Open to Business, <i> Si</i> ; to Dissent, <i> No</i> : Mexico: Salinas, fearful that his critics will jeopardize a free-trade deal, puts democratization on hold.

Mario Vargas Llosa, the Peruvian writer and recent presidential candidate, calls Mexico’s current political regime the “perfect dictatorship.” Speaking in Mexico City last August before a group of conservative intellectuals, he pointed out that Mexico’s one-party system permits just enough criticism to serve its image but uses every available means to suppress criticism that challenges its permanence in power.

Less than 24 hours after his controversial statement, a panel discussion in which Vargas Llosa was to participate was canceled, and he abruptly left Mexico.

The next day, the Institutional Revolutionary Party, the PRI, convened its 14th General Assembly with the avowed purpose of democratizing party structures. It was expected that under the leadership of President Carlos Salinas de Gortari, the PRI would finally modernize itself and become a truly competitive organization. However, in his closing address to the assembly, Salinas dashed all hopes for political opening. “Changes are to assure victory, not to give away power,” he said, referring to a few innovations to democratize procedures for selecting candidates for elected office. With equal verve he censured his critics, including those within his own party, for seeking the party’s destruction and for lending support to forces abroad that would weaken Mexico.

Salinas has adopted the same nationalistic rhetoric used by his predecessors to discredit their critics. The underlining contention is that both the presidency and the party that emanated from the Mexican Revolution are immutable components of the sovereign republic. In this view, anyone who criticizes the two political institutions is a collaborator with the enemies of Mexico--especially when the criticism is made in the United States or aimed at having influence there.

Among the features of the PRI’s dictatorial perfection is precisely its ability to escape external scrutiny. Mexico’s resilience in avoiding political change is largely ignored or benevolently judged by world public opinion, particularly in the United States. This happens regardless of the compelling evidence that human-rights organizations like Americas Watch have collected against the PRI regime and in spite of the world’s democratic consciousness being raised by the fall of dictatorships all over.

American sympathizers of Salinas’ pro-business reforms could interpret his hard-line speech as nothing more than rhetorical excess typical of partisan politicians in any Western democracy. But Mexico is not a democracy, and in Mexico’s pyramidal system of power, a president’s condemnation of critics is read as a signal--intentional or not--to ostracize dissidents and punish opponents. It is also typical of Mexico’s autocratic system that overzealous bureaucrats eager to please their leader will besiege his critics with strict surveillance--including illegal telephone taps--threats and harassment.

The immediate consequence of the PRI Assembly and Salinas’s speech was an outbreak of political witch-hunting and at least one major party defection, by Rodolfo Gonzalez Guevara. One of the PRI’s most prominent members for more than 30 years, Gonzalez Guevara has been leading a vigorous reform movement in the party. After he was roundly condemned in Salinas’ speech, party loyalists launched a campaign of political accusation and personal innuendo to force him and his followers to either quit the party or plead for the president’s forgiveness. Gonzalez Guevara chose to leave, declaring that the assembly was “the worst masquerade in the party’s history.”

There are two identifiable reasons why Salinas persists in following a two-track policy of economic liberalism and political authoritarianism. First is the fear that a reformed PRI would not survive competition. The PRI’s eroding support might reach critical proportions in next month’s local elections in the state of Mexico--adjacent to the populous capital--and in next year’s federal legislative elections.

The second reason involves the free-trade agreement with the United States, on which negotiations will soon begin. Salinas’ strategy has been secretive; the only visible element has been his eagerness to reach a quick deal with the Bush Administration.

Salinas regards this deal as his last chance to achieve economic prosperity and political success and he will not brook any dissent or interference with the negotiating process. Consequently, the debate about the merits of such an agreement is not taking place in Mexico, but in the United States. Salinas’ admonitions to his critics clearly are an attempt to stop Mexicans from raising issues that might spoil the government’s image and adversely influence the outcome of the U.S. debate on free trade. The bilateral agreement that might result from a hasty and unaccountable process might be good for Salinas but bad and insufficient for Mexico.

Many Americans might argue that Salinas’ political rudeness is more than compensated by his pro-business vision for economic progress. However, what the millions of Mexicans whose rights are curtailed under this oppressive regime want is democracy, now. Democracy has become a prerequisite for confronting Mexico’s colossal economic and social tasks.

Democracy is also necessary if we are to build a new political and economic framework of understanding and equitable cooperation between Mexico and the United States. A free-trade agreement should reflect a true binational consensus, not a president’s impatience or a decaying political system’s panic.