do they really want it to succeed?
THE DRUG WAR
by
ROBERT JOE STOUT
_____________________________________________________
Robert
Joe Stout is a contributor at Monthly
Review. His most recent book is Why Immigrants
Come to America: Braceros, Indocumentados and the Migra.
Until
1914 laudanum and morphine were legally sold and distributed
in the United States, heroin was prescribed as a cough medicine,
and coca and cocaine were mixed with wine and cola drinks. Although
most of the opium came from the Orient, Chinese settlers on
Mexico’s west coast, particularly in the state of Sinaloa,
began cultivating adormidera (opium gum) during the
1870s and gradually developed an export trade.
Even
after the use of opium-based products was declared illegal in
the United States, the exportations from Sinaloa continued;
prosecution of offenders, if it happened at all, was benign.
The adormidera crossed into the United States through
places like Tijuana, a dusty little frontier town until the
mid-twentieth century; San Luis Río Colorado, across
the border from Yuma, Arizona; Nogales, also on the Arizona
border; and Ojinaga, across the Rio Grande River from Presidio
in Texas’s isolated Big Bend country. Customs agents on
both sides of the border, but particularly in Mexico, cooperated
with the exporters and the flow of drugs, though not large by
1960s or ‘70s standards, went through virtually unimpeded.
The
majority of those involved were locals who spent the cash they
acquired in the areas in which they operated. They hired local
residents for construction, transportation, ranching, and other
sidelines in which they invested their earnings. As far as most
of their neighbours were concerned, they were good citizens
whose business was no better or worse from that of any other.
Prohibition
changed this genial and basically cooperative landscape. Large
amounts of liquor were harder to conceal than adormidera or
marijuana, making it necessary for exporters to bribe -- or
form partnerships -- with those in charge of customs. Politicians
ranging from local councilmen to state governors became involved,
forcing the local exporters either to join them or evade them
as well as evade law enforcement.
The
end of Prohibition wounded but did not slay the golden calf
of liquor exportation. The politically connected entrepreneurs
that controlled the aduanas (customs inspection stations)
also controlled prostitution and a percentage of drug exportations.
They financed the construction and operation of luxurious night
clubs, gourmet restaurants and gambling activities that attracted
large numbers of U.S. residents. Both politically affiliated
and independent drug exporters invested in these enterprises
as Tijuana, Ciudad Juárez and other border cities became
brightly lit tourist meccas surrounded by desolate slums packed
with new arrivals, deportees, addicts, beggars and petty criminals.
By
1948 the volume of Sinaloa adormidera crossing the
border triggered harsh recriminations from representatives of
the U.S. federal government. Mexico’s Attorney General
responded with equally acerbic suggestions that officials north
of the border deal with those who were purchasing the drugs
since the market attracting the exports was in the United States.
Mexican federal and state law enforcement did arrest a few farmers
and mulas (mules, i.e., those hired to transport contraband)
but did not prosecute any leading political or business figures.
Despite
cinema and television depictions of drug runners as gun-toting,
Pancho Villa-like gangsters, the truth was that many well-attired
and well-educated governors, bankers and businessmen considered
the business of growing and exporting adormidera as
natural (and as profitable) as growing cotton or corn. The income
from drug exportations filtered through the economies of the
states involved and was attributed to ‘sale of agricultural
products’ if the source was questioned.
As
marijuana and cocaine use increased exponentially during the
1960s in the United States, Sinaloa drug exporters expanded
into other areas, particularly Tamaulipas in northeastern Mexico,
where they clashed with exporters who had greater access to
delivery points across the border. They also competed for connections
with the major Colombian cartels.
By
the 1970s importing Colombian cocaine and getting it into the
United States had become an increasingly complex business. The
so-called cartels or drug corporations included accountants,
lawyers, chemists, legislators and entire corps of police departmentalized
into individual functions which included marketing, investment,
press relations and militarized units, most of which were led
by experienced former Mexican Army and Navy officers. (The term
cartel is erroneous since the drug organizations have nothing
to do with medieval trade unions; instead they function like
private corporations).
