American March

American March 

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero 

In the country's most influential political and media circles, a concern that can no longer be ignored is resonating with increasing intensity: Will Mexico be the next stage for a direct US intervention, similar to the one El Salvador experienced in the 1980s? The perception that Washington's strategy seeks to consolidate its dominance in our territory through covert actions, and not only through diplomatic or economic pressure, has begun to circulate strongly in certain sectors of the elite.

Víctor Hugo Arteaga has warned that this threat is not a conspiracy theorist invention, but a reality that has been developing in the recent history of the bilateral relationship, marked by structural subordination and clandestine operations by intelligence agencies.

This view is echoed by the opinions of prominent national security specialists who write for El Independiente.

According to their analyses, there is evidence that the United States has perfected a multifaceted, “silent” intervention strategy in recent decades, in which direct military occupation is not the only option.

The infiltration of criminal actors, the co-opting of political and economic elites, and the creation of crisis scenarios that can justify a larger intervention are all part of a logic that seeks to maintain control without triggering an open conflict.

Analysts agree that the increase in violence, the expansion of drug trafficking, and the fentanyl crisis in the United States have been used as pretexts to justify actions that, in reality, aim to dismantle any attempt by Mexico to regain its full sovereignty.

In contrast to the more alarmist perspectives, some security specialists at El Independiente believe that direct military intervention in Mexico would not be the preferred option in the short term.

They argue that the United States is increasingly inclined toward a strategy of economic pressure, cyberattacks, media manipulation, and alliances with domestic sectors that can facilitate its political, economic, and military control of our country.

However, they warn that the danger lies in the fact that, in practice, these covert actions could quickly escalate into a more visible occupation if Mexican elites, in their eagerness to maintain privileges, continue to make backroom deals and ignore the risks of ever-increasing dependence.

For their part, Víctor Hugo Arteaga and other analysts have emphasized that Latin American history reveals that the United States has repeatedly used the "divide and conquer" strategy to neutralize sovereignist or leftist movements.

The presence of drug traffickers, conservative sectors, religious institutions, and economic elites—who, in many cases, operate in collusion with foreign interests—facilitates the country becoming an arena of conflict where sovereignty is diluted in a web of pacts and complicity.

The narrative that Mexico is a country incapable of controlling its own destiny, that it can only be “protected” by Washington, is the perfect pretext to justify an intervention that could go far beyond police or economic operations.

Analysts at El Independiente also contrast these perspectives with the opinions of other experts who believe that the real threat to Mexico lies in its own history of populism, clientelism, and pacts with the United States.

The country's tendency to accept “easy solutions,” to maintain a sovereignist discourse for public consumption while, in practice, perpetuating agreements of convenience, reinforces our nation's vulnerability.

The potential intervention, they argue, would not only be a military action, but the culmination of a process in which Mexican elites, through their silence or complicity, have allowed dependency to become institutionalized and irreversible.

In short, the convergence of opinions among academics and analysts in media outlets like El Independiente, along with the comments of Víctor Hugo Arteaga, paints a complex and dangerous picture.

History teaches us that sovereignty is not declared, but rather built through resistance to external pressures and the strength of institutions.

The threat that Mexico could become the “El Salvador” of the 21st century, under an intervention strategy that combines economic warfare, media manipulation, and covert actions, is no longer a distant hypothesis, but a concrete possibility if the elites and the citizenry do not become aware of the risk and act accordingly.

The ongoing tension between Mexico and the United States has been a constant in the country's modern history, and in this context, the academic Soledad Loaeza has contributed a profound and nuanced perspective.

In his book published a few years ago, Loaeza analyzes how North America has exerted constant pressure on Mexico, driven by economic, political, and security interests, which has often tested the Mexican state's capacity to maintain its sovereignty and autonomy.

Loaeza argues that, despite this pressure and the emerging threats, the Mexican government has managed to weather these onslaughts with a strategy of negotiation and resistance that, while not eliminating the risks, prevents the relationship from becoming one of absolute subordination.

Loaeza points out that this tension is not only a foreign policy issue, but a structural element that defines the country's identity and domestic politics, and that, at key moments, has tested Mexico's ability to defend its interests against a power that ultimately seeks to consolidate its dominance in our region.

Narco-Democracy

Narco-Democracy

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero 

George Friedman argues that states are not static entities; they are constantly evolving structures, influenced by their geopolitical, economic, and social environment.

When organized crime—in this case, narco-politics—manages to penetrate political and economic institutions, it creates a kind of parallel state that challenges the authority of the formal state.

Narco-politics, in essence, seeks not only to control illicit markets but also to influence political decisions, the selection of leaders, and the configuration of power.

The inertia of drug trafficking in Mexico, which has been entrenched for over fifty years, has pushed relations between the two countries to the breaking point.

The inability to halt the expansion of narco-politics has generated a situation in which the logic of organized crime has deeply infiltrated the state structure, creating a scenario of complicity and institutional weakening that threatens to blur the lines between legality and illegality.

In Mexico, the persistence of a narco-political model has prevented efforts to curb the image of a country where violence, corruption, and the influence of cartels seem to exist in a precarious balance, similar to the approach the United States has adopted in other political systems such as those of Colombia and Italy.

In these countries, drug trafficking and organized crime have operated to some extent, but always within a framework of U.S. oversight and against nations considered enemies or rivals of the United States.

In Colombia, alliances between drug traffickers, the military, and politicians have allowed the Colombian state, at times, to function as a secondary actor in the face of criminal networks.

