An indigenous woman passes graffiti depicting former dictator Efrain Rios Montt in Guatemala City (Daniel Leclair/Courtesy Reuters).

This is a guest post by Natalie Kitroeff, a research associate here at the Council on Foreign Relations who works with me in the Latin America program.

Without fanfare, or so much as a public arrest, this weekend Guatemala took another historic step toward justice for a genocidal civil war that took the lives of more than 200,000 innocent, mostly indigenous civilians. Just a week after losing his diplomatic immunity, General (Ret) Efraín Ríos Montt was ordered to testify in court about his role in abuses that occurred between 1982 to 1983, when he was de facto President of Guatemala. If judge Patricia Flores decides there is enough evidence to proceed to trial, Ríos Montt will be prosecuted on charges of genocide and crimes against humanity (including 626 massacres of civilians in Chimaltenango, Quiché, Huehuetenango and Baja Verapaz).

Ríos Montt has made his defense quite clear. Over the past month, he has repeatedly said that he can’t be tried for any human rights violations because he wasn’t in charge of the military’s on-the-ground operations as the country’s political leader. His lawyer has echoed these claims, telling the press recently, “We are sure that there is no responsibility, since he was never on the battlefield.”

This strategy is a radical new approach in the Guatemalan context. Until now, the military has consistently denied that genocide was ever a part of the civil war. Even the current president, Otto Pérez Molina, said that he doesn’t believe the findings of the UN truth commission, and that he could “prove that [genocide] did not occur,” during the conflict. But Ríos Montt is now arguing not that the atrocities didn’t happen, but that he is not culpable.

While this doesn’t yet amount to an open acknowledgement of genocide, it does suggest that things have changed (if slightly) since the Association for Justice and Reconciliation (AJR) first brought charges against Ríos Montt in 1999. The discovery of mass graves by the Forensic Anthropology Foundation of Guatemala (FAFG) and the tireless work of victims groups in pushing for trials – finally winning convictions for four ex-soldiers this year – has made it untenable for the military to negate the genocide outright, at least in a court of law.

Whether or not the “I didn’t make the call” line of defense will work remains to be seen. To win, public prosecutors will have to prove that the army’s brutal scorched earth tactics were part of a coherent state policy designed by the president (not just the work of individual rogue officers). This concept of “intellectual authorship” has yet to be tested in Guatemala, as so far only low-ranking soldiers – the material authors of the crimes– have ever been convicted for war crimes (the one exception is Colonel Juan Valencia Osorio, who was convicted as an intellectual author of Myrna Mack’s assassination, but escaped imprisonment and is now a fugitive).

Ríos Montt is also taking a further risk with this legal strategy, threatening the military chain of command by deflecting responsibility for wartime violations onto military commanders. His three top officials are now in police custody, including an ex-minister of defense, an ex-military chief of staff and an intelligence officer, undoubtedly alienated from their old boss. As the Chilean and Argentinean justice processes have shown, once the military turns against itself it becomes much easier to prosecute human rights violations. Though Guatemalan prosecutors say they have documents proving a rigid, top-down chain of command, witness testimony from former high-ranking officers would certainly boost their case. And if he isn’t careful to maintain military loyalty, that may be just what Ríos Montt hands them.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

“Mexico’s lawmakers sit for only 195 days a year, the second-fewest among Latin America’s bigger countries. (Their $11,200-a-month pay, however, is the highest after Brazil’s.) When they do stir themselves to vote, it is more often to block rivals’ bills than to pass reforms. Gridlock in the palace of San Lázaro partly explains why Felipe Calderón’s presidency, which ends in December, now looks like a six-year damp squib.”

To a certain degree, this is true. Many issues have been stalled or stymied by Mexico’s Congress — electoral reform, police reform, and fiscal reforms to name a few. But the legislative gridlock may not be as bad as the Economist would have us believe. Since 2000 more bills have passed through the divided congress than during the years of one-party (PRI) rule. The Congress has approved the annual budget every year over the last decade (far better than the U.S. Congress’s track record), and it ratified 176 of the 195 treaties submitted for review from 2000-2005. Over the last ten years the Congress has passed a fundamental health care reform (Seguro Popular), a fundamental judicial reform (that will transform the court system and introduce oral trials), a sweeping privatization of Mexico’s public pension system, and numerous smaller changes to its energy, electoral, and tax regimes.

