López Obrador and the Future of Mexican Democracy

Will He Further Erode the Checks on Executive Power?

Yesterday, Andrés Manuel López Obrador, best known by his initials, AMLO, won Mexico’s presidential election decisively. After 18 years on the campaign trail, including two previous failed presidential runs, thousands of rallies, and, by his count, a visit to every one of Mexico’s 2,400 municipalities, the Tabasco-born politician received the support of 53 percent of voters at the polls, according to an offical rapid count by electoral authorities. Meanwhile, the National Regeneration Movement (MORENA), López Obrador’s four-year-old political party gained a majority in congress and a majority of the nine governorships up for grabs.

López Obrador’s lambasting of Mexico’s corruption, violence, and deep-seated inequalities resonated broadly with the country’s voters. Yet his victory stemmed in no small part from the shortcomings and outright collapse of his competitors. Second-place finisher Ricardo Anaya ran a disorganized campaign with few graspable policy positions. And five-time cabinet member José Antonio Meade, while seen as personally honest and capable, couldn’t rescue the reputation of the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI), undone in the eyes of voters by corruption scandal after corruption scandal.

A big question now is what López Obrador will do. His campaign revealed a multitude of voices and positions, with his surrogates often contradicting both the candidate and themselves. But even more important for Mexico’s future will be how López Obrador chooses to enact his policies—and whether he will abide by the often frustrating institutional checks and balances within Mexico’s democratic political system. Here, Peña Nieto and his administration’s institutional chicanery has opened the space and set precedents for López Obrador to further erode the democratic rules of the game.

THE POLICY AGENDA

López Obrador’s big-tent philosophy, which helped him prevail where he failed in the past, has created conflicting interests and likely rival factions in his governing coalition, raising questions about what his specific policies will be. Progressive MORENA loyalists work awkwardly alongside seasoned PRI political operatives, and Workers’ Party delegates will serve side by side with socially conservative Social Encounter Party members.

López Obrador’s personal record also seems contradictory: although he often appears thin-skinned and autocratic, he can be a pragmatic dealmaker, as evidenced by his collaboration as mayor of Mexico City with multi-billionaire Carlos Slim to restore the capital’s historic downtown. Portrayed as a leftist populist by most media outlets, he is also deeply socially conservative—opposed to gay marriage, same-sex adoption, abortion rights, and the legalization of marijuana. While crusading against corruption, he has defended supporters with tainted records, most recently Senator Layda Sansores, who became mired in scandal for charging makeup, jewelry, her grandchildren’s toys, and a host of other personal expenses to taxpayers. Most important, although promising to give voice to Mexico’s oppressed, to throw out the “mafia of power” that has controlled Mexico for so long, López Obrador doesn’t seem to particularly care for democracy’s norms, routinely criticizing the press, independent civil society organizations, the Supreme Court, and others he perceives to have wronged him.

Most observers are focused on his populist economic plans. There, the question is less what he wants to do than how far he will go and how fast his policies will happen. He is unlikely to upend NAFTA—the bigger threat to the quarter-century-old trade agreement comes from the United States. Instead, supporters and detractors alike expect him to shift Mexico’s domestic economic paradigm, expanding the role of government through a broader social safety net and active industrial policies. This will include a mix of benefits for the old and young—higher pensions for retirees and free schooling and apprenticeships for those just starting out. It will also include a minimum-wage hike for workers.

Meanwhile, an invigorated Mexican industrial policy will start on the farm. López Obrador plans to promote food self-sufficiency through a mix of price floors on basic foods such as corn, beans, rice, and beef, combined with cheap or free fertilizer and other government benefits. He has also spoken about spurring economic development in the depressed southeastern states by planting one million hectares of fruit trees, and providing other supports to expand the economic and political clout of Mexico’s small farmers.

Another state champion under López Obrador will be the energy sector. Although talk by his critics of his tearing up private contracts is overblown, the state-owned petroleum company Pemex will likely reclaim its dominant role, the government slowing if not stopping the fast-paced auctions of the last three years, which opened up exploration and production in Mexico to private companies for the first time in over 70 years. And to fulfill the mantra of energy self-sufficiency, billions may go to new refineries. More broadly, López Obrador has promised nearly to double public infrastructure investment as a percentage of GDP, talking of new highways, airports, passenger trains, and an overland Pacific to Atlantic transportation corridor to rival the Panama Canal.

