To Die in Mexico: Dispatches from Inside the Drug War

by John Gibler

Combining on the ground reporting and in-depth discussions with people on the frontlines of Mexico's drug war, To Die in Mexico tells behind the scenes stories that address the causes and consequences of Mexico's multibillion-dollar drug-trafficking business. John Gibler looks beyond the cops-and-robbers myths that pervade government and media portrayals of the unprecedented wave of violence and looks to the people of Mexico for solutions to the crisis now pushing Mexico to the breaking point.

"Gibler is something of a revelation, having been living and writing from Mexico for a range of progressive publications only since 2006, but providing reflections, insights, and a level of understanding worthy of a veteran correspondent."
-Latin American Review of Books

Genres: Nonfiction, True Crime, Drugs, Crime, History, Journalism, Politics

218 pages, Paperback

First published June 1, 2011

About the author

John Gibler is a writer based in Mexico and California, the author of Mexico Unconquered: Chronicles of Power and Revolt (City Lights Books, 2009), and a contributor to País de muertos: Crónicas contra la impunidad (Random House Mondadori, 2011). He is a correspondent for KPFA in San Francisco and has published in magazines in the United States and Mexico, including Left Turn, Z Magazine, Earth Island Journal, ColorLines, Race, Poverty, and the Environment, Fifth Estate, New Politics, In These Times, Yes! Magazine, Contralínea, and Milenio Semanal.

Reviews

[John · Rating 5 out of 5]

While I read obsessively on the topic of the drug wars, this thin book is probably the most charged volume yet to be released in English. Gibler finds new ways to think about the Mexico's descent into chaos, mainly through the eyes of Mexican journalists working in some of the cities hardest hit by the violence. Gibler interviews journalists in Culiacan, Reynosa and Juarez, including Diego Osorno and Javier Valdez, raising the bigger question: if journalism cannot honestly report the news beyond the gruesome base facts, can any sort of democracy exist? Steering clear of the gore and obsessive body counts, this book takes a close examination of a few of the more devastating impacts of this ongoing social breakdown.

[Sylvia Longmire · Rating 3 out of 5]

I've really been looking forward to reading this relatively short and new contribution to the growing body of published work on the drug war. Many of my colleagues have read it and said it was great, so my expectations going into it were pretty high...just so you know.

Gibler starts the book off a la Saving Private Ryan, with lots of back-to-back stories of gruesome narco deaths and explanations about the silences that follow them. I particularly like how he details the story of a photographer who snapped shots of a man in police, then Navy, custody one day, only to be taking photos of his body on the side of the road the next day.

But then the first chapter started to meander, and I picked up on a couple of things that bugged me. First, Gibler touches upon how the illegality of drugs fuels the violence - true enough. He says, "Legalization would put the traffickers as they exist today out of business." However, he then spends several pages describing how cartels have branched out into kidnapping, extortion, oil theft, etc., which somewhat contradicts his stance on legalization. He even acknowledges that statistics regarding the estimated values of cartel drug profits are only guesses, and sometimes wild ones, so it's tough to see how he reconciles these things.

I was happy that he touched upon the extent of cartel money laundering and how much money gets injected into the Mexican economy by the drug trade. However, Gibler drops a bomb here; he quoted a reporter from London's The Observer who said, "Drug money worth billions of dollars kept the financial system afloat at the height of the global crisis." The reporter got this info from a man at the UN Office on Drugs and Crime, and Gibler ticks off some theoretical statistics about how this is possible. But he stops the discussion after only a couple of paragraphs. I mean, if true, this is huge news! Why would he not lend more space towards expanding on something that explosive?

In his discussion about cartels' expansion into other trades, I was disturbed that Gibler used the term "human trafficking" instead of "human smuggling." I'm used to amateurs getting the two confused and using the terms interchangeably, but I would never expect someone with Gibler's experience to make this error. As a reminder, human trafficking is when people are involuntarily taken from one country to another to work as sex slaves or essentially indentured servants. Human smuggling is when people voluntarily pay someone to get them to, then safely across, a border into another country. Mexican cartels, contrary to the verbiage Gibler uses, are involved in human smuggling, and to varying extents of involvement depending on the cartel.

