Hat Tip to Monica Showalter for this post. Her blog led me to this “video treasure on Twitter,” which was posted by economist Steve Hanke, Johns Hopkins University.
The video is in Spanish but it’s clear enough for non-Spanish speakers to catch the message. The photos and graphics alone are sufficient to explain the narrative of the devastation which once gripped Chile and now overwhelms Venezuela. What did Chile do to overthrow its imminent collapse? In a word, it embraced a free market model. What did Venezuela do to go from an economic powerhouse in 1975 to a basket case today? In a word, see the clip.
It’s a bit over 2 minutes and well worth your time.
In the initial euforia of concessions by the Venezuelan government to American oil and iron ore companies, was any thought given to where these companies’ employees, many of whom would come from countries other than Venezuela, would live?
As it turns out, President Marcos Pérez Jimenez had given it much thought and had requested such companies establish “open cities” wherever possible. Puerto Ordaz, the crown jewel of Ciudad Guayana, whose impetus was The US Steel Company, was one result of the open city policy.
El Pao, where I was born, was more of what most folks think of when they conjure up images of an “American Camp.”
Jimenez understood that not all camps could be open cities. El Pao was deep in the Venezuelan jungle, relatively shut off from potential commercial centers, such as a major river, highway, airport, railway, etc.
On the other hand, the future Puerto Ordaz was situated at the confluence of two major rivers, one of which is the mighty Orinoco, the third or fourth largest in the world, measured by average discharge, meaning the river’s flow rate. I had to look this up and, from a layman’s perspective, this is probably the best illustration: “The volume of an Olympic-size swimming pool is 2,500 cubic meters. So the flow rate at the mouth of the Amazon [the world’s largest] is sufficient to fill more than 83 such pools each second.”
The flow rate at the mouth of the Congo and the Orinoco (second and third largest rivers) would each fill 16 such pools per second.
By the way, of the 10 largest rivers in the world, 5 are in South America.
As for El Pao, this area was explored by the Spanish 5 centuries ago. The Indians told them about a mountain which, when struck by lightning, would give off bright flashes. The Spanish investigated for themselves and confirmed the tales. They named the mountain, El Florero, meaning, Flower Pot, since the flashes looked like flowers on the mountain peak.
Actually, the area was rich in orchids and also an abundance of “purguo”, a tree which yielded very high quality rubber. In fact, the era in which the ore was discovered, was known as “la fiebre del balatá” (the balatá fever). Balatá refers to a natural gum of high quality found in the purguo. Mr. Aturo Vera, whom, years later, my father would often contract to drive us to fishing spots on the Caroní River, explored that area with his own father in the 1920’s. On one such journey, father and son espied a splendid ore specimen and took it with them to their home near the Caroní.
Word spread quickly and a miner, Simón Piñero, accompanied by his boss, entrepreneur Eduardo Boccardo, also explored and contracted an engineer, Frank Paglucci, to stake a claim. Mr. Vera, seeing all the excitement, also staked his claim, and rightfully so.
The ore was analyzed by American laboratories, found to be of extraordinary quality, and the Bethlehem Steel Company assigned their geologist, Earl H. Nixon, to the site.
On June 3, 1944 (3 days before D Day) , The New York Times reported, “The Bethlehem Steel Corporation’s big Venezuelan iron ore development, first disclosed as a prospect a few weeks ago, is now under way. Twenty American engineers and technicians are in charge, with some 600 native Venezuelans, skilled and unskilled, at work on the big project.” This project represented capital investments of $50 million ($1 billion in today’s money) and more in Puerto de Hierro (Iron Port), their deep sea port on the Atlantic.
By July, 1950, the first train load of ore was transported from El Pao to Palúa, the company’s river port on the Orinoco for transshipment to Puerto de Hierro. And in 1951, the seaport yielded its first shipment to the United States. The March 23 New York Times headline read: “First Cargo of Venezuela Iron Ore Arrives for Bethlehem Steel Plant; Sparrows Point Pier in Maryland Is Scene of Significant Ceremony Marking Start of 3,000,000-Ton-a-Year Shipments.” The article’s lead sentence read, “Vessels laden with iron ore have docked here for decades, but special significance attached to the arrival of an ore boat this morning.”
