Trouble in the Andes
Perched high amongst the Andean peaks, nestled between the mountains of Illimani and Huayna Potosi, La Paz is one of the most arrestingly beautiful capital cities in the world. Yet right now it serves as the focus of a country in the grip of an extraordinary struggle that encapsulates its gargantuan differences in wealth, class and political ideology.
During the last eighteen months, Bolivia has been wracked by immense political upheaval. The October 2003 ousting of former President Gonzalo Sanchez de Lozada, known as ‘Goni’, and his replacement by Carlos Mesa, promised to usher in a period of relative calm. However, after a year and a half of often severe civic disruption - and what Mesa describes as a total of 824 public demonstrations - the reality is that this landlocked country, South America’s most impoverished, remains balanced on a knife-edge.
Things boiled to a dramatic head on March 7th when President Mesa submitted his resignation to Congress, claiming that he could no longer function under such competing interests. Those who saw this as a political stunt aimed at consolidating his support were justified as the resignation was swiftly rejected. However, Mesa’s subsequent calls for unity – directed in particular to Evo Morales, opposition leader of the indigenous coca-growers party MAS (Movement Towards Socialism) – have fallen on deaf ears. Road blocks have continued, the city of Cochabamba is virtually cut off from the rest of the country, and in the more affluent department of Santa Cruz a referendum is planned on the question of autonomy. Far from bringing the country together, Carlos Mesa’s presidency seems only to have pushed things further apart.
The particular demands of the various groups in the country have matured considerably in a fairly short space of time. When I was last in the country, President Sanchez de Lozada had only recently been re-elected, having served from 1993 to 1997. His bete noir in the election, Evo Morales, had come very close to winning, and the two represented the schizophrenic nature of contemporary Bolivian society – on the one hand the Spanish-descended, US-educated former finance minister, on the other, the indigenous and inveterate anti-colonialist farmer’s union representative. Some 80% of Bolivia’s population claim indigenous heritage, and the languages of Quechua and Aymara dominate many areas. The schism between the indigenous peoples and those of Spanish descent stretches back to the early days of colonialism, when the silver mines of Potosi were emptied, filling the coffers of the King in Madrid. Since then, many Bolivians in the altiplano have – with some justification – seen the history of their nation as one unbroken line of usurpation and exploitation by foreign agents.
During my time there I witnessed first-hand the beginnings of the civil unrest that has now become commonplace. At that time, in early 2003, the central dispute was sparked by President Sanchez de Lozada’s desire to allow foreign companies to exploit Bolivia’s vast reserves of natural gas.
The president fatally misread the mood of the nation. Bolivians have a huge amount of animosity towards neighbouring Chile, going back to the War of the Pacific in the 19th century, during which Bolivia lost its entire coastline. Thus, the plan to allow the export of gas by a Californian company, via a Chilean port, provoked massive unrest. Strikes and road blocks, organised with a deft efficacy by MAS, swept across the country, and Sanchez de Lozada called the army in. Eighty dead protestors later, the president was forced to flee to the United States. People power had struck a decisive blow, and also set a chilling precedent.
Since then, the demands of groups such as Morales’ MAS have grown exponentially. The current crisis stems from a row over higher taxes on foreign energy companies seeking to exploit the aforementioned gas reserves. Morales’ group seeks an increase in tax from the current level of 18% to 50%, which President Mesa claims will simply make foreign companies abandon the country altogether. Furthermore, Mesa has in recent weeks buckled under pressure to cancel the contract of a French water company in El Alto, echoing the successful ‘water wars’ of 2000 which forced the US company Bechtel to abandon plans to privatise the water in Cochabamba. It is clear that the traditionally maligned indigenous majority in Bolivia now wield considerable political power.
What will happen next in this troubled country remains to be seen. On March 16th, Morales called off the nationwide roadblocks following Congress’ decision to raise tax on foreign companies to 32%. However, given the effectiveness so far of civil action, it is by no means certain that Morales will be content with this small victory. Despite the country’s ongoing paralysis, President Mesa’s approval ratings remain above 50%, indicating that a large section of the population still trust his working methods. Mesa must also be congratulated for thus far avoiding further bloodshed, refusing – despite pressure from certain sectors – to summon the police and army to confront protestors. The pro-Mesa sections of the country – not to mention Washington – would react negatively to a Morales presidency, yet having called an early election Mesa is constitutionally barred from running again. High on the Andean plains, this fractured country looks set to fall further into the trap of poverty and internecine rivalry. With a relentless and powerful opposition, a divided Congress and a lame-duck president overseeing matters, it is becoming hard to see how the historic problems of this fractured country can be resolved.
During the last eighteen months, Bolivia has been wracked by immense political upheaval. The October 2003 ousting of former President Gonzalo Sanchez de Lozada, known as ‘Goni’, and his replacement by Carlos Mesa, promised to usher in a period of relative calm. However, after a year and a half of often severe civic disruption - and what Mesa describes as a total of 824 public demonstrations - the reality is that this landlocked country, South America’s most impoverished, remains balanced on a knife-edge.
Things boiled to a dramatic head on March 7th when President Mesa submitted his resignation to Congress, claiming that he could no longer function under such competing interests. Those who saw this as a political stunt aimed at consolidating his support were justified as the resignation was swiftly rejected. However, Mesa’s subsequent calls for unity – directed in particular to Evo Morales, opposition leader of the indigenous coca-growers party MAS (Movement Towards Socialism) – have fallen on deaf ears. Road blocks have continued, the city of Cochabamba is virtually cut off from the rest of the country, and in the more affluent department of Santa Cruz a referendum is planned on the question of autonomy. Far from bringing the country together, Carlos Mesa’s presidency seems only to have pushed things further apart.
The particular demands of the various groups in the country have matured considerably in a fairly short space of time. When I was last in the country, President Sanchez de Lozada had only recently been re-elected, having served from 1993 to 1997. His bete noir in the election, Evo Morales, had come very close to winning, and the two represented the schizophrenic nature of contemporary Bolivian society – on the one hand the Spanish-descended, US-educated former finance minister, on the other, the indigenous and inveterate anti-colonialist farmer’s union representative. Some 80% of Bolivia’s population claim indigenous heritage, and the languages of Quechua and Aymara dominate many areas. The schism between the indigenous peoples and those of Spanish descent stretches back to the early days of colonialism, when the silver mines of Potosi were emptied, filling the coffers of the King in Madrid. Since then, many Bolivians in the altiplano have – with some justification – seen the history of their nation as one unbroken line of usurpation and exploitation by foreign agents.
During my time there I witnessed first-hand the beginnings of the civil unrest that has now become commonplace. At that time, in early 2003, the central dispute was sparked by President Sanchez de Lozada’s desire to allow foreign companies to exploit Bolivia’s vast reserves of natural gas.
The president fatally misread the mood of the nation. Bolivians have a huge amount of animosity towards neighbouring Chile, going back to the War of the Pacific in the 19th century, during which Bolivia lost its entire coastline. Thus, the plan to allow the export of gas by a Californian company, via a Chilean port, provoked massive unrest. Strikes and road blocks, organised with a deft efficacy by MAS, swept across the country, and Sanchez de Lozada called the army in. Eighty dead protestors later, the president was forced to flee to the United States. People power had struck a decisive blow, and also set a chilling precedent.
Since then, the demands of groups such as Morales’ MAS have grown exponentially. The current crisis stems from a row over higher taxes on foreign energy companies seeking to exploit the aforementioned gas reserves. Morales’ group seeks an increase in tax from the current level of 18% to 50%, which President Mesa claims will simply make foreign companies abandon the country altogether. Furthermore, Mesa has in recent weeks buckled under pressure to cancel the contract of a French water company in El Alto, echoing the successful ‘water wars’ of 2000 which forced the US company Bechtel to abandon plans to privatise the water in Cochabamba. It is clear that the traditionally maligned indigenous majority in Bolivia now wield considerable political power.
What will happen next in this troubled country remains to be seen. On March 16th, Morales called off the nationwide roadblocks following Congress’ decision to raise tax on foreign companies to 32%. However, given the effectiveness so far of civil action, it is by no means certain that Morales will be content with this small victory. Despite the country’s ongoing paralysis, President Mesa’s approval ratings remain above 50%, indicating that a large section of the population still trust his working methods. Mesa must also be congratulated for thus far avoiding further bloodshed, refusing – despite pressure from certain sectors – to summon the police and army to confront protestors. The pro-Mesa sections of the country – not to mention Washington – would react negatively to a Morales presidency, yet having called an early election Mesa is constitutionally barred from running again. High on the Andean plains, this fractured country looks set to fall further into the trap of poverty and internecine rivalry. With a relentless and powerful opposition, a divided Congress and a lame-duck president overseeing matters, it is becoming hard to see how the historic problems of this fractured country can be resolved.
posted by DN at 8:22 AM
1 Comments:
i suppose it's for the best that Morales acceded with a 32% tax, but how viable do you think it would be to have a tax of 50%? lame-ducks are pretty weak, but better than militant dictators... the viability of Morales' policies begs the perennial question of our times: can countries participate effectively enough in the global economy on their own terms or will they simply cut themselves off by removing their 'comparative advantages?'
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