The Rise
| By LORI HINNANT
Posted: 01/14/2013 12:52 pm EST Updated: 01/14/2013 12:52 pm EST
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Both the mob violence and the bombings claimed by militant nationalists have
the same root, Corsicans say: the land.
Three-quarters of the coastline is untouched, the beaches and Mediterranean
views achingly empty of a human presence just a 90-minute flight from Paris
as developers were scared off by gangland warfare and separatist militancy.
"Where else could you go and have this kind of virgin land? It doesn't exist
anymore," said Dominique Yvon, who is part of an anti-corruption group on
Corsica.
Through the 1990s, the island was rocked by more than 1,000 separatist
bombings of vacation homes and construction sites. For mainstream
investors, France's Cote d'Azur, much more stable despite its own mob
presence, was the place to be.
Then the separatists imploded in the late 1990s. And organized crime came
home, seeing an opening to make new profits laundering drug money, much of
it during three decades of heroin sales in the United States spearheading the
so-called "French Connection" drug ring and on the Cote d'Azur, according
to Thierry Colombie, who has written a book about the Corsican mob.
Most of the tourists who stayed overnight on the island in 2012 stayed in
villas, many of them suspected of links to mob money, that popped up on the
coastline when the bombing wave of the 1980s and 1990s finally ended. The
number of cruise ship day visitors has also risen from 298,000 in 2001 to 1.1
million in 2011; they spend money in stores, restaurants and clubs before
returning to their ships.
Each summer, the population of Corsica doubles from its 300,000 residents.
Visitors pay a premium for ocean views and spend money in restaurants and
nightclubs. They fly in by plane or sail into harbors like Ajaccio, outfitted for
yachts and cruise ships. They come despite a murder rate about eight times
higher than the rest of France, largely thanks to the fact that no tourists have
been killed in Corsican gangland or separatist violence.
For most of the 20th century, the French government's driving focus was on
ending nationalist sentiment, even as Corsica's problem with feeding the
global criminal underworld grew. The "French Connection" brought hundreds
of millions of dollars worth of heroin into the United States. And Corsican
mobsters dominated the gambling and prostitution houses of Paris.
When the latest wave of gangland killings started, in 2006, the French
government looked the other way, hoping the criminals would implode the
way the nationalists had.
Then, at the end of 2012, when score-settling reached beyond established
criminals to Corsica's mainstream political class, the government began to pay
serious attention. First, a prominent defense lawyer was killed as he made his
usual stop at a gas station on his way to work in Ajaccio. Next, a former
nationalist with a uniquely powerful post as head of the chamber of commerce
was shot as he closed up shop.
As president of the chamber of commerce, Jacques Nacer was in charge of the
air- and seaports that are the island's link to the outside world, and the
government money that keeps both up and running. Authorities have not said
why they think he was gunned down, beyond noting that it was a professional
killing.
More than 15 years ago, the chamber's president used the airport as a
helicopter base for drug running between Africa and Europe. His successor
was convicted in a fraud scheme involving government contracts.
The slain defense lawyer, Antoine Sollacaro, was best known for representing
the nationalist who killed the island's highest ranking official, prefect Claude
Erignac, in 1998. Police have offered no theories on his death, beyond noting
that it had the same professional hallmarks as all of Corsica's gangland
murders.
These killings finally caught the attention of France's top security and justice
officials, who stood before the cameras to vow that this time, things would be
different. "In Corsica, those who give the orders are known. Everyone knows
and no one speaks," said French Interior Minister Manuel Valls.
Of course they don't speak, counters Raphael Vallet, a police investigator in
Corsica. Most people can offer only rumors, and those who might know more
can't look to the state's shield in France which, unlike Italy and the United
States, has no robust witness protection program for mobster turncoats.
"If you're dealing with someone who is capable of killing you at any moment
and we say `we can't protect you,' would you talk?" said Vallet. "Corsicans are
no less brave than anyone else."
The Corsican city of Ajaccio was the birthplace of Napoleon Bonaparte, who
left the island as a youth after deciding that greatness couldn't be attained
there. Many others have made similar bets about their future on an island with
few resources beyond its natural beauty. Among them, a preferred path has
been criminal empire.
French government policy was and remains that Corsica is an integral part
of the nation. Islanders, meanwhile, call the rest of France "the continent" and
proudly speak their own Italian-inflected language that the Paris government
once tried unsuccessfully to wipe out.
The bombings of Dec. 7 struck at 31 villas, all of them with absentee
homeowners away on "the continent."
The nationalist FLNC, which announced its resurrection in a theatrical news
conference in July complete with masks and guns, claimed responsibility on
Dec. 19 and denied any collusion with organized crime, saying gangsters had
"prospered in the shadow of the French state for decades."
The explosions appeared to have no links to the hit on the young man, whose
death is believed to be the latest professional killing to go unsolved.
Bianchi, the former mayor, was once jailed for his links to the group and has
since publicly renounced violence. But he, like many Corsicans, couldn't bring
himself to condemn the bombings in a place they consider their homeland.