US military strike disrupts life in Venezuelan coastal communities
GÜIRIA, VENEZUELA—On Venezuela’s Paria Peninsula, an idyllic stretch of Caribbean coast, it is an open secret that boats departing from its ports transport both drugs and fish.
Residents claim not to know who owns the illegal cargo, but they can tell when business is doing well because people eat out, get their hair and nails done and buy expensive meat. They also admit that none of this has happened since the US military struck on one of those boats earlier this month.
Few details are known about the deadly Sept. 2 strike on a boat the Trump administration claims departed Venezuela carrying drugs and 11 members of the Tren de Aragua gang, fueling speculation. Fishermen in the peninsula told The Associated Press (AP) they do not entirely blame those who enter the illegal trade, as living off fishing alone in Venezuela today is to accept a life of poverty.
Fishing boats in the breathtaking peninsula have been repurposed to smuggle migrants, traffic humans, wildlife and fuel. These so-called “other businesses” have flourished since Venezuela’s economic collapse a decade ago.
“There is no revolution here,” said retiree Alberto Díaz, referring to the self-described socialist movement that the late Hugo Chávez launched in Venezuela in 1999 with the promise of improving the lives of the poor using the country’s oil. “What there is here is hunger, sacrifice, pure pain.”
‘Peñero’
Walking through the Güiria neighborhood of one of the strike’s victims, Díaz lamented the decline of the local fishing industry, which once offered jobs with living wages and a way for people “to be happy.”
Speculation over the strike is still going around Venezuela, with people wondering who died and whether their deaths are part of a plan to topple President Nicolás Maduro.
But fishermen in the peninsula, who know their craft, immediately recognized some characteristics of the boat from the video. They said it was a 12-meter-long fishing boat known in Venezuela as “peñero” with four powerful and expensive motors. They estimated the engines were at least 200 horsepower each, a force five times more powerful than that typically used on local peñeros.
“Fishing doesn’t pay enough to buy a motor like that,” said fisherman Junior González, taking a break from repairing a boat along the shore of Guaca. Only a handful of roughly two dozen sardine processing plants still operate in this community following years of overfishing, failed restoration and the country’s overarching crisis.
Paradigm shift
González explained that the motors he uses run between $4,000 and $5,000 each, while one of those needed to reach Trinidad and Tobago—the suspected destination of the targeted boat—sell for $15,000 to $20,000.
The Trump administration has yet to explain how the military assessed the boat’s cargo and determined the passengers’ alleged gang affiliation before the attack.
The strike, which followed a buildup of US maritime forces in the Caribbean, marked a paradigm shift in how the United States is willing to combat drug trafficking in the Western Hemisphere. The US military killed three other people Monday after striking a second vessel that Trump said was carrying drugs from Venezuela.
Several fishermen and a local leader who asked not to be identified for fear of retaliation from Maduro’s government told AP the boat targeted on Sept. 2 departed Venezuela from San Juan de Unare, another fishing community on the northern coast of the peninsula. They said the men aboard hailed from that town as well as Güiria.
‘Supplement’
While some fishermen supplement their income with drug trafficking out of desperation, Christopher Sabatini, a research fellow at the Chatham House in London, said the Trump administration “has completely exaggerated” the scope of their illicit activities by linking them to the Venezuelan Tren de Aragua gang and deeming them an immediate threat to the United States.
“If you look at (the boats), these could never make the journey all the way up the Caribbean to the United States,” Sabatini said. “These are small-scale fishermen—and now small-scale drug traffickers—that don’t represent the crux of the issue.”
On Sunday, González, his father and siblings were the only fishermen on the shore dotted by moored boats as recent policy changes have restricted how often crews can fish for sardines. In communities like Guaca and El Morro de Puerto Santo, the new rules could drop a fisherman’s income below $100 a month, which isn’t enough to cover a week of groceries under Venezuela’s current economy.
Drug running, in contrast, pays thousands at once.
The impact of the illegal trade in parts of the peninsula is clear: businesses quickly deduce a successful drug run when people suddenly pay for goods and services with crisp US dollar and euro bills. They buy more than a handful of things at convenience stores and treat themselves to a burger and fries.
Restaurant and bakery owner Jean Carlos Sucre has noticed this pattern in Güiria and is worried about the future. He said the recent US strike has only worsened the “asphyxiating” conditions already facing his business due to Venezuela’s soaring inflation—leading to a significant drop in his weekly sales.
“Those who are working illegally aren’t setting sail for fear of being caught by the gringos, I imagine,” Sucre said. “Everyone here knows what happened, but very few talk. This week I sold 10 hamburgers out of the 90 I was selling (before the strike).”
