New York Times, September 14, 2010
In Mexico, a War Every Century
By ENRIQUE KRAUZE
Mexico City
EVERY 100 years, Mexico seems to have a rendezvous with violence. As the country
gathers on Wednesday night for the ceremony of the “grito” — the
call to arms that began the war for independence from Spain — we are
enduring another violent crisis, albeit one that differs greatly from those
of a century
and two centuries ago.
In 1810 and 1910, revolutions erupted that lasted 10 years or more and were
so destructive that both times it took decades for the country to re-establish
its
previous levels of peace and progress. Both episodes furthered Mexico’s
political development, however, and our collective memory centers on these
two dates that have taken on such symmetrical and mythical significance.
In 2010, Mexico is again convulsed with violence, though the size and scope
of today’s conflict does not even remotely approach that of 1810 or 1910.
This war is unfolding within and between gangs of criminals, who commit violent
acts that are fueled only by a competitive lust for money. This is strikingly
different from the revolutions of 1810 or 1910, which were clashes of ideals.
In 1810, Mexican-born Spaniards — the creoles — saw no recourse other
than violence as the means to gain independence from Spain. Their principles
were inspired by the doctrines of 16th-century thinkers like the Jesuit Francisco
Suárez, who argued for “popular sovereignty.” But the creoles
were also driven by specific grievances: they had long resented domination
by men from the Iberian Peninsula; they were also indignant that the seemingly
inexhaustible
wealth of New Spain had been the principal financial resource for the frivolousness
and senseless wars of the Spanish empire.
Yet the crown repeatedly ignored opportunities that might have avoided violent
revolution — Spain certainly could have loosened connections with its
overseas dominions and granted Mexico some degree of independence. When the
provincial
priest Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla shouted his call to arms, the grito, from
the steps of his Dolores church, the war for independence finally exploded.
Shortly afterward, a vast, mostly Indian army, armed mainly with slings, stones
and bludgeons, conquered various regional capitals, stopping just short of
Mexico City itself. Though Father Hidalgo was captured and executed in 1811,
the uprising
continued under the leadership of another priest, José María
Morelos, who would also be seized and killed by the Spanish government. But
Mexico would
finally gain its independence in September 1821.
From 1810 to 1821, the war for independence cost about 300,000 lives in a population
of around 6 million. Afterward, state income, agricultural, industrial and mining
production, and, above all, the availability of capital for investment did not
reach their pre-1810 levels until the 1880s. And the material desolation was
followed by almost five decades of insecurity on the roads, political instability
and grievous civil and international wars.
There was also a series of confrontations between the country’s Liberal
and Conservative factions until the victory of President Benito Juárez
over the Conservatives and the French army that supported them. Following this
unstable period, the Liberal government separated church and state and adopted
a stable, electoral political structure.
Unfortunately for our fledgling democracy, Porfirio Díaz, Juárez’s
greatest general, seized power in 1876. Still, under his long authoritarian
regime, Mexico achieved notable material progress in the development of industry,
the
transportation network and foreign trade.
In 1910, after more than three decades of dictatorship, a large portion of
the population believed that violence was the only way to overthrow Díaz.
A brief, purely democratic revolution attained its aim but was soon reversed
through a military coup supported by the American ambassador.
This new assault on the honor and well-being of the country — along with
other accumulated grievances of peasants, workers and the nationalistic middle
class — led to the first true social revolution of the 20th century.
The revolution of 1910 was even more destructive than the one in 1810. About
700,000 of some 15 million Mexicans died in warfare or through illness or starvation.
An additional 250,000 emigrated to the United States. Industrial production
plummeted. Ranches, haciendas and cities were demolished. And from 1926 to
1929 came the
additional devastation of the Cristero war between Catholic peasants and the
anti-clerical government; the state’s eventual victory took 70,000 lives.
Beginning in 1929, the country re-established a central government (though
unlike the Juárez presidency, it was not a democratic one) under the hegemony
of the Institutional Revolutionary Party. The government carried out a vast agricultural
reform, substantially improved the conditions for workers, established public
institutions for social welfare that are still alive and well and oversaw decades
of growth and stability. In the view of most historians, the great social reforms
accomplished by later governments justified the Mexican Revolution’s
decade of violence.
•
Today, a handful of powerful criminal groups has unleashed a blood-soaked and
utterly illegitimate wave of violence against the Mexican government and Mexican
society. This “war,” which rages in too many cities and states
of my country, has created a truly Hobbesian situation of human brutality.
This situation is, in part, an unintentional result of Mexico’s definitive
transition to democracy. In the past 10 years, there has been a centrifugal
effect on power, loosening the authoritarian hand of the president and giving
more latitude
to local forces that, unfortunately, have included drug cartels and other criminal
enterprises.
This war, though, will have to be won — and economic growth will have to
be revivified — within the rules of democracy. Congress and President Felipe
Calderón must agree on reforms to make the economy more open, competitive
and efficient. And the struggle against organized crime will require a centralized
police force that is more honest and professional; secure prisons; better control
of the customs apparatus and the flow of money; and changes in the judicial
system, along with nationwide campaigns against drug addiction.
Despite a bloody mythology that venerates the great protagonists of 1810 and
1910, most of whom met brutal deaths, the common denominators of our national
history have been social, ethnic and religious coexistence; the peaceful construction
of cities, villages and communities; and the creation of a rich cultural mosaic.
Many of us want to believe that we are living through a nightmare from which,
one morning, we will simply wake up, once again at ease.
But this is not the way things are. We are dealing with a situation generated,
to a great extent, by the market for drugs and weapons in the United States and
by the refusal of many Americans to recognize their own portion of responsibility
in these tragic events. The drug war will have to be resolved on both sides of
the border.
Nonetheless, on Wednesday night, as we have on every Sept. 15 for 200 years,
Mexicans will gather together in the central squares of our cities and towns,
even in the smallest and most remote villages. At midnight, we will hear a
local governing official re-enact the grito uttered by Miguel Hidalgo, the “father
of the fatherland.”
All the plazas across Mexico will be filled with light and music and color.
And in the historic center of Mexico City, we will watch the fireworks and
the parades
and we will hear President Calderón ring the church bell once sounded
by Miguel Hidalgo and then we will shout, jubilantly, with genuine feeling: “Viva
México!”
Enrique Krauze is the editor of the magazine Letras Libres and the author of “Mexico:
Biography of Power.” This article was translated by Hank Heifetz from
the Spanish.