Intervention in Mexico or War South of the United States?

 Intervention in Mexico or War South of the United States?

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

A prospective analysis of an intervention in Mexico is incomplete if it fails to recognize that the most critical battlefront for U.S. national security is not in the Sierra Madre, but rather in the arteries of its own territory.

Before attempting to cross the Rio Grande south, the Donald Trump administration must confront the reality that drug trafficking and institutional erosion have already colonized the Sun Belt states.

California, Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, and Florida are not just border states; they are the operational center of an informal economy that has permeated local power structures, creating a scenario where the distinction between transnational crime and everyday life is almost nonexistent.

As Langley’s hypothesis and Samuel Huntington’s studies on the Hispanic challenge warn, the lack of effective cultural assimilation and the porous nature of the law have allowed the Mexican cacique model to be successfully replicated on U.S. soil.

If Washington seeks to prevent the country's disintegration, the true "punitive expedition" must begin within its borders.

An internal purge in the southern United States is the mandatory prerequisite for any external action.

Order cannot be restored in a neighboring country when the border cities themselves operate under the logic of Mexamerica, where corruption in public administration and infiltration of intelligence agencies have created a sanctuary for the very actors they are meant to combat.

The danger, as George Friedman rightly pointed out, is that an invasion of Mexico without a prior purge in the southern United States would trigger an internal asymmetric resistance of incalculable proportions.

The most powerful drug traffickers are not farmers in Sinaloa; they are invisible figures operating from luxury condominiums in Florida and logistical centers in Texas.

Starting a war in Mexico while these actors maintain their mobilization capacity within the United States is to guarantee a low-intensity civil war on its own soil.

Huntington established that linguistic and cultural fragmentation poses a risk to national identity; however, the immediate risk is the fragmentation of the monopoly on the use of force.

The capture of drug cartel leaders or high-ranking politicians with ties to organized crime, as has occurred in countries like Venezuela, Colombia, and Panama, has often proven to be a limited and short-lived strategy, since in Mexico such a measure is practically useless.

This is because the Mexican government lacks effective control over criminal organizations, which operate in an environment of complete chaos and violence.

The existence of multiple cartels, acting independently and in constant conflict, prevents authorities from focusing on specific capture targets, creating a scenario in which eliminating a leader only leads to the rapid reconfiguration of these groups.

Furthermore, history has shown that, instead of weakening them, the death or capture of a leader fosters the proliferation of cells and the creation of new criminal structures, which quickly adapt to the power vacuum.

This phenomenon turns the fight against drug trafficking into a kind of chess game in which, instead of eradicating the disease, it is perpetuated and exacerbated, transforming criminal organizations into a cancer that spreads and becomes more resistant with each failed attempt.

For all these reasons, focusing solely on capturing leaders, without addressing the root causes of the problem, is an incomplete strategy and, in many cases, counterproductive to the country's security.

Therefore, the drug war strategy for Mexico must be, above all, a strategy of internal regeneration.

The United States must apply in its own South the iron fist it plans to export. Eliminating local power brokers in California and Texas, dismantling the money laundering networks that sustain the informal caste system in the southern metropolises, and purging the bureaucracy that has facilitated this exchange is the only way to safeguard the Empire. Only when the southern United States ceases to be the playground of the drug oligarchy can Washington hope to stabilize Mexico through a strong interlocutor.

The battle for American sovereignty will not be won at the Altiplano, but rather through a thorough cleansing of its own borders, before the Hispanic challenge becomes the definitive fracture of the American dream.

Mexico and the Canadian Bet

Mexico and the Canadian Bet

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

The economic and political reality of Mexico reveals that, despite rhetoric and aspirations for independence, the country remains deeply tied to the U.S. economy.

The global trend, as evidenced by Canada's recent alliances with China, shows a shift toward diversification and the search for new trading partners.

However, in the Mexican case, this strategy is not only unfeasible but also dangerous.

Trade with the United States represents more than 80% of Mexican exports, and the dependence on this market is so pronounced that any change in U.S. policy has a direct effect on the country's economic stability.

Data indicates that Mexican imports from China have almost doubled in the last decade, reaching $62 billion by 2025, with intermediate goods that enhance the competitiveness of Mexican industry.

But this same vulnerability is reflected in exports, which reached a record $5.2 billion in 2022, primarily minerals, electronic circuits, and auto parts, all destined for China.

However, this diversification does not alter the reality: the Mexican economy is structurally designed to depend on the United States.

Canada's proposal to reduce its dependence on the U.S. through agreements with China and other countries serves as an example that Mexico cannot afford to ignore, but it also reveals the complexity of doing so without losing stability and sovereignty.

