practically a gringo then— trained at Princeton and MIT before he had to take on Mexico’s defensive foreign policy, a bit like the tortoise sleeping alongside the elephant.
You also reminded him that a newly elected president in the newly restored PRI system (this was fourteen years ago) would do well to be a thorn in the side of relatives and friends of the outgoing head of state, because that was the way to satisfy public opinion and give people the illusion of a fresh start.
César León. We haven’t even mentioned his name since he won the 2006 elections. We decided, simply, that he was a nonperson.
But the fact is that he’s come back. And President Terán has welcomed him with open arms.
I said to him, “Be careful, Mr. President. César León is like the scorpion that says to the frog, ‘Carry me on your back across the river. I promise not to sting you.’ And nevertheless, the scorpion stings the frog. . . .”
“I know the fable,” the president said to me, smiling. “ ‘It’s in my nature,’ the scorpion says. In this case, though, León is the frog and I’m the scorpion.”
“What do you want, then? To sting him or to make it to the other side?”
“That’s something I’ll decide in good time. Patience.”
I’m giving you this background information, my dear friend, so that you can understand my chat with César León last night.
He began with his little “humility” recital.
“I’ve learned so many things in exile. I want to be a factor for unity. Soon, someone will have to take President Terán’s place and we’ll be holding elections in the middle of some very serious difficulties.”
He enumerated the latter, which you and I know very well: the students, the workers, the peasants, the gringos. . . . He practically volunteered to act as intermediary in every case. He talked about the support he has in the old PRI, splintered apart primarily because of his intolerant, authoritarian, and arrogant attitude toward the end of his term. He even threw in a Latin quotation (he seems to have spent his time in Europe reading the classics): “
Divide et impera. . . .
”
I played dumb, asked him to translate for me.
“ ‘Divide and rule,’ ” he said smugly.
So that’s it, I said to myself, you’re here to triumph by dividing, bastard. I kept the comment to myself. I wanted to hear him say it—it would be like hearing a song that was a hit twenty years ago played on an old scratched record. He repeated the bit about wanting to be the best ex-president ever, a Mexican Jimmy Carter, never complaining, behaving as if nobody had ever done him any wrong. In other words: He’s come back, thirsting for power, just like the shipwreck survivor floating adrift on the raft of the
Medusa
for years and years, surrounded by water and yet unable to drink a drop.
He said that he wanted to be a factor for unity and cooperation in what remained of the old, fractured PRI. In other words: He wants to take over the party and rebuild it by making promises to all the old corporate bases, weakened at present but not without latent power, and then bring together all the disparate interest groups, the local power bases and strongmen—unfortunately spawned by our fledgling democracy and our president’s laissez-faire attitude—in a unified opposition party that can kick us out of power.
And he very cynically suggested that he could act as a go-between, connecting the presidency and our unmanageable Congress, given that there’s no majority at San Lázaro and all bills proposed by the executive branch are either stalled or shelved entirely.
In a word, he was offering me his help to head off these obstacles and to clear the path to the presidential elections.
I sat there looking at him, totally speechless. I don’t have to tell you that this didn’t make him uncomfortable at all. His scheming little eyes sparkled and he said very slowly, “Herrera . . . Whatever happened . . . didn’t
You also reminded him that a newly elected president in the newly restored PRI system (this was fourteen years ago) would do well to be a thorn in the side of relatives and friends of the outgoing head of state, because that was the way to satisfy public opinion and give people the illusion of a fresh start.
César León. We haven’t even mentioned his name since he won the 2006 elections. We decided, simply, that he was a nonperson.
But the fact is that he’s come back. And President Terán has welcomed him with open arms.
I said to him, “Be careful, Mr. President. César León is like the scorpion that says to the frog, ‘Carry me on your back across the river. I promise not to sting you.’ And nevertheless, the scorpion stings the frog. . . .”
“I know the fable,” the president said to me, smiling. “ ‘It’s in my nature,’ the scorpion says. In this case, though, León is the frog and I’m the scorpion.”
“What do you want, then? To sting him or to make it to the other side?”
“That’s something I’ll decide in good time. Patience.”
I’m giving you this background information, my dear friend, so that you can understand my chat with César León last night.
He began with his little “humility” recital.
“I’ve learned so many things in exile. I want to be a factor for unity. Soon, someone will have to take President Terán’s place and we’ll be holding elections in the middle of some very serious difficulties.”
He enumerated the latter, which you and I know very well: the students, the workers, the peasants, the gringos. . . . He practically volunteered to act as intermediary in every case. He talked about the support he has in the old PRI, splintered apart primarily because of his intolerant, authoritarian, and arrogant attitude toward the end of his term. He even threw in a Latin quotation (he seems to have spent his time in Europe reading the classics): “
Divide et impera. . . .
”
I played dumb, asked him to translate for me.
“ ‘Divide and rule,’ ” he said smugly.
So that’s it, I said to myself, you’re here to triumph by dividing, bastard. I kept the comment to myself. I wanted to hear him say it—it would be like hearing a song that was a hit twenty years ago played on an old scratched record. He repeated the bit about wanting to be the best ex-president ever, a Mexican Jimmy Carter, never complaining, behaving as if nobody had ever done him any wrong. In other words: He’s come back, thirsting for power, just like the shipwreck survivor floating adrift on the raft of the
Medusa
for years and years, surrounded by water and yet unable to drink a drop.
He said that he wanted to be a factor for unity and cooperation in what remained of the old, fractured PRI. In other words: He wants to take over the party and rebuild it by making promises to all the old corporate bases, weakened at present but not without latent power, and then bring together all the disparate interest groups, the local power bases and strongmen—unfortunately spawned by our fledgling democracy and our president’s laissez-faire attitude—in a unified opposition party that can kick us out of power.
And he very cynically suggested that he could act as a go-between, connecting the presidency and our unmanageable Congress, given that there’s no majority at San Lázaro and all bills proposed by the executive branch are either stalled or shelved entirely.
In a word, he was offering me his help to head off these obstacles and to clear the path to the presidential elections.
I sat there looking at him, totally speechless. I don’t have to tell you that this didn’t make him uncomfortable at all. His scheming little eyes sparkled and he said very slowly, “Herrera . . . Whatever happened . . . didn’t
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