After a long winter in lockdown, Chile is waking back up. Spring always brings a fresh surge of energy to the country’s many social movements, but in the capital city of Santiago, the recent relaxation of quarantine restrictions coincides not only with the first anniversary of the uprising against neoliberalism that exploded last October 18, but also with the historic plebiscite on replacing the country’s dictatorship-era constitution. The latter was originally set to take place in April, but was postponed to October 25 due to the pandemic.

Although the threat posed by the coronavirus has not fully receded, many Chileans, migrants and Indigenous people are already in motion, gearing up for a new period of struggle that will be defined by the tension between the government’s constitutional process and the popular movement that challenges its legitimacy.

The first of these landmark dates, October 18, drew tens of thousands of Santiaguinos back to Plaza Dignidad (officially Plaza Italia, but rechristened “Dignity Square”), the central gathering place of the uprising’s numerous protests, performances and celebrations. Protesters arrived in response to a variety of calls; some marched with their neighbors, others carried banners representing their social movement organizations, and still others came with posters and art supplies, ready to reclaim the public space. Although there was a joyous element to some of the day’s activities, the mobilization also served as a commemoration of those who had been maimed, killed, or arrested during the struggle.

During the long Sunday afternoon, disturbances were limited to small scuffles among the attendees. However, the evening introduced a familiar level of police repression not only in the Plaza, but also in front of subway stations and in many neighborhoods throughout the capital where residents were carrying out cacerolazos (noise demonstrations) and constructing burning barricades.

The greatest violence of the night took place in La Victoria, a working class neighborhood whose founding was the result of a historical urban land takeover, where clashes between residents and the police resulted in the killing of Anibal Villarroel. The government has stated that Villarroel died in an exchange of gunfire, but the exact circumstances remain unclear and the National Institute for Human Rights is demanding an “exhaustive investigation” in order to establish what really took place. And so, even while the people are still mourning the lives lost in the first wave of protests, the list of the fallen continues to grow.

Pandemic clears the square

President Sebastán Piñera has taken full advantage of the breathing room afforded his administration by the pandemic. In March, when the virus was just taking hold, a costly new fleet of armored police vehicles made their debut. At a time when the population was hoping for heavy investment in public health infrastructure, the government prioritized the replacement of the water cannons and teargas launchers that were damaged or destroyed during the recent social unrest.

The government also undertook the project of turning back the clock on the sections of Santiago most marked by the months of protest. The subway system, once plagued by fare-evasion protests and arson attempts, was eventually restored to full working order, with the final two stations reopening in September. Even Plaza Dignidad was blasted clean of its murals and thick layers of political graffiti. The latter was seen as an affront to the protesters who had made the plaza their second home and a few brave souls promptly broke both quarantine and curfew to repaint some anti-Piñera slogans.

On April 3, the fresh graffiti served as backdrop for a provocative visit from the president himself, who was photographed at the foot of the statue at the center of the plaza. “It was exciting to see Plaza Italia solitary, calm and empty,” he said. Prior to the pandemic, Piñera would never have dared show his face at the site where millions had called for his resignation — and also for his death, it must be said. In the end, the pandemic accomplished what his curfews, rubber bullets and tear gas could not: halt the momentum of a movement that had been primed to explode since the return of democracy.

One month earlier, on March 8, the movement had roared back to life after a brief respite over the summer, mobilizing millions for a historic International Working Women’s Day march. The Chilean feminist movement has long since been at the forefront of the struggle against neoliberalism and state violence, and on that day the typical feminist chants were interwoven with overlapping choruses of a football chant popularized during the revolt: “Piñera, you motherf*cker, you’re a killer, just like Pinochet.”

In Plaza Dignidad, members of the March 8th Feminist Coordinator carried out a headline-grabbing art intervention by declaring in massive white letters that together, they were “HISTÓRICAS”: powerful agents of change in a time of social transformation. Despite multiple attempts at removal, the street mural persisted deep into the winter and served as an enduring symbol of hope to those dreaming of the day they could reclaim the space they had been forced to abandon.

The deadly Piñera virus

When the coronavirus first arrived in the country through Chileans returning from summer vacations abroad, the government responded with dynamic quarantines in an attempt to limit the spread. The wealthiest neighborhoods went into lockdown and many professionals started telecommuting. However, this was completely unfeasible for the workers and families who could not afford to miss even a few days of work, let alone weeks, even if it meant crossing into quarantine zones or taking other risks with their health. It took less than a month for hunger protests to break out in all the major cities of Chile.

In El Bosque, an extremely poor district of Santiago, nearly 100 neighbors took to the streets to block traffic and put up burning barricades. Images of desperate protesters clashing with police on the streets of their own neighborhood filled the media and provoked a fresh round of cacerolazos that stood in stark contrast to the apolitical applause for healthcare workers that rang out in more affluent sectors of the city.

The country’s most vulnerable felt completely abandoned by their government, a feeling that was not alleviated by the arrival of small government relief checks and occasional food deliveries. During the hunger protests, one participant held a sign that read, “The Piñera-virus is deadlier than the coronavirus.”

Inevitably, the virus began to circulate in broader swathes of the population. By mid-May, the cases were shooting up and the once-optimistic Minister of Health Jaime Mañalich was forced to publicly concede that the administration’s containment strategy had failed and that he had gravely underestimated how difficult it would be for vulnerable populations to follow the recommended public health practices. A full lockdown of Santiago and the surrounding area had become unavoidable. Enforcement of quarantines was already in the hands of the police and military, both empowered by a state of exception to control movement and restrict public gatherings.

Since March 18, Piñera has relied on these emergency powers to establish a curfew, set up so-called “sanitary cordons” around hotspots and implement a confusing system of permits and checkpoints for quarantine zones, with harsh punishment for violators. It was clear to those already critical of the government’s authoritarian behavior during the uprising that the restrictions were less about public health than about maintaining control of a population simmering with discontent.

The state of exception was extended two times, first in June when the cases were spiking and again in September, when the curve had flattened. The September decision coincided with the launch of the official propaganda campaigns for the plebiscite, a fact that was not lost on political parties on both sides of the debate. An extension of 90 days was approved, ostensibly to protect public health during this important democratic process, while simultaneously ensuring that the state of exception would stay in effect not only for the anniversary of the revolt, but also the plebiscite itself.

This extension generated a sense of unease for protesters, who recalled the plebiscite of 1988 that finally removed General Agosto Pinochet from power and opened the door for a return to democratic rule. Pinochet had gambled on solidifying his power for another eight years, but was narrowly defeated by the campaign for “NO.” That historic vote was carried out under military supervision and administered by a government accused of numerous human rights violations. It also took place in a media environment plagued by misinformation. With the Piñera administration’s latest extension, it appears that history is destined to repeat itself.