Brazil, a narcocracy

The history of Latin America, regrettably, is intertwined with that of drug trafficking. Rivers of money have fueled (and continue to fuel) election campaigns, corrupt governments, buy the press, and disgrace society by giving free rein to its worst facets and practices.

In old and suffering Bolivia, producers and traffickers went so far as to finance a bloody coup d'état, killing dozens of political, union, and popular leaders and – incredibly – enthroning a uniformed bandit, Colonel Alberto Natush Bush, as the country's first leader. The infamous "narco-president," a stupid and caricatured military man known for his declared admiration for Hitler, had a brief and tumultuous tenure in the Quemado Palace: 16 short and tumultuous days in which the kingpins of cocaine trafficking and production controlled a country for themselves. Natush ended up ousted and imprisoned. He could hardly have imagined that almost three decades later an indigenous person would occupy the same place and defend the planting of coca leaves – the basic ingredient in cocaine production – as a "cultural issue." Evo Morales even goes so far as to say that Coca-Cola produced by Americans is as harmful as the coca planted and harvested by his compatriots.

In Fujimori's Peru, his strongman forged a secure bridge with drug trafficking. In his bunker at the army headquarters, Colonel Vlademiro Montesinos protected one of the biggest drug traffickers on record, Demetrio Chávez Peñaherrera, the infamous "Vaticano," during the time he held power in a sort of co-presidency. "Vaticano" flooded the North American market with thousands of tons of high-purity cocaine, transporting it with the cover of the Peruvian armed forces and police agencies whose function was to repress traffickers. Many of the dozens of newspapers that sprang up like mushrooms during the Fujimori dictatorship, mercilessly slandering the regime's enemies in amoral headlines, were paid for with bundles of dollars delivered by Montesinos and originating from international drug trafficking. Videos that led to the downfall of the then-president showed the ease with which journalists, deputies, businessmen, and artists went to receive – personally and cheerfully – the monthly payments for their support. Today, only a few meters separate the two cells, unbearably hot and made of reinforced concrete, occupied in the impregnable Callao prison complex by the ambitious Montesinos and his partner, the cold and deplorable Alberto Fujimori, "Chino".

A sister-in-law of Carlos Menem, his powerful personal secretary at the Casa Rosada during the golden years of his power and a favorite of his sister and then First Lady Zulema Yoma, became involved in international trafficking. Amira Yoma, arrogant and certain of impunity, appointed her husband to head customs inspection at Ezeiza airport, the most important in Argentina. And so, the Syrian Ibrahim Al Ibrahim, who didn't speak a single word of Spanish, ensured the passage of hundreds or thousands of suitcases containing dollars, weapons, jewelry and – mainly – cocaine. Amira's preventive detention, decreed by an uninformed judge from Buenos Aires, was short-lived; The husband returned to Damascus in an escape organized by the Menem government itself and, shortly afterwards, despite the resounding repercussions of "Narcogate" (one of the biggest scandals among the hundreds that erupted in the decade of the neo-liberal mobster), Amira was back in the innermost circles of power, with the same arrogance and the same strength as before.

One of the stratagems of the Menemist government to stifle the scandal was a calculated police operation against Diego Maradona, who was snorting cocaine with friends in an apartment. Ironically, the star player had been a gratuitous and enthusiastic campaigner for the Peronist crook. Years later, the sons of the brigadier general of the Military House of the same Carlos Saul Menem were arrested at Barajas airport in Madrid with more than a ton of cocaine hidden in the structure of a private jet, piloted by one of them. Menem could do nothing to help them, as he was under house arrest in his La Rioja, one of the poorest and hottest provinces in the poor and hot north of Argentina.

Dino Bouterse, son of Surinamese dictator Desi Bouterse, was arrested last August by Panamanian authorities. The accusation: leading an international drug trafficking ring. Two days later, a Manhattan judge requested his extradition to the US, which was promptly granted. Dino, an arrogant 40-year-old man, a lover of powerful Ferraris and beautiful women, had already been sentenced to eight years in prison in Suriname in 2005 for leading an arms and drug trafficking gang, even though his father was the dictator. He was released from prison in 2008 for good behavior, and soon after, the athletic and vain young man was appointed by his generous father to head a powerful and violent Anti-Terrorist Unit. Genetic inheritance: In the 80s, Brazilian President João Figueiredo, at the request of the US, sent General Danilo Venturini, his trusted man, to confront Bouterse about the well-known operation of cocaine refining laboratories in the Surinamese jungles in conjunction with Colombian cartels. He had no success, did he? Today, as in those distant years, Bouterse is in charge of Suriname. Nothing indicates that he remains allied with the traffickers, but his son is in a cage on Manhattan Island and it is very likely that he will never get out. C'est la vie...

