Drug War Capitalism (38 page)

Official discourse in Colombia has shifted toward emphasis on the fact that the country is now in a peace process, that paramilitaries have demobilized, that President Santos is a drug policy reformer, and that the war is as good as over. My reporting in the chapter on Colombia pokes holes in this discourse, but it remains a difficult discourse to counter when the media, think tanks, governments, and elite sectors continue to promote it. When I traveled to Arauca to report on the ongoing violence there, I met with the leaders of an occupation of land belonging to the Colombian Ministry of Defense, who live in a war-like context. “The problem is that Arauca is considered a red zone in Colombia, and any leader who teaches people, who even just teaches them how to go to city hall [to manage their paperwork], that’s enough to say they’re a guerrilla and hunt them until they kill them,” said Jhon Carlos Ariza Aguilar, the vice president of the squatted community of Héctor Alirio Martínez. His words brought me back to a description of the functions of terror in Guatemala, as described by writers Gomis, Romillo, and Rodríguez in the early 1980s.

With domination through terror, in addition to the physical elimination of those who oppose the interests of the regime, there is also the pursuit of ‘the control of a social universe made possible through the intimidation induced by acts of destruction … (and with) acts of terror there is an overall impact on the social universe,—at a social and generalized level—, of a whole series of psychosociological pressures which impose an obstacle to possible political action.’
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Ariza Aguilar’s story reminded me of Francisco Chavira’s description of how acts of terror carried out at city halls in Tamaulipas carried a strong message for residents, which was to avoid demanding transparency from local governments.

State and paramilitary terror continues to be used against broad swaths of the population in Mexico, Colombia, Honduras, and Guatemala, as well as in regions outside the scope of this book. Official discourses have begun to shift toward peace and prosperity; the mainstream media and governments would have us believe that peace has been achieved in Colombia and that things have calmed down in Mexico. Anyone taking a longer view, as suggested by Wallerstein, realizes that a city like Juárez, where over 10,000 people were killed in a handful of years, does not simply get better overnight. To begin with, the murders have not stopped, rather they carry on through to today. Then there are tens of thousands of children orphaned by violence, as well as widows who lost their partners and mothers and fathers grieving their murdered children. The near total impunity with which these crimes were committed prevents closure for friends and families of victims. In addition, the underlying social conditions in Juárez, including harsh inequality in the service of multinational corporations, a lack of educational and career opportunities for residents, and safe, regular transportation for workers, have not changed. Though Juárez became the murder capital of the world, it is but one example of a place where peace remains a faraway promise. For Francisco Ramírez, the Colombian union lawyer who investigates links between displacement and corporate activity, the most active voices promoting peace are the ones responsible for disrupting it, and who use it to rebrand their image. “Those who talk about being post-conflict are the intellectual authors of the crimes: the governments of developed countries, the spokespeople for multinationals, the spokespeople for the establishment, etcetera. They talk about being post-conflict, because they want to say to the people, ‘Shut your eyes, that is over now, that already happened, we’re going to forgive, look at those dogs who did that, we’re good people.’”

Untangling hegemonic discourses of peace and prosperity is greatly complicated by self-censorship by members of the press, as well as attacks on journalists. It is hard to know what is taking place in remote and rural areas impacted by the drug war. But getting at the social, political, and economic transformations that accompany drug war policies remains a critical task as these wars drag on. In this respect, this book feels very much like a preliminary work, and hopefully one of many emerging efforts to extend our understanding and analysis of the economic and political factors that drive the drug war. It seems inevitable that over time more evidence of the collusion of corporate interests and drug war capitalism will emerge; in any case it is a constantly evolving story that requires ongoing attention. In June 2014, as I finished the final edits on this text, secondary legislation linked to the energy reforms, which facilitate the expropriation of lands on behalf of energy companies, was approved by Mexico’s Senate. The reform was debated for only fifty-five minutes, as World Cup soccer dominated television screens across the nation. According to Senator Alejandro Encinas, “It is a shame that the Senate supports ejido members and community members being obliged to hand over their lands to foreign companies, with the threat that if they don’t their lands will be appropriated with great celerity, and on top of that, that they can be paid [for their land] in-kind or via jobs.” That this legislation was passed following more than six years of extreme violence and terror is not a mere coincidence. This book is an attempt to explain how the violence of the drug war laid the foundation for the expansion of neoliberal capitalism in Mexico, Central America, and Colombia. I hope it will help to nourish future actions and thinking in defense of the land and of autonomous spaces outside of or in contradiction to capitalism.

