In politics, there are no lasting friendships: only short-term gains. That’s why the most revealing image of the week isn’t anyone’s resignation, but rather the paradox of the new order: Claudia Sheinbaum governs with Marcelo Ebrard—a staunch rival for years—and, at the same time, is losing Adán Augusto López, the Tabasco native who seemed untouchable.
This isn’t a sentimental shift. It’s the arithmetic of power: a professional rival returns if they bring something the government needs—experience, dialogue, results—; an ally who operates as a faction ends up being a problem, even if they’re from within the party.
The clue isn’t in the speeches, but in the signals that the center doesn’t forgive: when a major decision smacks of cross-party involvement, the President doesn’t offer support; she distances herself. This happened with Rosario Piedra’s reappointment to the National Human Rights Commission (CNDH): Sheinbaum framed it with a curt phrase: “It’s a Senate decision.” From that point on, what’s at stake isn’t who falls, but who remains indispensable. “Shutting down” in politics isn’t humiliating: it’s closing the channel. Ceasing to consult. Ceasing to appoint. Ceasing to open the door.
For years, Ebrard was the uncomfortable competitor within the Obrador movement: national presence, obvious ambition, his own structure, and a rivalry with Sheinbaum that didn’t need press releases. It was evident in the silences, in the conflicting agendas, in that coldness that sometimes becomes foreign policy within the same party. But power—real power—isn’t offended: it calculates. And Ebrard is where he is not through forgiveness or catechism discipline, but through experience. In the world of tariffs, the USMCA, and pressure from Washington, you need someone who knows the table, not just the microphone. That’s where negotiation and composure work.
A barometer of his return was provided by Jorge Zepeda Patterson: he already places him, along with Harfuch, as an inevitable name heading into 2030. It’s not a prophecy; It’s a matter of visibility and utility. With Ebrard, the government gains external leverage. And in that calculation, the rival isn’t an obstacle if they deliver results; the obstacle is the one who competes without contributing.
Adán Augusto wasn’t, originally, Claudia’s natural rival. He didn’t come from that long rivalry of the previous six-year term. That’s why his case is more revealing: he didn’t clash with the President because of history; he drew himself into the friction through style, calculation, and a dangerous self-image.
When he was promoted to the Interior Ministry and then to the national stage—Segob, a figurehead, a top-level operator—Adán behaved as if he were a newcomer and already a star. He mobilized resources, alliances, loyalties; he played hardball internally and encountered a simple fact: in the center, you can compete, yes, but you can’t set fire to the room you live in.
That’s the difference with Ebrard. Marcelo fights and, when the time comes, becomes useful without disrupting the system. Adán, on the other hand, pushes his own agenda even if it obstructs the Palace’s. And when an actor sends signals of autonomy—not through his own strength, but by his own influence—he ceases to be an ally: he becomes a problem. The system doesn’t challenge him; it isolates him. And when you’re isolated, resignation is a document that arrives too late.
Tabasco offered a clue before the capital. It was in July 2023, in a Telereportaje interview that touched a nerve no one wanted to touch publicly: the idea that “Palenque” might be orchestrating the internal power struggle.
Sheinbaum became uncomfortable, corrected herself, held eye contact, and uttered a phrase that, in retrospect, foreshadowed what was to come: “I don’t know why so much violence… the interview is very aggressive.” It wasn’t just a complaint. It was a warning: here, they don’t play games with insinuating control. Such things are filed away at the capital. Politics doesn’t forget who pushes, who pressures, who establishes the idea of an alternative leadership. In Tabasco it was understood as a message of style: it was not a discussion about billboards, it was a discussion about authority.
Source: tabascohoy
