Fox DifficultTransitionClientelism 1994
Fox DifficultTransitionClientelism 1994
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to World Politics
* Field research for this project was partially funded by a grant from the Howard Heinz
Endowment. A preliminary version of this paper was first presented at "Mexico's National
Solidarity Program: A Preliminary Assessment," Center for U.S.-Mexican Studies, Univer-
sity of California, San Diego, February 25, 1992. Thanks to Josefina Aranda, Suzanne Berger,
Joshua Cohen, Denise Dresser, Manuel Fernandez, Paul Haber, Luis Herndndez, Kevin
Middlebrook, Julio Moguel, Frances Fox Piven, Pablo Policzer, Jennie Purnell, Richard Sa-
muels, Jonathan Schlefer, Ben Ross Schneider, Miguel Tejero, and John Waterbury, as well
as many indigenous leaders, government officials, and NGO activists who remain anonymous.
I In Karl's terms, this is a middle-range definition of democracy, in that it falls between
the narrow Schumpeterian range of contestation needed for strictly intraelite competition
and approaches that depend on particular socioeconomic or participatory outcomes. See
Terry Lynn Karl, "Dilemmas of Democratization in Latin America," Comparative Politics
23 (October 1990).
2 Democratization is defined here as the process of movement toward these conditions,
while the consolidation of a democratic regime requires fulfilling all of them. Regimes can
therefore be in transition to democracy-further along than liberalization-but still fall short
of a democratic threshold. For further discussion, see Scott Mainwaring, Guillermo O'Don-
nell, and J. Samuel Valenzuela, eds., Issues in Democratic Consolidation (Notre Dame, Ind.:
University of Notre Dame Press, 1992).
6 Associational autonomy is an especially vital right for the poorest members of society,
for two main reasons. First, they are usually the most vulnerable to state-sanctioned coercion
should they express discontent. Second, their survival needs make them especially vulnerable
to clientelistic incentives. Together, these threats and inducements inhibit autonomous col-
lective action. See Ruth Collier and David Collier, "Inducements versus Constraints: Disag-
gregating 'Corporatism,' " American Political Science Review 73 (January 1979).
7The appearance of subordination should not be confused with actual submission, how-
ever; see James C. Scott, Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1985); and idem, Domination and the Arts of Resistance (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1990). Others stress the subjective importance of "trust" in
such dependent relationships; see Luis Roniger, Hierarchy and Trust in Modern Mexico and
Brazil (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood, 1990). For a view that stresses the role of coercion, see
Peter Flynn, "Class, Clientelism, and Coercion: Some Mechanisms of Internal Dependency
and Control," Journal of Commonwealth and Comparative Politics 12, no. 2 (1974). For over-
views of political clientelism, see Christopher Clapham, ed., Private Patronage and Public
Power: Political Clientelism in the Modern State (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1982); S. N.
Eisenstadt and Luis Roniger, "Patron-Client Relations as a Model of Structuring Social Ex-
change," Comparative Studies in Society and History 22 (1980); S. N. Eisenstadt and Ren6
Lemarchand, eds., Political Clientelism, Patronage and Development (Beverly Hills, Calif.:
Sage Publications, 1981); Ernest Gellner and John Waterbury, eds., Patrons and Clients in
Mediterranean Societies (London: Duckworth, 1977); Robert R. Kaufman, "A Patron-Client
Concept and Macropolitics: Prospects and Problems," Comparative Studies in Society and His-
tory 16, no. 3 (1974); Alain Rouqui6, "Client Control and Authoritarian Contexts," in Guy
Hermet, Richard Rose, and Alain Rouqui6, eds., Elections without Choice (New York: John
Wiley, 1978); Steffen W. Schmidt et al., eds., Friends, Followers and Factions: A Reader in
Political Clientelism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977); Arnold Strickon and
Sidney Greenfield, eds., Structure and Process in Latin America: Patronage, Clientage and Power
Systems (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1972). Note that the literature on
political clientelism virtually stopped over a decade ago, long before the flowering of analysis
of regime change. Few analysts explore how the persistence of machine politics affects the
nature of transitions to civilian rule. For exceptions, see Frances Hagopian, " 'Democracy by
Undemocratic Means?' Elites, Political Pacts and Regime Transition in Brazil," Comparative
Political Studies 23 (July 1990); idem, "The Compromised Consolidation: The Political Class
in the Brazilian Transition," in Mainwaring, O'Donnell, and Valenzuela (fn. 2); and Guil-
lermo O'Donnell, "Challenges to Democratization in Brazil," World Policy Journal 5, no. 2
(1988).
8 On the construction of political machines, see, among others, Luigi Graziano, "Patron-
Client Relationships in Southern Italy," in Schmidt et al. (fn. 7); James C. Scott, "Corruption,
Machine Politics, and Political Change," American Political Science Review 63 (December
1969); idem, Comparative Political Corruption (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1972);
Martin Shefter, "The Electoral Foundations of the Political Machine: New York City, 1884-
1897," in Joel Silbey et al., eds., The History of American Electoral Behavior (Princeton: Prince-
ton University Press, 1978); Steffen W. Schmidt, "The Transformation of Clientelism in
Rural Colombia," in Schmidt et al. (fn. 7); Sidney Tarrow, Peasant Communism in Southern
Italy (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1967); and Myron Weiner, Party Building in a New
Nation (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1967).
9 For discussions of how clientelism can evolve from patrimonial to repressive, increasing
the role of coercion, see Anthony Hall, "Patron-Client Relations: Concepts and Terms," in
Schmidt et al. (fn. 7); and James C. Scott and Benedict J. Kerkvliet, "How Traditional Rural
Patrons Lose Legitimacy: A Theory with Special Reference to Southeast Asia," in Schmidt
et al. (fn. 7).
10 See the following essays in Jonathan Fox, ed., The Challenge of Rural Democratisation:
Perspectives from Latin America and the Philippines (London: Frank Cass, 1990) (also published
as Journal of Development Studies 26 [July 1990]): Candido Grzybowski, "Rural Workers and
Democratization in Brazil"; Francisco Lara, Jr., and Horacio Morales, Jr., "The Peasant
Movement and the Challenge of Democratization in the Philippines"; and Leon Zamosc,
"The Political Crisis and the Prospects for Rural Democracy in Colombia."
11 Revolutions are the most obvious examples of political processes that can sweep away
clientelistic systems, but they are rarely followed by respect for associational autonomy. New
webs of clientelism can emerge in their wake, especially in rural areas. See, e.g., Jean C. Oi,
"Communism and Clientelism: Rural Politics in China," World Politics 37 (January 1985).
