By 2024, The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) estimated that approximately 123.2 million people had been displaced due to armed conflict. Of this alarming figure, approximately 72 million people remain within their own country’s borders (UNHCR 2024). This means that studies focusing on transnational displacement overlook nearly 58% of the phenomenon. Internal displacement occurs worldwide, but it is more prevalent in countries where violence is concentrated and where there is a geographic disparity in state capacity (Pérez Vázquez et al. Reference Pérez, Brenda and Cabada2019; Rubio Díaz-Leal and Bachi Reference Rubio Díaz-Leal and Bachi2014).
Civil war Colombia remains the paradigmatic case of violence-propelled displacement. However, Mexico has also become a case in which internal forced displacement (IFD) cannot be ignored. While IFD in Mexico has its roots in the religious and land conflicts of the 1970s and the violence that followed the Zapatista rebellion of the 1990s, it spiked in recent years due to the intensification of the war on drugs (Rubio Díaz-Leal and Bachi Reference Rubio Díaz-Leal and Bachi2014).
Using Rubio and Bachi’s (Reference Rubio Díaz-Leal and Bachi2014) methodology, Mexico’s Commission for the Defense and Promotion of Human Rights (CMDPDH) estimates that 379,322 people were forcibly displaced due to violence from 2006 to 2021 (Pérez Vázquez et al. Reference Pérez, Brenda and Cabada2022), with mass displacement events nearly tripling between 2020 and 2021 and surging to 76 by 2023 (CMDPDH 2023). Pérez Vázquez, Barbosa, and Cabada (Reference Pérez, Brenda and Cabada2019) argue that this approach is overly conservative as it relies exclusively on media-reported mass displacements. By focusing instead on individuals’ reports of moving due to fear of crime in surveys, they estimate that annual IFD could approach 1 million, far exceeding the CMDPDH’s figure.
The effects of IFD in Mexico are far-reaching. Families fleeing violence endure profound physical, psychological, and socioeconomic harm (Muro Aréchiga et al. Reference Muro, Karen, Aréchiga and Rodríguez Chávez2022). Communities losing merchants and farmers face significant disruption to their employment and production systems (López Reference López2023). And localities from which journalists and academics are forced to migrate suffer a loss of human capital that is difficult to replenish in the short term.
Among the most affected groups—in Mexico and globally—are women. In regions where organized criminal groups assert control, gender-based violence intensifies. Women—particularly from excluded communities (e.g., Afro, Indigenous, rural)—are not only subordinated through strengthened patriarchal and authoritarian norms but are also weaponized as symbols of power in disputes between rival factions (Selmini Reference Selmini2020; De Marinis Reference De Marinis, Pérez Vázquez, Aquino Barbosa Magalhães and Cabada Rodríguez2021; Stephen Reference Stephen2018). As some studies show, this violence is both interpersonal and structural as criminal actors, state-linked or not, exacerbate gendered cultural inequalities and vulnerabilities (Acharya Reference Acharya2009; Morales Viana and Velasco Ortiz Reference Morales Viana and Velasco Ortiz2024). Thus, there is a clear link between gender and organized violence.
If this is not enough, displaced women face compounded vulnerabilities during IFD: governmental and social reception networks stigmatize them, families impose unpaid care burdens, and labor markets force professional reinvention. These pressures systematically hinder successful integration (Salazar Reference Salazar2014; Glockner et al. Reference Glockner, Borzacchiello and Torres2024; Pérez Vázquez et al. Reference Pérez, Brenda and Cabada2022).
Despite its urgency, the intersection of gender-based violence and IFD remains largely absent from Mexico’s legal, institutional, and public policy agendas. While the General Law on Women’s Access to a Life Free of Violence and the National Victims’ Law (Ley General de Acceso de Las Mujeres a Una Vida Libre de Violencia 2007; Ley General de Víctimas Reference Ley2013) provide separate mechanisms for assisting women affected by domestic violence and victims of organized crime, they fail to offer an integrated framework capable of addressing the dangers—to women and frontline workers—posed by actors linked to organized crime. Although the Federal Law Against Organized Crime includes limited protections—such as identity shielding (Art. 14) and support for witnesses during prosecution (Art. 34)—these are narrowly restricted and offer no broader support like relocation, psychosocial care, or safety for women, families, or social workers before they are involved in judicial proceedings.
This gap not only reflects a conceptual ambiguity around how public and private forms of violence intersect but also the practical challenge of mobilizing, coordinating, and sustaining state resources to address both simultaneously. Whatever the origin of the legal and policy vacuum, organizations helping displaced women face two key challenges: insufficient resources to support women and a lack of state-backed security mechanisms that would allow shelters to safely and adequately house women escaping from contexts in which organized crime is dominant (Duarte-Gómez et al. Reference Duarte-Gómez, Magali Cuadra-Hernández, Ruiz-Rodríguez, Arredondo and David Cortés-Gil2018; Lara Reference Lara2014; Red Nacional de Refugios 2023; Stephen Reference Stephen2018; De Marinis Reference De Marinis, Pérez Vázquez, Aquino Barbosa Magalhães and Cabada Rodríguez2021).
We categorize four types of supporting organizations into two main objectives. The first focuses on immediate care through: here we find governmental aid organizations (GAOs) like states’ integral family development systems (DIFs) and states’ institutes for women; non-governmental aid organizations (NGAOs) like private refuges and feminist NGOs; and religious organizations (ROs) like churches and clerical groups. Despite differing affiliations, all provide shelter, food, psychological counseling, and community integration (plus spiritual support for ROs). The second objective—justice and security—is pursued by governmental law enforcement agencies (GLAs), such as police and public prosecutors. It involves crime investigation, legal protection, and occasional armed security. Despite their differing mandates, all four types operate in a legal vacuum regarding organized crime-related displacement, exposing social workers, legal professionals, and others to risks as they navigate ambiguous protocols.