Slow, gradual, and often piecemeal reform — one can label this inefficient and unproductive. Or they can call it democratic.

Venezuela's opposition Democratic Unity coalition potential presidential candidates attend a second debate in Caracas (Jorge Silva/Courtesy Reuters).

Though fewer in number than in 2011, the two Presidential elections on the docket for 2012 will make up for it in terms of their importance in the region.

The first will happen in July in Mexico. Leaders of the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) are already talking about not only winning Los Pinos, the Mexican White House, but taking the “carro completo” – gaining a majority in the House and Senate. Recent trends favor the PRI – they won four out of six governorships in the 2011 midterm elections, now control almost half of the 500 seats in Congress, and have united behind Enrique Peña Nieto, the young, handsome former Governor of the State of Mexico. The National Action Party’s (PAN) close association with rising violence – as Calderón made the war on drug traffickers his signature issue – will likely hurt the incumbent party’s chances, whomever wins their presidential nomination in February. And the Party of the Democratic Revolution’s (PRD) choice of Andrés Manuel López Obrador (AMLO) –who lost to Calderón in 2006 by a razor thin margin (he claims the election was rigged) – suggests this party too is stuck in the last sexenio, which should also benefit an energized PRI.

Though many see the race as locked up, there are still six long months to go. The PAN has yet to choose its hopeful, and current front-runner Josefina Vázquez Mota could shake up the race as the first female presidential candidate from one of the main political parties (and due to her distance from President Calderón). AMLO too has been working to revamp his image away from the combativeness of the last five years, talking to the media about “love and peace,” and saying recently, “I want to be the Mexican Lula,” the market friendly former president of Brazil. His poll numbers have risen, and even some business leaders have switched over to AMLO’s camp. Peña Nieto has stumbled a few times in unscripted moments, for instance when he couldn’t name his favorite books (even as he hawked his own campaign book) at the Guadalajara International Book Fair.  Some wonder if he can hold his own in a debate.

If the PRI does triumph, domestic and international observers alike will be watching to see if Peña Nieto is in fact the epitome of the much heralded and marketed “new PRI” – a modern, democratic, grassroots party — or if he is just a young face for the “old PRI,” one more used to back room deals, corruption, and opaque governance.

Venezuela too heads into Presidential elections in October, with Hugo Chávez now running for his third six-year term. Many things seem the same – already the opposition is denouncing the regime’s electoral machinations (such as moving up the election date from December to October 2012) and repression of anti-Chávez media.

Some things, though, are different, making the elections interesting for observers and for Venezuela’s future. First, the opposition has finally come together [learning its lesson in 2005 when it boycotted  legislative elections and was left out in the cold, allowing Chávez and his United Socialist Party of Venezuela (PSUV) to govern unchallenged]. It will hold a February primary, where voters will choose between six candidates, including front-runners Henrique Capriles Radonski, Governor of Miranda state, and Pablo Pérez, Governor of Zulia state.  This early on, the opposition holds a much stronger position in opinion polls as well. Recently released data place Capriles Radonski just two percentage points below Chávez in the general election.

The biggest difference though is Chávez – and his health. Though he claims to have beaten cancer, others, including his former doctor, believe he may not live more than two years. Worries of succession continue to plague PSUV, as all recognize none can replace the charismatic (if erratic) leader. This 2012 election lead up will be one to watch – for Chávez’s health and his ability to campaign, for ever increasing electoral shenanigans and repressive measures (particularly if the ruling party feels their candidate is flagging, either in his health or the polls), and for the broader actions and reactions of Venezuela’s society, and its international neighbors.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

Customers look at laptops at a Wal-Mart store in Mexico City (Henry Romero/Courtesy Reuters).

Another 2011 trend is the rise of the middle class. While in the United States article after article – as well as the country-wide “Occupy Wall Street” protests — denounced the decline of the middle class, in Latin America the middle continued its gains.  Despite the tougher international climate, economic growth averaged over 4 percent, and unemployment rates fell to 6.8 percent (from 7.3 percent in 2010). Perhaps more important, GINI coefficients –  which measure inequality — lowered slightly to just over 50 (from roughly 53 in 2000). This means that the growth that happened actually spread to the bottom and middle of the pyramid.