We’ll speak more of life in an American camp in future posts. For now, I’ll end this post by quoting some recent comments by folks who, when children, lived in Puerto de Hierro. This will give an idea of life in an American camp in Venezuela and also the pull of the land.
“That is the place of enchantment and he who has lived or even visited it will remember it for all of life. And I had the fortune of having been born there. Those good years of the 1950’s, 60’s, 70’s, 80’s…. The best …?”
“My! All those wonderful people who worked there are beautiful I tell you! I salute that wonderful and dear place and people!”
“The best town and the most beautiful place in Venezuela; the only beach with a diving board in the ocean. I developed my life there along with my parents and siblings. Eternal memories and the best times of my childhood and my youth. My best friends of my life were from there.”
“My beautiful town. I can never forget you, although all is different now.”
“What wonderful memories of my childhood, of my parents, of my siblings, of my neighbors who once lived and those who still live. I embrace you all!”
“My beautiful town. Now, it is not even the shadow of what it once was. How much sadness it brings me to see the ruin that it is now!”
“My town! I was born there in 1961. How I long to go and run there again. My adored land. Venezuela, how much sadness you bring me now! My dear Lord!”
“I could not have asked for a better childhood.”
Neither could I.
Puerto de Hierro on the Atlantic coast, in the state of Sucre. The Bethlehem Steel ceded this to the Venezuelan government and it is now a Venezuelan navy base.
The loading bridge over the Orinoco in the company port of Palúa. My father used to dive off that into the river. Folks called him Tarzan. El Pao under construction in the 1940’s. Men carved a modern road and railroad out of this jungle. Above is a 1940’s map. You’ll not see Puerto Ordaz thereon. It would grow across the Caroní from San Félix, at the spot between the Caroní and the Orinoco (the Caroní is that river which runs into the Orinoco at San Félix). El Pao is the spot denoted as “Iron Mining Area”. The confluence of the Caroní and the Orinoco rivers. Yes, at this point, the Orinoco is carrying much soil as it continues its journey to the Atlantic. It clears up again miles downriver. Puerto Ordaz grew on the right. Notice the ore ships on the right. Before the bridges were built, we’d cross by ferry. As the Caroní approaches the Orinoco the change in topography yields several series of rapids and falls. Above are the Cachamay Falls. An Intercontinental hotel was built here in the 1970’s. Ciudad Guayana. Foreground is San Felix (Old Town); background, across the Caroní, is Puerto Ordaz (New Town). Arturo Vera, second from right, accompanies Bethlehem Steel engineers arriving in 1934, in Ciudad Bolivar, the closest major city. Photo source: El Pao Yacimiento Pionero.
Arturo Vera. Died in 1990, age 88. I vividly remember him. As a child, I used to think he was a great driver as he’d drive us over seemingly impassable paths to places I could never find again, even if my life depended on it. My father would often remind me that Mr. Vera owned part of the area which became El Pao. He was an unassuming and kindly man. And a great driver!
Santiago Smith: The camp had many men like him: unusual backgrounds, hard workers, colorful, sometimes mysterious. I was privileged to know them in my childhood. Mr. Smith was born of English parents in the gold mining area. In the late 40’s that area began to be shut down and he and some companions had to look elsewhere for work. They came to El Pao. He worked and lived there until his death in 2010. He was close to a century by most estimates. Photo Source: El Pao Yacimiento Pionero.
To gauge the extent of French revolutionary influence in Latin America, an influence which persists to this day, one need not look further than any popular source to see which system of law predominates in any given country.