It is unclear how much of this expansive economic agenda will become actual policy. These programs will all cost large sums of money, and López Obrador also promised not to raise taxes or the debt on the campaign trail. Even rising oil prices won’t feed the public treasury as much as in the past; domestic oil production is in decline, and the nation is now a net importer.

Beyond the economy, it is unclear if and how López Obrador will translate his promises into actions.

Beyond the economy, it is unclear if and how López Obrador will translate his promises into actions. Although taking on Mexico’s deep-seated corruption and reducing historic levels of violence were part of almost every campaign stump speech, he hasn’t let on how he plans to get results. (Morevoer, López Obrador enters office with fraught relations with Mexico’s military, the main stabilizing security force on the streets and in Mexico’s hills today.) Rather, he has been clearest on what policies he will end. He has promised to roll back an education reform designed to limit union control over public schools and transform the curriculum and way of teaching Mexico’s youth, despite its general popularity. And in the international sphere, he and his foreign minister designate have made clear their lack of interest in continuing to play a regional leadership role, particularly on Venezuela.

THE RETURN OF AN UNCHECKED EXECUTIVE?

Just as important as what López Obrador’s policies will be is how he will go about implementing them. Mexico was long known for its imperial presidency, the head of government constrained largely only by a one-term limit. The office’s power dispersed somewhat with democratization and the rise of divided government. But during the Peña Nieto administration, power again concentrated in the executive.

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JOSE LUIS GONZALEZ / REUTERS. A woman takes part in a protest against Mexican president Enrique Pena Nieto in Mexico City, Mexico February 2017.

Discretionary spending within the Mexican budget rose substantially under Peña Nieto, topping $18 billion last year, or just under 10 percent of overall government spending. Peña Nieto used these outlays, along with other tactics, to push through a series of structural reforms that included new anti-trust, financial, telecommunications, education, energy, and fiscal policies, even as his PRI party lacked a majority in congress. López Obrador could follow this lead, using outlays to solidify his heterogeneous partisan base and to build a broader legislative or even constitutional coalition for change. Alongside these financial carrots, López Obrador can wield the stick of his anti-corruption crusade, threatening to investigate those hesitant to join his legislative alliances. These tools suggest that Congress will provide few checks and balances against his administration.

The judicial branch, too, is unlikely to check any of his moves. Rule of law is a troubling factor in general in Mexico; the court system’s failures to address widespread impunity over the last decade have diminished its standing. Here, too, Peña Nieto’s skirting of the rules with his Supreme Court picks set an unhealthy precedent for López Obrador to continue. Consider the appointment of Eduardo Medina Mora, a former Mexican ambassador to the United States, to the Supreme Court bench in 2015. Medina Mora didn’t meet the technical requirement of having lived in Mexico in the preceding two years, and many questioned his professional bonafides for the job, focusing in particular on his stint as head of the intelligence service as less than exemplary for an aspirant to the highest Court. Peña Nieto’s move weakened the tradition of appointing accomplished jurists as new justices.

The Peña administration also politicized technical posts to an unhealthy degree, a policy that carried over to other institutions as well. In 2015, despite widespread academic and civil society outrage, it forced through Congress a new vice president at the statistical agency INEGI who didn’t meet the professional requirements laid out in the law. Peña’s transgressions give López Obrador space to do the same when positions open up over the course of his six-year term in these or other autonomous agencies that have similar rules regarding qualifications and processes—including Mexico’s antitrust commission, electoral institute, Central Bank, or independent prosecutor’s office.

Many changes can be made through executive actions or inactions, reflecting a long history of divergences between de jure rules and de facto outcomes. As Peña before him, López Obrador can take advantage of these gaps to fulfill his economic and social agenda with little interference from other branches of government.

Where domestic checks and balances fail, international currency and bond markets could step in, particularly in response to reckless economic policy and potential profligacy. Yet so far, the markets have been relatively unfazed by López Obrador’s rise, assuming he will veer toward pragmatic governance. Debt increased dramatically under Peña Nieto—from 33 percent of GDP in 2012 to roughly 46 percent today—without much worry from Wall Street. And although investors may not give López Obrador and his team as much leeway as they granted to his predecessors, Mexico remains quite solvent, with significant room to increase spending.