In this article, we investigate the behavior of officials under these conditions. We include workers from government and non-government agencies because, in Mexico, they operate in a collaborative and overlapping manner to help women. We consider that these actors—referred to as frontline workers by authors such as Lipsky (Reference Lipsky1980) and Falanga (Reference Falanga and Farazmand2022)—play a crucial role in implementing public policies and in the interaction between institutions and their beneficiaries.
Understanding the behavior of frontline workers is crucial because they are responsible for executing the processes through which offenders receive sanctions and victims obtain assistance (Carranco Reference Carranco2020; Sampo et al. Reference Sampo, Troncoso and Paparini2023).Footnote 1 They also play a key role in fostering trust among victims and preventing re-victimization (Carranco Reference Carranco2020). This article asks: what coping mechanisms do frontline workers use to overcome organizational challenges while protecting displaced women fleeing organized crime? Using a qualitative approach, we conducted 24 in-depth interviews with key informants working in organizations that have faced decisions about assisting women who are hiding from organized crime.
Our research builds on the concept of coping (Lazarus and Folkman Reference Lazarus and Folkman1984; Carver Reference Carver2020), which originally referred to the individual’s act of selecting responses to deal with external stressors (Lazarus and Folkman Reference Lazarus and Folkman1984). We start from the premise that frontline workers—while acting as representatives of their organizations—are also ordinary individuals who experience stress when confronted with risky tasks for which they have few resources and may be inadequately trained. This being the case, just as citizens cope with trauma (Comellas et al. Reference Comellas, Makhashvili and Chikovani2015; Saxon et al. Reference Saxon, Makhashvili and Chikovani2016; Seguin et al. Reference Seguin, Lewis, Razmadze, Amirejibi and Roberts2017) and threat (McCorkle Reference McCorkle1992; Reid and Listwan Reference Reid and Johnson Listwan2018; Arias and Goldstein Reference Arias and Goldstein2010; Fuerte-Celis and Zizumbo-Colunga Reference Fuerte-Celis and Zizumbo-Colunga2023) in contexts of violence, frontline workers must also cope with the strain inherent in assisting internally displaced people hiding from organized crime.
We draw from Fuerte-Celis and Zizumbo-Colunga’s (Reference Fuerte-Celis and Zizumbo-Colunga2023) coping typology because it provides a valuable framework for understanding how individuals respond to stress in high-risk environments. This typology is not only well-suited to analyze the experiences of frontline workers because it distinguishes among the resources mobilized—individual, institutional, social, and familial—by the individuals, but also because it was specifically designed to capture coping mechanisms in contexts where threats stem from actors linked to organized crime.
We have organized the text into four sections. In the first section, we address the problem of forced displacement, describe the context of our research, and present a conceptual framework that enables us to define three types of coping mechanisms: individual, institutional, and social. In the second section, we describe the methodology we used to collect the data we work with. In the third section, we describe the types of coping mechanisms frontline workers develop to overcome the barriers they face in promoting safe spaces, limiting harm, decreasing vulnerability, and increasing the social resilience of women escaping actors linked to organized crime. We believe that, by listening to the voices of frontline workers supporting displaced women, this study contributes to the growing literature on the gendered consequences of organized crime (Selmini Reference Selmini2020; Hübschle Reference Hübschle2014) by shifting the focus from perpetrators and victims to those positioned between them.
The Context of Displacement and Frontline Workers
Starting in 2006, Mexico launched a war on drugs that involved the militarization of security, through army occupation, military empowerment, and criminal leadership decapitations (Calderón et al. Reference Calderón, Robles, Díaz-Cayeros and Magaloni2015; Magaloni and Razu Reference Magaloni and Razu2016). Far from pacifying the country, this strategy triggered a surge in homicides, disappearances, and kidnappings that increased the perception of fear and insecurity throughout the country (Jiménez Valdez Reference Jiménez and Ivette2014; Jordan Reference Jordan2019; Phillips Reference Phillips2015; Pérez Vázquez et al. Reference Pérez, Brenda and Cabada2022). The resulting crisis has forced entrepreneurs, journalists, and civilians into individual and collective displacement within Mexico (Durin Reference Durin2012).
In this context, frontline workers—within government and civil society—play a crucial role in supporting vulnerable populations who have lost everything. They assist individuals in accessing healthcare, replacing lost identification, and coping with trauma (Díaz Vanegas and Monsiváis Carrillo Reference Díaz Vanegas and Monsiváis Carrillo2022) while also helping them navigate the challenges of an uncertain future (Dominelli Reference Dominelli2015). Yet their efforts are often hindered by limited resources, an inadequate institutional understanding of displacement, safety risks, precarious working conditions, vicarious trauma, and a perception of institutional abandonment (Comoretto et al. Reference Comoretto, Crichton and Albery2015; Connorton et al. Reference Connorton, Perry, Hemenway and Miller2012; Hearns and Deeny, Reference Hearns and Deeny2007; Turner et al. Reference Turner, Bosch and Nolty2021). These barriers not only obstruct aid delivery but also deepen the structural neglect and social stigma faced by displaced individuals in a country gripped by fear of organized crime (Teiner Reference Teiner2020). How do frontline workers deal with these limitations?
