With the arrest of Audias Flores, aka “El Jardinero” (The Gardener), one of Mexico’s most wanted drug traffickers and a leading contender to take over the decapitated Jalisco New Generation Cartel (CJNG), Mexico has not only dealt a brutal blow to that criminal organization, but is also trying to send a message of effectiveness to Washington and contain Donald Trump’s interventionist impulse in his crusade against drugs.

Just a few hours after the Mexican government released the image of the cornered drug lord, military authorities provided details of the capture. Not a single shot was fired, and the two-hour operation took place after 19 months of investigation. That same day, authorities also arrested César Alejandro N., alias “El Güero Contra,” in charge of the cartel’s finances and logistics, as well as Metro 9, the leader of one of the Gulf Cartel’s factions in Tamaulipas, on the border with the United States.

It was all in stark contrast to the bloody operation in February that captured the cartel’s leader, Nemesio Oseguera, alias “El Mencho,” and triggered a wave of violence across the country that left 25 soldiers dead. While the violence was quelled within 72 hours, it left a sense of chaos and uncertainty for several weeks.

The arrest of El Jardinero involved U.S. intelligence, a cooperation that Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum wants to leave at that, given Trump’s repeated offers and pressure to intervene more directly on Mexican soil. Sheinbaum’s containment strategy hinges on demonstrating results to Trump to convince him that Mexico is capable of managing the problem by itself, at a tense moment in relations with Washington, with whom Mexico is negotiating the United States-Mexico-Canada Agreement (USMCA), vital to its economy.

El Jardinero, in addition to managing a significant flow of cocaine north and a large extortion network targeting truckers, had been a prime target of the DEA, the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration, for years. While awaiting a judge’s decision on his legal future, the possibility of his extradition to the United States remains high, and it has been requested. The Sheinbaum administration has already sent 92 prisoners to the U.S. in the past year to face charges related to organized crime. “It’s another offering to Trump, yes, but also a victory for the Navy [one of the Mexican military branches], and they’ve done it with zero deaths,” explains Carlos Pérez Ricart, a researcher at the Center for Economic Research and Teaching.

In a new version of the Monroe Doctrine, Trump has been exerting strong pressure for months on several Latin American countries, in what he considers his hegemonic sphere of influence. The fight against drug trafficking, curbing migration, and limiting China’s influence in the region are the pillars of his Shield of the Americas, the alliance he presented a month ago with 12 leaders from the region, all ideologically aligned with him.

With Mexico, Washington employs a threatening rhetoric, hinting at attacks against cartels on Mexican soil and embracing the notion that the cartels control the country. And this isn’t limited to security matters; it also extends to Mexico’s alliances, such as the oil shipments to Cuba that ceased after Trump threatened tariffs on any supplier, and to economic relations as well. Last September, Mexico raised tariffs on Chinese cars to 50%, a move viewed in Beijing as a sign of submission to U.S. “coercion.”

Although security cooperation with the United States is fluid, as seen in these recent operations, the limits that Sheinbaum tries to impose often face even more pressure from the other side of the border. The arrest of El Jardinero, which had been in the works for months, also “serves to demonstrate the government’s effectiveness and decisiveness” to Washington, explains Maria Teresa Martínez Trujillo, a specialist in violence and professor at the Monterrey Institute of Technology.

Domestically, the president is sending a message of sovereignty, which has been called into question by the scandal generated by the fortuitous revelation—following a traffic accident in which two Mexican and two American officials died—of the presence of CIA agents on Mexican territory without the authorization of the federal government, once again raising concerns about interference.

Partisan use

Regarding the arrest of El Jardinero, Sheinbaum said on Tuesday: “There may be information from some U.S. government agency, but it has to be within the framework of the existing understanding and not from a ground operation with elements of any of the investigative agencies.” And she added, to emphasize the difference with other administrations: “That was the daily reality during [President Felipe] Calderón’s term. All Mexicans are very protective of our independence, and particularly the Mexican government. This government. The government of [Sheinbaum’s predecessor and founder of the leftist Morena party Andrés Manuel] López Obrador.”

The statement was also a swipe at the war on drugs that Calderón implemented starting in 2006, and which dramatically increased the number of homicides and disappearances by militarizing security. Calderón belongs to the right-wing National Action Party (PAN), the same as the governor of the state of Chihuahua, on the northern border, where CIA agents were involved in a joint operation with state officials.

Chihuahua is one of the few states not controlled by Morena, Sheinbaum’s party, and there are elections scheduled for next year. The president demanded explanations from the governor about the CIA agents’ presence in her state; this led to an investigation that ended with the resignation of the state prosecutor, who gave contradictory accounts of what happened.

“The president has been very harsh with the governor and very lenient with the United States,” says Pérez Ricart. “Many state governments have their own logic regarding cooperation with the United States; that’s a fact. But the president can’t acknowledge this publicly, and we only found out because they died in an accident,” he says. In this way, “Morena found a way to damage an opponent of the PAN party to weaken her in the lead-up to the elections.”

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At an elite club in northern Bogotá, some fifty Colombian investors listened last Tuesday to a statement that sums up Venezuela’s current economic situation better than any report. It was uttered by Ángel Cárdenas, infrastructure manager at CAF, the Development Bank of Latin America and the Caribbean: “Among investors in the region, the debate is no longer whether the country represents an opportunity or a risk. The question is whether or not you’ve already been to Caracas.” After years of freefall, the country with the world’s largest oil reserves has returned to the global radar.

