Category: Geopolitics and spirituality

  • Alégrate, humanidad desoladaAntún Kojtom | Guardian of Mirrors | Tenejapa, Chiapas | 2021

    Rejoice, desolate humanity

    By Carlos Mendoza Álvarez

    In the era of the Monroe Doctrine 2.0, launched last week for the “Western Hemisphere” by the global despot as National Security Strategy From the United States, it seems foolish to talk about joy.

    Some analysts, such as Michel Ignatieff, predict the end of the West along with the the civilizational erasure of Europe. Today, something is at stake. global geopolitical strategy With areas of power divided among the three dominant military and economic powers—the United States, China, and Russia—each brazenly administering a region of the planet for its own benefit, the military intelligence apparatuses of the United States and the other powers are already in operation to control entire populations and their territories through a vast military-digital system, subjugating individuals and nations that choose to oppose the might of the Maga empire and its counterparts.

    The creation of Western Hemisphere Command The deployment of the U.S. military, announced by the Trump administration this week, is part of a geopolitical strategy that has already declared war on mass immigration within its borders. It is also worth highlighting the war already underway against drug cartels, which are portrayed as terrorist groups threatening U.S. security, regardless of the civilian "collateral damage" that this new colonialism will cause, as the Israeli state has already demonstrated in Palestine before the astonished eyes of the world. The strategy of constantly threatening new tariffs that Trump has used in his first year in office has been another attempt to promote a new mode of deglobalization which seeks to subordinate the economies of its "backyard" now called the "western hemisphere" to the interests of the transnational corporations that sustain its wealth.

    The nations that for centuries were swallowed up in the Western Hemisphere during early modernity will now be trapped in the web of the voracious monster's hegemonic power. But that giant has feet of clay and one day it will fall. Until then, the destruction it leaves in its wake will be a cause of desolation on a planetary scale. Such a scenario is what Nelson Maldonado-Torres calls the Great Catastrophe —a concept I develop in a collective book on political philosophy and theology that I am currently preparing for an American publisher— seems unrelated to a reflection on the joy What could humanity expect in this hour of global misfortune? But it is precisely the only place where it is possible to speak of a meaning that transcends the apparent immeasurability of the evil that stalks us.

    Tomorrow, Christian communities will celebrate the third Sunday of Advent, known as Gaudete. The name comes from a poem by an anonymous disciple of the prophet Isaiah in Babylon, announcing to Jerusalem, the desolate city, that the time of its liberation after the exile had arrived: Gaudete Ierusalem,Rejoice, Jerusalem! (Isaiah 66:10). Like echoes of that ancient voice of resistance, the same song could also resonate in today's exiles, with new melodies according to the genius of each era and culture, as in the case of the Palestinian people, whom we will evoke at the end of these lines.

    Christianity discovered centuries later the radical motive and scope of the joy of the messianic proclamation, extending God's closeness not only to the desolate Hebrew city, but to all. messianic communities scattered throughout the Roman diaspora of that time, who have now entered the new era thanks to faith in the redeeming God, according to the words of the apostle Paul (Philippians 4:4-7):

    Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!

    Let your kindness be evident to all.

    The Lord is near.

    Don't worry about anything […].

    And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding,

    He will guard their hearts and their thoughts in the Messiah Jesus.

    It is about God's consolation for the little ones of the Kingdom of Heaven. They live in the interrupted time Precisely at the heart of the catastrophe. A way of existing that the dispossessed of the earth experience in their lives in a way messianic, That is, as a power to untie the knots of hatred and resentment in their bodies and territories. It is possible to perceive that murmur of a peaceful present amidst desolation in the Gregorian chant antiphon for this third Sunday of Advent, which is known precisely as Rejoice in the Lord.

    But let's turn to our own time. Who can proclaim such hope today amidst global desolation? Paradoxically, it is the victims themselves who possess that hope. power. Something that executioners will never have because their hearts have been paralyzed and are incapable of opening to joy until they reach the depths of their own desolation and annihilation. This is how Daniela Rea and Pablo Ferri describe it in the book The Troop: Why Does a Soldier Kill? by interviewing hitmen in Mexico who have come to terms with their crimes. In a collective way, the Houses of Memory which promoted in recent years in Colombia the Truth Commission They bear witness to that complex process of moving from violence to peace, based on the strength of the victims summoning the perpetrators, in order to open paths to transitional justice in a country that suffered more than thirty years of war, with four hundred and fifty thousand dead and almost eight hundred thousand internally displaced persons.

