Jenny's Neighborhood: Partying with Impunity

This post began as a log of events as they've been unfolding over the last eight months. I am choosing to publish it now because—given the ever-tighter links between Mexico and the U.S.—it seems important to try to help our U.S. countrymen and women understand better the complexities of Mexican civic life. 

Fortuitously, last weekend an Editorial appearing in El Universal, a leading Mexican newspaper, posed to Mexico's presidential candidates a series of pointed questions about corruption. The questions themselves are insightful for non-Mexicans trying to understand the issue. I've included them as a postscript to this article.  

In choosing to write about a difficult topic, I do so mindful of the many Mexicans who read Jenny's Journal. So I write...choosing my words carefully to show my deep affection for Mexico's people and profound respect for the complex history and myriad challenges that confront Mexican civil society in the twenty-first century. 

* * * * *

Life in Parque San Andrés, our tree-lined colonia (neighborhood) in Coyoacán, is usually relaxed, friendly, laid back. But the tranquility of Parque San Andrés is not without its downside.

August: Intimations....

The first time our neighbors had a fiesta it wasn't so bad. The music, which wasn't all that loud, began at about 6:00 PM and ended at about 1:00 AM. Naturally, we looked out our bedroom windows to check out the action.

View from Our Bedroom Window: White-walled, tree-lined patio of Infamous Party House.

Straight down from our bedroom window and over one property, we saw an outdoor patio illuminated with blue lights. A single mustard yellow light bulb shone over the street door.

November: Playing the Reasonable Card

"Okay," we reasoned, "estamos en México...After living for three years in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, we know full well that Mexicans love fiestas, and every once in awhile there will be parties."

The next fiesta happened about a week later. This time the music was louder and didn't stop until 3:00 AM.  Not good.

A couple of weeks later there were two fiestas in three days, "What on earth is with these people?" we asked ourselves. The notion that this might be a business flitted through my mind.

Then came La Fiesta Grande. The music—distinguished by the drumbeat from hell—was intolerably loud. The party didn't break up until 5:00 AM.  After a sleepless night, we considered our options, including finding an inexpensive hotel we could check into when the neighbors partied again.

On second thought, we decided to email our landlady, who suggested that we speak to the building's resident condo administrator, Señora Carlota. Middle-aged, elegantly put together, and very sharp, Sra. Carlota knew right away what was bothering us and hastened to assure us that there was nothing she could do.

We asked if the police could be contacted.  Carlota received that suggestion with the dismissive shrug that says, "...a lot of good that would do."

Ever trying to be pleasant and cooperative, we joked that we'd had the thought of throwing water balloons down into the patio.

Carlota's reaction to our suggestion was animated, "Oh, you could go up to our roof and throw your garbage down into their patio."

We joined Sra. Carlota in the verbal game so loved by Mexicans. Mexico City sorts garbage for recycling. So we have bags of wet (orgánico) garbage and bags of dry (inorgánico) garbage.  Playfully, we suggested that we'd like to throw our wet garbage, but our faces must have betrayed our skepticism, because Carlota strongly protested, "It is a valid protest."

Our Reflections on Civil Society

Well, we reflected, this is an interesting commentary on urban life in Mexico City. Our first thought was that the owners of our infamous salón de fiesta obviously have little or no regard for their neighbors in what is a decidedly residential neighborhood.

Walking around the neighborhood, we came upon at least two locked, abandoned properties. Posted on each gate are variants of this impressive sign:

"CLOSED for Violation of the Law"—specifically,
for pursuing Commercial activity in an Area Zoned Residential

The signs—official reminders of the law on the books—got us thinking. We couldn't help but recall a similar incident when we lived in a semi-rural part of Danbury, CT. The college age daughter of our neighbors across-the-street decided to have a party, including loud music, while her parents were away.

At about 12:30 AM, we admitted defeat and called the police, who were already aware of the party but didn't know where it was. When we gave them the location, it wasn't fifteen minutes before the loud music was silenced.

Clearly, the situation is different in Coyoacán. Our conversation with Sra. Carlota left us with the impression that protest is personalized when communal well-being is violated, because fair, impartial enforcement of the law is simply unavailable. I've written before about the personalismo that pervades Mexican society. In this cultural context, it appears that throwing wet garbage is deemed to be a 'valid protest'. We're not in the U.S. anymore....

Wait a Minute: Before publishing this post, I asked a Mexican friend read it. Here's my friend's 'take' on this issue (my translation): 

"With respect to the comment by Sra. Carlota that throwing garbage is a valid protest, I do not agree. Part of the unwritten law is that you can disagree with the government, shout slogans, throw eggs, etc., but they can only jail you if your protest turns into violent attack against an officer of the law. 

"But between and among members of the public, actions like throwing garbage are considered a crime, and you can be accused of 'disturbing the public order' and 'injury to private property'. I know that you were joking, but it's a reminder that no one can take the law into their own hands."

The plot thickens....

December: Saturday Night Live

El salón de fiesta had a party that didn't break up until 6:59 AM.

