- Looking back: The time we miss in Academia
Dear Colleagues, it has been a while. However, the time to write does not always align with life’s broader challenges, nor with the specific administrative burden of financial reporting and accountability in research projects. As always, writing begins with something seemingly simple, yet it becomes increasingly difficult in times when there is no time to pause and think.
It´s been around two years since Koen De Feyter’s passing, and for a long time I thought about writing this piece. At first, I considered a strictly academic approach, perhaps sharing my work and how Koen’s guidance allowed me to implement participatory methodologies, but this felt far from a tribute to him and dangerously close to an exercise in self-service to my own ego. Later, I thought about focusing on our reflections regarding the use of words and labels, such as “stakeholders”, “Indigenous identity” and their collective implications.[1] Yet, none of those academic debates can truly capture everything I learned from him.
Koen was my Ph.D. supervisor, and from the beginning, he was the Flemish promoter for a VLIRUOS-funded project with my University in Bolivia under subproject 4 on Indigenous Peoples’ Rights and Social Conflict Transformation (SP4)[2], to which my research was attached.[3] At first, I read everything related to “localizing human rights”, since Koen developed this key framework in previous work.[4] I thought it would be what he expected. It took just one meeting for him to tell me: “We have already done that.” “So, what do I do then?” I asked. “It is your research” he replied. That is how the theater came about, and with that, the understanding of my research freedom and responsibility under his guidance.
Although I managed to incorporate theater into my Ph.D. research, during the recognition of the meaning of land for Indigenous women in the Upper Valley of Cochabamba, a social conflict broke out in Bolivia (2019, which ended with the President fleeing to Mexico), followed by the pandemic (2020-2021)[5]. Because of these setbacks, I decided to start this piece by addressing him and reflecting on what was left pending and what I have now been able to resume: our work with theater.
- From Ph.D. supervision to co-directing international transdisciplinary research
As my Ph.D supervisor, Koen was intimately familiar with the first part of my work based on Theater of the Oppressed[6], though his passing prevented him from guiding the second. Originally, used as a diagnostic tool to explore land rights and empathy, this technique evolved.
I took over the leadership of the Bolivian side of SP4, because he was on the other side, and I think he would be happy to know that some circles are finally closing[7]. But it’s all a process, nothing has been easy, and life happens. Just as I was writing my previous draft (the first one), thinking, “Koen, we made it” while the theater residency at Lake Titicaca with four different communities was happening (February 2026), I received a message from Argentina. My father had passed away. I was in the Bolivian highlands, and my letter remained unfinished, but I kept writing:
Koen, I was wrong. Once I thought that the Ph.D would be my hardest hurdle, but no. As we study, create and organize academic processes for the enforceability of human rights, sometimes life happens to us without warning. Just as your passing abruptly cuts your leadership, personal loss often interrupts our writing and challenges our ability to remain visible or relevant. Yet, we carry on in silence, making sure memory endures.
In the last email I wrote to you, I mentioned I had not been able to update you much on the joint Bolivia-Belgium budget. I told you I was having surgery for a tumor and that the biopsy results were concerning. The tumor did not just look bad; its consistency was scientifically questionable. A day before the news of your passing, an email from you arrived in my inbox. You simply asked how I was making it clear that everything else was secondary; people come first. I couldn’t write to you back then. I am doing better now, and the scariest part is finally behind me. So, once again, with my heart at pace, for a second time, as I introduce myself to you in that first mail: “from the heart of South America”, in the Cochabamba Valley, I am able to say: “Dear Koen, we did it, and we keep trying, not just as a random activity (theater), more than just a methodology, but as a commitment to empowerment and human rights work from academia.”
- First theater residency and the CReA Project: Working at the lake
During the first theater residency (February 2026), we hosted young people from all the regions where SP4 operates in Bolivia. We had realized that this age group was not being directly included by our subproject and, at times, not even by the same grassroots Indigenous organizations themselves. Therefore, through the organizations with which we have agreements, we shared a call for young people who wanted to express their views through theater. It was a gathering on the shores of the highest navigable lake in the world, Lake Titicaca, particularly in the village of Santiago de Huata. This aligned perfectly with the Theory of Change guidelines under which the project operates to strengthen communities we work with[8]. In that context, I believe we have contributed to breaking the traditional asymmetry where researchers merely extract data and leave. Beyond that, we actively worked against extractive research practices by ensuring the process directly supported the local economy. We traveled to the communities, and they hosted us in their community hall, providing food and lodging. This turned logistics into a space of horizontal reciprocity and mutual respect.
