“We are strong people. We can decide for ourselves” 

A Dialogue on Advocacy and the Academy 

Jhanisse Vaca Daza,
Rios de Pie 

Abstract: This article explores the collaborative efforts of Jhanisse Vaca-Daza1, a Bolivian human rights activist and leader of Ríos de Pie, and Christopher Carter2, an Assistant Professor at the University of Virginia3, in their multifaceted project addressing ongoing forest fires in Bolivia. Their partnership exemplifies the potential for a symbiotic relationship between academia and activism, focusing on strategic nonviolence and public engagement to foster environmental awareness and action. Through a large-scale survey and a series of focus groups, the project seeks to understand public perceptions of environmental issues and the motivations behind activism. Findings suggest a significant role for strategic discussions in motivating behavioral changes toward environmental advocacy. Their work is at the intersection of academic research and grassroots activism calling for a reevaluation of traditional models of political engagement in the age of social media. It also presents a compelling case for the necessity of hands-on, interdisciplinary approaches to address environmental crises. 

Key Words: Advocacy, Academy, Nonviolence, Bolivia, Environmentalism, Democracy, Trauma 

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Chris Carter: Jhanisse, thanks for sitting down to chat with me today. We will discuss our collaboration shortly, but I want to first ask you some broader questions. And I want to start from the beginning. How did you decide to dedicate your career and life to activism?  

Jhanisse Vaca Daza: As the daughter of two doctors, I grew up seeing how the corruption and incapacity of the Bolivian government to truly provide for its citizens came at a huge cost, not only in people’s liberties and rights, but also in their lives. So many children die because of a lack of proper medicines reaching rural areas, which I saw as I was growing up. And I think from a very young age, I wanted to be able to change that. Initially, I thought that change could be done by working with international NGOs that provided support to children or to the healthcare service.   

But in time I came to realize that there was a bigger problem, a systemic problem that I understood after working in NGOs that provided humanitarian support. I realized that the change didn’t come from external or foreign entities doing work in our countries, but from having proper democracy at the service of all citizens, free of corruption, which also means having a judiciary system that works. That real change comes from the different institutions of the state working independently and citizens being able to hold them accountable. That this can only be achieved when the citizenry is empowered and active, embodying the checks and balances needed to keep these institutions in line. In summary, it comes from real, functioning democracy, born from Bolivian citizens themselves. So, this realization was a slow but long quest because it started in my childhood.  

Around age 19, I realized that the only way people could organize themselves and realize the power that they had over authority was through nonviolent action, through strategic nonviolent struggle, and that this type of struggle allows for peaceful and constructive resolutions because it creates democracy in the process of fighting for democracy. As Gandhi always said, and Dr. King as well, the end is pre-existent in the means. You cannot separate one from the other.  

Activism, to me, is not only a technique to organize society, to demand for its rights, but it’s actually a process, a lifelong process, that allows us, as communities, as countries and even as humanity, to lift up our consciousness and realize that the best of the human spirit–love, solidarity, reciprocity, equanimity–can be achieved not only in small, individual or interpersonal containers but in general society overall, and thus politics can be the best of us, instead of being corruption and destruction of the environment. 

Carter: As you say, there are so many causes to which one can dedicate her time and energy. How do you decide to which you will dedicate your time? 

Vaca Daza: In my case, I don’t think I got to decide one specific cause because my country is suffering in so many different areas. There are so many crises in Bolivia: environmental issues, corruption, the crisis of the judiciary, the large number of political prisoners, the abuse of power by the executive, police repression, drug trafficking, forest fires. I think in the end, one doesn’t necessarily have to decide one area to dedicate one’s life and time and activism because everything is interrelated. Understanding this intricacy, this relationship, between different areas of human life that in the end all amount—when done properly—to democracy, then you realize that you can start with the cause that feels the closest to your community, or the one that has the most direct impact on it and then build up from that.  This is the basic concept of non-violence. In my case, the fact that I grew up in a country, as I mentioned, that is so violent, where government abuse goes on with complete impunity, I knew from the beginning that a sense of justice was something that I was looking for. But at the same time, having grown up in the forests and then in 2019 seeing them destroyed and losing millions of hectares before my eyes due to government-made fires, it was a survival reaction more than a decision to act upon these issues. And it’s been somewhat wonderful to understand, in this process, how our treatment of the environment as a country is so related to the female in society and how we treat women as well. As I keep working on this, I want to continue weaving this in and making visible how these issues are so close to one another. 