Reed slept in his sleeping bag on an air mattress in our office, which is quiet. I took two enzyme-based sleep aids, tryptophan, inserted the ear plugs I normally use when swimming, put a pillow over my head and managed to sleep.

When I mentioned the party to Sra. Carlota the next morning, she responded with spirit, "One of their parties didn't end until 10:00 AM!"

The unasked question just popped out, "Is that house a business?"

After four months Sra. Carlotta finally told us the story, "The owner bought that abandoned property two years ago, and he renovated the house to hold parties."

Puzzled because of the signs, I replied, "But that's against the law—this is a residential neighborhood."

Giving me a mournful, knowing look, Sra. Carlotta rubbed her thumb together with her first two fingers in the universal gesture for money...bribes...corruption:  "Somos de abajo; no podemos hacer nada...." ("We are from below; we can't do anything...").

Sra. Carlota was invoking a classic Mexican distinction between "los de abajo" (those from below; the 'have-nots") and "los de arriba" (those from above; the 'haves').

I felt myself take the challenge and heard myself blurt out good humoredly, "Then I will find someone who is even higher up!"

Stating my intention to find someone even higher up than the party-people's patron (benefactor) was, I thought, in effect a continuation of the playful give-and-take that Sra. Carlota had herself initiated. But Sra. Carlota must have felt it as a challenge to her authority because....

December: A Few Days Later

Today I ran into Sra. Carolota in Oxxo (Mexico's 7-Eleven), where I was buying air time for my cell phone.

With great excitement she announced, "I have contacted the Jefa de la Delegación (Borough Boss) to stop the fiestas in that house; they are against the law. She called me back, but I was out. When I speak with her, I will let you know."

Then she added ominously, "When the Posadas begin, there will be fiestas every night...."

Posadas are parties held for the nine nights leading up to Christmas. Traditionally, they honor Joseph and Mary's journey to Bethlehem and their search for a place to stay, but in many places they have devolved away from the tradition and have evolved into just good fiestas.

Horrified, I replied, "But that would be impossible...."  Nodding grimly in agreement, Sra. Carlota repeated that she would let me know when she has spoken with the Jefa.

Vamos a ver que pasa (We're going to see what happens)

Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. Sra. Carlota told me that the Jefa said her office would be pleased to help, but they required advance notice of a party.

Advance notice? Parties often don't begin until 9 or 10 PM, or even later. Advance notice? I was incredulous...annoyed.  I know, I know...él que se enoja pierde (he who gets angry, loses), but sometimes....

Sra. Carlota's response was very Mexican, "Hay cosas que no se puede cambiar" ("There are things it isn't possible to change").  Sigh....

Civil Society: The Long Haul

Late fall turned out to be the most active party season. But owing to chilly night-time temperatures, parties in December and January were few and held indoors. We've developed our strategies for dealing with 'party nights'.

Our reflections now include the obvious observation; namely, the notable lack of a reliable civil system. Such a system might include a police force that could be counted on to enforce civil law impartially—in this case, against commercial activity in a residential zone—and a judiciary that could be relied upon to hand down appropriate sentences for violations.

Instead, impunity appears to be the rule both in our neighborhood of Parque San Andrés and, more seriously, at the national level.

Mexico is gearing up for presidential elections on July 1. As in the United States, election season presents Mexico's citizens with an opportunity to take the political and social pulse of their country by asking, where are we now, and where do we want to go?

Ciudadanía (citizenship) is a major theme of Mexico's leading intellectuals, who are actively advocating for a nascent public-spiritedness, urging fellow citizens to become more active, more thoughtful, on behalf of the common good, Mexico's civil society.

Democracy in Mexico: A Work in Progress

On April 8, 2012, a leading Mexican newspaper, El Universal, published an Editorial written by Agustín Basave, Ph.D. in Political Science from Oxford University, and currently Director of the Postgraduate Program at Iberoamerican University (Mexico City). In the Editorial, Dr. Basave posed to the presidential candidates a series of piercing, cogent questions about the issue he defined as the cancer of Mexican society: corruption.

Reed translated Dr. Basave's Editorial for his Mexico Voices blog. To make it easier for non-Mexican readers to understand the issues, I've formatted Basave's questions and added explanatory material.

* * * * * * * * * *

Introduction: Now that the campaigns have started, it has become fashionable for citizens to question the presidential candidates. I want to put to some questions to the candidates about what I believe is Mexico's cancer: corruption.

1. Do you think that conditions in our country are such that it is easier and more convenient to violate or evade the law than to obey it?

1. If yes: Do you agree that under such conditions, to expect most people to act with honesty is to bet on them being a company of saints.

2. If yes: Do you think that the cause of this situation is that the law is often so far from reality, or so convoluted, that codes of unwritten rules have had to be created to actually give functionality to our social life?

    If yes: I suppose it's because you accept that we have perverse incentives that punish adherence to the law and reward illegal behavior.

3. So then: Do you believe that the evil began five centuries ago with the [cultural norm that prevailed in the Spanish] colony, "The law is respected, but not obeyed," (Acátese pero no se cumpla) or, at least, that there is a cultural inertia that reverts to that norm?

