The government blamed former president Evo Morales for stoking the conflict.
Six months into his presidency, Bolivia's Rodrigo Paz finds himself at the center of a gathering storm — one that began with a land reform dispute in the Amazon and has since drawn in labor unions, indigenous federations, and the long shadow of his predecessor Evo Morales. What started as sectoral grievances over wages and property rights has crystallized into a coordinated demand for his resignation, with road blockades choking the country's arteries and three women losing their lives unable to reach medical care. The crisis lays bare a deeper truth: in societies where economic pain runs long and deep, a single law can become the match that lights a fire built over years.
- A coalition of labor unions and peasant federations signed a formal pact on May 6 with a single, unambiguous objective — remove President Paz from power, declaring him unfit to govern.
- Nationwide road blockades severed Bolivia's connections to Peru and Chile, strangled commerce, and directly cost three women their lives when medical care became unreachable.
- Paz repealed the contested land law on May 13 and struck separate deals with teachers and miners, but each concession seemed only to embolden a protest movement that had already outgrown its original demands.
- Police and military forces deployed on May 16 to open humanitarian corridors, but clashes resumed within hours, and by May 18 La Paz itself was the scene of smashed storefronts, damaged public buildings, and over 120 arrests.
- The international community fractured along ideological fault lines — Washington called the unrest a coup attempt while Colombia's president hailed it as a popular insurrection, a rift so sharp that Bolivia expelled the Colombian ambassador.
Bolivia's President Rodrigo Paz, barely six months in office, is fighting for his political survival against a coalition of forces that has transformed a land dispute into a full-scale demand for his resignation.
The crisis traces back to Law 1720, a land reclassification measure that indigenous and peasant farmers from the Amazonian region of Pando saw as a mechanism for wealthy landowners and agribusiness to absorb their territories. After a twenty-four-day march to La Paz, protesters won a significant concession — Paz repealed the law on May 13. But the victory opened a door rather than closing one. Highland Aymara unions began blocking roads, and the country's main labor federation, the Central Obrera Boliviana, arrived with over two hundred demands, chief among them a twenty percent wage increase in a country where annual inflation had exceeded twenty percent in 2025.
On May 6, labor leader Mario Argollo and the Tupac Katari Peasant Federation signed a pact with one explicit goal: force Paz to resign. Highways to Peru and Chile were blocked. The government issued arrest warrants against Argollo and other leaders on terrorism charges, and pointed blame at former president Evo Morales, who had his own supporters marching toward La Paz from Caracollo — a 190-kilometer journey — even as a second arrest warrant was issued against him on human trafficking charges.
By May 18, the protests had turned violent in the capital. Storefronts were smashed, buildings damaged, and more than 120 people detained. Three women — one of them a Belizean citizen — died during the blockades, unable to reach hospitals in time. The government held protest leaders responsible for their deaths.
The international response deepened Paz's isolation in a different way. The United States declared the unrest a coup attempt, with Secretary of State Marco Rubio vowing that Washington would not allow democratically elected leaders to be overthrown. Colombia's president Gustavo Petro called it a popular insurrection. Bolivia expelled the Colombian ambassador. The diplomatic fracture made plain what the street battles had already suggested: Paz retains the support of Washington and several regional governments, but faces something that looks, from the ground, increasingly like a genuine uprising.
Bolivia's government is collapsing under the weight of overlapping crises. President Rodrigo Paz, who took office just six months ago, now faces calls for his resignation from labor unions, peasant federations, and indigenous groups—a coalition that has transformed what began as sectoral wage disputes into a full political emergency.
The trouble started in early May when indigenous and peasant farmers from the Amazon region of Pando walked for twenty-four days to reach La Paz. They came to demand the repeal of Law 1720, a land reclassification measure that would have converted small properties into medium-sized holdings eligible for bank credit. The protesters saw it as a backdoor mechanism for wealthy landowners and agricultural corporations to consolidate control over territory. Paz repealed the law on May 13, but the damage was already spreading. Aymara peasant unions in the highlands began blocking roads. The initial victory did not quiet the unrest; it only revealed how many grievances were waiting beneath the surface.
