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.

Progressivism, Social Mobilizations, and the World Cup

Progressivism,Social mobilizations, and the World Cup

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

The recent social upheaval that shook Mexico during the World Cup, characterized by a choreography of protests that simultaneously challenged the neoliberal pension system, drug-related violence, patriarchy, global capitalism, and, stridently, Zionism, was not an anomaly in our political history, but rather the reactivation of its most archaic codes. The bewilderment sown by the deliberate absence of the President of the Republic from the opening ceremony, coupled with street mobilizations where genuine demands were diluted by provocations sponsored by the progressive regime itself, revealed a subtle strategy. Far from being an ungovernable explosion, the staging of a Mexico transformed into ungovernable chaos and a living monument to resistance against FIFA and the North American axis operates as a calculated geopolitical retreat mechanism. This dynamic, which draws directly from the traditions of Echeverría and Cárdenas embedded in the very fabric of the Mexican left, uses mobilization not to liberate, but to discipline. Beneath the masquerade of emancipatory and decolonial rhetoric, what truly persists and consolidates is the refined method of internal control that anthropologist Claudio Lomnitz termed antisemitism without Jews and, sometimes, without antisemites.

To unravel this cultural labyrinth, it is imperative to understand that Judeophobia in the Ibero-American context does not conform to the parameters of European biological racism, but rather functions as a sociopolitical technology inherited directly from the tribunals of the Holy Inquisition. In the mental architecture of the Habsburg Model, theorized by Howard Wiarda and Loris Zanatta, society is conceived as an organic, unanimous, and corporate body that must be preserved from any external contamination. In this theological-political matrix of national Catholicism, the Jew ceases to be a demographic or flesh-and-blood reality, becoming instead a metaphorical abstraction: the absolute symbol of dissent, the bearer of the virus of modernity, free trade, empirical science, and democratic individualism.

Historically, as Daniela Gleizer and Pablo Yankelevich document in their study of state racism in Mexico, accusations of Judaization or complicity with foreign agendas have served to purge and proscribe internal elements that attempted to break the monopoly of the colonial elites. This occurred with the liberal scientists of the Porfiriato and with the first social reformers; the religious stigma operated as a civil excommunication indispensable for safeguarding the status quo.

In the era of the so-called Fourth Transformation, this inquisitorial apparatus has been secularized and rebranded as anti-Zionist political correctness. When radical factions of the official progressive movement saturate the public sphere claiming that the international financial system, global sports institutions, and North American geopolitics are rigidly controlled by Zionism, they are not conducting a serious materialist or economic analysis, but rather resurrecting the old myth of a synarchic conspiracy. This outlandish cry of aggressive radicalism precisely fulfills the function of what nineteenth-century German sociology termed the socialism of fools: a crude simplification of the contradictions of capital that, instead of questioning the real structures of production and local corruption, personifies oppression in an invisible and absolute enemy.

By channeling social frustration toward this global phantom, the regime shields its own shortcomings and legitimizes the systemic rejection of liberal democracy, institutional capitalism, and economic integration with North America, presenting them as colonial traps set by the enemy.

When artists or opinion leaders of the cultural progressive movement adopt discourses in which Zionism is blamed for all global ills, they often do so from a legitimate empathy with causes like Palestine, but with a profound lack of historical rigor. Lacking nuance, they end up validating narratives that essentialize the Jew as the universal oppressor, unwittingly falling into the same prejudices that the most reactionary right wing has used for centuries.

The ultimate paradox of this phenomenon is that, while proclaiming a break with the neoliberal order, the use of abstract Judeophobia deepens and perpetuates internal colonialism. The Creole elites of Catholic nationalism and the political bureaucracies inherited from the old revolutionary nationalism do not attack the actual members of the Mexican Jewish community, with whom they maintain pragmatic economic alliances, but rather wield the stigma like an axe against anyone who tries to push Mexico toward an open, competitive modernity guided by the rigor of science, the market, or democratic freedom.

State anti-Zionism functions today as the great guardian of stagnation; it is the ideological checkpoint that punishes merit, demonizes institutional dissent, and justifies a hegemonic authoritarianism that returns us to the mental autarky of the viceroyalty. In the end, the folkloric mobilizations surrounding the World Cup and the rhetorical boycott against Western powers were nothing more than a modern-day version of colonial processions, a political charade designed to convince the population that isolation and poverty are mystical virtues in the face of external corruption. As long as the inquisitorial pyre of public discourse continues to burn the promoters of material progress, Mexico will remain trapped in the Habsburg labyrinth, condemned to stagnation by the crushing weight of its own myths.

Terminator. Made in PCR

 Terminator. Made in PCR

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

The farce of cultural purity has been the historical anchor that keeps Mexico in a medieval limbo. For generations, the Hispanic and Catholic ideology industry has constructed a narrative of victimization and false pride that, according to Mario Vargas Llosa's scathing diagnosis, constitutes true Latin American idiocy. This rhetorical Matrix, shared by both the folkloric left and the reactionary right, uses polarization to conceal an uncomfortable truth: attachment to the colonial, clerical, and collectivist heritage is not sovereignty, but rather the survival mechanism of a Creole elite that prefers to reign over the ruins of an impoverished country rather than submit to the rules of technical and inclusive modernity. In this scenario of paralysis, while the elites play at ideological simulation, the real Mexico has begun to refound itself from below, crossing the border and embracing an irreversible civilizational mutation.

The migratory phenomenon to the United States is not simply an economic flight, but an existential transmigration. Upon crossing the Rio Grande, Mexicans do not lose their identity; they shed their feudal ties and immerse themselves in the pragmatic liberalism of the American Old West. Thus, Spanglish and Mexican-American identity are born, a popular and bilingual republicanism that no longer fits the molds of the Creole homeland. The millions of compatriots who today speak a mixed language, who demand legal certainty, and who understand the value of individual effort over clerical cronyism, are operating under liberal and meritocratic values. This diaspora represents the great catalyst for a Mexican-American identity that has discovered that material well-being, access to credit, and legal security are preferable to the abstract dignity preached by armchair nationalists. The evidence is compelling, and utilitarian pragmatism doesn't lie: the Mexican-American experience demonstrates that deep integration offers a return on life infinitely superior to ideological isolation.

To understand the magnitude of the opportunity Mexico risks due to its cultural shortcomings, one need only critically examine the global landscape. The contemporary dilemma is not absolute autonomy, but rather choosing a smart subordination that yields dividends for development. Those countries that dared to adopt North American economic and technical security structures, such as South Korea and the Philippines, managed to break the cycle of underdevelopment and become manufacturing and democratic powerhouses. Even intermediate and criticized models like Puerto Rico enjoy living standards and institutional stability that would dwarf the reality of the average Mexican. Attempting to emulate the path of isolation or Third World neutrality is a recipe for collapse. In the midst of a new Cold War, the American train is not an optional choice, but the only escape route before falling into the productive "Argentinization" of Argentina or the predatory extractivism of authoritarian Asian capitalism.

