many participants, but in small markets, the only way to avoid monopolies is with a true market opening. We have, for forty years, been betting on a past that will never return. It is time to begin to construct the future.

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The violence stalking the country does not let up, nor does it seem to respond to the calculations, strategies, and expectations of the experts, of those in charge, or of the lookers on. The only thing that we know for certain is that it is not a linear process, but rather, that there are many players involved who roll with the punches, adjust quickly, and change the rules of the game. The only certainty appears to be that everything changes dynamically.

As the saying, attributed to Truman, goes, “it’s what you learn after you know it all that counts.” Recent months have been  exhaustive in lessons learned because they have obliged everyone –from the president to the most unassuming of Mexicans- to review hypotheses, dialogue with the opposition, and analyze the underlying themes. During these years, I have observed the upscaling of violence, listened to the experts, and have attempted to understand the nature of the phenomenon that we are experiencing. In this process, I have found everything: from public servants who are clear on the phenomenon and its changing nature, perspicacious analysts who attempt to understand and furnish very valuable pieces of the puzzle, gratuitous critics, and experts who during their 15 minutes of fame can explain the past with great clarity, but who are dumbstruck when faced with forward-looking decision-making with the information available. Along the way, the only thing that is evident is that the Mexican lives in fear and without the least amount of lucidity concerning how the future will be.

I would like to share the things that I have been learning, without any attempt in arriving at a definitive conclusion:

• The relationship between violence and criminality is indissoluble, and perhaps therein lies the heart of the matter. The intrinsic point at issue is not narco trafficking, but, instead, the impunity that derives from the inexistence of mechanisms and instruments -and probably willingness- to contend with organized crime. This is what differentiates us from countries such as Spain or the U.S., where there is a similar drug trafficking phenomenon, but not the same violence.
• The origin of the current situation dates back to two circumstances that came about in parallel but independent fashion: on the one hand, the precipitous decentralization of power that began in the nineties and that transferred power, money, and responsibilities to the state governors, but without developing modern police and judicial institutions to replace those of the old PRIist system. The old instruments –corrupt and abusive, but in their time effective at the federal as well as at the state level- were no longer functional, but nothing took their place. On the other hand, at more or less the same time, for commercial reasons, the narcotrafficking cartels decided to begin development of an internal drug market. This conjunction of happenstances could not have taken place at a worse time. When Calderón assumed the presidency, the country was up in flames and required a clear-cut and absolute response.
• The strategy adopted from the end of 2006 reestablished some semblance of order in places like Tijuana, but failed in coming into effect in time to substitute for the Army, which was never trained for police work – with an able and duly formed federal police force. The result has been loss of prestige for the Army and emboldened mafias.
• The mafias have developed territorial strategies that hold sway over the entire criminal world: from drug sales up to extortion and abductions. In addition, they call the shots on political decisions and, wherever they go, impose their law.
• The greater part of the violence transpires among the mafias themselves; thus, the figure of 90% of deaths from the ranks of the narcotraffickers and their hit men of every ilk is credible. The reality is that the government has had relatively little impact on this inter-mafia dynamic.
• Historically, narcotraffickers have always eschewed the limelight: never wished to attract excessive attention. But that has changed: like all the rest of the de facto powers in the country, the mafias have become power factors and operate as rational and calculating political actors: they send messages, strong-arm, and position themselves with political objectives. Perhaps there is no better example of this than the cover of Proceso with Sinaloa drug cartel kingpin Zambada engaging in a bear hug with Proceso editor Julio Scherer, or the barefacedness and levity with which the Zetas murder at will wherever. This tactical change should elicit reflection from the skeptics: there is no doubt that the narcos are baiting the government in all ambits and a collapse of the government is no longer inconceivable.
• Violence has become the presentation card of the mafias and that should compel everyone to rethink the strategy of capturing or killing the kingpins.
• Legalization is somewhat akin to the obverse side of conspiracy theories: everything is resolved with the stroke of a pen. The only problem is that the legalization that would help Mexico is not that of the drugs here (because, as with traffic or taxes, violation of these laws appears to be par for the course), but of those in the U.S.
• The true problem resides in that we do not have a system of government that works. Narcotrafficking has done nothing more than bring to light the lack of professional police corps, a corrupt judicial system, and an appalling division of functions and responsibilities between the states and the federation. Part of this derives from the corruption and the nature of the old system, but part is the product of the incompetence of our present politicians and their apathy in constructing an effective and functional institutional structure. The problem is the shortfall in governance, which makes criminality possible.
• Weapons comprise an instrument, not the crux of the matter. There is no doubt that the mafias possess better arms than the Army and the police, but the problem is that weapons enter the national territory, as easily from the North as from anywhere else. The black market in arms operates worldwide, and the fact that these arms are found Mexico is proof of the anarchy at customs checkpoints and other means of access.
• The rapid rise of violence in Monterrey should be taken seriously. If this, the most modern of localities of the country, succumbs in the face of this escalation, the country has no future. The surprising aspect is the inaction and passivity of the political class, which, due to indifference or connivance, acts as if nothing is at play.
• Colombia can serve as a reference: there, things changed when the government made its fiscal proceedings transparent; it obtained the support of the whole population, and the media recognized that only by ceasing to be the mouthpiece of the mafias would the country come out the winner. The key lies in a government that communicates, leads, and wins the respect of the population.
• The government has no choice  but to combat organized crime because that is the real issue. The solution cannot dwell in negotiating with the mafias but in working to eliminate impunity and developing strong institutions from which to impose rules on the mafias themselves. The order here is crucial.
• There are ways out: what has occurred during this time is that the government has rewarded loyalty above competence. There are well-conceived plans dating from the end of the nineties that were discarded because of ignorance and stupidity, but that without doubt can become the base of an overwhelming and integral response. Monterrey might be a good place to begin implementing these.

