BiographyIn 1998, a presidential decree signed by Hugo Chávez added the word "Bolivarian" to the official name of the Republic of Venezuela. John Lynch's new biography of Simón Bolívar, Libertador of much of Spanish-speaking South America, is therefore timely. Do Bolívar's life and thoughts hold the key to understanding South America's latest lurch to the populist left?
Simón Bolívar was born in 1783 to an elite creole (American-born whites) family, whose prosperity rested ultimately on slave labour. He was sufficiently wealthy to travel through Europe, devouring the political thought of the Enlightenment and marvelling at Napoleon's military genius. It was in Rome, on the Aventine Hill, that he swore to deliver Venezuela from its colonial overlord, Spain, then in decline. And he did just that, after a number of false starts. But in order to dislodge Spanish troops from Venezuela, he was forced to conquer the colonies of New Granada and Quito, bringing them together in 1819 into one political entity called - ironically, in view of the desire to break with Europe - Colombia. The search for Colombia's safety led Bolívar to destroy Spanish power further south, bringing independence to Peru and creating a new country, named Bolivia by its thankful citizens. Bolívar dreamed of a Confederation of the Andes, capable of uniting these disparate lands and turning them into a regional power.
Bolívar was not just a gifted military commander, capable of surprising his enemies by marching through tropical jungles and treacherous mountain ranges thought impassable by the hard-pressed Spanish: he also sought to endow the countries he freed with political institutions which, while reflecting the search for liberty characteristic of the age, could survive in South America, where racial and economic tensions were rife, education restricted, and communications poor.
A strong and independent executive, he believed, was all-important. His political thought was most clearly expressed in the Bolivian Constitution (adopted in 1826), best known for the concept of the Life President who, elected by Congress, appointed his own successor. It was this constitution he recommended (rather than imposed) throughout the countries he freed, in the hope that common institutions would eventually lead to unity. And it was this constitution that proved his undoing, since it was naturally opposed by the political elites which, originally created by Bolívar's military triumphs, sought now to secure their own survival. Challenge after challenge arose throughout Colombia until, ill, tired, and bankrupt, Bolívar agreed to leave the country, his bitterness magnified by the murder of his favourite, and intended successor, Marshall Sucre. Bolívar's last days, in 1830, are lovingly recounted by Gabriel García Márquez in The General in his Labyrinth.
John Lynch is extremely sympathetic to Bolívar, who he considers superior - militarily, politically, even morally - to his contemporaries. Lynch is especially anxious to explain some events that blackened the Libertador's reputation (notably his declaration of war to the death against all Spaniards who failed to back the cause of independence), and to show that Bolívar remained true to a very personal, and practical, political philosophy. But the bloodshed unleashed by the wars of independence, their failure to create a fairer and more equitable society (slavery remained in place as part of a wider strategy to preserve white rule, to Bolívar's great frustration, while Amerindians, whose plight he largely ignored, were deprived of their rights and lands), and the continued political role of the army and its leaders, the caudillos, who carved out mini-empires for themselves, leads the reader to ask if there were alternatives to revolutionary violence.
Lynch tries to pre-empt this by suggesting that had Bolívar not acted decisively when Spain was weak, he might have had to deal with a stronger European power, such as France. But this is not wholly convincing, since the difficulties involved in state-building in South America were obvious from the start. There is no reference in the volume to Brazil, the negotiated alternative to Bolívar's military struggle. Brazil's independence was declared in 1822 by the Portuguese crown prince, who subsequently ruled as Emperor Pedro I, his presence in Rio de Janeiro endowing the newborn state with a widespread legitimacy that was sorely lacking in Colombia. Brazil's enormous territory remained intact while Colombia's did not, its constituent parts striving for independence even during Bolívar's lifetime.
What then, of Hugo Chávez? Is he attempting to create a strong state, in the Bolivarian mode, capable of carrying out social reforms in the face of entrenched vested interests and foreign rivals? Lynch is not so sure. As he points out, when examining Bolívar's legacy, soon after the Libertador's death his mantle began to be claimed by the succession of military tyrants who ruled Venezuela. Chávez's populism is just the latest reincarnation of a Bolivarian myth that bears little resemblance to its object's ideals - and, Lynch suggests, it will not be the last.
Filipe Ribeiro de Meneses lectures in the Department of History at NUI Maynooth and is currently a Government of Ireland Research Fellow in the Humanities and Social Sciences
Simón Bolívar: A Life By John Lynch Yale University Press, 349 pp. £18.99