Can Mexico Afford a People's Judiciary?

In Mexico, the national conversation on judicial reform has quietly and not-so-quietly stirred into action. The most buzz-worthy proposal on the table? A direct citizen election of judges, magistrates, and ministers. Yes, you read that right: the popular election of judiciary members—think "American Idol," but for judges, with democracy dialing in votes.

With forums and dialogues convening in almost every corner of the nation (Jalisco, Puebla, Veracruz, Coahuila—roll call!), there’s no shortage of opinions on how this would look in practice. President Andrés Manuel López Obrador has championed the notion with fervor, seemingly eager to pull back the curtain on the judiciary and let the people vote for those black-robed figures who have, until now, been selected behind closed legal doors.

President López Obrador’s proposal suggests a radical departure from the status quo: allowing regular citizens—yes, you, me, your cousin Juan, and your neighbor’s Chihuahua—to choose the judges who preside over the nation’s courts. However, despite the President’s enthusiasm, the legal eagles across the country are flapping their wings in a different direction.

Bar associations, academics, NGOs, legal experts, and an assortment of dignified individuals with long titles (and, surely, heavy law books) have chimed in with cautious skepticism. Their worry? While it may sound lovely to let the people vote, it might also invite unwanted campaign-style theatrics into the hallowed halls of justice. Imagine a judge shaking hands at a town fair, or a magistrate kissing babies—it's not the imagery typically associated with the austere judicial world.

Interestingly, this idea isn't completely unprecedented. A small spark of reform happened back in February 2020, when an independent, reliable Technical Evaluation Committee was installed in the Chamber of Deputies. Their task was to choose four counselors for the National Electoral Institute (INE). The experiment worked well enough, apparently, that some clever minds now propose it as a model for selecting ministers, magistrates, and judges.

This method, it's argued, would ensure that only the best, most suitable candidates—judicial unicorns, if you will—are chosen for these critical roles. The idea being: independent evaluations breed judicial independence. So, why not scale it up for the judiciary?

Another proposal gaining traction: trimming the Supreme Court from 11 ministers to 9. Could fewer ministers really do more? The proponents of this slimmed-down vision seem to think so, believing that a more intimate panel of legal minds might yield swifter, more focused decision-making. Fewer cooks in the kitchen, so to speak.

But, like any good reduction diet, this proposal is causing its own share of indigestion in legal circles. Critics wonder: what’s wrong with 11? Why now? Could this be an under-the-radar power play or simply a logistical fine-tuning?

One of the most vocal skeptics of the entire reform is Guadalupe Taddei, the current head of INE. At the seventh National Dialogue on July 30, 2024, Taddei expressed her concerns over the logistical hurdles that would come with direct judicial elections. She argued that, before Mexicans get carried away with ballots in hand, certain technical and budgetary details needed to be figured out—first.

She raised very valid points: What would the budget be? (Justice isn’t cheap, folks!) Who’s organizing these elections? Would we replace all judges at once, or stagger them out like seasons of a long-running Netflix show? Taddei's key takeaway: if this is going to work, let’s make sure we don’t accidentally create a circus. Clarity, transparency, and a realistic game plan are required.

The Hefty Price Tag

When Guadalupe Taddei, a prominent figure in Mexico’s electoral landscape, recently voiced her opinion on the cost of appointing judges via direct vote, the country’s political and judicial discourse stirred with intrigue. Taddei cautioned that holding an electoral process to appoint ministers, magistrates, and judges would mirror the cost of a presidential election.

According to her, such an undertaking would require meticulous planning, akin to that of electing members of the Executive and Legislative branches, which is no small feat. But beneath the surface, this debate over direct elections for judges is far more than just a matter of pesos—it touches upon the very fabric of justice, governance, and democratic values in Mexico.

Taddei's comparison of judge appointments to presidential elections may seem like an exaggeration at first glance, but the numbers speak for themselves. Senator Ricardo Monreal, a key figure in Mexico’s Senate, revealed during the third National Dialogue for the Reform of the Judiciary that appointing nearly 1,700 judges through direct voting could cost an eye-watering 3.5 billion pesos.

In contrast, the presidential election of June 2 had a total bill of roughly 10 billion pesos. Clearly, democracy does not come cheap, but as Taddei astutely pointed out, any judicial election would require the same level of rigor, precision, and financial backing as a presidential race. Anything less, and the credibility of the judicial appointments might be called into question.

The International Electoral Institute (INE) would need a carefully considered budget to manage such elections without sacrificing the quality or thoroughness of the process. But the expense is just one part of the equation. As Taddei warned, hastily conducting an election of judges without addressing crucial logistical concerns could undermine the very institution it seeks to democratize.

