Among the FARC's True Believers

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Drug interdiction was the professed purpose of the $5 billion U.S. Plan Colombia, launched in 2000, but its focus shifted instead to a counterinsurgency campaign to eliminate the FARC. "Most of the money that was supposedly for the war on drugs has been used for war against the guerrillas," Comandante Alberto notes. Plan Colombia, which has afforded Colombia's military U.S. hardware like Black Hawk and Huey helicopters, making it difficult for the rebels to concentrate in large units, has been successful in hobbling the FARC. But coca cultivation in Colombia rose in 2007, according to a new U.N. report. A widespread fear is that the remaining members of the FARC will become full-fledged drug lords.

FARC commanders dismiss the "narco-guerrilla" portrayal as government propaganda and insist they're still a viable rebel movement whose survival doesn't depend on drug income. For his part, Alberto points to his unit's spartan housing conditions — mountain and jungle shacks often without electricity or running water — as proof that they're not exactly living as sumptuously as famous cocaine kingpins like Pablo Escobar.

The comandante also downplays factors like the recent death of FARC's founder, Manuel Marulanda, 79, from a heart attack in one of his jungle lairs. "It's a big blow, but it's not a disaster," he says. "It was a natural death — he died of old age. The enemy didn't kill him." But he admits that where he and his comrades would once have heard immediately of news like Marulanda's demise through FARC communications channels, this time they had to rely on news radio. It's the kind of structural breakdown that allowed the army to plant a mole inside the FARC and dupe its leaders into delivering Betancourt and the other hostages to the army. Even more damaging than the loss of Marulanda and other leaders is the number of guerrillas giving up the struggle. The desertions come after a sustained government radio and television campaign telling rebels how to turn themselves in and offering education and training as well as rewards for information about FARC arms stashes and the location of commanders.

That campaign is likely to become more effective after Wednesday's rescue operation. But while Alberto, a government target himself, admits the FARC has been rattled, he believes it won't collapse. In fact, the unraveling of the group's central authority could end up making local bosses like him stronger. "We can't deny that we have suffered desertions of combatants who haven't understood clearly the reason for our struggle or who have let themselves be influenced by state propaganda," he says. "We have to study the situation so this doesn't keep happening." But he insists that in his rebel bailiwick, retention is still high, despite the fact that any guerrilla who wanted to bolt the 18th Front could be free and clear in a nearby town within a couple of hours.

As a result, despite the government's gains in recent years, the comandante is confident in his front's abilities to defend its own turf. As soon as the military enters the 18th Front's territory, the FARC usually hears about it from its large network of civilian informants. Many of them rely on FARC-protected coca cultivation for their livelihoods, but others are simply poor rural residents who have been beaten down for decades by the military and still believe in the FARC's original social-justice crusade. The guerrillas dress in civilian clothes and can be hard to distinguish from local farmers, and the difficult terrain is perfect for hit-and-run guerrilla warfare. The government "could not sustain an offensive on this scale without U.S. help," says Alberto. "They use American money to set up high mountain battalions, pay informants, for training, helicopters, boats and every type of war materiel. We believe we could overthrow the Colombian state if it weren't for U.S. help."