August 22, 1994 VOTING BY ROTE Mexico's PRI seeks a 12th victory BY WARREN CARAGATA
In Chihuahua, Mexico, in the land of ranches
and desert and
red mountains, Ernesto Zedillo Ponce de Leon, presidential
candidate
of the ruling Institutional Revolutionary Party and
likely victor in
the Aug. 21 elections, has drawn an overflow crowd.
The
saddle-backed municipal auditorium, usually home to
pop concerts and
basketball games, is literally packed to the rafters
on an afternoon
when the outside temperature is climbing towards 35
C and the
indoor temperature is simply stifling. Banners in the
national
colors of red, white and green hang limply in the still
air. The
colors of the flag are also the colors of Zedillo's
party, known by
the acronym PRI, which has never been shy about mixing
partisan and
national interest. And in the closing days of the election,
that
political mix seems to be paying off again, pointing
the way to yet
another PRI victory, this perhaps its most difficult,
the party's
12th consecutive triumph since 1929.
The sound system in the auditorium is cranked up
to full volume,
and Zedillo's words are like cannon shot. His supporters
interrupt
often with applause, as when he promises a free breakfast
program
for poor schoolchildren. But in this hall, and elsewhere
in Mexico,
all is not as it first seems. Not everyone claps, not
everyone
cheers. Many just sit, fanning themselves with campaign
literature.
After 20 minutes, with the candidate still speaking,
people begin to
leave. Socorro Armand Arez is among them, her two young
sons pulling
at her arms, anxious to get home and play with their
friends. She
expresses ambivalence about the PRI's candidate for
president.
``He's good,'' she says, ``but the others are also good.''
If the PRI wins, it will not be because of any outpouring
of
affection for the party that has dominated Mexican political
life
for most of this century, but rather that many Mexicans
simply
cannot conceive of life without it. They are like Ricardo,
a
middle-aged Mexico City cabdriver who says that he will
vote for the
PRI because, quite simply, at least he knows who to
pay off. At a
time of national turmoil, voters are staying with what
they know.
``Sometimes I am surprised why people say they are going
to vote for
the PRI,'' says Sergio Sarmiento, editorial director
of Mexico's
Encyclopedia Britannica and columnist for the daily
El Financiero.
In a Mexico full of new risks brought by economic upheaval
and free
trade with Canada and the United States, this does not
seem to be
the time for political experimentation. ``When Mexicans
thought
about a real divorce from the PRI, they thought twice,''
says
pollster Vicente Licona y Galdi, director general of
Indemerc/Louis
Harris.
The PRI, well financed and well organized, has now
built a solid
lead in the polls over the centre-right National Action
Party (PAN)
led by lawyer Diego Fernandez de Cevallos and the social
democratic
Party of the Democratic Revolution (PRD) led by Cuauhtemoc
Cardenas
Solorzano, the son of a former president. In congressional
elections
that will be held the same day, the party also seems
assured of
victory. But whatever the result, the business climate
is unlikely
to change, because all three major parties generally
support the
economic changes promoted by Carlos Salinas de Gortari,
whose
six-year term as president ends with the swearing in
of his
successor on Dec. 1. Barring an upset, the key issue
then will be
not so much who will replace Salinas at Los Pinos, the
presidential
compound, and what policies he will pursue, but whether
the PRI can
win the election fair and square--and even if it does,
whether
Mexicans will believe that the results are untainted
by the kind of
massive electoral fraud that many say robbed Cardenas
of victory in
1988 (page 19).
In a country that this year has seen a rash of turmoil--an
armed
rebellion in the poor southern state of Chiapas, the
assassination
of Zedillo's predecessor, Luis Donaldo Colosio, and
two high-profile
kidnappings--the possibility of a new round of violence
after
Sunday's election has occasioned considerable worry
and debate.
``There is very marked fear everywhere,'' Sarmiento
says.
