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Indigenous Peoples and Drug-Related Violence in Nayarit

BY CARLOS RAFAEL REA  RODRÍGUEZ FOR INDIGENOUS DEBATES

In Mexico’s Pacific region, the lives of the Náayeri, Wixárika, Meshikan, and O’dam Indigenous Peoples have been deeply affected over the past 15 years by two interconnected and increasingly evident forms of violence. On one hand, state-driven acts of intimidation seek to undermine community resistance and impose megaprojects on their territories. On the other, drug cartels entrenched in the region exert economic, physical, political, and cultural violence as they compete for territorial control—often in the state’s absence or its direct complicity.

Since 2010, the imposition of highway, hydroelectric, mining, and tourism projects in Nayarit has led to a surge in sociopolitical conflicts and various forms of violence in Indigenous territories. These acts of violence range from intimidation, threats, and physical attacks on communities to forced disappearances (“levantones”) and the assassinations of community leaders—perpetrated by both organized crime groups and state agents. This capitalist process of territorial dispossession, aimed at looting communal resources, has created a climate of violence that overlaps with cartel disputes over territorial control.

During the administration of Roberto Sandoval Castañeda (2011–2017), a clear and deep entanglement emerged between political power and organized crime. For Indigenous Peoples, this manifested in escalating violence within their communities, driven by the struggle between the Sinaloa Cartel (CS) and the Jalisco New Generation Cartel (CJNG) for control over their territories. This conflict was sparked by the CJNG’s incursion into areas historically dominated by Sinaloa-linked groups, a shift enabled by the double-selling of trafficking routes (“plazas”) by local political figures.

The Objectives of Violence

Nearly eight years after the end of that administration, the close ties between state politics and drug trafficking groups appear to persist—at least from the perspective of many residents in Indigenous communities. On the contrary, signs of collusion between criminal organizations, the state, and political parties—particularly at the municipal level—are increasingly evident. The forms of violence employed by these groups against Indigenous populations have become ever more brutal, along with far-reaching, multidimensional impacts they inflict on the daily lives of individuals, communities, and entire peoples.

These groups pursue a range of objectives in the region: controlling the production, distribution, and consumption of drugs; recruiting young people—often as lookouts or hitmen, essentially as cannon fodder; monopolizing the sale of beer and gasoline; and extorting local commercial, agricultural, livestock, and fishing activities through so-called “protection fees.” All of this serves to finance their armed operations, secure their continued presence in the area, and maintain control over trafficking routes as well as the safe zones and mobility corridors used by their leaders.

Through coordinated efforts, the state, economic elites, and criminal actors seek to divide and set communities against one another in order to weaken their resistance to megaprojects. This strategy was clearly evident during the construction of the Las Cruces hydroelectric dam, the exploitation of mining concessions without community consent (such as the Jazmín del Coquito project), and land disputes over agricultural use in Huajimic. In all these cases, pressure exerted by the state and economic interests was bolstered by the intimidating presence and actions of armed criminal groups.

In the face of the various forms of violence imposed by drug cartels on the daily lives of Indigenous communities, a range of responses has emerged: adaptation, displacement, spontaneous reactions, attempts at organized resistance, and a latent capacity for innovation.

Adaptation or Community Displacement

First and foremost, communities attempt to adapt in their daily lives. In territories where cartels have consolidated their presence and control, the use of violence becomes more subtle. If there are no open confrontations with rival criminal groups, the cartel may normalize its presence in everyday life and establish agreements with traditional and civil authorities to ensure its interests and practices prevail—such as the collection of fees, monopolization of product sales, and price fixing.

Cartels also take part in community festivities, provide financial support for their organization, and even intervene as a kind of paralegal authority when disputes arise. Over time, criminal groups become omnipresent, maintaining total surveillance over the area and its inhabitants—even making use of technological tools such as drones. In these cases, their presence does not necessarily translate into overt aggression against the population, particularly not against women. Residents live in an “imagined peace,” accompanied by a constant undercurrent of fear.

