MéRida Initiative

The Mérida Initiative: A Shared Problem, or Just Shared Blame?

The Mérida Initiative, cynically dubbed "Plan Mexico" by some in a nod to its predecessor, Plan Colombia, was a rather ambitious security cooperation agreement. It brought together the United States, the government of Mexico, and several nations across Central America in a grand, fourteen-year endeavor, running from 2007 to 2021. Its stated purpose, noble as always, was to confront the burgeoning threats of drug trafficking, the insidious creep of transnational organized crime, and the ever-present shadow of money laundering. The assistance exchanged between these countries was comprehensive, encompassing everything from specialized training and much-needed equipment to the often-elusive currency of intelligence.

Mexican officials, in their quest for partnership with the U.S., were quick to highlight a rather inconvenient truth: the illicit drug trade is fundamentally a shared problem, demanding nothing less than a shared solution. They pointed out, quite accurately, that a significant portion—indeed, most—of the financial lifeblood sustaining Mexican traffickers originates from the ravenous demand of American drug consumers. U.S. law enforcement agencies, in a rare moment of agreement with their southern counterparts, estimated that a staggering US $12 to 15 billion annually flowed from the United States directly into the coffers of Mexican traffickers. And that, mind you, was just the cash; it didn't even account for the funds moved through more sophisticated channels like [wire transfers](/Wire_transfer). Other governmental watchdogs, including the [Government Accountability Office](/Government_Accountability_Office) and the [National Drug Intelligence Center](/National_Drug_Intelligence_Center), offered even more sobering figures, suggesting that Mexico's cartels could rake in upwards of$ 23 billion each year in illicit drug revenue solely from the United States. A rather lucrative market, wouldn't you say? Almost makes you wonder who was truly profiting from this "shared problem."

U.S. State Department officials, perhaps accustomed to a more guarded approach from their southern neighbors, acknowledged that the willingness of former Mexican President Felipe Calderón to engage with the United States on matters of security, crime, and drugs was, by all accounts, unprecedented. A brief, shining moment of pragmatism, perhaps, before the usual bureaucratic quicksand and political maneuvering set in. The initiative itself was publicly unveiled on October 22, 2007, and formally enshrined into law on June 30, 2008. By March 2017, a substantial $1.6 billion in Mérida assistance had been delivered to Mexico, a package that notably included 22 aircraft. One might question whether the sheer volume of hardware could ever truly address the systemic issues at play, but then again, that's rarely the point of such grand gestures.

Background

As of 2008

In 2008, Mexico, despite its unenviable position as a major transit hub, was not primarily a cocaine production country. It was, however, a significant player in the production of marijuana and methamphetamine. In fact, Mexican production was estimated to be responsible for approximately 80% of the methamphetamine found on the streets of the United States. Additionally, an estimated 1,100 metric tons of marijuana were smuggled across the border from Mexico each year. It seems that while the country was a mere conduit for one illicit substance, it was a veritable factory for others. Because why specialize when you can diversify your portfolio of misery?

This wasn't Mexico's first dance with U.S.-led drug interdiction efforts. In the 1960s and 1970s, Mexico had been "persuaded" to participate in both Operation Intercept and Operation Condor. The latter, developed between 1975 and 1978, was launched under the pretext of combating the cultivation of opium and marijuana in Mexico's infamous "Golden Triangle," particularly in the state of Sinaloa. This operation, commanded by General José Hernández Toledo, turned out to be a rather spectacular flop, yielding no major drug lord captures and, perhaps more tellingly, generating numerous reports of abuse and repression in the rural zones it targeted. A historical footnote, then, in the grand, ongoing saga of 'solving' drug problems, mostly known for its unintended consequences.

The scale of the problem escalated dramatically over the years. In 1990, just over half of the cocaine imported into the U.S. passed through Mexico. By 2007, that figure had ballooned to more than 90 percent, according to U.S. State Department estimates. A rather efficient supply chain, if you're into that sort of thing. While violence between competing drug cartels had been a grim reality long before the Mexican Drug War officially began, the Mexican government's initial attempts to use its police forces in the 1990s and early 2000s proved largely ineffective. That changed decisively on December 11, 2006, when newly elected President Felipe Calderón deployed 6,500 federal troops to the state of Michoacán with the explicit aim of quelling the escalating drug violence there. This bold action is widely regarded as the first major retaliation against cartel operations and is generally considered the formal inception of the protracted conflict between the government and the drug cartels. As time wore on, Calderón continued to escalate his anti-drug campaign, eventually involving well over 25,000 troops. A bold declaration, often the prelude to a protracted, messy conflict. And messy it was.