It is here that current geopolitical reality demands a bold analogy to decipher the role of President Claudia Sheinbaum. In the Terminator film saga, the fate of humanity is not decided by a bureaucrat of the Anglo-Saxon establishment, but by Dani Ramos, a young working-class Mexican woman destined to lead the resistance against the machines. Today, Sheinbaum finds herself facing the same existential challenge: the advance of the Terminator manufactured in China, an economic and authoritarian titan that seeks to devour Western markets and turn peripheral nations into enclaves of debt and raw materials. To believe that Beijing or the BRICS schemes will come to rescue Mexico is criminally naive. China has never had a real interest in our development; it sees us as an economic province of Washington. If Sheinbaum aspires to save the nation's viability, she must assume the role of Dani Ramos in the face of the Asian threat and become the leader of the manufacturing and technological resistance of the North American bloc.

To achieve this feat, the governor would have to execute an epistemological break with the old nationalist left and adopt an essentially Mexican-American mindset. This implies defending Mexico's cultural richness internally, but operating with the coldness of a Wall Street technocrat externally. It means understanding that the country's future hinges on the supply chains of microchips, semiconductors, and North American logistics, and not on proclamations of Hispanicity or stale anti-Americanism.

It is essential to leave behind the trauma of the nineteenth century and accept that geography is destiny. Embracing pragmatic Americanization means closing the institutional gap described by Francis Fukuyama, Daron Acemoglu, and James Robinson, transitioning from an extractive and feudal system to an inclusive and modern one. True courageous honesty for the second phase of the Fourth Transformation lies in admitting that Mexico's future is chained to the dollar and the success of the West. The train is moving, migration has already laid the tracks, and all that remains is for the political leadership to have the courage to board the train of modernity.

North America: the cage of the Mexican economy

North America: the cage of the Mexican economy

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero 

Why can't Mexico get off the American train? The favorite narrative of Mexican nationalism is as predictable as it is harmful.

Every time tensions with Washington escalate, the inner circle of invisible power—those corporate and political elites who operate to maintain Mexico as a modern version of the Habsburg Model—pulls out the worn-out script of diversification.

They tell us, with a flippancy bordering on irresponsibility, that the solution is to look toward Beijing or Moscow; that, supposedly being one of the world's leading economies, we possess the strength to emancipate ourselves from the American production chain and access the global market autonomously.

It's madness.

A populist fantasy designed for domestic consumption that clashes head-on with the country's arithmetic and social reality.

If Mexico truly possessed that economic capacity and structural strength, it wouldn't exhibit the glaring inequalities that fracture the country, nor would it depend on the systematic expulsion of its own people to keep domestic consumption afloat.

The truth is harsher and less glamorous: Mexico has voluntarily chained itself to the United States, and today, it is the only path left to avoid collapse.

It is necessary to scrutinize the figures of self-deception with objective data.

The myth of self-sufficiency crumbles when one observes the phenomenon of migration and its real impact.

It is true that demagogues on both sides of the border often distort the variables: there are not 60 million undocumented immigrants in the United States; the total population of Mexican origin is around 38 million, of whom approximately 5 million lack legal status.

However, reducing the problem to a discussion of visas is to ignore the depth of the tragedy.

The real tragedy is not the legal status in the north, but the economic prostration in the south. Remittances are not a macroeconomic achievement to boast about on official platforms; they are the barometer of the Mexican state's failure. In rural communities across the vast majority of the country's states, dependence is absolute: in the most vulnerable segments of the rural population, practically one in three households survives thanks to the dollars earned in the fields of California, the kitchens of New York, or the construction industry in Texas.

The Mexican economic model functions, in essence, like a gigantic Porfirian-era hacienda for human exports.

The inner circle of power prefers to maintain this status quo because migration acts as the great social safety valve.

It allows for the merciless exploitation of the indigenous and mestizo population, denying them decent wages, security, and local opportunities, knowing that the surplus labor will ultimately finance social peace from abroad.

Remittances are, paradoxically, the subsidy that workers in the U.S. pay to the Mexican elite so that nothing changes.

It is the perfect mechanism for perpetuating inequality without triggering a revolution.

To think that China or Russia will replace this symbiosis is to misunderstand how geography and the global economy work.

Mexico is not an autonomous middle power; it is a critical, but subordinate, link in the North American market.

Eighty percent of its exports go north.

Its infrastructure, value chains, and legal treaties are all intertwined with the North American ecosystem.

Flirting with extra-hemispheric autocratic powers is not a strategy; it is geopolitical suicide that Washington will not tolerate and that the markets will punish immediately.

The alternative to deep integration is not sovereignty; it is chaos: a genuinely closed border and a massive return of capital and people.

Without the safety valve of migration and with stagnant binational trade, the Mexican social fabric would tear apart in a matter of weeks.

That void wouldn't be filled by the State; it would be filled by drug trafficking and organized crime, which already control entire fiefdoms of the national territory.

We would go from being an integrated economy to a large-scale failed state, a hacienda set ablaze by its own demons.

Robert Pastor was right, and it's time for the Mexican inner circle to accept it without the national complexes of the 19th century: Mexico's future lies not in utopian emancipation, but in the acceleration and democratization of North American integration.

It is necessary to move from maquiladoras and the export of cheap labor to a true economic community with clear rules, social cohesion funds that close infrastructure gaps, and realistic binational migration policies.

Mexico will not find its salvation in the Silk Road nor in the delusions of grandeur of a paper sovereignty.

Our destiny is inextricably tied to the north. To deny this is not patriotism; it is complicity with backwardness.

The great mistake of the Salinas technocracy was assuming that the success of the first Mexico would automatically pull the second along. It didn't.

North American subsidies (via remittances and export demand) are the only thing preventing internal inequality from triggering a violent social explosion.

Mexico is condemned to North American integration because geography is destiny.

Any attempt at emancipation toward Eurasian powers is not sovereignty; it is a discursive charade to keep the country's radical base happy while, behind the scenes, trade agreements with Washington continue to be signed.

The American train is the only one that passes through our station; getting off it is not an option, it is the abyss.

While the ideologues of the so-called Fourth Transformation theorize in universities about the discovery of China, joining the BRICS, and a budding romance with the Russia-Beijing axis, the real economy reminds us that Mexico has no room to maneuver.

It's not a question of sovereignty; it's a condition of strict and absolute dependence.

Data from the Bank of Mexico dismantles any narrative of diversification.

At the end of last year, Mexican exports reached a record high, but 83% of those shipments had a single destination: the United States.

To pretend that Mexico can flirt with a geopolitical alliance with China while ignoring the USMCA is to misunderstand the basic rules of global trade. If the Asian Dragon has any place in the Mexican value chain, it will only be under the strict rules of origin dictated by Washington.

Anything else is just rhetoric for the consumption of the party faithful.

