Disgraced leftist hero now hides from the law in Bolivian jungle

In a tropical corner of Bolivia, on a compound owned by a radio station that caters to growers of the plant often used to make cocaine, a former president is hiding from the law.

He’s holed up in a bunker, protected by an encampment filled with thousands of loyalists armed with sticks. They’re ready to beat back any attempt to take him into custody on charges of human trafficking and statutory rape.

Evo Morales, once a globetrotting star of the progressive left, hailed for overseeing a booming economy after becoming the first indigenous leader of one of Latin America’s poorest nations, now spends his days confined to just a couple buildings in an isolated town. He’s plotting a comeback with dreams of regaining office in August’s election, but courts have ruled him ineligible and Morales faces the threat of arrest if he ever steps outside the compound. He’s undaunted by taunts from one of Bolivia’s only billionaires to pay a $1 million bounty for his capture.

The messy reality of Bolivia’s politics means that Morales would stand a good chance of victory if he’s able to run, regardless of the charges against him. A recent bout of inflation is fueling a strong streak of nostalgia, especially among Bolivia’s poor, for the 14 years through 2019 when Morales led the country and gained a global following for nationalizing its booming gas industry and championing indigenous rights. He was a hero to the left then, hanging out with Cuba’s Fidel Castro, Venezuela’s Hugo Chavez and even the movie director Sean Penn. During his presidency, Bolivia’s economy grew at an impressive 5% annually, almost double the average for Latin America, according to the World Bank.

That’s a sharp contrast with the past few years, as inflation accelerated to the fastest in more than three decades amid fuel shortages that have disrupted daily life and a sharp depreciation in the currency.

Few outsiders have seen Morales in person since a judge ordered his arrest in January over allegations he had a sexual relationship with an underage girl who gave birth to Morales’ child in 2016. Morales denies any wrongdoing, and his supporters say the accusations are politically motivated. They’ve set up highway checkpoints outside the town of Lauca Ñ, in the department of Cochabamba, and blockaded streets in an effort to protect him from police.

The bunker where he’s hiding out is the headquarters of Radio Kawsachun Coca, which caters to growers of the plant that’s refined into cocaine but is also legally used in its raw form in the Andes as a mild stimulant and remedy for altitude sickness.

Cochabamba is estimated to produce up to $110 million of raw coca a year, according to the United Nations, much of which is diverted to the illegal production of cocaine. Around Lauca Ñ there are signs everywhere offering pressed coca leaves, which have often been flavored with sweetener and bicarbonate to soften its bitterness and enhance its potency.

Morales, who first came to national prominence in the 1990s as the leader of a union for coca growers, has been there since October, with the encampment growing around him.

There are about 2,000 supporters who stand ready if called upon to defend him. At 10 a.m. every day, they parade around the bunker brandishing their sticks in a display of force and unity.

Anyone entering to arrest Morales “won’t come out alive,” one member of the security team told Bloomberg News reporters during a recent visit to the compound. He was dressed in camouflage, wearing a communications earpiece and sporting a fanny pack with additional gear. He declined to identify himself, but calls himself Jhon Connor, a reference to the protagonist of the Terminator films.

Morales lives in a walled property where he leads his campaign, such as it is, from an office full of pictures and books that celebrate his leadership. From his desk, he faces a photograph of himself wearing the presidential sash. To his left is another photo with the inscription: “The best president in the history of Bolivia.” To his right is an image of the former president posing with Castro and Chavez.

As president between 2006 and 2019, Morales commanded such outsized power that he changed laws and swapped judges to enable him to serve three consecutive terms, and run for a fourth on what judges elected during his administration said was his “human right.” A court under today’s less friendly government has deemed him ineligible to run because of term limits, but Morales disputes its jurisdiction.

When Bloomberg reporters were invited to interview him, he objected to questions about the possibility he wouldn’t be able to compete.

“There is no Plan B,” Morales said before abruptly ending the interview after just 10 minutes. “It’s homeland or death. We have to be allowed to run.”

