Address correspondence to Anaïd Flesken, Neuer Jungfernstieg 21, 20354 Hamburg, Germany. E-mail: anaid.flesken@gmail.com

Ethnicity without Group: Dynamics of Indigeneity in Bolivia

ANAÏD FLESKEN

German Institute of Global and Area Studies

This article examines recent changing dynamics of indigeneity in Bolivia. It argues that despite competing definitions of the indigenous on the basis of attributes as diverse as skin color or vocation, the category is invested with meaning and used as basis for collective action. Yet debates surrounding the constitution of 2009 show that clearly defined attributes are necessary for such action to have a lasting effect. Overall, the mobilization has not led to the manifestation of ethnic categories, as observed elsewhere, but to increased contestation. The case suggests a fruitful analytical distinction between attributes, meaning, and action in ethnic dynamics.

Accepted for publication in Nationalism & Ethnic Politics 19(3):333– 353, 2013.

2

INTRODUCTION

The political mobilization of ethnic categories may have wide-ranging consequences for the

quality, or even stability, of a political regime. The events in, for example, Northern Ireland,

Rwanda, or former Yugoslavia have shown that the politicization of ethnic categories

increases the salience of ethnic attributes and polarizes along ethnic boundaries, to the point

of conflict.

While everyday explanations of such events stress the primordial, fundamental

attachments of ethnic groups, the political science literature recognizes that ethnic categories

are the results of social construction; created and moulded by exogenous factors. Recent

literature explicitly considers the fluidity of ethnic categories, but rarely the underlying

mechanism of change. Much of the literature implies, first, that the meaning attached to

ethnic categories is based on the definition of these categories, that is, the attributes assigned

to them. Second, it implies that political processes may affect the categorization of ethnic

identity, but that once ethnic categories are politicized, they may only harden. In other words,

once constructed, ethnic categories are difficult to reconstruct and as such may be considered

as if they were stable.

These assumptions result from the tendency to focus on cases where ethnicity is already

highly salient and politicized, rather than on processes of politicization as such. This article

focuses on dynamics of ethnic politicization, and it does so in a case not normally considered

in the prevailing literature on ethnopolitics: indigenous mobilizations in Bolivia. Latin

American cases are almost completely absent from British scholarship of ethnicity and

nationalism. This absence is curious, given that ethnic identities in Latin America have long

been recognized as being fluid and malleable and thus present interesting case studies for the

analysis of the (re)construction of ethnicity.1

The Bolivian case shows that category boundaries do not necessarily need to be clearly

defined before meaning is attached to the category. Indigeneity is varyingly based on

attributes such as physiology, dress, language or other cultural denominators, territory, or

class and thus susceptible to situational changes. Despite the ambiguity of the content of

indigeneity, however, the concept seems to resonate with many Bolivians as it has been

increasingly used in political discourse, contributing to the recent drastic changes in the

state’s political sphere.2 It may be argued that this evidences Fredrik Barth’s claim that a

shared similarity is not as important as a shared difference; as will become clear, this shared

3

similarity lies in socio-economic status rather than any form of ethnic attribute.3 The

politicization of indigeneity and its consequences, however, imply a belief in its

primordiality, if not necessarily by political actors then at least by their audience.

Moreover, the Bolivian case shows that, in contrast to what would be expected from the

theoretical literature on ethnic change and conflict, the politicization of indigeneity has not

achieved a clearer demarcation of ethnic categories; if anything, their newly-found political

relevance may have increased, rather than decreased, the contestation of boundaries. Any

official definition of indigeneity would exclude some Bolivians self-identifying as

indigenous. In particular, a biological or cultural definition would stand in conflict with

boundary definitions according to location, rurality, and/or class. Thus, clearly defined

categories are necessary for any measures of affirmative action: who should be the subject of

collective rights? In Bolivia, this question remains unanswered.

This article is organized as follows. The next sections discuss the current theory on ethnic

mobilization and introduce the case. The following sections then present and analyze the

politicization of indigeneity in Bolivia chronologically. Based on a novel synthesis of

historical narrative as well as expert interviews, conducted during fieldwork in September

and October 2011, the article briefly presents the background for indigenous identity by

looking at identity discourses from the 16th to the end of the 20th century. It then examines

indigenous mobilization from the 1990s until the passing of a new constitution in 2009,

which recognizes Bolivia as a plurinational state. The fifth section examines the

developments during the first years of implementing the new constitution, while the

conclusion discusses the developments in light of the theory and proposes an analytical

distinction for the examination of ethnic dynamics.

DYNAMICS OF ETHNICITY CONSTRUCTION

The vast, and rapidly growing, literature on ethnicity bears testimony to the contested

character of the concept. Yet despite the expanse of the literature, most scholars agree, to a

greater or lesser extent, on some of its fundamental characteristics. First, they agree on its

definition:4 an ethnic category is commonly defined as a collective whose members share the

perception of a common origin, based on common attributes such as language, culture,

history, territory, and/or physical appearance, and who may feel a sense of community and

solidarity, sometimes expressed through collective action.5 Second, virtually every scholar

4

agrees that ethnic categories were constructed at some distinguishable period in time.6 Ethnic

categories exist only in the way they do because there is collective agreement that they do.

Explanations differ on how these collective agreements were reached, but many assign an

important role to political actors.7 For example, some argue that contemporary ethnic

structures are the result of colonial administrations that set up institutions that emphasized

ethnic over non-ethnic categories.8 On a somewhat shorter time scale, Alvin Rabushka and

Kenneth Shepsle in their classic work on politics in plural societies focus on the political

salience of ethnic cleavages and argue that political entrepreneurs activate such cleavages in

their appeal for votes. As a result, ethnic categories begin to structure not only political but

also social relations.9 Donald Horowitz shows that cultural revival movements harden

boundaries and strengthen identity and collective action.10 More recently, David Lake and

Donald Rothchild also focus on the role of political entrepreneurs, describing how ethnic

politics magnify ethnic boundaries and accelerate polarization between ethnic categories.11

Kanchan Chandra explains the success of ethnic parties in limited-information settings

through the appeal of political actors to visible ethnic cues. This often results, she argues, in a

“self-enforcing and self-reinforcing equilibrium of ethnic favouritism.”12

These examples do not only illustrate the focus on the role of political actors in the

construction of ethnicity, but also the underlying, if implicit, assumptions as to the dynamics

of the process. Once ethnic categories are invented and politicized, they begin to manifest

through a self-reinforcing spiral as identification increasingly structures attitudes and

behavior on each side and across the boundary. The construction of ethnicity is seen to be a

one-way process.13 Thus, no matter the underlying assumptions of the cause and timing of the

politicization of ethnicity, the dynamics are assumed to be similar. In this regard, the

constructivist approach differs from the so-called primordialist approach mainly to the extent

that it sees the “spark” setting of this process in factors exogenous rather than endogenous to

ethnic affiliation.14

This article presents evidence to show that the mobilization and politicization of ethnic

categories, even when reinforced by socio-economic lines, do not necessarily lead to their

manifestation. This conclusion has two implications for the literature on ethnic politics. First,

when examining a snapshot of ethnic relations, we should distinguish between at least three

different elements of ethnicity: attributes as a basis of ethnic category; meaning attached to

these attributes; as well as action arising from them. Second, when examining ethnic

dynamics as a process, these three elements may develop independently from each other.

