Bolivian Narcoeconomy | Narcoeconomía boliviana

By Gonzalo Colque, Vision 360:

Far from operating in secrecy, drug trafficking moves in broad daylight, injecting millions into the national economy.

Drug trafficking is often taught in university classrooms as an “underground economy” that operates in the shadows, but this view is misleading. In daily life, it is visible to everyone: businesses with few customers that inexplicably thrive or ordinary people who suddenly flaunt fortunes and gain social acceptance. Political power and law enforcement not only know the big players by name but, in many cases, become key components of their protection networks, as evidenced by the case of Captain José Carlos Aldunate.

Far from being a clandestine operation, drug trafficking openly fuels the national economy. Beyond confirming the complicity of multiple sectors, this phenomenon raises a crucial question: to what extent are Bolivians, as a society and a state, willing to confront this scourge?

To answer clearly, it is imperative to question what is commonly known and even rethink our understanding of the problem. A starting point would be accepting the premise that the drug economy is not a separate and isolated world but one that intertwines with the formal and informal economies, legitimate and illicit businesses. There are no clear boundaries between them—only blurred lines, gray areas, and interconnections. These intersections create a favorable environment for drug traffickers to skillfully combine legal investments with money laundering operations, where front businesses blend seamlessly with legitimate enterprises.

Deep down, we all know this is the case—that the narcoeconomy permeates nearly every aspect of national life—but we refuse to explicitly acknowledge it. This collective indifference is not a minor detail; it serves as the flawed premise upon which anti-drug policies and strategies are built: the notion that drug trafficking is a contained crime, disconnected from the rest of the economy. This way of perceiving reality explains, for instance, why the highest echelons of economic and political power remain untouchable, even though many harbor drug lords who present themselves to society as prosperous, heroic, and philanthropic entrepreneurs. From these circles of influence, drug traffickers establish patronage relationships and control protection networks that extend to unions, businesspeople, politicians, security forces, judicial operators, and many others.

According to the most reliable estimates available, drug trafficking revenues account for between 2% and 3.5% of the Gross Domestic Product (GDP). A recent study published by the Center for Labor and Agrarian Development Studies estimates it at 3.3%, which, extrapolated with 2023 data, amounts to around $1.5 billion. To put this into perspective, this figure equals the total value of Bolivia’s natural gas exports for the same year and is twice the value of gold exports. In other words, it would be enough to pay the annual salaries of all personnel in the National Police and the Armed Forces—twice over.

As can be deduced, we face a complex challenge on two fronts. On one hand, drug trafficking is like metastatic cancer, having already spread across all layers of Bolivian society and state institutions. On the other hand, the revenue it generates is comparable to multiple productive sectors combined, making it an influential force capable of stabilizing or destabilizing the national economy.

The bad news is that the situation could worsen. The narcoeconomy and organized crime are showing signs of becoming structuring forces in our daily lives. At this point, Chapare is almost a convenient scapegoat, used to avoid a frank discussion about the true extent of drug trafficking’s entanglement in the country’s social, political, economic, and territorial fabric. Some time ago, an article I wrote about the connections between soy producers in Santa Cruz and coca growers in Chapare provoked an angry reaction from the conservative elite in Santa Cruz, who preferred to turn a blind eye to verifiable facts. Such reactions are not a good sign, as it is well known that denial is merely the first stage in confronting and accepting a painful reality.

Thus, insisting on anti-drug policies and actions that deny the interconnections of the narcoeconomy is akin to relying on a medical treatment that continues to prescribe remedies worse than the disease itself. A concrete example is the prison system, which operates under a legal framework based on the belief that incarceration disrupts crime, when in reality, Bolivia’s open-regime prisons serve to expand and strengthen drug trafficking networks.

Returning to the initial question, these considerations lead to a grim conclusion. As a society and a state, we are not prepared to confront the narcoeconomy—at least not under current conditions. Financial investigations are more politically subordinated than ever, and the discretionary handling of seized assets has led police forces to mimic the ostentatious consumption of drug traffickers. Narco culture is flourishing dangerously.

The fight against drug trafficking should not be limited to pursuing the most exposed and vulnerable links in the chain; rather, it must be conceived as a state-level battle against a deeply embedded system of complicities within Bolivia’s social and institutional fabric.

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