Santa Cruz on Strike

Readers:

The past few days have been filled with charges by the Bolivian government against USAID and other U.S. agencies for meddling in Bolivian internal politics. This includes a demand by the Morales administration for public disclosure of how U.S. funds are spent here. We are working on a post on that issue, including information from documents just released to The Democracy Center from U.S. officials under a Freedom of Information Act Request. Meanwhile, here's a look at the general strike this week by opponents of the government.

Jim Shultz

Santa Cruz on Strike

On Tuesday of this week, thanks to the good graces of the Civic Committee of Santa Cruz, I had the opportunity to spend the day there and speak with locals during the one-day 'Paro Civico' [general strike]. Santa Cruz led a move by six departments to stage a one-day protest demanding a host of things, ranging from regional autonomy to moving the national capital.

Well, it wasn't actually an invitation explicitly to me. It so happened that my flight home from the U.S. landed in Santa Cruz on Tuesday morning and the 'paro' led to cancellation of all of Bolivia's domestic flights during the day. Hence my family and I spent the day in the city leading the rebellion.

While most all traffic in the city was blocked, the Committee did sell special permits to a few select taxi drivers, one of whom transported us from the airport into town where we could rest up for the day in a local hotel (flights resumed shortly after sunset). In addition to a much-needed nap after a night squeezed uncomfortably into seat 22D, our stopover also gave me time to walk about the city and speak with people.

"We want autonomy," the taxi driver from the airport told me. "We want the resources that come from Santa Cruz to stay here, to support development here. Right now our resources go to La Paz and are distributed all over the country. Here in Santa Cruz we work. In La Paz they survive just off politics. It isn't right."

I heard similar sentiments from others, including the small women running the lone snack kiosk open near our hotel. "We work hard. We want our resources to stay here," she told me. But then she complained about how to work stoppage had hurt business for her and the other people who eek out a living in the commercial center.

Battle of the Stereotypes

Those from elsewhere in the country like to characterize the Santa Cruz autonomy rebellion as the creation of a rich, white, Cruceño elite that drives around in late model SUVs. To be certain, a good deal of that rebellion is fueled by rich, white, elite Cruceños driving around in late model SUVs and one does not have to listen too hard to hear overt anti-indigenous racism expressed as part of the deal. Nevertheless, there are also plenty of people in Santa Cruz who don’t match that description who are also backers of "autonomy" – including people like the woman at the kiosk and the man behind the wheel of the cab – who don't match the stereotypes at all. While not all people in the region share the Civic Committee's view (and it is dangerous there to disagree too openly), it is clear that many, many people do.

I didn’t ask the cab driver in Santa Cruz if he thought that cab drivers in El Alto worked less hard. Nor did I ask the woman at the kiosk if she worked harder than her counterparts on the Prado in La Paz. The clear truth is that people such as these work extraordinarily hard in every part of Bolivia. In fact, if "working hard" were going to be the basis of dividing up national revenues, my guess is that cab drivers who work 6-and-a-half-day weeks and kiosk women who work 14 hour days, from all the regions, would stand a good chance of being first in line.

Who Doesn't Want the Biggest Piece of Pie?

Overshadowing issues such as relocation of locate the national capital and regional control of education – one Santa Cruz billboard declares, "Our children are ours!" – the real issue at hand is how to divide the wealth that comes from Bolivia's natural resources. Geology did not do Bolivia the favor of spreading these out equitably. In this particular turn of history those resources are gas and oil and geology put them in the country's eastern departments. Earlier and for a long time those resources were in the tin and silver mines underneath the western highlands.

I still have yet to find a reference to where leaders in Santa Cruz were demanding autonomy when the nation's wealth was coming from the mines. In those days spreading the nation's wealth seemed to be fine policy. Nor, apparently, did Santa Cruz have any great problem with national policies, under Hugo Banzer and others, that made the region the leading beneficiary of massive borrowing from abroad. Nor did Santa Cruz seem to have any problem with that massive foreign debt being the burden of the entire nation.

In short, it mostly boils down to a basic issue of how to fairly distribute the wealth under a nation's feet when accidents of geology put a lot more of that wealth under some people's feet than others. Lest any readers think this is a uniquely Bolivian conflict, I suggest you look to Iraq. The conflicts there between Sunni, Shia, and Kurds, over how to distribute oil revenue, make the regional disputes in Bolivia look like a love-in.

A big part of what fuels the regional battle here is human nature writ large. It is human nature to want the biggest share of something in front of us that is valued but limited. Try choosing between the last two pieces of pie with my 4-year-old (or me if it's pumpkin). It is also human nature to create logical rationalizations for wanting the biggest piece because, "Well, I just want it," sounds too self-serving.

Many people in Santa Cruz – whether it is the people cruising to Alexander's Coffee in their 4x4s or the ones selling them cheap gum en route – think the oil and gas pie is theirs, not because they earned it but because geology made them the fortunate ones this time around.

How to distribute the nation's mineral wealth in a fair and just way is a decent debate to have, and an important one. I suspect that Bolivia might do better if that discussion were had by taxi drivers and chewing gum vendors than by political leaders who have wrapped the issue in such heated and self-serving rhetoric. Again, the issue remains whether Bolivia can resolve this debate through democracy and politics before it spills into the streets and into violence that the politicians can no longer control.

And a Good Day for Bikes

Lastly, on my walk I also spoke to three happy young boys out for the day on bikes. A paro civico is a really fine day for bike riding.

Why are people having a strike?

For democracy!

What does it means to have democracy?

Autonomy and moving the capital to Sucre.

Wouldn't it be hard to move those big buildings?

No, they would build new ones.

And it’s a good day for bikes too, right?

Yes, democracy and bikes!

'Capitolism' Bolivia Style

Readers:

As we reported earlier, Bolivia's politics have been tossed into a new crisis over an issue that few expected to inspire such heat and conflict a year ago – a proposal to move the Legislative and Presidential capital of Bolivia from La Paz to the city of Sucre (already the country's judicial capital). As noted earlier, the fight over moving the capital has led to a shutdown (presumably temporary) of the Constituent Assembly, meeting in Sucre to finalize a new national constitution.

Here is the latest installment in The Democracy Center's continuing on-the-ground reports from Sucre, from Lily Whitesell, Aldo Orellana and Leny Olivera. We will continue our coverage here on this issue in the coming weeks and continue to provide our comments section as an uncensored space for the exchange of views on these important events.

Jim Shultz

The Capital Conflict

Hunger strikes, street protests, and even symbolic crucifixions in the main plaza have taken place in Sucre over the Capitalia issue throughout the last month. Last week, however, the protests got violent. Protesters attacked the headquarters of the State radio station. There were violent conflicts between Assembly representatives and between the police and protesters. Some indigenous Assembly representatives reported that they were afraid to leave their homes. The Constituent Assembly was shut down entirely. Yesterday, an attempt at reconciliation by the federal government’s ombudsman (“Defender of the People”) failed. Protests, strikes, and demonstrations are planned for next week all over the country.

All of this began over the location of Bolivia’s legislative and executive branches. Currently, the Congress and Executive Powers have their seat in the city of La Paz, but the Judicial Branch and constitutional capital of the country is Sucre. The pro-Capitalia protesters want the legislative and executive branches of government be moved to Sucre in the new Constitution.

But last Wednesday, a resolution introduced by the Assembly leadership to take the proposal for Capitalia out of Assembly debate was passed in a full-Assembly plenary session. The reason given for the resolution was that Capitalia was an unnecessarily divisive – and inconsequential – proposal. It is doubtful that the Assembly leadership realized how significant that proposal would become.

Sucre and La Paz

Sucre and La Paz are remarkably different cities, though they share the distinction of hosting Bolivia’s federal political powers and being considered capitals of the country.

Sucre was originally founded to be near the silver mining boomtown of Potosi, which was the center of the Spanish colonial economy. The wealthy inhabitants of Sucre relied heavily on the riches of Potosi for their affluence and political power. When Bolivia declared independence from Spain in 1825, Sucre was a clear choice for the capital, having been a political center of the Spanish colony.

In more recent years, Sucre has been known for its white colonial architecture, tourists, and its comfortable climate. It maintains a socially conservative and traditional society, particularly in the old colonial section in the center of the city. Like many other Bolivian cities, the periphery of Sucre stretches out into poorer, more indigenous neighborhoods, many of which have been built in recent years as people have been drawn to the city from surrounding rural areas.

More than 700 kilometers (435 miles) northwest of Sucre, in full Andean highlands, the city of La Paz tumbles down into a river valley from the edge of the altiplano. La Paz is a very different city – politically, geographically, and socially. At 3,640 meters about sea level, it is a colder, bustling, busy metropolitan city whose underlying currents are far less socially conservative than Sucre. Paceños also voted overwhelmingly for Morales in the 2005 election and the city continues to be one of his largest strongholds of support.

A defining feature of La Paz’s political landscape is El Alto, the city that overlooks the La Paz river valley on the vast plains of the altiplano. El Alto is far less wealthy than its sister city, but very politically active and not known for backing down. It played a key role in many of the social conflicts in the years leading up to the 2005 election through unyielding blockades and strikes. When the proposal to move the Executive and Legislative Powers was first introduced in July, two million people from La Paz and El Alto participated in a march to keep them there, according to organizers and local newspapers.

Why Are There Two Capitals Anyway?

At the end of the nineteenth century, the peak of Bolivia’s silver boom in the southern Potosi had long passed, and the decline was hitting dramatic new lows. At the same time, tin mining in western La Paz was on the rise. That meant a shift in the internal economic and political power dynamics of the country. That shift led to a showdown in 1898 between the nouveau riche Western Liberals of La Paz and the Southern Conservatives of Potosi and Sucre.

The Federal Civil War between these two forces lasted from 1898 to 1899. The Western Liberals’ final victory was in a large part due to the support of Pablo Zarate Willka, the leader of the fierce Aymara people of Bolivia’s highlands. The Aymara agreed to support the Liberals’ cause in exchange for recognition of their lands and self-governance. In the end, the Liberals of La Paz won, but betrayed Zarate Willka and his people when the Aymara leader was taken into custody and shot after the war. But the Liberals had won – the executive and legislative branches of government were moved from Sucre to La Paz, where they have remained to this day.

Who Supports the Move and Why?

The Capitalia manifestations are not your typical Bolivian protest. On Bolivia’s Independence Day, we witnessed pro-Sucre and pro-Capitalia chants in the main plaza turn into anti-Evo slogans. Anti-indigenous and racist epithets were heard from the back of the crowd. Last week, according to local media, the Capitalia chants were alternated with others in favor of departmental autonomy and even racist statements against Silvia Lazarte, the president of the Constituent Assembly.

Capitalia’s most radical supporters are the conservative elite of Sucre, who have bristled at hosting the Constituent Assembly’s indigenous representatives for the last year. To them, the passage of last Wednesday’s resolution showed real evidence that the Constituent Assembly leadership would never take their demands and desires seriously.

Sucre’s residents as a whole also support the move of the capital from La Paz, though many condemn the violence of last week’s protests. Chuquisaca, the department that contains the city of Sucre, is the second poorest in Bolivia, and many residents see a move of the executive and legislative branches as a chance for real development of the region. Sucreños also hold a long-standing, deep grudge over the loss of those two powers like that of Bolivia’s loss of sea access to Chile more than 100 years ago.

Outside the department, the Capitalia issue’s strongest supporters include PODEMOS Assembly representatives and the political leaders of the media luna, the departments that voted for greater departmental autonomy from the national government – particularly those from Santa Cruz. For those in opposition to the current administration, supporting the fight for Capitalia is a strategic move, in several ways.

First, Sucre represents PODEMOS’ best chance for expanding their influence and shifting the balance of the country. Currently, four of Bolivia’s nine departments have voted for greater autonomy from the national government. If the media luna could extend their influence to another department, they could claim a majority of departmental backing. The Capitalia issue has tapped into deep departmental pride and by supporting that issue, PODEMOS may be winning new support in Chuquisaca.

It also reads like a classic play to distract and divert attention away from the other debates of the Constituent Assembly. A recent UN study showed that 74% of the public would support a new Constitution if it has the support of Bolivia’s political leaders. [Here is a link to a recent report on the topic from the Andean Information Network.] The Assembly’s goals do appeal to a large segment of the population. If it can achieve them on some scale, the Constituent Assembly will be a true win for the social movements that led the demand for it and a political win for MAS.

However, if the Assembly fails or is shut down, PODEMOS can undercut MAS' most widely used slogan, "Evo cumple" - the equivalent of "Evo gets the job done." They would be able to claim that this administration has seen no less conflict than the others that came before it, and further erode Evo's support among Bolivia's middle class and the "I just want to work" sector.

Perhaps the current shutdown is only a preview of things to come. Perhaps the Constituent Assembly will never reopen. There are, no doubt, many PODEMOS Assembly representatives who would like nothing better. After all, many of the proposals being debated in the Constituent Assembly would be real changes to a system that has benefited PODEMOS’ leaders and supporters for generations – and many of those changes would directly challenge the economic and political power they hold.

However, as much as Capitalia’s most radical supporters might like to shut down the Assembly, PODEMOS is also invested in the Constituent Assembly’s process. The Constituent Assembly represents a real, nearly guaranteed chance for the media luna to get departmental autonomy.

Perhaps they have another idea in mind in supporting Sucre as the full Capital of Bolivia. After all, having the full capital located in Sucre would, in fact, benefit the media luna a great deal politically. As mentioned above, Sucre is geographically and politically neutral, if not right-leaning – a stark contrast to the militant social movements of La Paz who have been able to leverage political power because of their proximity to the executive and legislative branches of government. And if Sucre is PODEMOS’ best chance for recruiting another department into voting for greater autonomy from the government and shifting the balance of power, in their eyes, it would be great a place to base Bolivia’s political operations.

Autonomy is clearly PODEMOS’ most important issue, and they have done everything to assure that it will be included in the final Constitution. But if the Constituent Assembly is able to continue despite the conflicts that embroil it today, PODEMOS would be looking at a bargaining table where the other side has a lot of requests to make. Perhaps they’re betting they have a chance to get a lot more than just autonomy out of the Constituent Assembly.

On the other side of the aisle, the MAS leadership would do well to think of one of the lessons of pre-Morales social movement marches – the quickest and easiest way to radicalize a group of people is for those in power to fold their ears and close off debate, particularly on an issue that can be taken personally. As trivial as a move of Bolivia’s capital may seem on the surface, there is clearly a lot more depth to it than they first presumed. They may have lost a great deal more than they suspected by not taking the proposal more seriously.

The demonstrations planned on both sides for next week show that this debate is far from over. However, time is ticking. It took representatives from August through December of last year to agree on the procedural rules. In order to get the Constituent Assembly out this conflict, back up and running, and through the settlement commission and the plenary session before December 14, there will need to be some extraordinary effort and compromise – fast.

Written by Lily Whitesell, Aldo Orellana and Leny Olivera

Bolivia's Indigenous Peoples Bring their Demands to the Constituent Assembly

Readers:

Here is another post as part of our continuing front line reports from the Constituent Assembly in Sucre, where elected delegates struggle to draft a new Bolivian constitution. In the past week new chaos has descended on the process, as some groups have stepped up protests demanding that Bolivia move its national capital from La Paz to Sucre (which is already the judicial capital). We'll have a post specifically devoted to that issue shortly. In the meanwhile, Democracy Center team members Lily Whitesell, Leny Olivera and Aldo Orellana offer this important post on the demands by Bolivia's indigenous groups in the historic process underway.

Jim Shultz

Bolivia's Indigenous Peoples Bring their Demands to the Constituent Assembly

On the Thursday before August 6, Bolivia’s Independence Day, more than 100 indigenous leaders and representatives arrived in Sucre from communities from the far reaches of Bolivia’s highlands. Heads held high with dignity and authority, they walked up the steps of Colegio Junin, left their names or identification cards with the guards, and strode into the main patio.

Each leader, accompanied by a few members of their communities, carried a small metal bastón (cane) with Andean designs and woven decorations as a symbol of their authority. Many also carried a leather braided cord over their shoulders, which symbolically could function as either a rope or whip. They were wearing brightly colored clothing and hats typical of their communities, with ornately woven bags holding coca leaves hung over their ponchos.

This was the third visit from the leaders of CONAMAQ, the highland indigenous organization. CONAMAQ is one of the more politically independent groups in the Unity Pact, the alliance of nine organizations that represent Bolivia’s indigenous and campesino (small-scale rural farmer) groups in the Constituent Assembly.

This was not a visit to congratulate the Assembly representatives, however. The leaders were angry, believing that Assembly representatives had been playing politics with their demands.

First they visited some of the commissions, assessing the representatives’ work and presenting their demands. Taking the central plaza, they then began a ceremony to open dialogue with the representatives that were there. They placed an aguayo (a traditionally hand-woven cloth) on the ground and spread coca leaves on it. (In traditional cultures, chewing coca leaves together is a way of inviting the participation of all parties present.) The leaders took their canes and, approaching the center of the circle, formed a pyramid out of them over the aguayo, each supporting their cane with the others there. They then began to speak, taking turns.

One indigenous leader described why they were there, “It is because of CONAMAQ that the Constituent Assembly was convoked. It is because of the first nations, the indigenous people of the highlands and lowlands….” Another spoke about the importance of their demands, “The proposal of the indigenous first nations must be taken into consideration by these commissions – because these proposals have been worked on for not just one year…These proposals have been worked for during 500 years, during the 500 years of cultural resistance!”

As the commission meetings let out, Assembly representatives joined the circle. After the indigenous authorities spoke, the representatives took their turns. An academic well-respected by the CONAMAQ community began, asserting the representatives’ continued commitment to their communities and original demands. He was followed by the president of the Land and Territory Commission, who handed out a report that included the articles the commission had passed.

Esperanza Huanca, a representative from the high plains and mountains of northern Potosi, then gave an impassioned speech on the importance of the demands of Bolivia’s indigenous people. She declared, “We cannot forget our six demands which are nonnegotiable, which we will never renounce – The Plurinational State, Indigenous Autonomies, Control over Renewable and Non-Renewable Resources, Land and Territory, Direct Representation, and Judicial Pluralism!”

Each of these demands refers to a specific proposal that was presented to one or more of the Assembly’s 21 commissions. But what are these proposals, what problems do they aim to fix, and what has become of them?

The Plurinational State

The demand to describe Bolivia as a plurinational country as part of the Constitution’s theoretical and ideological framework is a demand that came from the alliance of Bolivia’s thirty-six indigenous groups and the Afro-Boliviano people.

Among those groups, the Quechua and Aymara are considered indigenous “nations” – because millions of people in Bolivia and other Andean countries speak these two languages, share a common culture, and hold identities that transcend political boundaries. For those groups, recognizing Bolivia as a state that encompasses many nations of people has as much to do with Bolivia’s identity as their own.

However, the “plurinational state” is not only about recognizing a multiethnic identity. For indigenous groups all over Bolivia, using those words to describe the country also signifies a deeper commitment to creating space for both traditional indigenous and contemporary urban methods of public participation in decision-making, justice, and representation.

Autonomies

One of the proposals to build new space for traditional ways of decision-making is to create autonomous indigenous regions and municipalities. Autonomy, however, is not just an indigenous issue. That commission was given the charge of one of the other most controversial issues of the entire Assembly – departmental autonomy, the central demand of PODEMOS.

The issue of departmental autonomy goes back for several years. In the election of July 2006, Constituent Assembly representatives were decided and four of Bolivia’s nine departments voted for greater autonomy in a nationwide referendum. Pando, Beni, Santa Cruz, and Tarija line the eastern side of the country, which coined the term “media luna” (half-moon) as a common way of referring to the departments who voted for autonomy and whose leaders are often at odds with the Morales administration.

Autonomy has since turned into a rallying cry for the political leaders of the media luna, who would like nothing better than to have greater independence from the national government. It is also their top issue in the Constituent Assembly, where the commission on autonomy is stacked with the strongest representatives from each side. Saúl Ávila, MAS representative from Santa Cruz and president of the commission, noted that nine political party leaders are in his commission.

The majority proposal that the commission finally issued was to allow for both departmental and indigenous autonomies. The departments that voted for autonomy will automatically become such, given greater control over their department. A parallel structure will be created at the municipal level. Municipalities will be able to declare themselves either autonomous or as majority indigenous through a referendum. If they desire to do so, several indigenous municipalities can come together to form an indigenous “region”. Under the proposal, an indigenous region will have responsibilities similar to that of a department, but will still coordinate with their corresponding departmental authorities. In addition to greater freedoms, the autonomous regions, departments, and municipalities will also be given greater responsibility in running the everyday business of their jurisdiction – providing roads, education, health services, water and electricity, as well as promoting environmental conservation, economic development, and tourism within their jurisdiction.

The Pacto de Unidad, CONAMAQ among them, has criticized the proposal for giving the departments too much power over the indigenous autonomies. On the other side, PODEMOS wrote the commission’s minority proposal, in which they advocate against indigenous autonomies and for granting greater powers to the departments – particularly, a larger role in the administration of the ongoing Agrarian Reform (see below).

Judicial Pluralism and Direct Representation

Two other ways of creating new space for traditional ways are through judicial pluralism and direct representation.

The Bolivian courts and justice system has a reputation for being slow and oftentimes corrupt, particularly in rural areas. Many communities feel that going to the courts is an investment they can’t afford to make with little promise of a fair result. “True” community justice, say advocates, is a fair, public decision that both provides real consequences and can improve the community (when the punishment is a community service requirement, for example, making mud bricks to build a new school). It is based on the idea that social control is one of the best forms of preventing future crimes. The new proposals allow for judicial pluralism – both community justice as well as the traditional court system – within the Constitution.

Direct representation is another key demand. Bolivia’s indigenous groups often feel that the traditional political party structure and election system is foreign to their own culture. Direct representation would mean that each indigenous group would have a representative in Bolivia’s legislative system, selected through their own traditional norms and procedures, which vary from one community to another – not through political parties or written-ballot elections.

Land and Territory

One of the worst injustices indigenous people throughout the Americas have experienced is the appropriation of their lands. Colonizers took control of lands that had been controlled by communities for generations. That practice continued under Bolivia’s dictatorships and democratic governments through political favors and concessions to cattle, lumber, and gas and oil companies.

You could imagine how a just system would have worked – early in the country’s history, a survey would have been done, and parcels of land that were inhabited would be granted officially through land titles to communities. That never happened. Instead, the people who lived on the land were considered just another natural resource to be sold with the land and exploited – planting and harvesting crops, mining, cutting trees, building roads, and working in gas and oil fields.

The Agrarian Reform of 1952 was intended to remedy the situation by means of redistributing Bolivia’s land from hacienda owners to those that worked the land. However, the reform was mostly implemented in the highlands and valleys of the Andes Mountains, leaving the Amazon tropics mostly untouched. A 1996 law was passed to extend the reform and recognize indigenous territories, which Morales strengthened with greater implementation, enforcement, and an additional law passed in late 2006. Here's a link to a useful report by Douglas Hertzler on the land reform issue.

For those fighting for those rights, the next step in this process is establishing indigenous autonomies through the Constituent Assembly, and guaranteeing the rights of those communities to determine how their land and natural resources will be used.

Control over Renewable and Non-Renewable Resources

How Bolivia's natural resources - gas and oil, water, valuable minerals - will be used and sold has been one of the biggest sources of conflict of the last ten years in Bolivia, and, one could argue, of its entire history. It is a country that was rich in silver, tin, rubber, guano, lumber, and now gas and oil, but it has a record of exploiting natural resources and taking them abroad with little benefit for the development of the country.

So it comes as no surprise that 7 of the 21 commissions are dedicated in some way to the use and development of Bolivia’s natural resources – from gas and oil to water to the land. The commissions determined that local (municipal and indigenous), departmental, and regional autonomies would have control over the use of renewable resources.

However, non-renewable resources, the proposals declare, are the property of the Bolivian people as a whole. And if natural gas, for example, is discovered on land that belongs to an indigenous autonomy? The question still remains as to whether the people of the indigenous autonomy have the right to a consulta, the equivalent of a social impact statement which would be taken into consideration in the final decision, or the right to veto the development of that natural resource if it would devastate their native lands. Many who have advocated for the right to veto worry that it may be one of the first cards to be traded at the bargaining table.

The Bargaining Table

When the Constituent Assembly resumes work after two weeks of conflict over the Capitalia issue (look for a forthcoming blog about that topic) and finish the work of the joint commissions, we will see the real defining moment of what the Constituent Assembly is able to accomplish. The leadership of the Assembly, the heads of the political parties, and the commission presidents will meet in the Settlement (Concertación) Commission to hammer out as many of the differences as possible between the majority and minority proposals.

This will be the true bargaining table, when Assembly representatives from each side will try to negotiate the other side’s support for their most important articles. It goes without saying that those that have bet the most on the Assembly’s success will be waiting by the door, paying careful attention to each political deal and trade.

Written by Lily Whitesell, Leny Olivera and Aldo Orellana

The Festival of Urkupiña

Readers:

August marks one of Bolivia's most important cultural events, the Festival of Urkupiña in Quillacollo. For a week the small town outside of Cochabamba is taken over by dancers, pilgrims and Bolivian culture in full living color. Here is a post from two members of The Democracy Center team, Leny Olivera and Lily Whitesell, on the festival last week. For readers interested in seeing a vivid slide show on the Festival, visit here.

For readers interested in the ongoing Bolivian Constituent Assembly, we will continue with our posts from Sucre later this week.

Jim Shultz

The Festival of Urkupiña

Last week Cochabamba came alive, as it does this time every year, with the Festival of the Virgin of Urkupiña. Thousands of people flocked to Quillacollo, a town just outside of Cochabamba to see the dancers that rival the color and energy of Bolivia’s Carnaval parades. On this date, however, most are also attracted to Quillacollo out of devotion to the Virgin of Urkupiña, the most renowned virgin figure in the region. People arrive from every corner of the country and even from Bolivian communities abroad to participate. Local papers have estimated that half a million people attended this year.

Urkupiña is not just a Catholic festival. It is a fusion of Catholic and indigenous traditions, a mix particularly prominent in Bolivia because of the strength of its native cultures.

Catholic evangelism was one of the driving forces of exploration and settlement in Bolivia when the Spanish arrived in the sixteenth century. But it could not replace indigenous spirituality – which focused on a deep connection with the natural world. Much to the first evangelists’ chagrin, Catholicism was often mixed and fused with the original traditions. But some found that this was a more effective way of winning converts. Some bishops and priests even built churches on sites that previously had honored Andean deities, both masculine and feminine.

Even today, religion in Bolivia continues to blend Catholic and Andean traditions. Nowhere is that more evident than in the story and the annual celebration of Urkupiña.

The Story

The "Cota" hill where the shrine to the Virgin of Urkupiña now sits was originally an Andean waca, a sacred place where natural energy is concentrated, or the equivalent of a Western church. The hill was spiritually significant because of a concentration of female energy, representing fertility and the earth.

In pre-colonial times, local communities would go to the waca to make offerings to Pachamama, or mother earth, particularly during the month of August. In Bolivia, August is the end of winter; a time when the earth awakens from its slumber and the fields are prepared for the spring planting. The August celebrations at the Cota hill waca were important for ensuring a good harvest.

The Catholic part of the story was added in the 1780s. According to Church legend, on one miraculous day in August, the Virgin Mary with the baby Jesus appeared on the Cota hill to a small shepherd girl. When the girl went home, she told her family what she had seen, adding that they had come down from heaven to play with her. The next day, her worried parents went up the hill with her. Suddenly, the shepherd girl shouted “Urkupiña … Urkupiña!” In Quechua, Orqophiña means “she’s on the hill,” meaning that the Virgin Mary had again appeared to the girl – on the sacred Cota hill.

The Festival

From then on, the Festival of the Virgin of Urkupiña grew, with a mixture of both Catholic and Andean elements. Today, Urkupiña includes three principal days of festivities, though associated celebrations last all week.

Tuesday, August 14 marked the beginning of the festival, kicked off with a parade of traditional ‘folkloric’ dances that lasts from early in the morning until long after the sun sets. This year, fifteen thousand people danced in the parade, wearing traditional hand-sewn costumes. The dances range from flamenco-style Chacarera from southeast Bolivia to the lively feet-stomping and fist-raising Tinku dance from northern Potosi, each accompanied by a band.

Every dance represents a different moment in Bolivia’s history: dances and instruments that date to pre-Hispanic times, dancers dressed up as African and Andean slaves and even as the slave-drivers, devils embodying miners' superstitions, caricatures of the Spanish, and current-day imitations of traditional dress from every corner of the country. Each group comes complete with their own complex choreographed dance steps that the groups have been practicing for months.

The following day is the main religious celebration and the second day of parades. The town’s one church is filled with people who have made pilgrimages to show their devotion to the Virgin of Urkupiña. The dance groups also come back for a second day of parades with a more religious intent.

Thursday is the Calvario, which means “ordeal” in Spanish and also signifies the Stations of the Cross, the suffering that Jesus went through on the path to his death. The “ordeal” begins late Wednesday night, when groups leave Cochabamba on foot to walk the eight miles to Quillacollo, where Urkupiña is celebrated. The pilgrimage route is filled with people of all ages – many young people but also families even elderly grandparents – all choosing to walk instead of sleeping that night.

In the early hours of the day, they arrive in force at the church for morning mass. Local vendors line the streets, selling Bolivians’ greatest desires – in miniature. Tiny cars, houses, university diplomas, suitcases, and even mini American dollars are purchased to represent the pilgrim’s wishes for their family for the year to come.

The pilgrims then make their way to the old Cota hill. Borrowing a pick and hammer, they go up to a rocky outcropping and chip away a rock or two. These rocks represent the things they will pray for and ask of the Virgin and Pachamama. The pilgrims will carefully care for the stones all year until the next Urkupiña, when they will bring them back. To make sure their wishes are fulfilled, they must get the rocks – and the miniatures they bought – blessed. First this is done with a traditional Andean shaman with incense and smoke as an offering to Pachamama – then by the priest with sacred water in the Urkupiña chapel on the top of the Cota hill.

During these three days, everyday life in Quillacollo is paralyzed, as every local cook, salesman, and devotee is dedicated entirely to the festival.

In 2000, a new addition to the celebrations strengthened the Andean spiritual dimension of the festivities - the Autochthonous Parade. On August 13, the day before the main parade, groups from nearby communities play flutes, panpipes, and drums and perform strictly pre-Hispanic dances. It is a strong contrast to the post-colonial “folkloric” blend of dances that are performed in the main parade the following day. The autochthonous event has grown in recent years as new generations of musicians and dancers who identify with Andean culture form new groups and wish to take a visible part in the festival. These groups also combine their devotion to the Virgin Mary with the celebration of August as the month of Pachamama, the Andean time of honoring the earth and asking for a good harvest year.

The fusion between the Catholic faith and pre-Hispanic traditions that has grown out of Bolivia’s complex history has preserved a vibrant Andean presence. Cultural resistance to colonization – and more recently, globalization – has long been a rallying cry for indigenous groups intent on preserving their rich, diverse traditions. In Bolivia, this resistance is manifest on a daily basis and in major festivals like Urkupiña – where traditions and rituals have incorporated Catholic elements without losing the essence of their own, unique culture.

Written by Leny Olivera and Lily Whitesell.

The Summer that Elvis Died and Proposition 13 Was Born

Readers:

Anniversary enthusiasts in the U.S. this week have noted that is has been exactly 30 years since Elvis Presley died at his Graceland Mansion in Tennessee (despite the occasional sighting of Elvis still alive). California political historians will also remember that it was that same summer of 1977 when state politics and then U.S. national politics was sent reeling by the birth of something, Proposition 13.

California's famous tax-cutting initiative was the Big Bang of the U.S. tax-cutting movement and the conservative revolution that swept Ronald Reagan to the U.S. Presidency in 1980. And, it all happened basically by accident.

I spent the summer of 1977 as an intern in the office of the California Assembly Speaker, and as an eyewitness to those events. I also later wrote about them as a political science student at Berkeley. Ten years ago, on the twentieth anniversary of that summer, the Sacramento Bee invited me to write about how Proposition 13 was born. Being an anniversary enthusiast myself, here is the lead and a link to that article.

Jim Shultz

The Summer that Elvis Died and Proposition 13 Was Born

Proposition 13 Pop Quiz

Who among the following opposed Proposition 13 when it was voted on in June 1978?

A) Former GOP Governors Pete Wilson and George Deukmejian

B) Standard Oil of California

C) The Bank of America

D) Atlantic Richfield

E) Southern Pacific Railroad

Answer: All of the above

In case you didn't watch any television or read any newspapers for the past few weeks, this summer marks the 30th anniversary of the death of Elvis Presley. Elvis, by most reports, is still dead. Proposition 13, however, still shapes the basic outlines of California government and politics three decades later. For that reason alone, the story of its birth is an important one. It is the story of how, by political fluke, California ended up creating a perpetual, multi-billion dollar tax cut for the state's wealthiest corporations - a tax cut that California's corporate leaders not only didn't ask for but which, at the time, they tried very hard to torpedo.

Here is the link to the full article.

Report from Sucre

Readers,

Once again with this post we return to The Democracy Center team in Sucre, the city named for Bolivia's first President and the site of the nation's constitution-writing Constituent Assembly. Today's post sets the scene and captures a snapshot of a day on the life of one of the Assembly Commissions.

Jim Shultz


Report from Sucre

We arrived in Sucre one Tuesday morning, the week before Independence Day, Aug 6, which also marks the one-year anniversary of the Constituent Assembly. Known as the White City or the Athens of America, Sucre’s population of just under 250,000 is settled in a valley of low mountains. It was a pre-colonial capital and then wore many names under Spanish rule – La Plata, Chuquisaca, and finally Sucre in 1840, to honor the General who fought for its independence in 1825.

A year ago, this beautiful and sleepy city was transformed into a buzzing community of Constituent Assembly representatives and support staff. Even on the streets, one feels the dignified but busy atmosphere. When the morning meetings let out for lunchtime, Sucre’s eating establishments – from cafés and restaurants to the pensions in the marketplace (popular-style restaurants that serve local food) are filled with small groups of representatives. Many of the representatives even rent rooms in the same buildings, forming enclaves and communities dispersed throughout the city.

Teatro Gran Mariscal

Most of the action is concentrated in two buildings, the Teatro Gran Mariscal and the Colegio Junín. Teatro Gran Mariscal, where the plenary (full-congress) sessions take place, sits four blocks north of Sucre’s main plaza, next to Bolivia’s Supreme Court. It is the kind of elegant colonial-style building that Sucre is known for with its ornate white columns, topped with the Bolivian flag of red, yellow, and green flying proudly next to the red and white departmental flag for Chuquisaca. Sucre remains the judicial capital of Bolivia, the seat of the Supreme Court, while executive and legislative headquarters of the government are in La Paz.

Inside, the room where the Constituent Assembly meets for floor debate is reminiscent of European opera houses, with three tiered balconies adorned with pale yellow and white carvings of lion heads. Two hundred and fifty five oak desks fill the floor of what would be audience seating, each equipped with a microphone and a call box. Marble staircases outside the theater lead up to the second floor press and visitors’ balconies.