For centuries, Latin America’s legal system was based on the “major legislative achievement from the Middle Ages,” the Siete Partidas. After the revolutionary wars, the legal systems were modeled after the Napoleonic Code, although, to be sure, the influence of the Siete Partidas , or “Seven Part Code”, persisted.
In brief, the Seven Part Code, promulgated in the 1200’s, declared that all law is to conform to God’s decree. It recognized the ultimate Law Giver as God, not man. It’s first part, roughly translated, states, “To the service of God.” The Napoleonic code, which was developed to codify the French Revolution, rejects any mention of God, but does pay obeisance to the Serpent’s ancient temptation by making man a god. It is humanistic to the core. Of course, it borrowed much from the Christian capital accumulated over millennia, but its deafening silence on God and religion was obvious.
(In striking contrast, consider: the legal system in the then recently independent North American, former English colonies remained the same as England’s: Common Law, with its Christian roots in the Magna Carta. South America was convulsed by a true “revolution”; North America, not so much.)
All South American law is heavily Napoleonic, except for Chile and the countries that adopted or were heavily influenced by Chile’s civil law.
Why is Chile an exception?
We can thank Venezuelan Andrés Bello, whom we will visit in future posts. For now, we will say he was truly one of the most influential personages of history. Poet, illustrious philologist, excellent diplomat, and unique thinker, this man led a most singular life whose benign influence continues to this day. Although born in Venezuela, he lived 19 years in London, where he met another great personage to whom we’ll return in future posts, Francisco de Miranda, a man who had personally met George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and other founding fathers of the United States.
He briefly tutored Bolivar, but Bolivar did not heed his request for help to return to his native land. Eventually, Bello was invited to come to Chile where he lived the remaining 36 years of his life. And a most industrious life it was: founded the University of Santiago; developed the Gramática de la Lengua Castellana Destinada Al Uso de Los Americanos, a masterpiece of Spanish grammar and vocabulary.
And, as if that were not enough, he developed the Civil Code of Chile, adopted by some countries and heavily relied upon by others. His approach incorporated some of the Napoleonic Code, while retaining much of the Spanish Seven Part Code, in modified fashion. A truly remarkable man. He died aged 83 in Santiago, Chile, in 1865.
Another influence, although not so benign, was Simón Rodriguez, long time tutor of Bolivar in his youth. Bolivar lived with him from the age of 12 to 14. Rodriguez was immersed in Rousseau’s philosophy and revolutionary ideology. In exile he met up with his former protege, Bolivar, in Europe and traveled much of the continent with him, including meetings with Napoleon and his coronation in Milan. Rodriguez witnessed Bolivar’s famous oath of not giving rest to his arm until he had “broken the chains … of Spanish power.”
Bolivar helped him return to South America where he died aged 84 in 1854 in Amotape, Peru. He referred to him as “my Socrates. A consummate philosopher. The Socrates of Caracas.” Although his personal influence pales alongside that of Bello, his mentoring of Bolivar impacted Venezuela and much of South America to this day.
(Guess which of the two was honored by the geniuses at Google: Bello or Rodriguez? Hint: the same one who is idolized by the current regime in Venezuela: Rodriguez. No surprise there. And yet another reason to use Bing.)
From a layman’s point of view, Bello managed to tip his hat to the Napoleonic code, while recognizing that the legal tradition and mores of the former Spanish colonies were deeply “non-revolutionary”, even religious. So, since the 19th century, a certain tension has been a part of the legal and intellectual life in South America with some regions or countries handling it with less disruptions than others. This matter deserves much more study and consideration and I am convinced it will help explain much of Latin American life from the 1800’s to the present.
For now, I am grateful it was Bello who developed the Civil Code, not Rodriguez.
We’ll return to Bolivar and these men in future posts.
Simón Rodriguez (1769-1854). Bolivar lived with him for several years as a youth and was heavily influenced by Rodriguez who in turn followed the theories and philosophy of Rousseau who in turn was a great influence on the French Revolution. Refer to prior post (Bolivar II) for more on Rousseau.