5

ON BOLIVIA

Bolivia is regarded as one of the most ethnically diverse countries of Latin America.

Although the results are contested, an indication of this diversity can be gleaned from the

national census of 2001.15 Of the then 8.2 million Bolivians, about 62 percent are categorized

as belonging to one of over 30 indigenous peoples. The majority of indigenous Bolivians

identify themselves as either Quechuas (30.7 percent) or Aymaras (25.2 percent),

traditionally settled in the western Andean highlands of the country. Around 6 percent of

Bolivians belong to any of the other, smaller indigenous peoples who, with the exception of

the Urus, live mainly in the eastern lowlands. The largest categories here are the Chiquitanos

(2.2 percent), Guaraníes (1.5 percent), and Mojeños (0.8 percent). Non-indigenous Bolivians

identify either as white or mestizo, that is, of mixed European and indigenous descent. Afro-

Bolivians comprise around 0.6 percent of the population.16

Bolivia is also one of the continent’s poorest and most unequal countries. According to

the United Nations Development Programme, Bolivia’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP)

averages to just above US$4,000 per person, with 14 percent of the population living below

the poverty line of US$1.25 a day. In the latest Human Development Index, Bolivia is ranked

108 of 187 surveyed states, and with a Gini coefficient of 58.2, it is among the top ten

countries of income inequality worldwide. Ethnic belonging and socio-economic status are

closely linked. Both structural and direct discrimination means that the Afro-Bolivian and the

indigenous populations fare consistently and considerably worse in developmental indicators

such as literacy rates, land ownership, poverty, malnutrition, urbanization, or infant

mortality.17

Despite this economic and political marginalization, Bolivia’s indigenous population has

long not mobilized as indigenous. Instead, mobilization and protests were conducted through

labor unions as miners or peasants. This changed in the 1970s when indigenous movements

formed and evolved into indigenous parties that became increasingly successful in the 1990s.

Today, the indigenous movements support the first indigenous president of the country, Evo

Morales Ayma. His presidency saw the introduction of policies designed to end indigenous

marginalization, including the nationalization of the country’s gas resources, the passing of

an anti-discrimination law, and, perhaps most importantly, the writing and passing of a new

constitution in 2009. This constitution formally established Bolivia as Estado Plurinacional

de Bolivia (Plurinational State of Bolivia), in special recognition of the country’s 36

indigenous nations as well as its Afro-descendant population.

6

These mobilizations have attracted considerable attention among anthropologists and

area studies researchers, who aimed to show how and why indigenous Bolivians mobilized.

In the following, this article builds on this literature to illustrate the dynamics of the

mobilization process over time, but in the light of the theory of ethnicity construction. The

first part gives an historical overview since colonization to the late 20th century,

demonstrating the construction and reconstruction of the indigenous category.18 Since

Bolivia’s colonization through the Spanish in the 16th century, the attributes upon which the

category “indigenous” was based have changed several times, from descent-based to socio-

economic to territorial definitions. Beginning in the 1960s, the term was increasingly asserted

by those to whom it was assigned and became the basis for collective mobilization. But while

indigenous social movements followed similar interests, their own definitions of indigeneity

differed between them as well.

The second part presents the dynamics from the 1990s until the passing of the new

constitution in 2009. Indigeneity was increasingly mobilized―and simultaneously

reconstructed―in political movements and protests. This is particularly visible in the

indigenous marches of the 1990s, the so-called protest cycle between 2000 and 2005, the

election of Morales, as well as the new constitution. These episodes show that indigeneity

could serve as a basis for mobilization despite its ambiguous definition; the category is filled

with meaning for many Bolivians. However, different trajectories of the protests also reveal

the situationality of indigeneity and the emergence of new exclusions, depending on the

hegemonic conception of indigeneity.

The third part focuses on the dynamics following the passing of the new constitution in

2009. Despite an institutionalization of indigeneity through the constitution, the contestation

of the category did not decrease but increase. While some feared the manifestation of ethnic

boundaries as well as a “reversed racism” against non-indigenous Bolivians, debates during

the implementation process marked and furthered the contested nature of indigeneity.

THE CONSTRUCTION AND RECONSTRUCTION OF INDIGENEITY:

CHANGING ATTRIBUTES

The existence of the indigenous category in Latin America is a direct result of the continent’s

colonization. With their settlement in what was called Upper Peru, the Spanish elite and their

descendants drew a distinction between themselves and the region’s native population, as

they considered the latter uncivilized and thus inferior in social status. This distinction was

7

enforced in policy and practice through systems of servitude and taxation; and while

servitude was officially abolished after Bolivian independence in 1825, the introduction of

laws such as the qualified vote―a restriction of suffrage to those able to read and write and

earn an income―in practice reproduced the divide.19 The colonial state thus constructed an

ethnic boundary as it attached meaning to the difference between the Spanish and the so-

called indigenous population, although heterogeneous, first according to descent and later to

socio-economic attributes. With this boundary it assigned and reified a category that was

previously inexistent as it was meaningless, because it is based on a shared difference to

Spanish-descendants rather than on a shared similarity.

Although the category, over time, was not only assigned but also asserted by those

included and thus further reified, the boundary between the two categories began to blur with

the emergence of mestizos, descendants of Spanish and indigenous parents. It blurred further

when the basis of this mestizaje, or mixture, shifted from a predominantly descent-based to a

predominantly cultural and socio-economic basis as many “whitened” themselves through

economic advancement, accompanied by a shift to the Spanish language and Western dress

and demeanor―descent and culture were not necessarily complementary anymore.20 The

distinction between mestizo and indigenous, and thus the definition of indigenous, became

increasingly ambiguous.

The boundaries blurred further in the wake of the national revolution of 1952. The

Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario (MNR, Nationalist Revolutionary Movement) with

its national, anti-feudal, and anti-colonial program of nacionalismo revolucionario sought to

“refound the nation.”21 To achieve this, the MNR implemented an array of agrarian,

educational, and citizenship reforms intended to integrate the indigenous population and to

build a national community. However, this integration was to take place through the

assimilation of indigenous Bolivians into a mestizo Bolivian nation. The abolition of literacy

requirements to vote introduced universal adult suffrage and thus included indigenous

Bolivians into the national political community, but the agrarian reforms redefined

indigenous communities as peasant unions and the educational system instructed them in

Spanish language and “Bolivian” culture.22 This mestizaje created new forms of

discrimination against the social category of campesinos (peasants) and, through this

redefinition of indigenous in class terms as rural and poor, reproduced the inequality between

the countryside and the city.23 As in other Latin American countries, then, Bolivian mestizo

nationalism reconstituted indigeneity and ethnic discrimination while trying to overcome it.24

8

The failure to effectively integrate the indigenous population led, in the late 1960s and

1970s, to a process of “reindianization” when, in the highlands of the country, activist from

the Aymara and Quechua peoples began to integrate identity-based demands into the agendas

of peasant and labor unions, claiming that their oppression was not only economic and

political but also ideological.25 Reclaiming the indigenous ascription for themselves, they

discursively united the indigenous population of Bolivia. The movement itself, however, was

divided: Katarists, on the one hand, blended ethnicity with class consciousness and aimed to

reconstruct Bolivia as a pluricultural state which recognizes its diversity. Indianists, on the

other hand, highlighted ethnicity as the basis of indigenous subordination and aimed to found

a separate indigenous state.26 In particular, this state was envisaged to be the reincarnation of

the Incan empire; their “Indian nationalism” largely excluded lowland indigenous peoples,

who had never been part of this empire.27 Underlying this organizational and ideological

division were divisions in the definition of indigeneity: while Katarism was based on an

inclusive definition of the indigenous, centered on occupation and territorial linkage as

attributes, Indianism was based on a rather exclusive, biological definition.

