Showing posts with label Latin America. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Latin America. Show all posts

Thursday, July 2, 2020

Cuba's two pandemics: The coronavirus and the US embargo

The Trump administration is trying to hinder Cuba's efforts to tackle the coronavirus emergency at home and abroad.

Cuban doctors attend a farewell ceremony before departing to Kuwait to assist the country's ongoing fight against COVID-19, Havana, Cuba on June 4, 2020 [Alexandre Meneghini/Reuters]

by Josefina Vidal Ferreiro

Josefina Vidal Ferreiro is the Cuban Ambassador to Canada. This article was first published on Al Jazeera.com.

21 June 2020

As soon as the first cases of COVID-19 were detected in Cuba, our country mobilised all its resources to contain the spread of the virus.

Our healthcare workers go door to door checking people for possible symptoms. Those with symptoms are transferred to specially designated centres to receive treatment, mostly with medication developed by Cuba's own pharmaceutical and biotech industry. The medical examinations and treatments are all provided free of charge.

As of June 20, 85 people have died of COVID-19 in Cuba. Our mortality rate of 3.9 percent is very low compared to the rest of the world. We reached the peak of the disease on April 24, but we are still encouraging people to respect physical distancing, isolation and sanitary measures.

Internationally, Cuba has responded to requests for collaboration from more than 20 countries, mainly in Latin America and the Caribbean, but also in Europe, Africa and the Middle East.

Cuba has a long history and tradition of international solidarity with other countries in the health sector that dates back to the 1960s, when we started sending healthcare workers to help other countries. From then on, more than 400,000 Cuban doctors and health professionals have provided services in 164 countries. We have helped strengthen local healthcare systems, provided services in remote areas and trained doctors.

Based on this long experience, in 2005 Cuba decided to create the Henry Reeve International Medical Brigade to respond to natural disasters and serious epidemics across the world. Since then, this brigade of over 7,000 doctors, nurses and other health specialists has provided services in more than 20 countries.

We sent doctors and nurses to staff 32 field hospitals after the 2005 earthquake in Pakistan. We sent a medical team to Indonesia in 2006 after the devastating tsunami. We sent more than 1,700 health workers to Haiti in 2010 after the catastrophic earthquake and the ensuing cholera epidemic. In 2014, we sent brigades to Liberia, Guinea and Sierra Leone to combat Ebola.

Even Samantha Power, former US President Barack Obama's UN Ambassador, praised Cuba for its outstanding role in the fight against Ebola.

We even had brigades ready to assist Louisiana after New Orleans was hit by Hurricane Katrina but the US government rejected our cooperation.

Assisting others has always been part of who we are as a country and part of the ethical training Cuban doctors and health professionals receive.

In response to the current pandemic, Cuba has dispatched 28 contingents of the Henry Reeve Brigade to help 26 countries. This is in addition to the more than 28,000 Cuban doctors, nurses and health professionals who were already overseas before the pandemic.

Unfortunately, Cuban doctors and the Henry Reeve Brigade, in particular, have come under increasing attacks by the Trump administration, which has gone so far as to falsely accuse Cuba of human trafficking through its doctor programme.

It is a shame that the United States government has been trying to discredit Cuba's international assistance, including using pressure and threats against countries to force them to cancel these medical cooperation agreements.

They have even tried to pressure governments to reject Cuba's help during the coronavirus pandemic. They claim the Cuban government is exploiting these doctors because in the case of countries that can afford to provide monetary compensation, a portion of it is kept by the Cuban government.

However, working overseas is completely voluntary, and the portion the Cuban government keeps goes to pay for Cuba's universal health system. It goes to purchasing medical supplies, equipment and medication for Cuba's 11 million people, including for the families of the doctors who are providing their services abroad. This is how we are able to provide free, high-quality healthcare for the Cuban people.

Instead of exacerbating conflict during a pandemic, our countries need to work together to find solutions. For years, Cuba has been developing pharmaceuticals and vaccines to treat different diseases, from psoriasis and cancer to heart attacks. Now we are helping patients recover from COVID-19 with Interferon Alfa2b Recombinant, one of 19 medications being developed or under clinical trial in Cuba by our biotech and pharmaceutical industries to treat different stages of COVID-19. Globally, we have received more than 70 requests for pharmaceuticals developed by Cuba.

This would be a clear avenue for Cuba-US cooperation but unfortunately, the Trump administration is wasting this opportunity by dismantling the limited progress made by Cuba and the US during the Obama administration.

President Trump strengthened the 60-year US blockade against my country, implementing 90 economic measures against Cuba between January 2019 and March 2020 alone. These measures have targeted the main sectors of the Cuban economy, including our financial transactions, tourism industry, energy sector, foreign investments - which are key for the development of the Cuban economy - and the medical cooperation programmes with other countries.

These unilateral coercive measures are unprecedented in their level of aggression and scope. They are deliberately trying to deprive Cuba of resources, sources of revenue and income needed for the development of the Cuban economy. The effects of these measures are being felt in Cuba, particularly during the COVID-19 pandemic. The blockade is stopping Cuba from getting much-needed medical supplies. For example, if more than 10 percent of the components in the medical equipment or medications we want to buy are of US origin, then Cuba is not allowed to purchase them.

In addition, the US has imposed restrictions on banks, airlines and shipping companies to stop Cuba from receiving materials that other countries are donating or sending to Cuba.

In April, the Alibaba Foundation of China tried to donate masks, rapid diagnostic kits and ventilators to Cuba, but the airline contracted by Alibaba to transport those items to Cuba refused to take the goods because they were afraid the US would sanction them.

A ship recently arrived in Cuba with raw materials to produce medications but it decided not to unload because the bank involved in the transaction decided not to make the payment out of fear it would be sanctioned by the US government.

So this is why we say we are suffering from two pandemics: COVID-19 and the US blockade. For that reason, it is so important that people of goodwill around the world continue to raise the demand to end the blockade of Cuba and to forcefully assert that these are times for solidarity and cooperation, not sanctions and blockades. In the meantime, Cuba, as a country that understands the value of solidarity, will continue to do our best to stop the spread of coronavirus at home and globally.

For a more general description of Cuba’s healthcare, see the just-published book by Don Fitz, Cuban Health Care: The Ongoing Revolution (Monthly Review).

Sunday, May 3, 2020

Venezuela and Bolivia: Contrasting responses to COVID-19 pandemic

Troops impose lockdown restrictions outside a supermarket in La Paz, Bolivia.

An opinion piece published in the May 1 Globe and Mail offered a blatant example of how the COVID-19 pandemic is being used by imperialist politicians to mobilize support for their own agendas. Authored by former Canadian foreign ministers Lloyd Axworthy (Liberal) and Joe Clark (Conservative), and cosigned by two former and present U.S. State Department officials as well as a former official of Peru’s rightist governments, it issues a renewed call for the overthrow of Venezuela’s government, alleging that the country’s response to COVID-19, among other things, makes it “a threat to regional peace and security.”

“The crisis in Venezuela,” they claim, “has moved from an internal tragedy to a threat to regional peace and security, with increasing political breakdown, growing COVID-19 infection, and disarray in its internal fuel market. Its hungry and battered people are the victims. The country is in line to become the first failed state in the Americas without a functioning economy or government, with warring factions carving up territory.”

The authors call on the United Nations to negotiate presidential elections in Venezuela that will create “a space for a reformed successor movement to Chavismo,” a term used by the elected Maduro government to describe its program. The “transition government” proposed by the Trump administration, they say, “should be part of the design of this framework, opening the door to the U.S. linking sanctions relief to a credible agreement on broad humanitarian support and a full electoral process.”

That is their only mention of the crippling sanctions imposed on Venezuela in recent years by Washington, Ottawa following in lockstep. While the sanctions have imposed mass suffering on the Venezuelan people, they have failed to dislodge the Maduro government. Failed as well is the attempt by Trump, Trudeau and their allies to mount a coup in Venezuela through Juan Guaido, an opposition politician who proclaimed himself president in January 2019. As the Globe article indicates, they cynically hope to use the COVID-19 threat in yet another attempt to get their way in Venezuela.

The following article by Federico Fuentes documents how Venezuela’s actual response to the pandemic is very different not only from the sordid portrayal in the article by Clark-Axworthy and their Lima Group co-authors, but also from the very different response of the Anez coup government in Bolivia, enthusiastically supported by Washington and Ottawa and their allies. As of May 2 Bolivia registered its highest daily increase yet of COVID infections, 241, taking the total to 1,470, 71 of whom have died. Venezuela, in contrast, reported 10 new cases, bringing the total to 345, with 10 fatalities.


Bolivia vs. Venezuela: COVID-19 response reveals true nature of governments

By Federico Fuentes

Green Left Weekly, April 30, 2020

Government responses to the COVID-19 pandemic have put into sharp relief their true nature. This is perhaps no more evident than when we compare Bolivia and Venezuela.

Despite having been installed as “interim” president after a coup last November, Jeanine Anez is presented in the media as leading Bolivia’s “transition back to democracy”. On the other hand, Venezuelan president Nicolas Maduro is regularly described as a “tyrant” or “dictator” presiding over an “authoritarian regime”.

Yet, when we compare how these governments have responded to COVID-19, it is clear these labels bear little resemblance to reality.

Bolivia

In Bolivia, the government was quite slow to react to the pandemic and, when it finally acted, did so in an incoherent manner.

Eight days after the first cases were detected on March 10 the government closed the country’s borders and initiated a nightly curfew from 5pm–6am. But the curfew only served to raise the number of people on the streets at certain times of the day, thereby worsening the probability of contagion.

The government then shifted to a complete lockdown on March 22, imposed under threat of large fines (up to $450) and jail time (up to 10 years) for those who did not comply. Police and military were granted special powers to ensure compliance.

By April 11, almost 10,000 people had been arrested for violating lockdown restrictions. In comparison, Bolivia had only carried out 4800 COVID-19 tests by April 23.

In terms of alleviating the economic impacts of the lockdown, the government did not issue its first social security payments until mid-April. The government has also said it will subsidise basic utilities and provide companies with loans to cover wage bills.

In the midst of the pandemic, health minister Anibal Cruz resigned on April 8, but not before rejecting Cuba’s offer to help the country fight the virus. Hundreds of Cuban doctors were expelled from Bolivia shortly after Anez assumed power.

Cruz later revealed that modelling indicated Bolivia was facing the prospect of 3840 deaths from COVID-19 within 4 months. He was replaced by Marcel Navajas, who said expanding testing was not a priority, despite World Health Organization recommendations stating it is vital to any strategy to contain the virus.

Bolivia has also been extremely slow to allow hundreds of its citizens stranded in Chile to return home. After initially announcing on March 30 that 150 Bolivians would be allowed in, the government backtracked and said the border would remain closed.

