Carlos Manzo: A Foretold Death On the Use of the Dead as a Political Weapon

 

Carlos Manzo: A Foretold Death

On the Use of the Dead as a Political Weapon

Notes from the Ground 

Dr. Lenin Torres Antonio 

Who Really Mourns the Death of Carlos Manzo? 

At times, it seems grotesque and deeply contradictory to ask who truly cares about, feels, and shares the grief over a deceased person. At first glance, one might think that this painful psychological process—grieving—belongs primarily to the family. But that is not the case. In one way or another, we could say that this pain is shared by all their loved ones, friends, relatives, and even pets. 

A few days ago, Mexico witnessed the death of Uruapan’s mayor, Carlos Manzo. A death like so many others that occur in this barbaric, blind, and irrational Mexico. And this barbarism is not something tied to a specific moment; rather, it is a barbaric Mexico that bared its claws and teeth with brutal clarity starting with Calderón’s childish strategy of combating drug trafficking without addressing its material, psychological, sociological, political, and historical causes. A Mexico that has gradually normalized violence and death as part of its very being. And for a long time now, the consequences have not been long in coming: an increase in murders, extortion, kidnappings, etc., by organized criminal gangs. A Mexico where the use of force is presented in full force as the way to “fix things.”

And not only in Mexico—many other countries around the world suffer the scourge of violence caused by organized crime and drug trafficking. And it is deeply regrettable to be in this situation, as Mexico ranks third worldwide in criminality, according to the Global Organized Crime Index 2023, behind only Myanmar and Colombia. It is also estimated that 175,000 people are directly employed by drug trafficking in Mexico, making it one of the country’s largest employers. Furthermore, in the past ten years, over 300,000 people have been murdered in Mexico, with the national homicide rate increasing by 55%, from 15 to 23 per 100,000 inhabitants. In 2024 alone, 28,900 people were displaced due to violence from organized crime in 13 states, a 129% increase compared to 2023. 

When we insist on perceiving ourselves as a species capable of taming its instincts and impulses, and that reason and consciousness can prevail over violence, sexual and aggressive drives, then what we are experiencing deserves an analysis—primarily anthropological, sociological, and psychological—of the nature of violence. That joy and optimism about our human condition stands in stark contradiction to reality. 

If we focus strictly on the violence driven by the interests of organized crime and drug trafficking, we must also consider many other factors—not just the pleasure of killing, but primarily the defense of powerful transnational economic interests by organized criminal groups. Like any public or private entity, they consciously use violence and crime as part of their conceptual and mechanical parameters to defend those economic interests. And it’s not just drug trafficking; there are other forms of violence, such as kidnapping, extortion, and so on.

Regarding the death of Mr. Manzo at the hands of organized crime—mayor of Uruapan, Michoacán, Mexico—I would say, although another class of organized criminals, such as the political class, tries to mystify it, that his public behavior was extremely irresponsible. It was very naive to think he could face and resolve the violence plaguing Michoacán—specifically his municipality—by personally taking on the responsibility for security. We saw him dressed in military and police attire, boasting that he personally administered justice and security. That’s why the disgraceful governor of Michoacán sarcastically asked him, “How many have you taken down?”

I don’t know if he was fully aware or if he thought he could emerge unscathed from confronting organized crime. But what I do know is that the outcome—his death—was a foretold death from the moment he irresponsibly confronted organized crime. And I say this not only for the people of Uruapan but also for his family, particularly his children, whom he left fatherless.

We saw him boast that he could personally take on public security in Uruapan. He even crafted a discourse suggesting it was possible to confront organized crime, despite knowing that these are sophisticated structures—not only in terms of weaponry but also in their organization and effectiveness in exercising violence. And this brings me to say that what is happening in Mexico is a reflection of a failed state.

Theoretically, it is said that the only entity authorized to exercise violence is the State. But when other types of organized institutions—created by members of society around various illicit activities such as drug trafficking, extortion, kidnapping, etc.—are capable of using violence and going unpunished, we are clearly talking about a failed state, and one that has been failing for a very long time.

I don’t know whether his irresponsibility was the result of genuine desperation over the violence in the state of Michoacán, which led him to engage in such displays and behaviors—more aligned with exhibitionism, impulsiveness, and megalomania than with planning and awareness of his limitations. A conscious person knows perfectly well that one cannot play at confronting organized crime in such a limited way, especially when the federal government itself has been powerless to solve this scourge for decades. That is why, even with protection from the federal government and the use of an entire squad of local security structures—both from the state and municipal governments—for his personal protection, we saw that these were insufficient, and unfortunately, that security perimeter failed.

