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. 

Exhibition wrestling is a phenomenon that has grown in different ways in disparate regions. It began in US army barracks, quickly being picked up by promoters, and expanded across the US. A few decades later, Mexico City had adopted its own more acrobatic style. From there it spread across Latin America, and to other regions, with Argentina, Japan, and Brazil being among the most prominent examples. Bolivia, conversely, is not a prominent world example of lucha libre. Though lucha libre is a popular pastime in cities like La Paz, Cochabamba, and Santa Cruz, it has not been televised since 2001. Indeed even Bolivians see it as derrivative of other countries´ lucha libre. One fan told me “[lucha libre] is passion in Mexico, religion in Japan, and a joke in the United States, and here [in Bolivia] unfortunately, it suffers horrible stagnation and lacks creativity…It lacks vision of promoters, and the scripts, and stories, and characters are plagiarized from Mexico and the United States. Even the international lucha libre website, Superluchas, recently published a guest blog alleging that fans are tired of all the wrestling companies in Bolivia because they lack personality and plagiarize names, masks, and teams.

And yet, the lucha libre of La Paz and El Alto has something that can´t be found elsewhere. It is, as one fan says, “obviously our contribution to the world of wrestling.” And that is the Cholitas Luchadoras. One might even suggest that this is not only Bolivia's contribution to the “world of wrestling” but also to the world at large, given the fact that Bolivia is a country that does not have a well-developed international image. In contrast to neighbor Perú’s annual 2 million tourists, Bolivia garners only 300,000. It lacks iconic places and events other Latin American countires boast, such as Perú’s Macchu Picchu, Guatamala's Chichen Itzu, and Brazilian Carnivale. It is landlocked and has the poorest economy in South America. The indigenous president, Evo Morales, is one of the most vocal speakers in the world on issues like climate change and indigenous rights. Yet, he is often portrayed as simply a Hugo Chavez minion. As one traveler told me "No one even knows where Bolivia is. The only thing it’s known for is maybe the cocaine." Indeed Morales´s recent challenge of coca´s inclusion in the United Nations 1961 Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs and the capital city La Paz´s reputation for clandestine cocaine bars, clearly belies the country’s embarassed assocation with drug abuse and proud (for some) association with coca cultivation. 

But the Cholitas Luchadoras are becoming another visible symbol of Bolivia. Cholitas, the diminutive of cholas, are already a central figure on postcards throughout the region. More an essentialization than a real “identity” (see Weismantel’s Cholas and Pishtacos), cholas are often envisioned as the traditional mothers of the nation, thought to be rural indigenous women, stuck in time (see Gill’s Precarious Dependencies). The luchadoras are only one of the most recent incarnations of the chola character, joining young women dancing in parades and festivals, dessert brand ambassadors in upscale La Paz supermarkets, and politically active drag performers. 

The luchadoras, however, have received far more attention than these other cholita incarnations. The Guardian has covered them in online video segments, and even newsmedia from Venezuela and Chile have given them attention. At a recent lucha libre event in La Paz a renowned Chilean journalist and his young producer trolled the audience asking opinions about lucha libre. When I reluctantly agreed to answer their questions, they repeatedly pressured me to talk about what I thought of the luchadoras. 

So the audience´s and even broader Paceño population´s suggestions that the luchadoras are the "pride" of La Paz may reflect their desire for international recognition. But this is not just because cholitas are "traditional" and unique to the Andes. The icon of the chola is deeply endowed with characteristics seen as part of Paceño identity….