Politics, Culture and Economy

in Popular Practices
in the Americas
 Pankration: The Spectacle of Masculinity
in Mexican Political Culture
RICARDO MACIP

The Arena
Every Sunday night the Xalapa Arena—located in the ancient neighbourhood
of El Árbol, several blocks north of the city centre—opens its doors to the
dedicated wrestling public. Surrounded by two covered markets and within
the commercial district of ironmongers, saddlers, and sellers of agricultural
implements and goods for the guilds—but as of late invaded by the stalls of
street vendors selling Chinese trinkets—the arena is a landmark in the city. In
the capital of the state of Veracruz and the seat of Veracruz University, the
arena is one of the still-potent vestiges of the popular origins of its “middle
class workers.”
Made of strong materials—cement and iron—which are barely concealed
by opaque paint and poor lighting, it has in its centre the requisite six-square-
meter ring. Its seats for the public are divided into three classes: ring-side,
general and stands. Fans who occupy the ring-side seats are very close to the
action; they can shake hands with the wrestlers and experience the thrill of
danger when the struggle overflows from the ring. These seats are the most
expensive, and the people who occupy them are usually better dressed, for
which reason they are the subject of taunts and insults from those in the
stands. The general seats are located in a second circle, on steps, a little above
floor level. This area is the safest, and from here you can see the fights with a
good degree of detail. As with ring-side, here, too, there are chairs to sit on.
The stands are on the second floor and do not have individual chairs; it is the
cheapest area, unlit and separated from the rest by a “henhouse” wire mesh
to hold back objects thrown from that location. It is the most vociferous and
ordinary section—the choir!
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In the arena a festive atmosphere can be experienced. As at the fairs, can-

dy floss, sweets, toys, masks and other souvenirs are sold. Families of two and
three generations attend the fights with a few neighbours and friends. Among
the spectators, the children and women stand out; the former because they
are in large numbers and the latter because they are the ones who call out
exhortations to the wrestlers. Between each fight, the children climb into the
ring to emulate their heroes, but run once the wrestlers enter the scene; the
women receive them with insults and cheers.
The fights begin at eight o’clock on the dot. Generally, in a fixture there
are four or five fights, the first of which is hardly noticed because people are
still arriving and the wrestlers are beginners. It is usually a hand-to-hand fight
and the rookies in this “appetizer” wear clothes that cover their entire bodies,
largely because they are still adolescents without muscular builds. As in all the
fights, achieving two of three falls without any time limit by way of holding
the opponent flat on his back for three seconds, or by his surrender, defines
the winner. The second fight attracts more attention and is usually reserved
for promising wrestlers in teams of two against two. The audience recognizes
the characters and follows them with interest. These fights thrill with a show
of daring here and a great movement there, but the fighting still occurs inside
the ring.
The third fight must put the public on the edge of their seats as a result
of the histrionic skills of the wrestlers: the moral forces of good and evil en-
shroud the arena as a whole. The fight takes place both within and without
the ring, once the passions have taken over. Wrestlers run one after another,
some of them using chains and other prohibited items. It is not unusual for
the audience to become involved and even get hurt in the brawl. The fight
reaches its peak of stress, and whatever the outcome, abuse of the rudos (“bad
guys”) is common. Overall, this fight is conducted with teams of three against
three. The fourth—and almost always the last—dish includes local heroes. It
may be a meeting of teams of two or three wrestlers, or a hand-to-hand fight,
but in any case, it is the last chance of the night to restore order and bring
viewers to catharsis. If there is a fifth fight, it is commonly complemented by
an additional attraction such as a Royal Battle (pitched battle), a fight in a
cage or a “bull-terrier-match” (chained wrestlers).
In the arena, the wrestlers depict dramas which, in an ambiguous manner,
play to the public with cherished cultural and political contradictions. This
art, carefully choreographed, represents Mexican realities in a fantastic way,
mixing elements of subversion and domination. The audience recognizes its
theatrical and ritualistic character so as thus to get involved with it—that is, as
a spectacle that plays with the barely contained emotions of the spectators. It
Pankration 129

is very common for children to cry, heart-broken, when their idols are beat-
en. Some older women try to stab with their sewing scissors those characters
whom they hate. Men who dare to touch a wrestler are severely beaten in re-
sponse, as the latter are true to their characters. This violence in the spectacle
of the fights reflects the daily life of the home and the street. The arena is the
temple in which violence is sublimated as a discourse of moral principles and
justice. Paraphrasing Rascón Banda, it is also the temple where the asymmetry
between gods and mortals is established; the wrestlers embody guardian de-
ities, leaving us feeling the overwhelming eloquence of the sacred spectacle.

The Agenda
Mexican wrestling is a source of allegories, metaphors and references relating
to the concentration, distribution and personalization of power in contempo-
rary Mexican society. The spectacle of wrestling is a social drama articulated
in popular culture, where fantasy and political power are represented critically.
I maintain that wrestling is not limited to the arena alone, but expresses a di-
alectical relation to politics. Mexican wrestling reflects and conceals Mexican
politics. This ability to refract in an accentuated way (Voloshinov, 1973)—that
is, to demonstrate the spheres of power through a distorted image while at
the same time concealing and deferring the contradictions—is, in essence, a
mystification: wrestling mystifies and reveals patriarchal power. In this article I
juxtapose interpretations of masculine accounts of wrestling in the arena with
two political campaigns for the presidential elections in Mexico.
Research for this article was carried out as part of the production of
two documentaries.1 The material discussed here comes from three princi-
pal sources and techniques. The first is the direct observation of wrestling
fixtures in the Xalapa Arena, as well as of the unfolding of the political cam-
paigns in Mexico between July 1999 and July 2000. The second source is
the notes taken during a series of interviews undertaken with people who
regularly attended “the fights” in the city of Xalapa. In the fall of 1999 and
the summer of 2001, I conducted formal interviews with wrestlers and their
followers, in addition to informal talks and discussions. I also undertook, as
a third technique, the documentary analysis of fanzines, videos and essays
which refer to wrestling. The way in which I brought together the techniques
and two periods of research, as well as the writing processes, was through the
discussion of wrestling itself and the consideration of its political implications
with a group of informants/collaborators. They had already been thinking
and arguing about its meanings and had produced materials on the subject
in various formats. This group included an essayist, a filmmaker, a political
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journalist and a passionate wrestler, namely, the best rudo from the centre of
Veracruz. When I had the first versions of this article, I circulated them to
two of these collaborators and went back to work, taking into account their
criticisms and suggestions.
Although the series of events analyzed in terms of wrestling seem distant
in time, their symbolic status maintains their relevance. The 2000 election
is recognized by all political actors in Mexico as the point of suture of the
democratic transition and political alternation in the country and the state
formation. At a moment (2015) in which most of those very actors have
come to distrust the institutions they themselves had formed, it is important
to recognize that the possible legitimacy of the process does not come from
the institutions, but from practical politics and the popular culture of the
majority.
In wrestling, the fighters behave like Mexican politicians, and vice versa.
Both are followed by multitudes and both are applauded and feared as in-
carnations of power. This affirmation was made evident during the presiden-
tial election of July 20002 and the preceding campaign year. The behaviour
of the public, the design of the image and the strategies of the presidential
candidates were constantly compared to, and interpreted with reference to,
roles in wrestling. In the printed press and in the same way as on the cable
TV channels, political analysts referred to the candidates as rudos and técni-
cos without further elaboration (Fazio, 2000). The analogy does not require
explanation because most people in Mexico are familiar with wrestling terms
and understand the spectacle of the elections in accentuated categories of the
same terms. This article attempts to compare and interpret the roles and sym-
bolic forms assumed by male empowerment in the wrestling spectacles and
in politics. Critically, wrestling makes evident the spectacle of masculinity in
Mexican politics by means of an energetic and magnificent representation. In
this paper I offer a basic description of wrestling with the goal of discussing
and interpreting two political campaigns.