As
these organizations grew, they brought more elements of Mexican
society into their operations, particularly for laundering profits
and transporting drugs. Tourists and businessmen and women --
well-dressed, affable, polite -- crossed the border with false-bottomed
luggage filled with cocaine. Soccer balls and balloons contained
packets of powder. Brassieres that made small-breasted women
seem much more amply endowed were padded with cocaine sewed
into the garments. According to retired U.S. Air Force journalist
James McGee, importers in El Paso brought thousands of colourful
Mexican piñatas across the border -- piñatas that
never were retailed but ripped open and discarded after the
cocaine packed inside them had been removed.
As
happens with most corporations, junior operatives (executives)
began to break away and form smaller organizations of their
own. Murders and assassinations between rival bands increased
as they vied for portions of the lucrative trade. Breakaway
groups unable to chisel a large enough portion for themselves
branched into people smuggling, counterfeiting, business shakedowns,
prostitution, auto theft and kidnapping. Others paid their bribes
and expenses with merchandise (i.e., cocaine or heroin) or,
unable to push it into the United States, increased distribution
in Mexico, where profits were lower but easier to obtain. Gradually
-- first along the frontier with the United States, then in
cities throughout the country -- more and more Mexican nationals,
especially those under thirty years of age, became habitual
drug users.
Gradually
the principal criminal organizations gobbled up smaller local
operatives. (“Join us or join those in the cemetery,”
was the ultimatum usually given). The smaller criminal bands
paid monthly quotas to be allowed to operate. The dominant corporations
paid quotas to government officials, business executives and
military commanders, while also purchasing legitimate businesses
like major sports franchises and investing in the stock market.
The
financial fluidity of these rapidly expanding corporations enabled
them to establish ‘nations within the nation’ that
were functionally self-governing and absorbed or supplanted
many social and communal activities. The kingpin was Juan García-Ábrego;
his so-called “Cartel del Golfo” transferred thousands
of tons of cocaine that had been flown from Colombia to clandestine
landing strips in Quintana Roo and the Yucatán for smuggling
into the United States.
When
Mexican authorities arrested and extradited García-Ábrego
to the United States in 1996, his organization foundered and
its new leaders temporarily allied themselves with the Sinaloa
group. Such marriages and subsequent breakups occurred frequently
throughout the 1980s and ‘90s, depending upon arrests,
betrayals, governmental changes and business opportunities.
But although the names and faces changed the business continued
unabated.
In
many aspects (investment, trade, communication, transportation,
defense) the ‘nations within the nation’ that the
drug corporations formed, paralleled the structure of Mexico’s
federal government. Many who operated within the corporate systems
functioned in similar capacities within federal and state law
enforcement and financial entities. The capos contributed
to local and regional political campaigns, thus assuring themselves
of being able to extract needed favours and permissions from
the many officeholders in their debt. According to a retired
state employee named Pedro Enrique Martínez who chauffeured
a number of Sinaloa politicians:
What
the leader (Joaquín -- “El Chapo” Guzmán)
of the so-called Sinaloa cartel wanted and communicated to Mexican
president Felipe Calderón, was to be allowed to run his
business without interference from the military. Some members
of the bureaucracy and Senate and House of Deputies quietly
supported this concept, harking back to the presidency of the
PRI’s Carlos Salinas de Gortari between 1988 and 1994,
when drug exportations enriched participating politicians without
arousing bloody criminal confrontations. Nonetheless, Calderón
and his administration remained committed to U.S.-financed policies
of militarized action.
Although
Calderón and his inner circle were loath to admit it,
the militarization provoked greater violence and bloodshed without
diminishing the flow of drugs northward (and rapidly increasing
narcotics use and addiction in Mexico). As proof of the success
of the military operations, Calderón cited increases
in the street price of cocaine in the United States, but he
did not mention how much those increases stimulated importers
and producers to greater activity.
