“Only those born in Spain were allowed to own shops or mines in the colonies.” The Invention of Nature: Alexander von Humboldt’s New World, page 47.
“…[Simón] Bolivar was the son of one of Caracas’s wealthiest creole families [which] owned several plantations, mines and elegant town homes.” The Invention of Nature: Alexander von Humboldt’s New World, page 117.
Yes, it’s the same book, published in 2016 (I am about halfway through). And the above tendentiousness — the colonists could own nothing on page 47 — and contradiction — the colonists were tycoons 70 pages later — are not isolated.
It is hailed as a masterpiece by the usual literati. It is considered at times interesting, at times insufferable, and at times infuriating by your humble blogger. You’re better off reading Humboldt’s writings directly.
We’ve much work yet ahead of us in clearing the misconceptions and prejudices which color our understanding of South America generally and Venezuela specifically, not to mention world history and science.
The fact remains that Spain’s conquest of much of the Americas, their export of European culture to these shores, their eradication of human sacrifices, their education and teaching of the Spanish language to the indigenous peoples, and much more, remains an unequalled, spectacular achievement in history. Humboldt, himself a creature of the Enlightenment, who like his fellows, borrowed profusely from Christianity without so much as a tip of the hat, would have achieved nothing had it not been for Spain who gave him a passport when Enlightenment France did not, and had it not been for the missions in the Americas who helped him and had even seen many of his discoveries centuries before he was conceived in his mother’s womb. He just took it all for granted, like a good modern.
Now, saying the above does not mean I am blind to Spanish failures (nor am I blind to English failures) or Jesuit perfidy. But it does mean that I refuse to take at face value the usual textbook approach to Spain and South America that we’ve been spoon fed for centuries now. The history of our neighbors to the south and across the pond is much more complex and vastly richer than: Spain bad–Spain rape–Spain kill–Las Casas saint.
I would challenge us to consider the possibility that we in the United States have much more in common with South America than we do with modern Europe. But to consider that challenge, we must first make an effort to clear the underbrush accumulated over hundreds of years. What did Spain do right? What did she do wrong? Was Spain responsible for the fearsome bloodletting in 19th century South America? Hint: she was not. Then who and what was?
In 1829, after “independence”, Simón Bolivar wrote to his fellow South Americans in A Look At Spanish America:
“From one end to the other, the New World is an abyss of abomination; there is no good faith in [Spanish] America; treaties are mere paper; constitutions, books; elections, combat; liberty, anarchy; life, a torment. We’ve never been so disgraced as we are now. Before, we enjoyed good things; illusion is fed by chimera…. we are tormented by bitter realities.”
This, from a man who was largely responsible for the chaos he now bitterly laments. A man who proclaimed the glorious unity of the continent, saw it irredeemably fractured and destroyed. He died, embittered (“I have plowed the sea!”), a mere year later.
Historian Luis Level de Goda wrote in 1893, “The revolutions have produced in Venezuela nothing but the most vulgar leaders, tribal chieftains, the greatest disorders and lack of concern for one another, corruption, and a long, never-ending tyranny, the moral ruin of the country, and the degradation of a great number of Venezuelans.”
Half a century before Level de Goda, the writer, Cecilio Acosta made a like point, “The internal convulsions have produced sacrifices but not improvements; tears but not harvests.” Others have made similar, terrible, and depressing observations.
One of the purposes of this blog is to look at these and related matters as dispassionately as possible and hopefully to encourage us to reconsider what we’ve been taught for generations.
And maybe, with God’s help and with sincere goodwill, we might see a true and wonderful rapprochement between “The Colossus of the North” (how they referred to the USA for generations) and the land which was first called “America” (it was South America who first had that epithet, not the United States).
Long time Mexican president, Porfirio Díaz, spoke for many in Central and South American when he exclaimed in exasperation: “Poor Mexico! So far from God, so close to the United States [Pobre Méjico! Tan lejos de Dios y tan cerca de los Estados Unidos]!”
I’d say that, today, both the United States and South America are far from God as far as their legislators go. Let’s pray and work towards a rapprochement with the Triune God. Then the way to a bright future between these great neighbors will be not only more possible but excitingly successful and fruitful!
Porfirio Díaz, president of Mexico; photo taken early 20th century. Don Porfirio Díaz and his wife, Doña Carmen, in exile in Paris circa 1912, shortly before his death.Simón Bolivar as usually depicted Sketch from life in 1830 by José María Espinosa. Bolivar was 47 and died shortly thereafter.