Mirrors and Masks

To observe wrestling critically and compare it with politics presupposes the
use of two visual metaphors which are commonly evoked in Mexico: mirrors
and masks. Both refer to specific ways of looking inscribed in a visual regime
of truth and concealment. The mirror is the object that reflects images, but
the image can be faked or distorted. If it is faked, there exists an organization
of preconceived propositions. A distortion simply reflects the imperfection
which any artifice implies. Wrestling can be seen as a mirror and as a collection
Pankration 131

of images that refract Mexican society. It is a collective creation of the urban

subaltern classes and of the heroes who confront each other every week. The
images of wrestling are imperfect; they are distorted reflections and are ver-
sions of the reality in which the stories of their own creators can be seen. This
evocation of mirrors is a prerequisite for the comparison and interpretation of
wrestling and politics. According to Hernández:
Yes, I repeat, I think the arena really is a reflection of many things that you
cannot find in society, which you cannot find in the reserves of power because
you cannot gain access to them. Because in the arena, yes, this does happen.
It is like the candidates on a visit to some place to proselytize, you touch their
hand, you are close to them, you tell them that you lack this something, it’s
very healthy. But you do this every six years. In the arena, you do it every Sun-
day. Every time you go to the arena you have that intention of getting closer, of
knowing that your hero is the person who is there fighting between good and
evil and that you can touch him, he could greet you or he could give you his
autograph. I mean, wrestling in parallel to the institutions of power. Someone
with power cannot be condemned for stealing or for rape. There is impunity
associated with power. Until he loses that power, okay? Someone who is within
the social classes which obey certain limits, makes a mistake, transgresses the
boundaries of good and evil, and must be condemned. They must be punished.
I think there is a very close relation. The parallel between those people who
have the disguise of ordinary citizens, who can do good with people and at
night disguise themselves as something that might be quite aberrant, I think
that is the function of candidates in an elected office. Perhaps, in a very calcu-
lated way, you have a cape, a mask, a figure which make you look good. But not
because you are. I think you’re there because you managed to fool people, and
I think that’s what wrestling is about. Good people can deceive, the técnicos
can deceive people, overcoming evil, and are labeled as evil and good, but they
are winning, they are making people believe in them. (Interview, Alejandro
Hernández, November 1999)

Wrestling is a spectacle that combines athleticism and theatre within a frame-

work informed by the incarnation of power. Fans of Mexican wrestling use
the word pancracio (from the Greek pankration [ ]) as a synonym
for struggle, and in doing so refer to the classical conception of power that
associates a disciplinary form of bodily potency with the projection of this
power to the rest of society. Pankration refers to a form of the incarnation
of power in which the command of body and mind are parallel achievements
which have socio-political resonance. The power that is gained through disci-
plinary methods—training, exercise and action—is regulated so as to be exer-
cised over other men. This power is also institutionalized in society. Pankra-
tion combines the differences between the political and physical domains. It
is an organized affirmation of male dominance.
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The most distinctive feature of wrestling is the association of the oppo-

nents with opposing moral fields. One opponent is evil and the other is good.
Thus, they receive, respectively, the names of the rudos (brutish, vulgar, wick-
ed, outlaw) and técnicos (trained, skilled, fair, polite). Every fight becomes a
game in which moral confrontation takes place. The characters of the wres-
tlers, the structure of the fights and the separation between good and evil—all
take symbols from theatre, myth, religion and popular legends. The spectacle
is not an athletic contest, but a play in which different types of meanings are
deployed by the wrestlers and appropriated by the audience. The rudos and
the técnicos are not only moral opposites; they also have associated styles of
fighting. As their names suggest, some make use of dirty tricks, while others
are technically skilled. However, there are plenty of exceptions. Some rudos
are true masters of Greco-Roman wrestling, while some técnicos are extremely
limited. A better indicator of the difference is the attitude they project to-
wards the audience. The immorality of the rudos is expressed through malice,
treachery, contempt and abuse, while the técnicos behave in accordance with
the codes of the well-behaved. According to the well-known rudo, Eslabón
Perdido:
I decided to be a rudo because I like the reaction that people have. I feel that of
the two styles out there, the rudo and the técnico, that of the rudo attracts me
more. I feel that being a técnico is to be a little weaker, softer, more submissive.
Do you know what I mean? It is easier to gain the applause of the people by
being a técnico, in my view. What for a técnico may be the applause and admira-
tion of the people is for me shouting, whistling, rudeness. (Interview, Eslabón
Perdido, October 1999)

Good is violently threatened by evil and its victory or defeat is the outcome
of the fight. The audience members are witnesses to a meeting of necessary
opposites and take a position in favour of one or the other. The wrestlers, as
actors, play with the magic of their moral terrain and with the emotions of
the audience, generating catharsis. The search for catharsis is the predominant
purpose in the arena. To achieve this, the wrestlers must be good athletes and
excellent actors. In a series of four or five fights, one or two reach this cathar-
tic phase. The biggest fight will be remembered by the audience throughout
the week, or, in some cases, like an epiphany, for the whole of their lives. The
catharsis purifies the spectators:
I think wrestling has functions in addition to those associated with sport. It
must be a very interesting sport for everyone involved in the ring, to be able
to skip about, jump,and, within quotes, receive hard blows. I think all of this is
sport, but what the representation holds for society is very, very different from
football, baseball; although it is a constant struggle, the teams do not have those
Pankration 133

dimensions. Here, wrestling is taken up as a function, as a spectacle of good

versus evil, where there is something important—there is no revenge, the full
impartation of justice. It is the part where everyone is equal in condition, where
we are all equal. (Interview, Alejandro Hernández, November 1999)

Although people remember who won and who lost, this memory is less im-
portant than the reputations and personalities of the wrestlers. People ap-
proach the wrestlers before the fight to ask for autographs, to get them to
hold their children for a while, to be photographed with them or simply be-
cause they want to be close to an idol. Once the fight begins, people shout all
kinds of things, from sincere encouragement to obscene insults. The audience
jeers, gives instructions and runs during the fight; if the audience does not
participate, the fixture is a failure.
One of the best-known elements in wrestling is the widespread use of
masks. They are not used exclusively in wrestling matches, but are an im-
portant part of Mexican popular culture in general. Their use is a constant
element in rituals and festive ceremonies as well as popular mythology. In
the rural and indigenous areas, masks are regularly included in religious cel-
ebrations, dances and evangelical didactic performances. The old stories and
myths of heroes and bandits include the use of masks as part of their neces-
sary paraphernalia and are also an important source of fascination. The char-
acters best known outside Mexico include Zorro, now a Hollywood icon,
and Subcomandante Insurgente Marcos, spokesman of the Zapatista Army of
National Liberation from 1994 to 2014. Nevertheless, the range and breadth
of local heroes and characters is extremely lavish and vibrant. Some essayists,
such as Criollo (1999: 46), have suggested connections between this practice
and the pre-Columbian cultures that inhabited the territory of what is now
Mexico. Although this suggestion is provocative, he presents only fragmen-
tary evidence of the use of masks and body painting and ignores the dramatic
transformations of colonialism.
The most obvious effect of the use of the mask is to hide the identity of
the person who is wearing it. In a visual culture in which the face has become
the primary means of determining the identity of the person, in which the
face contains essential information about who is who, and in which the face
is the space where phrenology and the significant elements of categorizing a
person are exercised on a daily basis—that’s where the mask has the power
to confuse. Mexican society observes a hierarchy of phenotypes based on the
colonial discourse of caste and in face-to-face encounters establishes an arena
where privilege and prejudice are negotiated. Every time one person meets
another, each mobilizes their reserves of resources to differentiate themselves
and be recognized. For this reason, the power to mask the identity, to conceal
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a person, is a very useful resource. The wrestler’s mask constructs credibility