In the classic Arabian tale "The Tale of the Two Who Dreamed" from One Thousand and One Nights, a man travels to distant lands in search of treasure, only to discover that the wealth was always buried in his own backyard.

Mexican populist progressivism makes the same mistake, but in reverse: it seeks a utopia of development in China's totalitarian state, when the reality of our survival is knocking on the door of our northern neighbor.

The true engine of social stability in Mexico is not government assistance programs, but the small, everyday money that sustains the fabric of the most forgotten communities.

The flow of remittances is the true buffer against poverty, directly supporting one in three households in the country.

If the Donald Trump administration were to carry out its threats, the socioeconomic collapse of the states with the longest history of emigration would be unprecedented.

The dilemma of Mexican foreign policy allows for neither ambiguity nor calculated silence.

Continuing to fuel the falsehood of populist sovereignty, while drug trafficking and institutional corruption spread unchecked, is playing with fire.

Neither China, nor Russia, nor the BRICS have sent a single screw to turn Mexico into the Ukraine of North America.

Alignment with North America is not a moral capitulation; it is the only viable path to guarantee economic viability and improve the social conditions of the population.

This disconnect between aspirations for self-sufficiency and productive reality is also evident at the local level.

In the state of Puebla—home to the Puebla Group—for example, institutional efforts to boost competitiveness, such as the development of the new CU2 complex at the Benemérita Universidad Autónoma de Puebla (BUAP), focused on engineering and exact sciences, the development of the Olinea vehicle, and the Ciudad Audi automotive cluster, illustrate a profound structural challenge.

While these initiatives are born with the legitimate purpose of spurring innovation, in practice they face serious implementation difficulties, plagued by bureaucratic problems, a lack of effective connection with the formal labor market, and accusations of patronage that limit their real social impact.

In contrast to the rigorous industrial and educational planning that characterizes Asian powers, local projects in Mexico often lack the ecosystem of legal certainty and transparency necessary to increase regional productivity.

Would the Beijing politburo allow such a waste of resources and talent on its own soil? Of course not.

The only thing that saves Mexico from its tremendous planned inefficiency is the United States.

Economic vulnerability is exacerbated by the imminent review of the USMCA.

This process will not be a mere formality; Washington is coming to the negotiating table with a markedly protectionist stance, demanding stricter labor oversight mechanisms, even more restrictive industrial rules of origin, and review clauses that reduce long-term certainty for investments.

For Mexico, any neglect at this negotiating table or a potential collapse of the trade agreement would imply a paralysis in the balance of payments that the formal economy could not withstand for more than a year.

Mexico finds itself at a crossroads where economic dependence on the United States is not an ideological choice, but a condition of survival imposed by the very realities of its geography, economy, and social stability.

The key to understanding this situation can be simplified with a simple analogy, like that of the apples, sticks, and balls, which brutally reveals the vulnerabilities we face.

Imagine that Mexico produces ten apples to sell on the global market.

The reality is that eight of those apples are consumed by our neighbor to the north, the United States.

The other two are distributed among Europe, Latin America, and other countries.

China barely buys a bite of one apple.

This means that if the United States decides to close the door or impose high tariffs on our exports, Mexico will be left with eight apples rotting in its yard, without a nearby buyer or enough money to absorb all of our production.

China, for its part, won't cross the Pacific Ocean to buy those apples, since it produces its own cheaper fruit and has a domestic market that satisfies its needs.

The Mexican economy is closely linked to that of its northern neighbor, and this dependence isn't a matter of patriotism, but of economic logic: no one else has the proximity, the size, or the purchasing power to sustain our production.

The second element of this relationship is the support that props up our budget.

In a rural community, the table that represents the economy of many families in Guerrero, Oaxaca, or Michoacán is held up by three pillars: what they grow, government social programs, and remittances sent from the United States.

The reality is that if remittance income is eliminated, social stability collapses, because that money is crucial for people to be able to eat, pay for medicine, or maintain their homes.

Social programs, while valuable, are not enough to cover all basic needs.

Most of the country's income comes from the wages of those who work in the United States.

Without that source, millions would fall into abject poverty within weeks.

The third element is the network of organized crime, which controls a large part of Mexican territory.

The legal economy, with its factories and maquiladoras (assembly plants), can only be sustained if the United States keeps its market open, if the factories continue operating, and if remittances arrive without interruption.

If the U.S. economy shuts down, those factories close, and unemployed young people become easy prey for drug trafficking, which offers a quick and dangerous escape.

This dependence creates a vacuum that organized crime is ready to fill, delivering the country into chaos and lawlessness.

Photo EFE

These three elements demonstrate that Mexico's economy is in a kind of cage from which it cannot escape without facing almost certain collapse.

The United States economy is about twenty times larger than Mexico's, and in a scenario of rupture, Mexico could not sustain itself on its own.

China, which has a huge trade surplus with Mexico, will not act as a lifeline; its interest is in selling, not subsidizing.

The border with the United States, which sees over two billion dollars in daily trade, would be a wall that would halt all of Mexico's productive capacity.

The idea of ​​absolute sovereignty, without integration with North America, is a dangerous illusion.

Mexico is an appendage of the United States; for our country, attempting to separate would be tantamount to death.

Intermarium of Silence

 Intermarium of Silence

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

Jean Meyer writes about Andrea Ricardi's work in Confabulario of El Universal (May 3, 2026). The review of Pius XII and his role during the Holocaust, while attempting to nuance the image of the pontiff, fails to avoid oversimplifying a much more complex reality: the structural ambiguity and lack of a clear and consistent stance on the part of the Catholic High Hierarchy regarding totalitarian regimes. It even calls into question the vast body of Jewish historiography on the Holocaust, the German people, Eastern Europe, and the role of Catholic nationalism.

The historical trajectory of the Intermarium Project, which seeks to consolidate an anti-communist bloc and, in many cases, aligns with the interests of the Church, reveals that this ambiguity was not an isolated incident, but a deliberate strategy that has endured over time.

The Church, in its eagerness to maintain its power and authority, has shown itself willing to collaborate with or remain silent in the face of any power that is favorable to it, regardless of whether it comes from a Nazi state, a drug-trafficking state, a corrupt political boss, the Soviet Union, China, or other dictatorships. The Church's "ambiguity" is not a mistake, but a tactic that has facilitated its survival.

This attitude shows that the Church's true stance is not the defense of human rights, but the preservation of its own power structure.

The history of the Intermarium Project and of Catholic nationalism in general demonstrates its adaptation by evading the ethical and moral commitment that the religion itself preaches; it should come as no surprise that, ultimately, the Church has proven to be more loyal to its institutional interests than to the values ​​it claims to promote.

In this sense, the discussion surrounding Pius XII cannot be limited to his silence or isolated actions, but must be framed within a broader logic: that of an institution which, in its quest for survival, has often preferred ambiguity.

