Social Construction of Legitimacy:
Why huachicoleo has become
the new public priority in Mexico.
Written by
Lea Fiedler
s2596849 Word count: 12,335
(incl. references, excl. bibliography and appendix) Word count total: 14,954
A thesis presented for the degree of Master of Arts
Master Program International Relations Specialization: Global Conflict in the Modern Era
Supervisor: Dr. Nicolás Rodríguez Idárraga Second Reader: Prof. Dr. Patricio Silva
Table of Contents
1. Introduction
... 32. Literature Review
... 62.1 The crime-state paradigm ... 6
2.2 Competitive state-building and legitimacy ... 7
2.3 Delinquent subcultures ... 10
3. Methodology
... 123.1 Actor-Network Theory and the agency of non-humans ... 12
3.2 Materiality and the social biography of objects ... 13
4. Analysis
... 154.1 Oil, PEMEX and power ... 15
4.1.1 From nationalization to privatization ... 15
4.1.2 Oil’s symbolic power and agency ... 16
4.2 Huachicoleo now and then: 2000-2018 ... 18
4.2.1 Huachicoleo as an ant robbery: 2000-2012 ... 18
4.2.2 The sophistication of huachicoleo: 2012-2018 ... 19
4.2.3 Civic support of huachicoleo ... 20
4.3 Huachicolero subculture ... 21
4.3.1 Holy Infant of Huachicol ... 21
4.3.2 Huachicorridos ... 24
4.3.3 Huachicoleo Toys ... 26
5. Conclusions
... 28Bibliography
... 311. Introduction
In many academic essays of conflict studies, Mexico serves as the example of intrastate violence due to organized criminal groups. It was fourteen years ago that the former President Felipe Calderón declared the War on Drugs, which in the following years would cost the lives of more than 150,000 persons (Correa-Cabrera 2017, 141). Although at the beginning of 2019, the current President of Mexico, Andrés Manuel López Obrador (AMLO), proclaimed the end of the War on Drugs (Muñoz and Urrutia 2019), a new priority in the fight against organized crime has been identified: huachicoleo.
The term huachicoleo is widely used in Mexico to denote the illegal activity of fuel theft. Historically speaking, individuals have stolen refined oil from the pipelines of the national oil company Petróleos Mexicanos (PEMEX) for decades already. Yet, it was not until the past year that huachicoleo received extensive national and international media coverage. The incident of Tlahuelilpan, a small town in which a tapped pipeline exploded and left 137 persons dead in January 2019 (Ortiz and Mota 2020), increased the attention given to oil theft in Mexico.
To demonstrate the extent it has reached, PEMEX registered 12,581 illegal pipeline taps in the year 2018 (PEMEX 2018b). With increasing reports on the involvement of organized criminal groups, local gasoline mafias and government officials (Harp 2018), huachicoleo has entered a new dimension in terms of volume and corruption. Estimates affirm an annual loss for PEMEX of 3,000 million U.S. dollars (CNN Español 2018).
Following the incident of Tlahuelilpan, AMLO announced several measures to fight illegal fuel theft in Mexico (CNN Español 2018). In the media, this was subsequently framed as the ‘war on huachicoleo’ (de Jesús López 2019; Semple 2019; Zavala 2019). Yet, is it possible to speak of a new war? Has the “old” war on drugs ever ended?
Although organized crime shapes the contemporary political landscape of Mexico, the academic literature of political science is not suited to conceptualize the reality of this conflict. This is because scholars have failed to acknowledge organized crime as a political issue. Oil theft constitutes one of the major policy issues in Mexico today and must be given appropriate academic consideration. Despite some notable exceptions (Bunker and Sullivan 2017; Jones 2019; Jones and Sullivan 2019; Ralby 2017), further research on the phenomenon is needed.
The objective of this thesis is to deliver a comprehensive picture of the evolution of huachicoleo in Mexico and its political implications for the state. Particularly, I am interested in why this crime has turned into a public enemy of the state, and what aspects have made it so dangerous for the political authority in Mexico. I ask: why has huachicoleo become the new public priority of the Mexican government in fighting organized crime?
In this thesis, I propose to consider the emerging huachicolero subculture that has evolved around illegal oil theft. Closely related to this cultural development is narcoculture, a cultural space that narrates the stories of drug traffickers in Mexico. In the case of huachicoleo, several cultural artifacts about oil thieves have been produced, exchanged and consumed by local communities. In this cultural space, it is possible to discover the social understanding of the subculture and how it challenges the legitimacy of the Mexican state. Based on Guillermoprieto (2009), I argue that the subculture creates an identity of huachicoleros (oil thieves), which normalizes the dangers of oil theft and provides marginalized persons a status of importance. I propose that the subculture constitutes a threat to Mexico’s legitimacy and has therefore reached a dimension, in which the state has begun to make it its key public priority in fighting organized crime.
The first chapter of this thesis will review the literature that has helped me in building my argument. An example is the paradigm of crime-state relations, which acknowledges the political effects of organized crime. At the same time, I will consider the meaning of “the political”. The objective here is to show that organized crime, and ultimately huachicoleo, is competitive state-building and connected to the construction of legitimacy.
In the methodology chapter, I will present the research design and structure of my investigation. The foundational methodological approach is the concept of agency of non-humans, which originates from Actor-Network-Theory (ANT). It highlights how material objects are just as influential actors as human beings. This is combined with approaches from cultural studies, which underline that artifacts are expressions of the beliefs and ideas of a society. Moreover, I consider the “social biography” of objects to examine how their purpose and meaning are renegotiated throughout the object’s life.
The analysis is divided into three parts. The first chapter focuses on the history of the oil industry in Mexico and the cultural power of oil. The second chapter explains how huachicoleo developed in Mexico from 2000 to 2019. It contrasts the early modalities of huachicoleo with the more recent context. The third chapter critically analyzes cultural artifacts of the subculture, also called “huachicultura”. Central questions in this section are: what images do cultural artifacts of the huachicolero subculture construct? Through which narratives does it challenge legitimacy? This leads to the conclusions of this thesis and an outlook into further research on the topic.
The thesis offers a critical way of understanding legitimacy and demonstrates why it is at stake in the case of huachicoleo. Arias encourages scholars to study in-depth the political role of crime through intensive investigations on organized crime and their effects regarding governance (2006, 325). Moreover, many authors agree on the grave impacts non-state actors such as organized crime have on governance and state-building (Abello-Colak and Guarneros-Meza 2014; Arias 2006, 2017; Breslin and Nesadurai 2018; Flanigan 2014; Lambrechts 2012; Lessing and Willis 2019).
However, none of these scholars have researched the issue of huachicoleo nor the subculture of huachicoleo. Some academic publications mention the relevance of huachicultura (Bunker and Sullivan 2017; Jones and Sullivan 2019) but lack an in-depth analysis of this subculture and how it challenges the legitimacy of the Mexican state.
My interdisciplinary approach, which draws upon a range of academic contributions from cultural studies, criminology, sociology and political science, provides an alternative narrative about the conflict in Mexico. It enables us to understand the on-going process of legitimacy construction around the phenomenon of huachicoleo and reveal why the state’s legitimacy is in peril.
2. Literature Review
Huachicoleo is not a new phenomenon in Mexico, but academic scholars have begun to investigate it only recently. However, there are several academic essays that this thesis can build on. This chapter will outline the theoretical framework and demonstrate why organized crime is a relevant subject for political science, too. Furthermore, I consider literature about delinquent subcultures and how cultural artifacts and practices challenge the state’s legitimacy.
2.1 The crime-state paradigm
Organized crime constitutes a field of study, that has been ignored largely by political science academia (Kalyvas 2015, 1522). This is because organized criminal groups are formally defined in the United Nations Convention on Transnational Organized Crime as a “structured group” that pursues “a financial or other material benefit” (United Nations 2000, Article 2a). The definition stresses the economic objectives of criminal groups. It denies them a political agenda, which consequently makes it a topic only relevant to sociology (Kalyvas 2015, 1518). Consequently, political science scholars tend to research topics such as terrorism and civil war, which systematically excludes the study of criminal violence (Barnes 2017, 968). Some scholars have examined whether Mexico qualifies as a modern civil war (Correa-Cabrera 2017) or “criminal insurgency” (Sullivan and Elkus 2008).
Yet, those concepts fail to understand the political impact of organized criminal groups on the state. Arias calls for research on this precise topic (2006, 325). Only recently, scholars have investigated certain empirical phenomena such as pre-electoral violence used by organized criminal groups to influence politics (Alesina, Piccolo, and Pinotti 2019; Trejo and Ley 2019). New contributions to the field have begun to frame the conflict from a perspective, which I call the ‘crime-state paradigm’. It attempts to overcome the “scholarly deficiency” of conceptualizing the relationship between organized crime and governments (Bagley et al. 2019, 3).
For instance, Barnes advocates the notion of criminal politics as the “interactions between states and violent organizations that are motivated more by the accumulation of wealth and informal power and which seldom have formal political ambitions pertaining to the state itself” (2017, 973). This definition agrees that organized criminal groups mainly pursue economic profit, but that they also interact with the state, making them a subject worth of political research.
Moreover, the concept of criminal politics allows seeing the different nuances of crime-state relations. It is a misconception to describe the relationship between the crime-state and organized criminal groups as inherently confrontational (von Lampe 2016, 262). Not always is violence a
necessary consequence (Andreas and Wallman 2009). For example, Peter Lupsha created a theoretical model of three different types of relations between organized criminal groups and the state: predatory, parasitic and symbiotic (Lupsha 1996). Predatory relations would occur, when organized criminal groups are in a confrontational mode with the government; parasitic relations are marked by a certain degree of interaction, corruption and bribery to access governmental resources; and symbiotic relations, as the name hints, refer to a collaborative relationship and partnership (Bagley et al. 2019, 3).
2.2 Competitive state-building and legitimacy
In his article on criminal politics, Barnes also speaks of the varying crime-state relations. He stresses that they all exclude a scenario in which organized criminal groups would seek to dismantle the state (Barnes 2017, 973). However, this is not to say that they do not have any political effect on the state. Barnes affirms that organized criminal groups constitute a competitive form of state-building (2017, 968). In fact, many scholars have researched the impact of non-state actors on governance (Abello-Colak and Guarneros-Meza 2014; Arias 2006, 2017; Breslin and Nesadurai 2018; Flanigan 2014; Lambrechts 2012; Lessing and Willis 2019). This research is in accordance with the idea that organized crime is not a political issue because of those groups having an explicit political agenda, but because of their impacts on the state.
To fully understand how organized crime challenges the state, one needs to consider two aspects: first, what specifically makes a state, and secondly, what qualifies as political. Regarding the former question, I consider the famous definition by German sociologist Max Weber of the state as the monopoly of legitimate force (1980). Sociologist and historian Charles Tilly defines the state as “protection rackets with the advantage of legitimacy” (1985, 169). Here, Tilly highlights that states operate just as organized criminal groups, that extort money for protection. The only difference between the two is that states can use force legitimately (Tilly 1985, 172–73).
However, Tilly sees the boundary between legitimate and illegitimate violence as flexible (1985, 173). For Tilly, legitimacy is the “probability that other authorities will act to confirm the decisions of a given authority” (1985, 171). Suchman defines legitimacy as the “generalized perception or assumption that the actions of an entity are desirable, proper, or appropriate within some socially constructed system of norms, values, beliefs, and definitions (1995, 574)”. The definition stresses the relational nature of legitimacy. It is, first and foremost, a subjective perception. The belief of an actor in the legitimacy of an institution is therefore a consequence of a process of social construction, in which claims about its appropriateness clash with critiques and challenges (Tallberg and Zürn 2019, 588–90). Subsequently, this means that it gives organized criminal groups the possibility to challenge state legitimacy.
Scholars might disagree on whether this challenge of state legitimacy can be understood as a political issue. The question on what qualifies as political itself is contested among academics. Some definitions may highlight the state as its central referent. Nicholson takes Weber’s definition of the state as the legitimate monopoly of violence as a starting point and concludes that the essential characteristic, which distinguishes political from non-political, is force (2004, 45). According to his approach, an issue becomes political when the government can enforce it and obligate persons to do something (Nicholson 2004, 45). On the other hand, some scholars work with broader definitions of politics, which do not necessarily contradict Weber’s definition of the state. The difference is that the state is not understood as the only political subject. For example, Leftwich’s political approach to human behavior includes a wide range of actor and processes:
“Politics comprises all the activities of co-operation, negotiation and conflict, within and between societies, whereby people go about organizing the use, production or distribution of human, natural and other resources in the course of the production and reproduction of their biological and social life” (Leftwich 2004, 103).
Leftwich proposes to understand politics as a process of resource allocation that is marked by both conflict and collaboration. Politics would be an expression of “power, the structure of social organization and the institutions of culture and ideology in a society, or smaller groups within it” (2004, 103). He grants cultural and ideological institutions great importance as legitimators (Leftwich 2004, 114). This allows understanding the challenge of state legitimacy through culture or ideology as a political issue.
Coming back to the case of organized crime, it should be asked how criminal networks can precisely challenge state legitimacy. European-centric approaches argue that state weakness is the problem and therefore address democratization as the solution (Abello-Colak and Guarneros-Meza 2014, 3271). However, one must critically review if Mexico is a weak or “failed” state. Pérez-Rocha and Schwartz Greco stress the country’s strong military and political capacities (2009). For instance, Mexico’s military expenditure of 4.083 billion U.S. dollars in 2006 has more than doubled in 2014 and stands at 6.568 billion U.S. dollars in 2018 (SIPRI 2019). Those numbers rather indicate how Mexico strengthened its military institutions during the War on Drugs. Gustavo Duncan also dismisses the idea that Mexico is a weak state and stirs the attention to the oligopolies of coercion in the peripheries of Mexico (2014, 19).
Moreover, Arias acknowledges that organized crime always needs state and civic support (2006, 301). This thesis specifically addresses civic support. In general, criminal networks are interested in establishing positive links with communities, where they operate, for protection and intelligence (Arias 2006, 300). They often retrieve a certain amount of legitimacy from marginalized
(Abello-Colak and Guarneros-Meza 2014, 3270). In some cases, those groups even provide those communities the basic goods that they need and that the government fails to deliver them, which results in competitive state-building (Arias 2006; Flanigan 2014).
The fact that organized criminal groups can do so is linked to Mexico’s social organization and structure. Mexico is a highly unequal country and certain populations experience a far greater marginalization than others. According to a report by the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), Mexico is among the four most unequal of OECD members regarding wealth distribution in 2016 (OECD 2020). While the Gini Index for the Netherlands is 0.281, it lies at 0.46 in Mexico (OECD 2020). A national indicator is the Marginalization Index 2010
of the National Population Council (CONAPO) of Mexico, which comprises the varying degrees of education, housing, population distribution and income (Téllez Vázquez et al. 2016a, 12). The report finds that the states Guerrero, Chiapas and Oaxaca suffer from a very high marginalization, followed by Veracruz, Puebla, Hidalgo, San Luís Potosí, Tabasco, Campeche and Yucatán (Téllez Vázquez et al. 2016b, 19).
Organized criminal groups exploit this inequality and seek to obtain legitimacy from impoverished communities. This seemingly altruistic behavior remarkably resembles the concept of the social bandit. The term ‘social bandit’, coined by famous historian Eric Hobsbawm, originally denotes a peasant outlaw, framed as criminal by the state, but celebrated by a peasant society as an admirable hero (Hobsbawm 1969, 13). Hobsbawm describes it as a “banditry of the Robin Hood type” (1971, 1), meaning someone who steals from the more wealthy to support the poorer communities. Hobsbawm notices that these ‘primitive rebels’ are “pre-political people” (1971, 2) as they yet do not act upon a specific political agenda. This must be seen critically. Hobsbawm’s definition of “political” in 1971 is narrow because it identifies actors as political only if they have explicit political objectives. Yet, the academic understanding of political has undergone certain changes. If we conceptualize “political” broader like Leftwhich (2004), we can also understand social bandits as already political actors. Social bandits are involved in processes of resource allocation, celebrated by communities and pose a challenge for state legitimacy. In an article from 2017, Rafael Acosta Morales adjusts the concept of the social bandit to the contemporary context. In his definition, a social bandit is a violent and political actor whose actions are considered illegal by the state but are supported by marginalized sectors of society (2017, 420).
In Mexico, the idea of bandits can be traced back to the early 19th century and has ever
since influenced Mexican society (Frazer 2006, 1). Frazer’s central argument is that the bandit narratives were ultimately essential for the Mexican state-making process (2006, 2), suggesting the creation of an identity at the narratives’ core. Jones and Sullivan stress that organized criminal
groups construct themselves an identity by using certain images and icons (2019, 12). In particularly one space, narratives of banditry can be found: popular culture (Frazer 2006, 1).
2.3 Delinquent subcultures
Popular culture studies date back to the 20th century in the United States. According to the
definition by Mukerji and Schudson, popular culture is a term that encompasses “the beliefs and practices, and the objects through which they are organized, that are widely shared among a population” (cited in Powers 2016, 354). In this thesis, a particular focus lies on material culture, as it is the most prevalent part of popular culture on a daily basis (Motz 2016, 184). Although contemporary life is marked by an increasing digitalization, many individuals still long for material objects (Edwards and Hart 2004, 14–15). Moreover, culture is also growingly consumed and produced through digital means, which amplifies access to artifacts for many persons (McIntosh 2016, 520).
Coming back to the second part of the definition, popularity is a key characteristic. Over time, popular culture studies broadened their research (Margolies 2016, 55). In particular, the University of Birmingham in England started to emphasize the heterogeneity of popular culture by looking into the formation of subcultures that were opposed to certain dominant societal values and beliefs (Motz 2016, 187). Several studies examined how groups of subcultures used objects in different ways than the mainstream (Motz 2016, 187). Subcultures can highlight the defects or shortcomings in a society, that they offer to solve through the provision of an alternative set of images (Haenfler 2014, 31–32).
In some specific instances, criminal subcultures have evolved, too (Haenfler 2014, 36). In the field of Criminology, deviance theory explores the formation of deviant subcultures and their role regarding criminal behavior. However, not all deviant subcultures are delinquent (Haenfler 2014, 36). Duncan draws upon the definition of a criminal subculture by Cloward and Ohlin to distinguish this concept from non-delinquent subcultures; in delinquent subcultures, the criminal activity becomes a central and obligatory condition to obtain membership, status and a specific position in the subculture (cited in Duncan 2014, 21). This is the case in the widely known phenomenon of narcoculture in Mexico. In narcocultures, Duncan argues that individuals must engage in criminal activity to gain status in the group and social recognition (2014, 21). In the case of Mexico, where some individuals or communities feel neglected by the government, the participation in narcoculture can provide the solution to this exclusion, as they obtain status and economic resources through it (Duncan 2014, 21). Generally, narcoculture can be understood as:
“the production of symbols, rituals and artifacts - slang, religious cults, music, consumer goods - that allow people involved in the drug trade to recognize themselves as part of a community, to establish a hierarchy in which the acts they are required to perform acquire positive value and to absorb the terror inherent in their line of work” (Guillermoprieto 2009).
Subcultures produce material objects such as consumer goods, linguistic expressions through music or religious rituals. As Guillermoprieto highlights, this cultural process is an expression of identity. Scholars see those cultural products as a reaction to the violence individuals and communities are experiencing (Cabañas 2014, 4; Mendoza and de la O Martínez 2015, 201). Narcoculture often contains an appraisal of the criminals as heroes by marginalized communities (Duncan 2014, 22; Mendoza and de la O Martínez 2015, 207). A concept, that appears relevant in this subculture, is the social bandit from Hobsbawm (Sullivan 2012). Marc Cameron Edberg outlines in his book on narcocorridos how narcotraffickers are framed by communities as social bandits – good-willing, non-elite persons that possess power, social recognition and a status of importance (2004, 46). Originally, narcocorridos emerged as a subaltern identity in the North of Mexico, as several communities felt marginalized from the center of the country (Muniz 2013, 58).
Ultimately, another instance for the presence of social banditry in this subculture is the admiration of so-called narcosaints. For example, Jesús Malverde, a former drug trafficker from Sinaloa, is today widely admired in this subculture as the patron saint of the poor, who took from the rich (Mendoza and de la O Martínez 2015, 202). This matches the definition from Hobsbawm of the social bandit. Although these saints are not officially recognized by the Catholic church, the establishment of this religious cult around narcosaints is an important way for individuals or communities to pray for protection (Mendoza and de la O Martínez 2015, 201).
This chapter has reviewed the theoretical framework. I have identified certain shortcomings in the research regarding organized crime and its political implications. Recent contributions have shown how criminal networks challenge the state’s legitimacy. Moreover, the chapter has pointed out the relevance of the subcultural space, in which organized crime places narratives of legitimacy and social banditry.
3. Methodology
In this chapter, I will present the methodology and structure of my research. I will highlight the analytical moments that need to be considered. As I have suggested, my analysis will particularly focus on huachicultura. This means looking into cultural artifacts, their meanings, social relations and how they have built this subculture. Before this, I will dedicate two chapters to the oil industry in Mexico and the development of huachicoleo. For these chapters, it will be especially relevant to consider an approach that emphasizes the cultural power of oil: Actor-Network Theory.
3.1 Actor-Network Theory and the agency of non-humans
At the core of the methodology lies the concept of agency of non-humans through which we can understand subcultures. The concept itself stems from a school of thought that developed during the last century, called Actor-Network Theory (ANT). As its founders are often considered the French sociologists Michel Callon and Bruno Latour and British sociologist John Law. ANT postulates that social agency does not reside in one particular body, but is a result of heterogeneous relations, a network that produces this agency (Law 1992, 4). Interestingly, non-humans are also considered to be part of these networks, meaning animals, machinery, and different material objects (Law 1992, 2–3).
Andrew Barry stresses that material objects do not just exist in a given space and must bear human agency; rather, they are part of the agency network and possess relevance because of their characteristics and what they can turn into (Barry 2013a, 12). A material entity can also achieve political status (Barry 2013b, 421). In public spaces, material objects can cause scientific disputes and also debates on what is considered political (Barry 2013a, 16). Barry calls the politicization of a material “a relational, a practical and a contingent achievement” (2013a, 183). Subsequently, material objects can gain political relevance through the social relations of a heterogeneous network.
Since this “material turn in the social sciences” (Barry 2013b, 417), ANT poses certain challenges for related academic disciplines like International Relations (IR). Most importantly, it urges IR to take into consideration the relevance of non-humans in social and political spheres (Barry 2013b, 417). Also, it brings up the question of how to distinguish the political from the non-political (Barry 2013b, 425). ANT implies for IR that it must review these narrow definitions and possibly include cultural objects as political products of network interactions. In one of his investigations, Barry asked why certain materials and spaces along a Georgian pipeline obtained transnational political significance (2013a, 27). He proposed to understand the pipeline through its
network interaction with other material and immaterial entities (Barry 2013a, 13). This means to not separate the analysis of pipelines as a material object from other actors that can influence it, but to rather focus on the network interactions and processes of transformation (Barry 2013a, 15).
Legitimacy then must be viewed through the agency of non-humans. Instead of asking how humans created the subculture and challenge legitimacy, the focus lies on the role of materiality. It sees agency not as a one-sided action, but a result of heterogeneous relations that include both humans and non-humans. In the next section, we shall see how similar ideas can be found in material culture studies.
3.2 Materiality and the social biography of objects
In the field of material culture studies, academics study cultural artifacts. The main characteristic of artifacts is that they are objects which were made or modified by humans (Prown 1982, 1). The underlying premise of the field is that artifacts are, whether intentionally or not, expressions of beliefs and ideas of individuals or societies (Prown 1982, 1–2). Material culture can provide an insight into those beliefs and how those establish an identity (Way 2010, 436). Therefore, material culture studies use artifacts as the primary data for their research (Prown 1982, 1).
This foundational assumption is also relevant for huachicultura. At the core of the production of artifacts in deviant and criminal subcultures lies the construction of an identity through alternative norms and values (Haenfler 2014, 31–32; Jones and Sullivan 2019, 12). To fully comprehend this subculture, it is necessary to consider its cultural artifacts. Artifacts as a concept form part of Guillermoprieto’s definition of narcoculture, too.
Another type of artifact, that shall be considered, are pictures. My understanding of pictures is based on William John Thomas Mitchell, an important contributor to the field of visual culture. He notes that the word “image” is used in many different ways, for example, as a painting, a figure or a synonym for likeness (Mitchell 2005, 2). In his book, he defines images as “any likeness, figure, motif, or form that appears in some medium or other” (Mitchell 2005, Preface). A picture, in contrast, is the object and medium that transmits an image (Mitchell 2005, Preface). A photograph, for example, is a picture, which at its core depicts or hints toward an immaterial image. Elizabeth Edwards and Janice Hart also highlight the need to not only consider the image as the “site of meaning”, but also the materiality of a photograph (2004, 2). Image and photograph cannot be studied as isolated objects; they engage in a dialogue with each other (Edwards and Hart 2004, 2). Based on Guillermoprieto’s definition (2009), I will focus on material artifacts such as pictures, religious cults, music and consumer goods, which unify persons involved in huachicoleo as a community with a particular identity. As Guillermoprieto highlights, the subculture constructs
a hierarchy in which their illegal acts obtain positive value and the dangers are neutralized (2009). This aspect must be analyzed accordingly.
Having defined the scope, questions arise regarding the methodology. The idea of ANT, that agency lies in a network of human and non-human actors, resembles the premises of material culture studies. The methodological focus is shifted from the dominant emphasis on human actors to the power of material objects like a picture (Mitchell 2005, 28), or even oil, a tool or a song. Objects are not just mere illustrations of a phenomenon (Prown 1982, 1). Yet, this does not mean to exclude the human entity, but to look into the networks of agency. Anthropologist Daniel Miller advocates a “middle route into the study of artifacts” (1998, 491).
Moreover, another influential idea is the so-called biography of objects of anthropologist Igor Kopykoff (Gosden and Marshall 1999, 170). Kopykoff stressed that not only does the production of objects matter but also the process in which they are culturally identified as a specific object (1986, 64). He proposed the biography of an object (Kopytoff 1986, 66–67). Central to this approach is the premise that the meaning of an object is constantly transformed by social interactions (Gosden and Marshall 1999, 169–70). Moreover, objects can be incorporated through cultural encounters into new societies, that renegotiates their meaning and use (Kopytoff 1986, 67).
To comprehend the biography of an artifact, it must be analyzed in the three cycles of production, exchange and consumption (Gosden and Marshall 1999, 170; Way 2010, 437). Gosden and Marshall take a Fijian necklace as an example and demonstrate how its original purpose changed when it was exchanged with other societies that consumed the object differently and redefined its meaning (1999, 170–72). Certain events can cause dramatic transformations of meanings (Gosden and Marshall 1999, 176).
The notions of agency of non-humans and social biography of objects require us to think of materiality differently. In the analysis of cultural artifacts, particular attention will be given to the analytical moments of production, exchange and consumption.
4. Analysis
This chapter presents the central results of my research. It shall answer the question why huachicoleo has become the new public priority of the Mexican government in fighting organized crime. I propose that the huachicolero subculture fundamentally threatens the Mexican state’s legitimacy as such and therefore reached a dimension, in which the state has begun to make it its key public priority in fighting organized crime.
My findings are structured as follows: the first chapter focuses on the Mexican oil industry, its history and its symbolic relevance. The second part outlines the development of huachicoleo in Mexico from 2000 to 2019. In the third part, I address the cultural artifacts of the huachicultura and analyze how they actively construct a cultural space of alternative images and identity, which challenge Mexico’s political legitimacy.
4.1 Oil, PEMEX and power
Mexico is a country with vast oil resources. Its reserves at the beginning of the 21st century were
estimated at 25.4 billion barrels, which surpassed even U.S. figures (Moroney and Dieck-Assad 2005, 5). Figure 12 provides an overview of the different gas and oil-producing basins in Mexico.
All major reserves are located on the East Coast, in Northern Mexico (Burgos Basin), the South, and in the Gulf of Mexico. After their extraction from underground, crude oil then needs to be transported. PEMEX handles the information about its pipelines and distribution networks as confidential. The refineries “shape” the crude oil to produce different petrochemicals (Bridge and Le Billon 2017, 15–16) such as gasoline. PEMEX has six refineries (Figure 2): Salamanca (Guanajuato), Minatitlán (Veracruz), Tula de Allende (Hidalgo), Ciudad Madero (Tamaulipas), Salina Cruz (Oaxaca) and Cadereyta Jiménez (Nuevo León). Moreover, as I will outline later, those refineries are key locations for illegal oil theft.
4.1.1 From nationalization to privatization
Before reaching the dimensions of today, Mexico’s oil industry has undergone a century-long quest for self-determination. Ana Lilia Pérez describes in the first chapter of her book “PEMEX RIP” (Pérez 2017) the beginnings of the oil industry3. In 1901, Mexican engineer Ezequiel Ordóñez
discovered the first oil field in the state San Luis Potosí “El Ébano”. In the same year, the President
2 All figures are included in the Appendix.
of Mexico and General Porfirio Díaz issued the Petroleum Act. This law sought to attract foreign enterprises and award them permissions for the exploration and exploitation of oil fields. When the oil-rich area “La Faja de Oro” was discovered, many more foreign companies started to arrive in Mexico.
During the Mexican Revolution, the foreign influence and presence in Mexican territories began to be challenged. Article 27 of the Constitution of 1917 stipulates that the natural wealth of those fields would belong to the Mexican nation. In 1933, the Compañía de Petróleos de México, S.A. (Petromex) was established and in 1938, President Lázaro Cárdenas expropriated all foreign oil companies in accordance with Article 27 of the Constitution. Bridge and Le Billon argue that in the context of economic decolonization several countries began to fight for self-determination and the national sovereignty over their resources (2017, 86). For Mexico, it was not different: the year 1938 and the nationalization of oil reserves is deeply inscribed in the collective memory as a “historical struggle to wrest control of ‘national’ oil resources out of foreign hands” (Bridge and Le Billon 2017, 86).
In the second half of the 19th century, the Mexican government under President Alemán
sought to protect the competitiveness of PEMEX and increased public spending (Hamnett 2019, 329–30). With the spending financed by foreign loans, Mexico experienced a severe external debt crisis in the 1970s (Hamnett 2019, 353). In the 21st century, PEMEX is facing new challenges. First,
Rafael Sandrea estimates that the national oil output has decreased by five percent per year since the beginning of the century (2019, 1). An essential problem, that is related to this development, is the absence of investments in the refineries and exploration activities (Hamnett 2019, 440). This is caused by the high tax rates of over 60% that PEMEX must pay to the Mexican state, which constitute one-third of the state’s tax revenue (Moroney and Dieck-Assad 2005, 25).
Former President Enrique Peña Nieto (EPN; 2012-2018) sought to tackle these problems with the Energy Reform in 2013. The reform partially privatized the Mexican oil industry, as it permitted private companies to refine and sell oil products in Mexico (Ralby 2017, 6). However, oil prices dropped again in 2014 and reduced the possibilities of attracting foreign investment (Hamnett 2019, 444). Besides, corruption inside PEMEX and increasing illegal oil theft have impeded the attempt to revitalize the company (Ralby 2017, 6–7).
4.1.2 Oil’s symbolic power and agency
Oil is a powerful resource and should not be perceived as a passive object that humans utilize and exploit. It is necessary to consider its agency. Oil is the most requested commodity on the markets and the economies of several countries heavily rely on its revenues (Ross 2008, 2). Moreover,
Bridge and Le Billon speak of the cultural power of oil4. Oil is central to modern lifestyles that are
based on mobility and travel (2017, 242). Also, it has led many countries like Mexico to great financial gains. This has formed the idea that oil is a “wealth in waiting” (2017, 245–46). Oil stands for independence, progress and “good life” (2017, 243).
However, not only is the resource of symbolic relevance but “oil has seeped into the ways we think, value and act” (2017, 242). It can become essential to an identity (2017, 249). Some countries view oil as a resource that belongs to the “body of the nation” (2017, 55). This reminds of Article 27 of the Mexican Constitution, which in 1917 identified oil reserves and natural resources as national property. The expropriation, as it happened in Mexico, then becomes an attempt of “economic and political self-determination” (2017, 86). Oil has such cultural power that societies have sought to defend it against foreign influence. Bridge and Le Billon argue:
“Because decisions about finding, moving, and using oil bring together groups of people with different interests and agendas, oil is unavoidably political. Oil may be drawn from the earth but it is a very social resource” (2017, 17).
This is closely connected to Leftwhich’s definition of politics as a process of resource allocation (2004, 103). However, central to his definition, too, was the realization that politics express the hierarchy and structure of a society as well as its ideology and culture (Leftwich 2004, 103). Only those can reversely legitimize political processes (Leftwich 2004, 114). If I take the example of oil, then oil becomes a political process of allocation, which needs to be legitimized through culture. Suchman’s definition of legitimacy as the approval of an action within a specific norm and belief system (1995, 574) implies for the Mexican case an important conclusion: as the oil reserves are seen part of the national body, the nationalization of oil is seen as desirable in the belief system of mainstream society. An interesting example to illustrate this is the current logo of PEMEX (PEMEX 2020). It uses the three national colors of Mexico red, green and white. The logo (Figure 3) depicts an eagle in front of a drop of oil. The eagle is the official seal of the Mexican government and a national identity symbol. Its importance goes back to the founding myth of Tenochtitlán, today known as Mexico City. The fact that the logo uses this eagle and the drop of oil indicates a deep bond between PEMEX and the national identity of Mexico. At last, the slogan “por el rescate
de la soberanía” (for the rescue of sovereignty) refers to PEMEX being the economic pillar that
guarantees Mexico’s sovereignty and autonomy. Furthermore, “rescue of sovereignty” implies an attack by foreign actors and could relate to the Mexican quest for self-determination. Speaking in terms of legitimacy, PEMEX’ actions to protect Mexico’s oil wealth is approved in a socially constructed belief system that the natural resources belong to Mexico’s national body. It becomes
clear that oil as a social resource forms part of the network of agency. Oil itself forms the core of this belief system, on which Mexico has built its claims. Oil has created a national identity. The logo does not only illustrate this but is a cultural object which actively constructs this legitimacy and identity.
4.2 Huachicoleo now and then: 2000-2018
Considering the history of the Mexican oil industry and the high symbolic relevance of PEMEX, illegal oil theft is a severe challenge to the Mexican state. However, many aspects about huachicoleo have changed significantly during the last two decades. How did illegal oil theft begin and develop?
4.2.1 Huachicoleo as an ant robbery: 2000-2012
During the presentation of her new book in Puebla, Ana Lilia Pérez describes illegal oil theft in its beginnings as an “ants’ practice” (Youtube Channel paraleerenlibertad 2019), before it developed into a more organized robbery. The comparison with ants or the term “robo hormiga” (ant robbery) is used to refer to petty theft inside an enterprise. It means that an employee inside the company steals only a small amount of goods discretely, but as more employees follow the example, the damage sums up. The employees are compared with ants because each ant of a colony carries only a small load, but considering their work as an ensemble, it can have a great impact.
Pérez traces the origin of huachicoleo back to the PEMEX Refinery in Salamanca in the Central Mexican state Guanajuato (Pérez 2017, Chapter 8). The first huachicoleros were the truck drivers of pipelines who extracted amounts of gasoline from them (Pérez 2017, Chapter 8). To avoid that someone would detect the missing quantity, the drivers refilled the pipelines with water to compensate for the weight loss (Pérez 2017, Chapter 8). This is effectively where the word huachicoleo comes from. The term is of Mayan origin, “huach” meaning foreigner or later in the Hispanicized version, thief (Gallón S. 2019). In the 20th century, the word “huachicol” was used
for the sale of adulterated liquors (Gallón S. 2019). The word denoted a drink that had been mixed with different alcohols (Pérez 2017, Chapter 8), and in the case of oil theft, it meant the gasoline that had been mixed with water. Metaphorically speaking, the truck drivers each stole small quantities of gasoline like ants, which years later would come to amount a big financial loss for PEMEX.