I hope that others can understand this as well because you cannot talk about the environment if you don’t talk about democracy; if the judiciary system doesn’t work and there’s complete impunity for those that are exploiting the environment, then how are you going to stop this destruction and hold people accountable from a constructive place? If you cannot guarantee freedom of speech and safety for activists defending the environment, how will there be enough pressure to change public policy around these issues? If environmental activists often face persecution, threats, and even exile, how will the rest of society have incentives to join their cause? Thus, you cannot talk about the environment without talking about human rights. 

Abuse and persecution breed trauma, and trauma then translates into anger and aggression, perhaps not toward your oppressor, but sometimes you attack the environment around you because you need a sense of control over certain areas of your life, and this negative energy ends up going somewhere. We end up taking that anger out on the environment, even sometimes in an unconscious way. So I think all subjects are interrelated, and that sounds like such a big, perhaps abstract concept, but once you sit down and you see it happening around you, then you can realize that the answer of where to start—not necessarily where to stay, but where to start—can be what is directly touching your family, your own life or your community. 

Carter: I think as an activist, these insights–that everything is connected–can become much clearer than they are for us academics, who are often focused on a single research question or topic. In that spirit, what insights do you think activists can bring to academia?  

Vaca Daza: I think one of the biggest insights that activists can bring to academia is that academia is sometimes a little stuck in the era of pre-social media. A lot of the lenses through which politics are analyzed today are very much stuck in the 80s, 90s, and perhaps early 2000s, but we human beings are not static beings. Communities around the world have changed, and our power dynamics have continued to evolve, perhaps at an even more accelerated rate since the emergence of social media because of the amount of information that can be transferred easily nowadays.  

This doesn’t mean that social media is a good thing. I actually think that social media causes a lot of harm to activism and to democracy itself. Dr. Larry Diamond from Stanford University has mentioned several times in different conversations I’ve been able to have with him how there is a complete correlation between the year that democracy began to decline worldwide, which is 2006, and the emergence of social media.  

So, what can activists bring to academia? I’m hoping the realization that they [academics] need to do more groundwork to be up to date on what is going on in our countries, the realization that our own perspectives may be different from theirs—and that doesn’t mean that they’re wrong—and the realization that power dynamics shift quickly, especially when people are trying to stand up against authoritarian regimes. For survival, one has to be able to improvise. Speed is your best protection, and to be able to keep up with [activists], [academics] need to be in touch with the issues on which they are reporting. And if they cannot do this groundwork—because I also understand how dangerous it is to go to countries that are not full democracies or places that are going through environmental catastrophes—then at least keep the humility to not assert things with such absolute certainty. I think a space for doubt is always important. Gandhi said in his explanation of nonviolence, that no human has the absolute truth, and so, no one has the right to physically punish someone else. This is why he always said that violence could not be something that we could justify as humans while advocating for a cause. And perhaps academics don’t use physical violence against other people, but when they are reporting on the lives of communities and countries without really listening to them, or without really understanding what is happening, that is also a type of violence. Listening, having humility, and being aware that there are a lot of things that have continued to change and that theories from the 80s and 90s may not apply to our lived realities right now is very important.  

Carter: And what can academics offer to activists?  

Vaca Daza: Activists by nature, especially those of us who work in authoritarian countries, have to work quickly and in an organized and disciplined manner to provide the support, care, and protection of life that governments are not providing. That means that we don’t have much time for reflection or to sit down and document [our experiences]. I think if academics wanted to help more, a wonderful way would be to follow the work that activists are doing from a nonjudgmental point [of view] and help document the work that is being done on the ground right now because a lot of these communities are not even aware of the strong capacities that they have and their own mutual support. This lack of knowledge of their own power is what continues to allow the subjugation of these people. I really think that humility and documentation are two points that could be useful now. 

Carter: And I think this reflects well what should be the division of labor between academia and activism. As a researcher, I am taught to observe without having too much of an impact on the day-to-day happenings of the places and communities I study. I think that can certainly be the right thing to do for a researcher. However, it is very different from the role of an activist, which is quite interventionist and focused on changing the environment in which you operate.  

I also want to ask you about institutional support for activism. On the one hand, there are academics, but there are also the institutions, the universities, that support and dictate much of what academics do. What can and should be the responsibility of universities to facilitate activism? 

