Opium

Scene: A Dimly Lit Room, Somewhere in Southeast China

*The year is 1887. The British empire still has a firm grasp on its colonies, and in the Southeast Asian trade networks, opium flows like gold. Inside a luxurious but worn-out room, adorned with Qing dynasty artifacts and British imperial emblems, a British opium trader, *Charles Harrington*, sits behind a large mahogany desk. He wears a well-tailored waistcoat and cravat, his eyes cold and calculating. Across from him sits *Michael O’Donnell, an American operative, decades out of place, but well aware of his mission. Though the room is set in 19th century China, O’Donnell is a man of the 20th century — a CIA officer from the 1970s, time displaced yet unfazed.

Harrington pulls a cigar from a silver case, lights it, and offers one to O’Donnell. The American declines, leaning forward, his eyes dark and knowing.

Charles Harrington (British Opium Trader):
Takes a deep drag of his cigar.
“You Americans always seem to think the game is something new. But let me tell you, lad, this trade we’ve built here—opium to China, silver back to the Crown—it’s the very lifeblood of empire. And you, with your disbursals and kingmaker strategies, well, you’re but a mirror of us. Different time, same means.”
He exhales a thick plume of smoke.

Michael O’Donnell (American CIA Operative):
Leans back in his chair, unphased.
“I didn’t come here for a history lesson, Harrington. I’m here because you’re playing the game on the same board we are now. The names may have changed, sure—cartels, revolutionaries, intelligence services—but it’s still about control. Control of people, of markets, of nations.”

Harrington:
Laughs heartily, a bit of arrogance in his tone.
“Control, yes. Control indeed. But tell me, Mr. O’Donnell, what exactly does your Agency hope to achieve by making men like the ones I deal with into kings? Do you think your ‘cartels’ will remain loyal to your stars and stripes any more than my merchants do to the Crown?”
He snuffs his cigar in a nearby ashtray.
“You’re playing with fire, lad. The opium’s just one part of a much larger machine.”

O’Donnell:
His tone sharpens.
“It’s not loyalty we’re after. It’s leverage. Same as you. You may be used to dealing with addicts—men so hooked on your product they’d sell their own mothers to get a taste—but we’ve moved on. Now it’s about keeping entire countries hooked on the American dream, on dollars, guns, influence. That’s our opium.”

Harrington:
His eyes narrow slightly, intrigued by the American’s candor.
“So, you’re admitting to it then? All this talk of freedom, democracy—it’s just a mask for your real work. Topple a government here, set up a puppet there. And you think you’re so clever with your little operations. But sooner or later, you’ll learn what I’ve already discovered.”

O’Donnell:
“And what’s that?”

Harrington:
Leans in, his voice lowering.
“No matter how much power you think you wield, the people who truly hold the strings are the ones no one sees. The ones in the shadows. You can install all the puppet kings you like, but they’ll never be yours. Not truly. Just like my opium buyers—they’re loyal only until the next hit. The moment you can’t provide, they’ll find someone else who can.”

O’Donnell:
Smirks.
“Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you. You think your empire’s immortal? That your precious Queen back in London can keep squeezing the world forever? I’ve read the history books, Harrington. Empires fall. All of them. Yours isn’t any different.”

Harrington:
Chuckles darkly.
“Perhaps. But I have a feeling yours will fall harder. You’ve seen what happens when the flow of silver or drugs gets interrupted. The same applies to influence. You’ll overreach, Mr. O’Donnell. You already are.”
Pauses, then continues with a half-smile.
“And when that happens, well, we’ll see who is scrambling for the scraps.”

O’Donnell:
Leaning forward now, his voice intense.
“Let’s not pretend you don’t see the parallels, Harrington. We’re both here because we know the world runs on corruption. The question is, how far are you willing to let it go? I’m not interested in building an empire. I’m here to make sure it doesn’t collapse too soon. But if that means playing kingmaker and breaking a few laws along the way—so be it. Our game is global. Yours was regional. Don’t confuse the two.”