The literature on frontline workers highlights conditions that can help them overcome institutional barriers, chief among them being bureaucratic discretion, the ability to deviate from rules when necessary (Hassan et al. Reference Hassan, Ariffin, Mansor and Al Halbusi2021; Peeters and Campos Reference Peeters and Campos2022; Lipsky Reference Lipsky1980). Discretion depends on the official’s autonomy to act on personal judgment, which is shaped by factors such as sector, tenure, expertise in unregulated situations, the likelihood of cases exceeding institutional boundaries, and overall organizational strength (Assadi and Lundin Reference Assadi and Lundin2018; Vedung Reference Vedung2015). In strong institutions, discretion is guided by training and resources; in weaker ones, it often requires improvisation (Peeters and Campos Reference Peeters and Campos2022).Footnote 2
As discussed earlier, support for women displaced by gender-based violence linked to organized crime often falls outside the mandates and resources of government and NGO systems. This gap forces frontline workers to improvise, moving beyond policy implementation to craft informal responses to women’s urgent needs (Rivera and Knox Reference Rivera and Connolly Knox2023). Some coordinate with trusted local contacts to secure food, medicine, and temporary shelter in private homes, churches, or community centers, offering immediate protection while formal solutions are arranged. Others accompany women through legal processes—filing police reports or requesting restraining orders—offering emotional and practical support when fear and confusion overtake them.
Another force that helps frontline workers deal with the lack of resources and guidelines is street-level diplomacy. This concept refers to the ability of workers to adapt their actions and language to the situation in which they find themselves working (Gale et al. Reference Gale, Dowswell, Greenfield and Marshall2017). In sensitive contexts—such as those involving victims of political persecution, gender violence, or organized crime—the strategic use of concepts is critical for the capacity of frontline workers to gain victims’ trust and mobilize psychological, monetary, and legal resources to help them (Schwarz Reference Schwarz2019).
Institutions that have contact with women hiding from violence are environments where diplomacy is essential. Frontline workers must adapt to the emotional and legal needs of victims and funders, utilizing strategic communication skills that impact both access to resources and the quality of care. This flexibility enables them to adjust their actions on a case-by-case basis, ensuring victim-centered care. It also enables them to navigate institutional ambivalence when addressing cases tied to organized crime, where missteps can carry reputational or physical risks for victims and providers.
One final aspect to consider when studying frontline workers’ behavior in situations of threat is what we refer to as intra-institutional creativity (Azamela et al. Reference Azamela, Tang, Owusu, Egala and Bruce2022). Intra-institutional creativity refers to frontline workers’ knowledge of how the laws, protocols, and institutional resources can be leveraged to solve problems. While it might be assumed that all officials possess a uniform understanding of their institutional environment, this is not the case. The degree of knowledge about regulations varies, and this variation can make the difference between frontline workers who succeed in meeting their objectives and those who ultimately abandon their goals. The vagueness of norms and protocols offers workers an opportunity to reinterpret and apply them to find solutions to organizational challenges (Lipsky Reference Lipsky2023; Peeters and Campos Reference Peeters and Campos2022).
Intra-institutional creativity is especially critical when assisting women fleeing organized criminal actors—partners, rivals, family members, or extortionists—whose cases fall outside rigid legal frameworks and bureaucratic routines. These volatile, high-risk cases demand more than procedural compliance. As Buchely (Reference Buchely2016) showed in the case of Colombia, frontline workers can strategically reinterpret institutional rules through a feminist lens to meet women’s needs more effectively. Similarly, in Mexico, frontline workers can unlock access to services by flexibly applying existing norms rather than strictly adhering to them, thereby excluding some women from protection. This capacity for improvisation could potentially help them to respond to the emotional, legal, and logistical needs of women in hiding when institutional mandates fall short.
It is essential to note, however, that institutional creativity is not equally accessible to all workers. Higher-ranking officials tend to enjoy more leeway, while lower-level staff are often constrained by formal expectations and sanctions—such as reprimands, or informal discipline—for bending the rules. Therefore, unequal censure suppresses innovation precisely where it is most needed—within agencies marked by strict hierarchies and a prevailing culture of formalism. Still, when discretion is tolerated within ethical bounds, diplomacy and institutional creativity empower frontline workers to offer more tailored, victim-centered support. This improves the quality of care and expands the institution’s capacity to address the complex realities of organized violence.
Overall, the literature shows that frontline workers have considerable leeway to fill institutional vacuums. In these conditions, bureaucratic discretion, diplomatic acumen, and institutional creativity are key for their capacity to bypass settings of ambiguity and risk. Building on these observations, the following section conceptualizes the various ways in which frontline workers exercise discretion to mobilize internal and external resources.
Our contribution to the literature on violence lies in examining how these workers navigate severe budgetary and security constraints by deploying coping mechanisms that draw directly on these capacities. At the same time, we aim to expand the literature on psychological coping by reframing the frontline worker not merely as an individual under stress, but as an active agent embedded in a bureaucratic environment, capable of mobilizing institutional knowledge and networks. This reconceptualization is essential for a full understanding of how they manage to assist women fleeing from actors linked to organized crime (Başoglu et al. Reference Başoglu, Livanou and Crnobarić2005).
Officials and Coping Mechanisms in The Context of Displacement
Coping can be broadly understood as the set of efforts individuals undertake to manage adversity (Carver Reference Carver2020). Originally conceptualized by Lazarus and Folkman (Reference Lazarus and Folkman1984) as a rapid response to stressors that mediates the emergence of emotion, the concept has since been extended to a wide range of contexts, actors, and outcomes.
In the context of forced displacement, Saxon et al. (Reference Saxon, Makhashvili and Chikovani2016) and Zbidat et al. (Reference Zbidat, Georgiadou, Borho, Erim and Morawa2020) examined the behavior of Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) using Lazarus and Folkman’s (Reference Lazarus and Folkman1984) engaged–avoidant framework. They found that IDPs employing engaged strategies were better able to mobilize social resources and achieve more positive psychological outcomes. More specifically, Seguin et al. (Reference Seguin, Lewis, Razmadze, Amirejibi and Roberts2017) studied gender differences in coping, finding that IDP women were more likely to employ cognitive restructuring coping than men. While these studies advance our understanding of coping, they focus on harm and loss rather than threat and uncertainty.
