Mexico Let Us Now Await the Hidden One

By Jill Smolowe

It is the time-honored season of the tapado, the hidden one, when Mexico's ruling party mysteriously selects a candidate for the next presidential election. There will be no political scrapping, no embarrassing public exchanges. Instead, as tradition dictates, "precandidates" have quietly come to the fore. When the moment is right, probably within the next six months, President Miguel de la Madrid Hurtado will anoint one of the hopefuls -- the tapado -- to be the candidate of the ruling Institutional Revolutionary Party. That man almost certainly will be the next President. Since the party's founding in 1929, no P.R.I. candidate has lost a presidential, senatorial or gubernatorial race.

Credit that skein of successes to broad-based support, ballot-box chicanery or a mix of both. The P.R.I.'s stranglehold on the political process has already ensured that the September 1988 presidential election will be a triumph for the party. Even so, cracks are visible in the organization's monolithic foundation. Mexico's economy has been devastated by plunging oil prices, a crushing $100 billion foreign debt and a sharply devalued peso. The crisis has forced the ruling party to impose tough austerity measures that have strained party loyalty. Suddenly the political vogue in P.R.I. circles is to speak of "democratization" and "liberalization," code words that reflect popular pressure for a more open electoral process.

Some of the loudest challenges are coming from Mexico's eight opposition parties. The largest by far is the National Action Party, a conservative organization with strength in the northern states of Sonora and Chihuahua and a growing constituency among the middle class. Traditionally, the P.A.N. has had two weaknesses: a failure to build grass-roots support and a tendency to recede into the shadows except at election time. The P.A.N.'s newly elected leader, Luis Alvarez, 67, is determined, however, to make his party a truly national one.

Alvarez won attention last July when he protested controversial ruling- party victories in Chihuahua elections by staging a 40-day hunger strike and organizing sit-ins on highways and bridges that tied up traffic across the Rio Grande. Alvarez acknowledges that under the current system no P.A.N. candidate can seriously hope to be President, but dim prospects do not soften his rhetoric. "How could we possibly do worse?" he asks. "This government is inefficient, corrupt and has brought the country to disaster."

The P.R.I. also faces challenges from within its own ranks. A fledgling movement known as the Democratic Current has emerged in recent months, demanding "democratic renovation" of the party's internal processes. Specifically, the group of about 25 core members is calling for open competition in the selection of presidential candidates. P.R.I. leaders say that the Democratic Current poses little threat to the 12 million-member party. "It is a flashy thing that attracts the attention of too many journalists," says a Mexican legislative leader. "It belongs to a tradition of internal debate within the P.R.I." A prominent political analyst is even more dismissive. "Just make one of them an ambassador somewhere nice," he predicts, "and the movement will be over."

Yet at a party conference earlier this month, the P.R.I. leadership did its best to snuff out the troublemakers. In an unusual attempt to demonstrate party unity, De la Madrid was joined on the dais by two former Presidents, Luis Echeverria and Jose Lopez Portillo, both of whom have been widely discredited. Warned P.R.I. President Jorge de la Vega: "Those who do not want to respect the will of the immense majority of party members should renounce our party and seek affiliation with other political organizations." In response, the Mexico City daily Jornada editorialized last week: "The leaders of the party pretend that they have ended a debate that in reality is just beginning."

Whoever succeeds De la Madrid will have to grapple with ever louder calls for the P.R.I. to loosen its iron grip. Each of the three men now being touted for the presidency has had opportunities to observe other political models while studying at American or European universities. Seemingly first among equals is Alfredo del Mazo Gonzalez, 43, De la Madrid's Minister of Energy. Del Mazo has held bank posts and served as governor of the state of Mexico before assuming his current portfolio, which has demanded careful management of Mexico's precious oil reserves while the sag in prices continues. Not long ago, De la Madrid reportedly called Del Mazo the "younger brother I never had."

The candidate perceived as least likely to brook internal dissent is Manuel Bartlett Diaz. After successfully coordinating De la Madrid's presidential campaign, he was designated Secretary of the Interior. In that capacity, Bartlett, 51, had responsibility for overseeing the elections in Chihuahua, which many Mexicans believe were fraudulent. The third hopeful, Carlos Salinas de Gortari, Minister of Planning and Budget, is credited with great intelligence and thought to be the most likely of the contenders to favor party reform. But Salinas has some deficits. He is young, only 39. And he has a reputation for dishing out criticism but not being able to take it.

It is an unwritten party rule that a presidential aspirant must not show his ambition. Hence, in the coming weeks, the three favored sons can be expected to continue a game of demurral and humility. But when the die is cast, the Mexican public will be looking for some sign that a democratic opening is on the agenda for Mexico's future leader.

With reporting by John Moody/Mexico City