    In such experiences of transforming systemic violence from the margins of society, thanks to the persistence of individuals and communities of survivors, it is possible to receive the good news of Sunday. Gaudete from Christian liturgy as a call to learn to live an ethic of care and a summons to cultivate a spirituality of mutual accompaniment among survivors, both processes enriching each other to pave the way for fighting hope.

    Therefore, there is a change in tone in the hopelessness. From the purple of Advent, which symbolizes desolation, we move today to pink, the luminosity of consolation that emerges from the shadows like a small but real spark, illuminating everyone, like the painting by the Mayan artist Antún Kojtom that accompanies this post. other tonality, typical of messianic times, arises thanks to the victims who establish the sorry, That is, the overabundance of the gift. A realistic hope that does not mean blindness to evil and its perpetrators, nor a renunciation of accountability and justice, but rather a reinvention of violent history based on the overabundance of love that recreates the world.

    A new way of existing which is no longer just desolation. Nor mere resistance. But the creation of something new, Amid the ruins, from the scars left by violence, but which are transfigured as a glimmer of hope and joy: “After two hundred and fifty years of the occupation of the white settlers we are still here and that is why there is hope,” said smiling Cecelia Firethunder, shaman and historian of the Lakota people, at the past Re-existe 2025 meeting in Guadalajara.

    It is a joy that also arises as rebellious imagination from the rubble turned into a home by the Sumud or the creative resistance experienced by the Palestinian people who never tire of waiting, as the Tunisian artist sings. Emel Mathlouthi walking through the streets of an occupied Palestine:

    Broken hope

    deep

    furious

    friendly

    deceptive

    that penetrates arduous times

    eternal

    happy

    unwavering

    new

    A hope that fills my life and renews it.

    Thanks to the acts of resistance of the victims to the violence of today's global power, we can say with profound joy, without triumphalism, and with great courage: Rejoice, Gaza! Rejoice, desolate humanity! For the day of our liberation is near.

    Zinacantán, December 13, 2025

    Note: I look forward to reading your comments about possible hope today in the section below this post.

  • Marchar o no marchar, esa es la cuestiónGhandi's Dandi (Salt) March, 2012

    To march or not to march, that is the question

    By Carlos Mendoza-Álvarez

    In recent weeks, Mexico has been the scene of social unrest stemming from the population's weariness with the violence of drug cartels that increasingly control more and more territory. The state of Michoacán has become the epicenter of this violence against the population, particularly against avocado and lime producers who hold that cursed "green gold" in their hands.The less glamorous side of Mexico's new 'green gold'This is devastating environmental and social systems. It is an expression of the predatory economy that is part of the extractive society in which we have been trapped for decades worldwide. The political class tries in vain to promote regional development plans with great media impact, but with few results for the victims and many alliances that maintain "stability" in the region to consolidate the privileges of criminal mafias.

    As analysts of similar cases of narco-economies, such as Colombia decades ago and now Mexico, had already predicted (Terrorism and organized crimeWhat is happening is an escalation of violence perpetrated by criminal networks, which first affects local populations and then rises to reach the political and business classes in order to increase profits, political power, and control over territories. Even the United States government is intimately familiar with these criminal networks and manipulates them as it benefits its role as guarantor of democracy in the world within a new "multipolar order" (Trump is making a grave strategic error if he thinks he can divide the world with authoritarian powers and achieve peace.) negotiated with the authoritarian regimes of China and Russia.

    Ordinary citizens—an expression often applied today to the most dangerous professions, such as journalism and, unfortunately, academic life in universities subject to censorship—are left bewildered, defenseless, and astonished by this avalanche of insecurity, crimes in public squares, and false promises from the authorities. The churches, for their part, attempt, without much success, to promote "peace plans," or better yet, "pacification" plans, to restore the broken social fabric. As I mentioned in my previous post a few days ago... National Dialogue for Peace which the Catholic Church has been promoting for three years in an unusual alliance between the Mexican episcopate, religious orders and Christian-inspired civil organizations.

