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.

Mexamérica without Trumpism

 Mexamérica without Trumpism

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

Can Mexico live apart from the United States in a more multipolar world? Economic and social evidence indicates that the answer is no, at least not in the short or medium term without facing a major crisis.

Although the international system is evolving toward greater competition among powers and China has increased its economic and geopolitical influence, Mexico maintains a level of integration with the United States that is unparalleled with any other country.

Talking about a separation between the two does not simply mean replacing a trading partner, but rather transforming an economic model built over more than three decades.

Trade dependence is the first indicator.

Around 83% of Mexican exports are destined for the U.S. market, while China represents only about 2% of national exports.

This means that if preferential access to the U.S. market were to disappear, Mexico would have to find buyers for hundreds of billions of dollars' worth of manufactured goods, a task impossible to accomplish in just a few years.

No economy, not even China or the BRICS countries, currently has the capacity to absorb that volume of Mexican exports.

However, the relationship goes far beyond trade.

Mexican industry is part of a single North American production platform.

Sectors such as automotive, aerospace, electronics, and machinery operate through supply chains that cross the border multiple times before a finished product is completed.

A car assembled in Mexico may incorporate engines manufactured in the United States, electronic components from Asia, and parts produced in Canada.

This integration allows for reduced costs and increased competitiveness compared to other regions of the world.

Breaking these chains would mean rebuilding suppliers, infrastructure, and industrial processes that have taken decades to consolidate.

Foreign investment confirms this dependence.

Approximately 39% of all foreign direct investment received by Mexico comes from the United States.

Including Canada, North America represents practically half of the productive investment that comes to the country.

This is not just about financial capital; This investment also incorporates technology, patents, training, innovation, and access to international markets.

Replacing these flows would require other economies to be willing to invest with the same intensity and stability, something that is not currently the case.

In the social sphere, remittances represent another fundamental component.

Millions of Mexican families depend on money sent by workers who reside primarily in the United States.

Although remittances are not the main source of gross domestic product, they do sustain consumption and the local economy in numerous municipalities and states.

A significant reduction in these flows would have immediate effects on employment, regional trade, and poverty levels.

Energy security also demonstrates this close interdependence.

Mexico imports large quantities of natural gas, gasoline, diesel, and other fuels from the United States.

Much of the electricity used by Mexican industry depends indirectly on this energy supply.

An abrupt interruption would raise production costs, fuel inflation, and reduce the competitiveness of the national economy.

The phenomenon of migration and drug trafficking demonstrate that the bilateral relationship cannot be understood solely through the lens of trade.

Migration acts as an economic engine, generating employment for millions of Mexicans and producing remittances, while the U.S. market is the primary destination for drug trafficking organizations.

This shows that both countries share structural problems whose solution requires cooperation, regardless of any existing political differences.

In this context, China has significantly increased its commercial presence in Mexico.

The Asian country supplies machinery, electronic equipment, industrial inputs, and consumer goods, but purchases relatively few Mexican products.

This results in a profoundly unbalanced trade relationship.

Although China represents a world-class manufacturing power and an increasingly influential player, it is not yet a viable alternative to the economic integration that Mexico maintains with the United States.

All of this is happening while the international system is transitioning toward a more multipolar order.

It is possible that the United States will face a relative decline. The United States may face a relative decline compared to the dominance it exercised after the Cold War, but this does not signify a collapse of its economic or technological capabilities.

Likewise, China’s growing prominence does not automatically imply absolute dominance over the international system.

Both countries will continue to compete for global influence, while mid-sized economies will seek to maintain relations with both blocs.

Mexico cannot exist apart from the United States without incurring extraordinarily high economic and social costs.

Interdependence regarding trade, industry, finance, energy, and migration means that both countries are part of the same economic ecosystem.

The real challenge for Mexico lies not in replacing the United States with China or another power, but in gradually diversifying its markets, strengthening its technological capabilities, boosting productivity, and reducing vulnerabilities—all without severing the integration that currently serves as the primary engine of its economy.

The Fourth Transformation Facing Donald Trump

 The Fourth Transformation Facing Donald Trump

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

In the analysis of political transitions, the theory of the rupture of the dominant coalition explains how, at certain moments, the groups sustaining a regime or political system begin to splinter or weaken due to internal changes or external pressures.

In the case of Morena—the party that has concentrated power in Mexico in recent years—one can observe a process that appears to be approaching such a rupture, particularly in light of pressure and accusations regarding U.S. intervention in the country's internal affairs.

Donald Trump and, subsequently, other actors in the United States have asserted that Mexico is governed by drug trafficking and "narco-politics," a claim that has had a profound impact on the various internal factions of Morena.

For some time now, Morena has not been a homogeneous bloc; within it exist distinct currents and figures with varied interests and loyalties.

Some of these actors—considered the "softliners"—have begun seeking agreements and understandings with U.S. authorities, hoping to safeguard their positions and avoid being directly affected by external pressures.