In wealthy Colombia, a land of great cultural values, abundant natural resources, and a solid democracy, none of this managed to overcome the bad reputation earned by the true symbiosis that existed between the country and cocaine. The gangs of bandits from the rich cities of Medellín and Cali reigned for decades, embedded in the social fabric, financing presidents, governors, senators, deputies, mayors, artists, sports clubs, soccer teams, labor unions, military leaders, police officers, churches, beauty queens, student unions, bullfighters... Phew! Pablo Escobar, of the violent Medellín Cartel, and the Rodriguez Orejuela brothers, of the sophisticated Cali Cartel, in short, financed the whole of Colombia. Until the government began deporting them to the US (with life sentences almost certain), under direct pressure from the White House through tough ambassadors who formed veritable parallel governments in cold, gray Bogotá, the drug criminals ruled with an iron fist in a restless, frightened, and blood-soaked Colombia. A senator, Alberto Santofimio, was an official advisor to Escobar. And a democratically elected president, Ernesto Samper, won a hard-fought runoff election thanks to a plane full of boxes of money sent to him by those in Cali, in the famous "flight of money" that almost led to his impeachment through the notorious "Process 8.000". It took a tough and fearless man, the unsympathetic but competent Alvaro Uribe, to (and only in the mid-2000s) definitively end the major cartels and, incidentally, cut off the head of the FARC guerrillas. The bloodthirsty bandits were hunted like rats, hiding in the Ecuadorian Amazon jungle and the rich border region of the Venezuelan Andes. Following a bombing raid on a FARC camp in Ecuador, which included the capture of a laptop belonging to one of the dead leaders, it was discovered that they had close ties to the Bolivarian regime of the late Hugo Chávez and direct communication with leading figures in Rafael Correa's government. The cartels financed terrorism, which was protected by the presidents of Venezuela and Ecuador. How about that?

In the 80s, Colombian drug lords operated heavily with the Sandinista regime. Planes would leave the Colombian interior and stop in Nicaragua, where Pablo Escobar himself oversaw the transshipment of tons of cocaine destined for the North American market. All of this was documented in photos by the DEA, the US anti-drug agency. And it all took place inside Sandinista Air Force bases!

The Colombian drug lords allegedly made a trade pact with the Castro brothers' regime around the same time, and the island of Cuba became an aircraft carrier for the cartels. Tons of cocaine passed through secondary airports in Varadero, Santiago de Cuba, and Pinar del Rio. At dawn on July 13, 1989, the body of Arnaldo Ochoa, the most decorated of Fidel's generals, fell riddled with bullets before a firing squad. A hero of the Angolan campaign, Ochoa was eliminated by the Cuban nomenklatura on charges of drug trafficking. For the DEA, it was a way for Fidel to eliminate a popular and respected ally who could cause him problems in the not-too-distant future, disputing his succession with his brother Raul Castro, a man devoid of the charisma that overflowed in Ochoa. And, above all, the destruction of a crucial document: the general had indeed participated in the traffickers' operations, but as a representative of the dictatorship, organizing embarkations and disembarkations as a "military mission." By killing him, the eternal dictator signaled to the world exactly the opposite of reality.

My Paraguay is not far from, nor is it outside of, such sad realities. At the tri-border area, between our Ciudad del Este, Foz do Iguaçu, and the Argentinian city of Iguazú, there exists a parallel world, rich in billions and dangerous, with bases for Arab terrorists and international drug traffickers. Only the authorities of the three countries seem unaware of or unaware of this harsh reality. Even the waters that flow in the beautiful waterfall are well aware that this is one of the most dangerous corners of the criminal world.

Just days after the inauguration of industrialist, banker, and sports executive Horacio Cartes as president of Paraguay last August, the country was shaken by information that had been kept under wraps until then: the uncle of the new occupant of the López Palace, elected in a multi-million dollar and successful campaign, was arrested in Uruguay while piloting a small plane. The cargo of over 400 kg of marijuana was discovered when Air Force fighter jets forced him to land at a base near Montevideo. Juan Domingo Viveros Cartes had already served time as a drug trafficker, but for transporting large quantities of cocaine. His story is intertwined with that of General Andrés Rodríguez, commander of the army during the dictatorship of Alfredo Stroessner. Viveros Cartes was Rodríguez's loyal personal pilot, who would later become president after overthrowing Stroessner. Only as president of Paraguay, and by agreeing to adhere to the DEA's harsh anti-drug policies, did the general obtain a visa to enter the US: the Americans had pointed him out throughout his life as the head of drug trafficking in that old Paraguay, where Stroessner divided sectors of the economy among his cronies in order to reign. Drugs became established as an exclusive market for General Andrés Rodriguez.

I wrote a book about the current Paraguayan president, Horacio Cartes. Without a single accusation, merely recalling past events, republishing deliberately forgotten documents, shedding light on the obscurity of poorly disseminated information, or daring to say aloud what all those who pretend to be unaware of reality, however, whisper in hushed tones, driven by fear or sheer cowardice. "La Otra Cara de HC" (The Other Face of HC) was one of the best-selling books in Paraguayan history. Few bookstores dared to display it in their windows and on their shelves. Those that did made good money from the lines that formed to buy the copies, coveted by citizens who, prevented from defeating Cartes both by the power of his money and by the well-oiled machine of the centuries-old Colorado Party, sought to know what lay ahead...

