PART I: THE COUP CHAPTER 1
THE âPROCESS OF CHANGEâ CUT SHORT
A couple of hours after Evo Morales fled Boliviaâs nineteenth-century presidential palace on November 11, 2019, Luis Fernando Camacho swept in with a police escort, holding a Bible and a Bolivian tricolor flag. The pastor accompanying him swore, âNever again will Pachamama [Indigenous Mother Earth] return here.â1
The leader of the Pro-Santa Cruz Civic Committee, Camacho held no official position, but in little more than two weeks following the contested election on October 20, this 39-year-old right-wing Catholic zealot had mobilized a testosterone-laced discourse to seize center stage and, in the tumult, to spearhead the expulsion of the president. In the process, he had shut down the countryâs fourteen-year experiment with progressive politics and hijacked the longest-running democratically elected government Bolivia has ever had.
The October 20 election appeared fair, like the five previous votes administered by Moralesâs government since his landslide win in 2005.2 However, a carefully cultivated narrative about fraud pushed by the opposition dominated that night. Just when Moralesâs closest rival in fourteen years, former president and vice president Carlos Mesa, had enough votes to force a second round, the quick vote count was suspended for nearly twenty-four hours. The Organization of American States (OAS) denounced âirregularitiesâ at a press conference late that evening, and Mesa called for resistance, decrying âmonumental fraud.â Bolivia exploded.
A protest movement spilled out onto city streets, largely comprised of young people from the middle and upper classes. Every night for almost three weeks, the demonstrators alleged fraud, despite any tangible proof. Fueled by rhetoric calling Morales a dictator, their opposition was enabled by Moralesâs violation of the countryâs constitution by running for a fourth term, in disregard of his defeat in a 2016 referendum on whether he could stand again. The protestors demanded either a runoff with Mesa, or a new election. For the first time since Evoâs election in late 2005, the discourse of democracy rested firmly in the hands of the opposition.3
Students at the nightly rallies in La Pazâs upper-middle-class neighborhood of Sopocachi insisted they were demonstrating âto defend democracy, so that my vote is respected.â But when pressed on how they define democracy, the answer was mostly a blank stare or some version of âgetting Evo outâ because âheâs been in power too long.â4 As the weeks wore on, the nightly protests became more raucous and violent. Behind the scenes, Mesa and other opposition figures called for Morales to resign.
On Wednesday, November 6, Camacho announced that he would show up at the presidential palace and demand that Morales relinquish office immediately. In the face of this obvious publicity stunt, Mesa urged him to wait for the results of an audit conducted by the OAS. Camacho not only ignored Mesa, but by the end of the week had largely eclipsed him.
âI will never participate in another meeting with Carlos Mesa,â Camacho told the local newspaper, La RazĂłn. âI realized we were supporting a person who didnât care about the peopleâs vote.â5 Further pleas from Mesa and the OAS to respect the constitution and allow Morales to finish his remaining time in office fell on deaf ears. Later revelations indicate that in fact Mesa played a decisive role in orchestrating the coup, leading Evo to accuse him of being its principal instigator.6
By Friday, the police in Boliviaâs fourth-largest city, Cochabamba, had mutinied against Morales. Then they rose up in Boliviaâs capital, La Paz. Later, Camacho and his supporters would openly brag that they had bribed the police with promises of increased retirement pay.7
Gangs supporting Camacho began to bully lawmakers from Moralesâs Movement for Socialism (MAS) party into resigning, including the heads of the Plurinational Legislative Assembly, leaving the constitutional line of accession vacant.8 âThey told us they would kidnap our relatives and burn down our houses,â said a MAS lawmaker from the southern department (state or province) of PotosĂ.9 The minister of mines, a governor, a mayor, and the head of the Chamber of Deputies, as well as some of their family members, were kidnapped or attacked, and the campesino union headquarters was vandalized. Morales supporters launched several assaults as well, including burning down the houses of two of their leading opponents in La Paz.
That Saturday, Camacho gave Morales a 48-hour ultimatum to leave office. The announcement took Mesaâs team by surprise. Suddenly they found themselves confronting a rapid-fire and seemingly well-orchestrated unconstitutional seizure of power by Christian conservatives.
âHow can he do this?â a top Mesa staffer asked. âHe must have backing from somewhere,â a prominent local journalist commented.10 The usual suspect in Latin America, the United States, had provided overt but limited funding to local opposition NGOs to spread fake news, and the US supported what later proved to be a contested OAS audit of the elections. However, concrete evidence of who funded the unpredictable bully Camacho has yet to surface.
On Sunday morning, the military abandoned Morales. Six weeks later, Camacho revealed that his father, businessman JosĂ© Luis Camacho Parada, had âsealed the dealâ with them, which suggests that, like the police, the military had been bought off. The leaders of the armed forces successfully pressured commander in chief Williams Kaliman to âsuggestâ that Morales leave office. That Morales resigned hours later confirms just how much power Boliviaâs military still wields.
A jubilant crowd poured into La Pazâs central square in front of the presidential palace and the Plurinational Legislative Assembly to celebrate. âWeâve won our democracy back,â said one protestor as he waved the national flag.11
Two hours after Evo and his vice president, Ălvaro GarcĂa Linera, fled to Moralesâs home in the Chapare, opposition leadersâjoined by the Brazilian ambassador (in part as proxy for the United States), representatives of the Roman Catholic Church and the European Union, as well as Camachoâs lawyer and other opposition leadersâmet at La Pazâs Catholic University. There, they decided that the second vice president of the Senate, evangelical Jeanine Ăñez, would be Boliviaâs next president. Even though Ăñezâs party was part of a coalition that had won only 4 percent of the vote, she proclaimed herself president two days later to a mostly empty legislative chamber. Some MAS lawmakers, who held the majority, were too frightened to show up, and those who did deliberately withheld quorum. Ăñez then met with the armed forces and the police to guarantee their support before entering the palace brandishing a huge Bible as a military official pinned on her presidential sash.
Not far beneath the surface of this spectacle were Boliviaâs centuries-old racism and white supremacy. The 2006 election of Evo Morales, an Indigenous leftist, had upset Boliviaâs status quo like nothing since the countryâs 1952 revolution. Political scientist Marcelo Arequipa characterizes the movement that overthrew Morales as driven by three emotions: vengeance against uppity Indians, resentment of the supposedly preferential treatment of Indigenous people under Morales, and the fear that the white minority has held since the founding of the republic that the Indigenous majority would violently overthrow them.12 The opposition burned wiphalas, the Indigenous emblem that had morphed into a second national flag under the MAS. Many police in the highlands, almost all of whom are of Indigenous origin, ripped the wiphala off their uniforms in the days that followed, identifying it as a symbol of the MAS. For sociologist Pablo Mamani, this desecration was âan act of hate, vengeance, humiliation, insult and human degradation.â13
Once it was over, it became clear that Boliviaâs far right had taken advantage of mass protest by largely urban middle and upper classes over Evoâs unconstitutional run for a fourth term, using violence and bribes to seize the state. The outcome was a more authoritarian and undemocratic government than the one the opposition accused Morales of running.
WHY EVO FACED A CRISIS
âHow could it have happened? How did we lose our president so quickly?â wept a woman at a November 2019 march against Jeanine Ăñezâs takeover. On the heels of one of the longest periods of stability in the countryâs history, a government that had held power since 2006, and controlled the legislature since 2009, had unraveled in less than a month.
While Moralesâs departure from the national stage had been a long time coming, no one could have imagined such a rapid collapse. After fourteen years of inevitable errors and oversights, many voters were ready for something new. Economist Armando Ortuño describes this as âan indifference, a demobilization, an âI donât careâ attitude.â14 Damian LĂłpez, a natural gas installer from PotosĂ, always supported the MAS, but his approval was starting to wear thin. âWe want the process that Evo and his political movement started to continue,â he said, âbut itâs time for him to go and a new generation of leaders to replace him.â15
Their apathy was not simply on account of the tedium of the same leader; voters themselves had changed. Opposition to the MAS had mushroomed, and the social movements that had thrust them into power were, for the most part, shadows of their former selves. For political scientist Fernando Mayorga, the overthrow of Morales was, by every indication, a well-orchestrated effort to reaffirm the hegemony of the traditional oligarchy and to replace the MASâs state-centric economic model with the previous neoliberal one.16
DEMOGRAPHIC CHANGES
In the Bolivia of 2019, the Indigenous cultural revival the MAS had brought, and the drop in discrimination that accompanied it, had increasingly less relevance as rural areas were hollowed out by migration to the cities. In many highland regions, like Tahua, on the edge of the vast salt flat Salar de Uyuni, only the elderly remainâleaving ten families in a village that had once been home to one hundred. Roberto Mamani Soliz, whose parents live there, is a secondary school math teacher in nearby PotosĂ. âI come back several times every year to help my parents with the quinoa crop,â he explained, threshing the native seed by hand. âThey canât manage it on their own and itâs their main food source.â17
Some of the young, who are rapidly losing both the language and culture, only return to the countryside for festivals. Scholar-activist FĂ©lix Muruchi Poma worries that âif we donât actively work to keep our traditions alive, thanks to city living and the internet, we will completely lose them.â18
Muruchi taught history to university students, who proved to be the most unpredictable element in the 2019 election. Half the population is under thirty-five, and they are more urban, educated, and middle class than their parents. Armando Ortuño argues: âFor many older migrants, Evo Morales was someone to emulate and identify withâŠ. For their children, Morales didnât ⊠connect so automatically with their aspirations of becoming professionals in a culture defined by urban life and consumerism.â19
Most of this generation had never known any government except the one led by...