Others—the more radical or "hardline" elements—maintain a stance of resistance, defending national sovereignty and criticizing foreign interference.

However, tension between these internal groups has intensified in recent months, creating an atmosphere of mistrust, fragmentation, and power struggles.

The situation is reminiscent, in certain respects, of what occurred in Venezuela following the U.S. and its allies' targeting of Nicolás Maduro.

In that scenario, different factions within Chavismo split between those who accepted external negotiations to maintain their standing and those who resisted and fought to preserve the regime's autonomy.

In Mexico, some Morena actors appear to be following a similar path, seeking—from within—agreements with the United States that would allow them to preserve their influence and, in some cases, distance themselves from the radicalism that they view as a threat to their political survival.

Can we speak, then, of a rupture in Morena's dominant coalition? The evidence suggests the answer is yes. The unity that once seemed solid around López Obrador and his transformation project is now under threat.

Internal factions are increasingly acting in their own self-interest and for political survival, within a landscape where external pressure has acted as a catalyst for emerging divisions.

In this context, the struggle for power in Mexico is no longer merely an internal dispute; it has become a battle where alliances are being redrawn based on who is willing and able to negotiate with the United States, and who prefers to resist and maintain a confrontational stance.

While it cannot yet be stated with certainty that the Morena coalition has definitively fractured, the signs indicate that the process is underway.

External pressure, internal fragmentation, and power struggles are creating a scenario where alliances and loyalties are becoming blurred, and the cohesion that underpinned the so-called "Fourth Transformation" is beginning to give way.

Mexico's political history—and parallels with other cases in the region—suggest that if this trend continues, Morena could face a process similar to that of Venezuela, where internal rifts and external pressures ultimately redefine the political system in ways that cannot yet be clearly foreseen.

Schettino and the Minion Conspirancy

 Schettino and the Minion Conspiracy

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

At first glance, comparing Mexicans to Minions seems like an absurd notion. Minions are small, yellow characters who cluster around a boss, organize in groups, obey enthusiastically, and seem to feel safer when someone tells them what to do. Mexico, of course, is a complex, diverse, and contradictory society that cannot be reduced to a caricature. Yet, the comparison raises an interesting question: why do so many human societies need intermediaries, bosses, communities, and safety nets to feel secure?

That is where the resemblance begins. For centuries, a large part of Mexican society has learned to solve problems through personal relationships. When institutions fail to function adequately, what matters is who knows whom, who can intervene, who has access to the government, who controls an organization, or who can protect a community. The local strongman (*cacique*), the priest, the union leader, the politician, the boss, the relative who emigrated to the United States, and even—in some regions—criminal groups, can all fill different roles driven by the same need: achieving security in the face of uncertainty.

Like the Minion, the Mexican might seek out a boss. But that is where the comparison ends, because the Mexican is also capable of rebelling against that boss.

This is perhaps the most important characteristic of our history. Mexico is not merely an obedient, corporatist society; it is also a deeply rebellious one. The War of Independence, the Reform, the Revolution, peasant movements, community struggles, and contemporary protests all demonstrate a persistent resistance to arbitrary power. Mexicans may accept authority when it provides security, but they can also rise up when that authority becomes abusive.

That is why Mexican liberalism has a much deeper history than we sometimes assume. Benito Juárez and the liberals did not triumph because all Mexicans had suddenly turned into liberal philosophers. They triumphed because liberal language offered many groups a tool to combat privileges, special exemptions, and arbitrary power. A peasant could defend his community while simultaneously using the Constitution to challenge the power of a large landowner. A person could be deeply religious and, at the same time, champion legal equality. Liberalism never needed to completely erase communal identities to gain followers.

That is why Mexico cannot be understood simply as a society divided between modern liberals and traditional Mexicans. In reality, many people combine both aspects. They may defend private property, desire economic freedom, and vote democratically, yet also rely on family, community, local leaders, or personal networks for security. They can be liberals while understanding the central role of clientelism within the triad of business elites, the clergy, and local political bosses (*caciques*).

Minions need a boss because they seem to know no other form of organization. Mexicans, however, are aware of another possibility: conspiracy. That is the crucial difference. The Mexican liberal tradition aspires to a state where a person does not need a protector to be safe, because the law alone should suffice. Its fundamental promise is not to turn everyone into isolated individuals, but to prevent anyone from exercising arbitrary power over them.

Mexico’s great historical problem has been that this promise has never been fully realized. When the State fails to provide security, justice, and opportunity, community ties, corporatism, clientelism, migration, and—in some territories—criminal coercion re-emerge.

Perhaps, then, Mexicans resemble minions in that both seek to belong to something that offers security. Yet they differ in a decisive way: for two centuries, Mexicans have been trying to figure out how to live together without arbitrary, unjust, and indifferent bosses. Mexico’s history could well be defined as the story of that very attempt.