A couple of years ago, I wrote about not voting and eliminating that supposed civic duty. As expected, criticisms emerged alleging a lack of ethics on my part in promoting political inaction, the supposed exercise of citizenship in the face of democracy. At the time I understood the diatribes and tried to discern between opinions that valued the citizen’s decision to vote in the political life of the country and other comments that appreciated more the historical experience of living through elections every period, without fully understanding the positions and proposals of the presidential candidates at the time; others called me irresponsible and I can accept that.
What I cannot accept is the vacuous discourse sponsored by the populist narratives of the extreme (both left and right) that has not been modified for at least half a century: welfare, legality, security, stability, equity, etc. Politics at its core responds to a single universal culture and tradition based on the absurdity of repeating the same concepts. In this sense, there is no single political figure that offers a change to the popular and democratic structure in the world.
Some years ago, the American writer David Foster Wallace, known for his cynical literature, wrote that “in reality, there is no such thing as not voting: either you vote by voting, or you vote by staying at home and tacitly multiplying the value of some idealistic citizen’s vote”. I share this point of view, above all because, in Mexico, democracy is at a delicate crossroads, suspended between the ideal of a participatory system and the frustration of a reality that disappoints and does not mitigate either poverty or violence.
The political class and a certain part of the citizenry, with its incessant rhetoric, has insisted for years on a message that resonates like a mantra: “vote, participate, be part of the change”. This call is repeated in every presidential, legislative or municipal election, as if the simple act of crossing a ballot could solve the country’s structural problems. Every three and six years, communication campaigns are generated in an attempt to make citizens aware of the need to vote, and I do not know of a single successful campaign in this sense, because they are limited to disseminating information and not to answering questions about the past that contrast with the present and generate the necessary participatory catharsis in the communities.
Thus, today, as we face the elections for the judiciary “where we all must participate”, the civic discourse has taken an unexpected turn. Now, both some political sectors and an exhausted citizenry seem to agree on a new slogan: “don’t vote, abstain, question the process”. This change is not casual, it reveals a deep contradiction that forces us to ask ourselves: is voting historically for an authentic democratic necessity or only when it suits the interests of the moment (partisan or not)? The answer is not simple, but it deserves an analysis. The argument of the opposition political class for the process of the Judicial Branch is that we should not vote for characters of dubious moral quality, whose projects for the procurement and administration of justice are not well known and who, in addition, will be tools for manipulation of the state and organized crime. In this sense, there is no real difference with the protagonists of the normal elections, which is paradoxical. There is always the dubious provenance. What is true is that we would not have to select by popular vote the characters in charge of managing the country’s justice.
Now then, abstentionism, far from being a sign of indifference, can always be read as a gesture of resistance and now more an ethical posture in the face of a system that does not deserve our trust or our participation. Democracy, in its current state, at least in Mexico, does not seem to be an instrument of genuine change, but a structure that sustains the power of a few as it has always been, only that, curiously, today the spectrum of democracy is further reduced from an exercise that will weaken the general system of governance instead of promoting it.
Most of the contenders to form part of the institutions of the Judiciary System generate rejection due to the mantle of irregularities that their figures drag, from academic plagiarism, land invasions, embezzlement of funds, to relations with organized crime. Voting under these conditions could be interpreted as an endorsement by Mexicans of a worn-out mechanism, a ritual that makes us accomplices of our own exclusion. In the specific case of judicial elections, this idea acquires even greater weight: what is the point of electing magistrates if the process is designed to perpetuate a fraudulent dynamic? This reflection does not seek to fall into easy pessimism; it is an invitation to face reality without filters. Thus, abstentionism emerges as a silent way of saying “no more”, a refusal to legitimize a rigged game.
Curiously, both disenchanted citizens and certain political actors – who used to defend the vote as an unquestionable duty – now converge in this position regarding judicial elections. The reform proposing to elect magistrates by popular vote, presented as an “advance towards democratization”, has generated a wave of rejection that unites unlikely allies: those who see in the non-vote a sincere protest and those who take advantage of it as a strategy to maintain the political control they no longer possess.
Herein lies the heart of the problem: the political class has preached voting as a sacred pillar of democracy, but when the rules change, they are now the first to turn their backs on the process. In general elections, the message is clear and uniform: voting is the basis of representation, the path to a better future. Parties invest fortunes in campaigns, saturate the streets with propaganda and appeal to national pride to mobilize the masses; however, in the judicial arena, the story is different. Some people claim, “It’s a set-up”. “The candidates do not represent the people,” they argue. And the citizenry, fed up with deceit, agrees with them. The judiciary, with its ability to enforce laws and limit the excesses of other powers, is a crucial element in the political balance.
Faced with this diagnosis, an inevitable question arises: what if voting, even in an imperfect system, continues to be a necessary tool? Those who defend participation argue that abandoning the ballot box does not weaken the status quo but rather reinforces it. If citizens give up electing magistrates, the judiciary will not disappear, it will simply remain under the domination of those who seek to manage it at their whim.
The real challenge is not in the act of voting or not voting, but in what surrounds it. Judicial elections, as they are conceived, are a half-hearted democracy: unknown candidates, empty campaigns and a disoriented citizenry. For voting to be meaningful – and not just a political convenience – a robust process is needed: transparent selection of candidates, accessible debates, clear information and sufficient time to evaluate them. Without these conditions, both participation and abstention are empty gestures. What is certain is that, at the end of the day, there should not be a popular process to elect the Judiciary that is instituted on academic training and professional experience.
Mexico does not need more speeches about the obligation to vote or more justifications for indifference. What is needed is a society that looks its contradictions squarely in the face and decides, with clarity, what it expects from its democracy. Judicial elections will not solve all the country’s ills, but neither are they a scenario we can ignore without consequences. The political class will continue to adapt its narrative according to its interests, asking us to participate or abstain as it suits them.
To vote or not to vote was never the central dilemma; what truly mattered was understanding why we made that decision and what we hoped to achieve with it. Now that the electoral process has taken place, the question is whether our participation—or lack of it—helped move us closer to a more just and transparent democracy, or merely reinforced the performance of a flawed system.
Hugo Alfredo Hinojosa, is a specialist in strategic political communication by FLACSO, has been recognized with the national prize of literature, and state prize of journalism in Mexico, as well as a columnist for El Universal.
