Narrator: This is avocado country.
Most of the fresh Hass avocados sold in the US
are grown here, in Mexico's Michoacán state.
But where there are avocados, now there are also guns.
Mexican farmers have formed a vigilante group
to protect their land from drug cartels
that have kidnapped and killed dozens of locals
in the past year alone.
Narrator: We went to Mexico to investigate the true cost
of our obsession with avocados.
One in five people here work in the avocado industry.
But many have left their jobs in the fields
to help protect their livelihoods.
Narrator: In August of 2020,
they organized a self-defense movement
called Pueblos Unidos — or United Towns.
Narrator: They asked Insider not to reveal their names
for fear of kidnapping or worse.
The members of Pueblos Unidos have no official training.
Most of the guns they carry aren't registered,
and that's illegal in Mexico.
But they say they're doing this
because they have little choice, given what they are facing.
Narrator: In the summer, they organized a rally
to ask the local government for help.
Narrator: Hundreds signed a petition
demanding more security.
Narrator: While the crowd waited outside,
Pueblos Unidos delivered the petition to the mayor.
Narrator: The mayor eventually agreed
to speak to the crowd.
But she didn't make any promises.
Narrator: The government has provided some help,
but locals say it's just not enough.
Pueblos Unidos has set up more than 50
of its own roadblocks around four towns
in the state of Michoacán.
At checkpoints, they search cars for weapons.
They patrol an area about half the size
of Phoenix to keep the cartels out.
Narrator: They're mostly farm workers
who didn't even know how to shoot
before they banded together for protection.
Now, they spend their time doing target practice
instead of farming.
Larger towns pay private police to keep the cartels out.
Still, cartels are finding their way
into every corner of the avocado trade.
A 2019 report asked if avocados could be
"the next conflict commodity,"
since "violence and corruption now
pervade Mexico's avocado supply chain."
The report also found that criminal groups
steal four truckloads a day,
and have even started farming avocados themselves.
Shipping and packing facilities have been attacked
and extorted as well.
This one, in a town called Tancítaro,
has been spared from attacks so far.
A manager said locals here pay private security forces
to keep the town, and the packing plant, safe.
About 400 workers process over a million avocados a day.
Michoacán processed 1.7 million tons of the fruit in 2020,
and Mexico exported 1.3 million tons,
mostly to the United States.
Bill Clinton: Thank you very much.
Narrator: It all started in 1993,
when the US signed the
North American Free Trade Agreement.
Clinton: I believe we have made decision now
that will permit us to create
an economic order in the world
that will promote more growth,
more equality,
better preservation of the environment,
and a greater possibility of world peace.
Narrator: It lifted an 83-year ban
on avocado imports from Mexico.
Americans went from eating
about a pound of avocados a year in 1994
to more than 7 pounds of avocados
in 2018.
Imports from Mexico
exploded in this same time period.
And the business is so lucrative
that even the deadly violence hasn't stopped other newcomers
from trying to break in,
even though the best land is taken.
Eduardo Montero and his partners
are growing avocado trees on the side of a mountain
that is rocky and exposed.
Narrator: Still, his family is well aware
of how to deal with cartels.
Narrator: If Eduardo can make it work, though,
a 76-acre farm like his could bring in more
than $200,000 in revenue at each harvest,
with multiple harvests every year.
And if the cartels charge him at local rates,
he could probably expect to pay them about $68,000
in what is called "piso," or protection money.
Meanwhile, the world's love affair with avocados
is expected to keep on growing.