‘Narcopolitics’ is for real

Narcopolitics has yet to enter The Oxford Dictionary of New Words. But it already has entered reality. Ever since earlier listed "narcoterrorists" in Central and South America began winning the fight against drug laws, US authorities coined narcopolitics to mean the ascendancy of cocaine barons in national politics. Once puny and gun-shy, Colombia’s Medellin cartel grew big and bold enough in the ’80s to pay off not only the usual small-town judge or police chief but also senators, spouses and siblings. It graduated from assassinating prosecutors and journalists to associating with guerrillas and terrorists to prevent anti-narcotics law enforcement. Unfazed by a CIA-backed military offensive, the cartel expanded to transship or plant poppy and coca in neighbors Panama, Peru, Ecuador and Venezuela. At one time, it even had in the pocket a leading presidential contender and the brother of the sitting president.

President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo used narcopolitics in a recent speech. Declassifying a police-military intelligence report, she said that the Chinese Triads have gone beyond bribing fiscals, judges and policemen and already recruited generals, justices, mayors and governors – perhaps even higher officials. She warned at that time that Hong Kong’s 14-K Gang had so controlled large portions of Mindanao through kidnapping and robbery syndicates that it could also operate widespread election dagdag-bawas. If authorities sleep on the job, she rued, the country could wake up with a Triad-installed President in 2004.

GMA’s words were lost in the din of the election campaign. One opposition senatorial candidate sneered that she was just politicking. And yet, narcopolitics is for real. And its claws and tentacles are growing.

An example of it is the rise of a one-time petty pusher to political organizer. Albert Sy Española (alias Noli, Bebot) started peddling shabu in the ’80s. He has had a string of arrests, but always managed to bail out by bribing either the arresting officer or inquest fiscal. The ability to pay off law enforcers – sometimes with cars of unsuspecting friends which he was also selling on the side – made Española bolder. He moved to the big-time, graduating from pusher to wholesale distributor. In just one year in the ’90s, then-PNP Eastern Police District Director Lucas Managuelod bagged him in huge buy-bust operations. On both occasions, Española managed to have himself remanded to the Mandaluyong town jail, where he had protectors in the right places. Cellphone in hand, he continued cutting deals behind bars – and slipping out at night to make deliveries and sleep in a condo nearby. Then-President Fidel Ramos was so rankled by newsbits on Española’s escapades that he paid a surprise visit to the jail early one morning. The subject was there all right, sitting at the warden’s desk with burger and newspaper in hand, while all the cops were sleeping in their underwear. The presidential bawl-out proved futile. Española soon got out on bail despite the quantity of shabu found on him to warrant the nonbailable charge of narcotrafficking. He disappeared for a while but resurfaced at the NBI detention center after another buy-bust. He managed to post bail anew and went back to the underworld. The last time Española was in the news, he was riding high with the addict-son of a ranking politician. That son even mauled Española’s aging mother-in-law because of shabu he had accidentally left in their house. But Española didn’t mind, so long as he rose up the syndicate ranks to top-level distributor.

One would think that Española and his ilk would disappear from the scene of new politics that drug-clean youths marched to EDSA for last January. But, no, that only happens in fairy tales. At the height of Puwersa ng Masa’s EDSA imitation from April 25-May 1, Española was spotted cheer-leading a segment of the crowd. An ex-classmate from his San Jose, Mindoro hometown said Española had managed to work his way into the staff of a senator, first as bodyguard, then as gun supplier, later as trouble-shooter and field organizer. As a politician’s personal aide at the EDSA gig, Española allegedly bused, fed, paid and otherwise entertained throngs of provincial recruits. He was also among the agitators of the march to Malacañang at dawn of May 1.

One out of every three rioters arrested during the subsequent assault on the Presidential Palace was found positive for shabu. Nuns who cleaned up the EDSA Shrine that day also collected half a mini-truckload of empty gin bottles. A dangerous mix, shabu and liquor, according to drug-rehabilitation medics. A potent for violence, as in molotov cocktails, military officers discovered. And one wonders if Española, going by his background, provided the stuff that emboldened the mob.

That’s for the police to investigate. But one thing sure, Española has gone places and found protectors high enough to keep out of jail while presumably still wholesaling narcotics. He can in turn use his dirty earnings to get his patrons promoted or elected to even higher positions. The ex-classmate says Española was never fond of books. He may not have read about it, but he apparently also has learned a trick from other narcoterrorists in Asia: Using drugs to work up mobs into killing sprees, like in East and West Timor, the Jakarta riots, and the pre-teen Burmese "liberation guerrillas" who raided a hospital in Thailand.

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