Almost a week later, the first 480 Bolivians were finally allowed to cross, with a further 430 given permission on April 21. Hundreds more continue to wait their turn.

The government, however, has not wasted time in using the crisis to crack down on its main political rival, the Movement Towards Socialism (MAS), accusing it of seeking to break the lockdown to distribute food and other supplies to those who need it.

It also postponed the May 3 general elections. The most recent polling showed MAS candidate Luis Arce as the clear frontrunner (leading by about 15%), with Anez in third place.

Despite supposedly heading an “interim” government, installed with the sole purpose of convening new elections, Anez has used the lockdown — during which protests are banned — to overturn previous MAS government policies. These include lifting the ban on tin concentrate exports; allowing the state public works company to contract work without going to tender; and eliminating certain agricultural tariffs.

The economic minister has also flagged ramping up the use of genetically modified organisms in agriculture, tax relief for big business and increased foreign investment in natural resource extraction, as part of its “recovery” plan. All without any constitutional or popular mandate.

As of April 23, Bolivia had detected 672 cases and reported 40 deaths from COVID-19.

Venezuela

The situation in Venezuela is starkly different.

Unlike Bolivia, Venezuela was much quicker to move, contacting China early to obtain details about how it dealt with the pandemic. On the basis of this information, it obtained a huge number of COVID-19 testing units and personal protective equipment for health workers.

Today, it leads the region in terms of testing, having carried out more than 350,000 tests. Due to this testing regime, it has only detected 288 cases and registered just 10 deaths, despite having a population two-and-a-half times larger than Bolivia.

Rather than focus on punitive measures, the Maduro government has prioritised policies to alleviate the social and economic impacts of the nationwide lockdown that began on March 17. Among the measures it has taken are a 100% wage guarantee for all workers, a moratorium on rent and loan repayments and social security payments for a range of sectors, including informal sector workers.

Importantly, the lockdown has not meant a complete halt to the circulation of people. Instead, doctors, together with local community activists, have been going door-to-door to seek out potential cases of COVID-19. They have been aided by the government’s online Homeland Platform system, through which people can notify authorities if they have any symptoms.

The same system has also been used to gauge citizens’ opinions on certain measures. For example, a poll was taken in mid-April to see if parents wanted schools to complete the schooling year via distance education and, if so, what would be the most appropriate mechanism to use (internet, radio, dropping off books with exercises).

Community activists have mobilised to distribute copies of a government-issued book (also available online) containing 101 measures to prevent the spread of COVID-19. The book is made up of written testimonies from residents of Wuhan recounting how they dealt with the outbreak.

Venezuela, which has experienced a wave of mass emigration in recent years due to the country’s economic situation, had received more than 20,000 returning citizens from neighbouring Colombia and Brazil by April 24. Approximately 600–650 more citizens are crossing the border each day, where they are tested and quarantined.

Given the discriminatory policies of many countries that have left migrants without protection, hundreds more Venezuelans have been flown back from Europe and the United States, in many cases on specially chartered flights organised by the government.

Venezuela has been able to pursue its people-first policy in spite of the fact that its health system has been devastated by extensive trade and financial sanctions imposed by the United States and European nations. Reports estimated the death toll from the impact of the sanctions was more than 40,000 in 2018 alone. Others claim the tally is now more than 100,000.

Because Venezuela represents an alternative to the profit-driven capitalist system, the US has chosen the COVID-19 crisis as a time to ramp up its attacks on the Maduro government.

Media outlets, rather than continuing to distort information, should be actively questioning why the US, amid a global pandemic, is supporting a repressive regime in Bolivia that is proving inept at dealing with COVID-19, while it tightens a sanctions regime that is putting lives at risk in Venezuela.

See also:

COVID-19 crisis: Bolivia’s Movement Towards Socialism says #PutLivesFirst,” by Federico Fuentes, April 24, 2020.

Venezuela: Combatting COVID-19 through solidarity,” by Federico Fuentes, April 1, 2020.

Venezuela: Community organisation key to fighting COVID-19,” by Federico Fuentes, April 9, 2020.

A Caracas Commune Prepares for the Coronavirus Crisis: Four Voices from the Altos de Lidice Communal Healthcare System,” by Cira Pascual Marquina, April 5, 2020.

Thursday, February 27, 2020

In the wake of a right-wing racist coup, Bolivia’s MAS struggles to regain the initiative

Introduction

What happened in Bolivia in October and November may best be described, perhaps, as an unfolding coup: a rapidly escalating succession of violent street protests against the narrow election victory on October 20 of President Evo Morales and his party, the Movement Towards Socialism (MAS), culminating in a police mutiny, the army’s refusal to defend the president, the resignation and exile of Morales and his vice-president, the resignations of their constitutionally designated successors, and the seizure of the presidency by Jeanine Añez, a right-wing senator, in a legislature without a quorum.

The coup terminated the quest by Evo Morales, the country’s president for 14 years, for an unprecedented fourth mandate in defiance of a referendum vote in 2016 that had reaffirmed the two-term limit in the country’s constitution.

Bolivia has now reunited with its longstanding record as the country in Latin America that has experienced the most coups d’état in its history.

Self-appointed president Añez moved quickly to violently repress anti-coup protests and begin reversing the former government’s progressive international alignments while launching a witch-hunt of former ministers and top officials, many of whom face trumped-up charges ranging from corruption to sedition and terrorism.

The de facto transition regime has agreed to hold new elections May 3 to be overseen by a new electoral tribunal chosen by the outgoing MAS-dominated legislative assembly. However, the coup has radically shifted the balance of forces in the country and there is no certainty that the electoral process will enjoy democratic legitimacy or that the results, if they conflict with the agenda of Añez and her allies, will be respected.

Leading the opinion polls are the MAS candidates Luis “Lucho” Arce for President and David Choquehuanca for Vice-President. Arce served as finance minister during most of the MAS government’s mandates and is considered the architect of its relatively successful economic record. Choquehuanca is an Aymará leader who served for 11 years as Morales’s foreign minister. The opinion polls give Arce and Choquehuanca a substantial lead over rival parties and alliances, and probably underestimate MAS support as the party is strongest in rural areas ignored by polling. The MAS hopes to win on the first ballot, as it did in October—in a vote discredited by the OAS and falsely denounced as “fraudulent” by its opponents[1]—with a score of more than 40% and more than 10 percentage points ahead of its nearest rival.[2] Should it fail in this, a run-off vote in June will probably see the right-wing parties unite behind the anti-MAS candidate.

Confronting the MAS are the presidential candidates of six right-wing parties and alliances—among them Carlos Mesa, a former president who came second to Morales in 2019, and “interim” president Añez, who publicly bemoaned the diversity of anti-MAS candidatures but then announced her own candidacy.

Evo Morales, barred by the constitution from running again for President, was nominated by the MAS as its primary candidate for Senator in Cochabamba but was ruled ineligible by the electoral tribunal on technical grounds, as was former MAS foreign minister Diego Pary nominated for Senator in Potosí.

However, the MAS has named Evo Morales, now exiled in Argentina, as its “campaign manager” and his influence—not always positive, in my view—has proved decisive in the designation of the party’s candidates. At a party leadership meeting in Buenos Aires, Morales rejected making Choquehuanca the candidate for president along with Andrónico Rodriguez, the dynamic young leader of the Chapare coca growers’ union federation, as vice-president—as proposed overwhelmingly by MAS assemblies in Bolivia seeking to reflect the Indigenous and peasant roots of the party. And he subsequently excluded popular MAS Senate leader Eva Copa—who has exercised remarkable leadership in the legislature independently of Morales—from the party’s list of candidates in El Alto, while endorsing the former Senate leader Adriana Salvatierra, a Morales devotee, as a candidate in Santa Cruz despite her rejection by party leaders in Bolivia.

In later articles, I will critically assess the balance sheet of the MAS’s 14 years in government. However, the following article by Emily Achtenberg provides a very useful account of the recent events and the challenges facing the MAS in this election. I have omitted a few paragraphs (indicated by ellipses) on potential election candidates, as this information in now out-of-date. Her article was first published January 10 in her column Rebel Currents on the website of the North American Congress on Latin America (NACLA). Emily Achtenberg, an urban planner, is a member of NACLA's Editorial Board.[3]

– Richard Fidler

* * *

MAS Party Under Threat as Bolivia Moves Towards New Elections (Without Evo)

By Emily Achtenberg

Bolivians will head to the polls again on May 3 for the first presidential election in 18 years without Evo Morales as a candidate.

The “do-over” vote—for president, vice-president, and members of the Plurinational Legislative Assembly, to be followed shortly by regional elections—has been called by Bolivia’s transitional president Jeanine Añez, who assumed power after Morales’s forced resignation on November 10 in a civic-military coup. A law adopted on November 24 annulled the results of the disputed October 20 election which led to Morales’s ouster, while guaranteeing a spot for his Movement Towards Socialism (MAS) party on the new ballot. But it also ratified the existing constitutional provision that bars candidates, including Morales, from seeking more than two consecutive terms.

The compromise elections law was passed unanimously by the MAS-controlled legislature, in an effort to defuse the deadly violence that convulsed the country for weeks after the contested October 20 vote. At least 35 people were killed and 700 wounded in the post-electoral conflict, almost all following the coup.

Along with the elections law, negotiations brokered by the Catholic Church, the European Union, and the United Nations forced the Añez government to withdraw its troops from civilian conflict zones, and to annul a controversial decree granting impunity to the military in repressing social protests. In exchange, anti-coup protesters lifted the massive road blockades that had paralyzed food and gas deliveries to the cities for weeks, allowing an effective truce to be declared with the promise of imminent elections.

Añez supporters are flaunting the call for elections as a significant step towards the restoration of political normalcy and democracy in Bolivia.  In reality, while the killings and violent clashes have ceased, the country remains highly polarized and politically unstable, with explosive tensions simmering just below the surface. In no small part, this is due to the confrontational discourse and vengeful actions of a de facto regime that is governing widely outside its “caretaker” mandate, stoking divisiveness and eroding the prospects for a peaceful political reconciliation.

The De Facto Government

As has been widely reported, Jeanine Añez, an obscure right-wing Senator from the lowlands Beni region, acceded to the presidency when a power vacuum—created by the resignation of several MAS Congressional leaders in the wake of Morales’s departure—put her next in the line of succession. Her party received only 4 percent of the vote in October, and she herself did not seek re-election. According to some accounts, the MAS leadership agreed to her succession in a moment of desperation, in exchange for the promise of Morales’s safe passage out of the country.

Añez assumed the presidency with the support of the army and the Constitutional Court—the same institution that earlier upheld Morales’s “right” to run for a fourth presidential term. However, she failed to gain the legislative quorum required by the Constitution for presidential succession. According to conflicting narratives, MAS deputies either boycotted the session or stayed away out of fear.

