“Halt, stop right there,” a Peruvian Navy Seal commands, firing warning shots into the sky. However, the man in flight ignores the order, scrambling to the edge of a large crater reminiscent of a football field and vanishing into the thick jungle as commandos pursue him, cursing and firing their weapons.
Simultaneously, other marines prepare dynamite charges on a makeshift raft floating in the crater, an expansive basin filled with murky, stagnant water. The raft is equipped with a diesel-fueled suction pump and thick plastic hoses designed to extract and filter river sediment for minuscule gold particles.
Shortly thereafter, a plume of orange and black smoke envelops the surrounding trees, and the explosion disrupts the tranquility of the Tambopata National Reserve, one of Peru’s most cherished parks in the Amazon.
Situated in the southeastern region of Madre de Dios, the reserve attracts around 40,000 visitors annually, many of whom enjoy luxury eco-lodges located downstream along the Malinowski River, which forms the northern boundary of the park. However, today, eight patrols are traversing the river by helicopter and boat. Every few hundred meters, they uncover more signs of illegal gold mining, which has devastated over 500 hectares of rainforest within the last year, as reported by satellite mapping data from Amazon Conservation. Overall, illegal mining has led to the loss of more than 140,000 hectares in Madre de Dios—an alarming 97.5% of the total deforestation linked to mining activities in Peru’s Amazon, an area exceeding twice the size of California.
Peru has a history of military actions against illegal mining in the Amazon. However, the soaring global gold prices have intensified this destructive practice, empowering local gangs and drawing in transnational organized crime. “Dirty” gold has emerged as the country’s most lucrative illicit trade, surpassing drug trafficking in the world’s second-largest cocaine producer, following Colombia.
For troops accustomed to tackling drug trafficking by targeting hidden coca plantations, the battle against illegal gold mining presents distinct challenges, as the end product is a legally traded commodity rather than an illicit drug, according to Cotrina. “The key difference is that open-pit mining does not necessitate covert operations, unlike drug trafficking,” he noted, adding that previous anti-mining campaigns had fallen short due to corruption and inconsistent enforcement. Now, with “aerial surveillance and military personnel available around the clock for patrols, we are committed to eradicating mining in this area.”
According to Peru’s financial regulatory authority, illegal gold mining represents the most significant illicit financial risk to the nation. For the first time, the illegal gold trade has outpaced legal production in the first half of this year, with estimates from the Peruvian Economics Institute suggesting it could be worth as much as $18 billion by 2026. The country’s Financial Investigation Unit reported that illegal mining constituted nearly 60% of all financial investigations by value between 2021 and 2025, far exceeding drug trafficking (8%) and tax offenses (4%).
The evidence of illegal activities is readily visible and easily destroyed. Behind the dense greenery marking the reserve’s boundary, military personnel and environmental prosecutors ignite a network of well-equipped mining camps made of timber and blue tarpaulins, stocked with provisions and beverages. In one location, they discover a jungle brothel complete with wooden tables, a bar, a stereo, and a large teddy bear, alongside a shower still damp with beauty products. A solitary rooster crows as the abandoned camps are engulfed in flames.
However, during four days of operations in late August, authorities apprehended only a few suspects. Two women were left behind by the fleeing miners: Andrea, 30, pleaded with officers not to detain her, explaining her role as a cook was her only means of supporting her sick mother and two children. Liz Compi, 20, was found on a boat with her one-year-old son and shared that she accepted a cooking job for $450 a month after being abandoned by her partner and dismissed from her previous employment.
Authorities returned both women to the city and released them. Ronal Flores, a deputy prosecutor with Peru’s Attorney General’s Office who assisted in rescuing Compi, remarked on the futility of arresting most camp workers, as they typically have little knowledge of the broader illicit operations. Many are left behind to submerge machinery in the river to evade detection; even hours later, the equipment can be retrieved using pulleys and put back into operation.
Flores indicated that the recent raids resulted in the dismantling of approximately 150 mining barges and motors.