Interested in how individuals entering new environments cope with the threat of violence, some researchers have turned to prisons and collective actors. McCorkle (Reference McCorkle1992) and Reid and Listwan (Reference Reid and Johnson Listwan2018), for instance, investigated how new inmates use passive, active, and proactive strategies to cope with threat. They find that proactive strategies minimize risks and maximize social ties. Arias and Goldstein (Reference Arias and Goldstein2010), for their part, investigated the different strategies that communities use to manage fear of violence in Latin America, finding that communities adopt both confrontational (e.g., self-defense) and adaptive (e.g., negotiation) styles of coping. While these studies advance our understanding of how individuals and communities respond to imminent threats of violence, they offer limited insights into the pragmatic, individual-level actions that direct and indirect victims must undertake to cope with the menace of organized criminal violence.
To address this gap, Fuerte-Celis and Zizumbo-Colunga (Reference Fuerte-Celis and Zizumbo-Colunga2023) investigated the experiences of women hiding from drug cartels. They noted that coping requires the deployment of both internal and external resources, and therefore, the phenomenon can be characterized in terms of resource mobilization. They propose that victims aim to mobilize four types of resources: individual (internal cognitive, behavioral, or economic assets accumulated over time), institutional (mechanisms provided by the state), social (peer and community assistance), and familial (family support). This framework is unique in that it helps us understand how women navigate threats deployed by organized criminal actors. However, it remains underapplied to other populations that, like frontline workers helping women at risk, face similarly acute risks.
Yet researchers working outside the field of organized criminal violence have long recognized the importance of studying coping among frontline workers. Some studies have classified public officials’ coping mechanisms as adaptive (exercise, humor, and social bonding) and maladaptive (e.g., substance use, emotional withdrawal) (Bell et al. Reference Bell, Kulkarni and Dalton2003; Koinis et al. Reference Koinis, Giannou, Drantaki, Angelaina, Stratou and Saridi2015). Others have analyzed how the patterns of behavioral and cognitive coping among health workers during the pandemic varied as a function of their identities, resilience, and histories of trauma experience (Reilly et al. Reference Reilly, Soulliard, McCuddy and Mahoney2021; Mashego et al. Reference Mashego, Boshoff and Fourie2023; Yılmaz and Bekaroğlu Reference Yılmaz and Tathan Bekaroğlu2025). And a third strand of inquiry has investigated the efficacy of different types of coping, finding that socio-emotional mechanisms like camaraderie, humor, and peer support can be key buffers against vicarious trauma and burnout (Mette et al. Reference Mette, Wirth, Nienhaus, Harth and Mache2020; Piras et al. Reference Piras, Usai, Contu and Galletta2024).
While valuable, this literature remains grounded in institutionalized health systems, focusing primarily on how workers cope with loss and harm, rather than on how they respond to threats and institutional uncertainty. Amid a widespread crisis of violence in Latin America, it is crucial to shift our focus to how government and non-government agency workers cope with the psychological, legal, and economic barriers preventing them from helping individuals displaced by organized crime.
A rare but important antecedent to this study is Agudo Sanchíz’s (Reference Agudo Sanchíz2023) ethnography, which shows how frontline actors in Tijuana—caught between humanitarian norms and fragmented institutions—create informal but ethical responses to the needs of displaced individuals. His focus on “practical norms” and moral improvisation offers key insights into how frontline workers cope under institutional precarity. Although valuable, this work emphasizes an analysis of a transnational governance regime, paying less attention to the challenges faced by domestic frontline workers in dealing with internal forced displacement (IFD).
To contribute to this gap, we propose a typology of the various coping mechanisms frontline workers employ to manage the challenges posed by assisting victims of organized crime. We draw on Fuerte-Celis and Zizumbo-Colunga’s (Reference Fuerte-Celis and Zizumbo-Colunga2023) framework. We adopt this framework because it efficiently captures behavioral variation, maintains conceptual clarity across coping types, and is well-suited to the context under analysis. Our contribution, however, extends this framework beyond its original focus on victims and toward the agents of the state and civil society who attempt to assist them.
We contend that, just as victims mobilize internal resources to escape persecution, frontline workers mobilize their cognitive and behavioral resources (e.g., grit, discretion, autonomy, leadership) to overcome the barriers they face in helping vulnerable populations persecuted by organized crime. By reframing the situation, listening to victims, or providing guidance, workers can establish a relationship of trust with those displaced by violence, which enables them to better understand their situation and develop more effective assistance strategies.
A second group of coping mechanisms involves leveraging governmental institutions. In this category, we include actions that involve frontline workers “navigating the system” to activate support that was not specifically intended to benefit individuals displaced by actors linked to organized crime. In the case of officials working with vulnerable women, children, and adolescents, this may involve knowing how to refer victims to specialized services, providing established subsidies, offering legal guidance, or engaging in other supportive behaviors.
Finally, we contend that, like citizens, frontline workers often engage in social coping. That is, they seek peer support within their organizations or through collaboration with external networks, which often serve as critical sources of emotional reinforcement and problem-solving. For instance, frontline workers in shelters may exchange information and strategies with colleagues to address the needs of displaced women fleeing cartel violence. Consequently, the interpersonal networks and the social skills of workers become as vital as the structural strength of organizations.
To show how these forms of coping manifest empirically, in the following section, we investigate the case of public officials assisting women seeking to escape violence in Mexico. This case is critical because this population faces extreme vulnerabilities, government resources are insufficient to tackle the problem, and frontline workers face risks to both their personal and institutional integrity. Our qualitative methodology aims to capture the complex and challenging environments in which frontline officials operate, providing in-depth insights into the coping mechanisms they deploy under such circumstances.
Methods
We conducted 24 in-depth interviews with frontline officials (20 women and 4 men) working in social assistance, protection, shelter, and humanitarian aid (see note 1) within government and non-government organizations in six cities in Mexico between March and September of 2023. Some cities were more relevant for intra-state displacement (Zacatecas, San Luis Potosí, and Colima), while others were more relevant for inter-state displacement (Mérida, Mexico City, and Aguascalientes). In most cases, frontline workers dealt with women arriving from other states. This likely reflects a shared perception—among both victims and frontline workers—that proximity to the threatening actor increases the risk of detection and retaliation, making relocation a safer option.
The fieldwork aimed to achieve four main objectives: to understand how workers perceive and assist women escaping cartel violence, to identify the barriers that workers and organizations face in delivering adequate services, to explore how workers cope with these challenges, and to assess whether their behaviors align with our proposed typology. The fieldwork unfolded in the following stages:
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1. Actor Mapping: first, we conducted an exhaustive mapping of actors to identify governmental and civil society organizations that could potentially assist displaced women. To achieve this, we identified organizations that provide humanitarian support, justice, victim care, and social assistance services to women. We identified four main groups of organizations: 1) governmental aid and shelter organizations (GAOs), 2) governmental law enforcement agencies (GLAs), 3) non-governmental aid/shelter organizations (NGAOs), and 4) religious organizations (RO) (see Appendix A).
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2. Contact Consolidation: at this stage, we established and consolidated contact with the leaders of the relevant organizations. Given the sensitive nature of the topic—assisting women displaced by actors linked to organized crime—we prioritized indirect outreach through our personal and professional networks, drawing on preexisting reservoirs of trust. When this was not feasible, we adopted a snowball strategy, requesting referrals from organizations with which we were already in contact. In cases where neither approach was viable, we reached out electronically, clearly communicating the academic purpose and confidential nature of the study. We finalized the selection process by confirming with each contact that they or their organization had assisted—or were imminently positioned to assist—a displaced woman, defined as someone in hiding from organized crime or individuals associated with it, including intimate partners.
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3. Interviews and Ethics Protocols: after establishing contacts and securing the participation of organizations and officials, we conducted in-depth interviews using a questionnaire guide (see Appendix C). The guide progresses from the general to the specific, starting with open-ended questions about the frontline worker’s experiences and ending with questions about their strategies for coping with the challenge of helping a woman hiding from organized crime. Before each interview, we implemented an ethics and security protocol. This included obtaining informed consent (Appendix B), which outlined the study’s purpose, participants’ rights, and measures to ensure anonymity and data protection. Participants were assured that the study was academic and could withdraw at any time (Appendix D).
Before proceeding, it is essential to recognize that, although we pool resources across them, government and civil society organizations differ in terms of autonomy, resources, and institutional responsibilities. We chose not to separate our analysis due to: (a) the integrated ecosystem they share, (b) our focus on frontline workers as individuals rather than organizational instruments, and (c) the reality that even government officials often lack resources to help women escape actors linked to organized crime. Nonetheless, we recognize the value of contextual analyses and encourage future research to examine how institutional contexts can influence workers’ coping mechanisms.
Finally, the interviews presented here should be seen as a limited, yet valuable reflection of the complex pressures frontline officials face. Including more interviews might have offered additional insights into the challenges of working with communities affected by violence. Nonetheless, the patterns identified remain robust across our sample. Once more, we encourage students of frontline work to extend our resource-based categorization of coping and test its applicability using broader and more representative datasets.
Results
Individual Coping
As mentioned before, frontline officers tend to address the barriers they encounter in various ways. One of these is by using their own skills and resources. Yet, the likelihood that frontline workers will use individual coping depends on their personal characteristics and their position within the organization. In risky cases—such as those involving women fleeing organized crime—the fear and uncertainty experienced by junior staff often escalate quickly up the chain of command. In the absence of formal protocols or institutional support, it is typically senior leaders who step in, drawing on their education, experience, and judgment to craft improvised responses and set ad hoc guidelines. As the directors of two NGOs—dedicated to providing emotional support, coordinating access to basic services, and advocating for displaced women’s safety and dignity—told us:
I have had to make decisions to relocate them to other places where it might be safer for them, taking many risks that something could go wrong. (NGAOs _1).
Many things will catch you by surprise; they’re new situations. You need to have a well-developed sense of leadership and knowledge as well […] I’ve had to create security protocols in the middle of the night to ensure the safety of the women transferred and the safety of the officials. (NGAOs _1)
Although hierarchy influences individual coping, the relationship is not absolute. We found that even when under conditions of less discretion and autonomy, frontline workers sometimes propose alternatives that go beyond their institutional mandate. As one stated:
I have proposed working in the afternoon or double shifts, with two service schedules to better serve the population. (GAOs _1)
While the worker’s response may partly reflect a desire for extra income, it also reveals a deeper commitment to protecting and supporting displaced women, one that often extends beyond formal duties. This commitment is echoed in the testimonies of two psychologists, who emphasize that both they and their colleagues routinely invest their own time—without compensation—to seek additional training and improve the care they provide for victims:
We have had this training, I thank the institute […] that has been concerned about training and providing this training to the team, but I also recognize that many of us who are here have also done it on our own. (GAOs _1)
[As a different frontline worker told us] I see that there are many colleagues who prepare themselves on their own, who search [for more training]. Although I believe there may be a certain amount of budget directed towards training and professionalization, with the people I have come across […] with their type of personality […] I have realized that they rely not only on the training the institution provides but also seek training on their own. (GAOs _4)
Regarding safety issues, employees report developing their own protocols, which do not appear to interfere with or hinder the organization’s activities. In fact, on the contrary, we note that employees see it as necessary to have these self-made protocols due to the risks that helping women hiding from actors linked to organized crime entails. As the director of a private shelter explained:
I have my own security protocols, and those protocols have to do with strange [telephone] numbers, people, or situations that I do not know. In this case, [when I receive strange calls] I do not answer numbers and change daily patterns. Also, when I link up with another shelter, I do it directly with the head of the department […] and the staff. Together, we see that they [the women] are accompanied when they leave […]. I always make my decisions, and I have the autonomy to protect myself. (NGAOs _1)
As a priest told us:
Yes, we must be aware of the personal mechanisms that one may have, beyond whether the case is on television or not, one never knows how much risk one is at until it happens, so it is always important to keep that in mind, to generate these personal security mechanisms […] we as priests know the people in our community and when something gets out of control or context, we notice it and take autonomous measures. (RO_1)
On the other hand, civil servants recognize that their work is both highly demanding and complex. They understand that there is often a significant workload and a demand that is difficult to manage. So sometimes they seek options to cope better. A civil servant who performs both administrative and humanitarian tasks told us:
The issue of refuge is not an easy topic; however, I have had a personal process, psychological support. I also was a few years away, a year, a year and a half that allowed me time to breathe […], an opportunity to contrast. I realized there are many limitations to doing the job, but you have to be creative and have autonomy to face different problems. (NGA _1)
In this sense, the workers consider it necessary to recognize their own limits to better cope with the cases they are presented with, as one of our interviewees stated:
The world of advocacy is beautiful and rewarding, but also very hard and disappointing; we must be very clear about the limits to which we can accompany and not feel like superheroines because we can’t do everything […]. I think [this world] allows us to realize that sometimes it is not a matter of will; in the end, we are within a structure that does not always allow us to move forward or do everything we want. (GAOs _2)
In sum, concerning individual coping, we found that frontline officers develop protocols that allow them to operate in an environment characterized by risk. They utilize their experience to make informed decisions and continually develop personal skills that enhance their effectiveness. They do not limit themselves to the institutional margins and creatively seek alternatives to offer better solutions to the needs of their target population. Above all, they stress that it is their personal capacity, autonomy, and expertise that empower them to make difficult decisions and confront the risks inherent in supporting women pursued by organized crime.
Institutional Coping
In addition to drawing on their individual capacities, our interviews revealed that frontline workers sometimes compensate for the absence of laws and protocols by developing in-depth knowledge of laws, regulations, and administrative procedures that, although not designed specifically to protect themselves or women hiding from actors linked to organized crime, can be strategically used with this purpose. As the director of a NGAO told us:
With influential [organized criminal] networks, I have had bad experiences [of criminal organizations attempting to obtain information from within]. It was evident that they were looking for the user, even the authorities themselves. On that occasion, this person [the one searching for the woman] had a lot of power, and there were instances when they lent themselves to this [type of corruption]. However, I know the regulations to help people, and that has allowed us to provide better support. (NGAOs _3)
As is evident, in this case, the officer was suspicious of the advances of other organizations trying to obtain information from the victim and resorted to the rules she knew to protect the woman. Another frontline worker faced a similar experience:
We know that things are difficult now because, with the presence of organized crime, security conditions have become uncontrollable. […] We had a case in which the prosecutor left us alone, so we had to resort to the aid channels designed for shelters to take the victim out of the state because we could not protect her. [Unable to ensure her safety], we felt vulnerable. (NGAOs _1)
For this reason, when it is necessary to turn to other agencies, effective frontline workers do so with a preexisting knowledge of the rules of the game. Sometimes, for example, they see the victim as an additional source of risk and attempt to find alternative solutions. As a senior area official at a governmental law enforcement agency told us:
All the children I have directed to the [Integral Family Development System] DIF have been mishandled. The process involves too many steps and puts the complainant at risk. That’s why I use other channels and interpret the rules in ways that let me protect the victim. Protecting the victim is always essential. (GLAs _6).
Similarly, the officials we interviewed emphasized the limitations of the legal and protective resources available to them. When they receive women hiding from organized criminal organizations, they reported needing assistance from other institutions with greater authority or more adequate assets. To address these challenges effectively, a thorough understanding of the rules is crucial, as it enables them to explore alternative solutions at the municipal, state, or federal levels. One frontline worker described it as follows:
We can only do what the law gives us the power to do. Many of the needs that women have cannot be covered by the institute […] and that is when we ask the state for help, because the powers that the municipalities do not have, the state can have them. (GAOs _1)
Thus, by knowing the scope and regulations of their organization, officials can fulfill their task of safeguarding the lives of victims more effectively. Faced with a case similar to the one described before, a psychologist working within a GAO stated:
[To deal with cases of women coming from other places], we rely on institutional collaboration. Since we operate at the municipal level, our jurisdiction prevents us from handling cases originating in other municipalities […] complaints must be filed where the crime occurred […]. To address this, we have developed institutional connections that enable us to make referrals and maintain consistent communication with other entities. For example, through our connection with the national network of shelters, we can transfer women to other states where they can receive the support that local institutional limitations prevent us from providing here. (GAOs _4)
In line with this observation, when we asked the director of one of the private shelters how her organization dealt with women escaping from organized crime, she commented:
We link them with the […] only housing program that the secretariat has […]. We have a good relationship with the secretariat […]. We are registered with the national network of shelters. We have coverage in different states […]. We work in co-responsibility […]. What I do is to be in constant communication with the shelter that channels the case to me and with other instances. (NGAOs _1).
On the other hand, frontline workers face real security risks that agencies attempt to manage through institutionalized rules and restrictions. These strategies—while intended to protect staff—can limit flexibility in serving women at risk. As one employee explained:
Yes, we are able to work, but due to the schedules, many women cannot attend the workshops […] For our safety, the institute does not permit us to operate during late hours. (GAOs _1)
This quote highlights how institutional safety protocols, though necessary, can conflict with the needs of displaced women, many of whom can only seek help outside of standard working hours. Frontline workers recognize the reasons behind these constraints but also acknowledge the trade-offs they create for effective care.
Additionally, some officials acknowledge feeling fear when handling certain cases due to the risk of reprisals for assisting individuals connected to organized crime in some way. Despite this, they note that their institutions implement various measures to mitigate these risks. As a high-ranking official from a private shelter explained:
Well, the truth is that when these cases come, we are a bit afraid, so what we do is to reinforce security. Fortunately, the shelter has a security system that includes cameras, motion sensors, panic doors, and a direct link with the C5. (NGAOs _4)
[Confident in their capacities, she also told us] We evaluate what resources we have. Based on our experience alone, we strive to strengthen our security protocols at both the physical and digital levels. But at the end of the day, it is also a collective part. That is, when we leave [the shelter] or accept a case, we inform someone so that they are aware and know what other mechanisms they can activate. (NGAOs _2)
In contrast, other institutions operate without complete safeguards. In some cases, formal security protocols are nonexistent, and protection depends on informal coordination or individual initiative. Still, there is a growing awareness of the need to formalize internal safety mechanisms and identify external actors to contact if needed. As one official reflected:
I do not know exactly what we are doing. I do not have a written security protocol in place. What has entered my conscience in these conversations is that we should have an institutional security protocol, let’s say, as an internal, private mechanism that we can communicate among ourselves […] that is formalized beyond the trust we have among us. The use of cameras has given us a certain support or peace of mind. (Interview GPA_4).
[In the same way, another official commented] What would I do if something happened? I would talk to the municipal police […] directly to the secretary. (NGAOs _1)
To summarize, our interviews reveal that both low- and high-level frontline workers mobilize individual resources to address institutional barriers and gaps. However uneven and improvised, this commitment can be the difference between abandonment and support within a fragile and underdeveloped protection system.
Social Coping
However, on occasions, frontline workers encounter cases in which the resources and protocols of their institutions are ineffective or limited. For this reason, the workers often look for other external options with which they can solve the problems, as one female official commented:
It’s a process […] that involves both the women and the work teams. If the woman has a job, we try to coordinate with her employer to justify her time here and ensure she retains her position. If she doesn’t, we work to find her another job, often connecting her to a labor exchange. These efforts are intended to ensure she can access her rights and maintain economic stability. (NGAOs _6)
According to the interviewed officials, institutional ties are essential in supporting displaced women. They emphasize that collaboration between organizations and international agencies is indispensable for providing effective assistance. As one interviewee stated:
When institutions are overly individualistic, and these institutional ties are lacking, we leave women vulnerable. (GLAs _9)
This statement highlights how a lack of cooperation can exacerbate the precarious situation of displaced women. Another official—a social worker—told us:
We have three international agencies supporting us […] they provide funding, networks, and strengthen our organizational capacities. (NGAOs _2)
These national and international connection networks build a comprehensive support system that enhances organizations’ effectiveness in assisting highly vulnerable women. The ties between agencies provide funding and material resources, contribute technical expertise, and strengthen organizational capacities, crucial elements for addressing the challenges posed by forced displacement. However, it is important not to romanticize these efforts. In the absence of systematic state support, civil society organizations and volunteers are forced to fill dangerous gaps—an unfair burden that places private citizens at personal risk and stretches limited resources.
Unfortunately, social coping mechanisms are harder to observe, as workers act secretively to protect themselves and their networks, and victims may give misleading accounts of their experiences. However, frontline workers are clear that interaction with other social and governmental agents is critical, even for addressing some of the security problems they encounter. As one clergyman responded when we asked what his primary defense strategy was:
That good relationship with people. People in general know that they are welcome and appreciated, that we are at their service, and I believe that this is a great weapon of defense. (RO_4)
Another relevant factor we were able to recognize is the level of trust among the workers with their peers and with other people close to them. Some consider it important to share their experiences and have others recognize the risks they face in their work. Others, identified that being able to make decisions together with other workers is fundamental.
We have a very good working environment and, yes, there is trust. A confidence to be able to say, well yes, she is my partner, but I also consider her a friend! (NGAOs _4)
You are never alone; you learn to be with the right people. People who are “infected” by the same bug as you, who share the same weakness for serving as you, and then you continue to build a team with people like that […] they are people who don’t just come to work but that are dedicated to building a home […]. People with a social commitment that goes beyond just doing their job […] who are capable of working without pay sometimes, whether due to lack of funds or other reasons, and who continue to work as if nothing happened simply because there is a cause behind it, because there is a great team behind it. (NGAOs_ 3)
As seen in the abstract of the interview above, frontline workers not only rely on connections among peers, but they also bank on the support that people outside their activities—but close to their personal lives—provide. Together, these personal, family, and community support networks form the scaffold that enables frontline workers to engage in social coping, particularly when confronting challenging cases. Still, it is worth noting that these networks vary in effectiveness, leaving the most vulnerable women and organizations with the weakest safety nets.