Despite her limited mandate as a “caretaker” president charged only with preparing the country for new elections, within days Añez wiped out Morales’s cabinet and installed a new leadership team with deep ties to Bolivia’s right-wing sectors. For the past eight weeks, the Añez regime, elected by no one, has mounted an aggressive and vindictive campaign to undermine the MAS party by reversing its policies, persecuting its leaders, and intimidating its supporters. Not coincidentally, these tactics have served to energize the regime’s conservative base ahead of the upcoming election.

For starters, Añez deployed the armed forces to repress Indigenous anti-coup protesters at Sacaba and Senkata, leaving a toll of 19 dead and several hundred wounded. In its recent report, the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) characterized these incidents as massacres, with massive human rights violations committed by the military under the government’s illegal impunity decree. To date, the interim government has refused to accept responsibility for these killings. The IACHR has called for an independent investigation.

The regime has issued an Interpol arrest warrant for Morales, charging him with terrorism and sedition for allegedly inciting the “siege of cities” carried out by MAS-affiliated protesters after the coup. Morales, currently a political refugee in Argentina, has assembled a formidable international legal defense team with the help of President Alberto Fernández, including famed Spanish jurist Baltazar Garzón.

Meanwhile, nine former MAS officials are holed up in the Mexican embassy in La Paz, having been denied safe passage to Mexico by the Añez government. Añez recently caused an international uproar by expelling three senior Spanish and Mexican diplomats who were alleged to be plotting the asylum-seekers’ escape.

To date, more than 100 MAS government officials  have been detained or are facing criminal charges, ranging from terrorism to electoral fraud to misuse of state resources. Añez has announced that close to 600 former authorities of the executive branch and their families are under investigation. 

In the Chapare, the highly-organized coca-growing region that historically has been a bastion of MAS support and is now the epicenter of anti-coup resistance, residents face severe government reprisals. Following the police mutiny of November 7-8—a key event leading to the coup—protesters burned down a local tourist hotel owned by Arturo Murillo (now interior minister) and torched all nine police stations, causing the police to flee and cede security operations to coca union federation guards.

Murillo has threatened to disenfranchise the entire region in the upcoming election if the police are not permitted to reenter. In view of the hard-line anti-drug discourse now emanating from the presidential palace, coca growers anticipate a crackdown that could undermine their livelihoods and the successful system of community-controlled coca production inaugurated by Morales.[4]

Domestic press censorship and media blackouts have been rampant under the de facto regime. TeleSUR, Russia Today, and other foreign outlets have been eliminated from the national cable system, while 53 community radio stations have been shuttered. While the new minister of communications has recanted her earlier pledge to crack down on free speech, three journalists were detained on New Year’s Eve and charged with terrorism and sedition for criticizing the government on social media.

The regime has overhauled the MAS government’s foreign policy, shifting allegiances in Venezuela from President Maduro to rebel opposition leader Juan Guaidó, restoring diplomatic ties with the United States and Israel, and expelling 700 Cuban doctors that were the backbone of Morales’s public health system. It has pulled Bolivia out of the left-leaning ALBA and UNASUR alliances and joined the U.S.-backed Lima Group. Meanwhile, the Trump administration has lifted a long-standing ban on foreign aid to Bolivia, imposed when Morales failed to cooperate with U.S. counter-narcotics efforts.

Añez’s development minister has declared his support for privatizing public enterprises and shrinking the state, raising the specter of a return to past austerity policies and control of the economy—including natural resources such as lithium—by transnational corporations. What’s more, the interim president’s divisive racist discourse—ranging from deleted past tweets scorning “satanic” Indigenous celebrations, to more recent comments characterizing MAS leaders as “savages”—suggests to many Indigenous Bolivians that the significant gains achieved under Morales’s decolonization policies are at risk of being dismantled. 

The Electoral Landscape

While the electoral timeline established by the interim government is longer than initially planned—leaving more time for Añez to wreak damage—the deadlines for party registration (January 24) and candidate selection (February 3) are relatively short.

Facing all these daunting challenges, the MAS party is struggling to realign itself and identify a new presidential slate. Predictably, without Morales as the party’s charismatic unifying and controlling force, competing factions have emerged, along with expressions of dissidence not publicly revealed in the past.

Still, Morales remains highly visible as the party’s official campaign manager operating from Argentina, commenting frequently on social media. […]

Since the coup, a more moderate, dissident wing of the party has gained increasing prominence, especially in the Legislature, where new Senate president Eva Copa has led negotiations with the Añez government.  Copa, 32 years old and representing the Indigenous city of El Alto, has openly criticized the hardline wing of MAS closest to Evo in Argentina, as a “privileged group” that has damaged the party. She has accused Adriana Salvatierra, who resigned her Senate leadership post after the coup, of handing over the presidency to the opposition in an effort to save her father, a former MAS minister, from prosecution.

Copa defends her legislative pragmatism—attacked by some as complicity with the regime—as a necessary strategy to move beyond the current political crisis. “We didn’t have the money to escape,” she says, “so we have to face the consequences.” While Copa has denied any interest in seeking the presidency at this time, she has challenged party leaders to ensure that the MAS ticket is not dictated from Argentina, but reflects a popular consensus of the party’s bases in Bolivia.

Opposition forces are also divided, but may be taking steps towards greater unity. Three candidates who participated in the October election have declared their intention to run again: Carlos Mesa, the center-right former president who was Morales’s chief rival, winning 36.5 percent of the vote; Chi Hyun Chung, an evangelical conservative who took 8.8 percent; and Félix Patzi, Aymará governor of La Paz, who captured 1.25 percent.[5]

In addition, Luis Fernando “Macho” Camacho, the charismatic Santa Cruz civic leader who was catapulted to national fame as the popular face of the coup that toppled Morales, has announced his candidacy. Camacho is a prosperous member of Santa Cruz’s new economic elite, whose family wealth derives from insurance, agribusiness, and natural gas distribution. He has deep ties to the far right, as former director of the Union Juvenil Cruceñista, a proto-fascist paramilitary youth group known for publicly beating and humiliating Indigenous people in Santa Cruz during the secessionist revolt of 2006-2008.

Also a born-again Christian, who famously laid a bible on the Bolivian flag when entering the presidential palace to demand Morales’s resignation, Camacho has been dubbed “the Bolsonaro of Bolivia.” It was his aggressive combination of “bible and balls,” say political analysts Pablo Stefanoni and Fernando Molina, that succeeded in radicalizing the middle class-led regional protests against perceived electoral fraud and channeling them into a national police-civic-military coup. In the process, Mesa’s more moderate center-right leadership was completely eclipsed.  

Camacho has also demonstrated considerable political skill in reaching out to, and pacting with, disparate popular sectors that have accumulated grievances against Morales, including dissident Yungas coca growers, miners, transportation workers, and even some peasant organizations. Most notably, his designated running mate for vice president is Marco Pumari, an Indigenous miner’s son who has led a long popular struggle around lithium extraction in Potosí, as well as recent anti-Morales protests in the region. 

The Camacho-Pumari ticket was announced on New Year’s Eve with great fanfare, together with a 14-point program for a “united Bolivia, with dignity, freedom, and democracy.” The slate offers a powerful antidote to Camacho’s racist history, as well as an image of east-west popular unity that belies his elitist, revanchist roots, with the potential for broad appeal.

Still, the alliance came close to self-destructing before it began. After initially denying their political aspirations, Camacho and Pumari shared their mutual interest in a joint ticket last November. Two weeks later, the partnership fractured when Camacho accused Pumari of having demanded a substantial payoff in the form of cash and ministry quotas, with audiotapes of the conversation leaked to social media and CNN. Each agreed to run separately.

A few days later, Camacho met in Washington, DC with Luis Almagro, head of the OAS, who heralded his “commitment to democracy.”  The next day, he was a guest speaker at the Inter-American Dialogue, a DC-based think tank, where activist group Code Pink protested him and the event. Two weeks later, the alliance was publicly revived.

Interim president Añez has called for an opposition summit to unify the anti-MAS vote—presumably behind Camacho, with whom she has close political ties. In a sense, the Camacho-Pumari alliance was literally made in the presidential palace, when Añez, after her swearing-in ceremony, appeared on the balcony flanked by the duo. 

While it’s still early in the game, the MAS has trumpeted recent polls showing the party’s still unnamed candidate in first place with 21 percent of the vote, as compared to 16 percent for Añez (who denies any intention to run),  16 percent for Camacho and Pumari combined (with each running separately at the time of the poll), and 14 percent for Mesa. Still, in a second ballot scenario, only 24 percent say they will vote for the MAS while 47 percent would vote for an opposition candidate.

The youth vote, representing approximately one-third of the electorate last October, will be even more critical this time around, since the registry will be updated to add newly-eligible voters. Significant numbers of youth turned against Morales in October to join the so-called “Revolution of the Pititas”—named for the makeshift cords strung across streets by novice protesters, which Morales ridiculed.

Camacho has significant appeal for this sector, which is strongly influenced by social media and susceptible to manipulation. The IACHR identified some 60,000 false twitter accounts created between November 9 and 17 that generated more than 1 million tweets in support of Camacho and Añez. Still, the coup has also spawned a resurgence of pro-MAS militancy among youth in places like El Alto, who were previously alienated from the struggles of their parents and grandparents.

As anthropologist Nicole Fabricant has argued, to defeat Bolivia’s ascendant right-wing forces—which will continue to be nourished and fortified by the Añez regime during the run-up to the election—will require a broad united front of left-Indigenous groups across the historic pro- and anti-Morales divide. For the MAS, choosing a presidential slate that is more independent of Morales could help to appeal to popular opposition sectors. For the anti-Morales left, which has been disturbingly silent regarding the Añez regime’s abuses, taking a stand against political persecution, racist discourse, and the erosion of democracy occurring under the de facto government could go a long way towards reconciliation. 

January 10, 2020


[1] For a rebuttal of these charges, see OAS Final Audit Report on Bolivia Elections Raises More Questions about its Own Work than It Answers, CEPR Analysis Concludes, and CELAG, Análisis del informe final de la OEA sobre las elecciones en Bolivia.

[2] Constitución Política del Estado, art. 166(1).

[3] For more on the background of the recent events, see Nicole Fabricant, “The Roots of the Right-Wing Coup in Bolivia.”

[4] See Linda C. Farthing and Kathryn Ledebur, Habeas Coca: Bolivia’s Community Coca Control.

[5] Patzi has since dropped out.

Saturday, June 22, 2019

Marta Harnecker, presente!

The following tribute by Federico Fuentes, a long-time collaborator with Marta, and a translator of many of her publications, appeared first in Green Left Weekly.

