In Bolivia’s bustling capital, La Paz, Maria Quispe, a 45-year-old coca farmer, clutched a handmade sign reading “Evo Is Us” as she marched with hundreds of supporters of former President Evo Morales on Friday. Their goal: to register Morales’ candidacy for the August 2025 presidential election at the Supreme Electoral Tribunal. But as the crowd chanted, “Comrades, what do we want? For Evo to come back!” police met them with tear gas and batons, sparking clashes that left two officers, a journalist, and a local merchant injured. For Quispe, the fight is personal: “Evo gave us dignity,” she said, wiping tears from the gas. “They can’t silence us.”
The confrontations erupted after Bolivia’s Constitutional Court ruled on Wednesday to uphold a ban on Morales, the nation’s first Indigenous president, from running again, citing a two-term limit. Morales, who led from 2006 until his 2019 ouster, has served three terms, and the decision blocks his bid for a fourth. Defiant, he called for the march from his stronghold in the Chapare region, where loyal supporters, many Indigenous, revere him for redistributing natural gas wealth and championing their rights. Morales, facing human trafficking charges he calls politically motivated, stayed away, fearing arrest. “If they want Evo, they must take us all,” said David Ochoa, a marcher, his face painted with Morales’ likeness.
The clashes reflect Bolivia’s deep political divide, worsened by its worst economic crisis in 40 years, with soaring inflation and fuel shortages. Morales’ Movement Toward Socialism (MAS) party, once dominant, is fractured. His former ally, President Luis Arce, who won in 2020 but won’t seek re-election, backs the court’s ruling and endorsed Eduardo del Castillo, a minister, as MAS’s candidate on Friday. “We ask Mr. Morales to surrender voluntarily,” del Castillo said, confirming an arrest warrant. The marchers, undeterred, see the charges—tied to allegations of a relationship with a minor in 2015—as a ploy to derail Morales’ comeback.
Contextually, Bolivia’s courts are under scrutiny. Morales himself benefited from a 2017 ruling allowing his fourth-term bid, which critics called rigged. Now, he claims the judiciary serves Arce’s agenda. “The court bends to power,” he said, echoing doubts from experts who question its legitimacy. The march, starting in rural tropics, drew Quechua musicians and farmers like Quispe, who credit Morales with schools and roads. Yet, his absence—holed up in Chapare—frustrated some. “He should be here,” muttered Juan Mamani, a 30-year-old vendor caught in the melee.
Reactions are raw and divided. In La Paz, protesters hurled rocks and firecrackers, met by police tear gas. “This isn’t peace,” said Commander Juan Russo, as officers shoved demonstrators into vans. Social media buzzed with videos of masked marchers, some with Morales’ face, dodging gas clouds. In El Alto, supporters played flutes, their music clashing with sirens. Globally, posts on X expressed solidarity, with one user writing, “Evo’s people won’t back down.” Counterprotests by Arce loyalists, though smaller, chanted for “justice,” reflecting MAS’s split. The injured journalist, Carla Gomez, described chaos: “I was just reporting when the gas hit.”
The consequences ripple widely. Bolivia’s economy, already reeling, faces disruption from potential blockades, a tactic Morales’ supporters used last year, stranding trucks and spiking prices. The MASöng’s infighting risks ceding ground to opposition parties, while Arce’s government struggles to stabilize the currency. Internationally, the unrest draws concern, with the U.N. urging calm. For marchers like Quispe, the fight is existential: “Without Evo, who speaks for us?” Yet, Morales’ legal woes, including rape allegations he denies, polarize even his base, with some questioning his moral standing.
Looking ahead, the tribunal will decide if Morales’ registration, submitted despite the ban, holds. Oscar Hassentoufel, its president, said, “We’ll review eligibility later.” Morales’ supporters vow to escalate, with social media posts warning of nationwide shutdowns if he’s arrested. Arce’s administration, balancing force and dialogue, faces pressure to avoid bloodshed. In La Paz, Quispe and thousands regroup, their resolve unbroken. As Bolivia teeters, the question looms: can its fractured democracy withstand the passion and pain of its people?