There is an ongoing debate about how to measure the global middle class. Some of these issues I addressed in this past post. But whatever the starting point, the 2011 regional trend was positive. In Brazil, the middle topped 100 million, in Mexico it reached 67 million, and in Argentina more than 21 million.

This doesn’t mean Latin American nations don’t continue to struggle with poverty. According to the latest World Bank data, just under 30 percent of the population — 160 million people — lives on less than $4 a day (in PPP terms), and 14 percent — some 80 million — live in abject poverty (on less than $2.50 a day). The growing middle though does show the path forward, and reinforces the goal for those concerned with the less fortunate, helping them too rise the economic ranks into a more comfortable middle.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

Presidents Chavez of Venezuela, Fernandez of Argentina and Rousseff of Brazil chat while posing for a family photo during the CELAC summit in Caracas (Carlos Garcia Rawlins/Courtesy Reuters).

As 2011 comes to an end, I want to reflect on just a few trends affecting the region over the course of the past year. While these developments certainly have long histories, they have all become more noticeable – and noteworthy – in 2011. To keep it interesting, I will be posting one trend a day for the rest of this week, so check back — and let me know what you’d add to the list in the comments or via my twitter account (@latintelligence).

This hasn’t been a good year health-wise for Latin American leaders. Cristina Kirchner’s recent diagnosis of thyroid cancer is just the latest. The most mysterious, and politically game-changing health challenge is that of Hugo Chávez. Officially, Cuban doctors removed a reportedly “aggressive” pelvic tumor in June, and since then he has undergone chemotherapy and steroid treatment. Though he claims to have conquered the disease, others (including his former doctor) say he may not live more than two years.

Last year, Paraguayan President Fernando Lugo was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and spent four months in chemotherapy and in and out of hospitals. According to the most recent tests, his cancer is in remission. In Brazil, President Dilma Rousseff  continues some treatment for lymphatic cancer (discovered during her 2010 presidential campaign) and former President and still political heavyweight Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva has just begun his final round of chemo for throat cancer (diagnosed in October). Pictures of the famously bearded leader now show him hairless, though still beaming. There were also rumors circulating that Evo Morales had a cancerous tumor in his nose, though this was never proven.

This type of illness has idiosyncratic, but nevertheless real effects on politics. It can weaken a politician due to their physical absence from the public limelight as well as political backroom negotiations. Lula’s Worker’s Party (PT) will sorely miss his active leadership, especially in the run up to local elections in 2012. Kirchner is expected to make a quick recovery after surgery, though she will turn power over to her Vice President Amado Boudou (a close political confidant) for three weeks in January. It remains to be seen whether these absences will make a significant mark on either country’s internal politics.

Javier Corrales, a political scientist at Amherst, has written about a different role for illness, and its potential to strengthen rather than diminish the political patient. Calling it “participatory cancer” he chronicles Chávez’s attempts to turn his illness from a disadvantage to an electoral strength. By brandishing cancer and his fight as an electoral gimmick, the Venezuelan leader distracts voters from more serious problems (such as a floundering economy and rising crime).

While continuing to watch the political fallout, let’s hope the new year brings health to all.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

Former Guatemalan dictator Efrain Rios Montt leaves the public prosecutor's office in Guatemala City (Jorge Lopez/Courtesy Reuters).

This is a guest post by Natalie Kitroeff, a research associate here at the Council on Foreign Relations who works with me in the Latin America program.

Last Thursday, former de facto President of Guatemala during military rule, General (ret) Efraín Ríos Montt walked into the Attorney General’s office to ask whether they planned on trying him on ten-year-old war crime charges anytime soon. He stands accused of committing genocide and crimes against humanity against indigenous civilians in the early 1980s – the most violent years of the country’s civil war. Flanked by his lawyer and a gaggle of reporters, he calmly told public prosecutors, “I’m here, I’m healthy, and I’m not afraid… if there’s a criminal investigation against me, it should go forth according to due process and I should stand trial.” While this may seem like an ill-advised move, it’s actually quite cunning given the weak hand he now holds.

