it would not be easy to publish it, and that all the publishing houses would be fearful of the effect it might have on their commercial relationship with Sanborns, the biggest chain of bookshops in Mexico—owned, of course, by Slim himself. These kinds of comments did not shake my determination as much as other warnings around the book being potentially ignored by the media (owned, again, by Slim) or even the risk of being legally annihilated by his lawyers. One of the people who warned me of that possibility was the editor of one of Mexico’s most influential magazines, which Slim sued through five different agencies of the public ministry simultaneously on the same morning, over a mild criticism. His case, as that of other activists and critics who have condemned Slim, never became public knowledge.
I traveled to New York, Beirut, Rio de Janeiro and several other cities to research Slim; I was near him during some of his public appearances and private functions, such as the inauguration party of Saks in Mexico. As the ribbon was being cut on the first Mexican branch of the New York store, I ended up standing two meters away from him, which later led some of the guests at the exclusive drinks reception to believe that I was someone close to the richest man in the world, and to treat me extremely kindly, though they soon turned the other way when they found out that, although I knew many things about Slim, at that time the man and I had never exchanged words.
With the aim of providing a view of Slim from several different angles, I formally interviewed over a hundred people, from mere associates to the magnate’s most senior business friends or foes, such as Bernardo Gómez and Alfonso de Angoitia, two of the three executives who steer Televisa along with Emilio Azcárraga. In Mexico, the prevailing perception is that this company, the most important Spanish-speaking television broadcaster in the world, aggressively intervenes in public power by grossly manipulating information. Other important members of the political and economic class also gave interviews but have refused to be cited explicitly. That was not the case for Jacques Rogozinski, the official operator of the privatization of Telmex and other state-run companies, who gave me an extensive interview with permission to quote him.
Before having the first of three long conversations with the magnate, in which I heard his version of his story for this unofficial biography, I looked at many of the interviews that Slim had given in the past. Perhaps some of the most revealing ones were those with the American journalist Larry King, who became his business partner and who, some speculate, will author Slim’s official biography, although the tycoon assured me he would write it himself. They have both been part of interesting conversations at business congresses in the United States. At the 2013 Milken Institute Global Conference, in a session available on YouTube, King introduces Slim this way:
About two and a half years ago, Carlos Slim has this big conference in Mexico City in which he gives out scholarships, and they called and asked me to be the keynote speaker. And I went down and they said I was limited to twenty minutes, which to me is like phoning it in. So they extended my time and we became friends, he came to my house, we had dinner, we did my show, and then finally we formed Ora TV which is now on the Internet, we’re distributed by Hulu, we started in July, we’ve done over 170 interviews already, increasing every week; so, he is my partner. He was poor, he needed help [smiling]. He is an incredible man.
Slim already has a short official biography published on his website. This book gleans some information from there, but crucially it adds political angles that have been scarcely explored. It also contradicts or contextualizes, based on testimonies and documents, other aspects of Slim’s (auto)biographic narrative. As is necessary in the kind of journalism I value, there is never an intention to lynch him, nor is the aim to glorify him.
Other journalist colleagues have already written about Slim’s life. The most extensive piece was by José Martínez, the generous author of a text added to this book, but my purpose was to create something that did not exist: a biography that also examined the influences and political relationships around the richest Mexican in the world. In this sense, this book is not financial reportage or an economic analysis of his empire, but a portrait of Slim’s social influence, as well as his political relationships, and his actions or omissions and the way these affect public life. At the same time, I hope it is an overview of key moments in the history of Mexico, such as the years after the Revolution, the Tlatelolco massacre in ’68, the “dirty war,” the economic crises of the 1980s, Salinas’ privatizations, the change of power in 2000, the postelection conflict of 2006, the so-called War on Drugs and the return of the PRI to power with the government of Enrique Peña Nieto.
After I carried out the research, I tried out several ways of writing this biography: using the literary device of a letter to the richest Mexican in the world, or the polyphonic techniques masterfully demonstrated by Ryszard Kapuściński in Imperium and Hans Magnus Enzensberger in Anarchy’s Brief Summer. In the end, looking at my subject’s character traits and the information gathered, I opted for a more streamlined register as the best way to tell Slim’s story. So my research about him is interwoven with his own point of view.
I should mention that despite my difficult questions in my interviews, Slim always maintained an attitude of respect. If anything, when asked about controversial issues he chose to respond only briefly. I should thank him for the more than seven hours he conceded me for this book, which, as I mentioned, I started working on eight years ago. During our meetings, he showed me photographs of his visits to the dentist, we listened to songs by Chamín Correa, we chatted while he got his hair cut before an event with the president, he gave me the autobiography of his friend Sophia Loren and a biographical essay about Genghis Khan, and he shared with me his process of preparing for a conference that was held in September 2015 with the interns at Fundación Telmex about the evolution of societies over the history of humanity. At some point the tycoon, half reprimanding and half joking, said to me: “You made me say a lot of things I’ve never said before.”
Although this biography may have special force because it includes the direct voice, rarely heard, of its main character, I hope above all that it posits the challenge of getting to know and understand one of the most important figures in the world today, based on information and questions. Questions such as whether he has truly helped combat poverty and whether one can live for money alone, with the belief that the economy is not connected to social and political issues. Whether the richest man in the world can be a good person was one of the guiding questions during the immersive research for this book, although in the end I decided not to openly address it in the text, to give the readers the freedom to consider for themselves this or any other question during their reading. An intelligent friend reminded me of what Javier Cercas says in The Impostor: in order to tell someone’s story, we first need to understand it, and that understanding tends to bring us closer to them. Therefore, the exercise of narrating in a way reduces any distances that may exist—in this case, imposed by money—and provides readers with a more accurate perspective.
It’s not easy to analyze a millionaire beyond the good or bad stereotypes that exist about them. The French psychoanalyst Jacques-Alain Miller, a disciple of Lacan, even believes it’s an impossible task when it comes to the ultrarich. In an interview for the weekly magazine Marianne, he said that in 2008 he saw a millionaire patient who told him how in those days he earned or lost a million dollars speculating until he was ruined by the financial crisis that year. “If you are truly rich, you are un-analyzable, because you are not in a position to pay—that is, to give up anything meaningful: analysis slides like water off a duck’s back,” explains Miller, who believes “money is a signifier without the signified, that kills all meaning. When one is devoted to money, truth stops making sense.”
This specialist, who studied alongside Jean-Paul Sartre, believes that there are usually three motivations for the great accumulators of capital. The first has to do directly with death and is reflected in the fear of illness and the desire to perpetuate in their offspring. The second is linked to pleasure and is reflected in immediate consumption and extravagant spending. Neither of these two seemed to fit with Slim’s motivations. Perhaps Miller’s third classification would apply: that of having money for money’s sake, for the pure
