The slaughter of thirteen miners in Pataz, a remote province in Peru’s La Libertad region, is not merely a tragic, unfortunate event. It is the brutal manifestation of a state rendered impotent by its own laws, hijacked by criminal economies, and complicit politicians. In a country where policy has long favoured appeasement over enforcement, the line between miner and mafioso has all but disappeared.

This most recent atrocity was not unforeseen. In fact, it was foretold by years of systemic neglect, corruption and short-sighted legislation. On May 4, thirteen workers employed by contractor R&R, which operates with the mining company Poderosa, were found dead after having been abducted a week earlier to be tortured and summarily executed. A harrowing video later circulated showing the victims forced to kneel before being shot point-blank in the neck. The killings were allegedly orchestrated by a known criminal, ‘Cuchillo’, whose organisation, like many others in the area, operates with relative impunity.

The state reportedly had prior intelligence on the kidnapping, including the execution video, days in advance. Yet no intervention was made. According to multiple sources, including family members of the victims, police were well aware of the captives’ location but failed to act. Whether this failure stems from negligence or outright complicity remains unclear, but the consequences are unmistakably deadly.

An emergency in name only

Pataz has been under a declared state of emergency since February 2024, with both military and police forces supposedly deployed. But this has done little to halt the criminal grip on the region. Since 2020, mining firm Poderosa has reported 39 murders of its employees, repeated sabotage of its operations, and large-scale theft of gold.

The government’s response has ranged from performative to downright counterproductive. Instead of intelligence-driven surgical crackdowns, authorities have imposed blanket curfews and banned motorcycles: measures that mainly punish the local population while leaving organised crime untouched. One particularly baffling policy was the 30-day suspension of formal mining operations in the area, which effectively handed over control to illegal groups.

Prime Minister Gustavo Adrianzén admitted to poor communication regarding the massacre but failed to explain why no preemptive action was taken. The Ministry of Justice now provides legal support to victims’ families, though it is cold comfort in the face of what the Coordinadora Nacional de Derechos Humanos has described as “a collapse of state presence”.

The REINFO loophole: law as a shield for criminality

At the heart of Peru’s failure is a legal framework that shelters, rather than penalises, illicit miners. The Registro Integral de Formalización Minera (REINFO), initially intended as a transitional mechanism for formalising small-scale miners, has devolved into a legal sanctuary for criminal operations. Since its inception in 2017, REINFO has been extended six times—the latest in November 2024—despite the fact that fewer than 3% of its 84,000 registered entities have been properly signed up.

According to the Ministry of Environment, REINFO now perpetuates “a framework of impunity”. It permits registrants to operate without environmental assessments, allows the sale of inputs and machinery, and effectively shields operators from prosecution. Criminal gangs exploit these known legal loopholes to launder gold, evade taxes and launder money via shell companies, real estate, and even political campaigns.

Astonishingly, it is Congress itself, dominated by parties such as Alianza Para el Progreso (APP), Fuerza Popular and Acción Popular, that has championed these extensions. Eduardo Salhuana, President of Congress in 2024, has spearheaded pro-REINFO legislation while simultaneously meeting with informal mining lobbyists. The Observatorio de Minería Ilegal notes that such lawmakers have prioritised “private interests over constitutional rights”, actively facilitating the destruction of ecosystems and communities.

A state in the shadow of gold

The reach of the mining mafias extends far beyond Pataz. In Madre de Dios, another hotspot of illegal activity, over 6,000 hectares of rainforest are deforested annually, with REINFO permits used as cover. In regions like Loreto and Ucayali, indigenous territories have been invaded under the same legal pretences.

And the consequences are not just environmental. According to investigative reports, the illegal gold economy sustains a sophisticated money-laundering network. Gold is sold to acopiadores (intermediaries) with dubious credentials, then “legalised” through fake invoices and shell companies. From there, it is exported via commercial entities that claim to have sourced it from REINFO-registered miners. In Pataz, opulent mansions—some uninhabited, many without any visible income source—stand as grotesque monuments to this illicit wealth.

The political silence is deafening. César Acuña, Governor of La Libertad and leader of APP, has faced growing criticism for failing to address the crisis in his region. Allegations, though unproven, circulate about APP operators receiving support from informal mining interests. 

Cynicism in Congress, cowardice in power

The absence of genuine political will was epitomised by an image from a recent congressional session, where lawmaker Jorge Montoya was photographed sound asleep as the Minister of the Interior explained the details of the Pataz massacre. It was yet another embarrassing snapshot of the elite’s indifference to a crisis consuming the country’s rural heartlands.

Meanwhile, as the government feigns concern, grieving families bury their dead and local leaders beg for help. Aldo Carlos Mariños, mayor of Pataz, broke down in tears as he condemned the central government’s abandonment of his province. Threatened with death, he declared that he would rather be killed than become complicit in the Peruvian state’s corruption and inertia.

The National Society of Mining, Petroleum and Energy has called for an urgent government strategy involving intelligence operations and institutional strengthening. Still, until now, all that has materialised are platitudes and superficial actions.

The carnage in Pataz is not an isolated tragedy; it is the visible rupture in a corrupt state captured by gold. When criminal syndicates operate with legal cover, when legislators legislate for mafias, and when law enforcement turns a blind eye, the result is not just lawlessness—it is a failed republic.