Bolivia 101: José Manuel Pando

By Luz Mendoza, Eju.tv:

“The Cliff-Fallen General:” José Manuel Pando, from the Perspective of a Writer from Santa Cruz

“The General Driven Off a Cliff” reveals a Trinity of Beings, highlights Darwin Pinto while commenting on the content of the book written by the renowned jurist Juan Carlos Urenda, about the life of the illustrious military leader and former president of Bolivia.

Darwin Pinto Cascán

“This evening, in this marvelous place that guards much of our people’s history -a history written by the brightest minds and the most active spirits born in the Land of Ñuflo de Chaves- I want to speak to you about three beings… Understanding a being as something that exists or that, in some way, is…

This Trinity of Beings consists of: a memory, an object, and a person.

The first being is a memory, that of José Manuel Pando, the Cliff-Fallen General.

José Manuel Pando is a man who goes through the darkest days of the nation and is a frontline protagonist in the War of the Pacific in 1879.

He is one of the few Bolivians who accompanies the Peruvians, even when Bolivia has already withdrawn from the conflict. It is in these war efforts that he receives a wound on his arm, an injury he will carry for the rest of his life.

Twenty years later, already a prestigious military leader and honored parliamentarian, he will be the one to lead the federal forces of La Paz’s liberalism to strike against the Constitution and the unitary and conservative government of Sucre, in the Federal War of 1898-99.

After the victory of La Paz’s federalism, he will also be the one to order the end of the Aymara threat of Willka, his friend and ally in the Federal War, without whose help La Paz could not have defeated the regular army of Bolivia nor the prevailing Constitution.

As President, Pando will march to the Colonies Territory to assist the cruceño Nicolás Suárez and his Cambas rubber tappers, who defend in Acre the integrity of Bolivia and, of course, the interests of Suárez, in a combined effort between public and private sectors to save the territory and Bolivian rubber from Brazilian expansionism. However, Pando’s presence in what would become Pando Department will be futile. Acre is lost in exchange for money, the promise of a railroad, and an exit to the Paraguay River in a swampy area where no port can be built.

It will be his work or that of his government (1899-1904), directly or indirectly, that will lose territory to Chile, Brazil, and Peru. These dismemberments, along with actions against his friend Willka, will be some of the shadows that follow him for the rest of his life with the same intensity as the pain in his arm, a result of the wound in the Pacific.

The country and he are damaged both inside and out. At those moments, one is a reflection of the other.

Soldier in the Pacific, Leader in the Federal War, and President in the Acre War, the Cliff-Fallen General will be a protagonist of those great tragic moments for the country that will be imprinted in his mind, in his being, and will return to him in the last moments of his life.

In addition to all this, or perhaps because of all this, Pando unintentionally becomes a symbol.

He, born in La Paz and a lover of the eastern jungles, represents in himself the great Bolivian contradictions, which, far from generating a Hegelian synthesis -that propels us forward towards progress-, instead correspond to a permanent antithesis that keeps us bound in resentment and astonishment, without advancing anywhere.

By vocation a doctor, Pando becomes a soldier. He has a spirit of freedom and adventure but allows himself to be ensnared by the treacherous web of Altoperuvian politics. He is from La Paz, yes, but also a parliamentarian for Chuquisaca before the Federal War that directly confronts both regions.

He is a federalist and liberal, yes, but also a unitary, centralist, and republican.

He has survived two international wars and a civil war, yes, but he dies in a solitary ravine, in a cold wasteland of sadness and neglect, with no one to mourn him, without a dog to bark at him. Alone.

He is one of the country’s most well-known men, yes, but no one knows who moved the murderous hand against him.

He is an idol of his people, yes, but the republicans of Bautista Saavedra will try to use his death to destroy political enemies, in this case, the liberals of Gutiérrez Guerra.

Only his family will seek justice.

And that brings me to the second being I came to talk to you about tonight: This book.

The second being: the book.

In this work, the author describes with patience and precision the last hours of the Cliff-Fallen General’s life, as well as the judicial process against his supposed murderer. He describes the intense moments of the trial and the supreme hour of a spectacle-execution in the barren and then-uninhabited plains of El Alto.

The book is not a novel nor an official biography. It is a mixture of both, a biographical novel, or a novelized review, or a historical novel that focuses on Pando’s last days, the trial process, and the result of the trial against the supposed murderers.

It is a work based on real events, a succession of well-documented data with touches of fiction to fill those spaces that archives cannot.

This is a work that represents part of the life and death of this man who crossed centuries XIX and XX on horseback, who had to deal with his victories and his failures, and whose cowardly murder is perhaps the most complete metaphor of Bolivian political life.

I say this because in this country political adversaries do not confront each other, they annihilate each other. And almost never directly, but they use tricks, scapegoats, street and judicial ambushes, as well as the classic abuse of power that waters the roots of this country with injustices and, therefore, with desires for revenge.

It is, therefore, an eternal return to calamity…

The work narrates the story of a man in whom moments of that perpetual and dramatic insurgency of Bolivia are recognized, as Charles Arnade would say.

It is almost an engraving of Bolivia frozen at the moment when it is not known whether it will make a great leap forward or if it will destroy itself once and for all.

José Manuel Pando could have been a statesman, but he lived in times when the borders of a weak, vast, sparsely populated republic besieged by its neighbors were being defined, and of course, lacking a real bourgeoisie with a power project beyond the bell tower and the extermination of the political adversary.

Pando only governed for one term, then retired to live in peace, but the shadows of the past and the calculations of Altoperuvian politics pursued him some years later and devoured him on a mountain path.

But then came other men who took his memory and reconstructed it, not precisely to vindicate him -it was not necessary- but to serve as a lesson for us, perhaps, and to see in it the reflection of a country that perhaps still today lives in its own Middle Ages, as it did then, and even before then.

Which brings me to the third being I want to talk to you about tonight.

The third being: the author

The third being is the author. It is he who retrieves Pando’s memory through serious research, brings him to life through writing, and gives him a new body in this book.

The Cliff-Fallen General is a work that allowed me to know better in his facet as a researcher and writer my very respected Juan Carlos Urenda.

What I found, while reading the improved versions of the book, was a meticulous author, attentive to details, committed to the perpetual improvement of his work, and with the humility necessary to receive without any noise any small comment.

His writing exercise can be considered quite disciplined, and his vision is very clear in seeking the best possible book. We readers appreciate that.

From his Santa Cruz culture, the author reveals in this work his deep insight into perhaps the greatest champion of the people of La Paz. I highlight this, the regional perspective on a character from the political center, because the usual has always been the opposite.

Our history as the people of Santa Cruz has been built -almost always- from official Bolivia, the Andean Bolivia, the one that is more than 2,500 meters high, and it has been they who in many cases have reconfigured through the cultural domination apparatuses of the State: who we are, where we come from, and where we are going. Which is totally unnatural, since they cannot know any of this, as they do not know us.

However, the work of local scholars has recovered our history, while other great authors from Santa Cruz, such as Gabriel René Moreno, Enrique Finot, or the two Vázquez Machicado, have scrutinized and contributed to Bolivian history in general without asking anyone’s permission.

Thus, addressing without complexes the history of Bolivia and its most notable characters from the Santa Cruz perspective in the 21st century is an exercise that must be perpetuated as the cultural expression of our evident material development.

I can say, to conclude, that The Cliff-Fallen General is one more step, a very firm step, in that necessary and urgent direction.

Thank you very much.”

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