¡Vamos a Avanzar!: The Chaco War and Bolivia's Political Transformation, 1899–1952 9781496207784, 1496207785

Table of contents :
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contents
List of Illustrations
Acknowledgments
Note on Translations and Sources
Introduction
1. The 1920s and the Road to the Chaco
2. The Chaco War and the Building of a Stronger State
3. The Transformation of the Home Front
4. From Peasant to Patriot
5. The Internationalization of a Nationalist Revolution
Conclusion
Notes
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

¡Vamos a avanzar!

¡Vamos a avanzar! The Chaco War and Bolivia’s Political Transformation, 1899–­1952

Robert N i ebuh r

University of Nebraska Press  Lincoln

© 2021 by the Board of Regents of the University of Nebraska All rights reserved

Library of Congress Cataloging-­in-­Publication Data Names: Niebuhr, Robert, author. Title: ¡Vamos a avanzar!: the Chaco War and Bolivia’s political transformation, 1899–­1952 / Robert Niebuhr. Description: Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, [2021] | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: lccn 2020040384 isbn 9781496207784 (hardback) isbn 9781496227461 (epub) isbn 9781496227478 (mobi) isbn 9781496227485 (pdf ) Subjects: lcsh: Chaco War, 1932–­1935. | Bolivia—­ Politics and government—­20th century. Classification: lcc f3325.n54 2021 ddc 989.207/16—­dc23 lc record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020040384 Set in Garamond Premier by Laura Buis. Designed by N. Putens.

Contents

List of Illustrations  vii Acknowledgments ix Note on Translations and Sources  xi Introduction: Bolivia’s Path to Modernity  1 1. The 1920s and the Road to the Chaco  27 2. The Chaco War and the Building of a Stronger State  59 3. The Transformation of the Home Front  83 4. From Peasant to Patriot  103 5. The Internationalization of a Nationalist Revolution  135 Conclusion: 1952 as the Triumph of 1899  161 Notes 173 Bibliography 225 Index 247

Illustrations

Map of the Gran Chaco  xiv Following page 102

1. Capt. Rafael Pabón



2. Bolivian soldiers in captivity



3. Warisata School teachers



4. William Pickwoad



5. Bolivian soldier in formal pose



6. Bolivian soldiers heading to the front



7. Social gathering in La Paz



8. Episcopal Congress of Bolivia



9. Drivers in Bolivian army



10. Capt. Germán Busch



11. Col. David Toro and family



12. Drawing of Indigenous soldier and wife



13. Magazine cover with worker and soldiers



14. Bolivian officers in captivity



15. Bolivian airmen in captivity



16. Bolivian prisoners marching into Asunción



17. Bolivian prisoners hauling water



18. Map of battlefield in Bolivia’s La Semana Grafica newspaper



19. Cover of La Semana Grafica

Table 1. Populations of Bolivian cities, 1846–­1988  133

Acknowledgments

I began my academic career as someone interested in modern German history, specifically the Kaiserreich (1871–­1919), thanks to my work at Arizona State University with the longtime editor of the German Studies Review Gerald Kleinfeld. Studies of modern Germany necessarily led me to study central and eastern Europe as a larger unit. To that end, having already mastered the German language, I then embarked on learning Bosnian-­ Croatian-­Serbian at asu’s Critical Languages Institute. The director and professor of history Stephen Batalden served as a valuable mentor, and the opportunities afforded me through work with Steve drew me further into studies of Yugoslavia, which included winning an iie Fulbright fellowship for research in Zagreb and an nsep Boren fellowship for research and language work in Serbia. Following that experience, I completed my PhD work at Boston College, where helpful professors such as Larry Wolff, Timothy Crawford, and Alan Reinerman guided my dissertation on Cold War Yugoslavia by placing those research interests in a global perspective. At the end of my PhD I had the opportunity to live in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, for two years, which included opportunities to research in the National Archive in Sucre and the Municipal Archive of Santa Cruz and ix

to teach at both the Universidad Católica Boliviana “San Pablo” and Universidad nur. My students there were encouraging, and discussions with them as well as other scholars afforded me the chance to reflect on the political situation in Bolivia, given my background in history. Visits later occurred thanks in part to funding from asu; these included time at the Museo Histórico Militar “Héroes de la Guerra del Chaco” in Santa Cruz, headed by the historian Juan Carlos Talamas, alongside fruitful discussions with him and Roger José Centeno Sánchez. I also visited various archives in Asunción, Paraguay; Buenos Aires, Argentina; Geneva, Switzerland; Washington dc; and La Paz, Bolivia, where I found a great deal of information for this study and related projects. Originally my two years of living in Santa Cruz had fueled my interest to write a journal article on the Chaco War that highlighted not only the profound influence of the war for Bolivia but also to showcase the similarities that the Chaco War shared with modern wars more broadly. I soon realized that this topic warranted more than an article-­length review. This book is the fruition of that research, and I want to thank everyone who gave me ideas to keep my interests engaged on this crucial topic.

x Acknowledgments

Note on Translations and Sources

Scholarship on the Chaco War is not lacking, as scholars such as Bruce Farcau, James Dunkerley, and David Zook have written profoundly good works. Herbert Klein has been a dominant voice on Bolivian history and has made a number of keen perceptions over years of quality scholarship. This is small, though, compared to the amount of scholarship on other, more traditionally studied topics. The scant attention paid to the Chaco War and Bolivia among scholars in the United States leaves openings for new investigations. The main body of resources on the Chaco War appears in Spanish and has quite a bit of variability regarding quality; well-­researched works by Irma Lorini, Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui, and Robert Brockmann are offset by hundreds of memoirs or other ideologically biased studies. Michael Hughes notes that “English-­language historiography on the war is minimal” and goes on to describe the important bibliographies and holdings in Asunción and Bolivia. The Spanish-­language memoirs are, as Hughes rightly points out, “not at the cutting edge of military history study” and are “often written from a partisan perspective by serving or retired soldiers.” (See Hughes, “Logistics and the Chaco War.”) Books in English intersect with various topics related to my argument, but few xi

embrace the notion of political transformation and the rise in state power as a holistic series of events linking the end of the nineteenth century with the 1952 Revolution. The main thrust of my research has included poring over newspaper articles from the period under consideration along with archival notes and other printed materials housed in facilities in Sucre, La Paz, Buenos Aires, Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Asunción, Washington dc, and Geneva. I take full responsibility for the translations of all of the material in Spanish and other languages; a few times I have included the original language to show emphasis, especially if the language was particularly colorful or interesting. Rather than translate word for word and attempt to match everything as written, I have attempted to translate with the spirit of the text in mind as part of an effort to make the prose as readable as possible.

xii Tr anslations and Sources

¡Vamos a avanzar!

Map showing the Gran Chaco, contested by Argentina, Bolivia, and Paraguay. Dotted lines demarcate the front lines and resulting borders after the war’s end. This work has been modified by the author, per the Creative Commons Version 2.0 License. Modifications based on map by Maximilian Dörrbecker. More information can be found at https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Datei:Karte_Chaco-Krieg.png.

Introduction Bolivia’s Path to Modernity

In South America, history matters. Politicians have used and manipulated the past to suit their own ideologies for decades, yet recent leaders from across the continent, including the populist Evo Morales in Bolivia, are reveling in their interpretation of the past.1 Morales declared at his first inaugural address in 2006 that the Indigenous people have been “marginalized, humiliated, hated,” and that his stewardship of the country shows that “the campaign of 500 years of indigenous-­black-­popular resistance has not been in vain.”2 To emphasize this historical narrative of liberation the Morales government has given voice to a Vice Ministry of Decolonization, which has focused on issues of subaltern agency in the wake of centuries of criollo-­mestizo hegemony. Additionally Morales has been steadfast in pushing for a revision to the treaty whereby Bolivia forfeited its coastline to Chile following the War of the Pacific, which ended in 1883. As recently as 2017 the senate president, José Alberto Gringo Gonzáles, wrote in the newspaper Página Siete that “the cause will never be renounced.”3 Emotions therefore run high in the towering Andean republic. Typical pro-­government propaganda depicts the mistakes and losses of the past and contrasts it with Morales, who ostensibly delivered 1

on bringing change, especially for the Indigenous majority (Evo cumple, Bolivia cambia). Neither Evo’s tactics of mass mobilizations nor his message is new; since 1899 political parties have been targeting sections of the public and making promises as a mechanism to maneuver the “strong social movements” into a unitary voice.4 A failing old regime coupled with a “growing awareness about their [Indigenous] numbers, the values of their cultures, and their entitlement to govern” transformed Bolivia’s political structure during an unsettled time. This description of the neoliberal transformation that preceded the election of Morales also describes well the period before and after the Chaco War.5 Morales has been better able to reach out to the largest group in Bolivia and transform politics according to a pro-­Indigenous program while still relying on time-­tested methods such as using song, schools, and public participation to motivate the people.6 I argue that despite their widespread corruption, lack of skills, and failed policies, the leaders in the first half of the twentieth century in fact created a modern nation-­state and by extension set the foundation for the success of Morales and his Movimiento al Socialismo–­Instrumento Político por la Soberanía de los Pueblos. A modern state arose in large part because of the profound role of warfare over the Chaco, but the modernization campaign with roots at the turn of the century helped precipitate war in the Chaco. Part of the goal of this study is to place the Chaco War in a wider perspective. To that end, literature on the theme of state modernization is rich with studies that show how war brings about welfare-­state policies and, more broadly, how war is a boon to state power. Periodization shows that state power and an ability to influence the people occurs over successive revolutions. The historians MacGregor Knox and Williamson Murray have determined that across history we can see five military revolutions. The first entailed the creation of the modern state, which through taxation would field professional armies. Second was the French Revolution and the ability to conscript across the national space. Later revolutions account for industrialization and the state’s harnessing of economic power to wage protracted war.7 Joshua Sanborn’s study of how Russia modernized in the 2 Introduction

early twentieth century demonstrates how modernization and an emphasis on the people necessarily undermined the basis of autocratic power. It was the linking together of the moral qualities of the masses with a strong state that would make war a national exercise instead of being at the behest of the monarch.8 Additionally, in the Russian case, the importance of the civilian institutions in crafting soldiers was clear as military men “were painfully aware they were living through an era of ‘spectacular change.’” Ideas on how the people interacted with the state were critical since the people would form the army. For this, Russian reformers around the turn of the century realized that education and using the institutions of learning to serve as a hearth of national consciousness were keys to future military success.9 World War I was a truly transformative conflict. A recent volume by Alexander Watson explores the causes of that war alongside campaign and social history. Importantly, his analysis examines the German and Austro-­ Hungarian approaches to mobilizing public support for the war, which stood in complete opposition to each other. Put simply, the German parties supported the war, which manifested in popular enthusiasm for fighting. War was, even according to the Social Democrats, seemingly unavoidable, and a German victory would secure a “reblooming of our German industry” and give trade a definitive boost.10 Steady propaganda helped manipulate such views, even if enthusiasm did wane in 1917 and into 1918. Leaders in Vienna, in contrast, feared popular engagement of the people. The Habsburg emperor Franz Joseph and his ministers distrusted their populace yet had no choice but to mobilize increasing numbers of people as the war continued. It was, as Watson says, a half-­planned mobilization that at once caused and resulted in a deeper suspicion of the people and a consistently poor performance in combat. His study shows just how well the Central Powers understood that popular opinion mattered and how mobilization—­in the German case a staggering 86 percent of the military-­ age population—­was made possible thanks to “civil society, local officials, political activists, the Church, trade unions, and charities.”11 Germany in particular had an advanced public sector in 1914, but war further enlarged and created new avenues for public participation. Introduction  3

The Bolivian experience in the Chaco War compares nicely with Europe on the eve of World War I not only because leaders in La Paz recognized the power of public opinion but also because they feared unmanageable change. Since the Federal War of 1899, leaders had had to deal with managing widespread change in Bolivia. The path of coping with shifts across society at times seemed progressive and modern, while at other times it seemed cynical and fearful of the Indigenous majority. The subalterns generally had plenty to complain about and seemed attracted to the books of the “socialists and the anarchists.”12 Waging war over the Chaco seemed like an option for the government to sideline any radical ideas among the lower classes and maintain its management over the socioeconomic transformation. Yet men such as President Daniel Salamanca failed to realize that mass politics would emerge faster once the power of the nation was harnessed, making war untenable, or at best extremely dangerous.13 Likewise, leaders in Vienna saw war in 1914 in part as a “desperate remedy for endemic peacetime nationality disputes,” and they must have been relieved when the initial enthusiasm for war rallied people around the flag. Famous photos and excitement in the late summer of 1914 saw thousands crowd cities such as Vienna “singing patriotic songs and armed with sticks, stones, and fireworks.”14 Established songs such as “Prince Eugen, the Noble Knight” were sung among the crowds and increased the public excitement, already at a fever pitch: Archduke Eugen the noble knight, Will battle the Serbs brave and well He will a bridge erect We’ll go across direct And we’ll occupy Belgrade!15 While the excitement in Europe on the eve of war in 1914 is well known for its patriotic outbursts, the same thing would soon be on the horizon in Bolivia. Military parades on national holidays pleased the crowds and won Hans Kundt, the head of the German military mission in La Paz, favor with the increasingly jingoistic politicians.16 In the immediate backdrop to the Chaco War on January 16, 1930, President Hernando Siles inaugurated 4 Introduction

the stadium in La Paz bearing his name with a program that began with the playing of the national anthem by the military band, with students and athletes singing the words.17 Much like the “Deutschlandlied” or the “Prince Eugen” song, the Bolivian anthem reinforced notions of the “brave warriors” and the eternity of the sovereign nation, which transcends the temporal. It argues: Si extranjero poder algún día Sojuzgar a Bolivia intentare, Al destino fatal se prepare Que amenaza a soberbio agresor.18 The Bolivian writer and politician Alcides Arguedas recounted how the government was “dominated by the thoughtless impulse of popular enthusiasm for war” and in so doing confirmed that a public sphere had advanced and that popular patriotism was real.19 As the war dragged on, the government was forced to increase the levels of conscription and reinforce a propaganda campaign—­both choices that advanced the power of the state and furthered the already existing modernizing program. With further defeats, the cycle continued and leaders reacted to the growth of more stakeholders and a larger awareness of government power. The same was to be said of the Habsburg case in World War I, whereby arguments for reform meant rather drastic upheaval. For instance, the Czech Union declared that the “dualist system ha[d] led to the emergence of ruling and subject nationalities,” and to rectify this its leaders argued over using this “historic moment” to obtain their “natural right of nations to self-­ determination and free development.”20 Subsequent chapters show that war in Bolivia similarly opened the eyes of the subaltern, most especially the Indigenous, to abolish the differences between rulers and subjects and instead bring about a new unity of free Bolivians. One of the objects of this book is to describe the modernization of the state over the course of a roughly fifty-­year period. To do that requires an emphasis on the people involved in this transformation of power. Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui has highlighted the problematic relationship between the people and the Bolivian governments since independence in 1825. The Introduction  5

colonial legacy lingered, according to Rivera, through the 1952 Revolution, which failed to change the sociocultural reality for all members of society. Rivera’s influential study focuses on how the various subaltern actors—­based on class and race—­rebelled against the injustice inflicted upon them. She uses the term “oligarchs” in her study to denote the “political and State expression of an alliance of economic interests,” which included mining interests, big landowners, and leading merchants. Additionally, oligarchs included an “ideological claim to colonial rights” over the space and its peoples.21 Her work remains important for any study of Bolivia from the late nineteenth century until the 1952 Revolution and should be referenced by anyone seeking to understand the challenges that the various subaltern actors faced. She documents well the paradoxes that Bolivians in the first half of the twentieth century faced; determined to embrace modern ideology and progressive thought, the dominant members of society also feared that any transformation would affect not only their hold on power but how they defined the idea of Bolivia. That is why the words of Guillermo Cruz rang so true in 1927 when he challenged the government to “comply with the law, faithfully and legally, without special treatment for anyone.”22 As the Quechua-­speaking leader of the Cochabamba community of Cantón Vacas, Cruz encapsulated the challenge of bringing equality to Bolivia. The dialogue was in fact “limited” and debates raged over terms such as “civilization” and “savagery”; such was the dilemma that men such as Bautista Saavedra, Alcides Arguedas, and even Franz Tamayo faced as they tried to understand how to define Bolivia and Bolivians as a single community. This is why these modernizing men seemed progressive on the one hand yet on the other remained tied to an older “colonialist racism of the old dominant class.”23 This study refuses to ignore the subaltern. On its face, though, it might seem that the narrative focuses only on those traditional people at the helm of power. I refer to those dominating actors as elites throughout this study, simply because Rivera’s term “oligarch” implies real power, whereas I want to emphasize how elites can include cultural or educational superiority that is not tied to active support for an older ideological view of race. This distinction subtly serves to broaden the net; in other words, people from 6 Introduction

all classes and races who embraced aspects of the modernizing state did not necessarily gain wealth or power, but they did seek to use their skills to transform what they understood as Bolivia. A campaign to modernize Bolivia over this half-­century was not a static event; the number and types of people involved blossomed as either willing participants or passive bystanders. Pre–­Chaco War governments, as will be seen, often followed cynical routes to control the majority of the people and remold civilization in their terms.24 These elites misunderstood the nature of the revolutions that their policies were unleashing—­including in economic and demographic shifts—­and their lack of competency led directly to the Chaco War. As the war unfolded, the ability of a weak government to control the momentum and destiny of the conflict faltered further with each day. Not only did elites bungle the war effort, but the exposure of a broader base of the population to a modernizing state meant that the ability to control change diminished even further. The period between the end of the Chaco War and the 1952 Revolution then became a transitional one whereby various subaltern actors increasingly gained influence through populist discourse and at the helm of state power.25 The Chaco War brought about change by forcing a collision of old and new. While the literature has recognized the central role of the Chaco for Bolivia’s 1952 Revolution, there has been less emphasis on the continuity of change before and after the war. Massive mobilization, economic dislocation, and social change brought dramatic tensions, perhaps most decidedly for the Indigenous majority of Bolivia. I argue in support of this larger case and want to emphasize in this study the continuity of change that the war merely accelerated. Conflict over the Chaco was the defining moment when rhetoric and populism broke beyond a narrow band of the people and took on a broader meaning among a much larger and increasingly mobile populace, especially the (Indigenous) war veterans. Simply put, when President Daniel Salamanca hastily thrust his isolated and poverty-­ stricken country into the devastation of the Chaco War against Paraguay in 1932, he unleashed a number of forces that had been brewing in and outside of Bolivia, all of which combined to bring the country a taste of a truly modern national identity and a state-­building program.26 Introduction  7

Perhaps one of the first questions to ask is why Bolivia entered into war over the Chaco. As one Bolivian writer put it, “For many, Bolivia is a country of savages, or revolutionaries, of hunger, misery, and thieves; for others, it is a land of a sick nation with a weak spirit”; for the international community, it is a “country of no immediate importance,” and Bolivian desires and requests go unanswered.27 The American banker and envoy George Jackson Eder remarked in 1956 that Bolivians, specifically the Indians, were “inclined to loaf ” and would work only “under the stress of hunger.”28 After hearing how the Bolivians ejected her minister in La Paz in 1880, Queen Victoria reportedly demanded the dispatch of a gunboat as a display of power, but when she learned that Bolivia had no coastline she scratched the name Bolivia from the map and wrote in its place “unexplored territory inhabited by savages.”29 The Chaco itself seemed to be a unique place, a universally defined zone of “inhospitable country,” and was home to intense dryness, flooding, and heat, a largely “flat, roadless wilderness inhabited almost exclusively by indigenous Indians.”30 Those few who did populate the region had “pot-­bellies from malaria-­enlarged livers and spleens” and survived “daytime tortures by marahuí flies and nightly visitations by mosquitoes,” until “jungle fever or poisonous creatures” ended their days.31 Its low scrub brush and plains seemed good for grazing cattle if one could avoid the Guaycuruan peoples who traversed the land, relatively free from outside contact since the disbandment of missions in the Gran Chaco after independence.32 Neither Bolivia nor Paraguay really controlled this territory, yet both governments laid claim to it based on urgency and history.33 A 1932 memo from the Paraguayan government to Francis White, U.S. undersecretary of state and a participant in the peace negotiations that year, mentioned that both Paraguay and Bolivia recognized Asunción’s ownership of the Chaco since the early nineteenth century. “When Paraguay participated in the ratification of Bolivia’s independence,” the note read, the Chaco was a region that would “open trade routes with the Republic of Bolivia.”34 Skirmishes had occurred over the territory in the latter half of the nineteenth century, but virtually everyone ignored the region until the 1920s, precisely the time when the people began to increase their voice in affairs of state. 8 Introduction

The 1920s were pivotal for Bolivian history, thanks to demographic and economic shifts and a maturing political class, whose members together reshaped the concept of electoral politics. These changes, along with others, helped convince Bolivian leaders to seek war over a territory that was little more than a notation on a piece of paper. To help explain why leaders rushed into war despite clear evidence of how unreasonable it would be to prosecute, we must understand the growing relationship between the people and the government. After all, the 1920s were a time of “explosive” rhetoric regarding the “maritime reintegration” of Bolivia, and this message was not restricted to a single group.35 Scholars have argued that Bolivians felt claustrophobic, having lost their access to the Pacific to Chile in 1884.36 Roberto Calvo noted in La Guerra del Pacifico that the former president and silver magnate Aniceto Arce (in office 1888–­92) observed that leaders demanded the “rectification of its borders” because a “landlocked Bolivia” would be ruined.37 Arce’s observation was accurate, as most politicians, newspaper writers, and intellectuals refused to accept the loss and helped to create a sense of national suffering. David Zook’s seminal study on the Chaco War declares that when Bolivia lost the coast to Chile in 1884, the “conscience of the nation was shaken.” Furthermore, that loss began a period in Bolivia of “deep social, political, and geographical reorientation.”38 Bruce Farcau claims that the “real issue [over the Chaco] was national honor, which was directly attached to the possession of territory.”39 As ideas spread from the elites to a broader audience, this sense of honor became fused with notions of Bolivian national identity. Ultimately these factors coalesced and precipitated the Chaco War, which Pablo Max Ynsrfran rightly has called “the most crucial event” in Bolivia’s history.40 Populism and Bolivia

As a basis for this research project, I am taking for granted that a transformative political, social, economic, and demographic shift took place in Bolivia at least beginning in the final years of the nineteenth century. Part of this larger alteration hinged on the development of a connection between political actors and an increasingly broader spectrum of people. In terms of understanding populism in this case, it is necessary to see that Introduction  9

the real issue at stake is participation and an “involvement of people in governing their own lives.”41 One of the primary goals of this study is to trace the nuances and changes in this relationship between the people and their political leaders, including defining the people considered worthy of inclusion. Despite a number of contentions about the term “populism,” I want to emphasize that populism is a political style, which “characteristically” involves a “proclaimed rapport with ‘the people.’” I desire to limit this in the Bolivian case to “an appeal to ‘the people,’” a “popular mobilization,” and a “dynamic leadership.”42 Furthermore, since I interpret populism as working in tandem with the broad modernization of Bolivia, it is imperative to understand just how people were mobilized. While a good part of this process rests on the expansion of print culture and a literate base of consumers, populism can transcend literacy.43 As Guadalupe Peres Cajías has argued, the Bolivian national identity has been defined by an imagination of the sea.44 Therefore this process of building a populist momentum takes the form of myth, song, currency, and other, more varied public symbols and tools, such as radio. Typically, populists, especially those in Latin America, displayed a “flair, daring, broad appeal, and uncanny timing,” such as the leaders of Rio de Janeiro in the 1920s to mid-­1930s, who sought to convince the “common people” that elites “cared about their interests and well-­being.”45 These leaders were not alone. Populism in Bolivia was neither rooted in nor wedded to an ideology or political party. Indeed, the political landscape in Bolivia has been too chaotic to think about that. Instead I want to reconcile populism as a particular “logic of articulation.”46 Other theorists too have proposed functionalist interpretations that see populism, especially the type manifested in Bolivia, as the convergence of “two anti–­status quo forces”: the “dispossessed masses,” who in Bolivia shifted between, on the one hand, miners, students, peasants, veterans, the indigenous, and so on, and, on the other hand, an “educated yet impoverished elite that resent[ed] its status incongruence.”47 Such a situation slowly emerged from the time of the Federal War (1899) and thus merits defining the political leaders throughout the first half of the twentieth century as populist 10 Introduction

or proto-­populists.48 An important part of this populism has been the expression of ideas from below. Robert Albro has argued that popular protest has been a powerful tool in Bolivia. Not only did protests help cause instability in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, but it most recently toppled the regime of Carlos Mesa, who resigned in 2005, when protests occurred all over Bolivia and “paralyzed” the country.49 Mesa’s predecessor, President Gonzalo Sanchez de Lozada, argued years later that “mob rule overwhelmed respect for Bolivia’s democratic process,” and in both cases the power of the crowd was critical.50 Since 1899 there has been a surprising continuity of thought among the multitude of Bolivian leaders regardless of their own ideological sensitivities. One such broad link among politicians was the understanding of the need for political reform coupled with a more connected and educated populace. I use populism, then, as a way to help us understand why and how the various Bolivian leaders were reaching out to others for support and, most important, for votes in what is still a fragile democracy in the twenty-­first century. Populism in the Bolivian case was also not necessarily anti-­elite but rather had to cope with ideas of fusing the fruits of modernization with a singular identity that would equalize Bolivian society. Populism would emerge as anti-­elite, especially in the wake of the devastation of the Chaco War, but its rhetoric also struggled over the roles of the Indigenous and mestizo masses and the ambiguity of what each group argued over.51 Finally, to bring the importance of populist politics back to the Chaco War, populism, as Alan Knight rightly observed, “offers a particularly intense form of ‘bonding,”’ which is “usually associated with periods of rapid mobilization and crisis.”52 Bolivians of all stripes bonded during the Chaco War and used their experience in that war to organize and mobilize politically at war’s end. While scholars have scrutinized populism as a concept, there still exists an opportunity to explore just how populism has influenced change in Bolivia. Numerous studies examine Brazilian, Mexican, Venezuelan, Chilean, Argentine, and Cuban populism, to name a few cases in Latin America, but little exists on Bolivia in this respect. Additionally, studies of populism tend to begin in the 1930s. While such a starting date might Introduction  11

work for Argentina and Brazil, it leaves out the prehistory of the various populist movements. Few mentions of Bolivian populism in the literature focus on the Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario (mnr) as the prime example. While this stance has merit given that the mnr leaders fit clearly into populist definitions, they used proven techniques from the recent past; after all, mnr leaders such as Victor Paz Estenssoro worked at the top levels of government throughout the 1930s. Moreover, while the mnr might be a great example of populism, I argue against the idea that it was the first populist movement or that it was unique. Just because it was a clear expression of a truly national movement does not mean that it was the first. Christopher Mitchell concludes that the mnr emerged from the “evolution of civilian populism to military rule between the 1930s and the 1970s.” Indeed, the prehistory occurred during a “specific period: the 15 years from the late 1930s to the early 1950s,” because prior to that time—­“more than 100 years” prior, to be exact—­“few Bolivians played any regular part” in the politics.53 Part of the fluid definition of populism helps underscore this problem because the argument that sees it coming of age in the 1930s also understands that populists raised more money, got more voters out to cast ballots, and “held followers’ allegiances far better than traditional politicians.”54 It is the last point, about “traditional politicians,” that I think might be worth reconsidering for Bolivia’s history. In Paul Drake’s 1978 study of the modernization of Chile he notes that Chile’s path during the twentieth century was uneven and that the larger reform process “echoed many issues of modern European history.” I would characterize Bolivia in much the same way. Drake characterizes the Chilean Socialists as populist but also determined that the larger reform process had “populist patterns,” which fit under three broad characterizations. First, populism was definable based on a particular style of mobilization, leadership, campaigning, and propaganda. Second, populism can encompass a heterogeneous social coalition that focuses on the workers but includes other segments of society as well. Finally, populism has been associated with the eclectic set of policies embraced during so-­called modernization campaigns. As a nice summary of populism as a concept, Drake argues that in Latin America populism refers to a “set of political actors, politics, 12 Introduction

attitudes, styles, and reactions” to modern conditions. It is the trauma associated with the advance toward modernity, the “failures and dislocations” that “tend to produce populism.”55 Much the same way that Drake defines populism and uses those characterizations to argue that the Socialist Party was populist, I use them to show that Bolivian politics from the earliest years of the twentieth century through the Chaco War was increasingly populist, especially by the 1920s. It is my hope that future research will uncover more concrete examples that show how subaltern actors interfaced with the growing public spaces in early twentieth-­century Bolivia. For now, this study relies on what the elites said or did but does not take for granted that elites simply put a program into motion without learning from past mistakes or intersecting with the people. I argue that in the Bolivian case populism meant coping with the consequences of modernization, which took form in large part as the political manipulation of a growing public sphere. In other words, once economic changes occurred in the first years of the twentieth century it became clear to politicians that they could not rely on governing with the support of a tiny middle class. Instead parties flirted with both catering to and seeking to control various working-­class and peasant sections of the populace in order to win and retain power.56 Predictably the various leaders struggled to implement fully their agendas.57 Party politics in Bolivia between 1914 and the end of the 1920s was a fictitious democracy, and even those stakeholders who exercised the right to vote acquiesced in the political charade run by elites.58 Yet it was the increasing participation in clubs, marches, protests, and writing articles or speeches that encouraged the public’s awareness of what modernity could bring to their country and their own lives. This deepened the populist roots of the new political parties and movement despite the backwardness of some of their leaders who were infatuated with the discourse of Bolivia as an “Indian country,” settled deep in savagery that kept broader reforms in check.59 Bolivia’s Isolation and Reemergence

The loss of the Pacific littoral to Chile cast a mood of defeat over the entire political class and altered how Bolivia’s export economy would later develop. Introduction  13

When Gen. Hilarión Daza’s government (1876–­79) hastily pushed back against Chilean economic interests along the Pacific coast, where nitrate mining had taken off in the 1870s, it was done from a position of weakness. Despite the power imbalance between Sucre and Santiago, a positive mood resonated in the La Paz daily El Comercio, which declared that the Chileans would lose in their attempt to “usurp” justice. The Bolivians, the author argued, would “arm themselves with the weapons of unity and of patriotism.”60 Chile had perpetrated an “aggression that was without a declaration of war or any other notice [tramite],” and Bolivia was innocent, having an “essentially pacifistic character” toward its neighbors.61 Daza’s intentions, though foolish given how they precipitated war with Chile, were not all bad. He had urged a constitutional change in 1878 with the goal of “conserving public order,” including defining notions of citizenship and nationality, with a legal path for naturalization. His change declared, “Sovereignty resides in the essence of the Nation.”62 One of the reasons the War of the Pacific went badly for Bolivia was that the government was bankrupt. Representatives voted to continue the war but had no funds to raise and send an army, especially following Daza’s fiasco at the Battle of Camarones. Fiscal concerns only increased once Chile seized the nitrate regions and occupied the principal port of trade for shipping, the Peruvian city of Arica. El Heraldo reported in 1885 that the “great preoccupation among the press in this republic is the creditworthiness of the country.” Much needed military reforms required “expenses,” which was a good idea but presented “serious inconveniences” owing to the “lack of available capital.”63 Simply put, the Bolivian state exited the war with little ability to recoup financially. Bolivia’s poor performance against Chile in 1879–­80 created a dilemma whereby newspapers spoke of the need for economic reforms and demanded better government performance in modernizing the country. It should be no surprise that these papers catered to the small group of entrepreneurs in cities such as La Paz whose livelihoods not only required greater infusions of capital, which included foreign trade, but also relied on foreign ideas and, in some cases, on foreigners themselves. Immigration from Europe to the United States had taken off in the late 1840s, with an average of 305,000 people between 1847 and 1853 arriving 14 Introduction

each year.64 From 1860 until 1890 more than 13 million people migrated from Europe—­Italians, Germans, and East Europeans—­to the United States. During one of the peaks of this migration, in 1885, La Industria reported on recent news in New York City, where hundreds of thousands of immigrants crowded into slums rife with unemployment and “misery.”65 Another article a year later linked the notion of colonization to the platform and desires of “all political persuasions.” The “development of the lush territories of the Orient and a vigorous rate of European immigration” would make Bolivia a better place. Future president Severo F. Alonso argued that the country had to advance for “the well-­being of immigrants and create an active propaganda” to sell immigrants on the idea of settling in Bolivia.66 In 1886 the notion of expanding into Beni continued to excite Bolivians who were “tired of hearing magnificent phrases” and instead desired to “populate the desert.” With the legislature debating how to penetrate the lowland region, the paper El Heraldo called on “a communal effort” by Bolivians to use this territory to develop, including “immigration from Europe,” which would “stabilize this area” and create “prosperity for all.”67 Future president José M. Gutierrez agreed with the notion that the future of Bolivia lay in the Orient. In 1886 he commended the campaign of expansion and argued that the army was a key tool in “breaking the jungle” and “scar[ing] off the savages” in the region while allowing for the creation of stable infrastructure that would bring prosperity through trade. Gutierrez had a larger agenda, though, which sought to make Bolivia a regional power. He argued that Bolivia would realize its potential when “we have railroads, when we can overcome the desert along the Pacific to export our rich metals; when we navigate our rivers and cross our forests; when we descend by the waves of the rivers Pilcomayo to the Paraguay and the la Plata [Rio de la Plata, in Argentina]; when we see our flag wave on the Atlantic.”68 Reaching the Atlantic Ocean was far from reality, yet this did not deter elites such as newspaper writers or Bolivian politicians from dreaming of such expansionist possibilities. If we conceptualize the Latin American intellectual, urban, elite as connected with the larger global trends, it helps to clarify some of the rhetoric of colonization, immigration, and development. European ideals such Introduction  15

as using the military as a tool to unify the nation came to Mexico much earlier than it did to Bolivia; it was, according to Stephen B. Neufeld, the imagination of “polished” European armies that had inspired the powerful in Mexico to believe that they too could craft a “rough peasant” into a literate and patriotic citizen.69 Similarly, Constante Gonzales Groba has recently argued for this intersection of Manifest Destiny and civilizing the wilderness through a literary examination of the North American author Elizabeth Madox Roberts’s The Great Meadow. That book’s protagonist takes part in trying to create a “new nation, even a new race,” through a profound penetration of the western frontier. While the book was conceived in 1915, it represents the period just after the American Revolution, when people began to settle across Appalachia from the crowded cities of the eastern seaboard. Gonzales Groba’s argument that the book represents the notion that the “frontier is no longer a line to arrive at but an area inviting penetration” exemplifies a global nineteenth-­and early twentieth-­century notion of advancement.70 Jack Ray Thomas argues that Latin American visitors to the United States in the nineteenth century were generally well-­traveled and literate men. As they observed the decentralized nature of American politics, they seemed “greatly impressed” with the notion of “extensive land ownership” and believed that the “political, social, and economic problems” would disappear if they had “widespread, private landholdings.”71 Notions of how to transform the country were not absent among the leading elite in Bolivia, who were also looking toward Europe. An article from 1885 in Sucre’s newspaper El Heraldo reported that “in only a few short years” the “popular dynasty and democratic government had transformed Italy.” This transformation was “the glory of politicians,” who sought in their “grand patriotism” a number of new inspirations to better the country.72 This struggle to create a popular democracy seemed to overcome barriers such as a lack of education, wealth, and united culture among the stakeholders.73 Italian reformers had cleverly made their campaign into something that was ostensibly “living in tune with modern civilization,” which was how many of the Bolivian elites also understood themselves.74 Early reformers argued that education for the people intersected with the belief that a 16 Introduction

high degree of literacy was necessary to achieve a fair judicial system and a clear legislative platform.75 Liberal Platform

The emergence of the Liberal Party in Bolivia in the wake of the War of the Pacific pushed the rhetoric of progress with increased vigor. Early party stewards defined the state as the “custodian of liberty” and the tool to “increase the standards” in forging an aware society. Moreover liberty relied on instruction from the state, while the people gave the state the ability to serve as the guiding hand for the country. This included four specific points: (1) to ensure the moral doctrine according to the law; (2) to ensure throughout all grades of instruction the morality to support the state; (3) to establish free schools in municipalities for the poor, isolated, and almost deserted; and (4) to have free instruction for those in need of it.76 Liberal interest in education remained a key issue for the betterment of the country. Party members recognized the connectedness between the home and the school as part of a holistic education and understood that while the “father drops the student off at the door of the school,” the performance of the student in school was in large part determined by how the father felt about the school. In other words, Liberals understood the cultural capital that is inherent in delivering quality education because support from parents would boost all aspects of the education process.77 El Imparcial noted in 1885 that the Liberal Party’s ideas were a “stamp of honor” alongside the “pedestal of glory, which was formed as a constant contrast to the conservatives.”78 One of the principal points of opposition that the Liberals benefited from was the deliberations with Chile to finalize the cession of territory from the War of the Pacific. In 1895 President Mariano Baptista authorized José M. Gutierrez to negotiate with Chile’s foreign minister, Luis Barros Borgoño. These meetings led to a pact that caused an uproar in the Bolivian press, which called the government ministers inept for negotiating “in a misguided way.”79 Later articles called out the leaders willing to accept reality over Bolivia’s loss of the littoral as “traitors to the homeland.”80 Ricardo Cortez called Baptista a “traitor” and his government “bastards, a thousand times bastards!”81 Cortez and Introduction  17

other news writers argued with intense emotion in defense of the territorial integrity of Bolivia. Similarly they riled the reading public’s anger over what was already old news and finished business. The use of emotions was a good way to distinguish and generate excitement for the Liberal Party, especially if it could rouse these expanding groups in La Paz who relied on economic growth, such as continued exports of tin and other commodities. Overthrow of the Conservative government in Sucre had been brewing for some time. Land reform in 1874, the Disentailment Law, decreed an end to communal Indigenous land and, after surveying and titling, oversaw the transfer of almost 30 percent of communal land into private, non-­Indian ownership. This act helped promote unrest and led to the rise in the size of highland cities such as La Paz, as former peasants sought work elsewhere: “The paceño elite was faced with an overwhelming indigenous population that was both politically active as a result of the privatization of community land and highly visible.” Gabrielle Kuenzli has argued that “from December 1898 until April 1899, highland Bolivia was the site of a series of bloody conflicts” and that race and region were the dominant factors in this struggle. In particular, Aymara communities “played a key role in this transformative process” because they fought with the Liberals against Conservative politicians who had earlier divided indigenous communal lands. Liberals had thus excited the urban Bolivians and also allied with Indigenous groups who saw recent government policy as harmful to their communities. After victory, however, the Liberals depicted Aymara fighters as having engaged in a “race war against a creole landowning population,” which in fact led to a “deepening of racial divisions between Indian and creole populations.” It became the burden of the Liberal Party after the war to solve the crisis of national awakening. The result was a “civilizing” program that would solve Bolivia’s Indian problem by turning them into the “laboring backbone of the modernizing nation.”82 Education and Civilization: Roots of a Modern State

The inclusion of Indigenous peoples into the larger Bolivian national idea caused serious debate among that country’s leaders and defined the long-­ term ambiguity that plagued nationalism in Bolivia. The Liberal victory 18 Introduction

in war, though, reinforced the problems of realizing the ideas of equality and progress for all people in Bolivia. In 1903 President José Manuel Pando decided to centralize the country’s universities and create a system of normal schools, ostensibly because of pressure to “initiate instruction of the indigenous.”83 At its core, educational reforms meant that people mattered because they had the power to become citizens. Writers for La Voz del Pueblo in late 1913 lamented the “sad truth about the development of education” in Bolivia, which would cement the “tendencies towards the domination of the country by the few.” “Citizens,” the paper demanded, “needed a foundation of education.”84 Closer to the Andean heart of Bolivia, the Aymara Academy met in 1901 in the wake of the end of the Federal War and declared that the “racial tensions would diminish with the assimilation and/or disappearance of the Aymaras. Academy member P. Salazar defined the main goal of the organization as that of civilizing and in fact of “whitening” the Aymaras so that they might insert themselves more easily into the dominant Bolivian society.”85 Franz Tamayo, the Bolivian writer and politician, was an integral actor in the creation of a new educational system for the country and the subsequent reconceptualizing of Bolivia’s Indigenous. Education was the tool Tamayo chose to forge a Bolivian nation and rid the land of disparate and competing identities. The larger argument had two components. On the one hand, if the Indigenous became literate in Spanish they would be able to understand the laws and their rights, and “in this manner it would facilitate the acquisition of an understanding of the social reality and the success of the country.”86 President Ismael Montes recognized the necessity of creating primary instruction for the Indigenous, “while creating constitutional guarantees” for the education and the role of the Indigenous in the state. Education, as such, would also cement the realization of those rights among the Indigenous because if they did not know how to read or write, especially in Spanish, “they [did] not have citizenship.”87 On the other hand, this move went hand in glove with a civilizing mission of certain leaders who sought to uplift the Indigenous and make them equal members of the erstwhile mestizo and white community. The poet Vincente Donoso Torres claimed that policies “oriented Introduction  19

towards education” were the “grand force” that could elevate “the cultural level of the people.”88 Tensions remained for these early Liberals who recognized the dilemmas of their rhetoric and what they meant for Bolivia. Future president Bautista Saavedra interjected into this debate in the early twentieth century an all-­ or-­nothing strategy: “If an inferior race is placed next to a superior one, the inferior necessarily has to disappear, as [Gustave] Le Bonn [sic] says, and if we have to exploit the Indians to our advantage or eliminate them because they are an obstacle and hindrance to our progress let’s do so openly and energetically, not believing as many believe that primary schools are sufficient to transform from night to morning the psychological condition and social structure of the Indian.”89 In his 1903 sociological study of the Aymaras, El Ayllu, Saavedra also offered a forceful explanation of the Aymaras’ “biological propensity to rebel.”90 What El Ayllu did foreshadow for Saavedra’s later political career was an intense awareness of not only Marxism but also European intellectual thought. He cited Émile Durkheim, Franklin Giddings, Theodor Mommsen, Henry Sumner Maine—­who he claimed said that a person’s constitution “depends on the land that he occupies”—­and Friedrich Engels, as he tried to present an understanding of the Indigenous peoples of Bolivia. While partly romanticized, his study also emphasized the role of family and the communal nature of life in Indigenous villages. Saavedra argued that the ayllu “germinates first as a nuclear family, and then takes other wider, extensive and economic forms of social coexistence.” Moreover he argued that Spanish legislation “maintained this precolombian communism,” and he spoke about how the modern transformation of the Aymara people fit within “all of the characteristics of the laws of sociology” and because of a “division of labor” was comparable to communism.91 In the early 1900s education and an understanding of the Indigenous were important because people realized that demographic change was underway. J. Murillo Vacarreza observed at the time that the “peasant of today with his migratory patterns towards the urban centers” has shown these transplants “new systems of work” and “modes of life” that is constantly moving upward. It was impossible to forget too that even in the early part of the twentieth century “women were finding new places in 20 Introduction

the cities where before they were denied.”92 The idea that education could be powerful in managing change was widespread around the world in the early twentieth century and showed just how in tune Bolivian elites were with the larger globalization of ideas. In an example of the universal accolades of education, Caroline Spurgeon wrote in 1922 in the Atlantic Monthly about the contemporary debate in Great Britain regarding implementing a compulsory education program. She noted that in the United States people generally believed that universal education came about in part based on the theory that government “derives its just powers from the consent of the governed.” Spurgeon wrote, “For all thoughtful people today realize that the future of civilization depends, not upon diplomats or politicians . . . but upon the education of the children of the world.”93 Similarly, in Germany in December 1933 the preamble of the school law followed the progress of state leadership of education in Germany: “The chief task of the School is the education of the young for service to the nation and state in the spirit of national socialism.”94 This worked hand in glove with a focus on family and structured extracurricular activities that were recognized as the components of a universal education. Elites in Bolivia hoped education was the path to civilizing the Indigenous and overcoming disparate identities in the name of a new Bolivian national identity. It was this idea of empowering people that helped create the populism expressed by veterans of the Chaco War as they demanded inclusion into and stewardship of Bolivia. Outline of Chapters

This book sets out to place the history of the Chaco War squarely in the midst of the growing inclusion of the Bolivian people in politics, as engineered from above and, ultimately, as it manifested from below. It does so using an array of primary and secondary sources, such as contemporary newspaper articles from Bolivia, government papers, and other firsthand accounts that were published or stored in archives. With the Liberal Party’s victory in the Federal War of 1899, power shifted to La Paz and energized a developing tin extraction industry. Over the following decades, demographic shifts from rural areas to cities, in particular La Paz, began to reshape how Introduction  21

leaders interacted with the people. Politics slowly moved into the arena of popular accountability, mobilized first by a small middle class, which broadened to take into account the larger, poorer audiences. The trend toward popular politics did not deliver any greater stability than in the past but instead pressured political parties to figure out the system and transform the country. The first chapter seeks to understand the pre–­Chaco War years, with an emphasis on the 1920s as a decade of globalization, in terms of both ideas and capital. Both presidents during this time, Bautista Saavedra and Hernando Siles, acted out powerful roles as traditional caudillos yet necessarily stayed in touch with the demands of the voters or, as it might happen, the largest mob to gather in the streets of La Paz. We can see in the leadership of such men both confidence in their rule and a fundamental naïveté concerning the demands of governing a modernizing nation-­state in a time of global transformation. At the same time, both men had to cope with establishing a clear program and methodology for rule. Saavedra, who during his career argued on behalf of and against various subaltern groups in Bolivia, represented well such conflicted ideas.95 The sorts of strike activity that miners engaged in during Saavedra’s presidency helped create a constant tension, which had the real possibility of effecting change, as it had across Europe since the Luddites in England.96 The political dynamic of the years prior to the outbreak of war showed how fragile the Bolivian system was as the global economy further eroded any leader’s ability to effect change. Chapters 2 and 3 examine the immediate backdrop of the Chaco War and emphasize how the state grew over its duration through conscription and propaganda. Understanding the tremendous demands placed on the weak central state in order to perpetrate a full-­scale modern war against Paraguay tells us a lot about just how much the political landscape changed by war’s end. Peasants—­primarily Indigenous men—­who spoke broken or no Spanish and knew little outside of their hacienda work were thrust into a thoroughly modern conflict for almost three years. Additionally research has shown that an important component of the armed forces was recently urbanized or traditionally urban men—­men such as cholos, 22 Introduction

students, unionized workers, and miners. During the entirety of the Chaco War these disparate peoples—­more than 200,000 of them, or roughly 10 percent of the overall population—­all came together under the banner of the armed forces and faced a nationalizing campaign in addition to war. Having fought in the war and survived, these men gained an incredible understanding about life in a large nation-­state. The institution where they learned teamwork, learned how to communicate across ethnic and cultural lines, and faced hardship and pain instilled in these men values that would stay with them after the war. Political scientists have described how an army is a school for the nation; the Chaco War’s demands for conscripts enlarged this pool of pupils to a point where any postwar state could not return to the status quo ante. Other scholars have pointed out just how often in history state leaders make war in order to “draw resources from their societies in order to fight.” This sort of circular logic alludes to how leaders engage in war for war’s sake, yet the same logic also means that war against a foreign presence aids in the creation of a centralized state that “deeply penetrates national societies.”97 The Chaco War served to foster the sort of penetration into society that made this the most compelling event in the history of Bolivia since its independence because it created the foundation for revolution to succeed. Chapter 4 traces the veterans of the war and shows how these men influenced the postwar state. Bolivian literature has suggested that after the war urbanization increased and veterans played a large role in reshaping demographic shifts. Germán Busch’s meteoric rise to lead the Legíon of Ex-­Combatienties, or Veterans League, was due to this new trend, but Busch’s failure did not mean that the veterans largely retreated from politics. This chapter shows that the veterans did not simply disappear back into the countryside and instead argues that the postwar growth of important cities—­the continued expansion of La Paz in particular but also Cochabamba and even Santa Cruz—­happened as a result of returning veterans who resettled in urban environments rather than their former rural homes.98 Examining the role of the veterans in the early post–­Chaco War period helps us to understand better the transitions in socioeconomic and demographic arenas that unfolded because of the war. Overall, while the Introduction  23

veterans of the Chaco were an integral force, they were also part of a larger phenomenon that had been going on since the beginning of the century, namely, transformative social movements that included population growth, rural exodus, underemployment and unemployment, and urbanization alongside limited industrialization.99 Such a litany of change reinforced populism and fundamentally altered the political landscape of Bolivia as so many of the veterans were also of Indigenous heritage. Chapter 5 looks at the reform program that the post–­Chaco War leaders enacted. The military officers who had embraced populism—­the so-­called military socialists—­understood their role as the top-­down reformers of the state. While it seems ironic that the same officers who utterly failed on the battlefield would have been in a position to claim a legitimate governing role, a few things help clarify why this occurred. First, important officers such as Col. David Toro had been keen observers of the political situation in Bolivia from the 1920s. Furthermore we cannot forget that, just as globalization of products had been underway, a similar exchange of ideas was also present. Michael Radu and Vladimir Tismaneanu argue that Latin America has been tied ideologically and intellectually to Western Europe and North America, including adopting political currents from both right and left.100 Men like Toro were also aware of the events that were unfolding in Europe, where strong fascist leaders were reshaping their countries and dominating traditional democracies. Bolivians looked to Benito Mussolini’s Italy and consumed news on Adolf Hitler’s Germany and Francisco Franco’s Spain. In a number of important ways, these men were impressed especially with how Mussolini turned a weak state into an admirable one; indeed they were eager to use the power of the state as a fast track to modern progress.101 Toro wanted further professionalization of the military and sent officers to Italian military schools, while Busch contracted with Italians to instruct units of the Bolivian armed forces.102 This has led to the argument that in the wake of the Chaco disaster, when people blamed the old order for the catastrophe, they turned to an admiration of fascism based on its transformative power.103 Second, officers such as Busch had been in discussion with Saavedra and other seasoned politicians who traditionally represented what would be a left-­wing position. But Saavedra, 24 Introduction

who himself had been in power, had advocated for a stronger state and knew how to engage with and excite supporters based on his rhetorical skills. What we can observe, then, in the post-­Chaco period was a union of left and right in the same terms of how fascism manipulated aspects of divergent political ideologies to focus on the propagation of power at the state level. Just as Hitler had been impressed as a young man by the organization skills of Karl Lueger, the controversial Christian Socialist mayor of Vienna, Busch latched onto a diverse set of advisors from the left and the right for counsel.104 The military socialists were keenly in touch with global events and understood that they could harness the newfound power of the state to solve the problems latent within Bolivia, which included educating and employing the people according to modern norms. The conclusion of this study looks at how these shifts over the first four decades of the twentieth century necessarily pointed to a wide-­scale revolution. The mnr emerged as a full-­scale revolutionary group and enacted a dramatic series of changes to Bolivia in 1952. This is indeed a definite turning point in the history of modern Bolivia in that the state leaders fully embraced the ideals that voter participation was paramount to the evolution of the state. The recognition of the partnership between citizen and state rhetorically abandoned the top-­down logic employed by the military socialists, while further attempting to accelerate the inclusion of more Bolivians into normalized state institutions like public schools and the army, all the while building a greater sense of civics. In part these men saw the public institutions as so critical because they themselves had been veterans of the Chaco War and understood the socialization power of a state-­driven institution like the army. I argue that the mnr revolution was an extension of the same goals set out prior to the Chaco War by eager yet naïve Bolivian politicians alongside the calculating officers who led the country through military socialism. Revolution in 1952 was the logical outcome of the policies undertaken since 1899 but came about especially because of the political realities of 1936–­39.

Introduction  25

1 The 1920s and the Road to the Chaco

The first decades of the 1900s represented an exciting time for the Bolivians in major cities. New aspects of technology continued to reach Bolivia, even a taxi service available to people “at any moment by telegraph” in Oruro. A comparable luxury was available in La Paz as well.1 Similarly, to keep up with the speed of technology, leaders in Bolivia realized that they needed to invest in building the sort of infrastructure that would foster growth and the creation of a more homogeneous state. In 1907 the newspaper El Diario reported that an Argentine company, Marconia del Rio, was petitioning to establish telegraph lines throughout the lowlands of Bolivia, in Rurrenabaque, Trinidad, Santa Rosa, Matucari, Villa Bella, and Coloni.2 A year later the company Fomento Oriente Boliviano proposed a railroad that would link the Paraguay River with the city of Santa Cruz. This, the authors realized, would enable Bolivians and the government to settle and exploit the territory, especially for economic gain. It was “impossible to calculate” the “potential production” from this “rich territory,” which was the “duty of patriotism and true progress.”3 Settling the lowland frontier of Bolivia became synonymous with harnessing the power of the people, and virtually all political parties were eager for expansion. 27

Soon after the end of the War of the Pacific, the political landscape in Bolivia shifted as political parties emerged with the intention of reforming the country. Herbert Klein’s classic works cover the development of political parties and the respective transfers of power. The stated aim of his monograph from 1969 is to describe this history as it “evolved into a stable two-­party regime,” and then analyze how that system devolved into “class politics and social revolutionary movements.”4 Klein’s work remains foundational, and this chapter benefits from it in important ways. He recognized that after Bolivia’s defeat in the War of the Pacific, a new set of leaders emerged who saw economic opportunity in the country’s natural resources. As early as the 1880s Gregorio Pacheco and Aniceto Arce actively championed the construction of railroads, public works, and larger state-­sponsored economic development despite not belonging to the Liberal Party. Arce argued during his bid for the presidency in 1887 that his reform program was simply realistic.5 Conservatives, Liberals, and later the Republicans, Genuine Republicans, and Socialists of various stripes, all saw the key to power realized in economic development and robust state involvement in helping to make that happen.6 What is important for this study is to highlight not only the types of reforms but also how people grew more connected to the changes. In other words, the various reforms in Bolivia after the War of the Pacific, including liberalism, increasing nationalism, and general reform that sought to embed Bolivia in the global economy, were elite projects that gradually awakened the subaltern. By the 1920s changes in the economy and increased urbanization meant that elite control was gradually ceded in favor of the power of the crowd. War over the Chaco was the point whereby various actors from below gained the sort of experience that would enable politics to fully embrace populism. The Liberal Party’s emergence foreshadowed just how much emotion and personality would dictate a transformative political landscape. A Liberal author, Castro Rojas, argued that the party was the person at the helm. A party, he declared, “needs an orientation, an advice, an opinion.” However, the Liberal Party “does not need anything” because of its inevitability. Yet a party that “cannot solve the political problems with enlightened statesmen” would be a “sad exhibition of an unspeakable ineptitude, proving 28  the Road to the Chaco

that it is not a political party.” Rojas also argued, “Liberalism lives in the conscience of the country, it lives in our moral and material progress,” and it would be “crazy to desire to stop its triumphant ascension to higher conceptions of national life.” He regarded the Liberal Party leader, President Ismael Montes, as someone indispensable for the country. “Don Ismael,” he claimed, “has served the country since he was practically a child” and helped to craft a foreign policy that had been “etched into the Bolivian patriotic spirit.”7 On the eve of World War I, with almost a decade and a half of liberal rule in Bolivia, this idea of engaging with Bolivians—­at least those in cities with the potential for leveraging power—­only continued to grow more important. La Paz’s El Diario ran an article arguing that Bolivians’ “duty” in the realm of politics was to continue forward: “the struggle for the ideals” and, more than anything, the “defense of the interests of the nation points to the citizen two ways.” Those two ways rested in either increasing the suffrage to include more people or making the “legal revolution” that would change Bolivia for the better.8 Montes’s hand-­picked successor, the veteran politician José M. Gutierrez, served at a time when emotions helped split the Liberal Party, which manifested in the formation of the Republican Party. The Republicans lost in the election of 1917, but members remained engaged in politics. In summer 1920 they moved to dislodge Gutierrez from power. The resulting coup exposed the weaknesses that the Liberals had in bringing reform to Bolivia, in part because sufficient numbers of people were unsatisfied with the pace of change. The 1920 coup also raised the question of whether it was driven by elites or had the interests of the broader masses in mind. U.S. ambassador Samuel Abbot Maginnis cabled his superiors in Washington dc during the 1920 coup that the “deaths were exceptionally few.”9 Tranquility was widespread, and the military coup succeeded in removing the Liberals from power. Before heading off to Chile, the English-­educated, red-­bearded Gutierrez signed his resignation letter in the U.S. Legation at 3:00 p.m. on July 12, 1920, signaling a shift to a more aggressive political style that would dominate Bolivia over the next two decades. Bautista Saavedra, the lawyer, intellectual, and government agent, formed part of the triumvirate of power with José Maria Escalier and José Manuel the Road to the Chaco  29

Ramirez. The governing junta declared that its legitimacy—­that is, of the “new political state”—­had been “consolidated with the patriotic cooperation of the army,” and that as soon as possible there would be a call for elections “of the Bolivian people” to reform the “political constitution of the country” and create legislation for the “new organization of the country.” Like the Liberals, who understood that progress and reform meant investments in the country, Saavedra recognized the growing power of ideas and developed methods for controlling urban centers such as Oruro and La Paz. U.S. diplomats had observed that the basis of power for the junta was the popularity of rejecting the 1904 treaty with Chile regarding the loss of the Pacific coastal territories. Yet the same diplomats wondered about the coup and declared that it was neither popular nor provoked by “ill treatment.” Instead it was an elitist and “clever” coup planned by a handful of men who benefited from the “dissatisfaction in [the] army and high handed methods at elections.” The Americans observed that while the higher ranks were unsupportive, the officers of “inferior rank” seemed excited.10 Clearly elites and those of lower status were agitating for change. Several neighboring countries, including Paraguay, extended provisional or outright recognition of the junta by the end of July. Yet recognition remained questionable. Brazil, Argentina, and the United States all hesitated in declaring the junta the official government. Importantly, Chile, whose leaders feared any Bolivian revanchist claims over the coastline, had mobilized troops in its north, which dealt not only with former Bolivian territory but also the mineral-­rich area of Tacna-­Arica, still under contention with Peru.11 U.S. leaders had been in conversation with other ministers and had declared that an important piece in recognizing the junta was whether it “represents popular sentiment.” In late August the U.S. diplomats declared that they had insufficient evidence of whether the junta had popular support because they wanted to be “entirely certain.” To that end, they saw the upcoming elections at the end of the year as an opportunity to view how the people felt. When elections came on November 14, the Americans observed that they were “free and fair” and were overwhelmingly tranquil. The Republican Party, the chief opponent of the long-­dominant Liberals, was “overwhelmingly sustained.” Following this 30  the Road to the Chaco

event, the remaining governments that had withheld support recognized Saavedra as the new president of the republic.12 This chapter will use the events of the 1920s to better understand how the complex reform and modernization program, along with the growing trend toward populist politics, moved to foster war over the Chaco. Government leaders in La Paz experimented with a host of progressive programs, which almost exclusively relied on an increasingly larger role for Bolivian goods in a global marketplace. A race to expand tin production and exports coincided with other economic schemes, such as exploration for petroleum products and an internal colonization program that would focus on agricultural products. Increased foreign investment came alongside foreign loans, which both facilitated the expansion of modernizing reforms and restricted and upset Bolivians once global trade plummeted. My argument is divided into two primary sections. First, I develop the notion that Bolivian politics in the 1920s developed into a system that increasingly favored emotion-­based politics, which foreshadowed the coming full-­fledged populism of the 1930s. The 1920s was a decade when leaders included more people in governance—­actively and passively—­but also set up unrealistic expectations regarding progress. Second, I explore some of the more important reform programs that the government initiated during the early 1920s to demonstrate how it had tried to satisfy the progressive rhetoric of its leaders and build a more modern state. These institutional reforms included infrastructure initiatives and internal colonization programs that would enable the state to grow and diversify. An important component of the shift in power from Bautista Saavedra to Hernando Siles in 1925 foreshadowed the definitive move by Bolivian elites to dependence on the United States, something that American policymakers had been watching “gleefully” since the turn of the century.13 While increasing ties to the United States was not driven by popular demand, the money that came from the Americans allowed elites to move forward with the reforms that were transforming Bolivia. Precisely because of the economic downturn at the end of the decade, popular protests against the U.S. government put pressure on the leaders in La Paz. The conclusion of this chapter summarizes how these projects at first aided Bolivian leaders the Road to the Chaco  31

but later made it so they were unable to weather the economic downturn after 1927. In the end, the balancing act that leaders such as Siles tried to follow—­in terms of responding to popular demands and engaging positively in the global economy—­failed, and this proved pivotal in pushing leaders toward such desperate measures as war over the Chaco. Globalism and Transformation

