Failed Bicentennial | Bicentenario fallido

By Juan José Toro, Brújula Digital:

Without being a cyclical repetition of history, there are striking similarities between the “centenary” governments of Bautista Saavedra and Luis Arce:

Both were in charge of leading the celebrations for Bolivia’s centennial anniversaries—Saavedra for the first, and Arce for the second—toward the end of their terms. Bautista handed over power in September 1925, and Luis will do so in November.

Neither sought re-election due to the unpopularity of their administrations, caused by economic crises that triggered public rejection. Yet, both put forward their protégés as candidates: Saavedra supported José Gabino Villanueva, while Arce backs Eduardo del Castillo.

The crises they faced were largely due to opposition from their former allies. A notable political parallel is that the parties of both presidents split during their terms. In Saavedra’s case, the Republican Party fractured into “genuines” and “doctrinarians” or “socialists.” Similarly, Arce saw the MAS divide in two.

Both are university professors, but here the differences begin: Saavedra was a lawyer, while Arce is an economist. Even so, Saavedra at least attempted to resolve the crisis through the Stiffel Nicolaus loan.

Saavedra was an intellectual and journalist who wrote books and tried to implement a socially oriented or “socialist” government, promoting labor reforms like the workplace accident law and the eight-hour workday. However, as often happens, he is better remembered for his most serious error: the Uncía massacre. On the positive side, history recalls two seemingly minor acts: the enactment of the Printing Law and the Centenary Album.

The former still bears his name whenever the law is mentioned—a frequent occurrence—while the latter is a monumental work created by the best historians of his time.

What, in contrast, has Arce’s government done to mark the Bicentennial in a way that will be remembered? Despite the record number of press conferences held by his Minister of Cultures and presidential delegate to announce various activities (sports tournaments, concerts, flag-raisings, mystical hours, dog parades, events marked by ruling party ideology, and other short-lived spectacles), there is nothing truly memorable to point to.

They could have organized gatherings of historians to discuss the gaps in our history, work to fill them, and incorporate those conclusions into social science curricula in schools. But no one thought of that—because the past doesn’t generate profit or pay bribes.

Those who did think along those lines came from academia or the private sector. For instance, Editora del Sur—which publishes Correo del Sur (Sucre) and El Potosí (Potosí)—will release three books with useful historical content, thanks to support from Banco de Crédito.

Another bank, Banco Unión—partially state-owned—organized an international gathering in Sucre and announced a book compiling the presented papers. The greatest highlight of the Bicentennial came from that effort: the installation of a bronze statue of Juana Azurduy in Sucre’s Plaza 25 de Mayo.

From now on, every time someone walks by that plaza and sees the monumental statue, they will recall the Bicentennial. And that initiative cost about half a million bolivianos—a small sum compared to the planned fourth-level hospital for La Paz.

As shown, millions weren’t needed to make the Bicentennial memorable—only initiative, goodwill, and a dose of culture, all of which seem to be lacking even in the ministry dedicated to that purpose.

Juan José Toro is a National Prize winner in Journalism History.

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