Following are representative examples of Spanish architecture in colonial Americas
Castillo de San Marcos, St. Augustine, Florida, United States, built 17th century.Cuzco Cathedral, Cuzco, Perú. Built 17th century.Metropolitan Cathedral, Mexico City. Built in sections with the first section built in the 16th century (the century before the arrival of the Pilgrims)Metropolitan Cathedral of Quito, Quito, Ecuador. Construction began in 1562.Cathedral of San Juan, Puerto Rico, first constructed of wood in 1521; current building first constructed in 1540, almost 100 years before the Pilgrims.Cathedral of Santa María la Menor, Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, construction began in 1512 and was completed in 1540. Pilgrims arrived in Massachussets in 1620. First permanent English settlement in America was in 1607. My point is not that “Spain is better or that England is better”; it is simply that there is more to our stories than that in the standard narratives.Old San Juan, Puerto Rico. Puerto Rico was one of the very few Spanish colonies that was not devastated by the bloodletting elsewhere in the Americas. The district, now a national historic site, is characterized by cobblestone streets and stone buildings dating to the 16th and 17th centuries.
During the rainy season, about April to August, the Orinoco River rises 40 to 60 feet at Ciudad Bolivar, the capital of the state of Bolivar, also known as Guayana. I recall, in my boyhood, dangerously flooded city streets in San Félix, about 70 miles east of Ciudad Bolivar. In the plains, the waters expand great distances, up to 120 miles or more in some places. During the dry season, the river continuously drops, exposing vast tracts along its banks and many islands.
Alexander von Humboldt explored the Casiquiare River, which starts as an arm of the Orinoco and finds its way to the Rio Negro (Black River), a tributary of the Amazon, thus forming a “natural canal” between the Orinoco and the Amazon. The great explorer’s efforts in that area were cut short by Portuguese and Spanish authorities. Nevertheless, as much credit as Humboldt deserves, the channel between the Orinoco and Amazon rivers was known for centuries before his celebrated voyage: Spanish missionaries, which he was so fond of mocking, were well acquainted with it and often traversed it northwards from what is now Brazilian territory. Maps subsequent to the early missionary eras also note it, under various names.
As for Humboldt’s tendency to somewhat minimize Christianity, we must say that it was Christians who opened the doors to him. It was the monks, even the bad ones, who guided him. It was the mission Indians who led him and showed him the way — and did so without devouring him for supper, thanks to Christianity. In fact, besides some attempts at robbery, by unevangelized natives, we might add, the only obstacle to his endeavors was courtesy of, not the church, but politicians. He was expelled from Brazil because the Portuguese and Spanish civil authorities were not on good terms. But, ever the Enlightenment Man, he reserved his bile for Christ, not Caesar.
Be that as it may, others were at Casiquiare before him. In fact, two and half centuries before Humboldt’s great voyage, the infamous Lope de Aguirre formed part of an expedition headed east to the Atlantic Ocean from Lima, Perú. Aguirre was right out of central casting: hideously ugly and lame in one foot. The explorers were commissioned by the Marquis of Cañete with the purpose of verifying the truth or falsehood of fantastic reports by Indians, of various tribes, coming from the East, telling of the fabulous El Dorado. These stories were at times seconded by European explorers, such as the German, Felipe de Utre, who told the Spaniards in Perú of vast cities and great wealth further east.
So, the Marquis of Cañete appointed Don Pedro de Ursua as the Leader, but Aguirre murdered Don Pedro in his sleep and had himself named leader. Anyone who questioned or was not sufficiently enthusiastic about his leadership was promptly murdered, including Don Pedro’s concubine, Inés de Atienza, who was cruelly put to death.
The voyage continued, and a very bloody voyage it was. Indians along the way were massacred, and murders within the company continued as they made their way to the Atlantic Ocean, first ascending the Rio Negro, then following the streams of the Casiquiare and eventually the Orinoco. They killed, massacred, and slaughtered all along the long, bloody trek.
They eventually sailed across the sea to the island of Margarita where they committed the most horrible atrocities on the inhabitants without regard to age or sex, and murdered all of the officers of the Spanish government. Aguirre met his end in Barquisimeto, about 200 miles east of Caracas, where he was finally successfully ambushed, captured, and executed. His body was quartered and sent to various cities across Venezuela.
It must be noted that Simon Bolivar approvingly considered Aguirre’s acts as the first declaration of independence in the Americas. He wrote this about a man who, as his well-deserved capture and death approached, stabbed his own daughter, Elvira, to death, saying, “Someone I love so much must never be bedded by ruined people.” Compare his “declaration of independence” to that of the thirteen colonies, and you have a microcosm of the chasm between the two. And of the at times frustrating character of Bolivar.
As to the Orinoco, at places the shore is very broad and the jungle remains at a distance from the river. At other stretches, the jungle comes right to the river’s edge and even seems to invade or overhang it, as if to stake its claim over everything, even the wide Orinoco, whose name is believed to come from Orinucu, a Tamanak word meaning, so some think, “Great Water”. In fact, some tribes in the past called this river, Paragua, which also means “Great Water.”
Then there’s the Boto, or Amazon River Dolphin, known in Venezuela as the Tonina, the largest sweet water cetacean in the world. These were plentiful in my childhood, and their mighty antics in the middle of the river formed a delightful distraction. I recall during a trip down the Orinoco how they undulated, seemingly in majestic slow motion, upstream as the ship continued its journey. These fresh water dolphins seemed to fit perfectly in the Orinoco whose attributes at times resemble the ocean.
Much more about the Orinoco and Humboldt in future posts.
Pedro de Ursua. Aguirre murdered him and his widow in 1561.
Lope de Aguirre, 1510-1561
Salto de Aguirre in Perú. Here, Aguirre faced grave danger and chiseled some mysterious symbols on a rock. He escaped to bring mayhem to Venezuela. To this day the symbols are venerated by many.
The Orinoco River Basin. Note the Casiquiare “Canal” to the south.
Various images of the Orinoco River
The great confluence of the Caroní and Orinoco Rivers at Ciudad Guayana The Casiquiare River (also called Canal or Waterway) Reproduction of map made in 1800 based on the observations of Alexander von Humboldt. Map traces the Casiquiare River’s route from the Orinoco to the Rio Negro (Black River) which in turn will connect with the Amazon. The inset to the bottom right traces the Maypures Rapids of which Humboldt wrote in thrilling prose. Orinoco Tonina. Largest sweet water cetacean in the world. Aerial view of Palúa, the Bethlehem Steel port on the Oricoco. Tarpon fished from the Orinoco near Palúa, circa 1950. En route to the Atlantic Ocean, circa 1960.
In the late 1960’s, during a summer trip back home to Venezuela, we took a road trip to the state of Mérida in western Venezuela. Mérida is in the giant cordillera of the Andes, the longest mountain range in the world; it is the principal physical feature of the continent as a whole. Lest I be accused of bias, let’s see what a non-South American had to say about these hills:
“Stretching in an uninterrupted granite flow for forty-five hundred miles from the Caribbean to Cape Horn, the Andes are the most stupendous mountains in the whole world; nothing can rival their solid and continuous immensity. There are many single peaks in the Himalayas that are higher, but the Andes include no fewer than forty-nine over twenty thousand feet, much higher than anything in the continental United States, Switzerland, or the Caucasus. Mount Aconcagua in Argentina and nine other giants are at least a mile higher than Mont Blanc or Mount Whitney.”
On the frontier between Argentina and Chile, more than twenty peaks rise over 20,400 feet and thus surpass Mt. McKinley in Alaska. Pico Bolivar, the highest in Venezuela at 16,300 feet is about 2,000 feet higher than Mt. Whitney and 4,000 feet shorter than Mt. McKinley.
One cannot help but be amazed when reading about Simón Bolivar’s crossing the Andes, surprising and beating the Spanish in Boyacá. But one is astounded when reading about José de San Martín (1778-1850), a major hero, only, unlike Bolivar, not tempestuous nor spectacular. An Argentinian Creole (Spanish, but born in the colonies) he trained a crack force, a small army of Chileans and Argentinians and led one of the most phenomenal campaigns in history.
He, two years before Bolivar, crossed the Andes, in his case from Argentina to Chile. The crossing was initiated on January 18, 1817 and it was rapid: just a few weeks to cover 300 miles of incredibly steep mountain trails. He led his men “through defiles, chasms, and passes that were often 10,000 to 12,000 feet high.” He became known as “The Hannibal of the Andes.” Simón Bolivar crossed the Andes in a like feat two years later, in 1819. Both crossings were decisive in the ultimate fate of South America.
The contrast between both crossings is instructive in considering the very real differences between the two. San Martín planned the crossing with great discipline and strategy. Bolivar deceived his men to get them to the foothills and many deserted then, but the sheer force of his personality was sufficient to compel many others to remain with him for the crossing. In both cases, the crossing was met with military success. But it illustrated the chaos of Bolivar versus the order and discipline of San Martín, thereby foreshadowing the results of their conference in Guayaquil in 1822 when San Martín in effect stepped aside and allowed Bolivar to come to Perú with no competition. Impetuosity triumphed and determined in large measure the course of South American history.
The Venezuelan city of Mérida is beautifully situated in an Andean valley and is home to the second oldest university in Venezuela, the University of the Andes (Universidad de Los Andes), established in 1810.
About 10 miles from the city center sits the majestic Pico Bolivar (Bolivar Peak), the tallest peak in Venezuela, one of many within the Sierra Nevada de Mérida which runs about 200 miles Southeast-Northwest, part of the northern extent of the Andes Mountains.
Mérida is home to the highest and second longest cable car in the world (1,600 feet shorter than the Tatev in Armenia). However, it is unsurpassed in combining such height and length. The journey is just shy of eight miles, reaching a height of 15,600 feet: a one-of-a-kind engineering marvel with over 40 years of history. It was conceived and built in the 1950’s under Pérez Jimenez and reached the end of its useful life in 2006 when it was closed. However, it was rebuilt and service was resumed in 2016.
But what impressed me the most from that trip were the roads. The exciting, thrilling, dangerous, crazy roads.
Many of these, including the Carretera Transandina were built during the military government of Juan Vicente Gómez. General Gómez provided badly needed leadership and enrichment to the country, principally through concessions granted to American companies. Many of these concessions were in remote and dangerous sites in far west Venezuela, on which also roamed unconquered Motilone Indians whose expertise included great accuracy with poisoned arrows. So, while Americans were foxtrotting to the “Roaring Twenties, western Venezuelans were waltzing away from poisoned arrows.
Venezuelan infrastructure, much of which exists today, was built. Cattle paths became paved highways; wooden structures became skyscrapers, only surpassed by the public works fomented by yet another dictator in the 1950’s. And all foreign debt was paid. By the end of his rule, the Caracas-La Guira; Caracas-Colombia; Caracas-Soledad (on the Orinoco River) and a network of many other highways had been built. This contributed powerfully to national integration and to reaching heretofore terribly isolated regions of the country.
Even his enemies, and they are legion, admit that the Gómez years were characterized by peace and unprecedented progress. He was a great admirer of Simón Bolivar and built most of the monuments to his honor, including the one in New York City. To the consternation of his enemies, he died the very same calendar day, December 17, of Bolivar’s death, but 105 years later.
We will be reviewing more about Gómez in future posts.
The roads are what I most remember from that trip and my understanding that they were built with prison labor.
I also recall stopping at a small restaurant at the edge of a cliff and my father reading over the menu. Suddenly he laughs, “Look at this. It says ‘Pie de Manzana’.”
We all joined him in laughter. In some countries the anglicized translation and pronunciation for apple pie is accepted (pie de manzana). But not in Venezuela, at least not back then. The translation would be “pastel de manzana.” The Spanish word pie (pronounced pyeh) means “foot”, not pie.
We then went back to seeing what the menu had for lunch, when my father breaks out in louder, infectious laughter. The menu had an English page and for dessert, it said, “Apple Foot.”
We all laughed heartily.
I don’t recall seeing any more such menu items during my life in Venezuela, but years later I did see some menu items an Englishman read in Ecuador:
The crossing of the Andes can be recreated for those with a more adventurous bent. Explorers Passage offers “world class guides” who are “the pioneers of trekking along San Martín’s infamous route.” Unlike San Martín, for “nights off the trail” you can relax in comfort and luxury in premium accommodations.
José de San Martín, circa 1848, two years before his death. Photo taken in France. After his explosive meeting with Bolivar, San Martín exiled himself to Europe where he lived the rest of his life. Unlike Bolivar, he was modest and disinterested. He was a devoted husband. When his wife, Doña Remedios, died he had the words, “Wife and Friend” chiseled on her tombstone. She embroidered a flag for him when he set out for Chile across the Andes. The flag never left his side.
Artist rendition of the meeting between Bolivar and San Martín in Guayaquil, Ecuador. The meeting actually took place in an office, not outdoors. Little is known of what was actually said. But San Martín was disappointed and shortly thereafter resigned his command, returned to Argentina, and sailed into exile to Europe. He never returned to Argentina.City of Mérida, Venezuela. Pico Bolivar is about ten miles distant.In 1935, Enrique Bourgoin and his guide, Domingo Peña, were the first to reach the peak of this, the highest mountain in Venezuela. Many previous attempts had failed in the 19th and 20th centuries. Above map shows the route they took.View of Pico Bolivar within its range, the Sierra Nevada. Cable car which reaches to Pico Espejo, relatively close to Pico Bolivar.I recall my mother telling me that many of the roads were built with prison labor.Near Apartaderos, Mérida, one of the highest towns accessible by car on earth. Built during the military government of Juan Vicente Gómez, early 20th century.Part of the Carretera Transandina built in the Gómez era.Photo taken in 1925, shortly after the inauguration of the Transandina Highway.
The old Caracas – La Guaira Highway, also built during the Gómez era, inaugurated in 1924. This was still in use into the 1950’s. I recall excitedly looking forward to being driven to the airport during our annual family leave.
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.
