Uruguay on the Side of Criminals: The Government's Decision to Stay Out of the Shield of the Americas is Confirmed

President Yamandú Orsi confirmed, with his inaction, that Uruguay is out of the "Shield of the Americas," the regional initiative promoted by the United States to combat drug trafficking, transnational organized crime, and money laundering in a coordinated manner. Orsi merely described it as "strange" that we had not been invited and said that "when concrete problems arise" we will be willing. No active management, no formal request for admission, no clear signal of alignment with the countries that did decide to face the problem head-on. It is a political choice: a lukewarm, complacent, and dangerous line with international crime.100

While the region advances in shared intelligence, joint operations, and real pressure on drug routes, Uruguay opts to watch from the sidelines. TCP, ports, airports, and borders remain exposed links in a continent where crime does not ask for permission.

The supposed "relative stability" is increasingly fragile

It is repeated ad nauseam that Uruguay enjoys "relative stability." But that stability is becoming increasingly relative and less stable. Cocaine and chemical precursor seizures continue to break records year after year. Homicides linked to settling scores between gangs have increased. Money laundering in the real estate, financial, and cryptocurrency sectors is a recurring concern for international organizations. The Port of Montevideo and Carrasco appear time and again in operations that reveal that the country is no longer just an occasional transit point, but an increasingly functional node for organizations that move billions.

In this context, declining —by omission— to be part of a shield that precisely seeks to anticipate and strike at these networks is an irresponsible decision. It is not neutrality: it is giving the enemy a free field. Organized crime operates with business logic: where there is less police, judicial, and diplomatic risk, it invests more. Uruguay, with its location, relatively intact institutions, and its dollarized economy in several circuits, is attractive to those looking to launder, store, or transit illicit goods.

The real costs of lukewarmness

Each day without greater international coordination translates into:

• Increased pressure on police and prosecutors who must act alone or with fragmented cooperation.

• Loss of logistical competitiveness: exporters pay more for cargo insurance, ships choose other ports, and supply chains look at us with distrust.

The "relative stability" that is so heavily marketed is a veneer that is cracking. When the state does not firmly exercise control over borders and does not align with partners who share the same enemy, the result is predictable: more resources for criminals, more selective violence, and more diffuse costs for society as a whole. Those who suffer the most are the productive sectors and middle and lower-class families who see how drug traffickers infiltrate neighborhoods while the government talks about "concrete problems" that, coincidentally, never seem urgent enough to act preventively.

Orsi and his administration choose a supposed isolationist sovereignty that, in practice, weakens the country. In a world where crime is global, the lukewarm response amounts to gradual surrender. Other countries in the region have understood that one cannot combat alone. Uruguay decided to try. The recent history of the region shows that this strategy rarely ends well.

The Shield of the Americas was not a ceremonial invitation: it was a concrete opportunity for intelligence, technology, and joint pressure. Letting it pass does not strengthen national independence. It exposes it. And in the meantime, gangs continue to operate, ports remain vulnerable, and "relative stability" becomes increasingly relative and less reassuring for Uruguayans.