Future Outlooks for 21st-Century Mexico

Future Outlooks for 21st-Century Mexico

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

Commemorating national independence compels us to take stock of the ideas and projections of figures such as Lorenzo de Zavala and Lucas Alamán. Their insights remain strikingly relevant, particularly in a context where U.S. influence over the Mexican economy and political landscape is undeniable. Although they held differing visions, both thinkers offered perspectives that—if carefully considered—can shed light on the nation's current dilemmas.

Lorenzo de Zavala, a key figure in the struggle for independence and the formation of Texas, held an ambivalent view regarding Mexico and its destiny on the continent. He believed Mexico should operate under U.S. tutelage—driven not merely by economic interests, but by a form of Manifest Destiny. A pragmatist and a liberal, Zavala saw the U.S. trajectory as both a refuge and an opportunity for his country. To him, the emergence of "Spanglish-ness"—that cultural and linguistic blend defining today's U.S. communities—represented a natural progression. This vision, viewed in his time as either treason or realism, is reflected today in economic dependency: Mexico relies entirely on the U.S. economy, and millions of Mexicans work in the United States, sending home remittances that sustain a significant portion of the Mexican economy. Zavala warned that Mexico needed to understand its destiny and capitalize on its proximity to North America, even if doing so entailed a loss of sovereignty.

Conversely, the politician and historian Lucas Alamán believed that the key to Mexican power lay in its access to the Caribbean, specifically Cuba. Alamán viewed Cuba as a "lock" capable of opening or closing doors for Mexico, thereby determining the country's influence in the Gulf of Mexico and, by extension, its security and international prestige. For Alamán, the Caribbean island was a crucial factor in either Mexico's greatness or its vulnerability. In the current landscape—where the United States contemplates its influence in the Caribbean and Cuba remains a key piece of regional geopolitics—Alamán’s warning takes on unsettling relevance. A potential U.S. intervention in Cuba, coupled with the strategy of figures like Marco Rubio—who seeks to link Florida with the Caribbean and South America—could translate into an attempt to curb Mexican influence in the region by building a bridge that sidelines Mexico as a regional power.

Both figures, therefore, offer complementary analyses: Zavala, who foresaw integration with and dependence on North America, and Alamán, who warned of the Caribbean’s geostrategic importance to Mexico. Current reality shows Mexico undergoing a process of cultural and economic hybridization; while U.S. influence has become entrenched, this has not resulted in a definitive loss of the country's identity or sovereignty. The insight to be drawn from these 19th-century visionaries is that the nation must learn to navigate its destiny intelligently—accepting its ties to the United States while simultaneously defending its place in the Caribbean and Latin America.

In a world where geopolitical dynamics are accelerating and regional spheres of influence are being redefined, the warnings of Zavala and Alamán serve as beacons guiding our understanding of the present. The key lies in transforming that dependence into a strategic advantage, without losing sight of the history and ideas of figures who still have much to say about Mexico’s future.

Donald Trump: American Woman

 Donald Trump: American Woman

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

The trade war between the United States and Canada—largely linked to Donald Trump’s nationalist vision—reflects not only an economic dispute but also a dynamic of power and sovereignty within a relationship that, despite its closeness, has been marked by ups and downs and confrontations. To contextualize this issue, it is useful to look at the Canadian response to U.S. pressures and policies, as illustrated by the iconic song "American Woman" by The Guess Who.

During Trump’s term, the bilateral relationship became significantly strained. The imposition of tariffs on Canadian products, the renegotiation of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), and threats of protectionist measures reveal a pattern of pressure aimed at reshaping the relationship to favor U.S. interests.

A comparative analysis with other historical periods reveals that this strategy of pressure is nothing new in U.S. politics; however, the Trump administration was distinguished by its openly nationalist and confrontational approach. The story behind The Guess Who’s "American Woman," for instance, symbolizes the tension between Canada and the United States: a Canadian band, weary of U.S. politics, expresses a desire in the song to distance itself and assert its national identity. The lyric "American Woman, stay away from me" can be understood as a metaphor for cultural and economic resistance against U.S. hegemony. In this sense, The Guess Who’s song encapsulates the sentiment of a country that—despite its proximity and economic dependence—refuses to be subjugated by a nation attempting to impose unilateral conditions in its drive to reassert its power.

