Chapter 377
Translator: crow
Chapter Title: The Heights of Impudence
The U.S. war on drugs in Central and South America dealt a severe blow to Washington's dominance over the Americas.
Anti-American sentiment had spread far more widely than before, and the influence of pro-U.S. governments had noticeably weakened.
Korea was experiencing some of these side effects too, but nothing like the scale of what the Americans were facing.
‘The size and environment of the drug organizations we’re up against are worlds apart from theirs.’
From the start, we hadn’t dragged our feet the way they had.
I’d watched the Americans stumble through trial and error before giving the order to prepare an operation.
This one didn’t call for any brilliant masterstroke.
Just...
“It’d be nice to turn the cartel bosses America killed into martyrs.”
I tossed out a straightforward suggestion—one a modern soul hardened by malice might come up with.
“Pardon?”
Turning drug criminals into martyrs?
Everyone looked baffled by the idea.
“Is that even feasible?”
Of course it was.
Anyone who’d lived through the 21st century, where even villains could be run through the PR washing machine to reveal their “tragic circumstances,” knew better.
I started by laundering the image of Pablo Escobar, the godfather of Colombia’s drug trade and head of the Medellín Cartel.
“Pablo used his drug money to help the poor. That’s a good angle.”
It was utter nonsense, of course.
Escobar had shown some interest in poverty alleviation, sure—but claiming he’d actually helped the people was ridiculous.
A cartel boss giving a bit of positive influence to the masses didn’t erase his mountain of sins.
But what I was peddling wasn’t the truth.
It was bold-faced propaganda and fabrication.
The character I aimed to craft was ultimately a “fervent anti-American spirit wrapped in a warm hero of the underclass from the shadows.”
‘There’s an Andromeda’s distance between a heartwarming human-interest story and a drug cartel boss, but what I’m producing isn’t a fact-based documentary—it’s a drama loaded with spice.’
I threw everything into packaging cartel bosses this way and spreading the word across local societies.
“Do you know Pablo Escobar?”
The KCIA spread the “legend” of Pablo Escobar through Latin American immigrant communities and various other channels.
In our version, Escobar was a titan who’d funded anti-American politicians with profits from high-value crops, pouring money into Colombia’s future without hesitation.
Colombia was merely a nation basking in the sweet fruits of that great giant’s shadow—that was the plot of our novel.
“We’re spreading the Pablo Escobar story just as you instructed, Director, but will this really catch on?”
“You’ll see.”
The KCIA figured these tales wouldn’t take root anywhere, but they were wrong.
Local reactions were far more enthusiastic than expected.
“I had no idea Pablo was such a hero. Standing up to the Yankees like that, doing all that work. He even planned to build a subway for urban development?”
“This era feels so dark without our star of hope, Pablo. I wish a second Pablo would appear to lead us back to a brighter world.”
Before long, our legend-like stories spread across Central and South America.
In the process, sleazy drug peddlers were repackaged for the locals as noble giants striving to right their nations against America.
It was the kind of narrative that’d make Washington foam at the mouth, but that’s how the world worked.
“People don’t want the truth. They just see what they want to believe.”
The martyr operation in Central and South America turned anti-American sentiment into an escalator ride upward.
“It was America! They killed our hero Pablo!”
“Washington, stop slaughtering our noble giants!”
The boiling resentment even led to cars ramming into U.S. embassies in Colombia and Mexico.
But it still wasn’t enough.
“We need to beef up the narrative.”
For instance, clearly explaining why these “giants” had no choice but to dip into drugs.
After a few days of polishing scenarios, the KCIA came up with a cunning tale.
“In a nation stripped of dreams and hope by American exploitation and oppression, all we had left were cocaine and marijuana. I decided to sell this sin and bring dreams and hope back to our country. It was the only path to salvation.”
Utter rationalization, of course.
Yet the story of a hero sacrificing his own religious beliefs, plunging his hands into vice to lead his nation toward hope—it was enough to tug at heartstrings.