All that being said, Gibler does a fabulous job of explaining how the cartels operate with such impunity. He also beautifully illustrates the myth the Mexican government keeps trying to feed its people like castor oil: that almost everyone killed in the drug war must have been involved or deserved it somehow. I love this passage:

"And this is what they tell us: if you are found dead, shot through the face, wrapped in a soiled blanket, and left on some desolate roadside, then you are somehow to blame. You must have been into something bad to end up like that. Surely you were a drug dealer, a drug trafficker, or an official on the take. The very fact of your execution is the judgment against you, the determination of your guilt."

Still, To Die in Mexico is an uneven read for me. Gibler provides some good background information on the drug war that's invaluable for context. But these sections are interspersed with politically charged statements and opinions that could be a turn-off for many readers. For example, he supports Michelle Alexander's statement, "Reagan's drug war consolidated the racist underpinnings of prohibition into a new racial caste system." Later, he writes, "Thirty years later mass incarceration through drug laws has become the new Jim Crow caste system of racial discrimination in the United States." I understand what he means, but I totally disagree with his approach; the last time I checked, illegal drug use in the US was still voluntary, and heroin will kill a black man as easily as a white man. He provides no compelling evidence that the US government is willfully using prohibition as a means of "social control" (he brings up that term) to propagate racism, although that's what he implies. Hey, I just wanted to learn more about Mexico's drug war from a different perspective, not get hammered with a social agenda!

The unevenness continues with a solid mention of La Santa Muerte and a conversation with renowned anthropologist Claudio Lomnitz. But then Gibler casually throws in that Los Zetas studied counterinsurgency strategies in the US and adopted al-Qa'ida's tactics of recording beheadings and posting them on YouTube. First, the US Army has run all the names of known Zetas through their student databases, and there have been no matches; the "fact" that Zetas trained at Ft Bragg or Ft Benning is only a (false) rumor. Also, there has never been any confirmation that Los Zetas are intentionally imitating al-Qa'ida's techniques; this has always been pure speculation, but Gibler presents both as facts. This bugs me.

Fortunately, the second chapter flows into a familiar rhythm of solid journalistic narrative. I enjoyed reading about his visits with Mexican journalists and ride-alongs with photographers to various crime scenes. Gibler is able to give the reader an "I was there" feeling without actually having to personally live through the horror like he did. But even in the midst of this great flow, the reader can find errors of fact that lead Gibler to make some bad conclusions. For example, he mentions the expansive arrests of dozens mayors, police and other officials that President Felipe Calderon initiated in May 2009. Gibler writes every single person arrested belonged to the PRD, one of the opposition parties to Calderon's own PAN. He then says the arrests took place six weeks before the Mexican mid-term elections, implying the arrests were a political ploy by Calderon. The problem is that the people arrested came from all different political parties: the PRI, the PRD, and Calderon's PAN (as reported by Reuters, the Associated Press, etc.)

The narratives in the third chapter are pretty thrilling, especially one of a confrontation between journalists and cartel members in Reynosa. Much of the rest of the book focuses repeatedly on two main themes: the lives of and threats to journalists working in Mexico, and the general agreement by Mexican citizens that the cartels run the show across the country. Over and over, the reporters Gibler talks to say the same thing: they can't report the war accurately, and there are unspoken rules to follow and lines not to cross if they want to stay alive. Gibler delves into Ciudad Juarez and the hundreds of maquiladoras on the city's outskirts in the fourth chapter, and how it all interconnects in the drug war.

Unfortunately, as Gibler wraps up the book in the final chapter, he goes political again. It's one thing to propose solutions to decreasing the violence and making the situation more manageable. But Gibler aggressivly stands on his soapbox to say "the drug war is a proxy for racism, militarization, social control, and access to the truckloads of cash that illegality makes possible." These are strong statements, and he has every right to say them. I disagree with him on several counts, which makes these sections so difficult to read, but there are many people out there who'd tell Gibler he was preaching to the choir.