Andres Bello (1781-1865). Portrait was painted, circa 1850, by Raymond Monvoisin, French painter who lived in Chile at the time. Photograph was taken circa 1863, shortly before his death in 1865. A truly remarkable man.
First page of a 1555 version of the Seven Part Code. The Napoleonic Code in the Historical Museum of the Palatinate in Speyer. Francisco de Miranda (1750-1816). Before Bolivar, he sought independence from Spain, but for not for the same revolutionary reasons. Miranda lived in the United States and met George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, Samuel Adams, and Thomas Jefferson, among others. A soldier, statesman, scholar. He was betrayed by his Venezuelan compatriots, including Bolivar, handed to the Spanish, and died in exile in Spain, aged 66. The portrait is by Martin Tovar y Tovar, a famous Venezuelan painter.
This post complements the prior, doing so in the form of excerpts of a dialogue between an ex-patriate employee of an American company and a young Venezuelan who, having pursued higher education in Caracas, had returned to the interior with something to say. The conversation took place in the mid-1950’s on a street in a town on the shores of the Orinoco River during a hot period of the Cold War.
The trigger was an altercation where an older, American executive had been attacked by a mob. Adam had intervened by flooring the leader. He then escorted the elderly man to a company truck and came back to talk with Enrique, who had remained after the group had dispersed.
Any names are fictitious, including any states of origin.
“But, Sr. Adam, you are ignoring America’s malevolence towards Latin America as a whole. Theodore Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson thought we were about a scale or two lower than the Araguato [Howling Monkey]. They insisted on telling us how to live and govern ourselves. As if we were ignorant beasts, recently arrived from the stone age. They never acknowledged that we had a thriving civilization for centuries before your Pilgrims arrived up north!”
“I have never denied our faults, Enrique. And you must remember that the American people come from 48 sovereign states. We do not necessarily agree with the Roosevelts and Wilsons in Washington. Lord knows I don’t. I am first an Illinois man; then, an American. Anyway, since you know your history, you will remember that the American people rejected Wilson’s utopian designs on us and on the rest of the world.”
“No great comfort to us, Sr. Adam.”
“Many Americans have a genuine affinity for Latin America, you surely know that. Wilson and Roosevelt may presume to tell Latin Americans how to live and how to govern themselves, but many Americans do not agree with them on that. I would have thought you knew that too. When we pave roads and build schools, churches, swimming pools, clubs, baseball fields, bowling alleys, and who knows what else, do you see us telling you how to live? No, you do not. When you see us distributing food and offering excursions to historic sites, do you see us propagandizing for the United States government? No, you don’t see us doing that either.
“And yet, we hear radicalized teachers and professors, and, sad to say, even priests, maintain a constant drumbeat of propaganda designed to blacken the United States.”
“But, I guess I shouldn’t feel like the Lone Ranger, should I, Enrique? You not only dislike Americans, you also dislike Spain, don’t you? And the irony of this hatred is that the American elite and his English cousins had a hand in spreading the worldwide anti-Spain propaganda. Something for which I am not proud at all. And yet, you also believe the black propaganda, even though we Americans had a hand in spreading it.”
“Now, there’s an area where you could work to dispel bad history and where you could, rightly, accuse Americans of spreading falsehoods. All this we readily admit and stipulate. And, I’ll go even further: The United States are reaping the whirlwind as France now takes the lead in blackening our own reputation. We don’t like the lies being said of us; but, sadly, we spread many lies about Spain. So, you would be justified in saying to us, ‘As you brew, so shall you bake.’ All this I readily grant to you, Enrique.”
“But none of it justifies your actions and your attitudes towards me and towards my countrymen.”
“It is not that I dislike Spain, Sr. Adam. It is that I admire French philosophy and culture and literature, which is far superior to both Spain’s and America’s.”
