by Gary Isaac Gordon, University of Chicago
Now visiting at El Colegio de Mexico A.C. (ggordon@colmex.mx)
October 13, 1995
There is a slow-burning war going on in the streets of Mexico City's historic downtown. As is true of any extended military struggle, this one is complicated and full of unexpected twists. There are strategic alliances, betrayals, mercenaries, and diplomatic exchanges. Most importantly, the clash of armies is an extension of a political struggle. A short article in the back pages of the October 4 edition of El Sol de Mexico gives an idea of the complexity of the interests involved. The Mexico City daily recounts a stick and club attack by Vi'a Pu'blica (Public Ways) inspectors on a group of street vendors and bystanders that left seven injured. "At around 3:00 in the afternoon yesterday, the Vi'a Publica inspectors -- under the influence of drugs and alcohol -- began to attack people with sticks, two-by-fours, and clubs... these events took place in plain view of a group of granaderos (riot police)" who were in the neighborhood on an anti-crime operation. When the granaderos tried to subdue the rampaging inspectors, the Vi'a Pu'blica agents turned on them, and three of the riot police were seriously wounded. Such events are part of a cat-and-mouse game that the inspectors play with the street vendors on a daily basis. Since August, when over 3,000 granaderos and inspectors (in cooperation this time) conducted a maxi-operation to sweep the vendors from the streets, the form of battle has become the small-scale skirmish. Vigilance by the authorities has been relatively high, but the sheer numbers and pervasiveness of the vendors means that their removal is never more than temporary.
To make the picture more murky, in many cases the inspectors themselves are protecting the vendors, charging them a fee in exchange for tolerance. Why don't higher-ups in the city government do something about it? On one hand, the money the inspectors extort is most likely being handed up to higher levels of the political hierarchy. On the other, it is politically expedient for city officials, practically all of whom belong to the ruling PRI party, to allow vending to persist, since the organized groups of vendors -- in some cases several thousand strong -- present a source of political support and warm bodies for rallies, marches, and acts of intimidation.
Given these facts, it would appear that the PRIistas in the city government are shooting themselves in the foot by attacking the vendors at all. Even more so considering that elections for the newly created "Citizens Council" will be held in November. Nevertheless, all of the parties involved are aware that the apparently hard-line attitude of the city government is mostly for show. The Regente has botched just about everything he has turned his hand to during his first 10 months in office, and vendor-bashing helps him present an image of being in control. Vendors are resentful, but they realize that "this is war" and they are still ultimately beholden to city officials for the opportunity to earn their living.
The recent spate of activity by the city government against the vendors -- including the current effort to clear them from the entrances to the Metro -- are not backed up by a thoroughgoing plan to address the forces that help street vending thrive, such as unemployment, corruption, and a lack of clear regulations. And so the struggle continues.
-----------------
Gary Isaac Gordon
* Graduate student in Latin American History at the University of Chicago currently in Mexico doing research for a Ph.D. dissertation, provisionally entitled "Peddlers, Pesos and Power: The Political Economy of Street Vending in Mexico City, 1980-1995.")