Confessions of an Economic Hit Man

I was loyal to the American republic, but what we were perpetrating through this new, highly subtle form of imperialism was the financial equivalent of what we had attempted to accomplish militarily in Vietnam. If Southeast Asia had taught us that armies have limitations, the economists had responded by devising a better plan, and the foreign aid agencies and the private contractors who served them (or, more appropriately, were served by them) had become proficient at executing that plan.

In countries on every continent, I saw how men and women working for U.S. corporations—though not officially part of the EHM network—participated in something far more pernicious than anything envisioned in conspiracy theories. Like many of MAIN’s engineers, these workers were blind to the consequences of their actions, convinced that the sweatshops and factories that made shoes and automotive parts for their companies were helping the poor climb out of poverty, instead of simply burying them deeper in a type of slavery reminiscent of medieval manors and southern plantations. Like those earlier manifestations of exploitation, modern serfs or slaves were socialized into believing they were better off than the unfortunate souls who lived on the margins, in the dark hollows of Europe, in the jungles of Africa, or in the wilds of the American frontier.

The struggle over whether I should continue at MAIN or should quit had become an open battlefield. There was no doubt that my conscience wanted out, but that other side, what I liked to think of as my business-school persona, was not so sure. My own empire kept expanding; I added employees, countries, and shares of stock to my various portfolios and to my ego. In addition to the seduction of the money and lifestyle, and the adrenaline high of power, I often recalled Claudine warning me that once I was in I could never get out.

Of course, Paula sneered at this. “What would she know?”

I pointed out that Claudine had been right about a great many things.

“That was a long time ago. Lives change. Anyway, what difference does it make? You’re not happy with yourself. What can Claudine or anyone else do to make things worse than that?”

It was a refrain Paula often came back to, and I eventually agreed. I admitted to her and to myself that all the money, adventure, and glamour no longer justified the turmoil, guilt, and stress. As a MAIN partner, I was becoming wealthy, and I knew that if I stayed longer I would be permanently trapped.

One day, while we were strolling along the beach near the old Spanish fort at Cartagena, a place that had endured countless pirate attacks, Paula hit upon an approach that had not occurred to me. “What if you never say anything about the things you know?” she asked.

“You mean… just keep quiet?”

“Exactly. Don’t give them an excuse to come after you. In fact, give them every reason to leave you alone, to not muddy the water.”

It made a great deal of sense—I wondered why it never occurred to me before. I would not write books or do anything else to expose the truth as I had come to see it. I would not be a crusader; instead, I would just be a person, concentrate on enjoying life, travel for pleasure, perhaps even start a family with someone like Paula. I had had enough; I simply wanted out.

“Everything Claudine taught you is a deception,” Paula added. “Your life’s a lie.” She smiled condescendingly. “Have you looked at your own résumé recently?”

I admitted that I had not.

“Do,” she advised. “I read the Spanish version the other day. If it’s anything like the English one, I think you’ll find it very interesting.”

CHAPTER 23. The Deceptive Résumé

While I was in Colombia, word arrived that Jake Dauber had retired as MAIN’s president. As expected, chairman and CEO Mac Hall appointed Bruno as Dauber’s replacement. The phone lines between Boston and Barranquilla went crazy. Everyone predicted that I, too, would soon be promoted; after all, I was one of Bruno’s most trusted protégés.

These changes and rumors were an added incentive for me to review my own position. While still in Colombia, I followed Paula’s advice and read the Spanish version of my résumé. It shocked me. Back in Boston, I pulled out both the English original and a November 1978 copy of MAINLINES, the corporate magazine; that edition featured me in an article titled, “Specialists Offer MAIN’s Clients New Services.” (See pages 133 and 134.)