According to Pérez, the first illegal taps of PEMEX pipelines were detected during the administration of Vicente Fox (2000-2006) (Pérez 2017, Chapter 8). Possibly, there had been oil theft before the Fox administration, but during the one-party rule of the Institutional Revolutionary
In the following political administration under President Felipe Calderón (2006-2012), huachicoleo increased, but was not effectively addressed and its relevance downplayed (Youtube Channel paraleerenlibertad 2019). During these years, illegal oil theft mainly occurred in the Burgos region in North Mexico (Pérez 2017, Chapter 8). Moreover, it was under Calderón’s presidency that the War on Drugs was declared, which had important implications for huachicoleo. Ever since the PRI had lost its political monopoly in Mexico with the beginning of the new century, the context had changed remarkably for organized criminal groups. With the regime change, organized crime networks had to rebuild their influence and corrupt several institutions, often leading to violence (Jones and Sullivan 2019, 2). With the War on Drugs ongoing from 2006 and the implementation of the kingpin strategy, key criminal figures such as Chapo Gúzman were caught, which led to the fragmentation of organized criminal groups, increased competition among them and more violence (Jones 2019, 35). To compensate for losses, criminal groups then began to diversify their income and huachicoleo promised to be very lucrative (Sullivan and Elkus 2011).
4.2.2 The sophistication of huachicoleo: 2012-2018
An event during the administration of EPN, which must be particularly highlighted as connected to the increase of huachicoleo, is the Energy Reform in 2013. I will not focus in-depth on the formalities of this reform, but importantly, the reform partially liberalized the energy sector in Mexico by allowing private companies to import refined and crude oil (Youtube Channel paraleerenlibertad 2019). Today, a big proportion of refined oil stems from foreign countries which increases the gasoline prices in Mexico (Youtube Channel paraleerenlibertad 2019). This provides huachicoleros the opportunity to compete and offer the stolen oil at significantly lower prices, thereby gaining great amounts of money (Cunningham 2019, 120).
In the diagram (Figure 4), one can observe how dramatically huachicoleo increased since the EPN administration. The diagram shows the number of illegal pipeline taps from 2000 until 2018 and demonstrates a strong growing trend. In contrast to the 155 illegal taps during the presidency of Fox, as of 2018, the final year of the EPN administration, PEMEX has registered 12,581 incidents. This is an increase of more than 8,000 percent. Moreover, it is possible to observe some trends with regard to the location of these incidents in 2018. Figure 5 demonstrates that especially the Central Mexican states are affected by illegal oil theft. The state Puebla with 1,815 registered illegal taps stands out, followed closely by Hidalgo (1,726) and Guanajuato (1,547). Jones and Sullivan (2019, 1) draw the attention to two heavily affected sub-regions, which are the Red Triangle in Puebla and the Bermuda Triangle in Guanajuato (see Figure 6). The Red Triangle consists of the municipalities Tepeaca, Palmar de Bravo, Quecholac, Acatzingo, Acajete and Tecamachalco. Those municipalities are relevant for the case of huachicoleo, because they are all
situated along a strategically important pipeline, which connects the refinery in Minatitlán (Veracruz) with Mexico City (Pérez 2017, Chapter 8). Furthermore, the Bermuda Triangle between the municipalities of Salamanca, Irapuato and Celaya also represents a key region. The state Guanajuato has registered one of the highest numbers of illegal taps and counts with the refinery in Salamanca, where the practice of huachicoleo supposedly began. Also, the region has suffered from various conflicts between the local gasoline mafia Santa Rosa de Lima and the Jalisco New Generation Cartel (Jones and Sullivan 2019, 8).
The process of extracting gasoline is informally called the “milking” (ordeña) of the pipelines (Ralby 2017, 7). A person with technical knowledge installs a valve on the pipeline and connects it to a hose (Ralby 2017, 8). Generally, the tools for this procedure are expensive and are therefore mostly acquired by organized criminal groups (Ralby 2017, 8). On some occasions, individuals can tap illegally the pipelines in a less sophisticated manner (Ralby 2017, 7–8). This also describes what happened during the tragedy in Tlahuelilpan. This incident has proven how extracting gasoline from pipelines is a dangerous activity.
4.2.3 Civic support of huachicoleo
Illegal oil theft has significantly grown over the last two decades and could have not reached the extent of today without civic support. Comparing the number of illegal taps of PEMEX pipelines in 2018 to the Marginalization Data of CONAPO, one can observe that three of the most affected states by illegal oil theft, Puebla Hidalgo and Veracruz, show a high degree of marginalization (Téllez Vázquez et al. 2016b, 19). In the Red Triangle of Puebla, oil theft is one of the main economic pillars of the respective municipalities (Pérez 2017, Chapter 8). The range of activities is broad and goes beyond the actual “milking” of the pipeline: families and even children are involved in the storage, transport and sale of oil or as hawks (halcones) that watch out for the police during the robbery (Pérez 2017, Chapter 8). In a testimony, Deputy Ignacio Mier Bañuelos from the Red Triangle points to the economic benefits for the communities and how huachicoleros act as problem-solvers (Bunker and Sullivan 2017).
Moreover, the notion of the social bandit is also present in the case of huachicoleo. As outlined before, gasoline prices in Mexico are relatively high and must be a particular financial burden to marginalized communities. In the Red Triangle, organized criminal groups offer the product at significantly lower prices to communities (Ralby 2017, 10). Thereby, they ensure their gratitude and support. They appear as social bandits, who illegally steal oil, but ultimately do so out of altruistic reasons. Although this might not be true, the perception matters. In some cases, criminal networks might even provide communities with gifts on holidays (Jones and Sullivan 2019, 12). In other instances, it has been reported that after tapping pipelines, criminal groups do not
close the leak and give locals the chance to fill their own jerrycans (Ralby 2017, 11). Although huachicoleo is an illegal form of resource distribution, it is politically powerful, because it challenges perceptions about the state and the actors, who in fact provide them with the goods and economic opportunities they desire. Marginalized communities receive the inclusion that the state cannot guarantee them.
The reader has seen how much the activity has changed throughout the years and was shaped by new actors and events. Huachicoleo has increased remarkably and received civic support. The next chapter will focus on the huachicolero subculture and shift the attention to materiality and the relevance of cultural artifacts in constructing legitimacy in Mexico.
4.3 Huachicolero subculture
Subcultures in contrast to mainstream popular culture provide individuals a space of alternative images, with which they can identify themselves (Haenfler 2014, 31–32). This also applies to the emerging huachicolero subculture. As I have outlined, I propose that the subculture constructs and challenges the legitimacy of the Mexican state. Hence, it becomes necessary to analyze this cultural space. I ask: what images do the cultural artifacts of the huachicolero subculture construct? How does it construct a sense of identity and normalize the inherent criminal nature and risks of the activity (Guillermoprieto 2009)? Through which narratives does it challenge legitimacy?
Through my research, I have identified three cultural artifacts that help to explore my argument. First, I focus on pictures and a religious cult that has been developing around the so-called Holy Infant of Huachicol (Santo Niño Huachicol). Secondly, I will look into several “huachicorridos”, musical compositions about huachicoleo. At last, I have decided to include children’s huachicoleo toy cars.
4.3.1 Holy Infant of Huachicol
As Jones and Sullivan noted, in some cases members of criminal networks use spiritual figures or icons for the social understanding of their organizations (2019, 12). The huachicolero subculture also draws upon spiritual images. At its core, the religious cult focuses on the figure of the Holy Infant of Huachicol, a saint that was first seen from 2016 onwards in the Red Triangle of Puebla (Vera 2019). Interestingly, 2016 lies in the timeframe, when illegal oil theft was dramatically increasing in Mexico.
