The Plane Crash and a Traumatized Mexico  
November 17, 2008

MEXICO CITY -- During the funeral of the late Interior Secretary Juan Camilo Mourino, one of his children kissed his photograph, and it brought a lump to my throat. Ivan is 6 years old. The look on his face -- of sadness, uncertainty, fear, pessimism -- reflects the sentiments that pervade Mexico today. 
For President Felipe Calderon's administration it is important to disprove that the crash of the Learjet 45, carrying Mourino, a former anti-drug czar and seven other passengers, was perpetrated by the drug cartels. For the president, it is more than the loss of his friend and adviser. It is also a question of perceptions and power. 
While the true cause of the plane crash will not be known until the investigation that is expected to take 11 months is officially completed, Calderon does not want any speculation that it was drug traffickers who killed the country's second most important man. But the problem is that many Mexicans doubt what officials are saying because in reality, the "narcos," as the drug lords are called, could in fact have caused the airplane's crash. 
The key point is that it doesn't matter why the plane crashed, but that crime organizations were perfectly capable of pulling it off. Mexico is at such a vulnerable point in time and there are so many power vacuums in the country that it seems nothing is impossible now for the criminals. 
Sabotage or accident? The answer really doesn't have much relevance. It's the same whether it was due to human failure (as the findings up to now seem to suggest) caused by the turbulence of the preceding airliner, a maintenance error or negligence, or because someone unscrewed a bolt on one of the motors before the plane took off. What is important is that Mexicans have the idea that the narcos can, if they choose, bring down a plane or, as they have already shown, throw grenades into crowds celebrating Independence Day in Morelia's central square, or get away with decapitating dozens of victims in the border areas. The country is traumatized. 
Rising crime has changed people's way of life here. One example is a Mexican family with whom I talked last weekend. They told me they no longer allow their children to surf Internet chat rooms and social sites that are visited by young people all over the world. Their fear is that potential kidnappers could get to know what they do and what places they visit. I know of more Mexican families like this one who are taking similar precautions. This does not happen in other countries. 
A couple of hours spent with a child at the zoo here in the capital did nothing to restore my confidence that things will get better any time soon. It was a sad, pathetic place: a few animals confined in limited space and terrible conditions. I understand that this is the best metropolitan officials can do for a city zoo where the visitor pays no entrance fee. It was nonetheless, crowded, and I heard no criticism while we were there. For me, maybe it was the absence of green in the zoo and vitality in the animals that was so depressing. 
Mexico City, on the ground and in the clear light of day, may be in pain. But by night, and from the air, it is spectacular. On a clear night and after a heavy rain, the city offers all its promise. 
"Mexico is golden," the son of a friend of mine exclaimed, after seeing the city of a million lights before we landed at the Mexican capital's international airport. The problem is when you get off the plane. 
The despair of the city's residents is palpable, the same hopelessness that drove me to leave the country 25 years ago. Just ask any Mexican whether the country today is better or worse off than before. If we add to the dramatically increasing crimes and kidnappings, the paucity of decently paid jobs and the specter of a protracted world economic crisis, it is hardly difficult to understand why half a million undocumented Mexicans travel to the United States every year. 
The Nov. 4 plane crash is just another factor that feeds this climate of growing pessimism. For whatever reasons, not even the life of Mourino (just 37 years old) was safe. 
"It was like war," a friend told me when describing all the helicopters, ambulances and police cars swarming around the elegant Paseo de la Reforma avenue a few minutes after the explosive impact of the Interior secretary's plane. Nobody knew what was happening, he said, everyone was scared. 
The United States, with its new president-elect Barack Obama, is finally experiencing a time of hope after eight dreadful years. But I feel no such hope in Mexico and I know of no leader who inspires faith in its future. Where is the Mexican Obama? 
After her father's funeral, Mary Gely, Mourino's 9-year-old daughter, walked up to his coffin and collected his photograph, the same one that one of her two younger brothers had kissed a few moments before. She could barely hold it. But she pressed it against her body. Suddenly, she hid her head against the photo, as though she was trying vainly to retrieve that almost magic moment, before death came into her life. 
In Mexico, everyone feels like Mary Gely.