The international left has lost one of its most lucid intellectual, pedagogical educators and determined activists with the passing of Marta Harnecker on June 14, aged 82.

Marta will forever be remembered as one of the most influential and prolific writers on the Latin American left, having written almost 90 books covering a wide array of topics and debates on the left. Her collected works in many ways serve as insights into her lifelong commitment to learning, educating and defending the revolutionary cause throughout the continent.

Born in Chile, Harnecker began her activism in the early 1960s as a Catholic student activist before moving to France, where she studied under Marxist philosopher Louis Althusser.

Returning to her home country as a committed Marxist, Marta dedicated herself to popularising these ideas by producing numerous pamphlets such as Exploited and Exploited, Capitalist Exploitation, Social Classes and Class Struggle and Capitalism and Socialism.

Together with arguably her most famous work, Elementary Concepts of Historical Materialism, which was based on notes she prepared for Latin American students studying Althusser, these texts quickly became almost obligatory reading for leftists across the region.

Marta also threw herself into supporting the newly-elected socialist government of Salvador Allende, particularly in her role as editor of the political weekly Chile Hoy.

Forced to seek refuge from the military dictatorship that followed Allende’s overthrow, Marta left for Cuba, which had captured her attention when she first visited it shortly after the 1959 Cuban Revolution.

In Cuba, Marta married her first husband, Manuel Piñeiro — Comandante “Red Beard” — a leading figure in the Cuban Revolution. Together they had a daughter, Camila, before his untimely death in a car accident in 1998.

There she also published Cuba: Democracy or Dictatorship? a collection of testimonies and experiences of popular power she documented.

Her constant quest to both learn from others and transmit these lessons as widely as possible led Marta to spend much of the next two decades collecting extensive interviews with key figures from the Latin American left, starting with guerrilla commanders from Central America and Colombia in the 1980s and leaders of some of the emergent left forces in South America in the ’90s.

In these interviews, which were later published in various testimonials, Marta sought to draw out the lessons of defeats suffered, the strengths and weaknesses of differing tactics and strategies, the challenges of left unity and how revolutionary forces could begin to rebuild themselves and accumulate the forces required to turn ideas into reality.

Marta also set up the Popular Latin American Memory Centre of Investigations (MEPLA) in Cuba to study and disseminate real-life experiences of communities working to build a better world.

The lessons Marta extracted from these interviews and experiences, combined with her own original contributions and ideas on topics such as globalisation and the collapse of the Soviet Union, became the basis for The Left on the Threshold of the 21st Century: Making the Impossible Possible.

Published in 1999, the book came out just as Hugo Chávez was elected in Venezuela — the first of what became a string of progressive presidents elected in the region.

For the next two decades Marta devoted herself to studying these experiences, steadfastly defending them while never being afraid to express her criticisms. She collated many invaluable lessons learnt along the way, firstly in Rebuilding the Left, and then A World to Build: New Paths toward Twenty-First Century Socialism.

After reading The Left on the Threshold, Chávez granted Marta an extensive interview, in which Marta — in her customary manner — challenged and probed him like few dared to do. The experience led Chavez to ask Marta to come and work with him, where she continued to challenge him whenever she disagreed.

Marta moved to Venezuela with Michael Lebowitz, her second husband, who, like her, had dedicated his life to enriching Marxist ideas. Together they shared a profound belief in the revolutionary potential and creativity of ordinary people engaged in struggle, along with a deep love for each other.

They helped organise two international solidarity gatherings in Caracas, in 2004 and 2005, and were fundamental to the establishment of the Miranda International Centre (CIM) in 2006 as a space for Venezuelan and international intellectuals to contribute their ideas to the process.

In between giving workshops in communities and workplaces and constant meetings with activists seeking advice, or simply wanting to discuss politics, Marta continued to collect testimonies from anyone she felt others could learn from.

As part of her work in CIM, she organised a series of panels bringing together key figures from the new left in Brazil, Bolivia, Paraguay and Ecuador, during which she would conduct a collective interview with the aim of encouraging comradely discussion and debate between the participants.

She always sought to include all voices in these panels, believing everyone had something to contribute and that by opening such space we could learn from each other. Participants often commented that such encounters seemed almost impossible at home but were of great value, helping bridge seemingly unbridgeable divides.

As a result of these interviews, Marta published a series of unique books chronicling the rise and challenges of these new left parties, encompassing their differing viewpoints.

Marta was able to do all this while dedicating much of her time to highlighting various experiences in popular participation at the community level, travelling across Venezuela to listen and debate with local activists.

These community experiments became of intense interest and concern for Marta, who saw in them not just the embryos of local self-government but everyday schools that could foster the revolutionary subject required to push the process forward.

Through this work Marta played a critical role in bringing the Venezuelan government’s attention to various experiences in building communal councils. Chávez would go onto embrace the communal councils and then the communes as central to his emancipatory project of 21st Century Socialism and asked Marta to become an advisor for the new Ministry of Popular Participation, which he created in 2005. 

Becoming acutely aware of some of the negative state practices that were undermining this process, Marta publicly spoke out about them, even when it earned her the ire of some in government.

The lessons she obtained from the communal councils and communes, together with other experiences she studied in Kerala, India and Porto Alegre, Brazil, nourished the ideas she outlines in Planning from Below: A Decentralized Participatory Planning Proposal, which is due to come out just weeks after Marta lost her battle with cancer.

Without doubt, Marta will forever have a place among the key left thinkers of the past century. Her extensive collection of books, pamphlets and articles will serve as invaluable tools for activists, young and old, new and experienced, for many years to come.

For those like me, who had the pleasure of working with her, and countless others who had the opportunity to meet her, she will always be remembered as much more.

She will forever be that Marta who always wanted to listen and learn from others, who always had an encouraging word to say, who believed everyone had something to contribute, and whose profound and unwavering belief in humanity was not simply something she preached, but something she practiced every day of her life.

Compañera Marta Harnecker, presente! Now and forever!

Tuesday, June 11, 2019

Cuba the latest victim of Ottawa’s campaign against Venezuela

On June 2, the Trudeau government took a further step in its campaign to support “regime change” in Venezuela when it officially suspended operations at its embassy in Caracas. Foreign Affairs Minister Chrystia Freeland said she is now “evaluating the status of Venezuelan diplomats appointed by the Maduro regime to Canada.”

Canada has effectively broken its diplomatic relations with Venezuela, echoing the Trump administration’s baseless allegations that its government is “illegitimate” and “dictatorial.”  Ottawa has backed Juan Guaidó, the self-appointed leader of an ongoing coup attempt that has been notably unsuccessful in winning popular or military support within Venezuela.

Canada is a leading participant in the Lima Group, a rightist bloc of mainly Latin American governments seeking the overthrow of the Maduro government. The bloc operates in close alignment with the U.S. government and the U.S.-led Organization of American States (OAS).

Venezuela is not the only target of this campaign, which is aimed at those governments in Latin America most prominently known for their opposition to imperialism, support of national sovereignty, and efforts to surmount the ravages of neoliberal capitalism through decreasing inequality within their populations.

Among the victims is Cuba, a steadfast supporter of Venezuela’s sovereignty. The Canadian government recently and abruptly closed its immigration and visa section in its embassy in Havana, after reducing embassy staff by almost half. Cubans wishing to visit Canada now have to travel to a third country (the nearest being Mexico) to apply for a visa.

The following article by Yves Engler canvasses the issues involved in these moves. It was published first on Engler’s web site, https://yvesengler.com/. It is followed by statements issued by the Canadian network of solidarity with Cuba and by the leading association of Canadian scholars of Latin America studies.

* * *

Trudeau government squeezes Cuba

By Yves Engler, June 3, 2019

Ottawa faces a dilemma. How far are Trudeau’s Liberals prepared to go in squeezing Cuba? Can Canadian corporations with interests on the island restrain the most pro-US, anti-socialist, elements of the ruling class?

Recently, the Canadian Embassy in Havana closed its Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship section. Now most Cubans wanting to visit Canada or get work/study permits will have to travel to a Canadian embassy in another country to submit their documents. In some cases Cubans will have to travel to another country at least twice to submit information to enter Canada. The draconian measure has already undercut cultural exchange and family visits, as described in a Toronto Star op-ed titled “Canada closes a door on Cuban culture”.

It’s rare for an embassy to simply eliminate visa processing, but what’s prompted this measure is the stuff of science fiction. Canada’s embassy staff was cut in half in January after diplomats became ill following a mysterious ailment that felled US diplomats sent to Cuba after Donald Trump’s election. Four months after the first US diplomats (apparently) became ill US ambassador Jeffrey DeLaurentis met his Canadian, British and French counterparts to ask if any of their staff were sick. According to a recent New York Times Magazine story, “none knew of any similar experiences afflicting their officials in Cuba. But after the Canadian ambassador notified his staff, 27 officials and family members there asked to be tested. Twelve were found to be suffering from a variety of symptoms, similar to those experienced by the Americans.”

With theories ranging from “mass hysteria” to the sounds of “Indies short-tailed crickets” to an “outbreak of functional disorders”, the medical questions remains largely unresolved. The politics of the affair are far clearer. In response, the Trump Administration withdrew most of its embassy staff in Havana and expelled Cuban diplomats from Washington. They’ve rolled back measures the Obama Administration instituted to re-engage with Cuba and recently implemented an extreme measure even the George W. Bush administration shied away from.

Ottawa has followed along partly because it’s committed to overthrowing Venezuela’s government and an important talking point of the anti-Nicolás Maduro coalition is that Havana is propping him up. On May 3 Justin Trudeau called Cuban president Miguel Díaz-Canel to pressure him to join Ottawa’s effort to oust President Maduro. The release noted, “the Prime Minister, on behalf of the Lima Group [of countries hostile to Maduro], underscored the desire to see free and fair elections and the constitution upheld in Venezuela.” Four days later Foreign Minister Chrystia Freeland added to the diplomatic pressure on Havana. She told reporters, “Cuba needs to not be part of the problem in Venezuela, but become part of the solution.” A week later Freeland visited Cuba to discuss Venezuela.

On Tuesday Freeland talked with US Secretary of State Mike Pompeo about Venezuela and Cuba. Afterwards the State Department tweeted, “Secretary Pompeo spoke with Canada’s Foreign Minister Freeland to discuss ongoing efforts to restore democracy in Venezuela. The Secretary and Foreign Minister agreed to continue working together to press the Cuban regime to provide for a democratic and prosperous future for the people of Cuba.”

Ottawa supports putting pressure on Cuba in the hopes of further isolating/demonizing the Maduro government. But, the Trudeau government is simultaneously uncomfortable with how the US campaign against Cuba threatens the interests of some Canadian-owned businesses.