All in all, for me, To Die in Mexico was a mixed bag. I loved the narratives and all the stories of people he interviewed. He's a good writer, and has a knack for bringing to life these conversations and situations for the reader. However, I was really bothered by the factual inaccuracies in several places, and those were just the ones I caught, having written my own book on this subject. This, of course, leads me to wonder what else in the book I'm accepting as face value that might not be accurate because I'm not personally familiar with the incident or topic. I also didn't like that he injected so much political vitriol in the first chapter; I was honestly tempted to just stop reading right there. The only thing that kept me going was knowing there was some great writing on the other side of that. Gibler might have been better served by saving all of it for the end so that readers have a chance to fully ingest all the information he provides before getting an earful of his opinion, and potentially getting turned off by it. I'd say, 3 1/2 out of 5 stars for being solidly written, but diverging too many times into too many directions, several factual inaccuracies, and breaking up good narrative with political invective at the wrong moments.

[Sheehan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Gibler's really up to date treatment of the narco-cracy down south is really insightful.

He does a great job of debunking the myth of the "drug war" as some real concerted effort to eradicate the trade of narcotics, instead deftly showing that the "drug war" is really a partisan political charade designed to sell security services (army/police) access to "plazas," or spheres of transit rights. In reading this book, you get a very clear sense that the drug trade is hyper-capitalism, it that it is the true "free market" the 1% always purports is the U.S. economy should emulate.

Power equals action with impunity and money/trade trumps the individual rights to life & liberty of the poor, powerless, and subsequently voiceless. There is no true democracy in this climate, all are subject to the violence of the market uber alles. Silence enforced through the threat of violence, creates a totalitarian style of capitalism in which most all are afraid to speak up, and all feel they are being watched or observed.

The level of violence in Mexico right now is unprecedented, and shows no sign of letting up, the integrated collusion at every level of the government and armed services is likely only to exacerbate the problem and the reality of a "failed state" is becoming real.

This book would be a great introduction to the topic for everyone, as it touches on not just the drug trade/criminal organization, but the people who cover it in journalism, live with it day to day, and those that are working against all odds to mitigate it's deadly reach.

[City Lights Booksellers & Publishers · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Gibler argues passionately to undercut this 'case study in failure.' The drug barons are only getting richer, the murders mount and the police and military repression expand as 'illegality increases the value of the commodity.' With legality, both U.S. and Mexican society could address real issues of substance abuse through education and public-health initiatives. A visceral, immediate and reasonable argument." --Kirkus Reviews

"Gibler (Mexico Unconquered) documents Mexico's drug war, its enormous profits and grievous human costs, in taut prose and harrowing detail." --Publisher's Weekly, starred review

"If you want to cut through the lies, obfuscation and sheer lunacy that surrounds Mexico's so-called drug war, read To Die in Mexico. John Gibler reports from Ciudad Juarez, Reynosa, Culiacan--the bloodiest battlegrounds in a fever of violence that has left more than 34,000 dead. But he accepts none of the prevailing myths--that this is a war between rival criminal enterprises, or between a crusading government and assorted barbarous bad guys, that it is a war at all. An antidote to the sensationalism and mythologizing that dominate the discourse, To Die in Mexico is at once a gripping read and the smartest, sanest book yet written on the subject in English." --Ben Ehrenreich, author of The Suitors and Ether

"Many writers have pondered the evil and madness of the Mexican/American 'drug war.' Few have analyzed it with such vividness and clarity as John Gibler." --Howard Campbell, Professor of Anthropology, University of Texas, El Paso

[Rachael · Rating 3 out of 5]

Although disturbing, it may be just the right amount of real life horror to get you thinking and feeling something for our neighbors to the south and the unwinnable war on drugs.