Bolivia’s history thus saw the construction, reconstruction, as well as contestation of the

indigenous category. The category’s boundary to mestizo Bolivians is unclear. For some,

indigeneity includes only highland indigenous, for others all indigenous; some define

indigeneity according to biological attributes, others according to cultural or linguistic

attributes, again others according to territory or class. Nonetheless, despite this contestation,

in the 1990s and 2000s indigeneity gained currency as collective identity and basis for

collective action.

THE POLITICIZATION OF INDIGENEITY: MEANING DESPITE

CONTESTATION

The indigenous mobilizations in the 1990s

In 1990, hundreds of lowland indigenous protesters mobilized for territorial rights and self-

defense, walking a protest march over more than 600 kilometers to the presidential palace in

La Paz. In defining these issues as common concerns, the march asserted unity and

strengthened collective identity among the protesters.28 Similar marches took place

throughout the 1990s, but only in 1996 did both lowland and highland indigenous peoples

organizations mobilize for a joint march and attempt to articulate common interests and an

9

inclusive definition of the indigenous. Ideological divisions were bridged in the attainment of

a common goal.29

The mobilizations had an impact on national level politics. The new government under

President Gonzales Sánchez de Lozada introduced an array of multiculturalist reforms in the

mid-1990s. They constitutionally recognized Bolivia’s multiethnic and pluricultural nature as

well as indigenous land rights, introduced bilingual education, and strengthened municipal

government, changing the structure of local politics while recognizing a variety of local,

grassroots organizations and effectively the validity of customary law (usos y costumbres).30

While the reforms have been criticized by some indigenous activists as instruments of

oppression, they strengthened indigenous identity discourses.31 The reforms opened up

opportunities for indigenous political participation at the local level and gave many

indigenous citizens de facto suffrage.32

The rhetoric of multiculturalism gave incentives for mobilization in cultural terms. One

emerging actor presenting itself increasingly in cultural terms was the federation of coca

growers. The cocaleros, led by Morales, framed their defense of coca fields against

government drug eradication programs as the defense of Bolivian tradition and cultural and

religious freedom. Their protests and participation in marches earned them support from

diverse sections of the population, both indigenous and non-indigenous.33 In the national

elections of 1997 Morales’ political party, which would later become the Movimiento al

Socialismo (MAS, Movement toward Socialism), attained four seats in Congress and since

then has experienced a sharp rise in support.34 The MAS is thereby neither narrowly class- or

ethnicity-oriented but, as Robert Albro points out, relies on “tactical flexibility, [...] extra-

political sources of legitimacy, successful cross-sector alliances, [...] and the use of Andean

cultural frames.”35 The mobilizations and subsequent reforms of the 1990s hence

institutionalized but at the same time further diversified indigeneity; it became a mainstay in

political discourse but also even more ambiguous.

The Water War of 2000

The trend continued between 2000 and 2005, during Bolivia’s protest cycle, which began

with the so-called Water War (Guerra del Agua) in the city of Cochabamba in 2000.

Following pressures from the World Bank to privatize the local water supply system, the

administration under President Hugo Banzer Suárez had signed a contract with the

international consortium Aguas del Tunari who then drastically increased water rates.36 The

10

local population reacted to these increases with marches, roadblocks, and general strikes,

effectively shutting down the city’s economy for several days. When Banzer declared a state

of emergency, the situation aggravated. Violent clashes between protesters and the military

led to the death of six people and the wounding and detention of hundreds nationwide,

causing the flight of the Aguas del Tunari managers.37

While the issues at hand were not indigenous issues per se, indigeneity became a

mainstay of the protest. During the Water War, the unification of the Cochabamba population

in protest led to a contestation of local notions of indigeneity, reconstructed as “neither

completely urban nor rural.”38 The Coordinadora de Defensa de Agua y de la Vida (Coalition

for the Defense of Water and Life), which led the protests and whose leadership, as Andrew

Canessa notes, consisted predominantly of urban middle-class whites and mestizos,

articulated the main demand of control over water supply as springing from the indigenous

heritage of customary law.39 In this way, it was not only able to spark the interest of the

international press and to build a viable political discourse, but also to engage the Quechua-

speaking population of Cochabamba and thus to unite urban and rural interests.40 Hence,

while the incorporation of indigenous issues and identity politics served mobilization it also

blurred the lines between the indigenous and non-indigenous populations.

However, the discourse during the Water War also had exclusionary effects. The

Coordinadora’s focus on rurality and customary law ignored those who could not appeal to

this concept. The interests of recent immigrants to Cochabamba, without existing access to

water, for example, could be linked neither to rurality nor to heritage. In addition, the

Coordinadora’s support for the construction of a dam in the nearby Misicuni valley in order

to expand the water system ignored the rights and needs of those Quechua-speaking peasant

communities whose land the dam would flood.41 Discourse during the Water War therefore

both increased the salience of indigeneity but also contested it further.

The Gas War of 2003

The year 2003 saw the eruption of further protests with increasingly anti-neoliberal

sentiments among the population, culminating in the resignation of President Sánchez de

Lozada. He had been faced with popular opposition from the beginning of his second term

but protests began to escalate in September and October 2003, in response to the president’s

announcement of government plans to export natural gas resources to Mexico and the United

States of America, via a port in Chile. That gas was to be exported through a Chilean port

11

was already perceived as provocation, given Bolivians’ sustained apathy toward Chile after

its annexation of Bolivia’s coastline during the War of the Pacific (1879–83). More

important, however, was the perception that Bolivian patrimony was exploited by

transnational, and in particular US American, corporations. Re-gaining control over gas

resources was perceived to be the only way to stop a repetition of historical resource

exploitations such as of tin or silver.42

In late September, the national trade union confederation Central Obrero Boliviano

(COB, Bolivian Workers Center) called for an unlimited general strike, demanding the

renationalization of gas resources. The mobilizations were met with increasingly violent

police action, resulting in numerous deaths and wounded in this Gas War (Guerra del Gas).43

Shocked by the government’s use of violence, the middle class joined the protest efforts as

well as calls for Sánchez de Lozada’s resignation. The president’s political allies withdrew

support. On 17 October, Sánchez de Lozada fled the country, and Vice-president Carlos Mesa

took over the presidency.44

Similar to the Water War, although indigeneity was not the central issue, it sustained

much of the protest. The Gas War originated in La Paz’ satellite city El Alto, with its mainly

indigenous inhabitants. Leaders emphasized indigenous heritage, referring to Andean

warriors in order to mobilize protesters.45 The use of the Aymara language took over on El

Alto’s streets during the protests: “we’re speaking Aymara. Power speaks Spanish.”46 This

not only represented indigeneity to the outside, but also increased the salience of a shared

background among speakers of Aymara. But representations of indigeneity were used in an

inclusive manner. Pablo Mamani reports the joint waving of the Aymara wiphala flag and the

Bolivian flag as a sign of rejection of gas export through Chile.47 Indeed, as Albro argues,

these symbols help to “differentiate the diverse causes of popular dissatisfaction from

government policy.” Thus, during the Gas War of 2003, indigeneity increased further in

salience but did not become more clearly defined.48

But just as the Water War, the discourse during and after the Gas War also had

exclusionary effects. The latter took place, both discursively and physically, in the highlands,

far away from the centers of gas extraction in the lowlands. Those directly affected, mainly

Guaraní communities in the lowlands, were largely ignored in the struggles, as were non-

indigenous protesters in the discourse.49 The outcome of the Gas War was celebrated by both

its leaders and politicians, such as Morales, as a victory for indigenous Bolivia, in particular

for Quechuas and Aymaras.50 Such assertions emphasize highland indigeneity and disregard

lowland indigenous and non-indigenous protesters.

