History Doesn’t Repeat Itself | La historia no se repite

By Sayuri Loza, Brujula Digital:

A few days ago, in light of the Bicentennial, I was invited to give talks about what Bolivia was like at its birth… we were born more or less as we are now, with our main product—silver—in marked decline, a phenomenon that had already been felt since the mid-18th century. There were great difficulties in collecting taxes because one of the independence slogans had been that this would no longer be necessary, and there was the immense cost of creating and administering a State.

In 1826, Sucre sent several notes to the Constituent Congress reporting that there were no funds to pay public employees, that the army’s budget could not be met, and that there was a deficit of half a million pesos. They had to negotiate with the employees to prevent riots, and tried to cover expenses by collecting the indigenous tax in advance. As we can see, it was a difficult beginning that remained so for many years.

It was a great disappointment for many who believed that once freed from the so-called “Spanish yoke,” we would be able to trade freely and accumulate wealth, becoming a great nation. But as soon as borders were created, customs posts, duties, and both import and export taxes appeared. Regional ties were much stronger than national ones, which meant that Bolivia began as essentially a Constitution without a State.

It is well known that Andrés de Santa Cruz brought some balance, but those who idolize him often forget that in many ways he acted more like a politician than a statesman. When he decided to devalue the currency, giving way to the feble, he promised it was to create a fund to exploit gold and thus find a new metal to export, but in reality, he used the fund to pay officials and military troops in pursuit of his fantasy of being an Alexander the Great and turning Bolivia into a Macedonia.

The caudillismo of the early years was lacerating—different groups fighting for power, spending money, and plotting intrigues to serve their own interests. José Péres Cajías sums it up masterfully when he says, “When the War of Independence ended, it was clear who had lost, but not who had won.” For fifteen years, the only thing those groups had in common was the need to defeat the Spanish, and once that was done, they no longer shared anything and immediately set out to claim spaces of power, arguing that thanks to them independence had been achieved.

The more one studies it, the more one realizes that when analyzing the cost-benefit of independence, the cost seems far greater than the benefit. That would explain, in part, why we’ve worked so hard to build narratives about how magnificent it was to be “free and sovereign”—stories spun from the bravery and selflessness of heroes, even hymns repeating that now we are better off than before.

Sucre’s 1826 report reminds me of the situation we face today—our deficit keeps growing, and the crisis is strongly felt; Santa Cruz’s feble makes me think of the lithium we’ve talked about and longed for so much, yet which now seems more distant, more unreal, all due to the delusions in the heads of MAS leaders. The caudillos fighting for their interests seem strikingly familiar and similar to today’s opposition political leaders, whose only common ground is the goal of defeating MAS, though deep down, their intentions, tendencies, and lack of scruples are very similar to those of the party they so despise.

One can imagine that if they do defeat MAS, the opposition factions will tear each other apart in a war over the power vacated by the giant with feet of clay, and they will behave more like politicians than statesmen, thus betraying our hopes once again. And if MAS wins? Ah! They will surely strive to build narratives, portraying scoundrels as brave and the dim-witted as wise; they will write a story in which the downtrodden, the forgotten, seized power, hiding the harsh reality of the high cost of prioritizing outdated rhetoric over improving the economy and avoiding collapse.

With that, we might think that history repeats itself—but it doesn’t. If we think about it, if we look closely, what repeats is not history, because time is inexorable and circumstances change, contexts change, and so do the historical actors. So, what does repeat? Bad decisions repeat, egotistical attitudes repeat, the excessive ambition of historical actors repeats—those who doom us to fall into the abyss and make it so hard for us to climb out.

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