DRUG FARMS GET CARROT, STICK

ALBANIA, Colombia - On a farm outside town, a $9,000 government loan
is helping Fernando Trujillo and a few neighbors make the switch from
growing coca leaves - the raw material of cocaine - to making brown
sugar.

In Milan, just 25 miles down the Orteguaza River, another poor farmer
surveys his 21/2-acre coca field, a target of government planes
spraying herbicides. The soaking didn't kill the shiny green coca
plants, but it sapped all life from 50 now drooping banana trees
planted among the illicit crops.

"We sprinted out of there," said Rudolfo Lopez, who was tending the
plot with field hands when the crop dusters raided the field. "They
almost drenched us with that poison."

In Colombia's guerrilla-infested south, two radically different
strategies - the carrot and the stick - are vying for dominance in the
battle to break the coca-growing habit of an estimated 100,000 farmers.

A similar tug-of-war is occurring internationally, pitting Colombia's
president, Andres Pastrana, against drug warriors in Washington.
Pastrana prefers the carrot. The warriors, chiefly Republican
lawmakers, favor the stick.

Sensitive to environmentalists' complaints and mindful that Colombia's
coca crop has doubled despite four years of record fumigation,
Pastrana is trying to attract extensive foreign aid for "alternative
development."

He wants to pay peasants to rip up their lucrative coca crops and
plant fruits and vegetables.

Warming to the idea, U.S. officials in October set aside $60 million a
year for alternative development programs in the coca-growing nations
of Colombia, Bolivia and Peru. And President Clinton sent Pastrana
home from a state visit last week with an additional $280 million,
much of it for development.

But the United States remains committed to aerial eradication of coca,
and Congress has just approved $200 million for that in Colombia. The
intent is to increase the effectiveness and frequency of missions by
crop-dusting planes and armed helicopter escorts that make daily
spraying runs over coca fields in the Amazon and Orinoco river basins.

The difference in emphasis was largely glossed over during Pastrana's
visit to Washington.

Pastrana said he would continue with eradication. But he also said
crop substitution is essential, "or the plague, no matter how often we
stamp it out, will return."

The debate could ultimately hinge on what happens in Colombia, where
fumigation has few enthusiasts but alternative development has yet to
prove it can succeed on a large scale.

In Caqueta state, typical of Colombia's southern coca belt,
alternative development faces major obstacles:

Prices: Even with coca farmers' costs rising steeply, no other crop is
nearly as profitable.

Infrastructure: Most coca growers live in neglected areas, far from paved
roads. Legitimate produce like beef, milk, fresh fruits and vegetables
would spoil before making it to market.

Skimpy budgets: Drug traffickers' financial resources dwarf those of
the agencies trying to offer an alternative. The United Nations
estimates Colombia needs $1 billion for alternative
development.

Add to those problems the rebels, who finance their insurgency by
taxing coca production and protecting traffickers' laboratories and
airstrips.

"They try to show they're for alternative development, but they don't
really support it," said Juan Carlos Claros, who runs the state office
of the government's crop-substitution program. "They are very
dependent on the illegal crops."

Since 1996, Claros' office has given out $4.5 million in low interest

loans to about 600 farmers. Most have gone into cattle raising, rubber
plantations or fisheries. But even Claros admits the projects are
meager, given all the dollars chasing coca.

"The money changing hands in one weekend in the (coca paste) markets
is equal to my entire annual budget," he said.

Government officials haven't offered any loans to coca farmer Rudolfo
Lopez, who says all he has gotten is raids by crop dusters.

"Tell Clinton that instead of sending those planes, send me some
tractors and machinery and seeds," he said.

Over in Albania, Fernando Trujillo's brown sugar cooperative is just
getting off the ground. Like all loan recipients, Trujillo signed a
pledge to stop growing coca. Like many, he's cheating.

"You can't just eliminate the thing that's putting food on the table,"
he said with an impish grin, standing in a cane field twice his height
and pointing toward where the coca still grows. "I haven't gotten rid
of anything. I just haven't planted any more."

Checked-by: Rich O'Grady