By Juan José Toro, Brújula Digital:

Although Bolivia was born as a Republic in August 1825, it continued minting and using Spanish colonial currency (bearing the image of Ferdinand VII) until 1827 due to bureaucracy, design changes, and the implicit resistance of royalist officials at the Potosí Mint.

Data: Juan José Toro / Illustration: AI

The Republic had been born in August 1825, but it still did not have its own currency. This statement seems contradictory. The Assembly that founded the Republic of Bolívar had decreed, on August 17, 1825, what the new state’s currency should look like. The obverse would feature Cerro Rico of Potosí and a rising sun; the reverse would display the Tree of Liberty, five stars, and two alpacas. The words “Republic” and “Bolívar” would complete the identification of the new sovereignty.

But decreeing a currency was one thing; minting it was another, far more complicated matter.

On August 17, the coat of arms, flag, and cockade were also designed and immediately put into use. The currency, however, remained the same as during the colonial period throughout 1825: the Spanish eight-real coin bearing the image of Ferdinand VII. Then came 1826. History moved forward, and the Republic of Bolívar, now renamed Bolivia, continued to organize itself, yet it was still minting Spanish currency.

Were there difficulties in producing the new coinage? Yes, but minting had changed rapidly in the recent past.

Río de la Plata Coins

During the crisis of the Spanish monarchy, the Mint had been forced to modify its coinage according to political and military events. Until 1813 it produced pieces bearing the image of Charles IV, but the occupation of the Imperial City by Manuel Belgrano’s army radically altered the situation. The Government Junta of Buenos Aires had approved the minting of its own currency in April of that year, and when the forces from the Río de la Plata took Potosí, the Mint began producing coins with new symbols: a sun on the obverse and the coat of arms of the United Provinces on the reverse, accompanied by the phrase “Union and Liberty.”

The experience was short-lived. After Belgrano’s defeat, the royalists retook Potosí and Spanish coinage returned, this time bearing the image of Ferdinand VII. In 1815, Juan José Rondeau’s army once again occupied the Imperial City and restored patriotic coinage, with the corresponding modifications. When the Río de la Plata forces were expelled again, Ferdinand’s coinage returned and would not be replaced until the end of colonial rule.

The Mint, therefore, was not an institution detached from politics. It was one of its most important material stages. Whoever controlled Potosí could also control the monetary symbols through which power was represented.

Minting coins was a complex process, but because the second Potosí Mint possessed the necessary technology, rapid changes were made in 1813 and 1815, both to produce what would become the first coins of present-day Argentina and to return to Spanish coinage.

Why, then, did Bolivia’s first republican coins take so long?

The Long-Awaited Bolivian Currency

Throughout 1826, the Potosí Mint continued producing coins bearing the image of Ferdinand VII and the arms of Spain. The state that had proclaimed its independence still used, in practice, the currency of the monarch from whom it had just separated. This was not merely a technical issue. Currency was one of the most visible signs of who exercised sovereignty.

There were complications, largely caused by Sucre’s subsequent observations regarding the original 1825 design. But there was also a detail that was difficult to overlook: royalist officials remained at the Mint, hoping that the political situation would change once again, as it had in 1813 and 1815, when patriotic forces had been expelled by the king’s armies.

León Galindo, who had been appointed Prefect of Potosí and Superintendent of the Mint in May 1826, had to insist. His persistence became President Sucre’s instrument for minting the first Bolivian currency and thereby breaking the last link connecting the new nation to Spain.

On November 16, 1826, he ordered the accountant to immediately open the dies necessary for minting gold and silver coins beginning on January 1 of the following year. The order was unequivocal: no excuses from the engravers would be accepted.

But while the administrative machinery struggled to move forward, the original project had already changed.

On November 14, 1826, the General Constituent Congress approved a new design. Silver coins would retain the Tree of Liberty and the stars on the reverse, but would bear the inscription “Bolivian Republic” around them. The obverse would feature a heroic bust of Simón Bolívar accompanied by the phrase “Free Through the Constitution.” Gold coins would likewise bear the Liberator’s bust and, on the reverse, the arms of the Republic. All would also include an inscription commemorating the battle that defeated the Spanish Empire: “Ayacucho: Sucre: 1824.”

The coin was thus beginning to serve as an instrument of political memory as well.

Documents preserved at the National Mint Museum make it possible to follow the process almost day by day. In December 1826, officials reported that the punches and dies were nearly complete and that samples of the new coins were being prepared for submission to President Sucre. They even discussed seemingly minor details, such as whether inscriptions should appear in relief or incuse, and how the word “Ayacucho” should be read on the edge of the coins.

Sucre’s intervention demonstrates the extent to which the new currency was also a symbolic construction. Upon receiving the samples, he approved the design but observed that Bolívar’s bust appeared disproportionate. He ordered it to be improved and instructed that the Liberator be shown in military uniform and wearing a laurel crown, avoiding the use of a mantle because it resembled the images of former kings.

It is a revealing detail. The Republic was not merely replacing one image with another; it was trying to establish its own iconography while differentiating the new power from the monarchy that had just disappeared.

The manufacturing process, however, continued to be delayed.

The prefect had to exert pressure on Mint employees. On April 4, 1827, he even asked them whether they loved President Sucre and whether they believed the government fulfilled its duties and enforced the law. Their response, issued three days later, was unanimous: the employees declared their admiration for the Grand Marshal of Ayacucho and presented him as a guarantor of liberty, security, and citizens’ rights.

The scene is almost paradoxical. In a Mint still inherited from the colonial regime, officials were being questioned about their loyalty to the republican government while efforts were underway to launch the production of the currency meant to embody that new sovereignty. The documents cited, found on pages 156v and 157r of file CdM 59 in the Historical Archive of Potosí, suggest that as late as April 1827 the coins still being minted were Spanish ones bearing the image of Ferdinand VII.

The republican currency would finally arrive that year, but it was not exactly the one decreed in August 1825.

The first design had included five stars because there were then five departments. When Oruro became the sixth, the new coin incorporated a sixth star. Spanish symbols and the image of Ferdinand VII were also replaced by Bolívar’s likeness. The Republic finally began to appear in metal.

And therein lies perhaps the greatest paradox of this story.

Bolivia’s political independence was proclaimed in 1825, but its monetary independence did not occur immediately. For a time, the old currency continued to circulate and be minted in Potosí. The change in sovereignty literally had to pass through the dies of the Mint.

That is why the first republican coin is much more than a numismatic piece. It is a historical document. Engraved upon it were the territory—represented by Cerro Rico of Potosí—the new political organization—the stars—liberty—the tree—the memory of Ayacucho, and finally the figure of Bolívar.

The Republic had ceased to be merely a declaration written on a document. It could now be carried in one’s pocket. Sucre’s determination had prevailed through Galindo’s persistence.

The currency decreed in 1825 took time to arrive, changed its design, and had to overcome the resistance of an institution still marked by its colonial past. Yet when it finally emerged from the dies of Potosí, it accomplished something that no decree alone could achieve: it transformed independence into an everyday object.

This time, sovereignty had weight in silver.

Juan José Toro is a journalist and historian.

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