Two Sundays ago, Bolivians flocked to the polls to give a simple SÍ or NO that would profoundly affect their country’s political future. The question: should the country’s constitution be amended to extend the presidential term limit from two five-year terms to three five-year terms?
This referendum demanded that the people ask questions along two different lines of reasoning:
1) The theoretical- how does an increased term limit change the outlook for Bolivian democracy?
2) The practical- how do we like President Evo Morales? What would the country look like without him? Who might become president in 2020?
If such a referendum occurred in the U.S., you’d imagine point 1 carrying much more weight than point 2. Most of us would be concerned about a threat to democracy, and anyone who liked the president enough to support the change would likely have to campaign on some bogus theoretical argument to mask his purely partisan decision. In Bolivia it’s really not like that. Apart from the intellectual elite, most people vote on “the practical,” and both campaigns revolved entirely around Evo and his policy.
Now might be a good time to tell you all I know about Evo. He is of Aymara indigenous background and worked as a cocalero (coca grower) in the semi-tropical Chapare region east of Cochabamba. He was elected president in 2005 and took office in 2006, succeeding Carlos Mesa, vice president to Gonzalo Sanchez de Lozada (a.k.a. Goni). Goni was a Bolivian-born, U.S.-raised rightist who got fled to Washington in 2003 after a series of neoliberal policies culminated in an uprising over an unpopular gas deal with Chile. Don’t feel bad for him, though; he raided the treasury and stole millions of dollars before fleeing to the U.S., where he has been granted asylum and remains to this day.
So coming off the wave of social uprising against a neoliberal gringo, it wasn’t at all weird for a socialist indigenous man to become the next president. People say that Evo was just a face put on a much larger movement, and people voted as “revolutionaries” without particularly caring about his specific ideas. And just like that, Evo was elected the first indigenous president in Bolivian history with over 70% of the vote.
One of the first things Evo did was change the constitution in perhaps more of a symbolic than practical act, renaming Bolivia a “plurinational state” and recognizing each of of its 37 distinct indigenous nations. I’m not sure how exactly that has affected indigenous rights, but I expect it has helped in many ways. Also, an important side note is that the two-term limit was written up such that a term would not count if the election occurred under the old constitution. In this way Evo sort of snuck himself an extra term; clearly he was thinking about this stuff from day one.
So far I have painted Evo in a pretty bad light, especially from a U.S. value system and concept of democracy. However, it is important to note that over these ten years (and especially at the beginning) Evo has been extremely popular and arguably the best president in Bolivia’s history. He invested heavily in infrastructure and successfully nationalized the oil and telecommunications industries (basically by levying very high taxes on existing private companies and daring them to leave, which they didn’t). He works 18-hour days and is a charismatic speaker, especially to indigenous folks who finally see a leader who represents them.
But does he really represent them? That has become a hot question in recent years. The problem with a plurinational state like Bolivia is that even an indigenous leader like Evo cannot possibly feel connected to every ethnic group. For instance, Evo is supporting a trans-South American road project that will connect the Pacific to the Atlantic but will cut straight through a national park in northern Bolivia and disrupt the lifestyles of lowland indigenous groups. One demographic that would benefit from the road is the cocaleros who lack efficient transportation of their harvest. In addition, government funds set up to help indigenous communities across the country were lost to corrupt officials within Evo’s party. If nothing else, Evo’s presidency has matured the public’s understanding of politics. It’s not just “bad guy,” corrupt, neocolonial, light-skinned leaders screwing over the Bolivian pueblo; indigenous leaders also have their personal agendas, alliances, and a fair share of corruption. A common critique of Evo is that he has gradually transitioned away from representing the social ideals of the movement that got him elected and now just surrounds himself with party members who love him and support whatever he says or does.
So how did the campaign play out? A month before the election, when official campaigning was allowed to start, the city streets filled with green t-shirts and banners of “¡Claro que sí! and their red counterparts proclaiming “¡Bolivia dice no!” News coverage heated up, and the dialogue was centered entirely around Evo, not some higher tenets of democracy. “Sí” supporters touted Evo’s many infrastructure successes and planted a narrative of progress that must be continued, while “no” supporters denounced government corruption, like that of the indigenous funds. A week or two before the election, a news story came out that Evo had a secret relationship with Gabriela Zapata, an executive of an engineering company contracted by the Bolivian government; the “no” ran hard with that, but it likely didn’t change anything. Evo is not married and is well-known to have several kids out of wedlock, and few people believe that personal matters should enter into politics. Think 1960s U.S. (Kennedy), not present-day U.S. (Clinton, Edwards, etc.).
On Election Day everything in Bolivia shuts down. No transportation, no business, just every single citizen walking to his or her local school to vote. Voting is obligatory here; at the polls they give you a paper without which the bank will not let you make transactions. Also, all campaigning must be suspended two days before the election, a law that was quite weirdly and inconsistently enforced. For instance, Dennis was slowed up for wearing a red shirt (the color of “no”) to the polls, while banners supporting both sides decorated the plaza. Here’s one that Matt’s dedicated homestay father put up that morning.
As far as voting demographics, it’s what you would expect. The “no” did well among whites, the rich, and urban communities, while the “sí” did well in the campo (countryside or rural areas). Everyone in my homestay family voted “no,” citing corruption and asking “What has Evo ever done for me?” In Tiquipaya, which is fairly urban but has strong indigenous roots, it feels like the “no” probably won by a decent margin.
So now the moment you’ve been waiting for… what was the result? Maybe already you googled it. Sunday night they reported unofficial results of a 51-49 victory for the “no,” complied by a private company that supposedly sends a representative to every single precinct in the country. The “no” supporters celebrated in the streets while Evo’s party members denied that it had been decided. The votes came in slowly over the next two days, and on Tuesday we got confirmation: 51.3% of Bolivia dijo no!
Fallout: first of all, the main news station (UNITEL) didn’t do 24/7 election coverage on Monday and Tuesday, which I found incredible. To be fair, UNITEL is a pretty silly and bad news station. But it is cool that they didn’t spend hours talking about a subject with nothing really constructive to say, like they do in the U.S. when it’s a waiting game. MAS (Evo’s party) leaders took a while to accept the results, but they have all come around. Evo has said publicly that he accepts the results of the referendum but stops short of conceding that he will not be the president in 2020. This suggests that he may call another referendum later or proceed with the amendment through “constitutional assembly,” although I don’t know exactly what that would entail.
Other interesting developments since Election Day include a picture circulating on Facebook that suggests the miscounting of votes in favor of the “sí,” the arrest of a key “no” leader accused of sedition, and the blockbuster news that Evo has a 9-year-old son with Gabriela Zapata who he apparently thought was dead until now! What the heck?! I was for a long time pretty ambivalent about the referendum results, but I’ve come to the decision that the “no” is probably better or at least safer for the country. It will be very interesting to see what sort of new candidates emerge in 2019 (yes, remember Evo has plenty of time left). Will a socialist win again, or will the presidency move back to the right? (My best guess is the former.)
And of course, this all assumes that Evo doesn’t find a way to get the constitution changed before his time runs out. No matter what happens, it’s pretty cool that I am in Bolivia in such a profoundly pivotal time in its political history.
Well, that was long and detailed and dense and maybe boring- but I hope you enjoyed it and learned something. One last note- we’re two-thirds of the way done the course now. That’s nuts.
Abrazos,
Jacob
Jacob in Bolivia 