Since the Water War in 2000, the Plaza 14 de Septiembre in the Bolivian city of Cochabamba has been a hub for public debate, discourse, and exchange. On any given day one may find folks dancing, preaching, telling jokes to a giggling crowd, or hawking a number of causes, from the health benefits of the coca leaf to the need for government funding of amateur swimming. A constant installation in this dynamic space has been a bulletin board packed with news articles, flyers, petitions, and other information, usually accompanied by a shifting crowd of citizens debating the often controversial and stimulating material. Yet since the violent clashes on January 11th between the supporters of right-wing Governor Manfred Reyes Villa and the leftist citizens of the Department of Cochabamba, the board—a symbol of free speech and public participation—has been stolen, broken, and/or burned four times. Once a sanctuary of freedom of expression, the Plaza has been the site of increasingly violent pressure to silence leftist opposition to the Governor, culminating with a beating of leftist organizers on May 24th, possibly by the Governor’s own employees.
The bulletin board is brought to the plaza every morning with a few news articles selected by a group of Cochabamba youth, who call themselves the Tinku Network (“tinku” means “encounter” in Quechua), its material augmented throughout the day by whoever has the desire to share or express something publicly. On May 24th, Tinku member Mica, who was afraid to share her full name, brought the board to the plaza at about 8 am, as usual. This day, the board included a flyer denouncing Reyes Villa for supporting the autonomy of the Santa Cruz department—a demand made by many of the conservative elite and a hot-button issue throughout the country—and a flyer accusing a series of Governor’s office-organized “autonomy” workshops of paying high school students to attend. There were few people in the Plaza at this hour, but Mica explains, “a man from the Governor’s office came over and took the board away from me. He wouldn’t respond when I asked who he was or why he was doing this. I tried to get it back and he threw me down into the Plaza garden.” She pursued the man at a distance, and saw him throw the board into a Cochabamba State Government truck, clearly designated by its color and the crest stamped on the side.
When Mica returned to the plaza an hour later with other Tinku members, there were about 80 people, some journalists, and the culprit along with about a dozen other “large men.” Mica publicly accused the man of pilfering the board, to which he finally admitted. Radio journalist Milton Martínez came to the plaza to cover the dispute, where he was physically intimidated and forced to leave. As the public protested, the strongmen moved in and began beating them, discharging pepper spray, and shouting profanities until the public dispersed. The men were later seen entering the Governor’s building.
The scene was repeated the following morning: as the public gathered to discuss what had happened, they were struck from behind by the same men until they fled.
The victims assure that the strongmen are hired thugs that answer directly to the Governor. As Zulema Callejas, a psychologist and activist with the Institute of Therapy and Investigation of Torture and State Violence (ITEI) who has been harassed in the Plaza before, says “They are followers of Manfred [Reyes Villa] and come directly out of the Governor’s building whenever anyone is speaking against him.”
Wilson Espinoza, communications spokesman for the Governor, denies that his office had anything to do with the attacks. He claims that the aggressors were simply citizens fed up with the “insults” to the Governor, and contends that there is no permanent campaign to intimidate leftist activists, although does admit that the “Governor is in charge of citizen security,” and thus must “maintain order,” something which may or may not involve getting rid of pesky leftists in the Plaza. “It is a fact that they are employees of the Governor,” Martinez asserts. “We only need to prove it legally.”
Legally proving Reyes Villa’s connection with the aggressors may have little effect on the oppression. Regardless of whether or not the strongmen are paid employees of the Governor, or simply fanatical supporters, no steps have been taken to subdue them or to protect those speaking against the Governor in the Plaza. While the police were called during the mayhem on May 24th, no one showed up, despite the fact that their office is right on the Plaza. “Everyone knows that the police are with the Governor, but it is illegal—they are supposed to respond to the Ministry of Government in La Paz,” Martinez explains. Espinoza confirmed that the police are supposed to respond to the central government, but had no comment regarding their absence on May 24th, and indicated that they “collaborate with the Governor to maintain order.”