The human cost was staggering. It's estimated that during 2006, there were approximately 2,000 drug-related violent deaths. This figure climbed to about 2,300 deaths in 2007 and surged to more than 3,725 deaths during 2008. These were just numbers, of course, until one considers the sheer, crushing weight of each one. Many of the deceased were indeed gang members, caught in the brutal crossfire of rival cartels or government forces. However, a tragic number were innocent bystanders, caught in a war not of their making. At least 450 police officers and soldiers also lost their lives between January 2007 and the end of 2008.

However, the grim reality of these figures is complicated by Mexico's historically low and inconsistent reporting of crimes. In January 2012, the Mexican government updated its official count to 47,515 deaths since President Calderón initiated his military campaign against drug trafficking in 2006. Yet, because crimes were so seldom thoroughly investigated, there was no definitive way to ascertain if these deaths were unequivocally attributed to organized crime, the police, or the cartels themselves. Another report, based on the Mexican census, indicated that a staggering 67,050 homicides had taken place in Mexico from 2007 to 2010 alone. Compounding this opacity was the consistent resistance from the Mexican government to release new and accurate public records concerning the issue of homicides. Because transparency, it seems, is a luxury in a warzone.

The National Drug Intelligence Center (NDIC) observed a temporary decrease in cocaine availability in several U.S. drug markets during the first half of 2007. This brief dip was largely attributed to record-breaking 33.5-ton cocaine seizures by the Mexican Navy. A momentary blip of success, quickly countered by the market's relentless ingenuity. However, it quickly became apparent that the major drug trafficking organizations were simply reorganizing and readjusting to the new challenges facing their trade. As a predictable result, drug availability in 2008 was once again on the rise.

One of the more unsettling adaptations was the emergence and increasing use of home-made narco submarines. In 2006, American officials reported detecting only three such vessels. By 2008, they were spotting an average of ten per month, though only about one in ten was successfully intercepted. The sheer, unsettling innovation. Humans, always finding a way to move product, even if it means building mini-submarines. A testament to engineering, if nothing else. Another significant development during this period was the ruthless consolidation of smaller drug trafficking organizations into powerful, often brutal, alliances. This dramatically escalated the violence between groups vying for control of the lucrative narcotics trade to the U.S. At that time, an estimated 300 tons of cocaine were believed to pass through Mexico to the U.S. annually.

Funding

The U.S. Congress, in its wisdom, authorized a total of $1.6 USD billion for the initial three-year span of the initiative (2007–2010). A tidy sum. One might even call it a down payment on an endless war.

For the first year, Congress approved $465 million, with$ 400 million earmarked for Mexico and a smaller $65 million allocated for [Central America](/Central_America), the [Dominican Republic](/Dominican_Republic), and [Haiti](/Haiti). In the second year,$ 300 million was approved for Mexico, and $110 million for the aforementioned Central American and Caribbean nations. A supplementary appropriation in FY09 provided an additional$ 420 million for Mexico, and a request for $450 million for Mexico and$ 100 million for Central America was made for FY10.

A significant portion of this funding, specifically $204 million, was designated for the Mexican military. This was intended for the acquisition of eight used transport helicopters and two smaller surveillance aircraft. It was explicitly stated that "no weapons were included in the plan." A distinction without much difference when you're funding the *military*. Helicopters, surveillance aircraft... tools of peace, obviously. Critically, the bill stipulated that$ 73.5 million of the $400 million designated for Mexico must be utilized for judicial reform, institution-building, human rights, and rule-of-law issues. A small, almost quaint allocation for the fundamental pillars of a functional society. Almost an afterthought. Furthermore, the bill mandated that 15% of the funds would be contingent upon Mexico demonstrating tangible progress in four specific areas related to human rights, with the U.S. Secretary of State required to report periodically to Congress on this progress. A classic condition, often more about optics than genuine leverage.