and loyalty to itself. The masked wrestlers must be faithful to their masks.
Eslabón Perdido defines his relationship with his mask:
…if you decide to be a masked wrestler, the mask is everything. I mean, I
wouldn’t dare to get into a ring without mask. Or rather, I wouldn’t dare to do
many of the things that I do in a ring. In other words, if someone tells me to do
it without the mask, I don’t do it. Besides giving you a bit of security, it is also
like your treasure, your trophy; it is something you are going to defend. At the
moment of losing the mask, many wrestlers have to disappear. There are others
who keep going, but in reality they are few. The majority of wrestlers who lose
the mask pass two, three months and disappear…Because, I feel that to play
Batman a little bit, to play El Santo so that nobody knows your personality, your
identity is nice, it is nice. To be fighting feels really great and you’re hitting him
and then a guy stops and says to you, you’re not going to see, I know you are
such a person. I mean, for nothing, you have no idea who I am, that is. And the
next day you could see him and that person is not aware of who you really are.
You think, ‘And yesterday you were shouting that if you found me in the street
you going to hit me and right now I’m taking to you.’ I mean, that’s wonderful.
Carrying this double personality is great. I feel this is why most people do it. All
of us who are here are a little bit crazy; we like to complicate our lives here in the
fights, no, trying to make sure that the people do not know you. Many people
who know me, who know that I fight, who imagine that I fight the next day, after
watching a fight, they say to me, ‘It’s just that it’s not possible that you are you.
It is not possible that a person who was having coffee with us yesterday or has
daily contact with that person, says that it is not possible that you are the same
person who is in the ring. (Interview, Eslabón Perdido, October 1999)

In the use of the mask, the individual becomes anonymous and is replaced by
a public persona which has a life of its own and can be immortalized and turn
into a legend. The mask is a public face and the wrestlers have to behave in a
coherent way that honours the persona which they have constructed through
the mask. In an ingenious argument, Subcomandante Insurgente Marcos
(1998), a masked hero, demands that politicians and public men be faithful
to the masks that have been constructed for them. He also requests that the
public demand some congruence between the public faces of politicians—
their masks and their actions—because, he argues, one day all the politicians
and officials will be exposed and brought to trial to make them confront how
they have honoured their masks.
In Mexican wrestling there is no more attractive event than the fight with
bets. That is when the mask or the scalp is bet on. Traditionally, the apothe-
osis is máscara vs. cabellera (“mask vs. scalp”); if the mask covers a técnico
and the rudo is uncovered in an attitude of defiance, the winner has the op-
portunity to unmask or shave the opponent’s head. The unmasked wrestler
Pankration 135

has to reveal his identity, while the shaven-headed wrestler has to face public
ridicule. Upon losing his mystique, the unmasked wrestler becomes fragile,
while the one whose head has been shaved is symbolically castrated because
shaving the head is an allegory for scalping.3
In wrestling, the mask has several readings, including its relevance as a
dramatic device in which the entire spectacle is a farce, as a “masquerade”
(Perez Ramirez, 2013: 107–110). Wrestling is an outlandish presentation in
which political culture is (re-)produced critically. Wrestlers do tricks and can
clarify the cultural and political spheres. They have the ability to make evi-
dent and at the same time confuse the relationships between these domains
by means of reflections, analogies and representations. Wrestling masks the
domains of power.

Mexican Ages
Mexican wrestling is a twentieth-century phenomenon. It developed in a
modern, industrialized and urbanized society. During that century, the coun-
try underwent a radical change from rural to urban,4 developing its own sense
of the modern, the urban and the industrial. Mexican wrestling is derived di-
rectly from the catch-as-catch-can style of the United States. At the same time
that they appropriated it, however, the Mexicans transformed the spectacle,
creating their own styles of performance and types of spectators.
It was in the decade of 1940 to 1950 that wrestling achieved its promi-
nent status within popular culture and acquired the definitive characteristics
of its spectacular Mexicanness. It was not just a spectacle, but a powerful
media industry that included comics and movies. Nevertheless, the most en-
during products of wrestling are the idols. Wrestling gave Mexicans the idols
that have defined generations, dominant cult objects and profiles of mascu-
linity. Amongst them, none matches the power and appeal of El Santo, the
silver masked man, a real-life hero of undaunted Mexicanness. El Santo and
his cohort of friends and enemies are the incarnation of subaltern male power
(Monsivais, 1995).
Recently, a group of specialists in Mexican cultural studies has iden-
tified and named, not without irony, the period between 1940 and 1968
as Mexico’s “Golden Age.” The works edited by Joseph, Rubenstein and
Zolov (2001) give a good idea of what previously had been overlooked
as an insufferably gray and dull generational period (Bartra, 1993: 13).
A Golden Age seems ironic and provocative, but it is within it that the crys-
tallization of wrestling as a phenomenon which generates myths is framed.
The great idols and personalities of wrestling come from the Golden Age of
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nationalism and mass mediation. Each Golden Age implies a dark age which
precedes it and another that follows, anchoring thus the nostalgia and se-
lective memory of the gilded past (Williams, 1973: 35–45). I suggest that
the Mexican “crisis,” such as has been delimited, is one of those dark ages,
the other being the immediate post-revolutionary period (1921–1939).
The start of the crisis can be debated as 1968 or even 1982, depending on
generational emphases, while the year 2000 and its presidential election
can be used as boundary markers for its end (given the effective start of the
“transition”). What is important is less its veracity and more its purpose of
being able to imagine and project a past of Golden Ages or periods onto
the future. This is in agreement with an interpretation in English literature
(Williams, 1973).
The 1990s brought major changes to wrestling. The most notable was
the transmission of the fights on TV by a company that was searching for
big audiences (see Levi, 2001). Modeled on the World Wrestling Federation
(WWF) in the United States, the company Asistencia Asesoría y Adminis-
tración (AAA)5 succeeded in reaching viewers who had no experience of the
arena or interest in the fights. Wrestling became more popular than ever be-
fore by combining the crowd attending the arena with television viewers. It
also introduced financial problems for local arenas and the wrestlers who did
not appear on television, who were partially abandoned in favour of the TV
idols. The AAA produced a new kind of spectator by dividing the audience
into the “classical” and “new” fields. This certainly invigorated the spectacle
by attracting the attention of larger, more heterogeneous groups of potential
audiences. Different types of fans still do not agree on the merits and costs
that this brought to the spectacle.
On the one hand, the hardcore group of older fans argues that attending
the arena is the essential form of appreciation and enjoyment, while demand-
ing classic fighting styles “close to the mat.” On the other hand, new fans
focus on and follow the emergence of idols through television broadcasts.
The combined result is a more enthusiastic discussion and a renewed interest
in the spectacle, which has become very well known thanks to photographers,
essayists and video-makers. The fascination with the spectacle shifted from
the more dedicated audience to a larger one which sought the symbols and
meanings of an authentic Mexicanness, as well as to participate in a vibrantly
encrypted political culture. In the words of Ruben Cruz:
…I became interested in the topic of wrestling, above all, because I feel that it is
a very, very typical phenomenon and that the thing is quite a carnival of colour,
of joy, where situations arise that, somehow, by giving them a quick look, they
spread to you, no? Well, I think I’m part of this contagion which happens when
Pankration 137

we seek our roots, but don’t not seek our roots as we usually do by going to the
point of the indigenous. No, to closer questions, I believe that in the end, yes,
we are the product of the mixing of various cultures, but that there are important
issues that I believe were lagging behind, which is our more recent history. There
is a space that exists and in the end it is to search for this more recent history.
(Interview, Ruben Cruz, October 1999)

