The extremes of poverty and wealth in Mexico make it difficult to generalize about Mexicans without leaving at least some people out. But one thing that can safely be said is that it is a Catholic country, and devoutly so. Many common values hold sway and can be readily identified. This Catholicism has its own uniquely Mexican flavor, with roots in missionary pragmatism, whereby Christian festivals were blended with old indigenous rituals for ease of consumption by the people. Individuals chose conversion and salvation as an obvious line of least resistance, and the result is that, nearly five hundred years after the Spanish conquest, pre-Columbian beliefs are alive and well. For most of the country, these have been dressed up in Catholic clothes, but for a large minority in around sixty indigenous communities, they are remarkably intact.
And it is not just in spiritual matters that Mexico’s unique history has helped forge a national identity. Their often spectacularly violent history has given Mexicans a familiarity with death and a fatalistic outlook that is beyond the Western experience, even allowing for its two World Wars. The country’s defining festival is the Day of the Dead (see Chapter 3, Customs and Traditions). The name itself says a great deal.
Some visitors to Mexico are tempted to remark how different it is from the U.S.A, with which it shares a long land border, or indeed anywhere else. While the American and Western model has been successfully exported around the globe, this is not something that Mexico seeks to emulate. You will find parts of the country, some very close to the U.S. border, where the outlook on life is as different from that of the West as anywhere on the planet. Mexico is proudly, vibrantly, and unashamedly itself. And for all its considerable diversity, you will encounter a warm and welcoming person beneath many a gruff exterior, if you bring an open mind.
It is difficult to describe a typical Mexican family. In the richest families children may be brought up by nannies and rarely seen by parents, while in the poorest economic necessity often sees families broken up as various members move off to an uncertain future in a distant town, or even in that huge country to the north. Nevertheless, the family remains the paramount institution in Mexico, reinforced by factors such as Catholicism and financial pressure.
The extended family gathers regularly to celebrate birthdays, saints’ days, public holidays, births, and marriages, and for funerals. Family members like to live close to each other, although the modern world long ago encroached upon traditional Mexican family structures, and migration in search of work, or to study, is a fact of life. A more recent development is the increase in the number of women pursuing careers or simply needing to work in order to feed the family, and in these cases grandparents are often relied upon to mind the children. This has created a newer phenomenon in which it is not just single young people who move to the cities (and send money back home), but three generations of one family, who will all depend on the middle generation’s earnings.
For the Mexican who does move away from home, the concept of family is so ingrained that it can be a struggle to get used to life without the support of that strong network—although, once the break has been made, returning to the intrusions of an oversupportive family can also be a problem. Overall, though, Mexicans find it hard not to see the more Western tradition of moving away from home at the age of eighteen and never returning as a sure sign of a family in crisis.
Children are doted on, and are involved in and shown off at all manner of social gatherings at all times of the day or night. It’s not unusual to see children dropped off at the school gates looking bleary-eyed, their hair being tamed by their mothers with water and lemon juice.
The result of this zealous nurturing is often bipolar. On the one hand, Mexican children generally grow up to be confident individuals. On the other, they often grow used to having things done for them, and to being the center of attention at all times.
Even now, many young people don’t leave home until they are married. This is not just for reasons of economy: most of their needs are catered to in the bosom of their family (meals, washing, etc.) and they are left with a lot of freedom to socialize. Parents rarely encourage offspring to leave home or fend for themselves, although in recent years the young have started to contribute toward living costs. Few are required to help around the house (especially the men).
In Mexican society, the elderly are well-respected and generally looked after within the family unit, with three or four generations living together under the same roof not unusual. Again, this is only partly for economic reasons.
Family breakdown is often apparent in the poorer parts of big cities, where there is not only a high incidence of single mothers, but a lot of “street children,” which shocks many visitors.
A Mexican has many acquaintances and few friends. This is probably true of many other people, but Mexicans are perhaps more honest, and the boundaries are more clearly delineated—it is difficult to make friends, certainly, and you are unlikely to be led into believing a relationship on a superficial level is anything other than that. This is not to say that Mexicans are unfriendly (on the contrary, they are very welcoming), just that long-lasting friendships tend to be made at an early age, at primary school level, where the friend in question almost becomes part of the family (it always comes back to the family!). In adulthood, these close-knit groups of friends are hard to break into. People tend to socialize with their old friends, siblings, cousins, and brothers/sisters-in-law, which leaves little time for new friendships. When these are made, it is usually within the same social class, often through the workplace, though most relationships here never go beyond the realms of “acquaintance.”
