Antonio Navalón
In 1992, Queen Elizabeth II used the expression annus horribilis to describe a particularly difficult year marked by family scandals, divorces, and even a fire at Windsor Castle. The Latin phrase, meaning “horrible year,” served to sum up not only personal misfortunes, but also a sense of institutional decline for the British monarchy.
Today, without the need for fires or royal divorces, Mexican politics is going through something similar: not a year, but a summer horribilis, the toll of which has not yet been fully counted, but whose political cost is already beginning to be felt.
The human condition—in its expression, urbi et orbi—when faced with power, because of the fear it imposes, often tends to tell the truth in chapters, in parts, or through approximations that avoid direct confrontation. When power is criticized—if it still is and if it still has the capacity to generate fear—one tries to tell the truth to a certain extent and without getting into trouble. That is why it is sometimes so difficult to call things by their name. However, there is no way to understand the current state of Mexican politics without first acknowledging that this summer has been a disaster.
The problem is not that Mexican politicians go on vacation. Human beings need rest and distraction, especially when they have the seemingly complicated task of trying to decide what is best for their country. If only the big national scandal were about what kind of champagne they drink, whether they traveled first class, or if their tans were paid for with public money. In fact, I think Mexico would be much better off if they spent all their time on the beach, in Europe, or anywhere far away from Congress, without touching any levers of power or changing a single comma in the laws. That would be the ideal country: one where the most worrying thing was how its officials relax, beyond the whims they have along the way.
The problem goes beyond that: it is the ruling party, its majorities, and its operation under a system of accelerated attrition, programmed implosion, and sustained simulation. The real problem is that summer is coming to an end, and those who were on vacation are beginning to plan their return to work. Remember the nervousness you felt the day before the first day of school? Well, Mexican society feels something similar in this situation.
On the other hand, I would like to put in writing that President Sheinbaum deserves a vote of confidence. I myself believe that the world will be a better place when women exercise power with the same or greater legitimacy, discipline, and effectiveness as men have historically done. But it is also true that the time has come to demand clarity because what is at stake is not her individual ability, but her place within a political machine that, today, does not respond or obey anyone.
The president knows, whether she says so or not, that a rebellion has begun within her own party. She is also aware that it took her predecessor just a couple of morning press conferences to delegitimize and destroy the judiciary. And, whether she admits it or not, she also knows that no matter how many morning press conferences she holds, she is in the midst of a total separation of powers.
Every Mexican has a strong DNA trait of being obedient and loyal to the end. However, loyalty lasts only until a more appealing opportunity arises. The problem is not new. It is ingrained in our political history.
Today, the Legislative Branch acts as if it has no leader, no plan, and no sense of urgency. And in this chaos, the only thing that prevails is noise. The repeated echo of a soulless narrative, the struggle between tribes, the internal calculations, and the mixed signals that show—without needing to be said—who really makes the decisions… and it’s not her.
The implosion is constant, and to make matters worse, the opposition has long since disappeared and is not expected to return. Politics in Mexico today is not only characterized by the disappearance of any alternative, nor only by the programmatic and daily monopoly of the single party, but also by the permanent and cynical demonstration that those who are in charge here do not really rule.
To call a spade a spade, the Legislative Branch is currently superior to the Executive Branch. And the Judicial Branch… has simply ceased to exist. It has deteriorated to such an extent that its regeneration will depend—if we are lucky—on what happens in the next two years. If we are lucky, we may once again have a power that deserves that name.
The problem runs deep. We are a country formed, educated, and molded in absolute obedience to the Tlatoani, with a blind faith that presidents are never wrong. But today, the person who commands, who gives the orders, and who decides is not the president.
We are in a situation that is neither good, nor bad, nor average: it simply is. And in the midst of this, the big question we must ask ourselves every day is: what is Dr. Claudia Sheinbaum waiting for?
What is preventing her from having—or imposing—a legislative branch that supports her vision of how to govern this country? Because yes, the polls will continue to show popularity, but they increasingly resemble cardboard cutouts. The worst thing is having power and no one taking it seriously.
I wish we were discussing plane tickets and five-star hotels. I wish the scandal were that they rest too much. But the real tragedy is when they are active and focus not on legislating, but on dismantling. Not on governing, but on distorting.
Ideally, the national debate would focus on the places they visited or their purchases. It would be nice if that were the real problem. It isn’t. Because what’s worrying isn’t how they rest, but how they govern. And the answer, for now, is that—amidst all the photos, leaks, and undercover paparazzi—they don’t rest well… nor do they govern. And seeing how they do it, one begins to suspect that vacations are not a break or a rest, but their style of government.
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