[mantenloarayo]

EL SALVADOR DE BUKELE DE ESTE AUTOR QUE NO ESTA EN GOODREADS. Seguramente a lo largo del año lo suban

[Nick · Rating 4 out of 5]

There are many American dispatches from the front lines of the drug war in Sinaloa, Ciudad Juarez and Reynosa. None of them quite capture that uniquely Mexican combination of spirit, mordant wit and despair when faced with something horrific. One finds the same strain in the way they lived through the Revolution or the long years of political repression. I am not sure I entirely agree with all of Gibler's analysis, but he has the most cogent presentation of why the Sinaloans have maintained their advantage and remained relatively unscathed by government attacks, and it is rooted in both the anti-drug American policies and deeply personal hihgly-level politics of Mexico. It may be entirely too cynical to argue that the Zedillo administration attacked the Gulf Cartel out of vengeance for Carlos Salinas' economic failure (the Salinas family hails from Northeast Mexico), or to link Vicente Fox' administration to the escape of Sinaloa's Chapo Guzman (now on Forbes' list of the richest men in the world) shortly after his inauguration. But no one can argue that the Sinaloans have survived and prospered as the cartels of Tijuana, the Gulf, Ciudad Juarez, Michoacan and perhaps now even the Zetas, have fallen. The politics are beside the point, to some degree: Gibler, for once, lets the Mexicans speak for themselves, eloquently. This from one of the Juarez cartel sub-contractors (make no mistake, the cartels are sophisticated and corporate): "Let the United States come in because they'd maybe grab us and lock us up. But here no,... this is an extermination." A Juarez newspaper pleads in an editorial to the "de facto authorities" to say what the media is allowed to do, rather than murdering reporters but saying nothing. In Reynosa (at least when Gibler was there in 2010), the Gulf Cartel had convoys of marked vehicles that roared through town--and a policeman at a roadblock tacitly admitted working for them. The head of a civil rights group tells Gibler, apropos of a change in the name of the Sinaloa state prisons that includes the word "ejecucíon" in the sense of making something effective: "There is no death penalty in Mexico, but inside the prisons the death penalty does exist. It is an execution center, but execute as in murder, not execute as in fulfill." A high-level state government security official tells Gibler, over drinks, states what he would not think of saying sober: "What good will a sweeping police reform do if the public investigators are not also reformed? Not that it really matters; no one here investigates anything." After noting that the daily average of executions in the state is seven or eight, the official is asked by Gibler what remedies would help and responds: "None. There's no way out. It will go on and get worse." A reporter: "I don't think (this) is a war. It is (former President) Calderon's war. It is not a traditional war, there aren't two armies confronting each other. It is a biased war waged by Calderon... (it has) too much circus... A lot of show, few results." But of all the people Gibler talks to and profiles, courageous reporters and the few officials who let something slip accidentally, the most compelling is a simple mother, Alma Trinidad, who seeks answers to the death of an adolescent child, who happened to be visiting a garage said to be owned by a gangster on the death some accounts were settled by machine guns. "There is no law here... Or rather, there is law for the highest bidder." She has tried to start a group of mothers, reminiscent of the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo who helped bring down the Argentine junta. I hope she is still alive, still organizing. A mother who stood outside the palace of justice in Chihuahua demanding justice for the murder of her daughter was killed there.

[Keith Schnell · Rating 3 out of 5]

To Die in Mexico is an exceptional work of amateur journalism, which does a good job of illustrating the situation in that country, but which nevertheless lacks the internal discipline, academic rigor and integrity that would make it a fully-rounded primer on the Mexican Drug War, such as one might find from one of the better university presses. On the whole, it reads like a series of long-form Vice Magazine exposés, strung together. What it lacks are the endnotes, background information, exploration of contrary viewpoints, and supporting data to make it truly comprehensive.

