Uribe is an ally of the United States and a wildly popular democratic leader who saved his country when it tottered on the brink of collapse. That Congress would kick him in the teeth strikes Secretary of Commerce Carlos Gutierrez, the Bush administration's chief evangelist for the deal, as scandalously senseless. He escorts as many members of Congress as he can to Colombia, on the theory that when it comes to the greatest comeback story in the Americas, seeing is believing.
What the congressmen see is a Uribe resolved to confront his country's problems. He takes this congressional delegation to a slum on the outskirts of Cartagena where shacks line dirt roads flooded with fetid water. He holds a town-hall meeting with residents who greet him rapturously but make plain their desperation for more housing and services. It's as if President Bush showed up in the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans, willing to field all complaints.
The congressmen can't help but be impressed. What holds Democrats back from supporting the trade agreement is union opposition back home. The unions hate the deal even though most Colombia exports to the U.S. already benefit from trade preferences, and the deal would remove duties on U.S. goods going to Colombia. They complain about violence against Colombian union leaders, but attacks against unionists have tracked with general trends of violence -- as killings have declined since 2002, so have murders of union leaders.
Rep. Meeks, an advocate for Afro-Colombians, supports the deal. He calls progress in the country "nothing short of a miracle," and blames the image of the "old Colombia" for limiting the deal's support. "If you come here," he says, strolling out into the streets of this revived neighborhood, "it's a no-brainer."