Judicial reform is Sheinbaum’s Frankenstein
Demonstrators protesting Mexico’s judicial reform. Image credit: Eyepix Group / Alamy
by Emiliano Polo.
Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum will not govern the political order she has helped construct. Under the guise of a so-called “judicial reform,” she has championed the creation of a new political system, one that now lies beyond her control. In their relentless pursuit of domination, she and her party failed to establish a coherent regime, instead unleashing a disordered and volatile landscape they neither fully understand nor command. She likely believed she was inheriting the rewards of a master plan orchestrated by the previous López Obrador administration to concentrate power. In reality, she accepted a Faustian bargain, one that now threatens to consume its intended beneficiaries.
Illiberal regimens indeed have to subdue and weaken the judiciary not only because they are barricades against arbitrariness, but because judicial systems are complex arrangements, hard to redesign and reestablish; any attempt by the opposition to reestablish the rule of law will be an arduous and lengthy process: national legal systems go beyond norms, bills, lawyers, and judges; they shape and constitute practices, mores, and attitudes that are hard to reconstruct.
The president and the ruling party, which no longer complies with her wishes, will control some judges, maybe most of the time, but not all the time; and it is precisely in this projection of inconsistency that a sign of weakness will prevail instead of power and control.
This was a reform not just designed to weaken the judiciary but to distribute it as a bounty; as in any corrupt scheme or proposition, the supporters expected their reward and part of the spoils. Likely, the president thought she would be spared from the unpredictable and anarchic environment that she sponsored; most likely, she will be a victim.
The change she endorsed creates a system with fewer rules and greater uncertainty, a new dynamic that allows no exceptions for assurances. Just as in Mary Shelley’s novel, where Dr. Frankenstein’s creature becomes autonomous, misunderstood, and dangerous, this reform sets in motion a judiciary that is neither accountable nor loyal, only unpredictable. The assumption was that she could exploit this system to her advantage. But once created, a system built on vague rules and weakened procedures does not ensure loyalty. It defies, embarrasses, and ultimately consumes its creators. The chaos is not a flaw; it is the very essence.
Like Shelley’s doctor, she may find herself haunted by the very forces she helped unleash. The novel offers a warning about the consequences of failing to take responsibility for one’s creation, which leads to disaster. The creature becomes violent, but more importantly, it develops a will of its own. Victor believes he can create life and control it. Similarly, Mexico’s ruling party sought to dominate the judiciary while overlooking the broader role an independent judicial system plays in a democracy. Courts are not just obstacles to power; they are essential arenas for resolving political and legal disputes through legitimate means. By undermining them, the president forfeited this possibility.
Organized crime, local political elites, factions within Morena, business leaders, and various other de facto powers all intervened in the electoral process. Each of these actors will now seek to reap the rewards of their investment. The president is merely one among them. While she may enjoy particular leverage through the disciplinary tribunal — an institution endowed with sweeping and arbitrary authority to subdue and punish judges — exercising this power will require the constant expenditure of political capital and the implicit threat of coercion. To bend the now shattered judiciary to her will, she will need to invest substantial time, energy, and influence to outmaneuver the many other actors who have also staked their claims in this newly corrupted order.