safety if they join the community and
don’t turn their guns on us.”
Carlos said he was branded a
traitor by his own community for
attempting to negotiate with the
soldiers, who were whimpering for
mercy. Since then, the community’s
position has hardened. Union
leaders now say that the police are
entirely unnecessary, and can only
return if “they get on their knees
and ask for forgiveness.”
With the coup’s security forces
expelled from the area, the workers
established what they call the union
police, under the command of the
community. I met them while they
were standing guard at a union
meeting, and found them without
any weapons, other than a few
sticks. They were drawn from and
fully accountable to the community.
Everyone I spoke to in the
Chapare appeared content without
the state’s police in the area. One
council member, Limbert, from the
local town of Ivirgarzama, said,
“We’re even safer now without the
police. They used to charge truck
drivers illegal tolls; they’d ambush
people who were walking home at
night and steal their phones. Now
we don’t have that; anyone can walk
around safely in the Tropic.”
Still, a few military bases have
remained intact in the region. Inside,
local teenagers are performing
their military service.
As the coup unfolded, a local
journalist named Sabina recounted,
the parents of those young men
surrounded the military base and
pleaded with their children not to
side with the coup.
Since then, troops have been
active, but agreed to only stay within
their base. All other military units
have fled.
Is a massacre ahead?
Though the police haven’t been
able to re-enter the region, the coup
government has tried to punish the
residents of Chapare for expelling
it. The junta has cut off all services
10
to the public bank, Banco Union,
which across most of this region is
the only national bank with ATMs.
What’s more, the coup regime’s
interior minister, Arturo Murillo, has
threatened to deny all of Chapare
the right to vote in any upcoming
elections–unless its residents allow
the police to reenter.
The police loyal to Murillo,
whose nickname is El Bolas
(meaning “the one with balls,” in
reference to his macho posturing
and violent attitude), have
announced that they are preparing
to “enter, jointly with the armed
forces, into the Tropic of
Cochabamba, in order to establish
the rule of law in this area.” They
have not yet explained exactly how
they would do so, but the only
possible way would be by military
invasion and occupation.
“The police can’t come back,
people won’t accept it,” said
Segundina Orellana. When I asked
her what could be done to combat
a potential invasion, she said that
the region would rise up, and hoped
that it would push the rest of the
country to do so as well.
It is not hard to see why the
community won’t countenance the
return of the police. On November
15, union members from this region
were marching towards the city of
Cochabamba, and were shot at by
officers, some from helicopters.
Nine were killed that day, in what is
now known as the Sacaba massacre.
The Bolivian media’s information
war intensifies
Chapare is one of the most
demonized regions of the country.
Mainstream Bolivian media outlets
routinely portray its population as
a collection of narco-terrorists,
pumping out evidence-free claims,
like the myth that Colombian militants
from FARC are controlling protests.
The reality is entirely the
opposite, as the production of coca
has actually been reduced under
Evo’s rule, while it has skyrocketed
in US-allied countries like Peru and
Colombia.
Bolivia’s unions themselves
play a role in ensuring that production
is controlled and destined for
traditional use. In fact, most so-
called cocaleros (coca farmers)
also produce fruits, rice, cheese,
and other agricultural products.
Their community benefited from
the flood of public infrastructure
projects and investments in public
services under Evo Morales. But
that is all gone now. Yet they are
still here, as determined as ever in
their commitment to the elected
president’s party Movement Toward
Socialism (MAS).
While opposition media outlets
and Western-backed pro-regime
change NGOs claim residents here
are acting under obligation from
union leaders, the reality is quite
the opposite. In fact, the members
are usually more radical than their
bosses.
I went to numerous union
meetings with a federation leader
named Julian Cruz, and watched as
he was forced by his rank-and-file
to explain why he was not a traitor
for negotiating a peace deal with
the coup regime.
The participatory nature of this
movement is remarkable. Julian
explained to me how he has to
attend every single meeting of every
union central within his federation,
and that if he doesn’t, union
members members will take him out
to the jungle and “tie me to a tree
for 24 hours” as a punishment for
lack of transparency.
Not many unions in the United
States or North America as a whole
can count on that level of grassroots
engagement.
Watching the media’s campaign
against the campesinos from
Chapare, it feels like the demonization
is a prelude to bloodshed.
Media reporting of the Sacaba
massacre was instructive, as the
national press falsely framed the
killing as a case of “crossfire.” Coup
Class Struggle