“Well, I’m not so sure about that, Enrique. I think you would agree that Don Quixote, written about a century before either Voltaire or Rousseau, is a masterpiece. And it is far more rooted in reality than anything those two twits ever said or wrote. I will not even pretend to appreciate those two hypocrites. Rousseau left, what? 4, or was it 5 children in foundling homes because he refused to care for his own. And yet he insisted on telling the rest of us how to live! Oh! Wait! Isn’t that what you fault the Americans for?”
“I’ve always been impressed with your knowledge, Sr. Adam….”
“Stop the flattery, Enrique; I don’t like it at all.”
“My apologies,” this with extended vowels, highlighting that skin-crawling sarcasm, which Adam ignored.
“And if Rousseau was evil, Sartre is the devil incarnate. And yet you admire them, Enrique. Don’t you? You admire them because Paris is your Mecca, not Madrid. And Paris is no friend of the United States; certainly not in her existentialist literature and attitudes which are antithetical to the American traditional view of history and purposefulness and belief in a Creator Who rules and providentially cares….”
“Are you saying the Libertador was evil for preferring France to Spain, Sr. Adam?” Enrique impatiently interrupted. “As you know, Simón Bolivar was actually expelled from Madrid. So, yes, our founding owes much to France, especially 19thcentury Paris where Bolivar lived and imbibed the spirit of liberty. “
“It was in France, Sr. Adam, where the Libertador absorbed the revolutionary spirit which would come to free our lands from Spanish oppression. It was in France where he gained the courage to cast everything aside for the sake of liberty from Spain and from any oppressor. So, respectfully, if you expect me to apologize for my preference for French literature and philosophy over Spanish obscurantism and American superficiality, you will be disappointed, Señor Adam.”
“Enrique, I do not expect you to apologize for what is the foundation of your hatred for America and also, by the way, for thousands of Venezuelans who disagree with your attitude and predilections against us.”
“Of course, I fully understand that the revolutionaries of France and South America, despite being physically separated by a vast ocean, nevertheless shared the same ideals: ‘utter, blind faith in a political ideal over an ancient regime; the belief that the past was to be buried, not honored; an unquestioning assurance that the world was being transformed and that process of transformation was opening new paths to new men, new ideas, new ambitions.’ In other words, man was being born again; however, not from above.”
“But, I wonder if you’ve ever paused to consider another thing the French Revolution and South Americans had in common: incredible bloodshed and heinous tortures. Venezuela alone lost over one third of her population. One third!”
“And it was in Venezuela where one of the bloodiest racial wars of all time took place. A little while ago you were criticizing my country for its supposed despising of “lower” classes, and this despite our private and public philanthropic work to all classes of peoples around the world. But have you ever paused to consider the blood that was spilt in Venezuela, much of it on the basis of class and race?”
“And as for the Libertador, you’ll forgive me for not being an uncritical fanatic. I agree he was a heroic figure. Surely the great treks across the Andes Mountains and through much of South America will, for ages, grace the annals of history. But he also needlessly spilled much blood.”
“You must also know he was a great admirer of Napoleon. He was in Paris when Napoleon was crowned; but he refused to attend because he felt Napoleon — whom he had adored up to that moment — had betrayed the revolutionary spirit. But Bolivar blithely, and ominously for Venezuela, ignored Napoleon’s rationale: the tendency of a people who cannot govern themselves is sanguinary anarchy; therefore, a king is necessary. Mr. Bolivar did not even pause to ponder why Napoleon allowed himself to be crowned.
“But you are right, in its terrible 19th century Revolution, Venezuela was closer to France, philosophically, than to Spain. I would not consider that a compliment. But it is true.”
Enrique did not have any desire to continue the faux Socratic dialogue. “Sr. Adam, I am not interested in your opinions about the great Libertador. To you, everything is either black or white. A cut and dry sort of thing! You come to another country and expect us to behave or to believe as you do in North America. We have a different culture; a different history. You would be wise if you recognized that!”