The Central Obrera Boliviana, the country's main labor federation, presented the government with a document containing more than two hundred demands. At the center was a request for a twenty percent wage increase. They also wanted inflation controls and a commitment not to privatize state enterprises, most of which are bankrupt. Annual inflation had reached 20.4 percent in 2025, and by April 2026 the cumulative figure stood at 14.18 percent. The federation declared an indefinite strike early in the month, though it failed to gain broad participation. Still, it became the organizing force behind daily street protests in La Paz—teachers, factory workers, peasants, and miners taking to the streets. Paz rejected most of the demands, including the wage increase, though he did negotiate separate agreements with teachers and cooperative miners.
On May 6, Mario Argollo, the leader of the labor federation and a miner himself, signed a pact with the Tupac Katari Peasant Federation of La Paz. The agreement had one explicit goal: force the president to resign. They called him incapable. That same day, farmers began blocking highways to other regions and the routes connecting Bolivia to Peru and Chile. The government blamed former president Evo Morales, who governed from 2006 to 2019, for stoking the conflict. The prosecutor's office issued arrest warrants against Argollo and other protest leaders on charges including incitement to crime and terrorism.
Moreales himself became a flashpoint. On May 11, hundreds of his supporters marched from the highland town of Caracollo toward La Paz—a journey of roughly 190 kilometers—to oppose the government's reforms and demand Paz step down. The timing was pointed: that same day, a second arrest warrant was issued against Morales himself. He was accused of human trafficking and had failed to appear for trial related to his alleged relationship with a minor during his presidency between 2015 and 2016.
On May 16, the government deployed police and military forces to open what it called a humanitarian corridor on some roads. The blockades resumed after brief clashes. By May 18, when Morales supporters entered La Paz and joined other protesters in violent demonstrations, the situation had spiraled into open conflict. Storefronts were smashed. Public buildings were damaged. Police and demonstrators clashed repeatedly. More than 120 people were detained; ninety were later released.
Three women died during the blockades—unable to reach hospitals in time for medical care. One was a citizen of Belize. The government held the protesters responsible for these deaths. The international response split along ideological lines. The United States, which had backed Paz, called the protests a coup attempt. Secretary of State Marco Rubio issued a statement: the U.S. would not allow criminals and drug traffickers to overthrow democratically elected leaders in the Americas. But Colombia's president, Gustavo Petro, described what was happening as a popular insurrection. Bolivia responded by expelling Colombia's ambassador. The diplomatic rift exposed how fragile Paz's position had become—supported by Washington and right-wing governments in Argentina, Chile, and Paraguay, but facing what looked increasingly like a genuine uprising from below.
Citas Notables
The United States will not allow criminals and drug traffickers to overthrow democratically elected leaders in the Americas.— U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio
Labor and peasant leaders called Paz incapable and signed a pact on May 6 to force his resignation.— Mario Argollo and the Tupac Katari Peasant Federation
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
What started this? Was it always about land, or did something else light the match?
The land law was the spark, but the kindling was already there—inflation eating away at wages, state companies bleeding money, people feeling squeezed. The law just made it visible. Once peasants walked twenty-four days to say no, others realized they could say no too.
And Paz repealed it. That should have ended it, right?
It should have, but by then the labor federation had already seen an opening. They had two hundred demands sitting in a drawer. The moment the government looked weak, they pushed everything forward at once.
Why did Morales become part of this? He's not even in power.
He's a symbol. His supporters see Paz as undoing what Morales built. And Paz's government sees Morales as a ghost that still moves things. Whether he's actually directing the protests or not almost doesn't matter—both sides believe he is.
The deaths—those three women—how does that change the calculation?
It hardens everything. The government can say the protesters killed them. The protesters can say the government forced the blockades. Nobody wins that argument, but now there's blood in it. That's when politics becomes something else.
So what happens next? Does Paz survive this?
That depends on whether the U.S. backing holds and whether the protests can sustain momentum. Right now he's in the middle—too weak to govern normally, too backed by Washington to fall easily. That's a dangerous place to be.