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“Transition presupposes –says Joaquín Villalobos- dismounting repressive apparatuses, reconstructing institutions, learning to employ the laws, and protecting the citizen instead of keeping a watchful eye on him”. The political transition opened a new space of freedom for the citizenry and of competition for political parties. In the process, it changed the structure of numberless institutions, modified power relations in Mexican society and among distinct levels of government, and created fissures in control mechanisms that had previously sufficed in thwarting citizens from acting on their own. The problem lies in that it also facilitated the growth of organized crime.

Marcelo Bergman, a CIDE researcher, has devoted himself to studying criminality in various Latin-American countries. He began by observing that Brazilians and Argentines, Guatemalans and Mexicans, all experienced sudden upsurges in crime indices. Each country offered logical explanations that took into account what had occurred, and the explanations made sense and reflected the local realities that their populations had lived in the flesh. What surprised Bergman was that although the dynamic in each country was intelligible, the problem of criminality had broken out in a great number of countries at the same time.

Bergman’s scholarship has led him to develop diverse hypotheses that attempt to explain the phenomenon in a more broad-ranging manner. Along the way, he has been able to impart a much wider and more comprehensive perspective of the phenomenon of criminality in the region, advancing a viewpoint that explains other components of what has taken place in these countries. According to his analysis, there was a cluster of factors that coincided in several countries in Latin America in the nineties: the decentralization of power; the demand for consumer goods by the lower middle classes; the appearance of organized crime eager to satisfy this demand, and the appearance of China as a source of low-priced products that appeased this market. In Bergman’s perspective, the world changed in the nineties because fragmentation of power and the appearance of emerging middle classes created conditions for the remaining two factors to concur and create a space of opportunity for criminality that had not existed for decades.

Every country is distinct, but various nations of the American subcontinent experienced profound changes in their political and governmental structures during the same period. In some cases, the change put an end to military dictatorships and the beginning of civil governments, while in others, the change was due to processes of democratization. In both cases, the core factor was that power was decentralized. This decentralization implied the transfer of former control mechanisms to other governmental levels, which, at least in legal terms, had always been responsible for public safety, that is, what was de facto in the hands of the central authority now passed to state and local authorities. The problem is that these authorities were not organized or trained for what suddenly fell to them, and, in many cases, did not possess the instruments or the understanding of the challenge that was now theirs. Countries such as Chile and Uruguay, which have centralized (unitary, as Bergman calls them) systems of government, did not experience power decentralization and also did not find themselves in the midst of sudden rises in criminality.

The second component of the picture that this scholar has fashioned is perhaps the most significant and fresh. The existence of a repressed, pent up, demand for consumer goods by the incipient middle classes is not only a factor of economic, but also one of social and political, transcendence because it demonstrates the improvement of these societies as well as the failure of statist economic policies of the previous decades that had handicapped development. The emerging middle classes observed the manner in which the upper middle classes consumed, but did have the economic capacity to acquire the same goods. This source of demand was satisfied by organized crime.

The first wave of criminality materialized with car thefts, and these very automobiles found their way to chop shops for sale as parts or for export to other markets in the same region. Over time, yet other markets prospered: bootleg CDs and DVDs; stolen consumer goods, and so forth. The major corollary of the process was the appearance of China as the supplier of inexpensive and attractive goods for an available market. Contraband followed on the heels of all this. With boundless celerity, Chinese goods inundated the clothes, shoes, electronics, computer, and toy markets in these nations. The consumer of these goods did not perhaps have access to the most sophisticated sound or video devices or to the best-quality films, but did have the same fun and opportunity as the most pretentious consumer.

In their seminal article “Broken Windows”, James Q. Wilson and George Kelling argued that when a building’s broken windows are not repaired or replaced, the street vandal will soon break all the rest. The authors developed a theory of criminality with this metaphor, which postulated that when the most fundamental crime is not seen to or attacked, it mushrooms until it becomes a phenomenon ubiquitous in its irrepressibility. What Bergman has observed in these countries complies with this rationale: instead of assaulting the problem when it began, countries that became democratized and their populations were too concerned with the great political themes of the transition and neglected the most elemental: the safety of their inhabitants. Heisting cars was followed by piracy, which was in turn followed by drug consumption, and now, we are deep in the throes of a sea of violence for which State instruments continue to be insufficient or inadequate. There is no happy ending in this story, but Bergman’s interpretation provides much food for thought.

