Just as I was contemplating drugs in the Andes, the UN released their annual World Drug Report. With the information therein, Carwil makes many of the points I was trying to illustrate in my last post. I’ll highlight a few key points here, but he writes about the topic from a more clear and better informed position, so I’d recommend reading his whole post. And now fot the key points:

1. Carwil writes “rewarding loyal allies while punishing governments that question US foreign policy, than with actual results.” And as I tried to demonstrate, this is not only something that happens within USG, but extends to perceptions of citizens as well. Colombia and Peru generally abide by the US status quo. And thus, we think of those nations as “safe, friendly, and inviting” for tourism and developing if not fully developed. Bolvia on the other hand is still seen as dangerous backwater. Their rogue indigenous president can’t be trusted and you can’t even buy tampons in supermarkets! Perhaps that’s a grander extrapolation than I should make purely on DEA relations with GOB, but it definitely does have a reputation, at least among travelers, for being a drug haven. And even Paceños constantly talk about all the corruption in their government having to do with drug smuggling. So, strained diplomatic relations are just the beginning. Perceptions can go a long way, tourism deficits being the least of the repercussions.

2. “Overall, Colombia, Peru, and Bolivia now have a 40-40-20 split of coca production, but only Bolivia is decertified by the United States.” My comment: ahem, politics.

3. “US authorities trace 90% of the US [cocaine] supply to Colombia.” So why is Bolivia decertified? Certainly, cocaine consumption in South America may be a larger market for Bolivan coca, and hectares of coca cultivation have surpassed the GOB allowances. However, it still certainly seems that as a “world producer” Bolivia is not that much of a threat. 

But in the end, what this all makes clear (at least to me) is the way the “War on Drugs” serves to further cultural imperialism. The US blames a consumption problem on producing states, ignoring (and attempting to erase) traditional Andean practices of coca chewing. Their “needs” are put above those of other governments’, devaluing non-North Atlantic cultural priorities in the process.

As boz says, it’s a legal obligation for bloggers to write on the 40th anniversary of Nixon declaring a “War on Drugs.” I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a “blogger” but this is technically a blog and I am writing it, and I have something to say about drugs, so I suppose I’ll follow suit.

My politicization on the topic of drugs came early. I had an uncle who was arrested for distributing cocaine when I was 4. As a result, his wife, my mother’s sister, was dis-barred. At the age of 4 I didn’t understand all this, and it wasn’t necessarily explained in detail, but it was never hidden from me. It was never a family secret to be swept under the rug. In fact, when I brought my partner home for the first time, late in the evening over vodka tonics my mother told the whole story.

My junior year of high school, in Connie’s speech class, there was a mock congress bill on the legalization of marijuana. I gave a pro speech for the bill—who knows what I said, it probably followed some Lootens-esque logic of legalizing in order to tax. But apparently many of the people in the class that didn’t know me well were surprised by my position. I remember having a number of discussions after class refining my views for the first time.

In the years since, I’ve attended NORML meetings, written letters and signed petitions for the release of non-violent offenders, and been constantly astounded at the ways cocaine and crack are treated differently in the criminal legal justice system.

So there’s my reflexivity…

But this is not just a US problem, as the continuing cartel violence in Latin America reminds us. The “war on drugs” is an imperial and ideological war wearing global peace and prosperity clothing. As they say ‘round here “it’s the same chola in a different pollera.” Specifically in the Andes, the US has pressured for the UN Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs to keep its wording which includes coca as a narcotic, ignoring the cultural significance and daily use of coca in the region as a mild stimulant similar to caffeine usage in North Atlantic nations. The USG has then used this international convention as backing for politically-motivated targeting of places like Bolivia as drug-harboring nations leading to all sorts of diplomatic and trade consequences. On the other hand, countries with similar coca production like Perú, who have “cooperative” governments (presidents who do not make bold claims about “de-neoliberalization” or liken the USG to terrorists), remain in the good graces of the USG.

I think this leads to a really interesting divergence in the ways drug economies are perceived by international observers. My examples, as usual, are myself and young international travelers from North Atlantic and South Indian Ocean countries. As I wrote in a previous post, drugs are at times the one thing Bolivia is known for. La Paz, with its Coca Museum and clandestine Route 36, has a reputation for being the place to go for a little cocaine bender. And in my experience, plenty of travelers take advantage of this. From the British gap years to mid-thirties music producers from Seattle, travelers turn up for breakfast at 1pm still red-eyed from the exploits the night before. But it is also quite easy to avoid any interaction with the drug beyond a bit of coca tea to alleviate the altitude.

And yet, on my first day in Cusco, walking around Plaza de Armas with Vijay, I was offered cocaine. In the “big” (sheesh, not if you’ve been to the El Alto market) market in Pisac, Perú, Mark and I were offered in quite loud and straightforward English, “I have weed for sale, you guys.” In all, I’ve been offered marijuana once and cocaine five times over two weeks in Perú. I’ve never—not even in the sketchy bathroom hallway at Blue—been offered drugs of any sort in La Paz (well, unless blood bombs should fall under the UN convention).