Delegate Romeu Tuma, my old and dear friend to whom I dedicate my book, helped me, during his time as director of the Brazilian Federal Police, to unravel the mysteries surrounding (and still surrounding) current President Horacio Cartes and his involvement in money laundering through his exchange house, Amambay, now transformed into a powerful commercial bank. I followed the paths that led me to clarify the ties that bound him to characters unequivocally linked to the underworld of smuggling and money laundering by drug traffickers. I did not directly link the current president to drug trafficking, but I uncovered the mysteries surrounding him and the characters who, indeed, should be behind bars. The respected Uruguayan president Pepe Mujica, known for his disconcerting candor, even uttered a revealing phrase during the election campaign: "The Colorado Party is a narco-party."

Now Brazil finds itself grappling with a scandal of international proportions: a helicopter owned by a company whose owner is a congressman, the son of a senator, piloted by a staff member of the congressman's office and fueled with money paid for by official funds from the congressman's son and the senator's father, was caught by police on a farm owned by the senator father and the congressman son, unloading almost half a ton of cocaine. And the mainstream Brazilian media, in a deafening silence, doesn't even prominently report the clear involvement of both – directly or indirectly, it hardly matters! – in cocaine trafficking. Is the helicopter's butler to blame? Of course not.

If in all the countries mentioned – and several others, such as the case of the mayor of Toronto caught using crack, or the former black mayor of Washington filmed snorting cocaine with a prostitute in a five-star hotel suite – there is involvement of politicians, addicts, or traffickers, why would it be different in Brazil? The main suspects, with clear and strong evidence of direct involvement, are the senator father and his congressman son. And even more suspicious is the press that remains silent, does not investigate, equivocates, and lies.

In Brazil in 1989, there were whispers about a possible connection between then-presidential candidate Fernando Collor and drugs. He was allegedly a user. No one confronted him or even asked him for explanations. He led a controversial government, behaved like a madman, and fell under a major scandal after accusations (proven, incidentally) made by his own brother. And it was Pedro Collor who said what Brazil didn't dare ask him, going into sordid detail: his brother, the president, used cocaine suppositories. Anyone who wants to use them can use them, but they can't be president, okay? Any politician suspected of being a drug user and addict is barred from being president of their country. Has anyone ever heard of Mandela, Roosevelt, Getúlio Vargas, or Perón snorting cocaine?

It's been a long time and nobody remembers anymore that Rondônia is or was a narco-province, where the late Senator Olavo Pires was executed by professional gunmen, his body split in two by submachine gun fire, in an apparent settling of accounts between Colombian cartels and someone who, by all accounts, laundered money from international drug trafficking through companies he owned. His fortune (airplanes, farms, car dealerships, and heavy machinery) sprouted overnight, and everyone thought it was perfectly normal, even giving the scoundrel a seat in the Senate of the Republic.

The most competent Paraguayan senator, Kalé Galaverna, a courageous politician who broke with Stroessner when the dictator still ruled our country, took to the Senate floor and accused the late General Lino Oviedo of being linked to drug trafficking. He also implicated the then-governor of Paraná, Roberto Requião, a personal friend of Oviedo and alleged partner in illicit activities. The general, as belligerent as Galaverna, did not respond and pretended it wasn't his problem. Requião did the same. Any public figure accused of links to drug trafficking or of being a drug user has a duty to clarify the situation and prosecute their accusers. Silence is, in theory, an admission of guilt.

In the interior of Brazil (as in Argentina and Paraguay) there is a multitude of newly rich people, powerful figures who own the cities where they live, with luxurious cars, large farms and prosperous businesses, airplanes and helicopters (always, always!), and nobody asks them about the origin of such large fortunes, amassed so quickly. On the contrary, they are celebrated. For they came from dust and to dust they will always return. Only the authorities, the government, the press and society do not know, or pretend not to know.

The crash of the narco-helicopter into the hands of police authorities, the discovery of half a ton of cocaine, the strange employment status of the family's pilot, the murky origins of Senator Perella's immense fortune (a mafia-linked leader of a football team, Cruzeiro), the fuel paid for with public money, the indecent silence of the Brazilian mainstream media—all of this, absolutely all of it, is merely confirmation that the case needs to be investigated, and thoroughly investigated. Then, Brazilians will discover that they are no different from Colombia, Paraguay, Argentina, Peru, and Panama. Who knows, Brazil might even be worse, much worse, with a narcocracy reigning supreme in politics, the economy, and the press. Silently reigning.

(*) Chiqui Avalos is a Paraguayan journalist and writer, correspondent for Brasil247 in Mercosur.