That Tuesday evening, the Gran Mariscal was filled with representatives. They were preparing to vote on the final report of the Assembly’s operating expenses for the past year. As the vote drew nearer, the debate grew more and more intense. Opponents to the approval of the report steadily raised their voices claiming that there had not been enough transparency in the fiscal administration. Other representatives called out, “If you are against what this Constituent Assembly is doing, why don’t you give back your salary from the last year?”

One representative opposing the passage of the report kept protesting insistently. Constituent Assembly President Silvia Lazarte finally cut off the debate, calling for a vote. The representative continued to argue and insist loudly throughout the vote, even though the budget report passed with nearly two-thirds majority.

Colegio Junín

Colegio Junín is the second oldest public school in Bolivia, founded in 1621. It was still functioning as a school up until a year before the Constituent Assembly was convened, when it began to be repaired. Since then, it has been converted from a schoolyard into Constituent Assembly Central. It does not look that impressive from the outside, but the inside opens up to a large cobblestone patio surrounded by two floors of offices, with balconies painted blue and orange.

These days, the patio and halls are filled with clusters of reporters and their technical crews gathered around individual representatives speaking on the latest proceedings. Each commission office hums with activity – representatives’ assistants and commission staff discussing the latest happenings of the commission and, in interior meeting rooms, representatives working out new agreements on article language and text.

In mid-July, the 21 commissions assigned to write the main articles of the new Constitution, finished debating and finalizing the articles they will propose, be they by consensus, by majority, or by minority. Now the commissions that overlap on their approved articles are meeting together in joint meetings to iron out the differences and redundancies. Support staff familiar with the process estimate that the mixed meetings will take another month to present a coherent and usable product.

After the mixed meetings, the next step will be the Settlement Commission (Comisión de Concertación). The Assembly leadership will join forces with the heads of the political parties and the presidents of the commissions to try to reach compromises and approve more articles of the new Constitution by consensus. Then the Constitution will be sent to the full Assembly (plenary session) for debate and a final decision, in which each article must be approved by a 2/3 vote.

[In a previous blog post we wrote that the Settlement Commission would be meeting in the week up to August 6. That is not the case, as the entire process will be extended through to December 14 of this year.]

The commissions are remarkably open to public access. Anyone is able to sit in on most committee meetings, and the Assembly representatives, when not rushing to the next meeting, are very open to questions and conversations afterwards. One morning while we were there, the extent of that openness was tested.

It was a joint meeting of the New State Structure Commission and the Economic Development and Finance Commission. The representatives had already delved deep into their day’s work when an assistant came in with a message that several spokespeople from the Professionals’ Association, who had organized a march for that morning, wished to meet with them. The joint meeting agreed to let them come in to present their demands. “Five minutes. We can give them five minutes of our time,” the representatives decided.

Then the spokespeople from the Professionals’ Association march filed into the meeting room. Their first few words were humble and flattering to the Constituent Assembly but the tone quickly changed. Spokespeople claimed they had been refused a meeting the day before, a charge the representatives denied, explaining that it must have been another commission.

The professionals began advocating their point, claiming that professionals (doctors, lawyers, architects, pharmacists, etc.) that were associated with them were more reliable and accredited. They presented their demand that the new Constitution include specific protection for Professional Associations. A few Assembly representatives critiqued the associations, citing examples of young professionals who had graduated with honors but who could not afford the steep prices that the associations charge for membership.

Commission President Isabel Dominguez cut off all parties, offering an evening meeting time, which the professionals initially balked at. In the end, after forty-five minutes of initial heated interaction, the representatives even rearranged their afternoon schedules to accommodate the professionals’ spokespeople. The professionals left the room and the joint meeting of the two commissions continued, article by article, smoothing out the differences and overlaps.

The next day, the local press reported that the afternoon meeting had been fruitful for both sides. On one side, the Assembly representatives had ensured the professionals’ right to their associations. In exchange for that greater protection, the associations agreed to reduce the cost of joining to make membership more accessible to all professionals.

Our first few days in Sucre showed us a Constituent Assembly divided by political fault lines and but also willing to listen to other sides of the debates. It is an Assembly whose leaders are seasoned veterans of partisan conflict but also skilled at building compromises between the wide range of people and perspectives that exist in this country.

Written by Leny Olivera, Aldo Orellana, and Lily Whitesell

Befuddled in the USA: Part II

Buffalo NY

First, the basics:

Miles driven: I stopped counting at 1500 and am now obligated to plant 187 trees

Bagels eaten: 11, most with cream cheese

Bags of chips consumed while driving: 4

Number of times my 4-year-old has watched The Swan Princess: 4

Number of states visited: 7, including District of Columbia

National historic sites visited: 2

Episodes of a show called Hannah Montana on the Disney Channel watched with my nieces: 5

"Mayberry on Acid"

Fairfax California is a small town of 7,500 nestled in the hills of Marin County a short drive north of San Francisco and a few miles inland from the state's lethal injection chamber at San Quentin. If you have a good deal of money and want to live in a thriving bastion of the counter-culture, Fairfax is for you. Where other towns boast a full collection of Burger Kings and yellow arches, Fairfax is rich in yoga workshops, a health food store bigger than the local grocery, and a veterinarian that offers message therapy for animals. A bumper sticker in a local store window reads, "Fairfax: Mayberry on Acid".

"For English have your dog bark twice."

An obituary: Sometime in the early years of the 21st century, the once-beloved pay telephone met its final demise. Replaced by the common ownership of cellular telephones by every U.S. resident over the age of 10, coin operated phones were taken out of service completely in 2011.

Okay, well it seemed this way on the streets of San Francisco when I needed to reach a live body at a big company. For miles I found only a few phones and these were in various state's of creative disrepair (What do you suppose someone did with that receiver cut from its silver cable?). On a noisy corner near Golden Gate Park I found one that worked and I began a 15-minute quest to connect to that rarity of the modern age, a live operator. I tensely navigated my way through the voice-controlled system on the other end of the line, dodging past a dozen computer-generated, "Sorry, I didn’t hear you, can you repeat that?"

Just as I neared the end, live operator just moments away, a small dog walked by me, igniting a storm of loud barking from a sleeping dog in the bed of a parked pick-up truck. The computer on the line eagerly recognized the barking better than my human voice and I ended up back deep in computer oblivion. I gave up.

Side effects may include painful death

I remain fascinated by U.S. television, most especially the many ads for medication. 'Back in the day' doctors or other medical professionals dispensed medical advice. Now you can get it in soft and friendly tones on television ads. Some clever politician or regulator decided to mess with the pharmaceuticals' marketing however, and at their end these ads have to list out all the potential side effects. In the same soft voice that pitched a sleeping aid, a woman announcer explained, "Side effects may include disease…" My favorite was a Viagra ad, "Consult your doctor if you have an erection that lasts more than four hours…" I would rather not imagine those panicked phone calls to doctors at 2am.

MapQuest vs. the Sheriff

To make my long journey from Washington to the outer banks or North Carolina I did the technologically modern thing suggested by relatives, I quipped myself with hi-tech directions from MapQuest. They worked out just fine until, in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, I was befuddled by the non-existence of route 158 West, despite MapQuest's assurance that it existed. I found a local Sheriff buying a cup of coffee in a 7/11. "I bet you're using Map Quest," he told me. "I wish I had a dollar for every lost driver who gets stuck looking for 158 west courtesy of Map Quest." Thank you Andy Griffith.