On the tensions over associational autonomy between peasant movements and left-wing po-
litical parties that claim to represent them in Latin America, see Jonathan Fox, "New Terrain
for Rural Politics" Report on the Americas 25, no. 5 (1992).
12 See Guillermo O'Donnell and Philippe C. Schmitter, Transitions from Authoritarian
Rule: Tentative Conclusions about Uncertain Democracies (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Univer-
sity Press, 1986); and Adam Przeworski, Democracy and the Market (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1991).
13 Note that the political terms of access to social entitlements are distinct from the levels
of benefits, which are sometimes referred to as "social citizenship" rights. The argument
here does not attempt to explain the determinants of the levels of material entitlements; they
are logically and historically distinct from regime type in general and from the right to
associational autonomy in particular. Democratic regimes, for example, may offer access to a
narrow range of social rights without attaching political conditions (food stamps in the U.S.),
whereas authoritarian regimes may offer a broad range of material entitlements in exchange
for deference (as in communist and populist regimes). Analysts of the construction of rights
have tended to focus either on electoral enfranchisement or on the extension of social welfare
benefits, but not on the political terms of access to the latter. See, e.g., J. M. Barbalet, Citizen-
ship (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988).
14 Note that this argument does not attempt to account for the emergence of each of these
three actors but rather shows how certain patterns of interaction among them can explain
the construction of respect for associational autonomy. On cycles of social mobilization and
reform, see Frances Fox Piven and Richard Cloward, Poor People's Movements: How They
Succeed and Why They Fail (New York: Pantheon, 1977); and Sidney Tarrow, Struggle, Pol-
itics and Reform: Collective Action, Social Movements and Cycles of Protest, Occasional Paper
no. 21, Western Societies Program (Ithaca, N.Y.: Center for International Studies, Cornell
University, 1989). To frame the issue of associational autonomy as broadly as possible, this
discussion does not detail the diverse range of repertoires of action and forms of representa-
tion among poor people's movements.
15 For the purposes of this discussion, the trigger for division within authoritarian regimes
is considered here to be contingent. Possible causes include economic crisis, international
pressures, military defeat, and the "excessive" use of repression.
16 When reformists deliberately encourage social mobilization to offset hard-line authori-
tarian rulers, they can be said to be pursuing a "sandwich strategy" for political change. See
Fox (fn. 3). Other examples include the U.S. federal government's antipoverty and civil rights
efforts in the early 1960s, Colombian agrarian reform policy in the late 1960s, and Gorba-
chev's glasnost policies of the late 1980s.
17 Note that in this argument, mass mobilization alone cannot win citizenship rights. If
authoritarian elites remain united, they can simply respond with coercion rather than con-
cessions. Even when reformists are present within the state, they can lose; cycles of bargain-
ing may well fail to build democratic rights. If hard-liners prevail, they will repress social
movements and purge reformists from the state (as in the downward spiral that followed El
Salvador's 1979 reformist coup).
18 In Mexico, for example, citizen's groups from the north have had much greater success
at winning official respect than in the much poorer, largely indigenous southern states. Even
within the south, results vary greatly across bargaining arenas; winning access to social pro-
grams is much easier than ending impunity for violent officials. Similarly, even in relatively
democratic Brazil, official respect for human rights varies directly by the victims' race and
region.
'9 Though analytically distinct, these categories often overlap in practice.
20 Seen from the receiving end, the differences between the withdrawal of benefits and the
threat of coercion are quite significant. Both can discourage autonomous collective action,
but only one is potentially permanent in its effects.
21 The term pluralism refers here to respect for associational autonomy rather than to the
political system as a whole. Access to social programs can be considered pluralistic when it is
not conditioned on political subordination.
22 Taiwan is a case where political attitudes and opportunities are changing quickly, show-
ing how political action can undermine clientelism. Vote buying is still pervasive in Taiwan,
and traditional norms of gratitude used to be sufficient to produce compliance. In the last
several years, however, partly as the result of effective civic education campaigns, increasing
numbers of voters accept the money and only comply symbolically. According to a recent
study by the Center for Policy Studies at Sun Yat-Sen University, 44.8% of the population of
Taiwan's second largest city were given money for their vote, but only 12.7% of them said
they would actually vote for the candidate who bribed them; see Robin Herr, "A Call for
Independence in Taiwan," Christian Science Monitor, March 5, 1993. Reportedly, one member
of the family may return the favor with a vote for the ruling party while the rest feel free to
vote their preference.
23 In Colombia, for example, an apparently small change in ballot procedures after 1990
significantly weakened clientelistic bosses. Until then separate ballots were cast for each
party, allowing bosses to check how people were going to vote while they waited in line.
After 1990 the system was changed to a single ballot, which greatly increased ballot secrecy.
Even where individual ballots might be secret, however, communities that are united in
voting for the democratic opposition still reveal their dissent to authoritarian elites. In the
key 1987 congressional elections in the Philippines, for example, government military units
regularly assembled farmworkers to threaten them with reprisals should their villages vote
for pro-land-reform candidates (author's field interviews).
Ever since the legitimacy crisis that followed the harsh repression of the
1968 student movement, Mexico's ruling political class has sought ways
to accommodate change without ceding power. The result has been re-
current cycles of conflict over the terms of state-society bargaining rela-
tions. From below, organizations of civil society have pushed the state to
respect associational autonomy. From above, reformists have sought to
displace machine-style authoritarian brokers whose intransigence pro-
voked opposition and unrest, by creating alternative bargaining channels
that bypassed parties-both official and opposition.
In Mexico machine-style political brokers play the key role in medi-
ating state-society relations, both within and without the corporatist ap-
paratus.25 The classic political bargain required official incorporation of
24 Classic individualistic ideas of citizenship may be inappropriate for non-Western social
actors. For a critique of the imposition of foreign notions of citizenship on indigenous soci-
eties, see Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui, "Liberal Democracy and Ayllu Democracy: The Case of
Northern Potosi, Bolivia," in Fox (fn. 10). In part for this reason, this study analyzes associ-
ational autonomy in terms of the state's respect for ethnic and community-based groups
rather than in terms of individual members of those communities.