To begin to answer the question of why Bolivian leaders declared war over the Chaco in 1932, it is important to identify the stresses facing the government at that time. This analysis takes on the framework from the classic debate in German history—­that is, did the primacy of domestic politics or foreign policy determine why Bolivian elites charged unprepared into war in 1932? Were government leaders driven by a need to modernize, and were they thereby sensitive to popular calls for real reforms and laws treating labor, voting, education, and the economy? David Kaiser, James Joll, and others reiterate how entire foreign policies grew out of domestic concerns, including, for instance, Kaiser Wilhelm II’s assertion that “German foreign policy after 1897 must be understood as a response to the internal threat of socialism and democracy.”14 With diverse pressures, this argument would see the call for war as a result of an uneasy position in power with few options to satisfy an increasingly restless populace and anxious political challengers. Additionally, part of the impetus toward calls for reform came from the various classes in society that faced economic hardship because of the Great Depression. Bolivia’s economy had been dependent on fluctuating demand from abroad, and the Depression’s contraction meant unemployment and decreased profits across sectors of society. In fact it is probably no surprise that war began when tin prices reached their lowest point during the Depression just as people’s fears would have been at their greatest.15 One response was to see an adventurous war against a smaller and weaker Paraguay as a path for hope that could relieve the pressure from internal squabbles and shutter opponents whose calls for reform meant the end of a regime. None of the new or established political parties had deep roots, and all were vulnerable to the changing moods of public opinion. Such a temporal atmosphere must have put leaders on guard as 32  the Road to the Chaco

fluid scenarios rarely lead to unity, as Lewis Coser explains in his classic works on sociology and conflict.16 War can thus be understood as a result of fear by the ruling elites over losing their grip on power.17 Yet looking from the contrasting argument we can see that upon independence from Spain the core of Bolivia remained largely isolated and poor. With few roads and disparate centers of power—­indeed few urban centers at all to speak of—­the government stood divided for much of its early history between the old elites based in Sucre and emerging elites centered in La Paz and even Santa Cruz or Beni.18 Split internally, successive Bolivian governments reached out haphazardly abroad and found few allies of substance. Disconnected and disorganized, Bolivian forces lost each time they took to arms. Having ceded territory to Brazil as late as 1903 and woefully outclassed—­and outfinanced—­by neighboring Argentina in terms of foreign influence, the Bolivian foreign policy that had existed vainly sought a return of a Pacific port and the so-­called dignity that went along with an outlet to the sea.19 Such a policy existed because it was popular among the crowds whose members cheered for a restitution of old borders. Argentine intervention at the beginning of the twentieth century to mediate a solution to the Chaco border created a pact that was “extremely onerous” for Bolivia.20 Chilean officials remained adamant against Bolivian demands and contained La Paz’s growth. In the early 1900s the Chilean foreign minister Abraham König Velásquez declared that the “Littoral is rich and is worth many millions.” Our rights to the province, he said, “came from victory,” which was one of the “supreme laws of nations.” It was the same as “Germany taking Alsace Lorraine and the United States taking Puerto Rico.”21 The humiliations and territorial cessions created an atmosphere wherein perhaps a victory over a weaker neighbor would serve as a “vindication” and strengthen the government, especially such a fragile one, given that few Bolivians saw war as negative.22 After all, rhetoric from various sources had been brewing for decades over how “a weak country” like Paraguay could win territory superior in size to its “own territory” through treaty; Bolivia could not let such injustice continue.23 Saavedra employed the same contradictory logic when he argued in 1908 that “force determined the Road to the Chaco  33

a country’s potential,” while “the weak believe in [international] rights.”24 However, without any consistent foreign policy muscle to back up its demands, Bolivian elites stood helpless as their neighbors only grew more powerful. In response to weakness and loss throughout the nineteenth century, some Bolivian leaders sought to build up a credible military to exercise clout in future disputes. They drew on foreign experts—­careerists from France and later Germany—­and bought foreign weapon systems in an effort to modernize the armed forces. In preparation for and during the course of the Chaco War, the Bolivians employed aircraft, tanks, trucks, mobile artillery, and modern small arms against the Paraguayans. Because the power in La Paz remained within a handful of extended families, these foreign military experts and arms traders became entrenched and influential. Despite any real gains in professionalization or innovation among military circles, in the field of foreign relations Bolivia had few men of substance who could define and execute policy for any given time. This was exaggerated by the high rates of turnover among ambassadorial and executive personnel.25 Moreover, because of the tenuous nature of political rivalries, disputes emerged among leaders. Saavedra called the Bolivian representative who concluded the Buenos Aires Pact in 1907, Minister Claudo Pinilla, a man without the “criteria or other talent to conclude a border dispute.”26 The result was a chaotic and dependent Foreign Ministry that focused most of its energy on a frivolous and distracting revanchist policy. When war became an option against Paraguay in 1932, the hawks won the day with an emotion-­based argument calling for action. Debates on the primacy of domestic or foreign policy continues to dominate scholarship regarding the history of modern Germany and its path to war in the twentieth century. From just a brief survey of Bolivia, a similar argument holds validity when dealing with the causes of the Chaco War. Furthermore it seems that given how challenging it was to manage both domestic and foreign policy, the causes and consequences of the Chaco War are critical to understanding a modernizing Bolivia before the war and the path to revolution in 1952. Thankfully, recent scholarship on related topics offer some new angles of interpretation. 34  the Road to the Chaco

Broadly speaking, Peter Katzenstein argues that “in the contemporary international political economy increasing interdependence goes hand in hand with assertions of national independence.” Therefore there is no “clear-­cut distinction between domestic and international politics,” because a “selective focus on either the primacy of foreign policy and the ‘internalization’ of international effects or on the primacy of domestic politics and the ‘externalization’ of domestic conditions is mistaken.” Katzenstein finds that selective approaches overlook the premise that the “main purpose of all strategies of foreign economic policy is to make domestic politics compatible with the international political economy.”27 Similarly Cornelius Torp understands Europe’s road to war in 1914 as driven in part by globalization.28 This idea fuses how German leaders adapted to stresses caused by foreign policy—­whether trade policy, colonial policy, or alliance networks—­with the domestic problems that included urbanization, industrialization, and an increasingly tense political atmosphere with competing trade unions, as well as center-­left parties benefiting from increased suffrage and rights. Looking at how connected the domestic and foreign policies were accounts for the multifaceted problems that leaders faced as globalization made real inroads in states such as Germany. This perspective relates especially well to Bolivian history because the country was so reliant on the global economy while facing such tremendous social issues as increased voter participation, land reform, and the so-­called Indian problem. The idea that globalization—­of goods and ideas—­might be the answer to Bolivia’s problems is enticing. It puts into perspective both the difficulties facing the government from domestic interests and its challenging international position. Connecting domestic reforms and political instability with the lack of a coherent and credible foreign policy helps explain causation and the complicated dynamics that functioned in Bolivia, especially in the 1920s, as globalization reached La Paz with renewed energy thanks to interest from the United States. The globalized world that had thrived until 1914 played a defining role in creating and remaking Bolivia’s situation, which brought tin mining to the forefront of economic development. That move tied politicians to a the Road to the Chaco  35

restricted source of capital for development.29 Bolivia’s economy rested on the export of a handful of raw materials to the United States and countries in Europe where those goods became integral parts of finished products. Thus when World War I brought a contraction in the economies of those states or a shift in global supply, it hastened a tremendous blow to the fortunes of Bolivian miners, transporters, bankers, insurers, and customs officers. In short, the middle class and laborers who fled rural estates to engage in new industries felt the most gain in the good years and the most pain in the bad. Politicians had little handle on how to deal with the singular economy of Bolivia, nor could they control demographic change, including increasingly significant patterns of urbanization and calls for greater rights for various subaltern actors, most importantly the Indigenous. Politicians enacted reforms that might have begun in earnest, but they had trouble implementing them, especially in the 1920s when competitive party politics intersected with increasingly visible groups of energized subalterns. Harnessing People and Balancing Foreign Interest

While Bolivian leaders increasingly looked toward populism from the early days of the twentieth century, they still admittedly ruled with only meager popular input.30 No greater example of this sort of meager input from broader society exists than the state of newspapers in Bolivia. The tin magnates dominated the newspapers and therefore pushed their agendas on the reading public. For example, Carlos Víctor Aramayo owned the La Paz daily La Razón, which had the greatest circulation among all newspapers in Bolivia, approximately 50,000 readers.31 While that is a woeful number, the entire country had only 200,000 literate people, so this one newspaper reached a quarter of the literate population. Newspapers from earlier decades had even lower numbers of circulation, but they catered to narrow interests, such as merchants, miners, or the few folks of financial means in cities such as Oruro and La Paz. During the 1920s newspapers began to broaden in scope, something that was more fully realized during the Chaco War. The idea of reaching supporters helped drive the increasingly divided political parties across Bolivia. President Saavedra (1921–­25) used his daily La Republica as a tool 36  the Road to the Chaco

for party propaganda. When it came to patriotic issues such as territory in the Chaco, papers like La Republica took a stance common to virtually all media outlets: “As to the Chaco, the national opinion is united: not to cede eight inches of lands.”32 Similarly, the Liberal Party supported emotional issues when it came to territorial questions in the Chaco.33 As one of the leading modern educational reformers in Bolivia, Eduardo Leandro Nina Qhispi wrote to Daniel Salamanca at the dawn of the Chaco War that he would “inculcate in the indigenous schools the duty to sacrifice ourselves for our beautiful flag and our beloved country.”34 Patriotic messages eventually became useful tools to energize the crowds and help leaders navigate the still immature and fragile democracy. When we think of how populism in Bolivia was nurtured in the 1920s, it is important to go outside of the traditional markers of literacy and the consumption of ideas through newspapers or books and look to other public activities. As neighboring Peru began its transformation between 1866 and 1879, it was social clubs—­both patriotic and recreational—­and professional societies and academic groups where Peruvians redefined notions of public space. In Bolivia we can trace a similar growth of civil society and various methods for greater communication between peoples.35 One such important case was the introduction of professional sport, beginning with soccer in the late nineteenth century. While the first soccer match occurred in La Paz in 1876, it was not until the second half of the 1890s that soccer clubs appeared in Oruro (1896), Potosí (1898), and La Paz (1899), which were the key cities that had grown thanks to tin mining and the transshipment of goods. By 1905 the first interdepartmental match between Oruro and La Paz was held as a celebration for the completion of the Oruro-­Viacha railroad link.36 Elites in fact used sport and public entertainment to foster excitement over their agendas to modernize the state and civilize its people. Sport continued to serve in this larger process with the foundation of a Bolivian soccer association in 1914. Such a move increased the need for venues in which to gather and enjoy the game. As a result, people argued for a permanent stadium where thousands of fans could gather to cheer on their teams and where hundreds, if not thousands more, could hawk goods and ideas to the sporting enthusiasts. the Road to the Chaco  37

As part of the general trend toward more participatory government, leaders created a commission to realize demands for a stadium. The Pro-­Estadio commission included on its leadership council the Liberal José Luis Tejada Sorzano and worked to secure a space in the Miraflores neighborhood of La Paz, which was already home to a public hospital. It took several years to complete construction on the stadium, named after President Siles, but it was finally inaugurated on January 16, 1930, with the playing of the national anthem. The military band played the instruments while students and athletes sung the lyrics, which included the emotionally charged chorus: Let us keep the lofty name of our Fatherland in glorious splendor. And, on its altars, once more we must swear: To die before we would live as slaves! To die before we would live as slaves! To die before we would live as slaves!37 Following the national anthem, the bishop of La Paz provided blessings, followed by speeches from various officials in the government and the commission. Finally, President Siles declared the day a holiday and suspended public and private activities to ensure that the public had the opportunity to partake in the sporting events in La Paz, which went beyond soccer to include basketball and track-­and-­field events. Beyond physical interactions among people, the 1920s was a time when technology became an important tool to disseminate information. Important advances in radio occurred during this decade that would not only serve business and civic groups but would also prove to government leaders the value of propaganda. An obvious advantage was the ability to transcend the vast illiteracy throughout the country with radio messages that mirrored articles from newspaper campaigns. Newspapers also publicized the radio broadcasts and recognized that the radio had incredible potential to “spark the desire for knowledge” in the major cities throughout the country and to “make available knowledge to diverse groups.” Buenos Aires was home to the first radio broadcasting unit in South America, which included a modest twenty receivers in August 1920. That station played Richard 38  the Road to the Chaco

Wagner’s Parsifal, bringing culture as well as news to its listeners. News included foreign transmissions from Europe and the United States. Nine years later, at the end of the decade, the first radio station came to Bolivia, Radio Nacional, a private venture, followed during the Chaco War with the government’s establishment of Radio Illimani. Both were clearly instruments of “creole Bolivian elites” and weapons to control public opinion during the “tense socio-­political” environment of war, but they also fostered opinion during peacetime. As with newspapers, the listening public was restricted by the number of expensive radio receivers, but this eased over time: 150 radios were installed in public spaces such as bars, restaurants, clubs, and plazas in the major cities. After his address to the crowd at Siles Stadium, President Siles gave his speech on the radio, addressed to “al pueblo de Bolivia,” for its inaugural transmission on March 2, 1929. Radios then became an additional tool to inform and excite, with patriotic speeches and the playing of the national anthem alongside tributes to the veterans of the War of the Pacific. The inaugural broadcast of the government’s Radio Illimani on July 15, 1933, occurred on the anniversary of the emancipation of Alto Peru from colonial forces, thereby linking images of Bolivian history with modes of progress.38 Patriotic military marches, songs dedicated to the loss of the Pacific Coast, and government messages by officials such as President Siles made radio a powerful force in urban Bolivia and placed popular emotions squarely in the sights of political progress. While little evidence exists of the number of people reached by these broadcasts, Daphne L’Angevin has argued that the “messages circulated from mouth to mouth, from the side of the narrator and announcers on the plazas,” specifically to reach the uneducated and illiterate. It was the “new forms of socialization” that helped instill the ideas across broad audiences, exciting them to organize, protest, strike, and create change across Bolivia.39 Sport had the potential to the do same thing, and stadiums such as in Miraflores would become new public spaces for Bolivians of all stripes to congregate, consume goods, and exchange ideas even if they had little actual political power. At the same time in neighboring Chile, this public space would facilitate the growth of populist forces despite the small number of actual voters there because populism benefits from the sentiments of the the Road to the Chaco  39

people and the energy of a larger movement. Such was the case for Arturo Alessandri, who won Chile’s presidential election of 1920 with only 4.5 percent of the population voting. That was an improvement compared with 1915, but it was a number that still restricted women, illiterates, the police, military, the clergy, prisoners, anyone under twenty-­one years of age, and those naturalized in a foreign country.40 Alessandri’s victory proved that suffrage was not key to seeing politicians seek or achieve real popularity, but rather the dynamic expansion in the 1920s of urban and social environments dictated politics. Perhaps one of the most influential aspects of this change came as a result of dramatic globalization. Opening of a Global Bolivia

Only five hundred kilometers of railroads in Bolivia existed in 1900, while twelve years later that amount would double, with plans for five thousand more under consideration and construction.41 While this was a start, a comparison with the United States between 1871 and 1900 shows an average of more than 5,800 miles (9,300 kilometers) of track constructed per year. Despite its modest size, railroad building in Bolivia almost universally was linked directly with moving products to market more easily. In 1904 President Ismael Montes asked, “How will we make productive the national heritage we Bolivians have? I will say so in two words: establishing railways and laying telegraph wires. . . . This is my administration and government program.”42 By 1916, despite the disruptions to global trade thanks to World War I, Bolivian exports surpassed imports, US$101 million to US$31 million, in part because railways connected the major mines to ports on the Pacific Coast.43 Demand for tin, with newfound uses in household but also military applications, meant that the economy grew rapidly—­and people moved to new mining or shipping jobs—­but state power remained weak. Government leaders acclimated to corruption and nepotism failed to create the sort of tax base that would help the state modernize and manage change. Alcides Arguedas noted in his diary that the railroad concessions never ended because of how they enriched certain people. “What a scandal,” he lamented. He named prominent figures wrapped up in the malfeasance of public resources, including the intellectual and politician from Santa 40  the Road to the Chaco

Cruz, Enrique Finot, the “poor servant of yesterday” who today is “rich” because of the corruption that spread from modernization programs.44 Because the tin mining industry in particular grew in the first decades of the twentieth century, the major tin producers wielded significant power and influenced the conduct of the state.45 Whereas the state might have derived most of its revenue from taxing imports, exports, consumption, and dividends and profits of corporations, it wound up falling short and spent the 1920s relying on foreign loans for solvency. These loans, floated by private banks, created serious difficulties for the Bolivian government because to pay them back and cover the high interest rates, fees on exports necessarily had to increase. Duties constituted nearly 60 percent of the state budget, which put it in a precarious position if exports were to slow down. It was the early Liberal governments that were determined to foster global trade and open up Bolivia to foreign debt. Beginning in 1908 with a loan of £500,000 Sterling at a rate of 6 percent underwritten by J. P. Morgan’s bank, foreign loans extended to Bolivia continued in 1913, 1917, 1922, and 1927, all the while Bolivian mines provided much of the world’s tin.46 On the eve of the Chaco War, public debt amounted to “214 million Bolivianos, out of which 137 million ($60.3 million USD) was foreign debt.” To pay that off, the total fiscal revenue in 1931 only saw 35 million Bolivianos, or merely 16 percent of the total loaned value.47 This sort of fiscal crisis put the government in an incredibly weak position; even without war or any other international conflict, the state found itself dependent on factors far outside its control. Foreign interest in Bolivia expanded in the early 1920s as that country attempted to engage more forcefully with the global economy. At the beginning of the 1920s Franklin Henry Martin published his collection of stories of U.S. doctors who had traveled to Latin America. To its readers, this volume would have reignited notions of the Turner Thesis and taming frontiers. Published by an evangelical organization, the volume tells of how Francis Corrigan of Cleveland traveled to Ecuador and Bolivia. Corrigan described the local doctors he visited in Bolivia as “cultivated gentlemen” who were “pleasant” and “charm[ing].”48 The author gave much credit to Ambassador Maginnis ( January 1920 to December 1921) for sponsoring his the Road to the Chaco  41

trip to Bolivia and helping to arrange for his tour. With the establishment of fraternal contacts between the American College of Surgeons and the newly established Bolivian equivalent, promoting the most recent advances in medicine throughout the Andean Republic made headway. While the disposition of Bolivian medical doctors pleased Corrigan, the medical facilities did not.49 Described as “far from satisfactory,” the hospitals and clinics were generally well below standards. A municipal hospital in Miraflores was under construction at the time and promised to be more advanced and able to care for the sick, but it would still be difficult to adequately service the growing population, already more than 100,000. The public suffered, but the private interests dealt with health care differently. Corrigan toured a hospital recently built by the Guggenheim Corporation—­a newcomer to the mining industry in Bolivia—­which he called a fine example of modern healthcare. The doctor directly linked issues of quality of care with the state of the medical infrastructure. A recent typhus epidemic had claimed the life of Charles Eastman, a U.S. doctor who worked for the tin mining interests. Corrigan noted that Eastman had put himself at considerable risk because he slept in the “native huts” in rural areas to “better care for his Indian patients.” Most damning, though, Corrigan argued that the “lack of adequate hospital facilities in Bolivia” was caused “in large part [by] absence of a definite governmental policy with regard to scientific matters.”50 The spirit of the surgeons and doctors was supposedly pure, but the conditions and the lack of government interest in furthering medical development seemed to present innumerable difficulties in making real reform. Corrigan was not alone in urging action from the government; his was one of numerous schemes by North Americans to get involved in Bolivia. U.S. president Warren Harding named Jesse S. Cottrell of Tennessee as minister to Bolivia, a position that he would take on January 6, 1922, and continue for the following six years. Cottrell, like his predecessors, was not a professional diplomat. He had served as a newspaper correspondent in Washington dc and as a captain in the U.S. Army. During his time in La Paz he would oversee unprecedented U.S. interest in Bolivia, yet he lacked the financial and political skills necessary to understand the consequences. One of his more important diplomatic duties was making 42  the Road to the Chaco

arrangements for Gen. John J. Pershing’s visit to Bolivia in 1924, just prior to his directorship of the Tacna-­Arica Plebiscite. Cottrell casually noted in an official telegram during the visit that the “Bolivian mind moves slowly” and that “action was oftimes [sic] put off.”51 He left the Andean capital under a cloud of controversy, with an angry wife demanding divorce; his apparent health issues stemmed from the high altitude in what he called “Inca Land.”52 Between his inability or refusal to work with Bolivians and his high blood pressure from the altitude, the newfound financial interest in Bolivia by his fellow North Americans grew without serious oversight or clear direction. Colonization Projects of the 1920s

As Bolivian leaders sought to expand government power in the early 1900s they tried desperately to attract immigrants and capital and to build a network of infrastructure that would make Bolivia wealthy. Rail traffic continued to serve as a major industrial undertaking; in 1920 a contract was signed that would link La Quiaca on the Argentine border to Atocha (linked with Uyuni), thereby completing the all-­rail route from La Paz to Buenos Aires. But at this exact time the Bolivian representative at the League of Nations issued a request for a “revision of the Treaty of 1904 with Chile,” which threatened the project and reignited old wounds of territorial loss.53 Bolivia’s argument fit within both emotional trends of exciting popular opinion but also practical needs of finding expedient export routes. Delegates argued to the international community that the port of Arica in particular had been the principal port for Upper Peru (Bolivia) since colonial times and that true justice would enable Bolivia to have a sovereign port on the Pacific.54 Schemes for infrastructure development coincided with dreams of colonization, because a strong presence of Bolivians would reinforce territorial claims, especially where borders were not rigidly delineated. Several foreigners concocted plans to settle so-­called empty spaces in the lowlands; to that end, the Bolivian government of the 1920s was more than happy to send people to help shore up political support or reinforce claims in the Chaco. One such foreign colonization scheme came from Great Britain, whereby the Road to the Chaco  43

on September 5, 1926, thirty Englishmen set out on a voyage to establish a cotton-­growing colony in Bolivia. The men launched from Dunkirk after christening the six-­hundred-­pound steamship, fittingly named the President Saavedra, on a trip that the Bolivian delegate, Señor Delgaeo, praised as representing the kind of British settlers that his government welcomed.55 The Bolivia Concessions Ltd., the company in charge of the project, thought that recent immigration quotas by the United States would steer settlers to far-­off Bolivia. The company suffered setbacks and delays, and telegrams were sent to and from London trying to arrange for the colonists to win duty-­free access at Puerto Suarez and other protections. Bolivian authorities saw in this group a chance to “defend our sovereignty in the Chaco” and fill Bolivia with people who exhibited a “pure patriotism.”56 With mounting problems, however, the colonists returned to London by 1928 and the company was liquidated in 1931.57 A more well-­known colonizer was William H. Murray, a former U.S. congressman and governor from Oklahoma, who attempted to secure concessions as early as 1919 from the Bolivian government. After several trips to Bolivia, which included meetings with President Saavedra and Minister of War and Colonization Hernando Siles, Murray won a concession in the disputed Chaco.58 His job was to secure at least 250 North American colonists. To follow through on that order he published pamphlets throughout the American Midwest, such as Prospectus for the Murray Colony of Bolivia and Prospectus for the Murray Colonies of Central South Bolivia (1920 and 1923, respectively). He described the richness of the land and cried out in a social-­Darwinesque spirit that if Americans did not settle there “Italians, Germans or English will.”59 “Alfalfa Bill” Murray likened modernization to this project when he encouraged more railroads in Bolivia alongside exploration for oil by Standard Oil of New Jersey. Transportation networks such as railroads in the lowlands would help specifically because they could direct agricultural goods to the ports on the Rio de la Plata and attract foreigners who did not wish to settle in an already crowded Buenos Aires or Montevideo. Despite early problems, Murray did not give up on his land venture. Unfortunately for him, all but a few colonists who set out on the journey 44  the Road to the Chaco

returned to Oklahoma within a few years. He insisted that the Chaco was rich and would provide great wealth for settlers and blamed “homesickness” and a misguided notion of getting “rich off the natives.” Alfalfa Bill claimed to have disclosed the hardships to his potential colonists before challenging their frontier spirits. For many, however, the Chaco proved too isolated and troublesome, as even Murray described the litany of pests and troubles for farmers. The “worst pests” included the “leaf-­eating ant,” which he confidently explained was easily killed by burning a pile of logs over the ant hill. He claimed his cotton seeds did well, without a single disturbance from bugs, and lauded the Bolivian government for encouraging the purchase of six thousand pounds of the seeds for the Indigenous farmers in the area. He boasted of the cheap labor and promised that with hard work, colonists would become rich, like German colonists and others in the region. All of this was to no avail.60 Murray’s episode speaks volumes about the political climate in Bolivia in the 1920s. Saavedra and Siles both understood the value of popular opinion and therefore made serious attempts to modernize the country and improve standards. Murray wanted to create a prosperous colony and had some success. The Bolivian government agreed to allow farm equipment to enter the country duty free, including a cotton gin, and decreed that Murray’s farm could export its commodities tax free for the first five years. But problems of transporting the equipment and any exports persisted. The local Indigenous helped construct buildings, clear land, and farm, but the colonists complained that the Indigenous had no knowledge of modern machinery. Most troublesome, Murray had to contend with the navigation of complex property laws. In gaining the concession, he had to accept a much smaller parcel than the original 300,000 hectares, in part because after the Saavedra government accepted Murray’s plan, two Bolivian opposition leaders, Senator José Estenssoro from the Chaco and Mogro Moreno from Tarija, attempted to block Murray and discredit Saavedra. Estenssoro’s argument centered on the idea that Indigenous people would lose their lands, but it also intersected with elite political intrigue: as president, Saavedra could agree to a leasehold, but only the Senate could award a sale. After much delay, Murray’s concession was approved only because Saavedra the Road to the Chaco  45

forced it through as a lease.61 This kind of infighting shows that, despite a willingness by some for reform, the government was still too fragmented and weak to effect change. The government found “many foreigners who were abusing privileges” that had been granted them by the state and that such schemes did not “bring positive effects to Bolivia.” Officials argued for a more robust propaganda effort, including advertising in places such as Argentina. A Polish national, Harry Brawn, tried to create a consulate in Bolivia, and a Bolivian named Adriazola founded an agency in Argentina to publish magazines and other propaganda in foreign languages.62 Yet infrastructure problems plagued the colonization efforts, and the weakness of the Bolivian state made real progress virtually impossible. At the end of the 1920s, Siles turned on Murray’s colony because of political pressure, and Saavedra allowed encroachments on Murray’s land.63 The colonists could not trust that their plans and investments would pay off. Murray himself lost his entire fortune, some US$80,000, in part because the Bolivian government could never agree on how to support and remain committed to a colonial scheme in an otherwise deserted territory. Because an organized colonial effort was fruitless, the failure of the Murray project pushed the government to attempt another scheme for a colony in the Chaco called El Palmar, which Bolivian government officials surveyed and catalogued for distribution. With a price of 20 Bolivianos per hectare, the 757 hectares were deemed suitable for both grazing and agriculture. A local government official, Placido Sanchez, telegrammed that this land was to be redistributed to sixty Bolivian families, most likely Indigenous peoples, who had been dispossessed of their lands to make room for Murray.64 But projects such as El Palmar delivered only mediocre results and proved that in the 1920s the power of the state was insufficient to modernize the eastern lowlands. In 1929 the agronomist Eduardo Romecin summarized the political pressure in La Paz for foreign colonies by saying, “Without exception, these attempts at colonization have failed.” He declared matter-­of-­factly that the real need was to maximize the efficiency of land already under cultivation. The Bolivian government had supposedly lured settlers with “the prospect of fortunes easily won from the rich agricultural resources,” 46  the Road to the Chaco

but the lack of capital for investment weighed down chances for success. Most important, “the chief cause of failure” was the “complete lack of transportation facilities,” which resulted in the “absolute inability to get the products of the farm to market.” Romecin wrote that while the Bolivian authorities desired “European colonists,” they realized that their “first duty, as well as [their] practical duty from the standpoint of national well-­being,” was to improve the condition of the Indigenous, especially Indigenous farmers. He evidenced the Cochabamba land boom after 1916 as proof that the best path for colonization was to abandon the eastern regions and modernize the country’s populated areas. He pointed out that after the railroad connected Oruro and Cochabamba, the population of Cochabamba and its environs boomed, which made clear what Bolivian leaders had known for some time: the absolute need for infrastructure. Infrastructure development would better manage growth and help to solve the so-­called Indian problem, which centered on issues of landownership. While in theory the Indigenous could “purchase and hold land in any part of the country,” in practice large landowners and elites such as Saavedra continued to encroach on Indigenous lands. Romecin argued that “the working-­out of a national land tenure system for the Indians” would be critical to solving the whole agrarian problem.65 Outside of foreign schemes to bring in settlers, the ministry in charge of colonization drew from its other charge—­directing the armed forces—­to enact resettlement programs in Bolivia. Army leaders were more sensitive to the hard logistics of implementing a colonial policy. The commander of the 28th Padilla Regiment (engineers), one Lieutenant Colonel Rodriquez, reported to President Siles in a telegram that in his area of Guayaramerín, near the border with Brazil on the Mamoré River, he encountered antigovernment propaganda. He was afraid that a colonizer, Constantino Lara, who had been in a work regiment in the Chaco, was spreading antimilitary messages out of “ignorance,” and he was afraid that even more “degenerate behavior” would emerge. Rodriguez described Lara as lazy and without the “knowledge” of farming necessary to succeed.66 His description of the situation in Guayaramerín alluded to the need for a heavier hand by the Road to the Chaco  47

government to control the colonization program in a way that would build allies among the people and not opponents. With government help far off, some groups had attempted to develop their own transportation networks while also contending with the building industry. One such example in the late 1920s included the Society of Proprietors of the Yungas. The Yungas region lies in the tropical zone northeast of La Paz at the foot of the Andes and is known for coca and coffee production. Owners of Yungas estates attempted to maximize their profits by organizing control of the coca trade, building roads, and collecting local taxes to maintain the roads. But a larger problem plagued the region. A labor shortage meant that the estate owners needed to convince Indigenous groups from La Paz and elsewhere to agree to work in the malaria-­ridden, tropical Yungas. Despite its richness in desirable agricultural products, the abandonment of a railroad and the delay in the construction of roads for truck traffic meant that the region’s exports were carried by the Indigenous and their pack animals. This inefficient method trapped much of the labor force in transportation instead of focusing on the development of the land. At the same time, while machines might have made the region more efficient, the inability of crops to reach markets within a reasonable time meant that opportunities were lost.67 Overall the colonization projects that state leaders attempted to manage were efforts to diversify and strengthen the economy of Bolivia, manage domestic population shifts, and attract European settlers who would help transform the country. Yet the larger demands of the crowds in cities like La Paz meant that politicians never followed through on the colonies, at least not until after the Chaco War. Popular Tools for Realizing Greater Power

Soon after the Republican Party was founded in 1914, its leaders recognized that they needed support if they were going to win power from the Liberals. As a lawyer who had worked on behalf of the Indigenous, Bautista Saavedra used the urban working classes to gain power but also recognized that the Indigenous too were important, as their assistance in the Federal War had proved critical to ousting the conservatives in Sucre.68 An Indigenous 48  the Road to the Chaco

leader claimed in 1920 that the “Indians have allied with them” because the Republicans had the plight of the Indigenous in mind; it was the “workers and the others who voted for the Republicans” while “the rich” voted for the Liberals.69 Saavredra had been successful earlier in mobilizing public opinion, and while his actions on behalf of the Indigenous were not as thoroughgoing as he might have alluded to when running for office, he did take school reform more seriously. He believed that any educational reform that would benefit the Indigenous would also help the “mestizos and criollos.” His 1923 decree for Indigenous literacy, for example, would have assimilated the Indigenous into the Spanish culture, and further educational reforms—­including at the university level—­would help form a “new country where truth and justice for all prevail[ed] alongside happiness for all.”70 However, despite any attempts, in earnest or as a ploy for support, to advance the Indigenous he relied on “the mestizo artisans of the city” to overwhelm his opponents and establishment oligarchs who saw his projected shift to foreign capital as beneficial to big business.71 Once in office Saavedra deliberately turned to the United States as a source of investment at the expense of traditional British and Chilean interests. His tenure as president saw a decided effort to engage with North Americans. During the visit by General Pershing in late December 1924, for instance, Saavedra declared that the two countries shared a “common ideal” that included dreams of “liberty,” and he lauded Pershing as a fighter for “justice” who battled triumphantly in its name. Pershing likewise responded, “Inspired by common ideals of liberty and justice, my country looks forward to every opportunity to strengthen the ties of friendship that happily exist between our two peoples.”72 Saavedra favored a deal with the Standard Oil Company of New Jersey to allow it the rights to explore and drill for oil in Bolivia’s lowlands. As a seasoned politician, he echoed Montes when he declared that his “program [would] be his actions.” Those actions included a jingoistic program designed to engage popular emotions. Saavedra tried to use the League of Nations rhetoric to obtain a port for Bolivia and then declare victimization at the hands of outsiders.73 He proclaimed his respect for the League and for the United States as agents promoting “equal rights for all nations” in “defense of civilization.”74 Yet, his government and that the Road to the Chaco  49

of his successor worked behind the scenes to obtain U.S. favor to secure land from Chile during the Tacna-­Arica Plebiscite proceedings. News articles declared the “victimization of Bolivia” and sought to benefit from Peru’s renewed resistance against Chilean possession of the land.75 Closer to home he tolerated the killing of workers and peasants even while he directed the administration toward the continued Indigenous migration to the cities and subsequent calls for education and work reforms.76 Saavedra’s rule over Bolivia was everything to everyone. While in office, he used Gen. Hans Kundt’s services to engage in espionage against potential Liberal-­leaning officers in the ranks and used the army to control opposition more broadly.77 His presidency was set to end in 1925, and he tried to arrange for a hand-­chosen successor to follow his lead. After considerable trouble securing an heir, he eventually chose Hernando Siles, his former minister of war and colonization. What Saavedra did not count on was that Siles recognized that the students at the growing universities were becoming more active in politics, and he courted that group to perpetuate his rule, seeing them as “well-­intentioned, upwardly mobile, and impressionable” folks.78 The students took classes together and frequented the same public spaces, where they shared ideas and imagined how to make theory into reality. Such behavior largely conforms to what Stephan Feuchtwang defines as ritual, which “produces experiences that are memorable.” Furthermore, ritual performance is “a trigger and a screen for the sharing of different memories and for their organization into publics of shared submission to it or to its observation and enjoyment as ‘ours.’”79 Students were indeed a unique group who interacted in a hierarchical institution, with structured language, expectations, and social practices that differed from other young, middle-­class men and women. The influence of student organization in Latin America grew in importance by the end of World War I. Beginning in Argentina, a public student outcry for serious reforms at institutions of higher education spread to Mexico, Chile, Colombia, Cuba, and Peru.80 At the same time, it was students whose “burgeoning activism” brought rapid changes to China in a manner disproportionate to their numbers in society.81 When the rhetoric of student-­led change came to Bolivia in the 1920s, it was argued 50  the Road to the Chaco

that the new generation would “re-­create” Bolivia. With growing numbers of students in key urban areas, Siles saw an opportunity and deliberately played to them, using the rowdy propaganda techniques perfected by Enrique Baldivieso, an activist and politician who was a “brilliant orator” and purveyor of “modern culture.”82 As students grew more engaged in reform, they looked past education and envisioned how they could shape the nation. After skirmishes in the Chaco erupted in 1928, Siles sought to use the opportunity to strengthen Bolivian nationalism while university students organized military battalions.83 Students, and young people more broadly, would continue this trend in the coming years and become an important source for political change. External Financial Interests and Infrastructure Programs

While the Bolivian government had contracted foreign debt since soon after President Montes took office in the early 1900s, the latter half of the 1920s gave rise to an explosion of foreign loans. Over 80 percent of all foreign loans contracted before the Chaco War occurred in the 1920s, during the presidencies of Saavedra and especially Siles. The lion’s share of money supposedly went to infrastructure projects, but also were needed to settle prior loans and the purchase of arms. U.S. bankers played a key role in encouraging these Bolivian governments to borrow money, stimulated by the country’s vast tin mines. Besides the expenditures and the granting of foreign loans to the Bolivian government, another economic factor that shows an internationalist and modern dynamic emerged in the 1920s. A Permanent Fiscal Commission was convened in 1924, at the end of Saavedra’s regime, with duties that “included supervision of banks, national fiscal accounting, and tax collection for a period of twenty-­five years.” This was tied to a loan for US$25 million between the Bolivian government and the Equitable Trust Company of New York.84 The Commission was also to advise on how to better improve the financial system in Bolivia, which led to further international connections in 1927. In that year the Princeton economist Edwin W. Kemmerer (1875–­1945) visited Bolivia and stayed for three months. Kemmerer held faith in the the Road to the Chaco  51

gold standard and preached the evils of inflation; these notions won him wide acclaim, and he spent much of the 1920s traveling to parts of Latin America to help fix the financial woes of insolvent or struggling regimes, the last of which had exited the gold standard in 1920. He entered the international arena thanks to his advising the U.S. government before World War I, which gained him favor among State Department personnel. Latin American governments saw his advice on their economies as a further step toward attracting the large reserves of U.S. capital.85 The positive press in Bolivia about the prospect of greater foreign investment and attention from important Americans helped keep people hopeful of continued progress. Kemmerer’s missions to Latin America have been described in the literature as a “continuation in a somewhat more informal guise of the direct US economic intervention practised in Central America and the Caribbean from about the turn of the century.”86 Besides an enormous amount of international experience, which included official advising of the governments of Poland and Turkey, Kemmerer made five trips to Latin America, including his trip to Bolivia. It is no surprise that a Bolivian government of the 1920s was eager to hear from a man like Kemmerer, who “emphasized the connection between trade, foreign investment, and the world economy.”87 Tin exports were still on the rise in the 1920s (though prices dropped in 1927), and the demands for greater infrastructure management, investment, and colonization in the Bolivian economy were hallmarks of the modernizing regimes of Saavedra and Siles. Kemmerer, however, was unimpressed by what he found in Bolivia and commented that there was “less general ability in financial matters” combined with a “spirit” that was “not conducive to constructive reform.”88 Nonetheless one U.S. bank, Dillon, Read & Co., arranged for a US$14 million loan in 1927 at 7 percent, and followed up with a second for US$23 million.89 At the time of the conclusion of the first loan, over 90 percent of Bolivia’s external debt was held by Americans.90 And with U.S. capital came U.S. expertise in a host of areas, including the supervision of proposed infrastructure projects and the reform of the country’s laws. J. F. McGurk, a functionary at the Legation at La Paz, wrote that Siles “is to all intent and purpose a dictator at the present time” and that supervision and reform 52  the Road to the Chaco

were both necessary. The 1927 loan supposedly “strengthened” Siles “with all classes,” which helped obtain the passage of reform measures; these were precisely the sort of reforms that the country needed to modernize in order to pay back the loans. Robert O. Haywood, one of the bankers at Dillon, Read & Co., wrote to Secretary of State Frank C. Kellogg, “Our discussions with the Bolivian Government have been based on the primary condition that before the loan is made, the Government shall adopt in full the entire Kemmerer program.”91 The Bolivian government that same year reportedly declared that with the adoption of the Kemmerer reforms, including “new mining taxes,” a program for “financing the national railway system,” and the establishment of a central bank, it would seek a new loan of US$30 million.92 Financially the Bolivian government had stabilized the currency against the U.S. dollar and balanced the national budget, though it did not gain additional revenue.93 Bolivia officially returned to the gold standard in 1928, having abandoned it at the onset of World War I.94 The man behind the return, as well as the general overseer of financial modernization, Joseph T. Byrne, was an American appointee who participated with Kemmerer. His job as controller-­general of Bolivia was meant to ensure that the reforms enacted would be faithfully followed there.95 In sum, U.S. loans came with a type of oversight and interference that handicapped the Bolivian government’s ability to realize its reform agenda, especially considering how fragile it was in terms of popular support. Such oversight laid the foundation for the type of popular unrest that would emerge during the Chaco War, as foreign companies such as Standard Oil faced criticism as an enemy of Bolivia. In order to obtain popular support from diverse groups throughout Bolivia the Bolivian government tried to use U.S. loans to bankroll infrastructure development to link the country’s two halves and increase the capabilities of the army. For instance, the road from Tarija to Villamontes would allow Bolivians to access the Chaco without entering Argentina. That was especially important because it coincided with the rejuvenation of the armed forces and the construction of fortines (military outposts) in the Chaco.96 As president, Siles ordered a series of major programs for infrastructure reform and made “considerable armament purchases” the Road to the Chaco  53

from companies such as Vickers in Great Britain.97 To augment General Kundt’s reorganization of the army, which included literacy training and modern drill and institutional standards, the Ministry of War had sought a resolution to finalize the contract for another German officer, Ernst Röhm, to join the Bolivian army at the rank of lieutenant colonel.98 In 1929 the overall reform of the army included not only foreign experts but also projects led by foreign companies. That year the government put forth a resolution to authorize the firm Price, Waterhouse, Faller Co. to take an “inventory of the military forces” and “formulate a project” that would maximize the “essential and indispensable” reorganization of the force.99 While U.S. oversight or expertise might have helped, it further alienated the Bolivian government from its people. The history of modernization and reform shows the intricate connections between the position of the U.S. government, New York–­based bankers, and governments throughout Latin America. Each of these groups was under severe financial pressure in the 1920s. Despite all the attention paid to the Siles regime by the Americans, revenue diminished and thereby accelerated further budget deficits, which hampered the repayment of loans. Experts have attributed this to “widespread corruption, and the unavailability of an adequate technical staff to implement fiscal policy,” which combined with a third critically important development: “excessive military expenditure[s]” and investment in “uneconomic railway lines.”100 Military expenditures included arms contracts to fight domestic unrest—­like that seen in 1927 in Chayanta—­and to stifle Paraguay’s continued claims on parts of the Chaco.101 The U.S.-­led mission to settle the Tacna-­Arica dispute had floundered a year earlier, and any rumors that Bolivia would gain territory fell away rapidly, bringing about despair in urban centers. At the same time as domestic unrest and a loss of hope in gaining concessions from Chile, confrontations between Bolivian and Paraguayan forces increased, which hardened the Bolivian resolve. During one such incident north of Fortín Boquerón, a Bolivian army major named Manchego took the lead in repelling the invaders in “respect of our sovereignty.” A government note from the Ministry of War hailed Manchego as a “confirmation of the activities that the Bolivian government was taking.” The “operation of Bolivia [was] 54  the Road to the Chaco

crystal clear,” the Ministry stated, and it promised to “energetically and with dignity” repel the invaders.102 The pitch for action against Paraguay had increased by 1929 to a fever. Alcides Arguedas was an exception to this; according to a January 1929 note that he wrote to Tomás Manuel Elío, then minister of foreign relations, he wished to remind the government that the cries for war would lead to terrible consequences. He was especially afraid that the government was “dominated by the thoughtless impulse of popular enthusiasm for war,” which was reminiscent of the “identical fervor and unconsciousness” that led to war with Chile in 1879. That fervor had “terrible consequences for us.” Instead of buckling to the calls for war by the masses, Arguedas urged the government to heed the “great moral force” of the League of Nations, which sought to protect the weaker countries of the world and defend “civilization.”103 He clearly thought that continued diplomacy was the answer. Yet diplomacy had been on the table for decades and had yielded no politically acceptable result. With an urban society increasingly interested in the policies of the government it would be almost impossible for a regime to take an earnest path of negotiation as that would require concessions and more time.104 Any loss of territory would likely spell disaster for the government in the form of a popular revolution or an elite-­driven coup. Globalization and Unrest

This chapter has focused on the 1920s to argue the importance of how politics intersected with an increasingly influential globalization, both of which held out the potential to modernize and reform Bolivia. The men who led Bolivia in the 1920s—­Bautista Saavedra and Hernando Siles—­acted out powerful roles at the helm of a rapidly transforming state. With the creation of a greater public space and fast-­paced technological change, people from all sectors of society had new opportunities to communicate and trade. While the numbers of voters barely increased, the number of stakeholders and participants did. All the more important was that they were exposed to ideas from abroad. International organizations such as the League of Nations held out hope as a means for Bolivians to win back what they lost in war, yet the real value of the League was that it fast-­tracked conversations the Road to the Chaco  55

on human rights.105 It would take until the Chaco War for that to become clear to Bolivians, yet that sort of progressive rhetoric mirrored and encouraged the types of reforms already in mind since the early days of the Liberal Party. Elites were more in touch with global norms and the global economy, but so were regular urban folks who attended soccer matches, went to the public hospital in Miraflores, or listened to the radio. They saw flags, heard speeches, read articles, talked to friends, sang hymns, and organized for a better life. How much that altered the perceptions of the masses within the Bolivian state would not manifest until crisis and war erupted. With greater access to international markets and financing, Bolivian leaders had attempted to placate their respective supporters with various modernizing projects that should have brought Bolivia greater wealth and helped the transition to an urban country. Colonization and infrastructural development were at the forefront of creating the expertise and means to improve Bolivia. Yet the political dynamic in the years prior to the outbreak of war showed how fragile the Bolivian system was. Inclusion in the global economy had promised it the capital to realize infrastructure and reform programs but also exposed Bolivia to problems related to debt, foreign interference, weak institutions within the country, and political instability. These combined to erode any leader’s ability to effect change and manage significant crisis, especially considering how sensitive an important segment of Bolivia’s population was regarding a loss of territory. Reminders of Bolivian weakness in the later 1920s came as the Tacna-­Arica dispute brought the Pacific coast to the forefront of national consciousness and coincided with more pressing issues of debt, political intrigue, foreign meddling, and a worsening export outlook.106 Bruce Farcau claims that the Chaco War began because the “real issue was national honor, which was directly attached to the possession of territory.” Opposition leaders such as Daniel Salamanca acted like “jingoistic firebrand[s]” when it came to challenging Paraguay, but when speaking about embracing reforms there was no opposition. In March 1927 Salamanca stated that the Bolivian army must occupy the Chaco and proposed a US$14 million railroad project to realize that goal. This would show the Paraguayans that the Bolivians were going to “stand firm in the Chaco.”107 56  the Road to the Chaco

These two sides of Salamanca—­a jingo on foreign policy and a progressive reformer on domestic issues—­fit perfectly a larger Bolivian trend toward populism in this period. Leaders understood the necessity of tapping into popular messages and using certain issues for political gain, especially a continued perception of economic growth and modernization. Jingoism worked given how elites constructed a Bolivian identity in the wake of the disaster with Chile and used emotional messages as a link for diverse peoples as they socialized in shared spaces. After Paraguay’s Gen. Rafael Franco destroyed the small fort Vanguardia in September 1928 and inflicted casualties against the Bolivians, Salamanca raged that Paraguay should not be allowed “to push [Bolivia] around”: “War should be an adventure for Bolivia. Let us go to the Chaco, not to conquer or die but to conquer!”108 Such rhetoric resonated with the crowd, which acted with “enthusiasm and crazy frenzy” as it ran around La Paz screaming, “War, we want war, we are asking for war.” According to one contemporary Socialist, it was “an environment that was saturated with war enthusiasm” where people declared, “We will die first before we cede a single inch of our territory.”109 An increasingly urban country, one tied to foreign loans and the global economy, grew jingoistic in part because these connections created a new awareness of what it meant to be Bolivian. By July 1932 negotiations between Bolivia and Paraguay were deemed irrelevant. Salamanca told his Colombian counterpart that the discussions had broken down and the “moment [was] therefore inopportune for Bolivia to consider serenely a pacific understanding.”110 The Central Bank shortly thereafter granted a loan, and all the political parties united behind the cause of solving the question of the Chaco frontier once and for all. The crowds throughout the country agreed—­and sang the national anthem—­as brash statements won the day.111 Bolivians were upset that they always lost to other countries. Reasonable men—­including the almost quarter of a million later mobilized to fight—­might have asked themselves whether Paraguay had any right to push Bolivia around and why Bolivians should stand for business as usual. Once the war began, the path of modernization shifted from a top-­down to a bottom-­up phenomenon as soon as state institutions engaged large sections of the population and failed to guide them to victory. the Road to the Chaco  57

2 The Chaco War and the Building of a Stronger State

Stephen Neufeld has shown how important the military was for Mexico’s development during the Porfirian period, especially for its nation-­building program. Conformity within the structures of the armed forces “shaped men and women as subjects, objects, and aggregates in an emerging power structure but also offered them spaces as agents.”1 Transformations can come while serving in uniform or because of that service when subaltern peoples gain the institutional knowledge to take their demands and pursue change in earnest. In other words, institutions such as the military give common people the tools to influence civilian society, but service in wartime has the potential to accelerate that training. The Liberal reform program that had emerged in Bolivia in the early twentieth century lacked the mechanisms to transform the country in part because leaders prevented or were incapable of incorporating the people into the nation. State bureaucracy was too small, and only a few thousand recruits entered military service each year. Large-­scale military action, though, has been proven as a tool that can help overcome the institutional handicaps of a weak state while providing for a renewed sense of mission. Brian Loveman understands the postwar military rule in Bolivia as having exemplified the mission of creating 59

“la Patria,” because the Mexican Revolution two decades earlier intended to do the same thing; Manuel Gamio wrote that revolution and accompanying service would create a “powerful patria and a coherent defined nationality.”2 Knowledge of the events in Mexico influenced Bolivian elites, especially future leaders. Students in the Federación de Estudiantes in La Paz had been well-­versed since the 1920s about the consequences of the recent Mexican Revolution and how the Porfirio government resembled their own liberal autocracy, full of promises but short on results. Students eager for change were particularly keen on finding solutions to what they thought held Bolivia back and thereby greatly advanced a populist agenda.3 Nearly 10 percent of the total population served in uniform during the Chaco War, which resulted in bringing together diverse sections of the country into a single institution to form the basis of the nation. Urban students, unionized workers, miners, and rural Indigenous men all came together during the war to create a new national identity.4 Registry documents for the League of Veterans in Santa Cruz show that soldiers represented a diverse cross-­section of society, including university students, teachers, tailors, barbers, construction workers, and farmers.5 A 1933 issue of the La Paz weekly La Semana Grafica used a powerful illustration of an urban worker standing next to a soldier to show how the country was changing. The caption stated, “They are the only ones who work and die for justice.”6 The depth of conscription occurred as state apparatuses expanded during the fighting, since for the “first time the entire adult Bolivian population gave service” to the state. Because the war brought tremendous casualties, those who stayed home still experienced trauma through the service of their family, friends, and neighbors. Announcements, letters, repatriated captives, and stories trickled to the home front and gave Bolivians a “created community.”7 War accelerated demographic changes, which combined to fundamentally alter the nature of the Bolivian government and its mission. People “struggled amidst turmoil, uncertainty over their destiny,” and distrusted “everything by everyone”—­in short, the war reignited an enthusiasm to seek new answers to old questions.8 The goal of this chapter is to show how the conflict over the Chaco brought together a diverse and fragile nation into a common struggle. The 60 War and a Stronger State

state was in no position to wage war and simultaneously provide for its people on the home front.9 Yet leaders harnessed the resources to engage in conflict for almost three years. During that time war united a disparate and angry people and produced potential for real economic expansion at war’s end. The demands of fighting made the Bolivian state stronger as its powers expanded to interact with people previously untouched by government. Conscription was deep as almost 10 percent of the total Bolivian population served in the Chaco War in some capacity. That might sound like a small number, but it compares to rates of the Union army in the U.S. Civil War, widely considered a model of total war.10 Just as in the United States, those Bolivian men all had families, and so news of the fighting spread across the country in the form of letters, news reports, and radio announcements and came from government bureaucrats or soldiers on medical leave or who had deserted, repatriated from prisoner status, or simply returned home from battle.11 Memories of captivity, service, and desertion stayed with the men and formed a new aspect to the national consciousness, which as scholars of memory remind us, is constantly under revision to “suit our current identities.”12 Experiences of frontline soldiers sparked some of the most famous literature from both Bolivia and Paraguay, which has been recognized not just in the region but worldwide.13 The Chaco War in this sense was much more influential than the War of the Pacific, where the depth of conscription hardly enlarged the prewar army of 1,700 men, including officers. That earlier war itself brought only a few thousand men into uniform to assist their Peruvian allies.14 During that fight against Chile, the army simply grabbed those of the “roughest class” in part because the government was too weak to enforce conscription. Wealthy folks—­gente decente—­simply avoided service, which forced provincial officials to grab people off the street or from the fields. In 1883 recruiters for the Escuadron Mendez and the Granaderos entered the Potosí region only to find that “all of the able-­bodied men had already abandoned both field and home.”15 Men distrusted the state in 1883 since they were its subjects, and the state had no mechanism to enforce its will across the land. Since the war with Chile, demographic change had been more obvious in Bolivia as people fled the countryside for the few urban centers. The needs War and a Stronger State  61

of the Chaco War—­as a popular and perhaps even a total war—­forcibly placed men of various backgrounds together in the same organization and had them work together as a unit. The army’s attempts at conscription and the need for popular support on the home front meant that the war accelerated prior demographic changes in Bolivia and helped push forward the modernization of the country. This chapter is designed to intertwine the theories of war as a nation-­builder alongside some of the key historical data to display this phenomenon. First, I will outline the coup that swept Hernando Siles from power and brought Daniel Salamanca to the presidential palace. I then outline the key theories of how war changes society and compare that with Bolivia’s path and finish by reinforcing the depth of conscription, which exemplifies how the war was broadly significant across socioeconomic and cultural groups. From Siles to Salamanca

On May 28, 1930, the political grapevine in La Paz was ripe with news that President Hernando Siles had resigned and that his cabinet would assume the functions of government. The man who had called on university students and young professionals as a tactical move to gain their support fomented enough hostility from them five years later to inspire a popular coup.16 An accompanying decree issued with his resignation stated that Bolivia was in a “grave” condition and needed to “consolidate the institutionality of the country.” Siles purported that institutional progress needed to “normalize,” which could give Bolivia the chance of “resolving its own problems by itself with a high civic spirit.”17 In this he was correct. Bolivia had plenty of laws and a long history of rhetoric about progress but few real enforcement mechanisms to make those changes a reality. After revolutionary activity in Oruro overtook the city in late June 1930, regular troops refused to fight on behalf of the cabinet that governed in Siles’s absence. In response, a move to send cadets from La Paz inspired heavy street fighting in the capital as the cadets challenged the government’s order to squash protests in Oruro. When Gen. Hans Kundt failed to regain control over the armed forces, a military junta took power. Some cabinet members, Siles, and Kundt all fled to embassies for protection. 62 War and a Stronger State

The former president later took a sealed train headed to Chile. The writer and politician Alcides Arguedas intercepted the exiled Siles in Arica at the end of June, at which time Siles sarcastically told him, “A lot has changed in Bolivia, but it is still the ill country that you wrote about [in Pueblo enfermo (1909)].” Siles’s wife, Luisa Salinas Vega, smiled as she declared, “It is worse!” Está peor! Later that night, after Siles parted company, Salinas Vega told Arguedas that they were “cheated” because they were told that “public opinion supported the continuation of his rule” and that the military leaders were content prior to the coup. After all, Siles had been using foreign money to modernize the military. In a conversation days later Salinas Vega mocked the army’s leaders, including Gen. Carlos Blanco Galindo, the officer in charge in Oruro, and argued that it was the rival politicians who had pushed the military leaders and the cadets to revolution.18 Presumably she meant that Daniel Sánchez Bustamante had had a hand in the coup, as it was his family who influenced the cadets’ behavior. Sánchez Bustamante worked with the junta as the leading cabinet figure following Siles’s ouster and Galindo served as the head of the caretaker junta regime. Bolivian politics in the winter of 1930 was fragile and marked by extreme personal infighting. Despite all the uneven progress made during the 1920s, popular knowledge of the widespread corruption had tarnished the entire Liberal (and Republican) reform program. Modernization and nation-­building were supposed to have incorporated people into working on behalf of the state, but scandal and inefficiency produced doubts. Popular support, as Siles learned, was not the only tool to win and maintain power; it did not give license to bribery, fraud, and theft. In fact these discredited the entire program. Accordingly, the junta swore to “proceed legally against members” of the former government for “malfeasance in office” and to return government funds.19 Urban Bolivians had experienced enough corruption and poor performance in delivering on planned reforms. For instance, Arguedas wrote from New York in the wake of Vanguardia’s capture in December 1928 that the loss was due in part to the “bleak” outlook on the “political and social corruption,” throughout the country. When the government told the local commander, one Colonel Lanza, to War and a Stronger State  63

counterattack the Paraguayans, he disobeyed the order on the grounds that he was unable to do anything with his troops. All eighty of them, he said, were “stripped naked, without arms or ammunition, ill and hungry,” which made it “impossible to attack.” Arguedas pointed out that the government reported more than eight hundred men under Lanza’s control.20 The difference, of course, was the result of corruption between the Ministry of War, the chief of staff, and others in the government. Modernization and a free flow of money to modernize did little to change the reality of the weak institutions of the state. Outside of corruption that hindered the military readiness of the state, Arguedas noted how men in recent governments had enriched themselves at the government’s expense. For instance, in a meeting with the Liberal Party politician José Tejada Sorzano in New York, Arguedas learned that a Carlos Romero apparently used his time in New York City to advance funding on a railroad project between Potosí and Sucre in the amount of US$27 million. When Romero obtained an official payout of $300,000 in the early stages of the work, he used that money to buy himself two houses, one in Buenos Aires and another in La Paz.21 Such corruption stymied the reform program outlined by the government and furthered the sense of disenchantment among the urban population of Bolivia. Arguedas understood that the discontent of the people was growing and would likely win the day, especially in the face of weak establishment leaders. Newspapers, of course, played a large role in disseminating stories of corruption alongside other sensationalized, emotion-­based stories. Arguedas railed against the propaganda in the yellow press, such as the Saavedrist paper, La Juventud, which he claimed printed false claims against him: “They present indecent presentations, present my views falsely and with neither sincerity nor fairness.” As the government representative of Bolivia in Colombia, Arguedas was upset that he could not “air the dirty laundry” and reveal Saavedra’s corruption and misdeeds.22 Beyond popular articles that handicapped the power of traditional leaders, the Siles government would find it hard to maintain popular support in the face of global economic decline. In the two months since the Black Friday crash in October 1929, the value of the U.S. stock market had 64 War and a Stronger State

declined 48 percent. Between January and April 1930, though, the market slowly crept back up to recover almost half of the prior losses. That ended in May, when the Dow Jones Industrial Average moved sharply downward, losing 86 percent of its value by early 1932. As the major source of Bolivian investment and loans, economic contraction in the United States spelled disaster for the leaders in La Paz and only heightened people’s fear and anger. The departure of Siles came about in part because while government leaders had touted reforms and spent lavishly on projects that would reshape the nation, their ideas faced an increasingly vocal and dissatisfied populace. The junta that followed Siles seemingly responded to that dissatisfaction when its leaders called for a popular government that could ensure the success of the reforms. At this critical juncture, though, Bolivian officialdom floundered. The New York Times reported to its readers that the junta leaders governed with a “Puritanical zeal,” as they ostensibly focused on how to restore a constitutional government and alleviate the economic problems. The junta faced an uncertain future thanks to an unprecedented global crisis, which isolated leaders in La Paz from access to capital and assistance.23 As politicians attempted to put themselves forward for election, international questions such as sovereign debt and control over the Chaco ground to a halt. Additionally, as the junta deliberated over how to satisfy payments on the languishing debt, representatives for the state attempted to renegotiate it. Because income had decreased by 30 percent, in November 1930 the ruling junta sought to strike a deal on the debt situation. Alberto Palacios, the head of the Central Bank of Bolivia, and Carlos Aramayo, the minister to England, led a commission to New York to negotiate a new payment plan given the changed financial situation.24 In response to what seemed like an unsustainable debt level, former foreign minister Tomás Elío wrote in La Razón that Bolivia should suspend debt service while recognizing the pressure to reduce the gold value of the Bolivian currency. U.S. Embassy officials took this to mean default, and Secretary of State Henry Stimson pledged aid but refused to consider any debt restructuring.25 Over the next year, until late 1931, talks on Bolivia’s debt failed to reach a settlement. In October 1931 leaders in La Paz felt pressure to War and a Stronger State  65

establish a moratorium on foreign debt payments, but rescinded that a few weeks later, on November 16. During that lapse in payments, junta officials requested the return of Professor Edwin Kemmerer to discuss the country’s financial problems.26 Bolivia’s revenue stream continued to suffer; in response, leaders in La Paz again suspended debt service payments in 1932, which meant that no new sources of foreign loans were available to finance the government through the crisis.27 As an alternative to foreign financing, the government sought donations from wealthy business owners, such as Simón Patiño, who floated loans and donated technological and military equipment.28 Nothing rectified the problem of economic dislocation because of the Great Depression. Therefore protest became the norm in key cities such as La Paz and Oruro, with unemployment a chief cause of despair.29 Neighboring countries had watched as the post-­Siles military junta governed in a tense and fragile economic environment. As a result, Paraguayan leaders refused to continue diplomatic negotiations over the Chaco and found refuge in waiting for a new, more stable Bolivian government. Brazil questioned the response that the United States would take given the so-­called unconstitutional nature of the post-­Siles government. As part of a solution to this recognized instability and powerlessness to solve international problems, the junta members rushed to return to a constitutional government. They set elections for January 1931 and encouraged the three major parties to agree on a coalition ticket to alleviate intraparty strife during the campaign season. Ismael Montes and Bautista Saavedra both returned from exile to be a part of the new government, but all agreed that Daniel Salamanca would run unopposed for president, while others took lower offices and cabinet positions. There was initial talk of Montes and Saavedra as vice presidents, but eventually the Liberal José Luis Tejada Sorzano emerged as the choice for that post.30 Salamanca himself recognized the power of hostile crowds and the existential threat they posed to the government. He saw how the “students, with the cadets at the military school,” had toppled Siles, and he therefore sought to placate the urban populace.31 Frederick P. Hibbard, the U.S. chargé d’affaires in Bolivia, wrote to the secretary of state in Washington 66 War and a Stronger State

describing Salamanca as “honest and intelligent but lack[ing] the force to lead the country from its present crisis.”32 None of his allies or enemies would help Salamanca overcome the problem of a lack of funds; instead they exacerbated it. Merely a month following his taking the oath of office, strikes broke out among students, who advocated for their faculty to be paid in a timely fashion, and among postal, radio, and telegraphic workers who were upset over the dismissal of several high-­ranking officers and low pay. It was, for the communication workers, a “new period in the civic life or citizenship,” and they felt obliged to speak of the misery of how they were treated.33 Rather than use violence, the Salamanca regime settled the dispute with the students and found volunteers to replace the striking workers.34 Despite this, the atmosphere grew increasingly tense, with no solution to the financial problem in sight. Chaos only decreased the likelihood of finding solutions to the conflict over the Chaco, which remained a serious topic of debate during this period alongside stories of the “patriotas muchachos” who served in uniform.35 Thus crisis of government, unemployment, debt, and institutional failures plagued La Paz. Forced to borrow from the central bank and float patriotic bonds, the government had limited ability to raise money for its expenditures. When Salamanca took office he found the government unable to satisfy the population at large, and government ministers had little with which to conduct their official business. During this time rhetoric concerning the Chaco and armed conflict with Paraguay resurfaced, with reports of clashes, the taking of prisoners, and deaths throughout 1932.36 The conflict over the Chaco allowed leaders to use foreign policy as an excuse to unite the people and resist domestic pressure for a coup or other radical reforms that might go against elite sensibilities. It must have been a pleasure for Salamanca to look out at the crowds in La Paz in July 1932, when fighting in the Chaco erupted in earnest. Instead of striking workers, disgruntled students, or angry miners, the streets were reportedly filled with Bolivians parading to Plaza Murillo, where they met the president and called on him to speak.37 He expressed how satisfied he was to see such an enthusiastic crowd and reassured them that he was going to maintain “unaltered Bolivian sovereignty” over the Chaco. He then drew War and a Stronger State  67

the crowd into that mission and asked them to swear an oath to defend their country at any cost. The crowd apparently roared with approval.38 Salamanca united his people, rhetorically at least, when he called on them as “citizens” and “sons of Bolivia” and lauded their emotional gatherings as “the vigor and vitality of Bolivian patriotism.” He called them into action when he declared, “If a nation does not react to the insults inflicted upon it, it does not deserve to be a nation.”39 It should have come as no surprise that people in La Paz were excited for war; after all, the local press had been adamant about covering details from the Chaco and telling readers that “war [was] the only dignified step for Bolivia” and that it (was) “necessary to prove once and for all that there [was] sufficient spirit in this country to secure respect for our rights.”40 El Oriente in Santa Cruz reported stories to its readers about the “enthusiasm” of crowds across Bolivia. For instance, the “delirious enthusiasm of the people continued” as reservists in Oruro lined up to take their place in the regular army. Nuns from the order “Hijas de Santa Ana y Cruzada Pontificias” were present to see off volunteers; eight of them went with the soldiers as nurses, who would serve under the authority of the Bolivian Red Cross.41 That same paper ran a similar piece describing the “formidable popular gatherings” that marked a new mood in La Paz. An estimated three thousand marchers (manifestantes) filled the plaza and took over the streets, protesting the “insolent attacks” from Paraguay.42 Students in Santa Cruz similarly “set an example for the country” when they demanded military instruction in order to defend the patria. They subsequently formed a battalion and named it after Major Gallejas, a Santa Cruz native who performed “heroic deeds” in the 1928 attack on Vanguardia.43 At the end of that year the cover of La Semana Grafica featured a monolith moving down the mountain in order to crush the “Guaraní” presence in Asunción and Puerto Lazado. The caption explained, “The vitality of the kolla [Indigenous peoples from the Andean highlands] will open the doors to the Atlantic Ocean for Bolivia no matter who may disagree.”44 In sum, Bolivians escaped financial distress, corruption, and political insecurity in 1932 as they rallied behind the flag.45

68 War and a Stronger State

Harnessing the People through Conscription

When Salamanca declared war against Paraguay his government had barely enough money to pay the salaries of its workers. He admitted as much in 1931, a year before the war started, when he wrote in a letter to Col. Francisco Peña, “It is a shame that we have no money, not even to go to the market to buy something.”46 Cabinet ministers had no effective use of government cars owing to a lack of finances. General Kundt, already recalled by Salamanca into service because he trusted the experienced German, argued for a quick war with a small commitment by the government.47 This was in line with Salamanca’s preconceived notion of war and his inherent mistrust of the Bolivian commanders, whom he did not consult. Salamanca’s jingoism pressured for the realization of a military campaign that would seek the capture of Asunción, in part because of an overall lack of military capability to wage protracted and extended war.48 Kundt’s return to lead the Bolivian army sparked praise from La Razón, which announced that the “government had listened to popular opinion.”49 Salamanca and Kundt agreed that a limited call-­up of soldiers would suffice and that the larger and better-­equipped Bolivian army could march into the Chaco and scare little Paraguay into submission. However, the war would not turn out that way. Bolivian officers found out quickly that Paraguay was better prepared and more committed to a fight than expected.50 Where Bolivians struggled in the terrain because they had failed to devote resources to exploring, mapping, and building in the region, the Paraguayans were privy to intricate details of the Chaco’s geography. Paraguayan officers carried detailed maps that noted important aspects of the area such as sites of water and the locations of Indigenous peoples with whom they could collaborate.51 In addition to ignorance of the war zone, the Bolivian efforts at prosecuting the war seemed half-­hearted at best. After the nearly seven-­hundred-­mile trek to the field headquarters at Villa Montes, Bolivian soldiers were tired and their supply network overextended. Estimates of desertion range from between 1 and 6 percent during the long journey in part because the state had a difficult time maintaining a sufficient logistical network.52 Until 1931 only three routes

War and a Stronger State  69

led from the highlands into the Chaco, and all of them crisscrossed the base of the Andes; expensive and time-­consuming construction projects had only just begun in earnest during the war.53 In contrast, the Paraguayans had no fortification more than two hundred miles from a river or a railroad, where they could more easily resupply and deal with shifting military realities. This stark contrast in logistical prowess combined with the demands placed on Bolivian troops caused the unnecessary loss of a large amount of military materials, including rifles, ammunition, food, and other supplies.54 As the war dragged on, the Bolivian government found itself in a position its leaders had thought unimaginable: they needed to conscript more soldiers for the fighting. Simply put, the Chaco War’s continuing into 1933, 1934, and 1935 meant that the fighting would become more difficult to maintain given the inherent weaknesses of the Bolivian state. Despite these inherent problems, however, government leaders managed to overcome these deficits and conscript nearly a quarter-­million men into service before the war ended.55 Otherwise largely untouched by any sort of government interaction—­most were simply used to dealing with their hacienda managers or landed elites—­the rural conscripts faced a world where Spanish was the official language of war and the institution of the army had a completely different set of rules than they were used to. Militarization greatly advanced the depth of government-­citizen interaction. These men were socialized during the war by an institution that relied on obedience and authority; without the Chaco War that socialization might have been delayed for decades.56 The Modern State in Comparison

In defining the modern state, C. A. Bayly argued that the industrialization, urbanization, and global trade of the late nineteenth century gave birth to “very substantial industrial production,” at least in parts of Europe. “Politicians and urban leaders” were tasked with the daunting challenge of coming to “terms with issues of nurturing, controlling, and providing for this growing industrial world.” Just as the dominant powers grew, so did underdeveloped countries that supplied raw materials; this is where 70 War and a Stronger State

Bayly’s argument applies to Bolivia. Bayly admits that “European and American manufactured imports devastated indigenous artisan industries,” yet he argues that “indigenous textile production should not be written off completely.”57 Bolivia in the late nineteenth century had a shoe and textile industry centered in the cities of La Paz and Cochabamba, but even a small working class would have the potential to influence the urban political scene and argue on behalf of laws, monetary policy, trade agreements, and labor rights. Urban Bolivia might have been small, but in broad terms the cities loomed large in national politics. For comparison, scholars have debated notions of social mobility in Peter the Great’s Russia and examined data that deal with the people scattered throughout that large country. Lindsey Hughes has argued in line with Elise Wirthschafter’s view that Russian society was “fragmented and porous” and that the “most ‘porous’ of all was the urban-­rural divide.”58 Social transformation takes time, and it is understandable that, just as a large percentage of urban dwellers in Petrine and nineteenth-­century Russia chiefly engaged in agriculture, newcomers to cities like La Paz would only slowly transform their lifestyle. Numerical data suggest that “urban” denotes a space with more than ten thousand people. Yet, as Bayly has argued, “urban” also “refers to a cultural change which implies the dominance of city values over those of the countryside.”59 Therefore we should understand a transforming Bolivia as one with a porous rural-­urban divide as technology and ideas aided in the cultural urbanization of the country.60 In other words, the developments of the 1920s and the prewar economic and political crises educated entire sectors of the population. People moved to La Paz and other cities for seasonal work or otherwise maintained connections with the countryside. Bolivia slowly grew more internally connected, but it would be war that enabled a dramatic dissemination of ideas between peoples from across the country. Wartime Service: Shared Experience That Builds Brotherhood

Reginald Malik, a Black marine who served in Vietnam, said that the U.S. government explained little to the soldiers about the Viet Cong: “they were gooks,” he said, and “they were to be killed” because they were War and a Stronger State  71

“killing Americans.” Malik explained, “As a black person, there wasn’t no problem fightin’ the enemy. I knew Americans were prejudiced, were racist and all that, but, basically, I believed in America ’cause I was an American.” Malik was not alone. Reports in Time magazine in 1969 showed that “most black soldiers in Vietnam supported the war effort, because they believed America was guaranteeing the sovereignty of a democratically constituted government in South Vietnam and halting the spread of communism in Southeast Asia.”61 While it would be a stretch to compare the plight of Black soldiers in the U.S. military to the experience of the Chaco, it nonetheless helps explain why disenfranchised people fight and how it changes them in the process. Black U.S. soldiers had used military service throughout the twentieth century to argue for civil rights but generally failed to achieve their objectives. Despite their inability to effect change, scores of Black soldiers remained patriotic and still believed that their service would help them achieve credibility when the war was over.62 Indigenous Bolivian soldiers from rural areas might or might not have been as politically aware, at least in the first part of the Chaco conflict, but their urban compatriots likely were. The nature of how information spreads made folks in urban areas more sensitive to contemporary sociopolitical messages, including the students who fought in the war. University students since the early 1920s had sought to make sense of their place in Bolivia, and they devoured ideas from around the world. They read the Spanish journal Revista de occidente, which printed translations of German idealists in hopes of bringing a “bit of order and hierarchal organization” to make sense of the “chaos” facing interwar Europe.63 Like Malik, though, even without socialization from globally aware students, Indigenous men who believed in a cause existed, including the man who declared, “Recently discovering that I am obligated to defend my patria . . . I want to be taught how to use a rifle to go to the Chaco.”64 It was during the Chaco War that newspaper writers argued, “Patria was everything—­the big, the small, what happened and what could have been, what makes you smile and makes you cry and all the happiness and pain in life.”65 Ideas were powerful, and the war gave such ideas as patria a broad audience, even to those who were unable to benefit from all of its implications. 72 War and a Stronger State

The fighting was hard for the Bolivian soldiers. Accounts do not hesitate to describe the misery and sadness that littered the front lines. One of the greatest killers was disease. Augusto Céspedes writes that “however bad the lack of water and hygiene at the front there were no large-­scale epidemics,” but combined with the lack of medicines, anesthesia, and antibiotics to combat disease, infection and venomous animal bites caused tremendous casualties in the Chaco.66 In part this was because the military had been ill-­prepared to treat its sick and wounded, despite having learned important lessons since the War of the Pacific and prioritizing medical health among its soldiers, especially at the dawn of the Chaco War. In fact in 1928 a law declared that all soldiers would be vaccinated, and subsequent decrees defined the qualifications and responsibilities of the medical personnel in the armed service.67 Yet the scores of soldiers mobilized tested the ability of the army to maintain proper care for its soldiers. Thirst and hunger were also serious problems for the Bolivian soldiers. Hunger in particular would constantly plague the frontline troops, reportedly forcing some soldiers to “eat dogs” and “herbs of all types” that they could find in the wilderness. This led to a rash of dysentery, which meant that troops needed evacuation to the hospital at Villa Montes.68 Finally, soldiers in the Chaco were attacked by bugs, including mosquitos and an “army of fleas” that created “insufferable discomfort.” Those who fell ill or perished strained further the limited resources of the army.69 Accounts written by Bolivian soldiers after the war told of how men arrived at the front without much preparation for survival and even less understanding of the conflict itself. This observation was likely the most accurate after late 1933, but in any case, even men experienced with army life in Bolivia would have been ill prepared for fighting away from the altiplano.70 At the Battle of Boquerón, where three columns of Bolivians attacked the Paraguayan lines on September 12, 1932, Lt. Germán Busch came across three trucks blocking the road. When he and his soldiers inspected the trucks, they found them “full of cadavers” in uniforms soiled with a mixture of blood and earth. These dead soldiers, “young indigenous men, the cholos,” had died “in the name of the country.” In response, Busch supposedly made those dead men into a force for positive action among his soldiers. He talked about the “assassinated brothers” and declared that their blood War and a Stronger State  73

had not spilled in vain. His men cried out, “We are following you, my lieutenant. . . . Long live Bolivia!” To which he replied, “Forward, brothers, until the death!” Busch was only twenty-­eight years old when he commanded these men at Boquerón. Among the death and destruction that followed, he traversed the line and rallied his men; he brought the wounded water and provided them with words of support: “Hold on son. . . . Drink a little bit of water. . . . Does it hurt much? . . . Be brave, brave, okay?” As the battle continued, he hollered, “Defend your individual positions! Do it with knives, with plates, with your fingernails! The Paraguayans are coming back!” Descriptions of Busch’s performance might have been exaggerated, but no one denied that he showed bravery and leadership on the front lines and in fact helped turn the tragedies of the war into something that could unite people. A weak state that failed to give its men the tools to win a war found respite in officers such as Busch who understood that they were fighting together as Bolivians and that war was a path to building a new nation.71 Who Fought in the War: Conscription Implications

Recent scholarship recognizes that the criollo-­mestizo elite forcibly enlisted Indigenous peasants into fighting in the Chaco War, while also giving credence to the notion of a more diversified body of men at the front. Conscripts from earlier in the twentieth century who were recalled into service in the early 1930s showed the state’s reliance on the small urban centers. In 1908, for instance, almost a thousand men were conscripted; 225 (24 percent) were peasants, 388 (41 percent) were artisans, 93 (10 percent) were students, and 157 (almost 17 percent) were merchants or vendors.72 Officers who had been in the army since before the Chaco War also point to a diversity of the command. One, Lt. Col. José Capriles Lopez (forty-­ eight years old), was taken prisoner by the Paraguayans and claimed to have risen to his current rank in 1929, yet his service stretched back to 1912. A younger officer, Second Lt. Abelardo Broggini Rodrigo (twenty-­eight), had been a reserve office before the war but told his Paraguayan captors, “In Bolivia there are no reserve officers, and those with that name rose from the rank of subofficials [noncommissioned officers].” Second Lt. Justo Larrea had been a farmer in civilian life and was mobilized only in 74 War and a Stronger State

September 1932. Second Lt. Humberto Vazquez M., also a reserve officer, had been an “estudiante de Comercio.”73 Other officers who fell captive during the war told their stories, including Second Lt. Felix Reyes Laguna. Born in Sucre in 1908 and raised by his mother, Reyes was a reserve officer who joined the Military Academy in La Paz in 1920 at only twelve years of age. He finished four years later and left the army two years later to work as a merchant. Because of his prior army experience, the government recalled him into service in August 1932. He told the Paraguayans that the Bolivians hated General Kundt and that President Salamanca was worried that he was losing the confidence of the people and the army because the war effort prevented him from fulfilling his promises.74 Maj. José Mejia, born in Cochabamba in 1882, was interrogated on June 12, 1933. He recalled that he had completed training in the Military Academy in 1901 and retired at the rank of major in 1919. After being called up for war, he went to Villa Montes to join his unit. Mejia declared that the Bolivian forces were doing fine but that the “transition of region and climate” was hard on the men. Otherwise, unlike Reyes, he declined to give the Paraguayans any information beyond a statement that his men were “very enthusiastic.”75 These stories strengthen Elizabeth Shesko’s scholarship, which has argued that scholars cannot take for granted that the vast majority of Bolivia’s soldiers during the war were rural Indigenous men taken against their will. Lists of prisoner registration forms show that soldiers came from all parts of the country and had a number of skills. For example, Aniceto Rojas from Cochabamba was a tailor who knew how to read, write, and ride a horse; Cirio Median, a shoemaker from Oruro, knew neither how to read nor write. Antonio Ciguante, a miner from Potosí, was literate, as was Luís Reyes, a student from Sucre.76 Indigenous migration had made cities such as La Paz and Oruro large melting pots of commerce and culture since the turn of the century, which at once gave their residents privilege over rural compatriots but handicapped further peacetime attainment of rights since recent migrants “often ended up in subaltern positions in the city.”77 Oruro in particular had been on the cutting edge of modern technology since the turn of the century, and between 1920 and 1925 the War and a Stronger State  75

city’s population doubled, from twenty thousand to forty thousand.78 As a result, Oruro was also home to greater revolutionary activity thanks to the blending of ideas that came along with so many new inhabitants. Overall, for the state to have brought diverse groups of men together within the same institution forces us to consider the dissemination of ideas between the men but also pays tribute to the growth of the Bolivian state, which despite its weaknesses raised and deployed four successive armies alongside maintaining production in the mines and across agricultural sectors.79 During the war the state relied on newspapers to spread the word about conscription. Such a policy disproportionately favored urban centers where patriotism was highest and the state’s power at its greatest. Articles had headlines such as “Llamamiento a reservistas de 1928 y 1929” (General call for reservists from the classes of 1928 and 1929). They reported that morale was high among volunteers, who were driven by patriotism and “bravery.”80 Shesko writes that the presence of educated soldiers hailing from largely urban areas owed directly to the “patriotic nationalism” that was at a “fever pitch among these classes.” Such enthusiasm could yield enough men for the first portion of the war without testing the limits of state power. In this first phase of the war, in 1932, approximately 15,000 Bolivians fought and approximately 2,500 died.81 This number represented double the average prewar size of the Bolivian army and a sizable triumph for state leaders who brought together that large a number of men in such a short time. Conscription efforts were highly ineffective outside of urban centers prior to the Chaco War in part because the state’s power was weak and corruption commonplace. Scholarship has shown that even before initial call-­ups in 1932, students and urban workers “disproportionately made up the ranks” and provided “sufficient labor for infrastructure, colonization, and repressive projects.” Once the war progressed into 1933, though, the state could ill afford to continue depleting urban centers to fill vacancies for the army. Despite some early hints at Bolivian success, the Paraguayan forces stood firm and used their superior logistical network and overall military preparedness to inflict defeats on the advancing Bolivians. The Bolivian government responded with a call for a new cohort of soldiers in 1933. In that year 77,000 men went to the front, where 14,000 died, 76 War and a Stronger State

10,000 were taken prisoner, 6,000 deserted, and 32,000 were evacuated for medical reasons. Only 7,000 men remained on the front lines, with an additional 8,000 in the rearguard. This was the year Kundt was the principal in command and insisted on a number of assaults that did little to destroy the Paraguayan effort. These numbers suggest that urban environs were insufficient in providing men for the war effort. Additionally, enthusiasm for the war was taxed as the Bolivians began to suffer serious defeats in 1933. For instance, local authorities in La Paz reported resistance to conscription and had to pursue rural evaders and send patrols to inspect travelers.82 When the army looked to the mines for conscripts, large mine owners successfully lobbied the government for an exemption. Miners were valued for their knowledge of teamwork and experience in a hierarchical corporate environment but most especially for their awareness of how to handle “explosives and machinery.” After 1934 miners were exempted from military service, forcing the state to search elsewhere for bodies.83 Even on the eve of peace deliberations in November 1934, the Bolivian military ordered reservists and auxiliaries to register at the Escuela Militar de Choferes, where men unaccustomed to modern vehicles would be taught how to drive military transport trucks and tanks. This order was open until Christmas day, when presumably the training would begin for the next batch of skilled drivers.84 That same month a call for conscripts slated for 1936 was issued by the army command that required “without exception” all men of that class to report to the recruitment office before December 20, 1934.85 That was followed by a call to arms on December 9, 1934, for a “general mobilization of all able-­bodied citizens to take up arms.”86 Imminent defeat and an overwhelmed recruiting system did not stop the continued mobilization. Unlike its contemporary German army, which relied on building units of men from similar locales, the Bolivian army had a policy prior to the war of bringing together recruits from different regions. While it may have decreased combat effectiveness, as when non-­Spanish-­speaking soldiers could not readily understand orders, such a policy of mixing undoubtedly aided in the construction of a broader Bolivian identity.87 Greater than the effect of migratory patterns before the war, fighting for the patria solidified War and a Stronger State  77

a Bolivian identity at the expense of Quechua, Aymara, or other identities tied to rural enclaves.88 The average Bolivian had never been anywhere near the Chaco, and the reading public merely saw mention of it thanks to stories over the prior decades. For almost all involved, then, the Chaco was at best an imagined place. As the war expanded, it would test the men to wonder why and for “what country” they were fighting.89 Reports of how much the Bolivian conscript “suffered” in the “harsh climate of the lowlands Chaco region” only added to the miseries of fighting and death.90 It would be this collective suffering that would bring the men closer together. Once Gen. Enrique Peñaranda took over the army from Kundt in December 1933, he fielded an army of approximately fifty-­five thousand men and then organized another thirty thousand to fifty thousand to fight in the final six months of the war (1935), when the front lines stood outside of Villa Montes. These two armies—­approximately 100,000 men in total—­ likely were overwhelmingly Indigenous, but Shesko insists that there is a bit of flexibility in determining the identity of the soldiers, that “individual classification is fluid and situational, based on shifting sociocultural markers such as dress, hairstyle, language, diet, surname, schooling, occupation, region, residence, and income.” A person could be “indigenous in one setting but identify as a cholo or mestizo in another.”91 Memoirs that mention an entirely Indigenous army take for granted what identity meant in the Bolivia of the Chaco War. Indigenous men from the countryside might have seen cholos in uniform as fellow Indigenous, and vice versa. Men from mestizo or criollo backgrounds might have seen Indigenous faces and not cared to distinguish between those who were already accustomed to urban life as students, workers, cholos, miners, or the like, and their rural counterparts. Shesko observes that we need to learn more about other wartime activities of Bolivia’s soldiers, including those involved in labor in lieu of fighting. Wartime labor in fact somewhat improved the operational logistics and decreased the transit time to the headquarters in Villa Montes.92 For this work, officers seemed to consider rural Indigenous men of questionable reliability and used Indigenous conscripts to construct roads and undertake similar logistics-­related projects. The Bolivian government also used the few Paraguayan prisoners of war for labor projects, but most prisoners 78 War and a Stronger State

were taken in the later stages of the war.93 Whatever the motivation, labor projects undertaken during the war furthered the projects that had begun in the 1920s or earlier but were not completed.94 For instance, Paraguayans captured by the Bolivians, mainly in 1934 and after, were sent to areas such as the Yungas, where they worked in groups to build roads connecting villages there with La Paz. As late as 1936 a total of 831 prisoners worked in the Yungas region, divided into five locations in 1936: Coroico, La Forestal, Cajuai, Chulumani, and the Chulumani Hospital; the locations had 16, 92, 131, 563, and 29 inmates, respectively. Prisoners held in Cochabamba were used by private labor schemes to build a reliable transportation route across the Chapare to the Mamoré River.95 When Dr. Lucien Cramer from the International Committee of the Red Cross came to inspect the situation in 1935, he compared the misery of the prisoners working in the tropical Chapare region with the treatment of Russian captives he witnessed at the end of World War I.96 Prisoner labor thereafter dramatically decreased and these infrastructure projects fell by the wayside. The work done by the military not only sought to enable it to prosecute the war (i.e., building roads to reach the Chaco) but continued a line of reasoning popular with earlier governments, which all argued for infrastructure as a path to prosperity. As the war grew the state, it enabled a continuation of prior programs. Beyond how a state strapped for manpower tapped prisoners for infrastructure projects, a key question to consider is whether conscripts—­in this case rural Indigenous—­socialized during the war to transform into more aware citizens. Lesley Gill argues that the Bolivian government in fact converted “young male military conscripts” from the “most powerless sectors of society: Quechua, Aymara, and Guaraní peasant communities and poor urban neighborhoods.”97 In one case, “one day, at four o’clock in the morning, soldiers from the Achacachi base broke into the huts of the Indians and dragged them off to the base without paying any attention to their ages.” Then, “in less than 24 hours, the poor Indians left Achacachi for the trenches without even being allowed to say goodbye to their loved ones.”98 Such a story was not atypical once conscription continued into late 1933 and 1934. War put the state in a grave position: it had the opportunity to either socialize or alienate more people. No matter what, such a War and a Stronger State  79

brutal conflict created “citizens” out of “Indians” and “men” out of “boys” as part of a larger nation-­building program. Gill recognizes that the “the military is the premier state institution charged with the legitimate use of force in society, and peasants and poor urban dwellers have a changing and ambiguous relationship to it.”99 Gill’s work comes to a logical conclusion and one that cannot be overlooked when thinking about the political development of Bolivia. Put explicitly, “participation in the army and the experience of the war itself created a new sense of national identity among Indian war veterans.”100 At the Warisata school, Elisardo Perez wrote that the war brought forth a “unanimous sense” of pride. Upon hearing the news of war, the “men conversed and on their own volition” resolved to “go to war,” but no one could have imagined the horror that would go on for three years in the Chaco. A long-­term war and the increasingly more robust government had succeeded in “reuniting the population,” including all of the “men and women present, of all ages and conditions.”101 This was the sort of boost the government elites and intellectuals had been talking about for decades. The desire by Liberals and the Republicans to modernize the country and its people had stumbled in part because the leaders were insincere, various groups in Bolivia never felt united, and the country suffered from uneven economic development replete with outbreaks of social unrest among miners, students, workers, and the Indigenous.102 The war and the suffering it precipitated helped to bridge the gaps and refine the messages among a substantial portion of the general population. This transformation would have tremendous consequences after the war ended. The army’s recruitment campaign and forced conscription ultimately did create a new identity for the men in question. But not immediately. The act of conscription itself was plagued with troubles and inequity. Groups of soldiers who roamed the countryside for recruits engaged in violence and unlawful activity.103 Commanders were barred from recruiting Indigenous laborers working on roads, but this exemption was not recognized by recruiters who needed bodies. Beyond that, soldiers would take money from those destined to be recruited—­paid for either in cash or in produce—­and then issue a certificate of exemption. Soldiers would take “large sums” for 80 War and a Stronger State

these certificates, most of which were fake or declared fake by a subsequent patrol searching for recruits. In February 1933 peasant leaders denounced this illegal process of taking money from recruits, arguing that the “patriotic spirit of the indigenous [would] freeze” and that while a large number of Indigenous were eager to serve, the process of violent recruitment and corruption would spoil this feeling and perhaps “lead to violence.”104 Literature exists on the topic of desertion, draft-­dodging, and aspects of forced conscription, and several case studies discuss how people coped with forced recruitment. Studies have, for instance, looked at small-­group or primary-­group identification within the fighting unit, inadequate ideological cohesion, and a lack of fear in surrendering or avoiding service.105 A Slovenian case from World War II highlights the local, more “parochial motivations,” such as “fear, ‘local patriotism,’ homesickness,” and family reasons, which are perhaps closer to the Bolivian case when conscription reached deeper into the villages.106 Resistance to the state’s efforts created challenges in the development of a national identity, which could not occur overnight. The war jump-­started what would be a completely new political landscape after the men had served in combat and been exposed to modernizing ideology and the stressors of war. While peasants themselves surely reacted in vastly different ways following their return from war, some peasant leaders emerged from the ranks of the veterans, such as one in the Cochabamba valleys who declared, “We wanted them [the rest of the society] at least to recognize the value we’d had in the trenches.”107 Military service thus bequeathed a leadership role to soldiers who returned with a sense of national pride and trustworthiness for others to honor. Fighting bonded men across all sectors of society to each other and to the idea of a Bolivian state. Summary

The Chaco War brought about changes to Bolivia—­or, as David Ríos Reinaga argues, it “transformed everything and placed into evidence the poverty and the national backwardness, the inefficiency of the administration and the military commanders, which included the lack of preparation of the country for war.”108 With hundreds of thousands of men mobilized to fight, War and a Stronger State  81

the number of people touched by government increased tremendously. Previously, while the Bolivian government attempted to increase its presence and authority through infrastructure and liberties granted to individuals, it truly governed only the cities. War not only mobilized people from cities and the countryside but also aroused a sense of identity among the people. Planes carried newspapers to isolated spots, radios became more prevalent, and rhetoric emphasized public service and honor and foreshadowed a transformed Bolivia. Likewise the soldiers fought in a thoroughly diverse environment. Not only were Indigenous peoples of differing customs, languages, and traditions brought together as part of a singular activity, but they did so under the guise of institutional power. The state imposed—­or prioritized—­the Spanish language and military hierarchy and discipline and attempted to be the providers of physical sustenance. Moreover the government sent these men hundreds of miles away in a territory that was alien to them and largely a figment of the Bolivian imagination. All of this coalesced into bringing about a new awareness among ordinary men that Bolivia was a tangible thing and that they formed a part of it. Augusto Céspedes argues that the “Chaco War fostered a consciousness, but the disorder laid the foundation for a new Bolivia.” The disorder “converted the army into the revolutionary motor,” which “fought for the economic emancipation of the country.” He notes that the spiritual transformation that Salamanca desired in 1932 came to fruition by war’s end.109 Reliance on the state thereby grew among soldiers as war continued into 1934, which enhanced its power. On November 28, 1934, José Tejada Sorzano assumed control of the presidency and formed a cabinet with familiar characters: Tomás Elío, Carlos Aramayo, Enrique Baldivieso, and Bautista Saavedra. Tejada declared soon after taking office that the war had been a “painful development that . . . imposed a constant sacrifice and been a force to overcome.” It had also “complete[d] the formation of our nationality.”110 Military leaders knew that the end of the war had come and the ability of the state to prosecute the war had all but vanished once the Paraguayan army pushed against Villa Montes in undisputed Bolivian territory. Tejada simply tried to turn the defeat into something positive and harness the emotions of the men who served under such harsh conditions.111 82 War and a Stronger State

3 The Transformation of the Home Front

Evidence of how the Chaco War transformed the men who fought is both broad and compelling. While Indigenous men from rural locales suffered the most disruption to their lives and connection with the wider Bolivian society, urban men of all classes and backgrounds were also altered by the fighting. Harry Franqui-­Rivera writes that Puerto Rican soldiers, especially those from the peasantry and urban working class, who fought in the armed forces of the United States similarly experienced significant transformation from their service. Economic depression in the years prior to World War II reignited the conversation regarding what Washington’s leaders should do with the island, and the federal government sought to secure the loyalty of Puerto Ricans through relief projects and then through mass participation in the military. As part of the larger massive expansion of federal powers, Puerto Rican society underwent an economic transformation that included the establishment of training centers and projects that would touch more than just the soldiers. Naturally when the soldiers demobilized, they took advantage of government initiatives such as the gi Bill, which meant that rather than return to the fields, veterans attended high schools, vocational schools, and the University of Puerto Rico. The 83

leader of the Popular Democratic Party at the time, Luis Muñoz-­Marín, declared simply that Puerto Ricans had forged democracy abroad and at home.1 Not only did the men change during the war, but the island itself underwent dramatic shifts, including in how it interacted with the United States, both politically and economically. The historians MacGregor Knox and Williamson Murray have determined that across history five military revolutions are discernible. The first entails the creation of the modern state, which through taxation would field professional armies. Second, the French Revolution and the ability to conscript across the national space revolutionized war. The third revolution centered on an accompanying industrial revolution, which allowed for the arming of mass armies with mass-­market weapons. A fourth revolution manifests as the combination of all prior ones, allowing for protracted, attritional, total war.2 In Bolivia’s case, the first two revolutions allowed the government to launch the Chaco War, but the industrial revolution was incomplete by 1932, which influenced the ability of the state to leverage its economic power to arm the men it sent to the front. Nevertheless each of these revolutions shares the common trait of increasing state power. Prosecuting military objectives on the battlefield is simply one aspect of how state power grows during wartime. Just as the depth of the conscription regime affected men across Bolivia, the state also grew to deal in important ways that centered on the ramifications of the war on the home front. While leaders in La Paz understood the situation at the front was increasingly desperate as the war continued, they showed a surprising resiliency. Not only did civil society rise to the occasion to satisfy the needs of war, but the continued fighting showed that the power of the people was preeminent. Propaganda became a central feature of state power that would influence both soldiers and civilians. The long duration of the war showed state leaders that the control of public emotions and a harnessing of support for the government would aid the war effort. Success in unifying the people with the state would also further the modernizing program underway in Bolivia since the turn of the century. Wartime propaganda has historically taken on several roles, including undermining enemy troops and civilians, supporting the home front, and 84 Tr ansformation of the Home Front

engaging with foreign powers to win sympathy. Alfred Lord Tennyson, the famed poet laureate, composed works such as Maud (1854) and the poem “Charge of the Light Brigade” (1854), which served to stir up political emotions about the Crimean War. Florence Nightingale performed a similar service with her participation in that war effort, especially in arguing how women could maintain their honor on the battlefield. Changing attitudes toward warfare and public engagement in war all fit within the larger mobilization of populations in Europe during the nineteenth century.3 Making public heroes out of warriors was nothing new in 1854, yet the ability to reach mass markets in real time grew more sophisticated by the end of the century.4 Once World War I began, the need to excite populations for war took on a more serious tone among government leaders. T. L. Gilmour, department head at the British Foreign Office during World War I, recognized the value of messaging. He said that “the conditions of modern warfare ha[d] now so enormously increased the value of the moral factor” that the civilian front was just as important as the fighting front.5 He would not be alone in this thinking during the history of twentieth-­century fighting. Massive armies were required, along with the full cooperation of the noncombatant populations. Consequently the mobilization of the populace grew more important and subsequent propaganda took on multiple duties. Yet despite the power of the press and growth of a mobilized citizenry in Europe prior to 1914, the combatant states all entered the war without clear organizational structures or goals for a propaganda effort.6 Early efforts foreshadowed the continued reliance on using elite members of society to win over the minds of the masses. In mid-­September 1914 ninety-­ three German intellectuals published an “appeal to the world of culture,” which denied Berlin’s responsibility for the war and rejection of stories of atrocities. Almost immediately the British countered with a response by fifty-­two of their most popular authors, whose actions helped create Wellington House, which helped link literary and news elites with the deployment of war information.7 By 1915 all of the major states had robust propaganda campaigns. While some crude films made their way into public theaters during the Tr ansformation of the Home Front  85

war, the major medium for propaganda was the printed word, whether in pamphlets, in newspapers, or as leaflets.8 Here the experience of cultural elites—­academics, journalists, and artists—­was especially helpful. The U.S. War Department called on universities, especially Ivy League institutions, for experts who could use their knowledge of the region and language to bring legitimacy to the propaganda campaign. With journalism experience and connections within elite society, the U.S. campaign sought to create, according to Heber Blankenhorn, “the impression that here is something new and definitely helpful in the affairs of mankind.”9 The American Robert R. McCormick, who controlled the influential Tribune newspaper and its media subsidiaries after the 1920s, traveled to the Eastern Front in World War I to report on the war. As a journalist he was qualified for that task; as a member of the Illinois National Guard he was in a perfect position to lend his story credibility to the reading public in the United States. He cleverly linked Poland’s situation in 1915 with the U.S. experience: “On Poland’s past I am no historian and certainly not a critic, but I do not doubt—­and no one who has seen the power of organization developed in caring for the wounded can doubt—­Poland’s power of self government.” McCormick finished the section of his book on the fighting in Poland by telling his readers “The reputation of Americans is exceeding good there” and “Warsaw is a delightful city inhabited by charming people.”10 Publishing news of the events, especially in print form, was regarded universally as highly effective; British agents, for instance, recognized that even where there was mass illiteracy, newspaper articles were widely spread and information disseminated.11 Another critical effort was to counter foreign propaganda, both in terms of maintaining domestic opinion but also in terms of winning over foreign governments or foreign populations. Bolivian news outlets directly countered Paraguayan claims during the war, but they also attempted to dictate the truth about the war abroad.12 To that end Bolivian leaders made deliberate efforts to argue against Paraguayan agitation among prisoners of war and also sponsored lectures and sent press reports to United States in an effort to win over a more global opinion. Similarly, in World War I the British government felt it necessary to ensure that the United States 86 Tr ansformation of the Home Front

was on its side. British authorities sought lecturers to venture abroad to inform the public through talks on topics relevant to the country being visited while not deliberately peddling any moral duty to join the British war effort. Even so, speakers such as Gilbert Murray would deliver an academic talk and then reserve the question-­and-­answer time to convey information about the war.13 Therefore, even if described as nonpartisan, or fact-­based, the elite propaganda served an important role in wartime foreign policy. Enemies All Around and a Stronger State

Daniel Salamanca knew when he declared war on Paraguay in 1932 that his government was bankrupt. As the war dragged on, the Bolivian government found itself in a position that its leaders thought was unimaginable: they needed to both foster propaganda through a centralized state office to keep spirits high at home while also conscripting soldiers to fight.14 Leaders sought as early as July 1933 to extract taxes from the Indigenous to cover the mounting costs of war. To counter that attempt, a group advocating on behalf of Indigenous peasants pleaded with the government authorities. The archbishop of Sucre added that a tax on the Indigenous was unfair because “all of the indigenous were poor,” they were the “producers of our food,” and they were already serving their country as soldiers. For the archbishop service to the country offset the “many years of suffering as an enslaved indigenous race” and forced leaders to “rectify some of the injustices in favor of the indigenous peoples.”15 The archbishop was not alone in recognizing that the war was shaping people from all corners of the country. Newspaper articles also predicted that life for the Indians after the war would be different. They had “enough of the misery” and they would declare after the war that the “land is ours and we won it.”16 The prefect of La Paz wrote that the period 1932–­33 was marked by the “repeated interventions” of the armed forces to combat “intense Communist propaganda” that came close to erupting into more serious trouble.17 Whether exaggerated or not, reports like that benefited from the activities of left-­wing parties that had targeted Indigenous communities, especially in mining centers. On February 12, 1930, for example, Tr ansformation of the Home Front  87

the people of La Paz “could not sleep” owing to all the commotion after a bomb exploded in the night. Communists were suspected of the act, and fourteen workers were detained. While most were revealed to be Saavedrists, “some had cards indicating that they were Communists” or more “serious agitators.”18 The fear of communism, especially as a tool to disrupt the Indigenous populace, did not go away as the war continued. In January 1934 the subprefect of Ayata asked the government to “urgently send armed forces” because of the “belligerency of the local indigenous.” In Carabuco the local authorities requested auxiliary forces to “capture those remiss of military service,” likely out of opposition to the state. Later that month President Salamanca received information of “persistent rumors that indicate[d]” rebellion around the period of Carnaval. Alarmed, he ordered the mobilization of reservists to augment the force destined for the Chaco and protect against potential Indigenous rebels.19 Even after the war, tensions over rebellion concerned leaders, including those international arbiters at the Buenos Aires Peace Conference. During talks about how to proceed with the repatriation of Bolivian prisoners, the seasoned U.S. diplomat Spruille Braden repeated stories about communists agitating among returning prisoners in the La Quiaca region. While the conference ultimately wished to respect Bolivian sovereignty, they did discuss altering the repatriation route to hamper efforts at mobilizing the prisoners for some sort of rebellion.20 In November 1934 Salamanca visited the Chaco warfront, where his military officers presented him with a fait accompli: he could resign as president or be sequestered by the army. His resignation came shortly thereafter, and his vice president, José Luis Tejada Sorzano, assumed the duties of president. Salamanca was due to leave office anyway, as a result of a recent presidential election. His former minister of foreign relations, the poet and educational reformer Franz Tamayo, had run for president that year and won.21 Yet the coup—­the thirty-­fourth in 107 years—­annulled that election and placed the military squarely in control with a pliable President Tejada Sorzano at their disposal.22 Officers acted because they understood the grim military situation and feared that further Paraguayan victories would topple the government and cause even greater territorial 88 Tr ansformation of the Home Front

losses, including possibly threatening the Department of Santa Cruz.23 More than just topple a government, though, the military’s powers helped push forward the modernization and efficiency of the state in Bolivia. War on the Home Front

During the Chaco War the home front served as an important pillar to the Bolivian government. Propaganda sought to reinforce the patriotic nature of the war and enlist the support of as many people as possible. As initial battles showed a stronger than expected Paraguayan army, Bolivian forces dealt with the thankless prospect of maintaining a patriotic message in the face of mounting losses. This would especially acute if the patriotism of the early days would wear thin and give way to the types of political subversion that the government feared from communists. Lt. Col. Salustio Selaya noted that at the outset of war, the call for “patriotic propaganda to awaken the spirit of the people came about by taking advantage of a water truck and a bugle.”24 Such a method could not last long, and leaders recognized the need for a more robust way to reach out with positive messages.25 Consequently newspapers ran stories that were meant to prop up the spirits of Bolivian readers by downplaying the Paraguayan resolve, emphasizing Bolivian victories, and highlighting the modernization process that facilitated growth in the Bolivian Orient and faster movement to the front lines. Newspapers like La Semana Grafica related the exploits of the country’s soldiers and their bravery. With detailed reports covering different aspects of battles, writers weaved in emotional issues such as honor. One illustrated how the “spirit of our men increased even more in the presence of the two companies that arrived to reinforce the lines.”26 This came after a hard day of fighting, with cannon fire, followed by a night of torrential rain, both enough to test the nerves of any soldier. Editions of that weekly praised the soldiers and glorified the heroes and raised greater awareness of the war among civil society. Photographs showed soldiers and various city scenes that showcased public support for the war. For example, one photo highlighted Mario Cariaga Aramayo, then a prisoner in Asuncíon, who had abandoned his university studies in Buenos Aires to join the Tr ansformation of the Home Front  89

war effort. His sacrifice was great, but the fact that he left school to fight for his country fit with an image on the same page showing “enthusiastic reservists marching on foot to the front.”27 Heroes figured prominently in newspaper coverage. La Semana Grafica published a full-­page photo of Rafael Pabón, who just days earlier had become the first Bolivian pilot to shoot down a Paraguayan plane. Ever since his death in combat in 1934 he has been remembered as a martyr for the nation.28 Articles also showed the public coming out to support the troops. A group of women organized at the Colegio Santa Ana to aid with writing letters to the troops, ostensibly on behalf of those family members and friends who were illiterate. Such an activity brought together members of the middle class with their less-­educated peers and undoubtedly strengthened ties within the broader community. That same edition had an article by the noted agronomist Eduardo Romecin, who wrote after his combat in Plantanillos, “Nothing is more sacred than to struggle in defense of what belongs to you.”29 Women and men alike sacrificed and engaged each other in the public sphere, which pushed forward the conversation of how Bolivia was changing. Just like the articles about the women at the Colegio Santa Ana, news articles lauded women and their role in society, arguing that they “actively participated in social life and . . . fostered the intelligential growth of the home.” Bolivian women were not “simple companions for men but were rather collaborators and partners in equal conditions.”30 Women in Santa Cruz gathered “patriotically” in 1934 to “collect funds destined to the families of those mobilized to fight in the Chaco,” especially with the goal of helping “mothers, wives, widows, and poor orphans” of the fighting men.31 Hopeful articles that praised the people’s comradery and a newfound national identity aided the larger propaganda effort but also normalized the sorts of changes that were imminent in Bolivia after the war. Reporters also educated readers on the Chaco, describing the land and its peoples. For instance, authors wrote about “the future citizens that the Bolivian soldiers conquered in the jungles.” Replete with pictures of Indigenous peoples in traditional attire in squalid conditions, articles spoke of how Bolivian soldiers were “civilizing the savages of the Chaco” 90 Tr ansformation of the Home Front

and “incorporating them into the Bolivian nationality.”32 Not only were current citizens interacting to reshape Bolivia, but readers were told that Bolivia was expanding to influence the lives of others as well. Such content on the war and the home front should not have surprised anyone. News outlets were playing an important role and working in synch with the government, but an outsized focus of press reports dealt with such issues. Because Bolivian victories were few, the coverage simply had to focus elsewhere to engage readers. An abundance of articles spoke of violations to the Bolivian prisoners, overall malfeasance of the Paraguayan war effort, and patriotic activities of civilians across Bolivia. When they did score a victory, though, the news reports were boastful. Such was the case with the “grand triumph” at Cañada Strongest in late 1934, when the press was proud to report on the capture of “more than 400 prisoners” and how the enemy division at the line was in a “difficult situation.” Especially as Paraguayan troops neared undisputed Bolivian territory, articles such as this were critical to keep up hopes that the war was not a total loss.33 Such victories also reportedly won the praise of foreigners, including the Italian veterans of World War I, organized in the group Roma, who sent a congratulatory message to General Peñaranda, whose actions had “maintained the high honor of the Bolivian armed forces.”34 Even with a small readership, news was important and the government recognized the mood of the people. Leaders were sensitive to the crowd’s feelings because politics had been so fluid and leaders came and went with a strike, protest, or newfound cohort of supporters. Salamanca recognized this when Paraguayan forces took control of various forts in the Chaco. Cognizant that he needed a victory, Salamanca wrote that the “impression of the people of the disaster at Boqueron was very big and painful, considering how the expectation was for a victory.” The people felt “anxious and hopeless.” More important, the defeat encouraged Salamanca’s chief rivals to call for his resignation. Bautista Saavedra and Ismael Montes, opponents of Salamanca and his party, were happily waiting in the wings to benefit when, as Salamanca correctly noted, it became obvious that the government’s “internal politics . . . were new symptoms of anarchy,” which was a direct repercussion of “our situation in the Chaco.”35 Tr ansformation of the Home Front  91

Sensitive to how defeat on the battlefield would influence public opinion at home, the Bolivian press made a significant effort to point to the Battle at Ballivián, which raged for months in 1934, as a major turning point in the war. Reports said that over twenty thousand Paraguayans were involved alongside significant heavy artillery contingents. Despite all that, the Bolivians “stood firm.” More than four hundred Paraguayan prisoners from that battle were sent to Cochabamba, where the public remained “interested” in the war and were “convinced” that the Paraguayan reports and propaganda were “false.”36 Bolivians spoke of how they had captured deserters—­“veteran soldiers”—­who “denounced the deceitfulness” of their commanders and the larger Paraguayan mission.37 Bolivian reporters argued that the Paraguayan attack on Fortin Ballivián was a “political move” that resulted in the “massacre” of their troops.38 The Bolivian press claimed that the Paraguayans were concealing the number of their dead to avoid a catastrophe behind their lines in Asuncíon. In attacks in late May and early June 1934 they lost 320 men just days after attacking Bolivian forces at Cañada Strongest. Reports of a robust Bolivian defense in 1934 were meant to offer hope to readers suffering at home; if they thought that the Paraguayans were on the brink of defeat and that Bolivia had a monopoly on honor, they would continue to support the war.39 Wartime coverage also took the opportunity to link fear of communist agitation with broader stories that counteracted Paraguayan propaganda. La Razón ran an article in 1934 arguing that the “savage screams” coming from the Paraguayan soldiers to protest their misery and disgust fighting for foreign capitalists were manifesting as a communist revolt against the government in Asuncíon. The article supposedly came from a “Paraguayan Soviet,” but more importantly, such articles drew parallels to the danger of communism at home and tied it to an ostensibly less civilized and unfree Paraguayan enemy.40 Blaming the Paraguayans and lauding the Bolivian defenders and war effort, the press declared that the enemy was spent. “In the face of an impotent assault” at Ballivián, the Paraguayans supposedly tried to take advantage of the divisions within Bolivia and spark regionalism to win over Bolivians in the province of Santa Cruz, since they would be unable to win fairly on the battlefield. While the language in the 92 Tr ansformation of the Home Front

newspaper was bombastic, official distrust of those in Santa Cruz and the presence of espionage activity there on the part of the Paraguayans were seemingly real.41 The Bolivian propaganda effort became even more critical because the Paraguayans were keen to exploit the real problems in Bolivia. Paraguayan news articles asked surreptitiously through Ñuflo de Chavez, Santa Cruz de la Sierra’s colonial founder, “My sons [cruceños], why are you fighting against your brothers, instead of the collas [Indigenous peoples from highland Bolivia] who are disgracing my memory.”42 Another article mocked the celebrations of September 24 in Santa Cruz and noted that despite niceties toward the government, “an intimate party” had “ratified the decision to continue fighting until total liberation from the ominous power of the collas.”43 Paraguayans did not invent this material; tensions among the peoples of Bolivia already existed, including in popular print media from Bolivian elites. Alcides Arguedas shared his racist views without shame in his private and public writings, including his most famous work, Pueblo enfermo, in which he justified the lack of development across the lowlands of Bolivia as a result of the “enervating climate or the lack of any complexity of moral or mental life” there. Between “swinging in the hammock” and the “distractions of gambling and dancing,” the cruceños simply lacked the capacity to advance.44 Other pieces of propaganda included articles written by prisoners from Santa Cruz. One recounted the 1924 rebellion when troops marched into Santa Cruz to reclaim government authority. The soldier, Jorge Abuna, claimed that not only did La Paz “ignore us,” but they did something “much worse,” namely, popularize gossip that called the cruceños “stupid” and “imbeciles.”45 Other pieces of Paraguayan propaganda had a sympathetic tone, characterizing Bolivian soldiers as victims of an aggressive government that was using them under the direction of “international capital.” A popular press article from 1933, for instance, called the Bolivian soldier “simpático.” Everything about him, from his “face, his silhouette, his poor education, even his fits of anger” was “simpático.”46 Nonetheless, while much of what appeared in Asunción papers was clear propaganda with limited value, the Bolivian press reports worked hard to spin any news from the front and any Tr ansformation of the Home Front  93

Paraguayan reports because they had to. Headlines declared, “The falsity of the Paraguayan communications knows no limits,” and articles attacked the propaganda as “pretending to divide” the country.47 At war’s end, the peace accords gave Bolivian leaders an opportunity to complain formally about the subversive propaganda. The Bolivian delegate Carlos Calvo took the liberty to speak “frankly” about “certain propaganda, which the delegate from Paraguay is without doubt familiar,” about “some bad Bolivians . . . who are initiating separatist movements in Bolivia.” He asked that this sort of action cease because its “continuation” would produce a “bad example” and an “irritation.” The unanimous response from the other delegates centered on how Paraguay had little guilt in what were “isolated examples” of subversion.48 In the view of the international community, the Bolivian government was on its own to mobilize its people and counter any such enemy propaganda. As part of that wartime effort the Bolivian press printed rumors of inevitable victory. One article declared that Paraguay’s Gen. José Félix Estigarribia had lost control of his command to “old generals” because he had personally laid claim to the assault of Ballivián, where “10,000 men” were sacrificed as a result.49 Bolivian papers also reported that the U.S. Ministry of Commerce said the Paraguayan economy had continued to drop in 1933 compared to 1932.50 At the same time the Bolivian press reported that Bolivia was undergoing an “economic bonanza,” which would permit it to continue the war on its own accord.51 Articles noted that despite the official rhetoric celebrating the “high morale” of the Paraguayan troops, “large amounts of deserters” continued to flee to the Argentine border out of “desperation” that the war was continuing.52 The Paraguayan press also attempted to exploit the instances of Bolivians deserting across the border to Argentina because of a state of “anarchy” throughout “all of Bolivia” and reprinted articles from La Paz that called deserters “indigent” men “without a patria.” The same article listed the names of suspected deserters.53 The war was not just about bringing men to the front but increasingly became how to convert them to support wholeheartedly the government, which suffered negative rhetorical attacks as well. Following the victory at the fort Cañada Strongest in May 1934, the Bolivians took more than 1,300 prisoners—­almost half of the total taken 94 Tr ansformation of the Home Front

during the entire war—­which “caused the entire country to display enthusiasm.”54 The cheers did not last, though, as the Bolivians faced more defeats than victories, which were not enough to bolster any effective propaganda by the government, especially at such a late stage in the war.55 Even foreign press reports covered inspirational stories that tried to emphasize Bolivia’s hopeful position for the future, but this did little to nothing to win over the Bolivian populace. The New York Times ran an article, for instance, in April 1934 when President Salamanca visited the front in the Los Conchitas sector. The paper reported typically hopeful language from Salamanca such as “Bolivia will fight until she attains victory for her just cause” and asserting that the Bolivian army was “ready to fight to the end before allowing the foe to advance further.” More important, the article reported an exchange between Salamanca and a newly promoted sergeant, Mariano Quispe. When the president asked the sergeant if he wanted a reward for his bravery, Quispe said, “I don’t write, sir, but please tell my mother, living on the Island of the Sun in Lake Titicaca, that I am alive and happy to fight for our country.”56 This is precisely the sort of story that the Bolivian government printed in its own outlets because it fit within a general theme of nation-­building and how the state would reward men based on their merits and not on their race. Reform: Infrastructure, Technology, and the State

The Bolivian government recognized that it needed reforms during the war to ensure that a “free and independent democracy” would take root and improve the “nation.”57 One approach was to provide the people with a place where they could venerate the soldiers and their service. Therefore in October 1934 a museum opened to commemorate the war, with the inauguration headed by Minister of War Luís Fernando Guachalla.58 This opening occurred on the eve of the elections of 1934, which served as a message to the people that the government “could not ignore that there existed grave and complex political problems” in the country. After Franz Tamayo’s victory as the leader of the Genuine Republicans, Rafael Ugarte, Tamayo’s would-­be vice president, argued that the executive branch of government was secure because “the citizen patriots and the parties were Tr ansformation of the Home Front  95

in agreement” to “defend” the “dignity and sovereignty of the nation.”59 In November 1934, on the heels of the election, news reports declared that more than forty thousand people crowded in front of the presidential palace.60 Even half that amount would have been an impressive feat, proving that the public sphere had grown in size and matured in its ability to influence government. One reason the people crowded the plaza in La Paz was to demand guidance in the face of a rapidly changing world. Cities were being transformed, including Oruro, which saw modern design integrated into furniture and housing projects.61 Like new aspects of housing, the old argument over transport resurfaced to highlight the importance of the movement of people and not simply cargo. La Razón reported in 1934 that a passenger link between Sucre and Potosí had recently opened, using the rail lines to run small trains, the so-­called autocarriles, to carry people between the two locations.62 Technology factored into this larger transformation of Bolivia beyond repurposing traditional items. The wartime use of air power highlighted the potential for an air network across the country and foreshadowed a way around the expensive and difficult infrastructure projects linking the Andes with the lowlands. Lloyd Aéreo Boliviano, which was run during the war by the German Herr Schroth, expressed the company’s positive outlook for the development of air transit in Bolivia. The airport facilities in Cochabamba were already among the largest in South America, and the company planned to incorporate schools for mechanics, pilots, and other technicians.63 Such transport-­based technology would offer new possibilities for skilled employment after the war and also benefit the state during hostilities. Germany and Italy had adopted intense pilot training programs in the early 1930s, while the United States had signed its Civilian Pilot Training Act into law only in 1939. The U.S. legislation greatly expanded funding for pilot training, dispersing funding across over four hundred universities and opening up opportunities for women and African Americans.64 More broadly, these programs would serve multiple purposes of building capacity for war and expanding economic and human connections. Because the government needed the support of regular people for its projects, groups such as the Comité Pro-­Defensa Nacional reported with 96 Tr ansformation of the Home Front

pride that the highway from Sucre to Lagunillas (western Santa Cruz) was completed in June 1934. This connected the route already present from Camiri to Villa Montes and was key to providing greater access to the Chaco.65 Even at such a late stage in the war, ideas of infrastructure went beyond the need to reach the front. An Engineer named Miguel Rodriguez boasted of a plan to complete a navigable canal that would connect the city of Santa Cruz with the Rio Paraguay and “convert the city into a port, with the residual benefits for the city and the entire Orient.”66 There were plans for two routes that would link Cochabamba to Vallegrande and to Lagunilllas, thus making real connections between the agriculturally rich lowlands and the altiplano.67 All of this would open up new lands, inspire economic growth, and motivate people to rally behind the government and its modernizing agenda. Other aspects of technology and infrastructure included the continued development of radio since its debut in the 1920s. For instance, broadcasts during the Chaco War explained the historical roots of the contemporary struggle against Paraguay and included praise for the soldiers of the War of the Pacific alongside important personages from that conflict. As an increasingly powerful symbol to unite the people, the national anthem was heard frequently on the radio alongside readings of poems by the contemporary Bolivian writer Fernando Diez de Medina, songs such as “Adelante Bolivia,” and speeches by Tejada Sorzano, Enrique Hertzog, and other government officials.68 Tejada, a firm believer in progress, declared in his radio address that Bolivia was a “victim of isolation” and that radio was a tool that would enable a new spiritual connection among the peoples of the country.69 Radio, he said, was a medium to lift up “the elements of education, happiness, peace and beauty, and stimulate patriotism and progress.”70 An emotional tool, radio was recognized early on for its value in disseminating propaganda alongside the more traditional newspapers. The government meanwhile had broader plans for its official propaganda office and the dissemination of ideas to as large an audience as possible. With a staff of thirteen and a budget of 3,500 Bolivianos, the Office of Propaganda decided in 1935 to use the new airline Panagra to help disseminate pro-­government messages throughout the country. It also Tr ansformation of the Home Front  97

worked with newspapers, such as El Abece, based in Antofagasta, Chile, where the editor declared his “sympathy for the Bolivian nation” and desired to be “useful to the Bolivian cause.”71 Propaganda for the state became critical as the war continued into 1933, 1934, and 1935, especially in the face of government opposition and increases in illegal activity. Max Cueller of Beni pleaded with the regime in 1935 to send more police to combat banditry. He asked especially for rifles, “since the police have no weapons” to combat “criminal gangs.”72 At that late stage in the war, the call for guns signaled that the outreach through messaging was insufficient to convince Bolivians to support the state. A. Jauregui Rosquellas, the director general of Bolivian propaganda, wrote to President Tejada Sorzano in August 1935 with a summary of plans for the future of propaganda in light of the end of the conflict. He proposed ending the “literary propaganda” because it had been “totally ineffective” and would hinder the return to “normalcy” alongside the “reconstruction campaign.” He praised the cessation of hostilities and said that the Bolivian propaganda efforts must be centered on generating a positive image of Bolivia abroad. Messages must speak about Bolivia’s “size and capacity, wealth and products, livelihoods and advantages for immigration,” and suggestions for how foreign investment would thrive in the country. Rosquellas desired to extend invitations to the “capitalist, industrialist, and simple tourist” for the benefit of all. This extended basic ideas of tourism already advanced during the war, including in weeklies like La Semana Grafica, which explained that tourism had been “scientifically proven to yield generous monetary benefits” and that Bolivia had a lot to offer.73 La Razón claimed that tourism would advance the beauties of La Paz.74 All of this fit within the goals of the Office of Propaganda, which included a working plan to help “develop” the country in a “practical spirit” that could yield “immediate results.”75 In 1935 it was time to replace wartime needs with a focus on rebuilding. The fact that propaganda shifted to weave tourism into the traditional reformist agenda was significant. News articles suggested that the tourism industry “contribute[d] to the development and betterment” of the entire country and therefore made tourism of “grand importance” to Bolivia.76 98 Tr ansformation of the Home Front

Part of this reconstruction to accommodate a reignited foreign interest in Bolivia was already under way earlier in the year. In late February 1935 the Ministry of Foreign Relations sought advice for how to deal with the coming end of the Chaco War. One memo included a request from the Ministry of War, which sought the services of an American named Col. John S. Hammond. They desired Hammond to organize a conference to put the Bolivian case to an audience of interested Americans and students at Columbia University. Hammond was an interesting choice for this job. Coming from old money—­and as a West Point graduate—­he had served as a U.S. Foreign Service military attaché in South America and observed the 1911 Revolution in Paraguay. He also represented a New York brokerage firm and entered the oil business as a proprietor. As president of the Hammond Oil Company, he had spent time in Bolivia and had oil-­related concessions there.77 Transcripts of the conference are unavailable, but presumably Hammond held a favorable view of the Bolivian argument over the Chaco and was to speak on a number of topics, including the treatment of Bolivian prisoners of war, the difficulties the Bolivian forces faced in terms of climate, infrastructure, and details surrounding the closing of the Port of Irigoyen to Bolivia. Finally, he was to discuss the refusal of Argentina to build a canal along the Bermejo River.78 He also likely harbored a grudge against Standard Oil of New Jersey since he was involved in lengthy court battles with that firm over land concessions and royalty rights that he claimed in Bolivia.79 Hammond did hold a conference, entitled “Bolivia and Paraguay: The War in the Chaco-­Boreal and Its Effects upon These Countries and Their People,” as part of the Third Technical Group Conference at Columbia University.80 This sort of conference fit directly Rosquellas’s desire to present a favorable impression of Bolivia to an audience in New York who might be convinced to invest once again in Bolivia in the postwar environment. Talks like this also solidified the idea that Bolivians needed to use overseas propaganda to “correct . . . historical and geographical errors” prevalent among foreigners.81 Summary

A recent dissertation at the University of Michigan addresses the constitution of the Bolivian national project from the perspective of criollo Tr ansformation of the Home Front  99

literature about mestizos and cholos between the years 1850 and 1950. Silvia S. Ximena Soruco-­Sologuren argues that modernity was constructed not only with the critical “Indian question” in mind but also through a more thoroughgoing racial stigmatization. Soruco-­Sologuren suggests that criollo elites were too weak and disparate to form a racial typology or a national project after the Federal War. Just as with education reform, how nonwhites were viewed had two competing camps. On the one hand, there existed a discourse of “antimestizaje” (1900–­1930), which identified mestizos and cholos as inferior to whites because of their mixed blood or mixed identity. Alcides Arguedas was one important person who held negative views of the Indigenous and mestizos. He claimed that “masses of pure Indians crossed with mestizos compose[d] the majority of this country,” and because of that racial dynamic, life in Bolivia was “incoherent, without orientation and without greatness.” With such a “cholo culture” there was no “ability to successfully manage public affairs.”82 On the other hand, a discourse of “mestizaje” (1930–­50) emerged that distinguished the mestizo (who was completely Westernized) from the cholo (a negative in-­between group without linguistic, cultural, or social conformity).83 There was support for the Indigenous from certain sections of the small Bolivian middle class, especially those mestizo or cholo communities that saw the Indigenous as “dispossessed of all political rights” yet increasingly active in urban life.84 If Soruco-­Sologuren’s periodization tells us anything, it shows the critical importance of the Chaco War and how no one could ignore the massive mobilization of all types of people from across Bolivia. Simply put, the war engaged so many people through direct service and inspired messages that all people in Bolivia interacted and reimagined who they were. Marc Eisner has argued that the preeminence the United States has enjoyed since the end of World War II has been mistakenly credited to Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal. That program was an attempt to extricate the United States from the depths of the Great Depression and resulted in the unprecedented growth of the federal government. The thesis that credits Roosevelt is “useful fiction,” in part because the “New Deal was less than new.” Eisner asserts that the trajectory of U.S. political development began with World War I and that the New Deal was part of the “ongoing 100 Tr ansformation of the Home Front

evolution of the American state along a trajectory that had already been put into place.” After all, the United States had more than four million men in uniform during its incredibly short tenure as a belligerent in the Great War. In a country with about 103 million people, that meant 3 percent of the population essentially became wards of the state for at least several months to more than a year. This understanding of war as the critical transformative event in modern Bolivian history mimics Eisner’s reinterpretation of the United States in the twentieth century. As we know, “changes are usually incremental,” but “periods of relative stability are punctuated by rapid, substantial, institutional changes that recast basic rules, roles, policy tools, and patterns of state-­society relations.” War is one cause of these changes. Eisner contends that the “Roosevelt administration constructed a recovery program and the welfare state from policies, agendas, and patterns of state-­economy relations that originated in World War I mobilization and evolved throughout the 1920s” as veterans reintegrated into society.85 In the same way, in Bolivia the relationship between the state, the people, and the policies enacted in the wake of the Chaco War evolved and directly inspired the Revolution of 1952.86 Other works that see the influence of war-­making on the expansion of the state come to the same basic conclusions of how emergency situations bring forth new modes of thought and a corresponding transformation in how those changes are managed.87 A bellicist approach is not universal, as Cameron Thies reminds us, but simply stated, the “strong external threats, including but not limited to war, produce states with stronger institutional capacities to extract from society”; for Bolivia, the war served literally to build the state and enable its people to organize to effect change.88 One final aspect of the war’s significance and how it aided the state is the way the diversity of the army and mobilization of the population through propaganda influenced veteran organizations. An already present embryonic welfare state entitled families of mobilized soldiers to collect 20 Bolivianos during the war. And even before the war ended families could ask for more state aid.89 After the war a number of Indigenous veterans returned—­at least for a time—­to their villages, but many relocated to urban spaces. Their socialization could then continue, in part because Tr ansformation of the Home Front  101

the urban space afforded new opportunities for inclusion into the larger community, but also because the social patterns the veterans established during wartime could continue. If Elizabeth Shesko is correct and the army had significant diversity in terms of students, workers, craftsmen, and rural Indigenous, then the ability of veterans to serve as arbiters of power after the war makes perfect sense. Initially veterans organized locally and fraternized thanks to their shared experiences during the war. Later, under the stewardship of Col. Germán Busch, the national League of Veterans provided a space for them to coordinate efforts throughout the country.