Harrington:
With a sly grin.
“Ah, but regional control can be far more devastating than you think. And at least we weren’t foolish enough to dream of ruling the whole world. Ambition, Mr. O’Donnell, is the very thing that will destroy you and your Agency.”

O’Donnell:
Rising from his seat, his eyes cold.
“Maybe. But not today. And certainly not by the likes of you.”

O’Donnell turns and heads for the door, leaving the heavy air of colonial decadence and imperial machinations behind. As the door creaks open and closes, Harrington takes another slow drag of his cigar, watching the smoke curl lazily toward the ceiling, pondering the inevitability of all things—empires, drugs, and men.

Harrington (murmuring to himself):
“Not today, no… but soon enough.”
He exhales another thick cloud of smoke into the fading light.

The War Machine Spins: Notes from the Edge of the Borderline Collapse

Reading the situation now, it seems pretty clear that the drug trade in Mexico has transformed into something far closer to a nationalized enterprise than anyone on either side of the border would ever dare admit. This is not some back-alley, dime-bag hustle – no, this is a full-scale industry, woven into the sinews of state corruption, cartel overlords, and, most damning of all, the shaky pillars of U.S. foreign policy. You might think of it as a protection racket, but on a grand scale, with the judicial police in Mexico and the FBI north of the border playing their respective parts in a theater of the absurd. The players are crooked, the money is filthy, and the moral high ground is nowhere in sight.

Here’s the dirty truth: Instability is profitable. As long as the cartels are fighting among themselves, hacking each other to bits, blowing up whole villages and towns, the price of drugs goes up. Cocaine isn’t the only thing being cut—so are throats, deals, and the occasional olive branch extended for peace. But peace doesn’t sell. Conflict does. And the more chaotic it gets, the better it is for the price point. No cartel in its right mind wants legalization. That would sink prices faster than a kilo of coke dropped in the Pacific. No, what they want is chaos – but controlled chaos. Let the violence spin out, but never enough to make the whole system crash down. It’s the kind of industrial bloodletting that keeps the machine well-oiled.

South of the border, cartels have burrowed into the Mexican state, like ticks digging into the skin of a dying dog. The judicial police are just one part of this macabre apparatus, shielding the cartels in exchange for fat stacks of cash. This has transformed the Mexican drug trade into something approaching a nationalized economy—except the “government” in this case is a patchwork of cartel bosses and their lieutenants, with a revolving door of politicians on the take. These narco-lords are more than just traffickers; they’re the unspoken power behind the throne, running entire territories like medieval fiefdoms. They provide “protection” in the twisted sense of the word, offering a violent stability that the Mexican state can’t. A brutal symbiosis, really: the cartels kill off dissent, and in exchange, the state turns a blind eye.

Yes, the dynamic between cartels and the Mexican government indeed obscures the reality that, in practice, the drug trade has become a quasi-nationalized system. Here’s how this obscured reality plays out:

1. Cartels as De Facto Authorities

In regions controlled by cartels, these criminal organizations effectively act as the governing authority. They enforce their own rules, collect “taxes,” and provide services, filling the void left by a weak or corrupt state. This setup creates a de facto nationalized drug trade where cartels control the distribution and production of illicit drugs as if they were state-sanctioned entities.

2. Corruption and Complicity

The corruption within the Mexican government, including the police and judiciary, allows cartels to operate with state-like impunity. When officials are on the payroll of drug traffickers or otherwise complicit, it creates a situation where cartels enjoy the protection and operational latitude typically associated with state control. This complicity allows cartels to function as if they have a form of unofficial state backing, effectively nationalizing their operations.

3. Control Over Territories

Cartels often exert control over specific territories, regulating local economies and security. This territorial control extends beyond drug trafficking to include broader aspects of local governance. This control mimics nationalization in practice, as cartels influence everything from local law enforcement to social services, further blurring the lines between criminal and state functions.

4. Economic Impact

The economic impact of the drug trade is significant, akin to a nationalized industry. The cartels’ dominance over drug production and distribution affects local economies, creates dependency in affected regions, and influences national economic factors. This economic impact underscores the extent to which the drug trade functions as a de facto nationalized enterprise.