25 New historical research stresses that the coverage of Mexico's well-known corporatist
organizations was partial rather than complete; see Jeffrey W. Rubin, "Popular Mobilization
and the Myth of State Corporatism," in Joe Foweraker and Ann Craig, eds., Popular Move-
ments and Political Change in Mexico (Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 1990). On rural bosses,
see Roger Bartra, ed., Caciquismo y poder politico en el Mexico rural (Mexico City: Siglo XXI,
1975); and Fox (fn. 3). On elite political clientelism, see Roderic A. Camp, "Camarillas in
social groups under state tutelage in exchange for access to social pro-
grams. Mass protest that was strictly "social" was sometimes tolerated,
but if it was perceived as "political" (that is, as challenging the hegemony
of the ruling party) the usual mix of partial concessions with repression
shifted toward the latter. Movements were more likely to be labeled as
political if they expressed their autonomy by publicly rejecting official
subordination.26
The pyramid of brokers managed challenges to stability for decades,
but as they became increasingly ossified and provoked growing resent-
ment, social groups sought greater autonomy. By the 1980s ascendant
technocrats who viewed the old-fashioned brokers as both expensive and
politically ineffective moved social policy away from reliance on tradi-
tional patronage and generalized subsidies toward measures that osten-
sibly targeted the poor directly. This process favored a mix of official and
nonpartisan social movements. In contrast to the repression of the past,
this new bargaining style recognized autonomous movement leaders as
legitimate interlocutors as long as they steered clear of overt political
opposition.
This new approach shifted the mix of clientelistic carrots and sticks
faced by social movements. Where state managers replaced their tradi-
tional crude insistence on ruling party control with more subtle forms of
controlling access to the system, one can speak of emerging semiclientel-
ist relations. Such relationships are not pluralistic, however, because they
still discourage any questioning of the government's broader socioeco-
nomic policies and its controversial electoral practices. Thus, while the
transition from clientelism to semiclientelism may look like a step in the
direction of responsive government, the erosion of strict controls on voter
compliance may also increase the incentives for state managers to rely on
Mexican Politics: The Case of the Salinas Cabinet," Mexican Studies/Estudios Mexicanos 6
(Winter 1990); Miguel Angel Centeno and Sylvia Maxfield, "The Marriage of Finance and
Order: Changes in the Mexican Political Elite," Journal of Latin American Studies 24 (Feb-
ruary 1992); Susan Kaufman Purcell and John F. H. Purcell, "State and Society in Mexico:
Must a Stable Polity Be Institutionalized?" World Politics 32 (January 1980); and Peter Smith,
Labyrinths of Power: Political Recruitment in Twentieth-Century Mexico (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 1979).
26 This dichotomy of "official versus independent" social movements was especially pro-
nounced in the 1970s and 1980s, as collective resistance to the state grew. By the 1990s social
movements increasingly stressed autonomy from political parties in general, since contesta-
tional "independence" had often involved subordination to opposition parties. See Jonathan
Fox and Gustavo Gordillo, "Between State and Market: The Campesinos' Quest for Auton-
omy," in Wayne A. Cornelius, Judith Gentleman, and Peter H. Smith, eds., Mexico's Alter-
native Political Futures (La Jolla: UCSD, Center for U.S.-Mexican Studies, 1989); Foweraker
and Craig (fn. 25); and Judith Adler Hellman "The Study of New Social Movements in
Latin America and the Question of Autonomy," in Arturo Escobar and Sonia Alvarez, eds.,
The Making of Social Movements in Latin America (Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1992).
Since the early 1970s reformist policymakers have promoted three suc-
cessive rural development programs that bypassed and competed with
the rest of the state apparatus. These reformists never fully controlled
policy implementation, but they were sometimes sufficiently influential
to open up alternative channels to antipoverty programs for the rural
poor, allowing them to bypass authoritarian bosses. The first cycle of
reform was launched during a wave of nationalist populism in the early
29 According to one PIDER official: "If participation is stimulated too much it gets out of
PIDER's control and brings political problems. It becomes a political problem for PIDER when
The national crisis surrounding the 1976 presidential succession was fol-
lowed by an emphasis on restoring investor confidence. The partial po-
litical opening of antipoverty policy closed up. Reformers then tried to
channel dissent by liberalizing electoral politics. As the oil boom revived
the economy in the late 1970s, the president's concern shifted to legiti-
mation, which allowed for the creation of a more open channel for deliv-
ering resources to the very poor. The National Plan for Depressed Zones
and Marginal Groups (COPLAMAR), together with the National Basic
Foods Company (CONASUPO), organized an extensive network of village
food stores designed to weaken local monopolies over staples in remote
rural areas. As with PIDER, the degree to which the CONASUPO-COPLAMAR
village store program actually encouraged or tolerated autonomous mo-
After the 1982 collapse of the oil/debt boom, social spending was reduced
by cutting generalized programs and clientelistic patronage while
strengthening the more targeted programs.35 By the mid-1980s, with the
ruling party under unprecedented electoral pressure from the Right,
some federal-level reformists ceded new space to the Left in the nonelec-
toral arena. Where autonomous social organizations were sufficiently
powerful, reformists sometimes stopped requiring overt political subor-
dination in exchange for material concessions, as in the case of Mexico
City's housing movements in the aftermath of the earthquake. The re-
formists were still overshadowed, however, by the technocrats who made
macroeconomic policy, the "dinosaurs" in the corporatist sectors of the
party, and the government "alchemists" who continued to handle elec-
tions. Then, in the 1988 presidential election, Mexico's dominant party
was shaken by a surprise challenge from the voters.
After a hotly disputed race marred by widespread fraud, President
Carlos Salinas took office declaring the end of the one-party system. He
promised a new relationship between state and society, seeking to revive
citizen confidence by bypassing both the opposition and the traditional
33 For the geographic distribution of autonomous Food Councils, see Fox (fn. 3).
34 Concertacion in the Mexican context has been translated in a variety of ways, ranging
from "social dialogue" to "corporative agreements."
35 This shift was especially clear in the area of urban consumer food subsidies, which
supported a wide range of staples until the mid-1980s. Then the government began limiting
food subsidies to tortillas and milk for means-tested low-income city dwellers.
36 Solidarity proclaimed that its "new dynamic ... breaks with bureaucratic atavism and
administrative rigidity. Public servants increasingly share a vocation for dialogue, agreement,
concertacion and direct, coresponsible work with the citizenry, which also assumes an increas-
ingly active and leading role in the actions intended to improve their standard of living." See
Carlos Rojas et al., Solidaridad a Debate (Mexico City: El Nacional, 1991), 23.
For comprehensive overviews of PRONASOL politics, see Denise Dresser, Neopopulist So-
lutions to Neoliberal Problems: Mexico's National Solidarity Program, Current Issues Brief no.