The other subject atop the agenda when Freeland traveled to Havana was Washington’s decision to allow lawsuits for property confiscated after the 1959 Cuban revolution. The Trump Administration recently activated a section of the Helms-Burton Act that permits Cubans and US citizens to sue foreign companies doing business in Cuba over property nationalized decades ago. The move could trigger billions of dollars in legal claims in US courts against Canadian and European businesses operating on the island.

Obviously, Canadian firms that extract Cuban minerals and deliver over a million vacationers to the Caribbean country each year don’t want to be sued in US courts. They want Ottawa’s backing, but the Trudeau government’s response to Washington’s move has been relatively muted. This speaks to Trudeau/Freeland’s commitment to overthrowing Venezuela’s government.

But, it also reflects the broader history of Canada-Cuba ties. Despite the hullabaloo around Ottawa’s seemingly cordial relations with Havana, the reality is more complicated than often presented. Similar to Venezuela today, Ottawa has previously aligned with US fear-mongering about the “Cuban menace” in Latin America and elsewhere. Even Prime minister Pierre Trudeau, who famously declared “viva Castro” during a trip to that country in 1976, denounced (highly altruistic) Cuban efforts to defend newly independent Angola from apartheid South Africa’s invasion. In response, Trudeau stated, “Canada disapproves with horror [of] participation of Cuban troops in Africa” and later terminated the Canadian International Development Agency’s small aid program in Cuba as a result.

After the 1959 Cuban revolution Ottawa never broke off diplomatic relations, even though most other countries in the hemisphere did. Three Nights in Havana[1]explains part of why Ottawa maintained diplomatic and economic relations with Cuba: “Recently declassified State Department documents have revealed that, far from encouraging Canada to support the embargo, the United States secretly urged Diefenbaker to maintain normal relations because it was thought that Canada would be well positioned to gather intelligence on the island.” Washington was okay with Canada’s continued relations with the island. It simply wanted assurances, which were promptly given, that Canada wouldn’t take over the trade the US lost. For their part, Canadian business interests in the country, which were sizable, were generally less hostile to the revolution since they were mostly compensated when their operations were nationalized. Still, the more ideological elements of corporate Canada have always preferred the Cuban model didn’t exist.

If a Canadian company is sued in the US for operating in Cuba Ottawa will face greater pressure to push back on Washington. If simultaneously the Venezuelan government remains, Ottawa’s ability to sustain its position against Cuba and Venezuela is likely to become even more difficult.


Canadian Network On Cuba Calls on Ottawa to Reopen Visa Office in Cuba

The following statement was issued May 10, 2019 by Isaac Saney, Spokesperson of the Network.

The Canadian Network on Cuba (CNC) is deeply concerned by Ottawa’s abrupt decision to shut down the section of its Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship (IRCC) Office in Havana through which visas were processed for Cuban citizens wishing to visit Canada and those seeking work or study permits. This measure follows the 50 per cent reduction of the staff of Canada’s embassy in Cuba which took place in January of this year. Cubans now have to make their applications through a visa application centre in a third country (the nearest being Mexico). Those having to submit their biometrics (photo and fingerprints), a requirement instituted in 2018 that will apply to most, will have to travel to a centre outside of Cuba to record this information.

These decisions have introduced unreasonable delays and significant financial obstacles for those Cubans seeking to travel to Canada, and will, amongst other things, cause significant damage to business, cultural, scientific and sporting relations. Indeed, they have already had a drastic impact on academic exchanges between Canada and Cuba with some of the Cuban academics scheduled to attend the annual conference of the Canadian Association for Latin American and Caribbean Studies on May 10-12 not able to procure visas.

Canada and Cuba have enjoyed uninterrupted diplomatic relations since 1945. This development represents a serious departure from the relations which have existed all those years. Canada, along with Mexico, refused to break diplomatic relations with Cuba in the 1960s when the United States established the all-sided blockade it has maintained since then. At that time the U.S. demanded that all members of the Organization of American States (OAS) sever any connection with Cuba and, even though Canada was not a member of the OAS at that time, it still did not follow suit.

One wonders what crime Cuba has committed against Canada to make Canada take what can only amount to hostile actions against Cuba? Why now, at a time the U.S. has reversed the Obama government’s attempts to bring an end to the failed policy that Washington has maintained against Cuba for 60 years?

In 2014, the world rejoiced to see the restoration of diplomatic relations between the U.S. and Cuba and held out great hopes that relations between the two countries would be normalized. Canada helped by providing a venue for the talks which led to the improvement of those relations.

Everyone knows that sanctions target the people and deprive them of food, medicines and normalcy in the conduct of elemental commercial, financial and other relations. For 27 years, the vast majority of countries of the world have overwhelmingly rejected the U.S. all-sided economic war against Cuba. In 2018 alone, 189 countries voted with Cuba to end the blockade and only 2 voted against, of which one was the U.S. itself.

And now this! Is Canada so attracted to the Trump administration’s anti-democratic counter-revolutionary attacks against Venezuela’s right to self-determination as to take its revenge on Cuba? Or it is poised to admit that the United States dictates Canadian policy? Shame on Canada either way.

Who will benefit from the closing of the Havana visa service? Not Cubans trying to have normal relations with Canada and Canadians. What wrong has Cuba ever done to Canada?

The CNC calls on the Canadian government to reinstate the discontinued services at the IRCC Office in Havana, so that visa processing may proceed in a reasonable manner. If the abrupt shutdown is simply the result of the lack of necessary staff, as the Ministry of Global Affairs asserts, then Ottawa should issue a clear statement that visa and other related operations will resume once staffing issues are resolved.

Canadians, thousands upon thousands of whom visit Cuba for many reasons including tourism, business, academic, political and cultural exchanges of all kinds, want Ottawa to pursue a foreign policy based on mutual respect and equality. The CNC is confident that Canadians will reject any course of action taken by Ottawa which undermines the long-standing diplomatic relations based on norms recognized by the international rule of law and the ties of friendship and solidarity that exist between the peoples of our two countries.


CALACS public statement on visas for Latin American scholars

Dear Prime Minister Justin Trudeau,

On behalf of the Canadian Association of Latin American and Caribbean Studies (CALACS), we write to express our concern with the Canadian visa application process for Latin American and Caribbean scholars who wish to visit Canada for academic meetings and conferences. Our Association held its 50th annual conference at York University in Toronto on May 10-12 — a milestone for Latin American and Caribbean studies in Canada — and, unfortunately, four distinguished Latin American scholars, three Cuban and one Brazilian, never received their visas allowing them to travel to Canada, despite having undertaken the process more than three months in advance and having paid for all their travel and lodging expenses.

In the case of the Cuban scholars, the treatment they received from the Visa Section at the Canadian embassy in Havana was cavalier and disrespectful. The Canadian government only informed them that their visas were not going to be processed and that they would have to reapply outside of Cuba on May 8, just two days before the start of the conference. This conduct does not meet the standards we expect and demand from the Canadian public service.

We acutely felt the absence of these Latin American scholars and strongly debated the issue at our conference. At CALACS, we feel that Canada’s failure to deliver their visas interferes with our mission to foster the ongoing development of a dynamic Canadian-based, international intellectual community, to support research and teaching and to provide the infrastructure and capacity to facilitate knowledge mobilization and engagement strategies in Canada and abroad.

CALACS reaches out to and establishes partnerships with Latin American and Caribbean communities, NGOs, research institutions, and international academics. In addition, our Association works to inform policy makers, and public and private sector organizations through its events, publications, communications media and virtual resources. In so doing, we contribute to developing strong and long-lasting Canadian networks in Latin America and in the Caribbean and we promote Canada’s image and influence in the region. In this sense, Canada’s failure to provide visas for Latin American and Caribbean scholars in timely and respectful fashion can only be understood as a failure.

We appeal to you to make sure that Canadian visa processes never again stand in the way of scholarly activities, of free thought and of critical debate. Academic freedom can only promote and develop Canadian interests at home and abroad and is critically important for maintaining excellent political, economic and cultural relations with Latin American and Caribbean countries.

Respectfully,

The Board of Directors of the Canadian Association for Latin American and Caribbean Studies.


[1] This is presumably a reference to the book by Robert A. Wright, Three Nights In Havana: Pierre Trudeau, Fidel Castro and the Cold War World. – R.F.

Tuesday, May 21, 2019

Exploring the Indigenous background to Bolivia’s ‘Process of change’

The Five Hundred Year Rebellion: Indigenous Movements and the Decolonization of History in Bolivia, by Benjamin Dangl, AK Press 2019

Two historic currents of thinking have informed the program that Bolivia’s government, led by the Movement Toward Socialism (MAS), has been attempting to pursue — with some notable successes and a few equally notable failures — since 2006.

One is a revolutionary tradition of anticapitalist struggle led by Marxists based in the miners’ union and the labour movement, which entered a sharp decline following the country’s turn to neoliberal privatization and austerity in the mid-1980s.

The other is a revived and re-imagined vision of indigenous societies offering an alternative, inherently non-capitalist perspective of communal existence in harmony with nature, which survived the 300 years of Spanish colonization and 200 years of creole “republican” domination, and in recent decades played a prominent role in the mass movements and uprisings that resulted in the MAS electoral victory of 2005.[1]

This new book by Benjamin Dangl, moderator of the now-defunct Latin America-focused website Upside Down World, analyzes the latter movement and its rediscovery and interpretation among Indigenous intellectuals in the wake of Bolivia’s National Revolution of the mid-1950s. The book, writes Dangl,

“argues that the grassroots production and mobilization of indigenous people’s history by activists in Bolivia was a crucial element for empowering, orienting, and legitimizing indigenous movements from 1970s postrevolutionary Bolivia to the uprisings of the 2000s. For these activists, the past was an important tool used to motivate citizens to take action for social change, to develop new political projects and proposals, and to provide alternative models of governance, agricultural production, and social relationships. Their revival of historical events, personalities, and symbols in protests, manifestos, banners, oral histories, pamphlets, and street barricades helped set in motion a wave of indigenous movements and politics that is still rocking the country.

“The book focuses primarily on Aymara-based indigenous movements and groups in the Andean highlands of Bolivia, largely in and around the capital city of La Paz. Aymara activists, leaders, and intellectuals in this region are highlighted here because of their striking production and use of history in indigenous movements and political thought.”

The focus of the book, which is based on Dangl’s recent doctoral dissertation at McGill University and his extensive field work in Bolivia, is on the Kataristas, a movement that self-identified after the Indigenous leader Túpac Katari who led an armed insurrection against Spanish rule in 1781. Dangl traces the formation and development of Katarismo as a current of political thought developed in the late 1960s and 1970s by young Aymara intellectuals and union leaders who organized in opposition to the attempts by the nationalist and military regimes after 1952 to put an end to an emerging Indianista consciousness and movement through a land reform that essentially treated its subjects as peasants, not Indians, and subjected their largely self-sufficient communities increasingly to dependency on production for markets beyond their control.

