In recent days, an unusual consensus has begun to emerge among some of Bolivia's most prominent public intellectuals, economists, diplomats, and former political leaders.
Former Foreign Minister Jaime Aparicio has warned that Bolivia has moved from "the theater of the absurd" to "the dialogue of the absurd," suggesting that the country may require international support to preserve democratic governance. Economist Jaime Dunn has repeatedly argued that Bolivia's central challenge is no longer merely economic, electoral, or ideological, but institutional. Former President Jorge "Tuto" Quiroga has warned of the corrosive effects of impunity and criminality on democratic government. Former La Paz mayor and economist Ronald MacLean Abaroa has likewise argued that Bolivia confronts a deeper crisis of governance than many observers recognize. Political commentator Vidal Dorado has advanced similar concerns.
These figures differ in generation, political affiliation, and professional experience. Yet they increasingly converge around a common diagnosis: Bolivia's greatest challenge may no longer be who governs the country, but whether the state itself retains the capacity to govern effectively.
That distinction matters.
Most international coverage of Bolivia's current turmoil continues to frame events as a political confrontation between former President Evo Morales and President Rodrigo Paz. The headlines focus on road blockades, food and fuel shortages, arrests, negotiations, and the possibility of emergency measures. Morales's supporters argue that he is being excluded from political life. His opponents contend that he is attempting to destabilize the government in order to preserve his political relevance and avoid accountability. Both interpretations contain elements of truth. Neither fully captures the significance of what is taking place.
As a Bolivian attorney and former Interim Mission Director of USAID/Bolivia, I have observed the country navigate moments of extraordinary turbulence. Bolivia has survived military governments, hyperinflation, constitutional crises, regional tensions, and repeated confrontations between state institutions and social movements. Yet what is unfolding today feels different. Increasingly, the central question is not who governs Bolivia. It is whether the Bolivian state can govern effectively.
The current crisis illustrates the point. Weeks of blockades have disrupted commerce, restricted the movement of food and fuel, and imposed substantial costs on ordinary citizens. Reports indicate that patients have died after being unable to obtain timely medical treatment because transportation routes remained blocked. The government has debated emergency authorities while attempting to avoid a wider confrontation. Yet even amid escalating tensions, important developments have occurred. The Central Obrera Boliviana has entered into dialogue with the government and established joint commissions to address detainees and other demands. At the same time, divisions have emerged within sectors of the protest movement itself, including organizations associated with the Tupac Katari movement.
These developments suggest that the crisis is no longer a simple confrontation between government and opposition. Bolivia increasingly resembles a contest among multiple actors, grievances, and centers of influence, none of which appears capable of imposing a definitive outcome on its own. The result is a growing debate not merely about political leadership, but about governability itself.
At the same time, public discussion has increasingly touched issues that until recently remained largely confined to security specialists and anti-corruption practitioners: narcotics trafficking, illegal mining, contraband, land trafficking, environmental crime, and the financing of political mobilization.
Whether any particular allegation ultimately proves true remains a matter for evidence, investigation, and due process. Yet the broader trend is difficult to ignore. Over time, illicit and informal economies can accumulate sufficient financial and political influence to shape governance itself. They provide livelihoods where the formal economy cannot. They generate patronage networks. They cultivate local loyalties. They penetrate institutions. Eventually, they cease functioning merely as criminal enterprises operating outside the state. They become alternative systems of power operating alongside it.
More than half a century ago, René Zavaleta Mercado, Bolivia's most influential twentieth-century political thinker, described his country as a sociedad abigarrada—a society composed of multiple social, economic, and political realities existing simultaneously within the same national territory. Zavaleta was attempting to explain Bolivia's complexity. His insight remains relevant today. Yet the challenge confronting Bolivia may now extend beyond the coexistence of multiple realities. Increasingly, some of the most powerful actors operating within those realities are neither political parties nor state institutions, but illicit economic networks whose resources and influence rival those of the state itself.
This is not solely a Bolivian phenomenon.
For much of the democratic era that followed Latin America's military governments, political debate revolved around elections, constitutions, economic models, and the alternation of power. The underlying assumption was that the state remained the principal arena through which political conflict would be resolved. Across much of the hemisphere, that assumption is being tested.
In Mexico, cartels have challenged state authority across entire regions. Ecuador's recent security crisis demonstrated how rapidly organized crime can reshape national politics. Colombia continues to confront criminal and armed groups whose influence extends well beyond traditional law-enforcement concerns. Guatemala has repeatedly struggled with corruption networks capable of penetrating public institutions. Venezuela presents perhaps the hemisphere's most advanced example of governing structures intertwined with illicit economic activity. Nicaragua's authoritarian consolidation likewise demonstrates how patronage, coercion, and opaque economic relationships can undermine democratic accountability.
Elsewhere, similar concerns are emerging. Brazil faces the growing influence of criminal organizations and illegal mining operations in the Amazon. Panama remains vulnerable to transnational money laundering and criminal finance. Jamaica and Trinidad continue to grapple with the political consequences of organized crime and gang violence. Guyana's remarkable economic expansion creates extraordinary opportunities but also governance risks familiar to many resource-rich states. Even Argentina's recent political debate, reflected in part through the rise of Javier Milei, has centered on public frustration with entrenched patronage systems, institutional weakness, and a perception that the state increasingly serves privileged networks rather than citizens. In Chile, support for figures such as José Antonio Kast similarly reflects anxieties about crime, state capacity, and the ability of institutions to maintain public order.
These countries are not identical. Their histories differ. Their institutions differ. Their democratic trajectories differ. Yet they increasingly confront a common challenge: preserving the capacity of legitimate institutions to exercise authority in the face of alternative networks of economic and political power.
The concern is not merely theoretical. It increasingly shapes political discourse throughout the hemisphere. What Jaime Dunn articulates in Bolivia is not entirely different from concerns expressed by reformers in Ecuador, opposition figures in Venezuela, portions of Peru's political class, or advocates of institutional reform elsewhere in the region. The ideological differences among these groups are substantial. What unites them is a growing belief that democratic governments are losing ground—not simply to political opponents, but to systems of power that operate beyond the effective reach of traditional institutions.
At this point, the observations of Jorge Basadre, Peru's great historian of the republic, become especially relevant. Basadre famously described Peru as both a problem and a possibility. The same might be said of democratic governance across much of Latin America today. The challenge facing many countries is not simply electing the right leaders or adopting the right policies. It is preserving institutions capable of channeling conflict through politics rather than allowing power to migrate toward criminal organizations, illicit markets, or networks that thrive on disorder and impunity.
Many of the hemisphere's most experienced diplomats and policymakers, including former U.S. Under Secretary of State Tom Shannon, have long argued that Latin America's enduring challenges are ultimately institutional rather than ideological. Bolivia's current crisis reinforces that point. The debate is no longer primarily about the distribution of power among competing political actors. It is increasingly about the capacity of democratic institutions to exercise authority, enforce rules, and maintain legitimacy.
This challenge also exposes a growing gap in the inter-American system. The Inter-American Democratic Charter was designed to defend constitutional democracy against coups, authoritarian ruptures, and attacks on democratic order. The Inter-American Convention Against Corruption sought to strengthen integrity and accountability throughout the hemisphere. Both remain important achievements. Yet neither was drafted with today's challenge fully in mind. Increasingly, democracy is threatened not only by tanks in the streets or presidents who refuse to leave office. It is threatened by criminal networks, illicit economies, and corruption structures that do not seek to replace democratic institutions outright, but gradually hollow them out from within.
Two centuries ago, Simón Bolívar warned of the fragility of republican institutions in the newly independent Americas. More recently, Basadre reminded us that the republic remains both a problem and a possibility. Bolivia's current crisis suggests that those concerns remain remarkably relevant. Jaime Dunn and others have argued that the country's deepest challenge is institutional. The evidence increasingly suggests they may be right.
The fundamental question facing Bolivia today is not whether Evo Morales or Rodrigo Paz prevails in the next round of political struggle. It is whether democratic institutions can continue to exercise legitimate authority in the face of increasingly powerful alternative networks of economic and political power. That question extends far beyond Bolivia. Increasingly, it is becoming one of the defining questions of democratic governance throughout the Americas.
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