3 (La Jolla: UCSD, Center for U.S.-Mexican Studies, 1991); idem, "Pronasol: los dilemas de
la gobernabilidad," El Cotidiano 49 (July-August 1992). See also the Los Angeles Times poll,
October 22, 1991. Solidarity spending rose sharply just before the 1991 midterm elections and
was widely credited with helping to revive the official party's electoral fortunes, although its
impact is difficult to disentangle from reduced inflation and the beginnings of economic
growth. For journalistic accounts of direct electoral use of Solidarity funding, see Pascal
Beltrdn del Rio, "Solidaridad, oxigeno para el PRI, en el rescate de votos," Proceso 718 (August
6, 1990); idem, "El memorandum de Pichardo, prueba de que el Pronasol es para servir al
PRI," Proceso 730 (October 29, 1990); Guillermo Correa, "EL PRONASOL, que nacfo como espe-
ranza, ha generado corrupci6n y protestas," Proceso 727 (October 8, 1990); and Ciro G6mez
Leyva, "Solidaridad gratuita en todas las pantallas," Este Pat's 7 (October 1991).
38 Tim Golden, "Point of Attack for Mexico's Retooled Party Machine: The Leftist
Stronghold," New York Times, July 12, 1992. See also Jesuis Cantui, "Solidaridad, adem
electorero, se manej6 en Michoacan coercitivamente," Proceso 819 (July 13, 1992). In addition,
the governor's election campaign expenses reportedly topped U.S. $30 million, almost $80
per vote officially cast for the PRI; see Elias Chavez, "Michoacan: cada voto cost6 239,188
pesos; cada voto del PRD cost6 6,916 pesos," Proceso 821 (July 27, 1992). For a state-level
statistical analysis of electoral targeting, see Juan Molinar and Jeffrey Weldon, "Electoral
Determinants and Consequences of National Solidarity," in Wayne Cornelius, Ann Craig,
and Jonathan Fox, eds., Transforming State-Society Relations in Mexico: The National Solidarity
Strategy (La Jolla: UCSD, Center for U.S.-Mexican Studies, forthcoming).
39 So far, much of the debate surrounding Solidarity's political character has been based
more on ideological polemic than on empirical evidence, but the most plausible hypothesis is
that, on balance, most of the electorally targeted spending was probably delivered through
semiclientelist means. The basis for this general proposition, which will not be tested here, is
that since most Solidarity programs were delivered from outside the community, they lacked
the official party's once-powerful capacity to monitor and punish noncompliance at the in-
dividual level. As long as fraud remains an option for the regime, however, it can reduce the
importance of individual compliance. Recently, most electoral manipulation appears to have
occurred before election day. For example, over one hundred thousand likely opposition
voters were allegedly "shaved" from the registration rolls in Michoacin, especially in urban
PRD strongholds. See Ted Bardacke, "The Lion Learns New Tricks," El Financiero Interna-
cional, July 20, 1992. It must also be noted that the regime still uses sticks as well as carrots;
selective political violence against the Left also continues with impunity. The PRD reported
that 230 of its members had been killed for political reasons since 1988 (La Jornada, May 11,
1993). See also America's Watch, Human Rights in Mexico: A Policy of Impunity (New York:
America's Watch, 1990); idem, "Unceasing Abuses: Human Rights in Mexico One Year after
the Introduction of Reform" (New York: America's Watch, September 1991); and PRD Hu-
man Rights Commission, The Political Violence in Mexico: A Human Rights Affair (Mexico
City: Human Rights Commission Parliamentary Group, April 1992).
40 In addition to provision of public goods, this wide range of programs also included
many with benefits that were much more divisible and therefore more vulnerable to local
elite diversion (for example, soft loans for peasant producers). This distinction is central to
the analysis of targeting. See Judith Tendler, Rural Projects through Urban Eyes: An Interpre-
tation of the World Bank's New-Style Rural Development Projects Working Paper 532 (Wash-
ington, D.C.: World Bank, 1982).
41 Solidarity spending is allocated at the president's discretion, as distinct from Mexico's
official revenue-sharing, which is allocated according to technical formulas. See John Bailey,
"Centralism and Political Change in Mexico: The Case of National Solidarity," in Cornelius,
Craig, and Fox (fn. 38).
reach the poorest in society. Even if public works were built in poor
regions, the electoral logic of high-profile bridges, highways, park
benches, and basketball courts had little to do with alleviating poverty.
According to one top Solidarity policymaker, for example, less than 40
percent of its 1991 budget should really be considered antipoverty spend-
ing, since the rest consisted of untargeted public works.
Solidarity's declared emphasis on strengthening the municipality dif-
fered notably from previous reforms of social policy. Where opposition
political parties managed both to win over the majority of voters and to
get their municipal victories recognized, federal funders appeared not to
discriminate, since Solidarity spent money in almost all opposition mu-
nicipalities. But many opposition mayors protested that the program by-
passed them completely, linking the state and federal government di-
rectly to local Solidarity committees in their jurisdictions. The most
notable case was Michoacan's state capital, the largest city with a PRD
mayor.42 Moreover, where democracy did not prevail at the municipal
level and citizens' groups persisted in pressing charges of fraud, they
tended to be excluded from Solidarity.
Overall, Solidarity appeared to centralize power, promoting a sym-
bolic link between the president and the local community, often bypass-
ing both traditional political bosses and the opposition. This provoked
serious subterranean conflicts between "salinistas" at the federal level and
more traditional state authorities in the ruling party.43 Solidarity pro-
claimed the creation of over one hundred thousand local committees,
with an average of about 120 members each, and they became increas-
ingly important as counterweights to the official party apparatus. One
top Solidarity official estimates that as many as 40 percent of the com-
mittees had actually become local actors by 1993. In conflict with the
party's traditional corporatist sectors, the president openly encouraged
the local Solidarity committees to build statewide and possibly national
organizations with what he called the "new mass politics of the Mexican
state. 44
42 See Canti (fn. 38). On the PRD, see Jonathan Fox and Julio Moguel, "Pluralism and
Anti-Poverty Policy in Mexico: The Experience of Left Opposition Municipal Govern-
ments," in Victoria Rodriguez and Peter Ward, eds., Opposition Government in Mexico: Past
Experiences and Future Opportunities (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, forth-
coming); and on the National Action Party state government in Baja California Norte, see
Gerardo Albarrin de Alba, "Con Pronasol, la necesidad de la gente se usa electoralmente:
Ruffo," Proceso, no. 829, September 21, 1992. The pattern was not consistent, since some
opposition municipalities of both Right and Left managed to bargain for control over
PRONASOL resources.
43 See Dresser (fn. 37, 1991 and 1992); and Jorge Fernindez, "El PRI ante su propia tran-
sici6n," Unomdsuno, November 7, 1991.