When the new legislature takes office next month, Ríos Montt will officially lose his congressional seat, and with it his immunity from prosecution (granted to all members of congress unless they’re removed by court order).  What’s more, the party he led for over two decades – the Guatemalan Republican Front (FRG) – is weaker than ever – winning just 2 percent of the vote in local elections last September. This is not good news for Ríos Montt, who has had his differences in the past with incoming president Otto Perez Molina. Longstanding tension between the two came to a head in 2000 when Perez Molina left army ranks to form his own Patriot Party (PP) after the ruling FRG government denied him a top spot in the military.

The newly strengthened Attorney General’s office may be an even bigger problem for the aging ex-General. With Claudia Paz y Paz at the helm this year, the Public Ministry has shown that it is willing and able to aggressively pursue his case, convicting four soldiers and charging five more for their roles in two massacres that occurred on Ríos Montt’s watch. But if he leaves the country he risks facing an even fiercer opponent in Spain’s National Court, which issued an international arrest warrant for Ríos Montt on genocide charges in 2006.

An obvious reason why Ríos Montt turned himself in voluntarily is that he wants to avoid the embarrassment of a very public arrest. He also may be angling to get in the good graces of public prosecutors, who have already detained his third in command, former Chief of Staff Hector Mario López Fuentes for acts of genocide. He has made clear that he intends to shed all responsibility onto his subordinates, using the excuse that he was the political, not the military leader during the civil war and was not aware of any human rights abuses. Regardless of his motives, the fact that Ríos Montt has to engage with the charges at all shows that something may finally be right with Guatemala’s fledgling justice sector.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

U.S Air Force worker, helps unload tons of relief aid at Armenia's airport, Colombia (Str Old/Courtesy Reuters).

Last week WOLA released the report “A Cautionary Tale: Plan Colombia’s Lessons for U.S. Policy Toward Mexico and Beyond.” The study is a useful reminder of the real differences between Colombia and Mexico. Unlike Colombia, where security forces fought to assert control over territory left to criminal groups, Mexico has had a strong state presence throughout the country for decades. Whereas violence in Colombia was concentrated in rural areas, in Mexico the highest rates of crime are in population centers and along drug trafficking routes.Their analysis also puts the Colombian experience into historical perspective. The real fight against drug cartels, as opposed to guerrillas and paramilitaries, happened in the 1990s – before Plan Colombia was even on the table. Successes here depended on police work by specialized vetted units, as well as a strong public prosecutor’s office – not sending the military into the streets or hills.

There are a number of good recommendations about how the United States and Mexico can apply these lessons to their joint policy on the drug war going forward.  A few stand out.

For Mexico (and other countries dealing with organized crime):

•             Don’t rely on the military, as it lacks the investigative capacity and the right training to provide public safety to civilians.

•             Measure what matters. Rather than process (e.g. how many arrests or drug kingpins captures) the government should focus on tangible results, such as how many cases are successfully prosecuted, or how much violence and other crimes decline.

For the United States:

•             Take on challenges at home – guns, money, and demand. Since the United States is asking other countries to implement politically difficult policies, policymakers at home should try it themselves – particularly because all these issues feed into the escalating violence Mexico (and other countries) face.

•             Make human rights a top priority, not an afterthought. Do more than just require police and military forces to take classes in human rights, and withhold bilateral security cooperation if standards are not met.

•             Let USAID take the lead in managing security  assistance, not the Department of Defense or even State’s Bureau of International Narcotics and Law Enforcement Affairs, as these are likely to overlook the crucial socioeconomic side of the security problem.

For all involved: protect local populations first. In addition to safeguarding, these governments need to invest in people – protecting them through law enforcement, courts, and social policies, and creating economic alternatives to a life of crime for those that today remain on the margins.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

Photographs of missing people are on display at a square in Queretaro (Courtesy Reuters).

Last Wednesday, Human Rights Watch (HRW) released its report “Neither Rights Nor Security: Killings, Torture and Disappearances in Mexico’s ‘War on Drugs’.” The report is incredibly thorough – based on two years of research in the states of Baja California, Chihuahua, Guerrero, Nuevo León and Tabasco, and incorporating information from over 200 interviews. It charges Mexican security forces with routinely violating citizens’ most basic rights during President Felipe Calderón’s six years in office, and further argues that these horrific tactics are not incidental, but endemic to the government’s drug war strategy.