Dangl documents how the ancient ayllu communal traditions of collective production and rotation of leadership were still being practiced in mid-century and beyond, coexisting uneasily and in increasing conflict with the state-run rural union structures imposed by governments bent on replacing their indigenous governing structures. He shows how, in opposition to the nationalist narrative of Bolivia’s post-independence history, the Katarista current sought to decolonize indigenous history, reinventing indigeneity not as stigma but as a subject of emancipation, a political project. “Kataristas,” says Dangl,

“maintained that colonialism had never ended and that the National Revolution and the military regimes that followed it constituted not liberation from empire and colonialism but rather a new form of neocolonial domination. They worked to build a campesino union that was independent from the state and directly empowered the rural, indigenous sector rather than the Nationalist Revolutionary Movement (MNR) and military governments of the 1960s and 1970s. A lasting result of such Katarista efforts was the 1979 founding of the Unified Syndical Confederation of Rural Workers of Bolivia (CSUTCB), a national independent union.”

Along the way, they found themselves allying with the Bolivian Workers’ Central (COB) and forming an “intersectional identity” as “both indigenous and working class.”

Dangl devotes an entire chapter to the Andean Oral History Workshop (THOA) and its role in recovering and distributing indigenous history “to indigenous and working-class Bolivians through unions, speeches, protests, manifestos, and monuments to Katari.” The THOA played a critical role in the 1997 formation of the CONAMAQ,[2] a national ayllu network.

“The indigenous historical production and discourses examined here,” says Dangl, “took on further importance at the start of the twenty-first century. Protesters resisting corporate globalization and state repression once again raised the symbol of Katari at the barricades, renewing the legacy of his eighteenth-century siege. Under Bolivia’s first indigenous president [Evo Morales], indigenous histories, symbols, and consciousness gained more prominence through the rewriting of the country’s constitution, rescuing the model of the ayllu and indigenous justice, championing a state-led process of decolonization, and elevating the works of prominent indigenous historians and thinkers. The seeds of these twenty-first-century political uses of the past can be traced to the twentieth-century postrevolutionary movements and organizations discussed here. As contemporary Bolivian politics and movements demonstrate, the struggle to wield people’s histories as tools for indigenous liberation is far from over.”

The THOA and Kataristas were also in part reacting against a primitive but ossified Marxism that had been prominent in the Bolivian workers’ movement for many years. For example, an influential manifesto adopted by the miners’ union in 1946, the “Pulacayo Thesis“ of the FSTMB,[3] argued that it was the proletariat, “the revolutionary class par excellence,” that would organize the peasantry, which it lumped together with petty-bourgeois sectors of the population. Although it proclaimed that the workers should “work together with the indigenous communities,” the Thesis offered no analysis of those communities or the peasantry, the overwhelming majority of the population, or of what this task might entail.[4]

However, it seems to me, from a reading of Dangl’s text, that the movement he describes in detail may have done much to counter and overcome the historic disconnect between the two intellectual currents, Marxism and indigenous thought, so often identified in Bolivian studies.[5] This is nowhere more evident than in the Political Thesis of the CSUTCB adopted by the 4,000 delegates to its Second National Congress following a lengthy process of debate and amendment. “Katarista thought,” says Dangl, is “distilled in this document.”

“Two elements of the thesis stand out for their allegiance to the Katarista current in the CSUTCB: the first is the use of a preconquest civilization as a source of orientation and legitimacy, and the second is drawing on an indigenous, as opposed to strictly working class-oriented, historical analysis of the centuries of indigenous oppression and resistance in order to highlight injustice and embolden the CSUTCB’s struggle.”

The thesis is included as an appendix to the seminal book by THOA cofounder and sociologist Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui, Oppressed But Not Defeated: Peasant struggles among the Aymara and Qhechwa in Bolivia, 1900-1980. This English translation, now out of print, was published in 1987 by the United Nations Research Institute for Social Development. I have scanned the text and publish it here to make it available in digital format. I have standardized the spelling of Túpac Katari’s name, variously spelled as Túpac and Túpak in the UN translation, and retained the spelling of Qhechwa (usually rendered now as Quechua). In addition, I have corrected some obvious typos and one mistranslation, indicated in a footnote.

Richard Fidler

* * *

THE CONFEDERATED UNION OF PEASANT WORKERS OF BOLIVIA

POLITICAL MANIFESTO 1983

INTRODUCTION

To all peasant comrades of the nine departments.

To all the brothers of the original nations and cultures of our country.

To all the comrade workers.

The members of the Executive Committee of the CSUTCB have enormous satisfaction and legitimate pride in publishing the trade union and political ideas of the peasants, approved at the II NATIONAL CONGRESS in La Paz, June 1983. Approxi­mately 4,000 delegates, men and women from all departmental and special federations and from provincial unions and grass root representatives discussed this document in Committees and plenary meetings in the course of one week. This document is therefore the product of the concern, work and discussion of peasant workers. It is not the result of the sort of ministerial interference which occurred during the years of movimientista manipulation under the Military-Peasant Pact. Nor is it the copy of any doctrine.

This effort is intended to generate our own thinking. For almost five centuries during the colonial and the republican period our enemies wanted us to think what they wanted us to think, to talk only about what they were interested in, to live imitating them and to accept oppression, exploitation, racism, contempt for our culture and displacement.

This manifesto is our response to that history of subjection. It rejects all forms of subjugation and is an attempt to build a new society which is free, just, without hunger, where we can live like human beings. The central ideas of our policy are rooted in the age-old struggle of our people. Let us recall for example the great Aymara, Qhechwa, Guarani and other uprisings more than two hundred years ago headed by Julián Apasa (Túpac Katari) and his wife, Bartolina Sisa, Gregoria Apasa, Julian’s sister, José Gabriel Condorcanqui (Túpac Amaru) and his wife Miacaela Bastidas, by the caciques Tomás Katari, by Apiawayki Tumpa, by Pedro Ignacio Muyba, by Pablo Willka Zárate, by Desiderio and Pedro Delgadillo and by so many other leaders of the continuous struggle of our people.

Such attitudes, organization and thinking provide one of the most fertile sources from which to revive our own history, while renouncing the distorted official history our children are taught at school. We also learned these lies and often we were ignorant of our own history.

We are aware that a people which forgets its own history can never be free. History is thus the beginning of what we are today.

The other source of inspiration for our own history is the building of the new union movement, whose history is more recent. Starting more or less at the time we first rejected the single peasant tax imposed under the Military-Peasant Pact, it developed over twenty years of resistance to military dictatorship, up to the recent struggles to regain our trade union and political liberties.

The first document to summarize the central ideas in our thinking was the Political manifesto of the VII National Congress of the National Confederation of Peasant Workers of Bolivia, Túpac Katari. It was called “Túpac Katari” to distinguish it from the government sponsored confederation. This Congress took place in La Paz in March 1978.

Later, at the I Congress of Peasant Unity, in June 1979 in La Paz, called by the Central Obrera Boliviana, this document was approved and ratified fully. Finally this document constituted the main subject for discussion at the II National Congress in June 1983. Revised, extended and developed, we now have a document setting out our union and political manifesto, the result of many years of struggle, sacrifice and dedication.

We, the current leaders, refuse to accept and will never accept class reductionist ideas which transform us to the status of mere “peasants.” Nor do we accept ethnic reductionism which transforms our struggle into a confrontation between “Indians” and “whites.” We are the heirs of great civilizations. We are also heirs to a permanent struggle against all forms of exploitation and pressure. We want to be free in a society where exploitation and organized oppression do not exist, in a state which, recognizing all national groups, develops our different cultures and authentic forms of self government.

THE EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE OF CSUTCB

Ch’upiyap marka (La Paz, October 1983)

POLITICAL MANIFESTO

WHO ARE WE?

We the Aymara, Qhechwa, Camba, Chapaco, Chiquitano, Canichana, Itenama, Cayubaba, Ayoreode, Tupiwarani and other peasants are the legitimate owners of this land. Though we are the seed from which Bolivia was born, we are, even today, treated as exiles in our own land.

The peasants of Bolivia are the legitimate heirs of the great prehispanic societies, which built the Andean civilization and the civilizations of the tropical plains. Our history is not merely a matter of the past: it is also the present and the future, involving a permanent struggle to affirm our own his­torical identity, the development of our culture, to become the subjects not the objects of history, with our own personality.

In spite of having different languages, systems of organization, views of the world and historical traditions, the different peoples who inhabit this land are linked together in a permanent struggle. In the first place, we have all suffered the effects of colonial domination, imposed by the Spaniards and by the republican ruling classes who have always subjected us to discrimination and have transformed us into second class citizens. This also applies to many workers in the countryside and in the cities who through mestizaje (intermarriage), the imposition of the Spanish language and acculturation have lost their own cultural roots and who are also victims of the ruling colonial mentality. Because we are all oppressed, we share a common cause — the struggle for liberation.

In practice we are united because we share the same conditions in our lives and work. Nevertheless, because we own our own plots of land, some define us as “petty bourgeois,” thereby establishing class differences between us. They divide us into landowners and landless, peasants and labourers. Others define us as a class in the process of extinction, serving only to increase the ranks of the proletariat. We disagree with these opinions because an analysis of the social and economic structure of our country shows that dependent capitalism with colonial characteristics is the dominant mode of production of which peasants are an indispensable component. Whether as producers of foodstuffs and cheap commodities or as labour power we have sweated to feed the growing mines and cities and enriched the exploitative minority.

Therefore we the peasants do not consider ourselves marginal or a decadent class doomed to disappear. We are still the majority of the population. Nor are we a petty bourgeoisie just because we own plots of land. Land for us is mainly a condition of production and an inheritance from our forbears rather than a means of production. Therefore we do not believe that the socioeconomic differences between us constitute barriers to our unity. These differences are secondary if we compare them to the contradictions posed by the capitalist system, which nourishes itself on our work and our wealth. Whether as labourers in agro-industrial enterprises or as small agricultural producers in cattle raising, fishing or forestry, we share the same suffering and discrimination. We share a common cause of liberation because we are rural workers.

OUR HISTORY

Prior to the arrival of the Spaniards we had a strong community tradition. Hunger, theft and dishonesty were unknown. In the Andean region our ayllus, markas, suyus were the basis of a great civilization in which autonomy and the diversity of our forms of work were respected. Different peoples shared the vast eastern plains, living in freedom and respecting each other. They worked as gold and silversmiths, creating music, developing elaborate hunting, fishing and gathering methods, always respectful of the environment.

