Oaxaca's Embattled Governor Keeps a Tenuous Hold on Power

Ruiz Resists Calls to Resign, Even From Within His Party

OAXACA, Mexico, Oct. 31 -- Ulises Ruiz, governor of the strike-scorched state of Oaxaca, is cornered.

Mexico's Congress wants him to quit. Hordes of protesters want him to quit. His own party wants him to quit.

But he won't budge.

Ruiz is the central player in the 163-day strike that thousands of federal riot police have not been able to end. He is the subject of an ultimatum: Unless Ruiz goes, the protesters will stay. After more than five months of tumult, few people here question the demonstrators' resolve, even though the city was mostly calm Tuesday while protest leaders huddled to plan new actions.

The conflict, which has claimed the lives of an American freelance journalist and as many as 14 demonstrators, is exposing Ruiz's weaknesses. A longtime political operative, he is accustomed to working behind the scenes. At a time when a rousing speech might have won him support, Ruiz has seldom appeared in public. Analysts here describe him as an uninspiring orator, unable to connect with the public at large.

"He has no charisma, no ability to get close to the people," said Isidoro Yescas Martínez of Benito Juarez Autonomous University of Oaxaca. "What he's trying to do is survive in a situation that is impossible politically, technically and administratively."

For much of the past five months, Ruiz has not even been able to go to work. Protesters, including striking teachers, anarchists and union activists, occupied his office until federal troops arrived here Saturday night. Ruiz has frequently been forced to flee to Mexico City, a six-hour drive from Oaxaca, and to try to govern by phone.

"Each day it is becoming more obvious that in order to start heading toward a solution, he must leave office," Dulce María Sauri, an influential senator, said in an interview. "Sometimes a person's absence helps more than his presence." Like Ruiz, Sauri is a member of the Institutional Revolutionary Party, or PRI.

On Monday, both houses of Mexico's Congress passed resolutions urging Ruiz to resign. The Chiapas rebel leader, Subcomandante Marcos, and Andrés Manuel López Obrador, who lost this summer's presidential election but remains influential, have also called for his ouster.

Ruiz's tenure as governor was troubled before it began. On election night in 2004, he was trailing when a computer glitch shut down the counting. When the counting resumed, he was on top. The opposition accused him of fraud.

He stepped into one of the country's most complicated political jobs. Oaxaca is Mexico's second-poorest state and home to 16 indigenous ethnic groups that speak more than 50 dialects. Though its population is 3 million-plus people, it has 570 municipalities -- nearly a fourth of the cities in Mexico--and more than 8,000 administrative units known as localities, each with its own informal social and governmental structures.

During his nearly two years in office, Ruiz offended many residents by undertaking an expensive renovation of the town's beloved square -- which some considered perfect as it was-- and by spending heavily on controversial road projects.

Local journalists and activists accused him of wasting tax dollars and countless hours trying to buck up the flagging presidential campaign of Roberto Madrazo, the PRI candidate. Few would have questioned the spending during the PRI's 70-year hold on power, which ended in 2000. But after that the party became much weaker.

Residents took to the streets to complain. Oaxaca has a long history of public demonstrations against graft. The formula, perfected during the long reign of the PRI , was simple: Groups marched or threatened to march; politicians gave them money to go away.

When Ruiz took office, Oaxaca was being overrun by such protests, and he tried to change the system. He cracked down on small groups but initially did nothing stop the powerful teachers union from holding its annual sit-in for higher salaries. After several days, though, he sent police to push the teachers out. Protesters were furious and began calling for his ouster. His move proved ineffective -- the teachers fought back, overwhelming the police and regaining the town square.

"This monster -- the never-ending protests, which had been created by these PRI governments -- rose up and this colossus said: 'No,' " said Gloria Zafra, a sociologist who has written extensively about protest traditions in Oaxaca.

The colossus is still saying no, but so is Ruiz. Their standoff has turned into Mexico's biggest political flash point. The question is who will give up first -- Ruiz's term doesn't expire until 2010.