The breaking up of a semi-authoritarian political system does not necessarily entail the growth of criminality. This situation came about in Mexico and in other nations of the South-American continent because transition was not accompanied by the development of solid institutions able to contribute to the establishment and maturation of a police system, a justice system, and, in general, a system of government. We Mexicans are now obliged to find the way to achieve what the transition’s actors and authors never understood to be central to the edification of a nation that is not only democratic, but also modern and civilized.

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“In democratization theories” -writes Joaquín Villalobos- “it is said that authoritarianism is made up of uncertain processes with certain results, and democracy, of certain processes with uncertain results.” Although the interminable democratic transition that Mexico has experienced has been excessively terse, its consequences have been extraordinarily grandiose and not all good. Decentralization of power has had the effect, which should clearly be welcome, of balancing the federal powers, but also, a penchant for demolishing the governing capacity. These changes could not have taken place at a worse moment.

The crisis of criminality that began to overtake Mexico at the beginning of the nineties has not come to a halt in terms of either expansion or aggravation. Not only that: to this criminality, we must add the wars among narcotraffickers, and, more recently, the grandstanding of the losers of these encounters, which is manifested in the form of extortion, selling protection, and abduction. Explanations concerning the causes of these phenomena are many and each offers distinct diagnoses. But none of these clarifies the panorama exhaustively.

There are two types of explanation for the phenomenon of criminality: some are endogenous in nature because they arise from the national reality itself, unique and distinct as it is from the rest of the world, such as that I describe here. The other type of explanation also arises from the domestic reality, but is produced within an international context, which affords to it its own characteristics. The two types of explanation are not contradictory, but they reveal distinct dimensions of the problem, each thus meriting its own analysis.

All diagnoses coincide in that the government’s weakness is the explicative factor. There is no doubt that, as can be inferred from the Villalobos quote, the strength of the authoritarian government allows for certainties that do not derive from the existence of solid and representative institutions, but rather, from the very capacity of the operation itself and of the susceptibility to employ institutions that are not acceptable (nor presentable) in a democracy. The processes of democratization exert the effect of weakening this operational capacity and of canceling the ability for resorting to authoritarian instruments. The wager inherent in a democratization process is that, little by little, institutions will consolidate that will permit processes that afford confidence and that avoid excesses.

The process of the decentralization of power in Mexico arrived at the worst possible moment because it occurred precisely when narcotrafficking was experiencing a transformation. Contemplated in retrospect, economic liberalization and the negotiation for a North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) comprised the first steps in a process of political liberalization and decentralization that came to be generalized with political opening and the 2000 PRI defeat. The instruments and mechanisms of control that previously dominated the presidency shrank and were slowly transferred to state governors, political parties, and the “de facto powers”. Although it took some years to consolidate the true transfer of power, it became evident in 1994 that the presidency no longer possessed the capacity of imposing its will.

While the beneficiaries of these transfers quickly acquired great power, not all had the capacity of action, or, more exactly, the structure to exercise the power. By the same token, the de facto powers required no more than formal separation from the PRI or acquisition of their own public presence to make good on their interests. Something similar happened with the political parties and legislative leaders, although these were frequently very childish and even comical in their manner of making the change in power relations obvious.

True change, truly transcending change in terms of the objectives of the country’s governability, occurred at the level of the governors. In contrast with a union, business, party, or legislative leaders, the governor of a state faces concrete, specific and legal responsibilities for the population’s health and safety, as well as for the functioning of vital processes of the country’s stability. From this perspective, one of the great misfortunes of the political transition resides precisely in that mechanisms that are critical for the country’s stability and public security were never effectively transferred to or developed by state governments. The federal government was losing its capacity of action, but the governors did not develop the latter with the same alacrity, and many, perhaps the majority, have not begun to do so to date. The result is the chaos that we have in the public security: the nonexistence of professional police officers, a dysfunctional justice procurement system (not that the old one worked), and growing insecurity.

The flip side of the coin was the change in the profile of narco trafficking in Mexico. For many years, drug trafficking entertained a logistic rationality: drugs arrived from the south to be exported north. Arrangements between functionaries and governments with narcos, today’s hot topic of conversation, entertained a very distinct dynamic from that of the present because the narco trafficking business was essentially one of transport to the north, while the federal government was exceedingly powerful. This combination permitted a degree of corruption that was functional for narco trafficking and not threatening to the government. All players were delighted.

Everything indicates that toward the mid-nineties, narco trafficking began to develop an internal drug market, an ominous decision that would change everything. At present, criminality –both that which is pure, traditional, delinquency, as well as that deriving from narco trafficking- has become a factor of instability throughout the country and one that grew hand in hand with the disjointedness of the federal government’s security apparatus. The combination of democratization and decentralization of power and the growth of narco trafficking and criminality could not have occurred at a worse moment for the country.

This explanation, as so many others, is lame because it only explains certain parts of what has taken place over the past several years. Marcelo Bergman, a Center of Economic Research and Teaching (CIDE) specialist, has developed a much more comprehensive explanation that permits us to register these processes within a broader context. Bergman says that many countries began to be besieged by criminality in the nineties, and that, although everyone pays heed to their own explanation, such as that which I have attempted to describe here, the general context makes a difference. Thus, this should be observed painstakingly, because in its absence, there will perhaps be no solution.