Adam turned, “I agree that our cultures have differences. However, you must agree, in turn, that some things are universal: murder is bad; cowardice is bad; disrespect to elders is bad; attacking an older, defenseless man is bad! Do not be such a fool as to hide behind the ‘class’ or ‘culture’ fig leaf to justify the unjustifiable. You should be ashamed of yourself, Enrique. Good-bye.”
Enrique stood, as if rooted in the dirt street, one of three running through the center of the town.
He looked at Adam’s back, suppressing the urge to assault him.
“One day, it will be you lying in the dirt, eating your own blood and vomit,” he hissed, thinking Adam could not hear him.
Napoleon Bonaparte (1769-1821), admired and later rejected by Bolivar. Simon Bolivar (1783-1830), as taught to and seen by most Venezuelans. Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778) who delighted in telling us how we should live and what the General Will is. I certainly would not want to live under his care. Pretty writing; ugly example. His influence is with us to this day. French writer and existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre (1905 – 1980). (Photo by Express Newspapers/Getty Images) Jean-Paul Sartre (1905-1980). Very popular among radicals in the 20th century. An existentialist who, nevertheless, “sided” with Fidel Castro and other Communist causes, even though such positions contradicted his existentialism. The woman with him is Simone de Beauvoir, a brilliant feminist whose “open marriage” to Sartre became a model for many. Note Che Guevara behind de Beauvoir. Guevara, from his youth, read Sartre. Sartre waxed lyrical eulogizing him on his death. Later, Sartre, to no avail, pleaded with Castro to spare Cuba of Stalinism. Sartre’s and de Beauvoir’s influence on Latin America, including Venezuela, was great and deserves more study and consideration. San Felix in the mid 1950’s, about the time the dialogue took place on a street similar to this one. A few years later, a Baptist church was built in the area to the left, where the jeep is parked. Its ministry prospered greatly. Araguato (Howling Monkey). At sundowns they sound like roaring lions in the jungle Section of the Páramo de Pisba, where Bolivar crossed the Andes. Over 2,000 men and women died in the crossing, at times at 13,000 feet. However, he surprised the Spanish in Colombia and defeated them in the Battle of Boyacá, a tremendous victory. May Day celebration in Venezuela, May 1, 2019. The Venezuelan government portrays Bolivar as a founding father of Latin American Communism. However, many Venezuelans are insulted and deeply offended by this use of Bolivar.
Readers will have noticed something of a reluctance to go much into the mystique of Simón Bolivar (Bolivar) in these posts.
A cursory look at the countless Bolivar-related videos or sites in the internet universe will help explain why this blog has skirted around and about Bolivar. Reactions to Bolivar are often loud if not violent. This does not encourage overall understanding.
Be that as it may, it is simply impossible to consider Venezuela, or South America for that matter, without grappling with Bolivar, one of the most enigmatic figures in history, much more so than Napoleon, in my opinion.
Napoleon at least recognized that a people who could not govern themselves individually could not legitimately seek to be self-governing as a whole. Reading through Bolivar’s voluminous declarations, letters, orders, and musings, one sees that at times he appeared to agree with Napoleon in this regard; at times he disagreed, and vehemently so.
When one reads Bolivar’s denunciations of those who sought to be loyal to Spain, one is perplexed. Perplexed because Spain had devolved greater amounts of self-government to its American colonies than the British crown had devolved to its own. And Spain continued to concede more self-government, while England, a quarter century earlier, was reducing such.
So, where was the beef with Spain?
This is a subject that requires setting aside, or at least tamping down a bit, some anti-Spanish prejudices which Northern Europeans and North Americans have cultivated over five centuries.
It will require questioning the propagandistic reporting of Bartolomé de las Casas, who did far more than the British and the Dutch to besmirch his own country. What he reported was, to put it mildly, highly questionable. And if one takes the time to read through a fraction of his writings, one would see that much of what he said was designed to incite hatred towards Spain.
The British and the Dutch used him to good effect, especially the engravings of the Dutchman, Theodor de Bry. But in so doing, they managed to obfuscate much of South American history for centuries after. And this obfuscation, in turn, facilitates our superficial understanding of Bolivar.
