Mexican Humanism and Liberation Theology

Mexican Humanism and Liberation Theology January 18, 2025

Mexico’s first woman president, Claudia Sheinbaum, delivered an address in Mexico City on January 13. Sheinbaum’s speech centered on the international relationships between Mexico, the US, and Canada. Sheinbaum assured the nation that Mexico will continue the political project developed by former president Armando Manuel López Obrador: la Cuarta Transformación (the Fourth Transformation). Part of this transformation is what Sheinbaum called Mexican humanism. We examine one of the core tenets of this model of humanism: “por el bien de todos, primero los pobres.” “For the good of all; first, the poor.”

File:Claudia Sheinbaum (49502485191).jpg
Claudia Sheinbaum, viernes 7 de febrero de 2020 / Wikimedia Commons

This maxim resonates strongly with the Christian tradition known as Latin American liberation theology. This discussion is timely in a couple of ways. First, it speaks to the economic divergence between the USA and Mexico. The US is a neoliberal country, while Mexico is currently on a trajectory informed more by the Leftist-populism of AMLO’s (and Sheinbaum’s) Morena party. Second, liberation theology has resurged in public consciousness after the recent death of one of its founders, Gustavo Gutiérrez, in October of last year.

Mexican Party Politics

The party politics of Mexico differ in important ways from US party politics. Mexico’s governmental structure is three-fold: the presidency, the Congress, and the courts. These branches function similarly to the US executive-legislative-judicial schema. While the US has a stringently two-party system, Mexico has a multi-party system in which four parties predominate (though there are six nationally recognized parties).

Presidents serve six-year terms, and cannot run for reelection. While American presidents often undo the work of each other if they differ in party, presidents of Mexico have more time to implement political change, while also not putting off important work to the end of their term to run for reelection like American presidents often do.

Up until 2014, Mexico had three major parties. The Partido Acción Nacional (National Action Party; PAN), Partido Revolucionario Institucional (Institutional Revolutionary Party; PRI), and the Partido Verde Ecologista de México (Ecologist Green Party of Mexico; PVEM). In 2014, the Morena Party transitioned into a political party from its prior status as a nonprofit. In 2018, AMLO ran as a candidate for Morena and won the general election by a landslide. Today, Morena is the most populated party, with Sheinbaum as its member. As Mexican politics unfold, parties can shift their loyalties and agonisms with each other depending on the agendas and issues at play.

La Cuarta Transformación

After AMLO was elected to the presidency in 2018, he engineered a new political development for Mexico: la Cuarta Transformación, or the Fourth Transformation. This project was undoubtedly populist, speaking to the needs and capacities of the people. As Denise Dresser writes in a brief on the Fourth Transformation, the 2018 general election

catalyzed anger with frustrated economic expectations, resentment against rules that are regarded as rigged in favor of the few at the expense of the many, disappointment with established institutions, rancor against vested interests that have profited at citizens’ expense, and widespread indignation at a homicide rate that has turned Mexico into one of the most violent countries in the hemisphere.

One of the central foci of la Cuarta Transformación is its prioritization of the poor. Still writing during AMLO’s tenure, Dresser writes that

the most distinctive aspect of the Fourth Transformation is its recognition of lacerating poverty and inequality. AMLO’s government has placed at center stage what for decades had remained on the periphery: the plight of 53 million Mexicans who live below the poverty line, the permanent subclass of those who survive on less than a dollar day, those for whom the status quo of the past 35 years has not worked.

It is difficult to gauge the economic success of AMLO’s presidency. While he promised 4% annual economic growth, Mexico only saw around 1% each year. Social programs were expanded greatly, and over six years, the poverty rate went to 43.5% from 50% (other data sets show a decrease to 36.3% from 41.9% over the same period), even as extreme poverty increased.

Neoliberalism

While AMLO’s presidential term was not perfect (and often polarizing), the ideals driving it continue with Sheinbaum. Sheinbaum differs from AMLO in important ways, notably in terms of environmental policy, which Sheinbaum has extensive political and activistic experience with.

Sheinbaum sets her model of Mexican humanism against the neoliberalism of countries like the US. Neoliberalism is often a loosely employed perjorative in Leftist spaces. This is unfortunately the fate of all widely-used terminology. Yet, neoliberalism is roughly definable. As Kevin Vallier writes for the Standford Encyclopedia of Philosophy,

Neoliberalism holds that a society’s political and economic institutions should be robustly liberal and capitalist, but supplemented by a constitutionally limited democracy and a modest welfare state. Neoliberals endorse liberal rights and the free-market economy to protect freedom and promote economic prosperity. Neoliberals are broadly democratic, but stress the limitations of democracy as much as its necessity. And while neoliberals typically think government should provide social insurance and public goods, they are skeptical of the regulatory state, extensive government spending, and government-led countercyclical policy.