The Popularity of Water Fowl

In San Francisco we went for a walk through the Castro, the city's gay district. I estimate that 3 of all 10 gay men on the street are walking a dog, most small. My daughter Mariana loved this and demanded to pet all of them. Our favorite was a black poodle named Goose. Many times since my daughter has reminded me, "And Dada, we met a dog named 'Goose', right?" In North Carolina we passed through town named Duck.

General Lee might have won the Civil War

Yesterday we visited the battlefield at Gettysburg on our long trek north to Buffalo. Here is where more than 40,000 Union and Confederate soldiers lost their lives in a battle that lasted three days across 20,000 acres of Pennsylvania farmland, and marked the real end of the confederacy's military hopes. Afterwards we sat in a nearby Subway eating sandwiches when two Boy Scout leaders came in to arrange an order for three dozen box lunches, which the owners of the shop promised that would deliver to any location on the battlefield, to be coordinated by cell phone. According to history, one of the reasons for General Robert E. Lee's retreat at Gettysburg was his army's dwindling food supplies. If Subway had been in business during those historic days in July 1863, the course of the nation might have ended up vastly different.

Gumby Across America

I am a man of small amusements and one of my adult nieces who knows me well gave me a meaningful gift during our visit to California – Gumby. The cartoon figure who was "once a little green slab of clay" is a classic. So across the U.S. I have begun compiling a collection of Gumby portraits, which I will eventually post in full on our Web site. Enjoy the preview above, which I call, "Gumby Amidst Ketchup."

Enjoy!

The Constituent Assembly Comes Home

Readers:

Again we bring you a special report related to the Constituent Assembly writing a new Bolivian constitution. In this report our team writes about an important part of this process, the return home of delegates to their constituents to report back and get an earful. This post looks at the return of Assembly delegates to Cochabamba.

Jim Shultz

The Constituent Assembly Comes Home

At the end of July, the 255 representatives to the Constituent Assembly went back to their communities to present the work and proposals they have come up with so far. We attended the presentation in Cochabamba to see what they had to say.

Teatro Adela Zamudio was packed. The line of Cochabambinos still hoping to get in stretched around the block. The audience inside was buzzing. The representatives were on the stage along with the Mayor and a spokesperson for the Governor, Manfred Reyes Villa. Event coordinators were passing out folders with paper to write down questions and a CD with reports from each of the Constituent Assembly’s 21 commissions. Women in the second row were remarking loudly to the moderator that they were still waiting to get their folders. The moderator’s voice boomed through the speakers, assuring the women that there would be enough for everyone, even though the packed theater suggested otherwise.

This was a forum open to the general public, coordinated by a non-partisan civil society group. The organizers emphasized that it was intended to be a neutral space for the public to hear about the work of the Constituent Assembly directly from the representatives.

Thus began the reports from the Assembly's 21 commissions. The results from each commission’s work will be included in the final version of the Constitution. The commissions vary in topic, but can be categorized into four basic groups.

The first set of commissions have to do with the basic formation of the government – its theoretical foundations, the structure of the State, the division of power between the branches of government and between the federal, departmental, and local governments. The second set of commissions are about the Bolivian people and their rights – who is a Bolivian citizen and how you can become one, rights and responsibilities of citizens, education (as a right of all citizens), and social development. The third set deal with development and natural resources– gas and oil, mining and metallurgy, water and energy resources, coca, land and territory, as well as rural and lowland development and economic development and finances of the State. The final set have to do with international relations – borders, security, and national defense.

Throughout the presentations, here are some of the things that struck us about the process:

The sheer number of proposals that each commission received.

During March and April of this year, the representatives held forums and debates across the country, during which any individual or organization could submit proposals or ideas in written or spoken form for the representatives to consider. From the number of proposals each commission received, it is clear that the public did their part. The Economic Development Commission alone, for example, reported that it had received 369 proposed articles from all over the country. Most proposed articles are a few lines to a paragraph or two in length. Each commission, composed of up to three dozen representatives, had to review, debate, and decide on every proposed article.

More consensus than conflict.

As each commission presented its report, we were struck by how much of the new constitution will have been agreed on by consensus. While much of the news here in Bolivia has focused solely on the outbreaks of violence and disagreements, many commissions were able to decide on the majority of the articles by consensus.

The standoff between the representatives on the remaining articles.

When a commission could not decide on an issue by consensus, the Constituent Assembly’s rules allowed for two reports to be written, one from the majority political party and one from the minority party. There will be Settlement Commissions meeting in the coming weeks in hopes of ironing out some of the differences, but if that does not prove successful, both versions will go to the plenary (floor) session for debate. The representatives showed a very strong commitment to their original ideas. It may prove very hard to budge either side from their positions for potential compromises on some of these issues. Some representatives fear that they will have to send two versions of a new Constitution to the Bolivian people to decide by referendum.

The representatives themselves.

The wide variety of backgrounds: there were rural community members, professionals, people representing different generations, point of view, and cultures. As the first representative spoke in Quechua, murmurs went through the audience as grandmothers translated for their daughters. Representatives seemed to speak very frankly to the audience in a way that showed a commitment to honesty and staying connected to their communities.

More inclusive than exclusive of the original dream.

We wrote about the long-standing hope of many Bolivians for the Constituent Assembly in a previous blog. Many of the new articles presented seemed to create legitimate space for a variety of approaches, from traditional decision-making to recognition of local community structure.

The passion expressed in even the most technical changes to the Constitution.

It was impressive to see representatives so deeply interested in the new structure of the State, about the changes they were making to the Executive, Legislative, and Judicial Branches. In each of the representatives’ presentations, one could sense a real hope about the new Constitution and the changes it could bring – from providing more controls and transparency to curb corruption in government to more recognition of the diversity and rights of the peoples that make up this country.

The enthusiasm of the public.

Audience participation was not just limited to applauding. The audience got downright rowdy at times, particularly during the presentation on how corruption would be controlled. The feeling, more often than not, was that long-standing injustices would finally be removed from their lives.

The absences.

The Mayor was up on stage, but the Governor, Manfred Reyes Villa, did not make a personal appearance. The majority of the representatives were from MAS party. All but one of the PODEMOS representatives were absent. Although everyone was invited to the invite—with the hope of creating a balanced view of the commission’s work-- it was clear that not everyone was there.

The commitment to take feedback.

The representatives held forums and took proposals from all over the country before debating the new articles of the Constitution. They not only took four and a half hours to explain the content and answer questions about the new Constitution at the forum, they also made a promise to take the comments and questions they received seriously. They pledged to use them to make final revisions to the new Constitution.

This event was part of the Constituent Assembly’s work aimed at involving representatives’ home constituents. Soon you will hear about our impressions of work being done by the Assembly in Sucre to show the other side of the story.

Written by Leny Olivera, Aldo Orellana, and Lily Whitesell

Bolivia Writes a New Constitution

Readers:

Last week a Democracy Center team left Cochabamba for Sucre, to provide ongoing coverage of the Constituent Assembly convened there. The Assembly is charged with the task of rewriting the nation's constitution. Below is a dispatch that the team wrote on the eve of their departure, setting the context of the process underway.