44 In this context, the president reportedly once told the following to a longtime friend, a
historic radical leader of the urban popular movement: "You were my teacher: everywhere
I go I leave a base of support." At a meeting of five hundred representatives of five thousand
urban Solidarity committees, for example, the president called for the creation of a national
neighborhood network outside the ruling party. See Emilio Lomas, "La democracia ya no es
de las cupulas, afirma Salinas," La Jornada, September 13, 1991; idem, "Salinas: nueva rela-
ci6n Estado-sociedad civil," La Jornada, September 15, 1991. Midway through the Salinas
presidency, his advisers secretly debated three options-use the committees to build a new
reform party, fold them openly into the official party, or keep them relatively nonpartisan.
The latter position reportedly won.
45 The CDP won the mayoralty in 1992 without allying with either the PAN or the PRD,
leading some observers to suggest its access to Solidarity resources moderated its approach to
national politics. See Paul Haber, "Collective Dissent in Mexico: The Political Outcome of
Contemporary Urban Popular Movements" (Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1992); idem,
"Political Change in Durango: The Role of National Solidarity," in Cornelius, Craig, and
Fox (fn. 38).
46 According to INI's annual report, its budget for the 1991 fiscal year was U.S. $140 million.
President Salinas named Arturo Warman, PIDER veteran and one of Mexico's most distin-
guished anthropologists, as INI director. Solidarity's overall coordinator, Carlos Rojas, had
worked for INI in Veracruz.
47 Many Mexican anthropologists see indigenous voting patterns in terms of local "short-
term considerations that have nothing to do with political programs that propose alternative
models for the future. The vote is seen more as a resource for here and now, [for] finishing
a road, building a school or a drinking water system; [the] small benefits that help to resolve
ancestral problems which shape their daily lives"; see Guillermo Bonfil, Mexico Profundo:
Una civilizacion negada (Mexico City: Grijalbo/coNAcuLT, 1990), iii. Indeed, parties are not
present in most indigenous regions (though this began to change after 1988). The analytical
problem is to distinguish cause from effect. If opposition political parties fail to champion
indigenous rights, then isolated villagers have few incentives to take the serious risks inherent
in partisan collective action, especially when it so often appears unviable. As voters, they may
not lack national political preferences as much as they lack meaningful national political
choices.
48 E.g., see Juan Flores, "Proyectos de Etnodesarrollo = los ricos mds ricos y los pobres
mds pobres," Etnias 2 (January 1991); and Alvaro Gonzalez, Teresa Valdivia, and Martha
Rees, "Evaluaci6n de los Programas Agricolas del INI: Chiapas, Puebla y Oaxaca" (Paper
presented at the Society for Applied Anthropology, Oaxaca, April 1987).
49 INI's other new initiatives during the Salinas administration included a human rights
program that released over six thousand indigenous prisoners, as well as promotion of a
constitutional amendment that for the first time officially recognized Mexico as a multicul-
tural society. As of mid-1993 human rights groups campaigned for the freedom of several
thousand indigenous prisoners who remained in jail without due process.
50 One INI official also stressed that his staff was different from that of most Solidarity
programs because they were "usually not in any political party. It's very unusual that INI
personnel are in the PRI-but they aren't in the [opposition] PRD either. They aren't people
How did INI put these policy guidelines into practice? This question
is best answered by examining INI's largest economic development pro-
gram, the Regional Solidarity Funds (FRS).52 In principle, these funds
went farther than most other Solidarity programs in developing a plu-
ralist relationship between the state and organized citizens, for two rea-
sons. First, the state devolved regional development decision making to
civil society, rather than micromanaging each local project from above.
Second, the interlocutors were supposed to be systematically made up of
autonomous councils of representative organizations, in contrast to the
ad hoc and discretionary relationships with autonomous groups that pre-
dominated elsewhere.53 Ostensibly, elected officials were not involved,
and government-affiliated organizations participated in the Regional
Funds just like any other producer group.54
who are going to induce [i.e., manipulate] or condition." He claimed that because they work
in such remote regions, "they will work with existing organizations-they can't invent oth-
ers.
51 INI, 1990, 41-42; emphasis added. Participation is limited to policy implementation here.
INI continued to reject the long-standing demands of indigenous groups for greater involve-
ment in the policy process itself. Some of INI'S most reformist policymakers tried this in 1983,
but they were quickly purged.
52 INI's other main economic program was its support for coffee producers after the abrupt
withdrawal of the Mexican Coffee Institute from the market. Two-thirds of coffee producers
are indigenous, accounting for 30 percent of national production and one-third of coffee
lands; see INI, Programa Nacional de Desarrollo de los Pueblos Indigenas, 1991-1994 (Mexico
City: INI, 1990), 17. INI's coffee program involved both pluralistic relations with autonomous
producer organizations and semiclientelist relations with INI-sponsored local Solidarity com-
mittees. See Luis Herndndez and Fernando Celis, "Solidarity and the New Campesino
Movement: The Case of Coffee Production," in Cornelius, Craig, and Fox (fn. 38).
53 INI described the FRS's in explicitly political terms: "The Funds are an innovative process
[to] increase the participatory role of civil society in decision making and in the definition of
policy, which reflects a change in state-society relations. The relationship of coresponsibility
established between the government and the indigenous population implies a turnaround in
the role of [government] institutions to avoid reproducing paternalistic and vertical attitudes
that interfere with indigenous peoples' development"; see INI, "Manual de Operaci6n de los
Fondos Regionales de Solidaridad para el Desarrollo de los Pueblos Indfgenas" (Unpublished
manuscript, Mexico City, November 1991), 2. This statement was dropped from the version
eventually published for mass distribution in 1993.
54 INI also encouraged the FRS's to go beyond economic support for production projects and
The Regional Funds were launched in 1990. Each INI field outreach
office convened a general assembly of the formal and informal commu-
nity-based social and economic organizations in its area of influence. The
general assembly was to elect a leadership council (LC), which would ac-
tually operate the fund and evaluate project proposals submitted from
the organizations of the region. Loans could be for a single crop cycle or
for as long as several years and could cover a broad range or economic
activities. In theory, those with regionwide multiplier effects were to be
given preference over projects whose benefits were limited to small
groups. In practice, however, projects ranged from tiny family enter-
prises and corrupt clientelistic payoffs to long-term investments in group
marketing that actually had regionwide development impact.
After the first two years INI's internal evaluations found that between
one-fourth and one-third of the Regional Funds were being consolidated
under indigenous organization control, a comparable share were failing,
in part due to capture by authoritarian elites, and a plurality were still
run by INI outreach staff.55 A variety of factors account for the mixed
performance, including continuing INI semiclientelism, uneven levels of
indigenous organizational development, and outright authoritarian ex-
clusion. The most consolidated funds emerged in regions where two fac-
tors came together: first, that indigenous producer groups were already
well organized, and second, that INT officials were either willing or
obliged to cede power over funding.
become advocates for indigenous communities in the broader public investment allocation
process; the effort was largely unsuccessful.
