You cannot arrest your way out of a political crisis
In the highlands of Bolivia, President Rodrigo Paz finds himself at the narrow passage between persuasion and power, where a month of road blockades has claimed more than a dozen lives and left the capital straining for supplies. Standing near a freshly reopened route south of La Paz, he has refused to abandon the language of dialogue while no longer refusing the instruments of emergency. Parliament moves this weekend to give legal form to what may become necessity, as a government shedding ministers weighs whether the Constitution's provisions for order can accomplish what conversation has not.
- More than a month of sustained blockades has strangled supply routes to La Paz, killing over a dozen people and pushing the government toward emergency measures it once hoped to avoid.
- Three ministers resigned in a single week, exposing the fractures inside a government struggling to hold together under the relentless pressure of mass protest.
- Paz has stopped short of ruling out a state of exception, signaling that the threshold between dialogue and force is narrowing with each passing day.
- Parliament is racing to pass a regulatory framework for emergency powers this weekend, giving the military legal cover to act if the president decides the moment has arrived.
- Military and police units cleared the Río Abajo route without violence, but the protesters' core demand—Paz's removal—remains unanswered and the roads remain contested.
Bolivia's President Rodrigo Paz traveled to Carreras, south of La Paz, to observe police and military units reopening one of the capital's key supply corridors. The operation was calm, but the crisis surrounding it was not. For more than a month, blockades have paralyzed the country's roads, and more than a dozen people have died from the disruption to essential supplies.
Paz has held firmly to the language of dialogue throughout the crisis, and on Friday he repeated his commitment to what he called humanitarian and peaceful engagement. But something had shifted. When asked about emergency measures, he declined for the first time to rule out declaring a state of exception—constitutional powers that would expand military authority to restore order. He offered no timeline, only the acknowledgment that he and his defense and interior ministers would determine the next step together.
The political context sharpens the stakes. Parliament is set to debate a bill regulating states of exception this weekend, following Senate passage of a framework authorizing military action. Paz framed any potential declaration not as a political choice but as a constitutional tool the state is permitted—and perhaps obligated—to use.
Yet his government is visibly weakening. Three ministers resigned this week alone: the defense minister, the education minister, and the labor minister. Their departures reflect a government under extraordinary strain, its internal cohesion eroding as the protests continue.
The blockades are not random disruption—they are a political demand, calling for Paz's removal. His government can reopen roads temporarily, as it did in Carreras, but cannot dissolve the anger behind the barricades. As the death toll rises and the emergency bill advances through parliament, the question is no longer whether emergency powers will be invoked, but whether invoking them will resolve anything at all.
Bolivia's president Rodrigo Paz stood in the municipality of Carreras, south of La Paz, watching police and military units work to reopen the Río Abajo route—one of the capital's lifelines for supplies. The operation proceeded without violence, but the larger crisis grinding the country to a halt showed no signs of stopping. For more than a month, blockades and protests have choked the nation's roads. More than a dozen people have died from the effects of these supply disruptions alone.
Paz has spent weeks insisting that dialogue, not force, is the answer. On Friday, he repeated that message, telling reporters his government was committed to "humanitarian action, the action of encounter, and the action of dialogue." But his words carried a new weight. For the first time, he did not rule out declaring a state of exception—emergency powers that would give the military broader authority to restore order. "The only thing I can say is that with the minister of Defense and the minister of Government, we will see the next step," he said when pressed about what comes next.
The timing matters. Parliament is scheduled to debate a bill regulating states of exception this weekend—first in committee, then on the floor of the full chamber. The Senate has already passed a framework giving the armed forces legal authority to act. Paz framed the potential emergency declaration as constitutional necessity, not political choice. "The state of exception is an action that the Constitution permits," he said, citing both the nation's founding document and the pending legislation as justification for tools the state might need to protect its people and maintain order.
But the political ground beneath him is shifting. This week alone, three ministers have resigned. Ernesto Justiniano, formerly a vice minister overseeing social defense and controlled substances, took over the Defense portfolio after Marcelo Salinas stepped down days earlier. Beatriz García, the education minister, and Edgar Morales, who led the labor ministry, both quit as well. Their departures reflect the depth of the crisis consuming the country—a cascade of resignations that signals how fractured the government has become under the weight of sustained protest.
The blockades themselves are political acts. Protesters are demanding Paz's removal, using the country's roads as leverage. The government's response has been constrained: it can clear routes temporarily, as it did in Carreras, but cannot suppress the underlying anger driving people to the streets. Paz's repeated invocation of dialogue suggests he understands this. You cannot arrest your way out of a political crisis. But as the death toll climbs and supplies dwindle, the pressure to act—to use the tools the Constitution allows—grows harder to resist. The state of exception bill moving through parliament this weekend may be less a solution than an admission that dialogue alone has failed to break the deadlock.
Citações Notáveis
The only thing I can say is that with the minister of Defense and the minister of Government, we will see the next step— President Rodrigo Paz, on potential emergency measures
The state of exception is an action that the Constitution permits— President Rodrigo Paz, defending legal authority for emergency powers
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why is Paz hesitating on the state of exception if he has the legal authority?
Because declaring it would confirm what the protesters already believe—that he's willing to use force against them. It's a political trap. Once you invoke emergency powers, you've lost the moral argument.
But people are dying. Doesn't that change the calculation?
It should, and it might. That's the tension. Twelve deaths from supply shortages is a humanitarian crisis. But a state of exception could trigger more deaths if it escalates confrontation. Paz is caught between two kinds of harm.
Why are the ministers resigning now, specifically?
They're reading the room. The blockades aren't ending. Dialogue isn't working. If Paz declares emergency powers, those ministers don't want to be associated with it. If he doesn't, they're exhausted from managing a government that can't govern.
Is the military operation in Carreras a test run?
Possibly. It cleared a route without violence, which suggests the military can act without sparking immediate conflict. That might be emboldening Paz to consider larger action. Or it might be showing him the limits—you can clear one road, but you can't clear the country's anger.
What happens if the parliament passes the state of exception bill?
Then Paz has to decide whether to use it. And that decision will define whether this crisis ends or deepens.