The last bastion of democratic defense comes from civil society and a free press. Here, too, Peña Nieto has abused the president’s power. The government stands accused of using sophisticated Israeli spy software not to go after drug cartels but to dig up dirt on journalists and civil society leaders. It has also harassed its critics through repeated tax audits and has utilized its immense public advertising budget to reward media outlets proffering favorable headlines.

López Obrador has already painted independent think tanks and nongovernmental organizations with an ugly brush, dismissing them as abetting the “mafia of power” he has come to defeat. He has also publicly opposed any active governmental oversight role for civil society, for instance in choosing an independent prosecutor. The next president has gotten into his fair share of dustups with the press—emulating the attacks more often heard to Mexico’s north about “fake news” when media reports go against him. In the weeks before the election he went after Reforma, one of the most independent-minded of Mexico’s media outlets, and has repeatedly called out prominent columnists for criticizing his platforms, suggesting more scuffles to come once in office. Perhaps in anticipation of his win, in April his MORENA party voted alongside the PRI in the lower house to keep the Ley Chayote, the slang term Mexicans use to talk about the long-held government practice of doling out payments to journalists and news outlets to gain favorable coverage.

Whether López Obrador turns out to be an economic pragmatist or a populist will shape Mexico’s financial trajectory. But more important for the nation’s political future will be whether he chooses to recognize and respect institutional checks and balances. If he does not, he will ultimately be to blame for undermining Mexico’s still-fragile democracy. But so too will Peña Nieto and his administration, as their choices and behavior over the last six years will have opened the door to further abuse of the system.

Publicado el 2 de julio en: https://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/mexico/2018-07-02/lopez-obrador-and-future-mexican-democracy

 

This is how democracies die

Defending our constitution requires more than outrage.

by  and 

Blatant dictatorship – in the form of fascism, communism, or military rule – has disappeared across much of the world. Military coups and other violent seizures of power are rare. Most countries hold regular elections. Democracies still die, but by different means.

Since the end of the Cold War, most democratic breakdowns have been caused not by generals and soldiers but by elected governments themselves. Like Hugo Chávez in Venezuela, elected leaders have subverted democratic institutions in Georgia, Hungary, Nicaragua, Peru, the Philippines, Poland, Russia, Sri Lanka, Turkey and Ukraine.

Democratic backsliding today begins at the ballot box. The electoral road to breakdown is dangerously deceptive. With a classic coup d’état, as in Pinochet’s Chile, the death of a democracy is immediate and evident to all. The presidential palace burns. The president is killed, imprisoned or shipped off into exile. The constitution is suspended or scrapped.

On the electoral road, none of these things happen. There are no tanks in the streets. Constitutions and other nominally democratic institutions remain in place. People still vote. Elected autocrats maintain a veneer of democracy while eviscerating its substance.

Many government efforts to subvert democracy are “legal”, in the sense that they are approved by the legislature or accepted by the courts. They may even be portrayed as efforts to improve democracy – making the judiciary more efficient, combating corruption or cleaning up the electoral process.

Newspapers still publish but are bought off or bullied into self-censorship. Citizens continue to criticize the government but often find themselves facing tax or other legal troubles. This sows public confusion. People do not immediately realize what is happening. Many continue to believe they are living under a democracy.

Because there is no single moment – no coup, declaration of martial law, or suspension of the constitution – in which the regime obviously “crosses the line” into dictatorship, nothing may set off society’s alarm bells. Those who denounce government abuse may be dismissed as exaggerating or crying wolf. Democracy’s erosion is, for many, almost imperceptible.

How vulnerable is American democracy to this form of backsliding? The foundations of our democracy are certainly stronger than those in Venezuela, Turkey or Hungary. But are they strong enough?

Answering such a question requires stepping back from daily headlines and breaking news alerts to widen our view, drawing lessons from the experiences of other democracies around the world and throughout history.

A comparative approach reveals how elected autocrats in different parts of the world employ remarkably similar strategies to subvert democratic institutions. As these patterns become visible, the steps toward breakdown grow less ambiguous –and easier to combat. Knowing how citizens in other democracies have successfully resisted elected autocrats, or why they tragically failed to do so, is essential to those seeking to defend American democracy today.

We know that extremist demagogues emerge from time to time in all societies, even in healthy democracies. The United States has had its share of them, including Henry Ford, Huey Long, Joseph McCarthy and George Wallace.

