When the truth does matter

Cuando la verdad sí importaMarlon Puac | Decolonial Weaving | Sololá, Guatemala, 2022

By Carlos Mendoza-Álvarez

The assassination of the mayor of Uruapan, Carlos Manzo, in the Mexican state of Michoacán, on November 1st, is an atrocious example of the “pedagogy of terror” whose objective, according to Rita Segato, is to “show that there are powers that are sovereign in the most absolute impunity, as a pedagogy of territorial control of sovereignty” (Counter-pedagogies of crueltyThis is a strategy used by criminal organizations to paralyze the population, eliminate politicians who disobey them, and control their territories. The crime was committed in a public square on the eve of the Day of the Dead, when the community was celebrating, according to the tradition of candles, the passage of the souls of the departed. Accompanied by his wife Grecia and their two young children, the founder of the “Hat Movement” was gunned down by a minor, apparently in collusion with two other individuals, entangled in the machinery of drug cartels that are destroying the lives of young people worldwide with the mirage of power and money that they kill.

Just five days later, Carlos Manzo's widow took office as mayor of the city with a speech punctuated by anger, desolation and indignation that now places her at the epicenter of a seismic movement shaking Mexican society. Grecia Quiroz in her first speech As mayor, she said something that has resonated in my memory: “Today, Carlos Manzo is stronger than ever. This legacy, this Hat Movement, they did not silence. And they will not silence it because I remain here, firm with the unwavering conviction he taught me […] Let it be heard loud and clear: Carlos Manzo’s legacy will continue. Even though they have silenced his voice. Even though [to] those who gave the order to take his life in the cruellest way, [I say] this will continue, this will go on. The Hat Movement will not stop.” As an independent candidate, her husband defeated the candidate of the ruling party in the last election. After seven years, the ruling party has not only failed to pacify the country, but on the contrary, has been losing more and more control over the national territory. And now Grecia takes up the banner of citizens fed up with the failed state that continues to produce more and more wasteful living conditions.

President Sheinbaum's initial statements were regrettable, as well as belated, blaming "the right wing" for the violence in Michoacán stemming from the war on drugs launched in 2006, almost twenty years ago, by then-President Felipe Calderón, of the right-wing party that governed the country for two six-year terms with disastrous results. But Mexico's path as a sovereign nation remains adrift. The seven years that the current "left-wing" party has governed Mexico represent the failure of the Fourth Transformation initiated by leader López Obrador. The president's pacification plan is late, does not originate from the communities themselves, and fails to address the systemic causes of this spiral of violence. The truth doesn't matter to her or her party. What matters is controlling the narrative in the media to keep pushing forward with the "second tier" of this ill-fated Fourth Transformation.

In this atmosphere of national unrest, organized civil society has an urgent role to play in saving the country from collapse. Initiatives such as Reinsert To rescue children living in precarious conditions caused by violence in the country, there are clues to the projects that can be imagined and created in each region, although many of them depend on the whims of the companies or governments that fund them. Therefore, only the creativity of collectives, communities, and peoples will have the necessary strength to persist in this life-or-death struggle.

Universities are also being called upon by a wounded society to understand the intricacies of the systemic violence that afflicts us. Churches have begun to emerge from their lethargy to participate in collective healing processes, drawing on their spiritual heritage. In recent years, the initiative of [unclear] was born within church circles. National Dialogue for Peace following the murder of the Jesuits of Cerocahui in the Sierra Tarahumara three years ago, and prepares for its second meeting in January 2026 in Guadalajara. It represents an attempt by the Roman Catholic Church to take up the mantle of the Movement for Peace with Justice and Dignity, initiated by Javier Sicilia and the victims of violence in Mexico in 2011 (“The peace movement is a moral reference point”: Sicilia), which was first co-opted by the governments of Felipe Calderón of the PAN and Enrique Peña Nieto of the PRI, then scorned by the government of Andrés Manuel López Obrador of Morena.