An additional $65 million was granted for the Central American countries, specifically Belize, Costa Rica, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, and Panama. The House also expanded this allocation to include Haiti and the Dominican Republic. This component of the bill represented an attempt at a comprehensive public security package, aiming to address citizen insecurity in Central America by more effectively tackling criminal gangs, enhancing information sharing between nations, modernizing and professionalizing police forces, expanding maritime interdiction capabilities, and reforming the judicial sector to restore and strengthen citizens' confidence in these vital institutions. Lofty goals, indeed.

It's a rather open secret that much of this funding, despite being "aid," never truly left the United States. Instead, it was channeled toward the purchase of aircraft, sophisticated surveillance software, and a plethora of other goods and services produced by U.S. private defense contractors. While this certainly included essential equipment and training, it deliberately avoided any direct cash transfers or money provided directly to the Government of Mexico or its private contractors. According to U.S. State Department officials, 59% of the proposed assistance was directed to civil agencies responsible for law enforcement, while 41% covered operational costs for the Mexican Army and Mexican Navy. While the initial capital outlay for the military's equipment and hardware was substantial, the expectation was that future budget requests would increasingly prioritize training and assistance to civil agencies. A delicate balancing act, or so they say. The numbers rarely tell the full story of impact.

As of March 2017, the full $1.6 billion of Mérida assistance had been delivered to Mexico, a package that included 22 aircraft. Congress continued to appropriate funds, providing$ 139 million in FY2017, and President Trump's FY2018 budget request included $85 million for the Mérida Initiative. The wheels of bureaucracy grind on, indifferent to presidential whims, or perhaps, entirely subservient to them.

Equipment

The Mérida Initiative provided funding for a formidable array of equipment, training, and strategic capabilities:

Non-intrusive inspection equipment: This included advanced tools such as ion scanners, gamma ray scanners, specialized X-ray vans, and highly trained canine units for both Mexico and Central American nations. Technological marvels designed to catch what human corruption so often lets through.
Telecommunications systems: Investment was made in technologies designed to improve and secure telecommunications systems used for collecting crucial criminal information within Mexico. Because information is power, and also, frequently, compromised.
Institutional strengthening: The initiative offered technical advice and comprehensive training aimed at bolstering the institutions of justice. This included the provision of case management software to track investigations through the labyrinthine legal system, the establishment of new offices for citizen complaints and professional responsibility, and the development of much-needed witness protection programs in Mexico. Noble aspirations, often struggling against deeply entrenched systems.
Aircraft: A significant portion of the funding went towards aerial assets:
- Thirteen Bell 412 EP helicopters (5 funded by INCLE for the Federal Police and 8 by FMF for the military).
- Eleven UH-60 Black Hawk transport helicopters (three funded by INCLE for the Federal Police, five by FMF for the Mexican Air Force, and three for the Mexican Navy).
- Four CASA CN-235 transport aircraft.
- One Reconnaissance Dornier 328JET.
- As of March 2016, a total of 22 aircraft had been transferred to Mexican security forces through the initiative.
Community action programs: Equipment, training, and community action programs were implemented in Central American countries to facilitate anti-gang measures and expand the reach of these crucial initiatives. A small, almost poetic gesture in the face of overwhelming odds.

The initiative also had indirect implications for the types of weaponry encountered in the conflict, with common firearms linked to the drug war including the Colt AR-15 A3 Tactical Carbine, the ubiquitous AK-47, and the M4 Carbine, sometimes even equipped with grenade launchers. A shopping list for modern conflict. Because nothing says 'peace and stability' like a Bell 412 and a healthy supply of assault rifles.

Smuggling of firearms

Criticism

The Mérida Initiative was quickly branded "Plan Mexico" by its detractors, a deliberate parallel drawn to Plan Colombia. The comparison was meant to highlight a perceived pattern: the U.S. heavily funding a foreign military in an anti-drug campaign, often with questionable results. Indeed, in Colombia's case, cocaine production had, despite substantial U.S. backing, steadily increased, registering a 27% rise in 2007, before finally showing signs of decline in 2008 and 2009. A testament to the resilience of market forces, or perhaps, the sheer stubbornness of human vice.

