Ricardo Pascoe Pierce
Before, during, and after the November 15 mobilization, Mexico’s president described and attacked the event as an attempt to overthrow her government. That interpretation is the only one that makes sense for understanding the increasingly aggressive—and almost hysterical—tone of her statements. Her cries of “They shall not pass!” and “They shall not break me!” during her morning press conference ring hollow: these are phrases that Latin American leaders used in the 1970s and 1980s, in the face of the threat of a military coup.
But what do these slogans mean when uttered by a leader who has absolute control over the three branches of government and the armed forces and who, in her own words, faces no real opposition? What is revealed is something more profound: a rot at the top that is not yet clearly apparent. Something is happening within the Mexican government that appearances of normality cannot hide.
The march, called by Generation Z to all dissatisfied citizens, had an impact capable of undermining the official narrative of normality and absolute consensus with the policies of the 4T. Sheinbaum sensed this and preemptively discredited the call with accusations that surprised everyone. She branded the protesters as “far right” in collusion with an “international conspiracy,” including the “PRIAN” and Ricardo Salinas Pliego as promoters of the event. She later added the mayors of Cuauhtémoc and Miguel Hidalgo, thus giving her accusations a face.
The government prepared an ambush for the march and created the conditions for excessive violence to break out, followed by what the president would call “preventive repression.” This has been documented. The ambush sought to discredit the event as an attempt at overthrow, a line of discourse she reinforced before the heads of the Armed Forces on November 20.
Then came the inevitable: the declaration of war. But not against drug traffickers or criminals, but against sectors of Mexican society that do not agree with the 4T. Claudia declared war on dissidents and opponents with the cry of “they will not break me!”
She summoned Morena governors and federal legislators to the National Palace. The message was clear: we are going to war against the opposition. She urged them not to give them any space, neither in municipalities, nor in states, nor in Congress. The idea is to impose Morena’s will across the country. At the same time, she offered peace and reconciliation between internal factions—such as those of Adán Augusto López and Ricardo Monreal—with a message that could well have been: “Do what you want, I support you.” The Morena family gathers around the campfire of friendship.
The war necessarily includes the critical press. The threats to TV Azteca are the most explicit warning: “It criticizes me too much,” said the president. According to her, such “excessive” criticism justifies putting pressure on the media’s advertisers. And this is only the first public step against the free press. Not so subtly, she threatens to withdraw the license. In her speeches, she extols freedom of expression, but behind the scenes, she punishes those who exercise it. Sheinbaum’s radicalization is a product of her circumstances. She came to the presidency imposed by López Obrador, and that condition defines her now as she faces her first major government crisis. In these ten days, her radicalization has gone from 40 to 100 in intensity. Peering into the abyss of disobedience, she retreats to the radicals’ refuge, where she feels protected. She prefers to be remembered as a repressor supported by López Obrador than as a democrat seen as a traitor by her party.
That is Sheinbaum’s dilemma, and she has already made her decision: to limit the conditions for political participation in Mexico. Actions against the National Electoral Institute and the Federal Electoral Tribunal to punish board members and magistrates who refuse to fall in line are moving full speed ahead. Added to this is the economic downturn and the imminent review of the USMCA. The third quarter entered a recession, particularly in Mexico’s manufacturing sector, its hallmark in Latin America. While other countries in the region depend on extractive sectors such as agriculture and mining, Mexico stands out for its manufacturing, driven by the USMCA. When transporters protest over extortion on highways and corruption at customs, the manufacturing sector shudders; when farmers protest government inefficiency, inflation skyrockets.
Both sectors were present at the November 15 demonstration. However, the Ministry of the Interior accuses them of responding to “partisan slogans” rather than to their productive demands. The same is true of health workers, teachers, and judicial employees. The authorities, sick with paranoia, are unable to distinguish between legitimate economic demands and political or social demands.
The combination of political crisis and economic recession places Sheinbaum at a crossroads that other leaders have faced. What makes her different is that she must do so while carrying her political weakness: she is not the owner of her own presidency. She is López Obrador’s representative in office, hostage to a co-government that prevents her from making decisions without consultation. Sometimes, she learns of legislative decisions after they have already been voted on or modified without her approval. This co-government between Sheinbaum and López Obrador is what has put Mexico in a governance crisis. And the only way to reconcile positions within Morena has been through radicalization. Hence, the presidential rhetoric includes threats to citizens, investors, businesspeople, and journalists. Everyone has been warned.
What the November 15 march revealed was Sheinbaum’s decision to go to war against society with the full force of the state apparatus.
@rpascoep
Further Reading: