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Why militarizing the war on drugs will only fuel more violence, not solutions

By Bharat Dogra 
Few would dispute that reducing drug addiction and the trafficking networks that fuel it should be a high global priority. These problems ruin countless lives, particularly among youth, and destabilize societies. But history shows that a sustainable solution cannot come from bombs, drones, or special forces. What is needed is a multi-dimensional, carefully crafted strategy—one centered on social reforms, community action, and medical care, with law enforcement playing only a supporting role.
Unfortunately, U.S. President Donald Trump seems inclined to repeat past mistakes. According to The New York Times, he has signed a directive allowing the Pentagon to use military force against specific Latin American drug cartels, particularly in Mexico. Airstrikes, drone attacks, and special operations are reportedly under consideration.
But militarizing what is essentially a social and medical crisis risks creating more problems than it solves. The U.S.’s own “War on Drugs,” launched over five decades ago by President Richard Nixon, offers a cautionary tale. Far from eradicating drug use, it led to mass incarceration—rising from 50,000 non-violent drug offenders in 1980 to 400,000 by 1997—with Black and Latino communities disproportionately targeted. Similar crackdowns abroad, such as President Duterte’s bloody campaign in the Philippines, have killed thousands without meaningfully reducing drug abuse.
Worse, evidence shows that U.S. foreign policy has often fueled the very drug trade it claimed to fight. In the 1980s, during the CIA’s covert war in Afghanistan, opium cultivation surged twentyfold to finance the U.S.-backed mujahideen. Heroin processing flourished along the Pakistan-Afghanistan border, with Washington looking the other way in the name of defeating the Soviet Union. The result: Afghanistan became a major heroin supplier to the West.
This pattern has repeated elsewhere. CIA operations in Southeast Asia’s “Golden Triangle” during the Vietnam War, in Central America during the Contra conflict, and in other regions have been linked to drug trafficking—sometimes tolerated, sometimes facilitated—when it suited strategic aims. Investigations into scandals such as the BCCI and Nugan Hand Bank collapses exposed money laundering and direct involvement of U.S. agents. Former DEA officials have openly admitted that many top traffickers they investigated turned out to be working with the CIA.
After decades of such contradictory policies, the results are dismal. In the U.S., nearly half the population has tried drugs at least once, with 13–20% of adults using illicit drugs in the past year—over 33% among those aged 18–29. Drug overdose deaths reached about 70,000 in 2019, rising sharply in 2020. Alcohol misuse remains widespread, with nearly 12% of adults meeting criteria for Alcohol Use Disorder. Globally, the use of both legal and illegal intoxicants continues to rise.
The reason is clear: the “war on drugs” has done little to address the social roots of addiction—poverty, unemployment, discrimination, and the erosion of stable community life. Without creating conditions where people have purpose, security, and supportive relationships, demand for drugs will remain high, no matter how many supply chains are disrupted.
Past crackdowns in Latin America prove this point. Destroy one cartel and another will take its place. Shut down one production site and new ones spring up—especially for synthetic drugs that are cheap and easy to make. Militarized operations have often fueled spiraling violence and homicide rates without denting drug availability.
If the U.S. were to escalate military action in Mexico or elsewhere, the likely outcome would be the same: minimal impact on drug addiction, coupled with increased instability, civilian harm, and strained international relations.
Instead of repeating these mistakes, the U.S. and its partners should adopt a cooperative, multi-pronged approach—treating addiction as a public health challenge rooted in social conditions, not merely as a criminal enterprise to be bombed out of existence. That means prioritizing community-based prevention, accessible treatment, social and economic reforms, and only targeted, proportionate law enforcement—never war.
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The writer is Honorary Convener, Campaign to Save Earth Now. His recent books include Protecting Earth for Children, A Day in 2071, When the Two Streams Met, and The Guardians of the Himalayas

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