Holding the first residency was no easy feat, but before getting into that path (which was mostly for bureaucratic aspects), I remember the first time I presented the plan to you, or rather, the dream of doing theater as part of my doctoral research. You were immediately “on board”, but you had many questions: Who makes the theater? Who registers it? How do I stay attentive to angles of the research without losing focus? Well, that’s how it unfolded: First, I found an ally within SP4, someone who now accompanies the process from Belgium, Tomaso Ferrando. Then we sought approval from the entire Steering Committee (yes, the meetings are still longer than they should be; you are no longer there to protect and place trust in the doctoral students, though I try to follow your example. I have not quite managed to be as assertive with just my presence. I will keep trying!). To get back to the point: after confirming that there was no one within our university networks available and capable of leading this process of co-creating works with a socio-environmental focus centered on youth voices (a requirement of the Steering Committee) I found a theater school in El Alto, La Paz, with experience in holding theater residencies on Lake Titicaca: the Jallalla Theater School[9].
The word Jallalla, in Bolivia is often invoked at the end of a speech, during ceremonies, toasts, or gatherings that embody hope, and that’s how it was. This school adopts a physical theater approach, where the body guides the narrative during the creative process rather than written script or traditional acting techniques. In this sense, I consider it close to the Theater of the Oppressed, reclaiming theater as a universal right. Ariel Baptista, director of the Jallalla School, works from a place of reciprocity and joy. I am deeply grateful to him and his team for their generosity.
With all the required reports, verifications, and actors involved, we secured a team and a stay by the lake (the first of its kind both for the university and the project itself)[10]. Young people came from the communities we work with: Jacha Karangas in Oruro, Valle Alto in Cochabamba, the Guaraní People of Villamontes in Tarija, and the Chiquitano People of San José de Chiquitos in Santa Cruz. As a result, three play scripts were written and performed for the community of Santiago de Huata at the end of the residency[11].
- Second theater residency: Chiquitano and Guaraní Youth
July 11, 2026, marks the beginning of the second theater residency, launching a week of intensive work[12]. While writing I hear from the back:
“Marleni, here!” she shouts, representing the Guardianes de la Guaragua Association[13],
“Vanesa, here!” stands out the voice of the JICH-T (Juventud Indígena Chiquitana de la Central Turubó).[14]
Do you remember? We had a meeting right there at their Central Turubò back in 2019–2020, I can’t quite recall.[15]
- Open letter to Koen
(Once again) Koen, we did it! We have used theater as a methodology to understand and portray the complexity of socio-environmental issues. Its application has raised early warnings regarding conflicts caused by land invaders in Indigenous territories, as well as organizational fractures due to the co-optation of leaders, typically among prominent male figures rather than women.
I recall a meeting we had when I was telling you about Indigenous identity in Bolivia and how it is historically tied to the peasant movement, making it almost impossible to separate one from the other. While we agree that definitions often act as limitations on the exercise of rights, you were correct: the rights of Indigenous Peoples and peasant rights are not applicable in the same way, even when they involve the same rights-holders. The Bolivian context now makes it increasingly evident that there has been an instrumental advantage for certain individuals organized as peasants, also known as “interculturales” (non-Indigenous), who have received land allocations in strategic areas. This ultimately impacts nearby Indigenous Peoples, for instance, through forest fires sparked by land clearing for monoculture and agribusiness, or when these groups are consulted instead of Indigenous Peoples on matters affecting their livelihoods. In the case of the Chiquitano People, this results in favoring agribusiness and large-scale forest fires; in the case of the Guaraní People, it impacts nature reserves and Indigenous territory. Evaluating these repercussions, it seems no coincidence that in two different regions we find similar outcomes and concerns through the process of developing both play scripts. Young people from both regions realize how many similarities and how few differences they share.
Another aspect that stood out in a deeply moving way was the commitment of a younger generation. These young people recognize elements of their identity represented, for example, by the Jichi (a mythical snake protecting the forest) as well as a call to protect their environments. In a creative writing activity, one of them wrote: I have been a defender since I heard the forest’s dying voice; for years, it cried out for help.[16]
Thus, we have returned to where it all began: the Upper Valley of Cochabamba, Tolata—the place from which I write to you, and to anyone who wishes to know a little more about you through my experience. At times, academia pulls us apart through its bureaucracy and comfortable places of study; at other times, it brings us closer through the consistency of those who teach us by example, like you.
Acknowledgement
That is the Koen I knew, someone who taught by example, perhaps without even realizing his impact. Respected and admired: human, approachable, high-principled, free and a friend along the way. He was someone who cared about people, who was critical of academia and of what research leaves behind beyond papers. He had an enormous capacity to instill a sense of responsibility through unbiased trust. That is how he inspired us, and that is why he is so deeply missed.
[1] We often discussed the power of translation, such as self-determination in Indigenous identity, and how legal rigidity is frequently used as a disingenuous strategy to restrict those very rights.