Fear now appears to be the driving force in Mexican
politics, and
it is working to the advantage of the PRI. It is helping
voters
forget their problems, and answering the question posed
by Federico
Estevez, an expert on Mexican politics at the Autonomous
Technological Institute in Mexico City: ``In the middle
of a
recession and with growing inequality and corruption,
how can there
be a PRI lead?''
In the closing weeks of the campaign, the ruling
party has tried to
build on the apprehension with two new ad campaigns.
One, used for
bumper stickers and street banners, announces with no
subtlety at
all that a vote for Zedillo is a ``vote for peace.''
The other, on
television, squeezed among the steamy soap operas, reminds
Mexicans
that the opposition parties have no experience in governing.
It is a
campaign that evidently strikes a chord. ``The PRI will
win because
people know the PRI,'' says a round-faced, cheerful
Mexico City man
named Jos Martes. ``Cardenas, no one knows. The PAN,
no one
knows.'' He waves his hand dismissively. In fact, the
PAN, cut from
the mould of a European Christian Democratic party and
making its
strongest showing ever, has also made a nod to voter
anxiety. It
abandoned a harder edged but powerful slogan calling
for a ``Mexico
without lies'' for one that proclaims the party as ``the
only safe
change.''
The mood of unease created by the Zapatista revolt
in Chiapas in
January and the assassination of Colosio in March has
rebounded
hardest against Cardenas. He and his supporters complain
of cozy
secret deals between the PRI and the PAN and make claims
about dirty
tricks and outright intimidation and violence at the
hands of the
PRI, including what they say was the attempted assassination
of a
PRD candidate in Chiapas, injured when the car he was
riding in was
hit by a tanker truck. ``We've seen a very dirty process,''
Cardenas
told Maclean's. But political expert Estevez says the
likely defeat
of the PRD will have little to do with fraud. ``They
are going to
lose, and they are going to lose big because of the
security
problems this year, starting with Chiapas,'' he said,
arguing that
right-wing parties are the usual winners when law and
order becomes
an election issue. ``All of that turbulence has caused
the
electorate to abandon the left.''
Cardenas has certainly not helped himself by making
a summer
campaign trip to the Lacandon jungle to meet Subcommandante
Marcos,
the Zapatista guerrilla leader. The PRD was also the
only party to
officially take part in a Zapatista-sponsored convention
last week
that demanded an end to PRI rule and a new constitution.
And
Cardenas is holding out the possibility that he will
orchestrate a
campaign of post-electoral street protests if he detects
signs of
fraud behind a PRI victory. As his campaign bus takes
him from one
working-class neighborhood to another on the mountainside
fringes of
Mexico City, Cardenas says the people are ready to join
what he
promises will be a nonviolent protest: ``I would say,
not only
ready, but willing. They are fed up.'' That pledge,
and the red
flags showing clenched fists that fly at Cardenas rallies,
serve
only to drive more middle-class voters away, says political
consultant Lus Medina Pena, an academic and former
diplomat who has
close ties to the PRI. ``Cardenas has made many mistakes.''
The three main candidates have markedly different
campaigning
styles. Crdenas is a sad-faced man with a serious manner
and a
plodding but sincere style. Zedillo looks like the president
of a
high-school math club beamed down without warning to
the political
stage. While he has improved his delivery, he sometimes
loses his
rhythm and gets his audience to applaud just before
he delivers his
big line. And when Zedillo does get it right, he is
noticeably
pleased with himself. The champion campaigner is PAN's
Fernandez, an
energetic and tactile man with a wiry beard and an ever-present
cigar, who has succeeded in making his party a clear
alternative to
the PRI.
On a recent trip to Poza Rica, an oil town northeast
of Mexico City
near the gulf coast, he promised that a PAN government
would never
privatize the giant PEMEX oil monopoly and said that
too many of the
benefits from the oilfields end up in the hands of friends
of the
ruling party. Such remarks won favor in a town where
oil pumps sit
alongside school soccer fields, and a faint smell of
oil hangs in
the tropical air. The area has the reputation as a PRI
stronghold,
but Fernandez managed to attract 2,000 people to the
main square,
including street vendors hawking tortilla soup and boiled
corn.