There are also several instances of the author clearly picking and choosing data points to suit his arguments, rather than dispassionately examining the facts and drawing conclusions from there. Most egregiously, in choosing economic statistics to make the dubiously accurate and largely irrelevant assertion that the maquiladora system is causing widespread and increasing poverty and desperation among the Mexican working class, he uses employment data from 2006-9, which indicate a massive decline in employment. This would be damning, but for the fact that 2009 was the height of the Great Recession. The decline in industrial employment was worldwide and due to events not unique to Mexico; Mexican factory employment is influenced by a host of factors that the author shows no desire to explore. This would be slightly excusable in a work published in 2009, but To Die in Mexico was published in 2013, and the use of 2009 data is a deliberate attempt to lie to the reader. This would not happen in a well-edited social science work, which this is absolutely not. In the absence of adequate citations, the presence of one obvious lie makes the reader wonder what other, less obvious, lies the author may have included in his effort to construct a narrative around his reporting.

Which is not to say that there is nothing of value in this book, or that it does not add to the reader’s understanding of the situation in Mexico. In particular, John Gibler’s linking of Mexican political parties, cartels, nominally-legitimate businessmen and security services provides a much-needed explanation of why the war has been conducted as it has, and what the true lineup of allegiances are. This alone is invaluable. Likewise, his exploration of the tactics used by the various factions, particularly the “heating up” of a rival’s territory, provide important context for what would otherwise appear to be purposeless violence on the part of all parties, including the Mexican security services. The volume of new information here, which is not widely covered or understood in conventional reporting, makes it even more of a shame that the author and publisher could not put in the extra effort to polish this book.

John Gibler begins the fifth section of To Die in Mexico by paraphrasing Karl Marx, who said that history repeats itself: first as tragedy, then as farce – the context being that the American War on Drugs is the tragedy, and the Mexican one the farce. It’s hard to make the claim that both are not equally tragedy and farce, and a more appropriate quote might come from 20th Century Mexican dictator – and prototypical Mexican politician -- Porfirio Díaz: “Poor Mexico. So far from God, so close to the U.S.A.”

[Lindsey · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book had so much unmet potential. Gibler is writing about an important issue that few Americans understand; he had a journalist's dream opportunity to use thorough, unbiased reporting to shed light on a crucial and controversial issue. Instead, the book lacks context (and what is there is sprinkled throughout, rather than used to frame the narrative), and has no narrative arc (ok, they're dispatches, maybe they're supposed to be a little disjointed, but they don't even build well on one another). Its biggest failing, however, is that it's not a piece of unbiased reporting, and doesn't let us come to our own conclusions about the issue. I can imagine the difficulties of reporting both sides of a conflict like this, but (barring one episode in a bar with a government official) he makes no discernible effort to get both sides of the story. His clear bias even leaks int the prose, which is laced with judgmental adjectives that tell us how we're "supposed to" feel about the issue. Perhaps this is just a personal preference, but I like books and articles that present the facts straight (for example, Sarah Stillman's breakout article "Invisible Army") and let me make my own judgments, rather than trying to shove me toward some moral high ground. Don't misunderstand me: I think the war on drugs and the related atrocities in Mexico are horrifying and deplorable. I just think Gibler didn't effectively convey that.

[Dave-O · Rating 5 out of 5]

After reading this evenly-paced and well-researched book, I came away with a few thoughts about the drug war in Mexico: One, it was long in the making and shaped partly by imperialist U.S. policies over many decades. Two, the situation is utterly hopeless. A must-read for anyone trying to make sense of it all.

[Xochitl · Rating 5 out of 5]

A MUST READ... The drug war is another monster in Human History... is mastering another Holocaust in progress... another human tragedy...

[Chuck · Rating 4 out of 5]

Gibler is an extremely talented journalist, with a knack for strong dialogue and vivid vignettes. His passionate leftwing convictions, which I welcome, make him unique among scholars of the drug war, although journalism is not the best medium for substantiating and defending this outlook. Vignette and dialogue may grip us emotionally, but logic and data are our strongest weapons in this respect. Nonetheless, he is very skilled and the book was a good read.

[Tinea · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Don't come here and count the dead. Anyone can do that. Tell the stories of life. Profile the fear, which is another death that no one covers; it is an encroaching death, and it is the worst."

