JOH: End of a Chapter

Dear readers,

So, he’s done for. Juan Orlando Hernandez Alvarado, President of the Republic of Honduras between 2014 and 2022, was convicted on three counts of drug trafficking and weaponry conspiracy on Friday 8th March 2024 by the US Justice Department. The drug trafficking we all kind of knew about; it was his and Honduras’s worst-kept secret. The guns, though, I was unaware of, although I suppose it goes with the territory. He’ll be sentenced on 26th June 2024 and is facing a minimum of 40 years imprisonment, according to what I’ve read.

The post is belated and is something less of a talking point since the conviction. It’s taken time to gather all my thoughts on Juan Orlando Hernandez, who I’ll refer to now on by his infamous acronym, JOH. Quite a few people advised me not to write on the subject, especially as a foreigner. “Stick to doodles, musings and mourning: politics isn’t your brand [place].” Point taken: looking beneath the dirty sheets of another nation’s political affairs carries a risk, especially where opinions are heated and allegiances to political parties are fierce. Not that my country of origin’s politics is a model to follow: Brexit, Boris Johnson and cruel immigration policies come to mind. I could well be accused of punching down from a privileged position, poking my nose in as an elitist and feeling superior from colonist Europe. JOH has divided the country to a degree, and I’ve been more in the anti-JOH corner, banging my cacerola with a mettle spoon and teaching my parrot to squawk “Fuera JOH” – “Get Out JOH”, when the moment’s called for it. Therefore, I’m most likely to hot poke a patriotic nerve or two, especially Nacionalistas and JOH supporters. Yes, there are good reasons to shut my mouth and go about my business.

 

Saying that, I’ve lived in Honduras for 13 years, 8 of which JOH was president, accounting for approximately 61.56% of my time in the country. This, funnily enough, was longer than my former marriage. The temptation to voice my opinion is strong. As much as some Hondurans may raise their eyebrows at my next comment, Honduras is my adopted country, or more so, I feel adopted here. I pay taxes  (and taxis) and I can be fiercely defensive of the country under unjust critique. Just don’t get me to quote me on all seven verses of the national anthem. It’d be massacre and I’d no doubt be lynched. I believe in free speech and freedom of thought. If it provokes or offends, there isn’t much I can do but invite you to comment below. I don’t intend to upset, although I write with a lot of tongue-in-cheek: just an attempt to charm and entertain. I admit I’m politically biased. I was raised in a left-leaning household in the UK, with a dislike of Thatcherism and mistrust of the right and capitalism. I don’t hold any political alliances to the left in Honduras, nor have I written any Spike Milligan-esque satirical novels such as “JOH: My Part in His Downfall”, but as you can tell from me merely bringing up the idea, I’ve often thought of it.

The story has layers, as one expects. There’s something very telenovela about it. Some friends have joked it’s the perfect plot for a season of Narcos, the Netflix series. After all, JOH’s brother, Tony Hernandez, was given a life sentence in the US for similar offenses in 2021, and was accused of having links to the infamous Joaquín Archivaldo Guzmán, better known as, El Chapo. But when these things happen, it seems to open a can of worms and the population gets to see just how engulfed their political infrastructure is by the narco industry. We all seem to have a vague idea, but are unsure who and to what degree. It’s common to hear that the word on the street is that “this politician is connected to this narco family”, and “that politician is connected to that narco company”. It’s a labyrinth of narratives. The media publish names, but it’s difficult to distinguish the truth from heresy. Journalists are under constant threat of being attacked and murdered. Contracorriente, a Honduran media outlet that conducts investigative journalism, claims 93 journalists were murdered between 2001 and 2022, a tiny proportion of which are actually investigated or culprits found.

InSight Crime published an interview with Lester Ramírez, a professor at the Central American Technological University (UNITEC) and researcher for the Global Initiative against Transnational Organized Crime (GI-TOC), in the aftermath of the trial with JOH. He says:

“I define a narco-state as a situation where a country’s leadership is involved in drug trafficking and production, and top-down policies are implemented to support these activities. 

Honduras was a narco-state in the sense that the president and his inner circle were profiting from drug cartels. Government officials worked for cartels; providing protection, assassinating the competition, and winning elections, which required narco money. However, the prosperity generated was not shared with the population at large. It did not contribute to the country’s GDP or create sustainable jobs. The only spillovers went into real estate bubbles, laundering money through the financial sector, and paying for political campaigns.”

