Chile, Features, Southern Cone
Charrúa: Chile’s Energy Enclave Battling Darkness
January 27, 2025 By Javier A. Cisterna Figueroa
Leer en españolHigh-voltage towers, metal fences, and warning signs greet visitors as they enter the rural town of Charrúa, located nearly 500 kilometers south of Santiago, Chile’s capital. Here, a community made up of around a thousand families struggle every winter with intermittent power outages both at home and on the streets. This is despite the fact that residents live in the same town as the country’s most critical electrical transmission substation.
“The electricity is expensive; that’s our main problem,” says Olga Flores, president of Charrúa’s Neighborhood Council No. 8. She skims her notebook filled with meeting notes. “While there are fewer outages in the summer, winter is a real issue for us,” Olga continues.
“Olguita,” as her friends affectionately call her, is one of the most active leaders in this fight. A mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother to new generations who have left the rural town for the city, the 73-year-old combines community leadership with her formal job. For the past 36 years, she has worked in the kitchen of the only elementary school in the area—a place that, according to her, offers a refreshing view of life in Charrúa: a launchpad for the young and a haven for those who decide to stay.
However, there is an undisputable trend among younger generations born in Charrúa to migrate, not by choice but by necessity. In terms of schooling, the town’s remoteness forces teenagers to leave for nearby villages if they wish to complete their high school education. In terms of employment, the majority of young adults head north where the mining industry provides steady work. In this way, a town that was once a key stop on southern Chile’s historic railway has evolved into what Olga describes as “a low-income, predominantly elderly community.”
“People complain but also get tired of complaining. Sometimes there’s no one to blame,” adds the activist, subtly pointing to the companies in the area and the resignation that often overtakes the neighbors. In Charrúa, the fight over light and electricity has come to rest in the hands of those nearing retirement.
(Photo of Charrúan power lines courtesy of “A La Sombra de la Luz” documentary, Dos Be Producciones)
The Energy Paradox
Charrúa is a typical rural town whose occupants rely on agriculture work and other formal jobs that are all located outside the area. The town’s defining feature lies in its role as the backbone of the national electrical system.
Companies like Colbún, Transelec, Generadora Metropolitana, Inkia, and Coelcha dominate the landscape, handling energy generation, transmission, and distribution. These companies supply the electricity for much of the country, earning the town the nickname of interruptor de Chile or “Chile’s light switch” in English. Yet, Charrúa residents have seen little of its strategic value translate into improvements in quality of life.
Last winter, with temperatures dropping to zero degrees celsius, families endured up to three days without electricity. The companies blamed the delay on high winds, fallen trees, and copper wire theft for black market resale while the community resorted to using paraffin wax candles to cope.
The Resistance
Eleven years ago, Charrúa held its first protest against these companies. A group of 20 people gathered to demand the removal of private firms and denounce the poor quality of service provided. Their demands remain unchanged: better lighting, urban development, and an end to power outages.
At the time, neighborhood representative Julio Aillón did not mince words, stating: “Electricity here is more expensive than anywhere else and [yet] is of poor quality. The light is weak, it fails, and outages are constant. They don’t even warn us when there will be cuts, and many people’s electrical appliances have been damaged. Since they’ve never taken us seriously, it’s time to put an end to this”.
A year later in 2015, Olga Flores assumed her current leadership position. She recalls that her first step was to go knocking on the companies’ doors—literally. Accompanied by her board, she requested meetings and sat in the waiting rooms until they were heard. And she succeeded.
Her efforts led to the establishment of a public-private association aimed at addressing Charrúa’s critical situation. Today, the initiative has allowed access roads and other parts of the town to be lit. “I believe in dialogue and respect, and that’s what we proposed to the companies,” says Flores, contrasting her approach with her predecessors’ confrontational tactics.
For María Victoria Toledo, president of Charrúa’s elementary school Parent Association, the companies are what’s often called a “necessary evil.” “We can see the glass half full—the companies have lit up streets and helped us with projects—but electricity is still extremely expensive.” Her household electricity bill, shared with her 11-year-old daughter and mother, averages $40 per month—a standard amount. However, in November last year, she paid $140, with no explanation other than the unilateral consumption assessment by Coelcha.
(Photo of Charrúan power lines courtesy of “A La Sombra de la Luz” documentary, Dos Be Producciones)
The Business of Light
In Charrúa, as in the rest of Chile, the line between public and private is not always clear.
“Companies today are like neighbors—they help us, they listen to us. Sometimes they’re faster than the state in addressing our issues. Public institutions take time, but companies ask what we need,” explains Francisco Paredes, a local radio host, firefighter, and one of Charrúa’s most recognized figures.
This ambivalent relationship has historical roots, tracing back to the privatization policies of Augusto Pinochet’s dictatorship (1973–1990). While human rights were systematically violated, a model was established that displaced the state from providing social rights and made the market the dominant player.
In the case of the energy industry, the National Electricity Company (Endesa), originally created in 1943 to develop and expand electricity generation and distribution, was dismantled into private companies. Among them are Colbún and Transelec who are both active near Charrúa.
Two more companies joined in recent decades under center-left governments that upheld the dictatorship’s economic and social model: Generadora Metropolitana and Inkia, both establishing thermal power plants in 2009, specifically Santa Lidia and Central termoeléctrica Yungay, respectively.
These companies, part of Charrúa’s public-private association, balance philanthropy with profit, addressing the paradox of generating and selling electricity to the country while their neighbors live in darkness or endure intermittent service.
Noelia Carrasco, a social anthropology expert at the University of Concepción, views Charrúa’s situation as a classic expression of neoliberalism: companies exploit systemic gaps, making themselves indispensable. “Companies operate on productivity, communities on survival. What we see here is what was once called ‘good neighbor practices,’ now rebranded as corporate social responsibility. Essentially, it’s strategic capitalism.”
***
From the living room of the house she shares with her eldest son—the only one who decided to stay behind—Olga Flores declares that Charrúa is a beautiful place, her true home. However, she also admits to being worn out and has decided that this will be her last term as the neighborhood’s principal representative.
To learn more about life in Charrúa and their coexistence with energy corporations , check out the documentary “A la sombra de la luz” from directors Ignacia Merino and Isabel Reyes. Watch the trailer below (in Spanish).
About Javier A. Cisterna Figueroa
Journalist, MA in Politics and Government, and a diploma holder in Political Communication. A member of the fifth generation of the LATAM Network of Young Journalists, Cisterna has worked as an editor and host of political and social programs in Biobío, Chile. Dedicated to strategic communication, he also collaborates with Germany’s Development and Cooperation (D+C/E+Z) magazine. In 2020, he won the “Pobre el que no cambia de mirada” award for Best Editorial Contribution with his article “Hunger in Chile: The Pandemic’s Returning Specter.”
Periodista, máster en Política y Gobierno y diplomado en Comunicación Política. Integrante de la quinta generación de la Red LATAM de Jóvenes Periodistas. A lo largo de su carrera, ha trabajado como editor y ha escrito y conducido programas sobre temas políticos y sociales en medios del Biobío, Chile. Dedicado a la comunicación estratégica, también colabora con el magazine alemán Development and Cooperation (D+C/E+Z). En 2020, recibió el premio “Pobre el que no cambia de mirada” en la categoría de Mejor Aporte Editorial por el artículo “Hambre en Chile: el fantasma que la pandemia trajo de regreso”.
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