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The war on narcotrafficking has paralyzed the country. The Colombian experience demonstrates that the key to defeating the criminal mafias lies in the conviction of the population that the enemy must be defeated. However, for whatever reason, this conviction does not exist in Mexico. Thus, the “war on drugs” has become yet another of many themes rife with political controversy and means to discredit the government. This said, if one analyzes the diversity of stances, the true problem is found in the president’s action on the political and media fronts.

In weeks past, the president has held meetings with all sorts of people and groups, analysts as well as politicians, representatives of the media, intellectuals, and victims. At each of these sessions, there has been a plethora of debate and interchanges. At first, parties and governors refused to participate because, they adduced, the president’s calling everyone together was the result of his plan being stuck, and not because he was truly interested in dialogue or in restating his strategy. In the end, good sense won out.

What is interesting is that, if one removes the stuffing and the posturing, differences in content are not very great. Eduardo Guerrero says that the objective of the government on initiating combat with the narcotrafficking mafias was the following: “1. To fortify the security institutions; 2. To diminish, stop, or prevent drug use; 3. To incapacitate the criminal organizations, and 4. To regain public spaces”, objectives that would appear to be logically related among themselves, but, “unfortunately, this is not the case”. On his part, Manlio Fabio Beltrones, the PRI Senate leader, states that “Felipe Calderón made the correct decision: to take the fight against organized crime and narcotrafficking to its ultimate consequences. It is a decision that must be supported and continued. I only say that the strategy must be set forth anew. It is not by confronting delinquency with the firepower of the State that we will solve the problem: we would only generate more violence. We should act with greater intelligence, police intelligence to deliver precise hits, bring an end to the capos, desiccate them where they are most affected: the money”*.

Everyone is uneasy about the deaths, and rightly so. According to Joaquín Villalobos, who after spending more than twenty years in the jungle ought to know something about these themes, responds that “Violence is an inherent part of war, and is not in itself a sign of how badly the war is going. The opponents’ demand is reasonable if we focus on exacting more efficacy, better inter institutional coordination, integrality of plans, and political agreements on security, but it is illogical when they clamor for an end to violence at all costs, because this is impossible”. Villalobos’s essential claim is that violence does not depend on the government, but that it is, rather, an instrument that drug cartels have decided to employ to defend their places of business. “Their natural fight is with other cartels, not with the State”. “The violence of the cartels against the Mexican State is, therefore, a last-ditch resource, because attacking the government does not help their purposes, something clearly expressed in their explicit bylaw avoiding, in the vernacular, “heating up the plaza”, that is, calling attention to itself from the State”.

The basic problem is not in the definitions, but instead, in the political differences. On making the war his, and only his, the president left the actors -politicians and governors-, as well as the society in general, in a comfort zone, one with no responsibility and with broad opportunities for critiquing. Thus, for the so-called dialogue to be successful, it must entertain commitments and minimally reliable conditions. The president should be clear that his proposal is not a media ploy, and that there is, in truth, a genuine space and vote for confidence ensuring that all positions will be heard and assessed, and equally important, that this agenda will not wind up contaminated by electoral affairs. It is particularly important to build consensus behind the mutual objective, which has become more relevant in view of the recent abductions of journalists. However, no dialogue will prosper unless it concludes with a division of responsibilities, particularly between the Federation and the governors.

Stratfor, an institution of intelligence professionals in the U.S., affirms that “one of the two things that needs to happen is to reduce violence to politically acceptable levels: A single drug trafficking entity must dominate, or an alliance and/or understanding between the remaining two DTOs must restore the cartel balance of power. Either outcome would see battles for territory end, with the remaining organization (or organizations) then able to focus on its/their primary raison d’etre: making large sums of money.”**

Gustavo Flores-Macías reasons that President Calderón’s strategy will not be successful until it attains two previous conditions: strengthening the government’s fiscal position, and including the population in backing the government’s efforts. Different from Colombia, notes Flores, the Mexican Government has not executed significant fiscal reform, has not advanced in public rendering of accounts, nor has it launched a campaign against drug use, all of the latter key factors in the strategy of Uribe, the out-going Colombian president. As Uribe made fiscal accounts transparent, the population began to have confidence in his project and was disposed to support him. His main success, says Flores, was that the population came together behind the president because it was convinced that the effort was real and that the battle embodied no partisan logic.***

It is commendable that President Calderón has thrown open the theme that dominated his six-year term to debate, and that he is doing this straightforwardly. The positions that he heard and his own assertions in these forums evidence the enormous effervescence in Mexican society. And not without good reason: the theme dominates the media, and violence relentlessly persecutes the population. At heart, people want to know what the government proposes in this war and what the yardstick is for gauging success. It’s not much to ask.

Judging by the experts, it appears evident that the key to success lies in the intrinsic fortitude of the government and of the popular support it amasses. Both are debatable at present. I have no doubt that the best legacy that the president could bequeath has less to do with his successor than with the scaffolding necessary to win this war, because the alternative is worse than anyone could imagine. But the precondition is that this theme be his theme, i.e., that he is able to convince his interlocutors that the objective is public security and not presidential succession.