The saddest part of this is, the population feels powerless to stop it, losing faith in their political system, unsurprised and apathetic when news like this appears, and suspicious and sarcastic when a politician does something positive: “Este maje tiene un hidden motive.” It causes foreign investors to venture to other countries due to a lack of confidence in the political infrastructure, and thousands of Hondurans feel forced to emigrate because of a lack of options in their beloved country. A patriotic nerve is hit; their nation’s reputation is dragged through the mud and it’s none of their fault. Hondurans don’t deserve that. They live in a beautiful country and they’re wonderful people, which I say honestly, and not just trying to blow smoke up you-know-what. Just don’t try to feed me rosquillas.

One also has to wonder what this means for the youth and their faith in democracy. It is a question that is echoed and repeated in many countries, even my own, when politicians behave the way they do. How can they feel inspired to change society for the better when the political system is so mired by corruption? Speaking to members of Gen Z, the feeling of apathy and disinterest in politics concerns me. It enables those in power to continue doing what they do. Maybe it has been like that for many generations. I felt much the same at their age. For young Hondurans though, it feels as though there is little choice. You either have to accept the corruption that comes with politics, or just steer clear from politics altogether. It is a shame.

My Relationship with JOH

JOH was born in Gracias, Lempira, in the west of Honduras on 28th October 1968. That makes him a Scorpio and Gen X like myself. We also support Motagua. That’s probably where the similarities end, other than we are both human, male, have a nose and eyes and hair and teeth and the rest of it. I don’t know much about his character. I never met him. We never hung out at the same coffee shop, went twosies on a cigarette, met in a sauna nor high-fived playing footy. I know people who know him. Some call him arrogant, others humble, but I don’t want to judge someone I’ve never met and go along with heresy. Humanoids are complex at the best of times, but I imagine JOH is on a different level given his rise and thirst for power. It would have been interesting to meet him, though, especially someone with such extreme life experiences. A family man, lawyer, president, narco. A shame; I never got to have “my magical day with JOH”. I’m not about to travel to a US state penitentiary to fulfill something that isn’t much of a wish, anyway. What a blog post that would have been, though, smashing all my doodles, songs and reflections of mourning to pieces.

I arrived in Honduras in 2011, two years after the political crisis when another former president, Mel Zelaya, was ousted from power, and the Partido Nacional government was in power being led by President Pepe Lobo. There was still an uneasiness in the air, with regular clashes between the Resistencia and the authorities. Partido Libre was taking shape, a splinter from the Partido Liberal which for years had been the country’s main left party, but was in a civil war with itself as it was felt some members of the party had pulled the rug from under the feet of Mel Zelaya in the 2009 coup.

I wasn’t too familiar with the movers and shakers of Honduran politics at that time; JOH wasn’t really on my radar, even though he was head of Congress. I was volunteering at Casa Alianza and my focus was on the social problems that left many street youths in vulnerable situations than trying to make sense of the political landscape. However, when working with people in extreme poverty, you see and hear how the great levels of corruption and misused funds erode the social fabric, you build a mistrust of the authorities and the political powers, especially when they have scant regard for their citizens. Partido Nacional was in my line of fire, and they stood for many things I was brought up to dislike: conservatism, autocraticism and capitalism. They were heavy-handed with protestors and dissidents, using militarized police and death squads, not something I was used to, especially being brought up in the UK and, as I mentioned above, coming from a left-leaning family. My dislike for the party hasn’t strayed, not the voters, mind: just the politicians, but my faith in the left isn’t much better. Still, I was curious about the left in Honduras, as I made friends, especially in artist circles, who supported leftist causes. However, I was warned not to venture much deeper with the Resistencia circles, as violent protests could spark up quickly, especially against the US-trained COBRAS Police who were known and feared for using excessive force. I also began to quickly understand that the left in Latin America was quite different from my understanding of the left in the UK. While I understood the “power to the people” sentiment amongst the voters, I felt disillusioned that those involved in politics and power seemed just as thirsty for power as the Nacionalistas, for motives other than wanting to bring positive change.

I began to hear of JOH’s drug trafficking back in 2014 when he first became President. Just looking at the media and speaking with friends; there were suspicions. Allegations of corruption were very loud, even within his party. He seemed to have control of the Police forces, military and the Supreme Court, showing signs of a dictator. Some Nacionalista friends seemed to fall for his authoritative demeanor. He seemed to say all the right things about engineering the economy to attract foreign investors – “Honduras is open for business” – “voy a hacer que tengo que hacer” type speeches. There was quite a bit of denial about the corruption allegations from the right, as you would expect. I couldn’t help but feel an air of conscious avoidance about what he was really up to, while others were quite open that they could accept the corruption, as the alternative i.e. Mel Zelaya, would mean Honduras turn into another Nicaragua or Venezuela.