A significant point of contention revolved around human rights. The plan initially required Mexican soldiers accused of human rights abuses to face civil courts rather than the more lenient courts-martial. This condition immediately drew objections from members of the Mexican Congress, who viewed it as an infringement and violation of Mexican sovereignty. This was a particularly sensitive issue, given Mexico's historical concerns about foreign intervention in its internal governance. Mexican authorities were ultimately understood to be much more amenable to the final phrasing of the package, which prudently included the phrase "in accordance with Mexican and international law" in at least three of the conditions pertaining to human rights.

The bill, as noted earlier, mandated that $73.5 million must be dedicated to judicial reform, institution-building, human rights, and rule-of-law issues. However, by June 2008, concerns about the escalating number of human rights abuses committed by the armed forces were mounting. A grim statistic emerged: some 800 abuses were reported in the first five months of 2008 alone, effectively doubling the rate from the previous year. Most claims pertained to misconduct or illegal searches, but a disturbing minority involved severe allegations such as rape and torture. A growing segment of the citizenry expressed alarm that the Mexican military was "becoming too powerful in the face of state weakness – a chilling reminder of a more repressive era." A classic cautionary tale. Give power to solve a problem, watch it become a problem. While human rights groups questioned Calderón's extensive reliance on the army in the fight against drug cartels, political analysts often countered that troops were his only viable option in a country where up to half of the police force might have been on the payroll of drug gangs. A rather damning indictment of the very institutions meant to uphold order.

Examples of these paramilitary abuses were stark and undeniable. They included the documented sexual assault and rape of dozens of female detainees by police during the 2006 civil unrest in San Salvador Atenco. There were also the disappearances of dozens of teachers in the state of Oaxaca in 2006, along with the killings of seven innocent bystanders, notably including the American journalist Brad Will, who was shot by off-duty policemen. These were not just statistics; they were screams. Further compounding the crisis of trust, almost half of Mexican police officers subjected to background and security tests in 2008 failed, a figure that soared to nearly nine out of ten policemen in the crucial border state of Baja California. A truly shocking revelation, or perhaps, entirely unsurprising.

Another persistent criticism of the Mérida Initiative centered on its continued emphasis on combating the supply of drugs, rather than investing more heavily in prevention, treatment, and education programs designed to curb demand. The perennial debate: hack at the branches or strike at the root? Studies, such as a major cocaine policy analysis by the Rand Drug Policy Research Center in the early to mid-1990s, commissioned and funded by the Clinton administration, consistently concluded that shifting $3 billion [USD](/USD) from federal and local law enforcement budgets to [treatment](/Cocaine_dependence) programs would be the cheapest and most effective way to reduce drug use. President Clinton's drug czar's office, predictably, rejected the notion of slashing law enforcement spending. The [Bush administration](/Presidency_of_George_W._Bush) later proposed cutting spending on drug treatment and prevention programs by$ 73 million, or 1.5%, in its 2009 budget. A masterclass in counter-intuitive policy. Double down on what isn't working, cut what might. It wasn't until the Fiscal Year 2011 National Drug Control Budget proposed by the Obama Administration that significant new resources were finally devoted to the prevention and treatment of drug abuse.

Torture training

Human rights activists and various policy groups voiced strong criticism regarding the Initiative's perceived lack of a robust framework for institution-building, especially in light of widespread reports of coerced confessions, often obtained through the brutal use of torture. In early July 2008, a video surfaced that sent shockwaves through Mexico: city police officers from León, Guanajuato, were clearly seen being instructed in torture methods by an instructor from a U.S. security firm. This video ignited a national uproar in Mexico, a country already struggling to eradicate torture from its law enforcement practices. The incident cast a long shadow over the Mérida Initiative, presenting a dilemma: would it reinforce the urgent need to train security forces on human rights, or would it serve as a pretext to cancel the initiative altogether?

The controversial training, it was revealed, had taken place in April 2006 and spanned 12 days. León Mayor Vicente Guerrero Reynoso initially staunchly defended the training, justifying it as a means of preparing officers to withstand torture in potential kidnapping scenarios. A truly creative piece of Orwellian doublespeak. Learn torture to resist torture. Brilliant. However, due to intense public furor and mounting pressure from both federal and state authorities, he was ultimately compelled to suspend the program.

It is worth noting that a portion of the funding under the Mérida Initiative was made conditional: it would only be released if the U.S. Secretary of State reported that Mexico officially prohibited the use of testimony obtained through torture. This policy, while aligning with Mexican law, was frequently disregarded in practice.