Monday August 6th marks Bolivia's national Independence Day, and also the one-year anniversary of the Assembly's start. This August 6 was supposed to be the deadline for completing the new constitution. While some progress has been made, the constitution writing is still far behind. Much criticism has been heaped on the delegates for this tardiness. Some of this criticism is surely valid, but writing from California I can't help but make a comparison.

In Sacramento Monday the California Legislature will once again take up approval of a state budget that is now more than a month late and has left low-income health patients losing some of their medical care. A group of less than 20 State Senators is responsible for that delay, thanks to a rule that requires the budget to be approved by a 2/3 vote. Sound familiar? The debate over requiring a 2/3 vote for every small step in approving a new Bolivian constitution dominated the start of that process.

The lesson here is that political delay and debates over giving a minority veto powers is not a Bolivia issue; it is a democracy issue. Resolving heated political disputes through negotiation, instead of action on the street, takes time.

Here's the opening piece from our team. We'll have more later this week.

Jim Shultz


The Birth of a Dream

The story of the Constituent Assembly is one of an idea being born, entering the public debate, and becoming reality. Like many big ideas, it began with a dream – a dream for justice and the recognition of all Bolivians that the small group of elite who ‘founded’ the country never thought about including in the original Constitution.

Some might say there are two Bolivias. One Bolivia settles conflicts in courts with lawyers and judges. The other depends on community mediation with traditional authorities. One Bolivia buys and sells land as individuals and calls for the respect of private property. The other Bolivia holds land as a community and continues to be suspicious of land titles. One Bolivia has made the rules and the other has chafed under them.

One Bolivia declared independence from Spain and wrote a Constitution for the new country in 1825. The other was excluded from the process – forced to work as slaves and sharecroppers in those original founders’ mines and haciendas.

One Bolivia had divided the land as they saw fit, often with very little regard or knowledge about the communities already living on it. The other saw their people’s lands handed over to someone else, divided by political lines drawn on maps, given to Bolivia’s elite as political favors, or eaten away in concessions to giant mining, agricultural, or more recently, lumber, cattle, and petroleum companies.

The Constituent Assembly began as a call for justice, a concrete demand for land rights, access to resources, and equal cultural representation in government affairs. Its proponents envisioned an inclusive system and a series of rules that would encompass the diversity that Bolivia represents, recognized and codified in the highest law of the land.

The Idea Comes to the Public Debate

Indigenous resistance to the cultural, political, and economic oppression of the Spanish and their descendants has taken place for over five centuries. But it was in the 1960s that Bolivia’s indigenous peoples first started demanding their right to “autodetermination,” or the right to live with dignity and justice.

Pro-indigenous movements, taking up the banner of “autodetermination,” spread through Aymara and Quechua highland peoples and through the 34 indigenous groups of the lowlands. The growing consciousness among indigenous peoples led to the formation of groups like the Farmers’ and Agricultural Workers’ Union (CSUTCB) which organized mainly in the highlands and the Confederation of Indigenous Peoples of Bolivia (CIDOB) organized in Bolivia’s lowland tropical regions). Through these formal structures, the call for autodetermination and justice began to be heard at the political level. Those demands would be transformed into a concrete proposal calling for a Constituent Assembly to rewrite Bolivia’s Constitution.

At first, the proposal for a Constituent Assembly was given very little attention. Victor Cortez of CONAMAQ (one of the largest highland indigenous organizations) explains how his organization’s first call for a new Constitution was received. ”No one gave us much importance. Many called us crazy. We were oppressed, we were ostracized.”

Yet the diverse groups across Bolivia found ways to combat their communities’ continued marginalization. In 1990, indigenous groups from the Amazonian lowlands organized the first March for Territory and Dignity. Hundreds of people marched from the tropical department of Beni to La Paz, generating a new national awareness of lowland cultures’ existence and struggles.

A turning point in the strength of the movement occurred two years later in 1992. Indigenous groups from the highlands and lowlands of Bolivia and from all over Latin America joined together in a celebration of 500 years of cultural resistance to Spanish colonization. The atmosphere had begun to shift. In 1994, under the leadership of the first indigenous vice-president, the first words of Bolivia’s Constitution were changed to describe the country as “multiethnic and pluricultural.” Although this was an important step, words alone were not enough.

A Demand Becomes Reality

When the people of Cochabamba filled the city’s streets in 2000 to protest Bechtel’s takeover of their water system, the idea of rewriting the Constitution to be more inclusive of Bolivia’s indigenous peoples had already been introduced to the public debate.

But when the people won in Cochabamba and Bechtel was forced out, a new sense – that things really can change – was infused into the country and into the debate over the Constituent Assembly. The demands gained new traction and greater intensity with urban and rural social movements taking up the cause.

During political turmoil in 2003, the Constituent Assembly became an official, concrete, and central demand. Tens of thousands marched on La Paz to protest then-President Gonzalo Sanchez de Lozada’s wildly unpopular plan to export national gas through Chile to the United States. Among the demands throughout the Gas War was to call a Constituent Assembly It soon became a twin rallying cry along with the call for a referendum on the gas issue. A technical change in the Constitution in 2004 allowed for Bolivia’s constitution to be completely rewritten through a Constituent Assembly – and for a new Constitution to be approved by the people through a national referendum.

During the 2005 presidential campaign, the Constituent Assembly took center stage as one of the main pillars of Evo Morales and MAS’ campaign platform. After celebrating their victory, the new Congress and President set to work drafting the rules for rewriting the Constitution. In March 2006, they passed a law calling for elections of the Constituent Assembly representatives for July 2006. In total disregard for the inclusive process that drove the first demands for a Constituent Assembly, the Bolivian Congress required all candidates be affiliated with a political party. Indigenous or community groups were not welcome if they did not sign up under the banner of one of the registered parties—which were dominated by MAS and PODEMOS. This set the stage for growing polarization along party lines.

The Constituent Assembly was officially convened on August 6, 2006, Bolivia’s Independence Day. The representatives were given one year to complete their task. Their first mandate was to decide on the procedural rules, which took five months thanks to a political holdout between the two dominant parties over the process for approving the new Constitution’s articles. It wasn’t until January 2007 that the representatives finally came to an agreement on the procedural rules, freeing them to move onto the real debates.

Twenty-one commissions were created as the incubators of ideas and debate. They were also charged with writing articles that they recommended for the new Constitution. Currently, the 21 commissions have each filed their reports and Settlement Committees are attempting to iron out differences between majority and minority reports this week. On August 6, the representatives will begin a plenary session to approve the parts of the new Constitution which has been agreed on by consensus. While they were originally supposed to finish all debate by August 6, 2007—by next week-- the deadline has been extended to December 6 of this year.

The process of taking the Constituent Assembly from dream to demand to reality has been a complex and complicated one. To get a deeper look at what is happening, a team of researchers from The Democracy Center will be in Sucre this week, sending dispatches on what the process of rewriting Bolivia’s Constitution looks like from the inside. Check back over the next week for in-depth reporting from our Dispatches from Sucre!

Written by Leny Olivera, Aldo Orellana, and Lily Whitesell