    The problem that arises in initiatives coming from the political, business, and religious spheres is the subject. That is, the communities in their own places of life seem to be absent as actors in the proposals. Because what is urgent is "the refounding of Mexico from the perspective of the victims," as Javier Sicilia has insisted for the last fifteen years.Open letter from Javier Sicilia to López Obrador).

    Today, perhaps, heeding the many voices that have emerged from the tragedies caused by systemic violence, we could say that it is a matter of embracing the diversity of autonomies (subjective, territorial, political, and even religious) to reclaim "the political" from below. This is the central theme of the collective book in preparation for the American publisher Orbis Books, which I am coordinating with the splendid editorial support of Nathan Wood-House and Francis Boccuzzi.

    Last Sunday I attended the march called by the Hat Movement from Michoacán, founded by the assassinated mayor Carlos Manzo. Some groups joined these protests, which took place in thirty-five cities across the country. Generation Z which represents the digital nomadic youth who have already shaken centers of power around the world, such as in Nepal and Peru. Some twenty thousand people attended in Mexico City, with a toll of more than one hundred injured (Generation Z will decide the next elections in Mexico), where there were violent disturbances at the end of the march in the Zócalo, caused by hooded people trying to enter the National Palace, where they were repelled by riot police, after they knocked down one of the immense metal fences with which the authorities had "protected" the emblematic building of the central power of the country. Eighteen people were arrested  And eight of them are in pretrial detention facing charges for threatening the lives of some guards who were beaten and injured, like many other people at the march that no one talks about, some of them without having been involved in any violent action.

    Although the facts and the legal procedures still need to be clarified, this growing social unrest remains, turning into indignation and peaceful, sometimes violent, protest against a government that is paralyzed, if not colluding, with the aforementioned mafias.

    Last Thursday, November 20, the national anniversary of the Mexican Revolution, the protests of the Generation Z They were held again in several cities across the country, with particular anger expressed once more in the main public square of the nation's capital.

    To march or not to march, that is the question that citizens in Mexico and the world are asking themselves today as an existential, ethical, political and spiritual question to express their weariness with the multiple heads of the hydra of necropower that have taken over the world.

    Political parties and churches claim to "represent" the people, but they have lost credibility. Civil society organizations have been overwhelmed by the tides of insecurity, impunity, and terror.

    What is left to do amidst the ruins of a nation-state overwhelmed by the powers of today's extractive capitalism?

    Marching in public squares as citizens in peaceful resistance is the path that many peoples in modern times have followed as a form of profound social transformation.

    A symbol of this social journey—still alive in modern memory—is the famous Salt March Gandhi began this journey almost a century ago, in 1930, starting with a handful of eighty people, marching from Ahmedabad to the Guarat coast, gathering more people along three hundred kilometers to protest against the British Empire in a centuries-old site of oppression for India's poor. By the end of that year, sixty thousand people had joined the protest, which became the turning point that paved the way for India's independence.

    In Mexico, Pietro Ameglio (Civil disobedience and other texts ) has kept alive the memory and reflection on that ethical and political act of civil disobedience, in the context of the March for Peace with Justice and Dignity initiated in April 2011. Some will say that —almost fifteen years after that outcry— Mexico is still lost, falling into the chaos of a failed state produced by necropower.

    Others of us today advocate returning to the source of the "autonomies" that arise in liberated subjectivities, bodies, and territories, where human beings take root, flourish, and die to endure; this is the clue proposed by the anti-systemic thinking of the Cuernavaca School.

    At its mystical core, the only way to halt the spiral of hatred is by exposing one's own body. This is how Saint Paul described it when referring to Christ: "He broke down the wall of hatred in his own body" (Ephesians 2:14). This is the quintessential messianic gesture, pristinely experienced by Jesus of Nazareth on a horrific cross imposed by the Roman Empire with the complicity of the religious authorities of the Temple in Jerusalem. A tragic destiny, but not a final one, because that offered life was transformed by his heavenly Abba and by his community of survivors into a seed of new life.

    Ultimately, these are autonomous regions with a mystique of a fulfilling life, born from the excluded of all times. That is the march of dignity that never ends.

    To march or not to march.

    The question remains open for us today.

    Oaxaca, November 22, 2025

    Note: I would appreciate your feedback at the end of this page.

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

    When the truth does matter

    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.

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