Second, when daily adaptation becomes intolerable, Indigenous Peoples are often left with no alternative but to flee. In territories where a fragile peace has been established, any act of defiance against the order imposed by the cartel—such as selling goods to other buyers or refusing to pay extortion fees—can trigger a brutal response. This may involve threats, forced disappearance, torture, or murder, targeting not only the individual but sometimes their entire family. In such cases, fleeing to another municipality, another state, or even the United States becomes the only option for survival.

This is even more likely when violent clashes erupt between rival criminal groups vying for territorial control. When threats and killings suddenly become the norm, forced displacement no longer affects just one person or family—it sweeps through entire communities, leaving ghost towns behind. This is currently the case in the municipality of Huajicori, where at least six rural communities have been displaced amid the violent struggle for control of the border with Sinaloa.

Between Spontaneity and Organization

A third alternative involves spontaneous responses. These tend to arise in situations where abuse has become persistent but the overall context has not yet escalated into widespread violence against communities—often because no single criminal group has fully established territorial control. One example of such reaction was the community lynching of alleged perpetrators or collaborators in acts of violence. This occurred in the municipality of Del Nayar, where three municipal police officers were shot and then burned inside their vehicle.

A fourth form of response is the attempt at organized resistance. In the community of Santa Teresa, residents reactivated the traditional institution of community policing to confront both the criminal groups looting timber from the region and the police authorities who protected them. Additionally, the police used intimidation tactics against local inhabitants to pressure them into approving the Las Cruces hydroelectric project, which the Federal Electricity Commission sought to construct on the San Pedro River. There were also strong suspicions of collusion between municipal authorities and foreign mining companies interested in exploiting gold and silver deposits in the area.

The call to establish a community police force began to spread throughout the region, with its members arming themselves using whatever means they had at their disposal. The initiative came to a halt when numerous state police detachments were deployed to the area and its main promoter, Pedro Hernández Delgado—communal land commissioner of Santa Teresa—was arrested on charges of criminal association. In this way, the State effectively dismantled the emerging community police force.

Finally, a fifth form of response lies in communities’ latent capacity for innovation. Despite the deep deterioration that violence and drug use have brought to everyday life, Indigenous communities have managed to sustain their resistance. This capacity stems from the cultural and organizational strengths rooted in community life. However, once residents realized that the State itself had undermined their organizing efforts—by intervening early to demobilize the community police—that spark was extinguished entirely.

New Forms of Resistance

Despite the immense challenges faced by Indigenous communities, some are now exploring ways to reorganize in order to confront them. For certain local leaders, the path to addressing the violence and social breakdown affecting their communities lies in a return to culture, traditional worldviews, and the wisdom and spiritual guidance of elders. This involves reviving community organization, customary norms, and traditional political life, while also strategically leveraging the rights enshrined in the Mexican Constitution and in international agreements signed by Mexico.

At the same time, communities are rethinking their forms of struggle and strategies. While they continue to rely on traditional systems of communal organization and a deeply rooted commitment to defending their land, they increasingly possess the human and intellectual resources to push back on multiple fronts—cultural, social, legal, media, and political. In addition, they are making more effective use of both conventional and alternative media, as well as cutting-edge technologies, to advance their struggles.

This article is a summarized version of the forthcoming text “Drug Trafficking and Violence in the Territories of Indigenous Peoples in Nayarit”, to be published in the book “Mexico: Autonomies from North to South in Violent Contexts”, edited by Araceli Burguete and Carmen Ventura.

Carlos Rafael Rea Rodríguez holds a degree in Sociology from the University of Guadalajara, a Master’s in Political Sociology from Instituto Mora, and a PhD in Sociology from the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales. He is a retired professor and researcher from the Autonomous University of Nayarit.

Cover photo: The brutality of cartel violence stands in stark contrast to the natural beauty of Nayarit. Photo: Jonathan Marrujo

Tags: Indigenous Debates

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