In 1986, after three years of trying to recover from the crisis caused by the “tragic dozen” years, Mexico had no choice but to open itself to the rest of the world. At the beginning of that year, the price of oil collapsed, which at the time represented almost the only product we exported. The government budget fell short, and there weren’t enough dollars, so the decision was made to join the GATT (General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade) and simultaneously allow domestic prices to rise. Two years later, at the end of 1987, inflation was seriously addressed.
That was the moment when Mexico changed its economic orientation. Since then, the external market began to matter more than the internal market, causing difficulties for those who sold domestically while businesses focused entirely on exports began to appear. States oriented toward the internal market (Mexico City, Jalisco, Veracruz, Sinaloa, etc.) began to lose ground, while those integrated into the global market (Nuevo León, Guanajuato, Querétaro, etc.) grew like never before. To generalize, I often use the 20th parallel (which runs north of Mexico City and south of Yucatán) as the dividing line between these two groups of states. It’s clearer when using the territory of Mesoamerica, but that causes discomfort for many.
In that same 1986, the PRI experienced a significant internal rupture, partly due to this shift in national direction and partly from a simple struggle for power. Those displaced formed a new party, the PRD, which, not coincidentally, took root in the states that were declining. Their discourse focused on protesting that change of direction, which they called “neoliberalism.” North of the 20th parallel, the opposition came from the PAN, which won almost all the states in that region but consolidated its presence in only a few.
The PRI’s return to the presidency in 2012, which enabled the remaining reforms necessary to truly liberalize the economy and integrate Mexico into the world, caused a quieter but significant new rupture within the party. In alliance with those harmed by the reforms (crony businessmen, union leaders, universities), these new displaced factions joined forces with the original opposition under the umbrella of Morena.
They won in 2018 and set about dismantling everything accomplished since 1986. Symbolically, canceling the new airport meant withdrawing Mexico from the world. Educational reform was reversed, energy reform was effectively undone, serious social policy was destroyed and replaced with vote-buying, and economic collapse was barely mitigated in a few states. You guessed it: those suffering since 1986, such as Oaxaca, Veracruz, and Tabasco.
The June 2 election can be explained, at least halfway, by economic behavior. Sheinbaum swept the states that had seen no growth for over thirty years and are now receiving crumbs. In the export-oriented region north of the 20th parallel, her victory was minimal, but it still occurred because the “bubble” of 2023, financed by the fiscal deficit, had a nationwide effect—a deficit we now struggle to control.
With nostalgia (that illusion that hides the bad of the past and highlights only the good), half the country still believes there was a glorious past before neoliberalism, now consolidated in the public imagination as the PRIAN (a derogatory combination of PRI and PAN). This nostalgia is no stranger to the poor primary education we’ve endured since Cárdenas. It was further cemented by cash handouts, and the economic spillover from white elephant projects did the rest.
The displaced factions of the PRI and the victims of reforms now hold all the power through votes, corruption, blackmail, and abuse. Like their predecessors, they will lead Mexico to ruin. Perhaps we will need to commemorate that distant 1986 forty years later, attempting a new reinvention of Mexico.