The problem

06.18.2003

I'm delaying packing up my apartment, prolonging the inevitable. Sure, I still have two months before I board that silver bird headed south. Then I'll live a year in Bolivia. But I should be packing, boxing up my books and knick knacks, preparing my winter sweaters and laying out my suits and ties. My head knows this; but my body is slow to follow its advice.

I can't wait to leave, I really can't. Six years of grad school preparing for my dissertation fieldwork in La Paz, waiting for a grant to fund my research project. And just when I was about to change my mind about it all. Wham! It all came together. How could I not be excited?

Part of the anxiety is project-related. There's no way I can hide from this. Sure, there's the "typical" (or so I'm told) jitters that doctoral students face before they go "into the field". That's part of it, no doubt. Am I capable of sticking to a year-long independent research project, on my own, far away from my colleagues and mentors? Will I find the archival materials I desperately need? Can I successfully implement a textual analysis of twenty years of printed material?

But there's something else. And this is the scary part. The Bolivia that awaits me is not the same Bolivia I left barely two years ago. My dissertation focuses on the relative "success" of Bolivia's democratization. It hinges on the idea that Bolivia has had a stable democracy — a feat when compared to its history and the recent experience of its most similar neighbors, Ecuador and Peru. I expected to look for the causes of Bolivia's stable, coalition-building political norms. Specifically, I hypothesized that Bolivia's unique electoral system was an important catalyst.

Instead, Bolivia is now in the middle of one of its most pressing political crises since 1982 (the year the last military dictatorship stepped down). In February, only months after its inauguration, the current government was rocked by violent unrest — as the military clashed w/ mutinied police — leaving dozens dead and much of the capital in chaos for days. In the wake of the so-called "February war" the extremely fragile MNR-MIR governing coalition has been overly strained. Goni has been president less than a year and his government has been utterly ineffectual — especially when compared to his first term in office (1993-1997). Since February, rumors of possible early elections continue to circulate.

So that's my dilemma in a nutshell. A country I care about (and not just academically!) is potentially falling apart at the seams. Don't get me wrong, I'm confident the military won't come to power again. At least not directly. But the presence of strong populist leaders mean the country could descend into chaos. This is a very real danger. And then what? Truth is, I don't even know.

So. I sit and wait. I'm still waiting to find out from the Fulbright people on the terms of my grant. I don't know what my budget is. I don't have my visa/passport situation figured out. I don't have an airplane ticket. I'm waiting on bureaucracy. And I'm waiting to see if Bolivia falls apart before I get there.

In two months, the question of "what explains Bolivia's democratic stability" might be irrelevant. That's a serious problem for my dissertation. But. It's also a serious problem for my soul. I was born in Bolivia, and a large part of my heart will always reside there.

And that's my commitment to democracy. I'm no hippie. While I study democratic theory, I've never been concerned w/ democracy as a purely abstract concept.

I remember growing up as a kid in a dictatorship, watching generals in dark sunglasses giving speeches on TV. I remember that every day at school, five times a day, we were made to march in unison singing martial songs. I remember soldiers w/ machine guns patrolling city streets. I remember the pockmarked walls of the university in La Paz, marked from the day the air force attacked the students and drove them from the barricades w/ canons and rockets. I remember that the head of internal "security" for the dictator was an escaped Nazi, Klaus Barbie, the "Butcher of Lyon".

I don't want Bolivia to look like that ever again. I didn't want Iraq to look like that. I don't want Iran to look like that. I don't want Zimbabwe to look like that. I don't want Burma to look like that.

And so I sit and wait. And drink lattes from the comfort of my neighborhood coffee shop. I guess I should count my blessings.

Posted by Miguel at 11:43 PM

Comments

Well, as long as you do your best and your part for Democracy, you won't regret whatever the outcome may be. Look at the big picture, the journey is more important.

Posted by: stephanie at June 23, 2003 11:55 PM