The Life of a Journalist in the Narco-Controlled North

It’s a well-mined trope by now: an intrepid, dashing journalist makes his or her way to the northern no-man’s-land of Mexico’s border with the United States, and writes the hell out of it. This go-around by Charles Bowden however is a sparkling example of how riveting such efforts can be.

Bowden, writing for Mother Jones, follows the struggles of a small-town journalist in Chihuahua state. In the process he exposes the pervasive narco-fueled corruption that permeates every institution around: from the local newspaper to the Mexican military.

An excerpt:

The Mexican Army is everywhere and can be ill tempered. Last year, I was with a friend who took a photograph of soldiers in Palomas a block from the US port of entry, and they came racing at us with machine guns. In April 2008, one of the generals in command of the state held a press conference. “I know that the media are sometimes afraid of us,” he said, but they should not be afraid. I hope they will trust us.” As for reports of deaths at the hands of the military, the general added, “I would like to see the reporters change their articles. Where they say, ‘one more murdered person,’ they should instead say, ‘one less criminal.’” Reporters were also issued a common explanation by Mexico’s defense department: Yes, there would almost certainly be a spate of robberies and rapes committed by men in uniform but these were to be explained as the deeds of drug traffickers disguising themselves as soldiers to embarrass the Army. Any questions?

Read the whole thing here.

Elsewhere, the Wall Street Journal delves into a little-known government agency in Mexico that is charged with handling the loot of busted drug lords. Think panthers, gorillas, in-house discos with stripper poles, and watches encrusted with jeweled images of St. Jude, the patron saint of lost causes.

Photo by Sarah Wilson.