This encounter of wrestling with larger audiences occurred in a generation

which went through the contrasting processes of “the gentrification of the
proletariat and the proletarianization of the bourgeoisie” (Bartra, 2010: 25).
In fact, there could be no definition more cruel and accurate of a dark age!
In his analysis of wrestling, Levi (2001: 345–7) discovers that this gen-
erational search for and appropriation of popular-urban symbolism is a “neo
pop” discovery of a (new and authentic) Mexican sensibility. Levi (1999)
also notes a great ambiguity with respect to the rudos and técnicos during the
1990s. Although the basic characterization of good and evil remains con-
stant, the fans have changed; the rudos and the técnicos have similar groups of
fans, and each category wins as many fights as the other. This change reflects
an inherent ambiguity in the spectacle, but I will argue that this also reflects
several basic changes in Mexican society affected by the crisis and the neolib-
eral transformations.

Narratives
Paying attention to these generational changes, it can be seen that wrestling
has more than one narrative. I have found three narratives, and I have named
them narratives of domination, subversion and fatalism. I reconstruct these
narratives from conversations with different fans who critically accept the
changes as part of the spectacle. South American friends whose youth cor-
responded with the above-mentioned Mexican “Golden Age” took me to
the Xalapa Arena for the first time in 1980. Many of their contemporaries
retired before dying from the arenas, being critical of the stagnation which
wrestling had undergone during the 1970s and 1980s, while they were of-
fended by the ridiculous and shoddy effects introduced by television during
the 1990s. The younger ones with knowledge of the arena knowingly adopt
a more moderate position by sharing a certain nostalgia for the “old days”
while remaining open to innovations. To some extent, although not strictly,
the narratives correspond to different generations. This does not imply that
the same person cannot use different narratives to appreciate different fights,
while every struggle can be interpreted with more than one narrative. In a
sense, the narratives are different genres available to spectators. Although all
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are dramatic, there exists a choice of variations which encompass epic, tragic
and romantic versions (Scott, 2004).
The narrative of domination identifies the técnico as the heroic representa-
tive of society and the State, as the embodiment of Mexican values. The técni-
co is a mortal who combats all kinds of beasts and monsters to restore peace.
Relying on his technique and dedication, the técnico can overcome any excess
of cruelty. Wrestlers of this type are Blue Demon, El Santo6 and Huracán
Ramírez. Nationalist and patriarchal, they restore the order of things hand to
hand, inch by inch over the canvas. This narrative and the type of the técnico
have clear temporal and generational references. They are associated with the
crystallization of wrestling as a generator of myths and the corporate “Pri-is-
ta” state of the generation that stretches from 1940 to 1968, but it remains a
valid model for nostalgia (see Demon, 1999). These técnicos, descendants of a
social dynamic that feeds the authoritarian State party (PRI)7 political system,
represent the State; every time they appear, justice is imparted.
Consequently, these técnicos must confront the corrupt and degenerate
rudos, representing strange forces such as primitivism, foreign influences,
homosexuality and low moral character. Against the harshness of some bar-
barians, the attacks of the Chicanos, gringos and other foreigners, and the
sexual energy of the “exotics,” these técnicos respond with modern forms of
bodily discipline, the strength of the Mexicanness and patriarchal roles. These
wrestlers, who behave well with both grandmothers and children, model the
impossible ideal of political and cultural citizenship because they act as hon-
est and modern politicians. This narrative combines elements of dominant
masculinities belonging to the public and domestic spaces. On one hand, the
técnicos are supposed to be good children and parents, while on the other,
they act as ideal politicians. Few rudos have a chance against these incarna-
tions of the hetero-patriarchal law (Wittig, 2006: 45–57).
In the subversive narrative, the técnico fights from a position of disadvan-
tage and defeats the evil rudo. The técnico opposes his skills not only to the
rudo, but also, at the same time, to the referee (usually a retired rudo) who
takes the part of the rudo. Here the técnico represents the calm, docile citizen
who suffers abuse in daily life, but takes a stand against injustice. The técnico
must right the wrong, unequal and unfair state of affairs at a time when the
dream of another life, where things are done properly, makes it possible to
do justice.
This narrative of “do the right thing” is subversive because the Mexican
State—the main point of reference of this chapter—is profoundly unjust, un-
equal and unfair, and always against the weak and humble. This narrative,
in which an ordinary person can become a hero and put things in order, is
Pankration 139

perceived as a remote desire that appears in wrestling. The referee and the
rudo act as villains in an organized structure comparable to any zone of the
Mexican State after 1968. The rudo and the referee are constantly insulted
by the audience, focusing on the personal characteristics of the first and on
corruption in the case of the second. In this narrative it is possible to reverse
the order of things towards a just reality based on merit.
Whenever a técnico wins, there is hope for life. Ordinary people can win;
wrestling offers symbolic-structural conditions to make it possible to put on a
fight in which they can achieve victory. In contrast, the rudo acts with impu-
nity, using prohibited holds and weapons. He can do so because authority is
on his side and, indeed, he can become a referee upon retirement. The rudo
is a ruffian who represents all the evils of society, and uses outlawed resources
so as to torture the técnico. In every fight, the rudo has a better chance of
damaging his opponent. The rudo serves an educational role by making it
evident how difficult and unhealthy it is to challenge organized power. The
rudos are immune to formal justice. To have hope and for good to exist, it
is necessary that evil manifests itself, and for the rudo to act that role. Life is
full of insufferable obstacles, but the técnico incarnates the divine power of
restoring hope, which can be found only by transcending everyday life. This
narrative gives an account of the revisionism that dominated Mexican society
and its historiography between 1968 and 1994 (Joseph and Nugent, 1994).
In the narrative of fatalism, the técnico comes to the ring covered by the
cloak of the good. It doesn’t matter whether he really is. He deceives people
by using the symbols and assuming the attitude of a good man. He is dis-
guised as good and, thus, deceives people, increasing his prestige, fame and
the cult of his personality. The técnico is a public figure like the politicians
who cheat by using masks. The técnico takes the aspirations of the people and
abandons them, snatching away all those hopes and using them for his own
worship and enthronement. In contrast, the rudo can do nothing other than
survive. He must be bad, betray and be hated, and cannot do otherwise. He
is doomed, and every thing he does will be perceived as wrong. If the técnico
makes a forbidden move, the audience covers it, but not if it is a rudo who
does it instead. The rudo represents all those wretches who have been con-
demned to a sordid life and moral opprobrium. The rudo represents the petty
thief and unrepentant swindler to the point of assuming evil as his nature. He
represents no another source of power than that of clumsy crime. Unlike the
técnico, the rudo has no choice; he merely fulfils the drama of his life.
This narrative of fatalism points to the masking of public figures and the
criminalization of the impoverished masses of young men. It makes a political
insinuation in its desire to discover the lies in politics and draws attention to
140 RICARDO MACIP

the criminal lifestyles, always increasing, of the street children, of the male
prostitutes, of the thieves and the vagabonds. Behind the mask there could
well be a real criminal—a criminal who wants to commit crimes—while the
violent little thug may be a victim. This reversal of values over an already dis-
torted image has important implications. It is a protest against cynicism and
mystification: the técnico is applauded because he is powerful and the rudo is
blamed for being a nobody.
This final narrative is a generational reading made by people who lived
their youth in the cultural context of the “crisis” and that elaborates on their
disenchantment, cynicism and despair, both in wrestling and in Mexican so-
ciety. Fatalism is based on the common experience of the neoliberal transfor-
mations, and is part of a broader justification for breaking the rules, which is
also explicit in the glorification of the drug dealers, evident in popular mu-
sic (Valenzuela, 2002). Fatalism is, in effect, a shabby individualism that has
meant the abandonment of collective alternatives.

