We grow accustomed to all the red-tape paperwork while
living in Mexico. But there is an interesting exception. Written into the
Mexican Constitution, Article 11 tells us that all people have the right to
enter the Republic, leave it, travel through its territory and change their
domicile "without the need of a security card, passport, safe conduct
pass, or any similar requirement."
The clause goes on to say that this rule is subordinate to rules that
can be imposed by judicial, administrative, and health authorities on
emigration, immigration, and pernicious foreigners residing in the
country. Yes, pernicious is the word
used in the constitution.
A Mexican's right not to carry an identification cards
differs from most other Latin American countries where adult citizens are
required to carry and produce on demand an identification card or in many cases
a booklet identifying the citizen.
I remember that while in high school in Colombia I carried a
small, hardbound, many paged "cédula de extranjería" (foreigner's
identification). My friends who were citizens carried a "cédula de
identidad". I've seen similar
booklets in Guatemala with the identification information entered in elegant
handwriting, authenticated by a national seal applied with a rubber stamp.
Because of Article 11, Mexican immigration authorities have
had to come up with ways to differentiate between Mexican citizens and
foreigners. In most cases it's done by
skin color, physical stereotypes, or by detecting regional accents. But that
doesn't work with many Central Americans, especially Guatemalans. Ethnically the state of Chiapas is virtually
identical to Guatemala. Until 1824 Chiapas
was part of Guatemala.
When in doubt immigration authorities resort to asking
questions only Mexicans are able to answer. They’ll say "sing the national
anthem." Or use words that are
particularly Mexican. In a "good
cop-bad cop" situation the good cop will offer the detainee a soft drink,
along with a carefully structured question "would you like your coca with
"popote" (Mexican word for straw)?" A Guatemalan, supposing
popote is a seasoning, might reply "just a little" and fall right
into the trap.
Arriving one day in Tijuana on a flight from Mexico City, I
passed through a line where a Mexican immigration officer was doing work for
the U.S. Border Patrol. He was picking out undocumented Central Americans
before they even got to the U.S. border.
When the man ahead of me was asked "where are you coming
from?" he answered "Chiapas."
The officer came back with "what's the capital of
Chiapas?" I could see my fellow
traveler stumbling over his answer and about to be caught, so I whispered
"Tuxtla Gutierrez." He told the officer “Tuxtla Gutierrez” and was
waved through. Phew! It was interesting
to see the officer respect the Constitution and let the man of dubious
nationality proceed. My 28-page FM-2
immigration booklet occupied his attention until the Guatemalan blended into
the crowd. I hope he made it.
Traveling without ID is one thing, but cashing a check is
quite another. Banks and other
institutions need to verify a person’s identity. In the United States a driver’s license has
become the acceptable means of identification. My U.S. passport card was turned
down as ID in a New York City pharmacy when buying cold medicine. Without an
address printed on it there would be no way to track me down if I purchased too
much Sudafed! A drivers license is so
ubiquitous in the US that state departments of motor vehicles also issue
non-drivers identification -- and charge just as much for them as they do for a
driver's license.
A driver's license is not accepted for bank transactions in
Mexico. Instead, a voter registration
card has become the acceptable identification.
People from other countries may not even know where their voter's
registration card is, but most Mexicans carry it with them in their
wallet. Known as their "IFE"
(Federal Electoral Institute) card, it is a credit card-sized identifying
document containing the citizen's full name, address, photo, gender, age,
electoral code, polling booth number, thumb-print, and signature. There’s also a magnetic strip on the back of
the card with who-knows-what additional information.
In the 1980’s when the IFE first started issuing the current
style card, acquisition was so simple it was scandalous. To demonstrate the ease of requesting
multiple fraudulent cards, a National University (UNAM) student wrote a term
paper about procuring five different voter's registration cards delivered to
her own address plus that of four friends.
Rather than being thanked for whistle-blowing, she was accused of a
crime by the IFE. Now the process is
very secure. Banks will accept IFE cards dated as of 2012 as solid proof of
both identity and address -- without requiring a recent utility bill a proof of
address.
As a bonus, since voting is both a right and responsibility,
the IFE card is free. The Constitution
says there is no restriction on changing domicile, but for purposes of voting,
one's address determines one's polling booth.
Fine print on the IFE card requires reporting an address change within
thirty days.
Using voters registration cards as identification is an
unusual though subtle and effective way of complying with the
Constitution.
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