The narrative of Mexican nationalism, a pantheon of myths, has fueled a perception of self-sufficiency for decades, which in reality has only served to reinforce dependence.

The idea that Mexico can become a middle power, like Canada, requires not only a solid economic strategy but also a profound cultural shift, one that blends Anglo-Saxon and Mexican influences to build a more autonomous identity.

However, in practice, the country remains a U.S. backyard, with an economy and politics that reflect this subordination.

While Canada seeks alliances with China to reduce its dependence, Mexico remains trapped in a system where economic sovereignty is increasingly becoming an illusion.

The stark reality is that, however painful it may be to accept, Mexico cannot break free from the United States without jeopardizing its stability, its jobs, and its very future.

This dependence is not only economic, but also cultural and political, and this reality, however much it is disguised, is one of the main barriers preventing Mexico from truly taking off without this shadow that ultimately shapes its destiny.

Mexico, Populism, and its Geopolitics

Mexico, Populism, and its Geopolitics

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

In modern Mexican history, the six-year terms of Luis Echeverría Álvarez and José López Portillo exemplify how poorly managed sovereignist populism can lead to economic and political disasters with profound consequences.

Echeverría, in particular, was an excessively pragmatic president who adopted a Bonapartist style of governance, concentrating power and acting with a personalistic and authoritarian vision.

His eagerness to assert national sovereignty and challenge foreign influence, in a context of international crisis and the exhaustion of the import substitution model, led him to decisions that deeply damaged the Mexican economy.

The nationalization of the banks, the increase in unsupported public spending, and the confrontation with the United States were symptoms of a populism that prioritized sovereignist rhetoric over the country's economic and social realities.

The result was a serious deterioration of institutions, a crisis of confidence, and soaring inflation, which marked the end of that era and laid the groundwork for a weakened economy.

The lesson of that chapter is that sovereignist populism, when it becomes a strategy of confrontation and self-sufficiency, ends up harming rather than strengthening the nation.

Misunderstood sovereignty, stifled by arrogance and authoritarianism, can cause a collapse that undermines the foundations of the state and social welfare.

Today, this same logic is being repeated in Mexican politics, which continues to risk aligning itself with populist regimes in Latin America.

The perception in the country is that, after the damage caused by governments like those of Echeverría and López Portillo, sovereignist populism is a perilous path that only brings more poverty, insecurity, and a loss of real autonomy.

These governments, with their anti-imperialist rhetoric and eagerness to challenge the United States, end up promoting a dangerous dependency and a weakening of national institutions.

The perception is that the country lives under a low-quality democracy, where elites and powerful vested interests skillfully manipulate discourses of sovereignty and nationalism to maintain their privileges. This type of populism, when combined with authoritarianism, ends up fragmenting social cohesion, perpetuating inequalities, and ultimately consolidating a system of domination that prevents the advancement of a true democracy.

The risk lies in the fact that, in their eagerness to maintain the image of a sovereign and independent state, the country becomes hostage to a discourse that, in reality, favors the elites and local bosses, who use anti-imperialist rhetoric to justify their power and privileges.

This scenario is exacerbated by the escalating violence of the cartel wars and the normalization of authoritarianism, which in Mexico has been on the rise as political and social conservatism has strengthened.

Mexico continues to face the risk of falling into a sovereignist populism that, instead of strengthening its institutional structure and economy, weakens them even further.

True sovereignty requires solid institutions, respect for human rights, and a vision that prioritizes collective well-being over confrontational rhetoric and self-sufficiency.

Only in this way can Mexico overcome the shadows of a past that, disguised as patriotism, has actually been an obstacle to its development and true independence.

Internal Party Discipline

 Internal Party Discipline

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

Morena's internal dynamics close the year with a clear struggle between its various factions, openly defying presidential directives that advocate against reelection, nepotism, and cronyism, and promote internal democracy.

Several groups within the party are sending clear signals that they are willing to compete from within, against, or outside of Morena.

This reflects the reality of a party with great political power and the ability to mobilize support, but which lacks solid internal mechanisms to manage competition and guarantee discipline.

Something similar occurred during the decline of the hegemonic PRI, when internal divisions transformed its main strengths into its greatest weakness.

Morena's internal struggle, in the lead-up to the upcoming local and federal elections, is a clear example of what political analysts call the breakdown of the dominant coalition.

Barring an extraordinary event, such as Donald Trump deciding to interfere in the nominations, internal divisions within the party are practically inevitable.

Daniel Cosío Villegas once declared that the PRI could only be defeated by the PRI itself, and it seems this maxim is now being applied to Morena.