Venezuela, which lost up to 70% of its GDP under Chavismo, is undergoing a phase of economic liberalization directed from Washington and implemented in Caracas by interim president Delcy Rodríguez. Oil is the driving engine, but the train it pulls is long: from energy to tourism, including logistics, finance, and agro-ports. Six general operating licenses are active, along with dozens of individual ones, and foreign entrepreneurs are filling Caracas hotels. Doubts remain—these are partial flexibilizations, not full elimination of sanctions, and any political shift could reintroduce uncertainty—but most observers are optimistic. Or even very optimistic.

“In the worst-case scenario, we will double the profits from our oil production,” the Venezuelan economist Luis Vicente León announced to investors at the club. If you add the end of the 30-40% discount that Caracas applied to China and the bonus resulting from the conflict with Iran, revenue could almost triple. Production currently hovers around one million barrels per day, and the government projects reaching 1.3 million by the end of 2026. Oil already finances more than half of the state budget, and February’s exports—788,000 barrels—doubled those of January.

Things had begun to shift before January 3, when the Americans abruptly removed Nicolás Maduro from power. Faced with an unprecedented military deployment in the Caribbean, the Chavista leader had spent weeks negotiating with the White House an economic opening and a package of reforms to facilitate the entry of foreign capital. He had accepted the roadmap, except for one item: the demand that he had to leave. Faced with Maduro’s refusal to do so, Trump sent dozens of planes to capture him and handed the reins of power to the then Vice President, Delcy Rodríguez, a skilled and technically adept economist. The same person who for years designed the financial architecture to evade sanctions is now in charge of lifting them. “Delcy Rodríguez is doing a great job working with us,” Trump declared in March.

“Venezuela’s greatest opportunities aren’t in oil,” León noted. “They’re in everything needed to produce oil.” It’s not just equipment, technology, and specialized services: it’s the thousands of workers who will demand housing, food, transportation, and healthcare; the agro-port supply chains, logistics, financial services, and the reactivation of the hotel industry. And tourism—Margarita Island is back in the plans—supported by a little-known fact: today, it’s safer to walk around Caracas than in most other Latin American capitals.

At another event, this time in Caracas, also on Monday, Juan Carlos Andrade, president of the consulting firm Araya Energy Group, addressed an audience of about a thousand people. “We’re no longer talking about expectations; there’s tangible results,” he said to the new U.S. Chargé d’Affaires, John Barrett. “In the last three months, we’ve signed 13 contracts with companies from Europe, Asia, and the United States. It’s a unique opportunity. And perfection shouldn’t be the enemy of good.”

Oil production cycles, however, are longer than the enthusiasm suggests. Smaller companies have the flexibility to generate quick returns, but large ones need years of exploration, investment committees, and internal capital reallocation before committing billions of dollars. Furthermore, the oil reform of January won’t fully adapt all contracts to the new framework until July. “Maintaining current levels is already a feat. Fields lose between 2% and 20% annually due to natural decline,” warns an industry source who requests anonymity. Chevron has committed to doubling its production “in 18 months, not 18 days,” the source points out.

The new oil cycle that is inevitably beginning in the country has also raised some concerns. Depending—once again—on oil revenues is a risk. “Putting all the levers for economic recovery on the intensive exploitation of oil and minerals will not stimulate diversification or economic development,” warns economist Víctor Álvarez, former Minister of Basic Industries and Mining under Hugo Chávez. “On the contrary, it will deepen the regression toward an extractive model, to the detriment of agriculture, industry, and other productive sectors. And we will continue importing what we should be producing.”

Meanwhile Chavismo, along with opposition leader María Corina Machado, are promoting the country’s extractive potential in international forums. Venezuela also faces enormous bottlenecks: an electrical system operating at only 30% of its capacity, an external debt of over $180 billion awaiting restructuring, and a diaspora of some eight million people that has swept away the managerial class, engineers, and professionals.

While investors are organizing trips to Caracas to explore opportunities, in the south of the country, criminal groups are extracting gold anarchically and illegally in the Orinoco Mining Arc, a vast expanse where no one knows for sure what is being produced or who is exploiting it. This is the worst image of the second major front open in Venezuela: the minerals front. Because the focus on natural resources isn’t just on crude oil. The government has also opened up gas, gold, tantalum, and rare earth elements. In March, U.S. Interior Secretary Doug Burgum landed in the capital accompanied by 20 mining executives, and the Dragón platform—the large gas field that Venezuela will exploit jointly with Trinidad—is back in the spotlight. With these strategic minerals at stake, a U.S. withdrawal is less likely.

But turning the rare earth elements that Trump so desperately wants into a real business will require time and investment. “There are people watching, there are always opportunists,” says Luis Rojas, president of the Venezuelan Mining Chamber, a sector that floundered after the 2012 nationalizations. “The world’s major mining companies still view this from afar. It’s a sector that traditionally exercises caution because all investments are long-term.” The industry supports the new mining law as an important step, but warns that “governance” remains the biggest obstacle. “If someone wants to go to southern Venezuela, it won’t be easy. Transparency is essential,” he insists.

Chavismo is seeking economic recovery to regain lost popularity, while the opposition insists there will be no real recovery without democracy and clear rules. The question circulating in Caracas is: what should come first, money or elections? León settled the matter unequivocally in Bogotá by separating the economic and political perspectives: “No one who wants to invest is asking when a democratic regime will return to Venezuela. There is no relationship between democracy and oil. You can’t go and produce oil in Bern, Switzerland. It’s beautiful, democratic, stable, but there’s no oil. You have to produce it where it is,” he said to laughter from the audience. The source in the sector who requested anonymity added: “Investors do ask about the elections, about Trump, or about the opposition’s position on signed contracts. But they incorporate these as a risk factor, not as a prerequisite.”

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