Corruption Rampant : La Mordida: Big Bite Out of Mexico

A large truck ran a red light in downtown Mexico City not long ago, and a traffic officer signaled the driver to pull over--a commonplace incident that would normally end with a fine, or a bribe.

Instead, the truck driver accelerated, only to be halted by other police on motorcycles. Suspecting that more than a traffic violation might be involved, the officers took a look inside. They found a cargo of cassette players, television sets, calculators, watches and other consumer products.

Assuming all this to be contraband, they prepared to arrest the driver and escort him to precinct headquarters. But then three federal police officers appeared, saying they were “escorting” the truck. After an exchange of identification and macho, the federales told the city police to get lost. The truck and its federal police escort promptly disappeared into the nearby Tepito district, a warren of contraband outlets.

Nothing More Heard

The humiliated city officers complained to the federal attorney general. But nothing more was heard of the truck, its cargo or the federal policemen, whose names were printed along with an account of the incident in local newspapers. It is widely assumed that the cargo was sold in the teeming, highly public black market, under the protection of the federal police.

On the surface, all this seems to be no more than a Keystone Kops example of official ineptitude accompanied by graft. But it is also a reminder of the strong grip that corruption has on Mexico despite a five-year campaign to bring honesty to every level of government.

The anti-corruption campaign, known as “moral renovation,” was a major drive launched by President Miguel de la Madrid when he was elected in 1982. After he took office, De la Madrid embarked on a crusade against bribery and payoffs. He is now five years into his six-year term, and the results of moral renovation are decidedly mixed.

According to some observers, vigilance and new accounting practices have reduced the sale of influence and the pillaging of public funds. In this period of belt-tightening, they say, reductions in major development projects and government purchases have shrunk sources of traditional rake-offs.

But stories about government officials enriching themselves persist. And mid-level and low-level graft is so widespread and so visible that it throws into question not only the will of the government to wipe out corruption but the Mexican people’s as well. Many Mexicans think corruption might as well be regarded not as a vice but as a permanent feature of life in this country, sort of an underground industry.

The late Mexican writer Narciso Bassols once observed, “Because corruption in Mexico is now not a moral problem, the quantity of corruption has transformed its quality--and converted it into a problem that is especially and directly economic.”

Economist Rogelio Ramirez de la O said the other day, “We have to think of corruption in macro-economic terms.”

Ramirez de la O estimates that between 1977 and 1982, the term of former President Jose Lopez Portillo, about $15 billion of the federal budget was “misspent.”

“How much of that was lost through corruption is anyone’s guess,” he said.

Curable ill or way of life, corruption is of special interest this year because of the lame duck status of the De la Madrid Administration. In September, De la Madrid will pick a candidate to succeed him, and in all likelihood, the candidate will be elected next year. Historically, the ruling party candidate is a shoo-in for election.

Most Mexicans believe that corruption increases in the dying days of an administration. Controls become lax, the president’s hold on his underlings weakens, efforts to restrain corruption may be ignored.

Jokingly, Mexicans have given this traditional season of thievery a name: “The Year of Hidalgo.” It sounds like a respectful invocation of the name of Miguel Hidalgo, the herald of Mexican independence, but in fact it is a sly and vulgar play on words that means, loosely, “You’re an SOB if you leave anything behind.”

Enduring corruption has even increased tension between Mexico and the United States. U.S. officials contend that unbridled Mexican corruption eases drug trafficking. If a policeman is willing to accept 20 cents to let someone double-park, the Americans figure, he is surely willing to take hundreds of times that amount to allow cocaine, marijuana and heroin to be shipped into the United States.

Charges Anger Mexicans

Mexicans bristle at such charges. After all, they note, Washington itself seems engulfed in such scandals as influence peddling, cost overruns in federal projects and unsavory deals with Middle East arms merchants.

But there is hardly a citizen of Mexico who will not admit to the breadth of corruption here and who does not despair of narrowing it. Mexicans call corruption “la mordida,” the bite, and it gnaws at everyone.

Ignacio Pichardo, head of the federal controller’s office, which was set up by De la Madrid to curb government misspending, said: “It’s difficult to combat. To eliminate this phenomenon, we must go to battle with better salaries, levels of education. Our own citizenry takes refuge in the bite.”