Although the electoral and judicial institutions lack the autonomy they boasted in recent years, the division among the various internal factions foreshadows a fierce battle for control of the nominations.

In this context, polls or the legal challenges to the processes seem insignificant compared to the intensity of this competition.

Meanwhile, the opposition parties remain vigilant regarding Morena's internal fractures, seeking to exploit them by poaching or strategically recruiting candidates with greater potential.

This has unleashed a wave of political defection, party migrations, and fierce competition among the different groups within the movement.

The country has failed to consolidate an institutionalized, balanced, and pluralistic party system.

Factionalism within the ruling party continues to dictate the course of crucial issues such as the alternation of power, democratization, public policy development, and even a possible shift toward conservative positions.

On the other hand, while arrangements for the presidential succession are already focused on 2030, the aspirants and their political allies are positioning themselves well in advance.

This means that the legislative majority will have neither the strength nor the weakness that Claudia Sheinbaum currently anticipates.

The Eternal Mexican Dark Ages

 The Eternal Mexican Dark Ages

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

When reflecting on the history and political reality of Mexico, one cannot help but feel that the nation, in its quest to consolidate itself as a political community, remains trapped in a kind of perpetual Dark Ages.

The comparison with historical examples such as Attila, Genghis Khan, or the Confederates of the southern United States in the 19th century is illustrative: all of them were defeated by the centralized force of a state, a monarchy, or a strong government that managed to impose order, control, and unity.

In the Mexican case, however, this confrontation has never effectively materialized.

Here, the local strongmen and the Catholic Church, with its clericalized vision of the Motherland, tenaciously oppose the idea of ​​a modern nation, a political community based on rights, equality, and popular sovereignty.

In Latin America, and in Mexico in particular, the tendency to fragment the political community into regional micronationalisms, cultural tribes, and outdated power relations hinders the construction of a cohesive nation.

The local strongmen, with their local power and territorial control, wield an authority that does not seek integration into a common project, but rather the perpetuation of their homeland, their lineage, and their particular interests.

Catholicism, both institutional and social, in its feudal, curialized vision, reinforces this fragmentation by promoting a community of the faithful who obey and obey, instead of citizens who participate in and build a collective destiny. This scenario is reminiscent of ancient societies where feudal power reigned, where loyalty was not directed toward a political community, but toward a local lord, a family tradition, or a religious authority; loyalty was servitude and vassalage.

The modern nation, on the other hand, requires a common narrative, a shared identity founded on citizenship, rights, and popular sovereignty.

But in Mexico, this narrative has yet to take hold, and instead, fragmented stories persist, fueling micronationalism, loyalty to region, family, or the church, to the detriment of a national project.

This conflict of identities and loyalties is evident in the persistence of historical privileges, castes, special legal statuses, economic agreements, and old power structures that, instead of facilitating integration, further fragment the State.

The history of viceroyalties, regional privileges, and pacts of convenience shows how local elites prefer to maintain their homeland, their ancestral power, rather than join the nation that requires a project of unity and progress.

Examples like Genghis Khan, Attila, or the Confederates of the American South teach us that empires and strong states managed to impose their order through centralization and force, defeating the old fragmented structures.

In Mexico, however, this confrontation has not yet occurred.

The reason is that the local strongmen and the Church, with their narratives of the Motherland and their clericalized vision, have managed to maintain their power in a latent state, resisting any attempt at confrontation with the national state. In this perpetual Mexican Dark Age, no one wants to challenge these power structures.

The region, in its eagerness to maintain its privileges, resists the construction of a sovereign, modern, and civic nation.

The consequence is a kind of stagnation, a fragmented community living on ancient myths and loyalties, incapable of moving toward true integration.

As in feudal societies, loyalty is directed toward lords, lineages, or institutions that, in reality, hinder the creation of a strong and unified state.

Mexican history and politics seem condemned to an endless struggle between the forces that seek centralization and unity, and those that want to preserve their particular Motherland.

The defeat of the Confederates and their warlords in the past was achieved thanks to the strength of the centralized state.

Mexico needs, now more than ever, that confrontation that will break the cycle of the Middle Ages and build a modern nation, where the political community is a space of rights, equality, and popular sovereignty.

Go West: Is There Still Time?

 Go West: Is There Still Time?

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

Years ago, Fredo Arias King warned that democratization in Mexico faced a fundamental challenge: the need to build a quality democracy that would break with the legacy of clientelistic corporatism, which for decades had been the backbone of the political system.

His analysis, inspired by the experiences of democratization in Eastern Europe, indicated that the key to profound change lay in adopting the experiences of post-Soviet Central European anti-communism as a unifying element that would allow for the dismantling of authoritarian structures and pave the way for solid, independent, and accountable institutions.