2. If your answers to the previous four questions was ‘Yes':

1. What would you do to make legislation more realistic, simple and able to be complied with? 

2. How would you change the mentality that assumes "not dealing means not advancing," and "the crook doesn't do battle"? 

3. Most importantly, if you recognize that informal rules are more functional than the formal ones, how would you make it possible that corruption benefit most Mexicans to a greater or lesser extent?

Context: When we talk about corruption, we generally evoke the politician or union leader who has become obscenely rich by awarding contracts for public works or selling positions, and assume that everybody is against corruption. We don't usually think about the child of a bureaucrat or a policeman who is able to have school supplies because the father took enough bribes, or the daughter of a manufacturer of pirated products whose earnings have allowed her a Fifteenth Birthday Party, or the woman who is able to have a kidney transplant because her husband sold short weight in his little shop, or the mother who stopped suffering because one of her nephews bribed a judge to get his cousin out of jail.

And if we undertake the mental effort to consider the most corrupting power, organized crime, it will present to us the horror of scenes of violence, and we will fail to notice the peasants who no longer die of hunger because they cultivate drugs, or the number of families that have raised their standard of living because they went into drug dealing. This includes the Ninis [youth who neither study nor work] who, by being assassins or lookouts, have found opportunities that the universities and the labor market deny to them.

One cannot understand the roots and proliferation of corruption in Mexico without understanding that, while eating away at society, it also brings benefits to many people. There are narcocorridos [popular folk ballads] because astute drug lords build playgrounds or churches in the villages—and, of course, because in our value system, wealth and power have disproportionate value.

1. What do you propose to counteract this situation?

1. Do you realize that to enter the Mexican game of illegality has become a rational decision? 

2. Are you aware that the sum of these individual reasonings results in collective irrationality?

Comment: I know that it would be political suicide for you to dare to remind us that not only members of the elites are beneficiaries of corruption, but that tacit acquiescence to the web of complicity that surrounds us is as wide as the population that, at some point in their lives, takes advantage of it.

3. Do you really want to eliminate the possibility of evading taxes or of paying a bribe to avoid punishment? Why?

2. Do you think that we need a new Constitution—one that is more realistic, concise and functional, containing only the broad outlines of our legal framework and not operating as a national project for the future [as legal experts describe the current Constitution as doing], but as a guide to present behavior?

1. Without taking refuge in the pretext of it being an assumed impossibility, do you think Mexico needs a new Constitution? 

2. Do you deem essential a crusade for legislative simplification, a review and adaptation of laws and regulations that gives us transparency and effective legal tools for discouraging bribes and unwritten rules in general? 

3. Finally, would you carry out an educational reform that will teach new generations that honesty pays, that the law ought to be obeyed while it is in force, even when it may harm us?

Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Candidate, you can discard my analysis or not answer all my questions. But if you do so, I only ask that you give us your interpretation of the phenomenon of Mexican corruption and your strategy for combatting it—at the bottom, at its roots.

Still Curious?

A few months back, we published Mexican Bureaucracy: Encountering Labyrinths of Power, which includes a discussion of corruption in Mexico from its roots in the Spanish colony of Nueva España to the present day.

A number of scholars and students of Mexican history have pointed out that corruption, violence and impunity have been forces running throughout Mexican history from the Spanish Conquest up to today. The Spanish king didn't pay his viceroys and other officials in New Spain adequately. Moreover, officials frequently had to buy their positions, then were expected to extort money from Mexicans to pay their own way. Public position was then, and now, viewed as a means to private gain.

Claudio Lomnitz, professor of history at Columbia University (Understanding the history of corruption in Mexico) describes corruption as an intricate system of exchanges in which support for public officials is given in return for certain privileges. Payments of money to ensure that routine services are rendered are also part of the mix.

The New York Times journalist and one-time Mexico bureau chief, Anthony DePalma once asserted, "Corruption is not a characteristic of the system in Mexico . . . it is the system." 

Among the many outstanding works by Mexican scholars and students of the culture are these books by two important 20th century Mexican writers. Insightful and readable, both books include important discussions of the history of corruption:

Fuentes, Carlos, El espejo enterrado (English: The Buried Mirror: Reflections on Spain and the New World): Written to mark the Five Hundredth Anniversary of Columbus's discovery of the Americas, Fuentes explores the origins of the Latin cultures created in the intervening 500 years by the descendants of original peoples, Africans, and Europeans. Fuentes' superb Introduction can be accessed online using Amazon.com's "Look Inside!" feature. Definitely worth a read!

Paz, Octavio, Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, o las trampas de la fé (English: Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, or the Traps of Faith): Paz's stated purpose in taking on this project was to use the story of the 17th century Mexican nun—widely recognized as the first feminist in the New World—to introduce key aspects of Spanish Colonial society, governance and culture in Nueva España, what is today the Republic of Mexico. Chapters describing Spanish colonial life alternate with chapters discussing Sor Juana's life and work. The picture Paz paints of Spanish society is vivid, insightful and, of course, exquisitely written.