Why Designating Cartels as Terrorists Is Necessary

Why Trump Happens to Be Right

Few actions in recent memory—other than the Birthright Citizenship issue I wrote about yesterday and the day before—have induced as much melodramatic hand-wringing as the Trump administration’s executive order to classify international cartels and gangs as terrorist organizations. One might imagine from the frenzied opposition that this order was an unprovoked act of tyranny, as though designating groups whose stock-in-trade is mass murder, drug trafficking, and child exploitation is some novel affront to justice. Yet, for anyone willing to glance beyond the headlines, this move is less controversial than overdue—long delayed by a government too accustomed to dithering in the face of clear and present dangers.

To those clutching their dictionaries, let us start with definitions. Terrorism is the use of violence or intimidation in pursuit of political, ideological, or territorial aims. Cartels, in their naked ambition to control entire cities and countries through campaigns of terror—be it bombings, assassinations, or the public dismemberment of dissidents—fit this description to a grotesque degree. They are, quite literally, textbook examples of terrorist organizations. So, why the controversy? The critics, lacking substance, argue in abstractions. It’s all too “complicated,” they insist, as though complexity absolves us of responsibility to act. But complexity does not obviate necessity; it merely demands clarity of purpose and competence in execution.

Missing the Forest for the Avocados

As with any decisive action, this executive order has drawn its share of critics—many of whom seem more interested in cataloging hypothetical inconveniences than grappling with the reality of cartel violence. A recent NY Times article titled “How Labeling Cartels ‘Terrorists’ Could Hurt the U.S. Economy” exemplifies this mindset, spinning an elaborate tale of economic apocalypse while missing the forest for the avocados.

Before delving into the implications of designating cartels as terrorist organizations, I think it’s worth pausing to address this peculiar genre of commentary that seems more preoccupied with the woes of avocado exporters than the lives shattered by cartel violence. This recent piece argues that President Trump’s executive order might disrupt trade with Mexico, force American companies to disentangle themselves from cartel-tainted operations, and—brace yourself—possibly inconvenience Western Union. As if the ability to wire funds across borders with impunity were the pinnacle of American geopolitical priorities.

That Times article is a what I charitably call “compassion mismanagement,” in the way defenders of Birthright Citizenship argue for compassion ignoring the moral hazard they create with such a loophole [Discussed here]. This compassion mismanagement in the cartel case laments the potential loss of economic interdependence but offers no comparable concern for the human cost of cartel dominance. It’s the “Who will pick our crops?” of geopolitical inaction, treating America as an economic zone rather than as a society and treating Mexico and other nations impacted by cartels and gangs as just eggs to be broken to make our omelet. Where’s the virtuous outrage for the families who bury their loved ones after fentanyl overdoses or the young girls trafficked across borders by these very organizations? Instead, we are treated to the annoying and absurd notion that protecting the avocado trade should trump the imperative of dismantling a network of mass murderers.

Even more laughable is the suggestion that cartels have become so enmeshed in the legal economy that targeting them might inadvertently hurt innocent parties. This is, of course, true—but hardly a revelation. When has a war against organized crime ever been painless? Al Capone’s reign ended because authorities targeted his financial apparatus, knowing full well that some bystanders would be caught in the dragnet. The alternative, as the critics seem to imply, is to throw up our hands and accept the status quo. This of course seems to be their reaction to all things dealing with illegal immigration and the border. Should we let cartels operate with impunity because untangling their influence is “complicated”? Complexity isn’t an excuse for inaction; it is a call for ingenuity.

The article even ventures into hyperbolic territory, warning of doomsday scenarios where banks might refuse to wire money to Mexican factories or where ranches in Texas might be “swept up” in penalties if employees send remittances to cartel-linked relatives. These histrionics miss the point entirely. If cartel entanglement is so pervasive that it impacts legitimate business operations, then that is all the more reason to act—not an argument for paralysis. The inability to isolate legitimate commerce from cartel corruption is not a problem caused by this executive order; it is the very problem the order seeks to address. One might even be forced to respond int the way that I normally do by saying: “That’s the fucking point!'"

The reason I reference this article is because of how odd it’s priorities are. It frets over the potential economic fallout of cracking down on cartels but offers no solution to the violence that has turned parts of Mexico into failed states. It warns that unilateral action might sour U.S.-Mexico relations, as though the presence of cartels hasn’t already done that. And it holds up decades of “cooperation” as a sacred cow, conveniently ignoring the fact that this cooperation has produced, at best, a stalemate against an increasingly emboldened adversary.

In sum, the article’s thesis boils down to this: addressing cartel violence is hard, so we shouldn’t try.

Such intellectual lethargy would be laughable if it weren’t so dangerous. Fortunately, history provides ample examples of what happens when nations summon the courage to confront entrenched evils. The eradication of piracy in the 19th century, the dismantling of mafia networks in the 20th—these were not easy or painless endeavors, but they were necessary. They weren’t complete, but they were still effective. The same is true today.

The False Humility of Critics