Antonio Navalón
In many cases, in different situations of political tension and in very diverse scenarios, the main problem—and what most agitates a society—is the inability of some leaders to inhabit and accept reality as it is. Power gives a lot, but sometimes it takes away even more. When leaders try to analyze what is happening, they usually find themselves, in general terms, with two options. The first is to reject reality and reinterpret and adjust it to suit them. Under this logic, it is never their fault: there is always a conspiracy, there are always enemies who respect nothing, and there is always a battle that “must be fought” against external forces.
But what if a drop in popularity, a mass demonstration, or even certain acts of violence within that demonstration are not the result of manipulation, but the direct expression of a deeper political and social problem? What happens when a leader ceases to be intelligent precisely because they decide to deny the obvious?
That is the key. In the case of Mexico, one need only look back. I remember that first big demonstration, with thousands dressed in white protesting the violence in Mexico City during the administration of Andrés Manuel López Obrador, and I see how both governments—of any party, color, or ideology—and the people themselves have become accustomed to the fact that, deep down, nothing ever happens. It’s like when someone is caught doing something wrong, crooked, or illegal: unless there is an immediate arrest, we all know that the avalanche of information will cause today’s scandal to be forgotten tomorrow, and in a week, no one will even remember the magnitude of the accusation or, in some cases, what injustice was perpetrated.
That is why it is crucial to detect signs of unrest, discomfort, or social rebellion early and have the capacity to address them. It is convenient—and politically useful—to use the state’s resources and intelligence to identify “who is behind” it, point fingers at the guilty parties, and reduce any protest to an organized conspiracy. In the end, what is really at stake is rarely analyzed: it seldom coincides with what is shouted in the streets, but instead responds to accumulated tensions, opaque interests, and a political climate deteriorated by polarization.
The only sensible advice for a government as unique as the current one—the first in Mexico’s history led by a woman—is not to repeat the mistakes of men. Do not fight reality. Because, whatever the scale of the problem—which I believe is enormous at the moment—violence, insecurity, deaths, and disappearances did not begin with the Fourth Transformation or with a single government. These elements are wounds that we have been carrying for too many years. And perhaps that is why what began as a minor symptom is turning into a social cancer that is difficult to contain.
I don’t know how many older adults went to the November 15 demonstration, and I don’t think it really matters. Generation Z, millennials, retirees, and those who receive pensions from the Fourth Transformation—they all have the right to protest. The problem is not who marches; the problem is that, regardless of any political argument, there are dead people, there is a reality that can no longer be glossed over. One phrase from the march sticks with me: “I don’t want to live in another country. I want to live in another Mexico.”
On the other hand, there is the so-called “hat movement,” which, before the murder of its creator, Carlos Manzo, had a certain public presence and, after the crime, became part of those urban scenes that fuel revolutions.
We have reached a point in the country’s relationship with violence where slogans, statistics, and “other data” are no longer enough to contain social discontent or to try to show a less cruel image of the country in which we live. Fear is in the air. It is in the streets. People feel safe or unsafe. We Mexicans have too many reasons to feel unprotected and in a constant state of alert. Let no one take refuge in the idea that this is an effect of polarization or the most radical extreme right. No, this is a consequence of the more than 100,000 “missing” persons, the thousands of murders, the open war between cartels, and that corrosive mixture that can only be explained by impunity.
We continue to wait. We want to know the conclusions of the investigations. It is not acceptable that the story of so much bloodshed ends with the exact old phrase: “We will investigate until justice is done,” or the eternal promise of “zero impunity.” That was the promise of this and the previous government. But… when will justice be done? Where? Will it be in this century or the next? In this Mexico or another?
This generation that now occupies the government, starting with the president herself, has no right to forget that the world changed radically thanks to two youth and student movements that marked a before-and-after. At that time, the generational repertoire ended with the baby boomers. But it is clear that without the student revolt in Paris in 1968—an episode that occupies a sad but deeply symbolic place in France’s recent history—the world, not just that country, would have been very different.
In the case of Mexico, the generation to which many of the current leaders who govern today under the umbrella of the National Regeneration Movement (Morena) belonged, directly experienced the other great disruption of 1968: the massacre at the Plaza de las Tres Culturas, also known as the Tlatelolco massacre. It was a leap into the void that marked thousands of young people and left a wound that still resonates in the national memory.
No generation has the right to minimize the effects that others have had on the construction of a country. But this generation, because of its own history and the tragedies that shaped it, less than any other.
Further Reading: