Showing posts with label MAS-IPSP. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MAS-IPSP. Show all posts

Thursday, October 22, 2020

Bolivia: The people defeat the coup

By Federico Fuentes*

October 22, 2020

Bolivians have overwhelmingly voted the left-wing Movement Toward Socialism (MAS) back into office in a resounding reversal of last year’s coup.

With almost 90% of the October 18 vote counted, MAS presidential candidate Luis Arce has won with 54.5%, thumping his nearest rival, Carlos Mesa (29.26%).

Luis Arce and David Choquehuanca, Bolivia’s newly elected President and Vice-President

Arce even managed to win more votes than former MAS president Evo Morales did in the October 2019 elections. While Morales won that election, opposition protests against supposed fraud culminated in a police-military coup that forced him into exile just weeks later.

Victory for peoples’ power

The vote for Arce, who was economy minister during most of Morales’ 14 years in power, represents a clear rejection of those who sought to trample on Bolivia’s democracy and the many achievements of the MAS government, in particular its empowerment of the country’s indigenous majority.

It also represents a defeat for those internationally, such as the Organization of American States (OAS) and the United States government, who backed the coup and subsequent illegitimate regime headed by right-wing senator Jeanine Áñez.

During her time in office, Áñez focused most of her attention on repressing protests, delaying elections and persecuting the MAS and the indigenous, campesino, worker and urban movements that make up its base, in the hope of blocking its return to power.

While her ministers enriched themselves through numerous cases of corruption, Bolivians were left to deal with a deep economic crisis, a sharp rise in poverty and one of the highest per capita COVID-19 death rates in the world.

Importantly, this rejection was not just expressed on election day, but in the mobilisations that took place immediately after the coup and since.

While largely focused in MAS’s rural heartlands and the largely indigenous city of El Alto, the initial protests marked a clear determination on the part of social movements to reject the racist violence unleashed by the coup and win back democracy through street mobilisation.

They did so while working in coordination with the MAS’s majority in the Plurinational Legislative Assembly.

The response of the regime was military and police repression, including massacres in Senkata, Sacaba and Yapacaní last November that left more than 30 dead, and attempts to circumvent parliament.

Nevertheless, the social movements persisted and expanded their reach, with nationwide mobilisations in August crucial to forcing elections to go ahead after they had been postponed three times.

Through these protests, social movements began a process of renewal and revitalisation, which enabled them to regain some of the strength and autonomy they had lost in recent years.

Some of the new leaders that emerged through this struggle have now been elected to the new parliament on the MAS ticket.

Regain broader support

The vote for Arce was also due to the MAS’s ability to regain support among certain sectors — particularly urban, middle class voters — that had turned their backs on the party.

The opposition aided this process, through the manner in which Áñez governed and their inability to present any coherent project beyond simply opposing the MAS.

But the MAS campaign was also crucial, starting with its decision to select Arce as the presidential candidate. This was despite MAS’ core rural base preferring former foreign minister David Choquehuanca, due to his close links to these movements.

The consensus decision to go with Arce — with Choquehuanca as his running mate — was based on the judgement that he was the best candidate to reach out to more moderate sectors and win back this broader support on the basis of the prestige he had from presiding over years of economic boom.

From this starting point — renewed social movements and Arce as candidate — the MAS set about campaigning hard, particularly in areas where their vote had dropped.

They did so by presenting a project for the country, with concrete solutions to the problems sectors were facing. At the same time, Arce and Choquehuanca publicly acknowledged some of the errors made during Morales’ time in government, demonstrating a willingness to listen and learn from mistakes.

Challenges ahead

The election result means the MAS have a clear mandate to continue building on the achievements of Morales' time in power, while working to fix errors.

Arce is not wasting time, having already indicated what his government’s first steps will be to deal with the impacts of the pandemic and economic crisis.

The day after the elections, Arce announced that distribution of a special hunger payment — already approved by parliament but blocked by Áñez — will begin within weeks, as part of helping ameliorate the effects of the crisis and stimulating internal demand.

Along with signalling his intention to introduce a wealth tax, Arce has said his government will seek to renegotiate its foreign debt with institutions such as the International Monetary Fund for the purpose of deferring or cancelling repayment, as a way to “to share the weight of the burden of the pandemic”.

There will no doubt be many challenges ahead.

Small violent protests by ultra-right forces rejecting the election result indicate they do not plan to go away without a fight. Nor will those foreign governments that have always opposed the MAS in power.

Seeking justice and reigning in the military will not be easy, given the military’s refusal to date to cooperate with the investigation into the massacres last November.

And figuring out how best to handle the complex relationship of being government and social movements at the same time — with the latter’s renewed sense of autonomy and immediate pressure for posts in the new administration — will require profound debate and reflection. As will working out what role Morales will play in this new period.

But for now, Bolivians will celebrate their defeat of a reactionary coup through the exercising of peoples’ power.

______________________

* Federico Fuentes, an Argentine-Australian, writes regularly on events in Latin America in Green Left Weekly, from which this article is reproduced with thanks. He was co-author with Marta Harnecker of the book MAS-IPSP de Bolivia: Instrumento político que surge de los movimientos sociales (Caracas: Centro Internacional Miranda, 2008).

Sunday, August 9, 2020

Bolivia’s Perfect Storm: Pandemic, Economic crisis, Repressive coup regime

COB mobilization marches through El Alto Photo by La Razón

Introduction

The rising toll of diseased and deceased from the Covid-19 pandemic has hit Bolivia particularly hard, in a continent that is now in the lead in global contagion rates. As of August 8, more than 100,000 cases were officially confirmed or suspected, with 3,600 deaths among a total population of just over 10 million.

The coup government, installed in November, has mismanaged the crisis from the outset. Hospitals are understaffed and ill-equipped, testing is minimal, and the main response by the de facto authorities is to threaten lengthy jail terms for those who circulate “inaccurate” information about the pandemic — in a country where only a minority of workers are employed, the vast majority eking out a living in the “informal” economy of street markets and self-employment.

Typical of its approach, the interim regime headed by President Jeanine Añez was quick to expel more than 700 Cuban healthcare workers who, under the previous government, had provided needed services in remote areas and helped to train new medical staff.

Aggravating the misery is an unprecedented economic crisis. The coup regime paralyzed state development projects initiated by the previous government, privatized key state enterprises, and brought the IMF back with a $327 million loan. These policies, writes Bolivian journalist Oliver Vargas, have had “dramatic consequences for the ability of the country to weather the economic impact of Covid-19. 38% of the country has lost the entirety of their income, while 52% have lost a part of their income. The deliberate retreat of the state has meant that the 90% who are suffering during quarantine haven’t received any income support, the only gesture has been a one-off universal payment of US$70. In April, to last four months of lockdown.”

Remittances from relatives working abroad — crucially important for many families — have fallen by more than 30% in the first six months of this year, as many of the 3 million Bolivians living abroad in economic exile have lost their jobs.

“Bolivians are again experiencing shortages,” tweets deposed president Evo Morales from his Buenos Aires exile. “Long lines to buy food, drugs and gas amidst uncertainty and pandemic. The people have to struggle not only against the #Coronavirus but to survive as best they can, totally abandoned.”

“In the face of this desperate situation,” says Vargas, “voters were looking forward to ending the eight month coup experiment at the ballot box in September. Polls show that the MAS [the party led by Morales] is on course for a first-round victory, with Añez trailing behind in a distant third. It might have been a peaceful end to a violent period. However, determined to cling on to power whatever the cost, the regime is using Covid-19 as an excuse to postpone those elections. Claiming that elections would spread the virus, even as public transport and most of the economy re-opens, they have pushed for further delays.”

When the new elections tribunal, the TSE, arbitrarily postponed the election to October 18, overruling the legislated date of September 6, mass protests broke out throughout the country, initiated by the Bolivian Workers Central (COB) and the Pacto de Unidad, the coalition of organizations allied with the deposed government party, the Movement Toward Socialism (MAS). Starting August 3 more than 100 roadblocks were set up, only vehicles delivering medical supplies being allowed through. Thousands of Bolivians have taken to the streets demanding the national elections be held September 6.

Road blockade opens way for trucks carrying medical oxygen toward the Altiplano. Photo by La Razón

COB leader Juan Carlos Huarachi stated: “We need a democratically-elected government so as to discuss new policies, not just for social issues, but also for economic issues… in eight months we’ve seen the collapse of our country. Sadly, this is the reality, with recipes from the IMF, by blackmailing the people, by blackmailing the legislature.”

