The convenient villain in Bolivia’s crisis by Mia Rodríguez

Bolivia’s streets are once again filled with tear gas, chants, barricades and the familiar soundtrack of public fury. Demonstrators have poured into the roads to reject austerity measures proposed by President Rodrigo Paz, whose government argues that painful economic sacrifices are necessary to stabilize a fragile economy. Yet instead of confronting the political reality staring his administration in the face, officials have chosen a far easier strategy, blame Evo Morales.

It is a tactic as old as politics itself. When governments lose public confidence, they search for ghosts, saboteurs, or hidden puppet masters. In Bolivia today, Morales has become the all-purpose explanation for unrest. Officials accuse him of stirring anger, mobilizing supporters, and fueling demonstrations behind the scenes. Perhaps he is influencing events to some degree; former leaders rarely disappear quietly from political life, especially in Latin America, where political rivalries tend to outlive elections. But reducing nationwide anger to the scheming of one former president is not only intellectually lazy, it is politically dangerous.

People do not flood the streets because they are hypnotized by a politician. They protest because they feel abandoned, squeezed, and ignored.

Bolivia’s economic pressures are real. Rising living costs, public frustration, and fears about worsening conditions have created fertile ground for unrest. Austerity policies, regardless of how carefully economists package them, almost always land hardest on ordinary citizens. They threaten subsidies, weaken purchasing power, and deepen anxiety among workers already struggling to stay afloat. Governments may defend such policies as “necessary corrections,” but citizens experience them as punishment.

That is why blaming Morales feels less like analysis and more like deflection. The irony is impossible to ignore. Centrist governments often claim to represent pragmatism and moderation, yet when social tensions explode, they frequently retreat into political paranoia. Instead of persuading the public, they criminalize dissent. Instead of debating policy failures, they invent conspiracies. The message becomes painfully clear: if people are angry, someone must have manipulated them into being angry.

This approach insults the intelligence of Bolivians. Morales remains a deeply polarizing figure. To supporters, he symbolizes indigenous empowerment and resistance to elite politics. To critics, he represents authoritarian instincts and political division. But whatever one thinks of him, the current protests reveal something much larger than the ambitions of a former president. They expose a widening disconnect between political leaders and a public exhausted by economic instability.

Governments that rely too heavily on blaming political enemies eventually stop listening to their own citizens. Every protest becomes sabotage. Every critic becomes a destabilizer. Every act of dissent becomes evidence of some hidden plot rather than a reflection of legitimate social frustration. Democracies weaken when leaders become incapable of distinguishing opposition from treason.

Bolivia now stands at that uncomfortable crossroads. President Paz may genuinely believe austerity is unavoidable. Perhaps parts of his economic argument are even correct. But if his administration continues treating public anger as merely the shadow of Evo Morales, it risks missing the deeper truth entirely: the protests are not only about one man from Bolivia’s past. They are about a government rapidly losing control of Bolivia’s present.