Is Chile’s Rejection of a New Constitution a Sign of Democratic Maturity?
On September 5th, 2022, 62% of voters in Chile rejected the country’s proposed new constitution. The document --which would have replaced Chile’s original constitution drafted in 1980 during the military dictatorship of General Augusto Pinochet-- focused on privatisation and free market principles. The margin of this defeat was unexpected, as in a referendum in October 2020, almost 80% of Chileans had voted in favour of replacing the old military constitution. So why was this proposed new, progressive draft, which would have obliged the state to provide health, education, and housing while guaranteeing gender parity and environmental protection, so overwhelmingly rejected?
Despite having undergone various amendments since the end of the dictatorship and the transition to democracy in 1990, the original Chilean constitution from 1980 is still the governing law of the country. For many years now, there has been mounting pressure on the government to rewrite the country’s divisive constitution. The situation came to a head in October 2019, when demonstrators took to the streets in the capital of Santiago to protest en masse against social and economic inequality and high living costs. Such levels of violence, arson, and looting had not been seen since the protests of the dictatorship period. The government declared a state of emergency. Troops were ordered onto the streets to maintain order. A few months later, the arrival of the Covid 19 pandemic generated even further levels of instability in the country. For the richest Latin American country, known until now for its steady economic growth and stable regulatory regime, such levels of social unrest were unprecedented. The existing conservative government, under Sebastián Piñera, was forced to respond accordingly.
The resultant plebiscite, held in October 2020, asked citizens whether they wanted a new constitution to be drafted. The approval victory was overwhelming. The redrafting process therefore began. In 2021, the left-wing candidate Gabriel Boric won the presidential election against his ultra-conservative rival José Antonio Kast, following a campaign promising higher taxes, greater public spending, and reforms that would empower women, indigenous groups, and minorities. The majority of the Chilean public supports a movement of progressive change within the country. And yet, the proposed contents of the new constitution - which measured 388 articles and 57 transitional articles - were impossibly utopian. And voters knew it.
The process of rewriting the constitution faced challenges from the beginning. A 155-person constituent assembly was created and tasked with redrafting the document. This assembly included an even split of men and women – a global first – from all over the country as well as reserved seats for Indigenous candidates. The underlying assumption was that the new constitution would respond to the societal need for “la casa de todos” – a house big enough for everyone, with diverse groups coming together to create a set of governing rules and principles that, being built on differences, responded to the needs of all. Yet the majority of the assembly were also independent candidates, who had very little political experience. Moreover, in the weeks leading up to the constitutional vote, fake news and disinformation surrounding the contents of the redraft flooded social media, which may also have affected public opinion. There was an uneven spread of the allocation and access to resources between the two campaigns – 89% of private donations were given to the rejection campaign, and only 11% to the approval campaign.
Most tellingly, however, was the length and contents of the text itself. Long, vague, and complicated, it promised a generous catalogue of constitutional rights, both traditional and innovative. For example, citizens would be promised the right to a minimum of electrical power, the right to sport and physical activity, the right to leisure and enjoyment of free time, and the right to live in a safe environment. The proposal also contained an entire chapter dedicated to environmental rights, proclaiming that fighting climate change would be a state duty, as would protecting biodiversity, native species, and natural spaces. Indigenous groups would be guaranteed rights to their lands, territories, and resources, reserved seats in representative bodies, and consulted in matters that would affect these rights. State bodies and public companies must have gender parity, and sexual and reproductive rights would have been granted to every person, including the right to the voluntary disruption of pregnancy. Yet there were some curious inclusions as well, such as an obligation of the state to promote the Chilean national cuisine, as well as the right to a “digital disconnection” – bizarre, in a country where millions still lack broadband internet services.
Arguably, Chile’s values regarding social mobility, diversity, and inclusion have moved forward since the dark days of the dictatorship. The population does indeed wish to shed the sin of origin of the current constitution. Yet their rejection of the proposed redraft can be interpreted as a sign of civic and democratic maturity. The new constitution seemed to have been pitched for the Chile that people wanted to see, not the Chile that we currently have. It would have held the state accountable for many of the proposed new reforms, without actually proposing how implementing said reforms would be achieved.
It must be reiterated, however, that many of those who disliked the old constitution from Pinochet’s era, but who also had concerns about the new version, were encouraged to vote no after President Boric admitted he would be open to discussing an alternative version if the draft was indeed rejected.
What happens next? This past January, Chile’s Congress passed a bill that re-started the process to replace the constitution of the dictatorship era. In May, the country will see the election to choose a 50-person assembly to draft the new document, in time for another referendum in December to either reject or approve the proposed new constitution. We can only hope that the new council will learn from the mistakes of its predecessors and create a constitution that responds to Chile’s social, political, and cultural demands in a way that is realistic and sustainable. As for now, the Pinochet-era constitution remains the main legal framework of the country.
Image courtesy of Prensa Presidencia via Wikimedia Commons, ©2022, some rights reserved.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of the wider St Andrews Foreign Affairs Review team.
