Censorship or public safety? Tijuana bans ‘narco’ ballads.

Brass horn, acoustic guitar, and a punch of accordion notes spill out of a restaurant on a recent rainy evening in this bustling border city. Customers sway in their seats – and some stand up to dance – while the corrido, or ballad, blasting from the speakers tells a familiar story of love, struggle, and triumph.

Corridos have been popular in Mexico for more than a century. The song playing this evening is an old-school classic. Modern versions land Mexican and Mexican American artists at the top of international billboard charts.

But a prominent subgenre with lyrics focused on drugs, bloodshed, and consumerism, and songs known as narcocorridos, has bedeviled local governments struggling with high rates of violence and drug trafficking. Last month, Tijuana banned the performance of narcocorridos following threats allegedly by organized crime groups against corrido artists visiting the city.

It may come as little surprise that officials want to stamp out praise of the deadly, illicit activities of narcos in such public venues. Tijuana has had more homicides than any other city in Mexico, with more than 1,800 murders between May 2022 and May 2023. 

But experts and fans alike say bans are ineffective – and often have the opposite effect, helping narcocorridos become even more popular. In addition to violating people’s freedom of expression, censoring songs doesn’t make cities safer, critics say.

“Corridos tell stories. If they’re good, the stories draw you in,” says Graciela Antonio, sitting with her two adult sons at the Tijuana restaurant. “I don’t personally enjoy songs about violence. But if I find myself singing along about something illegal, that doesn’t mean I’m about to do something illegal,” she says. The recent ban is “missing the point” about the problems with violence and cartels here, she adds.

Corridos came from Spanish romances and ballads, which were brought to Mexico by colonists. In Mexico – and increasingly in the United States – they have a fan base that spans generations.

“It’s a song related to something considered epic. ... Think of corridos as some story or history for the people,” says Juan Carlos Ramírez-Pimienta, a professor at San Diego State University who studies narcoculture and corridos. “If we want to eliminate narcocorridos, we have to make the practices of crime and drug trafficking less relevant.”

In late September, a banner spelling out threats from a drug cartel showed up in Tijuana in the lead-up to a concert by a world-famous Mexican artist, Peso Pluma. Soon after, a Mexican American group also allegedly received threats from organized criminals. The musicians said the threats were over narcocorridos performed at their shows. They canceled their October performances.

The government ban soon followed.

Any artist who “transmits, exhibits, sings, or reproduces music, videos, images, or anything similar that promotes a culture of violence or apologizes for crime or illegal acts in a live performance” will be fined up to $57,000 according to the ruling passed unanimously by Tijuana’s City Council in November.

Mayor Montserrat Caballero Ramírez, who moved into military barracks last spring due to continued threats on her life, said the law is not intended to ban all corridos from being performed. “Do not misrepresent what corridos are because they are welcome and even inspirational and part of Mexican folklore,” she said after the vote. “What cannot be part of Mexican tradition and cannot represent us is the narcocorrido and the apology for crime.”

Censorship, or concert safety?

Tijuana isn’t the first government to take a stab at banning songs that glorify violence and drugs. But José Andrés Sumano Rodríguez, professor of cultural studies at the Colegio de la Frontera Norte, sees something new happening here.

“In the case of Tijuana, it’s more about the incapacity of the government to guarantee safety at these events,” than about trying to censor artists, he says. “Tijuana is in the center of the fentanyl crisis. There are various [organized crime] groups competing for control of the drug market, which makes it a little complicated to protect not just the musicians singing about these things, but the fans at concerts to see them.”

While politicians might see an appeal in banning songs that glorify the drug trade, a 2021 study found such bans also have the unintended effect of making them more popular – and enhancing the image of musicians as rebels who are above the law.

“Living documents”

The songs are valuable, even if the content is shocking, says Anajilda Mondaca Cota, who has studied the effects of drug trafficking on Mexican culture for several decades and recently retired from the Universidad Autónoma de Occidente in the state of Sinaloa.

“They are like living documents that help us understand the violence that’s transformed our country,” she says. Narcocorridos have shifted greatly even over just the past 15 years since the launch of former President Felipe Calderón’s so-called war on cartels. It’s important to document that, “even if painful,” she says.

The Mexican government’s inability to halt cartel violence lies at the root of the enduring popularity of corridos in Mexico, says Dr. Ramírez-Pimienta.

“There’s a sense that justice as an institutionalized activity is not strong in Mexico,” he says. “So, this notion of taking justice into your own hands is prevalent. As one corrido says, ‘with his pistol in his hands,’ people believe they have to defend themselves.

“I don’t believe a country where harmony and peace prevail could produce a lot of ballads these days,” he adds. “It’s a cultural privilege to have the ongoing production of this music in Mexico, but the source of it is in inequity, the lack of justice, and a sense of a difficult life.”