From the perspective of the work *Intermarium: Evangelio Anticomunista* (Intermarium: Anti-Communist Gospel), these discourses can be understood not as isolated accidents or prejudices, but as components of a power strategy that seeks to maintain a hegemonic order and resist changes that threaten its legitimacy.

Catholic-rooted anti-communism in Mexico, or in Latin America, can be considered a microphysics of power that operates at subconscious and symbolic levels, and which has a great potential for escalation if it is not confronted with a critical review of its roots and functions.

This structure and its organizational intent are key to understanding the dynamics of power and resistance that still dominate in these contexts today.

Anti-communism is a form of Judeophobia that operates on different levels: not only as an individual attitude, but also as a “structure of resistance” that reinforces an exclusionary identity.

In the Mexican context, this Judeophobia without Jews is a way to maintain a discourse of victimization and confrontation with an external or internal enemy presented as a “virus” that must be combated to preserve the purity and authority of traditional Catholic institutions.

This mechanism of institutional sacralization, which seeks to keep society in a state of dependence and obedience, also explains why in Mexico, as in other countries with a history of strong religious influence and authoritarianism, these narratives remain functional.

The strategy is not only about religion, but also about how these ideas are articulated to defend certain privileges and an order that, in reality, seeks to perpetuate itself by constructing enemies and delegitimizing questioning.

The Catholic Church can generate a more progressive Vatican Council III than the previous one, but the task is to put theory into practice and end the feudal practices and inertia of an authoritarian and, at times, totalitarian culture.

Evangelical Geopolitics

 Evangelical Geopolitics

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

The influence of messianic and dispensationalist perspectives on Donald Trump's politics has opened a space for deep reflection on its geopolitical implications, particularly in relation to countries like Mexico. Several scholars, including Carlos Garma, Elio Masferrer, Samuel Schmidt, Leopoldo Cervantes Ruiz, and Carlos Martínez García, agree that this vision, driven by Trumpism, goes beyond the merely religious. They suggest that it is a geopolitical strategy with eschatological overtones, where the United States, under a biblical interpretation, assumes the role of a divine instrument in a conflict related to Jerusalem and the Middle East, oriented toward the fulfillment of a supposed divine plan for the end times. While they criticize the conservative and messianic character of this school of thought, their approaches differ when analyzing the political, religious, and geopolitical aspects involved.

This current of thought is characterized by linking biblical narratives with global events, especially in the Middle East. From this eschatological perspective, the struggle for territories and communities takes on the character of a divine conflict. Trump's alliance with evangelical sectors that hold these interpretations has given rise to a foreign policy imbued with a transcendental purpose. The United States, under this lens, ceases to be perceived solely as an actor motivated by economic or strategic interests, becoming instead a conduit for the materialization of a messianic plan that transcends human boundaries and delves into the mysteries of the apocalypse.

For Mexico, this scenario carries significant implications due to its geographical proximity to the United States, a nation that these sectors consider key in the eschatological narrative of the "people of God." Within this interpretive framework, Mexico may need to rethink its role vis-à-vis a neighbor embroiled in an apocalyptic conflict centered in the Middle East. In programs like Sacred and Profane, Bernardo Barranco has delved into the perspectives of Zionist Christianity, analyzing how messianic and dispensationalist currents position Israel as the epicenter for the fulfillment of divine designs. According to this view, U.S. actions, guided by such principles, surpass the classic expectations of imperialism, resulting in an interventionism endowed with sacred justifications. Thus, it is understood that they not only seek to preserve material interests, but also to participate directly in a spiritual war where the fate of the world, and even that of Mexico, is at stake.

For Mexican evangelicals who have given their political support to Morena, the panorama is even more complex. Their support for a government that often criticizes religious influence in decision-making could conflict with the prevailing eschatological narrative among other evangelical sectors aligned with Trumpism. This end-of-the-world narrative, which gives centrality to the struggle for Jerusalem and the Middle East within a global messianic framework, places Mexico before a potential life-or-death dilemma. The country could be drawn into a confrontation with both political and spiritual implications. For these believers, the struggle between continuing to support causes aligned with the messianic interests of the United States or pursuing a more independent political agenda presents difficult dilemmas and profound implications for national identity.

This phenomenon far surpasses reductionist explanations that confine it solely to the framework of traditional imperialism. Instead, it can be interpreted as a form of divine intervention, according to its followers, where nations and peoples become key players in an apocalyptic drama. The penetration of messianic evangelism into the international political arena, catalyzed by dispensationalist interpretations promoted during the Trump administration, could be marking a shift for Mexico in its relationship with global dynamics. The struggle for Jerusalem and the defense of Israel through an apocalyptic lens suggest that these events are perceived as a prelude to the end times. As a result, Mexico faces the dilemma of deciding what role it will play in a narrative that simultaneously combines celestial and earthly elements. The story is yet to be written, but what is evident is that the evangelical geopolitics that is taking shape around Trumpism constitutes a profound challenge that transcends the political and requires introspection about Mexico's place within this complex global narrative.

Hungary and the Intermarium

Hungary and the Intermarium

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

The fall of Viktor Orbán in 2026 marks a turning point that compels us to revisit Fredo Arias King's warning about the nature of transitions. For this author, democratic success in Eastern Europe depended on a radical break with previous power structures, something that Orbán's illiberal model simply reformulated under a modern nationalism. Now, with the triumph of Péter Magyar, Hungary faces the dilemma of the Intermarium: that belt of nations between the Baltic and the Black Sea desperately seeking to shake off Russian influence while attempting to assimilate Western values ​​that do not always align with its historical reality.

As Jesús Silva Herzog Márquez has aptly pointed out, the change in Hungary is not an automatic liberal restoration, but rather a conservative replacement. This lesson is vital for Mexico. We often believe that democracy ends with the vote count, but as analyzed in the volume edited by Ilan Bizberg and published by Cal y Arena, transitions are profound processes where geopolitics and state control weigh as much as, or even more than, popular will. The Hungarian experience teaches us that a populist regime can capture institutions in such a way that, even after its defeat, the state apparatus continues to operate according to the logic of the past. For Mexico, the lesson is that alternation of power is not synonymous with democratization if it is not accompanied by a reconstruction of the rule of law and genuine independence of technical bodies.

Hungary's difficulty in breaking free from Russia's energy and political orbit demonstrates that geography is, at times, a stronger destiny than the ballot box. Democracy, in this sense, requires not only a civil society that desires it, but also an international context that enables it. Silva Herzog's warning about the structural fragility of populism resonates today: corruption and arrogance ultimately exhaust authoritarian models, but the vacuum they leave is usually filled by figures from within the same system. If Mexico wants to avoid becoming a laboratory for illiberal democracy, it must understand that freedom is not guaranteed simply by winning an election, but by ensuring that the new power does not inherit the vices of the defeated. Society must desire democracy, but it must also have the patience and astuteness to dismantle a regime designed to be eternal.

Mexico as a Pillar of North America

 Mexico as a Pillar of North America

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

The idea that Mexico is a “middle power” is, at best, rhetorical excess and, at worst, a dangerous delusion.