Concepcion (Conchita) Villela, the head of a Tepito residents’ association, said, “Sometimes we excuse it because it is a way of bettering our lives.”

Astonishing Range

The day-to-day range of corruption is astonishing, from commonplace bribery of policemen and customs agents to payoffs for garbage men to ensure the collection of refuse.

The huge contraband market in Tepito thrives on the beneficial cooperation of smugglers, the police and the city authorities. As Conchita Villela explains it, big-time smugglers make regular payoffs to customs officials and the federal police. The police sometimes escort the goods into Mexico from the U.S. border, or provide the smugglers with police identification to prevent their cargo from being searched.

Display space on Tepito’s sidewalks and alleyways is controlled by vendors, who in turn pay the officials. On occasion, as in the truck incident, policemen will invade Tepito and cause panic among the vendors. As a result, many smugglers offer their wares by means of catalogues. They also offer home delivery.

Warning in Newspaper

In 1985, according to the Mexico City newspaper Excelsior, police warned Tepito’s smugglers that a showcase raid was to be made just after Christmas.

Bribe-taking by police is perhaps Mexico’s most visible form of corruption. Policemen stake out streets where infractions are likely to occur because of the lack of clearly visible traffic signs or motorists’ customary willingness to take chances.

The corner of Insurgentes and Hamburgo in the capital is one such place. Making a left turn is not permitted, but the sign that says this is hidden by trees. And many drivers knowingly transgress here, for otherwise they would have to take a roundabout route to enter the Zona Rosa, a popular entertainment district.

Police Lie in Wait

Policemen lie in wait, often waving over five or six drivers at a time. Rarely is a ticket written. Instead, the officer will say that the driver must accompany him to the station and pay a fine; perhaps the car will have to be kept overnight.

Almost inevitably the driver responds with the magic words, “How can I be of service?”

The answer: By handing over 5,000 pesos (about $4).

Many Mexico City residents have come to terms with the system. They will gladly pay a policeman to watch their double-parked car instead of, say, the bank that the policeman is supposed to be guarding.

So strong is the expectation that policemen will accept a bribe that when new traffic laws are proposed, citizens rise up in opposition, arguing that they will only mean more payoffs to corrupt cops. Because of this attitude, Mexico City has been unable to institute traffic rules in the downtown area designed to reduce pollution. Drivers say the police will use the law as a way to make money rather than to keep cars off the streets.

Police Plead Poverty

The police themselves explain their behavior by pointing out that they are poorly paid.

“It’s like putting a hungry fox in charge of hens,” said Antonio Rubio, who retired from the Mexico City police force last year and has written a book on police training. Rookie city policemen are paid $90 a month.

The extent of corruption in Mexico’s various police forces has created the impression that the policemen are as dangerous as the criminals they are supposed to catch. Last year, a product of police training, Alfredo Rios Galeana, escaped from a Mexico City jail where he was being held on charges of robbing banks.

Protected Bank Robbers

Rios Galeana was trained, in the mid-1970s, in anti-guerrilla tactics, explosives handling and hand-to-hand combat, then assigned to a radio patrol unit in the state of Mexico. There he protected bank robbers instead of chasing them and soon put his uniform aside to take up crime full-time. He was arrested in 1985 and charged with 19 counts of armed robbery, murder and property damage.

Rios Galeana vowed that no jail could hold him, and last November, along with 13 other prisoners, he shot his way out of the South Penitentiary in Mexico City. According to several inmates, visitors had been smuggling bits and pieces of weapons into the prison for months.

Embarrassed prison officials confirmed what many suspected: Guards had helped Rios Galeana escape. One accepted $150 to allow visitors to bring in weapons. Three others were also arrested. The warden was dismissed.

Antonio Sanchez, the general director of prisons, spoke of “a possible attitude of negligence, ineptitude and corruption on the part of elements at the prison, in light of the fact that firearms and two hand grenades were smuggled into the facility with the help of the very people who work there.”

All Government Affected

Law enforcement is by no means the only field where corruption blooms. There seems to be hardly a government department in which the bite is not common.

Having trouble with your mail? A housewife in the Polanco district told of how 5,000 pesos cleared up a sudden difficulty in receiving letters from the United States.

Garbage collection not regular? In the well-to-do Lomas district, frequent tips to the collector will ensure better service.

