Running the national barbecue: How Mexico actually works

Perhaps it is time for me to tackle one of the larger realities of life here in Mexico. It is not an easy subject to approach, as the issue has so many sides that trying to put a roof over it without leaving several corners exposed can feel like an ambitious carpentry project.

Like many people who arrive here, I began with simple observations inspired by a conversation with a neighbor, a story told over coffee or a headline in the morning news. At first, these seemed like isolated moments. But over time, a pattern began to appear. Mexico, it turns out, is an intricate arrangement of political, financial and well-connected personalities. On the surface, that sounds like a promising combination. One imagines a collection of experienced minds working together to guide a nation of remarkable culture and energy. Yet somewhere in that arrangement lies the puzzle that has followed Mexico for centuries.

The very human way things get done in Mexico

The longer I live here, the more I notice that power, relationships and institutions have grown together much like vines climbing an old stone wall. After enough years, they become so intertwined that it is difficult to tell where one begins and another ends. The result is not always tidy, and it does not always serve the public as smoothly as one might hope. Still, the story is not entirely dark. In fact, much of it is deeply human.

Mexico is a country that sometimes seems to have been assembled the way an enthusiastic cook prepares a stew: a little history, a handful of revolutions, several centuries of strong personalities and a generous dash of improvisation. Stir thoroughly and allow to simmer for a few hundred years. The result is a nation that is endlessly fascinating and occasionally bewildering. On paper, the ingredients are excellent. There are capable politicians, accomplished business leaders, proud regional traditions and a remarkably resilient population. If you gathered these elements in a conference room with a whiteboard and a good supply of coffee, you might expect the outcome to be a marvel of organization and efficiency.

How politics evolved in Mexico through the eras of colonization and independence

Instead, what sometimes emerges resembles a lively family reunion where several cousins are attempting to run the same barbecue. To understand why, one must begin with history. I am not professing to be a history buff or one confident of the true timetable of events, so this may be a bit simplistic for those readers well versed in this subject. This is a whittled-down summary to serve this essay.

For three centuries, Mexico was governed as part of the Spanish Empire. Authority flowed downward from distant offices, and local power often rested in the hands of those who were well-connected, persuasive or simply difficult to ignore. When independence arrived in 1821, the country inherited not only freedom but also the complicated habit of governing through networks of influence rather than tidy bureaucratic charts.

Then came the 19th century, which Mexico treated less like a calm stroll and more like an obstacle course. Empires appeared briefly and disappeared again. Presidents came and went with remarkable enthusiasm. Revolutions were staged with the sort of energy usually reserved for festivals. By the time the 20th century arrived, Mexico had learned a valuable lesson: if stability was desired, it might be wise to keep the argument mostly inside the house.

For much of that century, political life was dominated by a single party that developed an extraordinary ability to keep everyone, politicians, unions, business leaders and regional bosses somewhere inside the tent. It was not always elegant, but it was often effective. Think of it as a very large table where everyone had a chair, even if some chairs were noticeably more comfortable than others.

The evolution of discourse and problem-solving in modern Mexico

Modern Mexico, of course, has changed. Elections are competitive. Voices are louder, and the tent now has several entrances and a good deal more shouting near the door. Yet the old habits remain.

Relationships matter, personal trust matters even more and occasionally a solution to a complicated problem appears not in a policy document but over lunch, somewhere between the second cup of coffee and a discussion about whose uncle knows the mayor. This can be frustrating for those who prefer straight lines and orderly procedures. But it also reveals something important about Mexico: beneath the complexity is a deeply social culture. Decisions grow out of conversations, agreements are built on familiarity and systems bend because people do. If this sounds chaotic, it sometimes is. But it is also human.

Consider the average Mexican town meeting. Officially, there is an agenda. Unofficially, there are greetings, jokes, stories about someone’s cousin in Guadalajara and perhaps a plate of pastries that arrived without explanation. By the time the discussion returns to the actual topic, everyone in the room knows a little more about one another, and oddly enough, the decision often works out better for it.

Mexico’s strength lies in adaptation and flexibility

Mexico’s great paradox is that its institutions can appear tangled while its society remains remarkably functional. Markets open early, families look after one another and streets fill with vendors who somehow know exactly which corner will be busy at precisely the right hour. Entire neighborhoods coordinate themselves with the quiet efficiency of a well-rehearsed orchestra, without anyone waving a baton. In other words, the country often succeeds in spite of the complexity above it. Or perhaps because of it.

The truth is that Mexico has spent centuries practicing the art of adaptation. Rules exist, but people understand when flexibility is wiser. Authority exists, but community often proves stronger. Plans are made, revised and occasionally replaced with something better that someone thought of that morning. To an outsider, this may look like disorder. To many Mexicans, it simply looks like Tuesday.

A sense of humor helps, too

And here lies the hopeful part of the story. A system built entirely on rigid rules can break when the rules fail. But a system built on relationships, improvisation and a certain tolerance for imperfection can bend, recover and keep moving. Mexico bends constantly. It also laughs constantly, which may be its most effective survival strategy of all. Walk through a plaza in almost any town, and you will hear it: the laughter of people discussing politics with the same tone they might use to describe a stubborn goat or a cousin who borrowed the truck and returned it with half a tank of gasoline and a mysterious dent. The message is clear. Life continues, people adjust and tomorrow will bring another attempt to get things right. And over time, despite all predictions to the contrary, the country keeps working its way forward, slowly and unpredictably, but with a resilience that is difficult not to admire.

Mexico may indeed be a complicated arrangement of political, financial and well-connected personalities. But it is also something else. It is a place where the machinery of government occasionally creaks, while the machinery of everyday life hums along with remarkable determination. And if history is any guide, that hum will continue long after the latest debate has faded and someone has finally managed to fix the barbecue.

Robert Santacroce is a contributor to Mexico News Daily.