What is the truth of the victims? How is that truth heard and acknowledged in the narrative of society and the current government? What does Grecia Quiroz's outrage in Uruapan tell us as Mexican citizens? How does the monstrosity of Víctor Manuel Ubaldo, the underage hitman killed after committing the crime, challenge us? How can we dismantle the network of necropolitical criminality that controls Mexico today? How did we reach this point of corruption within our nation's social fabric, and what collective processes can we promote in each place to escape this barbarity that is leading us to the abyss?

While watching the videos in amazement and reading the news about the tragic events in Michoacán, I was able to attend the congress “Heteronomies of Justice” (3rd International Colloquium: Justice of the Other), organized at the Institute of Philological Research of the UNAM by our dear colleague Silvana Rabinovich. The presentations by young researchers revolved around the question of how to decolonize discourse and praxis for justice, based on conversations between diverse cultures, for example, between the Jewish philosophy of Herman Cohen and Emmanuel Levinas in the 20th century with the philosophy of liberation of Enrique Dussel in Latin America and the Caribbean; or between the feminist thought of María Isasi Díaz, a womanist author in the United States, and the historical realism of Ignacio Ellacuría in El Salvador, committed as rector of the UCA to the poor and justice in times of military power.

The university also opened a dialogue to consider the connections and differences between Ernst Bloch's philosophy of hope in Germany during the Nazi regime and the thought of Enrique Dussel in Argentina and Mexico during times of dictatorship and resistance. These exchanges took place on the occasion of the second anniversary of the death of the great Argentine-Mexican thinker.

A tasty outcome of this colloquium was focusing on the problem of messianic core of history, where the resistance of the people generates changes in the history of oppression, sowing stories of liberation and ethical and political redemption, with a mystical wellspring. Following the intuitions of Professor Dussel, ethics reveals itself as the primary politics, open to messianic anticipations of transcendence. All these deliberations were not unrelated to the question of hope that arises from the victims in Gaza, or from the Searching Mothers in Mexico, as our hostess reminded us time and again.

We closed the day with the pre-premiere of the documentary “Dussel: Philosophy Is a Gift for a Meaningless World,” by Argentine filmmaker Cecilia Fiel. For over an hour and a half, the documentary explores the life of Dussel, his story of exile, his library, his students, and his vision of the history of colonialism inherent in Eurocentric modernity and the resistance it faced. It highlights the narrative beauty of scenes of the lucid old man, Dussel, walking through emblematic sites of Mexico-Tenochtitlan, such as the Zócalo in the heart of Mexico City and the Plaza de las Tres Culturas in Tlatelolco, where the liberation theorist, in the twilight of his life, delivers a masterclass on the role of philosophy in the search for meaning. sense of history.

Those exchanges at UNAM made me think about another version of the truth. When the truth truly matters, it's possible to dismantle the fallacies created by the powerful, whether they be the governments in power, corrupt religions, or criminal organizations.

How can we break free from this growing spiral of hatred in Mexico, Palestine, and Mexico? A first step is to return to the importance of truth. Not as a weapon of war to tell the version of the powerful or the perpetrators, but to listen to the victims and survivors.

Daring to converse with others in order to search together for the meaning of life in the utopia of a “we-others” as the seed of redemption is the beginning of an (im)possible hope.

Because the truth does matter when we want to heal wounded humanity so that one day we can all enjoy Life.

Mexico City, November 8, 2025

Note: I look forward to your comments at the end of this page.

Comments

3 responses to “Cuando la verdad sí importa”

