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Showing posts with label Mexico. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mexico. Show all posts

Dr. Juan Manuel Chaparro Gonzalez: Between Medicine and Diplomacy

Dr. Juan Manuel Chaparro González, plastic surgeon and diplomatic figure, redefining luxury aesthetic medicine from Mexico City.
Image Source: Dr. Juan Manuel Chaparro Gonzalez

There are people born with a particular disposition toward the world: the ability to walk into any room, read the people in it, and build, with almost no apparent effort, a genuine connection. It is not charisma in the superficial sense of the word. It is something harder to name and considerably more rare: a human intelligence that recognizes the other before categorizing them, that listens before speaking, and that makes whoever is in front of them feel that their presence matters. The most skilled diplomats have it. So does Dr. Juan Manuel Chaparro González.

A plastic, aesthetic and reconstructive surgeon with more than thirteen years of practice, certified by the Mexican Council of Plastic, Aesthetic and Reconstructive Surgery and by the International Society of Aesthetic and Plastic Surgery, Dr. Chaparro has built from Mexico City a trajectory that exceeds the conventional boundaries of his profession. Not because he sought to go beyond medicine, but because the way he practices medicine has led him, quite naturally, into territories few of his colleagues navigate: that of diplomatic relations, of art, of the bond between people from radically different cultures who find in him an unlikely common ground.

What makes Dr. Chaparro singular is not any one element in isolation. It is the sum of several: a rigorous medical training, an artistic sensibility cultivated with seriousness, and a linguistic capacity that reflects, better than anything else, the way this man understands his relationship with the world.

Languages as Vocation

Dr. Chaparro speaks Spanish and English with complete fluency, French at an advanced level, intermediate Portuguese, is developing his reading and writing in Arabic, and has a working knowledge of Mandarin Chinese. To those who know him, that list is not a résumé of skills accumulated out of professional ambition. It is the portrait of someone for whom learning another person's language is, first and foremost, an act of respect.

That distinction matters. There is a difference between someone who learns a language to operate in a given market and someone who learns it because the culture that language contains seems worth that effort. The first learns to communicate. The second learns to understand. And that difference, in a conversation, is immediately felt.

In the diplomatic and international circles where Dr. Chaparro has moved over the years, that quality has had concrete consequences. He has delivered speeches and remarks in the native languages of diplomatic figures with whom he maintains close ties — not as a performance, but as a direct signal that that person, their origin and their history, deserve that particular recognition. In circles where protocol governs almost everything and authentic gestures are quickly distinguished from calculated ones, that kind of gesture is not forgotten.

The accumulated result of years of those interactions is a network of friendships and relationships with ambassadors and representatives from different countries that began in various ways — at cultural events, in institutional settings, in conversations that simply went further than anyone had anticipated — and that have endured because they are built on something real.

A Profile That Fits No Single Category

To understand Dr. Chaparro solely as a physician would be to see only a small part of the picture. He is also director of the Bloomberger Art Gallery, president of the board of the Teletón Autism Center, a member of Mensa, and a medical examiner certified by the United States Federal Aviation Administration. All of that together produces a profile that is difficult to categorize, and that generates, quite naturally, conversations that go well beyond what any professional title could anticipate.

Patients from the United States, Canada, and other Latin American countries choose to travel specifically to be treated by Dr. Chaparro at his clinic, Bloom Beauty & Clinic. That decision, which requires a considerably higher threshold of trust than choosing a local physician, is explained by reasons that go beyond clinical reputation — although that reputation is solid and backed by international certifications, publications in specialized journals, and presentations at national and international conferences.

What international patients describe, consistently, is something harder to quantify: the sense that the physician in front of them has understood not only the case they present but the person presenting it. Their history, their cultural context, the particular way they relate to their own image. In a specialty that works at the intersection of the physical and the psychological, that broader understanding is not an added bonus — it is a central part of the work.

And that is where the qualities that make Dr. Chaparro a valued interlocutor for an ambassador are exactly the same ones that make him a different kind of physician for a patient who has traveled from abroad. The ability to make the other person feel seen on their own terms has no specific application — it works equally in a medical consultation and in a diplomatic conversation.

What a Person Like This Leaves Behind

Formal diplomacy has its structures, its treaties, its summits and its protocols. All of that is necessary and serves its purpose. But there is also a dimension of relations between countries and cultures that does not happen in any protocol room: it happens between people, in conversations no one formally scheduled, in the moment when someone decides to take seriously the person in front of them.

Medicine was his starting point. Languages, his way of reaching out. Art, his way of understanding beauty beyond the scalpel. And behind all of it, one constant: the conviction that every person who crosses his path deserves the best of what he has to offer. That conviction, sustained over more than thirteen years and across several continents, is what sets a notable career apart from one that truly leaves a mark.