55 The more consolidated Regional Funds were reportedly in Veracruz, Chiapas, and Oa-
xaca, while those in the Huasteca, Chihuahua, and the YucatAn peninsula did poorly. Ta-
basco was especially disastrous: the governor tried to impose a corrupt crony as local INI
director, which provoked a mass protest movement, and then rejected any development aid
that could possibly reach potential opposition sympathizers. Not coincidentally, the state PRD
leader, Manuel L6pez Obrador, had won a broad indigenous following during his tenure as
local INi director in the early 1980s.
loan checks. This gave each director potential veto power over the deci-
sions of the leadership councils, provoking serious debate between grass-
roots organizations and INI officials.
The field study of the politics of access to the Regional Solidarity
Funds focused on the southern state of Oaxaca, which accounted for
twenty of the almost one hundred Regional Funds in 1992.56 INI's Oaxaca
staff used evaluation categories that paralleled the traditional clientelist,
semiclientelist, and pluralist patterns suggested above. They categorized
the leadership councils as: (1) LCS whose development was blocked by the
intervention of political parties, local economic or political bosses or con-
flicts between local groups, (2) LCs that were INI-run (that is, semiclien-
telist), (3) LCS that gained autonomy from the INI, using the fund to con-
solidate their organizing process and pursue regional development
strategies. According to INI's confidential evaluations, toward the end of
their first year, of the twenty Oaxaca LCS, five were blocked or taken over
by political bosses, ten were still run by the INI, and five were gaining
autonomy. This general pattern was confirmed by the author's direct
field study, together with a survey of independent indigenous leaders
and nongovernmental development experts from throughout the state.
This survey also found a consensus that after the first two years of Re-
gional Fund operations, at least six leadership councils had reached "con-
solidation," meaning that autonomous groups played a leading role in
allocating resources.57 This survey found that only three of the twenty
Oaxaca leadership councils excluded representative indigenous organi-
zations.
Perhaps the single most revealing indicator of relative pluralism was
the presence of affiliates of the nonpartisan Oaxaca State Network of
Coffee Producing Organizations (CEPCO), the most consolidated autono-
mous grassroots economic organization in the state, including over
twenty thousand mainly indigenous producers.58 In most leadership
56 Oaxaca is one of Mexico's poorest states and at least 44% of the state's population speaks
one of the state's seventeen indigenous languages; Rafael Blanco Rivera, "Oaxaca, 1980,"
Cuadernos de Demografia Indigena (Mexico City: INI, Direcci6n de Investigaci6n y Promoci6n
Cultural, 1991).
57 These leadership councils were based in Jamiltepec, Miahuatlin, Huautla, Tlacolula,
Guelatao, and Cuicatlin. It must be stressed that "consolidation" does not imply that all or
even most member groups of an LC were representative grassroots groups. Five of Oaxaca's
twenty LCs were not "test" cases because of the lack of autonomous indigenous producer
organizations in those regions as of mid-1992. For details, see Jonathan Fox, "Targeting the
Poorest: The Role of the National Indigenous Institute in Mexico's Solidarity Program," in
Cornelius, Craig, and Fox (fn. 38).
58 Most CEPCO member groups are nonpartisan or operate within the PRI, although a few
sympathize with the PRD. CEPCO's main activity is buying, processing, and selling coffee, set-
ting a floor price following the withdrawal of the state from the market in 1989, and repre-
senting about one-third of Oaxaca's small coffee producers. Much of the state government
councils they shared power (and therefore funds) with both corporatist
and other autonomous organizations, often for the first time. Several
CEPCO members claimed to be underrepresented in the councils, but only
in two LCS out of thirteen were they excluded.59 Overall, the Regional
Funds program constituted a small fraction of overall Solidarity funding,
even in largely indigenous rural areas, but it was unusual because the
pluralistic access was officially supposed to include the entire universe of
representative groups in each region, in contrast to the ad hoc and dis-
cretional entry points autonomous groups faced in other Solidarity pro-
grams.
and the corporatist apparatus felt threatened by CEPCO's success at providing an alternative.
See Julio Moguel and Josefina Aranda, "La Coordinadora Estatal de Productores de Cafe de
Oaxaca," in Julio Moguel, Carlota Botey, and Luis Hernindez, eds., Autonomia y nuevos
sujetos sociales en el desarrollo rural (Mexico City: Siglo XXI/CEHAM, 1992).
59 A robust notion of pluralism would go beyond this inclusion/exclusion dichotomy and
involve some degree of proportional representation. Funds include groups ranging in size
from tiny kinship groups to producer associations representing thousands of families, yet in
most leadership councils each has the same vote. Some INi directors used their clientele as
counterweights to keep more broadly representative groups in the minority. The Mazateca
highlands leadership council led the first experiment in institutionalizing proportional rep-
resentation in the leadership councils, weighting the number of assembly delegates according
to the membership of each participating organization. The INI convened this process in an
apparent effort to undermine the outspoken cEpco-affiliated leadership of the Mazateca re-
gion's Lc and to strengthen the official corporatist group, but the independent coffee produc-
ers swept the elections.
60 Recent indigenous movements have been most intense in Chiapas, Oaxaca, Hidalgo,
Veracruz, and Guerrero. See Maria Consuelo Mejia Pineiros and Sergio Sarmiento, La lucha
indigena: un reto a la ortodoxia (Mexico City: Siglo XXI, 1987); Carole Nagengast and Michael
Kearney, "Mixtec Ethnicity: Social Identity, Political Consciousness and Political Activism,"
Latin American Research Review 25, no. 2 (1990); Sergio Sarmiento, "Movimiento indio y
modernizaci6n," Cuadernos Agrarios 2, new series (1991); and the journals Etnias and Ojarasca
(formerly Mdxico Indigena).
61 The rate at which presidents remove governors is an excellent indicator of the degree of
intrastate conflict in Mexico. During the first three years of the Salinas administration, nine
of the thirty-one governors had been forced to resign.
Their only crime was to work with everyone, whether or not they are
sympathizers of the government. . . . We demand that they respect us,
now that we're learning [to carry out development projects], that they
don't block our work.. .. This is a political problem-they blame the INI
for everything that happens in Chiapas, but we want to make clear that
these are our decisions.62
62 Rosa Rojas, "Indigenas de Chiapas piden se libere a 3 funcionarios del INI," La Jornada,
March 21, 1992. Leaders of the Chiapas funds were also involved in the successful Xi 'Nich
human rights protest march to Mexico City in early 1992. The national leader of Mexico's
Independent Front of Indian Peoples (FIPI)-a frequent INI critic-confirmed that the Chia-
pas Regional Funds were remarkably open to independent groups. See Margarito Xib Ruiz
Hernindez, "Todo indigenismo es lo mismo," Ojarasca (February 1993).