12

Refounding the Nation

The protest cycle culminated in the election of Morales in December 2005 as the first

indigenous president of the continent, reinforcing a change in Bolivian politics from the

exclusion to the inclusion of indigenous peoples, both discursively and politically. The

election outcome was very clear: Morales gathered 53.7 percent of the vote and his party

MAS won with 55 percent the majority of seats in parliament as well as two of the nine

departmental governments.51 For many, this election seemed to be the beginning of

pachakuti, the return of the indigenous era.52 For example, newly-minted foreign minister

Choquehuanca considers Morales’ election as the return of anti-colonialist, indigenous rebel

leader Túpac Katari, declaring “we are now in the era of pachakuti.”53 In a similar, if less

esoteric, vein, Vice-president García Linera notes that “when [indigenous] can see

themselves as president, the symbolic order of this world has turned upside down.”54

This spirit was also reflected in Morales’ first, unofficial, inauguration ceremony, which

took place at the archaeological site of Tiwanaku, monumental structures of pre-Incan origin.

Here, Morales received the staff of command and blessings for his presidency from Aymara

authorities. While David Kojan describes a narrative of Tiwanaku as symbol of Bolivian

nationalism, representing “the primordial roots of the Bolivian nation,” for many, the

ceremony is an explicit sign to Bolivia’s indigenous population: it is seen to endow Morales’

presidency with symbolic legitimacy and to highlight his historic role as first indigenous

president.55 The inauguration was attended by indigenous representatives from across Latin

America as well as by several thousand Bolivians, many waving wiphalas or carrying

placards with the words “We have returned and we are millions.”56 Despite the ambiguity in

the definition of indigeneity, then, the category is filled with meaning for many. The spirit of

pachakuti is further reflected in Morales’ official inauguration speech on the following day,

in which he noted that Bolivia is embarking on “a cultural and democratic revolution.”57

One step towards this revolution was the instatement of a constitutional assembly to

revise the constitution, a step long demanded by indigenous movements. During the

constitution-writing process, representatives of the major indigenous organizations united in

the so-called unity pact (Pacto de Unidad) in order to facilitate the formulation of demands

and the coordination of political strategies.58 Both the formation of such a coalition as well as

its naming again show that a collective identity and collective action is possible despite

contestation about the exact attributes of the underlying category.

13

While the constitution-writing process was long and conflict-laden, the new constitution

was ultimately approved in a referendum in January 2009 with 61.4 percent of the vote. It is

heavily influenced by the suggestions drafted by the unity pact, recognizing indigenous

peoples as nations and strengthening their rights.59 Article 30 defines a nation or people being

indígena originario campesino (IOC, indigenous original peasant) as “any human collective

that shares a cultural identity, language, historical tradition, institutions, territoriality and

cosmovision, whose existence is prior to the Spanish colonial invasion.” Other articles

attribute to IOCs collective rights.60 Such a definition, and endowment with collective rights,

seems to reveal a primordial notion of indigeneity, with certain attributes and characteristics

inherent to indigenous people, never changing. Its drafting and approval suggest that this

notion is relatively widespread among Bolivians.

In conclusion, the indigenous mobilizations from the 1990s to the approval of the

constitution show that despite its contested definition, indigeneity is invested with meaning.

However, these episodes also contributed to the contestation. In particular, the trajectories of

the Water and Gas Wars show the heterogeneous character of indigeneity in Bolivia;

indigenous identities do not only differ according to location but also according to the

situation. And while the protest cycle had begun with local protests, unifying the population

against the neoliberal enemy both at home and abroad, it also introduced and sharpened

polarization within the Bolivian population. On the one hand, it articulated and emphasized

divisions between an indigenous and a non-indigenous Bolivia. On the other hand, it

increased divisions within the indigenous population because differing definitions of

indigenous were used. These divisions became increasingly pronounced in the efforts to

implement the new constitution. The following years show that, once ethnic categories

become relevant for political practice, a clear definition is essential. As it is, the

institutionalization of ethnic boundaries through the new constitution has led to more, rather

than less, contestation of indigeneity in the social and political sphere.

INCREASING CONTESTATION OF INDIGENEITY

The new constitution was not only celebrated. Both the constitution-writing process as well

as the institutionalization of indigeneity raised fears of a manifestation of and conflict

between ethnic categories, as observed elsewhere around the world. The definition of IOC in

the constitution does not only strengthen the position of Bolivia’s indigenous population, it

also draws a boundary between a pre- and a post-colonial population and may strengthen this

14

boundary by homogenizing the population on each side.61 While indigeneity is endowed with

a collective identity and collective rights, the non-indigenous others do not seem to have any

collective identity other than Bolivianhood and thus no collective rights. For example,

Morales insists that, while indigenous autonomies are “a demand of indigenous peoples for

self-determination,” departmental autonomies are merely part of decentralization, that is,

administrative processes.62 A heterogeneous group of non-indigenous Bolivians is defined

through their absence of an attribute; their sub-national identities are not taken into

consideration. The constitution thus reified the distinction between indigenous and non-

indigenous Bolivian which, in reality, does not exist (anymore) as such.

The constitution indeed has fuelled fears of “reversed racism.” Some non-indigenous

Bolivians feel discriminated against, both in form and content of the constitution, deeming

that indigenous peoples are overrepresented. This criticism is shared even by some MAS

representatives.63 Critics argue that the constitution creates two Bolivias: a rural Bolivia made

up of ostensibly homogenous indigenous peoples and nations on the one hand, and an urban,

non-indigenous Bolivia on the other.64 The increased salience of this boundary would

manifest itself and affect social and political relations.

However, several issues speak against such a manifestation in Bolivia. First, the

institutionalization of IOC may also lead to exclusion among those who consider themselves

belonging to this category. As outlined above, a clear definition of indigenous, or IOC in

general, is missing. Due to the territorial notion of the newly-instated indigenous autonomy,

collective rights may be linked to a territorial understanding of indigeneity and attributed to

those who can prove a connection to the land.65 Yet social and demographic developments

have forced many to migrate either to other arable lands, especially in the Chapare and the

lowlands, or to the city, and thus have lost any such basis for collective rights claims. Urban

Aymara, for example, do not easily fit the bill and may have difficulties attaining collective

rights.