Many have painful memories of his last campaign. In 2019, he was accused of trying to steal the election while Morales denounced a coup against his administration. He ended up leaving Bolivia for Mexico in the middle of protests that left at least 37 dead.

Morales returned in 2020, when his former finance minister Luis Arce became president. But Arce has gone from right-hand man to enemy, saying in December and again in January that it was an “open secret” that Morales liked underage girls.

Morales has denied the allegations and also accused Arce of trying to kill him in October, offering as evidence what he says is a video of himself and his aides in a car being shot at. Arce’s administration has denied that it sought to kill Morales, but said the incident in question occurred after his vehicle had blown past a police checkpoint.

Arce is poised to run for reelection this year, one of his top advisers said last month, and has taken control of the Movement to Socialism party that Morales had belonged to. Morales, meanwhile, has been forced to find a new party to host his candidacy.

Marcelo Claure, a former top executive at SoftBank and one of Bolivia’s only billionaires, has vowed to bankroll the campaign of anyone who can defeat Morales and Arce. He’s commissioning polls and exploring the fragmented field of potential conservative candidates with the idea of going all in on one of them, but has yet to announce a decision. In February, he posted a photo on X depicting a wanted poster for Morales.

Amid the political turmoil and growing discontent with the economy and inflation, supporters of Morales are advocating for his return.

“We don’t have enough money anymore,” said Maria Luz Ticlla, 46, a farmer who is participating in the encampment. “We would like him to return to power because with his government we had everything; with this government we have nothing.”

Paying a Visit

An expedition to see Morales in person gives a sense of what police are up against if they want to take him into custody. Bolivia’s top police official has confirmed there is an outstanding order to arrest Morales. But he has said officials are trying to avoid any violence that may result from entering the encampment.

Bolivia does have a recent history of cinematically arresting opposition figures. Former President Jeanine Anez was apprehended while hiding under her bed in 2021. The following year, police intercepted the motorcade used by Luis Fernando Camacho, then sitting governor of Santa Cruz, broke one of the vehicle's windows and used tear gas to take him into custody. He was later flown to jail in a helicopter.

The area where Morales is holed up in central Bolivia has long been the former president’s stronghold because of his efforts to protect coca farmers.

“We need to be respected because everybody says we’re drug dealers, but that’s not the reality,” said Nestor Galarza, 67, who was volunteering as a guard at a highway checkpoint. Past his barriers of logs and rocks lies the outer ring of the encampment and a second checkpoint. It is guarded by a few dozen people, some of whom look out from an observation tower, all under a sign saying it’s the headquarters of the “People’s Great State.”

Then there’s a third checkpoint at the entrance to the building that serves as headquarters for the Kawsachun Coca radio station, where encampment members register guests and inspect their belongings. Inside the property, other security forces inspect belongings once again.

Only the few loyalists past the third checkpoint get to see Morales. Aides say he wakes up at 4 a.m. every day to exercise, then has a busy schedule of meetings to plan his presidential campaign. He can’t leave the property for fear of arrest.

During the recent visit, Morales said he feels a bit uncomfortable rooting for his favorite soccer team, Club Bolivar, ever since Claure, who owns the club, stepped up his political commentary. Claure has called Morales a “pedophile” on X and been harshly critical of Arce’s administration. In polls commissioned by Claure, Morales wasn’t included as a potential candidate, obscuring his level of support.

Morales is sure that he can win August’s election if he’s allowed to run, allowing reporters to glance at documents showing what he said were private polls that back his claim. In the 10-minute interview, he emphasized that he was running not because of any particular desire to serve another term, but instead because so many Bolivians had been asking him to return to the presidency.

He was not keen to discuss the legal impediments to running again, seemingly offended at even being asked about them.“I’m sorry, I’m ending the interview,” he said after being asked about his strategy. “I don’t want to engage in what ifs. That’s what the right does, that’s what the current administration does.”As reporters left the radio building, Morales watched from a window.