Canadian resistance—symbolized by this iconic song as well as by policies of economic and cultural protection—demonstrates that the relationship is not one-sided. Canada has managed to maintain its autonomy by fostering alliances with other nations, particularly in Europe, and by strengthening its economy to counter external pressures. Mexico, by contrast, occupies a distinct historical and geopolitical position: as a country deeply integrated with and dependent on the United States, it lacks the conditions to wage an open trade war against Washington. Its status as a satellite nation and its historical commitments dictate a different strategy. Now more than ever, Mexico must demonstrate its capacity to become a central, reliable, and indispensable cog in the U.S. economy. In this regard, while Canada can approach its relationship with the United States through a lens of resistance and the reaffirmation of sovereignty, Mexico faces the challenge of preserving its autonomy without jeopardizing the economic integration upon which much of its prosperity depends.

The German Far Right and Its Impact on Mexico

 The German Far Right and Its Impact on Mexico

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

The rise of the German far right, represented primarily by the Alternative for Germany (AfD) party, has had a significant impact on the international political landscape, including in Latin American countries. In Mexico specifically, this victory could have profound implications for electoral behavior and the perception of political forces—particularly amidst a context of political polarization and a crisis of confidence in traditional institutions. Could the AfD influence Mexican voters by reinforcing nationalist, anti-immigrant, and anti-establishment rhetoric, thereby contributing to greater polarization and increased support for right-wing political figures and parties in Mexico? While such an outcome is highly probable—albeit with certain nuances—it would be premature to conclude that this process will exert an influence in Mexico comparable to that of Nazism.

The Mexican right possesses its own distinct genealogy, shaped by a convergence of Hispanism, Catholic nationalism, social conservatism, and—at certain points during the 20th century—references to Spanish Francoism and European fascism. There were even pro-Nazi factions in Mexico that viewed Adolf Hitler with admiration as Germany emerged as a truly global power. The current situation differs significantly. The AfD is only just beginning to emerge as an actor capable of altering the European political balance, whereas Nazism—prior to World War II—represented a project of state and geopolitical power with planetary and millenarian dimensions.

Therefore, rather than speaking of a new Mexican right modeled directly on Europe, it is more relevant to observe the persistence of pre-existing conservative traditions. A significant portion of Mexico's conservative sectors remains linked—albeit indirectly—to forms of paleoconservatism, Catholic nationalism, and geopolitical imaginaries associated with the "Intermarium" region and 16th-century Spain. In this sense, right-wing movements in Mexico do not necessarily need to import AfD rhetoric to become radicalized; they possess their own intellectual and historical traditions upon which to build new positions.

Latin American points of reference may prove to be far more influential. Chile, Colombia, Argentina, and El Salvador offer examples of right-wing forces reorganizing around themes such as security, nationalism, social order, state downsizing, and confrontation with progressive left-wing movements. These processes can be interpreted as attempts to rebuild a conservative Latin American order that, in certain respects, revives historical imaginaries linked to the old Hispanic world and to what might metaphorically be termed a "Habsburg Model": political centralization, social hierarchy, authority, and cultural continuity.

Ecuador presents a further crucial dimension: the realignment of Latin American political sectors with the US-led geopolitics championed by Donald Trump may possess a greater capacity to spread across the region than the AfD itself. US influence operates through economic, trade, military, and diplomatic ties that are far more immediate for Mexico and Latin America.

European and Latin American right-wing movements respond to distinct sociological processes. While the AfD has emerged within the specific context of immigration, the crisis of the German economic model, Europe’s demographic shifts, and tensions within the European integration project, Latin American right-wing movements are shaped by their own specific challenges: insecurity, inequality, corruption, institutional crises, and ideological polarization.

The AfD’s primary influence is symbolic and geopolitical. Its growth demonstrates that a radical right-wing force can transform the party system of an established democracy. However, for this experience to gain real traction in Mexico, it would need to align with local traditions and the specific circumstances of Latin America. Furthermore, the history of Nazism serves as a reminder that a political movement can attain an international significance far greater than initially seemed possible. Precisely for this reason, the phenomenon warrants close observation—without conflating its growing relevance in Europe with an already established influence on Mexican society.

Mexico and the Magnificent Seven

 Mexico and the Magnificent Seven

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

There is something deeply comical—though the consequences are no longer amusing—about the way Washington imagines it can solve the issue of Mexican drug trafficking. In Delta Farce, three U.S. soldiers accidentally arrive in Mexico believing they are in Iraq; with the characteristic confidence of the ignorant—unaware of where they actually stand—they end up interpreting the country as a war zone. In ¡Three Amigos!, three confused actors arrive in a Mexican village convinced that their roles as cinematic heroes align with reality. Today, both films serve as unintentional metaphors for a U.S. policy that seeks to confront an extraordinarily complex problem with extraordinarily simple solutions.

