Chapter 162: That Time I Created an Economic Bloc in South America (6)

TL: Skye

It goes without saying, but Nayib Bukele is a remarkable politician.

Even setting subjective opinions aside, his career alone makes that clear.

Born in 1981, he ran for mayor of a small provincial city at thirty-one and came away victorious.

Then, three years later, in 2015, he was elected mayor of San Salvador, El Salvador's capital.

Four years after that, in 2019, he broke El Salvador's two-party system and was elected president.

He then sidestepped the constitution and even secured another term on the strength of overwhelming approval ratings.

He was steadily making his way down the path of a novice dictator, or dictator newbie.

But lately, Bukele was starting to be crushed by a disaster he had brought upon himself: San Marcos.

To begin with, the meeting with Yu-jin itself had gone just as he wanted.

They had agreed to bring Tortilla Farm to his country and use prison inmates to produce food cheaply.

With the government pocketing the inmates' wages on top of that, he couldn't have asked for more.

He had successfully secured investment as well.

Of course, that investment came from San Marcos's greedy Absolute Emperor, Yu-jin Choi, but Bukele was confident he could cherry-pick the benefits.

He believed he had the insight and ability to manage that much.

In the end, though, that confidence had been nothing more than arrogance.

Yu-jin and the San Marcos officials had been so astonishingly enthusiastic that they had produced a draft agreement in just ten days.

He had planned to drag things out and bury the economic bloc agreement altogether, but his plan had already gone awry.

And with lava upstream, perhaps it was only natural that boiling hot spring water flowed downstream too.

The moment Yu-jin pointed toward El Salvador, private companies swarmed in and began gaining a foothold.

As a result, the industries that formed the foundations of El Salvador's economy began steadily passing into the hands of San Marcos companies.

The food sector had already all but fallen to Tortilla Foods, and textile companies led by Taeyang Apparel had taken over a substantial share of light industry. The financial sector could not yet be said to have fallen, but Tortilla Pay's market share was soaring by the day.

Of course, as a dictator newbie, he could drive them out whenever he wanted.

As an extreme measure, he could simply announce that he had changed his mind, scrap the agreement, expel the companies that had come from San Marcos, and then sever diplomatic relations.

The problem was...

“They say President Bukele did all this, right?”

“Apparently he flew all the way to San Marcos himself to sign the agreement!”

“We really did pick ourselves a fantastic president.”

The people loved the way things were.

If he drove San Marcos out, food prices and unemployment, which had finally come down, were sure to soar.

Once people learned he was responsible, his approval rating would plummet, and his dreams as a dictator newbie would slip forever out of reach.

He had already ignored the constitution to win reelection.

What if he stepped down as president?

He would almost certainly go straight to prison.

And it would be the hellish prison he himself had built, where he himself had locked away countless criminals.

To be honest, he'd lined his own pockets quite a bit, hadn't he?

‘I absolutely cannot let that happen.’

In the end, there was only one thing Bukele could do.

‘...I need to meet Yu-jin Choi.’

Persuade Yu-jin.

Talking things through and securing at least some safeguards was the best course open to him.

But before that, there was someone else he needed to meet.

“Contact Venezuela's presidential palace. Tell them I want to meet Acting President Telsy as soon as possible.”

At least two against one would be better than one against one.

***

The first thing Bukele did upon arriving in Venezuela was take a look at El Salvador's future.

The country that had experienced San Marcos's economic penetration first, and most deeply.

He wanted to see for himself the country that might one day be El Salvador's future.

Whoooosh...

The plane landed at the airport in Caracas.

As he left the airport under the protection of Venezuelan soldiers, Bukele's expression stiffened.

There were Tortilla Foods products in the convenience store in the airport lobby.

The remittance booth beside the airport currency exchange bore a Tortilla Bank sign, and the fencing around a construction site on the way to the parking lot displayed Tortilla Construction's name.

It was the same on the drive into downtown Caracas.

A gas station beside the highway bore Tortilla Energy's logo, and Tortilla Foods signs dotted the roads.

Supermarket windows displayed notices that food from San Marcos was now in stock.

Bukele fell silent as he gazed out the car window.

‘...Is this El Salvador in the timeline where I do nothing?’

Tortilla Foods products were already taking over the market in San Salvador, but Caracas was on another level.

The entire city was covered in San Marcos logos.

It was getting hard to tell whether this was Venezuela or San Marcos.

With a bitter taste in his mouth, Bukele arrived at Miraflores, Venezuela's presidential palace.

“Welcome, President Bukele.”

Acting President Telsy Rodriguez greeted him.

Contrary to what Bukele had expected, Telsy didn't look unhappy. If anything, she looked cheerful.

“It's an honor to meet you.”

After they shook hands and sat down in the reception room, tea was soon served.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Bukele got straight to the point.

“Madam Acting President, let me ask you frankly. What do you think of economic cooperation with San Marcos?”

Telsy set down her teacup and smiled.

“I believe it has brought hope to Venezuela.”

“......”

Bukele blinked.

What had she just said?

Hope?

On the way here from the airport, he had seen the entire city covered in San Marcos logos.

Energy, food, finance, even construction.

He had seen clear proof that every core sector of the economy was passing into San Marcos's hands.