Addiction
and crime associated with drug users became a major problem
in the United States, but the vast majority of users -- like
the vast majority of persons who buy and use alcoholic beverages
-- are not addicts. Bankers, politicians, athletes, university
professors, insurance salespersons, construction workers and
thousands of others indulge only on weekends or at parties or
as sexual provokers. They purchase the cocaine and marijuana
from other athletes, salespersons, or bankers who have regular
suppliers, most of whom they have being doing business with
for years. All are far removed from street warfare between mafiosos
and armed military and they are a primary reason that the “War
on Drugs” has not reduced the demand for cocaine, marijuana
and other narcotics in the United States.
In
her Americas Program column on September 3, 2009, entitled “Drug
War Doublespeak,” Laura Carlsen insisted: “Drug-war
doublespeak pervades and defines the United States-Mexico relationship
today. The discourse aims not to win the war on drugs, but to
assure funding and public support for the military model of
combating illegal drug trafficking, despite the losses and overwhelming
evidence that current strategies are not working.”
According
to Mexican national security specialist Ghaleb Krame, the narcotraficantes
developed a sophisticated counter-intelligence system and utilized
highly mobile guerrilla groups that constantly changed their
bases and personnel while the Mexican army, bogged down by traditional
channels of protocol and information, was unable to effectively
counter these maneuvers. As a consequence the Mexican government
expanded its dependence on paramilitaries to do what the police
and military could not do legally.
Undercover
operations are not confined to infiltrating and investigating
drug corporation activities, but, like the brigadas blancas
of the 1960s and ‘70s guerra sucia (dirty
war), they disrupted social protest movements and sequestered
and sometimes tortured those defending ecological, communal,
or union rights. Human rights advocates and journalists like
Miguel Badillo insist that the War on Drugs is “a simulation
whose real objective is to stomp out growing social discontent”
in the country.
Other
forces primarily formed of former military and police personnel
became private armies contracted by individual entrepreneurs.
They escort dignitaries and their families, guard business and
industrial sites, and -- like the drug organization paramilitaries
-- serve as armed couriers. As a Oaxaca self-employed contractor,
Ali Jiménez, told me, “It’s come to the point
that the government lets these guys (entrepreneurs) surround
themselves with gunmen since nobody can trust the police and
there’s no public security.” A former Chihuahua
journalist who left the profession because of death threats
told me, “The War on Drugs is like a soccer game without
coaches or referees, soldiers and narcos charging this way and
that, doing more harm to the spectators than to each other.”
The
drug corporations have infiltrated all levels of government
and their payrolls include thousands of lookouts, messengers,
farmers and truck drivers. However, the federal government and
the inexperienced Mexican military seem to lack cohesive intelligence
reports or effective plans for doing anything more than random
searches and seizures. Often they respond to misleading or false
information they acquire from informants, many of whom are paid
by the drug organizations to finger competitors or businesses
whose only connection with the mafiosos is having failed to
pay adequate protection money.
Drug
corporations like the Cartel del Golfo were even able to seduce
high-ranking members of Mexico’s top organized crime-fighting
agency, SIEDO (Sub-Prosecutor General of Special Investigations
into Organized Crime). The PGR (Prosecutor General of the Republic,
Mexico’s Attorney General’s office), which had its
own problems with infiltrators in its ranks, investigated high-ranking
SIEDO functionaries in 2008 -- investigations that were hampered
because SIEDO informants, some of whom were receiving more than
$450,000 a month, informed the Cartel del Golfo of every step
that the PGR was taking. Finally, through a former Cartel del
Golfo member who testified against the organization as a protected
witness, the PGR arrested Sub-Prosecutor Noé Ramírez-Mandujano
and Miguel Colorado, SIEDO’s Coordinator of Intelligence,
for their connections with organized crime.
