Mexico, Gaza & The Vampires

This editorial by Hugo Aboites appeared in the August 2, 2025 edition of La Jornada, Mexico’s premier left wing daily newspaper.

With the intentional, systematic, and well-organized genocide by starvation against Gazan children, the State of Israel has struck hard throughout the world, erasing borders and uniting spirits. The spirits of the leaders of more than 100 countries, but also, and above all, the horror of those of us who at some point, today or not so long ago, have been or wanted to be parents. Facing our helplessness, we stand as silent witnesses to extreme cruelty, completely defenseless, totally innocent little boys and girls, and girls, and girls, with Israel, which condemns us all in the world to watch them die of hunger. If it were necessary to say it, all this profoundly proves that it is no longer possible to maintain diplomatic relations with that country and continue talking as if nothing enormously cruel were being done.

Recently, the presidential office even sent this newspaper an image of President Claudia Sheinbaum lovingly embracing her young grandson. This image, in the context of barbarism, encapsulates the powerful underlying reason for the courage, determination, and solidarity necessary for a state like Mexico to be direct and decisive in this dark hour, even on behalf of the Palestinian children who are dying today without reason and without hope. Today is one of those moments when the most basic emotions become the highest expression of politics.

When Narciso Bassols, representing Mexico, passionately stood before the then-weakened League of Nations in Geneva in 1935, he did so not to enforce pretty principles designed to avoid compromise, but to defend an innocent people considered poor and backward. And in doing so, he explained why Ethiopia—a small country at the tip of the Horn of Africa—meant so much to Mexico, and why it should now care with the same profound determination about the fate of the Palestinians. Bassols said that “the people of Mexico, composed largely of peoples” we today call indigenous and mestizo, “whom they kept… in a regime of servitude for centuries, have had harsh examples in their history of independent life of what the conquering invasions of imperialism mean.”

Therefore, he adds, “respect for the independence and territory of a country is an organic element of our sensitivity and a fundamental demand of all our people” because Mussolini wanted to reduce that country to a colony. Not long after, under Cárdenas, Mexico defended and welcomed Republicans, Communists, Jews, and other immigrants, declared war on the fascist regimes of Italy and Germany, and after, despite the United States, defended Cuba, isolated Franco, condemned the Holocaust, broke relations with the military regime in Chile, and thus clearly established a position that honored its own struggles.

Yet now Mexico is silent. It doesn’t dare mention the word genocide, doesn’t demand, like others, that international norms be applied, and doesn’t want to break off relations. It prefers to remain silent or take refuge in an unattainable future: the creation of two states. And the silence of officials is also joined by spaces for thought that should be free, that of universities, and the presidency—that sphere that was at the center of that history full of heroism and hope to which Bassols referred—does not guide the reconstruction of that history. Therefore, accepting the deaths of children from hunger in Gaza defeats our history. It is normalizing, at the worst possible moment, denial and the rule of the logic of death, and this invades unexpected corners.

Last week, a professor died of heart disease in a hallway near the rector’s office at UAM-Xochimilco. Arturo Camilo Escobar, an immigrant, is remembered by his students as a dedicated and good teacher. This led to the revival of the union’s demand to design a health care policy for older workers. And, just steps from where the professor fell, the response of a high-ranking official—mentioned as a candidate for rector in Xochimilco—was blunt: “We cannot force any professor to retire; they can continue sucking the university’s blood.” This turns the institution into the victim of a swarm of small, sucking, flying mammals and, consequently, turns the authorities into valiant hunters of irregularities.

However, their position is contradictory. On the one hand, they insist everyone work to earn points, but then they are criticized because they earn more and don’t want to leave. A kind of Hall of Fame has even been created with photos of all the “distinguished” teachers, among other things, for their extraordinary point production, and they are rewarded with watches and more money. As Yates said: things are falling apart; the center no longer holds.