The reality is harsher: Mexico operates as North America’s maquiladora region, a supplier of labor and logistics that the “Empire” could, if it so chose, replace or discipline through immediate control.

History does not lie: attempts to challenge Washington’s geopolitical gravity have ended in collapse, from the decline of Porfirio Díaz to the financial disaster of José López Portillo.

Today, the country is lost in a “halo effect” of populism that prioritizes spectacle over strategy.

While figures like Omar García Harfuch, aka “Batman,” or the defense of a “paper sovereignty” in the face of the Cuban crisis serve to fuel the domestic narrative, the real world is heading toward an unprecedented security and supply crisis.

The inconvenient truth is this: if the United States falls, Mexico disappears.

There is no Plan B in Beijing, no salvation in Moscow, no refuge in Tehran.

Latin American elites have historically used the people as cannon fodder to buy time and protection, but this capacity for manipulation is exhausted by hardship.

The Chilean path demonstrated that the only peaceful and successful coexistence with the North arises from order and institutions, not from sovereignist tantrums.

Mexico must aspire to be the "Little House" of North America; an integration that responds not to cultural supremacy, but to the relentless dynamics of regional capitalism.

Our geopolitical margin is narrow: either we democratize and use soft power to influence the bloc, or we will be absorbed by the force of events.

Beneath the surface of what analysts like Carlos Ramírez and Luis Carlos Ugalde call "Populist Neoliberalism" or authoritarianism lies an inescapable reality: we are a tributary state and a critical security zone for Washington.

The viability of the 21st century lies not in "romantic diversification" toward transatlantic or Asian horizons—which only deepen our deficit and vulnerability—but in the consolidation of our North American identity.

In this scenario, Marcelo Ebrard's strategy is not just diplomacy but an imperative for survival.

Mexico and Canada must reclaim Robert Pastor's vision: a community of interests that transcends geographical proximity.

Attempting to replace this bloc with support from Europe or Asia is a systemic miscalculation.

Our logistical structures are designed for continental integration; any attempt at isolation will only fragment the resilience that the most dynamic market on the planet provides us.

The strength of the balance of payments is the clearest indicator for decision-making.

While intra-North American trade sustains our stability, our relationship with Asian giants tends to weaken our financial maneuvering.

Globalization has been reconfigured into a profound regionalism where proximity is the supreme strategic asset.

The ruling party is entering a labyrinth of sterile factionalism and local strongmen who neglect the general welfare. The need for figures who prioritize the viability of the state over the rhetoric of conflict is emerging.

In this chaos of centrifugal leadership, technical management and strategic integration become the only tools capable of safeguarding the future.

Faced with the imminent crisis due to the situation in the Middle East, will Mexican society be able to accept a technical “Oppenheimer,” or will it choose the resentment sown by populism and “go down with the captain” rather than be saved by the expert?

The path to true freedom is not built with rhetoric, but with the order that only technology can guarantee.

In this urgent scenario, Marcelo Ebrard Casaubón stands as the Oppenheimer of national survival: the technical expert capable of harnessing the "bomb" of prosperity through a cordial and strategic relationship with the United States.

While the noise of populist attacks fades in the face of scarcity, the echo of reason points to Ebrard as the necessary architect to safeguard the economy and manage our inseparable membership in the Northern bloc.

Mexico has no time for further ideological distractions; its viability depends on leaders who prioritize the effectiveness of data over the narrative of conflict.

It is time to act as the strategic partners that geography and capital dictate, under the guidance of the one who holds the key to external harmony, or accept the consequences of becoming a forgotten and impoverished periphery.

The moment of truth has arrived.

Dialogue between Donald Trump and Antonio López de Santa Anna

Dialogue between Donald Trump and Antonio López de Santa Anna

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

In the inferno where time stands still in agony, two shadows converge in a distorted mirror of history, a confrontation of betrayals and decadence.

One, with skin that reflects the burns of power, is the spirit of the United States under the mask of Donald Trump.

The other, with a cynical face and empty gaze, is Antonio López de Santa Anna, the embodiment of a Mexico that sold its destiny.

They are two Machiavellians, two demons united by the destruction of their nations.

Trump breaks the silence with an ironic and worn tone: Here we are, Santa Anna, two corpses disguised in glory in this shared ruin.

Unbridled capitalism and ambition brought me here, but you, dictator of a thousand defeats, what did you do to avoid the fall? You sold yourself to the highest bidder while your corruption fueled the machinery that devours us both today.

My wall was a symbol, but your weakness was the true foundation of this abyss.

Santa Anna responds with a bitter smile that sounds like a stifled cry: You talk about sales, New Yorker, when you turned politics into a brothel of egos.

In Mexico, we learned to survive amidst betrayal and complicity; we lost our dignity in shady deals, surrounded by factions that only sought plunder.

But you, with your imperialism and addiction to conflict, led your people into an even deeper void.

My culture of poverty is, at least, a cynical form of resistance; your war is just a business that consumes your own children.

Trump retorts with a laugh that echoes off the sulfurous walls: Resistance? What you call that is just prolonged impunity.

While we reproach each other for our failings, the horizon reveals an unstoppable tide: China, Russia, and Islam advance upon the ruins of the West.

Consumerist totalitarianism destroyed the very fiber of character that defined us.

We are no longer the leaders the world feared or respected; we are living corpses watching the empire disintegrate under pressures we once scorned.

Santa Anna adds with terminal cynicism: In that destruction, we will be dragged down together.

The corruption I fostered and the inequality you exacerbated are reflections of our inability to save the national soul.

Western culture has been torn apart by its own greed and blindness to reality.

The hope of regeneration has vanished, and all that remains is to await final defeat at the hands of the powers rising from our ashes.

Silence falls once more, heavy as an omen.

Both demons understand that history has condemned them beyond remedy.

The monster of totalitarian capitalism devours the remnants of their empires, leaving only smoke and the memory of a power that was nothing but an illusion.

In this inferno with no return, Trump and Santa Anna, symbols of a civilization in its twilight, contemplate their inevitable fall, trapped in a cycle of betrayal that condemns them to absolute self-destruction in the abyss. The "Shield" is not a regeneration, but the formalization of dependency. It is the climax of Santa Anna's betrayal and the paroxysm of Trump's expansive isolationism.

They remain two demons discussing how, in trying to salvage the remnants of their power, they ended up suffocating the souls of their respective peoples.

Trump, adjusting his golden crown, which now emits a pale, radioactive glow, points toward the world of the living: "Look at that display, Santa Anna! The Shield of America.

It is my vision perfected.

It is not just a stone wall; it is a network of steel, satellites, and algorithms that envelops the continent.

I have convinced your successors that the only way to avoid death is to hand me the keys to their house."

Isn't this a masterpiece of negotiation? I've turned the fear of narco-terrorism into the heaviest chain they've ever worn.

