The Washington Post
September 3, 2001

In Colombia, Guns Spell Power
Police Lack Both In Rebel-Run Area

By Scott Wilson
Washington Post Foreign Service
Monday, September 3, 2001; Page A18

SAN VICENTE DEL CAGUAN, Colombia -- They represent a thin blue line indeed, a police force without guns, training or patrol cars. In a town where guerrillas
in camouflage walk the streets with AK-47 rifles and ammunition vests, the clubs and whistles the police carry are unimposing.

But the 60 members of what passes for a police force here in the capital of a guerrilla-run stretch of pasture and jungle have an abundance of pride and enthusiasm
for keeping the peace. Some are in it for the money, although there isn't much of that, and others for the action.

"We may not have any training, but we do have a strong commitment to the people," said Victor Ayala, who owns a small farm near this city 180 miles south of
Bogota and doubles as the second in command of the police force.

Almost three years ago, President Andres Pastrana turned over a Switzerland-size swath of southern Colombia to the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, or
FARC, as the 18,000-member guerrilla army is known by its initials in Spanish. The idea was to create a safe place for peace talks with the rebels. All security forces
were pulled out of San Vicente and several towns around it.

To keep the peace, the government created the "civic body," as the police force is known. The real authority in town is the FARC rebels, who set the rules and carry
the guns.

A gunless police force is an unusual concept in a war-weary country where violence is the leading cause of death. San Vicente has always been a pool
hall-and-canteen type of place, although since peace talks began it has received an influx of money from government investment and a stream of visiting foreigners on
expense accounts. Stores are stocked with silk blouses, Che Guevara T-shirts, digital cameras and other items not commonly found in Colombian cities of 45,000
residents.

At the street level, however, the idea mostly works. The rebels have banned guns -- exempting themselves, of course -- so the police and the population are on equal
footing. Since the force was created in October 1998, there have been only seven homicides, all of them crimes of passion.

"They are armed, but only with tickets," said Gloria Fierro, 23, a clerk in a boutique carrying blue-sequined tops, gold-mesh sandals and children's clothes. "In any
other place, this wouldn't work."

It is difficult to know how many killings and kidnappings have gone unreported. Human Rights Watch said this year the FARC had carried out several killings and
kidnappings in San Vicente and surrounding towns since the zone was created. These are not cases that Ayala and his men take on.

At about 7 o'clock each night, the men in white shirts and gray slacks gather for dinner at what was once the town's National Police headquarters. The men make
less than $200 a month. They sleep on mattresses on the cement floor of a holding cell, sharing a single toilet in the corner.

"We live in the jail, and we work in the jail," said Eliover Escobar, 21, another farmer turned cop. "The guerrillas live in much better conditions than we do."

What the force lacks in firepower it tries to make up for in numbers. After dinner, the men form two 10-member patrols, the better to take on the drunks that multiply
as the night wears on. Aguardiente, a clear, potent liquor, causes enough trouble here. Now drug consumption is rising sharply, said Ayala, who once grew coca.

At 8 p.m., a patrol heads toward the Caguan River where a string of bars usually hosts some trouble.

One officer peeks behind the red curtain of Gril Los Angeles, the accordion strains of Colombia's vallenato music blaring from within. Then onto Rombos, where the
pool tables are packed. The men find two 14-year-olds inside and escort them to the jail, where their parents are called.

The patrol continues to the dark edge of town, passing through discos lit with black lights and decorated with murals featuring naked women emerging from
champagne glasses. On the way, Ayala stops at a private home. With one of the force's three radios broken, he must borrow a phone to check in with the station.

A Toyota Land Cruiser pulls up, and the passenger window lowers to reveal a FARC soldier inside. He encourages Ayala to take greater care registering visitors
arriving in town. In recent months, the FARC has become increasingly concerned about informants working for the rival paramilitary forces, now gathering outside
the zone.

The evening's highlight comes along a pitch-black dirt road where San Vicente's drug users assemble. Ayala sends his men into a riverbed, flashlights off. After 15
minutes, they return with one woozy pot smoker and two women carrying a bag of marijuana, bars of soap, a chicken and other items from a shopping trip.

Dealing with curfew violations and minor drug busts might not seem like a dangerous job, but that could change soon. San Vicente's police officers are considered
guerrilla agents by paramilitary forces because they collaborate in the peace process.

As opposition to the guerrilla safe haven increases, including criticism from the State Department over how it is being used, Colombia's paramilitary forces are
preparing to enter San Vicente if Colombian troops are sent back in. Paramilitary units are pushing toward the zone from Florencia, a city 70 miles southwest of here,
infiltrating each town and establishing roadblocks along the route.

Pastrana will decide in October whether to continue the safe haven. Regardless, a new president will take office next August, and so far the peace process and the
demilitarized zone have taken a beating on the campaign trail.

If the zone ends, the men have various ideas about how to survive the paramilitary arrival. Some, like Ayala, will flee to farms and hunker down. Others most likely
will contact foreign embassies in the hope of asylum.

"We will be pursued," Ayala said. "We are hoping the state protects us or international groups come in to help. Otherwise, they will kill us."

                                               © 2001 The Washington Post Company