Rebel attacks hinder Plan Colombia
Jared Kotler
ASSOCIATED PRESS
PUERTO ASIS, Colombia — An aid worker in a
U.S.-funded program to eradicate drug crops in Colombia is kidnapped by
guerrillas, accused of spying for
the military, and executed.
A colleague is abducted and forced to play
Russian roulette while being interrogated. Another, a 60-year-old agronomist,
is kidnapped and tied to a tree.
Attacks on development workers are the latest
snag to emerge in Washington's $1.3 billion anti-drugs initiative in Colombia,
which produces most of the world's
cocaine.
Plan Colombia began last December when U.S.
crop-dusters sprayed a blanket of herbicide on coca plantations in southern
Colombia's Putumayo state, ground
zero for the war on drugs. The planes left in February to spray elsewhere
and are expected back soon.
In the interim, aid deliveries were supposed
to have begun to tens of thousands of peasants who agreed to eradicate
their plantations of coca — the main
ingredient in cocaine.
But most farmers have not received any aid,
so many have nursed their fumigated fields back into acres of robust coca
bushes. And now, danger for aid workers
threatens to paralyze a U.S.-funded alternative development program,
just as it was finally getting started.
Juan Carlos Espinoza, who manages the aid
program in Puerto Asis, Putumayo's largest town, suspended field visits
by his staff after the attacks by the
Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC). Security concerns are
forcing other aid organizations to avoid rebel-infested areas.
The FARC, which earns huge profits by taxing
the cocaine trade, has grown suspicious that the aid workers may be spies
for the military or its paramilitary allies,
Mr. Espinoza said. Fueling the rebels' paranoia, officials said, is
the fact that visits by some aid workers have been followed by military
attacks on the same areas.
The problems come as Colombia's government
is seeking more support from Washington, where the drug war has taken a
back seat to the war on terrorism.
Colombian President Andres Pastrana met with
President Bush on Sunday. Last Thursday and Friday, Mr. Pastrana met with
U.S. lawmakers and officials
including Attorney General John Ashcroft, telling them the drug trade
is financing terrorism.
Washington's aerial fumigation of Putumayo,
a lush expanse of jungle and hills bordering Ecuador, has bruised its cocaine-fueled
economy. Many migrant workers
have lost their jobs stripping the shiny green leaves off coca bushes
and hauling them to processing labs hidden in the jungle. From farm-supply
stores to brothels,
many businesses are reeling.
U.S.-trained troops, meanwhile, have destroyed
hundreds of the clandestine labs and made it harder for traffickers to
slip in and out of Putumayo with cash and
cocaine.
But like the hardy coca bush, Colombia's drug
business stubbornly hangs on.
U.S. officials believe some 60 percent of
farmers whose crops were sprayed during the December-February blitz have
replanted. They say many farms must be
repeatedly fumigated.
Coca is also sprouting in other parts of the
country, and U.S. officials don't expect big reductions in Colombia's coca
crop until 2003.
About 38,000 farmers — whose crops represent
two-thirds of the coca in Putumayo — have pledged to destroy their plants
in return for aid to develop legal
businesses such as medicinal herb farms, cattle ranches and fish hatcheries.
The government also promised short-term aid
— about $850 worth of seeds, livestock and tools per family. But even that
has not arrived.
Private Colombian organizations distributing
aid for the government blame delays on bureaucracy and the need to survey
every family's needs. The aid groups say
they expect to begin deliveries later this month, but admit it could
be many months before they reach every family.
There is deep mistrust on both sides. Some
Colombian officials doubt the peasants will tear up their crops as promised.
Many farmers suspect the government is
making empty promises — or doubt that alternative development will
succeed in a region with poor soil and few roads.
"Coca is the only thing worth planting here,"
Wilmar Ospina said while weeding coca bushes behind his house near the
Putumayo town of La Hormiga.
When the planes sprayed his field in January,
Mr. Ospina quickly pruned the plants before the herbicide seeped in.
On a recent cool morning, he stood amid chest-high
coca bushes and smiled. "Today they are prettier than ever," he said.
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