*Nexos, Agosto 2010-08-05

**http://www.stratfor.com/analysis/20100802_mexico_security_memo_aug_2_2010

***http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/30/opinion/30flores-macias.html?_r=1&partner=rss&emc=rss&pagewanted=print

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An old tale cautions that one should be careful of what one wishes for, because it may come true. In the case of Mexican migration to the U.S., Mexico has been extraordinarily emphatic in the urgency to legalize the population of Mexican origin who live and work in that nation. It is a complex theme, one in which factors of the economic reality are interlaced with those of justice, legality, and sovereignty. The risk is that legalization eventually is much less benign for the Mexican polity than anticipated.

Migration of Mexicans to the U.S. entertains myriad arêtes, but is not a novel theme. From the mid-XIX century with the construction of the railway system, employment opportunities for migrants began to be created in the U.S. Much has changed since then, but some things continue to be the same, and it is worth our while to analyze these.

• The first that is evident, but often ignored, above all on the U.S. side, is that a near perfect labor market exists in the region: there is a demand for work there, and there are people available for employment here. An enormous proportion of these people emigrate because they already have the contacts for the work in which they will engage, which illustrates the efficiency of this market. Much more suggestively, the unemployment rate among illegal or undocumented aliens is much lower than that of the U.S. population, demonstrating that Mexican migrants do not go to see whether they can find work, but rather, they make the decision to go North based on a reasonable expectation that they will indeed have a job. Migratory flows crest and ebb according to job demand.

• No less importantly, but something that is devaluated and assigned little relevance in Mexico, is the fact of the legal foundering that migration implies: illegal entry into the US is not a right.  All migrants who cross the border through a site other than a legal U.S. Border port-of-entry immigration inspection station at which there is a U.S. government migration officer know that what they are doing something illegal. This is irrevocable – there’s no way around it. The problem is that the concept of the law and legality is very distinct between the two nations. In the U.S., the law is the cornerstone of interaction and social coexistence, while in Mexico, it is solely one of many factors that characterize the social and political fabric. For the Mexican, the law is more of a desire than a norm with which one is obliged to comply. Here, as Octavio Paz noted many times, two worlds whose roots and perceptions are radically opposed come head to head.

• Independently of their legal situation, communities of migrants who establish themselves in the U.S. put down roots, and, with the births of their sons and daughters, create legal realities, morasses complicate any given situation and that frequently produce terrible dramas. On occasion, as when a dragnet is conducted that leads to the deportation of some individuals, the children remain in a limbo that is not only painful, but extraordinarily difficult to resolve.

• In times past, the typical migrant came from an impoverished locality, was often undernourished, and, years later, inherited U.S. diseases such as diabetes and those related with obesity. Today the situation has changed: many migrants are carriers of diseases like these, but they encounter immense difficulties because U.S. health services treat these populations only in cases of emergency.

• In political terms, the Mexican Government ignored the matter for decades because, although in practice it understood the issue as an employment policy, it was chary to assume the political costs that this reality entailed vis-à-vis the bilateral relationship. Arguing that Mexicans have the Constitutional right to enter and leave the country freely, Mexican politicians sought to benefit from the employment and remittances with no output cost. With NAFTA, the fact of migration was recognized, but it was assumed that the growth of the Mexican economy would resolve the issue. Today, with the burgeoning Mexican population in the U.S., no Mexican politician can take the liberty of ignoring the theme. The problem is that the political establishment continues to pretend that this is a U.S. issue, and that Mexico is solely an innocent actor in the process.

• It is not by chance that a huge migratory bubble has appeared over the past 20 years: it all began with the demographic growth policy promoted by the government of Echeverría (1970-1976), the very policy that ended up producing ca. 20 million more Mexicans than would have existed had the historical trend been maintained. This number is nearly equal to that of the Mexican population that has migrated.

• The U.S. political reality has changed: diverse circumstances, ranging from recession to the drop in family income levels and growing internal political conflict, have caused the levels of tolerance toward illegality to plummet drastically. More than one half of Americans support the type of legislation recently approved by the state of Arizona. At the same time, 60% want to resolve the legal situation of those who are already there. Very few ask what would happen were there no offer of gardeners or maids for their homes. But the political fact that no one can ignore is that the level of tolerance has dropped.

• Years ago, migrants crossed the border ushered by coyotes who, in some sense, were themselves “entrepreneurs”. Currently, this role has been assumed by criminal organizations, whose members enjoin arms, people, and drugs. None of this aids in the perceptions forged among Americans on the topic.

Potential legalization of many of the Mexicans who now reside without papers in the U.S. would transform their lives and would open up to them an extraordinary horizon of development. Any effort by the Mexican government is valid if only for this. However, the implications must be understood.

The cost of this legalization would be two-fold: on the one hand, it is unthinkable that something could be approved in the U.S. Congress without a bilateral agreement that commits the Mexican Government to regulate migratory flows and to oblige Mexicans to effect border crossings at checkpoints established for this purpose. With this, migration would cease being a real option except for a handful of persons, all with visas.

On the other hand, the consequence of the latter is that the Mexican Government would find itself faced with the inexorable necessity of reforming our economy in order to accelerate economic growth and create jobs, i.e., what it has eschewed for decades. Now, it is certain that in the absence of the escape valve, the pressure would be for real.