Santa Anna, whose iron chains clang with a dry sound, lets out a laugh that sounds like earth falling on a coffin: You're wrong to call it a victory, Trump.

What you call a shield, I recognize as my own signature on the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, but extended across the entire map.

You've achieved what I couldn't: making Mexico ask to be invaded willingly.

But tell me, at what cost to your empire? By trying to fortify the south, you've turned the United States into a weary jailer.

You're spending your last bit of energy guarding a border that no longer divides two nations, but two ruins chasing their own tails.

Trump turns to him, his eyes blazing with cold fury: It's survival! China is breathing down our necks, and Russia is laughing at our former decency.

The Shield is the only way to keep the consumer feast within our borders.

If saving my economy means managing your cities and hunting your demons as if they were my own, I'll do it.

The Gosth of Traian Romanescu: Morena supporters against Netanyahu

 The Gosth of Traian Romanescu: Morena supporters against Netanyahu

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

The shadow of suspicion that hangs over Benjamin Netanyahu today is not, in essence, a new phenomenon in the Mexican political imagination. What we observe in contemporary intellectual circles, which casually compare the Israeli leader to the architects of 20th-century totalitarianism, is the transfer of an old pathology: the antisemitism of Catholic nationalism that figures like Sáenz Arriaga, Salvador Borrego, and Cuesta Gallardo instilled in the national psyche, now disguised in the anti-Zionist populism of the self-proclaimed Fourth Transformation.

This rhetoric, which attempts to portray the alliance between Netanyahu and Donald Trump as a new "conspiracy for chaos," merely recycles the myth of the synagogue of Satan under a veneer of geopolitical progressivism. It is imperative to distinguish between legitimate criticism of government management and the structural Judeophobia that dehumanizes the State of Israel.

To attribute to Netanyahu a racist messianism that acts against humanity is to ignore the historical tragedy of a people who, after being abandoned by the international community, understood that their survival depends not on the benevolence of others, but on their own strength and determination. Israel's manifest destiny is not an affront, but a reminder of dignity in the face of extermination.

As the theology of history aptly pointed out, drawing on ideas present in authors such as Jacques Maritain or Romano Guardini himself—who emphasized that the salvation of the world is inextricably linked to the mystery of Israel—the Jewish people are the axis through which God addresses creation.

To deny this role is to deny the very root of Western civilization. Justifying Netanyahu in the face of Catholic nationalism requires dismantling the idea of ​​the "abandoned soldier" who seeks enemies in the shadows to explain his own decline. Faced with Morena's populism, the response must be realistic: Israel is not a gratuitous aggressor, but a democracy besieged by regimes that have sworn to its annihilation.

While detractors speak of an imaginary Judeophilia, what exists is objective recognition of a state that, with order and discipline, freedom, anti-corruption, and democracy, has built an oasis of development in a desert of authoritarianism. Accusing Israel of assassination while remaining silent about the terrorism that plagues it is an unacceptable moral asymmetry.

The Jewish people will continue to respond with the strength that history has compelled them to forge. Israel is there so that the world may learn that faith and destiny are not abstractions, but realities that are defended with life and civic duty. Despite the dissatisfaction of Judeophobes, both past and present, the greatness of Israel remains a mirror in which humanity must see its own capacity to rise from the ashes.

Israel's destiny was not to be a power to dominate and crush others, but to be a Light to the nations. Israel survives not because it seeks world domination, but because it refuses to be erased from it. Its discipline and destiny are tools of preservation, not tyrannical expansion.

If the world falls into the hands of a power that denies the freedom of the soul, dignity, and liberty, it matters not whether that power is orderly or prosperous; the world will be a graveyard. Is Chinese, drug-trafficking, Muslim, fascist, Hindu, etc., domination better than the prospects of liberal capitalist democracies?

Will Mexico save NAFTA?

 Will Mexico Save NAFTA?

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

The viability of the Mexican economy in the 21st century lies not in romantic diversification toward transatlantic or Asian horizons, but in consolidating its identity as a fundamental pillar of the North American region.

Given the complex estrangement that has characterized the relationship with the Donald Trump administration, Secretary Marcelo Ebrard's strategy of strengthening ties with Ottawa is not only a shrewd diplomatic move, but an imperative for commercial survival.

Mexico and Canada now share the urgent need to rescue the continental vision that Robert Pastor proposed decades ago: an integrated North America that transcends mere geographic proximity to become a community of shared interests.

This strategic alliance seeks to shield the USMCA from protectionist impulses, recognizing that both countries are the United States' most stable and complementary partners.

Attempting to replace this bloc with support from Europe or Asia is, from a business perspective, a systemic miscalculation, given that our logistics and production structures are intrinsically designed for regional integration.

The strength of the balance of payments is the clearest indicator for decision-making in the highest corporate and diplomatic spheres.

While intra-North American trade generates a surplus that sustains macroeconomic stability and strengthens local value chains, trade relations with Asian giants and European powers tend to deepen a deficit that weakens our financial maneuvering capacity.

Far from being over, liberal globalization has been reconfigured toward a profound regionalism where proximity and security of supply are the new strategic assets.

Mexico must understand that its place at the global table depends on its ability to act as a bloc with its northern partners; any attempt at isolation or the search for geographically distant alternatives would only fragment the resilience that the most dynamic market on the planet provides us.

In this sense, the current mission is none other than to reaffirm that Mexico's prosperity is inextricably linked to the stability of North America, preventing an economic catastrophe through the technical and pragmatic defense of our continental integration.

While the National Regeneration Movement (MORENA) delves into a labyrinth of sterile factionalism, where the project's founding promises seem to dissolve in a confrontation of regionalisms and particular power brokers, a figure emerges who prioritizes the viability of the State over the rhetoric of conflict.

While the party structure risks implosion due to the struggle of centrifugal leaders who neglect the general welfare, Marcelo Ebrard Casaubón is consolidating his position as the architect of a transition toward economic modernization, precisely articulating the ideal mechanisms for wealth creation and the stability of production chains. His administration transcends ideological disputes to focus on Mexico's strategic integration into the international community, demonstrating that true transformation lies not in the hegemony of any one group, but in the technical capacity to safeguard the future against uncertainty.

On the horizon of national politics, only he who holds the key to external harmony and control over the flow of capital will be able to steer the ship of state when the winds of internal discord finally run out of steam.

The path is laid out for those who understand that order is the necessary prelude to true freedom, and their moment will arrive when the echo of reason drowns out the noise of assault.

Meta God AI

 Meta God AI

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

Contemporary thought, enriched by the recent interventions of Yuval Noah Harari, warns that humanity faces an unprecedented challenge due to the rise of artificial intelligence.

Harari has emphasized that, unlike any previous technology, AI is capable of creating ideas, narratives, and even new cults, displacing human beings from their historical role as the sole generators of cultural meaning.

The Davos forum has validated this view, recognizing that we are not simply facing another production tool, but rather an entity capable of hacking the operating system of our civilization.

