Luis Rubio
Power tastes sweet to those who hold it—and toxic to everyone else. But in today’s Mexico, the more pressing question is this: who exactly counts as the opposition? Despite its triumphant rhetoric, Morena won just 41 percent of the vote in 2024. And like any broad political movement, it is already showing signs of internal fracture. In other words, tomorrow’s opposition may well come from within its own ranks.
Electoral systems, like computers, run on hardware and software. The hardware is the institutional design; the software is the rules of the game. The reform Morena is expected to propose appears aimed at tightening access to power to ensure continued control. That strategy risks turning Mexico’s political system into a pressure cooker, shutting out millions of voters from meaningful representation.
The 1996 electoral reform sought the opposite goal. It created a hybrid Congress—some legislators elected directly, others through proportional representation—to balance governability with fairness. An “overrepresentation clause” gave the largest party a modest bonus to ensure stability, while proportional seats prevented domination.
That logic made sense in a country transitioning away from one-party rule. It makes far less sense today. Three parties have now governed Mexico. The purported link between district legislators and citizens is largely absent in practice. Maintaining two parallel systems has become costly and largely symbolic. A streamlined, fully proportional system—with fewer legislators—would be cheaper and more representative.
But that is not today’s debate. In 1996, the PRI—then the dominant party—negotiated reforms knowing they would weaken its hold on power. It did so in the name of long-term stability. Not altruism, but statecraft.
Morena’s calculation appears different. Its aim seems less about broadening competition than about narrowing it—by excluding those it deems undesirable and thereby entrenching its dominance. Yet that strategy misunderstands political reality. As in the PRI’s heyday, the most serious threats often arise from within. A movement as large and ideologically diverse as Morena cannot indefinitely suppress internal rivalries over candidacies and power.
Morena framed its project as a revolution, dividing Mexicans into friends and enemies, the virtuous and the corrupt. That rhetoric may energize loyalists, but it also breeds fragmentation. Today’s allies quickly become tomorrow’s adversaries. Changing the rules to sideline opponents may only accelerate that centrifugal dynamic—weakening the governing party even as it seeks to fortify itself.
There is also a more immediate risk. Morena does not represent all Mexicans; its electoral support is limited, and its polling numbers trail those of the president. Altering electoral rules—or even moving the date of a recall vote—could backfire against the very figure currently leading the scoreboard.
The paradox is stark: a reform designed to consolidate power could ultimately erode it.
George Orwell warned that revolutions often serve as vehicles for establishing new forms of domination. Morena claims revolutionary legitimacy. But it would be wiser to recognize the limits of its mandate. With 41 percent of the vote, it is not the nation—it is the largest minority. Trying to govern as if it were more may put even the presidency at risk.
@lrubiof
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