For foreigners trying to make friends, some common ground, a shared interest, or even simply a profession in common, will help. Social boundaries will be less restrictive for you—as a foreigner you don’t belong to a particular class.
Insult or Affection?
Being called “gordo” (fatty), “flaco” (skinny), or even “negro” (blackie) may or may not be meant as an insult, depending on how well you are known to the person doing the name-calling. If that person is a total stranger, it’s safe to assume that he or she is trying to offend you. In Mexico, however, such personal remarks are signs of affection between close friends. A person’s most obvious features, flattering or not, are often worked into their nickname in a way that might surprise those used to superficial social “niceties.”
In the West, machismo has become a byword for unreconstructed misogyny, and is a word that is often used in conjunction with Mexican men. However, in Mexico the women of the family are respected, even revered. This is one of many Mexican paradoxes. A man shouting pleasant piropos, or “compliments” (“guapa,” or “gorgeous,” being a standard one), at a girl in the street would be mortified if he felt he was causing offense. There is nothing malicious about it, and certainly no offense is intended. Sometimes, however, less pleasant things are shouted in the streets.
Of course, reverence and misogyny are not mutually exclusive—a man can place a woman on a pedestal while also considering her unsuited to certain occupations (or occupations in general). Mexican men, by Western standards, are sexist, but that does not make them slavering brutes, or Mexican women meek and cowering. The reality is that, if the family is paramount in Mexico, then women are in charge—and mothers are the patronas (bosses), as we shall see in Chapter 5. Mexico is a thoroughly matriarchal society, and machismo is simply the flip side of the same coin. It could be argued that such attitudes are an obstacle on the road to genuine equality, but then this is not a book on gender politics.
It follows from this (somewhat perversely, but it does) that the worst insults in Mexico are directed at a man’s mother. This has to do with respect for women among the country’s men, as well as with pride in general, which is embodied in various other things a man cherishes: his family, his country, his soccer team. To insult them is to cause personal offense, unless it is in jest (and jest is only acceptable with time and friendship), and insults a man’s honor. Fights are not unusual in these circumstances, especially if alcohol has been added to the mix. Women are far more sensible about these things. Another aspect of pride is that Mexicans will rarely say “I don’t know,” and will always give an answer—even a taxi driver who has no clue where he is going.
Shamed!
A little illustration of machismo, shame, and criminality … One evening in Mexico City, two men attempted to snatch a woman’s purse, whereupon she remonstrated loudly with them. She asked them, “How would you feel if this happened to your mother or sister?” They apologized profusely, and left her alone. She was lucky, though—it is probably best not to try this one yourself.
The concept of “society” is not strong in urban Mexico. Mexicans are intensely patriotic and proud of their country, but not necessarily full of civic pride in the institutions that run it—another Mexican parado, perhaps. Solidarity and community are not common currency—it is more about “Me versus Society.” This attitude applies to dealings with officialdom and state agencies (the taxman and the police are two examples), and stems from the fact that long-standing corruption and inefficiency has robbed them of much of their legitimacy in the eyes of the people. Reversing this trend and thus instilling belief in the apparatus of state has been the central aim of Vicente Fox and his PAN party, but it has been tough going after decades of official inertia and complacency.
In smaller towns, and certainly in villages, a sense of community still prevails. In rural states such as Chiapas, Oaxaca, and Morelos whole political movements are rooted in a sense of solidarity and community, but these are protest movements and have only emerged in reaction to a remote central government. In the larger cities, people feel responsible to family and friends (in that order), but do not look far beyond that.