From a perspective of responsible foresight, the future should not be interpreted merely as job displacement, but as a profound existential crisis.

Artificial intelligence not only automates tasks, but is also beginning to colonize the realm of the sacred, giving rise to epiphanies and digital utopias that could supplant traditional humanist values. While the private sector pays homage to this new technological deity for its economic efficiency, governments seem incapable of establishing regulatory frameworks to contain what some call a digital Terminator.

The education system faces an absolute crossroads. Institutional paralysis in the face of the speed of these changes suggests that current skills could become obsolete in the face of a geoeconomic landscape that, in its struggle for hegemony between powers like China and the United States, threatens to create a useless class of global proportions.

To mitigate this risk, education must shift toward rescuing the essence of humanity, prioritizing professions that require empathy, ethics, and a physical connection to reality—elements that computing cannot yet authentically replicate.

Responsible foresight demands that humanity not surrender to a destructive technological determinism.

It is not about waiting for a digital blackout, but about implementing public policies that ensure AI functions as a complement to, and not a substitute for, our species.

The risk of descending into technocratic totalitarianism is real, but the capacity to respond lies in our ability to collaborate and reaffirm the sovereignty of human judgment.

Beyond the apocalyptic visions of science fiction, the challenge is to design a global social contract that protects our identity against the advance of this new algorithmic god, ensuring that the future remains for life.

Mexico, Schweizer's Prague Cemetery?

 Mexico, Schweizer's Prague Cemetery?

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

Mexican sovereignty, more than an exercise in self-determination, has transformed into a sophisticated theatrical set where the main action is decided in foreign offices.

Observing the current reality through the analytical lens of Anabel Hernández and María Idalia Gómez, it becomes clear that the recent massive hack of national institutions was not just a technical incident, but the culmination of an operational tutelage.

A true digital coup d'état, as Schweizer describes it.

In this scenario, Mexico operates as a kind of American Sicily: a laboratory of containment and experimentation where US intelligence observes how far its global enemies can penetrate before the system collapses.

This dynamic evokes the atmosphere of Umberto Eco's The Prague Cemetery, where the creation of conspiracies and the manipulation of falsehoods ultimately shape geopolitical reality.

Peter Schweizer's thesis on the infiltration of foreign powers positions him as one of those figures who, like the young people who initiate the game in Foucault's Pendulum, believe they have uncovered a hidden plot, only to end up as victims of the very conspiracy they are trying to expose.

If Schweizer is right and strategic enemies—Russia, China, or the Middle East—are looming over the territory, then Mexico ceases to be a state and becomes a buffer zone where the ends justify any means of espionage.

From academia, authors such as Robert Pastor and Alain Rouquieu have emphasized that Mexico's integration into the North American sphere of influence is a structural condition that nullifies its autonomy.

For Daniela Spenser, the history of national intelligence services has always been subordinate to Washington's priorities.

Under this logic, the Mexican government is sidelined not for lack of will, but due to an economic and security dependence, both formal and informal, that ties its hands.

The hall of mirrors is absolute: the rhetoric of independence is permitted while the data infrastructure is managed from the North.

Mexico is the chessboard where the resilience of Western rivals is measured, but also the laboratory where the effectiveness of total control is tested.

Ultimately, sovereignty is a literary concept in a world of stark political realism, where the country fulfills its destiny as the final frontier of an empire that prefers to observe the chaos from the peephole rather than allow another actor to move the pieces in its Sicilian laboratory.

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, 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.

Donald Trump Weakens on Venezuela

 Donald Trump Weakens on Venezuela

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero 

US geopolitics in the region is undergoing a significant shift, with characteristics reminiscent of Theodore Roosevelt's model.

Although the use of military force is presented as a strategy of psychological pressure, this form of coercive diplomacy tolerates no resistance and sends a clear message against populist governments and established powers.

While there have been no large-scale attacks like those of recent historical periods, the implicit message is forceful: the United States is not willing to allow full political, economic, and social autonomy in this region. The potential fall of the Castro-Chavista regime in Venezuela prompts reflection on the future of nationalist populism in Latin America.

It is striking to observe the fragility of populist governments in the face of US influence, as well as the lack of significant support from the BRICS countries regarding the realities facing South America.

The question arises as to whether this context could represent any political benefit for Donald Trump.

However, it should also be noted that his decisions and excesses generate discontent even among his own electorate.

In parallel, the anti-neoliberal and decolonial discourse in Latin America seems to be reconfiguring itself in the face of US military threats.

It is essential that ideas evolve toward more effective strategies to counter imperialist dynamics.

On the other hand, the process of economic integration between Mexico and the United States presents itself, by necessity, as a display of pragmatism that cannot be ignored.

Mexico, increasingly interdependent with its northern neighbor, faces the challenge of deepening this relationship to guarantee mutual benefits.

A viable path to ensuring successful integration involves fostering a liberal culture and strengthening Mexican state institutions.

The current situation in Venezuela serves as a reminder of the importance of balancing objectives and means in the region's political trajectory.

Meanwhile, the historical aspirations of the Latin American left face significant challenges.

Its structural limitations contrast sharply with the reach of U.S. power, creating a seemingly insurmountable dynamic.

Mexico's political and economic evolution is inextricably linked to the U.S. context, making it essential to closely observe developments in the United States to anticipate the future.

The internal struggles within the Mexican state have inadvertently contributed to amplifying the United States' influence and veto power in domestic affairs.

Instead of pursuing an independence that is difficult to achieve under current conditions, it is crucial to commit to balanced and responsible collaboration that benefits both parties and fosters a more constructive environment.

Although the decline of US imperialism has been extensively debated, the military mobilization in Latin America seems to contradict this perception.

However, recent events stemming from Donald Trump's actions against progressive populism in Venezuela suggest that the weakness of the United States and the lack of clarity surrounding Trumpism are more evident.

While the unilateral measures taken against vessels deemed unsafe by the United States have been significant, the survival of so-called Castro-Chavismo in Venezuela demonstrates that the landscape has not substantially changed.

At the same time, in other strategic areas of global geopolitics, the United States is retreating in the face of its adversaries and limiting the scope of its influence as a bastion of liberal capitalist democracy.

Historical critics of US imperialism, such as Noam Chomsky, predicted that the decline of the United States would inevitably come as the resources necessary to maintain such costly geopolitical control for its taxpayers were exhausted.

Today, this premise seems to be confirmed by recent US economic decisions and geopolitical strategies.

The United States appears to be incapable of guaranteeing the protection of its own national security, adopting a mercantilist approach and ceasing to invest in major projects that would expand its geopolitical presence beyond its immediate areas of competitive influence.

This reinforces the increasingly accepted idea of ​​the decline of American imperialism.

The Trump administration's strategy, for its part, is becoming increasingly ambiguous both domestically and internationally.

In this context, the multipolar scenario gains greater relevance, and it is vital that societies understand the implications of a world governed by multiple, conflicting powers seeking to replace US hegemony.