The demand that the U.S. resolve the migratory theme is commendable, but the implication of this would be obliging our political establishment to plunge into the themes lurking in the background and to affect interests of all types. There’s no such thing as a free lunch.

www.cidac.org

The history of the independent Mexico, wrote Edmundo O’Gorman, is the perennial struggle between tradition and modernity. Every epoch has had its specific manifestations: in the 19th century, the themes were federalism vs. capitalism and republic vs. empire; in the 20th century, these included proximity to vs. distance from the U.S. and centralism vs. decentralization. In 2006, citizens were witness to the collision between the two traditions in an electoral confrontation that summed up the perennial themes in new ways: the role of the government in  development; the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA); expenditures, and debt. The themes change, but the contraposition endures.

Today, the contrast can be appreciated in themes in all fields: reelection; political parties, and the relationship between the executive and legislative branches. The same is true in the debate on matters of foreign policy, concerning whether to emphasize relations with the North or the South, to intensify or reduce the economic linkage with North America, and in the management of taxes. As Octavio Paz repeatedly stressed, the theme underlying everything is whether to look forward and outside, or backward and inwards.

Mexican society is divided: one segment pines for the achievements of others, while the other takes refuge in a past that it knows. The crises of prior decades and the decomposition with which the society and politics are afflicted contribute to the sensation of many that everything new is bad. Contrariwise, others affirm that it is necessary to break with the ties to accelerate the pace and to confer a start to and viability on these expectations so often broken to pieces.

What would be better? The defenders of tradition put forth a plausible and reasonable line of argument: the population, they say, does not want more taxes, rejects re-election, and independent of that they have little respect for legislators, they consider the manner in which these vote to reject any change acceptable. At the same time, maintaining the status quo implies the perpetuation of poverty and the enormous inequalities that characterize us. On the other hand, the defenders of modernity take note of the many Mexicans who migrate to the U.S. in search of a better life, study the motivations of the ordinary citizen, and propose means for transforming the lives of the population. The problem lies in that advancement of the measures that they espouse, even if these are successful, would imply difficult and costly adjustments in daily life.

The big question is how to reconcile such opposing stances. Instead of a sum of postures, the history of change, from the clash between liberals and conservatives 150 years ago to the present partisan contraposition, has been a struggle of impositions. Throughout the country’s development, there has not been the equivalent of a syncretism that allows for adding, pacifying, and conciliating. Will it be possible to achieve a grand bargain that brings all Mexicans into a common tent?

No one doubts that the population exercises great attachment to tradition. What is not obvious is whether this adherence is the product of a desire to remain inert, or rather, whether this constitutes a response to fear of change, and, in particular, to the traumas that our history -wars, revolutions, financial crises- have left in their wake. One review of history suggests that the obstacle resides in the fear of repeating shortfalls in change, and not in the deeply entrenched customs themselves. In addition, it is not possible to ignore the tangible fact that an entire gamut of interests hides behind the past as an excuse for not changing and maintaining its own legitimacy. You, the reader, may choose the use, the custom, the labor union, or the favorite special interest (or “poder factico” in Mexican slang) as an example.

In the world era of the present, in which television has made the comforts and luxuries of daily life omnipresent, the Mexican would have to be the only earthly being to reject a better life as a an aim. Fortunately, we have irrefutable proof of this reality in the evidence yielded by millions and millions of migrants –many of these originally from the poorest and most tradition-compliant towns, such those in the state of Oaxaca-, who leave the country in an attempt to satisfy not only the most immediate needs of their families, but also their prospects.

It appears clear that the Mexican’s conservatism is the product to a greater extent of his experience than of his yearnings: bad reforms and crises that become a collective subconscious that rejects any change, not because the latter is necessarily bad, but rather, because many changes have been very costly, and those actually implemented even worse. Why would the common citizen have faith in changes advocated by those, like major special interests, who have for decades benefitted beyond the reasonable from the status quo?

To suppose that the Mexican clings to tradition and the past because it is their nature to do so entails a deep-seated arrogance, the contempt of those who assume that the population is an inert mass, and not an intelligent people capable of utilizing their own discernment. All of the evidence shows that the Mexican works hard, often upstream and against the current. Of course, there are many traditions that represent a history and a way of being and its conservation, and as in so many other societies with a grandiose past, this should be an integral part of any modernizing project.

Perhaps the greatest failure of our political system has been its inability to bring together, not only political groups, but also the society as a whole. The stability achieved in the past century was the product of a great capacity for political action, but in addition, of a simpler and more manageable era worldwide (in which the international dimension was ludicrous) and, of no lesser importance, of a disposition of the government to clamp down, by whatever means, on any opposition. The future can no longer be like this: a new ability of the government will have to be developed for the political reality of today, one that is very distinct from that of the past. And this ability will be required to respond in the same fashion to the growing obstruction represented by particular interest groups as well as persons, entities, and institutions whose logic or objectives comprise discrediting those who govern, rendering processes transparent, imposing its agenda, or activating diverse populations.

Deep down, the struggle between tradition and modernity reflects the permanent absence of assurance. As the civil wars of the 19th century led the population to take cover, the crises of recent decades encouraged absolute rejection of any change. What the people need and want is certainty and clearness of course; a population that possesses both will wager on the future. Our problem is not one of tradition, but instead, of the absence of leadership and of the assuredness that this would of necessity be obliged to contribute.