As Vallier rightly points out, neoliberalism is not only about economics. Nor does it reduce life to commodification, consumption, and production. As Quinn Slobodian writes in Globalists: The End of Empire and the Birth of Neoliberalism, this mode of thought sees “the intellectual project as finding the right state and the right law to serve the market order.” [1]

Leading neoliberal thinkers Friedrich Hayek, Milton Friedman, and James Buchanan emphasize that individuals should be free from coercion, and this freedom is safeguarded by rule of law. Vallier notes that law as an institution sets the boundaries of acceptable political action predictably and non-arbitrarily, allowing citizens to exercise agency without fear of irrational reprisal. Rule of law in turn protects from an administrative state, an executive branch that creates, interprets, and enforces its own laws, even against the decisions of a judiciary. Therefore, limited government is preferred to secure the freedom of the market as well as that of individuals.

Finally, a free market does much of the government’s work. Friedman writes that “the wider the range of activities covered by the market, the fewer are the issues on which explicitly political decisions are required and hence on which it is necessary to achieve agreement.” [2]

Sheinbaum’s Mexican Humanism

Sheinbaum’s articulation of Mexican humanism is set starkly against neoliberalism. As she said in her address, “no vamos a regresar al modelo neoliberal“; we will not return to the neoliberal model. Sheinbaum associates the neoliberal model with past years of government which only serves the few, a regime of corruption, privilege, and decadence.

This model of humanism goes back to AMLO’s own presidential tenure. His Foreign Secretary Alicia Bárcena elaborated on what a humanist policy entails back in August 2024. The “model puts people at the center, addressing the needs of all Mexicans, both within Mexico and abroad.” The model also “offers political asylum to those whose life, safety and freedom are threatened.”

More scholarly treatments of humanismo hispanoamericano more broadly conceived helps us understand the general thrust behind humanismo mexicano in particular. Ambrosio Velasco Gómez, a philosopher at Universidad฀Nacional฀Autónoma฀de฀México (UNAM), identifies two major currents of Hispanoamerican humanism. One is “a฀critical,฀pluralistic฀and฀emancipatory฀humanism,฀oriented฀by฀republican฀ideals฀and฀engaged฀with฀the฀defense฀of฀human฀rights.” The other is “a colonialist and authoritarian tradition that . . . justified authoritarian regimes as necessary to impose order and social progress in several Latinamerican countries. ” [3]

It is clear that Sheinbaum is articulating the critical, pluralistic and republican strand of humanism. But what stands out for our purposes is her own articulation of the maxim of humanismo mexicano: “por el bien de todos, primero los pobres.” For the good of all; first, the poor.

Latin American Liberation Theology

Here, we connect this maxim undergirding Sheinbaum’s Mexican humanism, which in turn serves as the foundation for AMLO’s Cuarta Transformación, to a theological development within Latinoamericano Catholicism: liberation theology. Liberation theology is often mischaracterized in evangelical circles. Here, we rely chiefly upon theologian Miguel A. De La Torre’s account of the tradition to best understand it.

As nation-states in Latin America arose, power changed hands from colonial states like Spain to independent states. Due to colonial deprivation, many Latin American countries were dependent upon British and US economies, and exploitative corporations like the United Fruit Company. For many Latin Americans, this dependency did not foster development, but rather worse living conditions for the common people. The sheer rates of poverty were exactly what the first liberation theologians sought to address from a spiritual perspective.

Liberation theologians counteracted theologies that preserved the status quo, which taught the poor that their poverty was God’s will. Instead, these theologians taught that salvation includes liberation from social oppression and sin, including poverty. As De La Torre writes, “The Church moved away from Christendom and its alignment with the powerful and committed itself to service and to be in solidarity with the oppressed.” [4] These developments initially began in the 1950s, and catalyzed in the 1960s with events like the 1964 coup d’état in Brazil. Finally, in the 1970s, figures like the late Gustavo Gutiérrez began publishing the foundational texts laying out liberation theology after the 1968 Medellín Conference convened Latin American bishops to develop and enact the Church’s response to poverty.

File:Gustavo gutierrez (Peruvian theologian).jpg
Fotografía de Gustavo Gutiérrez Merino, teólogo peruano de reconocimiento mundial / Wikimedia Commons

The Preferential Option for the Poor

De La Torre elaborates on the method of liberation theology. The first step is to “observe”, or see “through the dispossessed eyes of the poor, maltreated, and suffering, recovering their voices so as to provide a critique of the prevailing powers.” [5] This entails examining the communities overlooked by the histories constructed by the powerful to mask their sins. The second step is “reflecting” to understand how systems and structures inflict and perpetuate the oppression that the “least of these” experience.