Vaca Daza: I think a lot of universities focus on peace and reconciliation processes, which are, of course, very necessary and we still don’t have enough of those in the world. But as someone who comes from a country where the judiciary system doesn’t work, where state institutions are not at the service of citizens nor solving the problems they should solve, you cannot ask people to not mobilize to demand their rights. Not only because it is a natural human reaction to fight—not violently, necessarily—but to fight for your rights. But also, because it is our constitutional right to mobilize and protest according to the constitutions of many countries, and it is a human right to exert the freedom of expression necessary to do this. So instead of asking people to remain still and only negotiate with the opponent or the oppressor, [universities] could support people with tools to defend their struggle, nonviolently.  

And this is where I’m talking about strategic nonviolent struggle. I’m not talking about peace negotiations, which are a part of strategic, nonviolent struggle, but about how to mobilize through nonviolence, through legal means—in a way that brings injustice to the surface where it makes what is invisible visible, just like Doctor King said in his letter from a Birmingham jail, and allows civil society to have power in their organization to demand whatever they need to demand from the government or the oppressor. Conflict is inevitable. Conflict will continue to happen in many parts of the world, and I say that as a Bolivian knowing the amount of conflicts that my country has gone through. We cannot expect to end all conflict. We must understand that conflict can be very constructive when it’s conducted in a nonviolent way and in a way that creates a vision of tomorrow that is focused on inclusion and diversity.  

I think universities all around the world are failing catastrophically in teaching nonviolence as a technique of mobilization, because this is where the future of humanity is, yet it is barely covered by academia. This is where the future of oppressed peoples is. And yet because it is a somewhat uncomfortable subject because of the fear of conflict—not understanding that it can be nonviolent—we are falling behind.  

I think universities, if they want to support people, need to first empower them. And how do you empower them? You teach them strategic nonviolent struggle. 

Carter: It seems to be hard for many universities to decide what causes to “support.” There is certainly a fear of supporting controversial forms of activism. Do you have any advice on what kind of activism universities should support?  

Vaca Daza: I think any activism that is rooted in strategic nonviolent struggle is important to support, because due to the methods and the way that this type of struggle is structured, it is not only fostering a culture of listening and inclusion and creating a vision of tomorrow that goes beyond what you are opposing, but also what you are proposing for your country. How would you bring positive peace to your community? And I think universities should focus not only on the goal of the struggle, but also on the method.  

I think it’s important to realize that there are many causes around the world, but at the same time, those that are conducted through nonviolent means are the ones that will be able to bring healing to our communities because a lot of these struggles occur in communities that are deeply traumatized. And this can breed violence in the future. 

The means have to be nonviolent, and if we don’t coalesce around that narrative, we are only breeding more space for more trauma, for more collective, intergenerational trauma, and planting the seeds for more violence in the future. 

Carter: Many of the things you are highlighting seem pretty absent from universities. It makes me think there is a bigger epistemological gap in universities’ understanding of what activism is and what activists do–maybe even a fear of getting too involved. What do you think is the biggest misconception that non-activists and especially academics have about activism?  

Vaca Daza: I think there are two big misconceptions, and they may not be particular to academics. One is that activism is conducted on social media. I think there’s a lot of noise on social media and a lot of good advocacy for different causes. But real change is done on the street and real change is done in the community. The three principles of nonviolence are unity, planning, and discipline. Maybe you think you can create unity through a single narrative spread on social media. But planning and discipline—especially discipline—need to be created in person. That is not something that you can teach online. That is something that you have to exercise, and you have to practice physically as a group.  

And thus, I don’t think that social media activism is real activism. That is one of the things that I’m very adamant about. And I’m not saying that from a judgmental place. I think people who do this type of work and raise awareness about different issues are incredibly important because that’s how you recruit people to join the movement. But you have to transcend just social media. You have to build community. You have to build discipline and [especially] discipline about nonviolence.  

A second misconception is that activism can be spontaneous and unplanned. There are many protests that may be spontaneous, but successful ones—and history proves this—are the ones that are strategic and nonviolent. “Strategic” means that there has to be planning in the short, medium, and long term and that there has to be clarity about not only what are the goals of the movement, but also what are its capacities, its resources, its strengths, its weaknesses, and how can it include more parts of society, different constituencies into what it wants to achieve, how to create unity among fractured societies, in summary. 

I think what I would like to see academics understand is that they can be a huge, huge area of support for communities that are oppressed today through analyzing, teaching, and documenting nonviolent struggles. But this won’t happen if, again, we continue to be stuck in [either] our old concepts and our old ways of understanding activism or thinking that social media and likes are what is necessary for change.  

