On March 11, Mexican investigative journalist Marcela Turati delivered the keynote address at the Center for Human Rights and Humanitarian Studies’s inaugural Human Rights Lecture and Symposium. After the killing of Nemesio Oseguera Cervantes — also known as El Mencho — two weeks prior, we attended with hopes that Turati might shed light on the violent attacks that broke out across Mexico as El Mencho’s cartel protested the death of their leader. After seeing headlines flooded with reports of torched cars and terrorism at narco roadblocks, we expected the death of El Mencho had sent the country into a tailspin of unprecedented violence.
We weren’t the only ones. Whether it be to Cancun, Cabo or Playa del Carmen, every year, undergraduates head south for spring break on the country’s white sands, but following the recent outbreak of violence, many tourists changed their spring break plans. Overnight, college students’ perception of Mexico transformed from a tropical spring break playground to a nation ruled by drug and cartel-fueled violence.
Turati’s talk, however, made us realize that the violence that appeared sudden to American observers is far from atypical. Disappearances, Turati explained, have characterized Mexican life since the beginning of Mexico’s war on drug cartels began in 2006. What changed in late February was not the degree of the country’s instability, but our perception of it. America’s ignorance of Mexico’s cartel-driven instability was exemplified by the way in which vacationers canceled their spring break plans en masse following the outbreak of cartel violence in response to El Mencho’s death. After all, spring break debauchery in Mexico has taken place against the quiet backdrop of the government and cartel’s violence for the past 20 or so years.
At the heart of Mexico’s instability is the disappearance of over 130,000 individuals in the country. These disappearances are a fundamental way cartels maintain their grip on Mexican society. The disappearances, daily death and violence has been normalized in Mexico, Turati said. In the face of such powerful and prolific cartels, all aspects of Mexican life, and tourism, take place alongside their violence. From the highest levels of government to the administration of public services, the cartels’ violence and dominion are deeply entrenched in Mexicans’ daily realities.
In reality, violence in Mexico is decreasing. Last year saw the lowest number of homicides since 2016. And the successful killing of El Mencho — who led Mexico’s largest and most dangerous cartel — is ultimately a victory of the Sheinbaum government in fighting organized crime in the country. While the attacks in the days that followed remind us that the plague of organized crime in Mexico is far from over, the outbursts should be seen as indicative of the government’s successful policy against cartels.
Many Mexican cartels are sophisticated transnational organizations: They control the global supply chains for drugs like fentanyl and cocaine and have subsidiaries across the world. The nation is one of our closest neighbors and one of our top two trading partners. And organized crime is its fourth-largest employer. Any challenge to the dominance of Mexican cartels will disrupt the global order and have profound impacts on the US. Thus, acknowledging the global implications of Mexico’s cartel system is crucial to understanding the context behind the headlines.
In her talk, Turati emphasized the United States’s role in Mexico’s cartel-driven instability. Close to 80% of firearms used in violent crime found at crime scenes come from the United States. Indeed, after El Mencho died, officials recovered an extensive stockpile of U.S. imported firearms from his possession. So long as Americans support cartels by providing a market for imported drugs and customers for seaside businesses — which are often charged extortion fees by their local cartels — we are complicit in the terrorism and turmoil of modern day Mexico.
As scholars, we have to dig deeper than the ten-word headlines that reduce hundreds of years of colonialism, exploitation and economic inequality into a snappy phrase. The attacks that followed the death of El Mencho were just one moment of a long and complex history of organized crime and government intervention. When we reduce our view of the nation into either a place of sun-soaked diversion or drug-ruled violence, we relieve ourselves of our own accountability and ignore the nuance that exists between both narratives.
Isabella Gardiner ’28 can be reached at isabella_gardiner@brown.edu and CJ Lair ’28 can be reached at craig_lair@brown.edu. Please send responses to this column to letters@browndailyherald.com and other opinions to opinions@browndailyherald.com.
CJ Lair is an opinions editor at The Brown Daily Herald. He is from Gettysburg, Pennsylvania and plans to study Political Science at Brown. This is his second year writing for a publication, and is especially interested in political developments and their impacts on the Brown community.
Isabella Gardiner is an opinions editor and a member of the editorial page board. She is a sophomore from London, UK, and plans on concentrating in history.
