Latin America: let’s not be the anti-narcotics police force of entertainment

Once again, the same script: a new series about Colombian drug trafficking is announced, the production company launches a promotional campaign — in my opinion, not a very original one, but certainly it’s attention-grabbing — and a national wave of indignation rises. The new series is considered yet another offense to our country. Yesterday, it was a “White Christmas” at the Puerta del Sol in Madrid, today it was a truck snorting white lines on the streets of Paris; tomorrow, we’ll see what comes next.

Aren’t we tired of this dynamic? I, for one, am exhausted. I don’t think getting riled up by every series, every special, every billboard, every joke made about our countries and the drug market will help to stop us from being associated with drug trafficking and its associated violence, corruption and culture. Nor do I understand why we feel it necessary to respond to this programming, or at what point we became the anti-narcotics police of entertainment. All of this is wearing on me, and has a null to counterproductive impact: attention leads to more attention.

It is possible that we might have other things to watch, denounce, chastise, express naïve opinions over — such as the one offered by the Colombian ambassador to the United Kingdom who, indignant over the latest drug-themed series, asked if it wouldn’t be better to focus on the country’s positive aspects, like its orchids. As if our national flower could serve as a replacement for the fascination over the thousands of tragedies that have added up to a national catastrophe, akin to what so many other countries in our region have suffered, are suffering and, if nothing changes, will continue to suffer.

In my eyes, the first step lies in changing the way we relate to this important part of our national histories. We must face the fact of all these novels and series more calmly because, although they reflect a part of our reality, they do not define us as people or as a country. Reconciling ourselves with our drug trafficking stories, without trivializing or romanticizing them, paying detailed and curative attention to the wounds they have inflicted, redefining the stain that has fallen across the lives of so many Colombians, Mexicans, Ecuadorians, Salvadoreans, Hondurans — we will always carry it with us, due to the mere fact of where we were born. How can we begin this process of healing? By talking about it in community. By opening dialogues. Yes, it sounds confusing, especially since in countries like Colombia, coca cultivation and other representations of cocaine appear in the news on a regular basis. But that’s not quite what I mean. I’m talking about everyday conversations, open and honest, in the home or among friends. Conversations about what happened and what is happening in our immediate surroundings.

A little more than a decade ago, in the middle of an academic study on youth violence prevention in Medellín, a father shared with me, ashamed and full of regret, how, in the years when the cartels were at their peak, he and other parents persuaded their daughters to go out with so-called “traquetos” (drug traffickers). They did so out of an aspiration of social advancement, fear of reprisals, a combination of both. During that time, I would dare say, most of us had a family member, friend or acquaintance who had been a victim of drug trafficking, or we knew someone who we suspected of being involved in the business. Of course, for fear of some kind of violent response, most of us could not denounce these connections, or even talk about their existence. This became a cause for embarrassment. So, we made the collective decision to remain silent, even though it would impact many, and indeed, every institution in our society was affected. The result was that drugs and drug trafficking became the Bruno of our country: the one who no one talks about.

Is reconciling ourselves with this part of our history a glorification of drug trafficking? No. Rather, it would mean understanding what happened, how it has impacted our daily lives and, through accumulation and multiplication, our countries, not to mention our response to the phenomenon. Where we failed and why, or where we got it right and how. This is the second step of a more public conversation, one that would lead us out of taboo, shame and prohibition. If we begin to address drug trafficking differently, at the level of narrative media, but also at the policy level, we will be not only more effective in how we are perceived from the outside, but actually begin to lead the conversation.

Because it is precisely via this shame, inaction and silence that has allowed others to construct the narrative when it comes to our countries. That we are the violent ones, the guilty ones, the ones who poison the rest of the world. We are the problem, they tell us. I even get the impression that our outbursts of reproach against narco series allows us opportunities to release our shame, ask for forgiveness. Forgive us, civilized world, for having coca crops and not doing enough to eradicate them! But why doesn’t the same phenomenon take place in consumer countries? It’s not about shifting the blame or demanding an eye for an eye. I’m not suggesting that visas be imposed on people from the countries that consume the most cocaine, or that they be treated as criminals or suspects at airports. My question is, why do we end up in the spotlight? At the very least, sharing the scrutiny (and the creation of discourse) would be a great third step.

There will surely be more drug trafficking series and movies about our countries. But I harbor hope that we will be the ones who begin to control the greater narrative, while we continue to search for better drug policies that will make us transform the way we relate to this part of our history. And if we run into that foreigner again who blurts out the typical “Oh, you’re Colombian? Cocaine? Narcos? Griselda?”, instead of getting riled and reciting the usual breathless list — “but we also have coffee, Shakira, Karol G, frailejones, orchids, two oceans, 100 Years of Solitude” — we can answer, calmly: “Yes, cocaine is produced in Colombia because the world wants to consume it. Next question.”

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