Roberto Abraham Mafud: Music as the Language of Eternity

Roberto Abraham Mafud — Mexican composer, pianist, and cultural philanthropist whose works have been performed at Schonbrunn Palace and concert halls across Europe, Asia, and the Americas
Image Source: Roberto Abraham Mafud (courtesy of Cultura Yucatan A.C.)

Long before empires drew their borders or minted their currencies, music existed. Not as entertainment — that would come later — but as a form of knowledge. The ancient Greeks studied it alongside geometry and astronomy, certain that the proportions governing a melody were the same ones holding the planets in place. Bach understood this. So did Vivaldi. So did Chopin. At its most essential, music is not a decorative art. It is a science of the spirit.

Mexico has given the world composers of genuine stature that have engaged the great Western musical tradition from a place of deep, unmistakable identity. Roberto Abraham Mafud belongs to that lineage.

What makes his story singular is not only the quality of his work, but the nature of the man behind it: a businessman and philanthropist, an honorary consul of Lebanon in Mexico for eleven years, a builder of cultural institutions and, at the center of all of it, a composer and pianist. A man for whom music is not a parallel dimension to his life, but its most personal language.

His connection to music began before any conservatory. His grandmother Anita placed his hands on a piano when he was seven years old. She played piano and accordion. His grandfather played violin. In that family of Lebanese descent rooted in Yucatan, music was not a discipline one studied, it was something inherited, passed down the way that things of true value are passed down: with love and through example.

What followed was a formation built with the same rigor one brings to any science. The Vienna Conservatory. The Mozarteum in Salzburg, where Abraham Mafud attended masterclasses with Carlo Zecchi — the exacting Roman pianist and conductor who embodied the strictest standards of the Italian classical tradition — and with Tatiana Nikolaeva, the Soviet pianist who would become a world reference for the works of Bach and Shostakovich. Then the Berklee College of Music in Boston. This is not the trajectory of someone who studied music as a complement to other pursuits. It is the life of someone who found himself in the depths of the music and understood that behind every well-placed note there exists an order that reason and soul must learn together.

Vienna also gave him something no classroom can teach. The city he arrived in still bore the economic wounds of the postwar years — buildings mid-restoration, an entire civilization in the slow, deliberate work of recovering what time and conflict had damaged. That image — a city collectively committed to saving its cultural patrimony — would become, years later, the driving force behind his own work as a cultural builder in Mexico.

Roberto Abraham Mafud’s catalog as a composer spans more than 60 original works encompassing symphonic music, sacred compositions, chamber music and piano pieces. Those works have been performed in Mexico, Austria, Italy, France, Romania, South Korea, Belgium, Bosnia, Andorra, Cuba and the United States within formal programming, in conservatories and concert halls where the standards are unambiguous.

In April 2015, the University of Music and Performing Arts Vienna chose the Imperial Theater of Schonbrunn Palace for the world premiere of three of his compositions: Pieza Vienesa, Medieva and Transfiguracion, originally written for piano, with baroque resonances, earned international recognition following that evening. Schonbrunn Palace — former imperial residence of the Habsburgs and a UNESCO World Heritage Site — is not a venue offered as a courtesy. It is offered when the music justifies it.

One of his pieces tells its own story better than any critical review could. Transfiguracion 13 began as a piano composition — originally titled Invencion 13 — and reached the hands of an Austrian arranger who adapted it for symphony orchestra. When he finished, that musician asked Roberto Abraham to change the name. The work had, in his own words, transformed his way of seeing the world. He wanted the title to reflect that. A composition that changes the person who works with it is perhaps the quietest and most conclusive proof that something inside it is true.

Pucciniana arrived differently. The piece was composed when the Puccini Foundation of Lucca, Italy visited Merida, an occasion that called for a musical gesture of cultural reciprocity. Roberto Abraham Mafud wrote it. The Foundation took it back to Italy.

In 2019, the Government of the State of Yucatan and the Autonomous University of Yucatan awarded him — unanimously — the Eligio Ancona Medal, the highest cultural distinction in the state, for his trajectory as a benefactor, cultural manager, artist and promoter. In 2022, at the School of Law of the National Autonomous University of Mexico, he received the Grand Cross of Honor of the National Legion of Honor of Mexico — the institution's highest distinction; becoming the first person from Yucatan in this century to receive it.

He was also the primary force behind the construction of the Palacio de la Musica hall in Merida because he understood, from those years in Vienna, that music requires places to live.