This autonomous development was interrupted violently by the Spanish invasion in 1492. Since then we have been reduced to the condition of a colonized people referred to generically as “Indians.” We have been stripped of sovereignty over our territories. Even our dignity as human beings has been denied. The expansion of Spanish mercantile capitalism through theft, encomiendas, mercedes, tributo, reducciones, misiones, serfdom, mit’a and other forms of exploitation and undermining our culture has fragmented our society. Alien systems such as private property and the exploitation of the majority by the minority have been imposed on us. Colonial domination introduced a long period of systematic exclusion of our people from the structures of political and economic power and destroyed all forms of self-determination. We have been forced to bury our own social practices and forms of life in cultural clandestinity.

Our people have not been passive. Our history is one of permanent and tenacious struggle against those who have tried to dominate us. Since conquistadors set foot on our soil, all our peoples — Aymaras, Qhechwas, Tupiwaranies, Ayoreodes, etc. — have risen against injustice in pursuit of liberation.

The great freedom movements of 1780-81 shook the foundations of colonial domination and showed that colonial power was not invincible. Therefore we consider the true liberators from colonial domination to have been Tomás, Dámasco and Nicolas Katari in the Potosí region, Túpac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas in the Cuzco region, Andrés Túpac Amaru and Gregoria Apasa in the valleys north of La Paz and Túpac Katari and Bartolina Sisa in the Altiplano. The seeds of liberation sown by the katarist struggles descended from the Apolobamba Mountains and extended towards the eastern plains. In 1804, an Indian from the plains called Pedro Ignacio Muiba, together with the cacique of San Pedro, Manuel Maraza, disregarding the authority of the Spanish Governor, freed all slaves of the carayana adventurers who had taken over land and deprived its true natural owners of their freedom.

The emergence of the republic was of no benefit to us. The Olañetas, Murillos, Caceres and other criollo heroes changed from the side of the Spanish monarchy to the criollo side, wresting from us the anticolonial struggle, to inherit the privileges previously enjoyed by the Spaniards. This is why, since the foundation of the republic, the criollos were an ineffective substitute for the colonial power and were only able to construct a caricature of a republic. They retained the colonial structures and the same relations of exploitation and oppression. Our taxes have continued to sustain the economy of the new republic. Criollo latifundistas continued to expropriate our lands, subjecting us to pongeaje. The extermination of native people was intensified in the eastern plains with the exploitation of quinine (Peruvian bark) and rubber, devastating the rich lands of Moxos, depriving the area of its rich natural and human resources. Ultimately this culminated in the breaking-up of the country’s territory.

Discrimination and racial oppression were strengthened by the introduction of the restricted vote and numerous prohibitions. Peasants were not allowed to walk freely through the streets and plazas of the cities. We could not vote or be elected. In the plains we did not even have the right to a life of our own because we lived under conditions of slavery. Using every possible means from massacre to a systematic denial of our identity and our cultural values, the oligarchy tried to eliminate us.

But ours is not only a history of humiliation: it is also one of struggle to change this unfair criollo society inherited from colonial times. Many uprisings, including those led by Zárate Willka, Apiyawaiki Tumpa, Santos Marka T’ula, the communities of Jesús de Machaka, Caquiaviri, Chayanta, are evidence of this. They were repressed brutally by the oligarchy. After treating us as second class people, they attempted to force us to become citizens so that we should offer our lives in the front line trenches in the Chaco war. They used us as cannon fodder to defend the republican pro-imperialist oligarchy. They vented their fury against our Guarani brothers for whom frontiers had no meaning.

Nevertheless, the blood spilled in the Chaco was not in vain: it nurtured the awakening of a new conscience among the peasantry.

In 1936 our brothers in the Cochabamba valleys organized the first rural unions against the latifundistas who had usurped the land. In the Altiplano, the struggle for the right to education and to end pongeaje led to the organization of a series of massive Indian congresses held in 1942, 1943 and 1945. New organizational methods such as strikes on the latifundios were grafted on to our old traditions of struggle. After Villarroel fell from power, the oligarchy reacted against these achievements by ignoring rural unions and violently repressing them. Again in 1947 we had no choice but to rebel. Our struggles were no longer isolated. Our brothers, the miners, were becoming organized and also struggling against the exploitative rosca.

Popular mobilization culminated in the 1952 uprising and the introduction of some progressive laws such as agrarian reform, nationalization of the mines and universal suffrage. But the ruling class appropriated the revolution and betrayed its aims, swindling the people of the expected gains.

The agrarian reform of 1953, which has been used as a political banner by those parties who claim to be the country’s saviour, was undermined by the individualistic nature of the model. Land was divided into parcelas and unproductive forms of smallholding were encouraged. The so-called agrarian reform was the culmination of an extended process of fragmentation of our community-based organization. We can also see the strengthening of a new, large landowning class in agro-industry and cattle-raising in the east of Bolivia, which mercilessly exploits the many sugar-cane workers, cotton pickers, farm labourers, etc. These large landowners receive all kinds of state benefits. The agrarian reform has never reached many regions. The latifundistas have continued to exploit Siriono, Ayoreode, Chiquitano, Guarani labourers using colonial systems and methods.

Although universal suffrage allowed us greater political participation, it was impaired by the desire to manipulate us like a submissive electoral mass. Peasant unionism was transformed by the political groups in power into an instrument of manipulation. They wanted to transform us from pongos in the field of production to political pongos.

This official and manipulative unionism was strengthened from the Barrientos period onwards with the Military-Peasant Pact. They went to the extreme of supplanting our trade union organizations by corrupt paid leaders who used our name unscrupulously to proclaim the assassins of the people as leaders of the peasantry.

The Military-Peasant Pact has only brought suffering and massacres for the genuine peasants such as those of Tolata, Epizana and Melga. It has meant anti-peasant policies such as the single agricultural tax, successive devaluations, military coups, persecution, imprisonment, confinement and the death of some of our leaders.

Since the 1960s we have struggled against the manipulation of our trade unions and against anti-peasant policies in the search for a new trade unionism based on our genuine grass-root organizations. This new peasant awakening can be found in the struggle against the single agricultural tax, the emergence of the Bloque Independiente Campesino and the independent organization of the colonizers affiliated to the Central Obrera Boliviana.[1] During the governments of Ovando and Torres new tendencies emerged within and outside the CNTCB and the leadership of this organization was temporarily wrested from the manipulations of the Military-Peasant Pact at the VIth National Congress which took place on the 2 August 1971. At this Congress our leaders once again took up the path established by Túpac Katari, Zárate Willka, Santos Marka T’ula and others. However, the coup which installed Banzer in power once more halted the independent development of the rural union movement and our organizations were left without leaders. The legitimate leaders were replaced by paid coordinators and by enemies of the peasants such as Oscar Céspedes, Clemente Alarcón, Pascual Gamón, Pedro Surco, Dionisio Osco, Leoncio Torrico, Vidal Jiménez, Willy Román, Miguel Trigo, Simón Peñaranda and other drug dealers. During the seven years of Banzer’s rule the anti-peasant policies were applied with ever greater force.

However, throughout those years our underground resistance continued and the dictatorship’s anti-popular measures, such as the 1972 devaluation and the January 1974 price increases, were opposed. Twenty thousand brothers in Cochabamba protested, using a new method of struggle — blocking the roads. The army repressed them violently in the massacres at Tolata, Epizana and Melga, thereby unmasking the true aims of the Military-Peasant Pact. The blood of those compañeros who fell in Tolata has permanently marked our enemies and also made our road to liberation more fertile. This is how, in the midst of a repressive period, we peasants have been able to build up our organization. Our leaders, elected in Potosí in 1971, regained the leadership of our main union organization at a mass rally held in Ayo-Ayo on 15 November 1977 by rejecting the coordinators and caciques paid by the fascist regime. Since then all attempts to revive the Military-Peasant Pact have been a resounding failure in the face of the new, unified, militant unionism.

We peasants were involved actively in the recovery of democratic freedoms by participating in the national hunger strike in December 1977 together with women in the mining communities and all the Bolivian people. The whole process of reorganization from the base, which we undertook in order to end government control, was given added impulse in March 1978 by the VIIth Congress of the National Confederation of Peasant Workers Túpac Katari in the presence of leaders of the FSTMB and the COB.

In the course of the struggle we came to see that our trade union movement was part of the wider struggle of all the oppressed in Bolivia. We realized that we are linked through class solidarity with our brothers in the mining, manufacturing and construction sectors and that we also share common historical, cultural roots and the struggle against common enemies. This is why we undertook the task of strengthening our relations with the main workers’ organization of Bolivia. This culminated in the First Congress of Peasant Unity which took place on 26 June 1979.

The Confederación Sindical Unica de Trabajadores Campesinos de Bolivia, affiliated to the Central Obrera de Bolivia, was established at this event. The CSUTCB’s work respects the diversity of traditions of struggle and of organizational forms, thus representing all the oppressed in the rural areas. This process is continuously being strengthened by incorporating into the main organization the sugar-cane cutters, the rubber tappers, the brazil-nuts gatherers and cotton pickers. Likewise, links have been established with organizations in the villages in the east, northeast and south of the country.

The representativity at national level of the CSUTCB was fully confirmed by the massive mobilization of people opposing the Natusch Busch coup and the devaluation imposed by Lidia Gueiler’s government in November-December 1979. Road blocks were set up throughout the country, bringing transport to a total standstill and preventing the distribution of foodstuffs. The 1979 blockades showed us once again that racist prejudice against peasants continues as they struggle in support of their legitimate claims. Prejudice is still so strong that even the leadership of the COB was unable to understand fully the origins of our struggle. However, this experience, together with the process of union reorganization we undertook when democracy began to reestablish itself in the period 1978-80, showed us that we are united in struggle with the workers of this country, while maintaining our own character and our specific claims.

The progress of our struggle drew the attention of drug-dealing fascist opposition who took power on the 17 July 1980. On this occasion, the CSUTCB was present alongside the COB and the Comité Nacional de Defensa de la Democracia (CONADE). Our Executive Committee issued instructions to block roads and our leaders went to the provinces to continue organizing the resistance in clandestinity. But this time the fascist onslaught was worse than ever before. Mining centres and villages were invaded and bombed, in spite of fierce resistance by miners and peasants. The main leaders of the COB were assassinated, imprisoned and deported. This prevented the possibility of continuing to call an effective general, indefinite strike and the blockade of roads. The UDP, and those parties which call themselves the “vanguard” of the Bolivian people, were unable to lead the resistance and it was finally broken. In these difficult circumstances, the Executive Secretary of the CSUTCB took over the leadership of the clandestine COB. The outstanding role in the resistance played by the peasant movement and the leadership of compañero Genaro Flores in the task of reorganization undertaken by the COB caused the paramilitary groups of fascist drug dealers to [attempt to][2] murder him.

