Translation: An Uncertain Democratic Transition, by Adela Cedillo

Photo by Obed Hernández on Unsplash

An Uncertain Democratic Transition

ADELA CEDILLO*

 Mexico has reached two major transition points this century: in 2000, with the election of Vicente Fox, the right-wing candidate of the National Action Party (PAN), which raised a set of expectations that fell far short of being met; and in 2018, with the sweeping victory of Andrés Manuel López Obrador, of the “Juntos haremos historia” [“Together we will make history”] coalition that brought together elements of the right, center, and left, whose impact remains to be seen. But one common aspect of both transitions is their half-hearted interest in so-called transitional justice, a central theme in any serious attempt to restore democracy, the rule of law, functioning institutions, and social peace.

Transitional justice is one of the strongest indicators of whether a process of transition to democracy has succeeded or faltered. The International Center for Transitional Justice (ICTJ) defines it as the way in which countries emerging from periods of conflict and repression address large-scale or systematic human rights violations so numerous and so serious that the normal justice system will not be able to provide an adequate response. Transitional justice mechanisms consist of the prosecution of past crimes; the search for historical truth; the preservation of the memory of those events; the comprehensive reparation of harm—both material and symbolic—at the individual and collective levels; and reforms to the legal framework and institutions to provide guarantees of non-repetition of human rights violations. In Mexico, this debate has unfortunately been confined to legal, academic, and human rights advocacy circles and its public impact has been minimal.  

It’s not that society is indifferent to the issue. At various times, social actors have made it clear that the inadequate administration of justice, both for past and present events, is one of the nation’s most urgent problems. What seems to happen is that skepticism about punishing members of the political and economic elites is so overwhelming that society does not react forcefully to every failure, delay, or detour of the prosecutors and judges who handle those cases. Paradoxically, the anticipation of an adverse outcome is an anchor that keeps society tied to a perfectly dysfunctional justice system.

Unlike during Fox’s six-year term, in which the existence of the Special Prosecutor’s Office for Social and Political Movements of the Past (FEMOSPP) maintained the illusion that repressors from the PRI would be brought to trial at any moment, the debate on transitional justice mechanisms in 2018 was short-lived. The president alluded to the issue in terms of forgiveness and reconciliation, thus suggesting a de facto amnesty for past state crimes. Later, responding to his critics, AMLO qualified the notion of putting former presidents on trial by proposing to hold a plebiscite on the issue. He seemed unaware that his proposals for amnesty and a plebiscite were incompatible with international criminal law and international human rights law. Serious and systematic human rights violations are not subject to statutes of limitation, cannot be amnestied or put to a popular vote, and must be investigated and punished because Mexico is a signatory to the main international human rights conventions. 

Notably, it is possible under human rights law to bring to justice not only the state or parastatal agents who perpetrated the violation but also those who, through acquiescence or negligence, did nothing to prevent it. In a more advanced interpretation of the law, even those who, having the power to prosecute such atrocities, preferred to cover them up or apply the “clean slate” formula, could be brought to justice. Granted, some societies that have undergone transitions to democracy have included amnesty as a transitional justice mechanism—but in no case was it a question of unilateral amnesty and reconciliation. Instead, in exchange for immunity from prosecution, the criminals had to provide the truth commissions with useful information on matters such as the chain of command in police and military organizations, the fate of detainees and disappeared persons, and the identity of those who committed the worst abuses. In societies with a broken or non-existent justice system, the exchange of amnesty for information represented a modicum of progress rather than a blunder.

All of Mexico’s living past presidents and quite a few former public servants could be held criminally responsible for serious human rights violations—including massacres, executions, arbitrary detentions, enforced disappearances, forced displacement, and torture—all of which have been carried out systematically by state agents against one or more sectors of the civilian population as part of a state policy. Indeed, because of their systemic nature, some of these abuses qualify as crimes against humanity. These crimes were committed time and again during different periods, including the dirty war of the 1960s and 1970s; the war on drugs of the 1970s and 1980s; the low-intensity war against the Zapatista Army of National Liberation (EZLN) and the People’s Revolutionary Army (EPR) in the 1990s; and the second war on drugs from 2006 to 2018. 

Despite President López Obrador’s statements, his “Fourth Transformation” [4T] government has shown some signs of interest in the issue of transitional justice, namely: the opening of a memorial at Circular de Morelia #8 (in the former Mexico City offices of the Federal Security Directorate); the creation of a department within SEGOB’s Bureau of Human Rights Strategies tasked with designing a policy on the remembrance of state crimes; the consolidation of the National Commission to Search for Missing Persons (CNBP), including a division that focuses on those who disappeared during the dirty war; the continued operation of the Executive Commission for Victim Assistance (CEAV), despite government pressure to put it on the administrative chopping block; and, finally, the fact that the National Institute of Historical Studies of the Mexican Revolutions (INEHRM) has included the history of the present era on its public outreach agenda. 

There have also been some symbolic actions that reflect the new times, such as the fact that SEGOB has publicly apologized to some victims of state crimes. Given that the guerrillas were considered public enemy number one during several presidential administrations, the gesture of apologizing to Martha Camacho for the torture perpetrated against her and her baby, and for the 1977 execution and disappearance of her husband, the guerrilla José Manuel Alapizco, was no small act. For the first time in its history, the Mexican State publicly acknowledged that it had overstepped the legal bounds of its fight against the guerrillas, violating their human rights. Nevertheless, an entire presidential term would still not be enough time to offer individual apologies to all the victims.

Additionally, the sluggish pace of these institutions’ work toward developing an official plan that defines transitional justice objectives and mechanisms is troubling. From what has been leaked to the media, it is safe to conclude that they have received neither the funding nor the material and human resources needed to do their work under suitable conditions; on the contrary, austerity policies have overtly targeted these bodies, as if their mission were something that could be postponed or supported only reluctantly. It is politically, morally, and legally unacceptable that transitional justice work is not given the priority it deserves. 

The least the current administration could be expected to do is take an approach that reflects the seriousness of the events of the past that have plunged Mexico into an endless spiral of violence. If the 4T failed at everything else, it could at least claim to have come to terms with the past and given a measure of satisfaction to the victims. This is no small feat, since other politically and economically disastrous governments have been viewed positively in retrospect for their successes with transitional justice, including the administrations of Raúl Alfonsín in Argentina and Patricio Aylwin in Chile. If the government fails to take any actions that go beyond symbolic gestures, it will once again extinguish hopes not only of justice for the victims but also of a genuine transition to democracy. The 4T runs the risk of replicating Fox’s failure, despite having the opportunity to be something different and perhaps even better.

* Adela Cedillo holds a Ph.D. in Latin American History. She has written extensively on political violence, human rights, and Mexico’s contemporary history, and she is a contributing writer of Revista Común.

This is a translation of an article published in Revista Común on August 6, 2020.

Read the original article in Spanish here.

Translated from Spanish by Aimee R. Sullivan