Chapter 163: That Time I Implemented a Cultural Promotion Policy in South America

TL: Skye

Early morning.

Isabella brought me my coffee as usual, along with some welcome news.

“Your Excellency, El Salvador says it will accept our economic cooperation proposal without any revisions.”

“Oh, really? President Bukele has made a big decision.”

“President Bukele probably had little choice. From El Salvador's perspective, there's no reason to reject the cooperation proposal we offered.”

“True, there's that.”

In fact, Isabella was right.

We called it an economic cooperation proposal, but it was really a win-win.

Leaving aside the finer details, the proposal centered on tariff-free trade and investment without regulatory restrictions.

First, San Marcos's companies and government would be free to trade and invest in El Salvador, which faced zero tariffs on trade with the United States.

That would effectively give us tariff-free trade with the United States too, while El Salvador would have much-needed jobs falling from the sky.

Given our strengths in agriculture, light industry, and heavy and chemical industries, free trade with us would also do a great deal to curb inflation in El Salvador, where prices were soaring by the day.

To sum it up, San Marcos would benefit from increased exports, and El Salvador from lower unemployment and prices.

In other words, it was a fantastic policy that made everyone happy.

‘A policy made by working civil servants into the ground, that is.’

Well... it had produced results, so I'm sure they'd all feel it was worth it.

Anyway, with the first step complete, it was time to take the second.

“When do they plan to move ahead with the Caribbean Belt?”

“They've asked for a little more time on that.”

“Why? It would be more convenient in several ways to get it all done in one go.”

“They seem worried about the gap in economic weight.”

“Ah... that's understandable.”

San Marcos had industries and capital in almost every sector apart from high tech. Its energy sector in particular, including oil refining and drilling, was virtually unrivaled in South America.

Venezuela, meanwhile, had the world's largest oil fields and a population of over thirty million. It was having some difficulties at the moment for various reasons, but its potential was so immense it was practically overflowing.

By that measure, El Salvador was in a lower weight class.

Its only industry was light manufacturing in its free trade zone, and its population was under seven million.

Of course, that didn't mean El Salvador had no potential at all.

For one thing, it had an excellent geopolitical location.

It was centrally located between Honduras, Guatemala, and Nicaragua, and the Central American Integration System (SICA) meant import and export tariffs were practically nonexistent.

That was also why food shipments from San Marcos were being unloaded in Honduras and transported overland instead of going through Panama.

It used to be cheaper to ship through the Panama Canal, but the domino effect of the recent blockade of the Strait of Hormuz had driven canal tolls up tenfold.

Anyway, the tariff exemptions El Salvador enjoyed through the Central American Integration System and on exports to the United States made it a very important country.

Second, El Salvador was one of the few safe countries in Latin America.

As everyone knew, Latin America... no, the entire South American continent was ruled by gangs.

These countries weren't small and wealthy like South Korea, with CCTV cameras all over the place, and the gangs had no respect for the authorities.

On top of that, guns were very, very, very easy to get.

As a result, ordinary citizens were exposed to every sort of crime, from drug dealing and human trafficking to murder, theft, and robbery.

In other words, it was a continent where only the strong could survive.

Under those circumstances, a gang-free foothold in Latin America wasn't just rare. It was an exceedingly scarce commodity.

‘President Bukele is pretty good at politics.’

Considering everything, El Salvador was a country we absolutely had to bring along.

“How much time are they asking for?”

“We'll have to discuss the details, but the Salvadoran government didn't seem to want all that much time either, so I'll try to negotiate a timeframe of about six months.”

“Good. Let's aim to launch the Caribbean Belt at that point as well.”

“Yes.”

Isabella nodded, her gaze clear and resolute.

Then she held out a second document.

“This is...”

It was an article from Libertad Daily.

[San Marcos Has Grown Wealthier, But Are Its People Happy?]

“Hmm?”

I began reading the article with its troubling headline.

[San Marcos's GDP has surpassed $86 billion, per capita national income has all but reached $10,000, and unemployment stands at 1.2 percent, effectively full employment. Judged purely on economics, the country could well be called a Latin American miracle. But a walk through its streets leaves an odd feeling that something is wrong.

For a start, the streets are deserted after midnight. Although the country has been safe for several years, people still hesitate to go out at night. Why?

The reason is simple. People believe that even the slightest misstep will earn them a black mark from the state and the government.]

‘It's not that bad...’

[As a result, there are bars, but no clubs. The only entertainment venues are Choi City's casinos, and those are for foreign tourists, not the country's own people.

Nor does anyone laugh loudly or play music in the streets. The distinctive vitality of Latin America is absent from San Marcos.]

The article ended with this conclusion.

[The people of San Marcos have grown wealthy, but they are not happy. Their wallets have grown fat, but their hearts remain lean.]

The article hit painfully close to home.

It was just what I'd asked of Nicolas, Libertad Daily's CEO, but I still couldn't help sighing.

“...It's true.”

The truth was, I'd been feeling it too.

I'd even wondered how there still wasn't a single club when the people loved drinking so much.

“Tsk...”

I gave a bitter smile.

What good was lowering unemployment?

When the people weren't happy.

“I don't think I've properly considered how the people feel.”

Isabella spoke cautiously.

“Your Excellency, this isn't your fault. If we have to identify a cause, it's the social climate President Marcos created over the past several decades. The turmoil that followed played a part too.”

