Ignacio Morales Lechuga
Where was the International Law?
A significant portion of Mexican opinion has become saturated with feigned moral outrage, a chorus of voices aligned with the left that oscillates between repudiating all US actions and openly defending Chavismo. They claim to be critics of power, but only when justice catches up with their cronies. They label the enforcement of a long-delayed arrest warrant as “interventionism,” while they themselves operate under a double standard. They demand respect for international law to protect dictatorships, but focus their efforts on destroying institutions and trampling on domestic law.
Their sudden passion for the law stems not from conviction, but from opportunism. Those who invoke norms, courts, and sovereignty are the ones who despise the law, reinterpret it on a whim, or empty it from within.
For decades, the left celebrated universal jurisdiction as an ethical achievement, and there were no conflicts with international law, sovereignty, or due process. There you have Spain trying Pinochet. That was justice without borders, human rights above the State, universal morality without inhibitions. Today, when that same principle threatens an ally, they suddenly discover the limits of international law.
Those who describe the arrest of a dictator as “interference” take offense in the name of an abstract sovereignty that they never defended for Venezuelans when their government imprisoned or massacred the opposition. Humanitarian interference has been at the core of modern legal thinking since its inception. It was Hugo Grotius who formulated the right to use force when the sovereign fails to fulfill his function and becomes an aggressor against his own subjects. Immanuel Kant and John Stuart Mill also faced the same dilemma. They concluded that when the law ceases to protect the innocent and becomes a refuge for the executioner, the legal order becomes an alibi for crime, and force ceases to be an anomaly. It becomes a necessary instrument to restore justice.
The left is uncomfortable admitting that no anti-imperialism justifies the hunger, repression, and exile of millions. Defending a criminal regime in the name of geopolitical consistency is doctrinal cruelty. The law does not exist to shield criminals or to preserve a system that produces victims. When legality becomes a mechanism of impunity, invoking it without context ceases to be legal prudence and becomes moral complicity. No legal system deserves to survive if it requires the sacrifice of human lives to preserve its appearance of correctness intact.
History offers examples that dismantle feigned moralism. Adolf Eichmann was not arrested in accordance with international law; he was captured in Argentina by the Mossad and taken to Israel to stand trial. The Israeli government at the time was left-wing. It did not seek permission from the international legal system of the time. It acted out of a conviction of the greater good: to bring to justice a crime that transcended all borders. Today, no serious person argues that this was an illegitimate act, but rather an affirmation of moral responsibility.
The scene reaches absurdity when the figure of Juárez is invoked as the patron saint of sovereignty, ignoring that he was one of the greatest promoters of the Monroe Doctrine. Juárez accepted US interventionism; he tactically encouraged it to preserve his own cause. He would never have sacrificed political pragmatism for ideological solidarity with a criminal regime.
Beyond their ideological narratives, Sheinbaum’s condemnation and López Obrador’s stance place Mexico in a vulnerable position at a critical juncture in trade negotiations. In a bilateral climate strained by security, migration, and drug trafficking, the government seems to prefer solidarity with a dictatorship to building a pragmatic relationship with our main geopolitical partner in the 21st century. In the end, the cost of “ideological consistency” will be paid, as always, by the national interest.
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