You have to get out of your library. You have to get your hands dirty. That is where the real change happens. 

Carter: That is certainly something that inspires me. As I get further away from graduate school, I find it harder to get to the field, but every time you and I talk, I feel a profound sense of motivation to get back to the countryside and cities and have conversations about the issues we are working on together. I’ve also benefited so much from hearing your approach, which is quite different from mine.  

I think that makes for a nice transition to our partnership and the surveys and focus groups we are conducting. Is there anything in particular that you are hoping to learn from our joint work–for Rios de Pie and in general?  

Vaca Daza: It is always wonderful to me to hear the voices, narrative and words that people in my country use to talk about our forests, our rivers, our mountains and our environment in general. I think much of the indigenous knowledge related to understanding us, as a human species, as beings inherently connected to nature, still remains in our conceptions of what the world is despite modernity creeping into our lives. More than discovering something new, I look forward to remembering this ancient knowledge that remains in my country’s society and organizing it in a way that is compatible with the wide reach of social media and modern technology. 

Carter: That seems super important. Our work shows that it is difficult to get people to care about environmental issues, and perhaps reframing the discussion is an important way to start doing that.   

And thinking specifically about the political sphere, how would you like our joint work to inform environmental policy and activism in Bolivia and beyond?  

Vaca Daza: The key to building a vision of tomorrow for my country is in listening to different parts of society. I believe that a survey where the person asking the questions is not an activist may allow for points of view, insights, and perhaps even criticism that would not come out if people thought they were talking to an entity already active on environmental and human rights issues. Nonviolence teaches you that your strategy is only as good as your analysis is, and for a good analysis you need extensive, neutral, well-informed data. I trust with these surveys, we will get some of this, and pairing it with our experience as a movement on the ground, it will paint a better landscape of where the opportunities as well as the challenges are. I also think it is incredibly important that there is a group of people, in this case, UVA Democratic Futures Project and Standing Rivers, conducting research on public opinion regarding the environment, specifically. With the current political and economic crisis, this subject tends to be sent to the back end and not prioritized as an issue where resources, time, and energy should be spent. However, we understand that this is indeed the heart of all the problems we are facing as a country, and, dare I say, as a “modern” global society. This is why I am incredibly thankful, as is my entire team, for the opportunity, support, and clear vision shown by UVA that allows us to focus on environmental issues and forest fires in Bolivia with such a clear focus and attention to detail. This will likely inform most, if not all, of our future campaigns for the coming years. 

Carter: And thinking about what others might take away from our joint work together, what do you think has made our collaboration productive? And challenging?  

This collaboration would not have been possible if you, Chris, did not understand my country as well as you do – and again, this goes back to the point of doing groundwork and getting one’s hands dirty. I usually do not trust Westerners who claim to know a lot about my country without having spent a week walking in our shoes and at minimum, witnessing our protests. It is imperative to me that whoever I work with respects the authority that Bolivians ourselves have to decide where our future is and understands that our intelligence is as high as any other countries’ citizens. I am allergic to narratives that paint my people as ignorant, passive recipients, silent beneficiaries or victims of other countries’ interests. We have agency. We are strong people. We can decide for ourselves. If I had not seen you recognize our dignity and agency in the way you analyze my country, this collaboration would not have even started. I do not want another foreign “expert” talking about Bolivia without understanding who we are, not only where we come from and what our history entails, but also who and how we are today, in the present time – because we are not a static case study frozen in the time that is convenient for scholars to talk about to create good examples to their theory. We are living and breathing humans living through constantly evolving social and political processes, as complex and as ever-changing as any other society can be. This is why I am thankful for this collaboration. I aim to work in service of the truth of my people. That truth needs to be anchored in reality, not in convenient theories created under foreign ideological lenses. And it also needs to be directed towards nonviolence, not to crucify and divide Bolivian society, but instead to lift it up towards the best we can be. I think that “best” will come out of our efforts to protect our environment, and that this is where the secret to reconciliation and forgiveness for Bolivian society will spring from. I thank UVA’s Democratic Futures Project for helping us in this quest. Very few institutions today show that type of understanding and selflessness. I hope this project will lead to even more of these mutually beneficial, environment-prioritizing, international collaborations. Ultimately, Bolivia’s Amazon provides the air we all breathe. Its protection is not only in the interest of a group of activists, but of all of humanity today.