Scandals would pop up now and then, but all under the eyes of the US, who continued to support him in his quest against narco-trafficking. His narrative was that he was putting people away, such as the Cachiros, but it has now been found that he was taking bribes. He had a lukewarm popularity, able to shrug off allegations and counter difficult questions from the press with relative ease. But then power seemed to go to his head in 2017 when he pulled some very suspicious strings in the Supreme Court and ran for a second term as president, something that had up to that point was not allowed in the Constitution. The election itself was a shit show, with Partido Anticorrupión fronted by a famous sports journalist, Salvador Nasaralla, racing into the lead. The Supreme Electoral Tribunal (TSE) halted the vote count after 57% of the ballots had been processed, citing technical difficulties. When the count resumed, JOH began to gain ground, ultimately surpassing Nasralla. Nasralla and his supporters alleged electoral fraud, claiming that the TSE was manipulating the results to favor JOH. This sparked widespread protests and allegations of human rights abuses by security forces against protesters. Despite international calls for transparency and a recount, JOH was declared the winner, securing a second term in office. Many international observers criticizing the process and calling for an independent investigation into the allegations of fraud. The political crisis that ensued deepened divisions within Honduran society and raised concerns about the state of democracy and governance in the country.

I still remember banging the cacerola. I remember the “Fuera JOH” chants. I remember the burning tyres and walking past the military police to try and get home. I remember the curfews. I remember receiving images and videos of violence against protestors. I remember some of the police dropping their arms in protest against JOH I remember the frustration and anger, not from Hondurans, but myself, that a man, for his desire for power, would put his nation through this. I remember my family in the UK being very worried. I remember it all like yesterday.

JOH never recovered from it. His reputation and legacy were damaged permanently, even amongst some of his supporters. His second term was mired; he had less control, and scandals were coming out of the woodwork. His brother was sentenced, and his excuses and media support carried little weight. In February 2022, shortly after Libre came to power, JOH was arrested. I remember the commotion. I was in a virtual meeting, only for it to be interrupted by the sound of helicopters flying just over the house I was living in at the time, and police sirens, many of them. I thought there had been a fire or a disaster. They were on the way to JOH’s home, just a couple of miles away. I switched on the TV, and watched live, as he was led away in shackles. Even though there would be a long way to go, it was done. JOH was finished.

Questions

Many convicted narcos have testified against JOH. The evidence, it seems, weighs heavily against him. JOH and his supporters claim the narcos are doing it out of revenge, that the allegations are lies and false. Speaking with people, there are questions about why JOH has been singled out, when many members of the party, as well as politicians from other parties, seem to be involved. Is he being scapegoated? There are also questions for the gringos; the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) have found there was evidence he was linked to drug

trafficking long before he was president, yet they supported him through two elections. Did they support him just to keep the left out? Is this just another case of the US meddling with the politics of another country and causing chaos? It wouldn’t be the first time, but whichever way of looking at it, their hands are dirty. Still, much of the population is happy: the gringos got him! There is a feeling that if he’d been arrested and sentenced in Honduras, he would have gotten away. In the US, he will serve his time.

It begs another question, but should the drug trade be legalized? The amount of destabilization and violence it causes in many countries, especially in LATAM, is it worth it? Estimating the exact amount generated by the illegal drug trade is challenging due to its clandestine nature and the lack of reliable data. Whole communities are involved, with revenue generated from cultivation, production, trafficking, and distribution across the region and to international markets. According to the RAND Corporation, the illegal drug market in the United States is valued at $150 billion. Globally, its worth has surged to approximately $652 billion, as reported by Global Financial Integrity. If this were measured as a national GDP, it would rank as the 22nd largest economy worldwide, surpassing countries like Sweden, Poland, and Belgium. With my devil’s advocate cap on, can one blame a politician for wanting to get involved, when the rewards are maybe a few times higher than your country’s budget? One has to wonder.

Of course, there are many other consequences to legalizing such a trade, both on how it is regulated, but the impact on people and society, but this may be a question for a future blog post.

For now, Hondurans await the 26th June when JOH is sentenced. I expect the day will be bittersweet. It won’t be the end of an era for the drug trade, but for many, it will be a day that justice will hopefully be served.