The Campaigns and Their Characters

Now we are going to examine two political campaigns, one for the nomi-
nation of the candidate of the then-State party, and one for the presidential
election. Although four pre-candidates8 were involved in the PRI primary
election, within a few weeks it became clear that the competition had reduced
itself to Roberto Madrazo and Francisco Labastida. Once Labastida was elect-
ed as the candidate of the PRI, he faced the national election and, with it, the
challenge of Vicente Fox of the conservative PAN (National Action Party).9
Under current conditions of competition, politics has moved towards the
spectacle (Fazio, 2000). I maintain that the political spectacle used the lan-
guage of wrestling to establish recognizable ties between the leaders and large
audiences (Debord, 1995). I also maintain that politicians and voters share a
political culture in which the language of wrestling has contributed to the way
politics is understood and practiced. According to Criollo,
The wrestlers are covered, they are people who we do not know. We know what
they do in a ring, and outside of it they are anonymous, unknown beings. El
Santo said his real unknown was the normal human being. Because with the mask
he was a celebrity, he was received, he was loved, he was idolized. But once he
took off the mask he was nobody. So the real unknown was the human being,
his face. With politics, it is the same, that whole structure of an image which is
prepared around a politician suddenly has nothing to do with what they really
are and sometimes one finds out only when they are already in some position…
So, for example, the issue of corruption has to do with this and somehow it is
also represented with treason, with the lack of loyalty, the betrayal of the people.
Pankration 141

When a técnico wrestler, for example, gets into the ring, the people applaud him,
it is the people who are with him, the people who support him as they would a
politician. Because it is assumed that the politicians are there for us to command,
not for them to command us. The leaders are the people we command, not the
people who command us. However, it is understood differently and applied dif-
ferently. So, this whole series of things, of course, is fully implied in the spectacle
of wrestling. (Interview, Raul Criollo, October 1999)

Wrestling offers an important frame of reference for communication between

political leaders and potential political clients. It maintains the responsibility
of giving form to the relationship between morality and politics.

Preliminary Encounter: Madrazo Versus Labastida

In an unprecedented move, the PRI, which had ruled Mexico for most of
the twentieth century, was forced to conduct primary elections to choose
its presidential candidate for the election in the year 2000. The usual way
of choosing a candidate was by the President naming his successor after
mysterious and hidden negotiations. As a party which had its origins in
armed revolution, the PRI rarely felt the need to make public its mech-
anisms of realpolitik. However, changes in Mexican society10 forced the
party to pretend that it cared about its public image and, thus, it staged a
primary election.
Breaking partially with the tradition of the tapado,11 the party nominated
four candidates for primary elections open to party activists and supporters.
Shortly after the four candidates announced their participation, as we have al-
ready noted, the race was reduced to two: Labastida and Madrazo. Although
there were doubts about how real the process was, and although the candi-
dates had been called “the four pretenders,” they were also able to capture
the attention of the public and market themselves as the centre of political
discussions. Supported by very expensive campaigns, complete with teams of
publicists, consultants and spin doctors, candidates were able to persuade the
public that it was worth following the competition. Although scepticism and
cynicism prevailed among non-PRI militants, there were ruptures and the
mobilization of all kinds of resources within the party. During the campaign,
and for another project, I repeatedly interviewed a mayor in a rural munici-
pality (supposedly the party’s base) and was able to verify clearly that, within
the party, the competition was being experienced as something real. Not only
were there different factions fighting for votes, but there was a lot of pres-
sure from different levels of government to appropriate public resources in
favour of Labastida and against the challenge of Madrazo. In the media, the
142 RICARDO MACIP

campaign also reached a level of prominence to the extent that competition

appeared to be real.
As background, due to the internal reforms implemented by the PRI in
1996,12 Zedillo could not choose a candidate who shared his views, having
instead to find a politician who could link his technocratic clique to the party
base. The person chosen was Labastida, a public servant with, by then, 36
years of service with the experience of having been governor of the state of
Sinaloa, a minister in three secretariats of State, and Mexican ambassador
to Portugal. Once Labastida was identified with the president, an image of
technocratic ability was created around his person. He was presented as the
candidate of certainty, he who knew how to do things in government. The
promotion of his technocratic image was complemented by the idea of social
commitment. Labastida was presented as a technically well-trained man who
had undertaken postgraduate studies abroad (a superior value in technocratic
circles), who had work experience and who was a responsible man. In short,
Labastida was the candidate of the status quo.
Although none of the four candidates represented the vision of the tech-
nocratic “hardcore” that Zedillo13 and his group had defended for 18 years,14
Labastida was the closest connection between these technocrats and politi-
cians of the PRI. This association, coupled with the quantity of government
resources that were used in his campaign, made Labastida a graceless tapado.
His being marked with that nickname was the reason for recriminations by his
opponents in both elections.
The primary campaign proved to be an important event because of the
attention which it produced, the quantity of resources mobilized and the
legitimacy it gave the PRI. Taking the primaries as a sign of political change
and renewal, the PRI claimed to be at the beginning of a new era. There
were three constants in Labastida’s campaigns: the mystique which magnified
him for being the favourite of the president, the promotion of the image of
a “saber cómo”15 (a técnico and technocrat [see Levi, 1999: 181]) and a low
profile when interacting with voters and the press.
Labastida faced the challenge of Madrazo. Madrazo positioned himself
early as a contender who defied party traditions. He pointed out Labastida’s
status as a (des)tapado16 and attacked him as an aberrant and undemocratic
anachronism. Madrazo was not moderate in his campaign, and chose a vulgar
tone that soon attracted attention to the point of making the other two con-
tenders irrelevant. Using his surname (Madrazo)—which colloquially means
“hard blow”—as the basis of his message, he called on the people to make
a hard blow against the process of direct designation used by the president.
Madrazo and his team of publicists designed a campaign of shouting.
Pankration 143

Even Madrazo’s testicles—or his “eggs” (huevos), as the testicles are vul-
garly known in Spanish—became a campaign issue and the cornerstone of his
policy and messages. In repeated party political broadcasts, he spoke of how
he had the eggs to reduce levels of insecurity in the country and to tackle
national problems. Huevos (eggs) and madrazos (hard blows) can only be
partially understood as the rude equivalent of manly courage. These party
political broadcasts pointed to the real value of having huevos so as to be a
man who can be trusted. By emphasizing the quality of his huevos, Madrazo
implied that Labastida had less, that Madrazo was the candidate of the hue-
vos and that recovering testosterone was a national affair given the castrated
character of technocrats.
Madrazo positioned himself not only as the opponent of Labastida, but
also in opposition to the president and his clique of technocrats. He rarely
spoke of his education, and mocked the attitudes of those who knew only the
country from a web page or a chalkboard. The technocratic class appeared
emasculated and separated from the common man, while Madrazo sought
the vote of the disenchanted working man who had been abandoned by both
the government and the party. He proposed to renew the party with a na-
tional dose of huevos in which his own pair would be the first among other
men with huevos. This campaign produced reactions both of aversion and, in
the same way, support. Certainly, he reached an audience annoyed with the
technocratic mandate of the country and its associated mass impoverishment
in favour of macroeconomic health. He mobilized the sectors of the PRI and
of society most affected by the technocratic nature of decision-making.
There were other elements of Madrazo’s past which explained that coarse-
ness and disdain for any pretense of refinement. It had been documented re-
liably in he media and the electoral tribunal that Madrazo had spent a large
amount of illicit money during his previous election for governor of the state
of Tabasco (Serna, 2006). In the face of the evidence, he refused to negotiate
with electoral authorities, opposition parties and the Secretary of the Interior
to review his fraudulent election. His reaction was to seize power by means of
violent demonstrations and physical attacks on supporters of his opponents.
There was no doubt about the impulsiveness of his huevos.
The primary campaign was characterized by the harassment of Labastida
by Madrazo in broadcasts on radio and television, statements in the press
and televised debates. Although Labastida answered all recriminations, he was
careful to avoid the Madrazo’s vulgarity of tone. The confrontations followed
a pattern comparable with a wrestling bout where each contestant knows his
place. Madrazo was behaving like a rudo dedicated to excesses and fouls. He
was shameless because he never rejected the accusations about his campaign
144 RICARDO MACIP