102 Tr ansformation of the Home Front

1. Famed Bolivian pilot Capt. Rafael Pabón in La Paz. As in World War I, the air

corps featured prominently in propaganda because it was easier to identify individual heroes in combat. La Semana Grafica, December 24, 1932.

2. Bolivian soldiers in Paraguayan captivity. Experiences as prisoners of war varied;

some were allowed relative freedom of movement and use of either civilian or military clothing. La Gaceta de Bolivia 42 (1933).

3. Two teachers from the Warisata School, which centered on learning by cele-

brating Indigenous values. This image appeared in La Gaceta de Bolivia with the following text: “It is true that Bolivia has been forgotten by its neighbors, however, its Indians are in charge of cementing the new nationality of this country, because the Indians have carried the weight of this campaign with a unique resignation.” La Gaceta de Bolivia 42 (1933).

4. William Pickwoad, who won the

Condor Award for his service to the Bolivian state during the Chaco War. He spent many years managing the Bolivian-­Antofagasta Railway Company. La Gaceta de Bolivia 42 (1933).

5. A Bolivian soldier in a formal pose. Such

photos were meant for family keepsakes but were also published in Bolivian newspapers. Sometimes they accompanied a casualty or prisoner list; at other times they simply showed the faces of the soldiers. La Semana Grafica, April 28, 1934.

6. Upon mobilization or after completion of training, Bolivian soldiers often cele-

brated with military bands and drills. This photo shows a group of drivers heading to the front as replacements. La Semana Grafica, July 29, 1933.

7. During the war the home front was an important space where social gatherings

took place to collect aid for soldiers or otherwise engage the community with patriotic themes. La Semana Grafica, August 12, 1933.

8. The Episcopal Congress of Bolivia. Pictured are key leaders of the Bolivian

Catholic hierarchy who played a role in facilitating aid for prisoners of war. Sitting, left to right: Msgr. Ramón Font, Bishop of Tarija; Msgr. Daniel Rivero, Bishop of Santa Cruz; Msgr. Francisco Pierni, Archbishop of La Plata (Sucre); Msgr. Augusto Sieffer, Bishop of La Paz; Msgr. Abel Antezana, Bishop of Oruro. Standing, left to right: Msgr. Tomás Aspe, Bishop of Cochabamba; Msgr. Cleto Loaiza, Bishop of Potosí; and Msgr. Francisco Buchl, Apostolic Vicar of Chiquitos. La Semana Grafica, August 12, 1933.

9. Drivers in the Bolivian army. There were specific calls for the recruitment of men

with driving experience, easing the burden of training by the army. La Semana Grafica, July 29, 1933.

10. Capt. Germán Busch, taken

during the Chaco War. He would quickly rise through the ranks and become chief of staff of the Bolivian armed forces, head of the League of Veterans, and then president. La Semana Grafica, July 29, 1933.

11. Col. David Toro and family. Toro’s role in forcing the resignation of President

Daniel Salamanca in November 1934 strengthened his position in the state and helped him become president in 1936. La Semana Grafica, November 4, 1933.

12. The weekly magazine La Semana Grafica ran a story about the qualities of Indig-

enous soldiers. This drawing shows the Indigenous soldier and his wife embracing before he leaves to serve his country. The Indigenous soldier “goes off to war, proud, haughty, and full of jubilance,” singing, “To the Chaco I go.” La Semana Grafica, May 13, 1933.

13. The weekly magazine La Semana Grafica ran a cover showing that both workers

and soldiers serve their country. La Semana Grafica, April 29, 1933.

14. Bolivian officers generally had preferential treatment in captivity. Archive of the Ministry of Defense, Asunción, Paraguay.

15. Bolivian airmen in captivity in Paraguay pose for a photo. The exploits of the

pilots served to rally the imagination of the reading public. Archive of the Ministry of Defense, Asunción, Paraguay.

16. Almost twenty thousand Bolivian soldiers were taken captive during the Chaco

War. They were marched to Asunción (as shown here) to be processed and then dispersed to prisons throughout Paraguay. Archive of the Ministry of Defense, Asunción, Paraguay.

17. Bolivian prisoners of war typically labored on numerous projects, including

infrastructure, agriculture, and maintenance. Here Bolivian captives under guard are drinking water from a tank. Archive of the Ministry of Defense, Asunción, Paraguay.

18. The weekly La Semana Grafica ran a map of the battlefield to rally readers. The

soldier at bottom calls his comrades to battle. La Semana Grafica, January 14, 1933.

19. The cover of La Semana Grafica shows the strength of the Bolivian people

against the Paraguayans. The Bolivian nation is depicted as an Indigenous monolith, while the weak Paraguayan is helplessly trying to maintain his footing. La Semana Grafica, December 3, 1932.

4 From Peasant to Patriot

When Bolivia entered the Chaco War in 1932, the country still languished in a prior political mentality. Herbert Klein has noted that political matters concerned a mere 10 to 20 percent of the national population, even considering both participant observers and formal actors; simply put, Bolivia was an overwhelmingly illiterate, premodern, agricultural society.1 Rene Danilo Arze Aguirre’s work emphasizes how Minister of War Joaquín Espada argued that the Indigenous majority in particular had neither the national consciousness nor even a sense of duty to defend the nation. This was not just owing to illiteracy but also “illiteracy in matters of civics.”2 And Irma Lorini asserts that few leaders took the time to educate Indigenous groups—­or subaltern actors more generally—­in terms of civics and so they had no historic concept of the “Bolivian nation” or “patriotism.”3 The 1920s started to change those realities to enable a more effective political mobilization of the peoples of Bolivia through an increasingly populist stewardship and a renewed global economy. To that end, politicians in the 1920s had begun to incorporate modern ideology into their political rhetoric, but the inherent instability and poverty of the Bolivian governments resulted in little progress and instead exaggerated the ability to govern. In 103

short, while leaders had tried to enact modernization and reform they fell short given the tools at their disposal. Everything changed, though, with the advent of the Chaco War. President Daniel Salamanca launched his army to battle against neighboring Paraguay over the desolate Chaco boreal; the widespread enlistment of Bolivians not only exposed them to the rigors of war but also helped forge a sensibility toward their own Bolivian identity. Additionally, the state grew from the expansion of propaganda, both from the government itself and its supporters in the press; those who did not serve were exposed to media reports regarding the “savagery” of the Paraguayans and the “barbarism” of the enemy. Scores of Bolivians, at least in urban areas, likely interacted with a host of new civic institutions such as the Comité Pro-­Prisionero or communicated with family or friends on the battlefield.4 Following defeat and demobilization, the veterans of the Chaco War emerged as a powerful group that fundamentally changed Bolivian politics, putting it even more in touch with the needs of the masses. The veterans exerted overwhelming influence for the remainder of the 1930s through their vocal and active agitation—­embracing the role formerly held by miners, students, and workers. Those activities served as examples for future revolutionaries who learned well the lesson that populism relies on organization and reform to alter Bolivia and its people. This chapter traces how the landless or subaltern poor became the lifeblood of a political movement following a war that created a more powerful state and accelerated tremendous demographic change. Numerous scholars have written of the Chaco War as a dramatic event in the history of modern Bolivia.5 Laura Gotkowitz states that the Chaco War undeniably brought populism to La Paz but was also a “powerful phenomenon in the countryside.”6 This is precisely why the Chaco War was so important. It accelerated migratory patterns of new migrants—­flush with new or expanded ideas—­and fresh opportunities in urban centers and rural villages alike. Considering how veterans drove and benefited from a stronger state forces a revision of how the war facilitated change and led to the 1952 Revolution.7 The war unleashed a political revolution in Bolivia, with the increasing power of the state alongside swelling input 104 From Peasant to Patr iot

from an increasingly urban population.8 First, the successful Revolution in 1952 occurred primarily as an extension of the Chaco War, owing to the intense changes that the conflict unleashed. Without the unifying experience of war the leaders and common activists alike would not have had the impetus, experience, or wherewithal to take power in 1952. Second, and more important, not only was the 1952 Revolution the culmination of the war—­or its natural conclusion—­but the post-­Chaco governments accelerated the modernizing momentum throughout the country, including a focus on state-­driven infrastructure, development spending, and a more autarkic economy to meet a changing demographic reality. The Power of Veterans throughout Modern History

The causes of the Chaco War are intriguing to analyze in detail, but a more macro perspective has the potential to view both the causes and the effects of the war.9 One of the paramount effects was the further development of the state and the Bolivian nation, as seen in part in the participation of tens of thousands of men in the war. These men organized after the war and created a momentum that changed the nature of how the government interacted with its citizens. This has parallels in history, perhaps most clearly in the case of the United States in the aftermath of the Civil War. Veterans’ rights have a long history in North America. Even during the earliest days of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, men wounded in combat were eligible for a pension from the governing authority. This was understood as an indemnity for their service that left them unable to adapt to peacetime civilian employment. Revolutionary War veterans also drew pensions from the government of the United States or their localities, but they did little to organize within their communities. It was the U.S. Civil War that changed the government forever and gave birth to one of the most powerful veterans’ organizations the modern world has ever seen: the Grand Army of the Republic (gar). Stuart McConnell has argued that the gar was a tremendously important association in the postwar years, in part because of its “obligation to the poor and injured, the place of war memories in peacetime,” and the “meaning of the ‘nation,’” especially the “individual’s relation to it.” By the dawn of the twentieth century, the gar had transformed from From Peasant to Patr iot  105

serving as a principal advocate for federal pensions and the continuity of wartime comradery among veterans, including preference for other governmental employment, into a group devoted to the “promotion of patriotism and the commemoration of Memorial Day.” It played a host of roles, including fraternal lodge, charitable society, special-­interest lobby, patriotic group, and political club. These roles changed over time, but it is the development of the gar that McConnell suggests serves as a “microcosm of a nation trying to hold fast to an older image of itself in the face of massive social change.”10 I suggest that the Bolivian Legíon de Ex-­Combatientes (lec; League of Veterans) played many of the same roles, at least during the 1930s and into the 1940s, but rather than trying to hold on to the past the lec stood at the forefront of nation-­building and social change. Returning to C. A. Bayly’s theory of state transformation, McConnell notes how the U.S. government grew more powerful when it implemented an income tax during the Civil War, “issued $450 million in greenbacks,” and organized the country’s first military draft.11 The financial aspect was pivotal, just as much as the participation of masses of men in institutional systems such as the army, navy, or U.S. Sanitary Commission.12 To be a veteran in either the North American or Bolivian context meant identifying by geographic region, by nation-­state, and within the hierarchical system based on rank and discipline.13 Unifying all veterans of the U.S. Civil War was that they constituted a force that no political figure could ignore. George Lemon, a personal attorney and founder of the National Tribune who lobbied for veterans’ benefits, wrote in 1882, “The truth is that no political party can any longer afford to ignore the soldier.” The veterans, he declared, were “beginning to awake to a consciousness of their power.”14 Politicians and national leaders recognized that just like the “Irish vote in New York City or the German Lutheran vote in Ohio, the veteran vote could provide the margin of victory in important swing states.”15 This became a reality in Bolivia too, where the government sought—­indeed relied upon—­the support of soldiers and then fought to maintain it lest soldiers back a rival political organization. We need look no further than the U.S. Civil War to understand just how much an executive relies on mass support. Brooks Simpson demonstrates 106 From Peasant to Patr iot

that Abraham Lincoln’s varying prerogatives resembled his understanding that “presidents could not simply transform personal preferences into public policy and be successful.” In a democratic republic it would be dangerous to “move too far in advance of public opinion”; governing took patience. Bolivian leaders all too often entered the presidential palace in La Paz and tried to force their own personal agendas onto the country, basing their actions on a narrow margin of support from one group or another. Bautista Saavedra did this with his coalition and Hernando Siles did it with students in the second half of the 1920s. In both instances, the leaders accomplished much less than they had desired. Just as the issue of Indigenous rights grew to become the most powerful political issue, President Lincoln’s emancipation proclamation was premised on a thorough and “fundamental change in southern society.” American Blacks would need to secure basic civil rights and political rights, “including some form of suffrage.” Republicans around Lincoln argued over how to change the South; Thaddeus Stevens, for instance, proclaimed, “The whole fabric of southern society must be changed.” Senator Charles Sumner of Massachusetts believed that the nation would be altered with the enfranchisement of Blacks, which would be the only way to offer “substantial protection” for them as well as the need for “every vote” to “counter-­balance the rebels.”16 This increase in potential voters would transform the U.S. democracy over the coming decades, just as Indigenous suffrage would take Bolivia into social revolution in 1952. Army life changes people. Mark Grimsley has pointed out that the hard war strategy employed by the Union in the U.S. Civil War was not extraordinary. Grimsley correctly notes that “back home, few men would have dismantled houses, stolen fence rails, or coerced meals from unwilling hosts”; in war, though, the “usual rules did not apply.” A minister who served with the Fifth Maine saw a lack of discipline as the work of Satan. “O! what a school is war,” he declared.17 Likewise, the suffering of the Bolivian soldiers, especially thirst and disease, tested the boundaries of what had been normalized. Military service can be one way to civilize the masses. When Brazil incorporated a draft at the turn of the twentieth century, it did so in part From Peasant to Patr iot  107

because “the cities [were] full of unshod vagrants and ragamuffins”: “For these dregs of society, the barracks would be a salvation. The barracks are an admirable filter in which men cleanse and purify themselves: they emerge conscientious and dignified Brazilians.” The German military mission in Bolivia since before World War I was a product of its own belief that the Imperial German Army would be a “great national school in which the officer would be an educator in the grand style, a shaper of the people’s minds.” Traditional German views held that the army would be a natural extension of civilian life: aristocratic officers would command peasant soldiers and solidify the class divides for life outside of uniform. Obedience to social superiors was a bedrock of Otto von Bismarck’s creation, and conscription into service would guarantee such indoctrination. This worked not only in semi-­authoritarian systems but also in democracies, like the United States, where Assistant Secretary of War Henry Breckinridge declared in 1916 that military service was the “elder brother of the public school.”18 Hans Kundt came from this school of thought and worked hard to modernize Bolivia’s armed forces, which included discipline and modern uniforms, complete with tight-­fitting, German-­style leather boots. Perhaps more apt for this story of the modernization of the country, he also decreed that all conscripts must know how to read and write. Kundt’s reform of the army was in fact a precursor to the top-­down reform later enacted by younger officers who served in the Chaco, such as Busch. Service in the Bolivian army, though, would have been inconsequential for most of the peasants and urban poor who served in its ranks, precisely because the army was small and concerned mostly with gendarme duties and strike-­breaking. Indeed in 1924 it numbered only ten thousand men. The army was unable to maintain order in Oruro in 1930, for example, when soldiers refused to engage with revolutionaries angry over the loss of mining jobs. That refusal to comply with orders led directly to the coup that completed the ouster of Siles and his cabinet. The army before the Chaco War was an institution that had the potential to create a sense of civic duty and nationalism but failed to do so given its short reach into society. In contrast, the duress of fighting in the war accompanied by the enlistment of masses into a hierarchical institution forged a bond between 108 From Peasant to Patr iot

and educated the men, who were mostly un-­or underrepresented in politics and ignored society’s leaders. The veterans of the Chaco War agitated for equal rights and full citizenship in the state based on their tremendous sacrifices. Service in wartime by marginalized groups goes a long way to helping those people attain greater rights in the postwar environment, especially because, as Krebs rightly points out, “concessions” have come when the “authorities have found themselves without access to suitable rhetorical materials for crafting a sustainable rebuttal.”19 James Weldon Johnson of the naacp put it succinctly for the U.S. context, following service in World War I: “To perform the duties and not demand the rights would be pusillanimous; and to demand the rights and not perform the duties would be futile.”20 The situation facing the Indigenous community in Bolivia mirrored U.S. Blacks’ unequal place and potential to make change. Therefore, in the Bolivian case, the notion of the army as a school for the nation takes on a greater significance. Looking at the War of the Pacific, scholarship has shown that Indigenous peoples of the Andean borderlands of Chile and Peru (and by extension Bolivia) have had a flexible relationship with the state and conflict. Florencia Mallon argues that the rural communities in southern Peru were not static entities but reacted to outside governing forces as they saw fit. They fought against the Chilean army during its invasion in the early 1880s and afterward struggled against neighboring Peruvians over historic water rights and other issues. Mallon declares, though, that it is wrong to say that the people held no political allegiances.21 Instead the local community’s engagement with work, society, and the state was fundamentally changing over time to cope with the reality of the moment. That reality was defined by the manner in which the Indigenous in that region experienced nation-­building. Later, when masses of subalterns themselves took to arms in the Chaco War, the war fit into a more common fight for rights by those underrepresented groups of people. Additionally political leaders in La Paz, experienced in ruling through the promise of reform and construction of a Bolivian nation since the early 1900s, recognized that the veterans represented a new avenue of support. From Peasant to Patr iot  109

Part of this book’s argument is that during the period under review leaders governed with the support of an increasingly wider and more politically aware segment of the population. If the literature is correct and having lost the coast to Chile caused Bolivian leaders immense grief, then a reasonable question to ask is how that affected the leaders moving into the future. Did they simply mourn the loss of territory? Did they turn their grievances against Paraguay into jingoism? Or did they attempt to learn from their defeat? An interesting case with similar causes and effects is Russia’s loss in the Crimean War in 1856 and how that precipitated a modernization campaign along with the emancipation of the serfs. Russia’s humiliating loss crushed memories of strength and prowess against Napoleon a mere four decades earlier and sparked a wave of reform unheard of outside of Peter the Great’s efforts to make Russia a European power, all linked “inextricabl[y]” to war.22 Other examples, such as the Boxer Rebellion and Sun Yat-­sen’s reforms in China, further support this trend of war breeding change. While those reforms failed initially, they nonetheless prove a trend has existed in modern history.23 P. A. Zaionchkovskii shows that Russia’s defeat in the Crimea caused a pragmatic recognition in the highest quarters that Russia could not compete against modern European armies without first abolishing serfdom.24 Serfdom as in institution had grown so despicable to the intelligentsia that its members could not see the state functioning so long as masses of people were willfully excluded from the system. Later, of course, Russian officials understood that it was critical to prepare men “physically and mentally for war,” which meant inclusion on a more spiritual rather than just literal way.25 Moreover Terence Emmons writes that it was “clearly understood by Alexander II” that the Crimean defeat was directly related to Russia’s general economic and technological backwardness, and that the main obstacle to overcoming this situation was the existence of serfdom.26 Like most reform movements, calls for change had existed in Russia for decades before the emancipation of the serfs in 1861. The chief of the Political Police, Count Alexander von Benckendorff, wrote Tsar Nicolas I in an 1839 memo that the peasants were eagerly awaiting their liberation and that each important event in state life brought hope for a future freedom from obligatory labor. In the eighteenth century the system 110 From Peasant to Patr iot

of fealty essentially had disappeared and serfs rightly blamed the nobles for “resisting” their freedom. Serfdom, according to Nicolas I, was a “palpable and obvious evil.”27 The political pressure to deal with the potential for widespread and catastrophic peasant revolt caused great concern and anticipation especially because liberation would fundamentally change the face of how labor functioned in Russia. What drove the tsar to repeal serfdom? Was it ideas of liberty and sympathy with the masses, or the hope of winning support for his reign that would outlast any resistance from conservative and entrenched nobles? The latter reason seems the most plausible and suggests corollaries with Bolivia.28 The War of the Pacific might have been just that impetus to move the Liberals toward their construction of a more modern state, which at the same time inspired the gradual move toward populism, as they understood the need to increase popular interest and participation in the state. The Chaco War too fits this model because that loss gave rise to a strong military government determined to revitalize the country in ways that earlier leaders could not, given their economic and political realities. Like Russia in the mid-­nineteenth century, Bolivia in the early twentieth was rural, poor, and ruled by a tiny elite, with few traces of a middle class or effective government. Countless Indigenous laborers worked on the land or in the mines for wealthy absentee landlords, and cities existed merely around areas of limited production or transit of raw materials; no sprawling merchant or banking class truly existed to challenge the government, excepting the growth of Oruro and La Paz in the last decades of the nineteenth century. Removing motivations altogether, it is still worthwhile to place the Russian and Bolivian examples side by side. That is because both countries saw populist leaders emerge as a result of the gradual empowerment of the traditionally marginalized peoples alongside tremendous demographic changes.29 Russian cities grew in the nineteenth century despite transitory or seasonal work by laborers who farmed in the summers and worked as unskilled labor in factories during the cold winters. Over time, though, seasonal migration eased and urban labor became more reliable, altering the face of Russian urban spaces. Nonetheless, at the turn of the twentieth century Russian society was marked by an “extreme plasticity.”30 By the time From Peasant to Patr iot  111

of the 1905 war with Japan, Russian cities were mature enough to harbor a large-­scale revolutionary movement among a host of socioeconomic groups. Defeat in that war inspired the famous Stolypin Reforms, by which Prime Minister Pyotr Stolypin sought to ease the stresses facing the state and redistribute land in Siberia to colonizers, while also terminating the payments to landlords for land transferred to the people in the wake of the abolition of serfdom.31 Much of this reformist platform occurred as it did thanks to the earlier work by Finance Minister Sergei Witte, whose overarching development program oversaw the growth of Russia’s transportation and industrial bases.32 We cannot ignore that a similar uneven growth in population, gainful employment, improvements in literacy and availability of media, alongside an awareness of exterior ideologies and the modernization of other countries occurred in Bolivia as well. Confusion in the Lines

By 1935 the Bolivian army was in disarray and the state’s finances were desperate. Police officers complained that instead of receiving their full salary they received a mere token payment.33 President José Luis Tejada Sorzano sent a telegram to the tin magnate Simon Patiño on April 2, 1935, requesting a loan of 4 million British pounds to prevent a military rout and help pay the state’s bills.34 State services, already limited, were exhausted, and the army struggled to maintain undisputed Bolivian territory. As the forces retreated, they did so rather haphazardly and lost valuable equipment and personnel in the process. Thousands of Bolivian soldiers fled the front lines, some as willful deserters, some lost in the scrub brush and difficult terrain; some died of thirst and hunger, and those who encountered Paraguayan forces simply surrendered in order to survive.35 Large numbers also fled for Argentina, lacking the necessary reserves to stop a Paraguayan advance.36 International Red Cross workers reported to their headquarters in Geneva that as early as December 1932 Bolivian deserters showed up along the Argentine frontier looking and feeling demoralized.37 Additionally, the chaos of war allowed for smugglers to circumvent the border post at Chirimoyal, near the Argentine border by Yacuiba. Gen. Enrique Peñaranda noted this smuggling operation was 112 From Peasant to Patr iot

ongoing and had been confirmed by the Bolivian consul in Argentina.38 The fluidity of the border and the inability of the authorities in La Paz to exert control further handicapped successful engagement in the war, causing even greater chaos.39 The terrain in the Chaco was so foreign to most of the Bolivian soldiers that it posed significant challenges for survival. Since logistics within the army ran slowly and could not provide adequate food, water, petrol, and other necessities, men were left to fend for themselves in what they described as a “tough jungle” filled with a “tremendous nightmare of bug bites” and “shrapnel.” Luís Azurduy wrote that in the Chaco the trees died “despite their scrounging for water,” and the “craziness of the thirst” meant that the “faces [of men were] burned by the fire of the sun.” Soldiers tore their fingers as they “scratched at dirt in search of water.”40 The Paraguayan leader José Félix Estigarrribia noted that during the Battle at Arce, his troops found the Bolivians “bewildered” and in “their desperation, spread through the woods, blinded and without direction,” where they died of “thirst by the hundreds.”41 Emilio Sarmiento confirmed that and declared that the thirst of the Bolivian troops was like a “pestilence from biblical times.”42 A Paraguayan author proudly wrote that “beyond the jungle” and the “thirst,” the Bolivians unexpectedly faced the “heroism of the Paraguayan people.”43 Regardless of the reason, it was truly a desperate place for those unused to the terrain, but it also served as a “harsh melting pot” that grew the seed of the “consciousness of the new homeland.”44 The severity caused men from diverse communities to bond in their quest for survival, and that experience led to a better understanding of success through organization and teamwork. Time of Troubles

In despair after the war, future nationalist leaders such as Carlos Montenegro picked up where earlier reformers had stopped and developed a more modern, post–­Chaco War nationalism. In his famous work Nacionalismo y coloniaje, Montenegro welded together a history of print culture alongside a historical conception of a Bolivian national identity. He understood the class and ethnic disparities in Bolivia since colonialism but focused on a From Peasant to Patr iot  113

patriotic history and narrative that could take Bolivians past defeat and into the future.45 With former political actors such as Bautista Saavedra and Enrique Baldivieso, Montenegro worked with army officers to form a pro-­socialist governing platform. With Baldivieso he formed the Bolivian Socialist Confederation. The overall policy that emerged by 1936 sought to interpret the needs of the military veterans, while at the same time recognizing the political needs of the middle and working classes.46 Contemporary critics of the wartime government argued against what they saw as an oppressive regime. To opponents further on the left, it was the “feudal-­bourgeois governments who worked on behalf of the imperialist oppressors and exploiters” that had hindered the development of the country. It made no difference whether it was the government of “Montes, Saavedra, Siles, Salamanca, or whichever military or civilian junta,” because they all blocked reform. Guillermo Lora advocated for a socialist government to foster equality, including constitutional reforms that would put into place electoral reforms, such as “absolutely free, secret, and universal voting rights,” alongside the “recognition of rights for women.” He declared that the Revolutionary Socialist Party had the “courage” to say that the “inept and criminal government of Hernando Siles” had “precipitated war between Bolivia and Paraguay,” which included the disingenuous exploitation of patriotism. Having recognized that elites had successfully excited the people and agitated for a war of devastation, it was clear to revolutionaries what the next steps should be: they must organize better and guide the masses toward progress. Meanwhile the Communist Party, renamed the Agrupacíon Comunista in 1934, had “started a campaign against the government repression against indigenous peasants” and worked against the incarceration of soldiers whom the government suspected to be agents working on behalf of the Communist Party.47 People from across the political spectrum grew to see the war as a debacle and the place where poor and largely Indigenous men died; such a viewpoint created an array of radical proposals backed with emotion and energy, which together set into motion unprecedented politics. The Bolivian legation in Montevideo cabled President Tejada Sorzano in 1935, telling him “that communist elements [were] trying to take advantage 114 From Peasant to Patr iot

of the demobilization, especially among the indigenous.”48 Losing control of the people became a true concern of the government, especially in an environment marked by negative or antiregime propaganda. For instance, the Federación Obrera del Trabajo de Oruro (Workers Federation of Labor of Oruro) argued that “the rich became richer with the war while the victims, those who sacrificed, were the sons of the country, workers, peasants, artisans, and students.”49 Such ideas created a fluid dynamic whereby the state could not control the situation. Yet the significance of the Chaco War is precisely that everyone recognized the bankruptcy of the old system.50 Students, miners, workers, soldiers, everyone who read a newspaper felt that the government had no legitimacy and needed a change. The result was political chaos, with several competing voices about which direction to take. The most basic unifying factor for these groups was national revival or renovation. Several left-­and right-­wing groups eventually consolidated this energy and the military took control. The Chaco as the Answer

The Bolivian Foreign Ministry sent a telegram to the legation in Berlin for the celebration of Independence Day, August 6, 1935, noting, “Following the bloody Chaco War we proved the unshakable integrity of the Bolivian people who supported our heroic army. . . . [We wish to] reaffirm our tireless efforts for the greatness of our homeland.”51 Soldiers did form an active component of the political realm in this period, and parties gravitated toward them for support. Ricardo Valle Closa—­using his alias, Gastón del Mar—­conducted clandestine work during the Chaco War for the Communist Party. He was taken prisoner while in combat and then exiled to Argentina. While serving as a prisoner in Paraguay he worked with soldiers to organize talks against the dominant classes in Bolivia.52 He wrote prolifically for Asunción dailies, including one article that spoke of the lack of choice in Bolivian politics; there was no difference, he argued, between Liberalism and Saavedrismo because both acted in the “interests of foreigners” and sold the state to banks such as “Morgan and Dillon & Read.”53 Valle understood the power of his audience in framing the political debate and arguing for drastic change. From Peasant to Patr iot  115

The war forged a new identity for the multitudes of Indigenous men who fought. Despite the losses, the soldiers themselves faced no backlash. They were men who did what they could under the circumstances. They blamed the system for the defeat. Veterans “quickly assessed their status” and fought to claim the rights of citizenship that had been denied them.54 Economic despair led veterans to advocate for their rights, which included “pensions that corresponded” to their needs.55 But pensions were only part of the issue. Veterans complained that their payouts were irregular and did not match those of government employees, who received their pay “on the day” without “undue complications.”56 Robert Alexander gives special credit to the thousands of prisoners of war who began to return home in 1936. They brought a “revival” to the labor movement, which caused a “great demonstration” in La Paz on May Day to advocate for higher wages and stabilization of the currency. On May 17, 1936, a strike among the printing trades in La Paz escalated into what Alexander has called the first “effective, citywide general strike in the history of Bolivia.”57 Eight hours later Col. David Toro usurped power and became the new leader of Bolivia; the power of the veterans was to become unequivocal from that day forward. The links between the veterans and organized labor and other institutions fighting for reform grew clearer as more men demobilized and returned from the front. Veterans even entered government office; among them was an Indigenous man, Basilio Yampasi, who was designated the leader of Santiago de Machaqa in the department of La Paz. He won this honor at the request of an assembly of Indigenous veterans because of his “merits as a veteran,” which included his rise to the rank of lieutenant.58 Toro’s government lasted about a year, but it ushered in a focus on state socialism combined with a military ethos and special respect for soldiers. Toro sought reforms, but his popularity lagged behind the vigorous support for his main partner and younger colleague, Germán Busch Becerra. Upon ousting Toro from power with his fellow veterans, Colonel Busch governed Bolivia from the middle of 1937 until his suicide in August 1939. He entered the presidential palace with the anticipation of progress and the breaking down of barriers because he was the symbol for a new Bolivia. It is no surprise that the veterans helped inspire this energy, as they served a 116 From Peasant to Patr iot

key role in solving important issues across Bolivia’s political and economic development. They argued for the full citizenship and civic participation of the Indigenous, including education reform, land reform, and all of the benefits that accompanied such changes. In a memo to President Busch in December 1938, a Simón Belmonte argued, “We resolve by reason and justice to rectify the problem of our sequester,” which was forced upon Bolivians, causing the spirit of the people to “vegetate.” The limitations on developing had subdued the “haughtiness and manliness of the race” and prevented the growth of “dignity and our inalienable right to freedom and progress.” Busch had inspired such a change. His administration charged the people with a “reorganization of our national life,” the success of which hinged on the participation of a new class of people: the (largely Indigenous-­based) veterans.59 Busch’s government understood that national rejuvenation required vigilance. The war was over, but the threats to the unity of Bolivia continued. To that end, memos came in from the countryside, in the department of Chuquisaca, which claimed that the “foundations of nationality” were loosening and that the country was presented with the possibility of a “bloody schism” perpetrated by Argentina. That government was engaging in hostile propaganda that encouraged further territorial losses by Bolivia.60 To counter that and lead Bolivia from the ruins of defeat, Busch renewed a thoroughgoing reform platform that would create a new identity and harness the energy of the soldiers with whom he fought in the Chaco. Demographics: A Major Factor of Change

A number of men shared their stories after the war. Cristobal Arancibia, from the department of Chuquisaca, worked as a farm laborer both before and after the war. Following his release from captivity as a prisoner in Paraguay, he returned to his village for a few years, but because he “could not acclimate to life there again,” he moved on, spending two years in Tarija before returning to his birthplace.61 Another former prisoner told an interviewer that because the Paraguayans did not treat the Bolivians badly some said that they would stay after their release.62 In fact, former prisoners related that when offered the chance to stay and work, “many From Peasant to Patr iot  117

accepted,” at least many “from Santa Cruz.” The Aymaras, in contrast, “suffered greatly” and could not adjust, especially since many of them could not speak Spanish, much less Guaraní.63 Beyond the anecdotal evidence of prisoners remaining in Paraguay, archival evidence provides more details behind the repatriation process. The Paraguayan foreign minister Juan Stefanich wrote a memo in March 1936 listing the three classes of Bolivians who did not wish to return home. The first group consisted of men who had political or military reasons for staying. These men had likely spoken out against the Bolivian government or were members of the Communist Party, such as Ricardo Valle. A second group “wished to settle in Paraguay,” and a third wished to settle in a neighboring country, such as Argentina or Brazil. The Paraguayans accepted the decision of the peace conference to honor these requests, and an elaborate process ensued by which the men could choose their repatriation destination.64 In the end, only seventy-­one Bolivians filed papers to remain in Paraguay, and six of thirteen Paraguayans chose to remain in Bolivia.65 After demobilization some soldiers reenlisted to garrison major cities such as La Paz and when offered advancement in rank.66 The end of the war saw some returning veterans engage in “violent confrontation with sitdown strikes” and a change in relations with the magistrates and other figures of authority.67 Danilo Paz Ballivían, a Bolivian scholar, argued that “until the Chaco War,” the peasant movement opposed the expansion of the hacienda estates and defended Indigenous communities. But the peasant movements after the Chaco War focused attention on the very contradictions of the hierarchical hacienda system. Peasant resistance transformed from disparate and often ineffectual protest to an organized movement, fostering the formation of the first union in the valleys (Cochabamba region) and a voice in the First Indigenous Congress.68 Scholars of Bolivia have recognized just how rural the country was throughout this period; for instance, A. E. van Niekerk argues that it was not until the end of the 1920s when a “small middle class” began to form in the “none too numerous urban centres,” which really meant La Paz.69 There were difficulties for sure in determining what constituted urban. Census takers in 1900 reported that representatives found it difficult to determine 118 From Peasant to Patr iot

whether a “group of Indians would be considered urban or rural.”70 Similar problems plagued the 1950 census because transportation issues hindered an accurate count.71 Klein is correct to point out that sometimes record-­ keepers determined that an area was “urban” by virtue of having more than two hundred people, which is in no way urban.72 Yet several census records cited by sources, including Klein, show raw numbers of people, and it is impossible to mistake the tremendous growth in the size of the key cities. Demographic change was a fundamental component in the modernization of Bolivia and occurred, or accelerated, in part because of the Chaco War. Spikes in growth happened at the end of the 1920s with the mining downturn, and then again after the demobilization of the Chaco War. The demographic upheaval helps to explain just how influential the veterans were in postwar Bolivia. La Paz in particular underwent transformative growth, and this affected how people interacted with the central government.73 Gerald Greenfield notes that La Paz grew at a slow pace since the inception of the Republic in 1825, but this pattern “underwent considerable change as the tin boom, which began in the later nineteenth century, gained further impetus.” In fact the city grew because of its role as a servicing center for the new mining industry. Prominent foreign businessmen worked in La Paz and used that city as a hub to engage in railway expansion projects, textile factories, and other service industries. One such executive, William Pickwoad, was the general manager of the Antofagasta & Bolivia Railway Company Ltd. since the late 1910s. His work in Bolivia included taking on several roles after that, including serving as a director of the Central Bank, Banco Mercantil, and as president of the Bolivian Railway; in each case La Paz was the central location for his banking and railroad endeavors.74 While the city of La Paz grew from 71,860 people in 1900 to 267,000 in 1950, the Department of La Paz more than doubled, from 446,500 to 948,446 because of international business, foreign-­born immigration, and interior resettlement. Even over a fifty-­year spread this sort of demographic change, 3.5 percent growth annually, was tremendous. Maria del Carmen Ledo Garcia writes that following the mining crisis in 1929, the city saw a “massive immigration of miners” and the Chaco War “moved people From Peasant to Patr iot  119

toward La Paz from diverse points of the country, many of whom did not return to their homeland after the war, but settled in La Paz. . . . The size of the population increased quickly between 1928 and 1935, from 135,762 to 215,700 inhabitants.”75 For Santa Cruz, postwar initiatives combined with a likely organic demobilization to create what Ronald Bruce Palmer has called a great population “explosion” between 1935 and 1938. That city increased some 30 percent to about 28,000 people.76 This sort of growth fundamentally influenced the level of interaction between the government and the people and exaggerated the stresses that caused leaders to rush into the war in 1932.77 Veterans in cities made their voices heard through the types of organizations that they founded or joined at war’s end. “Labor organizations could not be delinked from indigenous movement,” mainly the Federation of Construction Workers and workers’ federations dedicated to the construction trades and handicrafts. These grew because of migration from rural to urban centers, including those peasants who left large estates because they resisted employer exploitation. The aftermath of the Chaco War hastened the migration process from the countryside to the city precisely because the needs of the state superseded any traditional labor regimes within the country. This phenomenon caused a swell in the number of laborers and therefore helped to establish closer links between labor organizations and Indigenous communities.78 These men were educated by their experience in the institution of the army, which made teamwork more viable. There is no denying the rapid growth of all of the major cities between 1900 and 1950(see Table 1). While we do not have specific data to analyze the immediate pre–­or post–­Chaco War changes, it is clear that the overall trend in Bolivia during the previous century has been toward further urbanization, first in the highlands and then, after 1952, more dramatically in Santa Cruz, as infrastructure and colonization schemes saw success. If only a small percentage of the thousands of returning Chaco veterans were among those who decided not to return to villages and instead seek a new life in cities all across Bolivia, we would still see significant growth in the few major urban centers. The veterans who did return to rural locales would be on hand to readily effect change in their home villages. 120 From Peasant to Patr iot

Jorge Dandler has written about that powerful shift in the countryside. Just “after the armistice the indigenous soldiers returned to their lands hoping that at least they would be treated better on the haciendas. They soon found that their hopes were ill-­placed.” As a result they began to organize, even in agricultural areas, like what happened in Ucureña (Cochabamba), which further informed how people organized in the cities. Part of the argument the veterans used was that they had fought for the country in the war and had demonstrated to the “decent people” and to “society” that they were good soldiers who could be “trusted.” Prior to their return to villages across Bolivia, peasant veterans would have been exposed to more sophisticated ideas from urban dwellers sympathetic to the Indigenous and peasant cause. Dandler’s study of Ucureña includes a few soldiers who returned to that village after spending eighteen months in a Paraguayan prisoner-­of-­war camp. Despite numerous reported atrocities against the Bolivian prisoners, the pows learned the power of unity. To combat poor treatment a group of prisoners banded together and challenged the guards. After that unified act, the Paraguayan forces “learned to treat the Bolivians better.”79 This experience of successful resistance returned home, and certainly some veterans used that when they organized to fight oppression in Bolivia. The “poor Indians” of the Bolivian army taken prisoner also benefited from interactions with the Paraguayan army, which was oriented on a more egalitarian basis (owing in part to its greater ethnic unity) and displayed much greater morale. Seeing the Paraguayans as starkly different from the Bolivians and the hierarchical society at home gave a renewed sense of identity to the prisoners and soldiers who interacted with or observed Paraguayans.80 League of Veterans: Change in Urban Bolivia

Willis Knapp Jones writes in his review of the history of the Chaco War, Repete, that the “chief value of the volume is to show how fighters at the front felt that the government had let them down, a feeling resulting in desertion and laxness.”81 The end of the war brought to the authorities in La Paz “the inevitable postwar pressures from returning veterans, volatile student groups, and a disillusioned populace.”82 When the military officers From Peasant to Patr iot  121

took on the modernization of the state they sought to solve a host of problems that Bolivian leaders had struggled with for decades. It was a matter of greater skills and opportunities to mechanize and connect population centers that would create a new, more modern Bolivia. Toro declared to the Bolivian army at a meeting in La Paz in 1937, “In place of forming parties to accommodate the interests of their leaders, we must establish ourselves in the soul of the people.”83 Such a statement grew naturally out of the wartime propaganda campaign. “The army cannot ignore the problems that emerged,” La Nación insisted, which are “threatening the life of the country against the impotence of old systems.”84 It was time for something new, and the soldiers awaited their orders. A quick glance at the disastrous war and the almost complete lack of confidence in the officers would raise important questions about how those same officers would facilitate the overthrow of President Salamanca and then remove President Tejada Sorzano soon after the peace treaty ended the conflict. When Toro took control of the government for the army, he understood that the war gave the state new power to implement reforms, especially since the army grew in size and scale to effect change more readily. His successor, Germán Busch, would reap the benefits of this reform program in part because he had the confidence of the soldiers and was president of the lec. Newspaper articles described his “sincere patriotism” and “reckless heroism” well before he took power.85 While Toro was president, Busch served as the chief of staff of the army, which meant that he had control over the standing armed forces. He served contemporaneously as the titular head of the veterans’ association. According to U.S. observers at the time, the lec was the “only organization” that could “thwart Colonel Toro’s political ambitions.” Its members were critical of the “gross incompetence exhibited by the Army command in the Chaco,” but they also understood the hierarchical system that they fought under since 1932. U.S. diplomats explained, “Toro is not popular with labor, ex-­service men, nor with the students who blame him for the student massacres during the 1930 revolution.”86 The veterans took center stage in the political life of the postwar Bolivian state in part because of the dramatic struggle they had endured for three years. When Busch wrested power 122 From Peasant to Patr iot

from Toro, he did so as the foremost soldier in the state and understood that his success was in part tied to the support given him by the men who had served with him. Busch defined his leadership as fixing the state. He observed that “all of the moral supports were broken, the civic virtue stifled, and patriotism languished” in the face of the “dissolution of national unity,” whereby the country was lain waste by politicians who sought power for reasons of “personal ambitions.” This sort of reality, Busch continued, was not the right “climate” for the “immense work of national reconstruction.” Radical solutions were needed; these included “order, discipline, internal peace, austerity, and honesty among the public sector,” alongside the formulation of an intense “patriotism that benefits from the collaboration of the best people without partisan sectarianism.” Busch was troubled by the party divisions in Bolivia and blamed them for the problems that had plagued the country. A contemporary Busch sympathizer, Luís Azurduy, argued that Busch represented the “ideological revolution” in Bolivia and “embodie[d]” the “country that [was] beginning to understand little by little” the changes that it faced. As head of the military and veterans’ organization Busch knew where his support came from: the moral fiber of the country rested on “first the veterans” and then “other qualified sectors of opinion” and “important labor organizations.” His populism and political fortunes catered to a different audience than did his predecessors, but it would be a mistake to underestimate that a military leader who relied on combat veterans would speak cynically of order, discipline, and austerity as the hallmarks of national reconstruction based on a progressive view of “citizenship” and an “enormous civic instruction.”87 Busch’s reforms matched the sorts of reforms that Indigenous leaders had sought before the war, but he made greater progress in part because the power of the state had grown since 1932. Described by admirers as jovial and amicable, Busch had won fame for taking great pains to care for “his soldiers.”88 People referred to him admiringly as the camba, a colloquial expression to denote people from the lowlands. Telegrams and letters among the presidential papers reveal his informal tone and personal accessibility. Instead of the stilted “your From Peasant to Patr iot  123

excellency” letters, interlocutors addressed Busch with such informal salutations as “querido [dear] Germán” and “estimado [dear] Germán.” In a sense he became a popular public figure and a down-­to-­earth leader prior to taking office because of the Chaco War. Numerous newspaper articles, especially from Santa Cruz, spoke of Busch in glorious terms. He was the most “adventurous” and the “most outstanding” and “handsome,” and no one, “absolutely no one” from “Hans Kundt until the last soldier in the rearguard at Villa Montes” could doubt his merits.89 Busch achieved fame because of his solid service, and the Bolivian defeat helped a news (propaganda) industry find much-­needed heroes in order to foster hope. Once he became president, official correspondence seemed to mimic this more intimate connection. A telegram sent by a lawyer named Adrian Camacho Porcel on November 30, 1938, from Sucre expresses enormous excitement for Busch’s leadership. The writer vows an “unswerving commitment to Busch’s patriotic and intelligent government” and repudiates with “profound indignation the bastardized and personal ambitions of malcontents.” It is important to note that, following Porcel’s trip to the countryside, he would “take the direction of the League’s [lec] newspaper” to formulate “active propaganda of the patriotic acts of the government,” which was led by the veterans and the socialists.90 Similarly Luís Canedo Reyes of Santa Cruz wrote to Busch in December 1938 to thank him for helping to establish the radio station El Oriente. Busch was a leader, Reyes said, who had a “clear view” and “desired the absolute and total unity of the peoples of Bolivia.”91 Busch recognized technology as a tool to advance his agenda but also saw the medium as inherently international, which in the 1930s “was dominated by stations in New York, Berlin, and Rome.”92 Busch’s administration would attempt to learn from these international sources better ways of deploying effective propaganda. Enrique Finot, Toro’s foreign minister, had in his literary collection a 1932 book on German National Socialism. This book spoke approvingly of how Hitler had transformed Germany and built a new society out of military defeat in World War I. Backed by a large “assault army” (Sturmabteilung) the Nazis had created an effective governing institution and the “the leaders had confidence in the masses and the masses had confidence 124 From Peasant to Patr iot

in them.”93 This is exactly the sort of thing that Bolivian elites after the Chaco War were searching for and what a group like the lec and a man like Busch could do to shape politics. An undated government memo from 1938 noted that as part of the project to organize the direction of the national state, it was vital to impart military training to reservists “in a way that would be more interesting and in a sportsmanlike manner,” which would “offer all sorts of advantages” to the men.94 Beyond the obvious military value of practicing marksmanship, the training would build on the comradery of the men. This might have give reservists opportunities to build similar bridges in civilian life.95 Luís Victor Céspedes wrote Busch in 1938 that “us veterans” had special feelings for the “politicians” in Bolivia. The primary “public enemy” of Bolivia was Toro, who was on par with “Rasputin.” Céspedes longed to serve the country that he “idolized” once again.96 Importantly, the notion that the veterans had a special sense of patriotism made their dedication to the renovation of Bolivia that much more dramatic. This “movement of extensive renovation” was designed for the “purification” that would jump-­ start a “true democracy” in Bolivia, according to veterans.97 At the same time Céspedes’s personal motivation for writing his letter was to solicit for his old job; under Toro’s government he had served as a counterespionage agent but presumably lost that position when Busch ousted Toro in 1937. The lec was able to use Carlos Montenegro’s newspaper, La Calle, to present its opinion to the wider reading public and popularize its demands for a new society. “Rightist” veterans also demanded the ability to verify the military records of political candidates and public officials, which proved that veterans were keen on vetting all political leaders after the war.98 Busch employed the lec after his assumption of power to prepare for a new set of elections. He declared that the group could function as a political party and run candidates. At the time, people understood this as a continuation of the corporate state model that Toro had initiated and advisors to Busch had studied.99 Busch took the corporate state to a new level by giving the lec the status of a party, or at least formal political activists. Moreover he succeeded at building a coalition of veterans, unions, old socialists, and radical nationalists. There were, according to Busch, From Peasant to Patr iot  125

“multiple and complex causes of the malaise that afflict[ed] the nation,” which required a degree of “social solidarity.”100 This solidarity would bring people together, especially the socially vulnerable.101 His program forged unity in part because of the war experience and in part because the war had dramatically altered the political landscape in Bolivia, giving voice to marginalized groups. “Today,” announced an article in La Nación, “we occupy the role that corresponds to us as free men, thanks to the socialism of the military junta.”102 The veterans understood that their role was to be “the guardians of nationality” in this postwar society. Busch declared that the ones “with reason and experience” were the “veterans.” The army aimed to “defend the country in war against external enemies and in peacetime against anarchy.”103 The writer and intellectual Porfirio Diaz Machicao summarized the power of the veterans in the transformation of Bolivia. He said that the “veterans swore to destroy the past, to wrest control from the traditional groups in order to search for the new spirit of the country and a new morality.”104 During the war La Unión ran an article along much the same lines, declaring, “Bolivia could not lose this war” because the war was helping to bring forth the “spiritual forces of the nation.”105 They had experienced suffering, comradery, organization, hierarchy, and much more. All this combined to create a new era of populism in Bolivia. In coalition with the lec, other important groups emerged, including the Association of Ex-­Prisoners of War and the Association of the Mutilated and Invalids of War. These groups, despite formal links with political parties, displayed sympathies for young officers like Busch, who offered something different from traditional politics, including a renewal of political life. Among former prisoners, the group known as Radepa (the nickname of Razón de Patria) represented young men below the rank of major who devised a nationalist ideology and received funding from the Busch administration.106 Radepa members wished for significant change in Bolivia; their statutes called for military intervention in politics, mass support, and the prevention of foreign interests from controlling Bolivia’s economy.107 Veterans were a “new force” that “aim[ed] to consolidate in this era of unification and orientation” because they had the “conviction 126 From Peasant to Patr iot

that only in this way could they form a real presence in the management” of society.108 Power to the People

The relationship between the people and the institutions that served them reached new levels in Bolivia, as evidenced by the treatment of wounded soldiers. With large numbers of injured troops evacuated to different parts of the country, people began to interact with soldiers who had been at the front and compare their stories with those in the newspapers. These sorts of interactions also gave the Bolivian government an opportunity to expand its powers. On February 14, 1935, the Bolivian Red Cross submitted a formal denunciation of Paraguay’s conduct during the war, specifically its “crime against humanity” of imprisoning the spouse and children of a Bolivian soldier named Hilario Rojas. The Red Cross requested that the Bolivian Ministry of Foreign Affairs forward the claim to the International Red Cross in Geneva.109 The memo that officials in Geneva received a week later, on February 21, reinforced the claim that the incident was a “crime against humanity” committed by the Paraguayan army. By taking Eloisa Soruco, the wife of Rojas, and their two children prisoner they violated the rules of war. Especially relevant in this case was that the youngest child was paralyzed. Therefore the Bolivians “energetically” called for their “immediate liberation.”110 Paraguayan authorities similarly used international treaties to lodge complaints about the Bolivians in international bodies such as the League of Nations, accusing them of using of dum-­dum bullets in battle, which was so “inhumane” as to merit “condemnation.”111 International organizations, alongside other civic groups, lobbied the government and participated with the government in executing duties related to war. For example, the Bolivian Red Cross worked hard to assist the troops and prisoners of war, which included cooperation with the International Red Cross officers who inspected prisoner-­of-­war camps.112 While largely positive, the involvement of the Red Cross on the home front led to increased tensions that summoned a more proactive central government. Officers of the Red Cross took the time to write the president a memo during the war claiming that they were struggling in the face From Peasant to Patr iot  127

of opposition.113 After one inspection, the Red Cross determined that various organizations were collecting donations in violation of the law. Money was not going where “it was intended,” and the Red Cross asked the government to use its “powers” to ensure that the “benevolence of the public” was not abused in the future. Since it was the government’s job to care for the wounded in the first place it was the least the state could do to provide security for donations to the charity. Red Cross members also claimed that in contrast to their “serious character,” they faced resistance from the pro-­Chaco group that operated in Oruro. These opponents had developed a “campaign of slander” to marginalize the role of the Red Cross in that important city. The opponents of the Red Cross claimed that it was a “Masonic institution” of the “aristocracy” and therefore “hate[d]” the proletariat.114 Criticism of the Bolivian Red Cross was not unfounded from a populist point of view. All the leaders of that institution came from the most elite families in Bolivia and wielded great influence. Interestingly, it was the wives of key leaders, such as Julia de Saavedra, wife of Bautista Saavedra, who was named permanent delegate of the Bolivian Red Cross to the icrc in Geneva. It was her placement in 1926 that would help “to advance the progress of the Bolivian Red Cross,” thanks to her connections.115 Other important Bolivian women had taken the opportunity to advance civil society in the immediate prewar years in the name of progress; Rosa de Paz, Maria Josefa Saavedra, Angleica v. de Aramayo, Estelvina de Diez de Medina, Angela de Estenssoro, Blanca de Alvestegui, Mercedes de Bustillos, and the wife of Cesar Ariazola were just a few of the important women who led the Red Cross in Bolivia.116 Many of these women continued to run the operation and work with the office in Geneva during the war, which included requests for medicine and sanitary supplies for prisoners.117 Their work during the conflict to help prisoners, and soldiers more broadly, continued after hostilities ended since repatriation and demobilization took several years. Criticisms of the Bolivian Red Cross then took on class-­based characteristics, which not only hindered the progress of the Red Cross but also showed that the war itself had not destroyed competing ideologies 128 From Peasant to Patr iot

and united the country. The Red Cross desired protection for the organization’s work in light of the provocations by opponents. At the same time, Cristina Sainz de Estada P. sent a letter to the president telling him of the abuses perpetrated “against the autonomy” of her organization, the Society of the Pro-­Chaco Women.118 In the end, civil society leaders recognized that despite connections with the government, they could not manage their agendas without a stronger Bolivian state to aid them in their works. Brooke Larson recognizes that while events prior to the war evoked a nationwide conversation about the plight of the Indigenous, it was the Chaco War that brought matters to a head, in part because most of the 250,000 men called to serve were Indigenous. State leaders simply needed a way to control the Indigenous community and shape it into their idea of the new society. Veterans, miners, peasants, and other marginalized groups clamored for more rights and representation in the wake of the war, especially veterans and their widows and orphans. These latter groups demanded state protection and support owing to their service. Given the “pain of the thousands of mothers who cried over the death or absence of their sons,” the government needed to respect the “rights to property” especially in these “moments most critical for the nation.” That respect would help ease the transition to peace and allow the weight of war to be lifted.119 The war brought women into the public sphere; for instance, at the war’s end, in 1935, Indigenous women demonstrated in La Paz for the return of demobilized soldiers and the restoration of land rights.120 These women took action on their own behalf and created a new dialogue centered on their needs. The later regimes of Toro and Busch, already convinced on the need to make the state the driver of social reorganization, tried to meet these challenges with new ministries like that of health, welfare, and labor. Busch also adopted a greater platform regarding educational reform and colonization that would redirect internal immigration away from cities such as La Paz and toward fertile agricultural lands in the lowlands.121 The joint Peruvian-­Bolivian conference of Indigenous educators met in 1945 in Arequipa and reinforced the goal of rural schools “to root the Indian in his natural environment,” which would therefore From Peasant to Patr iot  129

“avoid the depopulation of the countryside and the demographic congestion of the cities.”122 By war’s end the state was much more involved in people’s lives across Bolivia and was forced to respond to multitudes of voices from below. One way people interacted with the regime was to demand action against wrongs in society. One such colorful petition came from a Norberta Mamani vda. de Torres Gutierrez of La Paz in her case against Gregorio Vincenti. Mamani began her letter, dated January 22, 1935, by explaining to President Tejada Sorzano that her husband, “reservist Lino Torres Gutierrez,” was killed in the Chaco War and that his death left her alone to raise their two children, Natalio and Eulogia. She complained that for more than one and a half years she had been seeking justice for the kidnapping of her son Natalio by Vincenti. Mamani, an Indigenous woman, declared, “My race has neither laws nor justice.” She had lived with her husband, who “arrived and found work as a helper at Banco Mercantil” in La Paz. The document is not clear but perhaps owing to her situation as a single mother after her husband’s conscription and later death, she had made an arrangement with Vincenti to let her son work for him. But now she claimed that Vincenti had taken her son and would not allow him to go to school despite his “rare intelligence and humility.” She asked the president for “compassion” while admitting, “[It] is true that my race is resigned and accustomed to suffering.” She quoted a local saying, “When the sheep gets fat, it is attractive to others to steal it,” and claimed, “This happens every day.” But times had changed and legal codes protected the people from becoming sheepish victims. Because her husband was in the war, she received a pension of 16 Bolivianos per month, which was for the upkeep of her children. Combined with her work in a local market, she had more than enough to raise her son. Simply put, there was no reason why Vincenti should keep her son and the state should do something about it.123 Similarly a newspaper editorial in El Universal in June 1935 declared that the war was a result of the “failure of the old men” who did not foresee nor try to evade conflict with Paraguay. In contrast, the Chaco soldiers “earned their doctorates in sacrifice” and should lead the country rather than let 130 From Peasant to Patr iot

the old guard continue.124 A new day had come, and veterans, alongside their widows and orphans, had gained new and significantly more powerful leverage in the political life of the Bolivian state. The Indigenous were to become educated but also were owed justice, dignity, and land.125 Summary

When the war began the Bolivian state was divided between parties that battled over the right to rule but had little grounding in fostering a lasting political platform. Parties vacillated and searched for the next best message that would appeal to the increasingly rowdy crowd in key cities in the altiplano. War came in part because Salamanca saw the potential to unify the people in the name of a patriotism that he hoped would distract attention from the devastating economic realities of the Great Depression.126 Despite a lack of funds and adequate preparation, the Bolivian state increased its participation in the war. Unfortunately for state leaders, the battlefield grew bleaker with each day. Increased call-­ups for service put the state in contact with the lives of more people and altered how they interacted with each other and with the government. Men fought and died under the command of officers who used the institutionality of the army as the framework for rule. This differed significantly from authority in a workplace or on an estate in that an intricate system of rules were in place; no longer was authority simply according to the owner’s desires. Additionally, men were paid by the state and their families received pensions in the event of their deaths in combat. These all required greater institutional capacity to deliver on what people demanded. When men died in the war, the government faced new pressure in caring for the orphans and widows of these men they had forced into service.127 More people congregated in cities and had direct access to leaders at various levels either with direct appeals or through strikes and reformist institutions. With the war came an increased power of the state to harness the power of its people in a way previously unknown in Bolivia, but it also ushered in new responsibilities for the people that it affected. During the war the government even ventured into public healthcare; with cases of venereal disease growing among the soldiers, the government dispatched doctors From Peasant to Patr iot  131

and medicine to cities, including Santa Cruz, where local prostitutes were examined and some underwent treatment.128 Rather than solely educate the soldiers, the state decided to delve into and intervene in civilian society. Just as the government would have had little power to police the health of prostitutes, Mamani’s petition to the president of the country was unlikely to have occurred thirty years earlier. In 1935, though, the state had grown and so had its role. President Tejada Sorzano recognized that when he declared that “the government intend[ed] to devote all of its efforts” to recovering from the war.129 The role of women also changed. An article in La Nación sternly declared that while before the war, a woman was “a kind of small animal necessary and useful for the necessities of the house,” women like Mamani were taking a “leading position in the reconstruction of the country.”130 This differed starkly with an 1886 article in La Industria, which said matter-­of-­factly, “The woman is a beautiful ornament that is absolutely indispensable for the life of humanity.”131 No longer could leaders simply ignore the people, including women, who needed to avoid a “bad education.”132 Instead governors had to search for a way to co-­opt them into the system, which resulted in the further modernization of a new Bolivian nation. Modernization fit within the recent nationalist manifestos but also within the socialist ones from men such as Baldivieso. He declared in the newspaper La Razón in May 1936 that “it was the whole nation that was besieged by backwardness” and that the ever-­important modernization program “did not require more than the discovery of an entrepreneurial middle class supervised by a state,” free from the interests of a narrow oligarchy.133 In another article he called for the “renovation of the entire structure” of society in terms of “scientific criteria.”134 Despite the reliance on science, the process of modernization and reform was bumpy and took time. A Chavez Alvarez confirmed the fluidity of the situation in Oruro in a memo to Busch, in which he noted that the city was full of people “without scruples and no sense of responsibility.” There existed in Oruro, he said, “many irregularities in the public administration” that were inspired by a “false sense of Bolivianism.”135 The struggle was to create the right kind of Bolivia.