We must be very clear about what Manzo’s death represents and who truly cares. The most lamentable and symptomatic aspect of the social degeneration we are experiencing is that this death has not sparked a deep, serious, and responsible reflection on the problem of violence caused by organized crime and drug trafficking, which gravely undermines the social fabric of Mexican society.

We have long known how the problem of violence caused by organized crime and drug trafficking has developed in crescendo. There have been several presidential terms during which drug trafficking operated with impunity. Initially, it was the trafficking of marijuana and poppy derivatives to the U.S. and local consumption. Then came cocaine, and later, synthetic drugs began to be commercialized. Despite this, violence had not yet spiraled out of control. Those of us living in southern Mexico only heard echoes of the drug-related violence in Ciudad Juárez, Tijuana, and Matamoros—cities bordering the U.S., which has always been the largest market for drug sales and consumption. Back then, the State had not yet been overwhelmed.

As the saying goes, “they stirred up the hornet’s nest” when the cancer of organized crime violence metastasized. With the collapse of the status quo of the major drug cartels, fragmentation began, and as U.S. market demand grew, the problem of organized crime violence began to spread across more territory. While it is true that the State had the obligation to combat any illicit activity, it is also true that it should have planned that confrontation more intelligently—not as Felipe Calderón did, framing the fight against drug trafficking as a battle between the good guys (the military) and the bad guys (the drug traffickers), without stopping to consider that the problem of violence is multifactorial and therefore requires multifactorial interventions. It cannot simply be addressed through the use of armed force. Just look at what happened in Brasília, Brazil: the death of a drug lord in a favela does not solve the problem generated by organized criminal gangs. We saw Calderón dressed in military attire, wearing a uniform that foreshadowed how unfit he was to handle the complex problem he had stirred up.

As I mentioned earlier, Manzo’s death has not brought a halt to the power struggle, which is the only thing that matters to the Mexican political class—not only the opposition but also those currently in power. Violence is a profoundly important issue on the national agenda, one in which absolutely all Mexicans should be involved. Instead, we see a spurious and disgraceful PRIANISTA opposition—along with media and business elites—foolishly pointing fingers at the National Palace, while the federal government proves incapable of convening a “Public Concilium for Peace and Against Violence” that includes all economic, political, academic, religious, and other actors. They must understand that the problem of violence in Mexico is not about assigning blame—whether active or passive—but about shared responsibility.

And this must be understood, because if not, we will continue to create what the Royal Spanish Academy (RAE) defines as a “cena de negros” (literally, “a dinner of blacks”), meaning confusion and disorder in which no one understands each other. On one hand, this highlights the chaos; on the other, it underscores the lack of responsible reflection on the problem of violence. It is not only Manzo’s death that should provoke such reflection, but all kinds of deaths and collateral damage caused by the scourge of drug trafficking and organized crime—orphans, the wounded, personal economies destroyed by extortion, and more.

Following the assassination of the Mayor of Uruapan, Michoacán, many are predicting—or even hoping for—an “Arab Spring” in Mexico, like the one that overthrew authoritarian regimes through mass protests demanding democracy, social justice, and human rights in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Yemen, and which even preceded the fall of Bashar al-Assad in Syria. The political, media, and economic opposition now hopes that the supposed failures of “Obradorismo” will do the work of bringing about its downfall. Yet, lacking any real vision for society or the country, they present themselves as the natural alternative, even though they are the very ones responsible for the deterioration of social cohesion and the degeneration of Mexico’s public life. When they held public office, they actively participated in corruption, bribery, and betrayal of the nation.

Let me reiterate: this ethical reflection that would imply shared responsibility has not taken place. Manzo’s death is being used as a political weapon by that pitiful PRIANISTA opposition, by media outlets that were complicit with power, and by intellectual mercenaries in the service of economic elites. They hope for a Mexican version of the Arab Spring, but they will remain in the place that history has assigned them thus far.

However, it must also be said: refusing to use Manzo’s assassination as a political weapon does not absolve the federal government, nor the state and municipal governments, from their failure to develop a better strategy to bring peace to Mexico. Believing that the only way to achieve peace is to combat violence with more violence is to replicate the failed strategy of the disgraceful Felipe Calderón—and that will never be the solution. History has already taught us this.

I leave a question to help us grasp the scale of the drug and organized crime problem: there are 175,000 Mexicans directly involved in this lucrative business of drugs. And this is in a country that borders the largest market in the world for drug sales, and the largest society of addicts, the United States. What are we going to do with those 175,000 Mexicans? This issue involves not only security fragmentation, but also re-education, psychology, economics, philosophy, ethics, and even—if one wishes to include it—religion. 

October 2025