Remarks over, cigar in hand, he then jumped from the
platform into
the crowd, enjoying every back slap and handshake.
That easy manner, his lawyer's delivery and evident
political
skills made Fernandez the clear victor in Mexico's first-ever
televised leaders debate, itself yet another sign of
increasing
political liberties. In the wake of the May 12 debate,
polls began
to show a diminishing PRI lead. Some surveys actually
suggested that
Mexico was ready to turn its back on the PRI after 65
years. Two
things then happened, says pollster Licona. People began
to
contemplate life under new management and got nervous.
And for the
first time in its history, the PRI got scared. It also helped that
for some inexplicable reason, Fernandez took six days
off at the
height of the campaign. ``Those six days for me were
an eternity,''
says PAN secretary general Felipe Calderon Hinojosa.
The PRI's advantages are lengthy--and legal. Over
the years, it has
built up a powerful political machine. That power is
evident in the
party's Mexico City headquarters. While the PAN has
a small office
building in the south end of the capital, the PRI has
what amounts
to a campus, a full square block on the northern edge
of the
business district--containing an office tower topped
with a giant
Zedillo billboard, two smaller office buildings and
an auditorium
that would make any midsize Canadian city proud--all
surrounded with
a high steel security fence. Of the three major parties,
only the
PRI will be able to muster sufficient manpower to provide
scrutineers at all of the approximately 96,000 polling
places.
The party is everywhere. In northern Mexico, where
the PAN has as
much of a stronghold as it has anywhere, the PRI is
able to mount
displays of political muscle like the crowd that met
Zedillo in
Chihuahua. In the rural south, it is the party to beat.
Among the
urban and rural poor, where Cardenas gets considerable
support, it
is the PRI that is the chief antagonist. Wherever there
are plastic
banners for an opposition candidate, strung like flags
at a used car
lot above the street, there will be an equal number
for Zedillo. In
the cities, where the opposition is strongest, the PRI
is the chief
rival.
Alone among Mexican parties, only the PRI will be
able to spend to
the limit of $55 million on campaign expenses. The PAN
will spend as
much as $6 million, the PRD only a third of that. Sergio
Aguayo, a
leader of Alianza Civica, Mexico's largest election-monitoring
group, says there is a suggestion that the PRI will
spend even more
than allowed. But he cannot prove it because demands
for independent
audits of party financing have been rejected by the
Salinas
government. Aguayo also says, choosing his words with
great care,
that there is a ``widespread belief, true or not,''
that the PRI is
using government money for its campaign. What is certain
is that the
government--like governments everywhere--has pork-barrel
programs
that can only help the reputation of the ruling party
among those in
receipt of state funds. One program that the opposition
has cried
foul the loudest about is Procampo, an agricultural
support scheme
set up last autumn that makes direct payments to farmers.
Procampo
has a 1994 budget of $4.7 million. The opposition contends
that much
of that money is being spent in the months preceding
the election.
The PRI also has a huge media advantage. Its financial
clout allows
it to own the airwaves for paid advertisements. A study
by Alianza
Civica showed that in one seven-day period in July on
both major
channels, only the PRI had any spots at all. Aguayo
also says that
while there has been improvement, there is some bias
in news
reporting that sees Zedillo get the most and best coverage.
``The
media in Mexico,'' says PAN's Fernandez, ``they are
not always on
the side of truth. There is a great manipulation of
information.''