132 From Peasant to Patr iot

Table 1. Populations of Bolivian cities, 1846–­1988 City

Population change 1988 1900–­1950

1846

1900

1950

1976

La Paz

42,849

52,697

321,073

654,713

976,800 509% increase

Cochabamba

30,396

21,881

80,795

205,002

403,600 269% increase

Oruro

5,687

13,575

62,975

124,121

176,700 363% increase

Potosi

16,711

20,910

45,758

77,334

110,700 118% increase

Sucre

19,235

20,907

40,128

62,207

105,800 92% increase

6,005

15,874

42,746

256,946

529,200 169% increase

Santa Cruz

Source: Greenfield, Latin American Urbanization, 42.

Roberto Choque Canqui argues that the Indigenous veterans of the Chaco War became recognized citizens and took on a number of leadership roles in civilian life. These soldiers, alongside others such as “Toro, Busch, and Villarroel,” were the “protagonists of social and political change with the intentions of forming a new integrated society.”136 It is clear from a demographic perspective, from the nature of how people organized, the direction of change, and the power of the state that Choque Canqui is correct. As Indigenous peasants they had no power. As ex-­soldiers they gained experience, respect, and a claim to citizenship in an emerging modern state.

From Peasant to Patr iot  133

5 The Internationalization of a Nationalist Revolution

R. R. Palmer said of the French Revolution that the “wars of kings were over” and “the wars of peoples had begun.”1 Following the retreat of Prussian forces at Valmy in fall 1792, the French government prepared public opinion with announcements of French support for “all peoples who might wish to recover liberty” and mobilized people with the levée en masse in August 1793 to secure the revolutionary regime. Literally and figuratively the Committee of Public Safety had done much to tie the goals of the regime to a large segment of the French populace through violence and warfare.2 In a similar way World War I brought an opportunity for Italians to make the Risorgimento something truly popular and not simply politicking by elites such as the Count of Cavour. War gave the Italian masses a cause to rally behind because, in the words of Angelo Tasca, it had “begun and [was] carried on like a civil war,” which “left a legacy of violent passions and insatiable hates.” Benito Mussolini recognized that war allowed for a new opportunity when he argued, “War has brought the proletarian masses to the fore. It has broken their chains and fired their courage.”3 The Chaco War brought significant and lasting change to Bolivia, especially in terms of state power. The days of caudillo rule by the few were over, and 135

true input from the masses had begun in earnest, backed by the energy of a continued globalization of ideas. Bolivia’s entry into and the prosecution of the Chaco War (1932–­35) was naïve and misguided. At virtually every juncture the state’s governors made poor choices to take advantage of public opinion and to obtain a foreign policy victory to weather the storm of domestic crises and global economic unrest. While rhetoric since the late 1800s spoke of creating a Bolivian nation, no government had successfully done so. Prior to the Chaco War the Bolivian government had benefited from populist rhetoric and reform but lacked the institutional tools for fundamental change. Just as Barrington Moore argued that the “door to fascist regimes [in Europe] was opened by unstable democracies,” the door to a new social and political transformation was opened in Bolivia by a failed reform program and devastating war.4 Likewise, Fritz Stern explained that the phenomenon of National Socialism arose from a fuller understanding of the völkish movements of the nineteenth century that argued for a national rebirth, especially after the chaos of World War I.5 The debacle that was the Chaco War brought forth universal condemnation of a broken system, which included a revision of nationalism and state power. Conversations on what constituted the Bolivian national identity underwent revision and grew even more contested thanks to the horrors of war. Dr. Heberto Añez, a prisoner of war from Santa Cruz, took the opportunity upon his release to speak about “patriotism and Bolivianism of Santa Cruz,” which was rooted in a “profound conviction of nationality.”6 Defining that conviction became a hallmark of post-­Chaco Bolivia as political transformation defeated an earlier top-­down modernization campaign to harness the excitement of tens of thousands of veterans for a new beginning. We have seen how military leaders harnessed the bankruptcy of the political establishment to win over veterans, especially Germán Busch’s leadership of the lec, which he used to nurture a “feverous and innocent nationalism.”7 When Busch envisioned that his lec would act like a political party and nurture that nationalism he in fact mimicked what Col. François de La Rocque’s organization of war veterans, the Croix de Feu, had just done in 1936 when it became the Parti Social Français.8 Veterans were excited 136 Internationalization of Revolution

about Busch’s rule, and to celebrate his presidency the self-­proclaimed news organ of the lec proudly noted the jubilant spirit throughout the department of Santa Cruz. Celebrations included those at the German School (Colegio Alemán) in Santa Cruz, which sought to forge nationalism among its students. One such method was to use German literature and a poem by Bogislav von Selchow for public reading: “First comes my people and then all of the others / first my homeland and then the rest of the world.”9 Such patriotic excitement sought to reshape Bolivia and finish the modernization program underway since the turn of the century. The power of veterans in changing societies is clear, especially in global history in the interwar period. Large numbers of veterans drawn from all sectors of society brought the horrors of war home to form part of the consciousness of the nation. A new seriousness with respect to politics can be traced directly to such brutality. It is the “intimate acts of killing in war,” such as those “committed by historical subjects imbued with language, emotion, and desire,” that necessarily challenge and threaten culturally constructed, sterilized preconceptions of deadly violence. In other words, large-­scale death in war challenges established norms for the individuals and society writ large. As Joanna Bourke succinctly argues, “killing in wartime is inseparable from wider social and cultural concerns.”10 Suffering and killing during the Chaco War gave veterans’ groups a “sense of entitlement” that continued to pressure successive states for progressive change in a way profoundly different from workers or university students.11 The overall experience of war caused politics to change in Bolivia. Despite the defeat, there was hope in a new style of populism. Military socialism as it emerged under the leadership of first Toro and then Busch represented a union between various parties on the socialist left and the nationalist ideals of a strong state on the right, similar to aspects of fascism in vogue at the time throughout interwar Europe. The new Bolivian ideology capitalized on an energetic modernization while creating a submissive and homogeneous populace. Recent scholarship has begun to move away from seeing fascism from the nation-­state perspective—­and therefore analyzing the fascism level of a certain example—­and instead explore how fascism as an ideology was a transnational phenomenon. Angél Alcalde has argued that the Nazi Internationalization of Revolution  137

movement transformed into a fascist party only after its leaders interpreted Mussolini’s example, beginning in the summer of 1921.12 Bolivian elites similarly consumed news and ideas from around the world (such as radio reports from Berlin) and transformed their movement into something that followed its own unique historical trajectory as well as contemporary global trends. During the Chaco War news articles spoke highly of Mussolini as one of the “most important” leaders in the world, in part because he had reconciled “capitalism with the interests of the proletariat.”13 A photo feature from La Semana Grafica showed “numerous members of the Italian colony” in La Paz who gathered to “commemorate the 24 May installation of the Fascist revolution.”14 Similarly, an article in Italian from the colony in Bolivia to the minister in La Paz declared its support for “pure” fascism and for the development of Bolivia’s agriculture and mining and overall economic growth.15 Just like German colonists who were exposed to Nazi propaganda, these Italians had contact with fascists abroad and spoke highly of fascism’s results in building a better state. Francisco Cobo Romero argues that the benefits of fascism were clear as it attempted to gather “the masses around its totalitarian project of integral transformation of the liberal State” all the while creating the idea of a “new man.”16 The idea of a “new man” arose from the ashes of prior disappointments. In Hitler’s Germany, for instance, the image of the Nazi Party as a “lower-­ middle-­class protest movement” has dissipated and it is now recognized as “having crossed regional, religious, and class lines to forge a genuinely cross-­class and cross-­sectional movement.” Nazi leaders walked a fine line, embracing the sorts of ideas that attracted workers without appearing “too ‘socialist.’”17 In Bolivia, while various parties on the left existed, they were not nearly as deeply rooted as the Social Democrats were in Germany. Similarly, while fascism developed in France it did not survive because of the “durability and appeal of the French republican tradition.”18 Bolivia’s lack of a multiparty system supports Erich Nolte’s assertion that fascism and communism were complementary; both grew out of the “contradictions and inadequacies of liberalism.”19 The Liberal failure to reform Bolivia through modernization represented just such an opportunity for postwar Bolivian leaders to fuse what was attractive from disparate ideologies or 138 Internationalization of Revolution

institutions that would not have otherwise been at odds. Such an interpretation appeared as a caption to an image from a June 1937 edition of La Nación. The drawing of a soldier standing tall next to the Bolivian condor in the foreground juxtaposes the imagery of progress and mass mobilization as planes fly above soldiers with rifles and flags. The caption summarizes the duty of the new Bolivian: “La Nación pays its deepest tribute of respect and admiration . . . expresses the hope that the new country forged under the inspiration of socialist principles and the moralizing doctrines of the Catholic faith continues with its energies on an upward path rejoicing at the sound of the soldier’s bugle in the defense of the homeland.”20 While this movement suffered a huge blow when Busch committed suicide in August 1939, the changes he implemented created a clearer path to the overarching Revolution of 1952 led by the Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario. It helps to place the mnr’s development within this larger global move toward the new revolutionary politics of the first half of the century. This chapter will show how the postwar regimes were at once extensions of early reforms and distinctly Bolivian and how they integrated into a larger transnational ideological framework that understood how aspects of the left and the right fused as the culmination of a failed Liberal modernization program. Postwar Politics: Confusion and Consolidation

The U.S. legation in La Paz reported in a memo to Washington dc on January 30, 1936, that the Acción Socialista Beta Gama had merged with the Confederación Socialista Boliviana. Embassy staff argued, though, that they were not “genuine socialists.” Instead it seemed to be a power play organized by two men, Enrique Baldivieso and Carlos Montenegro, who each had prior political experience and served alongside Toro in the regime of Hernando Siles. That earlier experience was vital since Siles built on Saavedra’s proto-­populist rhetoric and reached out specifically to university students as a key cohort of his power base. Baldivieso was a great orator and Montenegro a seasoned journalist; together they understood how to reach out to people, something that the Americans correctly saw as a potential to align the “Socialistic-­youths’ movement with the Army Command.”21 Internationalization of Revolution  139

This merger was to unite the various parties of the left with students and “important groups from other cities” to resist the “reactionary parties of the right.”22 Busch and Toro were keen to recognize the importance of economics and the overall creation of a Bolivia governed by “equity and justice,” among veterans specifically and young people more broadly. On May 10, 1936, La Nación ran an article that showed this coalition as part of the Partido Republicano Socialista, whose leaders argued on behalf of the “masses of workers in the country” for “high salaries, regulations governing work, housing, food, and clean and affordable clothing.” Veterans were key in this struggle for a government-­sanctioned socioeconomic system because it was they who “died of hunger and thirst on the battlefield.”23 Soldiers’ plight in the Chaco raised awareness of the government’s responsibilities and gave new urgency to calls for change. Rumors of a complete change in Bolivian politics were widespread. A report from the Paraguayan legation in Lima in early 1936 informed superiors in Asunción that Toro was sure to take power soon along with a group of men led by Baldivieso, the recent head of the merged socialist parties. Additionally the report noted the activity of Simon Patiño and a group of U.S. bankers who were ready to “impose” their own candidate to “completely reorganize” the country and to “buy the railroad to Arica,” along with the purchase of the port itself from Chile. An agent working on behalf of Patiño and the Americans was “actively working with Toro” with “plenty of resources [recursos, or bribes].”24 This intelligence report furthers the case that actors were eager to work with anyone in order to attain power, including those on the left and traditional economic powerbrokers. Almost twenty months later the Bolivian press ran a propaganda piece telling readers that Chilean officials had offered Arica to Bolivia instead of paying its debt to Washington.25 This union of left and right—­socialist principles with the army command—­toyed with traditional populist notions such as reclaiming lost territories, but also more fundamentally represented the potential power of the post-­Chaco regime because it took socioeconomic ideas from the theoretical to the pragmatic. Toro ousted Tejada Sorzano on May 17, 1936, amid tensions over the economic situation of the country and the deliberations over the peace 140 Internationalization of Revolution

settlement.26 The junta announced over the radio that it had reached an agreement to settle the strike that had been ongoing in La Paz, and in fact the next day all workers returned to their jobs despite Toro’s absence from the city. While work resumed among public servants and for the industries in the city, the Workers’ Federation still maintained control of some municipal buildings ten days later. They still flew the red flag in defiance of the state. These traditional tensions between certain groups would endure for the remainder of Toro’s tenure as president despite hope for his transformation of the country. Political elites such as Saavedra continued to undermine Toro; for instance, he “eulogized Colonel Busch” at public gatherings, “accompanied by general shouts of down with Toro” even during this early period in the coup’s transition to power.27 Beyond booing Toro, Bolivians distrusted and disliked Standard Oil, which they saw as partly responsible for the outbreak of war. During the fighting Standard had been an easy target, as news articles argued over how to lower the price of gasoline while simultaneously complaining about the company’s refusal to budge on the price.28 Standard’s management waffled on increasing production and declined to refine aviation fuel after 1933. The Salamanca regime therefore nationalized the refineries and put state officials in management positions to ensure the delivery of the needed supplies.29 Popular discontent continued to put stress on Standard’s assets and place them under increased scrutiny. Toro took advantage of the anger and acted on information that had emerged earlier, which had compromised Standard Oil’s holdings in Bolivia near the close of hostilities in February 1935. At the end of the war the government expressed an “urgent need” to collect maps and photographs showing Standard Oil’s land concessions in Bolivia.30 After scrutinizing company documents, the government found Standard in violation of the law and seized its assets, transferring the capital to the recently created government oil company in 1936. Toro won respite from the crowd when he took over Standard Oil and subsequently pledged the nation’s underground wealth to the people. Regarding how he could use that wealth, an article in Ultima Hora quoted Toro saying that because of the “gravity of the national problems” it was necessary for the nation to “re-­temper its patriotism and concur in Internationalization of Revolution  141

an election to constitute public authority on the basis of the consent of the public.” This was important because only a government “supported by national opinion” would have the power to confront the impending difficulties.31 Toro recognized that the stresses of war pushed people to demand results, as they were unconvinced by mere references to patriotism. That “word” (patriotism) has been “completely worn out,” which meant that the people now felt more confident in holding leaders accountable for following through on promised reforms.32 It was at this critical junction after the socialist parties merged, Toro took power, and the state nationalized Standard Oil that Busch harnessed the energy of the veterans as a populist. A constant ally of Toro and a participant in the earlier coup against Saavedra and Tejada Sorzano, Busch took his political actions a step further when he assumed the leadership of the lec. On July 10, 1937, the smaller lec branches were reorganized under a single federal umbrella with Busch at the helm. He gave a speech to the National Federation of lec on that same night, which reestablished the preeminence of the veterans in the construction of a Bolivian national unity. Just as left-­leaning parties had centralized power a year earlier and brought the students together, Busch centralized the power of the veterans. Toro relaxed at a health resort outside of La Paz in early July and had few allies willing to go against the mood of a much broader coalition. As head of the lec and chief of staff of the army Busch overthrew Toro and assumed the presidency. He acted out that authority as part of a joint statement with General Peñaranda, who was serving as commander of chief of the army. Their memo stated that neither had confidence in Toro’s ability to govern.33 Alcides Arguedas had sensed in March 1937 that Toro’s “most loyal friend,” Busch, was growing uneasy with Toro’s government and predicted the coup that summer.34 Busch’s consolidation of his leadership over the veterans went beyond their interests, because by July 1937 the veterans were immersed in the reacclimation process, including returning prisoners from Paraguay.35 Veterans’ issues were at the forefront of his message but he framed the construction of a new state under the direction of a coalition of veterans, students, and workers.36 The youthful Busch symbolized a new era, and his alliance with Baldivieso made his 142 Internationalization of Revolution

pronouncements all the more appealing and powerful.37 Since so many veterans were also younger men, it was clear even during the war that the young people would be able to rebuild the country because of their “liberty from conventional thought,” that would help the “radical transformation of the country.”38 U.S. embassy memoranda described La Paz as tranquil in the wake of Toro’s ouster, which spoke to the popularity of the move.39 Robert Granville Caldwell, who served as U.S. minister to Bolivia from late August 1937 until June 1939, was a historian of American history who also wrote on U.S. relations in Latin America. In a memo to Washington he wrote that the “Government of Bolivia [was] generally regarded as more conservative and reliable than its predecessor,” with particular emphasis on the role of President Busch. The new president was “without large political experience” but “[gave] the impression of a definite desire to give to the country a reasonably honest and effective government.”40 The U.S. government was not alone in recognizing Busch’s sincerity at transforming Bolivia. Arguedas expressed concern about his pledge to lead the nation through this process of reconstruction: “These vague terms, these commonplaces are alarming, by their very vagueness. They give the impression that one has the purpose of prolonging as far as possible the military regime.”41 In assessing the honestly and sincerity of Busch, U.S. diplomats tried to discern the status of Standard Oil. Would Busch authorize a reversal of the nationalization campaign or otherwise compensate the company? U.S. foreign service personnel were deeply involved in the politics in Bolivia following the Chaco War, and once the price of tin had recovered substantially from its low point, the U.S. government recognized an opportunity to pressure La Paz. By March 1937 tin prices had settled at £301 sterling (US$1,485), an increase of 32 percent from £228 (US$1,125) since January of that same year.42 In a memo from April 1939, U.S. Secretary of State Cordell Hull recounted a conversation with the Bolivian ambassador, Dr. Luís Fernando Guachalla, in which they spoke about the seizure of Standard Oil Company’s assets in Bolivia. It had been the determination of the minister of mines and petroleum, Dionisio Foianini, that a “friendly settlement” would be reached. The Bolivian government was concerned about war in Internationalization of Revolution  143

Europe, especially as a majority of Bolivian tin still went to Britain and, to a smaller extent, Germany. Hull told Guachalla, “It is all-­important for the American nations to pursue a lawful, friendly and reasonable course with each other.” The value of the seizure of Standard was “small compared to the great injury that would result to Bolivia” if that type of “act should go uncorrected.”43 Despite these threats, Bolivian leaders remained steadfast in refusing to cooperate with U.S. demands. Foreign capital was important, but while the dispute with Standard blocked access to North American investments and loans, the reality for politicians was that they could not abandon the message of delivering reforms and empowering Bolivia.44 Some hoped that the export of oil would offset any lost loans or investments, but more important than global trade, which dominated the decade before the Chaco War, the years after saw global ideas as more valuable. The seizure of Standard fit within the ideological framework of creating an autarkic state that could use wealth to deliver for the masses, especially the tens of thousands of demobilized soldiers. It was the veterans who were keen on maintaining pressure on the Bolivian government not to back down to the United States because Standard Oil was a “traditional enemy of our country.”45 Ambassador Guachalla told Laurence Duggan, chief of the Division of American Republics, and Sumner Wells, assistant secretary of state, that the “political situation” and the “temper of the Bolivian people” were critical components of the controversy that prevented the Bolivian government from acting as it might have.46 Simply put, the state had grown more powerful but still needed to deliver on its promises in order to survive against a broad and politically active cohort. Liberal Reform Agenda Continued

Neither military socialism as an ideology nor its leaders emerged out of the blue with their progressive reform program and modern proposals. Looking toward the beginning of the twentieth century, the long-­established Liberal Party had prided itself on a modern nation-­state building mission. National education, popular conscription, infrastructure programs, and a state-­directed internal colonization program were all official hallmarks of 144 Internationalization of Revolution

Bolivian politics. Leaders attempted to realize these reforms with an export-­ based economy, especially the construction of railroads and an increase in foreign investors. This modernization frenzy reached a high-­water mark in the 1920s, when New York banks floated millions of dollars of loans and coupled those loans with imposing economic doctrine in Bolivia, such as a return to the gold standard in 1928. Yet the promised reforms failed to transform Bolivia by the onset of conflict over the Chaco. To conduct the war, army planners were forced to take control of infrastructure projects such as road construction, rail connections, and telegraph wires deep into Bolivia. Wartime news publications told of how people realized that things needed to change. Coverage of the Liberal Party Congress in 1934 reported a definitive turn toward socialism, but articles also showed how students remained influential during the war. Fausto Reinaga, then a student at the Universidad Chuquisaca, had written the “interesantísimo tesis,” entitled “The Search for the Social Question in Bolivia.” The article described his thesis and even added the constructive criticism that he “forgot” that the dialectic between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat depended on “imperialism” and how it influenced a “semicolonial” country like Bolivia.47 The war’s end only exaggerated the call for greater infrastructure and the inclusion of the so-­called Bolivian Orient, or lowlands.48 Rather than be a subject state, the Bolivian government needed to colonize its own lands and appropriate its rich resources. That included, for example, connecting Tarija by telegraph to other major towns within the department and the country.49 The postwar governments considered no project “more important” than the Cochabamba–­Santa Cruz highway. Leaders understood that there existed “political and economic reasons” for the highway that would connect locales in Bolivia along with providing better access to international sites. Santa Cruz was recognized as the “center of the extensive tropical zone” of the country, and while the department had only 272,500 people in 1935, it had a “climate, topography, and resources that would permit development of the population at a much higher level.”50 All postwar governments made it a point to set into operation these two moves as part of broader infrastructure and demographic reforms.51 Busch agreed to reincorporate the Internationalization of Revolution  145

Universidad de Santa Cruz under the name of that city’s famous resident, Gabriel René Moreno, which emphasized his seriousness in advancing the educational infrastructure in the lowland east.52 Beyond the possibilities of using infrastructure to bring new settlement and enrich the people in those areas, infrastructure opened new avenues for Busch to exploit. He used the state ownership of Standard’s assets to pivot between local neighbors. Projects sought to profit by the sale of petroleum to Argentina, which would naturally aid the links between the Bolivian Orient and Buenos Aires.53 Increased Argentine economic interests earlier in the Chaco had brought the lion’s share of that country’s capital to Paraguay, yet money also flowed into Yacuiba, Villa Montes, Camiri, Santa Cruz, and other areas owing to mutually beneficial trade relationships.54 Part of this expansion was a result of the wartime construction of roads to assist in the movement of troops to fight in the Chaco, but the Santa Cruz–­Argentine trade also had historic roots since Santa Cruz was effectively isolated from Bolivia’s cities in the altiplano. The road to Santa Cruz was begun during the war, when the Bolivian government put soldiers to work—­both Bolivian work brigades and Paraguayan prisoners—­as part of the effort to enhance the war effort and link the two halves of the country.55 Rather than simply expand trade with Argentina, Busch broadened trade with Brazil, which was increasingly interested in benefiting from a relationship with La Paz. Finally making good on the 1904 Acre Settlement, the Brazilian government pledged to build rail lines from key centers in western Brazil to a Brazilian-­financed rail line from Corumba to Santa Cruz, which is one of the few railroads that is still in use in the twenty-­first century.56 Linking to Santa Cruz would help give Brazil ready access to the oil deposits drilled in nearby Camiri, which is something that the Comité de Defensa de los Intereses Obreros had lobbied for over the years and credited the “gran Presidente Busch” for making a reality. The extraction of “black gold” would bring “honor and dignity to the country” thanks to the help of “the many great Cruceño engineers.”57 Busch’s efforts to build the railroad differed from prior attempts by Bolivian presidents in that rather than attempt to attract foreign investment to benefit an extraction regime, the arrangement had the potential to establish relationships with 146 Internationalization of Revolution

multiple foreign partners to sell Bolivian products and transport them over Bolivian infrastructure networks. Those same networks would thereby encourage colonization in undeveloped areas.58 That plan would help ease demographic changes and further increase state power in a way that earlier programs could never realize. Owing to this lack of developed infrastructure, a natural move to embrace air transport grew after the war.59 Air transportation was increasingly more useful during the Chaco War, including ferrying the top leadership to and from the front lines, but the longer-­term influence was to make air travel an easy way to link the altiplano with the lowlands. Toward the end of the fighting in February 1935, the government received a proposal from Pan-­ American Grace Airways to begin international service to Bolivia. First, the airline would service the area along the Pacific Coast, with travel to and from Peru and Chile. Cargo would include equipment, passengers, and merchandise. Later the proposal claimed that an air connection with Argentina could commence, thus linking Bolivia with the Atlantic side of South America. These proposed plans would occur with “exclusive rights” over the course of some years, as a reference point for the other privileges granted to the relatively young Bolivian air carrier, Lloyd Aéreo Boliviano.60 This move toward embracing new avenues fit with the general attitude of modernization of the country with the latest technology. To facilitate the communications needed to help connect cities and maintain a logistical network between cities, a new school to teach telegraph operators had opened recently in Cochabamba, which had complemented the pilot-­ training school already in place.61 However, no infrastructure reform would be complete if the people remained trapped in premodern modes of thought. Any successful linkage between the projects after the Chaco War and people relied on building a community; in other words, the state projects would be the tangible aspects that could reinforce a Bolivian identity. Therefore “the most important goal in the early period after the Chaco War,” according to Jorge Dandler, was “education for the Indians, because it was widely understood that they were exploited for their ignorance.” Dandler has recognized that “many veterans sympathized with the so-­called indigenous problem” and “pushed Internationalization of Revolution  147

considerably for indigenous education” in a way that meant in effect that veteran politics became Indigenous politics.62 After the war, education itself remained a serious question. In Santa Cruz and Beni the Indigenous were said to have suffered from a “disastrous” education by Jesuits, and thus reforms called for a singular state answer.63 An article from 1939 described a study done by Carlos Beltran Morales of the Colegio Nacional de Educación in which he examined the dire condition of education throughout the country. Of the nearly 600,000 children of school age, only 84,038 were enrolled in classes across public and private schools.64 Having the statistics and taking into account issues such as truancy were steps toward better understanding the problem. Under Busch education reform was clearly oriented toward making the state the primary actor in education. School was to “stimulate the values” in children, help “form an integrated society for men and women based on the superiority of human life,” to “cultivate the notions of a disciplined consciousness and love for work,” and to “structure the national soul on the virtues of respect and love for the country.”65 In 1936, as Toro and Busch executed the coup against Tejada Sorzano, one of Busch’s compatriots, Lt. Col. Froilán Calleja Castro, took power as prefect of the Department of Santa Cruz. The local lec office gave its “fervent approval” to establish a socialist regime in Santa Cruz, which included local leadership composed of veterans, including Sixto Montero Hoyos, Rafael Soria Galvarra, Oswaldo Vaca Diez, José Melgar Moreno, Pedro Ribera M., Ernesto Aponte, and Adolfo Román. They sent a memo to Toro’s government explaining that in Santa Cruz these lec members and veterans desired a “military government” that would “reject the intrusion of audacious politicians.”66 They saw the bankruptcy of the old elites and sought a new way. Calleja used his position to lecture local capitalists and encourage them to provide for the veterans who were relocating to the city and to treat them fairly in terms of wages and price controls. When the Toro government waffled, the lec leaders organized a public demonstration and gave an ultimatum that demanded price fixing, that public works projects begin immediately, and that only cruceños be appointed to official posts in Santa Cruz. The university should also be autonomous, according to the lec, and to ensure victory they held captive the leading capitalists in the 148 Internationalization of Revolution

city. It was in this scenario that the Toro government conceded and gave what the historian Ronald Palmer has called a major victory to Calleja and his “populist-­leaning government.”67 With the government of Santa Cruz on board, the wide-­ranging and innovative infrastructure projects could commence in earnest. International Understanding of Bolivia’s Transformation

World War I was foundational in transforming generations of young men. With incredibly high numbers of soldiers relative to the population and staggering casualty rates, the war known simply as the Great War not only shattered the political dynamic that had operated in Europe since at least the end of the Napoleonic Wars but shifted the social dynamic as well. In Italy, France, and Germany veterans of World War I were particularly influential. Studies have shown that veterans tended to drift toward center-­right parties after the war; why was that the case? Rene Remond in 1955 posited that a so-­called veteran spirit was present in organizations that “naturally” drifted toward “rightist ideology.” These soldiers, who found themselves after the war surrounded by a discredited political establishment replaced by extremes, followed the “military way” in civilian life just as during wartime.68 Some scholars have found, though, that veterans tended to coalesce into factions, and a “minority of veterans inclined to the Left.” Additionally, scholarship has recognized the importance of the personalities that arose in the wake of World War I, including Hitler, Mussolini, and Oswald Mosley.69 Organizations in the wake of war, including the famous Stahlhelm in Weimar Germany, had the goals of working for law and order, promoting comradeship, and stopping further revolution. Soldiers were the perfect instruments to influence postwar society; as one German Freikorps officer remarked, “[The] soldier has the courage to act, but he lacks political instinct. The politician has the instinct but he lacks the courage and willingness to put his life on the line.” Ultimately it was the soldiers who embodied the courage, the character, the firmness, energy, and composure with the cleverness and “snakelike cunning of the politician.”70 Social Democrats in early Weimar Germany recognized the power of the veterans when they wrote in Vörwarts that the veterans, especially Internationalization of Revolution  149

those “disabled by the war,” would “justly claim for themselves far reaching welfare measures” and advocate for political rights. The need then was to organize those men, which according to the Social Democrats meant that their party and the workers’ unions should “follow such a movement.”71 The idea of unifying workers with veterans was then on the minds of those on the left, yet the right-­wing fascist movements that emerged embraced the same goals of unifying sectors of society to herald a new era of governance. Similarly, while Spain did not face transformation because of World War I, the brutal civil war during much of the 1930s enabled veterans to play an important role in Gen. Francisco Franco’s dictatorship. As Franco won complete power by end of the 1930s, he looked to incorporate veterans as active participants and guardians of the new regime. The civil war was foundational for thousands of Spanish men, and the ability of this group to feel connected to the regime helped Franco survive World War II and eventually transition to become an important ally with the West against communism. Angél Alcalde argues that the ability of the state to connect with the soldiers occurred because of the “high proliferation of veterans’ journals in the postwar period in countries like Italy or France.”72 In Spain veterans fell under the control of the party and the army and were therefore more reactive than proactive in determining reform. They naturally found respite under the banner of the state’s motto of unification through “order.”73 The national League of Veterans in Spain tried to help combat veteran unemployment in the 1940s, which was more in line with the national socialist propaganda and the Franco regime.74 This was in part because the Francoist army was diverse in terms of ideology, as some soldiers had been forced to fight despite their political sympathies.75 Whereas ideology was the barrier in Franco’s army, language, culture, and class were the dividers in Bolivia. Nonetheless the lec in Bolivia used press outlets such as Montenegro’s La Calle and also developed its own newspapers to disseminate views. In Santa Cruz the lec operated several small newspapers that presented their positions and activities, including El Legionario, Vanguardia, and El Ex-­Combatiente. All of those papers sought to clarify for readers where the soldiers stood in terms of political change. As it turned out, they were both patriotic and concerned with social welfare. 150 Internationalization of Revolution

International Politics and the Blending of Right and Left

When Mussolini declared the dictatorship on January 3, 1925, he did so to combat not only the antifascists inside Italy but also other fascists. According to R. J. Bosworth, this was part of the so-­called guerrilla war against less than loyal followers to forge a secure and stable country. The subsequent corporate state emerged as a way to solidify dedicated support for his government.76 While he spent much of the 1920s reinforcing domestic interests, part of Mussolini’s quest for political stability came when he decided to move militarily against Ethiopia in 1933. The Italian historian R. De Felice argued that Mussolini considered foreign policy a powerful tool to create the state and society that he desired. In fact, following the classic argument, Mussolini supposedly used foreign policy as a way to distract people from stagnation at home, especially in the 1930s, when the Italian economy suffered the ills of the Great Depression.77 Mussolini struggled so hard for unity because his Italy was a fragmented place with regional divisions, unequal economic opportunities, and a split between sophisticated urban centers based on trade and disconnected rural environs controlled by no institution except perhaps the Catholic Church or the mafia. Indeed from the Paris Peace Accords until Mussolini’s March on Rome in October 1922, Italy had a “deeply shaken conservative government” that faced a broad coalition of voters driven by demobilized veterans. Mussolini’s martial style took that for granted.78 Bolivia too remained divided, which hampered the kind of societal transformation that leaders had sought. Just how were these divisions defined? In Italy the regional differences were extended by socioeconomic gaps that made it hard for Mussolini to earnestly declare that the “people” consented to his regime.79 It was a mistake to think of Italy as a nation because fascists were sometimes local bourgeoisie, gentry, doctors and lawyers (despite an antibourgeois message) and sometimes lower-­middle-­class workers. And peasants were a dominant force in Italy and they “were not Fascists, just as they would never have been Conservatives or Socialists, or anything else.”80 Mussolini himself represented a sort of fusion of left and right and worked before the March on Rome to realize an alliance Internationalization of Revolution  151

between a “left concentration” and the “right-­wing interventionists” in his bid for power.81 Bolivian leaders who looked beyond the city of La Paz felt similar limitations, especially the young Bolivians who read about Mussolini or lived in Italy during the 1920s, such as Foianini. It would be Foianini who acted as chairman of the state petroleum deposits board and argued the case for nationalization of Standard Oil under Toro.82 Young men such as Foianini idealized the corporate state and tried to use the power of the state to institute a top-­down reform program. The contemporary Italian reality, in short, was quite similar and influential to Bolivia’s. Beyond the development of fascism in a singular state, fascism as a viable worldview was in fact a reality in the 1920s and the 1930s. Leaders called for a global effort “to irradiate a new civilization” based on the glory of Rome.83 Taking their organizational cues from the Marxist parties in Europe, Mussolini and later Hitler both benefited by mobilizing their own people but also organizing groups of co-­ethnics abroad because they believed a fascist revolution had “universal value.”84 Specifically, after 1921 the the Fasci de combattimento moved outside of Italy thanks to popular momentum. It was the “veterans, intellectuals and journalists” who fused their experience to organize the first branches.85 These sorts of civic associations were powerful components in the creation of fascism, not only in Italy but also in Nazi Germany, where Gleichschaltung meant to Nazify everything from the village hiking club to the nationwide newspaper editors’ association.86 Camillo Pellizzi notes that Italian fascism represented the spirit of the “popular classes,” and at its heart was a “revolutionary” movement that would complete the spirit of the Risorgimento.87 Most of the success in the Americas occurred in Brazil and the United States, but the organization of Italians in Argentina was impressive; more than four hundred groups could claim more than 146,000 members there in the mid-­1920s. Indeed numerous groups arose in Italian emigrant communities, including in Buenos Aires, where feditalia, the primary Italian association in Argentina, eventually favored fascism.88 Argentina was not alone. In Paraguay the Societa Nazionale “Dante Alighieri” advertised a meeting for January 22, 1933, at the Italian Legation in Asuncíon. They 152 Internationalization of Revolution

would approve the prior minutes, deal with funding, and hold elections. Members of these groups communicated with fellow Italians in neighboring countries and influenced eager politicians seeking change. This sort of rhetoric would mirror the priorities of the military socialists, who sought to rebuild with the full support of the people.89 Connections between political trends in Europe and those in Bolivia remained significant both before and after the Chaco War. Germans began the Bolivian air transit system before the war based on their technical expertise and their connections with the large German technical firms such as ig Farben and Siemens. Germans were important in the technical backdrop to the construction of the railroads as well.90 Beyond the transfer of knowledge, pro-­German propaganda catered to both Germans living in Bolivia and reformers looking for alternatives. The German School in La Paz had served from the 1920s through the end of the Third Reich as a primary vehicle for the dissemination of propaganda from Germany. During the fighting in the Chaco in late 1933, La Semana Grafica ran images of the German School students celebrating the birthday of President Paul von Hindenburg. Rather than fly the official flag of the Weimar Republic—­which was red, white, and black—­the school in La Paz flew the Nazi Swastika beside the Bolivian flag.91 The Nazi message represented a new beginning with respect for aspects of the past. Nazi propaganda continued to penetrate limited circles of Bolivia throughout the late 1930s, when it defined Bolivia under Toro and Busch as a “strong state” working toward the construction of socialism, conforming to the ideals of national socialism. Head of Mission Ernst Wendler noted in 1939 that the Bolivian government was moving toward the creation of a totalitarian system.92 People at the time understood totalitarianism as a system whereby individuals and groups conceded their roles to the state and worked on its behalf. People accepted this transfer of power to the state precisely because the Liberal Party had failed to guarantee either order or stability in its earlier transformation of the state.93 People’s expectations simply mandated that the state take a greater role to help combat individual corruption, mismanagement, and failures. Since the state seemed prepared to take care of its people—­first soldiers and then the entire population—­the Internationalization of Revolution  153

rhetoric of the larger community promised to overcome the deficiencies of the past and guarantee positive change. When Mussolini emerged as a political contender in the early 1920s, he found an Italian “impotence in foreign affairs,” coupled with “anarchy and pessimism among Italians.”94 Fascism as a corporatist state, complete with the idealization of the artisan and small merchant class, sought to strengthen the power of the government by destroying the individual. “We were the first to state,” Mussolini said, “in the face of liberal individualism, that the individual exists only in so far as he is within the State and subjected to the requirements of the state.”95 Simply put, the individual would work in harmony with the goals of the greater good. For Hitler, this concept became a racist, antisemitic conception, while other leaders in Europe during the 1930s incorporated aspects of fascism to suit their situation. By the end of that decade virtually the entire continent had fascist parties, while in Eastern Europe only Czechoslovakia stood as a democratic state, in part because while fascism presented a series of negative messages, it also gave a “clear vision of how with only the right” force the wounds of the war could be healed.96 This move toward a fusion of right and left based on statist ideas occurred in Latin America too. The Municipal Archive in Santa Cruz includes a collection of books by Enrique Finot, a prominent leader from Santa Cruz in the early half of the twentieth century, which had titles from Italy and about fascism more broadly. One such book, En Torno del Fascismo Italiano (About Italian Fascism), speaks of the exact sort of modernizing campaign that men such as Finot were seeking for Bolivia. Mussolini’s substantive power came “not from the potential of armed force” but rather in the “power of thought that had awoken in Italy” regarding its Roman history. An obsession with ancient Rome “surged past recent thoughts of nationalism, of D’Annunzio, and the populist Italian party.”97 Finot was not the only one in Bolivia aware of the most current European and North American socioeconomic and political thought and how it could fit Bolivia’s own checkered past of defeat and disappointment. Rather, he worked hand in glove with the reform proposals of Franz Tamayo and the intellectual ideas behind creating a Bolivian nation, including the ideas of 154 Internationalization of Revolution

Saavedra, Siles, Céspedes, Canelas, Montenegro, Salamanca, and others. The postwar political currents sought a method to bind the people to the regime in a way that would awaken a mindset based on glory and confidence—­in short, it was the ultimate populism because it could energize and direct the masses. Just as the European and North American political ideologies and sociocultural trends were known to Bolivians since the turn of the century, the success of Mussolini and later Hitler and Franco were well known to readers in Bolivia and Paraguay.98 Authors in the late 1930s understood the gravity of how other countries were dealing with the world’s social and economic issues. Germany, Italy, Spain, and the Soviet Union had “staunchly statist and interventionist economic policies.” Such control did not seem to trample on liberty and property, according to Busch’s supporter Azurduy, nor was it a “democratic heresy.”99 It was simply progress, and an unshakable faith in progress pushed forward. Newspaper articles in the 1930s had extensive coverage of the Spanish Civil War; most were blatantly in opposition to the Republic or forces of the internationalist left. Periodicals told readers to fear communism and instead turn to a patriotism that would lead to the betterment of the republic.100 In Bolivia, the lec’s official declaration of principles stated in fact that the current world was in a battle between the forces of communism and democracy. The lec aligned with the “peoples and organizations that fought for democracy” and the institutions that advocated for the “defense of the Patria.”101 Internationalism was not on the agenda for the post-­Chaco returnees, and any references to adopting leftist politics fit solidly within a nationalist agenda. With the old regime and its figureheads in shambles, the veterans internalized the sort of propaganda that promised a new beginning. Ideological war in the newspapers reminded readers that communism would spell ruin for Bolivia. When Brazilian authorities arrested Harry Berger, a known communist agitator, in Rio de Janeiro in January 1936, one Bolivian paper warned that his detention had “revealed a vast revolutionary plan with ramifications for Argentina, Bolivia, Chile, and Paraguay.”102 Recent memory of the turmoil in nearby Chile was important for the Bolivian leadership. After all, when President Arturo Alessandri failed with his modernization Internationalization of Revolution  155

program in the mid-­1920s, the task of restructuring the political system “fell to the reformist junior officers of the armed forces, mainly in the army.” Thereafter, for several years, left and right ideologies merged as labor unions and autarky became real under the dictatorship of Gen. Carlos Ibáñez.103 The Chilean experience was vital for Bolivia, because not only did Chilean miners come to work in Bolivia, but Bolivians worked in the nitrate fields of Chile. In both cases Bolivians either heard or experienced working-­class life in Chile and consumed news and other media regarding political ideology.104 Into 1937 news articles continued to remind Bolivian readers of the ills of communism, including the “sad experience of the Russian people.” As a result, they should stand strong against “attacks from Red Communists.” Bolivia was to remain committed to a “socialist” program throughout the entire country, which meant a nationalist-­statist program to lift the standard of living but without compromising democracy or, more broadly, the spirit of popular support.105 Notices about new organizations in Bolivia to combat political threats, such as the Brownshirts, allowed junior officers a chance to influence policy on the national level.106 With the sort of brotherhood among soldiers that the war created, the soldiers, like those of the Brigada de Caballeria under Toro, were in a unique position to band together and lead the country with a fusion of diverse perspectives. Marxist rhetoric in the post-­Chaco years from the likes of Saavedra, Montenegro, and Baldivieso was solidly populist in part because the words failed to identify clearly with any one Marxist school.107 Saavedra’s declarations, for instance, drifted into what would become classic national socialist language: “We are proposing a socialism in accordance with the needs, the aspirations, and the possibilities of the territory, the people and the system in Bolivia” and “We are similar more to a national-­socialism of an autarkic state.”108 Similarly Baldivieso’s Socialist Confederation of Bolivia desired a cornucopia of Marxist things but saw its chance at power through military means. Both of these leaders had been active politically for quite some time; when they joined forces with Toro, and later Busch, they gave voice to both right-­and left-­leaning veterans who desired change.109 Saavedra’s return from exile in Chile gave him the chance to encourage 156 Internationalization of Revolution

emotional support for the new regime and in doing so ensured that veterans and other concerned citizens would remain energized for change.110 As one of the few officers to gain the earnest respect of the soldiers based on his conduct during the war, Busch was the perfect man to represent the fusion of left and right. His youth, respect for his wartime exploits, and his ability to work with both old and new elites put him at a historical crossroads.111 The American John Muccio, chief of mission in La Paz, described Busch as having the “unqualified admiration of the rank and file of the Army and of the younger Army officers because of his unparalleled Chaco War record.” It was clear to observers at the time that Busch’s “sincerity of purpose and his accentuated patriotism” were beyond question.112 His program reiterated that the nature of progress rested on a complete rebuilding of the state. Busch remained troubled by the party divisions in Bolivia and blamed them for the problems that had plagued the country; soldiers instead were to take the lead as the ones who could rebuild. After all, they were the ones who fought on the battlefield, “defending the territorial integrity inch by inch,” and they were the same people Azurduy asked to “help complete the testament of the Grand Marshal de Ayacucho: ‘Defend Bolivia from inside against all enemies.’”113 Busch’s populism and political fortunes catered to a different and much broader audience than his predecessors had and better represented a true cross-­section of the population. Just as much as Busch responded to the veterans to assist with the political reconstruction of the country, it appears, as Javier Sanjines says, that “Indian veterans from the Chaco War” invoked their participation on the battlefield to argue for the chance to organize and effect change. Toro and Busch encouraged the unionization of hacienda workers, which “formed the new ideological spaces that would serve to organize the reformist mestizo discourse” and solidify a cohort of people who stood solidly behind the regime. Sanjines “disagrees with the traditional view,” asserting that the “indigenous people of Bolivia were not static bystanders in the postcolonial organization of the nation.”114 Busch and other military socialists recognized that too and pushed forward numerous decrees and laws that actually helped subalterns across the country, including the Indigenous. Article 196 Internationalization of Revolution  157

of the Political Constitution of the State of 1938, for example, stated that the “economic regime must respond primarily to the principals of social justice,” which ensured “all inhabitants a dignified human existence.”115 On the anniversary of the loss of the seacoast to Chile—­March 23, 1939—­ the railway workers presented Busch with a decoration, accompanied by a book with thousands of signatures, representing the profound support he had among this class of Bolivians.116 Busch helped to realize popular education, something that politicians had been talking about since the earlier part of the century. He organized the “conscription for schools” in part because he saw how the school system could “intensify the civic education and prepare future citizens,” including those in the Indigenous community.117 Speaking to a gathering of reserve officers who fought in the Chaco, he said that he was not in power to serve the capitalists but rather to have them serve the state out of respect for the nation. As he spoke to these officers he invoked their military service. “I cannot defraud you,” he said, “the people with whom I fought,” the very veterans who left the battlefield to “make a better country.”118 Summary

Ramiro Fernández Quisbert argues that “the Republic of Bolivia was founded based on the ideas of the modern world: liberty, equality, and fraternity. Yet, this reality only occurred for the criollo-­mestizo elites and was unreachable for the indigenous peasant majority.” Leaders from both Liberal and Republican parties since 1900 had professed the desire to help the Indigenous but did not allow them to fully enter the Bolivian community as equals. Conflict between the state and its people took the form of breaking strikes and thwarting the organization of workers and peasants. The Indigenous leader Eduardo Leandro Nina Quispi declared ominously in 1932, “We want to start a real crusade for the redemption of the Indian who is abandoned with nothing but his luck.”119 Including the Indigenous people into Bolivian society was an epic battle that took decades, finally resulting in legal recognition. The Chaco War helped in precisely that crusade—­it gave the Indigenous a political voice based on service and the needs of a changed country. It also quieted those elites who 158 Internationalization of Revolution

had resisted reforms because the war expanded to augment greatly those subalterns who longed for change and learned in the war how to articulate citizenship according to elitist preconceptions. The lec formed as a diverse association with offices throughout the country, encapsulating the variety throughout Bolivia. The lec had nuanced messages but overall they claimed that they “reacted to everything” because they could “demonstrate to our people how dignified we are” and show honor in victory.120 They also acted because they did not want the “governors to forget them.”121 On August 6, 1939, two hundred veterans from Oruro traveled to La Paz to pressure the “president and the minister of education to stimulate acts of civic participation” at the national level instead of the regional.122 This was critical because regional offices necessarily differed in tone. The office in Potosí, for example, printed in its official organ, El Intransigente, a “declaration of why it was ‘socialist.’” In the first place, it recognized the need to “replace the traditional parties,” which were proven unable to govern. Second, the Potosí veterans declared that they understood the “contradictions of the feudal-­bourgeoisie,” which would directly coincide for them with a history of irresponsible mine owners.123 The lec’s formation of a Santa Cruz chapter had sought to “adopt a prudent and reserved temperament” to “capture the popular currents to help sort out the chaos and refashion [desenvuelve] national politics.”124 Simply put, the veterans argued for fundamental change to Bolivia from the bottom up and pushed forward the answers in their search for a transformed nation.125 Scholars have recognized in several cases just how much Latin American leaders in the early twentieth century borrowed from and adapted “biomedical, racial and social ideas” to suit their cases of nation-­building. It was, as Brooke Larson admits, a way for “liberal and populist states” to cope with their “explosive demographic, social and political problems” that came about because of modernity; mechanisms to deal with this included educational, immigration, and eugenic plans.126 While the prewar Liberal agenda struggled to lead the country, the war enabled a profound politicization of a large and significantly un-­and underrepresented segment of the population. They exited the war having recognized that the older ideas of modernization were correct but that the messengers had been corrupt or Internationalization of Revolution  159

dishonest. It was up to them to follow through on the old promises with new answers. A fusion of left and right was neither unique to the Chaco War and Bolivia nor a way to explain military socialism. Instead, just as in the 1920s, when foreign investment and loans influenced Bolivia, the 1930s showed Bolivians of all stripes that they were on the cutting edge of political development. War had given Mussolini and Hitler their opportunities, and it gave Toro and especially Busch their chances too. The goal of mobilizing people was so important that postwar Bolivian populists were happy to use virtually any means or ideology to realize their ends.

160 Internationalization of Revolution

Conclusion 1952 as the Triumph of 1899

President Germán Busch woke up on the morning of August 23, 1939, and realized that despite the great progress already made toward creating a new Bolivian nation, his legacy and experiment were questionable.1 Reaching deep into the interior of the country to create a Bolivian identity was a tremendous task. Not counting on resistance from local leaders, the lack of infrastructure, skilled labor, and money, his transformation of Bolivia grew increasingly difficult and the process lengthy. By the end of the 1930s the soldiers who praised him remained committed to change, but the tasks required to create a new Bolivian nation were great. With so many veterans and their families relocating from villages to cities such as La Paz, they felt the need for jobs and growth more acutely. Construction continued on important projects, including the Santa Cruz–­Cochabamba highway, but most of these remained in progress for years to come.2 These pro-­growth policies fit what Col. Angél Revollo defined as the role of government; that is, to “govern is to populate,” and the army was the “nucleus” of new communities.3 While it would take time, the veterans did continue to influence change.

161

From Busch to the mnr

A 2012 article in the online Santa Cruz newspaper eju! ran stories on the sixtieth anniversary of the mnr victory. “Del ‘grupo Busch’ y el ¡Gloria a Villarroel!,” the writer said, helped further the nationalist revolution, but it was the return to external dependency and bad politics following President Gualberto Villarroel’s death that pushed the revolutionaries to action. Furthermore, it was “impossible to imagine the origin of the mnr without its affinity” for the two Chaco officers and veteran organizers.4 Following Busch’s suicide in August 1939, the idea that he felt stifled by the lack of rapid change garnered credibility, especially as more conservative leaders took charge of the government.5 Populist momentum from the veterans retreated but did not die. Weary of so many reforms and the instability that went with it, industry sided with conservative officers to reestablish a sense of order. Proof of the elite insecurity over the pace of reform came as Gen. Carlos Quintanilla took power and determined that Busch had committed suicide. He agreed to hold elections for a new regime in 1940, but his tenure as head of state superseded the regular transfer of power that should have gone to the sitting vice president, the populist, left-­leaning Enrique Baldivieso. Quintanilla issued a statement declaring that his “government [would] continue the social and economic policies and courses of the government of Colonel Busch,” a statement that simply placated the masses.6 In the election that followed, Gen. Enrique Peñaranda came to power as he openly flaunted his Chaco War credentials to sideline any lec disapproval. His time as head of state showed that he was not interested in broader reform and did not seek a truly popular mandate. Peñaranda’s victory came about after fewer than 2 percent of the people cast ballots. Literacy requirements for voting still meant that the Indigenous majority had virtually no access to the polls. In terms of real numbers, out of 2.9 million people, only 58,000 people voted in the 1940 contest, 48,000 of them for Peñaranda.7 Soon after the election, one of the more unpopular government actions of the era would scar his time in office. Peñaranda managed the crisis in the Catavi Mines in December 1942, when more than 162 Conclusion

seven thousand miners went on strike to demand a higher wage. Miners recognized that the post-­Busch government had drifted from its earlier ideals, which relied on a popular coalition that sought positive change in the face of elitist economic gain. Peñaranda had ordered soldiers to shoot at striking miners there, which pitted the army once more against the people, especially the most vulnerable. Scholarship has determined that nearly “one hundred men, women and children” lost their lives, which was enough to mobilize thousands more to advocate for the removal of the general.8 At this very moment Chaco populism reemerged under the guise of another left-­leaning and veteran-­friendly army leader, Gualberto Villarroel, who, like Busch, had served in the Chaco and afterward served as the head of a prisoner-­of-­war union.9 Villarroel attempted to further the reformist agenda of Busch with the help of the veterans, but he took that program to another level when he and his followers found support among the newest political movement, the Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario. Young army officers and leaders of the mnr converged to work across all levels of the government in the name of the popular majority.10 Villarroel made significant contributions to the infrastructure program, such as with the agreement to construct a road to connect Bolivia with Paraguay.11 More important for the average Bolivian, he prohibited the pongaje, or forced labor, from Indigenous peasants and reduced the workload of Indigenous tenant farmers. Such a dramatic move toward real change to benefit the Indigenous majority was virtually impossible without the Chaco War. Veterans’ rights had drifted definitively into Indigenous rights with peasant-­centric reforms. Moreover propagandists such as Carlos Montenegro and Augusto Céspedes continued to use the power of the newspapers to mobilize the populace, while men such has Enrique Baldivieso still rallied crowds with feisty rhetoric.12 A newspaper article from December 1944 explained that Villarroel represented “serenity, charisma, his culture, and his enormous love of country.” His revolution was “against the rosca [established elites]” because they were “intermediaries, negotiators between the state and the people, with only the selfish goal of self aggrandizement.” Like others before him, Villarroel recognized the inherent corruption in Bolivia. He said, “The administrative Conclusion  163

corruption had reached an incredible level, which was a spectacular embarrassment.” These were common tropes among the troops, who found the traditional leaders guilty of plunging into a bloody and agonizing war.13 Other veterans regained influence under Villarroel, including a former prisoner, chief of police, and governor in Beni, Edmundo Roca Arredondo. He understood modernization not in terms of “economic liberalism” that enriched a few but the broader program that would bring to all people in Bolivia the dignity and opportunity that modernity afforded them. Roca believed the veterans and the mnr were the ones who would set the country on the right track.14 Villarroel too epitomized the problem of Bolivian populism in that his promises fell short of expectations. Large-­scale reforms were declared, but few of them were enacted owing to a lack of broad support. Not only were traditional monied interests against his reforms, but the military and mnr coalition that placed Villarroel in Plaza Murillo disputed the balance of power between them. Maria Luise Wagner claims that even the reformist officers who supported Villarroel in 1943 were increasingly demoralized by the political violence that he tolerated.15 Rhetoric for his ouster reached fruition in July 1946, when enraged groups of teachers, students, and marketplace women laid siege to the presidential palace, killed him, and hung his dead body from a nearby lamppost. Mob violence foreshadowed the coming revolution in 1952, once again stressing the tensions between politicians and the groups of subalterns who desired greater power in a rapidly changing society. The placeholder regimes of Tomás Monje Gutiérrez and Enrique Hertzog, which followed Villarroel, had little ability to solve the latent problems facing Bolivia. The end of World War II saw declining orders for tin, for instance, and once again foreign demand for Bolivian raw materials seemed poised to cause economic contraction and slow any reforms.16 In 1949 Hertzog’s government faced a dilemma. Despite Busch’s suicide the veterans remained in the background as potential organizers for change. In the wake of Villarroel’s death, the veterans continued to influence political change, although the results seemed most visible on the periphery. mnr activists and veterans of the Chaco War agitated in Santa Cruz, which 164 Conclusion

Manuel de la Fuente calls its “most trustworthy bastion.”17 Local mnr electoral victories in Santa Cruz maintained a tension with elites in La Paz. In 1949 issues came to a head, and conflict ended with the reestablishment of full authority by the central government. Despite that, Santa Cruz leaders won several concessions, including that all future prefects of the department would be cruceños and reaffirmed the power of a popular militarized force.18 The government’s suppression of the larger challenge did not suppress the revolutionary fire. At the time, the Liberal Party’s daily in Santa Cruz, El Orden, recognized the main instigators behind the challenge. It was the Busch coalition—­“groups of unionized miners, which were under control of the Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario,” alongside the coordination of the Radepa, formerly led by Villarroel. The article claimed that the armed “fascists” from the mnr and the communists murdered six Bolivian and two North American engineers and threatened to “liquidate the democratic liberties and collective bargaining rights.”19 Other Liberal outlets accused the Radepa of engaging in propaganda that pushed other parties into action. Vanguardia reported with prejudice that the Falangists were caught with their “manos en la masa” (hands in the cookie jar) when the La Paz police raided a clandestine meeting. The police found “seditious materials against the government” and an “abundant amount of Radepa propaganda.”20 The fact that Radepa members and their printed work were found among mnr activists and the Falange shows how the veterans more generally remained formative in directing political change and agitating for power between Busch’s death and the 1952 victory by Victor Paz Estenssoro and the mnr. An article from the socialist paper La Republica argued that in the “wake of Busch’s death,” the veterans’ power became solidified by none other than the former prisoners, who together defined this “new political period” in Bolivia’s history. The same article continued to link the Radepa and mnr for employing “Nazi-­style methods of political repression” while claiming to have a “monopoly on nationalism, patriotism,” and “all the virtues imaginable.”21 This, the paper recognized, was what had propelled Hitler and Mussolini to power years earlier. Despite the clear bias of the papers, the fact was that soldiers continued to influence government policy Conclusion  165

from both the left—­including nationalizing the mines and advocating for land reform—­and the right, by arguing for a reenergized continuation of a collective national identity for Bolivia. Hertzog’s regime thus simply paved the way for a completely new political alternative as the politicking of the mnr and its allies returned to a broader-­based populism centered on the peasants and argued over the construction of a national unity that would have to come to terms with the inclusion of Indigenous peoples. The Bolivian Revolution in a Broader Perspective

Rogers Brubaker has argued that people become integral parts of a political entity thanks to war. He claims that modern national citizenship was an “invention of the French Revolution” and that the violence and tribulations created a multitude of concepts, not the least of which were “shared rights and shared obligations” and the “immediate” and “direct” relationship “between the citizen and the state.”22 Brubaker’s analysis of the French Revolution and its stages of development are of particular interest in tracing the periodization of Bolivian politics from 1899 until 1952. He says that the French Revolution can be considered in successive waves: first came a “bourgeois revolution,” then a “democratic revolution,” followed by a “national revolution,” and the final “bureaucratic, state-­strengthening revolution.”23 These stages have Bolivian counterparts, though I would argue for a different order. The Federal War of 1899 was the bourgeois revolution, when the new money upstarts in La Paz removed the notion of rule via privilege from Sucre’s silver magnates. Over the following twenty years, as political parties vied for votes and popular support, the democratic revolution unfolded and slowly grappled with an increasingly aware public and electorate. War over the Chaco occurred within this period and led to the military’s takeover of the government in a way that sought to infuse the revolutionary goals of the prior three decades through better means. This was the bureaucratic, state-­strengthening revolution, and it happened in Bolivia prior to the nationalist revolution, which occurred in 1952, at the behest of the mnr. Leaders recognized that the Chaco War had served a purpose in unifying the country and helping to make it a nation. After the fighting ended, 166 Conclusion

military service became obligatory, and young men saw the army as a social rite of passage. “Lots of soldiers” took the step of getting a “small tattoo” that “connected them to the broader society.” It was, as a young soldier said, a sense of “camaraderie” that helped motivate military service.24 Bosses would ask potential new hires for their service record; without one, it was difficult for young men to secure regular employment. This was especially important as demographic moves continued in Bolivia. Military papers could give a potential worker an edge in securing employment and thereby facilitated a large-­scale relocation of veterans in the years after the war. Indeed the entire process of this larger revolutionary period saw the intense development of an identity and a state that could harness it. While politicians understood in the early twentieth century that they needed better railroads and faster communication between cities, they did so first to facilitate trade. Yet the government remained largely powerless to enact the necessary reforms needed to advance its power throughout the country, especially into the vast countryside. While Bolivian leaders—­tracing their roots to Spain or Europe more broadly—­spoke about these plans, they also came face to face with the idea of a multicultural and multinational state. As a result, leaders recognized a so-­called Indian problem but increasingly understood it in a nuanced way that sought to solve any disparities with economic gain. Bolivian leaders were tasked with not only building a state but also melding plural identities into a singular Bolivian identity that would evolve as the very process advanced. Similarities can be traced to language, which Benedict Anderson has theorized as critical in realizing a national identity. When José Francisco de San Martin’s edict ensured that Quechua-­speaking Indians in Peru were baptized as “Peruvians” he showed that “from the start the nation was conceived in language, not in blood, and that one could be ‘invited into’ the imagined community.” Invited, yes, but also coerced, in the Bolivian case, evident in the conscription of Indigenous into a Spanish-­speaking army to fight in the Chaco.25 The entire notion of fighting and serving the state brought about a change in state-­society relations. As Simon Schama has pointed out in his seminal study on the French Revolution, the elites who transformed Paris after 1789 did so out of an infatuation for modernity and a belief Conclusion  167

that a political order could strengthen the country. These had been pervasive in Bolivia since 1899 but intensified and climaxed in the midst of defeat in the Chaco. Schama argues that the prerevolutionary French elite at its “very heart” was a “capitalist nobility of immense significance to the future of the national economy.” This group was, after all, “fluid and heterogeneous,” in part because the elites themselves expanded with ennoblement that increasingly—­that is, in the second half of the eighteenth century—­emphasized “service, talent, and merit,” in contrast to lineage.26 The Bolivian state following the Federal War had transitioned from a group of wealthy landowners and silver miners to the sort of fluid and heterogeneous entrepreneurs who were making their fortunes in the new tin industry. This group had to face the realities of changing labor and business practices—­thanks to globalization—­alongside a decidedly more sophisticated view of industrial technology, transportation, and ideology. A revolution had occurred in 1899, but the effects spurred another one much larger in scope. This would not be recognized until the Chaco War brought the diversity of Bolivia into a single, nationwide environment, supported by a more robust network of disseminating information. When the state forced people into service, their work was ostensibly on behalf of the nation or the common good, something that all classes and peoples of Bolivia were struggling to define in the 1930s.27 War and Change in Bolivia

Busch’s untimely suicide largely ended the concept of military socialism, as successors scaled back on intense reforms. War once again stunted global trade only weeks later, which hurt most of the world’s economies, including Bolivia’s. In the Andean nation, miners temporarily saw more work thanks to the increased demand for tin from the United States, but benefits such as higher wages were increasingly offset, especially after the war, by Indonesia’s expanding tin-­mining industry. Bolivian leaders lurched forward in the 1940s, but the spirit of populism surged by the end of World War II. A number of journalists, sons of old populists from the earlier part of the century, and veterans of the Chaco War formed the mnr to agitate for the national revolution they had been promised since the earliest years 168 Conclusion

of the twentieth century. When Paz Estenssoro returned to Bolivia and entered the Plaza Murillo as the new leader, he represented a new spirit of governance. In reality he was merely a keen observer of what had worked since the Federal War ended. Soon after taking power, the mnr declared that “Bolivians had won a battle in the country,” as political power had been placed “in the hands of workers, peasants, and the middle class, who stood united in common interests against imperialism and feudalism.”28 I argue not that the mnr lacked populist credentials that scholars accredit it, but rather that the historical events since 1899, especially the dramatic change that occurred during the Chaco War, shows that 1952 was more a continuation of past policies and increased connectivity with global trends than a dramatic transformation and shift from the past.29 War has been a common tool of change. The three-­year struggle over the Chaco ruined a great many lives on both sides of that desolate frontier. The war—­created in part by populist rhetoric—­was a transformative moment for Bolivia because it brought an “unprecedented proportion of Bolivians into the military” and was the “largest single undertaking by the Bolivian state.”30 Still uncomfortable with their so-­called Indian problem, the country’s rulers had to conscript or otherwise force into service tens of thousands of Indigenous peasants and urban laborers as the war lingered into 1934. These men faced a completely new environment that served to socialize them before the dramatic backdrop of war. Marched off to a faraway place with a completely alien climate, these men gained organizational experience and socialized with each other in a way that allowed them to demand and implement change at war’s end. Additionally, women left to manage the home used the Chaco War as an opportunity to gain more public visibility and rights for themselves. Between petitioning the state for intervention, gaining widows’ pensions, and attaining jobs in labor-­ tight cities, the women also helped create and sustain the Generation of the Chaco. Even newspapers wrote that women were at the center of the new Bolivian nation, which moved them beyond the realm of domestic service or as market sellers into being “equal partners with men.”31 Demobilization and the experience of war necessitated that demographic change, already in place, would speed up with the onset of peace. “Some Conclusion  169

indigenous who had ‘fought on the front line did not want to return to the countryside, to continue life in virtual slavery.’” Instead they sought work in the cities. Those who did return to their villages did so with “pride” and wound up serving their rural communities as leaders. This wartime experience, according to the Bolivian historian Roberto Choque Canqui, meant that “all of the indigenous had a bitter experience” in the war, and while they could not read or write, they pressed forward with the demands of “establishing schools in their communities and on the large estates for the education of their children.” Veterans and local organizations played a role in organizing committees to “defend their interests.”32 As one of the veterans’ newspapers claimed in 1953, Bolivia “owed a great debt to those men,” and if they were not recognized, their work would be in vain and “the darkest pessimism” would befall the people.33 Chaco veterans were instrumental in creating the mnr Revolution of 1952. A typical veteran, Adrian Barrenechea, was a “man of action and not deliberation” and sought arms to bring to power the mnr.34 Simply put, the war helped fashion a sense of urgency and gave men the tools to organize and effect political change. mnr leaders in the late 1940s and early 1950s embraced the platform of development and progress that had so long preoccupied Bolivian leaders. President Paz declared later, “Making Bolivia a nation implies the need for all the people to accept the decisions of the state.” The state was not only an “instrument of economic promotion in the field of development,” but also worked as an “agent of social assistance” because nationalism conferred fundamental rights. These included “equality for all people in the country.” Paz argued that his mnr had created the “theoretical conditions for the existence of equality among all Bolivians.”35 Economic liberty was in fact a hallmark of the entire post-­Chaco revolutionary movement that the pro-­m nr press did not fail to mention after its seizure of power. The organ Revolución named Busch, Villarroel, and Carlos Valverde Barbery of the mnr as three “martyrs for the economic emancipation of Bolivia.”36 While the mnr made the most headway with this, it used the same rhetoric that had moved Bolivian politicians since the beginning of the century but was most prevalent and energized after the Chaco War unfolded. The mnr continued recent populist reforms 170 Conclusion

by enacting agrarian reform and universal suffrage and nationalizing the big mining interests in the country.37 The author Marcelo Fernandez Osco describes the entire Republican period until the 1952 Revolution as a time “characterized by different forms of oligarchical violence in support of expansion of large estates.”38 Yet in 1952, when the mnr revolted and took over the government, it did so to finish what the early Liberals had started at the turn of the century and what men like Toro and Busch tried to foster through statist intervention. Military socialism represented an important step in the movement from a Liberal to a revolutionary government and gave legitimacy to a diverse group of ideologues. Gustavo Navarro, better known by his pen name, Tristán Marof, had been in exile during the Chaco War, but at war’s end the Argentine government sent him back to Bolivia.39 He later became a key advisor to Busch because of his work as a “the strongest vanguard of the left” for the “national proletariat.”40 Navarro was vital in organizing the first Miners’ Federation in Bolivia, with members involved in close work with the League of Veterans. Paz Estenssoro, the founder of the mnr, worked with Busch as an economic advisor and pushed Busch to force the mining companies to relinquish control over foreign exchange earned in Bolivian mines and to nationalize the Banco Minero, which benefited smaller mine operators.41 Reform of the mining interests had been on the agenda already during the war, thanks to the inability of the Bolivian state to obtain necessary foreign capital; there was, as people realized by 1934, “a need to reform.”42 A desire for greater state control over Bolivia’s minerals would be a major focus of the postwar governments and serve as an important component in delivering true reform to the people.43 Beyond intellectuals or publicists, it was veterans’ agitation that served as the immediate example for the mnr, which pressed for universal suffrage and a program of thoroughgoing reform for the Indigenous majority. It was nationalist because it wanted to create a Bolivian identity, and it was populist because by embracing the largest group of people in Bolivia it could gain sufficient votes to continue with its statist reform program. mnr leaders had identified what they saw as the culprits behind Bolivia’s languishing state of affairs, especially the tragedy of the Chaco War. They Conclusion  171

argued that the “painful evidence” pointed to a Bolivia that was a victim of “betrayal, anti-­patriotism, and the moral bankruptcy of the Bolivian people.”44 Fausto Reinaga argues that the nationalization of the mines was a mortal coup against the “imperialistic interests that had enslaved the country” and a product of the “masses of workers and armed peasants” who directly participated in government. All of that worked to unify the nation.45 Regardless of whether imperialism suffered a mortal blow with the mnr’s victory in 1952, the Revolution was in many respects the final battle of 1899. The Chaco War’s major contribution to this history was that it made the idea of a Bolivian nation more than an elite project and fostered the dramatic increase in the power of the state. With a spirit from below and more tools from above, the Bolivian Revolution was able to reach its logical culmination.