Second, criticism of Andean-centrism is increasing: some forms of indigeneity are

rendered “more legible” than others because the constitution, as well as other policies

implemented by the Morales administration, discriminates among collective identities as

more or less indigenous, authentic, or imposed.66 Through a prioritization of rural and

collective forms of indigeneity, urban and individual forms of indigeneity are increasingly

excluded.67 For example, indigenous autonomy demands within the CA process were focused

on rural areas, whereas suggestions for urban areas were far less concrete.68

15

The redefinition is based on a particular notion of indigeneity, anchored in the Andes.

While the government’s Andean-centrism is based in electoral rather than cultural affinity,

there are also charges that the government does not really understand lowland indigenous

ways of living and that lowland indigenous people are included only discursively.69 Thus,

although the new constitution has a more inclusive outlook, it may also result in new

exclusions of non-indigenous Bolivians and of those asserting but not being assigned an

indigenous identity. The disillusionment with current government practice may lead many to

question the existence of an overarching indigenous community per se. Whether fears of new

exclusions are justified is to be seen in the implementation of the individual clauses.

And indeed, third, the implementation process reveals difficulties with the definition of

ethnic categories in Bolivia and their institutionalization through laws. Debates surrounding

the passing of new electoral, autonomy, or anti-discrimination laws, amongst others,

emphasize the exclusionary potential of ethno-politics. For example, the electoral law had to

be revised in order to comply with the constitution, which stipulates the inclusion of reserved

congressional seats for indigenous representatives where indigenous Bolivians are in a

numerical minority.70 The opposition disputed this stipulation as, it argued, it would violate

the principle of the equality of votes.71 A resulting compromise between government and

opposition decreased the number of indigenous seats significantly, from a planned fourteen to

seven seats.72 This reduction hit the 34 recognized lowland peoples hardest as they, in

contrast to the Aymara and Quechua peoples, are a numerical minority. This has led some to

doubt the government’s dedication to the cause of all, and not just the Andean, indigenous

peoples, again showing a decrease in the belief in an overall indigenous collective identity.73

A gap between discourse and practice also occurred in the implementation of indigenous

autonomy, but this time not enacted from above but from below. The December 2009 general

elections included the opportunity for municipalities to vote for indigenous autonomy. In

these elections, only 11 out of potentially 163 indigenous municipalities opted for

autonomy.74 There may be several reasons for this low number. Some may have decided

against autonomy because, in practice, it is a Western conception of indigenous autonomy

that does not comply with their own conception. Others may have been unfamiliar with and

thus shied away from setting up an official autonomy statute. In fact, some of the

communities having opted for autonomy and written a statute received help from domestic

and international NGOs.75 In addition, and somewhat contrary to the first reason listed, many

Bolivians may not want to live in indigenous autonomous communities as this would imply

being governed by indigenous customary law. Women expressed concern that it is

16

discriminatory against them as, for example, they are often excluded from leadership

positions. Men, in turn, feel restricted: In order to take on said leadership roles they would be

required to serve the community for several years in different positions while what they

actually want is to leave their home town in order to study at university.76 Whatever the

reasons, the issue of indigenous autonomy shows a disjunction between the collective IOC

defined in the constitution and the sociological reality and re-emphasizes differences among

those constituting the indigenous category previously heralded as united collective.

In the effort to agree on laws to implement the constitution, the Morales administration

continued a moderate stance towards the opposition, which contributed to a decrease in the

politicization of indigeneity.77 However, it also led to a growing gap between the

government’s discourse and political action, as can be seen in terms of indigenous language,

land rights, or religion.78 Indigeneity may have changed politically and sociologically, but not

with regard to the economic reality. This may lead to a growing disillusionment among

Morales’ constituency, which, following campaign promises, expected to see rapid results.

While the MAS experienced significant support in the presidential and congressional

elections of December 2009 as well as the regional elections of April 2010, it already

suffered some defeats at the local level. Its loss of important municipalities such as La Paz as

well as decreasing vote shares in rural and mainly indigenous constituencies may indicate

declining support for the MAS in its core electorate.79

As such, events beginning to unfold in 2010 and 2011 should be seen as an outcome of

an unclear government position regarding indigeneity. In particular, the government’s

discourse of indigenous empowerment was unhinged in the debate surrounding the

construction of a road through indigenous territory in the national park Isiboro–Securé

(TIPNIS, Territorio Indígena y Parque Nacional Isiboro–Securé). A march from Trinidad to

La Paz, organized by inhabitants of the park in protest of these plans, was met with

incomprehension by government officials and violent action by the police. This reaction

increased public support for the protesters and the lowland indigenous marchers were joined

by other organizations, such as the traditional highland indigenous organization Consejo

Nacional de Ayllus y Markas del Qullasuyu (CONAMAQ, National Council of Ayllus and

Markas of Qullasuyu) or environmental NGOs. Although the TIPNIS crisis was resolved in

favor of the protesters, the Morales administration lost legitimacy as the defender of both

indigenous rights and the environment.80

The march itself was not driven by sectarian aspirations but done in the name of the

Bolivian people: flags flown were predominantly the Bolivian tricolor, not that of individual

17

departments or indigenous groups. As such, the march was also symbolically directed against

the current government’s understanding of the Bolivian nation: the wiphala has not been

adopted by lowland indigenous groups as a national symbol and was not flown during the

march (except by the CONAMAQ).81 It is here interesting to note that government opponents

do use the “indigenous card” but they do not do so in the classic sense of ethnic outbidding,

that is, arguing to be better able to represent the indigenous population than the current

government. Instead, they refocus the conception of indigeneity on the image of the

environmentally friendly and thus confirm an international stereotype as the “ecological

savage.”82

To conclude, the first five years in office of an indigenous Bolivian president, celebrated

as a new era for the country’s indigenous population, on the one hand increased the visibility

of discrimination across ethnic boundaries and led to steps to remedy this situation. On the

other hand, it also increased the salience and relevance of these boundaries and may thus

have led to new exclusions, not only of Bolivia’s non-indigenous population but also of those

not fitting the official conception of indigeneity. This may have left many disillusioned with

their belief in the indigenous community as well as dissatisfied with the slow progress made

and shows that Bolivia is still in the first steps of its refoundation.

CONCLUSIONS

Since Bolivia’s colonization, the basis of indigeneity has changed several times, from

biological, to socio-economic, to territorial or cultural attributes. Contemporary conceptions

of indigeneity in Bolivia thus include and confound elements of previous hegemonic

discourses on the topic, evidencing the path dependency of identity construction. But while

the events of the past decade have led to the revaluation of indigeneity, they have not

contributed to the sharpening of the indigenous–non-indigenous boundary; if anything, they

may have blurred it further. In addition, the blurring has led divisions between the indigenous

population to regain strength and thus not to manifestation.

The blurring of the boundaries becomes particularly clear in attempts to define Morales’

ethnicity on the basis of his attributes. Many expert interviewees agreed that, in cultural

terms, Morales cannot be defined as indigenous: his last name is Spanish, he has not carried

out the community service traditionally required to assume a leadership position, and he

speaks neither Quechua nor Aymara fluently.83 In phenotypic terms, however, he may be

defined as indigenous. Similarly, some political actors opposed the recognition of indigenous

18

peoples with the argument that they in general and Morales in particular were not “pure”

enough anymore.84 And even within the indigenous bloc, Morales’ dedication to indigenous

concerns is questioned. While Quispe maintained that “Evo is not an Indian. He’s a socialist,”

the CONAMAQ even declared him an “enemy of the indigenous movement.”85

On the other hand, Morales is a symbol for indigeneity. As we could see from the

extensive use of indigenous symbolism both during the election campaigns and inauguration

ceremonies, the indigenous is filled with meaning for many Bolivians. And although the

Morales administration has sought to become more moderate and appeal to Bolivia as a

whole, the importance of indigeneity in political discourse is still given, as could be seen, for

example, during the election campaigns for the Judiciary in October 2011, when

advertisements introduced candidates with their name, occupation, and ethnic background.86

But while this blurriness has not caught much attention previously, there is now an

increasingly open contestation of indigeneity as its definition has become relevant for

political practice. The collective rights set out in the new constitution cannot be attributed

without a clearly defined collective subject. Several interviewees have remarked that the

concept of IOC is rather a philosophical than sociological one; three categories, in themselves

hardly homogeneous, grouped together to an even bigger category. Divisions may be seen in

the issue of indigenous autonomy, so far only declared by 11 communities. While some

communities may still declare autonomy in the future, many explicitly voted against

autonomy as a hurdle to modernity.

Thus, rather than sharpening ethnic boundaries, the politicization of indigeneity has led to

a questioning of the basis of indigeneity. To remedy the situation, calls for a clear definition

of IOC on the basis of either culture or biology have increasingly been voiced. The question

whether such ethnic basis for affirmative action is more appropriate than a socio-economic

basis shall be the topic of another work.

Just like there is a debate about the indigeneity of Morales, there is a debate about the

type or degree of the indigeneity of the indigenous movement, and in particular of the MAS

in the literature on Bolivia. For example, Raúl Madrid qualifies the movement by calling it

“ethnopopulist,” Ramón Máiz by calling it “inclusive nationalist.”87 These are apt approaches

yet tangential for the issue at hand. That the term indigenous has some currency in

Bolivia―as shown throughout the article―makes it “real” by definition, at least if we follow

constructivist ontology. In Bolivia, the construction of this category happened despite the

contestation of its content. Whether the category is relevant for social and political

interactions, on the other hand, is a different issue. Thus, analysts of ethnic dynamics may

19

fruitfully distinguish between the attributes making up an ethnic category; the meaning

attached to the category; as well as actions resulting from it.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The research for this article was conducted while holding a PhD scholarship from the

University of Exeter, UK, and benefitted from fieldwork conducted in September and

October 2011 with the support of a grant from the Society of Latin American Studies. I thank

the interviewees for their time as well as Mary-Alice Clancy, Adrian Guelke, and three

anonymous reviewers for their feedback.

NOTES

1 E.g. Peter Wade, Race and Ethnicity in Latin America (London: Pluto Press, 1997).

2 For the purposes of this paper, the motivations behind indigenous mobilization (for

example, whether emotional or instrumental) are of secondary importance.

3 Fredrik Barth, Ethnic Groups and Boundaries: The Social Organization of Cultural

Difference (London: Allen and Unwin, 1969).

4 See also George Scott, “A Resynthesis of the Primordial and Circumstantial

Approaches to Ethnic Group Solidarity,” Ethnic and Racial Studies 13(2): 147–171 (1990);

Francesco Gil-White, “How Thick is Blood? The Plot Thickens... If Ethnic Actors are

Primordialists, What Remains of the Circumstantialist/Primordialist Controversy?” Ethnic

and Racial Studies 22(5): 789–820 (1999).

5 E.g. Walker Connor, “A Nation Is a Nation, Is a State, Is an Ethnic Group, Is A ...,”

Ethnic and Racial Studies 1: 377–400 (1978); Donald Horowitz, Ethnic Groups in Conflict

(Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1985); Anthony Smith, National Identity

(London: Penguin Books, 1991); Richard Jenkins, “Rethinking Ethnicity: Identity,

Categorization and Power,” Ethnic and Racial Studies 17(2): 197–223 (1994); Stephen

Cornell, “The Variable Ties that Bind: Content and Circumstance in Ethnic Processes,”

Ethnic and Racial Studies 19(2): 265–289 (1996); Clifford Geertz, “Primordial Ties,” in John

Hutchinson and Anthony Smith, eds., Ethnicity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), 40–

45; Rogers Brubaker and Frederick Cooper, “Beyond ‘Identity,’” Theory and Society 29: 1–

20

47 (2000); Kanchan Chandra and Stephen Wilkinson, “Measuring the Effect of ‘Ethnicity,’”

Comparative Political Studies 41(4/5): 515–563 (2008).

6 E.g. Thomas Eriksen, Ethnicity and Nationalism: Anthropological Perspectives

(London: Pluto Press, 1993); Gil-White, “How Thick is Blood?”; Henry Hale, “Explaining

Ethnicity,” Comparative Political Studies 37: 458–485 (2004); Kanchan Chandra,

“Introduction,” in Kanchan Chandra, ed., Constructivist Theories of Ethnic Politics (New

York: Oxford University Press, 2012), 1–51.

7 Other explanations include structural causes, such as modernization or industrialization,

e.g. Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of

Nationalism (London: Verso, 1983); Stephen Van Evera, “Primordialism Lives!” APSA-CP:

Newsletter of the Organized Section in Comparative Politics of the American Political

Science Association 12: 20–22 (2001).

8 E.g. Daniel Posner, “The Political Salience of Cultural Difference: Why Chewas and

Tumbukas Are Allies in Zambia and Adversaries in Malawi,” American Political Science

Review 98(4): 529–545 (2004).

9 Alvin Rabushka and Kenneth Shepsle, Politics in Plural Societies: A Theory in

Democratic Instability (Columbia: C. Merrill, 1972).

10 Donald Horowitz, “Cultural Movements and Ethnic Change,” Annals of the American

Academy of Political and Social Science 433: 6–18 (1977).

11 David Lake and Donald Rothchild, “Containing Fear: The Origins and Management of

Ethnic Conflict,” in Michael Brown et al., eds., Nationalism and Ethnic Conflict. An

International Security Reader (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1997), 93–131.

12 Kanchan Chandra, Why Ethnic Parties Succeed (Cambridge: Cambridge University

Press, 2004), 49.

13 For a similar argument with regard to ethnic civil wars see Stathis Kalyvas, “Ethnic

Defection in Civil War,” Comparative Political Studies 41(8): 1043–1068 (2008).

14 Chandra admits the possibility that the removal of the underlying cause may lessen the

salience of ethnic categories. Yet she argues that this is unlikely: “While political

entrepreneurs might attempt to construct a new ethnic category of optimal size, however,

historical and institutional constraints may prevent the success of such an effort. Further,

even when these categories can easily be constructed, it may not be as easy to ‘tailor’ them to

21

be of uniformly optimal size across time and space.” (Chandra, Why Ethnic Parties Succeed,

97).

15 Instituto Nacional de Estadística, Censo 2001 (2001),

http://apps.ine.gob.bo/censo/entrance.jsp (accessed 14 Sep. 2012).

16 It would be interesting to compare the results of this census with that conducted in

November 2012. Unfortunately, the results were not yet available at the time of writing.