By the way, las Casas’ actions, denunciations, and writings, and the use of such by Spain’s enemies bear a vivid resemblance to today’s use of “narrative” in propaganda and public debate. Nothing new under the sun indeed!
But we need to break away from the mainstream, popular narrative and be as fair as we can in looking back and judging how that narrative has molded our thinking and, where necessary, we need to revise such thinking to be more just. Just thinking will result in just action. To borrow the old Arthur Andersen motto: “Think Straight, Act Straight”.
Did you ever hear that the Spanish colonies in South America enjoyed more political self-government than the North American colonies?
Have you ever wondered why the South American revolutions spilled far more blood than the American? Hint: it’s not because of Spain.
Have you ever questioned why the South Americans rebelled against Spain? Hint: the causes, thought processes, and models they sought to imitate are not a mirror image of those of the North American colonies.
As for Bolivar, at one point he laments the destruction of three centuries of civilization (civilization cultivated by Spain). At another, without so much as a pause for an irony alert, he condemns Spain for having kept the Americas in prehistoric conditions. Well, which is it?
At one point, he condemns Spain for heartlessness; at another, he orders the execution of helpless prisoners.
His military exploits are a wonder. He rivals Hannibal in his crossing of the Andes. Twice.
Some of his writings reach stratospheric heights and are deeply moving and prescient.
But a man is known by his fruits. And it can be argued that the fruits of South American revolution are not a compliment to any man.
I grew up admiring Bolivar. I still admire him because he possessed much that is worthy of admiration and imitation. But we must recognize that he also possessed much that is not. His actions and reactions towards Spain require understanding and mature analysis.
Alexander von Humboldt, the great 18th and 19th century explorer and naturalist, told of an encounter with a savage looking Indian who startled him as he knelt to take some water from a narrow stream deep in the Venezuelan jungle. The Indian stood across the stream. As Humboldt rose, ready to defend himself, the Indian raised his hand and spoke to him in perfect Spanish. He then proceeded to lead the explorers to a mission not far away. The great explorer wrote that he was amazed at finding such a creature speaking a civilized tongue in the middle of nowhere.
As we shall see in future posts, Humboldt was a creature of the Enlightenment; he was no friend of Christianity (though, ironically, he was a product thereof) and this more often than not blinded him to the obvious. For example, he reported that the Waraos lived atop stilts on the shores of the Orinoco in order to keep missionaries from reaching them. This is so preposterous that one marvels how despising Christianity can make intelligent people dumb! However, even Humboldt was complimentary of the work of the Spanish missionaries with the Indians in South America. (The Waraos lived in huts on stilts for protection against the massive Orinoco floods, in case you’re wondering.)
Notwithstanding my comments above, I greatly respect Humboldt, as you shall see in future posts. And I am a fan of the English also, but not uncritically so.
Spain did a phenomenal work in the Americas. Not at all perfect. Sometimes terribly imperfect. But it deserves a more just assessment.
And that assessment will serve to help us better understand Bolivar. And Venezuela.
There will be more posts on Bolivar. And Humboldt. And Spain.
One of the many engravings by Theodor de Bry, a Dutch Protestant who fled Spanish-controlled Netherlands and dedicated his life to denouncing Spain. He never visited the Americas but (gleefully?) took Bartolomé de Las Casas at his word and engraved accordingly. Notice how he and Las Casas have the Spanish doing what the Aztecs did. This is quite a feat of inversion. The Spanish, at great loss of life to themselves, succeeded in stopping the Aztecs’ systematic human sacrificial system and cannibalism. This very well known FACT should have at least caused folks to question the veracity of the reporting and the accompanying engravings. Truly, one believes what he wants to believe.Waraos on the Orinoco. They now wear clothing, thanks to Spanish and, later, Protestant missionaries.Alexander von Humboldt at 74 in 1843. He died in 1859