63 See Matilde Perez, "El ejido es un sistema equitativo y eficaz: INI," La Jornada, October
23, 1991. For a political analysis of the 1991 reform of Mexico's land-tenure system, see
Jonathan Fox, "Political Change in Mexico's New Peasant Economy," in Maria Lorena
Cook, Kevin Middlebrook, and Juan Molinar Horcacitas, eds., The Politics of Economic Re-
structuring in Mexico (La Jolla: UCSD, Center for U.S.-Mexican Studies, forthcoming).
nous leaders freely debated the strategy and tactics of their response.
They faced the threat of the withdrawal of carrots, not sticks. Several
months later, when INI officials asked the same state council of Regional
Fund leaders to meet with the government's candidate for governor of
Oaxaca, they again debated how to respond. Again, the vote was 14 to 6
to invite the official candidate, but on the condition that the statewide
council invite all other candidates for governor as well. INI arranged the
meeting but "forgot" to invite the opposition candidates. The indigenous
leaders proceeded to meet with opposition leaders on their own; this time
they used their autonomy to open new terrain for civic pluralism.
In summary, an important minority of the Regional Solidarity Funds
made progress toward developing more tolerant relationships between
reformist branches of the state and many of Mexico's autonomous indig-
enous organizations. This process also led to new degrees of power shar-
ing between politically and ethnically diverse indigenous organizations
themselves. Nevertheless, this process lagged in much of the country be-
cause of entrenched semiclientelism, authoritarian exclusion and back-
lash, and the uneven degrees of consolidation among autonomous indig-
enous groups themselves.64
64 As of mid-1993 the future of the Regional Solidarity Fund program was in doubt. The
Social Development Ministry, which controls overall Solidarity funding, had frozen most of
INI's 1992 allocations for the Regional Solidarity Funds, blaming lagging repayment rates.
Difficulties with repayment were not surprising, given the problems of profitability through-
out the agricultural sector; but since the government was very flexible with much larger debts
from other agricultural borrowers, such as owners of large coffee plantations or the buyers
of privatized sugar mills, slow repayment rates alone were not an especially credible expla-
nation for defunding the program. INI had been politically weakened by the transfer of its
influential director to the newly created post of agrarian attorney general. This left INI's
Regional Funds vulnerable to powerful antipluralist elements within the Social Development
Ministry itself, which wanted to take project decision-making power away from the leader-
ship councils.
65 Distributive reform thus became political reform, as Przeworski defines it: "a modifi-
cation of the organization of conflicts that alters the prior probabilities of realizing group
interests given their resources." See Adam Przeworski, "Some Problems in the Study of the
Transition to Democracy," in Guillermo O'Donnell, Philippe C. Schmitter, and Laurence
Whitehead, eds., Transition from Authoritarian Rule: Comparative Perspectives (Baltimore:
Johns Hopkins University Press, 1986), 58.
66 See Wayne Cornelius, "Political Liberalization in an Authoritarian Regime: Mexico,
1976-1985," in Judith Gentleman, ed., Mexican Politics in Transition (Boulder, Colo.: West-
view Press, 1987); and Kevin Middlebrook, "Political Liberalization in an Authoritarian
Regime: The Case of Mexico," in O'Donnell, Schmitter, and Whitehead (fn. 65). On electoral
change in the 1980s, see Cornelius, Gentleman, and Smith (fn. 26). For a comparative dis-
cussion of Mexico's transition that explores the distinction between the formal regime and
the actual political system, see Antonio Camou, "Once tesis sobre la 'transici6n' mexicana:
Gobernabilidad y democracia," Nexos 55 (February 1992).
67 The regime was able to manage this uncertain process largely because the most con-
tested races-for governors and mayors-were staggered so that the ruling party faced only
one or two difficult states at a time.
CONCLUSIONS
opposition. When the wounds of the 1988 electoral conflict were still fresh, the PRD harshly
condemned social organizations that bargained for Solidarity funds, asserting that they were
implicitly recognizing the president's legitimacy. The PRD's stance later softened, but its re-
lationship with important social movements was damaged. See Dresser (fn. 37, 1991); and
Haber (fn. 45).
70 So far, two scenarios predicted by Cornelius and his colleagues are combining: "mod-
ernization of authoritarianism with selective pluralism" and "limited power sharing," along
the lines of the Indian Congress Party model. See Cornelius, Gentleman, and Smith (fn.
26); and Wayne Cornelius and Ann Craig, The Mexican Political System in Transition (La
Jolla: UCSD, Center for U.S.-Mexican Studies, 1991), 118-19.
71 As Pye put it, "We need finer shades of typologies of political systems between the
classical polar opposites of authoritarian and democratic. In the wake of the crisis of author-
itarianism we can expect a wide variety of systems that will become part authoritarian and
part free and that will fall far short of any reasonable definitions of democracy." See Lucian
authoritarian regimes around the world that have now turned to elec-
toral politics are not necessarily in transition to more democratic re-
gimes; they can stabilize far short of democracy.72 Mexico is not the only
country in the early 1990s that holds competitive elections but still fails
to reach a democratic threshold. El Salvador, Guatemala, Colombia, and
Peru come to mind in Latin America. Asian examples include Taiwan,
Thailand, Malaysia, and the Philippines; in Africa, Nigeria, Ghana, and
Kenya, among others. Serbia is the most notable case in Europe. Several
of the former Soviet republics may fall into this category as well.
The politics of social policy can tell us a great deal about nonelectoral
dimensions of democratization. Many types of regimes are now experi-
menting with "demand-based" antipoverty funds aimed at making
structural economic adjustment politically viable; Mexico's Solidarity
program is an especially sophisticated version of this much broader
trend. Bolivia's social emergency fund was the first to attract interna-
tional attention in 1986, and similar programs were carried out by Peru,
Chile, Colombia, Zambia, Senegal, Ghana, Poland, El Salvador, and
Honduras. Like Solidarity, some of these new targeted antipoverty pro-
grams created political openings for social movements and nongovern-
mental organizations, while others reinforced partisan clientelistic con-
trols. El Salvador and Senegal used their programs as instruments of
political control, at least until the late 1980s, while in Bolivia, Chile, and
Zambia, transitions to electoral democracy permitted pluralistic antipov-
erty policy. Peru's program largely perpetuated semiclientelism.73 Across
W. Pye, "Political Science and the Crisis of Authoritarianism," American Political Science
Review 84 (March 1990), 13.
