The war on drugs in Latin America follows a typical pattern—kill a cartel leader in a “decapitation operation,” celebrate the “success” in the war on drugs, lament the emergence of a new cartel leader, kill the new cartel leader.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Late last month, the Mexican military—with U.S. intelligence—killed “El Mencho,” leader of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel (CJNG) and most wanted drug kingpin in the United States. With a bounty of $15 million on his head as of 2024, his death was welcomed by both Mexican and U.S. authorities, with President Trump calling El Mencho “one of the most sinister cartel kingpins of all.”
But El Mencho’s death was not without consequence. Immediately following the operation, CJNG members killed 25 Mexican National Guard members, burned vehicles and buildings in cities across Mexico, and forced residents and tourists into hiding.
Before officials in the United States or Mexico start celebrating, they need a reality check. Sure, you removed a cartel kingpin, but what happens next?
The reality is, we know how this plays out. It doesn’t end cartel activity, and it certainly doesn’t reduce the flow or use of drugs.
Consider similar operations of the past. Colombian authorities, with the assistance of the United States, killed drug kingpin Pablo Escobar in 1993. Though he wasn’t killed, Mexican cartel leader “El Chapo” was captured in 2016. Both times policymakers were quick to celebrate. Both times the same thing happened next—a new cartel emerged, and a new man came out on top.
After Pablo Escobar’s death, for example, the Medellín Cartel collapsed. But this breakdown didn’t end the illicit cocaine trade. Instead, his death created a power vacuum. Ultimately, the Cali Cartel prevailed. The Cali cartel would control some 80 percent of the world’s cocaine supply until two years later. In 1995, the Colombian Police, with help from the U.S. government captured the leader of the Cali Cartel, Gilberto Rodriguez Orejuela. Once again, policymakers celebrated. Once again, the drug trade didn’t end, but the Norte del Valle Cartel took control. That is, until Colombian forces captured Iván Urdinol Granjales and his compatriots—again with U.S. support.
Similarly, following El Chapo’s arrest in 2016, U.S. policymakers once again celebrated the removal of a drug kingpin. But just like before, removing the head of a cartel didn’t solve the drug problem. Following El Chapo, the “Chapitos” – El Chapo’s four sons – took over the cartel and transitioned from trafficking cocaine to fentanyl. U.S. overdose rates skyrocketed and cartel violence continued south of the border.
Now we are left to wonder—what comes next for CJNG? For Mexico? Some suggest El Mencho’s stepson, “El Pelón,” will likely succeed his stepfather. If his takeover comes without dispute, the cartel will likely continue to operate as it has for more than 15 years.
But that’s a big if.
History tells us to expect disputes during times of transition. Before the Chapitos established control following El Chapo’s capture, infighting among factions of the Sinaloa cartel resulted in a market spike in deaths—from close to 4,400 in 2015 to more than 9,700 in 2017 following the capture of El Chapo.
This leaves a puzzle: if we know that these targeted operations are largely ineffective, why do they continue?
The reality is that these operations serve another purpose in the war on drugs. When a kingpin is killed or captured, it makes headlines. It shows the broader public that officials have “done something” to combat narcotrafficking and organized crime. But these flashy headlines hide a cold reality about these operations—they largely fail to achieve U.S. policy goals. In many cases, they are counterproductive.
When cartels lose their leaders, the industry doesn’t collapse. It destabilizes. In that instability, those who emerge victorious are those willing to take big risks and those comfortable using violence as a means of obtaining and maintaining power.
Cartels thrive in illicit markets. High demand and prohibitions on manufacturing or consuming a good or service makes providing said good or service highly profitable. Drugs are no exception. Changing who oversees a cartel doesn’t change the underlying dynamics present in illicit markets. As long as people demand drugs, there will be cartels willing and able to supply them.
There is another element to consider as well. The instability these policies create doesn’t just “stay local.” In many cases, the ensuing chaos, power struggles, and violence lead to widespread displacement, including pushing more individuals to immigrate—both legally and illegally. Given the administration’s stated goal of stemming illicit migration flows, these types of policies aren’t just unproductive, but fundamentally at odds with stated policy goals.
The kingpin may be dead, but another will take his place, as we’ve seen decade after decade. Without addressing the reason cartels exist in the first place—U.S. demand—we’ll keep killing cartel bosses. And we’ll keep seeing the same results.
Abigail R. Hall is a senior fellow at the Independent Institute in Oakland, Calif., and an associate professor in economics at the University of Tampa. Molly R. Rovinski is a PhD student in the Department of Economics at George Mason University.