The Donald Trump administration seems to expect Mexico to do the heavy lifting: fighting cartels, controlling territory, halting drug trafficking, and curbing violence. Meanwhile, Washington can harden the border, impose tariffs, deport migrants, and threaten extraordinary measures. The problem is that Mexico is not a chessboard where moving a single piece is enough to make drug trafficking disappear. The informal economy, inequality, local corruption, institutional weakness, and U.S. demand for drugs form a social structure far more resilient than any military operation.

The paradox is striking: while the United States demands results from Mexico, its own economic policies may erode the social conditions necessary to effectively combat crime. Tariffs, unemployment, deportations, and market closures can increase the vulnerability of entire communities. A strategy based exclusively on pressure may end up producing the very thing it seeks to avoid: increased migration, greater informality, and new incentives for criminal economies. Trump will multiply the problems he aims to solve and end up completely "Mexicanizing" the United States.

October is approaching, and U.S. politics is once again entering a season of election-year anxiety. Yet no electoral calculation will solve the Mexican problem. Nor will fantasies about bombing laboratories from across the border. Mexico needs a "Magnificent Seven," but not Hollywood gunslingers: it needs effective institutions, professional police forces, independent judges, financial intelligence capabilities, economic opportunities, and a crime strategy that simultaneously targets supply, demand, and money laundering.

For if Washington insists on showing up dressed as the Three Amigos or the Delta Farce, it may well discover the moral Hollywood already knew: Mexico does not need foreign heroes; it needs its own capabilities and a U.S. partner that understands this war cannot be won solely south of the Rio Grande.

Tomatoes, Tamales, and Workers

 Tomatoes, Tamales, and Workers

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

One interpretation of President Claudia Sheinbaum’s second report centers on Mexico’s reintegration into a closer relationship with the United States—particularly in the realms of security and the economy. This scenario presents a mix of opportunities, risks, and vulnerabilities that warrants in-depth analysis. The economic data emerges at a time when Mexico is redefining its bilateral relationship. Following the North American rift involving Canada and the shifting policies of Donald Trump, the idea has gained ground that the relationship with the United States is a cornerstone of the country's strategy—yet it is also a landscape of risks and vulnerabilities that cannot be ignored.

The opportunities arising from this closer alignment are substantial. Deeper integration regarding issues such as drug trafficking and the economy could translate into greater stability and security for Mexico. Security collaboration with the United States—facilitated by figures like Omar García Harfuch—could enable joint operations to dismantle criminal organizations, curb violence, and bolster Mexican institutions in the fight against organized crime. Furthermore, participation in economic frameworks like the USMCA (TMEC) offers a chance to attract foreign investment, enhance supply chains, and strengthen the Mexican economy within an increasingly interconnected global context. This closer relationship could also foster a greater exchange of information, resources, and expertise, contributing to more efficient management of shared challenges ranging from migration to climate change.

However, these benefits are not without risk. Excessive reliance on the United States could render Mexico vulnerable within the bilateral relationship, subjecting it to decisions that may not always align with national interests or Mexico’s internal processes. U.S. influence on security matters, for instance, could lead the country to accept policies that curtail its sovereignty or to become overly dependent on foreign cooperation, thereby neglecting the strengthening of its own institutions. History shows that deep alliances, if not managed prudently, can lead to a loss of autonomy—a form of subordination that affects the Mexican state's capacity for sovereign decision-making.

Vulnerabilities also exist within the very structure of the security ecosystem that has developed around figures such as Omar García Harfuch. While security collaboration can be effective, it can also expose Mexico to risks of infiltration, espionage, or manipulation by external actors. Cooperation regarding drug trafficking—often criticized for its lack of transparency and the potential complicity of certain actors—can become a double-edged sword unless clear limits and oversight mechanisms are established to protect the country's sovereign interests. The vulnerability lies in the possibility that, in the pursuit of security, Mexico might lose control over its own strategies and decisions.

Regarding the perspective of George Friedman—who has noted that Mexico and the United States will become increasingly integrated to protect North America—his analysis is grounded in current trends. The concept of the two nations sharing an increasingly interdependent border and a collective security framework is not new, yet it is unsettling if interpreted as a loss of sovereignty. This growing collaboration can be viewed as a strategy to strengthen the region against external threats, such as transnational organized crime, uncontrolled migration, or even global economic crises. In this sense, integration aims to create a stronger bloc capable of responding more effectively to challenges that threaten the continent's stability.

