Members of the Mara Salvatrucha gang are guarded by policemen upon their arrival at the Quezaltepeque jail in Quezaltepeque, El Salvador, on 29 March 2016.
Image Courtesy of Jose Cabezas via International Crisis Group
By Eilidh Bellamy
While global conflict ravaged Europe throughout the 20th century, Latin America saw just one major interstate war: the 1932-5 Chaco War. The region’s last open conflict ended in 2016 when the Colombian government signed a peace deal with the Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia (FARC). Additionally, Latin America is unique in its freedom from nuclear, chemical and biological weapons of mass destruction. Yet despite belonging to the ‘most peaceful region in the world’, Latin American states boast some of the highest homicide rates in the world.
This apparent paradox exposes the immense level of daily violence across the region, most of it attributable to criminal organisations. These include anything from criminal fiefdoms overseeing Brazilian favelas to drug cartels in Mexico; from mara gangs on the streets of Central America to neo-paramilitary or guerrilla forces in Paraguay and Colombia. Past crackdowns have only contributed to this variety, shattering major players and opening the floor to smaller groups focused on horizontal cooperation rather than domination of one playing field. Mexico’s war on drugs, initiated by President Felipe Calderón in 2006 and prolonged by his successor, Enrique Peña Nieto, targeted high-ranking organised criminals and aimed to topple cartels through militaristic policing methods. By the end of Nieto’s term, the eight major cartels which had once fought for control over trafficking routes had become 300 smaller criminal groups. The elimination of big fish has only fuelled turf wars, pitting new and more closely matched players against one another in arenas which were once considered unchallengeable. Local communities have felt the weight of this shift most heavily as new groups turn to violence to cement their tenuous social and territorial control. As crackdowns compromise traditional revenue streams, organised criminals increasingly prey on communities to mitigate losses. In El Salvador, for example, extortion rackets affect 70% of businesses, and violence against local workers who do not comply has made it statistically “more dangerous to drive a bus than to fight gang crime”.
Worryingly, organised criminal groups are increasingly delving into political violence. The adoption of democracy by many Latin American countries threatens avenues of influence into government on which organised criminals rely for protection and profit. Elections can remove cronies from power, and their regularity demands constant interference. Popular discontent with organised crime forces governments to be seen to take action, making it doubly important for criminals to maintain allies in government. Organised crime was involved in 80% of all political violence in the run-up to Mexico’s 2018 election - including the assassination of over 150 political candidates and activists. Such interference reveals increasing willingness and long-term commitment by criminals to employ extreme violence in the defence of their political influence.
This shift towards political violence and violence against communities rather than inter-gang violence has led some scholars to liken organised crime to terrorism. They propose that anti-terror-style special powers to investigate and detain potential criminals are required to quash it, a call echoed by Latin American governments. El Salvador’s Mano Dura (‘iron fist’) policies saw children as young as twelve arrested simply on suspicion of gang membership. 95% of those arrested were released due to lack of evidence, highlighting the injustice - and ineffectiveness - of the arrests. Honduras and Guatemala’s implementation of similar policies reveals governments’ eagerness to employ this type of intrusive policy which, in many cases, threatens basic human rights. Nevertheless, the continually increasing rates of violence in the region show that organised crime in Latin America will not be solved with emergency powers.
Branding organised crime a form of terrorism simply due to the violent expression of their operations would be a dangerous oversimplification. It suggests a separation between the crime and the society which does not exist in Latin America. After all, terrorists are driven primarily by extreme ideological goals, making them by definition a tiny minority of any population, and dictating that their primary aim will be the fundamental alteration - or destruction - of existing societal structures. Organised crime, however, is profit-driven. This motivation requires not the destruction of existing structures, but their infiltration. The end goal is not societal change, but individual earning. This is a far more attractive endeavour for a far larger portion of the population, especially within contexts of social deprivation or disillusionment with the government.
While terrorism and organised crime both express themselves through use of kidnap, murder and extortion, the disparity between their end goals ensures that they attract very different operatives. Apart from creating instability, organised crime groups represent a venue for augmented salaries and increased social and political influence. Their behaviour is not an extreme, exceptional articulation of a small group’s beliefs, but a pervasive expression of desperate need, and common greed. In the words of Ivan Briscoe (International Crisis Group Programme Director): “crime no longer appears as a mere underworld, but has become a source of fear, resentment, popular entertainment and, perhaps most crucially, livelihood and opportunity; it has become a culture”.