Tradition, whether it be Maya, Huichol, or Catholic, is still highly respected and observed across the country, especially in more rural areas such as the Yucatán peninsula (Maya), Oaxaca (Zapotec), Jalisco (Huicholes) and Chihuahua (Tarahumaras), to name but four of the indigenous language/cultural groups. In these areas, people still speak in the “old” language, eat “old” food, and celebrate the traditional festivals—it sometimes seems as if the Spanish never came. But overall, Catholicism’s impact on the country was profound, and its institutions and traditions are hugely influential today: religious observance, whether out of piety or habit, remains strong (see Chapter 3 for more on this).
Unsurprisingly, young people’s attitudes to traditions of any kind, especially the more “antiquated,” are less enthusiastic, but they tend to mellow with age and remain in favor of any celebrations that involve a good party.
In a country that, since independence, has seen it all (“it” mostly being epic levels of violence and civil war—essentially the prejudices held by some against the prejudices of others), a surprising degree of tolerance prevails. As the PRI’s grip on the country’s political and social life has loosened, Mexico has become a freer society. Political debate is up, censorship is down (both political and “moral”—sex is prominent on TV, in advertising, and on the newsstands, while graphic photographic accounts of the latest drug cartel murder are a staple of the weekly supplements), but Catholic conservatism still shapes many people’s view of life.
Under Spanish rule, racial separation was enshrined in the class structure, with Spanish-born rulers right at the top of the pile, criollos (Creoles, born in New Spain of Spanish descent) forming an upper class, mestizos (literally, “mixtures” of Spanish and indigenous blood) in the middle, and indigenous people and black slaves at the bottom. After the Revolution, it became de rigueur for the country’s artistic and political elite to claim indigenous heritage, but the reality remains that the whiter you are, the better-off you are likely to be, and in that sense people are still assessed on their skin color—how “Indian” you look will affect, if nothing else, how wealthy you are assumed to be (although a significant number of mestizos hold senior posts in the world of politics). Whether this counts as racism is debatable, as it describes economic reality, but making assumptions based on skin color is one of the less endearing Mexican traits. Like fair-haired foreigners, black people are likely to be stared at—usually only out of curiosity. This is mostly because there are not many black people in Mexico—but be aware that in smaller towns, “small-town” mentalities may well prevail.
Similar advice applies to gay and lesbian visitors. Mexico City has a large and lively gay community, but it has become large and lively mostly due to prejudice driving openly gay individuals away from smaller communities.
In economic terms, prudence is seen as a bit misplaced in Mexico. People generally don’t save their money, as experience has taught them the pointlessness of it. In a culture where devaluation (like the extended crises in the 1980s and in 1994) can overnight wipe out your life savings, or at least reduce them to next to nothing, this is understandable. But living for the moment is more than just an economic calculation, and goes back a lot further than the IMF. Fatalism runs deep in the Mexican character, and informs how many people’s decisions are made. A natural exuberance within the Mexican character emerges in extremis, when worry and stress would be expected, and comes from the “certain” knowledge that it cannot last forever.
In terms of work, people work to live—or just survive in many cases—and don’t understand the philosophy of living to work. Mexicans do put in long hours, and seek professional fulfillment, but the difference is that they seldom take their work home, and they prefer to entrust their personal happiness to family and friends.
Good manners are of great significance to the Mexicans, although, once you get to know them, formality and diffidence quickly give way to a friendly familiarity. It is very important to know how to address people on first meeting them (see Chapter 8). Familiarity may take a while, so when in doubt always err on the side of good manners. As in many other countries, the older generation in Mexico is more formal, and a certain respectful distance should be maintained.
Once you have made friends, social niceties are dispensed with. “Please” and “thank you” are unnecessary among friends and family, although the use of diminutives (—ito, —ita) is a common politeness. Mexicans can be very direct. You will be told if you are not looking your best (but you will also be told if you are, which is agreeable).
Mexico’s rapid industrialization has left many people behind, although this is not to say that some don’t remain “behind” out of defiant choice. In many rural areas, for example, indigenous communities have managed to maintain a traditional way of life in the face of growing homogenization in Mexico and the world at large.
As in many countries, a certain friction exists between the dominant capital city and everywhere else. Chilangos, as the residents of the Distrito Federal are known, are considered to be snobbish pseudosophisticates who look down their noses at the rest of Mexico. This is harsh but fair, because they do—wondering why anyone should even doubt that the capital is the place to be. It is a slightly patronizing point of view, but it is also true that Mexico City is the most exciting city in the country.
