Colombia Fights Drugs Its Own Way : War: The Government, tired of paying in blood and money, turns America’s Saddam fixation into an opportunity to cut a deal with traffickers.

Who could have imagined that the Persian Gulf crisis would benefit an enemy of the United States in another war: the drug traffickers of Colombia?

While U.S. officials were preoccupied with Saddam Hussein, Colombia implemented a policy that in other circumstances would never have flown in Washington. Indeed, the move might well have provoked a serious rupture between two allies in the drug war.

Last fall, Colombian President Cesar Gaviria offered the traffickers a deal: Turn yourselves in, and we promise not to extradite you; you’ll be tried in Colombia and the sentence will be reasonable.

Along with some smaller fish, the bait has already been taken by the Ochoa brothers--Fabio, Jorge Luis and David--who, collectively, rank second on the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration’s most-wanted list. Jorge Luis was astute in his timing: He strolled into justice’s arms Jan. 15, the day before the Gulf crisis became the Gulf War.

Now Colombians anxiously await what was once considered the impossible, and what many believe to be the underlying motivation for the government’s offer: Pablo Escobar, the prototype of the violent drug mafioso, might surrender his weapons, cocaine laboratories and extensive property, and then peacefully walk into prison.

How did this happen?

It’s enough to count the thousands killed in the misnamed war against drugs (in the first two months of this year, more than 1,250 people died in drug-related violence in Medellin); to estimate the damage to the country and the expense to the military (more than $2 billion); to suffer the nation’s anguish as many of its brightest public figures are killed or kidnapped by the drug lords (three popular presidential candidates, two leading journalists and scores of reporters, judges and police officials--all assassinated).

Among the casualties in the five-year war has been the legitimacy of the nation’s institutions. The courts, the police and the Congress have been ruined by drug-dollar corruption.

So, Colombia, tired of war, has decided to risk its future on unconventional and controversial solutions.

My mother, a middle-class Bogota housewife, complains: “We cannot go on being kept awake all night, counting the bombs exploding around the city, watching television for details of the latest killing and always fearing the worst when the kids haven’t called throughout the day to say they were all right.”

Marie Isabel Rueds, a friend and columnist for the weekly news magazine Semana, says: “The disgust that narco-trafficking and its crimes have produced in all of us is nothing more than a moral rebellion. With that, we cannot end the kidnappings or the killings. We are tired. We have lost. We have to do something different. We have to find a formula for peace.”

Given such examples of the national mood, the government’s formula--the offer of leniency to the narcos in exchange for their surrender--found a receptive and grateful public, even if it seems crazy to many in the United States.

Still, why would drug traffickers be willing to accept an apparently outlandish offer? They sit on billions of dollars, they buy whomever and whatever they want, they have paralyzed a country with terror and they operate with virtual impunity.

For starters, the drug traffickers are forced to live as fugitives, unable to enjoy their wealth freely or experience normal family life. The Ochoa brothers described their clandestine lives as a “nightmare.”

Even as Gaviria offers a deal, his police and drug agents continue the battle, often a dirty one. Assassinations, tortures and disappearances of narcos and their families top the list of complaints by leaders of the Medellin drug cartel. Before giving themselves up, the Ochoas, fearing for their lives, had been in hiding for months, isolated from their families and on the run.

Third, although Escobar kept the heat on through kidnappings, threats and lobbying by his well-known lawyers, the government has refused to rule out extradition as an option. Those who reject surrender and then are captured, promises Gaviria, will face extradition to the United States. “I personally believe in extradition,” Gaviria assured Americans during his visit to Washington earlier this month. “However, we have to take into account the opinion of Colombians. They want the Colombian judiciary strengthened.”

For many, this duality in the government’s approach reflects fear of U.S. officials’ reaction. Gaviria’s offer to the narcos, after all, contradicts the policy of war declared by President Ronald Reagan and carried on by his successor.

“Among U.S. drug agents,” said DEA spokesman James Shedd, “there has been no celebration.”

“I’m trying to figure out what the hell is happening,” said a ranking U.S. official in Bogota. “They had a program that was successful, that was getting the job done. Why not continue, why not get the job done? I don’t understand the apparent change of direction.”

Yes, there has been criticism in the United States over the Colombian government’s switch in tactics. But nothing like the reaction that was expected after so many years of U.S. tough-line policies. In light of this lack of anticipated outrage, Colombian caution seems unnecessary. In fact, Colombians are ready for a still more radical approach.

A public opinion poll last month revealed that 50% of those surveyed believe it acceptable that drug traffickers be given amnesty and the right to participate in the government. But that’s just half of it: Eighty percent agreed that narcos could become government ministers if that were the price of a peace settlement.

It’s no secret in Colombia that the government campaign is about ending narco-terrorism, not narco-trafficking. The business has seeped too deeply into the country’s economy to be excised. And ending the drug traffic doesn’t depend on Colombia.

As long as there is demand among Americans for cocaine, Colombian traffickers will satisfy them. It’s a simple law of supply and demand.

Economics aside, Colombians, perhaps crudely, ask why they should worry and sacrifice for U.S. cocaine users. They have enough to worry about at home.

In time, it will be clear who is right: the pessimists in the United States who believe that Gaviria’s latest approach to the narcos is surrendering to terrorism, or the weary optimists in Colombia who desperately hope the new policy will renew justice and faith in the country’s discredited institutions.

For the moment, Colombia has been left to set the terms for settling with its own enemies, and it should remain free to do that however it deems best. Sometimes peace has a high price.