This pervasive nature is what prevents the success of Mano Dura. Policies of ‘guilty until proven innocent’ require distrust of entire populations, and alienate those they are meant to protect. The extension of organised crime into everyday business means extreme measures meant to diminish criminal distribution hurt the population as much as the criminals. Colombia’s mass eradication of coca in 2007 hindered cocaine production, but also destroyed rural communities’ livelihoods. People were left with no alternative other than turning to criminals to sell old produce, or find new work. Such clumsy policies simply create new lines of revenue for organised criminals, and - most importantly - lend them new legitimacy in comparison with a government which appears simultaneously too controlling and yet completely absent, implementing heavy-handed policies without the strength to protect their citizens from the consequences.
The profit motive’s attraction is not limited to the socially excluded. Colombia’s ‘parapolitics scandal’ epitomises the corruption rampant among Latin America’s public servants. It revealed a massive network of collusion between politicians and the Autodefensas Unidas de Colombia - a paramilitary group responsible for thousands of civilian deaths. 139 members of Congress were investigated, and thirty-seven arrests were made - including former President of Congress, Mario Uribe Escobar. Unfortunately, gangs’ widespread social influence makes them attractive partners for politicians despite their open association with violence. Militias and drug gangs are estimated to control 80% of Rio’s favelas, translating into influence over almost four million votes. El Salvador’s 2014 presidential election saw leaders from two major parties - ARENA and FMLN - pay street gangs almost $400,000 in exchange for votes - evidence of the profit motive presenting itself as a desire for influence among politicians. Universal recognition that the gangs ultimately seek profit makes them accessible partners for anyone willing to pay, and recognisable in a way which extremist groups could never be.
Not only do state representatives collude with organised criminals, they are often also on their payroll. In Mexico, the Zetas cartel has such good relations with security forces that they use state prisons to avoid retribution at the hands of rivals. In one memorable scandal, the entire Ocampo town police force was arrested on suspicion of complicity in the assassination of a mayoral candidate. The natural incentive of greed, combined with poor salaries, threats of violence and the existing culture of corruption make such behaviour attractive, and create an environment in which short-term crackdowns and extra powers cannot successfully tackle organised crime.
Organised criminal groups in Latin America present a unique threat to the populations and stability of a relatively new collection of democracies. Their increasing tendency towards political violence does not mean they can be lumped in with terrorist groups, nor does it justify an extension of special powers to police forces. The universal attraction of the profit motive has created a culture of corruption, and heavy-handed policies have failed to motivate loyalty to governments or constitutions. Proper implementation of Mano Dura policies requires fair assessments of suspects and clear lines of authority to prevent abuses of power and ensure consistency. As long as those lines of authority overlap with the hierarchies of criminal groups, these policies will only alienate populations from their governments, and from the concept of democracy. A better solution would be to consider the causes and consequences of organised crime as a whole, rather than taking a narrow view and tackling individual operations. Rather than criminalising youth membership and justifying police violence with the incarceration of low-level criminals, police and prosecution forces should be trained to target the lawyers, accountants and businessmen who underpin groups’ operational capacities. Better responses to street crime and community-based violence, such as extortion or kidnapping, would also help to reinforce community faith in police forces and the capacity of the government to provide alternatives to crime. Nevertheless, none of this will be possible without real commitment by governments and enforcers of the law. Local and international commitment to continuing and reinforcing the anti-corruption initiatives set up by the OECD and UN are vital, and the case of Chile’s Engel Commission illustrates the power which inward looking initiatives can have on individual countries. It is time to turn away from short-term, absolute measures, and towards making enduring change which - while less flashy - can make genuine progress in dismantling the hold organised crime has on Latin America.
Eilidh Bellamy is a third-year International Relations BA student at King’s College London and currently serves as Feature Editor for El Cortao’. Her main interests lie in the prevention and resolution of armed conflict, and in the growing role of non-state actors on both sides of the negotiating table.