Many people do not, however, and the rural poor especially are not impressed with the urban-oriented view of the nation and of government—the cities grow “because they must”—while they are left to drift further away from mainstream society.
This is (somewhat simplistically) the motivation behind the Zapatista movement of the last ten years. It is essentially a campaign for social justice: its guerrilla tag comes from its tactics of melting into the landscape after making its point, and has rather less to do with the kind of “terror” more normally associated with guerrillas. That usually comes from the paramilitaries sent to crush them—a sledgehammer to the Zapatista nut. The protests that effectively sank the World Trade talks in Cancún in August 2003 were along similar lines.
Attitudes to class have been touched upon in the section on prejudices above, but there are sharp social divisions within Mexico (40 percent of Mexicans live below the poverty line). It is only really in urban areas that you find a significant middle class, and a working, significant-wage-earning class, between the richest and the poorest sections of society. In rural areas you are generally either one of the very few rich people or among the millions of poor. Over the past fifty years, the rich have got richer and the poor poorer. Among the latter there is an unwillingness to change, and an acceptance of the status quo, and of their “place in society.” Many young idealists go to Mexico to help the poor, and are baffled by their conservatism.
Demonstrations and strikes occur frequently all across Mexico, although given the conditions many people live in there is far less protest and dissent than one would have imagined. There is a kind of stoic acceptance of conditions and situations. Thus, although people take part in huge demonstrations, and often bring the traffic in central Mexico City and other cities to a halt, this is mainly to express their grievances rather than in anticipation of any positive change. In Oaxaca state, for example, many teachers go on strike over pay and conditions most Fridays, even though subsequently nothing much happens.
Mexico’s relationship with its northern neighbor has at times been fraught with tension. The U.S.A.’s influence on Mexican domestic politics has been felt well beyond the two wars they fought in the nineteenth century. U.S. support or lack thereof could make or break a pretender to the presidency, and the momentum of the Revolution was always with those who were supported by the U.S.A. and Woodrow Wilson.
After the Revolution, Mexico attempted to rid itself of foreign (i.e., U.S.) ownership of its utilities with a nationalization program (especially of the oil and mining industries). But the ensuing boycott did not prevent U.S. investment in other industries, as the entire border zone, with its U.S.-owned factories, demonstrates. As we have seen, NAFTA opened up most Mexican industries to U.S. and Canadian capital and ownership, but its impact is still being assessed. Mexico seems no less Mexican for NAFTA, although what benefit the majority of Mexicans will derive from it is unclear.
In terms of widely held attitudes, there is no love lost between the two countries. Mexicans are fiercely proud and protective of their own culture, especially in the face of a perceived (and probably real in many cases) insistence on the part of Americans in exporting theirs, be it in terms of how to do business or how to eat and relax. It has been described on a macro level as a master–servant relationship, and given the number of Mexicans working for U.S. companies in Mexico, this is not a bad assessment.
Individually, though, a warmer welcome awaits any visitor who shows some respect for and understanding of the country.
There is a huge Mexican population in the U.S.A.—some eight million Mexican-born people live there officially, with millions more undocumented and virtually unacknowledged doing the menial jobs that keep the wheels running beneath American society and sending their (very) hard-earned cash home. Seasonal agricultural workers toil in the fields and orange groves of California and other border states, keeping food prices down in the U.S.A.
The huge fences along the U.S. border are actually secondary barriers to the primary ones on Mexico’s southern border. Mexico is continually trying to keep Central Americans out (stricter border controls were written into the NAFTA accords), and the fences in Chiapas, Campeche, and Quintana Roo match those on the northern border. In addition, there are road blocks, police checkpoints throughout the three regions, and people in these areas are required to have their identity papers with them at all times.
Most Mexicans have a genuine inquisitiveness about foreigners, and their interest is not hostile, but may seem intrusive. They may stare, but it’s only curiosity. They want to find out about you, and like to talk—above all to practice their English. They will ask you about your family, friends, money, and more intimate matters—if you are over 35 and have no children, for example, they may frown on you.
It is unlikely, unless you’re well off the beaten track, that you will be the first foreigner they have ever seen—so don’t feel too special!