The show must go on… or at least the procedures must go on
In a twist that no one saw coming (or perhaps everyone, because this happens more often than Spiderman reboots), the United States Embassy in Mexico City has come out to clarify the small detail of the partial government collapse. With the subtlety of an elephant in a china shop, the most powerful government in the world has stopped financing itself because, apparently, reaching agreement is a skill that is not included in the Congressional manual.
That’s right, dear hopefuls crossing the northern border: since this glorious October 1, the flow of federal money has vanished like the hopes of a Mexican in line at the consulate on a Friday afternoon. The official reason: a lack of agreement between Republicans and Democrats. Does it sound familiar to you? It’s that same soap opera where the characters argue forever, the plot doesn’t advance and viewers just want someone to cancel the show once and for all.
Priorities in times of chaos: papers first, officials later
In a statement that exudes an optimism worthy of a better cause, the Embassy has declared that the scheduled visa services will continue… for now. That last sentence is the jewel in the crown, the diplomatic equivalent of “let’s cross our fingers and pray that we don’t run out of ink on our stamps.” The news assures that the procedures will continue “to the extent that the situation allows.” And what does that mean exactly? What if they find an intern who knows where they keep the I-20 forms? That the consulars will hold raffles to pay for electricity and be able to print visas?
But not everything is rosy in this bureaucratic circus. While you, citizens of the world, can continue dreaming about your tourist visa, the Embassy’s official X account will go into stony silence. That’s right, in the era of hyperconnectivity, the main communication channel will be turned off “until operations are fully resumed.” I mean, your visa appointment is safe, but if you want a funny meme from the ambassador, you better wait sitting down.
The exception, they tell us, would be to publish urgent information on safety and protection. Which leads us to wonder: will they consider a tweet warning that they ran out of coffee in the San Jerónimo office “urgent”? Or a thread explaining how lack of funding affects the quality of hand sanitizer in waiting rooms? The mystery remains.
It is curiously paradigmatic that a government that cannot pay its employees can keep the machinery for issuing entry permits open. It seems that some consular functions are so vital that even the budget apocalypse passes them by. It is comforting to know that, in the midst of institutional collapse, there are values that remain unchanged: the right of anyone to stand in line for hours to have their fingerprints taken.
One can almost visualize the scene: officials working by candlelight, sharing the same pen between ten desks, printing visas on recycled paper… but printing them nonetheless. The American dream, it seems, is government shutdown-proof. Or maybe it’s that visas generate their own funds, in a kind of circular economy where your money for the process is the only thing that keeps the light on in that cubicle where someone reviews your tax return.
Isn’t it touchingly absurd? The country that puts a man on the moon cannot agree to pay its terrestrial bills, but it can guarantee that the process to enter said country continues. It’s as if the Titanic was sinking but the band’s musicians insisted on playing while they sold tickets for the next voyage. Coherence is not exactly the strong point in this situation.
And meanwhile, in Mexico, we will continue to wait for our appointments, wondering if we will get to see the consular officer or if a robot programmed with the latest available funds will serve us instead. Because at the end of the day, the important thing is that the show must go on, even if the theater is burning down. At least we will be able to document our journey into the flames very well.
The moral of this story? That bureaucracy is like a kind of cockroach: it survives any catastrophe. While politicians fight over who has the prettiest pen, the procedures continue. It’s almost poetic, if it weren’t for the fact that we’re talking about entry permits to a country that technically can’t pay its payroll.
Share this gem of dystopian reality on your social networks and help spread the word: the world may be collapsing, but the triplicate forms will never stop. Do you want to explore more content about the peculiarities of international politics? We guarantee that reality always surpasses fiction.
