“Se acabo el colonialismo (Colonialism is over),” declared President Evo Morales as his country voted to adopt a controversial new constitution last Sunday. A powerful sentiment, intensely meaningful for many here in South America’s poorest, most indigenous nation.

For Morales, the passage of the constitution marked the long-awaited fulfillment of a campaign promise that aided his election as Bolivia’s first indigenous president three years ago.

That promise was to redefine how the country viewed its native majority, to erase the privilege bequeathed to the descendants of European conquerors, to create a Bolivia where equal rights for all was a legally enshrined doctrine.

Between then and now, the path to Sunday’s vote had, at times, seemed to slip away. Following political clashes over the drafting of the constitutional document and violent confrontations in the streets that claimed dozens of lives, the referendum was postponed on three separate occasions.

Many feared January 25 would bring more of the same.

Not this time. The vote went off smoothly, praised by both international monitoring agencies and neighboring Latin American leaders happy to witness a peaceful display of Bolivian democracy.

In fact, the entire campaign was marked by a peculiar absence of emotion on the ground. Here in the central highland capital of Cochabamba, a few late rallies, a fair amount of graffiti, and the odd loudspeaker truck kept focus on the issue, but there was none of the passionate collective action that characterizes Bolivian political campaigning, particularly in the age of Evo.

Perhaps everyone was ready for a conclusion.

A tremendous calm settled over the city on Sunday—notably enhanced by the ban on vehicle traffic and alcohol sales—as citizens carried out the solemn obligation of casting a ballot. True to predictions, the “si” contingency won the day with roughly 60% of the vote.

But such tranquility is deceiving.

A closer look at the numbers details a nation starkly divided between the indigenous Andean provinces of the west, which backed the referendum by a ratio of 3 to 1, and the wealthier lowland regions to the east that handed Morales a 2 to 1 reprimand.

And what the campaign lacked in grassroots activity was made up for on the airwaves, ablaze with inflammatory and often utterly irrational rhetoric.

Opposition ads claimed, for instance, that the constitution would abolish Christianity, promote abortion and homosexuality, divvy up all current land holdings, and otherwise transform Bolivia into a rabidly pagan, socialist state.

The truth is that many of the articles originally proposed were so watered down over the months of heated negotiation and political maneuvering that they drew equal criticism from left and right. A rundown of major changes actually included in the document can be found here.

It wouldn’t be inaccurate to suggest that the vote was as much a referendum on Morales himself as the adoption of a new constitution… on his beliefs that the country’s indigenous peoples should be given a greater voice, that the government should exercise greater control over natural resources, that the majority of Bolivians have toiled too long under the yoke of oppression.

Yes, the constitution passed.

The sad reality is this means relatively little. Before anything changes in the day-to-day lives of the people here, before Bolivia can be “decolonized,” Congress must undertake the tedious process of crafting new laws to concretize the principles advocated in the document.

And, with the division between rich and poor, European and native, “no” and “si” unmitigated, that task is going to be as difficult as ever.

Photos: Hal Amen

Natural disasters strike all too often, especially in places ill-equipped to handle the resultant humanitarian crises.

When well-publicized, these may lead to relief efforts funded by the deep pockets of the developed world. Generous giving by individuals and governments can turn the tide, rebuilding lives and essential infrastructure.

But some argue that this tunnel-vision focus on natural-disaster relief blinds us to other work being done in developing nations, decades-long efforts that don’t get the press time or the charitable millions but are equally worthy of support.

A New York Times article published this week describes such a scenario in Myanmar (or Burma), which has received unprecedented amounts of aid in response to last May’s devastating Cyclone Nargis.

Prior to the storm, assistance to Myanmar was slim due to the pariah status of the country’s military government. The havoc wreaked in the Irrawaddy Delta by Cyclone Nargis, however, was too much to ignore.

Estimates put the number of dead and missing at 130,000, with millions more at risk from starvation, disease, and lack of clean water. Thanks to high-profile pushes for aid, and the resolve of the international community to pressure the ruling junta to accept it once offered, many survivors are now getting the care they need.

But for the rest of the country, little has changed since Nargis.

In northern and western Myanmar, locals still face poverty, disease, and a fundamental dearth of resources, not to mention the repressive policies of their government.

Agencies that operate nationwide, such as the UN’s World Food Program and Doctors Without Borders, have their hands tied by the funds they receive, with most of it earmarked for cyclone relief.

While food and supplies may be flowing into the Irrawaddy Delta, programs elsewhere are being cut in the wake of the global financial crisis.

The junta, instead of addressing the issue, is exacerbating it, as “impoverished villagers here along the border with Bangladesh have been forced by the government to donate money for the victims of Cyclone Nargis—a philanthropic gesture, couched as patriotic duty, that they can hardly afford.”

Many elements of Myanmar’s situation are unique. But it does raise the question:

Do the benefits of disaster-centric international aid outweigh the pitfalls?

What’s your view?

Community Connection:

Myanmar/Burma is a hot topic on the Matador Network.

Check out a special Burma-focused edition of Tales from the Road, Sean Aiken’s touching essay, Waiting for Life to Begin in a Burmese Refugee Camp, or the very pertinent 6 Ways To Avoid Aiding Repressive Governments.

Top photo by Foreign and Commonwealth Office (Creative Commons)

Bottom/feature photo by Taekwonweirdo (Creative Commons)