PERSPECTIVE ON MEXICO : The Mythically Rich Are Exposed : In a country of dire economic struggle, it is immoral that 24 families hold wealth equal to the national budget.

When 24 Mexican families are together worth $44.1 billion, the news transcends the ordinary to become a genuine moral scandal.

How else can we read the Forbes 500 list revealing that, in a country where 17 million people live under conditions of extreme poverty and 35 million are officially considered poor, 24 individuals or families have an accumulated wealth equivalent to Mexico’s 1990 national budget?

At the top of the list, published last week, is banker Carlos Slim with $6.6 billion and media/communications mogul Emilio Azcarraga with $5.4 billion.

According to Forbes, Slim had $2.1 billion in 1992. In only two years, he has become the fourth-richest man in the world. His wealth derives in part from his stock in Telefonos de Mexico. It helps, too, that he is in command of 22% of the Mexican stock market’s trading capital.

Azcarraga is the major stockholder of Televisa, a corporation blessed by a holy alliance with the government.

Beyond the articles, caricatures and mocking references printed in the Mexican press, the Forbes list is monopolizing conversations in Mexico City. How was this monstrous sum of money produced? The explanation is always the same: The outrageous accumulation of money was facilitated by connections with the government, the clever maneuvering of CEOs, juicy favorable contracts with the governing elites, speculative trading in the stock market, the ridiculously low buying prices for state-owned businesses, clever tax filing and advantageous associations with foreign capital. Yet, understanding how the vast amount of money was accumulated by so few does not dissipate the anger of the majority.

In the 1940s and ‘50s, quick fortunes created some sort of communal pride. There were protests and criticism against corruption, but there were also jokes and gossip that entertained the masses--talk about the mansions in Acapulco, the safaris to Africa and outrageous gifts to glamorous lovers. Predictably or strangely, the gossip amused a population always dreaming of somehow making it with one stroke of good fortune. The multimillionaires of years ago were mocked with jealous admiration and their squanderings became fairy tales.

Stories also were told of bureaucrats who found suitcases full of money on the streets and of high government officials winning the lottery 10 times in a row. Corruption was looked upon as a carnival, something somehow festive. Moral outrage was tempered by a society that accepted and enjoyed the fashionable notion of getting rich quickly and mysteriously.

During the 1980s, this fascination with wealth faded as social mobility virtually ceased to exist. One impression seemed to dominate: He who comes from the underclass can only make it to the starting point. Fortunes became institutionalized. From now on, there will be only a few, perhaps none, who will be able to found dynasties. Only the chosen heirs, that ubiquitous species.

When capitalism goes wild, there is no room for moral dilemmas. After all, it is not capitalism’s fault if there is economic inequality. Disparity gives the people an incentive to prosper, and neither compassion nor government handouts serve any purpose. Furthermore, complaining about the rich is a waste of time.

Forbes’ revelations give testimony to the truths spoken by the majority. Even though what should incite outrage is the number of poor people, somehow invisible despite their demographic majority, it is the number of super-rich in Mexico that creates a reaction, one that irritates, exasperates and causes resentment. Moral indignation tends to be ephemeral and consume itself, but this time the anger remains ever present because the concentrated fortunes continue to grow.

The consequences of anger and resentment will not necessarily be demonstrated electorally, but they will be felt in the long run. In Mexico’s current economic condition, so much concentrated wealth is a personal affront that a devalued middle class uses to measure its own situation. What opportunities are available for them and their children compared to the 24 richest families and the next richest 100? Their destiny seems fixed and stationary, a conclusion derived mainly through observations about the richest people, not the poor.

If the class struggle has been outdated with the fall of communism, then the personal and social experiences of those who have little or no money no longer lead to the usual lamentations addressed against those who own a lot. The awareness of having been radically plundered, of being cut out of real opportunities without a visible chance of social mobility, is more than a provocation; it raises politics to the domain of morality.

Meanwhile, the richest people do pay something for their tremendous advantages. They live in fear, in medieval-like fortresses, with armies of bodyguards, traveling in bulletproof limousines that cost, they say, half a million dollars and are imported used, from Colombia, because Mercedes-Benz is slow keeping up with the demand.

The sweet honey of the beehive has its price. If kidnaped banker Alfredo Harp Helu’s ransom was $30 million, how much will the next one be worth?