Despite the fervor of advocates like Taddei, who suggest that direct elections could offer more transparency and citizen involvement, not everyone is sold on the idea—least of all the judiciary itself. The most pointed criticism came from the Supreme Court of Justice of the Nation (SCJN). In various forums, high-ranking legal minds, including the SCJN’s Minister President Norma Piña, have raised strong objections to electing judges through popular vote, even in a gradual manner.

Piña’s critique strikes at the heart of the issue: judges, by nature, are not supposed to be “popular” figures. Their role is rooted in expertise, impartiality, and a thorough understanding of complex legal principles. As Piña and other opponents suggest, electing judges as if they were politicians would fundamentally blur the lines between the judiciary and the legislative or executive branches. A judge who campaigns for votes may be more tempted to cater to popular sentiment rather than uphold the rule of law, potentially leading to populism seeping into judicial decisions.

The very prospect, according to Piña, could cause the administration of justice to collapse, as newly elected judges might lack the legal acumen necessary to preside over complex cases. Their decisions could be swayed by electoral promises or pressures from political patrons rather than the legal merits of a case.

The specter of politicization looms large in this debate. Critics like Ministers Juan Luis González Alcántara and Jorge Mario Pardo argue that bringing judicial appointments to the ballot box risks putting justice into the hands of those with political influence rather than legal competence. Elections, they warn, would open the door to judges who may prioritize their connections to power brokers over their dedication to justice.

Mexico’s justice system has long struggled with perceptions of corruption and favoritism, and introducing popular elections into the mix could exacerbate these concerns. In the seventh forum held on July 30, Alcántara and Pardo reaffirmed their stance: the judiciary’s independence must be preserved, and direct elections are a dangerous road to tread. Their argument suggests that while democracy is vital for governance, the judiciary must remain a bastion of impartiality, immune to the shifting winds of political fortune.

Popular Election of Judges

During a recent open parliament, experts and legal scholars united to explore the question of judicial eligibility. On the surface, the idea of the people directly electing their judges seems like a democratic leap. However, this alluring veneer of populism hides deeper, thornier concerns. As seasoned legal minds pointed out, the election of judges by popular vote risks opening Pandora’s box—a box that might unleash corruption, undue influence, and organized crime into the judicial process.

One prominent voice in this debate is the Fifth District Judge Specialized in the Execution of Sentences, Magdalena Victoria Oliva. She sharply underscored the risks this reform poses, not only to the domestic rule of law but also to international obligations. Mexico, bound by the USMCA (United States-Mexico-Canada Agreement), has committed to creating independent courts to resolve labor disputes. The potential erosion of judicial autonomy could place the country at odds with these commitments, threatening economic stability. Moreover, Oliva warned that approval of this reform could lead to condemnation by the Inter-American Court of Human Rights (IACHR), casting a long shadow on Mexico’s human rights standing.

Meanwhile, academia has waded into the fray, with the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM) contributing intellectual weight to the discussion. Rector Leonardo Lomelí Vanegas delivered a pointed critique of the proposal, emphasizing the peril of subjecting judges to the whims of electoral politics. He described the inevitable “setbacks” this would cause in the separation of powers—an essential democratic principle that ensures no single branch of government, judicial included, succumbs to political influence.

Lomelí was resolute in his stance: judicial independence must be preserved as the cornerstone of a functioning legal system. Without it, the judiciary would risk becoming a puppet of external interests, swayed by popular sentiment or, worse, political expedience. Far from being merely a philosophical principle, judicial independence ensures that legal decisions are guided by law, precedent, and ethical reasoning, not by the pressures of interest groups or political factions.

Yet, the reform has not been without its more curious elements. Despite the steadfast insistence that not "a comma" would be changed in the original proposal, murmurs of internal rethinking have surfaced, raising more than a few eyebrows. Two key figures, Ministers Loretta Ortiz and Yasmín Esquivel—both closely aligned with the administration’s Fourth Transformation agenda—have suggested reconsidering parts of the initiative. Ortiz and Esquivel, in their characteristically diplomatic manner, have hinted at a need for prudence, especially when it comes to avoiding a judicial “bottleneck.” In their view, the idea of resolving every case within six months, while ambitious, risks leading to rushed, inequitable decisions—a notion that, ironically, could undercut the very justice the reform aims to enhance.