The
drug corporations retaliated. In May 2007 gunmen assassinated
José Lugo, Mexico’s coordinator of information
of the Center for Planning and Analysis to Combat Organized
Crime. Others ambushed and shot Edgar Millán, acting
head of Mexico’s federal police, later that same year.
In November 2008 a drug organization hit squad abducted and
executed Army General Mauro Tello a few days after he assumed
the post of anti-drug czar in Cancun, Quintana Roo. In 2009
they executed government-protected witness Édgar Enrique
Bayardo-del Villar while he was breakfasting in a Mexico City
Starbucks.
Although
Calderón’s government tried to squelch rumors that
the fatal crash of a Lear jet carrying Government Secretary
Juan Camilo Mouriño was not the result of pilot error,
journalists and commentators throughout the country insisted
that government version was a cover up and the aircraft had
been sabotaged by El Chapo Guzmán’s corporation
in retaliation for the arrest and imprisoning of one of his
top aides.
As
competition among the major drug organizations increased, with
assassinations of rival leaders commonplace, the militarized
Zetas emerged as an elite armed force, first aligned with the
Beltrán-Leyva Gulf Cartel, but later an independent corporation
functioning on both Mexico’s northern and southern borders.
The Zetas were tightly disciplined (their leaders were deserters
from Mexico’s Special Forces and many had been trained
by the U.S. School of the Americas and/or the Kaibilies in Guatemala)
and brazenly recruited active duty militaries.
Although
the Zetas occasionally openly confronted police and military
units, they focused primarily on intimidating and extracting
quotas from growers and transporters as well as those engaged
in legitimate businesses, including cattle ranchers, merchants,
local entrepreneurs, bar and nightclub owners, farmers, polleros
(people smugglers) and truckers. They dealt harshly with those
who tried to circumvent or reduce these obligations -- kidnapping,
torturing and often decapitating those who were delinquent in
their payments.
By
2008 Mexico had committed some 50,000 troops to the War on Drugs.
Because the Mexican military had been a peacetime force primarily
involving garrison duty (and, since 1994, containment controls
around the Zapatista autonomous communities in Chiapas), it
offered relatively few benefits and minimal salaries to enlisted
personnel. Recruiting was focused on marginal residents of city
slums where life was hazardous, and in poverty-wracked rural
areas that offered no hope of employment. Theoretically recruits
needed to have completed junior high school to enter the military
but proof seldom was required and criminal behaviour, if confined
to misdemeanors, often was overlooked.
These
poverty-bred soldiers, many just out of basic training, adhere
to medieval practices of supplementing their meager salaries
with what they acquire during cateos (searches and
seizures of property) and shakedowns. Victims accuse soldiers
of stealing money and stripping personnel property from persons
stopped at highway checkpoints. Federal authorities derail prosecution
of soldiers accused of abuses by insisting that those levying
the charges are politically motivated and that the accusations
are exaggerated or falsified.
The
drug corporations also recruit from marginal areas. Although
they promise guns, money, cars and women to potential deserters,
many of the hundreds of thousands they hire do not carry weapons
and primarily act as lookouts, messengers, decoys and money
handlers. Like many legitimate corporations the drug organizations
have established salary scales, usually beginning with the equivalent
of US$800 per month, a figure that doubles after a set number
of months or year of service. (Schoolteachers in southern Mexico
receive the equivalent of $800–$1,100 per month and most
workers are paid less, thus vaulting a newly recruited drug
corporation lookout or messenger into the upper 10 percent of
money earners in his or her community).
To
tens of thousands of young people employment with a drug corporation
“at least offers something,” as a seventeen-year-old
high school dropout told me after a friend offered to connect
him with a recruiter. Al Jazeera quoted a drug organization
member: “I could never go back to making ten dollars a
day. At least here I get paid and I have some opportunity to
rise up. In other jobs I will always be at the bottom.”
That most of these newly recruited members have no criminal
records and intermingle with the general population creates
an environment “like those old science-fiction movies
about androids, you never know who’s on your side and
who isn’t,” as an editor from a Mexican daily exclaimed
during a Mexico City news conference.
