The blockades have to keep intensifying. We are used to the government's lies.
En Bolivia, una ley aprobada en silencio se convirtió en detonador de una crisis que el país tardó nueve días en contener. El Senado anuló por unanimidad la norma antilavado tras protestas que dejaron un muerto, decenas de heridos y una economía paralizada, pero la derogación no apagó el conflicto: para algunos sectores de la oposición, la ley nunca fue el verdadero objetivo. Lo que quedó en pie, una vez retirada la chispa, fue la pregunta más profunda sobre quién gobierna Bolivia y bajo qué legitimidad.
- Una ley aprobada sin mayor debate en agosto se transformó en símbolo de amenaza para los trabajadores informales, quienes vieron en ella un instrumento de vigilancia financiera disfrazado de combate al crimen.
- Nueve días de bloqueos nacionales paralizaron la economía, costaron una vida campesina y dejaron decenas de heridos, con epicentros de tensión en Santa Cruz y Potosí.
- El Senado votó 34 a 0 para derogar la ley, y el presidente Arce apeló al fin de las movilizaciones, pero los comités cívicos rechazaron deponer los bloqueos pese a la concesión gubernamental.
- El gobierno presentó cargos de sedición contra el líder cívico de Santa Cruz, mientras alcaldes opositores convocaban nuevas marchas, elevando el conflicto más allá de la disputa legal original.
- Lo que comenzó como protesta contra una norma financiera se reencuadró como pugna existencial: el oficialismo habla de intento de golpe; la oposición, de resistencia legítima.
El Senado boliviano anuló por unanimidad la Ley 1386 —conocida como la «ley madre» antilavado— nueve días después de que el país se paralizara en protesta. La votación fue de 34 a cero, horas después de que la cámara baja ya hubiera aprobado la derogación. La norma había sido promulgada en agosto sin mayor controversia, pero sus opositores la interpretaron como una amenaza directa a los trabajadores informales, columna vertebral de la economía boliviana, al someterlos a una red de vigilancia financiera. También cuestionaban que el presidente pudiera modificar su aplicación por decreto.
Los nueve días de movilización tuvieron un costo real: un campesino muerto, decenas de heridos y un daño económico acumulado que el gobierno no podía seguir ignorando. Los bloqueos, organizados por comités cívicos y sindicatos, golpearon con especial fuerza a Santa Cruz y Potosí. Al anunciar la derogación, el presidente Luis Arce pidió que no hubiera más pretextos para «herir, maltratar y paralizar» la economía.
Sin embargo, la concesión no cerró la crisis. Algunos líderes sindicales, como el representante de vendedores ambulantes Francisco Figueroa, anunciaron el fin de su participación. Pero Rómulo Calvo, presidente del Comité Cívico de Santa Cruz, exigió intensificar los bloqueos, desconfiando de las promesas oficiales. El gobierno respondió con una denuncia penal por sedición contra Calvo, mientras comerciantes afectados presentaban sus propias quejas contra los comités.
El alcalde de La Paz convocó una marcha contra la «persecución política», y Luis Fernando Camacho —figura central en la caída de Evo Morales en 2019— sumó su voz a la movilización opositora. El oficialismo interpretó la negativa a deponer las protestas como un nuevo intento de golpe. La ley derogada dejó de ser el centro del debate: lo que quedó fue una confrontación abierta sobre quién detenta el poder en Bolivia y si alguna concesión sería suficiente para la oposición.
Bolivia's Senate voted unanimously on Tuesday to erase a money-laundering law from the books, nine days after the country ground to a halt in protest. The vote was 34 to nothing, a decisive show of hands that came after the lower chamber had already approved the repeal in the early morning hours. The law itself—formally titled the National Strategy for Combating Money Laundering and Terrorist Financing, but known colloquially as the "mother law"—had been passed by the legislature in August with little fanfare. No one expected it would nearly tear the country apart.
The government had framed the law as a tool to track illegal money flows among the wealthy. But opponents saw something different: a mechanism that would ensnare informal workers, the backbone of Bolivia's economy, in a web of financial surveillance. They also objected to language allowing the president to modify how the law would be enforced through executive decree. When the Senate debated the repeal, the ruling party's lawmakers inserted references to the 2019 coup that toppled Evo Morales, accusing unnamed "unscrupulous individuals" of spreading misinformation to destabilize an elected government. That language had to be struck from the final text. President Luis Arce, when announcing the decision to repeal, appealed for an end to the disruption: "Listening to the demands of the Bolivian people, listening to sectoral demands, we have decided to abrogate Law 1386 so that there is no pretext for continuing to wound, mistreat, and paralyze our economy."
The nine days leading up to that vote had been costly. Civic committees and labor unions organized blockades that rippled across the country, with particular intensity in Santa Cruz and Potosí. One campesino was killed. Dozens were wounded. The economic toll mounted daily. Some labor leaders, like Francisco Figueroa, who represents street vendors and small merchants, declared they would end their participation once the law was repealed. But the civic committees—the real engine of the protest—refused to stand down. Rómulo Calvo, president of the Santa Cruz Civic Committee, made clear the fight was far from over: "The blockades have to keep intensifying. We are used to the government's lies." His words suggested that for some opposition figures, the law had become secondary to a larger political confrontation.
The government responded by filing a criminal complaint against Calvo, charging him with sedition, incitement to crime, obstruction of workers' rights, and usurping the rights of the people. Meanwhile, merchants who had been unable to work during the blockades began filing their own complaints against the civic committees. The political temperature kept rising. In La Paz, Mayor Iván Arias Durán called for a massive march on Wednesday to protest what he termed "political persecution." In Santa Cruz, Mayor Luis Fernando Camacho—a figure who had played a central role in the 2019 coup—added his voice to the call for continued mobilization.
The government, led by the Movement Toward Socialism party, interpreted the refusal to end protests as evidence of a new coup attempt in the making, a replay of the instability that preceded Morales's ouster two years earlier. The repeal of the law, which should have been a victory for the opposition, instead became a waypoint in what both sides now framed as an existential struggle for control of the country. The question hanging over Bolivia was no longer about money laundering or informal workers—it was whether the government could survive the pressure, and whether the opposition would accept any concession short of a change in power.
Notable Quotes
Listening to the demands of the Bolivian people, we have decided to abrogate Law 1386 so that there is no pretext for continuing to wound, mistreat, and paralyze our economy.— President Luis Arce
The blockades have to keep intensifying. We are used to the government's lies.— Rómulo Calvo, Santa Cruz Civic Committee president
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why did a law about money laundering spark nine days of national paralysis? That seems like a technical issue, not a street-level crisis.
Because in Bolivia, informal work is everywhere—street vendors, small traders, people moving money through networks that don't touch banks. The law looked like it would drag all of them into financial surveillance, and they saw it as the government weaponizing bureaucracy against the poor.
But the government said it was targeting the wealthy and illegal flows. Why didn't people believe that?
Because the law allowed the president to change the rules by decree, without going back to Congress. In a country with a recent history of coups and power grabs, that kind of discretionary power reads as a threat, not a promise.
So the government repealed it. Shouldn't that have ended the protests?
It should have, but it didn't. The civic committees kept the blockades going, saying the law was never really the point—they were after something bigger. That's when you know a protest has shifted from a specific demand to a test of power.
What does the government think is happening now?
They see it as a coup attempt in slow motion, echoing 2019. They're filing sedition charges against opposition leaders. Both sides are now locked in a narrative about survival, not policy.
And the people caught in the middle?
Merchants who couldn't work, a campesino who died, dozens injured. The blockades don't distinguish between the powerful and the powerless.