The Añez regime has responded by charging MAS leaders with “terrorism, genocide, sedition” and “offenses against public health.” And it has supported demands that the TSE disqualify the MAS candidates from the election. The TSE has referred the matter to the Supreme Court.

The following article by Cochabamba-based journalist Fernando Molina, published before the most recent events, describes the political climate, the MAS reactions to its overthrow in November, and the difficult perspectives it faces, whether it wins or loses the elections. I have translated it from the July-August 2020 issue of the magazine Nueva Sociedad, edited by Pablo Stefanoni in Buenos Aires. I have supplemented Molina’s notes with a few of my own, for clarification, signed R.F.

– Richard Fidler

* * *

What Outcome for Bolivia’s Crisis?

Elections and political reconfiguration

By Fernando Molina

Bolivia is heading toward presidential and legislative elections amidst a new political scenario. After the fall of Evo Morales and the blow suffered by his political force, the Movimiento al Socialismo (MAS) has regained ground and could win again. Will it succeed? If so, can it return to power? Whatever the case, a polarized battle looms between the MAS and its adversaries.

Bolivia’s elections, scheduled at this point for next September 6, will express a huge political and social polarization. It is not unique in this: so does the U.S. election in November. But while this is characteristic of the bipartisan U.S. electoral system, it is unusual in Bolivia. Several parties will be participating but the electorate will be divided according to a single alternative: for or against the Movement Toward Socialism (MAS).

We still don’t know which party will manage to represent the anti-MAS voters. Various Center and Right-wing parties are competing, encouraged by Bolivia’s electoral laws which allow for a second round of voting where no party wins a sufficient plurality. This opens space for the parties to make individual calculations — a practice that many MAS opponents consider outrageous, since it jeopardizes what was achieved with the overthrow of President Evo Morales last November, that is, the abrupt departure from office of the socio-political bloc that had managed the country since the early 21st century.

This is now the main concern of Bolivia’s economic, intellectual and media elites: to prevent dangerous games between the old opponents of Morales (who resist yielding to each other and are unable to form a united front against “public enemy number one,” as a La Paz daily calls the former president[1]) evoking the most terrifying specter for the upper classes: the “return of the MAS.”

These parties respond to their critics with claims that each is not only the very opposite of the MAS but has the unique ability to guarantee a definitive and sustainable victory over it.[2] At the same time, each of them seeks to show that their rivals are not trustworthy because their actions bring water to the mill of the MAS. The common accusation is that they are “functional to the MAS.” This was the tone adopted, for example, by the de facto government, which is running interim President Jeanine Añez as the presidential candidate of the Juntos group, toward opposition candidates Carlos Mesa and Luis Fernando Comacho when they criticized her handling of the health crisis caused by the Covid-19 pandemic.[3]

Conversely the other opposition parties have accused the interim government of promoting the return of the MAS through its mismanagement of the crisis.[4] The media are playing the same game, as indicated by this headline in El Deber, the main daily in Santa Cruz, when reporting on the former president and current candidate Carlos Mesa: “Mesa shares a forum with the President of Argentina Alberto Fernández, who gave refuge to Evo.”[5]

Hatred of the MAS

Abhorring the MAS is the dominant passion of the country’s traditional elites. The roots are found in a mix of memories of grievances suffered (the loss of spaces of power due to the dissolution of the technocracy of the 1990s and the devaluation of their “genealogical capital” for 14 years), ideological differences (liberal-republicanism versus national-caudillismo), and racism against the Indigenous and mestizo plebeians or “cholos.”

Hatred of the MAS began even before the coming to power of the “first Indigenous president” and the installation in the government of social movements that brought together Indigenous peoples, peasants and workers. This could already be felt in 2002, when the MAS because a serious alternative for office. Between 2006 and 2008, during the first two years of Morales’s government, it came close to unleashing a civil war between the north-western and south-eastern regions of the country. If this did not happen, it was due to the weight of the president’s popularity, although he did not manage to consolidate himself in government without first blunting the more radical edges of his program of state reforms and reducing to the minimum his program of redistribution of agrarian property.