Some of the most worrisome statistics and findings include:

·       Formal human rights abuse complaints increased seven-fold, from 691 during the 2003-2006 period, to 4,803 from 2007-2010

·       Of some 3,700 military investigations into human rights abuses in the past four years, just 15 – less than one half of one percent — resulted in convictions

·      Formal complaints of “degrading treatment” – read torture — at the hands of security forces more than tripled since 2006

Based on witness testimonies and material evidence in specific cases HRW investigated they find:

·       Law enforcement – including the Army, Navy, Federal Police as well as local and federal judicial investigative police — participated in over 170 specific cases of torture – including beating,    asphyxiating, water boarding, electrically shocking and sexually torturing detainees

·       Others facilitate this torture –  medical examiners fail to document signs of physical abuse on detainees, and judges admit confessions and other evidence acquired through torture, even when the victim protests

·       Law enforcement played a part in 39 “forced disappearances” and 24 extrajudicial killings of civilians

After a meeting with HRW representatives Calderón agreed to investigate the findings, though he did say that the “main threat to the human rights of Mexicans is from criminals”.

Why have human rights violations expanded so drastically?  One explanation lies in the use of the military.  Armed forces are trained to kill the enemy on the battlefield, not police neighborhoods to ensure basic public safety. With some 50,000 soldiers now on the front-lines of the drug war, this disconnect can lead to abuses of the rule of law.

Another reason is the profound weakness of Mexico’s judicial system.  Most crimes – likely 80 plus percent — are never even reported. Of the few complaints filed, the Attorney General’s Office (PGR) investigates only one in every five; even fewer go to trial. In the end, only one to two of every hundred crimes end in a conviction. Once prosecutors do move forward with a case however, the chances of acquittal are slim, as roughly 9 in 10 of all suspects brought to court end up in jail. This has less to do with the stellar cases built around airtight evidence, and more to do with the underlying system, which is stacked against defendants – resulting in few safeguards and a de facto presumption of guilt.

Finally, Mexico doesn’t even have the laws needed in some cases to prosecute bad behavior. For instance, only eight of Mexico’s thirty-two states have laws against forced disappearances and only sixteen have formally criminalized torture. What it does have is opportunities to limit citizen rights – such as the arraigo procedure, which lets prosecutors lock up individuals for up to 80 days if they’re allegedly involved in organized crime, and vaguely defined “flagrancia” rules that dictate when police officers can make arrests without a warrant.

The spike in human rights complaints is worrisome on many levels. First and foremost, it reflects the government’s utter failure to protect thousands of citizens from itself. But more strategically, the abuses described in the report run counter to the state’s long-term aims.  In order to “win” the war on organized crime, Mexico’s government must have society’s support. Egregious human rights violations will just push away the one force the narcos can’t match. To end drug related violence, Mexico must construct a truly democratic rule of law, in which the means to and the ends are one and the same. To do so, the government must track and punish human rights abuses and abusers as fervently as it does those on its Most Wanted lists.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

Shoppers carry an electronic item outside a store in Caracas (Jorge Silva/Courtesy Reuters).

As journalists, policymakers, and activists of various stripes and interests focus on the rise of the global middle class, scholars struggle with how exactly to define this category of people worldwide. The method matters, as differences can make one exceedingly optimistic or pessimistic as to today’s reality, tomorrow’s promise, and of what people, governments, companies, and markets should and should not be doing to encourage this growth.

One way of measuring the middle class is in relative terms, by looking at who is within the middle range of incomes in any given country. Scholars such as Lester Thurow, Nancy Birdsall and William Easterly have done this in various formats. But it is often unclear exactly what their results mean for emerging economies, where the middle of the country is not necessarily one and the same as the middle class. It is also hard to use this approach comparatively, as the “central” income range differs widely from country to country.

Another approach is to use absolute thresholds, which has the advantage of getting at attributes that are more universally acknowledged as middle class. The question here becomes how to define this “fixed band.” The most expansive calculation – used by Martin Ravallion at the World Bank — classifies a middle class person as anyone who makes between $2 and $13 a day in PPP terms. Intended to measure the expansion of the middle in emerging markets,  this definition includes those who have just made it across the World Bank $2 poverty line. By this measure, China and India have made incredible strides over the past fifteen years, developing a true middle class. But to those in advanced Western economies many of these people would almost certainly be considered abjectly poor, questioning the comparative value, and universality of this scale.

