From Court to Campaign Trail: How Judicial Elections May Reshape Mexico’s Separation of Powers

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In September 2024, during the lame duck period between the general election and the inauguration of the incoming administration, former president of Mexico Andrés Manuel López Obrador (AMLO), led his party to pass a constitutional reform that fundamentally reshaped Mexico’s judiciary. The amendment reduced judicial tenure for supreme court judges from 15 to 12 years, reduced the number of justices from 11 to 9, and, most consequentially, established that many of the nation’s jurists, including the Supreme Court, would be elected by the Mexican public. This change was particularly significant because it altered institutional incentives along with the judiciary’s method of selection: rather than being insulated through appointment and fixed tenure, judges must now compete in electoral contests, potentially subjecting judicial decision-making to majoritarian pressures. Under the new system, judicial elections are held in  districts drawn by the legislature, and candidates are drawn from lists defined by three evaluation committees appointed by the president, the Senate, and the Supreme Court. A system like this where the entire judiciary, including supreme court justices, is elected by popular vote cannot be found anywhere else in the world. 

AMLO argued that this reform would “democratize” the judiciary by allowing citizens to have a say in their arbiters of justice. However, the design of the new system raises serious concerns for the state of Mexico’s democracy. By making judicial selection dependent on political screening and electoral competition, the reform creates pathways for partisan influence that may weaken judicial independence and disrupt Mexico’s system of checks and balances. For example, judicial salaries are now tied to the president’s salary, which gives the executive branch direct control over judicial remuneration. This violates international standards which hold that judicial funding should be independent from political interference.

Human Rights Watch has cautioned that the constitutional change undermines judicial independence in Mexico, as the reform might beholden the judiciary  to the current government’s political party. Other critics call the reform a major overreach of executive power, and warn that the change risks vast corruption, weakened judicial independence, and leads to a concentration of power in the ruling political party. This could contribute to a return to the single-party political system, which characterized Mexican politics from 1929 to 2000. 

Mexico’s modern electoral democracy is relatively young. During this seventy-one-year period, the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) held near-complete control of the Mexican presidency, Supreme Court, Congress, and administrative agencies at almost every level in the country. The PRI governed through what scholars have called a “hegemonic-party autocracy”, sustained by electoral manipulation, patronage networks, and systemic corruption. Episodes such as the 1968 Tlatelolco massacre, in which the government violently repressed student protestors, illustrate the lengths to which this “perfect dictatorship” went to preserve its political dominance. 

Against this historical backdrop, the current judicial reform raises concerns that AMLO and his chosen successor, Claudia Sheinbaum, the current president, may amass sufficient institutional power to make their political party, Morena, Mexico’s new hegemonic party. Throughout his six years in office, AMLO repeatedly framed the judiciary as corrupt or “rotten” and in urgent need of transformation. This is the same judicial system that blocked or constrained many of his major initiatives–often seen as undemocratic–such as electoral reform known as “Plan B” which would have weakened the budget and operational powers of the National Electoral Institute (INE). Further, the attempt to transfer control of the civilian National Guard to the Ministry of National Defense and a decree allowing the executive branch to bypass permits and public reporting on public-works projects by classifying them as national security matters were seen by critics as executive overreach. 

Norma Piña, the first woman ever appointed president of Mexico’s Supreme Court, fought hard to resist the implementation of the judicial reform to maintain judicial independence and ensure that it remained staffed by professionally trained jurists. Piña argued that the reform could put unqualified judges into power, and delay justice for many citizens seeking resolution. Replacing judges with often-times less-experienced, popularly elected officials not only created a learning curve that hindered the overall efficiency of the court system, but was also accompanied by work stoppages and protests, causing slowdowns in case resolution. A key player in the court’s aforementioned blocks on several of AMLO’s policies, Piña faced many accusations of playing an exceedingly-political role in her opposition to the reform, and neither AMLO nor Sheinbaum showed interest in dialogue with her. In September 2024, the Mexican Senate narrowly passed the judicial reform hours after protesters broke into the chamber and forced a suspension of the proceedings. One month later, Piña, along with eight of the eleven justices on the Supreme Court, resigned,declining to participate in an election for the court scheduled for the following June.

The implementation of the constitutional reform establishing judicial elections has proceeded in several stages. The amendment took effect in September 2024, triggering the process to replace the existing judiciary. Its passage in the Senate was controversial: although Morena initially lacked the supermajority required for constitutional reform, last-minute party defections and a decisive vote from an opposition senator — amid allegations of political pressure and possible corruption-related incentives — ultimately secured approval.

In early February 2025, the Senate approved candidate lists for the first round of elections, based on nominations submitted by evaluative bodies from the executive, legislative, and judicial branches. The first popular election for Supreme Court justices, Electoral Tribunal magistrates, and roughly half of circuit and district judges took place on June 1, 2025, although only 13 percent of eligible voters went to the polls. Opening the judiciary to direct election also produced concerns about candidate vetting, including reports that lawyers with alleged cartel ties sought judicial office. The newly elected judges were sworn in on September 1, 2025, with a second electoral phase scheduled for 2027 to fill the remaining federal judicial positions. The election was praised by President Sheinbaum, who described it as “marvelous” and a “great success,” hailing the replacement of the federal judiciary as a victory of democracy over corruption and nepotism. Yet the outcome also raised alarms: the nine winning candidates for the Supreme Court were all closely linked to Morena, reinforcing fears that the reform may consolidate rather than disperse political power. 

Separation of powers is a central pillar of democratic governance, designed to ensure that each branch of government can check the others and prevent the concentration of authority in any single political actor or branch. Courts in particular serve as a counter-majoritarian institution, tasked with enforcing constitutional limits—even when doing so runs against the preferences of elected officials. If a governing party effectively shapes the executive, legislature, and judiciary at once, the institutional safeguards meant to restrain power risk becoming symbolic rather than functional. In that context, the reform raises a paradox at the heart of constitutional design: can expanding direct electoral control over the judiciary actually weaken democracy by eroding the very independence that allows courts to protect it?

Adelaida del Valle is a senior at Brown University studying Behavioral Decision Sciences. She is a Blog Writer for the Brown Undergraduate Law Review and can be reached at adelaida_del_valle@brown.edu.

Isabella Gardiner is a sophomore studying history. She is an editor for the Brown Undergraduate Law Review and can be reached at isabella_gardiner@brown.edu.

Danny Moylan is a sophomore from Massachusetts studying Political Science and International/Public Affairs. He is a staff editor for the Brown Undergraduate Law Review and can be contacted at daniel_moylan@brown.edu.