Project Gunrunner

Progress

On July 10, 2008, the Mexican government announced ambitious plans to nearly double the size of its Federal Preventive Police force. The stated objective was to reduce the military's prominent role in combating drug trafficking, a move that was met with cautious optimism. The plan, officially known as the Comprehensive Strategy Against Drug Trafficking, also encompassed the daunting task of purging local police forces of corrupt officers. An undertaking of Sisyphean proportions, given the deep roots of corruption. Elements of this strategy were swiftly put into motion, including a massive police recruiting and training effort, all intended to lessen the country's reliance on the military in the ongoing drug war. A cyclical promise, often made, rarely fully realized. The military, once deployed, is a difficult genie to put back in the bottle. As part of the broader initiative, Mexico was already receiving crucial intelligence about suspicious ships departing from ports in Colombia and Ecuador.

In August 2008, Mexico made another significant announcement: two states, Chihuahua and Nuevo León, were pioneering the implementation of public trials. This marked a revolutionary shift, as the state would now bear the burden of proving its case against an accused individual. Previously, the accused carried the burden of proof, and trials were conducted in secret. Mexico's president expressed hope that this reform would usher in an era of greater transparency and accountability within the legal process, thereby dismantling a long-standing tradition of corruption, shoddy investigations, coerced testimony, and a notoriously low conviction rate. Transparency, a revolutionary concept.

By early December 2008, the U.S. released $197 million in aid to Mexico, a significant portion of which was allocated for helicopters and other essential equipment to combat the increasingly violent drug cartels. The slow drip of funding, a constant reminder of dependency. Early in 2009, the U.S. government released an additional$ 99 million, earmarked for the purchase of aircraft and inspection equipment for the Mexican military. By this point, the U.S. had released $300 million of the$ 400 million initially appropriated for Mexico.

During the 5th Summit of the Americas in April 2009, leaders from several Caribbean nations conveyed a clear desire to join the Mérida Initiative to a group of U.S. congressmen. They expressed legitimate concerns that a successful crackdown in Mexico could simply displace drug traffickers' operations into their vulnerable island nations. The 'balloon effect' in action. Squeeze one area, and the problem simply inflates elsewhere. A predictable, and tragic, outcome. This direct appeal ultimately led to the formation of the Caribbean Basin Security Initiative (CBSI), designed as a complementary framework to the Mérida Initiative, acknowledging the regional nature of the challenge.

Enrique Peña Nieto, inaugurated to a six-year term in December 2012, opted to continue the existing U.S.-Mexican security cooperation. Because some things, even when flawed, are too entrenched to simply stop. As of March 2016, the U.S. Congress continued to fund and oversee the Mérida Initiative and its related domestic initiatives. Congress provided $139 million in Mérida Initiative accounts in FY2016 and was considering the Obama Administration's FY2017 budget request of$ 129 million. However, the Mexican government faced persistent pressure to comply with international recommendations regarding the prevention of torture and forced disappearances. These ongoing concerns were amplified by the horrific 2014 Iguala mass kidnapping, which involved serious allegations of military and police involvement in torture, enforced disappearances, and extrajudicial killings. A stark, horrifying reminder of the persistent human rights issues, and the moral cost of these 'security cooperations.'

A significant turning point arrived in May 2019 when the newly elected president, Andrés Manuel López Obrador, declared Mexico's intention to withdraw from the Mérida Initiative. He instead articulated a vision for a new pact, seeking U.S. backing for a development plan aimed at Central America, with the explicit goal of controlling migration. A rather definitive, if belated, pronouncement. The end of an era, or simply a rebranding of the same old struggle?

Following López Obrador's declaration, security cooperation between Mexico and the U.S. experienced a steady decline from 2018 onwards. The Mexican federal government largely ceased approving Mérida Initiative programs, and the arrangement was effectively considered defunct by 2021. In October of that year, coinciding with the 200th anniversary of Mexican Independence and the long-standing relations with the U.S., the two governments announced a new chapter: the U.S.-Mexico Bicentennial Framework for Security, Public Health, and Safe Communities. This new agreement was explicitly intended to replace the Mérida Initiative, with a renewed emphasis on economic development as a core component of security. A new name, a new framework. The eternal hope for a fresh start, often leading to familiar challenges. Focus more on economic development? Perhaps. Or perhaps just another layer of bureaucracy.