  1. José Ángel Avatar
    José Ángel

    Dear Carlos, your publication offers a profound and committed reflection on the assassination of the mayor of Uruapan, Carlos Manzo, based on Rita Segato's concept of the "pedagogy of terror." You position the event not only as a political crime, but also as a symptom of a structural and pedagogical violence that seeks to dominate territories through fear, which is undoubtedly the intention of the criminal gangs that have seized control of Mexican territory. Your text effectively links the current Mexican political situation with a philosophical and ethical reading of power, demonstrating intellectual depth and a critical perspective that transcends journalistic and partisan denunciations.
    Your overall tone is marked by a clear political orientation: your narrative is an ethical and reflective discourse, your assessments of the current government are militant and heavily biased toward the EZLN's discourse, but they transcend it in intellectual, ethical, political, and particularly poetic depth, though they are severe and lack nuance. For example, the assertion that the seven years of the "Fourth Transformation" government represent a total "failure," or that the president "only seeks to control the narrative," are categorical judgments that are not accompanied by empirical analysis or concrete data. Your stance is militant and biased toward the EZLN's discourse; your political critique, while legitimate, is a rhetoric of disenchantment with the current Mexican government.
    One of the greatest strengths of your publication is its articulation of the Mexican tragedy with an international ethical and philosophical horizon. The link between violence in Mexico and other experiences of suffering—such as Palestine—as well as the references to Enrique Dussel, Levinas, Ellacuría, and Bloch, introduces a universal plane of reflection on truth, justice, and hope. This intertwining of the local and the global, of particular suffering and universal ethics, constitutes the most valuable and thought-provoking aspect of your text.
    Furthermore, the text offers significant recognition of civil society, churches, and universities as spaces of resistance and social reconstruction, which balances your critique of political power with a commitment to civic action and collective creativity. It is here that your tone shifts from denunciation to an ethical and communal call, strengthening its coherence with the final thesis: “the truth does matter.”.
    Your text oscillates between philosophical essay and political chronicle; it is elegant, emotive, and well-constructed, with language intensely charged with moral judgments. Your merit lies in bringing ethics and politics into dialogue from a Latin American perspective, with a militant tone that critically questions the official discourse. Your text is a lucid essay that oscillates between violence, ethics, and political philosophy, masterfully constructed with conceptual depth and precise use of theoretical resources. You champion the voice of the victims, truth, and hope.
    It is an essay of high moral and intellectual density, and an invitation to think about the Mexican crisis from the ethics of victims and the philosophy of liberation.
    Carlos, you have become an intellectual giant. I read you with pleasure and delight. A big hug from memory and heart. Your voice resounds from the Carolino building to the deepest depths of the World Village.

    1. mendocinomx Avatar
      mendocinomx

      Thank you, dear Ángel, for taking the time to read and write such a precise, friendly, and critical comment. This is the kind of dialogue I long to continue. You are right about the political bias of some “moral judgments,” particularly regarding the 4T (Fourth Transformation), which, by the way, are not only linked to the EZLN (Zapatista Army of National Liberation) but also to the Movement for Peace with Justice and Dignity and many other groups within civil society fed up with lies and corruption. What matters now is that we continue to move forward as civil society to reclaim the centrality of truth, woven together by all, accompanied by justice, and within a horizon of reconciliation. Of course, my first school was the classrooms and courtyards of the Carolino building in Puebla, where we attended high school together in that great project called the Emiliano Zapata Popular Preparatory School. Warmest regards.

  2. Antonio U. Avatar

    Carlos, your post has something of a sober manifesto about it in a time saturated with strategic relativism. You don't present truth as an abstract slogan, but as a condition of possibility for coexistence and historical responsibility. In a context where information circulates with unprecedented speed and manipulation is normalized, your statement takes on an almost countercultural dimension.

    This text can be read as a continuation of "Civilization and Historical Responsibility." There you argued that without a shared commitment to criteria of truth, public deliberation degenerates into a mere correlation of forces. Here, that thesis becomes concrete: when truth ceases to matter, what erodes is not only intellectual debate, but the very architecture of social trust.

    I also find echoes of "Deus Ineffabilis." If the divine mystery exceeds our formulations, this does not authorize arbitrariness; rather, it demands epistemological humility. In the entry, you point out a key distinction: recognizing limits in accessing truth is not equivalent to denying its existence. The awareness of finitude can strengthen, not weaken, the commitment to the honest search.

    The text's structure avoids a moralizing tone. You don't accuse from a position of superiority, but rather diagnose a cultural pathology: the systematic instrumentalization of discourse. When truth becomes a tool of convenience, language loses depth and institutions lose credibility.

    «"When the Truth Matters" reminds us that truth is neither an academic luxury nor an ideological weapon; it is common ground. Without it, politics becomes pure strategy and community, a mere temporary aggregation. By insisting on its centrality, you propose a demanding recovery: taking words seriously again, even if that entails immediate costs.

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