[2] Research led by the Universidad Católica Boliviana “San Pablo” focusing on human rights, legal pluralism and social conflict transformation. The Subproject 4 on Indigenous Peoples Rights and Social Conflict Transformation (SP4) is a component of the CReA Project (Transdisciplinary Community Research). Its main objective is to work alongside Indigenous Peoples, Peasant Communities and Indigenous Women Producers to reduce social and legal vulnerability regarding the protection and governance of common goods. More than keeping knowledge confined to academic circles, Sp4 is committed to impulse direct tools for territorial self-management and human advocacy. (https://crea.ucb.edu.bo/subproyecto-4).
[3] Interuniversity cooperation project between Flemish Universities (University of Antwerp) and Bolivian Catholic University.
[4] Koen De Feyter and others (eds.) The local relevance of human rights (Cambridge University Press 2011).
[5] This prevented us from continuing our group workshops of 25 to 50 people in training and creation processes.
[6] Note on methodology: The doctoral research originally was envisioned applying theater to diagnose complex land rights challenges and to communicate research outcomes. Based on Theater of the Oppressed techniques, this approach creates safe spaces for democratic, participatory reflection and knowledge co-creation. Although external factors described in the text restricted its application to the diagnostic stage, its impact was significant in bridging gaps in language, age, and literacy. Crucially, the technique goes beyond highlighting oppressive dynamics from an external perspective, it also explores collective solutions to systemic oppression, serving as a vital tool for empowerment and agency. See, Quiroga Eróstegui C. Use of and access to land for peaceful transformation: a socio-legal perspective on human rights of indigenous women of the Cochabamba Upper Valley (Doctoral dissertation, University of Antwerp 2022), 7-13.
[7] For example, that the idea of Theater of the Oppressed has become more than a tool to identify conflicts, but becoming a technique for empowerment, giving visibility to the socio-environmental issues of the communities, especially with young people.
[8] Theory of Change emerged in the United States during the 1990s, with Carol Weiss, as one of its first key figures (1995) jointly with the Aspen Institute (especially with the Roundtable on Community Change in 1992). This “theory” offers a practical framework for evaluation and community-based field work. Whether it constitutes a theory remains open to debate, but it has gained wide popularity in social intervention projects, replacing the logical framework (most of all during the design phase and conceptualization of social impact). This shift occurs because it provides a more adaptable framework for volatile contexts. Above all, its core value lies in its bottom-up approach, fostering participatory processes and a shared vision of social change to complex challenges. See, Andrea A Anderson, Theory of change. As a Tool for Strategic Planning. A Report on Early Experiences (The Aspen Institute-Roundtable on Community Change 2004); Dana H Taplin and others, Theory of change. Technical papers: a series of papers to support development of theories of change based on practice in the field (ActKnowledge 2013).
[9] Jallalla, is a word used in Quechua and Aymara language, that lacks a literal translation, but it could mean long live! strength, so be it, or may it be fulfilled.
[10] It was a challenge to obtain all the approvals and support given our need of consistency to hire people from the communities, the most iconic questions came from administrative offices: “Do they have a legal status?”, “How is the community represented?” , “Do they have a bank account?”. Even though most of these questions show a lack of knowledge of the Bolivian rural reality (which hasn’t changed in decades), at the same time, they present (just as the tip of the iceberg) legal-philosophical and socio-practical questions that are not easy to answer directly in a simple way but certainly resonated in my head (next chapter maybe).
[11] To watch a little more about this first experience: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u3rE04pvGBQ&feature=youtu.be
[12] During the second theater residency (11 to 17 July 2026), those who responded to the call were the Chiquitano and Guaraní Indigenous Peoples. The Chiquitano People are located in a transition zone in the Bolivian East, between the Amazon biome (in northern Bolivia, within Santa Cruz) and the Gran Chaco (a region in the south of our country, within Tarija). We hosted 18 young people from both regions. One of them had to cancel at the last minute because he received a job offer he had been waiting for since the beginning of the year to work as a park ranger.
[13] Association formed by young people of the Guaraní People in Villamontes, Tarija, a department home to 5 of the 6 oil and gas environmental liabilities in the country.
[14] JICH-T is an organization grouping communities of the Chiquitano Indigenous People in the Cerro Turubó area, with 37 years of organic organizational history
[15] Additionally, we are joined by the Environmental Multipliers from San José de Chiquitos—a youth network trained in defending the Chiquitano forest—and the theater cast from the Universidad Católica Boliviana San Pablo. Alongside the group of 18 young participants, we are accompanied by 3 assistants (valuable law students: Regina, Nataly and Esteban) from the Human Rights and Rights of Nature Research Center (CIDHND, by its Spanish acronym). They have all answered the call to strengthen the advocacy and leadership capacities of Indigenous and peasant community members through physical theater and collective co-creation, enabling the communication of socio-environmental issues and the defense of territorial rights through artistic expression.
[16] Passage from a collaborative poem created by young defenders of Indigenous territory and new generations of the Guaraní and Chiquitano Peoples in Bolivia — Theater Artistic Residency, Sp4 CREA Project, VLIRUOS UCB Fund.