She wasn't wrong.

President Marcos's dictatorship had lasted decades.

The people of this country had lived in fear all their lives. An improved economy wasn't going to make that disappear overnight.

But we couldn't leave things like this forever.

“Let's create a freer society.”

“A freer society...?”

“Yes. We'll organize festivals where people can come together to eat, drink, sing, and dance, and encourage night markets too. We'll also decriminalize the minor offenses that keep society so rigid.”

“......”

“While we're at it, let's build an amusement park on the outskirts of Libertad. We need places for our citizens to have fun too, not just tourists.”

“That's right. It's not too late to start doing these things one at a time.”

Isabella understood me perfectly, as always.

“Then I'll consult with the ministries and begin implementing whatever we can do immediately.”

“Just what I'd expect from you, Chief of Staff.”

Isabella stopped taking notes.

“There's one more thing I'd like to ask.”

“Go ahead.”

“What should we do about religion?”

“Religion?”

It was an unexpected question.

“At present, religious activity is effectively impossible in San Marcos.”

“Is that so? Freedom of religion should be guaranteed by the constitution.”

“Legally, it is, but... in practice, it's difficult.”

Isabella explained.

“Since the Marcos regime, every organization coming in from abroad has been subjected to ideological screening. Religious organizations were no exception. It was over concerns that they might spread undesirable ideologies or cultural influences.”

“......”

“As a result, San Marcos has no Protestant churches, Catholic churches, temples, or mosques. A country of ten million people without a single religious facility is unprecedented anywhere in the world.”

I fell into thought for a moment.

Religion.

Back when I lived in South Korea, I'd enjoyed Christmas and that was about it. I wasn't particularly religious.

But I knew religion brought people comfort.

It was also a community and a culture where people prayed in difficult times, gathered to sing when they were lonely, and comforted one another when they were sad.

Latin America in particular was culturally Catholic. Whether in El Salvador, Venezuela, or Colombia, religion was at the heart of the community, and Mass was a community gathering.

‘Even apart from faith, having a community is a good thing. All the better if it's a religion that emphasizes morality in society.’

Having sorted out my thoughts, I nodded.

“All right. Let's encourage religion too. But there will be no tax breaks. Clergy and religious corporations must pay taxes like everyone else.”

“Of course.”

At that point, I had no idea.

How my decision would snowball and come rolling back toward me.

***

That night.

The outskirts of Libertad. An empty lot no one ever visited.

People began gathering one by one in the desolate field, lit only by moonlight.

Fifty. A hundred. Two hundred.

Every one of them wore a long, ankle-length robe and a mask covering the upper half of their face.

Their eyes were all that showed, and only barely.

They couldn't make out one another's faces.

It was difficult to tell anyone's social status, gender, or age.

That was the rule of the gathering.

A pledge to pay no attention to one another's social standing or appearance.

A declaration that here, there was only faith.

Soon, someone stepped onto the platform in the middle of the empty lot, and the murmuring died down.

Thud. Thud.

The slender figure visible beneath the robe made it clear she was a woman.

But there was strength in her stride.

She walked like someone used to standing before hundreds of people.

The robed woman on the platform spread her arms.

Under the moonlight, three hundred pairs of eyes turned toward her as one.

“Brothers and sisters.”

A low but clear voice cut through the night air.

“Today, our God has spoken.”

Three hundred people held their breath.

“He said He would free us from our bonds. That we should spread our faith as far as we wish.”

In that instant, a single phrase rang out in unison.

“Eu acredito (I believe).”

Three hundred voices merged into one, filling the empty lot.

“He has granted this land freedom. He has saved us from hunger and freed us from fear. He has turned barren land into fertile fields and given jobs to the poor.”

“Eu acredito.”

“And today. He has released us from the very last of our chains. We no longer have to hide in the darkness. We can now proudly proclaim His teachings in broad daylight, out in the streets.”

“Eu acredito.”

As the speech continued, the robed figures began to weep.

“Now, go home, all of you. Go and spread His words and teachings among your neighbors. Spread the word of what He has done for this country and how your lives have changed.”

“Eu acredito.”

“It is only natural that we who have received His grace should share that grace.”

“Eu acredito.”

“And remember. Our faith is not a matter of coercion. Only those who sincerely feel it may join us.”

“Eu acredito.”

The gathering ended as the final cry spread across the night sky.

At once, three hundred robed figures began to disperse beneath the moonlight.

Silently, yet burning with fervor.

A short while later, the woman who had stood on the platform climbed into the back seat of a sedan parked a short distance from the empty lot.

Thunk!

After closing the door, she pulled back the hood of her robe and took off her mask.

Moonlight filtered into the car, illuminating her face.

Soft brown eyes. A serene smile. The kindly face of a middle-aged woman.

It was the president of San Marcos's National Saemaul Women's Association. Maria Pierson.

Maria took out her phone and made a call.

“Yes, Chief of Staff.”

Maria's voice was conversational and calm, unlike when she'd been on the platform.

“The gathering ended successfully. Three hundred people came, and everyone agreed to spread the faith.”

A brief reply came over the phone, and Maria smiled as she answered.

“There's no need to worry. The Truth Society's faith isn't that shallow.”

The sedan quietly disappeared into the darkness.

*****

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