Our planted tales won over the people of Central and South America.
Soon, the story splintered into countless variations.
“I heard Pablo offered to pay off Colombia’s national debt himself.”
“A private citizen stepping up to cover over ten billion dollars in debt? And that patriot died so miserably.”
Over time, drug lords’ images ascended to something like the Dark Knight—bearing the burden of sin alone to save their countries.
“The era we lived in wasn’t one of chaos. It was the age of great giants chasing dreams and hope against America.”
Some networks even turned their “legendary tales” into dramas.
The cartels were becoming heroes. Idols.
Washington wasn’t run by fools.
They saw the cartel idolization as a threat and moved fast.
“Drug lords as martyrs and heroes? What kind of nonsense is this?”
The U.S. produced documentaries on the horrors wrought by drug dealers and aired them across Central and South America.
“This is the hell drug lords create.”
Homeless people dying high.
Addicts craving their fix every day.
Raw slices of America’s nightmarish underbelly—but the reactions from Central and South Americans were astonishingly cold.
“Feels good.”
“Those American bastards deserve it.”
The cartel-spawned horrors only gave locals a smug sense of satisfaction.
“They invade other countries, turn them into hellholes, but can’t handle a taste of their own medicine? Filthy hypocrites.”
The U.S.-funded documentaries ended up boosting support for the drug lords.
It was a perfectly predictable outcome.
The evils America had inflicted on Central and South America over the past century dwarfed what a bit of drug peddling could match.
Locals put their anti-American grudge this way:
“Pablo was just an ordinary drug dealer yesterday. But after seeing the Yankee documentary today, I get it—he was a hero avenging his Central and South American brothers.”
The U.S. saw the backlash and quickly commissioned new documentaries.
“These scum killed people in Central and South America too.”
The U.S. government trotted out families of those murdered by cartels in the region, highlighting the cartels’ brutality and immorality.
It wasn’t a bad counter.
But it fell short of toppling the cartel bosses whose images had skyrocketed.
“Yeah, we get that the cartels are bad guys—but watching them screw you over feels damn good.”
As America struggled in the propaganda war, I unleashed the next phase.
“Now let the Americans see this impudent backlash for themselves.”
The KCIA relayed Central and South American reactions verbatim to the Western world.
German-Korean Americans embedded in U.S. society handled the job.
“In Central and South America, they see cartel bosses as heroes and martyrs.”
“What nonsense is that? Criminals as heroes?”
Americans couldn’t hide their fury upon hearing it.
“Freeloaders living off U.S. aid spouting this garbage?”
The inflamed U.S. public opinion led to calls for slashing aid to Central and South American governments.
“This could drive a bigger wedge between America and Central and South America than we thought.”
“Not likely.”
When national interests were at stake, America could bulldoze public opinion.
The Reagan administration’s response was right on cue.
“No cuts to aid.”
The KCIA expressed regret at the firm stance, but I figured we’d reaped enough already.
“So we’re wrapping up the project here, then?”
Not even close.
I saw plenty more to squeeze out of this.
“Spread the word of America’s outrage back to Central and South America.”
Show them the “Central and South America” image in American minds.
The KCIA compiled raw U.S. reactions and shipped them south.
“Ungrateful Hispanics biting the hand that feeds them with U.S. aid!”
“Hispanic pseudo-nations don’t deserve sovereignty.”
The American outbursts set Central and South American countries ablaze.
“What? We’re ungrateful?”
“We don’t deserve respect?”
Anti-American rage exploded past the tipping point.
Yankee product bonfires and flag burnings erupted everywhere.
We kept ferrying each side’s reactions to the other, stoking the divide.
Sure, a fair number of agents got caught and killed in the process—but it was an acceptable loss.
“Time to wrap up the op.”
With America now clearly spotting our shadow, pressing on would cost more than it gained.
This was a good point to fold and step back.