Like to avoid paying long-distance telephone rates? Get to know an operator with the company which is owned in part by the government. Make an arrangement of, say, 10,000 pesos a month (about $8) and long distance charges will never show up on your bill.

For years, it was an open secret that various city inspections of houses, apartments and office buildings could be avoided by putting a few pesos in the right palm. During the building boom of the 1970s, especially, there were reports that building codes were not being enforced. But little was done about it. After all, no one seemed to be harmed by the practice.

Quakes Expose Abuses

Then came the earthquakes of 1985. Tragic deaths exposed common abuses. Buildings approved for office use had been converted into factories, and the installation of heavy machinery on upper floors had made for instability.

City maintenance of government housing, a subject of complaint by tenant groups right up to the eve of the quakes, resulted in the collapse of large apartment complexes. The government promised to investigate, but nothing has come of it, except for the resignation of some housing officials.

In the case of a collapsed condominium building, in the middle-class Roma neighborhood, an engineer whose family was killed in the quake has sued not only the builders but also the officials who approved the design.

The engineer, Raul Perez, contends in his suit that there is a cover-up of corrupt practices. City officials refuse to give him the blueprints that he needs to support his charges. The building’s owner, who was named as a defendant in the suit, was an official in the previous presidential administration.

Builders in Cahoots

“More cases like this would bring to light more abuses,” Perez said. “But builders are accomplices with the authorities, so they fear for themselves.”

The origins of corruption in Mexico are difficult to pinpoint. Some historians say it began with the system of tribute practiced by the Aztecs who ruled much of Mexico before the arrival of the Spanish in the early 16th Century. They point out that the Aztec king, Montezuma, tried to buy off the Spaniards with gold. The gifts, as if foreshadowing the future spiral of greed, only made the Spanish hungry for more.

Others trace the blame to the Colonial period, when many viceroys sent from Spain arrived with the idea of stuffing as much of Mexico into their pockets as possible and going home rich. Even after independence, revolving-door governments were known for greed. They often borrowed abroad to make up for gaping budget deficits. The revolution of 1910 did not end the pillage. Payoffs, sometimes in the form of confiscated haciendas, were used to quiet warring generals.

2 Proud Achievements

Two of the revolution’s proudest achievements, land reform and labor unions, are rife with corruption.

On the farm, land grouped into communal plots known as ejidos are frequently bought and sold by overseers even though they are legally the property of the entire nation. Sometimes, sales are made to more than one person, setting off land battles and bidding wars that benefit corrupt agrarian officials. Valle de Chalco, a squatter community on the outskirts of Mexico City, has grown up in the last six years through such multiple land sales.

In many poor regions of the country, ejido dwellers are subject to extortion by local officials who, if necessary, hire police pistoleros to drive the peasants off the land.

Much political rhetoric focuses on the protection offered workers by unions, most of which are tied to the government and the ruling party. Little is said about the practice of job-selling by the unions. Anyone looking for work must pay the union to get a job.

‘Is This Protection?’

“Is this protection for the worker?” Juan Ortega, who heads the Independent Labor Union, a small non-government group, asked rhetorically.

Sometimes, relatively well-paid workers are permitted to pay other workers, at lower wages, to do their jobs while they either loaf or work somewhere else. The substitute worker gets none of the social benefits provided under Mexican law. This practice is said to be widespread on the docks at Veracruz and inside the oil industry.

Oil unions, which are especially strong because of the fear of labor unrest in the country’s principal industry, have been accused of skimming off workers’ government benefits and giving the workers only their wages. In Mexican slang, this is called the “bald” wage.

In March, telegraph workers complained that the Social Security Institute made illegal surcharges on home and commercial loans. According to their complaint, officials would tell customers that no loans were available, and then, privately, someone would appear and say things could be arranged for a surcharge of $150.

Corruption High Up

Many Mexicans think that while that is commonplace, visible corruption is only incidental to the much more lucrative corruption that takes place at the upper levels of government. Putting limits on such bureaucratic corruption seemed to be a major goal of the De la Madrid Administration when it began its moral renovation campaign. As a sign that he meant business, De la Madrid set out to prosecute two prominent members of the previous administration.

The arrest and prosecution of Arturo Durazo Moreno, the former police chief of Mexico City, and Jorge Diaz Serrano, former director of the government oil company, Petroleos Mexicanos, or Pemex, were followed with intense interest in Mexico.