Regarding its production, the Holy Infant of Huachicol is a modified version of the original Holy Infant of Atocha. The Mexican anthropologist Anna María Fernández Poncela explains that the celebration of the Infant Jesus was common in mystic movements in Europe during the Middle
Ages (2003, 2). She estimates that this practice was brought to Mexico between the 19th and 20th
century (Fernández Poncela 2003, 6), probably as a component of Catholicism by the Spanish conquerors (Bunker and Sullivan 2017). In contemporary Mexican society, Christianity plays a big role and it is believed that those saints can work wonders (Fernández Poncela 2003, 2). Therefore, many persons have adopted this cult of the celebration of Infant Jesus figures, whom they ask for protection, dress and thank as a way of humanizing them (Fernández Poncela 2003, 2).
The precise tale of the Holy Infant of Atocha goes back to the 13th century (Bunker and
Sullivan 2017). Figure 11 depicts the saint: he holds a staff on the one hand, a basket and wheat ears on the other hand. He is wearing a dark brown cloak, a blue robe, black hat with white feather and sandals. According to the tale, the Holy Infant of Atocha was a child who visited prisoners in Atocha (Spain) and brought them food, without which the prisoners would have starved to death (Bunker and Sullivan 2017). It is believed to be a manifestation of the Infant Jesus (Bunker and Sullivan 2017).
Interestingly, the Holy Infant of Atocha today is or was petitioned by individuals of organized criminal networks: for example, the famous Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar and the son of Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzmán (Heraldo de México 2019). The original story centers around prisoners, which might explain the special appeal the saint has to persons involved in illegal activities. Moreover, in Mexico, the saint is particularly worshipped by miners and their families in the Mexican state Zacatecas for protection from accidents (Bunker and Sullivan 2017).
The production of the Holy Infant of Huachicol is linked with the exchange of the Holy Infant of Atocha within Mexico, as it served as a basis for the development of the huachicolero saint from 2016 onwards (Vera 2019). Subcultures often use common objects in alternative ways (Motz 2016, 187) and this describes what happened in the given case. In Figure 12, one can see the clear similarities between the two saints. The Holy Infant of Huachicol holds instead of the staff a hose to extract gasoline from a pipeline and instead of the basket a jerrycan (Figure 12). Reoccurring pictures in media platforms are Figures 7-10. Sometimes, the Holy Infant of Huachicol is depicted with the clothing of a PEMEX employee (Figures 9-10) and on some occasions, the saint wears a shining white dress (Figures 7-8). This finding supports the claim that the production of the Holy Infant of Huachicol in fact has been based on an appropriation of the Holy Infant of Atocha by huachicoleros (Bunker and Sullivan 2017), who adjusted the saint to their purposes. It is an example of how an object’s meaning and purpose were renegotiated in a new cultural space (Gosden and Marshall 1999, 169–70; Kopytoff 1986, 67).
Regarding its exchange, many photographs of the Holy Infant of Huachicol appear on social media or Mexican newspapers (Gallón S. 2019; La Silla Rota 2019; Martínez 2019). Notwithstanding its overwhelming digital presence, the saint is also replicated as a material object.
Especially in parts of Central Mexico, the Holy Infant of Huachicol can be found and purchased on city markets and so-called “tianguis”5 in Angelópolis, Puebla (Martínez 2019), Tepeaca, Puebla
(Rodríguez 2019) or Iztapalapa, Mexico City (Amarelo 2019). Although the artifact finds its origin in the Red Triangle of Puebla, the markets ensure its national distribution throughout Mexico (Vera 2019).
A relevant aspect of this exchange is the fact that the newspapers articles with pictures of the saint or references to it were published in January or February 2019 (Amarelo 2019; Gallón S. 2019; La Silla Rota 2019; Martínez 2019; Rodríguez 2019; Vera 2019). This is not a coincidence. I identify two explanatory reasons for this. First, the pipeline explosion in Hidalgo took place on January 18, 2019, and might have raised the media interest in the topic of huachicoleo in general and the cultural practices connected with it. Secondly, some newspapers explicitly mention the data February, 2 (El Sol de Puebla 2019; La Silla Rota 2019; LSC 2019; Martínez 2019), which is the Día de la Candelaria. This brings us to the third stage: consumption.
As pointed out, great parts of contemporary Mexican society assign religious celebrations an important role in their lives. On February 2, Candelaria Day, it is common to bring an Infant Jesus figure to the church for divine blessing (LSC 2019). After that, families put those figures on altars at home (LSC 2019) and pray for protection (Gallón S. 2019). Because each individual perceives different types of threats in his or her life, the Jesus figure is often adjusted accordingly as in the analyzed case (Gallón S. 2019). In the original tale of the Holy Infant of Atocha, the Infant protected the prisoners from dangers to their lives; in the case of huachicoleo, the Holy Infant of Huachicol is petitioned to protect the oil thieves from the dangers of the illegal activity.
Moreover, one cannot find many pictures that depict the Holy Infant of Huachicol in a church on Candelaria Day. Figure 10 is the only source that could display such a scene, as a man is holding a figure of this saint in front of a cross as if it were about to receive the blessing. An explanation for this might be that the Holy Infant of Huachicol is not recognized by the church. The spokesperson of the Archdiocese of Puebla, Paulo Carvajal, calls this practice a “mockery towards the church” and proof of weak faith (Martínez 2019). Subcultures like huachicultura are not in accordance with mainstream values and beliefs, that for example, the church represents. The Holy Infant of Huachicol serves as an instance that some persons, despite their religiousness, miss a space in the church, in which they can pray for the protection of their family members, who are huachicoleros. Although it is a criminal activity, they still desire them to receive no harm. The huachicolero subculture then functions as a space for a certain religious cult that is socially accepted by its members.
The Holy Infant of Huachicol is a cultural artifact of admiration and celebration. Despite the digitalization of various spheres of life today, it becomes clear that many persons in Mexico still desire the materiality of the Jesus figure, which they bring to the church for divine blessing. Furthermore, the agency of this artifact is undoubted for the persons that participate in this subculture, as they ask the Holy Infant of Huachicol for protection. In addition, the material object is the core of this religious cult and became included in the celebrations of Candelaria Day. It is the foundation of a new religious practice and a powerful expression of an alternative image of religiousness.
Pictures from newspapers that show this saint are not mere illustrations of a new religious phenomenon but have actively participated in its construction. All articles were published close to the Candelaria Day and have contributed to the national consciousness and understanding of the Holy Infant of Huachicol. The photographs show what the religious figure looks like, its main characteristics, and based on this information, other persons can replicate this cultural artifact.
At last, in the original tale, prisoners are protected from death. In the analyzed case, protection in the subculture is sought for huachicoleros. The criminal activity is at the core of the religious cult because its dangerous implications are what persons need protection from. Hence, the criminal activity is a prerequisite of membership and status in the subculture (cited in Duncan 2014, 21). Finally, the celebration of the saint normalizes the dangers of huachicoleo because it grants huachicoleros protection for an illegal activity. Through the divine blessing, the dangers appear less daunting.
4.3.2 Huachicorridos
Apart from the new huachicolero religiosity, the subculture has also been formed by the composition of musical texts that narrate stories about huachicoleros. This development is in many ways similar to the narcocorridos. The “huachicorridos” praise the thieves and their activities. For the analysis, I have considered five corridos: “El wachicolero” from Tamara Alcántara (2017a), “La gran señora huachicolera” from Tamara Alcántara (2017b), “Huachicolero” from Komando 357 (2016), “Del Triangulo Rojo” from Nato y los Huachix (2017) and “Los huachicoleros” from Banda Renovación (2018). Looking at the dates of their production, it is evident that all corridos have been produced in the same time period between 2016 and today. The time frame matches the period when first pictures of the Holy Infant of Huachicol were distributed throughout social media networks and huachicoleo rapidly increased.