“Prayer” is the third step, though not understood in terms of passive petitions to God that one day things will be made right. Rather, prayer is aimed at discerning what God wants the faithful to do about such oppression. De La Torre offers up examples of examining how biblical figures respond to similar situations that one finds oneself addressing. Prayer is followed by “praxis,” “a response based on what Christians claim to believe.” [6] Finally, “reassessment” is done to see what else is there to be done, or whether what has been done is truly faithful to Christian witness.

What these theologians call the “preferential option for the poor” is deeply incarnational. Because Christ was poor and suffered under Rome, He sides with the “least of these.” We see in Latin American liberation theology (and there are many other forms of liberation theology) an emphasis on an important precondition of self-determination: liberation from the delusions that oppressive systems instill into the oppressed.

As De La Torre sums up,

The miracle of the incarnation is not that God became human, but rather that God became poor. Jesus suffered oppression on the cross as a divine commitment to stand against injustices; a stance believers are called to emulate. [7]

In other words, doing the work of liberation is the imitatio Christi, the imitation of Christ.

Liberation Theology and Humanism

As political theologian Luke Bretherton writes in Christ and the Common Life, humanitarianism (which we take here to mean the practice of humanism) is not simply “the secularized rival and antitheological alternative” to Christianity. [8] The picture is more complicated. Bretherton writes that “Christianity is both an insider and an outsider, committed to and, at the same time, detached from humanitarianism.” [9] In other words, humanitarianism is in some ways a product of Christianity, yet also sometimes framed as a mode of compassionate politics in ways that need not be explicitly religious.

Sheinbaum’s humanismo mexicano seems to fall in line with the picture that Bretherton paints. The underlying maxim of a common good which prioritizes the poor is unmistakably Christian. Even though liberation theology emerged in the 20th century, the passages that liberation theologians have drawn on have been read by Christians for millennia.

In fact, as historian Peter Brown argues, the Christian concept of “repentance” was often inseparable from “fully visible reparatory actions” for most of Christian history. Giving to the poor was done in hopes that God would give the sinful giver forgiveness. The economy of the third century Christian community also focused on redeeming the “goods of this world” by funneling one’s earnings into the Church, which in turn safeguarded the most vulnerable of the community. [10]

In Constantine’s time, the Roman Empire would distribute clothes and food to clergy for those in need. Church complexes included warehouses where goods were kept for the poor. [11] Even in the 17th and 18th centuries, writers like Duc de Louis de Rouvroy Saint-Simon would depict bishops like so:

With all his social grace and his appearance of worldliness, [he] fulfilled his duties as a bishop as though he had no other cares to distract him. He visited hospitals, gave alms generously but judiciously, attended to his clergy and religious houses. He found time for everything yet never seemed busy. His open house and generous table gave the impression of the residence of a governor. Yet in everything it was becoming to the Church. [12]

Indeed, one of Brown’s main arguments in The Rise of Western Christendom is that from late antiquity onward, “in European Christian contexts, concern for the poor marked whether a political order was legitimate.” [13]

Conclusion

Sheinbaum’s humanist maxim stands out as a simultaneously humanitarian and theological principle. Indeed, we have written on the “common good” as opposed to other political goals like the “greater good” elsewhere. But this form of the common good is quite distinct.

The pursuit of the common good, even if it seeks the good of all, can also be uniquely responsive to those who are most in need. And this is a fascinating insight, both in terms of comparative politics and political theology/philosophy. We will see how Sheinbaum’s own presidential tenure unfolds over the next six years.

In the meantime, it would do us well to reflect how we prioritize whose needs to meet first. One might call this, in a way reminiscent of Albert Mohler’s approach to ecumenism, “political triage.”

References

1. Quinn Slobodian, Globalists: The End of Empire and the Birth of Neoliberalism (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2018), 87. Quoted in Vallier.

2. Milton Friedman, Capitalism and Freedom (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press; reprinted 2002), 24. Quoted in Vallier.

3. Ambrosio Velasco Gómez, “Humanismo฀hispanoamericano,” Revista฀de฀Hispanismo฀Filosófico, no. 13 (2008): 13.

4. Miguel A. De La Torre, “Liberation Theology,” in The Cambridge Companion to Christian Political Theology, edited by Craig Hovey and Elizabeth Phillips (New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 27.

5. De La Torre, “Liberation Theology,” 30.

6. De La Torre, “Liberation Theology,” 30.

7. De La Torre, “Liberation Theology,” 32.

8. Luke Bretherton, Christ and the Common Life: Political Theology and the Case for Democracy (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2019), 52.

9. Bretherton, Christ and the Common Life, 52

10. Peter Brown, The Rise of Western Christendom: Triumph and Diversity, a.d. 200–1000, 10th anniversary rev. ed. (Wiley-Blackwell, 2013), 69-70.

11. Brown, The Rise of Western Christendom, 78.

12. Brown, The Rise of Western Christendom, 159.

13. Bretherton, Christ and the Common Life, 73.


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