Roberto Abraham Mafud continues to compose. The music that began with his grandmother and a piano in Yucatan has reached some of the most demanding stages in the world, largely because it carries the only quality that truly matters in any art form: it is timeless.

Mexico’s Leftist Leader Rejects Big Spending to Ease Virus’s Sting

President Andrés Manuel López Obrador rejects huge stimulus packages, even as millions of Mexicans risk falling into poverty.


For the second time in a month, top business leaders sat down with Mexico’s president to implore him to do more to save the economy.

People were losing jobs by the tens of thousands, they warned. Small and medium-size companies, which employ more than 70 percent of the Mexican work force, were running out of cash. The government needed to intervene, they argued. The data was irrefutable.

“I have other data,” shrugged the president, Andrés Manuel López Obrador, according to two businesspeople with direct knowledge of that conversation in April. “You do whatever you think you need to do, and I’ll do what I need to do.”

Across the globe, governments have rushed to pump cash into flailing economies, hoping to stave off the pandemic’s worst financial fallout.

They have mustered trillions of dollars for stimulus measures to keep companies afloat and employees on the payroll. The logic: When the pandemic finally passes, economies will not have to start from scratch to bounce back.

In Mexico, no such rescue effort has come. The pandemic could lead to an economic reckoning worse than anything Mexico has seen in perhaps a century. More jobs were lost in April than were created in all of 2019. A recent report by a government agency said as many as 10 million people could fall into poverty this year.

Yet most economists estimate that Mexico will increase spending only slightly — by less than 1 percent of its economy — a small amount compared with many large nations.

The reason? Critics and supporters agree: Mr. López Obrador.

Hostile toward bailouts, loath to take on public debt and deeply mistrustful of most business leaders, Mexico’s president has opted largely to sit tight despite what is expected to be widespread pain up and down the economic ladder.

“The government should help the private sector as much as it can, otherwise our gross domestic product could drop as much as 10 percent, which would be a disaster,” said Carlos M. Urzúa, a former minister of finance under Mr. López Obrador.

“It can be done,” Mr. Urzúa continued, noting the relatively low public debt levels in Mexico. But “López Obrador really has no clue of the storm that is coming.”

Indigenous women demonstrated last month outside the National Palace in Mexico City to demand aid to offset the financial damage caused by the coronavirus



In a time of utter polarization in Mexico, when reactions to Mr. López Obrador vacillate between complete devotion from supporters and vitriolic anger from detractors, the need to mount an economic response has offered a rare glimmer of unity.

Still, Mr. López Obrador, a populist leftist, has resisted the pressure to do more, wary of taking on public debt and saddling the country with bills it may struggle to pay down the road.

Some of the pressure on Mr. López Obrador has come from predictable places: opposition politicians, pro-market economists and the wealthy business community, groups that tend to find wrong in nearly every step he takes.

But members of the president’s own cabinet have also urged him to take action, arguing that failing to do so could cripple the nation, government officials say. So, too, have federal bank officials and a range of economists sympathetic to his politics.

“Every day counts,” said Santiago Levy, an economist who was offered the role of finance minister in Mr. López Obrador’s government shortly after his election in 2018. “A recession was inevitable, but the cost of not doing more is going to be a much longer and deeper recession.”

A group of state governors, including one from Mr. López Obrador’s own party, has formed a coalition to demand that he do more to help them financially. Some have even threatened the equivalent of financial secession.

“We need a strategy of unity, and instead we have received absolutely nothing,” said Martín Orozco Sandoval, the governor of Aguascalientes in central Mexico.

The government says it will take a cautious approach to bailouts and heavy spending.

Graciela Márquez, the secretary of the economy, challenged assertions that Mexico could easily increase debt to spend more. The cost would be prohibitive, she said, and taking on debt liberally could ultimately be more problematic than beneficial.

“If at a certain point we need to raise more debt, we will,” said Mrs. Márquez, a Harvard-trained economist. “It’s not a closed-off road.”

Workers sterilizing the coffin of a Covid-19 victim in Mexico City last month. Even before the coronavirus hit, Mexico was in recession.



For now, the government is spending more, she said, including by issuing micro-credits and other payments to the most vulnerable people.

As for whether that additional spending is sufficient, she noted that even the $2 trillion stimulus package in the United States has not been enough

“What is sufficient under these conditions?” she asked. “It must be done responsibly, without generating more problems than the ones it is trying to resolve.”

Economic damage from the pandemic is a given. But the difference between a long, protracted crisis and a meaningful recovery, in the eyes of many economists, depends on a government’s ability to help companies and workers stay afloat until the worst is over.

European nations have spent trillions to counter the financial devastation and are considering raising more than $800 billion in collective debt to stave off economic collapse.

