And then a week ago, six people,
including a child, were killed in clashes between campesinos (farmers)
in the town of Warisata and the Bolivian military, which was escorting
trapped tourists. The people of Warisata were among thousands
of Bolivians protesting the sale of Bolivia's natural gas, as
well as several laws that aren't favorable to rural communities.
The deaths in Warisata radicalized national protests.
More and more people and organizations have begun to participate
in nationwide mobilizations, many of them from Bolivia's impoverished
indigenous communities. And while the different groups participating
in the protests represent a range of demands, the unifying cry
has been against the sale of Bolivia's natural gas reserves.
Bolivia has long based its economy on the export of raw material,
an approach that has failed to enrich the country. I am often
reminded of Kentucky and the coal mines there. Those mines generated
wealth for a small group of mine owners who lived far from Appalachian
reality. The miners developed black lung and continued to live
in Third-World conditions while the wealth left the region. Eastern
Kentucky never developed any other economic base to sustain itself.
When the miners would strike for their rights, for health care
and better wages, they were often terrorized and killed.
For centuries, Bolivia's economy was also based on mining: tin
and silver. Millions of African slaves and indigenous Bolivians
died in those mines. And now Bolivian officials have developed
a project to export another raw material: Bolivia's natural gas
supplies, intended for American and Mexican markets.
Bolivians know that they’re getting a raw deal. Many people
carry signs that say, "Don't sell the gas, industrialize
it." People understand that an economy based on raw materials
will never be sustainable and will only bring in a small percentage
of the overall wealth generated by the product once it's refined.
They also would like to see their natural resources go to serve
the people more directly. As one woman told me, "We want
the government to annul the agreements they've signed and start
over—with good negotiations that will really favor Bolivia
and not intermediaries."
Of course, there are arguments in favor of the sale of gas; many
claim it's Bolivia's only option to generate wealth. Bolivia's
overwhelming external debt and stagnant economy require that the
nation seek policies or ventures that will let it generate income
to continue paying off loans.
I tend to see this issue as part of a much larger whole: people
angry at a government that is unresponsive to their demands.
I spoke with UMAVIDA's coordinator, a Presbyterian pastor named
Luis Perez, to get his perspective. We talked about the generalized
anger spreading through many of the "social sectors"
of Bolivia (peasant farmers, workers, teachers, etc.). Luis said,
"Sometimes I think people are excessive in their demands.
Now people are calling for [president Gonzalo Sanchez de Lozada]
to resign. Will that solve the problem? No. We will still face
the same pressures, the same external debt. At the same time,
the government makes threats, tries to tie leaders like the Mallku
[a well-known indigenous leader] to Shining Path [a terrorist
group from Peru]. The government is looking for excuses to associate
indigenous leaders with these groups as a pretext for arresting
them, detaining them."
Luis went on to explain that many of the groups that are marching,
blockading, and protesting are divided. He said, "Nobody
is united. If they were really united they might be able to achieve
real change. Think how much more powerful it could be! But no.
There are many divisions. There is no coordination. Everyone wants
to be the hero and march for their cause. One week the teachers
declare strike, and the next, the drivers. The campesinos of the
altiplano call for blockades, and in Cochabamba they refuse to
support them. A month later, Cochabamba is blockading and there's
nothing in the Altiplano. Yesterday we had no meat. The meat packers
went on strike. Since they were a small group, the government
tear-gassed and dispersed them. And that was it."
The only conclusion we could come to was that the situation is
incredibly complicated, and there are problems within the different
movements that we must recognize. Some divisions stem from personality
conflicts between leaders or substantive differences in ideologies.
Other divisions are caused when the government deftly plays one
group against the other. Others still because groups are so intent
on the survival of their own people and interests that they develop
tunnel vision.
Now in their third week, the once-scattered protests are growing
stronger, more unified. In response, the government has begun
to militarize the western region. When I met with a group of North
American missioners recently, we reflected on this increasing
violence. One friend said, "I don't want to hear about dialogue
and signing accords and promises. I'm sick of it. We have to see
real, tangible change." We talked about how 50 years ago
indigenous people were "given" their rights. They were
now recognized as human beings, not animals, not slaves. And yet,
50 years have passed and what substantial change have they seen?
I met with a good friend of mine last week, Enriqueta, an Aymara
woman. We were talking about the current situation when she began
to weep over the dead in Warisata. She said, "We are less
than animals. They [European/elite Bolivians] treat their dogs
better than they treat us. They don't mourn when we die."
Right now the government is pushing a return to dialogue, calling
for peace and tranquility. But there's a difference between peace
in the sense of no overt unrest, which masks a broiling undercurrent
of anger and desperation below a seemingly calm surface, and peace
that is achieved because of just policies that address people's
needs and give real voice and power to people who have been marginalized.
As another Aymara friend told me, "The government isn't
one of us. They've never lived what we live, suffered what we
suffer. How could they ever feel what we feel? The people are
tired. Poor people no longer know how they will survive."
Susan
The 2003 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, page
263
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