Despite this, the abhorrence of the leftist party and its leader did not disappear. Even during the boom period, 2009-2015, while the country was experiencing the best economic moment of its history, the majority of Bolivians had more income and social welfare increased, the animosity smoldered like a votive candle on the secret altars of the business organizations, social clubs, lodges, fraternities of the Santa Cruz carnival, the card games of wealthy women, and ultimately in the multiple settings of private life in which the traditional white elites had not lost their primacy. Even if some bourgeois leaders “went over” to the MAS government or pretended they were fraternizing with it, or if most of the intellectuals and journalists were careful not to “overly criticize” the powerful regime, the class and racial enmity was always there, awaiting a better time in which to express itself.

The same thing occurred with racial prejudice. Although public expressions of this prejudice were tempered by fear that the government would implement the legal and moral sanctions it deserved, the country continued to be weighed down by the vestiges of the estates of the colonial order. The MAS even had to make realpolitik concessions to racism, such as appointing figures that were more picturesque than persuasive in the newly created Vice-Ministry of Decolonization, which was intended to direct egalitarian policies, or allowing the Armed Forces to maintain a rule that discriminated against sergeants and corporals, most of whom are of Indigenous origin.[6]

Those longing for the old powers and the old relations between the classes were gradually strengthened as the MAS government was weakened by the natural wear and tear of its prolonged stay in power, the errors it was making and the limitations it revealed. Being “anti-MAS” became a sign of social and racial status, and therefore began to be internalized by the lower middle classes as an “aspirational” element, that is, as a mechanism for social advancement.

What were the mistakes made and the limitations that the MAS government revealed? Its “electoralism,” which ended up reducing the social process to a succession of triumphs at the ballot box and the retention of power at all costs, even with authoritarian methods; its “peasantism,” which must be understood as a relative indifference to the demands of the urban sectors; its cooptation of unconditional “Evistas” as a part of the leadership; its corruption and bureaucratization; its ideological unclarity between extreme pragmatism and “national-Stalinism,”[7] and above all its caudillismo.

With his political, economic and governmental success, Morales became the most important caudillo in a country that had been full of them; a country in which, as its most creative sociologist, René Zavaleta, put it, “the caudillo is the way that the masses organize.”[8] The centrality of the president and the state cult of his personality attained levels as high as those achieved by other great national leaders such as Victor Paz Estenssoro or José María Linares. If at first the official flattery of Morales corresponded in part to reality, it later became a mirage and a mechanism for ratification and manipulation of the Bolivian president’s narcissism. To such an extent that he believed he was even strong enough to turn his back to the source of his power, the electoral majorities, if they were to oppose him.

That was what happened with regard to the constitutional referendum of February 21, 2016, which ruled out his re-election,[9] and perhaps also with regard to the result of the elections of October 20, 2019, which, as most Bolivians perceived it,[10] he had arranged to alter in order to avoid a second round (a notion, however, that Morales and the MAS deny and that is now a subject of dispute in the election campaign and the courts).[11]

In any event, to assume that the undeniable strength of his figure was superior to Bolivians’ attachment to the vote — which in this country is key because it serves to resolve the everlasting disputes over the rents derived from natural resources — was a very serious misstep. It ended up confusing and fragmenting the social bloc that had backed the MAS government, and which was already weakened by its long incorporation within the ruling party with all the advantages and temptations that this situation implied.[12]

In the end, in the final hours of his government the MAS, which had arisen from social struggles, was unable to mobilize its adherents. It had been transformed into an electoral machine that could still get out the vote but which no longer aroused any progressive fervor. Only the ultraloyal cocaleros of the Chapare, the residents of the most Indigenous neighborhoods of the Aymara metropolis of El Alto, and certain groups of state functionaries were willing to fight effectively to prevent Morales from falling.

After his overthrow, the burning of buses, factories and homes of opponents of Morales in La Paz, as well as the “siege of the cities” ordered by the ex-president from exile, aroused the age-old terror of the Bolivian whites of the “Indian thug” and raised the hatred of the MAS to the level of collective hysteria. It was then that there arose the ferociously anti-socialist narrative that still prevails today.