172 Conclusion

Notes

Introduction







1. See, for example, Oppenheimer, ¡Basta de historias! 2. Evo Morales in Kohl et al., From the Mines to the Streets, xxi. 3. As cited in Peres Cajías, “La comunidad imaginada del mar perdido,” 175. 4. See Schamis, “Populism, Socialism, and Democratic Institutions,” 31. For a comparison and discussion of current leaders in Latin America, including Bolivia, see de la Torre, “In the Name of the People,” 28. Morales has also made himself into a protector of sorts for regular people based on economics; his critique of neoliberalism, which the traditional parties have continued to support, at least into the early twenty-­first century, rests on a fundamental redrawing of the economic system in Bolivia. See Barr, “Bolivia,” 69–­70. 5. See De Munter and Salman, “Extending Political Participation and Citizenship,” 433. 6. For example, students march to the national anthem in schools in present-­day Bolivia every Monday, then listen to news and recommendations from the director and teachers. The curriculum also emphasizes the War of the Pacific and promotes symbols in public spaces as well as on the national flag, with the star that represents the lost department. See Kohl, “La historia y la educación,” 9, 13. 7. As cited in Erickson, “What Do We Mean by Great Power or Superpower,” 11. By the time of the Chaco War, the first two were complete in Bolivia, while the major weakness remained the economic prowess to engage in protracted combat. 8. Sanborn, Drafting the Russian Nation, 10. 173

9. Sanborn, Drafting the Russian Nation, 12. 10. See Snell, “Socialist Unions and Socialist Patriotism in Germany,” 69. 11. Watson, Ring of Steel, 4. Numerous studies show how the Habsburg armies failed to deliver military victories, in part because of the low morale and disruptive lack of national identity. An aspect of confusion that caused morale problems in the Habsburg army was the language barrier and the bias that German soldiers had against their Slavic, Italian, or Romanian comrades in arms. Poor conditions, a faulty logistics network, and poor leadership also caused soldiers to abandon the fight. See Jason C. Engle, “‘This Monstrous Front Will Devour Us All’: The Austro-­Hungarian Soldier Experience, 1914–­15,” in Bischof et al., 1914, 146–­53. 12. One of the many examples of workers facing abuse is in the 1911 novel En las Tierras del Potosi. Here the characters speak of the problems facing the people: “They work until they kill themselves, and they see that they are paid a miserly sum that does not correspond to the excessive activity that they have completed. Have you read books of socialists and anarchists? No? Well read them. There is confirmation of what I say. But, even without the need for that, you are sufficiently informed to understand me” (Mendoza, En las Tierras del Potosi, 31). That book originally appeared in 1911. During the war mistrust would work in the other direction. In the novel Prisionero de Guerra, Augusto Guzman writes, “The rats behind the lines are so big, so fat, and so bold. . . . At the front, there are no rats, but instead we have lice” (22). 13. See Sanborn, Drafting the Russian Nation, 4 14. Watson, Ring of Steel, 5, 56. For more on public crowds and excitement in Germany on the eve of fighting, see Fritzsche, Germans into Nazis. 15. As cited in Watson, Ring of Steel, 62. 16. See Corbett, The Latin American Military as a Sociopolitical Force, 24. 17. Ramos Flores, “La solemne inauguración del estadio Hernando Siles,” 30. 18. See Bernat Castany Prado, “Una estilística de los himnos nacionales en Hispanoamérica,” in Castany Prado et al., Tierras prometidas, 60. 19. Alcides Arguedas Diaries, letter to Tomas Manuel Elio, January 3, 1920, Library of Congress (loc). 20. See Watson, Ring of Steel, 470. Beyond the Czech Union, the Green Cadres roamed the Habsburg lands after the war and proved that peasants had the power to represent a “major insurgency” over the old regime. Yet because of the chaos of war and the uncertainty of the postwar situation the Green Cadres represented a “synthesis of old elements and new.” See Beneš, “The Green Cadres and the Collapse of Austria-­Hungary,” 208. 21. Cusicanqui, Oppressed but Not Defeated, x, 7–­8. 22. Cited in Gotkowitz, A Revolution for Our Rights, 1. Like Cusicanqui’s study, this work is indispensable for understanding the long-­term roots of revolutionary change in Bolivia.

174 Notes to Pages 3–6

23. Cusicanqui, Oppressed but Not Defeated, 2. 24. Aramayo, “The Intellectual Origins of the Modern Bolivian Political System,” 86. He explains, “President Saavedra gambled that by adopting a new attitude about the social responsibility of the state, he could secure a fresh popular base for his government. What he did not count on, or even understand, was that the forces that motivated the desire for a socially responsible state existed in contradiction to the whole economic and political project of the liberal oligarchic regime.” 25. Gotkowitz, A Revolution for Our Rights, 7. She argues that the military populist regimes “inadvertently empowered Indians and peasants to be the governments agents of order and the law.” 26. Sanjines, Mestizaje Upside-­Down, 107–­8. Sanjines writes, “The Chaco War shook the consciousness of an economically and socially backward nation, which despite the appearance of having a constitutional government based on representative democracy, had been dominated by a tiresome oligarchy.” The 1930s, for Sanjines, were “important as a decade when the middle-­class developed a critical consciousness.” It also expanded people’s contact with each other because “indigenous soldiers” came into “permanent contact with mestizo-­criollo recruits.” I argue that such a change was critical for Bolivia’s development. 27. Rico Vargas, Industrializacion, 14. 28. Cited in Kevin A. Young, “Purging the Forces of Darkness,” 524. Eder’s mission in Bolivia in the 1950s was eerily similar to the earlier Edwin Kemmerer missions of the late 1920s, when U.S. investment experts would facilitate the opening of U.S. trade. A similar thing would occur again decades later when Jeffrey Sachs urged leaders in La Paz to adopt neoliberal reforms. Young cites Eder, who sought to ensure that “the government refrains from borrowing and spending more than its income” and trying “to establish a favorable climate for investment” (522). 29. Cited in Fifer, Bolivia, 242. This same story appeared in the 1933 edition of an American doctor’s travels to Bolivia. It was on his visit to La Paz in 1885 where he supposedly heard this story. He noted, “Bolivia possesses an astonishing history of violent political revolutions. . . . Neither citizens nor foreigners were exempt from the despotic acts of some of the more notorious of these rulers. It is recorded that one of them, seeing a beautiful woman passing by, the wife of a foreigner, ordered his officers to bring her in for his entertainment. The affair created such an outcry among the foreign residents that the British minister felt obliged to protest in the name of civilization. The presidential response was to tie him, facing backward, upon a donkey and to order him out of the country. It is further said that England at once obliterated Bolivia from her diplomatic map.” See Rusby, Jungle Memories, 49. 30. Hughes, “Logistics and the Chaco War,” 411. Also see Letter to Archbishop Sinforiano Bogarin, June 13, 1935, from Argentina, in Archivo del Arzobispado de la Santísima Asunción, Asunción, Paraguay, Guerra del Chaco 901.9, Tomo 3:

Notes to Pages 6–8  175

“Permit me to contemplate impotently about the agony over the last three long years; about the pain held by the mothers, by the spouses, the orphaned children, and the amount of noble blood spilt in the inhospitable country of the Chaco.” 31. Jones, “Literature of the Chaco War,” 33. 32. Saeger, The Chaco Mission Frontier, 166. Saeger shows how Indigenous communities throughout the Chaco lost or regained sovereignty in this contested territory and how they finally blended into neighboring nation-­states and became Paraguayans or Brazilians (see especially chapter 7). 33. A complex legal battle had existed for quite some time between Bolivia and Paraguay over the Chaco. More generally, the borders of Bolivia in the wake of independence were open to interpretation, especially as the centers of population in the Republic of Bolivia were concentrated in a relatively small area of that expansive state. Diplomats from both La Paz and Asunción made several overtures to deal with a settlement over the Chaco, but none ever reached a consensus. Much of the older colonial history is mentioned in larger monographs on the topic, for example, Mesa et al., Historia de Bolivia, 528–­30. Additional articles are “The Frontier Dispute between Bolivia and Paraguay”; Lindsay, “The War over the Chaco,” esp. 232–­34. 34. Academia Diplomática y Consular “Dr. Carlos Antonio López,” p. 9, Memo from Legation of Paraguay to Francis White, April 15, 1932, Archivo de Ministerio de Relacciones Exteriories, Asunción, Paraguay (amre), dpp 232. 35. Programa de Gobierno Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario, 130–­31. 36. Even Paraguayan authors have recognized this geographical argument; one has linked Paraguay’s problematic geography with Bolivia’s history. Both countries, according to Luis J. González, are “crucified by the tyranny of geography” (Paraguay Prisonero Geo-­politico, 72). This geographic argument also played a role in recognizing that while Paraguay was “better situated geographically,” compared with Bolivia, because of the rivers that went to the Rio La Plata and the Atlantic Ocean, both countries were less fortunate than others in the Western Hemisphere. See Sanchez Bonifato, La Ultima Guerra en Sudamerica, 20–­21. 37. Anecito Arce cited in Calvo, La Guerra del Pacifico, 126. “Bolivia debe exigir la rectificacion de nuestras fronteras. La zona que Bolivia necesita comprende Tacna y Arica . . . Bolivia sin litoral corre a su ruina.” Additionally, literature about the earliest days of independence suggests that the likes of Simón Bolívar, Marshal Antonio de Sucre, and company disagreed on the viability of an independent Bolivia, separated from its Peruvian viceroyalty. Its harsh geography has stood as a barrier against freedom of movement and efficient control. Moreover Bolivians have cited regionalism as a problem for unity. “Throughout the history of Bolivia, regionalism has always caused harm,” not just in terms of actual frontier boundaries but also “social and private politics.” See Rico Vargas, Industrialización, 14. 176 Notes to Pages 8–9

The author cites too historic slogans such as “La Paz y nada más” and “República independiente de Cochabamba.” During the Chaco War, of course, the Paraguayans attempted to stir up separatist feelings between people from Santa Cruz and the altiplano. One such story claimed that many cruceños were emigrating because of a “lack of markets for its products that would change the living conditions out of poverty and misery.” See “Los cruceños se ven obligados a emigrar de su propia tierra a causas del desgobierno colla,” El Diario, April 22, 1934, 4. 38. Zook, The Conduct of the Chaco War, 15. 39. Farcau, The Chaco War, 22. 40. Ynsfran quoted in Zook, The Conduct of the Chaco War, 13. 41. Arditi, Politics on the Edge of Liberalism, 43. 42. Knight, “Populism and Neo-­Populism in Latin America,” 223, 225. Knight goes into great detail over the larger debate on how scholars have approached the term “populism” especially in the Latin American case. Also see Weyland, “Clarifying a Contested Concept,” esp. 19. Another, but by no means the only, similar contention (though in Spanish literature) surrounding the word “populism” is found in Leal, Populismo y Revolución, 9. 43. Indeed a reform or modernization project has been described in scholarship as a force that awakens the masses. Liberalism, progressivism, and nationalism can work independently or in concert to give rise to populist movements that seek a liberation of power from elite actors. Constructed nationalism, for instance, as articulated by scholars such as Benedict Anderson, see the growth of print culture, homogenization of language, and the like as the very tools that the masses use to seize power. Eric Hobsbawm has articulated a similar path of power, whereby the subaltern benefits from modernization and takes power. The ideologies of nationalism, which took various paths to energize people around ideas of ethnicity, economic viability, language, and culture, all coalesced under the banner of rights in constitutional states. The result was that governments reached directly for the people within their territories and expanded their footprints to ever broader groups. That necessitated further changes, such as literacy, or mass education, which augmented the push-­back against the state. See Hobsbawm, The Age of Empire, 143–­49. 44. Peres Cajías, “La comunidad imaginada del mar perdido,” 165–­80. 45. Conniff, Populism in Latin America, 1, 48–­49. On the Brazilian case, also see Leal, Populismo y Revolución, 25, 29; the latter page speaks about the centralization process that occurred in Brazil, which serves as yet another corollary to Bolivia, where the military took over from the civilian populists at several junctures in its history. 46. Ernesto Laclau, “Populism: What’s in a Name?,” in Panizza, Populism and the Mirror of Democracy, 33, 44. Populism, Laclau claims, “does not define the actual Notes to Pages 9–10  177

politics of these organizations”—­trade unions, the army, revolutionary movement, et cetera—­but is a “way of articulating their themes.” 47. Di Tella cited by Benjamin Arditi, “Populism as in Internal Periphery of Democratic Politics,” in Panizza, Populism and the Mirror of Democracy, 72. Van Niekerk supports this viewpoint: “Populism does not come into being through the absence of the middle classes. Rather it develops in those countries where the middle classes as a group are too weak and heterogenous properly to assert their political influence.” Simply put, the middle class in Latin America was unable to “fulfil a historical role as the carrier of the bourgeois revolution” (Populism and Political Development in Latin America, 26). 48. Arditi, “Populism as in Internal Periphery of Democratic Politics,” 77. Arditi claims that “populism can thrive in a democratic setting” and “emerges from within democratic politics,” but it can “morph all too easily into authoritarianism.” This helps explains the constant shift to military rule, with perhaps the last best example being Gen. Hugo Banzer. 49. Albro, “The Culture of Democracy and Bolivia’s Indigenous Movements,” 387. 50. Cited in Albro, “The Culture of Democracy and Bolivia’s Indigenous Movements,” 390. 51. Zulawski, “Hygiene and ‘the Indian Problem,’” 112. Zulawski’s larger study considers the ideas of ethnicity and race in the first half of the twentieth century and argues that in Bolivia “racial terminology and identification could be surprisingly fluid and it changed over time” (Unequal Cures, 11). 52. Knight, “Populism and Neo-­Populism in Latin America,” 227. 53. Mitchell, The Legacy of Populism in Bolivia, vii, 11–­12. 54. Conniff, Populism in Latin America, 4–­5. 55. Drake, Socialism and Populism in Chile, 3, 4, 7–­8. 56. Mitchell, The Legacy of Populism in Bolivia, 12, argues that prior to the 1930s, voting eligibility was limited to “roughly 20 percent of the population that was literate,” which means only about 3 or 4 percent of all Bolivians voted. A tiny group of mine owners, landowners, lawyers, and merchants held political and economic power. He is completely correct, but the trend toward revamping this system became part of political rhetoric much earlier than the 1930s. Populists—­Bautista Saavedra, for instance, and Daniel Salamanca—­advocated for a larger suffrage and thus pandered to their base of support in a way that would guarantee voter allegiance. Of course, the other main impediment to making such rhetoric a reality was the lack of integration throughout the country. But, again, politicians spoke of ways to improve the transportation and communication system much earlier than the 1930s; it was during the second half of the 1930s, in the aftermath of the Chaco War, that many of these goals came to fruition.

178 Notes to Pages 10–13

57. Alexander, A History of Organized Labor in Bolivia, 9. Alexander observes that Saavedra occasionally called himself a socialist and during his rule in the early 1920s “enacted some of the country’s early labor and social legislation,” despite his part in the Uncia Massacre of 1922, when troops fired on demonstrators. Alexander also sees that Hernando Siles sought to organize a “Nationalist Party” “to win support among the country’s workers, with some success.” This is the exactly the sort of populist politics that flourished and helped propel the country into the Chaco War and thereafter into a top-­down military-­sponsored modernization program. 58. Sábato, Ciudadanía Política y Formación de las Naciones, 302–­3. 59. Sábato, Ciudadanía Política y Formación de las Naciones, 314. 60. El Comercio cited in Vidaurre Retamoso, El Presidente Daza, 148. 61. Vidaurre Retamoso, El Presidente Daza, 174. 62. Trigo, Las Constituciones de Bolivia, 102. 63. “Bolivia,” El Heraldo, January 13, 1885, 2. 64. Cohn, “A Comparative Analysis of European Immigrant Streams to the United States during the Early Mass Migration,” 64. 65. “Inmigración,” La Industria, October 20, 1885, 2. 66. Severo F. Alonso, “Colonización,” La Industria, September 7, 1886, 2. 67. “Un Proyecto Importante,” El Heraldo, August 21, 1886, 3. 68. José M. Gutiérrez, “La empresa del Oriente,” La Industria, January 15, 1886, 2. 69. Neufeld, The Blood Contingent, 1. 70. Gonzalez Groba, “Planting Civilization in the Wilderness,” 59, 70. 71. Thomas, “Latin American Views of United States Politics in the Nineteenth Century,” 358, 363. 72. See “Una carta de Italia,” El Heraldo, April 10, 1885, 2. 73. The article, though, seemed to ignore the powerful forces from below that pushed the unification of Italy, namely, how ignoring the irony of how the elitist Chancellor Cavour failed to control the revolutionary firebrand Garibaldi would foreshadow the Bolivian case of failing to manage change from above, especially after the Chaco War. During the fascist period, of course, both Cavour and Garibaldi were heralded as heroes, alongside Mazzini. Cavour was a shrewd politician, and while a lot of popular scholarship saw him supporting Garibaldi, the reality was likely that “Cavour naturally opposed the expedition” (Smith, “Cavour’s Attitude to Garibaldi’s Expedition to Sicily,” 360–­61). 74. For the Italian case, this sense of being a part of modern civilization stood in contrast to seeking change as part of unruly or “revolutionary passions.” See Romani, “Reluctant Revolutionaries,” 73. 75. Thomas, “Latin American Views of United States Politics in the Nineteenth Century,” 375, 378. 76. “El Estado y la instrucción,” El Diario, November 17, 1907, 3. Notes to Pages 13–17  179

77. “La primera educación,” El Diario, February 14, 1908, 1. 78. “Telegrama de felicitación,” El Imparcial, November 6, 1895, 2. 79. “La Paz con Chile: Cesión de territorios,” El Imparcial, August 1, 1895, 2. 80. A great variety of press articles lament the loss of the Pacific; one called the actions of the government criminal. Articles continued along this line of thought, including during 1904 when negotiations with Chile happened again. An article from 1904 argued, “We are now stuck enclosed in the Andes.” “La cuestión con Chile,” El Diario, August 1, 1904, 2. 81. Ricardo Cortez, “Traidores a la Patria,” El Imparcial, November 6, 1895, 2. 82. Kuenzli, “Acting Inca,” 251, 247–­48, 252. 83. Uriarte, Educación y Sociedad, 32. 84. “La Instrucción,” La Voz del Pueblo, December 22, 1913, 1. 85. Quoted in Kuenzli, “Acting Inca,” 267. 86. Choque Canqui and Quisbert Quispe, Educación indigenal en Bolivia, 58. 87. Carrillo, Ensayo sobre la Creación de la Pedagogía Nacional, 53, 55. 88. Choque Canqui and Quisbert Quispe, Educación indigenal en Bolivia, 60. 89. Bautista Saavedra cited in Claure, Las Escuelas Indigenales, 41. Claure understands the entire educational process by the leaders as something fictitious. They “pretended” to civilize and acculturate through the means of education “for the resuscitation of the national life” as an instrumental part of their “progress” (46). Yet, that said, Claure does see the process of education reform and the inclusion of the Indigenous as part of the Liberal period and progressing further in the wake of the Chaco War. 90. Saavedra quoted in Kuenzli, “Acting Inca,” 261. 91. Saavedra, El ayllu, 27, 100, 201. 92. Valdez Salguerio, La Nacion Boliviana y Franz Tamayo, 12–­13. 93. Quoted in Williams, “A Theory of National Education,” 38. 94. “The Development of German Education,” 281. 95. Earlier in his career Saavedra wrote about the Indigenous ayllu, saying that it “germinates first as a nuclear family, and then takes other wider, extensive and economic forms of social coexistence.” Moreover, he argued that the Spanish legislation “maintained this precolombian communism” and that the modern transformation of the Aymara people fit within “all of the characteristics of the laws of sociology” and because of a “division of labor” was comparable to communism (El ayllu, 100, 201). 96. James H. Billington discusses the power of the general strike and collective labor activism in shaping modern revolutionary movements: the “great hope was to build towards a ‘general strike’—­a collective act of resistance by a united working class that might lead to the overthrow of both the economic and political dominance of the bourgeoisie” (Fire in the Minds of Men, 421). As we will see later, connections

180 Notes to Pages 17–22

between the Bolivian experience and the French Revolution, which gave birth to the concept of a strike, were real. 97. Robert Jervis, “Conclusion: Interaction and International History,” in Krüger and Schroeder, The Transformation of European Politics, 156. 98. Mitchell, The Legacy of Populism in Bolivia, 15: “Many potentially discontented peasants who had fought in the Chaco settled in the cities rather than returning to the land.” He goes on to argue that “some peasants’ links with national politics were growing, but they were still fragile, and no mass peasant organization had been founded.” 99. Leal, Populismo y Revolución, 30. Here Leal uses this terminology to describe Brazilian populism, but the larger events—­demographic change—­pertain to Bolivia as well in the period under examination. Similarly Leal notes that massive external immigration to Argentina ended in 1914 but that during the 1930s it was internal immigration—­rural to urban—­that led to dramatic political changes (35). 100. Radu and Tismaneanu, Latin American Revolutionaries, 3–­4. 101. Young Bolivians who read Mussolini or lived in Italy during the 1920s were influential in the postwar years, such as Dionosio Foianini, one of Busch’s peers. Foianini studied pharmacy in Italy in the early 1920s, and when he acted as chairman of the state petroleum deposits board he argued a case for the nationalization of Standard Oil in good autarkic, statist fashion. In a similar way, recent scholarship has suggested that in the case of Albania in the late 1930s, where no fascist party existed before Mussolini’s annexation of the country, the “chief ideological pull towards fascism  .  .  . was precisely its promise of using state power to ‘produce’ rapidly a modern, culturally homogenized, and hierarchically organized national body. . . . In other words, in the road to modernity, fascism seemed to offer a fast-­track” (Pula, “Becoming Citizens of Empire,” 573). 102. Lora, Las Masas han Superado al Nacionalism, 34. Also see Wagner, “Reformism in the Bolivian Armed Forces,” 7. 103. See Lora, Las Masas han Superado al Nacionalism, 36. 104. Fest, Hitler, 73, 125, 147. This immense and outstanding biography of Hitler accentuates the role that socialists in Vienna—­most especially “the democratic demagogues” like Viennese mayor Karl Lueger of the Christlichsoziale Partei, or Christian Socialists—­had played in the formation of Hitler’s leadership skills. Hitler learned from all sorts of groups, including his opponents, and had formed an incredible opinion of the organizational skills of Marxists and of Lueger’s party. Fest says, “Hitler had not forgotten the lessons he had learned in Vienna from Karl Lueger. Lueger, as Hitler wrote, had mobilized the ‘middle class with destruction, and thereby assured himself a following that was difficult to shake, whose spirit of sacrifice was as great as its fighting power’” (147).

Notes to Pages 23–25  181

1. The Road to the Chaco 1. “Automóvil a Oruro,” El Diario, October 6, 1906, 4. See also how La Paz changed rapidly after 1899 in Sanjines, Mestizaje Upside-­Down, 32. During the war the weekly La Semana Grafica featured a story on how in Oruro they were “constructing a modern city,” which included plans for spacious and good housing for the workers there. See “Construyamos la Cuidad Moderna,” La Semana Grafica, February 11, 1933, 5. 2. “Telégrafos,” El Diario, December 17, 1907, 2. 3. “Ferrocarriles,” El Diario, January 15, 1908, 1. 4. Klein, Parties and Political Change in Bolivia, xii. “Not only did the Liberal party rule for so long a period undisturbed by any organized opposition, but the nation itself did not experience a single revolutionary attempt at overthrowing the government from 1899 to 1920, a record never equaled before or since!” (39). 5. Klein, Parties and Political Change in Bolivia, 18. 6. This was even, or especially, the case in Santa Cruz. See, for more, Peña Hasbún, La permanente construcción de lo cruceño, 13. Regarding the división of Santa Cruz in 1842 with the Department of Beni and the subsequent economic motives for development and migration, see 43–­44. 7. Rojas, El Doctor Montes y la Política Liberal, 5, 7, 21, 39. 8. “Campo Política: Nuestro deber,” El Diario, April 30, 1914, 1. 9. Foreign Relations of the United States (frus), 1920, 372. 10. frus, 1920, 373–­74, 375. 11. For more, see Sater, Andean Tragedy. Additionally, see Wilson, The United States, Chile and Peru in the Tacna and Arica Plebiscite. A recent survey of the battle between Chile and Peru is explained in Niebuhr, “Economic Conquest of the Pacific.” 12. frus, 1920, 379, 383, 281. Maginnis telegrammed, “Majority of 47 Republicans today voted solid electing Saavedra President of the Republic; minority [of ] 33 Republicans, 1 Radical, 2 Liberals out of convention.” Importantly, he also said labor organizations sent demands to the convention and when they were not received the railway employees and workers at electric-­light plants, the telephone company, and tramways voted to strike, but the army prevented the electric-­plant light workers from striking. This way of controlling the crowd and catering to groups would be a hallmark of successive Bolivian governments. Later, during his presidency, Saavedra made strikes legal but also put down strikes using force. 13. Cited in Young, “Purging the Forces of Darkness,” 511. 14. David Kaiser cited by Levy, “Domestic Politics and War,” 655–­56. 15. Klein, review of David Zook, 215. 16. Bolivian leaders like Salamanca might have thought that the unification of the country—­or at least the voting part of it—­against a common enemy like Paraguay 182 Notes to Pages 27–33

would serve as a bonding agent for Bolivian society, but such unity, according to the sociologist Lewis Coser, “tends to remain on the level of temporary association when it is limited to instrumental ends and temporary, limited purposes” (The Functions of Social Conflict, 145–­46). 17. One of the arguments for the German case include the idea that Germany’s Weltmachtpolitik was inspired by the powerful industrial and commercial interests, which “out of lust for overseas markets and profits,” forced the government’s hand (Maehl, “Bebel’s Fight against the ‘Schlachtflotte,’” 209). 18. This shift saw an exchange of wealth between certain individuals, but the goals of each group were naturally rather consistent: to maximize profits. A critique of modern capitalism insists in fact that the “inevitable consequence of the pursuit of profit, through maximizing efficiency and the size of the market, has been the concentration of economic power in the hands of the elites that control the economic process.” While this assumption is not free of problems, it does nicely describe the situation in Bolivia, especially during the shift from silver to tin mining. The conservatives—­tied to Sucre and the silver industry—­simply failed to adapt as the La Paz–­based mining magnates who fought for political change as a parallel to their expanding economic interests. For more, see Fotopoulos, Towards an Inclusive Democracy, 68. 19. Interestingly, a port was considered despite the fact that few Bolivians had lived along the coast. Cities and guano-­mining interests employed Chileans and attracted Chilean and foreign capital; “almost no Bolivians” lived there (Fifer, Bolivia, 65). 20. Saavedra, La cuestión fronteriza con el Paraguay, 1. 21. Koenig cited in Céspedes, El Dictador Suicida, 28. 22. Gallego, Los Orígenes del Reformismo Military en América Latina, 14. 23. Saavedra, La cuestión fronteriza con el Paraguay, 10. 24. Saavedra cited in Los Orígenes de la Guerra del Chaco, 13. 25. Dunkerley, “The Politics of the Bolivian Army,” 229, says this was especially problematic for Salamanca’s government, but party infighting in fact plagued any government’s ability to make lasting policy. 26. Saavedra, La cuestión fronteriza con el Paraguay, 10. 27. Katzenstein, “Domestic and International Forces and Strategies of Foreign Economic Policy,” 588. 28. Torp, Die Herausforderung der Globalisierung. In this, Torp argues that Germany’s basic integration into international trade instigated internal conflicts and hindered the German government’s ability to act freely in solving basic problems. 29. Regarding the truly globalized nature of the world prior to World War I, see Ferguson, “Sinking Globalization.” 30. Again, despite a number of contentions about the term “populism,” I want to emphasize that populism is a political style, which “characteristically” involves a

Notes to Pages 33–36  183

“proclaimed rapport with ‘the people’” (Knight, “Populism and Neo-­Populism in Latin America,” 223). 31. Knudson, Bolivia, 3. Simon Patiño owned an interest in El Diario and Mauricio Hochschild controlled Ultima Hora. Knudson believes that if they did not think newspapers had value, they would not have bothered to own interests in newspapers, and I think he is right. With their money they could easily control the upper echelon of the Bolivian government without pandering to the small but expanding reading public. 32. Knudson, Bolivia, 9. 33. See, for example, “El Partido Liberal no se opone a la guerra,” El Oriente, September 3, 1932, 2. 34. Cited in Gotkowitz, A Revolution for Our Rights, 50. 35. See Carlos A. Forment, “La sociedad civil en el Peru del siglo XIX: Democrática o disciplinarían,” in Sábato, Ciudadanía Política y Formación de las Naciones, 214. 36. Ramos Flores, “La solemne inauguración del estadio Hernando Siles,” 28–­29. Soccer of course continued to serve as a form of public entertainment, including during the war; see “El domingo se realizara un match interlocal de futbol,” La Razón, June 27, 1934, 9. 37. Ramos Flores, “La solemne inauguración del estadio Hernando Siles,” 30. 38. L’Angevin, “Los inicios de la radio en Bolivia y la Guerra del Chaco,” 7, 5–­6, 7, 8. 39. L’Angevin, “Los inicios de la radio en Bolivia y la Guerra del Chaco,” 11–­12. 40. Drake, Socialism and Populism in Chile, 51. 41. Cited in Céspedes, El Dictador Suicida, 51. 42. Cited in Contreras, “Debt, Taxes, and War,” 278. 43. Cited in Céspedes, El Dictador Suicida, 44. 44. Alcides Arguedas Diaries, May 15, 1929, loc. 45. One of the economic arguments about Bolivia during this period was that because tin mining was so ubiquitous in the country and provided such a large share of the global market, the large mining operations had in fact become a “superstate.” For example, see Bedregal, El Desarrollo de la Minería en Bolivia, 11. 46. Lorini, El movimiento socialista “embrionario” en Bolivia, 63. 47. A good summary of these statistics and more is in Gallo, “The Autonomy of Weak States,” 645. 48. Martin, South America from a Surgeon’s Point of View, 213–­14. 49. A good overview of medical developments in Bolivia, Historia de la Medicina en Bolivia, was completed by Juan Manuel Balcazar, who was a noted Bolivian doctor and government official and participant at the Buenos Aires Peace Conference. A recent secondary source covers some of the issues that Balcazar noted: Zulawski, Unequal Cures. 50. Martin, South America from a Surgeon’s Point of View, 227–­29. 184 Notes to Pages 36–42

51. John J. Pershing Papers, J. Cottrell, cablegram, December 19, 1924, Box 336, loc. 52. Cottrell was not without controversy during his tenure in Bolivia. When his wife filed for divorce, claiming that his behavior had become “dictatorial,” she cited incidents of abuse in La Paz at the Legation as evidence. He had, according to her, developed an “extreme ego.” See “Says Envoy Is Too Egoistic,” New York Times, June 30, 1928, 11. Also see “Cottrell Resigns as Envoy to Bolivia,” New York Times, February 26, 1928, 6. Harding’s overall policy toward Latin America rejected Wilsonian interventionism; the mood Harding set was more hands-­off, and an uninformed political appointee like Cottrell was the perfect fit as he decried formal government intervention yet could not understand business connections that would grow between New York and La Paz over the decade. Cottrell signed his telegram about Pershing’s visit on December 19, 1924, “Wishing you a fine trip to ‘Inca Land,’ I am cordially yours.” See John J. Pershing Papers, Cottrell, cablegram, December 19, 1924, loc. 53. James, “News and Notes,” 247–­48. 54. James, “The Controversy over Tacna and Arica.” The League of Nations recorded the complaints lodged by the Bolivian representatives: “Letters dated June 13 and July 29, 1921, from Delegations of Bolivia and Chile, regarding inclusion of question of, on Agenda of Assembly 1921,” August 19, 2018, http://​biblio​-archive​.unog​.ch​ /Dateien​/CouncilMSD​/C​-354​-M​-234​-1921​_BI​.pdf. 55. “British Settles in Bolivia: A New Cotton-­Growing Colony,” Guardian, September 5, 1926, 14. 56. 1929 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Guerra y Colonización, telégrafo al Señor Ministro, April 27, 1929, pg-­6653, Archivo Nacional de Bolivia (anb), Sucre, Bolivia. 57. Fifer, Bolivia, 202–­4. 58. Bryant, Alfalfa Bill Murray, 156. Saavedra also sponsored the establishment of new forts in the Chaco as a show of force of a Paraguayan encroachment. See Moscoso, Recuerdos de la Guerra del Chaco, 28. 59. Cited in Fifer, Bolivia, 198–­99. 60. “Bolivia Colony Chief Returns,” Los Angeles Times, July 12, 1925, 9. 61. Bryant, Alfalfa Bill Murray, 160. 62. 1929 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Guerra y Colonización, telégrafo al S.E. el señor Presidente de la República, March 11, 1930, pg-­6653, anb. 63. Bryant, Alfalfa Bill Murray, 169. 64. 1929 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Guerra y Colonización, telégrafo al S.E. el señor Presidente de la República, February 26, 1930, pg-­6653, anb. 65. Romecin, “Agricultural Adaptation in Bolivia,” 248, 249, 252. 66. 1929 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Guerra y Colonización, telégrafo al S.E. el señor Presidente de la República, March 10, 1930, pg-­6653, anb.

Notes to Pages 43–47  185

67. Romecin, “Agricultural Adaptation in Bolivia,” 253. 68. Gallego, “La postguerra del Chaco en Bolivia,” 32. 69. Cited in Hylton et al., Ya es otro tiempo el presente, 160–­61. 70. Hylton et al., Ya es otro tiempo el presente, 162–­163, 167. 71. Céspedes, El Dictador Suicida, 71. 72. See John J. Pershing Papers, speech of President Saavedra in Honor of General Pershing, December 31, 1924; also reply of General Pershing, letter, December 31, 1924, loc. 73. Carrillo, Ensayo sobre la Creación de la Pedagogía Nacional, 19. 74. John J. Pershing Papers, Saavedra speech, December 31, 1924, loc. 75. See, for example, “El Tratado de 1904 con Chile, es nulo,” La Voz del Sur, November 3, 1925, 3; “El nuevo Enviado Extraordinario y Ministro Plenipotenciario de Bolivia,” La Voz del Sur, November 25, 1925, 4. 76. Céspedes, El Dictador Suicida, 77. 77. Bieber, “La política militar alemana en Bolivia,” 88. 78. Aramayo, “The Intellectual Origins of the Modern Bolivian Political System,” 88. 79. Stephan Feuchtwang, “Ritual and Memory,” in Radstone and Schwartz, Memory, 298. This idea is noted in terms of young men in the Yugoslav People’s Army and how that institution framed their lives in new ways; see Tanja Petrović, “Portraits of Yugoslav Army Soldiers: Between Partisan and Pop-­Culture Imagery,” in Jakisa and Gilic, Partisans in Yugoslavia, 140. 80. Aramayo, “The Intellectual Origins of the Modern Bolivian Political System,” 85. 81. It has been well documented how important students were for the transformation of China in the twentieth century; see Michael Gasster, “The Rise of Chinese Communism,” in Bertsch and Ganschow, Comparative Communism, 103. 82. Céspedes, El Dictador Suicida, 83. 83. “Bolivia and Paraguay,” Times (London), December 13, 1928, 14. 84. Seidel, “American Reformers Abroad,” 536. 85. “In 1913 British investments in this region were $531.5 million; American investments in the same area were $72 million. By 1929, British investments had increased by 13.6 percent while American investments had increased by 1241 percent, to exceed the British figure by over $360 million” (Seidel, “American Reformers Abroad,” 526). 86. Albert, Review of Paul W. Drake, 193. 87. Seidel, “American Reformers Abroad,” 524. 88. Cited in Contreras, “Debt, Taxes, and War,” 275. 89. Contreras, “Debt, Taxes, and War,” 272. 90. A nice treatment of U.S. economic activity during the 1920s, a period traditionally considered isolationist, helps us understand the profound flurry of activity by U.S. bankers and the subsequent foundation of a globally dominant U.S. economics after World War II: Rosenberg, Financial Missionaries to the World. 186 Notes to Pages 48–52

91. Cited in Seidel, “American Reformers Abroad,” 539. 92. Law Number 632, which dissolved the Banco de la Nación Boliviana (in existence as a central bank of sorts since 1911) and created the Banco Central de Bolivia. Siles also managed to pass the entire Kemmerer reform package. See Contreras, “Debt, Taxes, and War,” 276; Seidel, “American Reformers Abroad,” 522. 93. “Loan of $30,000,000 to Bolivia Proposed,” New York Times, August 16, 1927, 34. 94. “Bolivia Returns to Gold Standard,” New York Times, August 26, 1928, 43. 95. “J. T. Byrne at La Paz,” New York Times, September 12, 1928, 50. 96. Céspedes, El Dictador Suicida, 86. The Bolivian census of 1900 reports that a number of people from the Department of Tarija fled to Argentina in search of work. This was the fault of a “lack of capital, lines of communication and industry in the country,” which were “obstacles to [internal] immigration” (Bolivia, Censo general de la población de la República de Bolivia según el empadronamiento de 1o. de septiembre de 1900, 76). 97. Programa de Gobierno Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario, xxv. Along with the guns came expert assistance. During the war Lieutenant Colonel Briggs from Great Britain worked with the Bolivian technicians at the front to assist with the guns from Vickers. See La Semana Grafica, December 10, 1932. 98. 1929 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Guerra y Colonización, ofrece a S.E. el señor doctor Hernando Siles, March 2, 1929, pg-­6653, anb. Röhm and Kundt did not get along well, and during the 1930 coup that ousted Siles, Röhm also sought refuge in the embassy. Hitler reportedly called him in September 1930 and asked him to return to Germany. For more of the relationship between Kundt and Röhm, see Hancock, “Ernst Röhm versus General Hans Kundt in Bolivia.” The German mission reportedly followed on the heels of a bad experience with the French mission, led by General Sever; these men were “brilliant mathematicians and geographers,” but the education of the troops had remained “very primitive” and the army continued to serve as a tool for quelling domestic unrest (Moscoso, Recuerdos de la Guerra del Chaco, 354). Prior to obtaining Kundt, the Bolivian state, between 1901 and 1903, contracted services from several foreigners, including two Germans, one Argentine, one Frenchman, and two British men, as contractors. In 1905 Bolivia made an agreement for Jacque Sever and four French captains to serve on an official military mission. Only four years later Liberal president Eliodoro Villazon sent Luis Salinas Vega to serve as the minister to Germany and Italy; it was Vega who met with and contracted Kundt in 1910. See Brockmann, El general y sus presidentes, 34–­36. 99. 1929 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Guerra y Colonización, excmo. Señor doctor Hernando Siles, March, 13 1929, pg-­6653, anb. 100. Contreras, “Debt, Taxes, and War,” 274. Contreras elaborates on the same page about the charges of corruption, to include notes from the U.S. mission in La Paz.

Notes to Pages 53–54  187

101. In 1927 domestic unrest reemerged and in addition to using the army as a tool it turned to a war of words; leading newspapers printed articles that classified the Indigenous rebels as “criminals.” The Indigenous who rebelled in Chayanta that year declared that four basic elements were guiding their cause: to reclaim their land, establish a program for literacy, create political alliances, and obtain direct political representation. See Hylton et al., Ya es otro tiempo el presente, 137, 141. The minister of interior under President Siles wrote in the newspaper La Razon, “[The] rebellion of the indigenous across the entire republic is currently in a very serious phase. In order to suffocate this rebellion it is necessary to send the armed forces and kill the Indians” (cited in Reinaga, Manifestó del Partido Indio de Bolivia, 43). 102. 1929 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Guerra y Colonización, Los sucesos últimos con el Paraguay—­Importante reportaje al señor Ministro de Guerra, undated, pg-­6653, anb. 103. Alcides Arguedas Diaries, letter to Tomas Manuel Elio, January 3, 1920, loc. He was a staunch proponent of the League of Nations and represented Bolivia during its creation. His opinions of the League and the possibility for diplomacy stood in contrast to most of the emotional appeals in newspapers and among politicians. 104. There was a decided mood among Bolivians that the United States under Woodrow Wilson and his creation—­the League of Nations—­was the answer for weak states such as Bolivia to attain justice against stronger neighbors. The world was “overdue” for Wilson and his League of Nations, which was an “undeniable new force” representing the triumph of justice (Bustamante, Bolivia, 61). Yet such a policy meant little to a crowd of people demanding answers from leaders and agitating for change. 105. Bruno Cabanes has recently argued that the Great War in Europe “fostered a deep and long-­term pacifist feeling among a substantial population,” which was broadened by a “transnationalization of humanitarianism.” Furthermore, international organizations such as the League of Nations employed experts who held a basic premise that the rights of peoples had suffered setbacks with the recent war and that vulnerable populations needed protections (The Great War and the Origins of Humanitarianism, 1, 5, 7). 106. During the Tacna-­Arica Plebiscite Bolivian participation fell apart when the Bolivian government declared that any negotiations would have to include the United States and Peru, which the U.S. ambassador understood as the Bolivians’ unwillingness to accept the overall arbitration project. See Wilson, The United States, Chile, and Peru in the Tacna and Arica Plebiscite, 240. 107. Farcau, The Chaco War, 22, 18, 11. 108. Cited in Farcau, The Chaco War, 13. 109. Francadora, El Dilema de Bolivia, 56–­57, emphasis mine. 110. “Martial Law in Bolivia,” Times (London), July 22, 1932, 13. 188 Notes to Pages 54–57

111. “South American Unrest,” Times (London), July 20, 1932, 11. In early August, a correspondent in La Paz sent the Times an article that declared, “Public opinion fully supports the Government in its contention that arms must be the deciding factor to restore Bolivian sovereignty in what is claimed as Bolivian territory.” See “Bolivian Reply to Neutral Offers,” Times (London), August 3, 1932, 10. 2. War and a Stronger State 1. Neufeld, The Blood Contingent, 2. 2. Loveman, For la Patria, xix. 3. Aramayo, “The Intellectual Origins of the Modern Bolivian Political System,” 83. 4. See, for example, Krebs, “A School for the Nation,” 124. Krebs states that the “military demands entry into the heart of scholarly analyses—­not as an actor but as an institution.” It was the deep conscription during the war that exposed thousands of Bolivian men, rural and urban, indigenous and mestizo, middle class and poor, to ideas of the state. The wartime experience falls in line with scholarship that sees the military in nation-­building as an “important, if not a central” factor in the past hundred years. See Koonings and Kruijt’s introduction to Political Armies, 1. 5. See “Registro” in Museo Histórico Militar’s “Héroes de la Guerra del Chaco,” Santa Cruz. This listing correlates with information in the Paraguayan Ministry of Defense archives on those Bolivians taken prisoner. After the men surrendered, Ministry workers filled out identity information: name, birthplace, birthdate; names of parents; status; date of capture; height; eye color, skin color; characteristics of nose, hair, mouth, beard, and ears. They also asked the prisoners their aptitudes in reading, writing, the ability to drive a car, and ride a horse and to state their profession. Dozens of these detailed cards exist in the archive, and a general registry lists over a thousand prisoners with much the same information (except for physical characteristics). The diversity in profession and ability to read, write, drive, and ride a horse shows that the Bolivian prisoners came from all sectors of society. See folder “Prisioneros Bolivianos Guerra de Chaco,” Ministerio de Defensa, Instituto de Historia y Museo Militar del Ministerio de Defensa Nacional, Asunción, Paraguay (ihm mdn). 6. La Semana Grafica, October 7, 1933, 1. 7. Sarmiento, Memorias de un soldado de la Guerra del Chaco, 247. 8. Azurduy, Busch, 111. An article in La Semana Grafica argued that once the war ended the country had four great challenges: “a.) attention to the handicapped, widowed, and orphaned, b.) the demobilized soldiers who would remain in cities without employment, c.) reduction in expenses and shift of state resources to new areas, and d.) the institutional reorganization of the country.” This was exactly what occurred and what helped push forward first Busch and then the mnr. See Nihil, “La Post-­Guerra,” La Semana Grafica, October 28, 1933, 5.

Notes to Pages 57–60  189

9. An example of the inability of the state to meet wartime needs was the medical situation. While prosperous folks on the battlefield and on the home front managed to find avenues for adequate care, most people lacked an acceptable standard of care during the war years. See Zulawski, Unequal Cures, 53. 10. The 1860 census, which was completed just as the Civil War began, tallied just over 31 million people, including slaves. The total free population was 27,489,560. See Manson et al., ipums National Historical Geographic Information System. Scholarship has debated the numbers of soldiers and deaths, but one number is that both North and South raised armies totaling more than 3 million men, or about 10 percent of the total. See Vinovskis, “Have Social Historians Lost the Civil War?,” 40. 11. Vinovskis, “Have Social Historians Lost the Civil War?,” 35. He declares that the Civil War “probably affected the lives of most mid-­nineteenth-­century Americans either directly or indirectly.” 12. Pavlaković, “The Controversial Commemoration,” 8. He cites John R. Gillis, Commemorations: The Politics of National Identity as an example. 13. Famous books after the war include Roberto Querejazu Calvo’s Masamaclay: Historia Política, Diplomática y Militar de la Guerra del Chaco (1965), Augusto Céspedes’s Sangre de Mestizo (1936), Amando Silva Lara’s El Infierno Verde, and Augusto Roa Bastos’s Hijo de hombre (1960). 14. For more on the state of the Bolivian army in the War of the Pacific, see Sater, Andean Tragedy, 54, 57. In 1900 the total population in Bolivia was estimated at 1.5 million. Ten percent of the population would mean 150,000 soldiers in uniform. The reality was that only 10,000 men were mobilized for that war. Therefore the number of actual people influenced by fighting in the War of the Pacific was much less than in the Chaco. 15. Sater, Andean Tragedy, 57–­8. 16. Gallego, Los Orígenes del Reformismo Militar en América Latina, 13. 17. frus, 1930, 415. 18. Alcides Arguedas Diaries, June 30, 1930, and July 18, 1930, loc. 19. frus, 1930, Bolivia, 422. 20. Alcides Arguedas Diaries, May 15, 1929, loc. 21. Alcides Arguedas Diaries, May 16, 1929, loc. 22. Alcides Arguedas Diaries, March 7, 1929, loc. Arguedas called the newspaper a “periodiquillo.” 23. “Bolivians Agree on Next President,” New York Times, August 23, 1930, 5. 24. “Bolivians to Seek New Debt Accord,” New York Times, November 22, 1930, 10. This article also mentions how the well-­connected Minister Edward F. Feely had already been negotiating with the Bolivians to find a solution to the financial crisis, largely connected to the drop in tin prices.

