The first to protest were the peasants from the northern Amazon region. They called for the repeal of the agrarian legislation and, when the government gave in, withdrew from the protests. Subsequently, three other organisations kept the protests going.

One was the Túpac Katari Federation, which brings together small farmers from the department of La Paz and has a long tradition of struggle dating back to a famous uprising in 1781, when Aymara communities laid a months-long siege to the city of La Paz. This is a militant sector, with a degree of territorial control and the capacity to radicalise protests, and which, despite the promises of the Movement for Socialism (MAS) governments under the leadership of Evo Morales, has failed to escape poverty.

Another key player was the Bolivian Workers’ Confederation (COB), the country’s main trade union. It brings together formal-sector workers, who account for only around 15 per cent of the workforce, as the vast majority of jobs in Bolivia are in the informal sector, meaning people lack labour rights and benefits. The COB was very close to the MAS for 20 years. Today it has lost its influence over the state and seeks to regain it through mobilisation.

Peasant and coca-grower communities in the centre of Bolivia, particularly in Cochabamba, have also taken to the streets, calling for Morales’s return to power. Morales governed for 14 years, although the constitution allows for only a single re-election. In 2016, an attempt was made to change this limit, but a referendum prevented it. In 2017, a Constitutional Court sympathetic to Morales reopened that door by declaring that indefinite re-election was a ‘right’ protected by international treaties signed by Bolivia, something Inter-American institutions had already clearly ruled out.

The forced attempt at re-election culminated in the political crisis of 2019, with elections annulled and Morales’s resignation and flight from the country. He now lives in exile in the Chapare region, in the Cochabamba department, protected by the coca growers’ unions, which shield him from legal proceedings for aggravated human trafficking. He denies the charge and attributes it to political persecution. Even so, he remains a figurehead for around a fifth of voters.

As the protests became more radical, the three main blocs set aside their specific demands and rallied behind a united call for President Paz’s resignation.

Contrary to what much of the international press reported, the response was mild. The government opted to contain the conflict without resorting to repression, rather than clearing roads by force. Many Bolivians, particularly in cities and on the right, expected a heavy-handed approach and regarded the state’s response as weak and even complacent.

It’s unclear whether the government was in a position to implement a more repressive response. Paz entered this conflict in a weakened state. He lacks a parliamentary coalition to ensure governability and his legitimacy is fragile, having won the runoff after receiving barely a third of the votes in the first round. Added to this is the fact that the state has limited economic and logistical capacity to mobilise resources or police forces.

The commitment to peaceful containment came at a high economic, political and human cost. All the deaths during the conflict resulted from roadblocks, not from state intervention, including people who died in ambulances held up at picket lines, medical supplies that did not reach hospitals in time and lorry drivers who spent weeks confined to their cabs and suffered cardiac arrest.

Even so, the peaceful approach ultimately prevailed. On 19 June, the government signed an agreement with the COB, and the COB dropped its demand for Paz’s resignation. Only then did the government declare a state of emergency, which allows it to suspend some civil liberties in order to restore order. Operations were carried out to clear the roadblocks, but as the agreement had been signed, there was almost no need to use force. The blockades were lifted more as a result of the protesters’ exhaustion and the threat of force than through any effective military intervention.

There are three factors that recur across much of Latin America. The first is institutional weakness. Governments with authoritarian tendencies, whether on the right or left, erode the separation of powers and concentrate decision-making in the hands of a strongman. Institutions become subservient to the executive and, over time, lose their legitimacy. This is what happened in Bolivia. Ciudadanía data illustrates this erosion going back 20 years.

Added to this are inequality and unmet expectations. As long as governments fail to address exclusion and poverty, there will continue to be discontented people willing to take to the streets.

Finally, there’s the activity of groups disloyal to democracy that are willing to use any means to bring their leaders to power. They exist on both left and right. For all of them, their vision for the country takes precedence over basic democratic rules. These groups capitalise on social frustrations and tensions and exploit institutional weakness. Their actions played a significant role in the recent conflict, but the level-headedness and democratic conviction of the majority of Bolivians saw them defeated.

In times of crisis such as those experienced by Bolivia, civil society can provide a sense of calm that both politics and the streets have lost. Maintaining a level-headed stance while upholding rights is essential when both sides are inciting violence and exacerbating polarisation.

In the medium and long term, the greatest contribution civil society can make is to foster opportunities for engagement, dialogue and debate among those who hold differing positions and have different interests, but who adhere to basic principles of mutual respect and compliance with the law. It’s not a question of people ceasing to take an interest in politics or to protest, but of doing so within the bounds of democratic coexistence.