The ongoing, daily resistances of communities throughout Mexico, Central America, and Colombia are under attack by the drug war, yet they carry on, day after day. This book may leave some readers filled with a sense of despair or hopelessness, but it would be dishonest to pretend that there is a unified resistance movement taking on the the drug war in the hemisphere. Rather, it is from many autonomies and from many communities that the strongest challenges to capitalism are being mounted. I hope this book incites more meaningful discussions about the drug war and reveals more spaces from which communities as well as allies can fight back.

Acknowledgments

I first had the idea that I wanted to write
Drug War Capitalism
in late 2010. Since then, I’ve traveled far and wide, gathering information on the meager income of a freelancer working primarily for alternative media. This book would not have been possible without the generous support of my family, friends, and independent journalists in Canada, the US, Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, Colombia, and elsewhere. Dozens of people helped in so many ways with this text, and have helped me out immensely over the years. Special thanks are due to Chelsea Elizabeth Manning, whose brave actions provided critical information for this and so many other projects.

Thanks to the crew at AK Press, especially Zach Blue, and my editor Charles Weigl, for believing in this project and helping to improve and shape the final work. Lorna Vetters shone through toward the end of the process with incredibly helpful suggestions. Thanks to Amélie Trudeau, Shannon Young, Isaac Oommen, Stefan Christoff, Sandra Cuffe, Zara Snapp, Luis Solano and especially Myles Estey for their feedback on previous versions of the manuscript. That being said, any mistakes in the book are my own.

Without my friends and colleagues at the Media Co-op and
The Dominion
I wouldn’t have made it through; thanks especially to Tim McSorley for being there through thick and thin. Cyril Mychalejko at
Upside Down World
is an encouraging editor and a good friend, and Ben Dangl at
Toward Freedom
shared with me many tips as I wrote and pitched the book. Delores Broten at
Watershed Sentinel
, Mark Karlin at
Truth Out
, and Dianne Feely at
Against the Current
have been incredibly supportive. Thanks to Harsha Walia for her important work, writing, and early support of this book, to Nemer Narchi for believing in my work, and to Anthony Fenton for his critical eye. Nicolas Olucha Sánchez in Berlin has artfully translated an unending stream of my articles over the years. Gracias.

This work was informed by hundreds of chats, discussions, arguments, and otherwise in Mexico City. Luis Arroyo, Gladys Tzul, Dave O. Mitchell, Daniel Hernández, Laura Carlsen, Andalusia Knoll, Beto Paredes, Clayton Conn, and Pablo Pérez were important sources of friendship, critical thought, advice, and ideas. Thanks to Koko Medina in Chihuahua, Leobardo Alvarado, Héctor Padilla, Connie Gutiérrez, and especially Julián Cardona in Juárez, as well as Molly Molloy in Las Cruces, New Mexico. It deeply saddens me that Charles Bowden passed away suddenly before this book went to print. His support for this project was whole, and made a world of difference. He is deeply missed. Without Francisco Chavira and the families that supported me in Reynosa and Tampico, my reporting in Tamaulipas would not have been possible. Dr. Guadalupe Correa-Cabrera, who wrote the foreword, helped me think through many late night doubts about the nature of events in northern Mexico. Gustavo Castro, Miguel Mijangos, and Ruben Figueroa helped ground my understanding of events in Chiapas, Guerrero, and Tabasco. Bernardo Vásquez in Oaxaca was a key influence in forming my understanding around territory and conflict before he was tragically murdered in March 2012. In Puebla, Dr. Raquel Gutiérrez has been a rock and a role model. I am inordinately excited to be working with her on my next project. Eva Hershaw helped me out in many ways, and is dearly missed in Mexico. Amélie Trudeau and Fallon Poisson have been a source of deep inspiration, as they continue to struggle inside prison walls. Kath, Mau, Dai, Nacho, and Citlali were amazingly patient roomies as I shut myself in to write, day in, day out, for weeks and months. Abraham Muñoz and
la
banda
at Surf in Cabo helped me get the fresh air I needed to make this project happen. I owe a very deep thanks to
mis lobas
in Mexico: Zara Snapp, Isis Goldberg, Adriana Paz, Moravia de la O, Mandeep Dhillon, and Juanita Sundberg. You were all there with me through the good times and the bad times too. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your company and your friendship.

In Guatemala, Luis Solano has been a constant help and encouragement. His work is an inspiration. Through earlier reporting projects in Guate I met photographer James Rodríguez, who has long since become a close friend and colleague. Thanks to Grahame Russell and Nate Einbinder, two of the coolest men I know, for waking up early and staying up late drinking Gallo alongside me in Guatemala and elsewhere over the years. Daniele Volpe was also a great help in Guatemala City. Sandra Cuffe, my partner in crime and frequent co-writer, provided comic relief, and incredible insight on Honduras and life in general. Annie Bird and Karen Spring were both great resources in Honduras. Thanks to Murray Bush, I’ll never think of Tapachula the same way again. In Colombia, Blandine Fuchs at the Red de Hermandad y Solidaridad con Colombia is an outstanding resource and a dear friend. Thanks to Manuel Rozental and Vilma Almendra for the time spent and ideas shared in Cauca, in Canada, and in México. I hope I have more opportunities to work and write together with all of you over the coming years.

Thanks to my friends and co-conspirators in Canada and the US, who never let me feel alone, even on the hardest days of writing and research for this project. In Montréal, Amy Miller, Aaron Lakoff, Andrea Rideout, and the folks at Alma House provided friendship, kitchen table talks, and a safe, welcoming space when I needed it most. Frédéric Dubois, Maya Rolbin-Ghanie, Dru Oja Jay, Arij Riahi, Stefan Christoff, and Shannon Walsh helped me talk through my ideas at various stages of this project. Malcolm Rogge provided warm companionship in Ecuador and in Ontario, and was always ready to discuss a new angle or a complicated problem. My discussions with Egla Martínez Salazar and Jamie Kneen in Ottawa were crucial in informing this project. In Peterborough, Rachelle Sauvé is a permanent inspiration. In Toronto, Justin Podur provided invaluable insight at the beginning of the writing process, as did Naomi Klein. In the Bay Area, Isabeau Doucet and David Zlutnik have been solid co-conspirators, in addition to being all-around inspiring, and the Institute for Anarchist Studies provided a small grant toward part of the research in the Honduras chapter.

In Vancouver, occupied Coast Salish Territories, where I have spent a good part of the last decade, I am incredibly blessed to have many friends, allies and longtime supporters. First off, thanks to all the brave people who took a stand against the 2010 Olympics in Vancouver. The organizing and friendships fostered in the lead-up to those protests planted in me the seeds of anarchy and rebellion, which are still growing. To my habibi Isaac Oommen, shukran for everything we have shared. I am lucky to have had many conversations with brilliant thinkers and organizers like Swathi Lakshmi, Gord Hill, Macdonald Stainsby, and Harjap Grewal. Thanks to Freda Huson, Dini Togestiy, Mel Bazil, Ambrose Williams, and all the folks at the Unist’ot’en Camp, who teach not only through words but through powerful actions. Ann and Emma Turner, Darius Kinney, Janice Westlund, and Dave Turner have fostered in me a spirit of justice and friendship since I can remember. Carel Moiseiwitsch has been a mentor and a dear friend, and has helped me become a stronger writer and a more badass woman. Sara Kendall and Margo Chapman Kendall repeatedly opened their homes and their hearts to me as I completed the manuscript. Megan H. Stewart was a crucial confidante and a wonderful host during many of my visits to Vancouver. Donald McPherson at the Canadian Drug Policy Coalition was an early supporter of the project. Dr. Mary Lynn Young of UBC Journalism has been an ongoing advocate for my work over the years, as has David Beers, who is a master storyteller. Thanks to everyone who came to the East Van
tertulia
; your presence, encouragement, and ideas made finishing this book possible. Extra special thanks are due to Marla Renn and Ahseea Ahmed, who contributed so generously to this project, and who I love dearly.