Integration should not imply total subordination, but rather a balance in which both countries respect each other's roles and sovereign decisions. The opportunity to build a safer, more prosperous region exists, but it requires intelligent, prudent, and sovereignty-conscious management. Friedman’s vision, therefore, holds merit if understood as a process wherein collaboration and integration serve as tools to strengthen—rather than subordinate—the future of both Mexico and North America as a whole.

Mexico 2060: Was Friedman Wrong?

Mexico 2060: Was Friedman Wrong?

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

Dr. Samuel Schmidt, a prominent Mexican political scientist and one of the most respected voices on topics such as geopolitics, governance, power networks in Mexico, the far right, and natural resources, was recently awarded an honorary doctorate at a ceremony held at the El Carmen Cultural Center in Tehuacán, Puebla, as part of the Mexico in the 21st Century academic seminar organized by CICAP (Centro de Investigación Científica, Académica y Postgrados) and various academic institutions.

Samuel Schmidt long deserved this kind of recognition, given his impressive academic and social career; he has made significant contributions to the understanding of the country's political and social phenomena.

Furthermore, his approach to studying the future, particularly in relation to Mexico, challenges conventional methods and enriches the academic debate.

Dr. Schmidt's career combines his training in Political Science from the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM), North America, and Israel; It reflects a constant dedication to research and the struggle for a more informed and just society.

Therefore, any institution that recognizes his work not only honors a high-caliber intellectual but also dignifies the academic and social history of Mexico.

Within the debate, Samuel Schmidt's proposal for studying the future was addressed, with a special emphasis on the situation in Mexico.

His approach is innovative and, in some aspects, contradictory to the conventional method proposed by George Friedman in the Mexico 2080 scenario.

In The Next 100 Years, George Friedman imagined an uncomfortable future for the United States: by 2080, Mexico would have acquired enough economic, demographic, and political power to become a strategic challenge for Washington.

His hypothesis seemed extravagant when it was formulated in 2009.

However, seventeen years later, it is difficult to dismiss.

Friedman wasn't necessarily right about the timing or all the mechanisms, but he did identify a profound transformation: the destinies of the United States and Mexico would become increasingly intertwined through geography, demographics, the economy, and migration. His main insight was understanding that Mexico could not be considered a subordinate periphery indefinitely.

North American integration would produce a paradox: while the United States tried to control the border, it would increasingly need Mexico's economy, labor, and strategic position.

This contradiction is evident today.

Mexico has become an essential component of American production chains, and the trade uncertainty caused by Donald Trump demonstrates both Mexican vulnerability and reciprocal dependence.

Friedman, however, was wrong about some crucial elements.

His vision of Mexico's future relied too heavily on population growth and a population that would become a permanent source of power.

Mexico's demographic transition has altered that premise.

The Mexico of 2080 will likely be older and will have to maintain its influence through productivity, technology, capital, energy, infrastructure, and knowledge.

Nor does a war between Mexico and the United States seem inevitable.

Interdependence makes an open rupture too costly.

Here, the critiques and alternatives of Samuel Schmidt and Mexican foresight become important.

The Mexico 2060 exercise attempts precisely to escape linear prediction and envision alternative futures, in which Mexico can become the agent of its own transformation.

The possibility of a closer relationship with China, new forms of economic sovereignty, and the growing strategic importance of water constitute a valuable intellectual provocation.

But, so far, these scenarios belong more to the realm of possible futures than to that of dominant trends.

The reality of 2026 is less romantic.

Mexico trades with China, seeks to diversify its relationships, and can take advantage of the competition among the great powers, but its economic structure remains deeply intertwined with the United States.

And Donald Trump has demonstrated that Washington possesses sufficient instruments to exert extraordinary pressure on Mexico through tariffs, trade, migration, and security.

The recent trade uncertainty makes it clear that Mexico still lacks strategic autonomy comparable to its interdependence with the United States.

That is perhaps why Friedman was not fundamentally wrong.

His mistake was imagining the conflict as a confrontation between two national powers that would end up fighting over North America.

The real challenge may be more complex: building a relationship in which Mexico gains greater power without turning that power into a threat to the United States, and in which Washington understands that economically crushing Mexico could end up weakening the very North American platform it needs to face China.