Conclusions
In this article, we have sought to humanize frontline workers and, through qualitative interviews, examine how they cope with the challenges of supporting women displaced by organized crime in Mexico. Building on Fuerte-Celis and Zizumbo-Colunga’s (2023) classification strategy, we propose that frontline workers can cope by mobilizing individual (e.g., courage, education, and experience), institutional (laws, procedures, and protocols, etc.), and social (professional and familial networks) resources.
Regarding individual coping, we observed that, in the absence of established norms and protocols, officials exercise bureaucratic discretion, assume leadership roles, and build bonds of trust with victims. Additionally, they utilize their creativity to develop personal safety protocols and continually seek training, which enhances their ability to handle unpredictable and emotionally demanding situations (Foo et al. Reference Foo, Verdeli, Kuowei Tay, Colin, Vinood and Victor2023). Frontline workers’ practices are adapted to high-pressure environments to ensure effective victim care (Broussard et al. Reference Broussard, Rubenstein, Robinson, Maziak, Gilbert and DeCamp2019; Foo et al. Reference Foo, Verdeli, Kuowei Tay, Colin, Vinood and Victor2023).
Regarding institutional coping, we find that limited resources and legal restrictions hinder the effectiveness of officials (LipskyReference Lipsky2023) 1980; . However, they address these challenges by leveraging lesser-known laws and forming interinstitutional networks. This type of coping enhances service quality while ensuring the safety of both officials and victims (Caballero-Anthony et al. Reference Caballero-Anthony, Cook and Chen2021; Prasanna and Haavisto Reference Prasanna and Haavisto2018). This approach shows how officials integrate legal knowledge and practical creativity to offset structural deficiencies like budget, staff, or infrastructure. Yet these mechanisms often unfold where formal authorities and organized crime coexist in fuzzy, sometimes complicit, relationships—creating a blurred terrain where discretion is both necessary and risky. That officials must improvise to ensure women’s safety is symptomatic of deeper institutional failure, especially when agencies like DIF or the Public Prosecutor’s Office fail to act.
In the social dimension, we find that officials collaborate with colleagues, civil society organizations, and international agencies to manage the displacement crisis. These interactions generate solidarity networks that reduce emotional stress and strengthen officials’ response capacity (Birchall Reference Birchall2020; Miller et al. Reference Miller, Ardestani, Dini, Shafique and Zunong2020). It is possible that such collaboration enhances the effectiveness of their efforts and creates a supportive environment essential for caring for victims and ensuring the personal security of officials. However, this growing dependence on civil society should be seen as a response to state retreat, rather than a complement to robust involvement. This observation becomes more concerning when considering the Mexican military’s growing financial capacity and the systematic defunding of NGOs that began in 2018. In this regard, we seek to strike a balance: recognizing public officials as human agents navigating institutional failure, while also insisting that systemic shortcomings are the state’s to address.
We argue that public policies aimed at addressing forced displacement should empower frontline officials by fostering environments that encourage innovation and flexible decision-making. However, this autonomy must be approached with caution, as discretion can lead to discrimination, inequality, and corruption. While our fieldwork did not reveal instances of discretion being used to deny services—largely because services specific to women fleeing organized violence do not exist—it revealed a gray area in which protection heavily depends on the personal judgment and willingness of each frontline worker to take risks. This finding underscores the need to accompany autonomy with clear guidelines, oversight mechanisms, and constant training opportunities that strengthen organizations’ material and human capital (Baljoon et al. Reference Baljoon, Banjar and Banakhar2018; Cerasoli et al. Reference Cerasoli, Nicklin and Nassrelgrgawi2016).
In addition, we stress the importance of fostering cooperation between levels of governmental and non-governmental agencies to overcome legal and structural constraints in the difficult work of tending to victims of criminal persecution (Caballero-Anthony et al. Reference Caballero-Anthony, Cook and Chen2021; Lipsky Reference Lipsky1980, Reference Lipsky2023). Further, we emphasize the need to build safe spaces that facilitate coordinated responses by government agencies, communities, and NGOs (Birchall Reference Birchall2020; Miller et al. Reference Miller, Ardestani, Dini, Shafique and Zunong2020). We argue that cooperation must involve transparent mechanisms of accountability, particularly in regions where the line between protection and persecution is fragile. Understanding and addressing these gray zones is essential for designing institutional arrangements that are both resilient and responsive to the needs of victims and the constraints of officials.
Our analysis highlights the need for public policies that address the needs of victims while strengthening bureaucratic capacities. Recognizing the vital role of frontline officials and fostering collaboration with civil society actors can lead to more sustainable responses to Mexico’s humanitarian crisis. This approach underscores the importance of collaborative efforts between government and non-governmental actors in mitigating the impacts of forced displacement.
Despite the study’s limitations, including the anonymity and vulnerability of the officials interviewed (Maynard-Moody and Craig Musheno Reference Maynard-Moody and Craig Musheno2022), our proposed typology provides a valuable analytical framework for identifying key challenges and developing targeted intervention strategies. These tools can inform the design of more effective public policies that build on existing efforts to assist those in greatest need (Fuerte-Celis et al. Reference Fuerte, del Pilar, Luján and Ángeles García2020; Fuerte-Celis and Zizumbo-Colunga Reference Fuerte-Celis and Zizumbo-Colunga2023; Sabatier and Weible Reference Sabatier and Weible2014).
Supplementary material
To view supplementary material for this article, please visit https://doi.org/10.1017/lap.2025.10033
Acknowledgments
We thank Sergio Campos, Edgar Bustos, and Pamela Ruiz for their valuable comments. We also appreciate funding from CIDE’s Drugs Policy Program. The views expressed here are solely those of the authors; all remaining errors are, of course, our own.
Competing interests
The authors declare they have no competing interests.