In Italy, the mafias—Cosa Nostra, the 'Ndrangheta, the Camorra—have established complex relationships with political, economic, and religious sectors, which, while infiltrating institutions, have not transformed the country into a narco-democracy in the absolute sense.

The difference lies in the fact that, in Italy, legal and political mechanisms exist to combat these organizations, although they are often weakened or co-opted, and the country maintains a formal democratic structure with elected institutions and a relatively strong rule of law.

Friedman's analysis warns that if the United States does not halt the advance of narco-politics in Mexico, the influence of the cartels is likely to expand southward, leading to the emergence of Mexamerica, where organized crime could seize vast regions of U.S. territory.

The idea that drug trafficking could become an actor controlling territories and political decisions in the United States is not just a futuristic hypothesis, but a possibility that, according to Friedman, is becoming increasingly plausible if decisive measures are not taken.

The inertia of drug trafficking, which has been sustained for decades in Mexico, has pushed the bilateral relationship to its limits, and the need for a fundamental overhaul of the Mexican political system is becoming imperative.

Only through a profound process of institutional, political, and cultural transformation can Mexico resist this threat and prevent narco-politics from consolidating itself as an alternative power system that challenges state sovereignty and jeopardizes regional and global stability.

Unlike a rogue state where organized crime exerts almost absolute control over institutions and the popular will, Mexico has not yet reached that extreme, but persistent infiltration and complicity have led the country to a state of extreme vulnerability.

The United States has partially tolerated the existence of criminal structures in other countries, always in the interest of strategic interests.

However, this tolerance has come at a cost: it has consolidated a precarious balance that, if broken, could lead to a scenario of greater violence, destabilization, and loss of sovereignty in the affected countries.

History, and Friedman's perspective in particular, warns that the delay in combating drug-related politics in Mexico could translate into a long-lasting crisis, where the shared border will be not only a territorial boundary but also a line of conflict that will determine the stability of the entire region in the coming years.

The need to reform the Mexican political system, strengthen its institutions, and adopt a comprehensive strategy against drug-related politics thus becomes an urgent priority to avoid a scenario of regression and a definitive loss of sovereignty.

The dispute over populism in Mexico

The dispute over populism in Mexico

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero 

In Mexico, both the Catholic Church and the State have been key players in perpetuating clientelistic, corporatist, patrimonial, and kleptocratic practices.

The difference lies not so much in the methods they employ, but in the age and formality with which these mechanisms have become embedded in their structures.

For centuries, the Church has operated on multiple levels, articulating networks of social, cultural, and political support that, in many cases, have functioned as a kind of parallel or complementary power structure to that of the State.

Religion has been used to consolidate loyalties, sustain certain elites, and, at times, reinforce social dependency through the distribution of spiritual and material benefits.

It is not surprising that, in a country with so much poverty, the Church continues to be an actor that, at different levels, employs these same mechanisms to maintain its influence and social control.

For its part, the Mexican State, since its inception, has resorted to the same logic, only at a more institutionalized and formal level.

Clientelism, corporatism, and patrimonialism have been recurring tools in the country's political history.

Governments, regardless of their political affiliation, have distributed resources, positions, favors, and benefits in a system designed to consolidate loyalties and ensure their hold on power.

The difference with the Church lies in the fact that, on many occasions, these practices have been carried out within the framework of legality, or at least under the guise of legality, through social programs, the allocation of resources, institutional manipulation, and networks of intermediaries that guarantee territorial and social control.

Corruption, in its most basic form, has been a structural element of the relationship between elites and vulnerable communities.

What is evident is that, fundamentally, there is no substantial difference in the methods used by the Church and the State to maintain their power.

Both actors have resorted to clientelism and corporatism, only at different times and with varying degrees of formality and longevity.

While the Church has historically operated on a more social, cultural, and religious level, the State has employed these mechanisms in public administration and resource management.

However, in practice, both maintain a similar logic: the distribution of benefits in exchange for loyalties, votes, or social support, in a context where poverty and inequality are plagues that fuel this dynamic.

The central problem is that these practices reinforce a system of domination that keeps Mexican society in a state of permanent vulnerability.

Poverty, lack of opportunities, and weak economic structures make communities easy prey for these mechanisms.

Society, for the most part, lacks the tools and institutions that would allow it to demand rights or build a strong citizenry.

In this scenario, both the Church and the State operate within a system where clientelism is presented as the only way to access certain minimal benefits, thus preventing the formation of a genuine democratic culture and a civil society capable of challenging these powers.

Joy Langston and Bernardo Barranco have investigated several cases where these sociological phenomena can be observed: the clientelism of the PRI/MORENA coalition and the corruption scandals within the high clergy.

The electoral struggle, then, becomes a battle for the hegemony of clientelism, where political, religious, and social actors intertwine in a scenario where poverty and social inequalities are the main ingredients fueling this dispute.

The competition is not only for votes, but also for the ability to offer immediate benefits and promises of well-being that, in reality, perpetuate social dependency and exclusion.

From the critiques of authors such as Loris Zanatta and Mario Vargas Llosa, we can understand that populism is not just a campaign method, but a way of consolidating power based on emotional manipulation, the distribution of benefits, and the destruction of institutional checks and balances.

Clientelism in Mexico has become a structure that, beyond official rhetoric, functions as a system in which intermediaries, both from the government and the Church, maintain long-term relationships with communities, fostering a culture of dependency and weakening mechanisms for democratic participation.

As long as a large and robust middle class does not exist in Mexico, we can hardly speak of an autonomous citizenry, a strong civil society, or institutions capable of confronting these clientelistic mechanisms.