for governor, cynical to the extreme and dismissive about the bad taste in his
slogans; he was a very rough rudo.17 In contrast, Labastida was faithful to his
low-profile script and benefited from the government side of his party. He
was associated with the government and played with illegal forms of support
while pretending to play legally, just like a técnico.
One election day, Labastida won overwhelmingly, leaving Madrazo with
the regional districts, something which confirmed him as a southern despot
and bully. Although Madrazo had been able to set the terms of exchange and
mark the rhythms of the campaign, Labastida was identified as “the good
man.” The PRI behaved in a disciplined way, following the instructions of
the party (which came from all the offices of the federal government and
most state governments), and especially at Labastida’s side against the abuse
of Madrazo. More importantly, the original procedure transformed Labastida
from a laconic, solitary, mediocre politician into the “chosen one.” Labastida
had neither a clique nor a vision for governing the country before the internal
election, but the confrontation with Madrazo turned him into a técnico. The
primaries vested Labastida with legitimacy (of supposedly 10 million votes)
and the identity of a técnico, which he maintained throughout the presidential
campaign. Labastida came as a tapado and disguised himself as the hero of a
political system: a “new PRI” was born overnight.

Máscara Versus Cabellera: Fox Versus Labastida

Labastida remained in the position of a técnico, but could not achieve victo-
ry and popular support when he faced another challenger. After November
1999, when Labastida became the PRI nominee for election, he was in first
place in the polls, over any of the candidates18 of the opposition, who were
campaigning while he fought against Madrazo. The principal opponent he
would confront, then, was a political entrepreneur of the ultramontane PAN:
the rancher named Vicente Fox.
Fox presented himself as possessing a wide body of assets which placed
him as a more imaginative rudo than Madrazo. His background included
being born in the Bajio, a geographical area of political conservatism and
anti-centralism, and the alleged birthplace of the dominant myths of Mexican
folklore. Fox spoke in the vernacular of his region and claimed the Cristero
heritage19 for his own fight, using its cry from the start of his campaign: “If
I advance, follow me. If I stop, push me. If I turn around, kill me” (Venegas,
2000). Within the limits of this Cristero identity, Fox was not only fighting
Labastida, but against the 71-year rule of the PRI and its alleged misfortunes.
Pankration 145

Fox presented himself as a leader who needed popular support to over-

throw a regime of corruption and abuse. He added Guadalupanismo to his
repertoire by using a banner of the Virgin of Guadalupe, evoking a regional
memory of revolt against misrule.20 When talking about the PRI and gov-
ernment officials, he referred to them as reptiles and insects, using regional
names (for instance, his infamous tepocatas) that were not fully understood in
other parts of the country. With the use of vernacular forms, he constructed
an image of authenticity: he was truthful and reliable, just what you would
expect from a partner. His way of dressing was full of symbols of dominant
masculinity and genuine rusticity. The most distinctive features were his cow-
boy boots and a belt buckle that spelled his name in capital letters: FOX.
According to essayist María Teresa Priego (1999), the image is that of an
entomologist who crushes evil insects, amphibians, reptiles and worms under
his big boots. Courageous when facing his enemies, this tall man impresses
with his great physical size (1.92 meters) and the size of his machismo. With
his big boots he could cross the swamp of politics, crushing the enemies
of the people underfoot, but when it came to the Virgin and the Catholic
Church, he would be a docile and respectful man. When she compares the
fixation of Fox with his boots and Madrazo’s comments about his supposedly
great testicles, the same essayist regrets the preponderance of the logic of the
urinal in the election reduced to the dilemma of “too big or not too big.”21
If this large buckle and his big boots were not sufficient signs of the
personality of the macho, Fox went further and removed any doubt. When
he had to sharpen his comments and attacks on Labastida, he pleased his au-
dience by calling him la Vestida (cross-dresser), mariquita (fairy), chaparro
(bugger) and mandilón (hen-pecked). Fox left no room for confusion. Not
only did he see himself as a macho, he really was one and acted the role of a
homophobic and misogynistic man naturally. Labastida is of average height
in Mexico for an “urban middle class” man of his generation. He went to
the market with his wife and made it public that he discussed his decisions
with her (a well-known and respected university researcher). Every aspect
was a motive for disparaging remarks by Fox, who added to the suspicion
of Labastida’s affectation. Queer organizations demanded that Fox apolo-
gize for using homophobic slurs, but he ignored them. Fox’s stance on the
rights of women and sexual minorities were well known and was supported
by his party institutionally. He had called homosexuals and lesbians degen-
erates and opposed any discussion of reforming the primitive State policy on
reproductive health, abortion and sexuality. In a country with serious gender
inequalities and the need for urgent discussions on the matter, the views of
146 RICARDO MACIP

Fox echoed strongly (see Lamas, 2000). The gesture that Fox achieved was to
assert his positions clearly and unequivocally: “What you see is what you get.”
Of course, Fox was more than the patriarch of a ranchera comedy. He
had been, until then, a top executive with Coca-Cola in Latin America, a
successful businessman, a representative of the lower house of the legisla-
ture and governor of Guanajuato and the father of four foster children. He
was no clown, but his comments on Labastida had the effect of presenting
him as a rudo rancher, who spoke tough, or “al chile,”22 because he had
not learned how to lie or behave himself in front of exotic or extravagant
men. What appears to be the case is that the insults were carefully chosen to
introduce doubts about Labastida. Both teams of advisers leaked rumours
about the masculinity of the candidates. While Fox and his team made insinu-
ations about the bisexuality of Labastida, Labastida’s team responded without
success and perhaps counterproductively with an alleged history of Fox as a
wife-beater.
During the presidential campaign, Labastida maintained his low-profile
strategy, confident that he had the majority of the votes secured. In part,
his strategy was a result of the inability of the PRI to successfully confront
the crossroads presented to it. The final 20 years of the twentieth century
were devoted to a major shift in the economy from a project of developing
the internal market by way of substitution of industrial imports to a model
based on exports and the free market (Otero, 1996: 6–7). This change in the
direction of development has, ever since, produced a marked concentration of
wealth and opportunities in a severely unequal society. Given its connection
with industrial import substitution, the ideological doctrine of PRI, which
was known as “revolutionary nationalism” or “stabilizing development,” was
no longer appropriate. The changes, which demanded a refreshing of the
ideological platform of the party, had as patches the oxymoron of “social
liberalism” coined by President Salinas and the label “globalifilia” on the part
of Zedillo, which thus tried to avoid the contradiction between populist ide-
ology and the neoliberal direction23 of the political economy.
This contradiction between the technocrats and popular politics was ev-
ident in one of Labastida’s proposals. He promised that, if he were elected,
primary schools throughout the country would be equipped with computers
and that all children would learn English. An avalanche of jokes and parodies
ridiculing this soon came. He was presented as a successful technocrat who
knew the country only through a computer screen and who preferred to
speak English. He distanced himself from the people and erased any chance of
appealing to the “common man.” Meanwhile, Fox carefully worked each seg-
ment of the voter spectrum step by step with tailored proposals that frequently
Pankration 147

