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The Guardian
30-05-2025
- General
- The Guardian
Mexico steps into unknown with world's first popular election of all judges: ‘A blind date with democracy'
On a heat-dazed afternoon in Culiacán, the capital of Mexico's Sinaloa state, a tannoy by the cathedral was droning through an advert for the judicial elections on loop when a plume of smoke appeared in the sky. A flicker of agitation ran through the plaza. After months of cartel conflict, Sinaloa is on edge. Yet on 1 June, it and the rest of Mexico will start to elect every judge in the country, from local magistrates to supreme court justices, by popular vote. It is a world-first democratic experiment, but one that has prompted warnings of low turnout, a political power grab and infiltration by organised crime. The reform is the most radical move made by the governing Morena party and its allies since they won a congressional supermajority last year allowing them to change the constitution at will. Few disagree that Mexico's judicial system needs change. Justice is inaccessible to many, corruption is commonplace and impunity is rampant. Morena claims its reform will address these issues by making the judiciary more responsive to popular opinion. But critics say it will bulldoze the separation of powers, and that by throwing the doors open to less qualified candidates whose campaigns may be backed by opaque interests – including organised crime groups – it could aggravate the very problems it seeks to solve. Delia Quiroa, a well-known advocate for Mexico's disappeared, is no fan of the reform. But she admits it has given her a chance to become a federal judge she would not otherwise have had. It is just the latest unexpected turn in a life that was shattered the moment her brother, Roberto, was disappeared on 10 March 2014. Though born in Culiacán, Quiroa moved to the border state of Tamaulipas when she was a child. She had been studying to become an engineer, but as the years stretched on with no sign of her brother, she retrained as a lawyer to force the authorities into action. Threats from criminal groups eventually displaced her family to Mexico City. Then last year they moved back to Sinaloa, which for years had been relatively calm owing to the dominance of the eponymous cartel. 'People used to say that the narcos in Sinaloa left the public out of [their fights],' Quiroa said, with a rueful smile. 'Then this conflict began.' In July 2024, Ismael 'El Mayo' Zambada, who founded the Sinaloa cartel with Joaquín 'El Chapo' Guzmán, was detained by US authorities along with one of Guzmán's sons after a small plane touched down in Texas. El Mayo accused El Chapo's son of betraying and delivering him to US authorities. Now a faction led by El Mayo's son is waging war against another led by the two sons of El Chapo who remain free in Mexico. As the conflict enters a ninth month, it has left well over 2,000 dead or disappeared. And it has made the judicial elections even more complicated. 'The violence has hit the campaign,' said Quiroa. 'You can't always find people in the streets.' The city centre market was Quiroa's target for the day. Friends and family came along, handing out pamphlets with her logo: a spade and a gavel crossed over the scales of justice. 'I try to explain that I have no political or economic interest in this,' said Quiroa. 'That the only thing I want is a change in this country.' But as Quiroa bounced between market stalls, people's responses did nothing to dispel fears of an uninformed vote come 1 June. Unlike in other elections, parties cannot support candidates, nor can candidates openly profess a partisan affiliation, even if they clearly have one. Radio and TV spots are also banned, meaning largely unknown candidates are limited to handing out flyers and posting on social media. Then there is the sheer number of them. Voters will be faced with at least six ballot papers, some with dozens of names on them but little else. 'It looks like an exam,' sighed Quiroa. Even an enthusiastic supporter of the reform – a butcher behind a pile of cow hooves, who celebrated the election as a chance for 'the people to stop the robbery' – could not name a candidate. Others were sceptical, if not cynical. 'I'm not going to vote for candidates I don't know,' said one shoe shiner, who was reading a dog-eared biography of 19th-century president Benito Juárez. 'Just like I won't eat a meal if I don't know what's in it. It's common sense.' According to the president of the National Electoral Institute, voter turnout is expected to be less than 20%. Even though Morena is not allowed to back candidates, many assume it will use its unrivalled capacity to mobilise voters to help its preferred candidates – particularly for the supreme court, which has often acted as a check on Morena's executive power, and a new disciplinary tribune, which will keep judges in line. 'Morena wants to hoard all the power,' said the shoe shiner. 'They don't want to leave a crumb for anyone else.' But other interests, including organised crime, may also seize the opportunity. Defensorxs, a civil society organisation, has identified various 'highly risky' candidates, including a lawyer who was counsel to El Chapo and a former state prosecutor in Michoacán accused of alleged involvement in the murder of two journalists. 'I don't think people have managed to find out who the candidates are and what each kind of position actually does,' said Marlene León Fontes, from Iniciativa Sinaloa, a civil society organisation. 'People will vote on the basis of personal connections or political parties 'It's a blind date with democracy,' she said. If Quiroa emerges a judge, she says she will be an 'iron fist' against corrupt and negligent authorities – not least when it comes to searching for the more than 120,000 people registered as disappeared, and identifying the 72,000 bodies in Mexico's morgues. 'It was the feeling of being tortured by the authorities who should be protecting me that made me put myself forward as a candidate,' said Quiroa. Yet as far as Quiroa knows, she is the only candidate to have emerged from the many thousands searching for their relatives. 'I'd have liked there to be more – and more victims of all kinds who are lawyers and human rights defenders,' said Quiroa. 'But many people said they didn't want to be part of the destruction of the judicial system.' Quiroa shares their anxiety. 'This is an experiment,' she said. 'And we don't know how it's going to go.'