Pablo Stefanoni has singled out “three key words in it: ‘hordes’ (the MAS members are reduced to mere criminal shock troops); ‘waste’ (the widely praised macroeconomic management [of Morales] was simply virtual reality; and ‘tyranny’ (the last 14 years are said to have been pure state despotism).”[13] This narrative has served in part as the motive and in part as the cover for the repression of the MAS carried out by the interim government. Groups that mobilized in support of ex-president Morales were dismantled by the combined forces of the Police and the Army, costing the lives of more than 30 people. Almost 1,000 leaders were temporarily detained. Several dozen former officials, among them Morales and his vice-president Álvaro García Linera, had to leave the country for Mexico and Argentina. Hundreds have been investigated for corruption. Two ex-ministers were arrested and remain in jail. Seven MAS leaders took refuge in the Mexican embassy in La Paz, where they are stranded due to being denied safe conduct to leave the country.

At the same time, the public sphere has been taken over almost completely by the spokespersons — genuine and upstarts — of the “revolution of the pititas,” as the press called the protests that preceded the overthrow of Morales.[14] Even intellectuals who had been linked with and thrived from the previous government have begun to practice target shooting against Morales, making him the “punching bag” of anyone who knows how to string together a few phrases to produce an opinion piece. The most important left-wing academics have been careful not to go against this climate of opinion, and have sought to exonerate themselves.[15] From the outset, the Añez interim government has enjoyed hegemony over the mass media,[16] and only recently has this begun to lessen due to the rapid erosion in the government’s management although it is still unanimous if invoked against the MAS.

In this context, one would have thought that the MAS’s days were numbered, that its future would be that of a secondary political group, and exclusively rural. However, early in the new year, notwithstanding the adverse conditions we have described, the MAS appeared to be heading the first surveys of voting intentions, even before it had named any candidates. The acronym attracted “hard-core” support — ideological and sociological — of massive scope. In January 21% of the electorate was prepared to vote for it regardless of who its candidates were or what they were offering.[17] In March, with its candidates now chosen, 33% of the population supported it.[18]

The workers, the plebeian sectors of the population, the Indigenous peoples and the cholos who had not been upwardly mobile to another social class continued to see the MAS — although it had made no consistent self-criticism of its errors — as the only force capable of representing them and defending the statism, nationalism and racial egalitarianism that the return to power of the traditional elites seemed to have put at risk. But in addition, that force is associated with a period of unusual prosperity and political stability. That is why, among other reasons, the initiative of the most radical “pititas” to use the charge of fraud hanging over the MAS to veto its participation in the election went nowhere. This outcome was counter-intuitive. Despite everything that had occurred, the MAS continued to be at the centre of politics, and the other forces had to position themselves in relation to it. Not even the defeat of historic scope that the party had suffered last November had displaced it from this focal location. It was a surprising example of political resilience that no doubt expressed, as we have said, simultaneous processes of class and racial identification.

The MAS response since its fall

“Evismo,” or the admiration and loyalty — not always healthy — manifested for Evo Morales, on the one hand, and on the other the possibility of obtaining an electoral victory in the coming elections are the two forces that have preserved the unity of the MAS after the terrible earthquake that its violent departure from government meant for this party. For those who suppose that its fall was due solely to the action of an external force (the “empire’s conspiracy to appropriate Bolivian lithium,” or the “police and military coup”), the unity of the Masistas may seem an obvious premise. But this is not the case because, as we have seen, the overthrow of the Morales government was the result of both external and internal causes. Furthermore, the MAS has never been an ideological party; it is “sindicalista,” and part of its appeal has been its ability to enable the social ascent of the most awakened and ambitious elements of the unions and the plebeian middle classes. So the expectation of an early return to power has influenced its unitary behaviour.

Morales has also played a fundamental role in this, by becoming the only reference for groups that without him would probably seek to compete with each other to express that 33% or more of the electorate that today leans to the left. This has always been the role of Morales. If the MAS managed to fulfil one of the most cherished hopes of the 20th century progressives, the “unity of the left,” it did this not on the foundations predicted (ideological hegemony, defensive front, etc.) but in the Bolivian style, around a guardian figure.[19] Morales articulates the three main wings of his party, all of which are “Evistas.” This ensures that “they stay in the Political Instrument,” while at the same time avoiding the emergence of dangerous competitors for his charismatic leadership.