Drug-associated
killings became so frequent that by 2008 Mexican newspapers
like La Jornada grouped daily execution and assassination
reports under a single back page headline. During the first
eight months of 2009, they reported an average of 21 killings/day.
By 2010 the average number of drug-associated deaths averaged
nearly 40/day.
Because
President Calderón needed -- or thought he needed (or
his ultra-conservative National Action Party thought that he
needed) -- the support of governors alleged to have connections
with various drug organizations; he shunted aside revelations
about their narco-business contacts. Prosecution of commerce
in cocaine, marijuana and other drugs occurred in a patchwork
pattern, with political alliances given priority over enforcement.
Many governors, high-ranking politicians, business impresarios,
and generals remained immune even when military raids or PGR
investigations targeted their agencies.
Only
when “the structure of power that those controlling the
politics of the nation have maintained as accomplices and members
of this series of criminal organizations has collapsed”
will real solutions to the internal warfare among the ‘nations
within a nation’ be possible, Guillermo Garduño-Valero,
a specialist in national security analysis from Mexico’s
Metropolitan University (UAM), told La Jornada. The
drug corporations have become so powerful politically, he argued,
that both the federal and state governments have become subservient
to them and the occasional arrests and assaults on organization
leaders have little or no impact on the lucrative trade.
Both
the governments of Mexico and the United States have demonstrated
a need to justify military actions and to portray the War on
Drugs as a battle between good and evil with no gray areas in
between. To make the rhetoric effective it has been necessary
to villainize the perpetrators of the evil and to ignore the
dominant reasons that the evil exists: unabated drug consumption
in the United States. Also overlooked has been drug-associated
violence in the United States, particularly in city ghettos
where gang warfare involving drug distribution has existed since
the 1960s.
Until
late in the twentieth century, heroin and cocaine
addiction in Mexico was not considered a major
problem. Narcotics filtered to Mexican buyers as a spin off
from smuggling, but most production and distribution was focused
on getting the narcotics to consumers north of the border who
would pay ten or more times what the drugs sold for in Mexico.
Governmental sources in both countries consistently denied that
U.S. military intervention into Mexican territory was being
planned; nevertheless several governors of states on the U.S.
side of the border have requested permanent military protection,
including armed patrols and battle-ready commandos.
Many
of the groups that distribute narcotics in the United States
are linked to specific Mexican corporations just as U.S. auto,
livestock, cosmetics and computer exporters are linked with
importers in Mexico. Gangs in the United States clash primarily
over obtaining drugs for street sales, but the majority of imported
narcotics passes into the hands of white-collar distributors
with regular clients who can afford the prices established for
purchasing cocaine and other drugs.
Although
many journalists and editors would like to deny it, newspapers
and television which rely financially on readers, viewers and
advertisers profit more from graphic reports about beheadings,
drug raids and high-speed chases than they do from features
about controlled or casual use of narcotics. Attitudes towards
drug use in both countries run a gamut between “drugs
are a sin” to “I enjoy them, why not?” That
they can be detrimental to one’s health, just as the consumption
of alcoholic beverages, cigarette smoking, overeating, driving
a car at excessive speeds, or long-term exposure to direct sunlight
can be detrimental, is grounded in fact.
Unfortunately
facts and politics do not go hand in glove. Nor do facts and
marketing. Newspaper wire services and television reports designed
to stimulate interest and sell sponsors’ products (and/or
comply with ownership political biases) influence public opinion
and public opinion influences the decisions of legislators and
Congressmen. As Laura Carlson insists: “These claims and
others like them, although unsubstantiated, accumulate into
a critical mass to push a public consensus on implementing dangerous
and delusional policies . . . Like the model it mimics -- the
Bush war on terror -- the drug war in Mexico is being mounted
on the back of hype, half-truths, omissions and outright falsehoods.”