A Mexican journalist, Javier Valdez, who covers the drug war (the war of cartels) and the war on drugs (the war between cartels and government), at great risk to his life, said the above to Gibler. This book is Gibler's attempt to honor this request. In To Die in Mexico, Gibler gives a succinct and sharp summary of these drug wars, the kind of straight talk you'd get from a cynical friend immersed in it who's speaking off record and just explaining what the fuck is going on. The book comes from a place of deep knowledge and frustration-- it's a quick shot of clarity, "stop beating around the bush!"-- not a well-documented tome. That tome is perhaps Anabel Hernández's Narcoland, which I have out from the library, but was handed this by a friend who told me Gibler's work makes sense of Hernandez's.

Gibler does three things very well here. First, he elevates the words and work of Mexican journalists, human rights activists, and victims of violence, centering their understanding and analysis, and courage. Second, he requests the reader face incomprehensible horror, briefly (there are two or three graphic torture and violence scenes), and then quickly comprehend it, with clear economic incentives, reacting to specific international political and econ policies, and situated within Mexican socioeconomic and cultural structures. Finally, Gibler connects the drug and violence cartel machine with intersecting forms of violence, from small farm failure, maquilador sweatshop labor, and migration following NAFTA; to international banking's absorption of--and dependence on-- drug and gun money; to the system of racial control in the US via drug war-fuled mass-incarceration (quoting at length Michelle Alexander!).

A bit of a punch to the gut with a resulting lightbulb. Important work.

[Caitlin McAuliffe · Rating 5 out of 5]

very sad, very honest, fast paced

[Matt · Rating 5 out of 5]

A great book. Providing some great insight in to the Mexican Narco drug wars. Requested other books on the subject to learn more.

[Michael · Rating 5 out of 5]

Tremendous book.

[Tania · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this book which researching for a case. Fascinating read, but like I told the author, it was so good that I had nightmares for a week. Scary stuff.

[Lee · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is an interesting book about the narco wars in Mexico. It mainly deals with the ineffectiveness of the government, or as the author states for the most part openly sides with the Sinaloa cartel. It also deals with the great challenges that the press has to face when reporting on the war. There are some good parts to the book but it also tends to meander from point to point and place to place.

[Roger Mexico · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5. The writing could be a little more polished but the central message came through clear: the War on Drugs has been a total failure (except if you look at it from the perspective of those who seek greater social control, increased militarization and military-industrial collusion, and/or illicit sources of real cash when speculative markets fail) and the “drug war” in Mexico (at least at the time when this book was written) is tearing that country apart and brutalizing an entire population.

[Alex Anderson · Rating 3 out of 5]

I’m a fan of the genre.

The topic is multifaceted, complex and open to prodigious exploitation.

The author was there and knows the ropes. But still, this turns out to be basically a survey of the subject with commentary, elements of the essayist’s art and attitude.

Nevertheless, an interesting listen narrated by the excellent Johnathan Davis.

[Shawn · Rating 5 out of 5]

Utterly brutal. Brilliant anecdotes and biting criticism of the drug war.

[Fer Esquivel · Rating 4 out of 5]

Vengo del 2025, las cosas no se pusieron mejor

[Víctor · Rating 4 out of 5]

John Gibler saltó a mi consciencia cuando encontré un poema para ser leído en una balacera en el sitio web de Nuestra aparente rendición. Resultó un éxito en el par de lecturas que hice del mismo, y por ello lo recuerdo con cariño, aunque su temática sea terrible.

El libro que ahora terminé también es de él y recorre los mismos territorios que el poema: la violencia del narcotráfico en México.

Cinco capítulos y un epílogo que cuentan hechos presenciados por Gibler como corresponsal estadounidense en México y que traslucen la violencia y terror sistemáticos impuestos, sin exclusividad, a un gran segmento de la población mexicana. Violencia que sigue la lógica del mercado: el lucrativo mercado de lo ilegal y sus mecanismos (también mercantilizados) de silencio: plata o plomo. Más bien plomo si eres nadie.

