The herculean Carlos Fuentes, who has served as novelist, cultural critic, and statesman for his native Mexico during the past half century, has eased back with flair into the familiar role of wonkish foreign ambassador. And with a de facto diplomat as thorough and debonair as Fuentes, Mexico need not worry about the great white threat of the north. At the LBJ Library Auditorium, the second of Fuentes’ stops on his sweep through Austin last week, he pined: “I wish I could be ubiquitous today so that I could be here and in the Mexican Congress to see the events that occurred today.” It was a special day, to be sure, both in Austin and in Mexico City, as the Zapatista rebels from the southern state of Chiapas delivered their case to the Mexican nation after a weeks-long march through the country. Simultaneously, Fuentes made his stridently pro-immigrant, liberal case for careful and fair globalization to an American audience with an equally rebellious vigor. The novelist pressing his politics: Only a master like Fuentes can carry this well.
And ubiquity, thankfully, was not necessarily some far-off dream on Thursday. As Fuentes fielded questions from high school students and their older counterparts at Q&A sessions he did at Barnes & Noble and the LBJ Auditorium, where he spoke as part of the KLRU Distinguished Speakers Series, his supreme depth of knowledge and passion about the state of Mexican affairs did make it seem like he was somehow both here and there. He told wide-eyed Austin high schoolers about the plight of the indigenous in Mexico who have been struggling for land ownership rights over the span of several centuries. Following Fuentes’ cue, one young Spanish student raised his voice and asked Fuentes whether, after all this time, Latin America had come any closer to realizing liberator Simon Bolivar’s dream of Hispanic unity.
That is, of course, a brilliant question, and it’s also a question that directly addressed everything that Carlos Fuentes’ visit to Austin stood for. No, Latin America is nowhere near being a unified culture and people. Fuentes would be the first to admit that. But with emerging technology making instant communication commonplace, no geographical area is truly unified anyway. Latin America is bound by a common heritage and language, true, but the important thing is to turn these commonalities into the foundations of a new, globalized, information-driven society.
This information society, especially as it deals with U.S.-Mexican relations, was the focus of the novelist’s discussion. Interrupted by eager applause at the LBJ Auditorium, Fuentes denounced the United States’ policy of condescension toward the drug situation in Mexico. He lambasted the Zionist thread of current political thought, too, which argues for the mobility of goods and currency but not labor in our continental free market. That there is a real demand for a supply of drugs and of labor which is being filled by Mexico in a perfectly visible and functioning market economy is a fact that America must face up to if relations between the two countries are to improve, Fuentes argued.
The time for opening real dialogue in addition to lucrative markets may be approaching quickly, from what Fuentes observes. The fact that Mexico now has a legitimate democratic government, for example, lends credibility and value to their half of the bargaining table. Fuentes referred to this “democratic honorability” often, using it as an example of how his country has progressed throughout the last century. What the United States must bring is a fair and cooperative point of view. When this happens, Fuentes believes, the many nations that lie in our land might truly accomplish a unity that stretches beyond economic and commercial identities. To answer the young student’s question, what these nations might find is a bond not unlike Bolivar’s dream, one that is based on the common respect and goals for all the peoples involved.
This article appears in April 6 • 2001.