The three major factions of the MAS, each of which includes many minor groups, are as follows:

(a) The one formed by the workers and peasants organizations of the so-called “Unity Pact.” This is led, on the one hand, by David Choquehuanca, an Indigenous leader in the Altiplano who served as foreign minister between 2006 and 2018 and is now the MAS vice-presidential candidate, and on the other by the young Andrónico Rodríguez, the effective leader of the cocalero union federations that Morales continues to head.

(b) The one formed by the numerous groups of militants that come from the traditional left; radical and “national-Stalinist” leaders predominate in this wing, although it also contains the more moderate candidate for President, the former Minister of Economy and socialist activist Luis Arce.

(c) The one formed by the neo-Marxist, post-modern, left-wing humanists and progressive democrats who joined the MAS just before and after it came to power and who, given their educational capital, played an important role in government management. A minority part of these middle-class elements have links with Choquehuanca, while another, larger part was related with García Linera (whose future role is uncertain).[20]

The Indigenous and sindicalista wing read Morales’s departure from power in a purely racial key. In part, this sentiment was turned against the middle-class members of the MAS, whom they considered opportunists who had taken advantage of the “government of the Indians” to build their fame and fortune. This was the context for the resurgence in popularity of Choquehuanca, who had been “in the freezer” for a couple of years after Morales kicked him out of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs when he was considered a possible successor in the Presidency just at the time when the Chief of State was seeking the unconditional support of his party for his third re-election. Choquehuanca had actually played an important role, as the coordinator of several rural-based NGOs, in promoting the rapid rise of the young “brother Evo” from peasant syndicalism to national politics.

When the MAS was founded, Choquehuanca was its main operator in the Aymara area of the country (the altiplano that includes La Paz and Oruro), while Morales, despite his Aymara origin, dominated the valleys of Cochabamba where the population was primarily of Quechua origin. Choquehuanca is a cultural Indianista and therefore a moderate but he tends to gather political strength from the opposition between the Indigenous and the middle class of the MAS. Within the cabinet, he found himself in muted conflict with García Linera. In accordance with his racially-shaded view of the balance of forces within his party, he accused the then vice-president of being guilty of all the government’s failings, including his own departure from power, while absolving Morales, at least in public.

After losing control of Foreign Affairs, Choquehuanca’s supporters were removed from the government and Choquehuanca himself was sent into “golden exile” in Venezuela as executive secretary of the Bolivarian Alliance for the Peoples of Our America (ALBA). After Morales’s ouster, the Unity Pact nominated him and Andrónico Rodríguez as candidates for President and Vice-President, respectively. The party approved this nomination along with the list of candidates determined by the Unity Pact — an illustration of which of its wings was the strongest. However, Morales objected to this formula and imposed instead a middle-class figure who was close to him, Luís Arce, shifting Choquehuanca to second position. Unlike Choquehuanca, Arce has no social base of his own, and if elected would be dependent on Morales. Characteristically, the former foreign affairs minister accepted Morales’s decision in public, but was reluctant about it in private and attributed it to an intrigue by García Linera. His compliance, hypocritical or not, prevented a clash between the Unity Pact and the exile in Buenos Aires, which would have been very dangerous for the MAS.

However, the tensions between “workers,” “professionals,” rural “founders” and urban “guests,” “nationalists,” and “communists” continue to exist and will surely be expressed more openly in the future, whether the MAS wins or loses the elections. […]

Another political figure who has emerged from the social organizations is the President of the Legislative Assembly, Senator Eva Copa, who has upheld the Indigenista claims and has led the MAS parliamentarians with a certain independence of both Arce and Morales. She can not easily be classified among the Choquehuanca supporters. Shortly after the November overthrow of Morales, Copa reached certain agreements with the Añez government that she did not coordinate with her comrades in Bolivia or, in some cases, with those in Buenos Aires. And she has criticized publicly middle-class leaders like Senator Adriana Salvatierra despite the fact that she was in a difficult personal situation.[21]

None of this has been disavowed by Morales. He, like so many other caudillos, maintains relations with all groups and individuals that he can use to achieve his plans. Evo’s attitude — and, on the other hand, the interim government’s lack of interest in or commitment to achieving this — has prevented the defection of the MAS caucus in the legislature. After the most crucial moment of the repression, when this defection seemed imminent, had passed, the parliamentarians regained the initiative and launched what some observers have viewed as a counter-attack by the national-popular bloc.[22]