If the former chapters, we have seen that culture legitimizes politics. I will demonstrate how huachicorridos construct legitimacy through two different narratives: on the one hand,
through a narrative of the huachicoleros as good-willing social bandits, and on the other hand, a narrative about governmental failure and the huachicoleros’ opposition against the Mexican state. First, Edberg pointed out that narcocorridos portray the narcotraffickers often as social bandits and persons of status (Edberg 2004, 46). This notion of status is an essential aspect of the huachicorridos, too. In the lyrics of one song of Tamara Alcántara, she uses the phrase “from
camotero to huachicolero” (Alcántara 2017a), camotero being a street seller. It suggests the idea of
success and that someone with a lower status obtained a higher one through huachicoleo. In a different song, Alcántara says: “Just as you humiliated me / and never took me seriously / now you see how the roles change / now I despise you / and now that I’m important / you are looking for me for convenience” (Alcántara 2017b). It is an expression of how the huachicolero overcame humiliation and exclusion and is now a successful person of importance. In addition, a different song by Komando 357 states the pride that persons take in being called huachicolero, thereby reinforcing the image of huachicoleo as an honorable and positive activity (Komando 357 2016).
Besides this notion of status, the narrative of social bandits also displays the positive traits of the persons. For example, the huachicolero is described as a “true” and “honest friend” (Alcántara 2017a) and “brave” (Banda Renovación 2018). Moreover, the music emphasizes the good intentions of the oil thieves. The song “Del Triangulo Rojo” stresses that the huachicoleros only tap the pipelines to “help their people” and “the poor” (Nato y los Huachix 2017). They would “bring the poorest farmer welfare” (Nato y los Huachix 2017). This song explicitly draws upon the marginalization of those communities and how huachicoleo serves them to reverse this state. Komando 357 highlights that although people might say it is “dirty money”, “there are worse things in life”, and huachicoleros do “neither steal from the people nor kill them” (Komando 357 2016). Rather, they look after their people and keep them safe, when the government arrives to cause trouble (Komando 357 2016).
Legitimacy means to approve an action within a specific belief system – in huachicultura, the musical compositions approve of the oil theft because it would happen out of good intentions. The texts construct huachicoleros as altruistic and important persons. This provides communities, that feel neglected by the government, a cultural space that assigns them a positive identity and status.
Regarding the second narrative, the songs contain clear references to the government and the huachicoleros’ resistance. For instance, the song “Los huachicoleros” states that it is the government that is stealing from the people (Banda Renovación 2018). Huachicoleros would only seek a share of the wealth and sell gasoline as the “new gas stations” to the people for low prices (Banda Renovación 2018). In addition, the song by Komando 357 expresses the idea of a corrupt government, too: “ I (the huachicolero) do neither steal from the people nor kill them / like the
traitorous government” (Komando 357 2016). Those accusations are clear evidence for a strong opposition towards the government and show that huachicoleros do not grant it any legitimacy. Furthermore, the song mentions the year 1938 and that the gasoline belongs to Mexicans and not the “gringos” (Komando 357 2016). This is a reference to the nationalization of oil reserves and how they are seen as part of the national body. Yet, with the Energy Reform under EPN, foreign companies were allowed into the oil industry, thereby attacking Mexico’s control over its national resources. According to the song, huachicoleros only take what is rightfully theirs.
At last, the songs describe the violent confrontations between huachicoleros and the Mexican government: “Through a hawk / a cell phone is heard / Compa (friend), the guachos (military forces) are coming / Let’s go arm ourselves / with pure goat horns / Today we are going to face them” (Nato y los Huachix 2017). The word “goat horns” is commonly used in narcocorridos and it is a way of “baptizing the weapon” (Mendoza and de la O Martínez 2015, 204). The similar use of vocabulary also shows how closely related narcocorridos and huachicorridos are. It is a euphemism for an arm that can kill a person and neutralizes its violent potential. Other passages of the songs point out the inherent dangers of huachicoleo, too: “We have been persecuted, but those are risks that usually happen at work” (Banda Renovación 2018). At the same time, they also normalize them by calling them common work risks. Finally, the huachicorridos offer a language to huachicoleros through which they can express their daily experiences of persecution and marginalization. The language unifies them as a community that has made the same experiences of resistance and danger. The musical compositions give meaning to their daily lives and assign them a positive value.
4.3.3 Huachicoleo Toys
As a last piece of evidence, I have selected huachicoleo toy cars. Pictures of those toys (Figures 15-20) have appeared in local newspaper articles, that were published in January 2019, with the exception of the article by Al Día Noticias (2018). The production of these objects can be linked to the religious celebration of the Three Wise Kings (Día de Reyes) during January, in which children wish for presents (La Opinión 2019). In 2019, the huachicoleo toy car has been one of the options for them for the first time (Garza 2019). The pictures depict different types of cars, all with a loading area, on which the jerrycans with the huachicol can be stored. Figures 15-17 show a wooden car that has several written messages on it, for example, “I love huachicol”, “Tulancingo, 100% Huachi” and “Hidalgo V.I.P.” The messages refer to an area that has been heavily affected by huachicoleo. Tulancingo is a municipality of the Mexican state Hidalgo, the state with the highest numbers of illegal pipeline taps in 2018. Moreover, Hidalgo is also the state in which the pipeline explosion in Tlahuelilpan occurred. Figures 20 display different car models, while Figures
18-19 include jerrycans on the loading areas on their trucks. The variation of car models is striking and shows that there is not one specific huachicoleo toy car, for example, the car in Figure 20 stems from the movie “Cars”. This makes clear that the toy cars were most likely taken and adjusted to the huachicoleo context. It is possible that originally those were cars without a specific reference to huachicoleo, but in the context of the events of January 2019, they have been modified slightly. It reminds of the Holy Infant of Huachicol, which is also a modified version of a different material object. Its meaning is renegotiated and results in the production of a different artifact.
With regards to the exchange of the toy cars, a testimony published in an article by Univisión confirms that the huachicoleo toy cars were sold and exchanged during a toy fair in Puebla (Gallón S. 2019). The toy cars are also offered in social media networks for sale (Garza 2019; La Opinión 2019).
Children’s toys are daily consumer goods which shall cause pleasure and fun. Through them, we can learn about the daily life and lived experiences of children regarding huachicoleo According to the testimony of a person in Hidalgo, the children would be “playing to be huachicoleros” (Gallón S. 2019). To some children, it is not only a game but they are in fact already involved in illegal oil theft. For example, some children administrate groups on social media to sell huachicol, help their mothers with the sale on the streets (La Opinión 2019) or work as hawks for the huachicoleros (La Silla Rota 2019). Yet, it is the cars that make huachicoleo appear as a fun activity and a game. The messages on the car (Figures 15-17) construct a positive link with huachicoleo. One can identify how this notion of importance in the subculture appears also in the context of those toy cars. One phrase reads: “Hidalgo V.I.P.” (Figure 15), meaning “very important person”. It outlines a huachicolero as a person of status, as someone desirable and an inspiration or role model for children. As the toys become a material presence in the everyday life of children, they can turn to those toys to enjoy themselves. Moreover, the toy cars also normalize huachicoleo. Children might not be aware of the dangers of oil theft and associate oil theft as something positive and fun, as they have learned through the toys.
This concludes the analysis part of the thesis. The next chapter will summarize my research and provide an outlook into further research.