5. State Support and Protection

The Mexican government’s tacit or explicit support of cartels through corruption or strategic leniency further nationalizes the drug trade. When authorities choose to look the other way or facilitate cartel activities for political or economic gain, it integrates the drug trade into the broader framework of state operations, albeit in an illicit and shadowy manner.

6. Institutional Failure

The failure of Mexican institutions to effectively combat drug cartels and enforce the law contributes to the perception of a nationalized drug trade. When institutions are incapable of or unwilling to address the power of cartels, it reinforces the idea that the drug trade has become an entrenched part of the national landscape, controlled more by cartels than by legitimate state mechanisms.

In summary, the interplay between cartels and the Mexican government does obscure the reality that the drug trade, in practice, has become quasi-nationalized. This phenomenon results from the cartels’ control over territories and economies, government corruption and complicity, and the broader economic and social impacts of the drug trade. The result is a shadow governance structure where cartels function as state-like entities, influencing and controlling aspects of life and governance in ways that approximate nationalization.

North of the border, we’re no innocent bystanders. Oh, no. The U.S. government, wrapped in its endless drug war rhetoric, plays the other half of this ugly symphony. But it’s a double-edged sword, and it cuts both ways. Here’s where the real rot sets in: it’s not about stopping drugs, not really. It’s about managing the flow, controlling the spigot. A little chaos is good—keeps the drug prices high, the dealers in check, and the FBI with its hands on the wheel, steering this nightmarish ride. And the biggest tool in their box? The Kingpin Strategy. Like mafia dons deciding who lives and dies, U.S. authorities pick and choose their targets. Take down one cartel boss, watch the power vacuum tear another crew apart. Then, like clockwork, a new cartel rises from the ashes, often the one we didn’t target.


Interplay and Implications

Strategic Complexity: The Kingpin Strategy, combined with covert use of drug money and selective enforcement, creates a tangled web of influence. By targeting key figures while selectively enforcing laws and using drug money for covert operations, governments attempt to manipulate drug trade dynamics and geopolitical landscapes. However, these approaches often result in temporary disruptions rather than long-term solutions.

Corruption and Instability: Using drug money for covert activities and selective enforcement fuels corruption and instability. These tactics can undermine legitimate governance, foster illegal activities, and allow political manipulation to thrive, perpetuating a cycle of conflict and dysfunction.


This racket is not just about controlling drugs—it’s about controlling people. And it’s a hell of a convenient way to keep discretionary funds flowing. The DEA, the CIA, and even some elements within the FBI have long been accused of protecting certain cartels, particularly when it suits larger geopolitical interests. That’s right—this has all the stench of Cold War-era tactics. We pick a cartel to back, feed it intel, look the other way when their shipments make it through, all in exchange for favors. And what favors might those be? Oh, you know, just a little help quashing leftist movements across Latin America. Can’t have too much socialism sprouting up in the backyard, now can we? So while the cartels wage their wars, killing each other in public, we’re playing kingmaker in the shadows.

This is a protection racket, make no mistake. The U.S. gets its favors, the FBI gets a cut of the chaos, and the cartels get enough breathing room to keep the whole bloody enterprise running. And that’s the whole game: managing chaos, not stopping it. Because deep down, we all know—legalization would kill the game. Drugs would be cheap, cartel power would evaporate, and we’d be left without our shadowy army in Latin America, without our slush funds, and without a convenient scapegoat to blame for all the domestic drug problems we have no intention of actually solving.

You don’t want a functioning Mexico. Hell, nobody does. A functioning Mexico doesn’t need cartels, doesn’t need corrupt cops, and certainly doesn’t need us. It would cut off the pipeline of drugs and chaos that fuels both sides of the border economy. Better to keep the beast alive, feed it a little blood every now and then, and watch the dollars stack up. Because in the end, the instability, the violence, the drugs—it’s all good for business. And business, as they say, is booming.

In this grand casino of narcotic roulette, we’re not just players. We’re the house. And the house always wins.