Mark was also surprised when I described the narcotics inspection station in the El Alto airport. Between having your migration documents checked (making sure you haven’t overstayed your visa—inevitably 30 days despite asking for 90) and putting your bags through the usual scanner, you walk up to a man who opens your backpack and goes through its contents. No fancy scanners or wands, he just riffles through your belongings to ensure no small (or large) bags of white powder have found their way into the bag. He asks where you’re from and where you’re going. If you’re traveling alone, and why you’re traveling to begin with. And then, assuming no powders are discovered, you’re on your way to the more technologically advanced screening systems that these days seem to just ensure you don’t have any shampoo bottles over the allotted volume and have remembered to empty your pockets of change. 

So I suppose the point of all this is that the “War on Drugs” contributes not only to perpetuating inequalities among individuals, but also effects representations of entire countries that propagate the inequalities of imperialism. While, yes, it seems coca production in Bolivia has been surpassing regulated levels, I’m not convinced that is directly affecting drug use in the US. Yet, much of the diplomatic tension between the USG and GOB stems from or is exacerbated by disagreements regarding coca. Maybe some of the recent calls for drug policy reform will end up helping to repair diplomatic relations as well. 

“Amiga, do you want Machu Picchu?”
“Would you like a tour?”
“Seniorita, what are you looking for?”

“El baño.”

I walked out of customs in Cusco and into a virtual shopping mall of tour agencies. Each of them with large color posters advertising Inca sites or “cultural” offerings. I didn’t pause long enough to inspect them, and only after getting in a taxi did it occur to me I should have taken a photo (the one below is from another travel blog). But it was striking, especially, because it provided such a contrast with what I had seen at the La Paz/El Alto airport just an hour earlier (and as a side note, it was one of those amazing flights that left at 9:15 am and arrived at 9:05 am).

In trying to edit an article (which I’m beginning to think I can’t ethically write anyway), I’ve tried to compare tourism in Bolivia and Perú. However, I was last in Perú in 2006, and then only in Lima. But after having been in Cusco a mere 10 hours, I am amazed by the way tourism has inundated this city. I have no doubt this is not a recent phenomenon, though I haven’t looked into the history. I’m sure Annelou Yepij would know. In any event, the phenomenon is understandable. Cusco is situated with excellent proximity to several amazing Incan and pre-Incan sites. The city itself is a relic of an Incan history (and now I’m unfortunately starting to sound like National Geographic). La Paz, in contrast, boasts "death road” and “cholita wrestling.” Its close to Tiwanaku, but that doesn’t have quite the draw of the Picchu. 

And possibly, this is why I feel like I’m on vacation. Flying felt like a luxury this morning, especially since it wasn’t technically necessary. I bought the flight two weeks ago when the border between Perú and Bolivia was full of blockades on the Peruvian side. Essentially a Canadian mining company wants to start work on a site near Lake Titicaca and the local people are protesting because the Peruvian government won’t put a stop to it. For the last 2 months, periodically, the people have been blockading the border, even threatening to throw dynamite on any boat that tries to cross the lake into Puno. And so, having people to meet in Cusco, and a somewhat tight timeframe, I didn’t want to take any chances, and coughed up the $160 (plus $25 airport tax) and bought a flight. Hopefully, when I try to get back to La Paz next week the border will be open to busses and I won’t have to buy a return ticket. 

But this is not anything terribly new for the Andes. Protest seems to pervade everyday life. As Antonio once said “This is La Paz. There is always protest.” It’s something the more elite classes declare matter-of-factly, and the working class people who more often participate in protest proclaim with pride. Even the official slogan of the 200 year anniversary of the revolution (not liberation) claimed “Somos un fuego que no se apaga.”

And thus, I shouldn’t have been surprised when I arrived at the La Paz airport this morning and found it covered in protest posters. Many contained slogans of the huelga. Others provided reasoning: comparisons of salaries of government workers in different sectors, and demonstrations of the exploitation of miners, health workers, and teachers. There was even a mannequin with a characture face that I think is Goni, but if anyone has another thought, please let me know.  

And that for me, in many ways demonstrates a difference between the two countries. I in no way want to claim that Bolivians take protest more seriously than Peruvians. Obviously, protest all over the Andes is very committed and aggressive. But I think on a governmental level, while Perú encourages tourism and gains a great amount of income from its “national treasures,” the GOB has imposed visa requirements—I believe in protest of US and European visa requirements for Bolivian citizens—that tend to limit tourism rather than encourage it. And to a large extent, I very much agree with Evo’s de-neoliberalization strategies, as well as understanding the need for visa equity. And I am certainly not one to argue that tourism is necessarily a good thing that should be encouraged.

Or maybe it’s really just that I like keeping Bolivia a little off the beaten (Gringo Trail) path.