Carlos Fuentes - The Eagle's Throne

And finally, Mr. President, pay attention to the peasants in La Laguna. Use the situation to revive some of those agrarian causes that our pragmatism has forced us to drop. Give your government the support of the rural masses that our enemies — the aforementioned local bosses, for starters — have always manipulated through isolation and ignorance, counting on the fact that our hands would be tied by our proximity with the U.S., as if democracy and authority were incompatible. You know my watchword: authority yes, authoritarianism no. Take advantage of the situation to stick it to the local bosses. The domestic business sector in the north will thank you for it, because they know better than anyone that poverty is the worst investment of all and that a starving peasant can’t buy food in the supermarket or clothes at the local Benetton.

As for the one topic that secretly concerns us the most, the murder of Tomás Moctezuma Moro, my advice is to leave it as it is, as a secret that is convenient for us all.

Mr. President, I sincerely hope you’ll consider my advice in the spirit of patriotism and support with which I offer it. “This,” said a German philosopher, “this,” the word “this,” is the hardest one to say. Very well, Mr. President, that’s what I urge you to do: Do THIS. Say, dare to say, THIS.

Postscript: I enclose the memorandum that I asked Xavier Zaragoza to write, explaining the communications breakdown.

MEMORANDUM

Our modern communications system has suffered a grave paradox. On the one hand, we have striven to become part of the largest global communications network in existence. On the other, we have wanted to monopolize access to information for our government’s benefit. To attain the first goal, we handed over the management of television, radio, telephony, as well as wireless communications, the Internet, etc., to the Florida Satellite Center and the so-called capital of Latin America, Miami. Our hope was that this decision would ensure our global access to communications. We turned our worldwide operations over to private companies such as B4M and X9N, in search of maximum efficiency and maximum range. What we did not know, however, was that these private companies upon whom we depended were, in turn, dependent upon an infrastructure controlled by the U.S. Defense Department. Nor did we know that the Florida Satellite Center was under the auspices of the Pentagon, which controlled the system’s effectiveness or lack thereof, as well as its real, potential, and planned crises, through exclusive access to the synchronized orbits of a number of fixed satellites located 40,000 kilometers above sea level. The precursor to this was the Y2K crisis of the 1999–2000 new year, the so-called “millennium bug” that was thought capable of causing a breakdown in the global communications system, when the computers programmed according to the digits “19” jumped to “20.” The panic, as we now know, was nothing more than the Pentagon’s way of reminding everyone of its ability to decentralize information in the event of an attack on the infrastructure, or to voluntarily destabilize the system, while claiming to be under (nonexistent) attack. The Mexican national mistake, then, was to take the plunge with our eyes closed and with the hope of rapidly globalizing our communications by latching on to an operation we didn’t control ourselves, while politicizing communications internally to thwart the democratic, pluralistic use of these media. The restored PRI government of 2006 opted for external modernity through Florida and internal anachronism through an official monopoly of the grid. Governments are organized vertically. The grid, on the other hand, works horizontally. President César León decided to verticalize all internal communications, which meant that unions, local bosses, universities, local governments, and civil society in general were all deprived of access, while the government’s most favored businesses and, fatally, the entertainment industry were granted horizontal communications access. A lot of Big Brother. No Big Strikes (actually, we haven’t avoided them, we simply declare them null and void; the main thing is to make sure that no one strike senses any kind of emulation or support from another strike). The point is that, while the world’s systems started out small, grew rapidly, and delivered value, the Mexican government started out big, grew slowly, and delivered garbage. Domestically, we restricted ourselves to a narrow portal. Internationally, we exposed ourselves to a massive portal. Thus we became doubly vulnerable. The United States has now cut off our big portal, affecting every aspect of our communications, not just external but internal as well, given that the latter, negligible as they were, also depended on the Florida Satellite Center. The hypothetical Y2K bug was simply replaced by a so-called Y2020 bug exclusively affecting Mexico, as a way of punishing the country for opposing the U.S. military occupation of Colombia and for supporting the rise in oil prices determined by OPEC. It is known as “Operation Cucaracha.” And as you know, Mr. President, according to the ditty, the cockroach can only walk if it’s got something to smoke — marijuana, weed, Fu Manchu chocolate. . “20/20” is the term gringos use to describe normal clarity of vision at twenty feet. But the thing that really separates our two countries is a border 1,200 miles long. Draw your own conclusions, Mr. President. And think about how long we’ll be able to pacify the Japanese investors at Coahuila — although, of course, it’s been said they have their own secret methods of making themselves understood.

Did our date the night before last upset you? Did you feel humiliated by the way I turned you into a voyeur? Don’t lose your patience or your temper. Show a bit more tenderness, my darling, more fairness, more sympathy for your poor friend. I did have a life before we met, you know. And you, my good Nicolás, would like to think, as in that old song, “that the past doesn’t exist and that we were born the instant we met.” That’s not how it is, I’m afraid. I’m older than you. And if you’re going to reproach me for the life I lived before we met, you expose yourself to a number of things. First, various surprises. Some very unpleasant. Some a bit more palatable. Second, you’re going to burn with jealousy of all the men who were once my lovers. And third, you’re going to grow impatient with the time frame I have in mind for you and me.

“Why them and not me?”

Of the three possibilities, only the second one appeals to me. Women — and I’m no exception — adore being the object of jealousy. It fans the flames of passion. Fires up the long cold wait. And ensures the most glorious erotic culmination. But let me get to the point. You’ll see. Now I’ll be a voyeur with you. We’re going to sit down together here in my living room, side by side, and we are going to examine and discuss my version of last night’s presidential address. I got someone to film the event, with an emphasis not so much on the president and what he said but rather on the faces of the people in the audience, so that you can get to know the politicians that govern us.

First let me quickly dispose of the president of Congress, who responded to the address. His name is Onésimo Canabal and he is minor in every way: past, present, future, physical size, political stature, and moral fiber. He’s one among thousands, but today he feels himself unique. How will he ever learn the truth? Nobody will ever tell him. He’d have to hit himself over the head to find out how stupid he is. But then, most idiots go to their graves without ever knowing what imbeciles they are.