By Juan Larrosa, March 9, 2026
Two weeks after #22F in Guadalajara, there is still much to analyze. In recent times, it has been said—rightly so—that criminal cartels have developed a high level of sophistication in their capacity for force and violence: they possess weaponry comparable to, and sometimes more advanced than, that of a national army, and they maintain broad territorial control. However, much less is said about their sophistication in the communicational sphere. That is the focus of this week’s commentary.
The symbolic and communicational power of cartels is not new. Since the emergence of organizations such as Los Zetas more than two decades ago, various journalistic investigations have documented practices that revealed a highly specialized division of communicational labor, including teams dedicated exclusively to monitoring public and media communication. These groups analyzed how the cartel’s activities were publicly reported and used that information to build—or destroy—their public relations.
Later, we saw intense pressure on journalistic work through the logic of plata o plomo (“silver or lead”), whereby cartels censor what information can be published in the media while simultaneously imposing what information must be disseminated and under what terms. This phenomenon gave rise to the so-called “zones of silence” in different regions of the country, where there is virtually no information about community public life, or where the information that does circulate is controlled by criminal organizations.
We have also witnessed the colonization and co-optation of popular cultural expressions, such as music and other cultural industries. It has been documented, for example, how certain corridos and their performers operate as propaganda strategies in favor of particular capos or criminal groups. Economically, organized crime has distorted entire cultural industries, encouraging the production of music aligned with their causes and artificially increasing views and streams of audio and video on digital platforms—a new version of what used to be known as “payola.”
What happened on February 22 demonstrated, yes, the physical power of criminal organizations and the state engaged in a fierce struggle for control. But it also revealed their communicative power. The burning of vehicles and businesses, as well as the blocking of streets and highways, has not only material consequences but also symbolic ones. The goal is not merely to destroy public infrastructure, but also to instill fear in the population. Added to this were sophisticated disinformation strategies that circulated that Sunday, including false images—such as supposed airplanes on fire—and WhatsApp messages designed to spread panic among citizens.
Faced with such scenarios, different levels of government should develop far more robust communication strategies, particularly as an initial response to crises like those experienced on #22F. Instead, what we observed was a weak and erratic institutional response. Federal and state authorities allowed many hours to pass without clearly communicating to the public what was happening and what actions people should take. In the case of the state government, for example, the expression “code red” was used—a concept that, for much of the population, lacks a clear meaning. Moreover, much of the official information circulated through messages on X, a social network where most of the population is not present.
Situations such as the recent COVID-19 pandemic and now these episodes of widespread violence should lead us to reflect on the role of the state in building robust, universal, and non-partisan public communication infrastructures. They should also encourage greater institutional credibility, the development of communication protocols for confronting both physical and symbolic violence, and strategies to counter the disinformation and propaganda of criminal organizations.
This text was originally read on the Informativo NTR Radio, broadcast on March 9, 2026, and hosted by journalist Sonia Serrano.