Imaginary Democracy | Democracia imaginaria

By Manfredo Kempff Suárez, El Diario:

Let’s start by agreeing on something that won’t sit well with our politically correct fellow countrymen: democracy in Bolivia is a failure. For me to make such a blasphemous statement, I have to back it up. I can’t just throw a stone and hide my hand. So here it is: democracy is a failure in Bolivia because of its results. Two hundred years of so-called independent life, and we have a country adrift—poor, ignorant, confused, perverted, and savage.

Some might think my words stem from disappointment over how the electoral process is unfolding, from a personal frustration with political disillusionment. Not at all. It’s the system that has failed in Bolivia—it’s non-existent, just like in some other Latin American countries and in 80% of African nations or the Arab satrapies. In the altoperuvian zone, it’s a set of ayllus (in Africa they call them tribes), and each tribe has its chief, its customs, and its own way of life.

Is there another way for Bolivians to govern ourselves? Theocracy? Aristocracy? Plutocracy? Some other form, maybe? Because for now, Bolivia is ruled by a kakistocracy—government by the worst. And those are the ones governing our homeland today: the worst. The inept in the Executive, leaving us without fuel or dollars; ignorance in the Legislative, venality in the Judicial Branch, and resignation in the Electoral.

Since we’ve started drilling, let’s keep going. Democracy is for educated people—at least for those who’ve been taught something at home or at school. Was universal suffrage a great achievement? Of course! In Europe! In the USA! One person, one vote! But don’t they say that one vote from a rural illiterate in Bolivia is worth three of a city dweller’s?

We’re screwed. Waiting for elections with arms crossed until August, and there’s a fight going on between cunumis and birlochas that nobody understands. They call each other traitors, crooks, pedophiles, drug traffickers, murderers—you name it. And deep down, a lot of what they say is true. Don’t even get me started on their appearance: the most sleep-deprived bus driver after 48 hours looks better than them. That’s plain vulgarity. No fixing that. The truth is none of this has anything to do with democracy. Although, out of respect for the office, a president and their ministers could maybe ditch the jeans, jackets, backwards caps, and those black ski goggles on the steep streets of La Paz. Let’s not even talk about how the lawmakers dress (ironically called “robed ones”) or how they smell—some look like they’re dressed for a folk festival.

Anyway, all the time we see these guys spouting nonsense on TV while the interviewers lick their chops. The candidates—big guys looking like brawlers—have no clue what they’re being asked, and the journalists end up feeding them answers that turn it all into a girls’ boarding house mess. Then the brutes try to walk back what they said, but it’s too late—they’re already on the front page.

Anyone who wants to destroy a party just files a lawsuit and paralyzes both the party and its candidates. Some try to disqualify three, four, or five political groups at once. And they make them quake in their boots because the Electoral Tribunal lives in fear. A threat from the government gives that Tribunal painful cramps. And a threat from the Constitutional Court gives anyone a flood of diarrhea. Everyone threatens everyone in Bolivian democracy. Everyone bares their teeth until, in the end, they become convenient allies, because nothing really divides them—just the chance to exploit power.

And the cherry on top is fraud. Fraud has always been ready in Bolivia, ever since the MNR folks used colored ballots. Pink counts, light blue doesn’t. Result: MNR wins with 80%. Morales committed fraud in 2009, 2014, and 2019. And he’s dying to run again, probably already in cahoots with his Venezuelan buddies. Those scoundrels who forgot what democracy even means ages ago and stole the election from María Corina.

So what now? Do we just sit and wait for those who are happy with elections? Because we can’t even count on the military in Bolivia—we’ve already seen what a couple of them did, and they were nothing to write home about, just pitiful. MAS’s contagious little rug has turned the military into something in its own image and likeness. Let’s just keep imagining pretty stories.

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