An essential test for democracies is not whether such figures emerge but whether political leaders, and especially political parties, work to prevent them from gaining power in the first place – by keeping them off mainstream party tickets, refusing to endorse or align with them and, when necessary, making common cause with rivals in support of democratic candidates.

Isolating popular extremists requires political courage. But when fear, opportunism or miscalculation leads established parties to bring extremists into the mainstream, democracy is imperiled.

Once a would-be authoritarian makes it to power, democracies face a second critical test: will the autocratic leader subvert democratic institutions or be constrained by them?

Institutions alone are not enough to rein in elected autocrats. Constitutions must be defended – by political parties and organized citizens but also by democratic norms. Without robust norms, constitutional checks and balances do not serve as the bulwarks of democracy we imagine them to be. Institutions become political weapons, wielded forcefully by those who control them against those who do not.

This is how elected autocrats subvert democracy – packing and “weaponizing” the courts and other neutral agencies, buying off the media and the private sector (or bullying them into silence) and rewriting the rules of politics to tilt the playing field against opponents. The tragic paradox of the electoral route to authoritarianism is that democracy’s assassins use the very institutions of democracy – gradually, subtly, and even legally – to kill it.

America failed the first test in November 2016, when we elected a president with a dubious allegiance to democratic norms.

Donald Trump’s surprise victory was made possible not only by public disaffection but also by the Republican party’s failure to keep an extremist demagogue within its own ranks from gaining the nomination.

How serious is the threat now? Many observers take comfort in our constitution, which was designed precisely to thwart and contain demagogues like Trump. Our Madisonian system of checks and balances has endured for more than two centuries. It survived the civil war, the great depression, the Cold War and Watergate. Surely, then, it will be able to survive Trump.

We are less certain. Historically, our system of checks and balances has worked pretty well – but not, or not entirely, because of the constitutional system designed by the founders. Democracies work best – and survive longer – where constitutions are reinforced by unwritten democratic norms.

Two basic norms have preserved America’s checks and balances in ways we have come to take for granted: mutual toleration, or the understanding that competing parties accept one another as legitimate rivals, and forbearance, or the idea that
politicians should exercise restraint in deploying their institutional prerogatives.

These two norms undergirded American democracy for most of the 20th century. Leaders of the two major parties accepted one another as legitimate and resisted the temptation to use their temporary control of institutions to maximum partisan advantage. Norms of toleration and restraint served as the soft guardrails of American democracy, helping it avoid the kind of partisan fight to the death that has destroyed democracies elsewhere in the world, including Europe in the 1930s and South America in the 1960s and 1970s.

Today, however, the guardrails of American democracy are weakening. The erosion of our democratic norms began in the 1980s and 1990s and accelerated in the 2000s. By the time Barack Obama became president, many Republicans in particular questioned the legitimacy of their Democratic rivals and had abandoned forbearance for a strategy of winning by any means necessary.

Trump may have accelerated this process, but he didn’t cause it. The challenges facing American democracy run deeper. The weakening of our democratic norms is rooted in extreme partisan polarization – one that extends beyond policy differences into an existential conflict over race and culture.

America’s efforts to achieve racial equality as our society grows increasingly diverse have fueled an insidious reaction and intensifying polarization. And if one thing is clear from studying breakdowns throughout history, it’s that extreme polarization can kill democracies.

There are, therefore, reasons for alarm. Not only did Americans elect a demagogue in 2016, but we did so at a time when the norms that once protected our democracy were already coming unmoored.

But if other countries’ experiences teach us that that polarization can kill democracies, they also teach us that breakdown is neither inevitable nor irreversible.

Many Americans are justifiably frightened by what is happening to our country. But protecting our democracy requires more than just fright or outrage. We must be humble and bold. We must learn from other countries to see the warning signs – and recognize the false alarms. We must be aware of the fateful missteps that have wrecked other democracies. And we must see how citizens have risen to meet the great democratic crises of the past, overcoming their own deep-seated divisions to avert breakdown.

History doesn’t repeat itself. But it rhymes. The promise of history is that we can find the rhymes before it is too late.

  • This is an extract from How Democracies Die by Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt, professors of government at Harvard University, published in the UK by Viking and in the US by Crown

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/commentisfree/2018/jan/21/this-is-how-democracies-die