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.

Trump and the War Against the Mexican Future of North America

 Trump and the War Against the Mexican Future of North America

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

In The Next 100 Years, George Friedman formulated one of the most unsettling geopolitical hypotheses regarding the future of Mexico and the United States: the problem of the 21st century would not be Mexico invading the United States, but rather the two countries becoming so deeply integrated that the political border would cease to align with the economic, demographic, and cultural borders.

The scenario he envisioned is paradoxical. The United States would initially need Mexican workers to offset its aging population; immigration would fuel growth; decades later, robotics would reduce the demand for labor; Washington would then attempt to curb immigration and reverse its effects. Yet, by then, millions of Mexicans and Mexican-Americans would be deeply rooted in the American Southwest. Simultaneously, Mexico would have gained significantly greater economic power. Friedman places the moment when this combination could trigger a crisis of sovereignty and identity in North America in the decades following 2070.

This is where the fundamental difference from Samuel Huntington arises. In *Who Are We?*, Huntington viewed Mexican immigration and Hispanization as a threat to the Anglo-Protestant identity of the United States, warning of the risk of a culturally bifurcated nation. The implicit solution was to strengthen assimilation and reclaim a shared national identity.

Friedman, by contrast, poses a geopolitical question: what will happen when the Mexican transformation of North America has become irreversible?

Donald Trump’s policy can be interpreted—albeit as a hypothesis rather than a proven intent—as an attempt to preemptively address that dilemma. His strategy combines pressure regarding migration, tariffs, the fight against cartels, and an increasing willingness to employ instruments of extraterritorial power. In February 2025, Trump imposed an additional 25% tariff on Mexican goods, citing a national emergency related to migration and drugs; he later modified and partially suspended these measures based on the level of Mexican cooperation. In 2025, orders were also issued to designate criminal organizations as terrorist groups, even as U.S. officials debated more aggressive options against the cartels.

The stated goal is to combat drugs, migration, and organized crime. Yet there is a deeper geopolitical dimension: reducing U.S. dependence on Mexico before that reliance becomes structurally irreversible. By 2026, no one can deny that Mexico and the United States are on the brink of war.

Therein lies the historical paradox. The economic integration that Washington might perceive as a vulnerability is, at the same time, one of the greatest sources of American power vis-à-vis China and the BRICS. Mexico is not merely a neighbor; it is an industrial, energy, demographic, and logistical platform integrated with the United States. The alternative to such integration could end up weakening the very bloc Washington needs to strengthen.

The analogy to Adolf Hitler’s Operation Barbarossa should be understood as a warning, not a historical equivalence. A strategy aimed at destroying a neighbor's capacity can end up destroying the very conditions of security and prosperity that justified the strategy in the first place. The true risk for the United States would not be the "Mexicanization" of North America, but rather interpreting North American integration as a threat when it could serve as the nation's primary strategic advantage in the face of the rise of China and other powers.

Friedman’s question, therefore, takes on renewed relevance: will the United States attempt to prevent the "Mexican future" of North America, or will it learn to transform that future into a source of American power? The history of the next fifty years will depend, in large measure, on that choice.

The Geopolitical Likelihood of a US Intervention in México

 The Geopolitical Likelihood of a U.S. Intervention in Mexico

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

During Donald Trump’s second administration, Washington has designated various cartels as terrorist organizations and ordered the Pentagon to prepare options to combat them. Alternatives ranging from drone strikes to missile launches from U.S. naval vessels have even been considered. In this context, the analyses by Dr. Víctor Hernández Ojeda of the Universidad Panamericana merit attention, although some of his assertions need to be weighed against evidence and distinguished as facts, hypotheses, or projections.

Hernández Ojeda maintains that there is a growing political willingness in the U.S. to consider intervention against the cartels and that the fundamental shift from Trump’s first term lies in the transformation of the drug trafficking problem into a national security issue. His argument has some basis: the executive order of January 2025 indeed framed the cartels as a threat transcending conventional organized crime, linking them to terrorism, foreign governments, and insurgency. Furthermore, Trump had previously raised the possibility of sending troops to Mexico and—according to the former Secretary of Defense—had even inquired during his first term about the possibility of using missiles against drug laboratories.

However, turning that pressure into a successful invasion would be far more complex. The primary cost to the United States would not be merely military. Mexico is currently an essential component of the U.S. economy; bilateral trade in goods reached approximately $872.8 billion. A war would jeopardize integrated supply chains for automobiles, electronics, medical devices, food, and energy. The Federal Reserve has specifically highlighted Mexico's growing importance within U.S. supply chains.

There would also be legal and diplomatic costs. A unilateral military operation on Mexican soil would clash with the principle of sovereignty and the prohibition on the use of force—barring exceptions recognized under international law. Moreover, the experiences in Iraq and Afghanistan demonstrate that overwhelming military superiority does not guarantee a stable political solution. Likewise, Mexico is not Colombia; Despite striking similarities, the scenario involving Mexico represents a potential mass influx of millions of people into North America in immediate response to any attempted armed conflict. An attack on Mexico would, *de ​​facto*, trigger the likely immediate migration of thirty million people into North America.

Opportunities, therefore, seem to lie less in invasion than in much deeper security cooperation: shared intelligence, financial targeting of criminal organizations, control of arms trafficking from the United States, a reduction in U.S. drug demand, and Mexican operations supported by U.S. intelligence. The neutralization of Nemesio Oseguera Cervantes in February 2026 illustrates that intelligence cooperation can yield results without the need for foreign occupation.

George Friedman’s outlook is particularly interesting: he envisions a Mexico that has become a major economic power, alongside a confrontation arising from demographic, migratory, and cultural shifts along the border. According to Friedman, the conflict would emerge organically from North America’s transformation, rather than from a Mexican plan to attack the United States. In other words, a U.S. civil war appears more plausible—particularly in the American South, driven by long-established cartels that have "Mexicanized" key states like Texas and California.

The value of Friedman’s proposal—like those previously offered by Robert Pastor and Alain Rouquie—lies in the warning that the bilateral relationship could undergo a radical transformation as demographics, economics, and the distribution of power shift. The current paradox is that an intervention intended to preserve U.S. hegemony could accelerate the very outcome Friedman foresaw: a strategic rupture between two deeply integrated societies. For North America, the greatest success would not be the conquest of Mexico, but rather preventing the fight against drug trafficking from destroying the economic, social, and geopolitical interdependence that constitutes the primary advantage for both nations.