The songs of Scorpions and Pet Shop Boys illustrated the optimism of the time for achieving the democracy of open societies.

In Eastern Europe, the defeat of communism not only implied a political transition but also the construction of a discourse that confronted the legacy of a regime based on ideology, repression, and subordination.

Anti-communism served as a catalyst for consolidating a democratic identity and justifying the break with the authoritarian past.

The narrative was one of liberating society from an ideological enemy, which facilitated the acceptance of change and the construction of new institutions.

The experience offered a lesson: without a clear diagnosis of the system's flaws and without a discourse that mobilizes citizens around profound democratic values, the transition can remain a superficial process, vulnerable to authoritarian relapses and the capture of institutions by elites.

In Mexico, history was different. The struggle against the PRI's authoritarianism was not framed around an ideological enemy, but rather as a search for legitimacy through competitive elections.

However, this strategy took more than twenty years to reveal its limitations.

Fredo Arias King was right to point out, before Denisse Dresser, Héctor Aguilar Camín, Lorenzo Córdova, and José Woldenberg, what it would cost to avoid the necessary historical ruptures to establish liberal capitalist democracy in Mexico and abandon the old regime of the Mexican Revolution—the platypus of the ostentatious, philanthropic ogre.

Neoliberal analysts belatedly recognized that the transition was insufficient to consolidate a quality democracy.

The fragility of the rule of law, the persistence of clientelism, and the inability to transform power structures into a genuinely democratic institutional framework left Mexico in a kind of limbo, vulnerable to populism and deeper subordination to the interests of the United States.

The Chilean experience offers a valuable lesson.

The departure of Pinochet and the process of democratic consolidation in Chile demonstrated that building strong institutions, coupled with a historical memory that promotes reconciliation, can prevent suicidal populism.

The key was a transition that was not merely formal, but involved profound social and economic reforms and a commitment to a high-quality democracy that prioritized institutional values ​​and citizen participation.

Observing these processes from Arias King's perspective invites Mexico to reflect on the need to abandon the logic of anti-communism as a strategy for rupture and, instead, commit to a narrative that strengthens democratic institutions and values.

The history of Eastern Europe shows that without a clear discourse against authoritarian legacies and without a real commitment to building a high-quality democracy, progress can be ephemeral, and the risk of falling back into authoritarianism increases.

The Chilean experience, for its part, shows that the transition can be lasting and solid if institutional reforms are accompanied by a strong and participatory democratic culture.

In a context where populism seems to lurk around every corner, Mexico needs to look to the West and learn that true democratization requires more than competitive elections.

It implies a deep commitment to building solid institutions, to definitively breaking with the corporatist past, and to a narrative that mobilizes citizens around democratic values, not around ideological enemies.

Only in this way can suicidal populism be avoided and progress made toward a future where popular sovereignty is a consolidated reality, not a mere mirage.

Long Live Populism

 Long Live Populism

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

Mexican political culture, in its essence, remains clientelistic and paternalistic.

This means that many citizens still see the State as a source of resources and protection, beyond the principles of representation and democratic participation corresponding to the liberal vision.

Government management, in this framework, is based not only on the implementation of public policies, but also on the survival of marginalized groups, who find in the State and its leaders a way to subsist and maintain their living conditions.

As long as this remains the case, political power in Mexico will be able to remain stable, even in the face of criticism and serious challenges such as U.S. imperialism.

Political culture in Latin America, including Mexico, has historically been populist and caudillo-led, and a mere simulation of U.S. presidentialism.

These characteristics, far from being mere vestiges of the past, remain essential components of the functioning of populist progressive regimes in the region.

In Mexico, populism has remained thriving, adapting to the times and consolidating a system in which the figure of the charismatic leader and the direct relationship with the social base remain fundamental.

Despite the criticisms leveled at the so-called Fourth Transformation, Claudia Sheinbaum's celebration and Morena's advance in this context actually have significant meaning: in a scenario where the opposition fails to offer clear and viable alternatives, the ruling movement continues to advance because it responds to the expectations and basic needs of broad sectors of the population.

Morena's advance and the support for its leaders have a social foundation that cannot be ignored.

Mexican political culture, in its most deeply rooted form, remains sufficient to sustain a system where loyalty and the expectation of immediate benefits prevail over proposals for structural change.

The servitude and vassalage instilled by the Spanish colonial regime—as AMLO states— Although complemented by an authoritarian, indigenous-style political bossism, these are fundamental elements for populist governance.

The opposition, for its part, has yet to offer a convincing project that mobilizes these same roots, allowing populism to remain an effective form of governance in Mexico.