The Constitutionnel Crises

Chile is having a constitutional crisis.  After a long period of demonstrations and popular unrest, the country held an election to determine whether a new constitution should be drafted.  The provision passed overwhelmingly with 78% of voters desiring a complete rewrite of the constitution, and new delegates were selected to draft a proposed document.

Chile worked really hard to make sure that the delegates included as diverse a group as possible, and while this was a laudable goal, it also meant that many of the delegates, particularly those from areas not presently represented in politics, had no experience in political negotiation or in drafting legislation.

After many months of work, an astoundingly lengthy ‘woke’ document that at best could be described as utopian.  Some of the 388 articles are a little hard to understand, such as the provision promising rights to “neurodiversity” and “digital disconnection”.  The number of new social programs mandated by the document meant tax increases were unavoidable.  

Perhaps it was a fear that increased taxes might jeopardize the country’s recent economic prosperity or, perhaps, it was the displeasure of religious conservatives over the guaranteed right to an abortion, but for some reason, 62% of the Chilean voters rejected the new draft.  As I write this, the Chilean government is considering throwing out the proposed draft and starting over.

The immediate fear is that the protests will restart, further dividing the country and making future compromises impossible.  Polarization of political parties that creates divisions wide enough to lead to violent demonstrations and the rise of antiestablishment leaders is the norm for Latin American (See  the recent examples of both Brazil and Bolivia).  

Naturally, there is a precedent in Latin American history.

Most Americans, at least those without a degree in education, can name at least a couple of battles in the American Civil War and can tell you roughly when it was fought.  If you ask them about the Mexican Revolution, the average American has no clue, even though Mexico’s civil war was more recent, fought in large part right on the U.S/Mexican border, and the incredible violence left more than twice as many casualties.  

At times, the residents of El Paso, Texas could watch the battles across the river in Juarez from atop downtown buildings.  (And occasionally the combatants grew angry at the Gringos treating their struggles as a spectator sport and turned their guns toward the ‘audience’.)  And in 1915, Pancho Villa and his army crossed the border and attacked the town of Columbus, New Mexico—the first such attack of a foreign army on American soil since the British burned the White House and attacked Fort McHenry a century earlier. It was also the last such attack until the 9/11 attacks, almost a century later.

The Mexican Revolution started in 1911 and created the constitution that Mexico still uses today.  (Historians are still arguing about when the revolution actually started and stopped, but it is my blog and I’m going to say it started with the ouster of Porfirio Diaz and ended with the election of Lazaro Cardenas, so the revolution started in 1911 and ended in 1934.) 

Prior to the Revolution, President Porfirio Diaz had used the Constitution of 1857 to rule as a dictator.  The constitution gave him the rights to fire judges, and to replace governors and elected leaders with flunkies of his own choosing.  Without a judicial system capable of checking his power, Diaz assassinated his enemies, stole whatever he desired, and pretty much ignored his people (many of whom lived lives so desperate they would have been better off living during the time of the Aztecs).  

After multiple revolutionary armies rose up in opposition to the 80-year-old dictator’s fraudulent election, Diaz absconded to Paris along with most of the Mexican treasury.  There was a universal recognition that a new constitution was needed, so a constitutional convention was called in Aguascaliente with each army sending one delegate for every 1000 soldiers in the field.  

When the convention convened in 1914, the delegates found they could agree on absolutely nothing.  Considering that none of the varied armies had cooperated with each other during the fighting, this was hardly surprising, and the qualities that made good revolutionary soldiers weren’t…. Well, after a few days of delegates screaming at each other, Pancho Villa suggested to General Carranza that the convention would proceed more smoothly if the two of them would just go outside and commit suicide.

Needless to say, the convention closed without a constitution.  Instead, the armies went back into the field and kept fighting, but since Diaz was in Paris counting his money and drinking champagne, the armies fought each other.

Three years later, Villa’s army had been defeated and Carranza called a new convention.  Having learned from his mistakes, the new delegates at a convention in Queretaro were only 30% soldiers, the rest were predominately college educated, lots of doctors, lawyers, and professional men.  These were selected in the belief they could be controlled and would produce the kind of constitution the general wanted—a newer version of the 1857 constitution that would allow Carranza to simply replace Diaz.  

Of course, Carranza was wrong:  the delegates ignored the general and actually produced a constitution that (for the most part) gave the Mexican people what they needed.  The Constitution provided for states, territories and a federal district.  Presidents were not eligible for reelection.  The state preserved all property rights, forbade ownership of land by foreigners and all but outlawed the Catholic Church.

Public worship was outlawed, the construction of new church buildings was restricted by the state, the church was forbidden to engage in education, and even wearing clerical garb was prohibited.  

 

Carranza hated the new constitution, but he was desperate to be elected, so he held his nose and accepted it—and he was rewarded by being elected in a landslide.   Once elected, Carranza just decided to ignore the laws and do what he wanted because the judiciary lacked the strength to enforce the constitution and stop him.  In Mexico, this is known as of Obedezco pero no cumplo.  Loosely translated, this means, ‘I recognize your authority and obey, but I do not comply.’

Naturally, the revolution in Mexico continued with violent fighting, but—eventually—someone had the very good sense to shoot Carranza, who was attempting to flee to Paris and take with him what was left of the Mexican treasury.

Chile has, like Carranza, rejected the most recent constitution.  Let us hope that they quickly draft a new draft which includes provisions for a strong judiciary.