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Mexico had always been a country of entrepreneurs. From Aztec tianguis to marketplaces in the middle of the Periférico traffic loop, the instinct of the Mexican has always been to own and manage a small business. The totality of businesses, large and small, generated great benefits: wealth was created; the population viewed the future with optimism, and knew that their future depended on their own effort. For centuries, all types of governments and circumstances ─some good, others very bad─ found the way to make it possible for entrepreneurship to thrive and bear fruit. But over the past decades, beginning in 1970, the country has become so bureaucratized that it has undermined not only existing businesses, but also the entire entrepreneurial spirit found in its natural state in the Mexican.

From a country of born entrepreneurs, we became a country of entitlements and claimants, and this applies to the most modest peasant as well as to the most encumbered magnate. From being a country of business and company owners, we became one of employees and dependents on protection and subsidies; from a country devoted to economic growth, we became a country of rights, but no obligations. All of this has weakened the main function of the economy and lies at the heart of our problem of growth.

Mexico’s problem is one of wealth generation, not of employment, poverty, oil, or taxes. That is, Mexico’s problem is that it does not generate sufficient wealth, and this is the function of businesses. However, the whole country is focused the other way around: on extracting taxes, subsidizing poverty, permanently bureaucratizing oil. Instead of promoting entrepreneurial activity ─the generation of wealth─ our governments endeavor to erect obstacles in the form of regulations, norms, laws, and all types of trammels, which not only complicate the life of the business person, but in addition simultaneously generate a climate of uncertainty for investment. All bets are placed on what already exists, and not on a much better future.

Empirical research demonstrates that when there is trust in the permanence of the rules, low taxes, public safety, and patrimonial and macroeconomic stability, entrepreneurs emerge who engender wealth and contribute decisively to the generation of employment and the diminution of poverty. The logic is pure and quite simple, but in Mexico, it has been overturned and perverted.

If one observes the past, before there existed a series of conditions that fashioned an environment that augured well for entrepreneurial development. Before, there was none of the acute bureaucratitis that today is the natural characteristic of the government: public officials did not live in fear of making decisions, and this allowed them to act. Before, the government went out of its way to preserve the rules of the game and avoid sudden changes. Now, the rules change every day: when new regulations are not being installed, a novel tax conundrum, in the form of a yearly miscellany, and frequent tax memoranda, appear on the scene.

Another change, and not a lesser one, has been the transformation of the presidency. Before, the word of the President was law; today, no one pays attention to what the President says or decides. In a country of weak institutions, the strength that the presidential utterance would confer ─whether a yes or a no─ created a climate, at least once every six years, of clarity for which there was no substitute. It is evident that a modern country cannot live by the word of an individual; thus, democracy has been such an important allure. However, we have been unable to move from an absolute presidency to strong institutional conditions that bestow certainty upon the citizenry in general and upon businesspeople and investors in particular.  We abide in the bureaucratic jungle, and worse: not only is no one able to say yes now, but there is also an infinity of interests capable of mobilizing themselves to halt anything.

In contrast to Asian countries, there never has been a true strategy of business development in Mexico. The most successful nations in Asia created developmental, pro capitalistic alliances that fomented the development of enterprises at the same time that they forced these to compete in open world markets. In our case, there was neither competition nor alliance nor capitalistic legitimacy. The government acted under a corporativist concept that permitted the functioning of enterprises because it perceived them to be something necessary: the generation of wealth. However, from the 1970s, this concept changed, and the entire business scenario deteriorated. The Manichaeism of former President Echeverría undermined the little that did work, and what, to date, has not been restored. Rather than backing Galileos, the governmental strategy came to promote Inquisitors.

The consequence of what we have lived through since 1970 is that the weight and interference of the government has been greater and greater in the functioning of businesses, but the public officials who decide are more and more removed from the dynamic that affects the enterprises. Young people no longer view business activity as a promising or desirable career, preferring instead to be employees, and in the case of many of these, public employees who want to be positioned “where the money is.” Before, companies tended to be family institutions in which all members participated in the process actively; this is no longer the norm, except perhaps for the informal economy and the smallest businesses. Although many companies are owned by one family, the families are less and less involved, opting for consumption and for propinquity with the bureaucracy as a normal modus vivendi. In a word, we have fallen into a world in which there is more profit in awaiting for a handout than generating the wealth behind it.

Nations such China and Brazil illustrate something as critical for the generation of wealth as for the development of viable enterprises: neither of these nations has been able to achieve a consolidated rule of law that approximates that which exists in Switzerland or the U.K. What they indeed have achieved, and what constitutes a dramatic contrast with today’s Mexico, comprises the conferral of certainty on entrepreneurs and investors. We had that until the 1960s, but it evaporated and has not been able to reconstitute itself.