Unfortunately,
major questions that need to be answered are shunted
aside by policymakers on both sides of the border and preference
is given to partisan stances that have less to do with the drug
trade or the war against it than they have to do with maintaining
economic and political power. Neither government seems capable
of asking: Can Mexico really afford to end the production and
exportation of heroin, cocaine, marijuana, amphetamines, and
designer drugs without its U.S.-dependent economy collapsing.
In
many respects, the drug organizations operating in Mexico exemplify
what free enterprise is about: developing and marketing a product
that satisfies willing consumers. Their armed components make
their competition deadlier than competitors in other industries,
but their methods of operation duplicate those of legitimate
corporations: they seek (or buy) government support, network
a well-organized retail trade, and invest their profits in condominiums,
the stock market and high-visibility consumer items. Their corporate
structures, divided into distinct operations and with well-defined
chains of command, enable them to replace any executive who
is arrested or killed without that materially affecting production
or sales.
The
money they bring into Mexico, unlike money brought in by legitimate
corporations, does not require government investment and consequently
is untaxed and unreported (which prevents it from benefiting
the nearly 80 percent of the population with inadequate and/or
poverty level incomes). Nevertheless, what the mafiosos spend
on purchases, construction and salaries circulates throughout
the economy. The owner of a Michoacán taquería
reflected the viewpoint of many Mexican residents: “They
have lana (literally wool, but popularly used to describe
money), they eat well; I now have five locations instead of
just one.”
Proposals
to decriminalize the possession of small amounts of marijuana,
as various states in the United States have done, came under
discussion during the early years of President Vicente Fox’s
administration but evoked a vehemently negative response, particularly
from the Catholic Church hierarchy and those influenced by Church
doctrine. Calderón’s PAN government seemed more
inclined to reinstitute the Salinas de Gortari era of tacit
coordination with a single dominant drug corporation, a process
that could not be discussed openly and would involve purging
local, state and federal governments of alignments with everyone
except the chosen affiliate (which many sources in Mexico insist
is El Chapo’s Sinaloa Cartel).
As
long as the assassinations, beheadings, cateos and the majority
of the corruption of government official remain south of the
border, the United States can maintain its pro-military stance,
send money and arms to Mexico’s conservative government
and focus on more demanding issues. Mexico, in contrast, rejecting
any form of legalization, remains bound to its U.S.-appeasing
commitment to continue a bloody confrontation that seems to
have no end.
Although
legalization would re-channel importation and sales and make
addiction, overdoses and side effects a public health problem
instead of strictly a law-enforcement concern, drug-related
crimes would continue to exist, just as alcohol-related crimes
continued to make headlines and fill jails after the repeal
of Prohibition. Taxes on importation and sales could finance
rehabilitation and other government programs; corporations handling
importation and sales could be effectively audited but social,
ethical and religious conflicts over morality and behaviour
would continue.
Nor
would legalization magically resolve the economic issues that
gave rise to the complex business of drug exportation and use,
and it would have to occur in both Mexico and the United States
to be effective. Restricting or controlling the financing of
drug operations would not be possible without breaking up the
distribution and investment chains that involve not only the
two governments, but also entrepreneurs and legalized businesses.
But it can hardly be denied that legalization is a necessary
first step toward any decent, or even tolerable, outcome.
The
nationalism exhibited by the governments of both the United
States and Mexico has impeded dealing rationally with drug cultivation
and distribution. Coupled with the lack of accurate information
-- and/or falsification of the information available -- it has
created a paradigm where the solution has preceded analysis
and wrenched fact and fiction into a definition that fits the
solution, rather than the solution being the culmination of
analysis. In much the same way that trying to solve the ‘illegal
immigration problem’ by constructing walls and making
arrests puts the cart (solution) before the horse (employers),
trying to curb the importation of cocaine, marijuana, heroin
and other drugs by militarized procedures is doomed to fail
because it does not recognize or deal with the undiminished
demand for the products involved.