La Guerra contra las drogas, expone Gibler, es un producto estadounidense cuyo propósito es el control social de la población. Heredero del esclavismo y del apartheid, ahora bajo la tutela del capitalismo liberal. Dales drogas y armas para que se maten entre ellos, decían ya los colonos, y en el inter hacemos business.

ESTO ES LO QUE NO QUIEREN QUE DIGAS: el ejército mexicano y la policía federal han administrado el narcotráfico desde hace décadas. El dinero del narco llena las cajas fuertes de los bancos de México, penetra la economía nacional en todos los niveles y, con ganancias estimadas de 30 000 a 60 000 millones de dólares anuales, compite con el petróleo como la mayor fuente de ingresos del país (y México no es el único país donde esto sucede). […]

Marx, en el capítulo 24 de El Capital, dice de manera maravillosamente gráfica: "el capital viene al mundo chorreando sangre y lodo por todos los poros, desde los pies hasta la cabeza". Y esa es la causa última de toda la violencia, elevada a la altura del terror, que se vive en México.

[…] La narcoguerra es un horripilante éxito de la violencia estatal y de la acumulación capitalista, de un mercado intoxicado por el dinero en efectivo que simplemente incluye en el presupuesto los gastos del asesinato y soborno para mantener el negocio operando con suavidad.

El terror se instaló en el país con la militarización de la lucha contra el narcotráfico, cuyo cenit fue declarado por un Felipe Calderón, enloquecido por su necesidad de legitimarse como presidente, intimidando a sus adversarios políticos. De esta manera se inauguró el lado B de esta guerra: la mediática.

La llamada «guerra del narco» en México es en realidad dos guerras: una guerra entre organizaciones narcotráficantes disciplinadas, organizadas y sumamente bien financiadas en las que el Estado también participa, y un espectáculo mediático que presente los combates y los arrestos como productos de operativos asiduos de aplicación de la ley. […]

Y en esta guerra mediática, en el discurso oficial, no hay muertos inocentes. La culpabilidad se fabrica en líneas de producción. Si amaneces torturado, violado y desmembrado, es porque "en algo andabas". No hace falta ni jueces ni peritos. Lo reclamado es el silencio. Agachar la cabeza y decir sí a todo.

Sin embargo, hay cierta prensa que resiste a este silencio; hay ciertos activistas que resisten; hay ciertas víctimas y familiares que resisten. Resisten a pesar del rechazo social, las vejaciones estatales y las amenazas de los interesados por el silencio. A pesar de ser objetivos de desapariciones forzadas, siguen tendiendo hilos telegráficos para contar sus historias. Son sobre todo mujeres, las víctimas más humilladas, las que cargan bajos sus hombros la determinación de sobrevivir al horror y reconstruir comunidad.

Esta guerra, además de cadáveres, produce máquinas de guerra, que son policías y criminales indiferenciados. Son mercancía al servicio del poder, a su vez encargados de ejercer el biopoder sobre el cuerpo de quien se opone. Estas máquinas, provienen de los estratos más bajos de la población, el subproducto del capitalismo mexicano: hijos perdidos de maquiladoras; de la agricultura a gran escala, embrutecida; de los cinturones de pobreza; de los humillados por el Estado y sus intelectuales. Esos a los que Marx llamó, en el Manifiesto, el lumpenproletariat, y que ahora podemos llamar, tal vez, el sicariato. Ejercen el poder para otros, ellos sólo son unos mandados, aunque sean ellos quienes empuñan las armas. Meras máquinas de guerra.

[Tony Heyl · Rating 2 out of 5]

People are storytelling animals. We communicate through stories and also injest information through stories. However, To Die in Mexico didn't feel like a story to me, which is why I did not give it a high rating.

The drug war is violent. Notice the phrase drug war and not war on drugs. It is a war where drugs are paramount in the motivations and justifications, but there is no reduction in actual drug use. The violence is great in Mexico, where drug lords reign with impunity. People kill in the middle of the street and make people disappear and there is no justice.