contradicted those made the previous day to a different audience. Among

them, those which concerned the relationship between his government and
the Catholic Church and the secular State are representative. To the Catholic
youth organizations, he offered the support of religious values in public life
and called the lay State ridiculous. A few days later, looking at the left-wing
voter, he declared that there would be no change in the relation between the
State and the churches. In a third movement, he offered the Catholic Church
a series of guarantees that would strengthen its position against the liberal
tradition of secularism.
The curves of the vote-intention in the polls showed a decline in the
popularity of Labastida, while that of Fox increased. Labastida and his team
were confident that they had sufficient advantage, but towards the end of
the campaign, they changed their strategy. During the final two months, La-
bastida made haste and entered into alliances with those sectors of his party
which he had overlooked at the beginning of the campaign. This included
the hard-line cohorts of “Jurassic Park,”24 with reputations for fraud and
corruption, and the voters of the corporate sectors which had supported
Madrazo in the primaries. Among them were thieves and murderers with
proceedings for alleged crimes pending in Mexico and the United States.
Labastida had to confront the rudos, but by going into partnership with
them he found that there was a clash with the técnico image. This revealed
the farce of the “new PRI.”
In this challenge, Fox remained a rudo throughout the campaign, and as
a rudo he remained faithful to his face. He presented himself successfully, as if
he did not have another face than that known by people (Gómez, 2000: 27).
Although he contradicted himself in his proposals, this was less important
than the strict consistency in his way of talking and dressing, and in his defi-
ant attitude. In contrast, Labastida was constantly destabilized by his identity
changes, ranging from a false technocrat to a despicable politician—even a
cowardly Priista. He seemed to lack a strong identity, for he used many masks
that Fox was able to remove one by one.

Fox Populi, Fox Dei

It has not been my intention to analyze voting changes from one candidate
to another, but to suggest how the choices and options can be interpreted
within Mexican political culture. The epilogue to the campaign is that after
winning the election, Fox became a “clumsy” técnico who constantly tried
to save the country without the need for swearing. There was a consensus
among political commentators that the real winner of the election was the
148 RICARDO MACIP

Mexican voter, who had been able to make realrealize the long-anticipated
“transition” to democracy.
Although as contagious “as scabies,” this statement must be considered
carefully. It is true that at the beginning of the campaign, the PRI seemed in-
vincible, even over the efforts of independent Mexican parties, citizen groups
and institutions to establish conditions for fair and adequate choice. It is also
true that the choice of a party and an opposition candidate for the presidential
office was an “epochal” achievement in terms of those who study Mexican
eras and epochs. Any democratic person would celebrate the defeat of a po-
litical system based on the dictatorship of a State party. However, the celebra-
tion was brief and confined to the overthrow of the colossal political-electoral
apparatus that was the PRI. Fox’s victory, undoubtedly, was a historic and
symbolic event in Mexico, but his administration has also meant the contin-
uation and intensification of neoliberal policies in open collusion with the
technocratic and right-wing elite of the PRI.
Wrestling is a popular narrative of the urban subaltern classes on pow-
er. By appropriating the classical notion of pankration, Mexican wrestlers
and fans created a representation of the ways in which power is embodied
and projected. Wrestling is their cultural code regarding how to live and
represent power in Mexico. It is the master principle in the arenas of pol-
itics and political representation. In wrestling we have powerful and char-
ismatic men who strive to use and abuse power and who, in the process,
incorporate the objectives of groups and networks of people, making in-
telligible the interaction of individuals and society. Every day, domination
and subjection are produced and reproduced in the State; the State is an
ideological project of accepted domination (Abrams, 1988). This project
requires instances of mediation to carry out negotiations; the struggle and
the choices are between those instances. If they are connected in a hierar-
chy in which wrestling refracts and hides politics, this is because each one
manifests different consequences: wrestling involves a festive escape from
the severity of everyday life, while politics negotiates and solidifies the pro-
cess of class domination.
Theoretically, there is no hidden structure in politics. The State cannot
divide itself between masked practice and a deep structure of uncovered in-
terests. The State is in the mask (Abrams, 1988). In this case study, the patri-
archal system in Mexico is arranged around principles revealed and hidden in
the performance of wrestling. The asymmetry between rulers and ruled, and
leaders and led, is affirmed in the arena. The importance of masking is critical
in Mexican politics because it holds one of its basic principles: the moral am-
bivalence of power. In the words of Criollo:
Pankration 149

I think that things which have to do with masked culture in Mexico perhaps go
a little bit hand in glove with disguise and with the fear of upholding values.
And I refer essentially to this: that the people, for fear of oppression, which is
where the mythology of Zorro comes from too, masked themselves so it would
not be known who it was who attacked the rich, stole, tried to bring the just
causes together and, therefore, had to be masked. Similarly with the criminals.
That’s the great ambiguity; the criminals masked themselves so as to commit
crimes, in the same way as the heroes masked themselves to avoid being recog-
nized as ordinary citizens. So, so as to be both good and bad, it is necessary to
go through the culture of the mask. It is like an unavoidable customs house in
the case of the typical heroism or the most terrible felony. (Interview with Raul
Criollo, June 2001)

The narratives I identified were observed in different ways in the election.

The narrative of the domination of the Golden Age is over. In contrast, the
narratives of subversion and fatalism can still be found in the elections. From
the subversive perspective, Fox can metamorphose into a common man
struggling against the political system of corruption, abuse and betrayal while
trying to fix things. At the same time, the narrative of fatalism gives suffi-
cient elements to explain dissatisfaction with the false técnico—both corrupt
and shabby—and enough space to redeem the rudo. Labastida appeared as
a técnico with limited skills and Fox behaves like a rudo with resonant skills,
who unmasks his contender and can honour his challenge. Both narratives
are present. In any case, Fox was elected by popular vote: Fox populi, Fox dei.
I want to conclude by signaling that although both narratives permit an
understanding of the spectacle of the elections, daily life in Mexico seems
marked by a movement toward fatalism. Rather than an accident, this is a
consequence of the increasing accumulation and concentration of wealth and
the consequent general impoverishment of the wage earners (Bolvitnik and
Hernandez, 1999), who have to cross borders between countries and spheres
of legitimation (Binford, 1999). In the narrative of fatalism, of accepted dom-
ination and subjection, a space to condone criminal practices has emerged.
More and more people praise, identify with and emulate characters and life-
styles which twist or break the rules, which tread on whoever it is necessary
to tread on, with the consequence that the difference between the legal and
the illegal becomes blurred. Fatalism involves a narrative of the victory of
a declassed person that depends on taking positions of power by whatever
means necessary. In the Mexican postcolony, anyone can take power—not a
class, but any classless or renegade alliance serving the dominant classes. It is
like that because this class alliance is unable to move the historic block itself.
To do this requires wrestlers to be incarnations of the divine will, something
which becomes distorted in popular culture and twisted in politics.
150 RICARDO MACIP

