The only way to win today is not with bullets
Six months into his presidency, Bolivia's Rodrigo Paz finds himself navigating a twenty-day siege of protests and blockades across La Paz and El Alto — a crisis born of austerity, fuel scarcity, and decades of unresolved grievance. Rather than reach for the instruments of force, Paz has publicly staked his authority on the proposition that dialogue is not weakness but courage. Yet even as he speaks the language of restraint, his Senate has quietly rewritten the rules governing emergency power, leaving open a harder path should words prove insufficient.
- Twenty days of roadblocks and demonstrations have strangled Bolivia's two largest cities, cutting off fuel, commerce, and the rhythms of ordinary life for millions.
- A broad coalition — miners, farmers, truckers, unions, and Morales loyalists — has fused scattered grievances into a single pressure campaign aimed at reversing austerity and forcing political concessions.
- President Paz has drawn a public line against military confrontation, framing negotiation as the more courageous act, even as protesters once called for his resignation.
- The Senate's surprise vote to strip legislative oversight from state-of-exception declarations has handed Paz unilateral emergency powers — a quiet escalation running beneath his rhetoric of peace.
- Paz reads the crisis as partly inherited, attributing deep structural anger to twenty years of centralist MAS governance, positioning himself as the difficult but necessary turning point.
Bolivia's President Rodrigo Paz sat down with CNN this week to argue something unusual for a leader in the middle of a national crisis: that talking is braver than fighting. Six months into his term, he is facing twenty days of protests and roadblocks that have paralyzed La Paz and El Alto. What began in early May as scattered labor actions has grown into a broad coalition of unions, miners, farmers, truckers, and Morales-aligned organizations demanding the reversal of austerity measures, relief from rising living costs, and an end to fuel shortages.
Paz did not rule out declaring a state of exception but framed it as a last resort. "Those who don't want to talk have the Constitution in front of them," he said. "That's the limit." What he left unsaid was that the Senate had just voted to remove the safeguards that had governed such declarations since 2020 — eliminating the requirement for legislative approval and opening the door for Paz to act unilaterally, should the Chamber of Deputies follow suit.
In public, he leaned into restraint. "The only way to win today is not with bullets," he told CNN. "Dialogue is far more courageous than the confrontation of weapons." He also suggested the protests were softening — recent marches had been calmer, and demands for his resignation had faded from the movement's central messaging. Whether this reflected genuine de-escalation or tactical repositioning remained uncertain.
Paz offered a historical frame for the unrest, arguing that much of the anger had accumulated over twenty years of centralist MAS governance and was now surfacing under his watch rather than originating with his policies. He defended his democratic legitimacy and described the moment as "a very difficult birth" — painful but directionally correct. The gap between his public commitment to dialogue and the emergency legal architecture being quietly assembled behind it remained the unresolved tension at the heart of the crisis.
Bolivia's president sat down with CNN this week to make a case that might sound counterintuitive in the middle of a national crisis: that talking is stronger than fighting. Rodrigo Paz, six months into his term, was speaking against the backdrop of twenty days of protests and roadblocks that have choked La Paz and El Alto, the country's two largest cities. The unrest began in early May as scattered labor actions and sectoral complaints, but it has since metastasized into something larger—a coalition of unions, miners, farmers, truckers, and organizations loyal to former president Evo Morales, all demanding that the government reverse austerity measures, address the rising cost of living, and solve fuel shortages that have left the country struggling.
When asked whether he was considering declaring a state of exception—a constitutional tool that would allow him to suspend normal governance—Paz did not rule it out. But he framed it as a last resort, a boundary that would only be crossed if dialogue failed. "The Constitution is there," he said. "Those who don't want to talk have the Constitution in front of them. That's the limit." What he did not say, but what happened just days before this interview, was that the Senate had unexpectedly voted to strip away the very safeguards that had governed such declarations since 2020. The old law had required legislative approval, set time limits, and established mechanisms for accountability. The new version, if it passes the Chamber of Deputies, would give Paz the power to declare a state of exception unilaterally, without asking permission from lawmakers first.
Yet in his public remarks, Paz leaned hard into the language of restraint. "The only way to win today is not with bullets," he told CNN's program Conclusiones. He rejected the idea that force could solve what was fundamentally a political problem. "We have never won through confrontation," he said. "Dialogue is far more courageous than the confrontation of weapons." It was a striking rhetorical choice—to frame negotiation as the braver path, not the weaker one.
Paz also suggested that the character of the protests had begun to shift. He noted that a recent march had been calmer than earlier demonstrations, and that demands for his resignation, which had been prominent in the first weeks, were no longer central to the movement's messaging. Whether this represented a genuine change in the protesters' position or simply a tactical adjustment remained unclear. What was clear was that the president was trying to narrate a de-escalation, even as his government was quietly securing the legal machinery to escalate if needed.
He also offered a historical reading of the discontent. Some of the anger, he suggested, reflected grievances that had accumulated over the twenty years that Morales and his Movement Toward Socialism party had controlled the state. "There are rights-based demands for issues that weren't addressed during those twenty years because the state was centralist," Paz said. In other words: this crisis was not entirely his fault. It was the inheritance of a previous era, now surfacing under his watch.
Paz defended his own political legitimacy, pointing to his victory in a runoff election in late 2025 and the new political configurations that had emerged in governorships, municipalities, and the national government. "This is a very difficult birth," he said. "It's hard, but we're going down the right path." He rejected the notion that his administration had been caught off guard or that events had spiraled beyond control. Instead, he framed the crisis as inevitable—a collision between an old order that refused to yield and a new Bolivia trying to build itself according to different principles.
What remained unresolved was whether dialogue would hold, or whether the Senate's new law would soon be invoked. The president had made his rhetorical commitment to negotiation clear. But the legal groundwork for a harder response was already being laid.
Notable Quotes
Dialogue is far more courageous than the confrontation of weapons— President Rodrigo Paz
This is a very difficult birth. It's hard, but we're going down the right path— President Rodrigo Paz, on the new political configuration
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
When Paz says dialogue is more courageous than force, is he speaking to his own government or to the protesters?
Both, I think. He's trying to establish a frame where restraint looks like strength, not weakness. But he's also signaling to the protesters that there's a limit to how long he'll negotiate.
The Senate just stripped away the checks on declaring a state of exception. That seems like the opposite of dialogue.
It does. It's the legal insurance policy. Paz can say he's committed to talking while simultaneously removing the obstacles to unilateral action. If negotiations fail, he won't need anyone's permission.
He claims the protests have shifted away from demanding his resignation. Do you believe that?
It's hard to say. Movements are fluid. Early demands can soften as people realize they won't be met, or they can be reframed strategically. What matters is whether the underlying grievances—austerity, fuel, cost of living—actually get addressed.
He blames twenty years of centralist state management under Morales. Is that fair?
It's a partial truth. Yes, there are old problems. But Paz has been in office six months. At some point, the crisis becomes his responsibility, not his predecessor's.
What happens if dialogue fails?
Then you'll see whether Paz meant what he said about bullets, or whether that new law was written for a reason.