The Louisville Courier Journal recently printed an investigative
story on how the tentacles of a relatively new and powerful Mexican drug cartel,
CJNG, have reached small town Kentucky. Although the story admits that
generally this cartel as others holds its operatives in the U.S.—who are not all necessarily “Mexicans,”
but could be buyers and dealers who are “Asians, black guys, outlaw motorcycle
gangs, white trash” says one DEA agent—to not bring attention upon themselves by engaging
in the kind of violence that is common in Mexico, the authors can’t help but
ring out the alarm bells at full throttle, engaging in anecdotes that ignore
the larger questions. “They” are killing the “next generation” says the
anguished parents of a son who overdosed on fentanyl the day before he was
to go into rehab. Who are “they”? "They," of course, are the ones responsible for “The unending stream of narcotics has
contributed to this country’s unprecedented addiction crisis, devastating
families and killing more than 300,000 people since 2013.” The story doesn’t
tell you straight out that most of those dead died as a result of Mexico’s “war
on drugs,” although it alludes to the violence there a few times, but just
throws out those big numbers because they both excite outrage and sells
newspapers. That there might be a "cell" of a “violent cartel” in an “unsuspecting
town” doesn’t mean their “violence” is here, save in incidental
episodes of threats to keep a few operatives “in line.”
There
are the usual complaints that Mexico is not doing enough, and there is
certainly reason to blame a country with very real and persistent social and
economic inequities (film director Guillermo del Toro looks more “Anglo”
than Mexican, which may explain why he has never employed a Hispanic actor in
any of his American-produced films), and its corruption through all levels of
government is well known. Law officers tasked to stop the drug trade profess
never to speak about their operations to anyone outside their own inner circle
or DEA agents, due to the proliferation of cartel informants; one officer
admitted "If you
provide information to the Mexican government, it’s probably the last thing you
would say." President Andrés Manuel López Obrador’s “plan” to stop
violence in Mexico was to decriminalize all drugs in Mexico, but that will
remain a useless gesture as long as the same drugs are criminalized in the U.S.
AMLO has been criticized for concentrating federal troops on its southern
border to control illegal immigration instead of using them to “control” the
cartels; this is again a bit hypocritical, since Donald Trump threatened tariffs
on Mexican goods unless it did “something” about controlling Central American
migrants, and the only way Mexico could comply was to send troops to its
southern border instead of fighting cartels—which has often produced more
defeats than “victories.”
But the biggest hypocrisy of all
is the fact that the U.S. really has only itself to blame for its drug problem.
The synthetic opioid fentanyl was not “invented” in Mexico, it was invented
right here in the U.S., and because of its potency and effects similar to
another opiate—heroin—it quickly became the subject of abuse. The Smithsonian
Institute website has an interesting post concerning the history of opiate
abuse in the U.S. dating from its founding. The opium poppy, which originated
in Turkey and was “domesticated” specifically because of its “medicinal”
properties, eventually traveled eastward to Afghanistan and to China and
Southeast Asia for its production, and the “product” of course made its way to
Europe and America.
During the Revolutionary War,
opium was used to treat wounded soldiers, and Benjamin Franklin used it to
control pain from a bladder stone. But it was the American Civil War that set
off America’s epidemic of opiate abuse; the Union Army issued 10 million opium
pills to soldiers, plus 2.8 million ounces of opium powders and tinctures. With
the invention and use of the hypodermic needle, doctors really got carried away
with administering opiates. In David Courtwright’s book Dark Paradise: A History of Opiate Addiction in America, he notes that “Though it
could cure little, it could relieve anything. Doctors and patients alike were
tempted to overuse.” In the 19th century, the opiate morphine was
considered a “wonder drug.” Opium powders very much like today’s OxyContin led
to the opiate addiction of one-in-200 Americans by 1900. Doctors even
self-medicated themselves; there is a scene in Fassbinder’s The Marriage of Maria Braun where
Maria’s doctor, after giving her a health clearance, conceals himself as he shakily
gives himself an injection of an opiate, implying that he is a drug addict.
By the late 19th century
women were 60 percent of opiate addicts. Although the dangers of opiate
addiction was recognized, doctors often ignored warnings because patients
demanded that their pains be relieved and there were few alternative methods.
Because at the time the majority of opiate addicts were women, it was deemed a
“scandal” but not a crime to be an addict. Courtwright points out that only
when the majority of addicts were males and its use done more openly did
addicts receive less sympathy from the public and addiction became a “crime.”
The U.S. occupation of the
Philippines following the Spanish-American War set-up a major pipeline to
transport opium from Asia. A law “regulating” trade in opium passed in 1909, but
it did not stop its use. Instead, it merely drove prices up for what was
available. The street price of a “can” of opium went up 12 fold overnight. Drug
dealing “gangs”—mostly white and some Asian—were the precursors of the drug gangs
of today. But because these original “products” were usually not “high value,”
users eventually gravitated to more powerful opiates, like heroin.
Courtwright points out the
similarities between opiate addiction then and that of today, but the
differences are also quite apparent. Today
there are more “options” available to doctors and patients than a century ago, but
drug companies are putting pressure on doctors to prescribe their new “wonder
drugs,’ which are merely more sophisticated varieties of opiates, and opioids
in particular. He notes that the reason why opioids have infected “small town”
white America is that opioids are technically “legal” even when abused, and
less subject to punitive action—the real reason why opioids are “threatening”
Kentucky’s “kids.” Blaming Mexican drug cartels for the opioid problem in this
country is merely hypocritical and self-serving.
According to the DEA website, the
three main sources for illegal opium used to create opioids are Burma,
Afghanistan, and Colombia—not Mexico, which supplies the “middlemen.” The DEA
admits that it is difficult to control opiates in the U.S. because “Opium and
heroin are ideal trade products–they are in great demand, are very profitable
to produce, and the products take up little space. With modern transportation,
opium and heroin can be moved from one country to another within days or a few
weeks. Opium and heroin have a long and stable shelf life, allowing the products
to be stored for long periods of time.”
The “difficulty” in controlling
opioids in the U.S. comes also from a schizophrenic history of “legalization”
of opiates in the U.S.; at one time or another, opium, morphine, heroin and
codeine were or are still “legal” for use in the U.S. Codeine, which is used in
cough suppressants, can be “abused” by consuming large quantities of cough
medicine, or consuming it “pure.” But the point is that the U.S. has a long
history of opiate addiction, and it occurred long before there was a problem
with Mexico. The “blame game” targeting Mexico is hypocrisy run rampant, since
Mexico would not be stricken with the violence it is seeing now if there wasn’t
a vast market for illegal drugs and virtually unregulated sale of guns in the
U.S. that dates back since the very birth of this country. That is the part of
the story that reports like that of the Courier
Journal keep missing. Americans need to stop blaming other countries, and
look at themselves squarely in the face.