Minister Esquivel, in particular, proposed an innovative twist: judges and magistrates could be subjected to a revocation of mandate before standing for election. This would, in theory, ensure that only those judicial officials who have proven their competence and impartiality face the people’s vote, perhaps reducing some of the risks inherent in popular election. Whether this creative suggestion gains traction remains to be seen, but it reflects the underlying tension between maintaining a qualified judiciary and engaging with democratic processes.

At the legislative level, caution has also been urged. Deputy Leonel Godoy Rangel (Morena) echoed the call for prudence in analyzing the initiative, recognizing that the issues at hand are complex and deeply consequential. Godoy's remarks also hint at the political balancing act required to navigate this reform through parliament. There will be, he admits, "moved commas" in the final draft, suggesting that flexibility and compromise might ultimately shape the contours of the reform.

At the core of this debate is the delicate question of "suitability." What, after all, makes someone suitable to judge? It’s not a question that can be answered by a simple vote count or campaign speech. Suitability involves a deep understanding of the law, an unwavering commitment to ethics, and the ability to interpret complex legal issues without fear or favor. The qualifications required of judges must extend far beyond the political or social winds of the day.

From Budgets to Balance

Deputy Rubén Ignacio Moreira Valdez, the astute coordinator of the PRI's parliamentary group, has taken center stage with a proposal that could reshape the landscape of Mexico's judicial system. His suggestion? A guaranteed budget that would flow directly to the states, with the goal of improving local judicial powers, expanding the number of judges, and ensuring a more robust system of justice. At first glance, a mere budgetary adjustment may seem like standard legislative fare. However, in the hands of Moreira Valdez, it becomes the cornerstone of something larger—a reimagining of how justice is administered and, most critically, how it can address Mexico’s deep-rooted security challenges.

In his speech, Moreira Valdez emphasized that the improvement of the judiciary cannot simply be a lofty goal discussed in Mexico City’s halls of power. The state courts, where most citizens encounter the legal system, must be the real beneficiaries of this overhaul. “We have to fix one of the deepest problems there is, which is security,” Moreira stated, recognizing that addressing judicial inefficiencies will, in turn, bolster the safety and well-being of communities across the country.

His concerns come at a time when Mexico faces a host of security challenges, from widespread violence to forced displacements. The recent issue of people fleeing from Mexico into neighboring Guatemala only underscores the urgency. Moreira rightly pointed out that while federal reforms might look good on paper, they offer little solace to those affected by violence or instability on the ground.

It’s no coincidence that Moreira’s proposal arrives on the heels of the nine judicial reform forums held in Sinaloa this August. These forums, teeming with ideas and attended by experts from across the spectrum, were designed to prepare the groundwork for what’s being called “Plan C”—President López Obrador’s latest push for legislative reform.

The question at the heart of the discussions was how to close the gap between national legislation and local enforcement. Moreira’s call for a guaranteed state budget was music to the ears of many who attended the Sinaloa forums. After all, it is the local courts, the local judges, and the local security apparatuses that must grapple daily with the grim realities of crime and legal inefficiency.

Plan C, though still shrouded in some political fog, promises to be a major step in judicial reform. While the Commission on Constitutional Points has endorsed the opinions generated by the Sinaloa forums, what is known so far suggests a comprehensive approach that will attempt to strengthen the judiciary from the bottom up, with special attention to both procedural reforms and institutional fortification.

And herein lies the brilliance of Moreira’s proposal—it dovetails seamlessly with the ambitions of Plan C. A dedicated budget for local judicial systems would not only empower state courts to hire more judges, but it would also facilitate the kind of systemic improvements needed to ensure quicker, fairer trials and more secure communities. With more funds earmarked for judicial reforms at the local level, Mexico’s justice system could see a real shift from its often stagnant, bureaucratic ways to a more dynamic, responsive framework.

While the gravity of the issue cannot be overstated, there’s something almost poetic, in Moreira’s proposal. After all, budgeting, for most, brings to mind a mundane exercise in fiscal responsibility. Yet, in this case, it has the potential to become a tool for transformation—a mechanism that could bridge the gap between hope and reality for millions of Mexicans.

The proposal invites a refreshing paradox: solving complex legal and security issues by doing something as seemingly simple as rearranging columns of numbers in a national spreadsheet. But perhaps that’s exactly what’s needed—a bit of budgetary quirkiness to tackle a sprawling, labyrinthine problem. Because at the heart of it, the people displaced from their homes, the judges overburdened with caseloads, and the citizens awaiting justice aren’t asking for abstract reforms. They’re asking for solutions that work. And sometimes, the most sophisticated solutions come dressed in practical clothes.

In-text Citation: (Mondragón, 2024, pp. 20-23)