When we bought out current house lakeside, it came fully furnished, complete with a few books on the mantelpiece. One of these was a ponderous tome of 871 small-print pages, in English, with the title “Mexico, Biography of Power.” The work of Enrique Krauze, a famous Mexican historian and social commentator, it promised “a history of Mexico from 1810 to 1996.” As someone who loves history and wanted to learn more about my expat home, it beckoned. As a “busy” expat retiree with nothing to do but travel, visit family and friends, it daunted (me). This wasn’t casual summer reading. I like to take books along when we go on cruises, but this one would take up more than half of my carry-on! So I delayed diving in for a year or two, the work gathering dust in the space on my bookcase for things-not-yet-read.
Facing a two-week transatlantic cruise this year, I knew the time was ripe, so I dug into the first few chapters, then purchased an Ebook version for my Kindle, allowing me to continue reading without giving up essential cruise swimwear. As it was, I was able to read all through our travels in Europe and still have the last few chapters to finish with the hardback when we returned.
Krauze once opined that “all history is not biography, but without biography there is no history.” Mexico is a point in this thesis, in that its history is one of a series of strong men (until oh-so-recently, no woman had come near wearing the Presidential sash) personally imposing their views on the nation and its story, for good or ill. His work progresses from the War of Independence through the very end of the single-party state under the PRI, Partido Revolucionario Institucional, although when the book was completed the author was unaware that outcome was pending.
One of the themes of the book is the inescapable rise of a singular leader throughout Mexican history, which Krauze suggests is a legacy of both the tlatoani history of the Mexica (Aztecs) and the caciques of the Spanish crown. Eventually there arises a strong man to provide leadership and perhaps authoritarianism. While this parade of “great” men may seem quite common as a parallel to American readers and history, in Mexico there were significant differences. Without the famous “check & balances” of the American Republic, Mexico veers ever more so towards an all-powerful Presidente. And while violence is a common theme in both country’s stories, in Mexico the violence is consuming. So many of the contestants for leadership are assassinated, exiled, betrayed by friends, or killed while under arrest that the few who survive to a natural death are indeed exceptions to the rule.
After the multi-decade span of the Porfiriata (a dictatorship under Porfiro Diaz), these “great” men eventually settle on only one limit to their power: a single, six-year term of office called the sexenio. Their recompense is “el dedazo” (the big finger), whereby they “point” or select their successor, who is then (of course) elected. While this process developed under the PRI, it seems to be reviving under the current leadership.
Another theme is the gradual emergence of the Mexican raice, or race. In Krauze’s telling, the War of Independence is a revolt of the Criollos (Spaniards born in New Spain) against the Peninsulares (Spaniards born in Spain, living in New Spain). The nineteenth century invasions by the United States and France cement the rise of the mestizo (mixed race) segment of the population under the leadership of Benito Juarez, the first Presidente of indigenous origin. The Mexican Revolution was a final, full extension of recognition of all people, including the still extant indigenous tribes, as Mexican. This notion of a developing racial consciousness, albeit not based on skin color but ancestry, is only possible because while the Spanish conquest abused the indigenous peoples and discriminated against the mixed races, they eventually integrated all, unlike the North American model, which marginalized and virtually eliminated Native Americans.
This book also explained a historical dichotomy that had long troubled me: how was the Mexican revolution, which happened coincident with Russia’s and featured so many “socialist” ideas, not considered “Communist?” Mexico’s unique brand of institutional revolution does indeed parallel Moscow’s: single powerful leaders, a single-party state, expropriation of private property, open suppression of the Church, the creation of mega (and mega-corrupt) public utilities and sweeping public entitlements. But each of these grew out of home-grown concepts of the Mexican experience, neither Marx nor Lenin. There were Communist movements in Mexico, but they were as suppressed as any other party or foreign entity. Mexico developed its singular notion of non-intervention, which left it on the sidelines of the Cold War (and almost World War II), and while there developed a strange affection between Cuba and Mexico, much of it was based on the (misguided) hope Castro would turn out to be more nationalist than Communist.
One final very interesting point is the fact Krauze’s book was published just before Mexico developed into a true, multi-party democracy. Still, the tumultuous period of the early twentieth century eventually leads to Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador, (AMLO), the most recent “great” man who was first denied by the powers that be, then rose to destroy the PRI, only to replace it with his Morena party, which now controls the Congress, the Presidency, and the courts. Enrique Krauze, who is still alive and commenting on Mexico, has noted the consistency of recent history with his original thesis.
While this work is hardly a casual read, it rewards those with patience to persevere. Krauze brings coherence to the many revolts, wars, and violence that permeate Mexican history, and his careful attention to each succeeding leader makes the parade of unfamiliar (to me) names intelligible. His is a sympathetic take on Mexico, stressing the importance of “the revolution” as a living concept that guides leaders even today.