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--though I'm not sure if this is the greatest example of it. I do think the reporter fails to offer context, in that he doesn't seek out the history of such incidents prior to Chavez's presidency. Thus, the reader has no way to compare the current claims with the past. The border has faced incursions, cattle rustling, kidnapping, etc... throughout the 40 years of Columbian civil war. Could Chavez do more? Perhaps. Has he done as much or more than his predecessors did? That's difficult to ascertain from any individual piece, or even group of pieces on the matter. Is this reporter biased? Perhaps. Is he biased anymore than his counterparts at any journalistic outlet? It would be difficult to argue that he is, IMHO. Is he lazy? Perhaps. When one compares the stories one reads in the papers today to those of 30 years ago, it's quite disturbing. Slant or no slant, there would have been more of an attempt to compare the claims of the residents with the past, at least much of the time. Alas, this no longer occurs at any outlet very often. Anyway, here's a slight bit from a long piece that appeared in the New Yorker a few years ago. It shows that this problem goes back to before Chavez, at the least. The Revolutionary http://www.newyorker.com/archive/content/?020422fr_archive03"Marulanda said that since Chávez has been in office, relations along the border have improved, but, in fact, Venezuelan cattle ranchers still complain of harassment by Colombian guerrillas who cross over to steal their livestock and extort money from them. Like ranchers whose land has been invaded by organized peasant groups elsewhere in the country, the ranchers on the border say Chávez has done nothing to protect them, and some have resorted to vigilante tactics. In the town of San Cristóbal, I met a man named Otto Ramírez, who claims to be starting up a Colombian-style paramilitary death squad to fight the guerrillas. Ramírez is a small, balding former veterinarian in his late fifties who says that he turned to vigilante tactics two years ago, after guerrillas invaded his ranch and murdered his caretaker. Ramírez, who came out of hiding for our interview, claims that he is in contact with Colombia's paramilitary warlord, Carlos Castaño, whom he greatly admires. He hinted that Castaño had sent him some fighters to "help out." Castaño has an eight-thousand-man army that is known for torturing its victims and decapitating them with machetes. Ramírez boasted that he and his "boys" were active. When I asked him what he meant, Ramírez said, "A few eliminations, mostly low-profile stuff"—of guerrilla messengers and liaisons. He winked and grinned, and said he could say no more. He wasn't worried about being arrested. "When the time is right, I'll cross over to Colombia," he said. He could direct his operations from there.
In El Nula, a small border town a few hours' drive south of San Cristóbal, I met with a woman named Elizabeth (a pseudonym) who works as a liaison for the farc and who one assumes would be a target for Otto Ramírez's boys. She was an active-duty farc guerrilla from the age of twelve, but three years ago she was arrested by the Venezuelan Army at a roadblock outside of town. Until then, she had been the farc's local tax collector and had led a gang of young men who had, at times, roved deep inside Venezuela to carry out their duties. On the day she was captured, Elizabeth was on her own and was unarmed, but she had a balaclava in the car, which was all the evidence the Army needed. "I got caught because I was stupid," she said. After taking her into custody, the Army tortured her. Elizabeth's hip was permanently damaged, and she walks with a limp. A military tribunal sentenced her to twenty-eight years in prison for "military rebellion," but last year she was freed in an amnesty.
"The farc and Chávez have an understanding," Elizabeth said. Since Chávez came to power, she explained, the farc had agreed to cease its money-raising operations inside Venezuela proper, but it still exercised power and acted as an arbitrator in problems that cropped up along the porous border. "It's mostly problems over horses and cows and land," she said. Recently, for instance, a wealthy rancher had asked her to have the farc get rid of some land invaders for him. "He came to us rather than the Venezuelan Army," Elizabeth said proudly. "He's rich and educated and goes to Miami a lot, but he prefers us; he says he trusts us more." She had gone to the farc on his behalf, and three fighters came to chase off the land invaders. Several Venezuelans I spoke with in El Nula confirmed Elizabeth's story, and credited the guerrillas with making El Nula a much safer place to live than most other Venezuelan towns. Santos Moncada, who owns a cattle ranch outside town, said that in his opinion the guerrillas were fair, on the whole, in their dispensation of justice. "Because of the authority of the farc, people can leave their cars unlocked and walk around with jewelry on without worrying about it," he said. "You could never do that in Caracas."
Elizabeth doesn't like the term "narcoguerrillas," which is used to describe the farc. "I never saw any drugs in my life until I went to prison," she claimed. "The farc doesn't traffic in drugs; it just makes the traffickers pay a tax to raise funds for the boys, who don't receive salaries, to buy them boots, uniforms, and food." The money for the war effort had to come from somewhere. Elizabeth said she had only one regret, which was that her injury had ruined her chances of being a guerrilla comandante. "I believe I was born to be a leader," she said. I asked her if she worried about being arrested again. "There's nothing the Army or the police can do to me," she replied in a sassy way. "All I do is carry messages back and forth, which isn't a crime. And, besides, I have a Presidential pardon." I asked what she thought of President Chávez. "I like him," she said. "He wants equality between the social classes." She paused, and then, a big smile spreading on her face, she added, "He's a guerrilla, that's what he is."
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