The long and winding libertarian birth of Upper Peru | El largo y sinuoso parto libertario del Alto Perú

By Raúl Rivero,, Brújula Digital:

Sculpture representing Alejo Calatayud/Wikicommons

Despite being on the brink of celebrating the 200th anniversary of the proclamation of the independence of Upper Peru, now the Republic of Bolivia, historians continue to delve into the causes that led the inhabitants of the former Audiencia of Charcas to wait 16 years from the establishment of the Juntas of Chuquisaca and La Paz until the signing of the Act of Independence on August 6, 1825. During this period, various uprisings occurred in the main cities of the Audiencia, the creation of small republics, the arrival of three auxiliary armies from the United Provinces of the Río de la Plata, the bloody repressions by the metropolis’ envoys, and the first failed libertarian attempt from the north by the Liberating Army of Gran Colombia, led by Andrés Santa Cruz. Ultimately, the turning point came with the entry of the victorious army into La Paz after the Battle of Ayacucho.

Certainly, these were 16 years of uncertainty for the men and women living in this territory, marked by moments of struggle, anxiety, and tense calm, before Antonio José de Sucre, advised by the Bolivian doctor Casimiro Olañeta – and against Bolívar’s wishes – issued the decree to call for the Assembly that would define Upper Peru’s future. But were the events leading up to these 16 years the sole reason for this seemingly prolonged wait?

Long before the events of 1809, the Audiencia of Charcas experienced a long series of uprisings by Creoles and mestizos, the first being that of craftsman Alejo Calatayud in 1730, right in the heart of Upper Peru, in Cochabamba. These uprisings have been analyzed by various historians, and the question remains whether they truly influenced the early stages of the libertarian struggle of the early 19th century, or whether they were isolated events, reactions to immediate causes.

Notable researchers have tried to answer this question, reaching a common conclusion that there is no direct continuity between the revolts of the 18th century and the struggle that ultimately ended Spanish colonialism in this region of the world. Gustavo Rodríguez Ostria, in his excellent work “Die Killing, Power, War, and Insurrection in Cochabamba, 1781-1812” reminds us that “Aguirre, Viscarra, and later, in the early 20th century, José Macedonio Urquidi, as contemporary historians, made Calatayud into a proto-martyr and an early predecessor of the Independence struggle; creating a solid foundation for regional pride. Was it really the case?”

Drawing on Patricia Cazier’s doctoral thesis (“Rebellion and the Census of the Province of Cochabamba”), which argues that Calatayud and his mestizo followers were merely trying to preserve privileges granted by the Spanish crown, and that their actions never sought to end the colonial system, Rodríguez concludes: “While the 1730 revolt, which was short-lived, did impact the power structures at the time, they didn’t see it as a long-term threat or a sign of a historical subject to fear or revere. It’s notable that during the 1810-1812 insurrection, the figure of Calatayud was never evoked in any of these scenarios. His name simply wasn’t raised.”

Similarly, Charles Arnade (“The dramatic insurgence of Bolivia”) is clear in stating that the rebellions of 1730 in Cochabamba, 1739 in Oruro, 1780 in Cuzco, 1781 in La Paz, and a hundred smaller uprisings did not influence the doctors of Charcas, who, buoyed by favorable news from the metropolis – the Napoleonic invasion, the deposition of Charles IV, the captivity of Ferdinand VII, and the establishment of the Junta of Seville – launched the first cry for liberty in Upper Peru. Arnade states, “At that time, the Spanish regime in Charcas was respected and the king, loved. The entire people fought against the indigenous rebellion at the end of the century, and united, all of Charcas’ people were prepared to help repel the indigenous forces if they had been victorious in Buenos Aires.”

But was it true that the figures later known as the proto-martyrs of independence ignored or dismissed these earlier events and, so to speak, “started from scratch” in their revolt? Perhaps the following will help answer that question.

A few years ago, I came across the existence of a unique figure, the Jesuit Juan Pablo Viscardo y Guzmán, who may have acted as a bridge between the 18th-century rebels and the doctors of Chuquisaca. Unjustly forgotten by our chroniclers, he was resurrected in memory by the Englishman David A. Brading, in his magnificent and meticulous “Indian World, from the Catholic Monarchy to the Creole Republic, 1492-1867” reminding us that the Peruvian priest wrote a letter – published just before his death in 1798 – in London, where he had lived since 1781, in a vain attempt to persuade the British government to conquer the Pacific coast of the Americas. His “Letter Addressed to the American Spaniards” is groundbreaking, as “For the first time, a Creole urged his compatriots to rebel against the Spanish Crown and gain their freedom.”

Rejecting the claims of his Italian Order brothers about a supposed “generosity of spirit” among the Spanish residents in the Americas, Viscardo reviewed, through the thoughts of Montesquieu and Thomas Paine, the disturbances in Cuzco in 1780, noting that “They had been preceded by uprisings in Cochabamba in 1730 and Quito in 1764, when mestizos revolted against the Spanish Europeans; these movements were suppressed thanks to the intervention of the clergy and landowning Creoles.” Additionally, the priest made another invaluable contribution to inciting rebellion among his fellow countrymen by asserting that the reign of Charles III marked a turning point in the relationship between the metropolis and its colonies. From this analysis, Brading concludes that “We find here an invaluable testimony that the Bourbon reconquest of America, initiated by Charles III and his ministers, alienated the Creole elite, which ultimately led to their participation in the independence movements.”

Viscardo’s letter reached Venezuelan patriot Francisco de Miranda through U.S. consul Rufus King in London, bringing it to America and distributing it in key intellectual centers. By 1807, it was avidly read at the Universidad San Francisco Javier, thanks to copies made by Mariano Moreno, the Buenos Aires lawyer who, after visiting Potosí in 1802 and witnessing the dire conditions of the mita, became a defender of indigenous rights. It could not have found a more fertile ground, and surely served as a basis for the libertarian thinking of the doctors who formed the first Juntas of Chuquisaca and Buenos Aires.

Given these historical precedents, understanding the 16 years of struggle requires looking back at least to Viscardo’s proclamation, whose reasons for writing his letter were based, among other considerations, on the Cochabamba uprising of 1730, marking the beginning of the long and winding libertarian birth that only culminated on August 6, 1825.

Raúl Rivero is an economist and writer.

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