17 Central Intelligence Agency, The World Factbook: Distribution of Family

Income―Gini Index,

https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the0world0factbook/rankorder/2172rank.html

(accessed 13 Sep. 2012); Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination,

Compilación de observaciones finales del Comité para la Eliminación de la Discriminación

Racial sobre países de América Latina y el Caribe (1970–2006) (Santiago: CERD, 2006);

Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean, Social Panorama of Latin

America (Santiago: ECLAC, 2006); United Nations Development Programme, Democracy in

Latin America: Towards a Citizen’s Democracy (New York: UNDP, 2004). 18 This section is intended as an overview of historical developments with regard to

indigeneity only. A more extensive discussion can be found in, for example, Herbert Klein, A

Concise History of Bolivia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003); Donna L. Van

Cott, From Movements to Parties in Latin America: The Evolution of Ethnic Politics

(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005).

19 Xavier Albó, “The ‘Long Memory’ of Ethnicity in Bolivia and Some Temporary

Oscillations,” in John Crabtree and Laurence Whitehead, eds., Unresolved Tensions: Bolivia

Past and Present (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2008), 13–34; Rafael Loayza

Bueno, Eje del MAS: Ideología, Representación Social y Mediación en Evo Morales Ayma

(La Paz: Konrad Adenauer Stiftung, 2011).

20 Van Cott, “From Movements to Parties”; Albó, “The ‘Long Memory’ of Ethnicity”;

see also interview with Daniel Moreno Morales, political analyst, Ciudadanía, Cochabamba,

Bolivia, 3 Oct. 2011.

21 Klein, “A Concise History”; Sven Harten, The Rise of Evo Morales and the MAS

(London: Zed Books, 2011).

22

22 Andrew Canessa, “Todos somos Indígenas: Towards a New Language of National

Political Identity,” Bulletin of Latin American Research 25(2): 241–263 (2006); Albó, “The

‘Long Memory’ of Ethnicity.”

23 Albó, “The ‘Long Memory’ of Ethnicity.”

24 Peter Wade, “Images of Latin American Mestizaje and the Politics of Comparison,”

Bulletin of Latin American Research 23(3): 355–366 (2004).

25 Jean Jackson and Kay Warren, “Indigenous Movements in Latin America, 1992-2004:

Controversies, Ironies, New Directions,” Annual Review of Anthropology 34: 549–573

(2005), 549; see also Willem Assies and Ton Salman, “Ethnicity and Politics in Bolivia,”

Ethnopolitics, 4(3): 269–297 (2005); Van Cott, “From Movements to Parties.”

26 Van Cott, “From Movements to Parties.”

27 Robert Albro, “Neoliberal Cultural Heritage and Bolivia’s New Indigenous Public,” in

Carol J. Greenhouse, ed., Ethnographies of Neoliberalism (Pennsylvania: University of

Pennsylvania Press, 2010), 146–161.

28 For more on the emergence of indigenous movements in Bolivia and neighboring

countries, see Van Cott, “From Movements to Parties”; Deborah Yashar, Contesting

Citizenship in Latin America: The Rise of Indigenous Movements and the Postliberal

Challenge (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005).

29 Yashar, “Contesting Citizenship”; Canessa, “‘Todos somos Indígenas.’”

30 Klein, “A Concise History”; Robert Albro, “Bolivia’s ‘Evo Phenomenon’: From

Identity to What?,” Journal of Latin American Anthropology 11(2): 408–428 (2006); Albó,

“The ‘Long Memory’ of Ethnicity.”

31 International Crisis Group, Bolivia’s New Constitution: Avoiding Violent Conflict, ICG

Latin America Report 23 (Bogota/Brussels, 2007).

32 Van Cott, “From Movements to Parties.”

33 Van Cott, “From Movements to Parties”; Yashar, “Contesting Citizenship.”

34 Albó, “The ‘Long Memory’ of Ethnicity.”

35 Albro, “Bolivia’s ‘Evo Phenomenon,’” 420.

36 Humberto Vargas and Thomas Kruse, “Las Victorias de Abril: Una Historia que aún

no Concluye,” Observatorio Social de América Latina 2: 7–14 (2000).

23

37 Roberto Laserna, “2000: Conflictos Sociales y Movimientos Políticos en Bolivia,”

Anuario Social y Político de América Latina y El Caribe 4: 61–74 (2001); Robert Albro,

“The Indigenous in the Plural in Bolivian Oppositional Politics,” Bulletin of Latin American

Research 24(4): 433–453 (2005).

38 Nina Laurie, Robert Andolina, and Sarah Radcliffe, “The Excluded ‘Indigenous?’: The

Implications of Multi-Ethnic Policies for Water Reform in Bolivia,” in Rachel Sieder, ed.,

Multiculturalism in Latin America: Indigenous Rights, Diversity and Democracy

(Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 252–76, 253.

39 Canessa, “‘Todos somos Indígenas.’”

40 Laurie, Andolina, and Radcliffe, “The Excluded ‘Indigenous?’”; Albro, “The

Indigenous in the Plural”; Canessa, “‘Todos somos Indígenas.’”

41 Laurie, Andolina, and Radcliffe, “The Excluded ‘Indigenous?’”

42 Nancy Postero, “Indigenous Responses to Neoliberalism: A Look at the Bolivian

Uprising of 2003,” Political and Legal Anthropology Review 28(1): 73–92 (2005); Jeffery R.

Webber, “Red October: Left-Indigenous Struggle in Bolivia, 2000-2005” (PhD diss.,

University of Toronto, 2009).

43 It is estimated that, in total, 80 people died and several hundred were severely injured

during the Gas War; Postero, “Indigenous Responses to Neoliberalism.”

44 International Crisis Group, Bolivia's Divisions: Too Deep to Heal?, ICG Latin

America Report 7 (Quito/Brussels, 2004); Postero, “Indigenous Responses to Neoliberalism”;

Webber, “Red October.”

45 Robert Albro, “‘The Water is Ours, Carajo!’: Deep Citizenship in Bolivia’s Water

War,” in June Nash, ed., Social Movements: An Anthropological Reader (London: Basil

Blackwell, 2005), 249–271; Postero, “Indigenous Responses to Neoliberalism.”

46 Gonzálvez 2005, as cited in Webber, “Red October,” 240.

47 Pablo Mamani Ramirez, “El Rugir de la Multitud: Levantamiento de la Ciudad

Aymara de El Alto y Caída del Gobierno de Sánchez de Lozada,” Observatorio Social de

América Latina 4(12): 15–26 (2003). The wiphala is a square, rainbow-coloured flag that is

originally Aymara but, until the beginning of the 2000s, had been adopted as political symbol

of all highland indigenous peoples in Bolivia.

48 Albro, “‘The Water is Ours, Carajo!,’” 443.

24

49 Tom Perreault, “From the Guerra del Agua to the Guerra del Gas: Resource

Governance, Neoliberalism and Popular Protest in Bolivia,” Antipode 38(1): 150–172 (2006).

50 See Albro, “‘The Water is Ours, Carajo!’”

51 Matthew M. Singer, “The Presidential and Parliamentary Elections in Bolivia,

December 2005,” Electoral Studies 26(1): 200–205 (2007).

52 Andean understandings of time are based on cycles of time and space, separated by

defining moments of transition. Pachakuti is a Quechua term composed of pacha (world,

state of being, time and space) and cuti (turn, change, something repeating itself); Paul R.

Steele and Catherine J. Allen, Handbook of Inca Mythology (Santa Barbara: ABC-Clio,

2004).

