It's election season in Mexico, and politicians on all sides are speaking of unprecedented levels of democracy and openness. But in the towns and cities, the long history of corruption continues uninterrupted -- affecting even a beauty pageant. PNS commentator Peter S. Cahn is a doctoral student at the University of California, Berkeley.

TZINTZUNTZAN, MEXICO -- Independence Day in Mexico this year featured politicians talking of unprecedented democratic reforms, but in one small town even a beauty pageant bore the tell-tale signs of corruption as usual.

In Tzintzuntzan, a town of 3000 in the central-western state of Michoacan, the annual contest for "Senorita Fiestas Patrias"-- who adds glitter to Independence Day festivities and other civic events throughout the year-- provoked loud chants of "Fraud!" and much cynical head-shaking. The story points to a fundamental gap between the government's much-touted new commitment to democracy and the people's long-standing mistrust of politicians.

On a national level, the four candidates for the presidential nomination of the PRI -- the ruling party-- engage in feisty televised debates. There is also much talk about a possible coalition among the major opposition parties that would offer a serious challenge to the PRI's seven decades long dynasty.

However, the citizens of Tzintzuntzan do not see more political parties or more candidates as a solution to corruption and poverty. They have seen leaders from all parties misuse the town treasury. One woman tells how her neighbor added a second story to his house and bought a new car during his tenure as municipal president. She offers this as evidence of embezzlement in a community where the only recognized honest method of economic advancement is migration to the United States.

The current municipal president is a member of the PRD, a leftist-leaning party founded in part by current Mexico City mayor and Presidential hopeful Cuauhtemoc Cardenas. Cardenas's father, Lazaro, is still remembered reverently in Tzintzuntzan. As governor of Michoacan in 1930, he granted the town its autonomous status. During his term as President of Mexico, he oversaw such populist projects as the nationalization of the oil industry -- and attended local celebrations in his guayabera shirt, mingling with the townspeople.

The current PRD municipal president is known for his serious and aloof manner. But when his daughter entered the contest, there were rumors that she would win from the start.

Though any unmarried woman over 16 could participate, the cost of purchasing the necessary wardrobe deterred many potential contestants. In the first round five young women in semi-formal outfits introduced themselves to the judges and the crowd. The judges, chosen by the local government, assured the crowd that scoring would be based on audience applause.

One participant withdrew for personal reasons, but the next weekend the remaining four dressed in costumes typical of different regions of Mexico. While the judges tabulated scores, the municipal president announced his administration was donating a wheelchair to a crippled woman. Then the three finalists were announced: the president's daughter Lisette in third place. Alejandra, whose father also works for the local government, in second place. The clear crowd favorite, Lupe, was in first place.

For the last round, the town hired a traditional dance troupe and musicians. The three finalists, all in velvety evening gowns, offered their thoughts on the history of the community from the arrival of the Spanish to the time of Cardenas.

Whenever Lupe was called forward, the audience erupted in cheers, waved placards, and used noisemakers. Lisette received little more than polite applause.

The head judge took the microphone, told the girls they were all winners, then announced "third place -- Lupe. " Alejandra remained in second, while Lisette had jumped into first.

Immediately the boos started mixed with shouts of "Fraud! Fraud!" The band began to play, drowning out the crowd. While Lupe's supporters surrounded her and threw confetti, Lisette stood off to one side, dancing slowly with her father.

The beauty pageant drew far more townspeople than the PRI debate or the opposition response to President Zedillo's address to the nation. And the message was clear. As one potter put it, "If this is how the mayor acts in front of the whole town, imagine what he does when we're not looking."

Mexicans seem resigned to the moral failings of their leaders. As for Lupe, she responded like a true beauty queen. She told her fans, "Though I may be wearing the smallest crown, I know I won the one I deserve -- yours." Then she jumped down from the stage and joined her friends for a dance.