Notes
1. “Pancracio: Fantasy and Power in Mexican Wrestling/Pancracio: Fantasía y poder
en la lucha libre mexicana” (1999) and “La lucha se hace/The Struggle is Made”
(2002), both directed by Deanna Davis in collaboration with the Colectivo 20 de
Octubre.
2. In that year a seismic symbolic change in Mexico would happen because the party of
the State would be defeated in peaceful elections and by a considerable margin (Kle-
sner and Lawson, 2001).
3. Cabellera does not mean “hair,” but “scalp,” and connotes the military practices of
the Apache wars in the inner provinces of northern Mexico. On the symbolic link
between scalping and neutering, see Alonso (1995).
4. During the twentieth century, the country inverted the rural-urban ratio from 72–
28% to 25–75% (Warman, 2001: 9).
5. A company founded to make the wrestling matches and television broadcasts coin-
cide.
6. Both El Santo and Blue Demon began their careers as rudos but yielded to popular
pressure by becoming técnicos.
7. Institutional Revolutionary Party. The PRI is the product of the triumphant faction
of the Mexican Revolution and ruled from 1929 until 2000.
8. In alphabetical order: Manuel Bartlett Díaz, Francisco Labastida Ochoa, Roberto
Madrazo Pintado and Humberto Roque Villanueva.
9. An opposition party with, by then, 63 years of militancy, composed of a blend of
“Catholic action” bases in the regions of the Bajío, the north and west of the country,
and a new and aggressive leadership of entrepreneurs with national aspirations from
the mid-eighties of the twentieth century. For a long time, it seemed restricted to a
regional presence, but Fox’s campaign demonstrated the degree to which the PAN
had achieved a capacity to operate at a national level.
10. The demands and the action organized by a Mexican political transformation has
been a constant since the end of the Cristero War and continued for intermittent
periods in the twentieth century. But it is from 1968 that they are generalized and
have become more intense. The challenges of 1988 and 1994 stand out before
2000.
11. Literally, el tapado refers to the designated successor to the incumbent president. This
practice of Mexican presidentialismo under the government of the PRI took its name
from the cultural complex of the cockfight, when the cockfighters of one party (green
or red are the colours which must be submitted) match up a known champion against
a rooster tapado (covered) in its cage with a blanket. El tapado conveys an image of
hidden and mysterious power. Like a cockfighter, the president and leader of the PRI
confronts the voters with a secret weapon.
12. At the 17th Assembly, the delegates of the PRI forced the adoption of a statute that
required candidates to win the presidential office by popular vote, rather than by sim-
ple designation.
13. Zedillo himself was not a politician, but rather a technocrat who had never been
elected to any office before the presidency. He had a long career in public service and
became a “rescue” candidate after the assassination of PRI candidate L. D. Colosio in
1994 when no other technocrat was eligible due to legal restrictions.
Pankration 151

14. The six-year administrations of De la Madrid, Salinas and Zedillo, known for their
commitment to a new economic model through the adoption of neoliberal structural
reforms.
15. Literally, “know how to.”
16. Literally, “un(covered).”
17. In October 2007, Madrazo gave an international exhibition of his genius and figure by
cheating in the Berlin Marathon, covering kilometer 20 to 35 by car so as to win first
place in his category. Disqualified from the contest by the electronic controls and by the
judges, he did, however, manage to affirm that his roughness went “to the marrow.”
18. A third contender was Cuauhtémoc Cárdenas of the left-wing nationalist PRD (Party
of the Democratic Revolution). Fox eclipsed Cárdenas in his role as challenger to the
political system.
19. The Cristeros were the Catholic guerrillas who fought against the Jacobin measures
taken by the revolutionary Jefe Máximo and founder of PRI, Plutarco Elías Calles in
the late 1920s.
20. By using the banner, Fox was signaling a specific historical memory which placed him
as an equivalent of Father Hidalgo, and created links to every form of popular protest,
rebellion and revolution which used the images of the Virgin, many of them, in fact,
from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The use of religious symbols in Mexico
is, in itself, a challenge to the liberal governments in power since the 1860s. The
country has a profound political culture of Jacobin anti-clericalism and the rejection
of any religious values whatsoever in public affairs. Fox rebelled constantly against this
legacy. On the drama of Hidalgo, see Turner (1974).
21. A play of words on the famous phrase of Shakespeare in Hamlet, Prince of Denmark:
“To be or not to be” reduced to seeing who holds the phallic symbols (as big or big-
ger) with greater certainty.
22. That is, direct, honest, truthful in the face of the phallus of power; something that the
dominated are unable to do in public situations.
23. Social liberalism is the alternative name and interpretation which Salinas provided
with reference to his political and economic platform. Unlike neo-liberalism, social
liberalism supposedly incorporated the popular-revolutionary nineteenth-century
amendments to liberalism. Zedillo, in turn, divided the world into two blocks: those
who enthusiastically united in the globalization process (globalphiles) and those who
opposed it (globalphobes). Such a division was announced without shame at the
World Forum in Davos, Switzerland in 2000.
24. Thus were dubbed the “dinosaurs” that made up the old guard of the party
organization.

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vi CONTENTS

III. Aesthetic Imaginaries and Representations

The Aesthetics of Informality, Self-Management, Popular Culture,
and Urban Imaginaries in Mexico City 107
NURIA CARTON DE GRAMMONT
Pankration: The Spectacle of Masculinity in Mexican Political Culture 127
RICARDO MACIP

IV. Identitarian Activisms and Revendications

Popular Culture and Urban Indigenous Youth 157
ELIZABETH FAST
Concientización, Praxis and the Radical Habitus: Youth and the
Re/Formation of Popular Contestations on the U.S.–Mexico Border 181
LEAH S. STAUBER

V. Cross-Border Economic Practices

Being in the Interstices and Existing in the Margins:
Agency and State in the Triple Frontier 209
BRÍGIDA RENOLDI
Between Savings and Celebratory Expenses: Popular Economy among
Mexican Seasonal Farm Workers in Canada 235
JORGE PANTALEÓN
Contributors 255
Contents

Prologue vii
MARÍA ANA PORTAL
The Popular Revisited through a Polyphonic Overview: An Introduction 1
EDUARDO GONZÁLEZ CASTILLO, JORGE PANTALEÓN
AND N URIA C ARTON DE G RAMMONT

I. On the Study of Popular Practices and Cultures

Post-popular Cultures in Post-populist Times: The Return of
Pop Culture in Latin American Social Sciences 13
PABLO ALABARCES
The Popular in Parenthesis: State Interpellation and Popular Culture—
A Case Study of Immigrant Youth in Montreal 33
EDUARDO GONZÁLEZ CASTILLO

II. Legitimations
Disputes over Senses of the Popular in the Circus Arts in
the City of Buenos Aires, Argentina 57
JULIETA INFANTINO
Making the State: Forming and Educating the Public, Presenting
and Circulating Contemporary Dance in Brazil 83
LAURA NAVALLO
 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: González Castillo, Eduardo, editor. | Pantaleón, Jorge F., editor.
Carton de Grammont, Nuria, editor.
Title: Politics, culture and economy in popular practices in the Americas / edited by
Eduardo González Castillo, Jorge Pantaleón, Nuria Carton de Grammont.
Description: New York: Peter Lang, [2016]
Includes bibliographical references.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016001512 | ISBN 978-1-4331-3004-5 (hardcover: alk. paper)
ISBN 978-1-4539-1540-0 (e-book)
Subjects: LCSH: Popular culture—America. | America—Civilization.
Classification: LCC E20 .P65 2016 | DDC 306.097—dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2016001512

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Politics, Culture and Economy
in Popular Practices
in the Americas

Edited by Eduardo González Castillo,

Jorge Pantaleón and Nuria Carton de Grammont

PETER LANG
New York Bern Frankfurt Berlin
Brussels Vienna Oxford Warsaw
 PETER LANG
New York Bern Frankfurt Berlin
Brussels Vienna Oxford Warsaw