18 months ago,

The dashingly handsome General, some would say young for his rank wore an expensive silk ‘army uniform’, festooned with medal of dubious authenticity. Fernando Herra Cortez-Gutierrez was the soft son of a powerful merchant family in the teeming city state of Maracas.

Blazing sun in the summer, along with desert winds and dust made life hard on the 22 million residents. Especially under the yoke of cronyism and socialist dictates. Maracas was a major trade city in a key geographical location, that allowed it to be a state unto itself now that the Army and its General had ‘freed’ the people from the oppression of the faux communists, who ran the hinterland and sucked Maracas dry, all would be well. The surrounding country side could waste away for all the General cared. As long as he had external trade and control of the off-shore oil wells he could force his terms on any and all.

His rise thru the army was of course under a cloud, of back channel payments, bribes and extortion. As well as a number of unforeseen accidents over the years that usually presaged his rise to that station.

Now as he stood waving to the thronging crowd he felt finally in control. Police and ‘security forces’ were seeking out key political opposition, and other economic incumbents to bring them to justice. His family and his army would ensure the freedom of the markets. There would be work for all, and opportunity for all. Especially if you worked in one of his families’ businesses, that ran 80% of the economy. He had insisted upon free and fair elections, and quickly established the rule of law. The populace loved him on all forms of media, insisted that he also run for President of Maracas! He was humbled of course and won 98% of the vote. Independent analysts were not however allowed to verify the vote, but of course he won. It was his destiny to do so…well and his Fathers will that it be so.

Ahh the free markets and democracy. What an amazing set of ideas he thought as he waved at the throngs of civilians. They adored, his style, his verve. The listened in rapt attention to the freedom they would all soon experience and the economic wonder that would pour upon them. It was almost too good to be true!

Yesterday

Worn cars, belching emissions violating pollution standard added further to the trapped heat, as cars wove in and around the brand new stadium, it was almost ready for use, it was almost complete, but State coffers needed even more cash to finish it. The partially built 150,000 seat stadium was to be the biggest and the best. But good workers were hard to find. Out front locals waited in line to show their approved work credentials and apply for a days work. Work was hard to find. Too many immigrants had flooded the city, welcomed by ‘Generalissimo’ as they would work for less and couldnot sue or prevail upon the state for medical assistance when they were inevitably hurt on the job.

The IMF had just left town, and Fernand was in a rage. They had rejected his demand for 12 Billion in aid. He needed the money to pay social system back, reduce inflation and boost the flagging economy. His legitimacy as leader was in question by bankers!

He looked out over the sprawling almost complete stadium from his office in the 49^th floor of the Government HQ. The damn stadium was a metaphor for all that was going wrong.

Sirens rang out through the teeming city, crawling along, no one moved for the cars or ambulances, soldiers were required to dash into major intersections and clear the intersections of key roads, often at gun point. No one cared. It was their right, their privilege to drive as they want to live as they want. Screw the other guy.

In a small café, thick dark espresso was served to four surly men. Sweating in the un airconditioned café they plotted for change.

The run down warehouse district of Barrio Cadera the ‘hip’ was where everything was to enter and exit the country. It was heavily policed, it was essential for survival and it was time to hurt the government in the way that they would understand.

As the police vans rolled into the response area attending to a fake call they were ambushed! Guerillas fired from above and all around the police. Fighting fiercely they Police called for heavy back up.

Soon armed APC’s and troops poured from vehicles.

As they merged, massively explosions rocked the area. Warehouse after warehouse exploded, filled with chemicals, oils, and IED’s they turned the combat zone into a furnace. The Economic Freedom Coalition [EFC] had struck again. They streamed the results live to twitter and youtube. Which were quickly censored. The darknet propagated the content and the message. “Return our freedom to work, our freedom to live and compete fairly. Or die.”

Fernando looked at the mushroom cloud of explosions in the distance from his aerie. He slammed his desk.. Then he saw something equally disturbing closer to his location. Smaller explosions rocked the stadium area. He could still see the contrails thru the smog of the RPG’s as they hit police vehicles.

Muzzle flashes appeared from everywhere. Then poof they were done, and gone, melting into the crowds. Further reports were now being presented to him by his Colonel of Security, as he watched aghast out the 12 foot high window pane. “General, power and water to Bella Liana have been impacted. We suspect sabotage of our infrastructure. People are demonstrating at police stations and asking how this could happen with so many soldiers on the streets.”

The General turned, fists clenched. “Find them, root them out, arrest them…interrogate and find the leaders. Then a show trial. We must nip this in the bud.”

Stay tuned for more. DC: Maracas from @Hollandspiele Operational COIN in the megacities.