A goodbye between boxes and gloomy forecasts
It seems that the president of the Supreme Court, Norma Piña, decided that her farewell would not be complete without a dose of raw reality, served with a side of institutional irony. As he packed his belongings into an office that will soon be occupied by someone else—because what is power if not a game of musical chairs with togas?—he took a moment to reflect on the future of the Judiciary. And his reflections are a parting gift that no other power wants to receive.
With the elegance of someone who no longer has anything to lose, the minister warned that, even if the judicial body is completely renewed, the other two branches—the Executive and the Legislative, both under comfortable Morenoist control—will continue to ignore uncomfortable rulings. Of course, he made the ritualistic vote for an “independent Court,” because in politics you always have to keep up appearances, even when everyone in the room knows that the patient is already in critical condition.
The chronicle of an announced contempt
“I think they are going to continue failing to comply with Court rulings, we have many unfulfilled,” he declared with a frankness that almost seems liberating. The reason? Simple: if the powers that be don’t like the ruling, they simply file it under the rug. And what consequences are there? Apparently, the same ones that a child who refuses to eat vegetables would have: none. The mechanism for enforcing sentences is, in his own words, “very vague, very ambiguous.” Or, in colloquial language, as effective as a paper umbrella.
But the real circus show came with the suspensions of the judicial reform, where authorities at all levels took the stage to openly declare: “I’m not going to comply.” They didn’t even bother to disguise it. The result? No one was charged, much less imprisoned. The message? Impunity is not only possible, but it comes with applause.
The money that disappeared and the toners that are in short supply
To add a touch of financial tragicomedy, Piña addressed the issue of the trusts of the Federal Judiciary Council, with more than 10 billion pesos that Nafin—in an act of accounting creativity—decided to deliver directly to the Government, instead of to the Council. Was it a breach of contract? Technically, yes. Did something happen? Of course not. Because in the world of public administration, sometimes the rules are more… suggestions.
Meanwhile, in the country’s courts, austerity has become so extreme that there is no longer toner or copy paper. Yes, you read that right: the Federal Judiciary is waging an existential battle against the shortage of basic supplies. Budgetary expansions have been requested, of course. The answer? Administrative silence. Broken promises. Because, apparently, justice can wait.
The ghost organ and the poorly designed reform
To close with a flourish, the judicial reform left a legal loophole so absurd that it could only have been designed by a committee of wise men locked in a windowless room: the Judicial Administration Body (OAJ) is not constituted. Who receives the keys to the judicial castle on August 31? Nobody. Who is given the files, budgets, responsibilities? Into the vacuum. Because the Constitution ordered the appointment of members, but then someone—you never know who—interpreted that it should be the new ministers who did it. Result? An administrative limb worthy of Kafka.
Piña summarized it with a pearl of bureaucratic wisdom: “Totally, because we closed on August 31 and the OAJ is not established.” Like that, without further ado. As if it were normal that a country of 130 million people decides to reform its judicial system to leave it in the hands of no one.
A future of uncertainty and accordions
Among all this chaos, the minister also found time to give her opinion—or rather, not to give her opinion—on the use of accordions in elections. He prefers to read the sentence, he says. How convenient. Because in a world where sentences are ignored, the budget is not even enough for the paper and the administrative bodies are ghosts, what does a few more or less accordions matter?
His final message to judges and magistrates who will now face the pressure of a Disciplinary Court was worthy of a wartime graduation speech: “Everyone chooses his destiny.” How encouraging. especially when destiny seems to be written by someone with a very bad sense of humor.
This is how the Norma Piña era ends: with packed boxes, dark warnings and a dose of black humor that only Mexican reality can provide. The future of the Judiciary hangs by a thread, but at least we have the anecdotes left.
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