On the more restrictive end, a study by Branko Milanovic and Shlomo Yitzaki sets the the upper and lower bounds of the global middle at the average incomes of Brazil ($4,000 in 2000 PPP terms) and Italy ($17,000) as, and counts anyone earning between $12 and $50 a day as middle class. These may not be the right threshold incomes either, however, particularly because this bottom line leaves out the millions in India and China who earn less than $12 a day and yet still, as households, lead quite comfortable middle class lifestyles. This definition puts Mexico’s middle at less than half the population, in contrast to those that count Mexico as now majority middle class.

Finally, a Brookings report by Cárdenas, Kharas and Henao takes a slightly different approach to the issue. Based on an earlier study by Kharas, they use the poverty line in Portugal and Italy – the lowest among advanced European countries – as the lower limit and twice the average income in Luxembourg, the richest European nation, as the upper limit of the global middle. As the authors note, their calculation “excludes those who are considered poor in the poorest advanced countries and those who are considered rich in the richest advanced country.”

Source: Cárdenas et al., "Latin America's Global Middle Class," Brookings (2011).

By this definition, the Latin American countries with the largest middle classes are Mexico (60%), Uruguay (56%), and Argentina (53%), while Bolivia (13%), Honduras  (16%) and Paraguay (19%) fall on the lower end of the spectrum. As a whole, the region cannot be called middle class, but it is moving in the right direction, and may qualify in the near future. The model predicts that by 2030 over half of Latin American countries will have a majority middle class. It contrasts with China and India in this regard, where, despite great progress, a true middle class as a substantial percentage of the overall population is still decades away.

Recognizing the enormous expansion of the middle class in Latin America and worldwide does not deny the destitute poverty in which hundreds of millions, even billions, still live. But ignoring the progress of recent years also has its perils for the poor. Better measuring and understanding the rise of the global middle is vital precisely because it suggests paths for those still less fortunate to follow.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.

Young people rest on a sidewalk as a man cleans in Mexico City (Henry Romero/Courtesy Reuters).

An OECD report released this September shows that seven million young Mexicans between the ages of fifteen and twenty-nine are neither in school nor in the labor force. Among OECD countries, Mexico has the third largest “inactive” youth population, behind only Turkey and Israel. Mexico has been increasingly concerned about the security implications of  the vast number of  these “idle” youths — dubbed “Ni-Nis” (Neither-Nors). NiNis are thought to be especially vulnerable to recruitment by organized criminal groups, acting as lookouts, dealers, smugglers, or even hit-men.

Overall, the number of NiNis has decreased by more than 10 percent since 1990, questioning at first glance the ties to rising violence. But a more detailed breakdown of this rootless youth suggests these worries aren’t totally misplaced. Most of the decline reflects the changing prospects for young women – who are much more likely to work or study today than they were twenty years ago. For urban men – the population most likely to be recruited by gangs and organized crime groups – not as much has changed, as their share of the total NiNi population has only decreased by one percent over the past two decades.

A recent study conducted by investigators from CIDE and the Colegio de México shows too that NiNis are concentrated in Central and Northern states — including some of Mexico’s most violent ones. The largest proportion of inactive youths are in Chihuahua, Durango, San Luis Potosí, Guerrero and Zacatecas (and in cities such as Ciudad Juarez).  In municipalities in these five states the numbers have remained stubbornly high over the last twenty years. Also, while NiNis aren’t concentrated in the poorest states, they do come predominantly from poorer families. Seven in ten NiNis come from households earning below the national average. Their parents are also less educated than the average Mexican, suggesting a vicious cycle as they too spend less time in school than their occupied counterparts.

Some factors are working in Mexico’s favor. Demographics should lessen the challenge  a bit – as going forward each year fewer youths will hit the streets. A rebounding economy can help too – as unemployment levels fairly strongly affect the number of (particularly male) NiNis. But Mexico’s government and society still will have to find ways to engage these young people, to help them see beyond the next few years and offer them real alternatives to a life of crime.

Published in conjunction with Latin America’s Moment at the Council on Foreign Relations.