While the PRI is promising that this time the elections
will be
clean, many of the party's critics say its power brokers
may just
cheat out of habit in what would amount to ``penny-ante
fraud'' in
the words of political expert Esteves. Election reforms
have made
1988-style vote-rigging next to impossible, according
to Canadian
Ambassador David Winfield, who adds that he is ``hopeful''
that the
election will be conducted fairly. ``Mexico is trying
hard,'' he
says. Brian Stevenson, a colleague of Esteves and a
Mexican-Canadian, says the party does not really have
to bend the
rules, given its advantage in organization and a divided
opposition.
``The real question is not whether the PRI will cheat
but whether it
will have to,'' he says.
The economic reforms sponsored by Salinas during
his six-year term
as president--free trade and large-scale privatizations--have
hit
Mexico hard. And if those adjustments were not difficult
enough,
then came a recession that is officially over but does
not feel like
it to many Mexicans. ``The recession and the adjustments
in Canada
was a child's picnic compared with what happened here,''
says
Douglas Clark, president of the Canada-Mexico Chamber
of Commerce
and director general of Northern Telecom's Mexican subsidiary.
The middle class has been particularly squeezed by
the reforms. And
many, like the Navarrete family in the Mexico City suburb
of
Coyoacan, where 16th-century Spaniard Hernan Cortes
set up
housekeeping after the conquest, will be casting their
lot with the
opposition. With their own house (small by Canadian
suburban
standards) set back from the street, the Navarretes
enjoy a quality
of life that would be the envy of the 40 million Mexicans--mostly
campesinos--who live in poverty. All their five children
have been
able to attend U.S. universities for at least one year,
a fact they
take great pride in. Taide, 62, the family matriarch,
is niece to
Carlos Pellicer, a well-known Mexican poet, and she
runs a small
travel agency. Her husband, Umberto, 69, is an engineer.
The house, with its interior walls of white stucco,
is decorated
with paintings and statuary by their artistic son Alfredo,
who joins
his parents one day for a midday meal of chicken with
mole sauce and
talk about politics. Alfredo, a bookseller, says that
he has lost 80
per cent of his income because of free trade and sharp
competition
from American publishers. The recession has also cut
the income he
receives from selling his paintings. ``There is no money
for art,''
he says.
And while wages have fallen or remained steady, prices
have gone
up. ``Every day, every day, every day,'' Taide says
with sad
resignation. ``The poor stayed poor and the middle class
became
poor,'' Alfredo adds. Like many, he and his father sourly
note that
Mexico now has 24 billionaires compared with two when
Salinas took
office in 1988. And like most Mexicans, they complain
about
corruption. Even to get a bank loan requires a palm
to be greased.
``The corruption is in the body of the system,'' Umberto
says. The
whole family is for Cardenas, but they make two telling
points that
explain how the PRI can be poised for victory. The economic
reforms
imposed by Salinas may hurt now but will leave the country
better
off in the long run, they agree. And they credit the
PRI with
maintaining social peace.
Despite what some foreign critics may think, Salinas
remains a plus
for the PRI. And it is instructive that not even Cardenas
wants to
undo the outgoing president's economic reforms. Support
for Salinas
has fallen since the Chiapas revolt and the murder of
Colosio, but
El Financiero columnist Sarmiento says that a July poll
gave the
president a still-impressive approval rating of 56 per
cent. People
are siding with the PRI as much because of Salinas as
because of
Zedillo, says pollster Licona.
For 65 years, Mexico has been a democracy in name
only. But if the
PRI can live up to its promises to keep the election
relatively
honest, free of what political expert Esteves calls
the ``centrally
imposed fraud'' of past elections, the country stands
a chance to
shuck off the raiments of its authoritarian past, without
widespread
violence. ``Mexico is not a banana republic,'' says
Canadian
businessman Clark. But even domestic critics of the
regime, like
Mexico City councillor Demetrio Sodi de la Tijere, who
broke with
the PRI this year and now supports Cardenas, are optimistic.
``The
grand wisdom of Mexico is that at the moment that the
country needs
some changes, some dialogue, we always do it,'' says
Sodi. That is again Mexico's test.
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