About a year and a half after he was fired by President Donald Trump, former Defense Secretary Mark Esper published a tell-all memoir about the inner workings of the Trump administration. One of the book’s more remarkable allegations was that Trump, frustrated by the flow of illegal drugs coming across the U.S.-Mexico border, asked Esper twice about launching U.S. missile attacks on fentanyl labs run by Mexican cartels. While Trump denied most of the assertions about him in Esper’s book, in a nugget little noted at the time, he gave an entirely different answer about the missile strikes: “no comment.” The implication: It was entirely possible Trump thought bombing the cartels was a good idea.
Apparently, the concept never left the president’s head. Four years later, using U.S. military force in Mexico remains a real option for Trump. On April 8, NBC News reported that the White House, the Defense Department and the intelligence community were discussing possible drone strikes on cartel infrastructure. Ideally, the U.S. would conduct these strikes in cooperation with the Mexican government, but might do so unilaterally as a last resort. If this sounds surprising, it shouldn’t; Trump’s second administration is stacked with senior officials, from Vice President JD Vance and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth to Ronald Johnson, Trump’s recently confirmed ambassador to Mexico, who either genuinely believe the U.S. military should be prosecuting a war against the cartels or are at least open to the proposal.
The only problem? It’s a risky, counterproductive and utterly boneheaded idea.
Using military force to curtail the cartels and limit the flow of drugs into the United States is not a novel concept.
What proponents view as a necessary and justifiable assault against some of the world’s most notorious criminal organizations is in reality a further militarization of the failed “war on drugs” framework that has dominated U.S. counternarcotics policy for decades. With respect to Mexico specifically, further militarization is more likely to result in a rising death toll, a broken U.S.-Mexico bilateral relationship and little reduction in the fentanyl trade.
Using military force to curtail the cartels and limit the flow of drugs into the United States is not a novel concept. Beginning with former Mexican President Vicente Fox at the turn of the century, successive Mexican governments have provided the Mexican military with ever more power for the purpose of going after the cartels and their leaders. The results were catastrophic. While some high-profile narcotraffickers were killed or captured and the Mexican government increased its presence in areas of the country that were once off-limits, violence skyrocketed. The cartels retaliated with ever more merciless, indiscriminate attacks against the Mexican state, which they largely avoided during the 1980s and 1990s. Civilians bore the brunt of the bloodshed, both during intracartel clashes and in fighting between the cartels and the Mexican security forces. Whatever progress was made was short-lived and geared more for public relations.
The cartels’ capacity to inflict terror over the population was never impacted. In 2007, Mexico registered roughly 11,000 homicides; in 2023, the last year full data is available, the number reached more than 30,000 for the sixth year in a row.
The Trump administration might scoff at this history. The U.S. military, after all, is more capable than its Mexican counterpart. And unlike what Mexico did, any U.S. military action, like drone strikes, is likely to be more discriminate and less top-heavy. U.S. troops, for instance, won’t be patrolling Mexican cities and performing counterinsurgency operations like they did in Iraq or Afghanistan.