On a visit some years ago to Mexico, the scholar Michael Novak said that in Mexico there are many books on poverty and underdevelopment, but no matter now important to understand this, what is truly transcendental is to understand the geneses of wealth, because that is what we lack. Our economic model is wrong side up and requires a radical redefinition. Manichean rhetoric furnishes the opposite: what is imperative is a decided drive for the promotion of a competitive entrepreneur who competes.

www.cidac.mx

All presidents believe themselves to be predestined to change the future and to leave a legacy of historic dimensions. However, very few, universally speaking, achieve this. The contradiction between the grandiose plans and ambitions with which they launch a governmental period and the poverty in this regard with which they tend to complete their presidential term is patent. Yet the cause of the contradiction is less clear.

Inevitably, initial plans quickly cross swords with the dogged reality, and the governmental period, which appears long on time at the beginning, soon becomes a maelstrom of daily problems that absorb those who govern in nearly fatal fashion, to the extent that perspective is lost and time evaporates. Abruptly, presidents are consumed with the end of the period, as well as with the legacy that they will leave or, at least, with the way their term-of-office will conclude. This moment becomes crucial: the grand objectives tarry behind, and only closing well is important. Regrettably, by then it is difficult to understand the difference between what is desirable and what is possible. What is necessary is to reflect upon being able to construct the best possible in the little time left, but that is not always easy and thus the risks mount.

The problem is generalized. No one would imagine that such ambitious and grandiloquent presidents such as Echeverría, Menem, Bush (W), or Salinas planned ahead to end up as poorly as they did. They ended up poorly because their plans were not realistic or because they lost contact with reality. They were all sure that they would have a happy ending, and did not anticipate further than their rhetoric. The reality ended up being another. The most incredible thing is that they did not even have the capacity to understand the effect that the circumstances would have on their own personal futures.

The reality ended up badly for many reasons, but the main one is dogmatism. Presidents cling to their plans and convictions and surround themselves with people who do nothing more than revere them. Adrián Lajous, the great functionary of other times, captured the essence well: “The president lives in isolation behind a five-meter wall. The chosen ones who enter the official residence of Los Pinos tend to arrive with racing pulse and bated breath. Many draw near the president with shoulders hunched and sweaty palms. The majority attempt to divine the president’s thoughts to say what he wishes to hear. They read in the press that the president is a genius. When presidents take leave of Los Pinos, doves are released for them, confetti is tossed at them, the National Anthem is played for them, and there is even a 21-gun salute in their honor. This degree of obsequiousness comes to distort even the most realistic vision”.

It is interesting that there are presidents who do conclude well, or reasonably well, a state of affairs that leads us to ask what is was that they did that was distinct. Part of the answer is undoubtedly involved with the personality of each individual. In Brazil, for example, Collor de Mello ended up very badly, while Cardoso pledged himself enthusiastically to the transformation of structures in order to construct a better country for the long term. Similar to Zedillo in Mexico, Cardoso ended up well, but both have grown in stature over time because they were more concerned about the future of their country than about their own. Both submitted the government to a party different from their own without necessarily having aimed at that. Independently of the grandeur or paucity of their achievements, their governments ended well for only one reason: because they did not hold fast to what had existed or to their own personal or party dogmas. In the case of Brazil, Lula continued to carry out the strategy initiated by Cardoso, affording the country enormous opportunities that it is currently reaping.

What coincides with those who have ended up with positive balances is that they followed a constructive logic and abandoned the proposal that their party or dauphin should safeguard the power; their logic was to advance substantive objectives that enhanced their worth down the road. They conquered the temptation for being their country’s president to serve partisan objectives and overcame their historical ill will and grievances with political adversaries: they made key decisions for the citizenry. In other words, successful presidents are those who procure a leadership capable of inspiring, but also of listening to and arousing confidence in, their interlocutors.

Those who end up well build up support and consensus around their projects while knowing how to adapt themselves and change course when the cart gets stuck. Neither of these is easy, and less so when circumstances are difficult. Clinton got his government under way with great projects but, when he was beaten in the midterm elections, immediately changed tack: had he stuck to his original strategy, he most probably would have wound up a one-term president. Master of pragmatism, Clinton understood that he had to veer off course; he ended up absconding with his opponents’ agenda and achieved exceptional economic and political success. His secret was to look toward the future instead of the next election.

We are at the threshold of the last third of President Calderón’s government. In view of the most recent electoral results, the tessitura could not be clearer or more ominous. The two years that remain of Calderóns six-year term could be either the beginning of a new era of transformation, or two very loooong years of paralysis, lusting after power, and conflict. As Einstein once said, it is madness to expect distinct results if one insists upon doing what has not worked.

President Calderón must decide whether he will do something different (I mean this about the political realm, not on drug policy), something susceptible to yielding better results in what is left of his term, or whether he will cling to the same team of persons and the very policies that have not elicited positive effects for his programs, his party, or himself. Avoiding a PRI win cannot be a governmental strategy, and its cost would be incommensurable.

Two years seem few, above all because they include the entire assemblage of presidential contest paraphernalia. However, there are many countries, such as Australia, where the governing period is nearly as short. Wasting this time on more of the same would constitute a true crime, in addition to harakiri for the president himself. The next two years in Mexico constitute the last-ditch opportunity to construct an institutionality that would allow us greater proximity to nations such as Chile, where alternation of parties in government does not translate into chaos or endless revenge. Better to force an institutional regime on the PRI than to attempt to impede its return, better to foil the perverse logic of reinventing the country every six years and bequeathing the government to one’s cronies.

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