53 Cited in Albro, “Bolivia’s ‘Evo Phenomenon,’” 412.

54 Cited in Almut Schilling-Vacaflor, “Recht als umkämpftes Terrain: Die neue

Verfassung und indigene Völker in Bolivien” (PhD diss., Universität Wien, 2009), 132.

55 David Kojan, “Paths of Power and Politics: Historical Narratives at the Bolivian Site

of Tiwanaku,” in Junko Habu, Clare Fawcett, and John M. Matsunaga, eds., Evaluating

Multiple Narratives: Beyond Nationalist, Colonialist, Imperialist Archeologies (New York:

Springer, 2008), 69–85, 72–73; International Crisis Group, Bolivia’s Rocky Road to Reforms,

ICG Latin America Report 18 (Bogota/Brussels, 2006).

56 Albro, “Bolivia’s ‘Evo Phenomenon,’” 411–412.

57 Evo Morales Ayma, Discurso de Posesión del Presidente Juan Evo Morales Ayma en

el Congreso Nacional de Bolivia (La Paz: Congreso Nacional de Bolivia, 2006).

58 Schilling-Vacaflor, “Recht als umkämpftes Terrain.”

59 See Constitución de 2009 (2009)

http://pdba.georgetown.edu/Constitutions/Bolivia/bolivia09.html (accessed 18 July 2011);

Willem Assies, “Bolivia’s New Constitution and its Implications,” in Adrian J. Pearce,

ed., Evo Morales and the Movimiento al Socialismo in Bolivia: The First Term in Context,

2006-2010 (London: Institute for the Study of the Americas, 2011), 93–116.

60 See Constitución de 2009.

61 Note that the term “indigenous original peasant” is written without commas.

62 Cited in Adolfo Chaparro Amaya, “Pluralismo Jurídico, Autonomía y Separatismo en

la Política Boliviana,” Íconos 39: 181–192 (2011), 187.

25

63 Schilling-Vacaflor, “Recht als umkämpftes Terrain”; see also International Crisis

Group, Bolivia: Rescuing the New Constitution and Democratic Stability, Latin America

Briefing 18 (Bogota/Brussels, 2008).

64 E.g. Quiroga Trigo, “La Constitución”; Joan Prats, “Comentarios al Proyecto de

Constitución,” in IDEA, ed., Comentarios a la Propuesta Constitucional Aprobada por la

Asamblea Constituyente Boliviana (La Paz, 2008), 218–224.

65 See interviews with Almut Schilling-Vacaflor, political analyst, German Institute of

Global and Area Studies, Hamburg, Germany, 20 Sep. 2011; Moira Zuazo Oblitas, political

analyst, Friedrich Ebert Foundation: Latin American Institute of Social Investigations, La

Paz, Bolivia, 11 Oct. 2011; Rafael Loayza Bueno, political scientist, University Mayor de

San Andrés, La Paz, Bolivia, 12 Oct. 2011.

66 Albro, “Neoliberal Cultural Heritage.”

67 See also Albro 2008, MAScalculations and the Constitutional Assembly: The New

Legislative Terms of Indigenous Representation vis-à-vis the Bolivian State, working paper

(Evanston, Illinois, 2008); see also Roberto Moscoso, Inclusión e Interculturalidad, Entre lo

Urbano y lo Rural (2009), http://www.bolpress.com/art.php?Cod=2009050709 (accessed 15

Feb. 2012).

68 Schilling-Vacaflor, “Recht als umkämpftes Terrain.”

69 Interviews with Schilling-Vacaflor; Miguel Buitrago Bascopé, political analyst,

German Institute of Global and Area Studies, Hamburg, Germany, 13 Sep. 2011; Fernando

Prado Salmón, social scientist, Centro de Estudios para el Desarrollo Urbano y Regional,

Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia, 21 Oct. 2011; see also Fernando Oviedo Obarrio, “Evo

Morales and the Altiplano: Notes for an Electoral Geography of the Movimiento al

Socialismo, 2002-2008,” Latin American Perspectives 37(3): 91–106 (2010).

70 See Constitución de 2009: Art. 146.

71 See Xavier Albó, Las Circunscripciones Especiales Indígenas (2009),

http://www.bolpress.com/ art.php?Cod=2009041304 (accessed 15 Feb. 2012).

72 Alexandra Alpert, Miguel Centellas, and Matthew M. Singer, “The 2009 Presidential

and Legislative Elections in Bolivia,” Electoral Studies 29(4): 757–761 (2010).

73 E.g. Gisela Lóprez, ¿Adiós a la Plurinacionalidad? (2009),

http://www.bolpress.com/art. php?Cod=2009041407 (accessed 15 Feb. 2012).

26

74 Xavier Albó and Carlos Romero, Autonomías Indígenas en la Realidad Boliviana y su

Nueva Constitución (La Paz: Vicepresidencia del Estado Plurinacional de Bolivia, 2009).

75 Albó, “Las Circunscripciones Especiales Indígenas”; interview with Claudia Heins,

coordinator Regional Program on Indigenous Political Participation, Konrad Adenauer

Foundation, La Paz, 17 Oct. 2011.

76 Ibid.; interview with Loayza Bueno.

77 See also interview with Moreno Morales.

78 Interviews with Buitrago Bascopé; Maria Zegada Claure, political analyst, Centro

Cuarto Intermedio, Cochabamba, Bolivia, 4 Oct. 2011.

79 Anaïd Flesken, “Bolivia’s Regional Elections 2010,” Ethnopolitics Papers 1(2): 1–10

(June 2010).

80 Bolivia Information Forum, Bolivia Information Forum Bulletin, 2011,

http://www.boliviainfo forum.org.uk/documents/781428696_BIF%20Bulletin %2020.pdf

(accessed 30 Aug. 2011). The Morales administration had distinguished itself as defender of

the environment. For example, the new constitution is the first worldwide to recognize and

protect the rights of Mother Nature. Bolivia Information Forum, Bolivia Information Forum

Bulletin, 2010,

http://www.boliviainfoforum.org.uk/documents/71858759_BIF%20Bulletin%2017.pdf

(accessed 15 July 2011).

81 Fieldwork notes, Sep.–Oct. 2011.

82 Raymond Hames, “The Ecologically Noble Savage Debate,” Annual Review of

Anthropology 36: 177–190 (2007); see also interview with Cecilia Salazar de la Torre, social

scientist, University Mayor de San Andrés, La Paz, Bolivia, 17 Oct. 2011.

83 Interviews with Loayza Bueno; Schilling-Vacaflor; Zuazo Oblitas.

84 Schilling-Vacaflor, “Recht als umkämpftes Terrain.”

85 Cited in Albro, “Bolivia’s ‘Evo Phenomenon,’” 416.

86 Fieldwork notes Sep.–Oct. 2011.

87 Raúl Madrid, The Rise of Ethnic Politics in Latin America (Cambridge: Cambridge

University Press, 2009); Ramón Máiz, “‘We Aren’t the Peasants of the Seventies’: Indianism

and Ethnic Mobilization in Bolivia,” in Adrian Guelke, ed., The Challenges of Ethno-

27

Nationalism: Case Studies in Identity Politics (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), 17–

40.

Anaïd Flesken is a postdoctoral researcher at the German Institute of Global and Area

Studies (GIGA Hamburg), where she is working on the political mobilizations of ethnic

identities and their consequences for social cohesion in Bolivia and beyond.