John Gibler lays out the brutality of this drug war, but there is not enough explanation of how it really rose and it comes across as a retelling of incidences that the author finds most disturbing in Mexico. However, there isn't really a thread that binds it. He makes the case that there should be an end to drug prohibition and that change in policy would greatly reduce the profit and therefore violence in the drug culture today. That is something I lean towards agreeing with, but his reasoning in here is pretty shallow and not as convincing as I would hope.

I was taken aback by the incredible violence in Mexico involving drug trafficking, but I did not connect to the characters in a real way and never felt moved towards a particular answer. Disappointing.

[Carolyn · Rating 2 out of 5]

Very interesting to read about the lives of so many of my neighbors (truly just across from them) and the daily fears they experience of living amongst gangs. One mother's story is particulary poignant as she has sought justice again and again in vain from the corrupt government there. Fascinating to learn how the U.S. has completely contributed to this as well (such as Regan beginning "the War on Drugs" yet contributed guns to the very people into drugs).

Of course, there is language so one tries to glaze past it. I also felt like he was too brief in sharing some details and not thorough enough in making some claims. He is completely for repealing prohibition of drugs. That can be understandable and yet, I think the things out there that aren't prohibited such as pornography, alcohol, and abortion have created terrible havoc.

I also wish the book would have explored family life there and why parents seem to have such little control on why their teens are selling drugs. Poverty definitely has contributed (and that would be a big thanks in part to the U.S. again).

[Alex · Rating 4 out of 5]

Interesting perspective on the current War on Drugs. I found the accounts of the few decent and honest reporters left in Mexico - those who still possess tremendous amounts of courage - to be fascinating and touching. I found myself absolutely bewildered while reading the reputable statistics on how entangled the whole system is in the indelible web of corruption that plagues all facets of Mexico. While I agree with many of his arguments that the American prepetuated War on Drugs is disingenuous, and that tremendous overhaul is needed in terms of ceasing drug prohibition, I disagree with the alarming degree to which he asserts that it is a calculated and surreptitious undertaking on the part of the U.S. Government.

[Jerry Peace · Rating 4 out of 5]

Two things are striking about this startling book. First, the courage of not just the journalists but of all Mexicans, particularly in Ciudad Juarez to remain and maintain and even continue to embrace life amidst the daily horrors. And secondly, the role of the United States in this "war" on drugs. Our war on drugs seems to mean giving bunches of money and arms to Mexico which ends up in the hands of the flavor of the month cartel and imprisoning bunches and bunches of black users here. Gibler has one of the best and most concise arguments for the decriminalization of drugs that I've read or heard.

[Juan José · Rating 5 out of 5]

Un excelente trabajo de investigación periodística, un relato frío y estremecedor en lo que han convertido a México, los gobiernos de estos dos países en varias décadas de la guerra contra el narco, en una enorme fosa común de muertos y desaparecidos.

Un libro mas que necesario para entender esta guerra y la relación de México con los Estados Unidos, la economía capitalista, el neoliberalismo, el sistema social de los dos países y como todo el capitalismo actual se fortalece de una estructura ilegal para mover dinero, blanquearlo y a su vez utilizar a esta como herramienta de control, miedo y de mentira para distraer a grandes masas de ciudadanos.

[Maria · Rating 3 out of 5]

In general, this book covers a lot of ground typically already covered - government involvement in drugs, the fault of US law, the silencing of journalists. This book was at its mots interesting, however, when the author spoke about Mexico's cultural intimacy with death through Dia de los Muertos and La Santa Muerte. However, he draws a strong distinction between the comfort with death that is part of the national culture and the gruesomeness of narco violence. He suggests that the narco violence is imported from the US, Israel, Guatemala, and Al Qaeda.

[Blane · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a far from enjoyable read & even a little dull at parts. But, it is an essential read for anyone who wants to gain a better understanding of the failed "War On Drugs" from Reagan to Calderon. I am perhaps biased (and have confidence in the power of education), but I feel the only way out of this drug war mess is to end the prohibition and legalize everything now. And this is pretty much Gibler's conclusion as well.