A number of peasant leaders such as Florencio Gabriel in the north of Potosí, Macedonio Layme in Achacachi and many other compañeros were among the union and political leaders who were killed in the resistance. However, to the extent that CSUTCB was rooted in each community and each rural union in every region, the policy of eliminating the leaders, intimidation and terror did not achieve its aims. Thus our struggle has made a decisive contribution to reestablishing democracy. Before the military government declared an amnesty in 1982 our organization was already back in full action from the time when compañero Genaro Flores returned from exile. He declared publicly:

“I have returned to continue the struggle of our people and to continue in the footsteps of Túpac Katari.”

Thus we were able to wrest from the military dictatorships the recognition of our organizational and political rights, fully confirmed at the Vth National Congress of our organization which took place in La Paz between the 5 and 8 of July 1982.

The reestablishment of democracy has thus been the fruit of our joint struggle with all Bolivian workers. Since the 10 October 1982 we have achieved the recognition of our trade union and political freedoms. So far, however, this so-called representative democracy does not represent the interests of the national majorities. The parties comprising the UDP have made repeated attempts to establish a parallel government sponsored union by imposing political pongueaje and the old clientele system of the MNR. These aim to divide the peasant movement and to weaken our union and political independence, transforming us into a submissive and docile instrument of government policy. Moreover, the demagogic promises made by the government to improve our living conditions and to meet our claims have never been fulfilled. This is why we had no choice but to resort to blocking the roads again in April 1983.

For all these reasons our struggle will continue until we gain our real freedom, defending our principles of union and political independence and strengthening our unity around the CSUTCB and the COB.

WE WILL BUILD THE FUTURE FROM OUR OWN ROOTS

Our five centuries of struggle against different forms of oppression and exploitation have provided us with valuable experience and lessons for the future. In the first place, our oppressors have attempted systematically to strip us of our historical identity by a variety of methods. They tried to make us forget our true origins and reduce us to mere peasants with no personality, history or identity. However, our entire history has demonstrated that we know how to resist such attempts. In this struggle for liberation we have held on to our character as Aymara, Qhechwa, Camba Chapaco, Tupiwarani, etc. and we have learned that we can achieve liberation without losing our cultural and national identity, without being ashamed of what we are; we will recover our lost dignity.

Second, we have seen new forms of capitalist exploitation added to the colonial system. Our history has taught us to identify and differentiate these two forms of exploitation and oppression. Workers, peasants and other sectors identify in our struggle against colonial oppression because we share common cultural roots and because we share the common aim of eradicating forever all forms of racial discrimination and of exile from our own land. Along with our brothers the workers we struggle against capitalist exploitation, seeking a society in which there are neither exploited nor exploiters. We reject the reduction of the whole of our history to one single factor, either a class struggle or an ethnic struggle. It is in the practice of both these dimensions that we recognize our unity with the workers and also our own, distinct personality.

Third, our history shows us that we have been able to adapt and renew our methods of struggle without losing continuity with our historical roots. For example, we have adopted a trade union form of organization without forgetting our mallkus, kurakas and our own forms of organization. We do not need outsiders as leaders. We have our own, such as the brothers Nicolás and Dámaso Katari, Túpac Katari, Pablo Zárate Willka, Apiyawaiki Tumpa, Bartolina Sisa, Túpac Amaru, Miacaela Bastidas, Santos Marka T’ula, Florencio Gabriel, Pedro Rivera, Facundo Olmos, Macedonio Layme, Pedro and Desirio Delgadillo and all the militants who fought and gave their lives for our liberation.

Fourth, our history teaches us that our peoples were capable of organizing a society where hunger and exploitation were unknown, where rulers did not gain power in order to steal or to take advantage of their position. These great civilizations developed knowledge and increased their productivity in farming, cattle rearing, in engineering works, jewelry making, textiles and the metal industry. All the knowledge built up over the centuries was ignored and destroyed after the Spanish conquest and today we are reduced to living in conditions of hunger, scarcity and exploitation. For this reason, it is necessary to retrieve and update this scientific knowledge and combine it with modern technological improvements in order to build a society in which productivity is high and hunger or exploitation do not exist.

Fifth, our history has taught us who are our enemies. A minority has grasped the leadership and organization of our country. During the colonial period it was a Spanish oligarchy of encomenderos, priests, land and mine owners. During the republic it was the criollo oligarchy of landowners, mine-owners, merchants, industrialists, bankers and military men. During the last few years this oligarchy has put on a disguise, using populist and pseudo-leftist language in order to assume the representation of the majority and retain their own privileges. The capitalist exploiters and the new rich who live off our labour are visible enemies. But we also have hidden enemies who are the product of the capitalist colonial system we live in, and who, chamaleon-like, change their colour. Finally, there is an enemy we do not see — the state. It channels neo-colonial and imperialist interests through a multiplicity of mechanisms of domination. At times they are repressive and violent, at others they have more subtle methods of control. In either case, the whole power structure has to be changed, not only the governments that rule it.

We must therefore stop being manipulated by the ruling caste that talks, thinks and acts on our behalf and which controls the government as well as the state. The time has come for us to determine our own path to liberation, to refuse to be a ladder which serves the political ambitions of the current rosca ruler or of the roscawawas.

Finally, our history tells us that we are able to develop a unified struggle of all the rural oppressed, without losing respect for the diversity of our languages, cultures, historical traditions and forms of organization and work. We must end the false process of cultural integration which makes our cultures homogeneous and which attempts to depersonalize us by imposing the Spanish language on us, and we must put a stop to acculturation and alienation. The CSUTCB should become an increasingly genuine and unified expression of this. This also has implications at a political level. Our struggle must aim to express this diversity in all aspects of national life. We do not want patchy or partial reforms. We want lasting liberation and a multinational and multicultural society. While maintaining the unity of a single state, the state should combine and develop the diversity of all the nations of which it is comprised: Aymara, Qhechwa, Tupiwarani, Ayoreode and others. There cannot be true liberation if the multinational diversity of our country and the variety of forms of self-government of our people are not respected.

OUR UNION’S THINKING

Trade unionism is a form of organization adopted from the experience of our brothers the factory workers. It has become so rooted among us that it channels everything we rural workers hold important in the struggle to defend our social economic, cultural and political interests. Prior to the emergence and adoption of trade unionism, our action was and, in some areas, still is guided by our traditional organizations such as the ayllus, cabildos, etc. In our view such traditional organizations do not conflict with trade unionism, rather they are complementary.

Rural unionism is different in nature from urban workers’ trade unions. The rural union takes up our grievances and is also a genuine communal form of government. On the whole it is not a means of challenging the employers. It can be used to organize our productive and social lives and to confront the invisible master — the state — and the capitalist system that oppresses us. These characteristics typify our organization and distinguish it from the experience of the factory workers’ unions.

The first rural unions emerged following the Chaco war. They were organized in 1936 by the ex-combatant Qhechwa farm workers. The organization of the unions was not the work of any leader or any party: it was the result of our own efforts. The unions then decided to struggle for the abolition of pongueaje and the haciendas, for the right to education, reflecting demands that had already been made in many areas by the mallkus, kurakas and traditional authorities. A partial victory was obtained with the agrarian reform of 1953 which was manipulated by the Movimientista intellectuals who allocated the best land to the owning class and their relatives and reduced us to smallholders.[3] Nevertheless, we gained valuable experience from this first stage of the trade union struggle (1936-1952) because we created a grass-root movement led by disinterested leaders who were prepared to put their lives at risk in the struggle.

However, this trade union democracy was undermined when the MNR came to power. The MNR began to organize the rural unions from the top down in order to ensure they served each government, as a ladder to the benefit of each leader or group. Such manipulation continued throughout the MNR government of 1952-1964 and, during the period of military governments, civilian manipulation was replaced by military manipulation through the Military-Peasant Pact, 1964-1978.

Such experiences have taught us to reject those forms of trade union which depend on the government. We reject apolitical and “yellow” trade unionism because that only seeks gifts and handouts from the powerful and because it encourages divisions and the growth of patronage.

Since the awakening of the peasantry we have struggled to achieve and have been building in practice a new form of trade unionism. We claim that trade unionism should be:

ONE: In spite of our differences of language, culture, forms of work and traditions of organization, all the oppressed of the rural areas should build a single organization with a single leadership.

DEMOCRATIC: Because that expresses our tradition of community democracy and because it is the expression of the grass roots, where leaders are appointed by the peasants themselves and not imposed from above.

INDEPENDENT: Because we reject any type of tutelage or interference by individuals, groups or parties from outside our organization and because, politically, we are guided only by our own political beliefs.

IN SOLIDARITY: Because our cause is the cause of other workers, not only in this country but beyond our frontiers too. But, above all, because we have won our own place in the Central Obrera Boliviana, the main workers’ organization in the country.

REVOLUTIONARY: Because we struggle for the peasants, miners, factory workers and other oppressed workers for our liberation from all kinds of capitalist exploitation and colonial oppression, for a more just society without exploiters or exploited. Because we are struggling for genuine and consistent leadership which guarantees that the struggle of working people will continue until final victory is won.

Freedom without loss of our historical and national identity!

Our liberation will be the result of our own efforts!

It will never be granted by generals, intellectuals or the new rich!

We are oppressed but not defeated!

Long live peasant unity!

Long live the unity of the Bolivian workers!

Glory to Túpac Katari!

La Paz, June 1983

Second National Congress of the CSUTCB


[1] Colonizers. This refers to the landless or near landless who have settled on newly opened up areas in the tropical eastern regions of Bolivia. [Note by UN translator]

[2] Correction of mistranslation of “atentaran contra su vida.” In fact, as Dangl’s book says, Flores was paralyzed in the attack, but not killed. [RF]

[3] Movimientista intellectuals refers to certain members of the Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario. [Translator’s note.]



[1] La Migraña, No. 20, http://www.vicepresidencia.gob.bo/IMG/pdf/migrana-20.pdf.

[2] Consejo Nacional de Ayllus y Markas de Qullasuyu – National Council of Ayllus and Markas of Qullasuyu.

[3] Federación Sindical de Trabajadores Mineros de Bolivia – Nation-wide Mine Workers Federation, founded in 1944.

[4] For a detailed account of the origins of the Pulacayo Thesis, and of the Trotskyist organization that spawned it, see S. Sándor John, Bolivia’s Radical Tradition: Permanent Revolution in the Andes (University of Arizona Press, 2009).

[5] See, for example, Álvaro García Linera, “Indianism and Marxism: The Disparity between Two Revolutionary Rationales,” in Plebeian Power: Collective Action and Indigenous, Working-Class, and Popular Identities in Bolivia (Haymarket, 2014).