“Our biggest concern right now is personal safety,” says Martinez, who was told by the Ministry of Government that there were not enough personnel to provide individual protection. The MAS government has done little to protect its supporters, and although the activists have denounced the violence, the strongmen continue to stand vigil in the Plaza, unhindered.
The violence of the 24th is the culmination of over a year of tension that has played out in the Plaza. On March 13th of last year, ITEI psychologist Callejas came to the Plaza with several other activists to put up an exposition on the School of the Americas, a U.S. military school that instructs methods of torture and “counterinsurgency” strategy to Latin American military officers and of which Manfred Reyes Villa is a graduate. Soon after Callejas and her colleagues set up their display, men came out of the Governor’s building with tables and tents, hiding from public view the negative information on Reyes Villa’s alma mater. “They set up like were presenting something, but their tables were empty!” says Callejas, “It was clear they just did not want the public to hear what we had to say.” The men also threatened the activists, broke their signs, and intimidated them physically. Anytime a group of people gathered to see what was going on, the strongmen managed to create distractions and scare people away.
Callejas was essentially banned from the Plaza. Any time she and her fellow activists attempted to use the public space to display information or meet, they were told they were not allowed to be there by the Police, or intimidated into leaving the by the strongmen.
Control of the Plaza of Cochabamba has become a territorial battle site for the conflict between Reyes Villa’s right-wing supporters and the leftist organizers and MAS party members, both sides charging the other with trying to control the public space. While the left once dominate the public space of the Plaza, filling it with information tables, signs, and discussion, the strongmen have now become almost an institution in the Plaza, keeping vigil and intimidating anyone who has the nerve to speak out against the Governor. “The Governor´s thugs are always there, watching us,” says Mica.
On the other hand, the Governor’s allies sees the space as being unilaterally controlled leftist activists who block out any other views. Espinoza complains, “the leftists are always there, every day, in the Plaza, using harsh language and insulting the Governor, and this upsets people.” Is this an excuse for oppression? Maybe.
Not everyone agrees that the Plaza is a space of free speech. “The MAS [Movement toward Socialism] supporters do not let anyone who has a different point of view speak,” says Espinoza. “This [May 24th] is not the first time they have not tolerated distinct ways of thinking, as we saw on January 11th.” The causes of the violence on January 11th are disputed, but many attribute it to premeditated steps taken by Governor, and the most overt violence was committed by his supporters.
United States citizen Adam Ziemkowski, who was also present in the Plaza on May 24th, was accosted the next day at the University of San Simon by several men who refused to show identification. He was illegally searched, and then intimidated into going to the Interpol office where he was charged with sedition for supposedly distributing pamphlets offensive to the Governor. “I was by myself, and did not know my rights,” he says. “One said they were with Interpol, so I went with them.”
Espinoza admits that the Governor sent men to arrest Adam. “The material was totally insulting to the Governor. Foreigners do not have the right to come to Bolivia and create propaganda in favor of a particular political position.” The arrest and threat to deport Ziembowski by Reyes Villa may be in response to the MAS government’s decision last December to deport right-wing Cuban citizen Amauris Sanmartino for actively supporting Santa Cruz’s conservative autonomy movement.
Freedom of expression has its strict limits, according to Espinoza, “People do not have the right to insult the Governor, a democratically elected official, in the middle of the plaza.” But he also claims that the Governor will “always take the legal route, never the path of violent confrontation.” The experiences of Mica, Callejas, Martinez, and Ziembowski indicate otherwise—that the Governor will do whatever it takes to silence opposition.
While tension and intimidation has been going on for over a year, the violence of May 24th and 25th is new in its intensity and unabashed-ness, and has had its effects. A new bulletin board was made, but did not enter the Plaza for several days, as the men responsible for the beating continued to hang around the plaza, intimidating the activists. Some Tinku members still have not returned.
“Manfred Reyes Villa is arming groups of thugs to control the public,” Mica charges. She and other activists will continue to try to return the Plaza to its status as a sanctuary of public discourse and exchange. “The defense of the plaza is the beginning of the defense of the people,” says Mica.
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