The extreme tolerance and even the ideological neglect of the MAS are due to the fact that this party is profoundly electoralist. At the same time, these characteristics determine that it remains as such: amorphous, and thinking that the solution to all its problems — or, better yet, that its only problem — lies in winning the coming elections. Obviously, this has forestalled any systematic debate on the causes of its political defeat, learning from its mistakes, or improving…. If Morales, very reluctantly, came to accept that he had been wrong in trying to re-elect himself for a third time,[23] he has now changed his mind in view of the slight improvement of his situation in Bolivia owing to the problems of administration confronting Añez, among them those related to the health crisis. He has just said, once again, that he was not mistaken in running once again.[24]

Can the MAS return to power? Is this advisable in the medium term?

Can the MAS return to power in September? Technically, yes. It needs to win more than 40% of the votes — not impossible, given that it now polls between 33% and 35% — and hope that Mesa and Añez, running separately, do not rise far above the 20% support they now have. The major obstacle to this lies in the possibility that the anti-MAS electorate, on the eve of the elections, turns massively in favour of either of those candidates. This is what happened in October 2019, and the polling does not discount it. Should the MAS be forced into a run-off second round with either Mesa or Añez, the intense polarization would probably result in a slim victory for the anti-MAS candidate.

Should the MAS win, could it take office? In Bolivia’s history there is a period with similarities to the current one. In the late 1940s, the Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario (MNR), which had co-governed with nationalist military officers between 1943 and 1946, likewise faced the hatred of the elites. In the 1951 elections Mamerto Urriolagoitia, the outgoing president, did not accept the victory of Paz Estenssoro, and instead handed over power to a military junta. This maneuver went down in history as the “mamertazo.”

Is there room for a new “mamertazo” in Bolivian history? Today, of course, the international situation is quite different. However, very powerful forces could resist with all the resources at their disposal the return of “Bolivia’s cancer” — as a columnist has called the MAS.[25] Among them, a section of the Army.[26]

Urriolagoitia argued that the MNR victory could not be recognized because the “communists” could not be allowed to take power. Today some might argue that it should not be given to “narcoterrorists,” or that the rise of a party that tried to cheat the country with a fraudulent election should be prevented, perhaps by banning it before the elections are held. Morales has warned of this possibility, referring to it as their “Plan B.”[27]

The more democratic section of the Bolivian elites, however, would see a re-edition of a “mamertazo” as the repetition of an error. Bear in mind that a few months after Urriolagoitia’s action, the National Revolution exploded and Paz Estenssoro returned from his Argentine exile to take office as President. An even more interesting (if naïve) question is whether an immediate return to power is advisable for the MAS. It is conceivable that in such case it would not have time or space to overhaul itself, recover from its wounds, establish a healthier relationship with its “President Evo,” in short, it could not avoid making the same errors and suffering the same damages as before. On the other hand, it is also true that as a party now hemmed in by the state security services, staying out of government could end up decimating and dividing it. There is no doubt that such a thing as the “advantage of losing” is not in the mind of Morales, Arce and the other MAS leaders, and much less in the minds of the Masistas involved in trials, imprisoned or exiled.

What would Arce and Choquehuanca do if they came to govern? What would they have to face in 2020-2025? Some forecasts: they would face resistance, at least initially, from the state security agencies; the relentless campaign against them by the economic, social, university and media elites; the constant mobilization of certain sectors of the middle class that would not want to retire to their winter quarters after having tasted again the fruits of power; a divided parliament; a MAS agitated and eroded by the battle between “revanchists” and “conciliators”; and above all the blows of the pandemic and one of the worst economic crises in the country’s history.

In this context, there is no doubt that Arce would be lucky if he could stop the restoration process that his enemies have begun, and administer the state from the perspective of those below. Assigning him any other objective would be unrealistic. And if he failed in this, it would probably compromise even further the possibilities of mounting a far-reaching leftist project in the future. In any case, as the annals and epics testify, the generals have never heeded the fortune tellers when they have already decided to go into battle.


[1] Robert Brockmann, “El enemigo público No 1,” Brújala Digital, June 18, 2020.

[2] “[Carlos] Mesa: mi responsabilidad es ganarle al MAS en elecciones para evitar que siga gobernando el país,” ANF, June 24, 2020.