190 Notes to Pages 61–65

25. frus, 1930, Bolivia, 429. 26. “Bolivia Lifts Moratorium,” New York Times, November 13, 1931, 9. 27. The government did obtain some foreign loans during the war, but these were in violation of the League of Nations sanctions and unlikely to be in Bolivia’s economic favor. See Dunkerley, “The Politics of the Bolivian Army,” 230. 28. Gallo, “The Autonomy of Weak States,” 647–­48. Gallo notes that because of this devastating foreign debt, the “war with Paraguay was financed by approximately 3.5 million British pounds in loans from the central bank, the National Bank of Bolivia, and Banco Mercantil. In addition, the largest tin mine owners lent the government a total of 1.7 million pounds of which Patiño Mines Inc. contributed 1.4 million. In 1939 total debt amounted to 3,473 million Bolivianos, and the debt service, had it been fully attended, would have represented 47% of the total budget.” R. Ballivian, undersecretary for the Ministry of Foreign Relations, noted that Patiño made a “patriotic donation” in early 1930 in the form of a “valuable gift of accessories” to round out an aircraft squad. See 1929 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Guerra y Colonización, despacho al excmo. Señor Presidente de la República, February 17, 1930, pg-­6653, anb. 29. During the war Indigenous leaders faced arrest by government forces; the Bolivian legation in Montevideo, Uruguay, cabled President Tejada Sorzano in 1935 telling him that there were reports “that communist elements [were] trying to take advantage of the demobilization, especially among the indigenous.” 1935 Correspondencia, Cablegramas Recibidos de Legaciones y Consulados, December 24, 1935, pr1613, anb. Dunkerley, “The Politics of the Bolivian Army,” 210, also produces some interesting statistics regarding unemployment in Oruro, which gave agitators from the Argentine Communist Party opportunities to distribute propaganda; similarly, in Potosí, army trucks were used to move workers, “especially agitators” back to their places of origin. This foreshadows how soldiers were so successful at transforming Bolivia; Patiño’s employees, for example, hailed from peasant backgrounds (35 percent), artisan backgrounds (40 percent), and mining backgrounds (10 percent). This proves how agitation among one group, localized in one area, could easily spread throughout the country. 30. A number of articles on this process emerged in the U.S. press. See, for example, “Bolivians Agree on Next President,” New York Times, August 23, 1930, 5; “Bolivia to Elect New Regime Today,” New York Times, January 4, 1931, 8; and “Bolivian Presidency Won by Salamanca,” New York Times, January 6, 1931, 7. 31. Cited in “Salamanca Takes Office in Bolivia,” New York Times, March 6, 1931, 11. 32. frus, 1930, Bolivia, 424. 33. See, for example, “Los empleados del ramo de comunicaciones protestan por los desmanes del actual gobierno y delcaran ‘que dejarán esta vida llena de miserias,’” El Oriente, April 11, 1931, 3a. Notes to Pages 65–67  191

34. “Bolivia Lauds Regime for Handling Strikes,” New York Times, April 24, 1931, 9. 35. Articles on the Chaco were common enough. See, for instance, “Fuerzas paraguayas invadieron territorio boliviano,” El Oriente, June 20, 1931, 3a. Stories that glorified the military were available as well, such as “El homenaje de Santa Cruz a sus conscriptos,” El Oriente, May 28, 1931, 1. 36. Some examples made it to the foreign press cables; for instance, see “New War Cabinet Formed in Bolivia,” New York Times, October 22, 1932, 5. 37. See, for example, “Bolivia Begins Paraguay War: Attack on Chaco Fort Told to La Paz Populace,” Los Angeles Times, July 20, 1932, 7. 38. As noted in “Chaco Troops Fight; Bolivia Inflamed,” New York Times, July 20, 1932, 9. 39. Cited in Shesko, “Conscript Nation,” 234. 40. La Republica, cited in “Bolivia Papers Demand War,” New York Times, July 23, 1932, 5. 41. “El entusiasmo cívico de Oruro,” El Oriente, June 11, 1932, 3. 42. “Los acontecimientos del Chaco motivan una inucitada y formidable manifestación popular, el martes por la noche,” El Oriente, June 11, 1932, 3. 43. “Se organizó el Batallón de Estudiantes ‘Mayor Gallejas,’” El Oriente, June 11, 1932, 3. 44. La Semana Grafica, December 7, 1932. The caption on the cover reads, “El empuje de la vitalidad kolla abrirá, pese a quien pese, las puertas del Atlántico para la patria boliviana.” 45. This sort of mood is also expressed in Shesko, “Conscript Nation.” See especially chapter 4. 46. Daniel Salamanca cited in Crespo, José Luis Tejada Sorzano, 96. 47. Kundt was unwilling to seek complete mobilization in 1933, to the point that in August of that year he actually disbanded some units to improve morale; that backfired, especially as the battle for Nanawa intensified. See Dunkerley, “The Politics of the Bolivian Army,” 238. 48. Paz Soldán Pol, Guerra del Chaco, 49. 49. Brockmann, El general y sus presidentes, 227. 50. Matthew Hughes has shown definitively how from 1921 until 1932 both countries busily prepared for war but that Paraguay was more effective (“Logistics and the Chaco War,” especially 416). Also see Paz Soldán Pol, Guerra del Chaco, 51. Paz argues that Paraguay was able to “quickly prepare for war.” 51. This was issued to officers from lieutenant to captain by the Ministry of War, entitled “Mapa del Chaco Paraguaya.” In Orden General No. 88 from August 1, 1933, the army command recognized that it was in need of a “precise map of the topography” and “other important information” about the region. On May 6, 1934, Orden General No. 267 reiterated the importance of the maps, denoted who was to be in charge of these maps, and made careful note to “hand over to

192 Notes to Pages 67–69

the command any captured maps from the enemy.” See folder Ordenes Generales, December 21, 1932–­May 9, 1935, ihm mdn. 52. Shesko, “Mobilizing Manpower for War,” 322–­23. 53. Moscoso, Recuerdos de la Guerra del Chaco, 19. The route along Santa Cruz took more than twelve days (154). 54. De Ronde, Paraguay, a Gallant Little Nation, 93–­94, 98. De Ronde writes, “General Kundt attempted in vain over the impassable roads to relieve his beleaguered forces, and his chagrin became dismay when these, facing capture or starvation, commenced to surrender in large numbers to the jubilant Paraguayans. Quantities of supplies, munitions, machine guns, and other material of war were captured simultaneously, enough indeed to relieve the Paraguayans of any further anxiety on that score. Many thousands of prisoners commenced their long march to the river, smiling and apparently happy, reminiscent again of other lands and other wars.” 55. Mitchell, The Legacy of Populism in Bolivia, 13. Of these 250,000 men, 56,000, or one-­fifth, reportedly died in combat. 56. See Murillo, Bolivia, 18. 57. Bayly, The Birth of the Modern World, 172, 182–­183. 58. Hughes, Russia in the Age of Peter the Great, 160. Seasonal labor played a role in Russia, which explained movement to and from the countryside from cities. The instability of the mining industry in the 1920s–­1950s in Bolivia would also explain temporary quarters for workers who might return to villages or move on to other cities practicing some other type of low-­or semiskilled profession. Peasants generally hired themselves out in Russia, as one linen factory director explained: “In the winter they work, but in the summer they go off to their villages to their own work and as a result there is a great stoppage in our enterprise” (170). 59. Bayly, The Birth of the Modern World, 183–­84. 60. As mentioned in the first chapter, telegraph-­called taxi services came to the cities of Oruro and La Paz early in the twentieth century. See “Automóvil a Oruro,” El Diario, October 6, 1906, 4. 61. Malik in Wallace, Bloods, 7–­8, xvi. 62. See, for example, Maxwell, Brotherhood in Combat. 63. Aramayo, “The Intellectual Origins of the Modern Bolivian Political System,” 83–­84. 64. Cited in Shesko, “Mobilizing Manpower for War,” 327. 65. See Carlos Gorges, “La Religión de la Patria,” La Semana Grafica, September 12, 1933, 6. 66. Céspedes, El Dictador Suicida, 134. 67. For more on the medical personnel within the army, see Balcazar, Historia de la Medicina en Bolivia, 573–­84. Notes to Pages 69–73  193

68. Moscoso, Recuerdos de la Guerra del Chaco, 402. Ann Zulawski has found that medical problems were serious. The hospital at Villa Montes, for instance, recorded more cases of illness than wounds from any battlefield (8,731 to 5,231, respectively). She cites one doctor who claimed that “for every ten deaths during the war two were produced by the enemy and the other eight by illness” (Unequal Cures, 61). 69. Sarmiento, Memorias de un soldado de la Guerra del Chaco, 68. Sarmiento claimed that the bodies of dead Bolivian soldiers contaminated the water as they decomposed; with water such a scarce resource in the Chaco, this was particularly damaging to the war effort (71). A Paraguayan news article reported “in just one location” more than “150 cadavers” in various stages of decomposition along with abandoned equipment. This was a recognized problem for the Bolivian forces. See “Centenares de cadáveres Bolivianos abandonados,” La Tribuna, May 8, 1933, 1. 70. Sarmiento, Memorias de un soldado de la Guerra del Chaco, 100. Archival materials in Bolivia for the Chaco War are necessarily incomplete because during the war the various field commanders were in charge of keeping their own records. “Many of those documents were not returned to the military” after the war for centralization, according to Luís Oporto Ordoñez, Historia de archivística boliviana, 173. He also notes that most of the commanders’ books on the experience of the war were written based on those field journals and official military documents that were technically Bolivian army property. 71. See Montenegro, Germán Busch y otras páginas de historia de Bolivia, 150–­51, 152–­53, 236. He says, “For the people, the nation materialized in the Chaco, in the blood that uselessly flowed, in the misery with which the men suffered personal privations only to fight against rifles and bullets.” 72. Dunkerley reproduces a table from the Ministry of War showing that even earlier soldiers came from diverse backgrounds and that only the small number of participants prevented the army from being a tool of nation-­building (“The Politics of the Bolivian Army,” 124). 73. Folder Prisioneros de la Guerra del Chaco (pgc), ihm mdn. 74. Declaration of Félix Reyes, Chief of Staff of Army, July 21, 1933, pgc, ihm mdn,. 75. Memo from June 12, 1933, Estado Mayor General del Ejército, pgc, ihm mdn. 76. “Registro de Beneméritos de la Guerra del Chaco,” Museo Historio Militar “Héroes de la Guerra del Chaco,” Santa Cruz, Bolivia. Also see ihm mdn. 77. See De Munter and Salman, “Extending Political Participation and Citizenship,” 438–­39. 78. Lorini, El movimiento socialista “embrionario” en Bolivia, 67. 79. Shesko, “Mobilizing Manpower for War,” 300–­301. 80. See, for instance, “Las movilizaciones de 1912 y 1928 en el Chaco Boliviano,” El Oriente, June 6, 1931, 1; “Llamamiento a reservistas de 1928 y 1929,” El Oriente, August 11, 1932, 1; “Muchachos voluntarios,” El Oriente, August 25, 1932, 2. This 194 Notes to Pages 73–76

continued throughout the war; see “Se convoca a los conscriptos de la categoría del ano de 1936,” La Razón, November 21, 1934, 8. 81. Shesko, “Mobilizing Manpower for War,” 313, 305. 82. Shesko, “Mobilizing Manpower for War,” 310, 305, 315, 317. 83. Hillman, “The Mining Industry and the State,” 45. Some Chilean miners were brought into Bolivia to fill the gap, but most left soon after arrival. 84. “Aviso Military,” La Union, November 28, 1934, 1. 85. “Llamase al Servicio de las Armas a los Conscriptos de 1936,” La Unión, November 10, 1934, 1. 86. La Unión, December 10, 1934, 1. 87. Much literature exists on this aspect of Germany’s armed forces. On the one hand, while soldiers hailed from the same regions, the Nazis did experiment with using the military as an institution to break down class barriers. “The Wehrmacht, which was to be moulded into a ‘National Socialist people’s army’ in accordance with the will of the rulers, elevated cross-­class comradeship to a general principle in order to realise the ‘Volksgemeinschaft’ in the armed forces” (Römer, “Milieus in the Military,” 129). A much earlier study examined the “tenacity” of the Wehrmacht: “This extraordinary tenacity of the German Army has frequently been attributed to the strong National Socialist political convictions of the German soldiers. It is the main hypothesis of this paper, however, that the unity of the German Army was in fact sustained only to a very slight extent by the National Socialist political convictions of its members, and that more important in the motivation of the determined resistance of the German soldier was the steady satisfaction of certain primary personality demands afforded by the social organization of the army. This basic hypothesis may be elaborated in the following terms: 1.) It appears that a soldier’s ability to resist is a function of the capacity of his immediate primary group (his squad or section) to avoid social disintegration” (Shils and Janowitz, “Cohesion and Disintegration in the Wehrmacht in World War II,” 281). Similarly Omer Bartov has argued that despite the high turnover in “extreme battle situations” on the Eastern Front, the idea of a “primary group” having survived more than a few weeks is not realistic. Yet “larger units and formations, though not constituting ‘primary groups’ in the sense of personal familiarity between the soldiers, did not as a rule disintegrate and showed a remarkable capacity to withstand tremendous casualties and yet remain battle worthy” (“Soldiers, Nazis, and War in the Third Reich,” 49). 88. Kohl et al., From the Mines to the Streets, 44. 89. Sarmiento, Memorias de un soldado de la Guerra del Chaco, 147. Similarly Peruvian elites had questioned the capacity of the Indigenous to fight as they reflected on their loss against Chile in the War of the Pacific. Ricardo Palma argued that Peru’s

Notes to Pages 76–78  195

Indigenous “had no concept of the motherland” and therefore fought poorly against the Chilean invaders (cited in Sater, Andean Tragedy, 299). 90. Hughes, “Logistics and the Chaco War,” 428. 91. Shesko, “Mobilizing Manpower for War,” 305, 307. Dunkerley’s earlier work is in line with this too (“The Politics of the Bolivian Army,” 266). 92. Moscoso, Recuerdos de la Guerra del Chaco, 51–­52. Moscoso explains that the opening of the route from Tarija to Villa Montes dramatically increased the ability of the army to have the supplies that it so desperately needed. 93. Shesko, “Mobilizing Manpower for War,” 319. 94. Romecin, “Agricultural Adaptation in Bolivia,” 253. 95. For more on exploration and rubber exploitation in the Beni, see Fifer, Bolivia; also Van Valen, Indigenous Agency in the Amazon. More broadly, the idea of the Mamore was to have a water route to the Atlantic, but this required consent of the Brazilian authorities. They, though, remained unwilling to let Bolivians pass without paying duties. News articles lauded the potential to export goods from Santa Cruz and Beni to the Atlantic Ocean, in part because the route up the mountain to Cochabamba was “terrible.” The trouble with exporting to the Atlantic was a “lack of [reliable] trade routes.” See “La crisis de Oriente,” El Diario, August 13, 1904, 2. Another article spoke of a road from Montevideo, Uruguay, to Corumba, at the Brazilian-­Bolivian border. See “Puerto Suarez,” El Diario, August 15, 1904, 2. The purpose of the Madera-­Mamore railroad was also to take advantage of trade destined to or through Brazil. See, for example, “El ferrocarril Madera Mamore,” El Diario, November 24, 1909, 2. 96. Fond cr 182 “Conflit du Gran Chaco,” Folder III, 3.2.35 “Note de M. Cramer sur la question des pg Paraguayens du Chaparé,” Archive of International Committee of the Red Cross, Geneva, Switzerland (icrc). 97. Gill, “Creating Citizens, Making Men,” 527. 98. Elizardo Perez quoted in Gill, “Creating Citizens, Making Men,” 530. Gill notes that as the war continued, Bolivia naturally relied more on forced Indian conscripts: “A series of peasant uprisings during the first years of the war unnerved authorities concerned about the public support” (295). R. D. Arze Aguirre includes material on Achacachi, which reads similarly; Achacachi was the site of a Warisata school (Guerra y Conflictos Sociales, 47). 99. Gill, “Creating Citizens, Making Men,” 527, 529. 100. Gill, “Creating Citizens, Making Men,” 531. 101. Cited in Arze Aguirre, Guerra y Conflictos Sociales, 61. Contemporary articles spoke of the Warisata schools as a place where the Indigenous could realize a school based on their “own ideals.” See “Algo que deben conocer los bolivianos,” La Semana Grafica, August 6, 1933, 6.

196 Notes to Pages 78–80

102. Carlos Roy Aramayo suggests that few people believed that traditional parties were sincere in their desire to change Bolivia but were rather just caudillos by another name. The Liberal Party’s embrace of French and North American models of state formation had “descended in caudillismo” (“The Intellectual Origins of the Modern Bolivian Political System,” 81). 103. Arze Aguirre, Guerra y Conflictos Sociales, 44–­45. 104. Cited in Arze Aguirre, Guerra y Conflictos Sociales, 48–­49. 105. Kranjc, “Fight or Flight,” 135–­36. See, for instance, Strachan, “Training, Morale, and Modern War.” 106. Kranjc, “Fight or Flight,” 161. 107. Cited in Mitchell, The Legacy of Populism in Bolivia, 15. 108. Ríos Reinaga, Civiles y Militares en la Revolución Boliviana, 14. 109. Céspedes, El Dictador Suicida, 145. 110. “La guerra será una consagración eminentemente nacional, que utilice las energías de todos,” La Unión, December 18, 1934, 4. 111. Moscoso, Recuerdos de la Guerra del Chaco, 434. 3. Transfor mation of the Home Front 1. Franqui-­Rivera, Soldiers of the Nation, xvi, xxi, 129, 155, 165. The study examines Puerto Rican participation in terms of gender, race, and class to understand the modernizing projects undertaken on the island. Franqui-­Rivera, as does this study, builds on the good work by Florencia Mallon, who Franqui-­Rivera cites as having argued that military, paramilitary, and political mobilization of subaltern subjects “contributes to the depth of the liberal spirit of a country’s polity” (xxi). 2. Cited in Erickson, “What Do We Mean by Great Power or Superpower,” 11. 3. Michael C. C. Adams argues that poems such as Maud were written in part to “drum up support for the war [in Crimea] at the expense of artistic integrity” (“Tennyson’s Crimean War Poetry,” 405). At the time, critics complained in the Edinburgh Review of the “fever of politics” that Tennyson had introduced into his recent poetry (Shannon, “The Critical Reception of Tennyson’s ‘Maud,’” 401). Florence Nightingale spent her time after the Crimean War lobbying the British government to support the professionalization of nursing and medical care for soldiers. One of many examples is her letter to Lady Wantage in 1885, which outlines the work done by trained nurses in the service of the British Empire. She recounts how officers wrote “enthusiastically” of the nurses’ good care and honor. See “FN to Lady Wantage 1885/08,” Florence Nightingale Digitization Project, http://​hgar​-srv3​.bu​.edu​/web​/florence​-nightingale​/detail​?id​=​521069. Secondary literature has also recognized Nightingale’s impressive lobbying efforts that transcended government to include a mobilization of civil society to make

Notes to Pages 80–85  197







significant change, especially her mobilization of middle-­class and upper-­class women into state service. For example, see Osborn, “Florence Nightingale.” 4. Coverage of the Spanish-­American War, the Boer Wars, and other colonial campaigns began to take over an increasingly sensationalized press that seemed bent on using conflict to forge identity and grow nationalism. In the wake of the uss Maine explosion, for instance, the Spanish press was divided on how to respond to the United States. The Globo, it was reported, blamed the “fierce jingoism of certain Spanish papers for provoking similar bellicose utterances in the United States” (“Popular Feeling in Spain,” New York Times, March 1, 1898, 2). Sensationalized reports were common; for example, “Maine Survivors Vindictive,” New York Times, February 22, 1898, 2, said that in the sailors’ minds, there was “no doubt as to the cause of the explosion” and that it would “take a strong force to keep them from hurrying to the front.” For the Boer Wars, coverage began to better mix propaganda with factual messaging. For instance, letters from soldiers were printed in the New York Times and described firsthand what was going on. One soldier wrote, “First in the mind of the Boer is the desire to hide their dead and to lie about their number.” He continued, “With my own eyes, being upon the scene, I saw the putt-­putt gun and the fire of the sharpshooters trained upon our ambulances three times” (“From Boer Battlefields: Letters from Participants in South Africa,” New York Times, January 15, 1900, 3). The blending of opinion with policy was clear in the Times of London: “The Boer Government met the legitimate demands of the foreign population with evasions. It entirely ignored the fact that the foreigners alone had brought wealth into the country” (“The Transvaal,” Times, March 24, 1899, 5). 5. Cited in Taylor, “The Foreign Office and British Propaganda during the First World War,” 897. 6. Laurie, “The Chanting of Crusaders,” 458. Laurie claims that the United States, like the other belligerents, “had [not] yet succeeded in perfecting either civilian or military propaganda organizations after four years of war.” 7. Ginneken, Kurt Baschwitz, 65. 8. Film gained more ground in the propaganda effort in World War II and in the early postwar years, especially as young governments sought to use movies or videos to convince people of the legitimacy of the state. A point of continuity was how the personnel structure of national film offices mirrored the elite-­supported propaganda efforts of the past; that is, the “literary authors, painters, and other artists” participated in postwar cinematography (Tadic, “Yugoslav Propaganda Film,” 3). Newsreels were also of “particular concern to the new regime’s propaganda departments and sections” (7). This use of the news as a tool for propaganda would manifest in Bolivia too, with newspapers carrying most of the burden but radio as a new and useful tool.

198 Notes to Pages 85–86

9. Quoted in Laurie, “The Chanting of Crusaders,” 463. 10. McCormick, With the Russian Army, 70, 75. 11. Sanders, “Wellington House and British Propaganda during the First World War,” 131. The quote continues: “Even in China, Sir James Jordan, ambassador at Peking, advocated the use of the local press in order to reach the vernacular press readers since ‘every Chinaman from the highest to the beggar in rags reads the press.’” 12. The idea of convincing foreign powers grew in intensity during World War I; British Foreign Office personnel understood that with neutral opinion on their side they could dictate the conversation about the war’s results, which they recognized as more important than the causes. See Taylor, “The Foreign Office and British Propaganda during the First World War,” 881. 13. Sanders, “Wellington House and British Propaganda during the First World War,” 139. 14. 1935 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, January 14, 1935, pr-­ 0118, anb. The memo declared that the international propaganda was “essential for the demonstration of the territorial rights” of Bolivia and the government needed to “intensify its propaganda campaign.” 15. Cited in Arze Aguirre, Guerra y Conflictos Sociales, 72. 16. “Cosas Indios,” La Semana Grafica, February 25, 1933, 8. 17. Cited in Arze Aguirre, Guerra y Conflictos Sociales, 85, 87. 18. “Se han producido ayer un conato de revolución comunista en La Paz,” El Hombre Libre, February 13, 1931, 1. 19. Cited in Arze Aguirre, Guerra y Conflictos Sociales, 108–­9. 20. “Sesión del día 3 de febrero de 1936,” Conferencia de Paz Acta N. 28, amre, Dirección de Congresos, Conferencias y Propagandas (dccp) Paz del Chaco 21. 21. The Bolivian press argued that the war effort stagnated as a result of a clear Paraguayan policy of waiting for the change in leadership. Writers for El Diario noted that the idea that Salamanca’s removal would end Bolivia’s interests in the Chaco showed “the ignorance of the Bolivian reality, as it is not only Salamanca’s opposition to the usurpation of the Chaco, but all Bolivia.” See “El Paraguay espera, vanamente, el cambio Presidencial de Bolivia,” La Unión, July 4, 1934, 1. 22. See, for instance, John W. White, “President Ousted by Coup in Bolivia,” New York Times, November 29, 1934, 1. 23. See, for example, Selaya, Documentos y Memorias de la Guerra del Chaco, 17. Other documents, including government reports of espionage and news articles, showed concern that Santa Cruz might defect to Paraguay, in part because the city had no direct and reliable connection with the rest of Bolivia. This lack of connectivity spurred the post-­Chaco government to emphasize infrastructure reform, as that would encourage a true Bolivian presence in more regions of the state. Bridget María Chesterton’s The Chaco War also suggests that Paraguayan leaders were in Notes to Pages 86–89  199

dispute over whether after taking the Chaco they should have gone all the way to Santa Cruz de la Sierra. 24. Selaya, Documentos y Memorias de la Guerra del Chaco, 23. 25. The British Foreign Office recognized that successful propaganda needed military victories; no amount of words, they argued, would alter the harsh reality of the military situation. See Taylor, “The Foreign Office and British Propaganda during the First World War,” 881. Similarly Sir Reginald Brade of the War Office declared, “The really important thing was not the facts, but the way in which they were presented” (883). 26. “El formidable baluarte Boliviano del Kilómetro 7,” La Semana Grafica, January 2, 1933, 8. 27. “Hombres y hechos de la guerra,” La Semana Grafica, January 11, 1933, 4. 28. “Pabón,” La Semana Grafica, December 10, 1932, 1. The present-­day airport in Villa Montes is named in his honor. 29. “Diversas notas de actualidad,” La Semana Grafica, February 18, 1933, 6. A book from late 1934 argued that Bolivia “could not lose the war” and that the “idea of the nation disappears and fades when people relax their guard about national defense.” See “Bolivia no debe perder esta Guerra,” La Unión, November 7, 1934, 2. 30. “Participación de la Mujer en la Vida Social,” La Semana Grafica, April 22, 1933, 2. 31. “Varios señoras colectan fondos en zona Agrícola,” La Razón, November 15, 1934, 3. 32. “Los aborígenes del Chaco” and “Las tribus salvajes del Chaco,” La Semana Grafica, January 14, 1933, 2, 11. 33. “Las armas bolivianos obtuvieron un gran triunfo en Cañada Strongest,” La Razón, May 24, 1934, 6. Similar articles followed, including “El triunfo de Cañada Strongest fue celebrado en toda la República,” La Razón, May 27, 1934, 8. 34. “Los excombatientes italianos y el ejército de Bolivia,” La Razón, May 31, 1934, 7. 35. Salamanca in Crespo, José Luis Tejada Sorzano, 100, 114. 36. “La Sangrienta Ofensiva Paraguaya se Mantiene desde el Sábado—­Nuestra Barrera de Fuego se Mantiene Firme,” La Unión, July 13, 1934, 1. Also see “El espíritu público se preocupa del combate chaquense,” La Unión, July 13, 1934, 1. 37. “Los fugitivos paraguayos denuncian el engaño de sus jefes,” La Unión, July 16, 1934, 2. 38. “Lo cuesta al Paraguay el señuelo de Estigarribia,” La Unión, July 19, 1934, 1. 39. “La población Paraguaya exige la publicidad de sus listas de bajas—­Resumen del desastre guaraní,” La Unión, July 4, 1934, 2. 40. “El comunismo intensifica su campaña disolvente en el ejército de Estigarribia,” La Razón, October 31, 1934, 6. 41. “El maquiavelismo paraguayo renueva sus intrigas pretendiendo soliviantar el regionalismo entre los cruceños,” La Unión, August 11, 1934, 1. Also see Selaya,

200 Notes to Pages 89–93

Documentos y Memorias de la Guerra del Chaco, 17. About Paraguayan propaganda toward separatists in Santa Cruz, see Palmer, “Politics and Modernization,” 70. 42. “Los Prisioneros Cruceños Festejaran Mañana su Día Nacional,” El Diario, May 20, 1934, 1. 43. “La Fiesta de los Cruceños,” El Orden, September 25, 1934, 3. 44. Cited in Palmer, “Politics and Modernization,” 7. 45. See Jorga Abuna, “La rebelión cruceña de 1924,” El Diario, May 20, 1934, 7. About Paraguayan propaganda toward separatists in Santa Cruz, see Palmer, “Politics and Modernization,” 70. 46. “Un prisionero hosco y solitario: El Mayor Laraña,” El Diario, November 5, 1933, 6. 47. “No tiene límites ya la falsedad de los comunicados paraguayos,” La Unión, September 28, 1934, 2. See also “Libertad de los Exp. Cruceños,” La Nación, January 24, 1936, 2. Other Bolivian articles explained to readers how “isolated individuals” might harbor separatist views, but this was not the case overall. See “Santa Cruz y la guerra,” El Oriente, March 23, 1935, 1. The Paraguayan propaganda effort fell under the direct control of the army general command. On May 10, 1935, the supreme command issued revised orders (No. 453) “por razones de mayor servicio” of the propaganda arm of the army. It had clear items under its jurisdiction and served as a complement of Order No. 444, which outlined the organizational structure, including Section 1, which was in control of “preparing propaganda destined for foreign consumption.” See folder “Ordenes Generales,” ihm mdn. 48. See Conferencia de Paz, Sesión del día 12 de febrero de 1936, Acta No. 31, p. 8, amre, dccp Paz del Chaco, 21. 49. “Sensacionales revelaciones de un personaje extranjero,” La Unión, July 6, 1934, 4. 50. “La económica del Paraguay,” La Unión, July 11, 1934, 1. 51. “La bonanza económica de Bolivia le permite sostener la guerra con medios propios,” La Unión, July 16, 1934, 2. 52. “Los paraguayos siguen deletreando la consabida cartilla antitética de su M. de D.,” La Unión, July 5, 1934, 1. 53. “Los Oficiales Bolivianos dicen que esperan acontecimientos—­Mas desertores enemigos pasan a territorio Argentino,” La Tribuna, January 11, 1935, 2. Also see “En La Paz comienza a dares el nombre de algunos desertores,” La Tribuna, February 15, 1933, 2. 54. Moscoso in Crespo, José Luis Tejada Sorzano, 116. 55. Felipe Rivera, deputy for Bilbao Rioja, declared to Salamanca at a 1934 meeting in Tarija, “El coronel Toro se halla resentido por falta de propaganda” (cited in Crespo, José Luis Tejada Sorzano, 120). 56. Cited in “President Visits Bolivians Trenches,” New York Times, April 29, 1934, 24. 57. “Fracaso del Parlamentarismo en Bolivia,” La Unión, July 7, 1934, 1.

Notes to Pages 93–95  201

58. “Hoy se inaugura el museo militar histórico de la Guerra del Chaco,” La Razón, October 28, 1934, 1. 59. “El Ministro de Gobierno explica la razón que tiene el Jefe del Estado para convocar a elecciones,” La Unión, July 31, 1934, 2. Other articles similarly reported on this important event. One noted that, despite Tamayo’s victory, the Liberal Party won control of the Senate; during the war, neither party opposed the conflict. See “Tamayo y Ugarte, Presidente y Vice de la Republica,” La Razón, November 13, 1934, 5. 60. “Gran manifestación patriótica,” La Unión, November 13, 1934, 1. 61. “Construyamos la cuidad moderna,” La Semana Grafica, January 11, 1933, 3. 62. “Se ha inaugurado el servicio de autocarriles a Sucre,” La Razón, November 10, 1934, 7. 63. “Progresos de la Aviación Comercial,” La Semana Grafica, April 28, 1934, 5. 64. For a short summary, see Kraus, “The caa Helps America Prepare for World War II.” 65. “Debe cumplirse la ley del camino Sucre-­Monteagudo-­Lagunillas,” La Unión, July 12, 1934, 2. 66. “El canal navegable de Santa Cruz al rio Paraguay,” La Unión, July 30, 1934, 2. 67. “Del camino carretero Cochabamba-­Vallegrande-­Lagunilla—­Dos rutas,” La Unión, August 20, 1934, 2. 68. L’Angevin, “Los inicios de la radio en Bolivia y la Guerra del Chaco,” 9. 69. Regarding his belief in progress see Crespo, José Luis Tejada Sorzano, 98. 70. L’Angevin, “Los inicios de la radio en Bolivia y la Guerra del Chaco,” 9. 71. 1935 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, May 13, 1935, pr-­ 0118, anb. 72. 1935 Correspondencia de la Presidente de República, November 28, 1935, pg-­7238, anb. This same thing was apparent in Paraguay, according to a memo in the Ministry of Defense. The telegram declared that it “considered it urgent to sent troops” because the “population was without arms” and the nearby “Brazilian authorities were not engaging bandits” in the region. The telegram stated that “two Brazilian cadavers” had been found by the river and in “Brazilian territory two Paraguayans had been assassinated.” See Folder “Muertos Guerra del Chaco,” telegram 1086, Ministerio de Guerra y Marina, December 14, 1936, ihm mdn. The Paraguayan paper El Diario reported a different kind of “banditry” behind the lines in late 1932. When the government bought flour and requested bakeries make cookies for the soldiers at the front, “some bakers” mixed the flour with “other substances,” which compromised the quality of the cookies. The paper used this example to call out “thieves” of all stripes in hopes of fostering patriotism and prevent further troubles. See “Los bandidos de retaguardia,” El Diario, November 7, 1932, 1. 73. August 8, 1935, 1935 Correspondencia Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, pg-­ 7668, anb; “El Turismo Boliviano,” La Semana Grafica, December 24 ,1932, 2. 202 Notes to Pages 95–98

74. “El Turismo, revelador de las bellezas de La Paz,” La Razón, July 22, 1934, 4. 75. Rosquellas to president, August 8, 1935, 1935 Correspondencia de la Presidente de República and 1935 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, pg-­7668, anb. 76. “Turismo,” La Nación, July 24, 1939, 2. As might be expected, tourism would necessarily lead to the construction of roads and reaffirm for citizens the beauty of the country. 77. Hammond was a truly colorful character. In addition to his time in South America, he was a competitor in the 1904 St. Louis Olympic Games and was a renowned polo player. In 1912 he met Tex Rickard, a wealthy businessman from New York and owner of Madison Square Garden. He began working with Rickard and when the latter died in 1929 Hammond took over management of Madison Square Garden. Previously he was the first to bring hockey to the United States, founding the team that would eventually become the New York Rangers. Hammond’s interesting career points to the interconnected nature of New York financial interests with South American politics, reminiscent of other ministers in La Paz such as Feely and the team that made up the Kemmerer missions in the 1920s. See “Colonel J. S. Hammond, Promoter, 59, Dies,” New York Times, December 10, 1939, 71. 78. 1935 Correspondencia de la Presidente de República, “Relaciones, #51,” and 1935 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, anb. 79. “Colonel Hammond Loses Bolivian Oil Action,” New York Times, February 28, 1930, 40. Hammond first learned of oil in Bolivia in 1919 while in the region with Tex Rickard; he claims to have acquired the rights of the firm Imbrei & Co., but the judge denied his claim and favored Standard instead. After appealing, Hammond won the suit in 1931. See “Hammond Wins Oil Suit,” New York Times, November 28, 1931, 27. 80. 1935 Correspondencia de la Presidente de República, “Technical Group Chemical Warfare Reserve Officers Second Corps Area,” and 1935 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, anb. Hammond had his hands full in 1935, though, as troubles over his control of Madison Square Garden preoccupied his financial interests. He and his rival Col. J. R. Kilpatrick had each submitted a slate for the board of directors, and both men took their grievances to the shareholders and into litigation. See, for example, “Kilpatrick Wins Garden Control,” New York Times, September 28, 1935, 13. 81. A newspaper article gave a detailed review of a book on Bolivia by Maximo J. de Vacano, Bolivia in Development and Progress and showed how it was completely “reversed” from reality and perpetrated falsities. The Paraguayans needed to be more active to draw immigrants and to correct the record for foreigners. See “La importancia de la Propaganda en el exterior,” El Tiempo, May 16, 1936, 2. 82. Alcides Arguedas Diaries, October 9, 1936, loc.

Notes to Pages 98–100  203

83. Soruco-­Sologuren, “The City of the Cholos.” 84. Kuenzli, “Acting Inca,” 273. 85. Eisner, From Warfare State to Welfare State, 1–­2, 7, 12. 86. See also Reinaga, Revolución Cultura y Critica, 189. Reinaga argues that the Chaco War incited a nationalist rebellion and the subsequent governments—­from Toro to Ballivian—­played a role in bringing forth the mnr. The entire process was a decades-­long transformation. 87. See Bensel, Yankee Leviathan; Hooks, Forging the Military-­Industrial Complex. Charles Tilly suggests that state building is essentially a consequence of war. “No one designed the principal components of national treasuries, courts, central administrations, and so on. They usually formed as more or less inadvertent by-­ products of efforts to carry out more immediate tasks, especially the creation and support of armed forced” (Coercion, Capital, and European States, 26, cited in Eisner, From Warfare State to Welfare State, 30). 88. Thies, “War, Rivalry, and State Building in Latin America,” 452. 89. “Para facilitar el pago de la pensión de Bs. 20,” La Unión, September 28, 1934, 2. Also see “El Ejecutivo reglamenta las pensiones en favor de las familias de los movilizados que carecen de recursos económicos para sus sostenimiento,” El Tiempo, February 13, 1936, 2. This article explained the rights of families to the pensions, beginning in January 1935. 4. From Peasant to Patriot 1. Klein, Bolivia, 154. 2. Cited in Arze Aguirre, Guerra y Conflictos Sociales, 255. 3. Lorini, El nacionalismo en Bolivia de la pre y posguerra del Chaco, 68. 4. “Identificaron se cadáveres bolivianos,” La Unión, September 17, 1934, 1. 5. See, for instance, Klein, “David Toro and the Establishment of ‘Military Socialism’ in Bolivia,” 25. Klein argues that the “harsh defeat” had “left the nation bitter and disillusioned.” But “from the trenches . . . there arose a new generation and a new national consciousness which expressed itself in rebellion against the old order and passionately demanded change at any cost.” 6. Gotkowitz, A Revolution for Our Rights, 102. 7. One of the better comparisons when speaking of the Chaco War is the U.S. Civil War because it changed the U.S. government forever and gave birth to a powerful veterans’ organization, the Grand Army of the Republic (gar). Stuart McConnell has argued that the gar was a tremendously important association in the postwar years, in part because of its “obligation to the poor and injured, the place of war memories in peacetime,” and the “meaning of the ‘nation,’” especially the “individual’s relation to it.” By the dawn of the twentieth century the gar had transformed from a principal advocate for federal pensions and the continuity of



204 Notes to Pages 100–104

wartime comradery among veterans, including preference for other governmental employment, to a group devoted to the “promotion of patriotism and the commemoration of Memorial Day” (Glorious Contentment, xiii). The treatment of a modernizing Bolivia intersects with C. A. Bayly’s work on the notion of citizenship, The Birth of the Modern World. The soldiers entered the war disconnected from the aspects of the state; they left as more politically astute and reform-­minded men. 8. A similar political transformation occurred in Paraguay following the war. Recent scholarship from Bridget María Chesterton has begun to unveil these changes; see, for example, The Grandchildren of Solano López and The Chaco War. 9. Scholarship on the U.S. Civil War has itself shifted from talking about the causes to examining the war’s effects, including a focus on “battle narratives based on soldiers’ diaries” and “studies of wartime municipal politics or charity practices,” which enlarges the field of military history to include civilians as well as warriors. See McConnell, Glorious Contentment, xii. 10. McConnell, Glorious Contentment, xiii, xv. 11. McConnell, Glorious Contentment, xv. 12. McConnell, Glorious Contentment, 10. 13. McConnell argues that veteran status altered identity for Union veterans (Glorious Contentment, 14). 14. Lemon cited in McConnell, Glorious Contentment, 147. 15. McConnell, Glorious Contentment, 149. 16. Simpson, The Reconstruction Presidents, 9, 10, 36, 45. 17. Grimsley, The Hard Hand of War, 40–­41.. Grimsley compares Sherman’s March to the Sea to the policy of chevauchées, dating from the Hundred Years’ War, which were massive raiding expeditions (190; also see 17). Grimsley argues that the most direct examples for the Union policies were from the War for American Independence, the Napoleonic Wars, and the War with Mexico; “together, these struggles constituted the basic model of expectations for what should transpire in military operations.” 18. Krebs, Fighting for Rights, 6, 7. 19. Krebs, Fighting for Rights, 18. Krebs argues that “societies that have recently emerged from a brutal conflict understand more clearly the sacrifice citizenship can entail” (34). 20. Cited in Krebs, Fighting for Rights, 123. Krebs also quotes W. E. B. Du Bois, who in 1917 told Secretary of War Newton Baker, “It must be remembered that Negroes are human beings, that they have deep seated and long continued grievances against this country; that while the great mass of them are loyal and willing to fight for their country despite this, it certainly will not increase their loyalty or the spirit in which they enter this war if they continue to meet discrimination which borders upon insult and wrong” (124). The same argument could have been made by the Indigenous in Bolivia in 1932.

Notes to Pages 105–109  205

21. Mallon, Peasant and Nation, 189, 281. 22. Hughes, Russia in the Age of Peter the Great, 63. “The inextricable link between war and reform lies at the heart of most interpretations of Peter’s reign. . . . It is hard to refute the argument that it was foreign policy, rather than domestic needs, which shaped the course of Peter’s reign.” 23. See, for instance, Trescott, “Henry George, Sun Yat-­Sen and China.” 24. P. A. Zaionchkovskii cited in Pereira, “Alexander II and the Decision to Emancipate the Russian Serfs,” 101. 25. Sanborn, Drafting the Russian Nation, 25. 26. Emmons in Pereira, “Alexander II and the Decision to Emancipate the Russian Serfs,” 101. 27. Pushkarev, “The Russian Peasants’ Reaction to the Emancipation of 1861,” 200–­201. 28. Pereira, “Alexander II and the Decision to Emancipate the Russian Serfs,” 115. 29. Leal, Populismo y Revolución, 9. 30. Zelnik, A Radical Worker in Tsarist Russia, xxi. 31. See, for instance, Gaudin, “No Place to Lay My Head.” 32. A classic on this topic is von Laue, Sergei Witte and the Industrialization of Russia. A newer examination on the topic of reform in Russia on the eve of the Russo-­ Japanese War is Turnbull, “The Defeat of Popular Representation.” 33. 1935 Correspondencia de la Presidente de República, Ministro de Estado en el Despacho de Gobierno, April 2, 1935, pg-­7238, anb. 34. 1935 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, April 2, 1935, pr-­0118, anb. A telegram from May 31, 1935, requested that the British Metal Corporation open a credit line of 700,000 pounds in cooperation with Patiño. See 1935 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, May 31, 1935, pr-­0118, anb. 35. About ten thousand men were considered deserters; in 1934 the demobilized men—­fifty-­four thousand of them—­were “nearer fifty years of age than twenty five.” The demographic consequences of the war were tremendous. See Dunkerley, “The Politics of the Bolivian Army,” 266. Reports of deserters also appeared in the press and in diplomatic cables. 36. Choque Canqui and Quisbert Quispe, Historia de una lucha desigual, 100. “Many of the soldiers did not want to return to their homes; some went to live instead in the cities; meanwhile, others stayed in Paraguay or left for Argentina, where they could find work and suffer less than in Bolivia.” Some soldiers acknowledged this, as some prisoners married and started families in Paraguay, which made it “impossible to return to Bolivia.” See Arze Aguirre, Guerra y Conflictos Sociales, 260. Estimates are that more than ten thousand soldiers deserted from the Bolivian army during the war, escaping to the countryside, to Argentina, even perhaps to Paraguay or Brazil.

206 Notes to Pages 109–112

37. Fond cr 182 “Conflit du Gran Chaco,” Folder 14, 11.2.33 “Traduction d’articles concernant le conflit du Gran Chaco,” icrc. 38. 1935 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, February 23, 1935, pr-­0118, anb. 39. The Bolivians had long claimed that colonial documents defined boundaries. This argument hardly worked, yet even after the debacle of the Chaco War, the chief of the Ministry of Foreign Relations, Col. Oscar Moscoso, sent a telegram to David Toro declaring that they found 4,700 more documents in Spain that dealt with Bolivia and spoke to the “defense of our frontiers with our neighboring republics.” See 1936 Correspondencia, Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, July 6, 1936, pg 6923, anb. 40. Azurduy, Busch, 21. 41. Ynsfran, The Epic of the Chaco, 52. 42. Sarmiento, Memorias de un soldado de la Guerra del Chaco, 216. 43. Macías, La Guerra del Chaco, 265. 44. Azurduy, Busch, 21. 45. Sinclair Thomson in Grindle and Domingo, Proclaiming Revolution, 125. 46. Céspedes, El Dictador Suicida, 146–­47. 47. Lora, Las Masas han Superado al Nacionalismo, 397, 157, 172, 182–­83. The Bolivian government was not the only one dealing with what they considered to be a communist threat. La Unión ran an article that explained how the Argentine Supreme Court declared that foreigners could not become nationalized Argentine citizens if they held international commitments. See “Los comunistas por ser elemento pernicioso,” La Unión, August 24, 1934, 4. 48. 1935 Correspondencia, Cablegramas Recibidos de Legaciones y Consulados, December 24, 1935, pr 1613, anb. 49. Lora, Las Masas han Superado al Nacionalismo, 275. 50. The notion that the old regime was bankrupt and therefore the people were open to new opportunities is a familiar theme among fascist states. A plurality of parties—­and therefore chaos—­made it possible for fascist leaders to argue for a singular answer whereby the state would connect with the people and result in a homogeneous society. This was the crux of the message that Toro and Busch put forth in their rhetoric after the Chaco War; for the Italian and Spanish cases, see Sanz Hoya, “El partido fascista y la conformación del personal político local al servicio de las dictaduras de Mussolini y Franco,” 122. “Significa instaurar un nuevo orden fundado en una concepción militar del poder, la utopía totalitaria fascista debía incorporar al pueblo, fundiendo la nación y el pero siempre en el marco de un mando unitario del cual emanaba la disciplina que expandirse verticalmente por toda la sociedad.”

Notes to Pages 112–115  207

51. 1935 Correspondencia, “Cablegramas Recibidos de Legaciones y Consulados,” August 5, 1935, pr 1613, anb. 52. Lora, Las Masas han Superado al Nacionalismo, 285–­86. 53. See Gastón del Mar, “Liberalismo o Saavedrismo,” El Orden, March 3, 1934, 3. His articles appeared regularly in El Orden, at least in first part of 1934, with an almost daily topic under the theme of “A la sombra de la guerra: De La Paz a Campo Vía, Diario de Guerra del Prisionera Gastón del Mar.” His articles attacked the Bolivian political system and international capitalism. 54. Choque Canqui and Quisbert Quispe, Historia de una lucha desigual, 97. 55. Arze Aguirre, Guerra y Conflictos Sociales, 264. 56. “Actividades de la ‘Legión de Ex-­Combatientes,’” El Tiempo, March 19, 1936, 4. 57. Alexander, A History of Organized Labor in Bolivia, 41. A news article from the Atlanta Constitution said that some 30,000 prisoners were in Asunción, a city of only 100,000, with a large proportion of prisoners in private homes or otherwise not behind bars. This is a tremendous demographic dislocation for the small capital city. The same article parroted a Paraguayan claim that the Bolivian government paid for Huey Long’s assassination because of his opposition to Standard Oil. See Henry Edward Russell, “30,000 Bolivian Prisoners of War in Asuncion, Capital of Paraguay,” Atlanta Constitution, February 1, 1936, 3. Paraguayan news outlets paid great homage to Long since he was a “defender of rights.” See, for example, “El Ejercito Paraguaya rinde un justiciero homenaje al Senador Long,” El Orden, August 21, 1934, 5. 58. Choque Canqui and Quisbert Quispe, Historia de una lucha desigual, 101. 59. 1938 Pres. República, Cartas Interior, December 3, 1938, pg 6880, anb. 60. 1938 Pres. República, Cartas Interior, November 12, 1938, pg 6880, anb. 61. Cited in Arze Aguirre, Guerra y Conflictos Sociales, 137–­51. 62. The Buenos Aires Peace Conference created the Canje de Repatriacion to handle the repatriation of prisoners of war. The work of that international body managed the logistics of the transfer of prisoners, which included a historical survey of treaties. That survey was done to ensure that norms were followed. One rather extraordinary component of the repatriation process was the ability for prisoners to choose their country of residence after the war. They could be repatriated home, choose either Argentina or Brazil, or remain in the country of their captivity. For more, see “Sesión del dia 3 de febrero de 1936,” Acta N. 28, amre, dccp Paz de Chaco 21. 63. Cited in Arze Aguirre, Guerra y Conflictos Sociales, 160–­63. 64. “Instrucciones para los miembros militares ante la comisión especial de repatriación,” amre, dpd 182. 65. Fond Ministerio de relaciones exteriors y culto, Conferencia de Paz del Chaco, Caja 50, “Informe de la comisión especial de repatriación,” chapter 4, “Verificación

208 Notes to Pages 115–118

de los compromisos relativos a la liberación reciproca de los prisioneros de guerra,” esp. 50–­53, Archivo de Cancillería, Buenos Aires. 66. Cited in Arze Aguirre, Guerra y Conflictos Sociales, 240–­41. 67. Fernández Quisbert, Resistencia Indígena, Poder Local y Desarrollo Agropecuario en los Andes, 65. 68. Danilo Paz Ballivían cited in Fernández Quisbert, Resistencia Indígena, Poder Local y Desarrollo Agropecuario en los Andes, 68. 69. Van Niekerk, Populism and Political Development in Latin America, 77. 70. Bolivia, Censo general de la población de la República de Bolivia según el empadronamiento de 1o. de septiembre de 1900, 372. 71. Dirección Nacional de Estadística y Censos, Censo demográfico, 100. 72. Klein, Bolivia, 166–­67. 73. Greenfield, Latin American Urbanization, 49. 74. 1935 Correspondencia de la Presidente de República, July 25, 1935, pg 7238, anb. That memo mentions the creation of the Bolivian Railway Company, where Pickwoad had interests. In 1944 he moved on to serve in executive roles in Argentine railway interests. He was an elite in La Paz, including having membership in the Royal Society of the Arts as of November 1929. See “Notices,” Journal of the Royal Society of Arts 78, no. 4018 (1929): 26. 75. Ledo Garcia, Urbanisation and Poverty in the Cities of the National Economic Corridor in Bolivia, 54. 76. Palmer, “Politics and Modernization,” 92. A government program in 1937 offered free land to veterans if they would settle in Santa Cruz (90). Palmer also confirms the preference of the young soldiers to move to cities instead of resettle in villages (92). 77. See Weiss, “Peasant Adaptations to Urban Life in Highland Bolivia.” 78. Choque Canqui and Quisbert Quispe, Historia de una lucha desigual, 79. 79. Dandler, El sindicalismo campesino en Bolivia, 64, 66, 67. The New York Times published a story in 1934 about two Bolivian prisoners who had escaped Paraguayan captivity and spoke of mistreatment. Sgt. Francisco Suarez and Gilberto Pedriel said that “Bolivian prisoners were deprived of their clothing and shoes and compelled to go on long marches without food or water and when exhausted were beaten or shot.” See “Charge Cruelty in Chaco,” New York Times, February 4, 1934, 18. 80. Parrón, “Diario El Norte de Salta y la construcción del relato periodístico de la Guerra del Chaco,” 78. It was a “true dream” to see men equal and free. 81. Jones, review of Jesus Lara, 79. 82. Holland, “A Historical Study of Bolivian Foreign Relations,” 91. 83. Cited in Gallego, La postguerra del Chaco en Bolivia, 46. 84. “El Ejercito no interviene en Política,” La Nación, June 3, 1936, 1. Notes to Pages 118–122  209

85. See, for example, “El Hombre del Revolución,” La Nación, May 21, 1937, 1. 86. frus, 1936, 220. 87. Busch in Azurduy, Busch, 97,47, 95, 1. 88. Azurduy, Busch, 37. 89. “El gran Capitán Germán Busch, actualmente Mayor,” El Oriente, August 24, 1936, 1. 90. 1938 Pres. República, Cartas Interior, November 30, 1938, pg 6880, anb. 91. 1938 Pres. República, Cartas Interior, December 12, 1938, pg 6880, anb. The Chaco War and subsequent governments had indeed helped propel the use of technology for mass communications, using radios to augment messages in newspapers. In addition to Radio Oriente, this was also the period of the establishment of the major station in La Paz, Radio Illimani. See for example, “Hablo por Radio el Pdte. Busch,” El Frente, June 13, 1939, 1. This article describes how Busch announced on Radio Illimani his decree number seven, which began the control of the mining industry in the lead-­up to nationalization by the mnr. 92. Peres Cajías, “La comunidad imaginada del mar perdido,” 11. 93. See Maestri, El nacional-­socialismo alemán, found in “Colección Finot,” Museo de Historia y Archivo Histórico de Santa Cruz de la Sierra. 94. 1938 Pres. República, Cartas Interior, undated memo 1938, pg 6880, anb. 95. “Llamamiento General,” La Unión, December 10, 1934, 1. This was not dissimilar to a call to arms by President Tejada Sorzano in December 1934, when he called on all “able-­bodied citizens who could use arms” to mobilize for war. 96. 1938 Pres. República, Cartas Interior, December 4, 1938, pg 6880, anb. 97. “Renovación,” La Nación, January 18, 1936, 1. 98. Céspedes, El Dictador Suicida, 149. The historian Paula Peña has also noted the importance of the veterans specifically in Santa Cruz de la Sierra: “En Santa Cruz, los ex combatientes se organizaron y formaron la Legión de Ex Combatientes (lec), para lograr los cambios que debían darse después de la Guerra, especialmente con el nuevo periodo conocido como el ‘socialismo militar.’ . . . Este levantamiento, fue apoyado por toda la población cruceña y exigía además de la solución a la crisis económica los siguientes puntos: a) que el prefecto de Santa Cruz sea siempre un cruceño; b) que se reestablezca la Universidad de Santa Cruz, que había sido cerrada; c) que se construyan los ferrocarriles a Brasil, Argentina y al interior del país. El Presidente Toro, reconoce la petición de Calleja y así finalizó el levantamiento después de unas semanas.” See Peña, “Levantamiento de la Legión de Ex-­Combatientes (lec) 1936.” See also Peña Hasbún, La permanente construcción de lo cruceño. 99. Gallego, La postguerra del Chaco en Bolivia, 47. A close Busch advisor, Dionisio Foianini, had studied at an Italian university in the 1920s and spoke highly of Mussolini. Foianini became minister of mines and petroleum and organized the

210 Notes to Pages 122–125

nationalization of the oil industry under Toro; he remained an advocate of the nationalization of mineral operations in Bolivia. Later he wrote Misión cumplida, which presented the government’s position on nationalizing Standard Oil. 100. “El Manifestó del Cnl. Busch,” La Nación, May 19, 1936, 1. 101. The moralizing continued; a new energized nation was sober and upright. Because the youth frequented taverns and bars in the postwar period meant that the “social ills of alcoholism” would be heightened, especially among the “proletariat” in the new urban environments. See, for instance, “Bien de la juventud de post-­g uerra,” La Nación, February 9, 1936, 2. 102. “A iniciativa de los excombatientes, antes de ayer se llevó a cabo una gran manifestación popular,” La Nación, April 27, 1937, 3. 103. “La posesión del Teniente Coronel Germán Busch, como Jefe Supremo de los Excombatientes de Bolivia,” La Nación, July 13, 1937, 1. 104. Cited in Gallego, La postguerra del Chaco en Bolivia, 34. 105. “Bolivia no debe perder esta guerra,” La Unión, November 7, 1934, 2. 106. See Gallego, La postguerra del Chaco en Bolivia, 41, 42. 107. Céspedes, El presidente colgado, 136: “La función básica de radepa es controlar los actos del gobierno y sus colaboradores, las instituciones y los individuos, inclinando la balanza de la justicia hacia los sagrados intereses de la Patria e interviniendo enérgicamente cuando sea necesario.” 108. “Legión Nacional de Ex-­combatientes de La Paz,” La Nación, July 20, 1937, 1. 109. Correspondencia, Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, February 14, 1935, pr 0118, anb. 110. cr182–­5, Conflit du Chaco, 452, 5.3.1935, “A.r. a l/ de M. Swift (445). Avons fait le necessaire aures de la cr paraguayenne,” icrc. 111. cr 182 I, Conflit du Chaco, 14, 11.2.1933, “Traduction d’articles concernant le conflit du Gran Chaco,” icrc. 112. See, for instance, cr 182 IV, Conflit du Chaco, 530, 5.7.1935, “M. Galland envoie l’orignal de la l/ de M. Obrist, consul suiss a La Paz, et coupures,” icrc. There are a host of other examples in the larger Chaco Conflict folders at the icrc. This note in particular observes how the Bolivian government dealt with Paraguayan prisoners, that both sides were adamant about the treatment of prisoners, and that such an environment proved difficult to work in. Some of the wounded men who were in Chapare—­a warmer, tropical-­like environment—­would be transferred to Cochabamba in order to be in an environment more like their own. The men interned in the hospital Panopticum were either going to remain for treatment or be transferred. Much of this was done to abide by emerging international norms. 113. Red Cross volunteers from Cochabamba delivered a number of supplies to the rearguard of the front in July 1934; apparently that organization passed out thirty thousand cigarettes, eight thousand sweaters, four thousand packages of crackers,

Notes to Pages 126–128  211

and thousands of papers and pens so the men could correspond with their families at home. The women who volunteered showed their “solidarity” through this “heroic sacrifice in the defense of the country.” See “La Cruz Roja de Cochabamba en el Chaco,” La Unión, July 5, 1934, 4. 114. 1935 Correspondencia de la Presidente de República, August 9, 1935, pg 7238, anb. 115. Fond cr00/10, cr bolivienne, March 15, 27, 1926, “L/ de M. Balcazar annoçant et nommant sa déléguée permanente auprés du cicr Mme de Saavedra,” icrc. 116. cr00/10, cr bolivienne, May 12, 25 1925, “Circulaire de la cr bolivenne faissant part de la composition du Comité de sa société, élu le 22 Mai 1925,” icrc. 117. cr182 III, Conflit du Chaco, 301, 8.9.1934, “M. Boisseier retourne le mémorandum (traduction) sur les principals organisations s’étant occupées des pg du Chaco,” icrc. 118. 1935 Correspondencia de la Presidente de República, July 26, 1935, pg 7238, anb. 119. Cited in Arze Aguirre, Guerra y Conflictos Sociales, 36. 120. Larson in Grindle and Domingo, Proclaiming Revolution, 191. 121. In 1935 the government noted the importance of infrastructure, and no project was “more important” than the Cochabamba–­Santa Cruz highway. Government leaders understood that there existed “political and economic reasons” for the highway that would connect locales in Bolivia and would provide better access to international sites. Santa Cruz was recognized as the “center of the extensive tropical zone” of the country, and while it had only 272,500 people in 1935, it had a “climate, topography, and resources that would permit a development of the population at a much higher level.” See 1935 Correspondencia de la Presidente de República, February 18, 1935, pg 7238, anb. 122. Larson in Grindle and Domingo, Proclaiming Revolution, 195. The government could not control these forces, despite an earnest sympathy for the Indigenous, including the Toro, Busch, and Villarroel regimes. Popularism had made the cities chaotic, with political agitation, mining strikes, and rural sit-­downs plaguing real progress. 123. 1935 Correspondencia de la Presidente de República, January 22, 1935, pg 7238, anb. 124. Knudson, Bolivia, 27. 125. “El Canillita,” La Semana Grafica, May 19, 1934, 3. “El Indio forma las tres cuartas partes de la población de Bolivia. Educar al Indio no es—­precisa y solamente—­ darle abecedario sino justicia y dignidad, sobre todo devolviéndole sus tierras.” 126. For comparison, in 1927 the price of tin rested at US$917 per ton (almost $13,000 in 2017 dollars), and in 1929 it was US$794 ($11,300 in 2017 dollars); in 1932 that price fell as low as US$385 ($7,000 in 2017 dollars). More on the mining prices and dealing by the big interests is in Dunkerley, “The Politics of the Bolivian Army,” 197.

212 Notes to Pages 128–131

127. Orphans featured both in official circles and among other associations that worked with the government in partnership. One such group, the Hogar de Huérfanos de Militares, unveiled a program that would cover the costs of attending school for orphans of the Chaco War. See “A las madres y tutores de Huérfanos de Guerra,” La Nación, March 9, 1939, 4. Another article stated that there was an urgent need for more nuns to help attend to the orphans in Oruro. See “Las madres pontificias no atenderán a los huérfanos de guerra,” La Nación, May 19, 1939, 3. 128. See “El problema de las enfermedades venéreas,” El Oriente, December 24, 1932, 1. In Santa Cruz seventy-­eight prostitutes were examined; the results were shocking. Only four women were “healthy,” while thirty-­one had “only gonorrhea,” twenty had “only syphilis,” and twenty-­three had both diseases. These were seven fourteen-­year-­olds, forty-­two between fifteen and twenty, and twenty-­nine older than twenty. Only twenty-­seven of the women were hospitalized. After the war the “sanitary police” continued to aid in making the cities more hygienic. See “La Policía Sanitaria debe higienizar la Ciudad,” Combate, June 21, 1953, 4. This paper was the official organ of the Communist Party of Santa Cruz. 129. José Luis Tejada Sorzano, “Proclama al Ejercito,” La Unión, December 18, 1934, 4a. 130. “Rol de la mujer boliviana en post-­g uerra,” La Nación, June 30, 1937, 3. 131. “Las Mujeres,” La Industria, October 7, 1886, 2. 132. Margarita de los Nardos, ¿“Quienes son los responsables de la ‘incapacidad’ acusada a la mujer boliviana?,” Satinador, August 27, 1938, 4. 133. Cited in Gallego, La postguerra del Chaco en Bolivia, 44. Baldivieso remained important in the post-­Chaco governments; in Toro’s government he was minister of propaganda, helping to give credence to the idea that Toro’s junta was socialist in nature. See “Se organice definitivamente la Junta de Gobierno [sic],” La Nación, May 22, 1936, 1. 134. “Enrique Baldivieso considera que hay una lucha entre el pasado y presente,” El Tiempo, January 16, 1936, 2. 135. 1938 Pres. República, Cartas Interior, December 17, 1938, pg 6880, anb. News articles also talked about the intrigue from Paraguayan communists in language that tried to associate communists with the enemy. See, for instance, “El comunismo está arraigado en las filas enemigas donde la ppgda. Del Soviet se intensifica,” La Unión, November 30, 1934, 3. Beyond Paraguayan propaganda efforts mentioned in the Bolivian press, the news in Asunción ran articles about the Bolivian army’s concern about communist agitation, as “numerous officers were detained as part of an extremist plan.” See “Han Sido Descubiertos Focos Comunistas en el Ejercito de Bolivia,” La Tribuna, July 18, 1935, 2. 136. Choque Canqui and Quisbert Quispe, Historia de una lucha desigual, 136. Notes to Pages 131–133  213

5. Internationalization of Revolution 1. Cited in Huntington, “The Clash of Civilizations,” 23. 2. Palmer and Colton, A History of the Modern World, 35–­60. 3. Tasca, The Rise of Italian Fascism, 5, 9. “The ex-­soldiers were for the most part Wilsonian and democratic, with a vague but sincere desire for reconstruction mixed with distrust for the old political cliques. Groups of ex-­soldiers uniting here and there were shortly joined together in the National Association of Ex-­service Men, with an independent part to play, outside of traditional parties” (10). 4. Cited in Elazar, “Class, State, and Counter-­Revolution,” 303. An interesting aspect of Moore’s thesis centers on how regimes dealt with agricultural workers; in countries where the peasantry remained intact but did not revolt, the landlords repressed the rural peasanty in such a way as to prevent a healthy growth of democracy and instead served as “an important part of the institutional complex leading to fascism.” 5. Stern, The Politics of Cultural Despair, xi. 6. Cited in Palmer, “Politics and Modernization,” 72. 7. Sarmiento, Memorias de un soldado de la Guerra del Chaco, 38. 8. Zaretsky, “Neither Left, nor Right, nor Straight Ahead,” 120. 9. “Nos dirige el Jefe del Distrito escolar, sobre el asunto del Colegio Alemán,” Vanguardia, May 29, 1938, [3]. 10. Bourke, An Intimate History of Killing, xxiii. 11. See Crotty and Edele, “Total War and Entitlement.” 12. Alcalde, “Towards Transnational Fascism,” 176. 13. “Temas de la actualidad,” La Semana Grafica, March 25, 1933, 2. 14. “La educación Boliviana de tras Guerra,” La Semana Grafica, June 3, 1933, 3. 15. “Una voce italiana,” La Semana Grafica, January 19, 1934, 5. 16. Cobo Romero, “Los apoyos sociales a los regímenes fascistas y totalitarios de la Europa de entreguerras,” 67. 17. Baranowski, “Nazism and Polarization,” 1159, 1161. 18. Zaretsky, “Neither Left, nor Right, nor Straight Ahead,” 124. 19. Erich Nolte’s Three Faces of Fascism: Action Française, Italian Fascism, National Socialism, cited in Zaretsky, “Neither Left, nor Right, nor Straight Ahead,” 130. 20. “Bolivia Nueva,” La Nación, June 6, 1937, 1. 21. frus, 1936, 220. Javier Sanjines argues that men such as Carlos Montenegro and Augusto Céspedes used the power of the newspapers to “mobilizes the populace,” while men such has Enrique Baldivieso rallied crowds through rhetoric (Mestizaje Upside-­Down, 112). U.S. legation personnel suspected that Busch’s role in the coup went beyond his means since he “could not have drawn up a proclamation as politically subtle and astute as that announcing the resignation of President 214 Notes to Pages 135–139

Tejada, nor have the political sagacity of inserting the ingenious sections four and five into the proclamation establishing the Junta.” These were the hallmarks of “Doctor Saavedra,” the Americans claimed. Busch, though, was useful particularly because of his popularity among the veterans and the students, something that Toro lacked. See frus, 1936, 232: “Toro is not popular with labor, ex-­service men, nor with the students who blame him for the student massacre during the 1930 revolution.” 22. “Beta Gama se incorporo a la C. Socialista Boliviana,” El Tiempo, January 18, 1936, 1. In the same edition a longer news story spoke of how the Socialist Confederation was increasing its propaganda efforts throughout the country, especially using technology such as radio. See “La Confederación Socialista ha ingresado a intensa actividad,” El Tiempo, January 18, 1936, 3. 23. “Cartel Socialista: Obreros y soldados excombatientes,” La Nación, May 10, 1936, 5. Unstable salaries were a recurring problema in Bolivia; a 1924 news article claimed that unemployment was to blame for lower wages. See “La baja de los salarios,” La Democracia, June 6, 1924, 2. 24. Recibidas, Sección Diplomática, 1936, Memo to Asunción from Legation in Lima, January 30, 1936, amre, dpd 330. 25. As per the rumors, news articles covered this idea that there was an international agreement to give Arica to Bolivia. See “Piden Arica para Bolivia,” El Grafico, October 21, 1937, 1. 26. “The frustrating dickering was complicated by internal unrest,” claims Rout in his study of the Buenos Aires Peace Conference (Politics of the Chaco Peace Conference, 142–­43). Toro and later Busch came to power thanks to the uncertainty over economic recovery, repatriation of prisoners, and a host of topics germane to returning to peacetime conditions and fostering recovery. The same problems plagued Paraguay at the same time, when Rafael Franco went into exile in August 1937. 27. frus, 1936, 234, 227. 28. “Ya que la Standard Oil se resiste a rebajar el precio de la gasolina de Bs. 55 por litro a Bs. 0.40, debemos buscar otras vías para arribar al mismo resultado,” El Oriente, January 5, 1932, 2. 29. Rout, Politics of the Chaco Peace Conference, 48. 30. 1935 Correspondencia de la Presidente de República, José Espado Aguirre, “Ministro de Fomento Bolivia,” February 18, 1935, anb. After nationalization the Bolivian government found evidence that Standard Oil had drilled oil and sent it to Argentina via a pipeline. This was not only illegal but completely contrary to the statements that Standard had made earlier. 31. frus, 1936, 224. 32. “Debemos hacer Escuela de Renovación,” El Frente, April 13, 1937, 2. 33. frus, 1937, 249, 254, 255.

