Efforts to strengthen the rule of law are welcome, but fail to address the question of political responsibility
By H.T. | MEXICO CITY
On November 27th Mexico’s president, Enrique Peña Nieto, did what he should have done long ago: he announced a series of measures aimed at making the rule of law a priority of his administration. He did it in response to a groundswell of protest against his government triggered by the disappearance of 43 students in the southern state of Guerrero two months ago. But in failing to acknowledge any responsibility for the crisis, and in failing to challenge the entire political system to clean up its act, he may have missed a chance to turn the tide of public opinion.
In a nutshell, he localised the problem. He said he would draft laws to enable the authorities to remove municipal authorities colluding with drug traffickers, as allegedly happened with tragic consequences for the 43 students. He plans to replace Mexico’s 1,800 municipal police forces with 32 state ones. He ordered an immediate deployment of federal forces into areas of organised crime in Guerrero and nearby. He unveiled plans to create special economic zones in the poor south to encourage investment and reduce crime, as well as promising special treatment to poor farmers in the area.
What he did not acknowledge was that there is rot at the top as well as the bottom, says Miguel Pulido of Fundar, an NGO that promotes transparency. He sidestepped the federal government’s responsibility for letting drug gangs run rampant in the countryside, even though such crimes are federal, not local. There was no cabinet reshuffle signifying that the government was acknowledging the political cost of its failures.
The president announced several initiatives to combat corruption and improve transparency, but there will be widespread doubt about how effective they will be. The first problem is that they will have to go through a Congress riddled with conflicts of interest, not least because politicians have to raise piles of unauthorised money to get elected, and lawmakers almost always water down any proposal that threatens their money supply. The second problem is that Mr Peña’s own political ethics have been in question over a house his wife intended to buy from a developer who has won numerous public contracts. That makes it harder for him to lead by example.
Undoubtedly some of the points he mentioned are a step in the direction of law and order, and could complement the economic reforms he has orchestrated in his first two years in office. A few months ago, they might even have been considered bold. Predictably, big business lobbyists quickly put their voice behind them.
But something in the mood among the country’s rank and file has changed since the students went missing. It is as if the country has drawn a sinister connection between the drug barons who abducted the students and the entire political class, and see them as two sides of the same coin marked with three words: corruption, lawlessness and impunity. This may be excessively cynical. But in failing even to acknowledge that such a mood now exists, Mr Peña risks continuing to look out of touch—as he has since the crisis started.