[3] “Samuel [Medina Dorado, Junto’s vice-presidential candidate] accusa a ‘Camacho, Mesa y el MAS’ de conformar un bloque contra el Gobierno,” Correa del Sur, May 26, 2020.

[4] Erika Segales: “Camacho, Mesa y Tuto pasan a la ‘ofensiva’ contra Añez,” Página Siete, May 26, 2020.

[5] Marcelo Tedesqui, “Mesa comparte foro con el presidente de Argentina, Alberto Fernández, qui dio refugio a Evo,” El Deber, June 20, 2020.

[6] For example, they were not allowed to eat in the same canteens as the officers. See Fernando Molina, “Patria o muerte. Venceremos. El orden castrense de Evo Morales,” Nueva Sociedad No. 278, November-December 2018.

[7] That is, a stereotypical anti-imperialism, inclined to fantastic conspiracy theories, with little attachment to democracy and a tendency to organize internal purges.

[8] Zavaleta, “La Revolución Boliviana y la cuestion del poder [1964],” Obras completas Tomo I, (Plural, La Paz), p. 112. [See also Moira Zuazo, “The MAS government in Bolivia: Are the social movements in power?”]

[9] After its narrow loss in the effort to overrule the constitutional re-election limitations, the MAS chose not to select other candidates for president and vice-president but instead to devote its energies to finding ways to circumvent the popular verdict. In the end it got the Supreme Court to adopt a dubious international legal precedent ruling out re-election limits for all elected positions in the country. – R.F.

[10] Katiuska Vásquez, “El 70% cree que Evo se fue por revuelta y 62% que hay fraude,” Los Tiempos, December 23, 2019.

[11] Claims of fraud have been refuted by several studies. See, for example, “New York Times and New Report Confirm CEPR Analysis Refuting OAS Claims of Flawed Bolivian Election Results,” CEPR, June 7, 2020. – R.F.

[12] Pablo Stefanoni, “Las lecciones que nos deja Bolivia,” Sin Permiso, March 14, 2020.

[13] Pablo Stefanoni, “Bolivia: anatomía de un derrocamiento,” El País, January 21, 2020.

[14] An allusion to the strings and thin ropes used to block streets, obviating the need to mobilize many demonstrators — a custom of the Bolivian middle classes ridiculed by Morales in one of his last speeches as President.

[15] For example, see Luis Tapia, “Crisis política en Bolivia: la coyuntura de disolución de la domination masista. Fraude y resistencia democrática,” CIDES-UMSA, November 19, 2019.

[16] Fernando Molina, “Hegemonía instantánea: la prensa en la crisis boliviana,” Contrahegemonía, on-line, December 3, 2019.

[17] Paula Lazarte, “Ciesmori perfila al candidato del MAS como ganador en encuesta,” Página Siete, January 2, 2020.

[18]Arce aumenta ventaja y Mesa afianza el segundo lugar, según encuesta de Ciesmori,” Página Siete, March 15, 2020.

[19] Fernando Mayorga, Mandato y contingencia. Estilo de gobierno de Evo Morales, Fundación Friedrich Ebert (La Paz, 2019).

[20] The exiled García Linera has accepted an academic position in Argentina. – R.F.

[21] Salvatierra, Senate president at the time of the coup, was next in line for President following the resignations of Morales and García Linera. She promptly resigned too, alleging later that she was instructed to do so by her party leader Evo Morales. – R.F.

[22] Fernando Mayorga, “‘Elecciones ya’: ¿el MAS recupera la iniciativa?,” Nueva Sociedad, June 2020.

[23] Deutsche Welle, Evo Morales: “Fue un error volver a presentarme,” January 17, 2020.

[24] Boris Miranda, “Evo Morales en entrevista con BBC Mundo: ‘Nosotros vamos a recuperar el gobierno,’” June 24, 2020.

[25] Francesco Zaratti, “El cáncer de Bolivia,” Página Siete, November 16, 2019.

[26] Isabel Mercado, “El plan del MAS es «sacar esta ley, maniatarnos y crear milicias»,” Interview with Añez’s Minister of Defense Fernando López, Página Siete, June 29, 2020.

[27] Natalio Cosoy, “Evo Morales cree que puede haber un ‘golpe’ si el MAS gana las elecciones en Bolivia,” France 24, March 17, 2020.

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.

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).