And yet she was saying the country was recovering?

‘Does this woman... have no idea what's happening?’

Seeing the bewilderment on Bukele's face, Telsy replied with a smile.

“You look as though you don't understand.”

“...To be honest, I don't.”

Bukele nodded.

“Hmm.”

After a moment's silence, Telsy spoke.

“Mr. President, I'm not a fool either. I do know what's going on.”

“......”

“Do you know what happened to this country after former President Maduro was taken away to the United States?”

“I saw it on the news, but...”

“Seeing it on the news and living through it are different things.”

Telsy's voice dropped.

“The country's political factions split into bitterly opposed anti-American and pro-American camps. More than twenty years of anti-American sentiment dating back to Chavez's time, compounded by the shock of President Maduro's capture, sent the anti-American factions surging in influence.”

“......”

“There were divisions within the military establishment too. We received intelligence on three separate occasions that anti-American officers were plotting a coup d'etat, and pro-American and anti-American protesters clashed daily in Caracas. We nearly had a civil war.”

These were details that had been kept hidden.

Bukele narrowed his eyes.

“The economy was in even worse shape.”

“......”

“The bolivar digital was worthless, and state-owned companies were effectively bankrupt. People rummaged through trash cans because they had no food. Patients were dying because hospitals had no medicine. Schools closed because the teachers weren't getting paid. Children couldn't go to school.”

“That must have been very hard.”

“Whatever you imagine, it was worse.”

Telsy took a gulp of tea.

“That was when President Yu-jin Choi of San Marcos reached out to us.”

Telsy looked Bukele straight in the eye.

“He told me to turn a blind eye to the sixty billion dollars in loans from China. He said he'd take care of the rest.”

“But, by any common-sense standard...”

“So I did. And President Yu-jin Choi kept his promise.”

Telsy spoke with a faint smile.

“He took in a million starving refugees and gave them jobs. He also set up a sovereign wealth fund and restarted Venezuela's stalled infrastructure projects. He rebuilt highways and power plants, supplied food, and got our stalled financial system working again.”

“But at the cost of your economic sovereignty...”

“Economic sovereignty.”

Telsy repeated the words, then gave a bitter smile.

“It really is important.”

Telsy set down her teacup.

“But does it really matter to people who are starving?”

“......”

“Could you go to a mother rummaging through trash cans to feed her children and tell her there's no other choice because we have to protect our economic sovereignty? Could you tell the parents of a child dying for lack of medicine that we can't import it because we have to keep foreign capital out?”

Bukele fell silent.

“I was afraid at first too.”

Telsy rose and walked over to the window.

Tortilla Construction cranes were at work across the city.

“Was I handing the whole country over to San Marcos? I wrestled with that question every night.”

Telsy turned to face Bukele.

“But look at the results. Our citizens are no longer starving or dying. People living on the streets have found jobs and rejoined society.”

“......”

“If I have to choose between economic sovereignty and my people's survival, I'll choose my people. Is that the wrong choice?”

Bukele had no answer.

Instead, a heavy silence settled over the reception room.

Without a word, Bukele lifted his teacup, then set it down again.

Of course, Telsy wasn't thinking solely of her people either.

Thanks to San Marcos's massive investment, her approval rating was soaring day after day too.

Her approval rating had plunged into the thirties immediately after Maduro's arrest because she hadn't been hostile enough toward the United States. Now it was above seventy percent.

The revival of Venezuela's economy was prolonging Telsy's political life as well.

As this went on, Telsy found herself halfway converted to the Church of Yu-jin.

When she did as Yu-jin said, the economy improved. When the economy improved, her approval rating rose. When her approval rating rose, she stayed in power.

There was no reason to doubt him. The results spoke for themselves.

As she spoke, Telsy found herself overcome with emotion. She clasped her hands and murmured.

“Ahh... O Yu-jin.”

At this utterly baffling behavior, Bukele instinctively leaned back.

‘I-Is this my future?’

El Salvador was no different.

Ever since San Marcos's companies had arrived, food prices had stabilized and jobs had appeared, bringing smiles to people's faces.

Of course, he didn't agree with Telsy one hundred percent.

As president, he found the prospect of losing economic sovereignty utterly horrifying.

But he couldn't argue with her either.

It was also true that the moment San Marcos was driven out to protect economic sovereignty, Venezuela's people would go hungry again.

And approval ratings would crash.

He would be driven out, and there might even be a coup d'etat.

And he was sure to end up in prison.

As he wrestled with these thoughts, Telsy finished her prayer and spoke with a bright smile.

“Mr. President, let me tell you one thing.”

“Please do.”

“President Yu-jin Choi is an honest man.”

“......”

“I had my doubts at first too. I wondered what he was after, what sort of trap there might be. But if you watch Him long enough, you realize that He truly wants to help us.”

Bukele said nothing.

Sincere or not, the result was the same.

Even if it began with good intentions, if those good intentions created dependence, wasn't that still colonization?

“I sincerely hope the Caribbean Belt gets off the ground. Isn't it wonderful to picture three Latin American nations, once among the world's poorest, racing toward the future?”

“...I'll do what I can.”

Crushed beneath the disaster he had brought upon himself, Bukele was left with a bitter taste in his mouth.

*****

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