72 See Terry Lynn Karl (fn. 1) on "electoralism"; Philippe Schmitter and Terry Lynn Karl,
"What Democracy Is . . . and Is Not," Journal of Democracy 2 (Summer 1991); Tina Rosen-
berg, "Beyond Elections," Foreign Policy 84 (Fall 1991); and Guy Hermet, Richard Rose, and
Alain Rouqui6, eds., Elections without Choice (New York: John Wiley, 1978). Stable electoral
competition is sometimes confused with political democracy; see, e.g., John Higley and Ri-
chard Gunther, eds., Elites and Democratic Consolidation in Latin America and Southern Europe
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992). Thus Mexico's ruling party holds the
world's record for stability, having presided over electoral presidential successions since 1929.
Some analysts fall into the opposite trap, assuming that unfair elections are politically mean-
ingless exercises. Note, for example, the surprise military split and subsequent civic uprising
following Philippine president Marcos's fraudulent "snap" elections in 1986. See also the
debate over the relevance of El Salvador's sharply constrained wartime elections of the mid-
1980s in Edward Herman and Frank Brodhead, Demonstration Elections (Boston: South End
Press, 1984); Terry Lynn Karl, "Imposing Consent? Electoralism vs. Democratization in El
Salvador," in Paul Drake and Eduardo Silva, eds., Elections and Democratization in Latin
America, 1980-1985 (La Jolla: UCSD-CILAS, 1986).
73 On social investment funds, see Carol Graham, "The APRA Government and the Urban
Poor: The PIAT Programme in Lima's Pueblos J6venes," Journal of Latin American Studies 23
(February 1991); idem, "The Politics of Protecting the Poor during Adjustment: Bolivia's
Emergency Social Fund," World Development 20 (September 1992); idem, "Mexico's National
Solidarity Program in Comparative Perspective: Demand-Based Poverty Alleviation Pro-
grams in Latin America, Africa, and Eastern Europe," in Cornelius, Craig, and Fox (fn. 38).
One could argue that opposition state governments in India carried out comparable programs
earlier. See Atul Kohli, The State and Poverty in India: The Politics of Reform (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1987); and John Echeverri-Gent, "Public Participation and
Poverty Alleviation: The Experience of Reform Communists in India's West Bengal," World
Development 20 (October 1992).
74 See Herr (fn. 23); and Philip Shenon, "It's Business as Usual in Thailand (Votes for
Sale)," New York Times, March 18, 1992; as well as Scott (fn. 8, 1992).
75 Thus, in 1988 Colombia appeared to take a major step toward greater pluralism by
permitting citizens to elect their mayors for the first time. But once elected, many opposition
mayors were assassinated by state-sanctioned death squads. See Leah Carroll, "Repression
and the Limits to Rural Democratization: The Experience of Leftist County Executives in
Colombia, 1988-1990" (Paper presented at the Latin American Studies Association, April
1991).
76 By contrast, some analysts consider elections to be democratic if the bulk of the popu-
lation participates; see, e.g., Samuel P. Huntington, The Third Wave: Democratization in the
Late Twentieth Century (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991).
There are many examples in the Americas. Even though Chile had
long been considered a consolidated democracy, the national political
equation was skewed through the early 1960s by the disenfranchisement
of the rural poor.77 The same was true in Brazil, where the prospect of
permitting the illiterates to vote contributed to the 1964 coup. Peru's
largely indigenous illiterate population was also denied the vote until the
return of electoral rule in 1980. Regional redoubts of exclusion persist
even after such formal barriers are removed. In Brazil's 1989 presidential
race the candidate of the Left took the large cities, but the Right won
with the hinterland, where authoritarian clientelism and semiclientelism
are still pervasive.78 And rural districts gave Salinas his official majority
in Mexico's 1988 presidential race.79 The general point that "subnational
authoritarian regimes" can tip the national political balance should not
be new to observers of the United States, where the coercive disenfran-
chisement of African Americans and many poor whites in the South
determined national political outcomes for most of the twentieth cen-
tury.
The question of how effective access to citizenship rights is extended
to an entire society requires a framework that differs from most ap-
proaches to national regime change. While transitions to electorally com-
petitive regimes are usually analyzed in terms of movement back and
forth along two dimensions, the erosion of clientelism can evolve in sev-
eral directions simultaneously. Authoritarian clientelism does not neces-
sarily erode in a linear process toward citizenship. The Mexican experi-
ence shows that even as sophisticated state managers can promote
semiclientelism as an alternative to citizenship rights, social movements
can gnaw at small cracks in the system and try to open them further.
The result is a gradual and uneven transition from clientelism to citizen-
ship that involves the coexistence under the same formal regime of three
different de facto political systems: entrenched redoubts of authoritari-
anism, broad swaths of modernized semiclientelism, and enclaves of plu-
ralist tolerance that exhibit elements of citizenship. Where subnational
authoritarian regimes survive within nationally competitive electoral sys-
tems, the transitions can get stuck and fail to cross the threshold to dem-
ocratic governance.
77 See Brian Loveman, "Political Participation and Rural Labor in Chile," in Mitchell A.
Seligson and John A. Booth, eds., Political Participation in Latin America, vol. 2, Politics and
the Poor (New York: Holmes and Meier, 1979).
78 See Fernando Da Silveira Cotrim, A geografia do voto no Brasil: Elei(-oes de 1989 (Rio
Janeiro: IBASE, 1990). On the persistent clout of the traditional political class, see Hagopian
(fn. 7, 1990 and 1992).
79 See Arturo L6pez et al., Geografia de las elecciones presidenciales de Mexico, 1988 (Mexico
City: Fundaci6n Arturo Rosenblueth, 1989).
80 Because these dimensions evolve along such different paths, Schmitter suggests that it
may be useful to understand democracy as a "composite of 'partial regimes,' each of which
[is] institutionalized around distinctive sites for the representation of social groups." See Phi-
lippe Schmitter, "The Consolidation of Democracy and Representation of Social Groups,"
American Behavioral Scientist 35 (March-June 1992), 427.
81 For general discussions of measurement issues, see Alex Inkeles, ed., On Measuring De-
mocracy (New Brunswick, N.J.: Transaction Publishers, 1991). For new studies of degrees of
civilian control over the military, see David Pion-Berlin, "Military Autonomy and Emerging
Democracies in South America," Comparative Politics 25 (October 1992); and Jorge Za-
verucha, "The Degree of Military Political Autonomy during the Spanish, Argentine, and
Brazilian Transitions," Journal of Latin American Studies 25 (May 1993).