They accused the government of
giving people the illusion of having a say in the gas issue while
denying them real control of natural gas supplies. The question
so many people had wanted to see—“Are you in favor
of the nationalization of Bolivia’s gas supplies?”—was
not on the ballot at all.
Some labor and campesino groups called for a boycott, or for
Bolivians to destroy their ballots on election day. They called
the referendum a trap that Mesa’s administration would use
to legitimize its neoliberal policies. Other opposition leaders
questioned the call to boycott, accusing their fellow leftist
leaders of colluding with rightist interests to destabilize the
government and create conditions favorable for a coup.
International commentators couldn’t understand the seeming
illogic of Bolivia’s labor, campesino, and indigenous movements.
They had wanted this referendum, and now many of them were calling
for a boycott. “Are these groups capable of anything but
criticism and protest?” they asked. How could Bolivians
throw away their chance for development and be so persuaded by
populist and nationalist rhetoric?
In order to understand why people approached the referendum with
such mistrust—and reacted so angrily to what they perceived
as manipulative questions—it’s helpful to understand
the historical context. Bolivians understand that a country rich
in natural resources, in zinc, copper, tin and gold, is not the
same as a wealthy country. For centuries, they watched as elites
of European descent grew wealthy, enriching other countries and
international companies while impoverishing Bolivia. Bolivians
wanted to assure that the country’s natural gas supplies
would not be squandered. They wanted to see the benefits reach
average Bolivians, not just a few elites. And so they approached
the referendum cautiously, critically. For several months before
the actual vote, Bolivians held hundreds of workshops to analyze
the referendum as a democratic process, to debate the five questions,
to discuss the merits of voting or boycotting, to challenge the
information coming out of the government with more independent
research and proposals.
On the weekend of July 18, the government imposed a curfew. Clubs
and bars shut down. Businesses closed. Driving was only allowed
for emergencies. We prepared ourselves for the possibility of
another October, stocking up on produce and canned goods, nervously
predicting what might happen. But on July 18, the streets were
empty except for strolling families or makeshift soccer games.
Throughout the day, people made their way to the polls.
On all five questions, the “yes” vote won. The government
quickly claimed victory, saying that the majority of Bolivians
had ratified its leadership on the gas issue and had shown general
support for the administration.
But there were many Bolivians that day who cast their vote despite
their deep doubts about the five questions. As one friend put
it, “I don’t support the way the government has worded
these questions, but I do support the idea of a referendum. I
fear that if we don’t participate now, it will give our
critics the ammunition they need to say we had a chance at participatory
democracy but we threw it away. And we cannot jeopardize the constitutional
assembly.”
Of Bolivia’s 4,458,293 registered voters, only about 60
percent voted, despite governmental threats that participation
was mandatory. Some people stayed home, refusing to participate
in the flawed referendum. Around 12 percent of votes were annulled,
many of them destroyed or invalidated because the word “nationalization”
was written across the ballot. Those voters participated in the
process, but showed their discontent with the options they were
given. Other people left sections of their ballots blank, especially
on the fourth and fifth questions where 17 and 16 percent were
left blank respectively (indicating confusion over the wording
or uncertainty about how to respond).
Finally, interviews following the referendum indicated that those
“yes” votes often represented very different interpretations
of ambiguous questions. Thus an ardent supporter of nationalization
and a capitalist investor in private industries may have voted
“yes” on the same question.
In the wake of the July 18 referendum, questions still remain
about how Bolivians will receive the Mesa administration’s
policies on gas as they become more concrete. I was left with
the feeling that the issue had been postponed, that the ambiguity
of the five questions will kindle conflict again in the future.
We now turn our attention to the constitutional assembly, another
democratic “mechanism” that has the potential to allow
historically excluded people the chance to participate in the
formulation of a new constitution. It also has the potential to
repeat Bolivia’s oppressive history. Many of my colleagues
express their concern that the assembly will be controlled by
those same interests that have always been able to set the nation’s
agenda: the ruling economic and political elite. Wary of that
possibility, some grassroots groups argue that the assembly is
merely an effort to mollify the demands of excluded Bolivians,
that it will not affect real change, but rather legalize and lend
a false legitimacy to exclusionary laws and policies. Others believe
this is a real opportunity for historically excluded Bolivians
to articulate concrete demands and a vision for how they would
re-make their country—and to develop the constitutional
and legal framework to back that vision.
And so the debate begins over the merits of the constitutional
assembly, its ability to deconstruct and possibly reconstruct
Bolivia.
Peace,
Susan
The 2004 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p.
152 |
