Federico Reyes Heroles
Lying is a fascinating topic. Discernment began in ancient Greece. There were gods of lying, but lying was also used in epics to survive. The concepts were refined: someone who lies out of ignorance or error is not a liar, but a charlatan. Plato even spoke of “noble” lying. For them, lying had both an evil and a strategic potential. The ethical breach is falsehood, which reveals the intention.
There are classic books on politics. Jonathan Swift, the great Irish satirical writer of the mid-17th century, known for Gulliver’s Travels, wrote The Art of Political Lying. Another fascinating aspect is the role of lies in literature. Victor Hugo was a master of this art: historical realities followed by pure fiction. Vargas Llosa explained it in The Truth of Lies, the power of fiction in the service of knowledge. Sergio Ramírez, the great Nicaraguan writer, also wrote The Old Art of Lying.
For the restoration of democratic life in Mexico, one of the central axes is to denounce the falsehoods and lies that are suffocating the 4T. “You can fool all the people some of the time, and some of the people all the time, but you can’t fool all the people all the time,” said Abraham Lincoln.
In politics, the discussion has shifted more toward epistemology, the basis for an assertion, and the ethical foundation. The intention of those who lie or falsify weighs more heavily every day. Sissela Bok wrote a book in 1978 that caused a stir: Lying: Moral Choice in Public and Private Life.
Now nothing adds up: neither the official public figures nor the lifestyle of the ruling clique. The Fourth Transformation is drowning in lies. They knew nothing about the laboratories or the corruption at Pemex, Segalmex, Birmex; nothing reached them about the links between people very close to the drug traffickers; the list is endless. That is why they destroyed all the institutions that sought to verify public truths: Inai, Cofetel, and Coneval. The result: they can no longer verify or confirm even the most obvious truths. In the endless dance of falsehoods, lies, exaggerations, and so on, they are already losing.
One example: last week, INEGI, fortunately still independent, released two key studies: the Household Income and Expenditure Survey and the multidimensional poverty assessment created by Coneval. There are encouraging data, but there are also very worrying ones. The former are basically due to the impact of the increase in minimum wages, a wise measure, but not a sustainable formula. The second is the reduction in differences by decile. On the other side of the scale is the brutal increase in regional disparities and the lack of medical services. According to the president, the press, in general, did not cover the INEGI data. False, the vast majority of the media gave it extensive coverage.
The night before the 1988 Chilean plebiscite, while looking for a seat in the restaurant of the Hotel Carrera, which was packed with foreign press, an old friend took me by the arm, hugged me, and without further ado said, “Who are you having dinner with?” “Alone,” I replied. “Sit with us. Let me introduce you to Adolfo Suárez.” I spent that very long and tense night with them. Years later, another dear friend, Miguel Limón, invited me to lunch with the former Spanish president. At that meal, Suárez revealed a key chapter in the transition. In negotiations with Santiago Carrillo, the leader of the Communist Party in exile, they had reached a dead end. Carrillo demanded recognition of the trade unions and the right to strike. Suárez wanted the legalization of the Communist Party to be accompanied by acceptance of the monarchy, an issue that made the communists bristle. The decisions were not in their hands. They looked each other in the eye, shook hands, and made a gentleman’s agreement. Both kept their word; neither lied. It was not in their code.
They wove a very fine web. With systematic falsehoods, it was impossible to reach an agreement.
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