Some of Mexico’s Latin American neighbors have acted decisively: Chile, Peru and Brazil have all passed packages valued at 8 percent to 12 percent of their economies.

But in Mexico — between tiny business loans and spending for cash-transfer programs for the poor, the young and the elderly — additional government spending is less than 1 percent of the economy, most economists calculate.

Even before the coronavirus hit, Mexico was in recession. But the government agency that measures poverty recently said that 6.1 million to 10.7 million Mexicans could be cast into poverty by the end of the year. The president rejected that assessment and placed the number of formal jobs lost at around one million.

The actions taken so far include a series of microloans of about $1,000 to tiny businesses in both the informal and formal sectors. Experts say the two million loans available will barely scratch the surface of the informal market, where some 30 million people work.

And the money is not a grant; it is a loan that struggling mom-and-pop stores will need to start repaying in a few months.

“Mexico is way below the world’s average in terms of the amount of resources being channeled to help the economy,” said Roberto Vélez Grajales, an economist at Centro de Estudios Espinosa Yglesias, a left-leaning research group.

Part of a protest against Mr. López Obrador’s handling of the pandemic. There is widespread agreement on the need to mount more of an economic response, but the president is holding fast to a commitment to major infrastructure projects instead.



The president’s resistance, according to those who know him, is based on his interpretation of Mexico’s troubled financial history.

Having lived through numerous financial crises, including sharp devaluations of the currency and defaults on debt, he believes that bailouts and rescues simply do not work, they say.

He even wrote a book about the government bailout of the financial sector after the 1994 economic collapse known as the Tequila Crisis. Many viewed that aid as a poorly managed effort that lined the pockets of the wealthy.

Many economists and analysts say Mexico can afford to increase debt to help weather the crisis. But from the moment he took office, Mr. López Obrador, while calling himself a leftist, has won praise from analysts and economists for being a fiscal conservative.

To pay for the ambitious infrastructure projects and poverty programs central to his vision, the president has cut federal programs and his own ministries, unlike his predecessor, who ran a budget deficit.

But with the coronavirus lashing small, medium and large businesses, clinging to a more traditional vision of debt and bailouts has come under fire. So have the president’s pet projects, which he views as essential for the country.

Mr. López Obrador has dubbed his efforts the “fourth transformation,” seeking to imbue his tenure with the historical brio of Mexico’s independence from Spain and its revolution.

As part of that, he has promised large-scale infrastructure projects, including a $8 billion oil refinery and a tourist train to circumnavigate the Mayan region of southeastern Mexico.

Even as oil prices have plunged and experts have questioned the utility of the oil refinery, the president has held fast to his commitment to construct one.

In fact, he says, none of his marquis projects, including the multibillion-dollar train, will be sacrificed to the virus.

“This is typical AMLO, and yet it still surprises me,” said Carlos Elizondo, a former Mexican ambassador to the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development, using the president’s nickname. “No other country in the world, amid a world pandemic and an emergency like this, continues on the same track.”


People lined up outside a bank this month in Mexico City.



The president’s persistence has worked for him in the past. He lost two elections for the presidency but maintained his message against corruption and for benefits for the poor.

In 2018, Mexicans tired of rampant graft and inequality brought Mr. López Obrador to power with the most resounding victory the country had seen in decades.

“AMLO’s great strength was his stubbornness,” Mr. Elizondo continued. “Now, Mexico’s great weakness at a time when the world has changed is having a president that refuses to adapt to a new reality.”

Those close to the president say he believes that the coronavirus, while serious, is transitory and that his mark on his nation’s history, punctuated by the symbols of large, state-led projects, will outlast the current headwinds.

He says that having a clean conscience fights the virus. “No lying, no stealing, no betraying, that helps a lot to not get coronavirus,” he told reporters.

While critics demand that he shutter his infrastructure projects and channel the money into a rescue package, some economists say it would not be enough, anyway.

“At the end of the day, the amount of money being spent on infrastructure projects in 2020 is not that important,” said Mr. Levy, the economist. “The political significance is way beyond economic significance. It’s a little bit like Trump’s wall.”

“But you need to protect formal employment, and we need to do more to help informal workers,” he added.

Instead, state governors are vowing mutiny, and a tableau of economic disaster threatens the nation.

Tourism has all but dried up. Remittances from the United States are expected to plummet. And with oil prices flirting close to historical lows, Mexico’s economy has lost yet another engine.

“For all of them to take this hit at the same time is devastating,” said Roberta S. Jacobson, a former American ambassador to Mexico. “And meanwhile, the president appears to be only doubling down on policies he already had in place.”