The mysterious reggaeton bangers of Mexico’s election

By R.E. | MEXICO CITY

FOR evidence that modern democracy has lost its pep, look back to the age of cheery campaign jingles. The art form dominated elections from America to the Philippines after the second world war. Australian political parties used them well into the 1980s. It is tempting to believe that melodious campaigns of the past were more enjoyable than today’s anxious, apocalyptic affairs. Sadly, a phobia of risk-taking among campaigns has killed them off in many countries. Modern candidates will sooner piggyback on popular songs (usually ones with drab titles like “Beautiful Day” or “New Sensation”) than craft an original. Silly, self-congratulatory jingles risk looking undignified.

Yet a new model of campaign song is slowly emerging. An unaffiliated person can release a song, and if it strikes a chord the campaign can “adopt” it for official use. The two songs that defined Barack Obama’s election to the presidency, “Crush On Obama” and “Yes We Can”, both came to be with no campaign input. The same is supposedly true of Italy’s “Thank Goodness For Silvio”, penned by a fan of Silvio Berlusconi. Jeremy Corbyn’s supporters needed no instruction to merge his speeches with grime music or sing his name to the tune of a White Stripes song before British elections last year. Campaign music is back, but it sounds best when creators act alone.

This is the backdrop to the latest campaign in Mexico, where political songs remain a fixture. A small party recently collected a whopping 50m online views with a jingle sung by indigenous children. And in mid-January a catchy reggaeton song appeared online singing the praises of José Antonio Meade, the presidential candidate for the ruling Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI). According to the song, Mr Meade is “full of ideas and dreams”, and “searching for a better future, a tireless worker”. The PRI campaign insists it had nothing to do with the “sympathiser” who wrote the tune. Nevertheless, the team liked the tune so much that it now rings out at every Meade rally. A slick video clip has appeared on the candidate’s YouTube account (see below).

Lest anyone think that one reggaeton campaign song was not enough, another arrived on March 18th, this time endorsing the Morena party’s leftist candidate, Andrés Manuel López Obrador. In the clip for “Niña Bien” (“Good Girl”) a rich, voluptuous undecided voter enters a church and confesses her doubts to God. After communion, she starts dancing and sings: “Although I’m a good girl, I’m going to vote for you-know-who”. She invites her audience to “change the fate of our country” and “take out the PRI” as her horrified family looks on from the pews. In one verse, a rapping priest (of course) tells her that “your vote is like your virginity; don’t give it to those who defend impunity”. The 64-year-old Mr López Obrador does not appear in the video (see below), although the protagonist is delighted to “match” with him on Tinder, a dating app.

The video purports to be an effort from Almudena Ortiz-Monasterio, an 18-year-old student at ITESO university in the state of Jalisco. Alas, not even campaign songs are free from fake news. The Mexican press reported that ITESO had no records of a student with a last name of Ortiz-Monasterio. The woman’s social-media accounts were created just days before the song’s release. Jorge Triana, a lawmaker from the conservative Party of National Action (which, outrageously, is still to release a reggaeton tune for its candidate, Ricardo Anaya), tweeted that the real name of the actress is Paulina Laborie. Ms Laborie has since deleted her Instagram account.

Mexicans have fallen for a raunchy reggaeton ruse, but from which campaign? Mexico is a pious place, especially Jalisco. Many found the clip disrespectful towards the church. Mr Triana says he has proof that Morena created it, a claim the party strongly refutes. “We do not share the ideas, nor the vulgar way they are expressed,” it said in a statement, adding that the song was “part of the dirty war” being waged against its candidate. Others backed the idea that the song is, in fact, a false-flag conspiracy. One online commenter said “it would not be strange if it was made from the offices of the PRI/PAN” to discredit Mr López Obrador.

That is surely impossible. The song is expertly crafted to deliver two messages that the Morena campaign has long been desperate to preach. The first is that Mr López Obrador is a cuddly candidate rather than a threatening one. And second is that middle-class Mexicans should overcome their doubts about him and vote for the change he represents. If the campaign is the true brains behind the song, it should feel pleased with its work. It has achieved something profound. Once more—even if only briefly—democracy is fun again.