An example of this shift is Mexico, where the influence of powers like China and Russia not only persists but could grow due to the less proactive approach of the United States.

Likewise, the expansion of the BRICS bloc and the strengthening of progressive populist regimes in Latin America appear to be inevitable trends on the regional landscape.

In parallel, the decline of the United States is generating immediate concerns, especially regarding the public policies that Mexico must adopt to address challenges such as mass deportations and immigration control.

Furthermore, it will be a priority to develop strategies to offset the economic impact stemming from both potential deportations and the reliance on informal labor, which represents a key component of the country's socioeconomic structure.

Gerald Ford in the Impossible Triangle

 Gerald Ford in the Impossible Triangle

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

Throughout history, relations between the United States and Latin America have been marked by actions that some might call imperialist. Although there is talk of the largest US military deployment in the region, such movements are nothing new in Washington's history. Experts like James Cockcroft have dedicated in-depth analyses to this topic, exploring how the White House's geopolitical interests have shaped its interventionist policy toward Latin America.

Today, the focus seems to be shifting toward what some call the "tripod of evil" in the region: Cuba, Venezuela, and Mexico. These countries, according to certain political discourses, represent a threat under the concept of narcoterrorism, a label used to justify extreme measures and open new fronts in US national security. Turning to this axis, figures like Donald Trump have expressed their intention to combat the "populist narcoterrorism" associated with these countries, in addition to addressing the growing international influence that alliances between these nations and the BRICS could have.

American strategic thinking is not a new phenomenon, but it finds echo in traditional perspectives such as those of Zbigniew Brzezinski, who analyzed Latin America's role within American interests and pointed to the historical disdain for the region, often perceived as having secondary influence. However, times are changing, and global dynamics are forcing a strategic reconfiguration. Alvin Toffler, for example, addresses the concept of "rapid change," highlighting the importance of adapting to the accelerated transformations that shape both societies and political systems. In this scenario, the United States seems to be rethinking its approach to Latin America, under pressure from new global and regional challenges.

The Trump administration, and more broadly recent American policy, may be taking note of these trends. The need to view Latin America in a new light makes sense in a global context where strategic and economic alliances are gaining greater importance. This potential shift would also respond to the direct impact on the United States of the structural problems of its neighbors south of the Rio Grande. The Mexican crisis, with its profound effects on society and governance, not only affects Mexico itself; its repercussions extend to other Latin American nations and also impact the delicate internal balance of the United States.

It is clear that Mexico represents an increasingly significant challenge to U.S. national security. While the neighboring country does not need to become a kind of Japan south of the Rio Grande to be relevant, it is emerging as a key player in the geopolitical and strategic landscape. If the United States wishes to maintain its internal stability while navigating an increasingly interconnected and competitive world, it must confront the challenges stemming from the political and social deterioration along its borders. What is happening in Mexico and other Latin American countries can no longer be ignored without serious consequences for the shared future of a region united by social, economic, and cultural ties.

Invasion Through Cooperation

 Invasion Through Cooperation

Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero

It is becoming increasingly undeniable that U.S. interventionism in Mexico is affecting the interests of narco-politics and its various allies.

Although the Fourth Transformation seeks to make clear demonstrations of nationalism and sovereignty, the truth is that Donald Trump's pressure is growing stronger, and progressivism may be facing its last six-year term.

Analyses of the links between politics and drug trafficking will begin to uncover more evidence; however, the Mexican government is at the beck and call of U.S. imperialism, and therefore, the arrests and public displays of drug traffickers and their associates are becoming increasingly commonplace.

Ricardo Pascoe, Andres Oppenheimer, and Carlos Ramírez explain that there is a deep collaboration that makes military intervention unnecessary. The socialist posturing of the Sheinbaum government simply demonstrates its impotence in the face of neoliberal populism and the imposed U.S. security doctrine.

The relationship between Mexico and the United States is at a critical juncture, where U.S. intervention in Mexican politics is almost absolute.

Although the Fourth Transformation seeks to project nationalism and sovereignty, the pressure from the White House, especially during Donald Trump's administration, has been intense.

The concealment of former President AMLO, the displacement of López Obrador's movement, and the widespread evidence of corruption during the previous six-year term demonstrate that President Claudia Sheinbaum is subservient to the White House.

Nationalist progressivism in Mexico may be facing its greatest challenge, with the possibility that the government's work is in complete disarray.

Sheinbaum appears to be facing a delicate balance between maintaining the narrative of the Fourth Transformation and the external pressures seeking to influence her government. The dominance of the Caribbean and Mexico represents a crucial issue for U.S. security in the face of the BRICS.

The decline of the United States in relation to the Asian world and the imminent intervention of the Chinese Dragon in various areas of global life are undeniable; however, Latin America is not exempt from the Monroe Doctrine.

Drug trafficking is the focus of an intervention considered essential for North America. Not only has the supply of drugs from Mexico to the United States been overestimated, but there is also a convergence with China that seems to be creating a reverse Opium War.

The Chinese presence in Latin America implies not only economic interests but also political influence that seeks to consolidate itself in various spheres, from technology to diplomacy.

China's presence in strategic sectors, from infrastructure to trade, has generated competition that both the United States and Mexico must address with a joint and decisive vision.

The region, traditionally viewed as a contested sphere of influence, has become a chessboard on which global powers are deploying their interests with increasing intensity.

In this context, Mexico must navigate turbulent waters, where collaboration and the pursuit of common interests may be key to addressing regional and global challenges.

History has shown that confrontation and isolationism do not serve Mexican interests, while cooperation and a shared vision can create an effective counterweight to the expansion of other powers.

The current state of North American relations reveals that U.S. interventionism in Mexico has not only been decisive but, in many cases, has directly affected the country's internal interests, particularly in areas related to drug trafficking and its various allies.

However, amidst this influence, an opportunity arises: bilateral collaboration that allows for the reshaping of the Latin American landscape, limiting Chinese expansion and strengthening a regional presence that takes into account shared interests.

Cooperation can be based on a strategy of economic development, security, and institutional strengthening, where both countries join forces to offer viable alternatives to Chinese investment and presence.

The United States' role in the region, viewed from a collaborative perspective, can become a strategic ally for Mexico, allowing both countries to act as guardians of stability that benefits all of Latin America.

Cooperation and a shared vision can create an effective counterweight to China's expansion.

In this context, Mexico and the United States must understand themselves not only as neighbors, but as partners in a common challenge that transcends borders. The establishment of a geopolitical balance that preserves regional sovereignty and limits the influence of external powers.

This process requires a sovereign vision that transcends short-term interests and a political will to drive a common agenda, in which the fight against drug trafficking and corruption are fundamental pillars.

Collaboration should extend beyond the fight against drug trafficking and Chinese imperialism, encompassing infrastructure, trade, and education projects that strengthen regional independence and reduce dependence on external actors such as the BRICS.