Associated Press
18-05-2025
- Politics
- Associated Press
Mexicans will elect a new judiciary June 1. A look at some of the candidates
MEXICO CITY (AP) — What do an activist searching for missing Mexicans, an attorney who once represented a drug lord and a university professor trying out TikTok have in common? They are all campaigning for positions in Mexico's first judicial election on June 1. More than 2,600 contenders are vying for 881 positions from Mexico's Supreme Court down to district courts across the country. In 2027, another election is planned to elect 800 more judicial positions. Those on the June 1 ballots won a lottery after being screened by committees made up of people from the three branches of government. In order to qualify, they had to have a law degree, at least five years of professional practice, write an essay and collect letters of recommendation from friends and colleagues. Foreign governments, including the United States, and civil society organizations in Mexico criticized the change, warning that it would lead to a politicization of the judiciary and weaken its independence. Electing judges was former President Andrés Manuel López Obrador's way to root out corruption. Make them accountable to the people, he said. The contentious reform's passage was among the last major acts of his presidency last September. Here are some of the candidates: Delia Quiroa Age: 41 What's she known for? She is among the hundreds of Mexicans searching for a missing relative, in her case a brother who disappeared in 2014. Candidate for: District judge in the western state of Sinaloa. Quiroa's experience has been different to most other candidates' in that she's more accustomed to being on the victims' side. After her brother disappeared in the northern border state of Tamaulipas, Quiroa began searching and eventually founded a collective called 'March 10' for the day he vanished. She quickly realized there was little legal help available to help searchers like herself, so she left her engineering career and began to study law while continuing her search. Quiroa gained notoriety a couple years ago when she proposed criminal groups consider a peace treaty to make it safer to search for the missing and she began selling a 'Searcher Barbie' to raise money for her group's activities. Late last year, she decided to return to her native Sinaloa state to compete to be a judge. Quiroa knows the risks of being a judge in the violent state, home to a powerful cartel of the same name, but she said that there need to be more judges who empathize with those searching for missing loved ones. 'If I become a judge, I'm not going to send legal documents and wait for authorities to answer when they feel like it,' Quiroa said. 'I'm going to go out and look for the missing people.' Arístides Rodrigo Guerrero Age: 40 What's he known for? He went viral as 'Justice Pork Rinds.' Candidate for: Supreme Court. Until the campaign started, Guerrero wasn't well-known outside of Mexico's National Autonomous University, where he has taught classes for more than a decade. He had also led Mexico City's public records agency and worked at the capital's electoral court. But it was a homemade TikTok video that took off and launched Guerrero's campaign. In it, a student hands him a platter of a typical pork rind dish. Playing on the turn of phrase, he says he's 'more prepared than a pork rind' to be a Supreme Court justice, before rolling into his qualifications. Some grumps accused him of turning the race into a circus, but Guerrero said that his attempt at humor was far less harmful than having a corrupt justice on the highest court. 'You have to be colloquial sometimes in your use of language,' he said, accepting that he has tried to run a 'disruptive' campaign. If elected, Guerrero said that he would push to have the court hold hearings around Mexico to have more contact with people. Silvia Delgado García Age: 51 What's she known for? She represented drug kingpin Joaquín 'El Chapo' Guzmán in 2016. Candidate for: Criminal court judge in northern state of Chihuahua. Nine years ago, Silvia Delgado García was a member of Sinaloa cartel leader Guzmán's legal team when he was temporarily held in a prison in Ciudad Juarez before being extradited to the United States. He was eventually tried, convicted and sentenced to life in prison in the U.S. She's still marked by the case. Some critics of electing judges, and a human rights litigation group called Defensorxs, have labeled Delgado García 'high risk,' because 'she defends alleged drug traffickers.' The group has also identified 17 other candidates that way for being prosecuted, being members of investigated organizations, for alleged human rights violations and deals with criminal groups. 'Everyone has a right to an effective defense,' Delgado García said about her decision to represent Guzmán. She notes that she only helped at one hearing where the power went out, and her job was to visit him in the Ciudad Juarez prison where he was being held. 'If they give me a client of that magnitude, in terms of resume that's going to help me,' she said. As a candidate, she highlights that she has been a litigator for 18 years and has a passion for criminal law. 'I am a citizen who believes in the law, and I am extremely prepared to carry out the job and I aim to be impartial in the decisions I hand down.' Mauricio Tapia Maltos Age: 30 What's he known for? He's a young lawyer at the Supreme Court who spends his free time campaigning in Mexico City's central square. Candidate for: An administrative judge for two of Mexico City's boroughs. Every afternoon, Monday to Thursday, Tapia Maltos finishes work at Mexico's Supreme Court where he has worked for 11 years and walks next door to Mexico City's sprawling central square. There, he sets up a small stand from which he hangs three papers on which he has handwritten his name, the position he seeks, his social platform handle and his ID number for the ballot. Even though he frequently goes unnoticed by the multitude of street vendors, tourists and workers crossing the square each day, Tapia Maltos dressed in white shirt, tie and dark slacks, occasionally draws the attention of those curious enough to stop and read his papers. Some then ask how they can vote. The simplicity of his campaign is its most noteworthy characteristic. 'I'm not trying to make a big production with videos, no dancing or anything like that ... Because what I'm trying to do is get to know people in an appropriate way.' He has worked for years behind the scenes inside the Supreme Court in preparing decisions. Now, thanks to the new judicial election, he says that he has found a way to achieve his dream of being a judge and bring new blood to a judiciary long criticized as corrupt. ____ Follow AP's coverage of Latin America and the Caribbean at