Samuel Schmidt and Guillermina Baena’s forward-looking analysis of Mexico is right to envision that the country can be much more than it has been.

China can offer alternatives, but it cannot replace geography.

Nationalism can provide dignity, but not productivity.

Sovereignty is indispensable, but it does not mean isolation.

To envision desirable futures, one must possess the capabilities to realize them through government and educational institutions.

The most plausible future for "Mexamérica" ​​is neither a Mexican conquest of the United States nor an apocalyptic decline of North America.

It is an integration that is conflict-ridden, unequal, and progressively inevitable.

Mexico will have to learn to negotiate from a position of greater strength; the United States will have to learn that its neighbor can become a strategic partner without becoming a subordinate.

If both fail, interdependence will be a constant source of conflict.

If they cooperate, the very integration Friedman envisioned as the source of a crisis could become North America’s greatest geopolitical advantage.

Friedman, then, may not have been wrong.

What remains to be decided is whether Mexico and the United States will turn their shared destiny into a threat or an opportunity.

The Centenary of the Cristiada: Religious Memory or Political Resource?

 The Centenary of the Cristiada: Religious Memory or Political Resource?

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

Television programs on Canal Once—specifically "Sacro y Profano" and "Los Periodistas"—have analyzed the outbreak of the Cristero War a century later. The question arises once more: what does it mean to remember that conflict?

The question should not be limited to determining who was right—the government of Plutarco Elías Calles or the Catholic hierarchy.

There is a more uncomfortable contemporary issue: who needs to reclaim that memory today, and for what purpose?

Mexico remains predominantly Catholic.

The 2020 Census recorded that 77.7% of the population identified with that religion. However, this national figure masks significant regional differences.

Guanajuato, Jalisco, Michoacán, and Zacatecas maintain Catholic populations exceeding 88%, whereas in other states, the Catholic population is considerably smaller.

This leads to an initial hypothesis: the memory of the "Cristiada" does not necessarily hold the same political significance across all of Mexico.

The problem arises when a religious memory ceases to be merely historical and begins to function as a political identity.

To demonstrate that this is happening, it is not enough simply to point to bishops speaking about the "Cristiada" or Catholic organizations honoring its martyrs.

One must observe which symbols are being revived, which contemporary enemies are associated with them, which actors are promoting this memory, and what political objectives are linked to its use.

The centenary of the Cristero War may be creating an opportunity for certain conservative sectors to transform a regional religious memory into a tool for mobilization. The Mexican Episcopal Conference itself states that the commemoration is not intended to glorify violence or to place that memory at the service of any political or partisan agenda.

It even acknowledges that the conflict involved political calculations, erroneous decisions, and instances of culpability within the Church itself.

Therefore, it would be insufficient to claim that the hierarchy is simply manipulating that memory. If the memory of the Cristero War remains confined to religious acts, pilgrimages, lectures, and historical tributes, we will see evidence of a revival of religious memory, but not necessarily of a political maneuver.

However, if we begin to observe—the identification of contemporary political adversaries with the Church's historical enemies, the use of Cristero symbols in political campaigns or movements, and a concentration of such mobilization in regions with large Catholic populations—then more solid evidence would emerge of religious memory transforming into political identity.

A commemoration can bolster the public authority of the ecclesiastical hierarchy, but it can also benefit conservative organizations, right-wing movements, or political actors seeking to portray themselves as defenders of a threatened religious tradition.

For this reason, the centenary of the Cristero War should be studied less as a dispute over the past and more as an experiment regarding the present.

The question is not merely who won that war, but who can gain political power by defining what it means to remember it a century later.

The evidence must be sought beyond commemorative speeches: in patterns of mobilization, political messaging, participating organizations, territorial distribution, and, above all, in the response of the citizens themselves.

Felipe Gaitan, Fernando M. González, and Roberto Blancarte agree that the Catholic hierarchy has consistently manipulated sociopolitical processes to weaken the Mexican State; this fact should also be part of the historical assessment.

The Catholic Church has been a systematic adversary of the Mexican State and its liberal development; now, amidst the political maneuvering of the "Fourth Transformation," the eternal game of invisible power resurfaces to hinder national modernization.

It is curious that, during this centenary, the Catholic Church is a key player in the federal government's disarmament campaigns, and that President Sheinbaum has requested a visit to Mexico by Pope Leo XIV.

The influence of Benito Juárez on the "Fourth Transformation" has been diminished to an incredible degree—a phenomenon explicable only by the populist, progressive, revolutionary conservatism of the current era.