Antonio Navalón
Elections—that modern-day Battle of Thermopylae of the people’s will, from the days of the Athenian Agora to the present—have typically been guided by a higher ideal: to ensure that the voice of the people is heard. Democracy represents exactly that: the voice of the people. Moreover, if we look to its Greek origins, we can see that the word “demos” means “people” and “kratos” means “power” … or, to put it another way: the People rule. But it is also true that those voices and that power of the people always distinguished the echoes from the main melody and the lead voice.
When the voice of the people reached its natural limit, that is where the role of leaders came in: to present proposals, government programs, even impossible-to-achieve dreams, and to submit the exercise of power from time to time—as dictated by electoral calendars—to the interpretation and balance of the popular will.
Amid so many daily conflicts and narrative shifts, without our realizing it, the bells of the elections have already begun to ring. But almost everywhere in the world, especially in this North America to which we belong, there is a circumstance that is not new, though it is profoundly terrible. We have politicians who come and go, who rise and fall. In some cases, they threaten, intimidate, change their minds; one day they deliver an apocalyptic message and—just 24 hours later—promise that everything can be fixed because, deep down, people aren’t as bad as they were painted the day before. But, in the midst of all that, there is no political agenda: there are politicians.
In Mexico, the power struggles and infighting within the ruling party have already begun to decide who will win, how much will be about the past, how much about the present, and how much about the future. In the end, we confuse the failures, the ups and downs, and the lives of the autocrats with the proposals made to the people. And the truth is that, in this historic moment we are going through, proposals—what are truly called political proposals—are very few or almost nonexistent.
Let me explain. Gone are the days when ideologies could be identified with some clarity, when the debate seemed to revolve around a major dispute: socialism versus capitalism. Today, following the increasingly common practice of denouncing, spitting on, burning, and cursing other political factions—from whom power was often even inherited—what remains is the promise of impossible dreams and discordant threats.
At this point, it is necessary to call things by their name. Neither the so-called Fourth Transformation made the country better, nor are the bad guys filling the prisons, nor has the much-acclaimed “opposition” made its presence felt in national life. Nor has the “Washington swamp”—that colloquial expression in American politics referring to its entrenched elites—been drained. All there has been is a global disqualification and the promise that everything will be better. Meanwhile, every morning, upon waking, one realizes that it is true—perhaps they are not like those of the past—but in many cases, they are worse.
The upcoming elections in both Mexico and the United States could be a turning point because they truly represent the hope for something new. I don’t know if it will be better, but it will certainly be different. However, I fear that elections have become a shadow game, in which everything boils down to a zero-sum game. For some to win, others must lose everything. And in the midst of that game, what truly disappears is politics. Long gone is that “team of rivals” so majestically orchestrated by Abraham Lincoln, in which the true goal was to build a better nation regardless of party lines or personal interests.
I am convinced that half of all politicians did not deserve the good fortune of becoming the hope of our people. But I am also certain that, no matter how hard I search, I cannot find a genuine political proposal that justifies their presence on the ballot today. And the fact is, if the proposal consists of having all the scenarios ready to continue threatening, if it consists of increasing the wealth of the autocrat’s family or simply buying time so that impunity and mistakes—sometimes due to nefarious designs and sometimes due to sheer incompetence—continue to erode our people’s capacity to react. Understandably, some do not want the teat taken from their mouths.
In the United States, the new seems to be the old. That is to say, they will have to decide whether—after nearly 250 years of democratic history—they are willing to pour quicklime on the bones of the Founding Fathers and destroy the idea of a country where the law stands above the will of men. What is at stake is whether, in the end, it will be just another country. One in which the autocrat of the moment finds no law to restrain him, where he can violate every rule and truly hijack the nation’s future.
As for Mexicans, the issue is very simple. The time for debating what was better or worse without considering the results is over. The symbolic credit of that hope born on July 1, 2018, as a global promise that, for the good of all, the poor come first, has also run out. I was, am, and will always be in agreement with that moral and social priority. However, what can no longer be sustained is the gap between that slogan and the reality that surrounds us.
In Mexico, in recent years, gigantic—even pharaonic—projects have been undertaken, but in politics, there is a dishonesty worse than stealing everything: not knowing what to do with it. Politicians must get used to the fact that the difference between their well-being and the good of the people lies in a fundamental obligation: accountability.
It is not merely that they cannot steal, lie, and betray—which they do with exasperating frequency—but that they also have an obligation to explain how they are using the resources entrusted to them—let us not forget this—thanks to the voice and will of the people who elected them. I don’t know.
The problem isn’t who’s in charge—whether it’s the person in La Chingada or whether power lies with the president—but rather what they’re in charge of. The problem is what the purpose of power is while politicians keep moving forward without direction, without a plan, without goals, and without a destination. But above all, the question is: what do we do with all those politicians who aren’t seeking to transform anything, but to prolong their time in office to avoid being held accountable? Even if those accounts are minimal, and even though they no longer have a project, an idea, or a country behind them.
In the end, the problem isn’t a lack of power, but the absence of purpose. We are facing an increasingly evident reality: politicians without a political agenda, occupying spaces that once demanded ideas, direction, and responsibility. And until that changes, there will be no election that truly transforms anything.
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