Notes to Pages 140–142  215

34. Alcides Arguedas Diaries, March 5, 1937, loc. 35. The repatriation process took quite a bit of time to negotiate, but once all the matters were agreed upon, the prisoners were exchanged rather rapidly, most in a few months. For more details, see Niebuhr, “Prisoners of the Chaco.” A good overview of the entire Buenos Aires Peace Conference is Rout, Politics of the Chaco Peace Conference, esp. chapter 5, 111–­40. 36. frus, 1937, 249. 37. See, for instance, “La juventud cruceña asuma responsabilidad en torno a la doctrina socialista,” El Tiempo, March 7, 1936, 3. 38. Fidel Tapia, “Acción de los Intelectuales,” La Semana Grafica, December 31, 1932, 8. 39. frus, 1937, 250. 40. frus, 1937, 296. 41. Alcides Arguedas Diaries, July 18, 1937. loc. 42. frus, 1937, 273. 43. frus, 1939, 327–­28. Alcides Arguedas kept in his diary clippings from news reports in the United States on the discussions, which included aspects of how the United States would treat the Busch regime. It seemed to be the opinion of the United States, along with the Brazilian government, that Busch was a continuation of the Toro government. See Alcides Arguedas Diaries, July 19, 20, 1937, loc. The Bolivian press also ran articles about the discussions in Washington. For example, “El gobierno de la Unión fue informado sobre el deshacía de la Standard Oil,” La Nación, April 13, 1937, 1. 44. The Bolivian national petroleum company, Yacimientos Petrolíferos Fiscales Bolivianos, also acquired Standard Oil of Argentina in 1937 after agreeing on a price that would be paid over ten years at an interest rate of 3 percent per year. See “Fue vendida la Standard Oil argentina en 93.500.000 pesos,” La Nación, January 12, 1937, 1. 45. A petition to the government from the League of Veterans, the association of ex-­prisoners, and the war wounded sought dignity in the face of the “capitalists” in New Jersey. See “Amparando el desahucio decretado contra la Standard Oil,” La Nación, May 11, 1937, 1. 46. frus, 1938, 323. 47. “La era socialista de Bolivia” and “La Cuestión Social en Bolivia,” La Gaceta Boliviana 1, no. 12 (1935): 3, 6. 48. As one example, the Comité Pro-­Defensa Nacional reported that the highway from Sucre to Lagunillas (western Santa Cruz) was completed in June 1934 and included the connection to the route already present from Camiri to Villa Montes. This road was key to providing access to the Chaco, but its completion in the middle of 1934 speaks volumes about the ability of Bolivia to wage war effectively prior to this time. “Debe cumplirse la ley del camino Sucre-­Monteagudo-­Lagunillas,” La Unión, July 12, 1934, 2. 216 Notes to Pages 142–145

49. Only in May 1935 were there concrete plans for the construction of telegraph lines across the province of Tarija. Ministro de estado en el despacho de comunicaciones, May 29, 1935, cpr pg 7238, anb. Reports of this and similar telegraph lines reached the public via the press as well. See “Hasta el fortín campero será tendida una línea telegráfica en breve,” La Razón, September 7, 1934, 3. 50. 1935 Correspondencia de la Presidente de República, “Resumen sobre el camino Cochabamba-­Santa Cruz,” anb. 51. Alexander, A History of Organized Labor in Bolivia, 331, does not definitively credit the mnr with these tasks, but like other works on this topic, he does not attribute them to prior governments either. It is important to note, though, that these reforms were crucial aspects of the sort of modern state that Busch had put into place and that earlier politicians had wanted to do. 52. “La Directiva de la Federación de Estudiantes comienza sus labores con una importante iniciativa,” Amanecer, May 25, 1938, 5. 53. Greenfield, Latin American Urbanization, 57. 54. For example, “Los fondos para el ferrocarril Yacuiba-­Santa Cruz,” La Nación, January 27, 1939, 1. 55. Documents show that there were slightly more than six hundred Paraguayan prisoners held in or near Cochabamba. Some worked on farms, some on road projects. See “Registro de Prisioneros,” amre, dpd 8. 56. Regarding the opportunities to build railroads to Argentina or Brazil in the postwar period, see more in Palmer, “Politics and Modernization,” 87–­89. Details of the Brazilian railroad project also factored into the earlier peace conference discussions. See Rout, Politics of the Chaco Peace Conference, 154. 57. “El Ferrocarril Corumba—­Santa Cruz,” La Defensa, July 6, 1952, 2. 58. frus, 1937, 298–­99. 59. See, for example, “Bajo condiciones especiales el Lloyd Aéreo acepta la conducción de canjes periodísticos,” El Oriente, October 1, 1932, 4. 60. 1935 Correspondencia de la Presidente de República, letter to Presidente Dr. D. José Luis Tejada S. from José Espada Aguirre, February 4, 1935, cpr pg 7238, anb. 61. 1935 Correspondencia de la Presidente de República, anb. 62. Dandler, El sindicalismo campesino en Bolivia, 14, 29. 63. “El problema de la educación indigenal en el Oriente,” El Frente, April 20, 1937, 2. 64. Cited in “La población escolar del país es de 600,000 niños y solo asisten 84,038,” La Nación, September 28, 1939, 3. 65. “Bases y Normas de Educación Boliviana: Capitulo II,” La Nación, July 24, 1939, 2. 66. Cited in Palmer, “Politics and Modernization,” 79. 67. Palmer, “Politics and Modernization,” 80–­81. 68. Remond in Ward, The War Generation, 5. Notes to Pages 145–149  217

69. Ward, The War Generation, 6. Also see Tasca, The Rise of Italian Fascism, 12. Tasca quotes a Socialist Party member, Emilio Lussu: “Ex-­servicemen were in short embryo socialists, less through a knowledge of socialist doctrine than through a deep international feeling acquired through the experience of war, and the yearning for the land which was felt by most of them, being peasants.” 70. Cited in Ward, The War Generation, 163. See also Ernst Jünger’s Storm of Steel. Jünger outlines the ambivalence of soldiers during the war and how they coped with the horror of the trenches on the Western Front. He encourages an intense nationalism and duty to nation. 71. Ward, The War Generation, 141. Vorwärts also ran an article that mentioned how the state could compensate veterans for their services with reform. This was in direct response to the tiered suffrage system that was in place in Prussia, which overwhelmingly benefited the wealthy. Giving suffrage to all would be the perfect answer. It was, in the words of one veteran, “the gratitude of the fatherland” that would mean “nothing other than giving us the full political rights to which we are entitled!” (145). 72. Alcalde, “War Veterans and Fascism during the Franco Dictatorship in Spain,” 80. 73. Sanz Hoya, “El partido fascista y la conformación del personal político local al servicio de las dictaduras de Mussolini y Franco,” 120. 74. Alcalde, “War Veterans and Fascism during the Franco Dictatorship in Spain,” 81, 83. 75. Francoist veterans from the Civil War differed from the volunteers who fought with the Wehrmacht as part of Army Group North in the Soviet Union. The Blue Division was highly motivated by anti-­Bolshevik ideology and worked after the end of World War II to secure the same veterans rights as civil war veterans had despite their volunteer status. See Kleinfeld and Tambs, Hitler’s Spanish Legion. 76. Bosworth, The Italian Dictatorship, 114–­15. 77. De Felice in Bosworth, The Italian Dictatorship, 121. 78. Riley, “Civic Associations and Authoritarian Regimes in Interwar Europe,” 296. 79. Bosworth, The Italian Dictatorship, 148. Here he cites work by V. De Grazia, who notes that “the Duce admitted as late as the 1930s that ‘consent’ is ‘as unstable as the sand formations on the edge of the sea.’” Mussolini can thus be seen as a cynic who attempted to constantly win over public opinion for his policies. 80. Carlo Levi in Bosworth, The Italian Dictatorship, 133. 81. Tasca, The Rise of Italian Fascism, 38. 82. See Martin and Clark, Ghost of Germán Busch, 448–­449. Under Toro and Busch Foianini worked in the Ministry of Mines and Petroleum and then served as the first president of Yacimientos Petrolíferos Fiscales Bolivianos. 83. Caprariis, “Fascism for Export?,” 167. 84. Cambo, En Torno del Fascismo Italiano, 25. 218 Notes to Pages 149–152

85. Caprariis, “Fascism for Export?,” 52. 86. In terms of how civic associations can influence politics the problem in Bolivia was a weak civil society, but then lec merged with workers and students to advocate for change. They fused basic elements of their pleas together rather than foment separate agendas that might conflict. 87. Camillo Pellizzi cited in Baldoli, Exporting Fascism, 8. 88. Schneider, “Organizing Ethnicity,” 200. For the German case, see the new work by Mirna Zakić, Ethnic Germans and National Socialism in Yugoslavia in World War II. Zakić talks specifically about the Volksdeutsche and the local organizations that formed among them in Yugoslavia, including their links with the Nazi government in Berlin. The plan to export fascism was real. Also see Schneider, “Organizing Ethnicity,” 171; “Societa Nazionale ‘Dante Alighieri,’” El Diario, January 17, 1933, 3; M. Seiferheld, Nazismo y fascismo en el Paraguay. 89. Caprariis, “Fascism for Export?,” 168. 90. Lorini, Nazis en Bolivia, 85. 91. La Semana Grafica, October 7, 1933, 4. 92. Lorini, Nazis en Bolivia, 87, 89. 93. Seiferheld, Nazismo y fascismo en el Paraguay, 11, 12. 94. Cambo, En Torno del Fascismo Italiano, 40. 95. Benito Mussolini, “To the General Staff Conference of Fascism,” in Discorsi del 1929, 280. 96. Cambo, En Torno del Fascismo Italiano, 46. 97. Cambo, En Torno del Fascismo Italiano, 19. 98. Lorini, El movimiento socialista “embrionario” en Bolivia, 3, 93. Lorini makes the case that the other Latin American countries had socialist parties thanks to tremendous European immigration but in Bolivia immigration was a negligible force; for that, the ideologies were aligned with nineteenth-­century Marxist thought. Bolivians had smaller immigrant communities, though two important ones were Italians and Germans; therefore, socialism was an import consistent with the earlier importation of liberalism and export-­based capitalism. 99. Azurduy, Busch, 73. 100. In terms of reporting on the war, one such example is “Llamamiento a las organizaciones comunistas para que impidan el envío de armas al gobieno [sic] de Lerroux,” El Diario, October 22, 1934, 2. This Paraguayan paper stated that the communists needed to “immediately cooperate” to help the “Spanish workers in the recent revolution.” The Bolivian press played up this internationalist aspect with propaganda that described the Paraguayan soldiers as being under the influence of Soviet messages. See “El comunismo está arraigado en las filas enemigas donde la ppgda. del Soviet se intensifica,” La Union, November 30, 1934, 3. An example of general reporting in Bolivia is “Algunos disturbios políticos en España,” La Notes to Pages 152–155  219

Nación, February 16, 1936, 1. From Paraguay an example is “España Movilizara tres millones de hombres,” El Orden, August 21, 1934, 1. The article reported that the Spanish Ministry of War was organizing to make “mobilization after the fall of the monarchy easier.” 101. “Declaración de Principios de la Legión Nacional de Ex-­Combatientes,” El Ex-­ Combatiente, May 10, 1950, 2. 102. “Revolución comunista con ramificaciones en Bolivia,” El Tiempo, January 11, 1936, 3. 103. Francisco Domínguez, “Carlos Ibáñez del Campo: Failed Dictator and Unwitting Architect of Political Democracy in Chile, 1927–­31,” in Fowler, Authoritarianism in Latin America since Independence, 47, 54, 58. Also see Drake, Socialism and Populism in Chile. 104. Lorini, El movimiento socialista “embrionario” en Bolivia, 101. 105. “America frente al comunismo,” El Frente, March 23, 1937, 2. 106. Sarmiento, Memorias de un soldado de la Guerra del Chaco, 248. 107. Gallego, “La postguerra del Chaco en Bolivia,” 37. 108. Saavedra in Crespo, José Luis Tejada Sorzano, 226. 109. Gallego, “La postguerra del Chaco en Bolivia,” 37. 110. While biased, the Paraguayan press was correct to call Saavedra’s return to Bolivia a “special situation” to “collect anew [renuclear] the branches of the Republican Party of 1914–­1920.” See Luis Gutiérrez Monge, “Por qué regreso Saavedra a su país?,” El Orden, September 3, 1935, 3. 111. mnr leaders had identified what they saw as the culprits for Bolivia’s languishing state of affairs, and especially the tragedy of the Chaco War. They said the “painful evidence” pointed to a Bolivia that was a victim of “betrayal, anti-­patriotism, and the moral bankruptcy of the Bolivian people.” See Lora, Las Masas han Superado al Nacionalism, 39. 112. frus, 1936, 264. 113. Azurduy, Busch, 80. 114. Sanjines, Mestizaje Upside-­Down, 109, 33. 115. Cited in Azurduy, Busch, 70. 116. Azurduy, Busch, 59. 117. Azurduy, Busch, 85. 118. Céspedes, El Dictador Suicida, 218. 119. Fernández Quisbert, Resistencia Indígena, Poder Local y Desarrollo Agropecuario en los Andes, 39, 43. 120. “Que la L.E.C. reaccione una vez por todas,” Satinador, August 27, 1938, 1. 121. Julio Franco M., “Nuestro compañero Julio Franco M. nos escribe,” El ex-­combatiente, May 10, 1950, 1. 122. “200 excombatientes de Oruro viajaran a solemnizar el 6 de agosto,” El Frente, July 29, 1939, 1.

220 Notes to Pages 155–159

123. “Porque la L.E.C. es Socialista?,” El Tiempo, March 21, 1936, 1. 124. “Una Nueva L. de exCombatientes [sic],” El Tiempo, April 18, 1936, 2. 125. “Vinculación nacional de post-­g uerra,” El Tiempo, May 2, 1936, 2. 126. Brooke Larson in Grindle and Domingo, Proclaiming Revolution, 183. Conclusion 1. Carlos D. Mesa, Presidentes de Bolivia, 78–­86, collected data on the “most significant presidents in the history of Bolivia,” where respondents ranged from journalists and scholars to political figures. The founding fathers of Bolivia ranked high on everyone’s lists, whereas Busch was rarely mentioned, except by Rene Arze Aguirre, who ranked the Liberals Pando and Montes as sixth and seventh, Salamanca eighth, Busch ninth, and Paz Estenssoro and Siles eleventh and twelfth, respectively. Busch failed to make the list of the top ten most significant in either 1983 or 2000; this study, though, would place him higher, not so much for his own charisma as for his stewardship of the veterans and the inherent strengthening of the state that he enacted. 2. Newspaper articles from the eastern half of Bolivia homed in on notions of isolation. Writers were addicted to stories about the future railroad with Cochabamba, roads, and the ability to open the country and region to goods from the lowlands. A few examples: “Como se Salvara a Tarija,” El Antoniano, May 26, 1931, 1; “Por el mejoramiento de la cuidad,” El Eco del Beni, January 16, 1913, 3; Agustín Hurtado Medina, “El camino a Santa Cruz,” Claridad, October 9, 1937, 3; “El valor del camino,” Vanguardia, June 11, 1950, 2. These calls came from all papers, no matter what political affiliation or city. 3. “La obra colonizadora del ejército,” El Tiempo, May 24, 1936, 2. 4. “La Revolución de 1952: A 60 años del hito que marcó la historia de Bolivia en el siglo XX,” eju!, April 8, 2012, http://​eju​.tv​/2012​/04​/la​-revolucin​-de​-1952​-a​-60​ -aos​-del​-hito​-que​-marc​-la​-historia​-de​-bolivia​-en​-el​-siglo​-xx/. 5. His friend Luis Azurduy wrote triumphantly about Busch in Busch: “El Mártir de sus Ideales.” That Busch was upset with the lack of cooperation for his reform program made him into a tragic hero who would sacrifice himself for Bolivia. Press accounts continue to argue that Busch committed suicide because he could not realize the progress that he had wished. See, for example, Grecia Gonzales Oruño, “Conmoción y duda: ¿Fue la muerte de Germán Busch un suicidio?,” Página Siete, October 8, 2019, https://w ​ ww.​ paginasiete.​ bo/​ gente/​ 2019/​ 10/​ 8/​ conmocion-​ duda​ -fue-​ la-​ muerte​-de​-german​-busch​-un​-suicidio​-233526.​ html. More recent scholarship has revisited Busch’s story; see Brockmann, Dos disparos al amanecer. 6. frus, 1939, 309. 7. Holtey, The Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario, 6. 8. Holtey, The Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario, 11. Notes to Pages 159–163  221

9. Gualberto Villarroel was like Busch in that he too fused left and right; he was adamant to express to reporters later in 1944 that his government was unconnected to any outside power, including the Nazis or “any others.” His revolution was, as he put it, “exclusively Bolivian.” See “Queremos construir una verdadera nacion,” Pregon, December 20, 1944, 11. A recent book by Irma Lorini, Nazis en Bolivia, 141, declares that Villarroel walked a fine line on the subject of Nazi Germany as he neglected to resume relations with the Third Reich “despite the Nazi sympathizers in his ranks,” and quotes the historian Wolfgang Benz, who declared that Villarroel himself “sympathized with the Nazi regime.” 10. Programa de Gobierno Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario, xxxi–­xxxii. 11. González, Paraguay Prisionero Geo-­político, 89. Villarroel continued what Busch had started, though, as connections between the two countries had begun to normalize as early as 1939. See 79, 81. 12. Sanjines, Mestizaje Upside-­Down, 112. 13. “Queremos construir una verdadera nacion,” 11. 14. Palmer, “Politics and Modernization,” 166–­67. 15. Wagner, “Reformism in the Bolivian Armed Forces,” 10. Other literature on this topic speaks of the role of the mnr and its coalition with the military reformers, including Radepa members and leaders such as Villarroel. One biased example is Gutierrez, The Tragedy of Bolivia, 93. A study that takes some of the military issues into account is Corbett, The Latin American Military as a Sociopolitical Force. Corbett outlines the role of officers who worked with mnr leaders to stage a coup in 1949, with an emphasis in the broader Santa Cruz region (26–­27). 16. Ríos Reinaga claims that this was a chance for the “political parties to reorganize in order to fulfill popular will” and bring to power the “most representative and best-­trained citizens” (Civiles y Militares en la Revolución Boliviana, 35). 17. De la Fuente and Sanabria, Luchas sociales y movimiento obrero en Santa Cruz, 49. 18. Peña Hasbún, La permanente construcción de lo cruceño, 80–­82. Other authors have shown that Santa Cruz remained distinct from the rest of Bolivia, including in its labor organization and how that influenced political issues. See, for instance, Lema Garrett, “La ‘Defensa Social,’” esp. 108–­9. 19. “Voto de la Confederación Interamericana de Trabajadores sobre sucesos de Bolivia,” El Orden, July 19, 1949, 2. 20. “Falange y Radepa,” Vanguardia, June 11, 1950, 2. 21. “Impostura y mito de los hombres y partidos nuevos,” La Republica, December 20, 1949, 1. 22. Brubaker, Citizenship and Nationhood in France and Germany, 35. Certain literature on populism discusses how the concept changes—­or, rather, how scholars can understand different types of populism—­over space and time. In the Bolivian case, it is critical to conceive of the period under consideration as a time of transition.

222 Notes to Pages 163–166

This move takes into consideration the shift from “democratic subject positions to popular ones.” Such a view puts the people in a primary position. For the larger discussion, see Ernesto Laclau, “Populism: What’s in a Name,” in Panizza, Populism and the Mirror of Democracy, 38–­43. 23. Brubaker, Citizenship and Nationhood in France and Germany, 39. 24. Kohl et al., From the Mines to the Streets, 42. 25. Anderson, Imagined Communities, 145, 54. An interesting aspect of Anderson’s concept of imagined communities comes from a story of shared religious rites: “The strange physical juxtaposition of Malays, Persians, Indians, Berbers, and Turks in Mecca is something incomprehensible without an idea of their community in some form. The Berber encountering the Malay before the Kaaba must, as it were, ask himself: ‘Why is this man doing what I am doing, uttering the same words that I am uttering, even though we can not talk to one another? There is only one answer, once one has learnt it: ‘Because we . . . are Muslims.’” In the same way, it is not a stretch to imagine the Quechua speaker sitting in a muddy trench across from a Guarani Indian from Santa Cruz wearing the same uniforms, saluting the same officers, flying the same flag, and shooting at a common enemy having the same thoughts. This experience made both of them less separate and more Bolivian. 26. Schama, Citizens, 118, 117. 27. Choque Canqui and Quisbert Quispe, Historia de una lucha desigual, 80. 28. Sesión de Honor del Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario, 8. 29. The continuity between Busch and the mnr Revolution is clear; when President Villarroel ruled Bolivia the press attempted to inspire patriotism among the people when leaders declared “the national spirit of the country” would be realigned through education; moreover the mnr identified the problem facing Bolivia as one of coping with large-­scale urbanization and economic shifts. They argued that the peasants who came to the cities “did not lose all of their cultural characteristics,” which included a second factor of the “traditional economy” throughout rural Bolivia. Only education could break this “ruralization of the cities” and bring true progress; it was not only top-­down but also bottom-­up change that was needed. See Uriarte, Educación y Sociedad, 6, 10–­11. The mnr declared that it represented the desire of independence since 1805. See Sesión de Honor del Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario, 7. 30. Shesko, “Mobilizing Manpower for War,” 330. 31. “Participación de la Mujer en la Vida Social,” La Semana Grafica, April 22, 1933, 2. 32. Choque Canqui and Quisbert Quispe, Historia de una lucha desigual, 98. 33. “El País y los Excombatientes,” El Legionario, June 14, 1953, 4. 34. Ríos Reinaga, Civiles y Militares en la Revolución Boliviana, 53. Ríos Reinaga further argued that “a veteran of the Chaco War ha[d] the necessary experience for the battle (revolutionary action).”

Notes to Pages 166–170  223

35. Paz cited in Ríos Reinaga, Civiles y Militares en la Revolución Boliviana, 122. 36. “Busch, Villarroel, Barbery,” Revolución, October 4, 1952, 2. 37. Programa de Gobierno Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario, xxxvii. “With the education reform,” especially “the access to culture was opened for all social classes.” 38. Nicolás et al., Modos Originarios de Resolución de Conflictos en Pueblos Indígenas de Bolivia, 38. 39. “El agitador comunista Tristán Maroff está en Bolivia,” El Tiempo, March 19, 1935, 1. 40. “Tristán Maroff,” El Frente, July 19, 1940, 2. 41. Needler, Political Systems of Latin America, 324–­25. See Hillman, “The Mining Industry and the State,” 62–­64, for a treatment of Busch’s political and economic dilemma. While the small mining operators benefited the most, the initial capital of US$6 million came from numerous sources, including the large mining companies. See “Al nuevo Banco Minero y sus aportes económicos,” El Tiempo, July 15, 1936, 1. 42. “La ley minera y su contribución en la Guerra,” La Razón, August 29, 1934, 7. The idea that the state would be able to benefit by taking over the mines was not new; during the war an article in La Razón told readers that the “mining industry will always be the foundation of our economy.” See “Recursos Económicos de Bolivia,” La Razón, November 17, 1934, 8. 43. A wartime news article showed that just as the mines had been targets for those Bolivians seeking to enact reforms, Standard Oil also came under suspicion for its actions. See “Piden a la Standard Oil que Evidencia su Neutralidad en la Guerra del Chaco,” La Razón, September 5, 1934, 1. 44. Lora, Las Masas han Superado al Nacionalismo, 39. 45. Reinaga, Revolución Cultura y Critica, 187.

224 Notes to Pages 170–172

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246 Bibliogr aphy

Index

Page numbers with f indicate illustrations Abuna, Jorge, 93 Acción Socialista Beta Gama, Confederación Socialista Boliviana and, 139 Achacachi, 79, 196n98 Acre Settlement (1904), 146 Adams, Michael C. C., 197n3 “Adelante Bolivia,” 97 Agrupación Comunista, 114 Aguirre, Rene Arze, 221n1 Albro, Robert, 11 Alcalde, Angél, 137–­38, 150 Alessandri, Arturo, 40, 155–­56 Alexander, Robert, 116, 179n57 Alexander II, King, 110 Alonso, Severo F., 15 American College of Surgeons, 42 Anderson, Benedict, 167, 177n43, 223n25 Andes, 70, 96, 180n80 Añez, Heberto, 136 Antezana, Abel, f8

Antofagasta & Bolivia Railway Company, 98, 119 Aponte, Ernesto, 148 Aramayo, Angelica v. de, 128 Aramayo, Carlos Roy, 197n102 Aramayo, Carlos Víctor, 36, 65, 82 Arancibia, Cristobal, 117 Arce, Aniceto, 9, 28 Argentine Supreme Court, 207n47 Arguedas, Alcides, 6, 40, 55, 63, 64, 100, 142, 143, 216n43; on government/ war, 5 Ariazola, Cesar, 128 Arica, 14, 43, 63, 140, 215n25. See also Tacna-­Arica dispute Arze Aguirre, Rene Danilo, 103, 196n98 Aspe, Thomas, 6 Association of Ex-­Prisoners of War, 126 Association of the Mutilated and Invalids of War, 126

247

Asunción, f16, 69, 92, 115, 140, 152, 176n33, 208n57 Atlanta Constitution (newspaper), 208n57 Aymara, 18, 19, 20, 78, 79, 118 Azurduy, Luís, 113, 123, 155, 221n5 Baker, Newton, 205n20 Balcazar, Juan Manuel, 184n49 Baldivieso, Enrique, 51, 82, 114, 132, 139, 140, 142–­43, 156, 162, 163, 213n133, 214n21 Ballivian, R., 191n28, 204n86 Banco Central de Bolivia, 187n92 Banco de la Nación Boliviana, 187n92 Banco Mercantil, 119, 130, 191n28 Banco Minero, 171 Banzer, Hugo, 178n48 Baptista, Mariano, 17 Barrenechea, Adrian, 170 Barros Borgoño, Luis, 17 Bartov, Omer, 195n87 Battle at Arce, 113 Battle of Ballivián, 92 Battle of Boqueron, 73, 74, 91 Battle of Camarones, 14 Bayly, C. A., 70, 71, 106, 205n7 Belmonte, Simón, 117 Beltran Morales, Carlos, 148 Beni, 15, 33, 98, 164, 182n6, 196n95; education in, 148 Benz, Wolfgang, 222n9 Berger, Harry, 155 Billington, James H., 180n96 Blanco Galindo, Carlos, 63 Blankenhorn, Herber, 86 Boer Wars, 198n4 “Bolivia and Paraguay” conference, 99 Bolivia Concessions, Ltd., 44 Bolivian Army, 69, 70, 72, 73, 76, 77, 91, 95, 194n70; civic duty/nationalism and, 108; civilizing by, 90; communist agitation and, 213n135; deserters from, 112; Indigenous soldiers of, 121;

248 index

mobilization of, f6, 101; modernization and, 122; patriotic cooperation of, 30; professionalization of, 24, 34; reorganization of, 54; strength of, 89, 190n14 Bolivian Foreign Ministry, 34, 115, 127 Bolivian Ministry of Defense, 202n72 Bolivian Ministry of Foreign Relations, 99, 191n28 Bolivian Ministry of Mines and Petroleum, 218n82 Bolivian Ministry of War, 54, 64, 99, 194n72 Bolivian Railway Company, 119, 209n74 Bolivian Red Cross, 68, 127, 128–­29 Bolivian Revolution (1952), 6, 25, 34, 101, 104, 107, 139, 164, 170, 171, 172, 215n21; Chaco War and, 7, 105; in perspective, 166–­68 Bolivian Socialist Confederation, 114 Bolivia Radio Nacional, 39 Bosworth, R. J., 151 Bourke, Joanna, 137 Boxer Rebellion, 110 Brade, Reginald, 200n25 Braden, Spruille, 88 Brawn, Harry, 46 Breckinridge, Henry, 108 Brigada de Caballeria, 156 British Foreign Office, 85, 199n12, 200n25 British Metal Corporation, 206n34 British War Office, 200n25 Broggini Rodrigo, Abelardo, 74 Brubaker, Rogers, 166 Buchl, Francisco, f8 Buenos Aires, 38, 43, 44, 64, 89–­90, 146, 152 Buenos Aires Pact (1907), 34 Buenos Aires Peace Conference, 88, 184n49, 208n62, 216n35 Busch Becerra, Germán, f10, 73, 102, 108, 129, 132, 137, 139, 141, 156, 157, 170; Belmonte and, 117; change and, 133;

coup led by, 149; economy and, 140, 224n41; governing by, 74, 124, 143, 145–­46; ideological revolution and, 123; lec and, 136, 142; legacy of, 161; mnr and, 162–­66, 223n29; politics and, 125, 224n41; railway workers and, 158; reform program and, 122–­23; rise of, 23; Saavedra and, 24–­25; soldiers and, 123–­24; statist intervention and, 171; strong state and, 153; suicide of, 116, 162, 164; Toro and, 125–­26; war and, 160 Byrne, Joseph T., 53 Cabanes, Bruno, 188n105 Caldwell, Robert Granville, 143 Calleja Castro, Froilán, 148, 149 Calvo, Carlos, 94 Calvo, Roberto, 9 Camacho Porcel, Adrian, 124 Camiri, 97, 146, 216n48 Cañada Strongest, 91, 92, 94–­95 Canedo Reyes, Luís, 124 Canje de Repatriacion, 208n62 Capriles Lopez, José, 74 Cariaga Aramayo, Mario, 89 Catavi Mines, 162 caudillo rule, 135–­36, 197n102 Cavour, Count of, 135, 179n73 Central Bank of Bolivia, 57, 65, 119 Céspedes, Augusto, 73, 82, 155, 163, 214n21 Céspedes, Luís Victor, 125 Chaco, 44, 46, 51, 54, 57, 70, 88, 97, 162; as answer, 115–­17; articles on, 192n35; civilizing, 90–­91; claims to, 43, 65; conflict over, 4, 8, 60–­61, 67, 72, 78, 99, 145, 153; legal battle over, 176n33; negotiations over, 66; sovereignty in, 176n32; terrain of, 113; wealth of, 45 Chapare, 79, 211n112 “Charge of the Light Brigade” (Tennyson), 85 Chavez Alvarez, A., 32

Chayanta, 54, 188n101 Chesterton, Bridget María, 199–­200n3, 205n8 Chile, 9, 12, 14, 17, 43, 195n89 cholos, 22, 73, 78, 100 Choque Canqui, Roberto, 133, 170 Christian Socialists, 25, 181n104 Chulumani Hospital, 79 Ciguante, Antonio, 75 citizenship, 67, 116, 123, 159, 205n7; agitation for, 109; Indigenous, 117, 133; national, 166; notion of, 14 civic groups, 38, 127, 219n86 civic participation, 67, 108, 117, 123, 159 Civilian Pilot Training Act (1939), 96 civilization, 16, 49, 55, 152, 175n29; education and, 18–­21; military service and, 107–­8; remolding, 7 civil rights, 72, 107 civil society, 3, 37, 89, 129, 197–­98n3, 219n86 Claure, Karen, 180n89 Cobo Romero, Francisco, 138 Cochabamba, 6, 47, 75, 81, 92, 97, 118, 121; airport at, 96; growth of, 23; industry in, 71; prisoners on, 79 Cochabamba-­Santa Cruz highway, 145, 212n121 Colegio Alemán, 137 Colegio Nacional de Educación, 148 Colegio Santa Ana, 90 colonialism, 6, 35, 113–­14 colonization, 15, 31, 43–­48, 52, 56, 76, 120, 129, 147 Comité de Defensa de los Intereses Obreros, 146 Comité Pro-­Defensa Nacional, 96–­97, 216n48 Comité Pro-­Prisonero, 104 Committee of Public Safety, 135 communication, 67, 94, 167, 168, 178n56, 210n91 communism, 72, 155, 156, 180n95

index  249

Communist Party, 114, 115, 118, 213n128 community, 8, 90, 170; creating, 60; imagined, 167; Indigenous, 109, 120, 176n32; international, 94; urban space and, 102 Confederación Socialista Boliviana, Acción Socialista Beta Gama and, 139 conscription, 5, 22, 61, 62; forced, 80, 81; harnessing people through, 69–­70; implications of, 74–­81 Contreras, Manuel, 187n100 Corbett, Charles, 222n15 Corrigan, Francis, 41, 42 corruption, 2, 40, 54, 64, 115, 153, 163, 187n100 Cortez, Ricardo, 17–­18 Coser, Lewis, 33, 183n16 Cottrell, Jesse S., 42, 43, 185n52 Cramer, Lucien, 79 Crimean War (1856), 85, 110, 111, 197n3 criollo, 1, 49, 74, 78, 158, 99–­100, 175n26 Cruz, Guillermo, 6 Cueller, Max, 98 culture, 62, 71, 85, 177n43, 224n37; cholo, 100; modern, 51; print, 10, 177n43; Spanish, 49 Czech Union, 5, 174n20 Dandler, Jorge, 121, 147–­48 Daza, Hilarión, 14 de Alvestegui, Blanca, 128 de Ayacucho, Grand Marshal, 157 de Bustillos, Mercedes, 128 De Felice, R., 151 De Grazia, V., 218n79 de la Fuente, Manuel, 165 Delgaeo, Señor, 44 del Mar, Gastón, 115 demobilization, 104, 115, 118, 119, 120, 128, 169–­70, 191n29 democracy, 95, 155; growth of, 214n4; internal threat of, 32; transformation of, 107

250 index

demographic shifts, 7, 9, 21–­22, 23, 36, 61–­62, 105, 111, 117–­21 de Paz, Rosa, 128 de Ronde, Philip, 193n54 desertion, 69, 81, 94, 112, 206n35 “Deutschlandlied” (song), 5 Diaz Machicao, Porfirio, 126 Diez de Medina, Estelvina de, 128 Diez de Medina, Fernando, 97 Dillon, Read & Company, 52, 53, 115 Disentailment Law (1874), 18 Division of American Republics, 144 Donoso Torres, Vicente: on education, 19–­20 Drake, Paul, 12, 13 drivers, military, f6, f9, 77 DuBois, W. E. B., 205n20 Duggan, Laurence, 144 Dunkerley, James, 194n72, 196n91 Durkheim, Émile, 20 Eastman, Charles, 42 economic growth, 28, 27, 35–­36, 57, 61, 94, 97, 117, 138, 163; reliance on, 18 economic issues, 6, 7, 9, 31, 32, 64, 65, 66, 83, 111, 116, 140, 145, 155, 164, 168, 170 economy, 173n4; export, 13–­14; global, 22, 28, 32, 35, 41, 56; importance of, 139; Paraguayan, 94; political, 35; U.S., 186n90 Eder, George Jackson, 8, 175n28 education, 3, 51, 132, 159; change and, 21; civic, 158; civilization and, 18–­21; elites and, 21; higher, 50; importance of, 147–­48; Indigenous, 19, 20, 148, 158; Liberal interest in, 17; mass, 177n43; national, 144; popular, 158 Eisner, Marc, 100, 101 eju! (newspaper), 162 El Abece (newspaper), 98 El Ayllu (Aymaras), 20 El Comercio (newspaper), 14 El Diario, 27, 29, 184n31, 199n21

El Ex-­Combatiente (newspaper), 150 El Heraldo (newspaper), 14, 15, 16 El Imparcial (newspaper), 17 El Intransigente (newspaper), 159 Elío, Tomás Manuel, 55, 65, 82 elites, 55, 56, 60, 61, 125, 149, 165, 166, 195n89; criollo-­mestizo, 100, 158; education and, 21; French, 168; globalization and, 21; U.S. dependence and, 31 El Legionario (newspaper), 150 El Orden (newspaper), 165, 208n53 El Oriente (radio station), 68, 124 El Palmar, 46 El Universal (newspaper), 130 Emmons, Terence, 110 employment, 96, 105, 106, 111, 112, 167, 189n8, 205n7 Engels, Friedrich, 20 En las Tierras del Potosi (Mendoza), 174n12 En Torno del Fascismo Italiano (Finot), 154 Episcopal Congress of Bolivia, f8 Equitable Trust Company of New York, 51 Escalier, José Maria, 29–­30 Escuela Militar de Choferes, 77 Espada, Joaquín, 103 Estenssoro, Angela de, 128 Estenssoro, José, 45–­46 Estigarribia, José Félix, 94, 113 ethnicity, 113, 121, 177n43, 178n51 Falange/Falangists, 165 Farcau, Bruce, 56 fascism, 137, 138, 150, 151, 154, 181n101, 219n88; development of, 138, 152; manipulation by, 25; support for, 152 Federación de Estudiantes, 60 Federación Obrera del Trabajo de Oruro, 115 Federal War (1899), 4, 10, 19, 166, 169; Bolivian state and, 168; elites following, 100; Liberal Party and, 21; working classes and, 48 Federation of Construction Workers, 120

feditalia, 152 Feely, Edward F., 190n24, 203n77 Fernández Osco, Marcelo, 171 Fernández Quisbert, Ramiro, 158 Fernando Guachalla, Luís, 95, 143 Feuchtwang, Stephan, 50 Fifth Maine (military unit), 107 financial crisis, 41, 52, 65, 190n24 financial interests, external, 51–­55 Finot, Enrique, 41, 124, 154 First Indigenous Congress (1945), 118 Foianini, Dionisio, 143, 152, 181n101, 210n99, 218n82 Fomento Oriente Boliviano, 27 Font, Ramón, f8 foreign affairs, 34, 36–­40, 154 foreign debt, 51, 52, 56, 65–­66, 67 foreign policy, 29, 32, 33–­34, 67, 206n22; primacy of, 35; wartime, 87 Fortín Ballivián, attack on, 92 Fortín Boquerón, 54 Franco, Francisco, 24, 150, 155 Franco, Rafael, 57, 215n26 Franqui-­Rivera, Harry, 83, 197n1 Franz Joseph, 3 French Revolution, 2, 84, 135, 166, 167, 181n96 Galindo, Carlos Blanco, 63 Gallo, Carmenza, 191n28 Gamio, Manuel, 60 gar. See Grand Army of the Republic (gar) Genuine Republicans, 28, 95 German School, 137, 153 Giddings, Franklin, 20 Gill, Lesley, 79, 80, 196n98 Gilmour, T. L., 85 Gleichschaltung, 152 globalization, 22, 35, 40, 136, 144, 168, 183n29, 184n45; elites and, 21; and transformation, 32, 36; unrest and, 55–­57 González, Luis J., 176n36 Gonzalez Groba, Constante, 16

index  251

Gotkowtitz, Laura, 104 Grand Army of the Republic (gar), 105–­6, 204n7 Great Depression, 32, 64–­65, 66, 131, 151 The Great Meadow (Roberts), 16 Green Cadres, 174n20 Greenfield, Gerald, 119 Grimsley, Mark, 107, 205n17 Gringo Gonzáles, José Alberto, 1 Guachalla, Luís Fernando, 95, 143–­44 Guaraní, 68, 79, 118, 223n25 Guayaramerín, 47–­48 Guaycuruan peoples, 8 Guggenheim Corporation, 42 Gutierrez, José M., 15, 17, 29 Guzman, Augusto, 174n12 Habsburgs, 5, 174n11, 174n20 hacienda system, 22, 70, 118, 121, 157 Hammond, John S., 99, 203n77 Hammond Oil Company, 99 Harding, Warren, 42, 185n52 Haywood, Robert O., 53 Hertzog, Enrique, 97, 164, 166 Hibbard, Frederick P., 66–­67 Hitler, Adolf, 24, 124, 138, 149, 154, 155, 165; co-­ethnics and, 152; Lueger and, 25, 181n104; war and, 160 Hobsbawm, Eric, 177n43 Hochschild, Mauricio, 184n31 Hogar de Huérfanos de Militares, 213n127 home front, f7, 89–­95 Hughes, Lindsey, 71 Hughes, Matthew, 192n50 Hull, Cordell, 143, 144 Hundred Years’ War, 205n17 Ibáñez, Carlos, 156 icrc. See International Committee of the Red Cross (icrc) identity, 82, 100, 121; Bolivian, 57, 77, 104, 161, 167, 171; development of, 81, 167;

252 index

national, 7, 21, 60, 80, 81, 90, 113, 166, 167, 174n11 ideology, 6, 111, 139, 150, 160, 168; anti-­Bolshevik, 218n75; political, 155, 156; rightist, 149 ig Farben, 153 Imbrei & Company, 203n79 immigration, 14–­15, 43, 119–­20, 181n99, 219n98 Imperial German Army, 108 Independence Day, 115 Indian problem, 35, 100, 167 Indigenous farmers, 45, 47, 163 Indigenous peoples, 18, 20, 57–­58, 60, 68, 69, 72, 75, 93, 102, 103, 114, 116, 123, 131, 166; assimilation of, 19, 49; awareness of, 2; Chaco and, 5, 8, 83; citizenship and, 133; civilizing, 21; communism and, 88; education of, 19, 148, 158; harnessing, 36–­40; marginalization of, 1; pleas of, 87; power and, 48–­49, 82; state/conflict and, 109; struggles of, 11; voting by, 162; war and, 87, 90–­91 industrialization, 2, 23, 35, 70, 84 infrastructure programs, 31, 47, 76, 79, 95–­99, 120, 144, 145, 147, 149; control of, 145; development of, 43, 56; external, 51–­55 International Committee of the Red Cross (icrc), 79, 112, 127, 128, 211n112, 211n113 Island of the Sun, 95 Jesuits, 148 jingoism, 4, 49, 56, 57, 69, 110, 198n4 Johnson, James Weldon, 109 Joll, James, 32 Jones, Willis, 121 Jordan, James, 199n11 J. P. Morgan’s bank, 51, 115 Jünger, Ernst, 218n70 junta, 62, 63, 141, 215n21; foreign debt and, 66; future for, 65

Kaiser, David, 32 Katzenstein, Peter, 35 Kellogg, Frank C., 53 Kemmerer, Edwin W., 51–­52, 53, 66, 187, 175n28, 203n77 Klein, Herbert, 28, 103, 119 Knight, Alan, 11, 177n42 Knox, MacGregor, 2, 84 Knudson, Jerry W., 184n31 König Velásquez, Abraham, 33 Krebs, Ronald, 109, 189n4, 205n20 Kuenzli, Gabrielle, 18 Kundt, Hans, 4, 69, 75, 77, 78, 108, 124, 187n98, 192n47, 193n54; armed forces and, 62; espionage and, 50; reorganization by, 54 labor organizations, 116, 120, 182n12 La Calle (newspaper), 125, 150 La Gaceta de Bolivia, f2 La Guerra del Pacifico (Calvo), 9 Lagunillas, 97, 216n48 La Industria (newspaper), 15, 132 La Juventud (newspaper), 64 Lake Titicaca, 95 La Legion de Ex-­Combatientes (lec), 23, 60, 102, 106, 137, 142, 148, 150, 155, 159, 162, 171, 216n45; urban Bolivia and, 121–­27 La Nación (newspaper), 122, 126, 132, 139, 140 L’Angevin, Daphne, 39 Lanza, Colonel, 63–­64 La Paz, 4, 5, 8, 14, 18, 29, 30, 31, 33, 34, 36, 37, 42, 46, 57, 60, 64, 65–­66, 67, 68; demonstrations in, 116, 165; globalization and, 35; growth of, 23, 33, 111, 119, 120; industry in, 71; Italian colony in, 138; politics in, 62; populism in, 104; postwar pressures in, 121–­22; power in, 21–­22; relocation to, 161; sporting events in, 38; trade and, 146; transformation of, 96 La Quiaca, 43, 88

Lara, Constantino, 47 La Razón (newspaper), 36, 65, 69, 92, 96, 98, 132 La Republica (newspaper), 36–­37, 165 Larrea, Justo, 74–­75 Larson, Brooke, 129, 159 La Semana Grafica (newspaper), 60, 68, 89, 90, 98, 138, 153, 182n1; battlefield map from, f18; cover of, f13, f19; page from, f12 La Unión, 126, 207n47 La Voz del Pueblo (newspaper), 19 Law Number 632, 187n92 leadership, 21, 124, 137; dynamic, 10; populism and, 12 League of Nations, 43, 49, 55–­56, 127, 191n27 League of Veterans. See La Legion de Ex-­Combatientes (lec) Leal, Juan Felipe, 181n99 Le Bon, Gustave, 20 lec. See La Legion de Ex-­Combatientes (lec) Ledo Garcia, Maria del Carmen, 119 Legation at La Paz, 52, 152, 185n52 Lemon, George, 106 Liberal Party, 28, 29, 30, 56, 63, 64, 144, 145, 158, 159, 165; Chaco and, 37; education and, 17; Federal War and, 21; national awakening and, 18; power and, 48, 49; rhetoric of, 20; state formation and, 197n102; victory for, 18–­19 Liberals, 28, 30, 48, 80, 111, 165 Lincoln, Abraham, 107 literacy, 17, 19, 54, 111, 162 Lloyd Aéreo Boliviano, 96, 147 Loaiza, Cleto, f8 Long, Huey, 208n57 Lora, Guillermo, 114 Lorini, Irma, 103, 219n98 Loveman, Brian, 59–­60 Luddites, 22 Lueger, Karl, 25, 181n104 Lussu, Emilio, 218n69

index  253

Madera-­Mamoré railroad, 196n95 Madison Square Garden, 203n77, 203n80 Maginnis, Samuel Abbot, 29, 41–­42 Maine, Henry Summer, 20 Malik, Reginald, 71–­72 Mallon, Florencia, 109, 197n1 Mamoré River, 47, 79, 196n95 March on Rome (1922), 151–­52 Marconia del Rio, 27 marginalization, 1, 109, 111, 126, 127, 128, 129 Marof, Tristán, 171 Martin, Franklin Henry, 41 Marxism, 20, 152, 156, 181n104, 219n98 Maud (Tennyson), 85, 197n3 McConnell, Stuart, 106, 205n13; gar and, 105, 204n7 McCormick, Robert R., 86 McGurk, J. F., 52–­53 Media, Cirio, 75 Mejia, José, 75 Melga Moreno, José, 148 Memorial Day, 106, 205n7 Mesa, Carlos, 11 mestizos, 1, 11, 19, 49, 74, 78, 100, 157, 158, 175n26, 189n4 Mexican Revolution, 60 migration, 15, 104, 119, 120; Indigenous, 50, 75; seasonal, 111 military service, 59, 77, 81, 109, 167; civilization and, 107–­8 military socialism, 24, 25, 137, 144, 153, 160, 168, 171 Miners’ Federation, 171 mining industry, 14, 37, 41, 42, 51, 76, 87, 164, 168, 171; nationalization of, 172 Miraflores, 38, 39, 42, 56 Mitchell, Christopher, 12 mnr. See Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario (mnr) mobilization, f6, 2, 3, 7, 77, 85, 101, 139, 160, 197n1; political, 103; popular, 10; populism and, 12

254 index

modernization, 2, 5, 7, 10, 14, 31, 41, 46, 57, 62, 63, 64, 81, 84, 89, 97, 100, 105, 110, 122, 132, 137, 138, 145, 155–­56, 159–­60, 164, 167–­68; Chile and, 12; education/ civilization and, 18–­21; history of, 54; Liberal, 139; populism and, 13 Mommsen, Theodor, 20 Monje Gutiérrez, Tomás, 164 Montenegro, Carlos, 113, 114, 125, 139, 150, 155, 156, 163, 214n21 Monteros Hoyos, Sixto, 148 Montes, Ismael, 19, 40, 49, 91, 114, 221n1; foreign debt and, 51; foreign policy and, 29; return of, 66 Moore, Barrington, 136, 214n4 Morales, Evo, 1–­2, 173n4 Moreno, Gabriel Rene, 146 Moreno, Mogro, 45 Moscoso, Oscar, 196n92, 207n39 Mosley, Oswald, 149 Movimiento al Socialismo–­Instrumento Político por la Soberanía de los Pueblos, 2 Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucionario (mnr), 12, 139, 168; Busch and, 162–­ 66; imperialism and, 172; nationalist revolution and, 166; nationalization of, 210n91; populism and, 12; reforms by, 170–­71; revolt of, 25, 171; war and, 169 Muccio, John, 157 Muñoz-­Marín, Luis, 84 Murillo Vacarreza, J., 20 Murray, Gilbert, 87 Murray, William H., 44–­46 Murray, Williamson, 2, 84 Mussolini, Benito, 24, 149, 155, 165, 181n101, 210n99, 218n79; Bolivian elites and, 138; co-­ethnics and, 152; foreign affairs and, 154; foreign policy and, 151; inspiration from, 152; March on Rome of, 151; war and, 135, 160

Nacionalismo y coloniaje (Montenegro), 113 Nanawa, 192n47 Napoleonic Wars, 149, 205n17 national anthem, 5, 38, 39, 57, 97, 173n6 National Bank of Bolivia, 191n28 National Federation, 142 nationalism, 18, 51, 108, 132, 136, 154, 155, 165, 177n43, 218n71; growth of, 198n4; patriotic, 76; postwar, 113; radical, 15 Nationalist Party, 179n57 nationalization, 23, 143, 152, 172, 181n101, 210n91, 211n99, 215n30 national socialism, 21, 124, 132, 156 National Tribune, 106 nation-­building, 59, 62, 95, 106, 109, 170, 189n4, 194n72 nation-­state, 23, 106, 137; Indigenous communities and, 176n32; modernization of, 22 Navarro, Gustavo, 171 Nazis, 137–­38, 195n87, 222n9 neoliberalism, 2, 173n4, 175n28 Neufeld, Stephen B., 16, 59 New Deal, 100–­101 New York Times, 65, 95, 189n111, 198n4, 209n79 Nicolas I, 110, 111 Nightingale, Florence, 85, 197n3 Nina Qhispi, Eduardo Leandro, 37, 158 Nolte, Erich, 138 Ñuflo de Chavez, 93 Office of Propaganda, 97–­98 Oruro, 27, 30, 37, 47, 62, 63, 66, 68, 75, 76, 128, 132; growth of, 111; transformation of, 96; unemployment in, 191n29; unrest in, 108 Oruro-­Viacha railroad, 37 Pabón, Rafael, f1, 90 Pacheco, Gregorio, 28 Página Siete (newspaper), 1

Palacios, Alberto, 65 Palma, Ricardo, 195–­96n89 Palmer, R. R., 135 Palmer, Ronald Bruce, 120, 149, 209n76 Panagra (airline), 97 Pan-­American Grace Airways, 147 Pando, José Manuel, 19, 221n1 Paraguayan Army, 82, 92, 127; egalitarian basis of, 121; morale of, 94; strength of, 89 Paraguayan Revolution (1911), 99 Paris Peace Accords, 151 Parsifal (Wagner opera), 39 Partido Republicano Socialista, 140 Parti Social Français, 136 Patiño, Simon, 66, 112, 140, 184n31, 191n29 Patiño Mines Inc., 191n28 patria, 72, 77–­78, 94, 155 patriotism, 4, 5, 27, 37, 39, 76, 81, 97, 103, 106, 125, 136, 141–­42, 155, 165, 172; Bolivian, 67, 68; grand, 16; pure, 44; reinforcing, 89; warfare and, 142 Paz Ballivan, Danilo, 118 Paz Estenssoro, Victor, 165, 171, 221; mnr and, 12; on nation-­building, 170; return of, 169 Pedriel, Gilberto, 209n79 Pellizzi, Camillo, 152 Peña, Francisco, 69 Peña, Paula, 210n98 Peñaranda, Enrique, 78, 112, 142, 162, 163 Peres Cajías, Guadalupe, 10 Perez, Elisardo, 80 Permanent Fiscal Commission, 51 Pershing, John J., 43, 49, 185n52 Peter the Great (Peter I), 71, 110, 206n22 petroleum, 31, 143, 146, 152, 181n101, 210n99, 216n44 Pickwoad, William, f4, 119, 209n74 Pierni, Francisco, f8 Pinilla, Claudo, 34 Plantanillos, 90

index  255

Plaza Murillo, 67, 164, 169 political change, 9, 51, 117, 133, 181n99 Political Constitution of the State (1938), 157–­58 Political Police, 110 politics, 10, 12, 40, 56, 57, 62, 111, 123, 125, 131, 137; Bolivian, 140, 166; Chaco War and, 13, 21, 104; class, 28; development of, 31; domestic, 32, 35, 36; electoral, 9; Indigenous, 148; international, 35, 151–­58; national, 71, 159, 181n98; party, 36; popular, 22; populist, 11, 13, 179n57; postwar, 139–­44; revolutionary, 139; urban, 71; veterans and, 104, 105, 109 pongaje, 163 Popular Democratic Party, 84 population, 190n14; Bolivian city, 133 (table), 176n33; free, 190n10; growth of, 24, 119, 120 populism, 7, 31, 36, 37, 39–­40, 60, 103, 104, 111, 123, 136, 137, 142, 149, 155, 159, 160, 162, 166, 168, 169; Bolivia and, 9–­13; Chaco War and, 11, 13, 163, 179n57; defining, 12, 13; growth of, 10–­11, 168; military and, 24; modernization and, 13; problem of, 164; rise of, 104; studies of, 11–­12; term, 183–­84n30 Port of Irigoyen, 99 Potosí, 37, 61, 64, 75, 96, 159, 191n29 poverty, 7, 81, 103, 177n37 power, 28, 33; air, 96; economic, 178n56, 183n18; indigenous, 48–­49, 82; institutional, 82; political, 39; propaganda and, 84; propagation of, 25; tools for realizing, 48–­51; of veterans, 104, 105–­12 President Saavedra (steamship), 44 Price, Waterhouse, Faller Co., 54 “Prince Eugen, the Noble Knight” (song), 4, 5 Prisionero de Guerra (Guzman), 174n12 prisoners of war: Bolivian, f1, f14, f15, f16, f17, 61, 91, 115, 121, 189n5, 206n36; identity of, 75, 121; Paraguayan, 78, 79

256 index

Pro-­Estadio commission, 38 progressivism, 6, 31, 57, 177n43 propaganda, 3, 5, 22, 37, 46, 51, 64, 94, 98, 101, 155, 198n8; antiregime, 115; Bolivian, 93, 95, 98; Communist, 87; dissemination of, 15, 97, 104, 153; elite, 87; enemy, 94; foreign, 86, 99, 199n14; literary, 98; national socialist, 150, 153; official, 97–­98; Paraguayan, 92, 93, 201n47, 213n135; patriotic, 89; populism and, 12; pro-­German, 153; pro-­government, 1–­2; Radepa, 165; state power and, 84; wartime, 84–­86, 89, 122 Prospectus for the Murray Colonies of Central South Bolivia (Murray), 44 Prospectus for the Murray Colony of Bolivia (Murray), 44 public opinion, 32, 39, 49, 86, 92, 107, 132, 142, 189n111 public spaces, 13, 37, 39, 50, 5, 173n6 Pueblo enfermo (Arguedas), 63, 93 Puerto Lazado, 68 Puerto Suarez, 44 Quechua, 78, 79, 223n25 Quintanilla, Carlos, 162 Quispe, Mariano, 95 racism, 6, 18, 19, 72, 100, 154 Radepa (Razón de Patria), 126, 165, 222n15 Radio Illimani, 39, 210n91 Radio Oriente, 210n91 Radu, Michael, 24 railroads, 40, 43, 64, 145, 167; economic use of, 54; growth of, 119 Ramirez, José Manuel, 29–­30 reform, 12, 28, 31, 53, 63, 109, 122–­23, 168, 206n22; domestic, 35; economic, 14; education, 19, 50, 100, 117, 129, 148, 180n89; infrastructure, 82; land, 18, 117, 166; liberal, 59, 144–­49; political, 11;

populist, 170–­71; programs, 28, 31, 56, 122, 131, 144, 152; war and, 28, 206n22 Reinaga, Fausto, 145, 172, 204n86 Remond, Rene, 149 repatriation, 88, 128, 216n35 Repete ( Jones), 121 Republican Party, 28, 29, 30, 63, 80, 158, 220n110; founding of, 48 Revista de occidente (journal), 72 Revollo, Angél, 161 Revolución (newspaper), 170 Revolutionary Socialist Party, 113, 114 Reyes, Luís, 75 Reyes Laguna, Felix, 75 Ribera M., Pedro, 148 Rickard, Tex, 203n77, 203n79 Rio de Janeiro, 10, 155 Rio de la Plata, 15, 44, 176n36 Rio Paraguay, 15, 27, 97 Ríos Reinaga, David, 81–­82, 222n16 Risorgimento, 135, 152 Rivera Cusicanqui, Silvia, 5–­6 Rivero, Daniel, f8 Roberts, Elizabeth Madox, 16 Roca Arredondo, Edmundo, 164 Rodriguez, Lieutenant Colonel, 47 Rodriguez, Miguel, 97 Röhm, Ernst, 54, 187n98 Rojas, Aniceto, 75 Rojas, Castro, 28, 29 Rojas, Hilario, 127 Román, Adolfo, 148 Romecin, Eduardo, 46, 47, 90 Romero, Carlos, 64 Roosevelt, Franklin D., 100, 101 Rosquellas, A. Jauregui, 98, 99 Rout, Leslie B., Jr., 215n26 Royal Society of the Arts, 209n74 Russo-­Japanese War, 206n32 Saavedra, Bautista, 6, 20, 22, 29, 30, 36–­37, 44, 45–­46, 51, 55, 82, 88, 91, 114, 128,

141, 142, 155; agenda of, 107; Busch and, 24–­25; Chaco and, 45; corruption/ misdeeds of, 64; foreign loans and, 51; on foreign policy, 33–­34; Murray and, 46; populism and, 178n56; power for, 24–­25; public opinion and, 49; recognition for, 31; return of, 66, 156–­57; Siles and, 50; social responsibility and, 175n24; strikes and, 182n12; working classes and, 48 Saavedra, Julia de, 128 Saavedra, Maria Josefa, 128 Sachs, Jeffrey, 175n28 Sainz de Estada P., Cristina, 129 Salamanca, Daniel, 4, 7, 56, 57, 75, 82, 95, 114, 122, 131, 141, 155, 178n56, 199n21; Boqueron and, 91; Chaco War and, 37, 104; conscription and, 69; jingoism of, 69; party infighting and, 183n25; Siles and, 62–­68; unification and, 182–­83n16; unrest and, 88; war declaration by, 87 Salazar, P., 19 Salinas Vega, Luis, 63, 187n98 Sanborn, Joshua, 2–­3 Sanchez, Placido, 46 Sánchez Bustamante, Daniel, 63 Sanchez de Lozada, Gonzalo, 11 Sanjines, Javier, 157, 175n26, 214n21 San Martin, José Francisco de, 167 Santa Cruz, 27, 33, 40–­41, 68, 89, 90, 92, 93, 97, 118, 124, 132, 133, 137; Argentine trade and, 146; education in, 148; growth of, 23; infrastructure projects and, 120, 149; lec in, 150, 159; mnr in, 165; Rio Paraguay and, 97; unrest in, 164–­65 Santa Cruz-­Cochabamba highway, 161 Santa Cruz de la Sierra, 93, 200n23, 210n98 Santiago de Machaqa, 116 Sarmiento, Emilio, 113, 194n69 Schama, Simon, 167, 168 Schroth, Herr, 96

index  257

“The Search for the Social Question in Bolivia” (Reinaga), 145 Selaya, Salustio, 89 serfdom, 110, 111, 112 Sever, Jacque, 187n98 Sherman, William Tecumseh, 205n17 Shesko, Elizabeth, 75, 76, 78, 102 Sieffer, Augusto, f8 Siemens, 153 Siles, Hernando, 22, 31, 44, 46, 53–­54, 55, 61, 114, 139, 155, 179n57, 187n92, 187n98, 188n101; address by, 39; agenda of, 107; Chaco and, 4–­5, 45; finances and, 52–­53; foreign loans and, 51; global economy and, 32; inauguration of, 38; junta and, 65; ouster of, 108; resignation of, 62; Saavedra and, 50; Salamanca and, 62–­68 Siles Stadium, 39 Simpson, Brooks, 106–­7 social change, 7, 9, 106, 133 social clubs, 13, 37 Social Democrats, 3, 138, 149–­50 socialism, 57, 126, 138, 139, 145, 156, 159, 179n57, 219n98; internal threat of, 32. See also military socialism social issues, 12, 35, 40, 71, 102, 155, 158, 195n87 Socialist Confederation of Bolivia, 156, 215n22 Socialist Party, 13, 218n69 Socialists, 28, 125, 139, 151 Societa Nazionale “Dante Alighieri,” 152 Society of the Pro-­Chaco Women, 129 Society of Proprietors of the Yungas, 48 socioeconomic systems, 4, 62, 140, 154 soldiers, 123–­24, 127; Bolivian, f1, f5, f6, f16, f17; demobilized, 189n8; German, 174n11; Indigenous, f12, 78, 81, 121, 129, 275n26 Soria Galvarra, Rafael, 148 Soruco, Eloisa, 127 Soruco-­Sologuren, Silvia S. Ximena, 100

258 index

Spanish-­American War, 198n4 Spanish Civil War, 150, 155, 218n75 Spurgeon, Caroline, 21 Standard Oil, 141, 142, 143, 203n79, 208n57, 211n99, 215n28; autarkic state and, 144; Chaco War and, 53; distrust for, 141; nationalization of, 146, 152, 181n101, 215n30; suspicion for, 224n43 Standard Oil Company of New Jersey, 44, 49, 99, 143 Standard Oil of Argentina, 216n44 Stefanich, Juan, 118 Stern, Fritz, 136 Stevens, Thaddeus, 107 Stimson, Henry, 65 St. Louis Olympic Games (1904), 203n77 Stolypin, Pyotr, 112 Stolypin Reforms, 112 strikes, 67, 131, 180n96, 182n12 Suarez, Francisco, 209n79 Sucre, 16, 33, 48, 64, 75, 96, 97, 124, 166, 183n18, 216n48; government in, 18; Santiago and, 14 Sucre, Antonio de, 176n37 suffrage, 29, 35, 40, 107, 171, 178n56, 218n71 Sumner, Charles, 107 Sun Yat-­sen, 110 Tacna-­Arica dispute, 30, 43, 50, 54, 56, 188n106 Tamayo, Franz, 6, 19, 88, 95, 154, 202n59 Tarija, 45, 53, 117, 145, 187n96, 196n92, 217n49 Tasca, Angelo, 135 taxation, 2, 41, 51, 106 technology, 27, 55, 71, 95–­99, 97, 147, 210n91; backwardness in, 110; industrial, 168; transport-­based, 96 Tejada Sorzano, José Luis, 38, 64, 66, 82, 88, 97, 98, 112, 114, 122, 130, 132, 142, 148, 191n29; call to arms by, 210n95; ouster of, 140–­41

Tennyson, Alfred Lord, 85, 197n3 Thies, Cameron, 101 Third Technical Group Conference, 99 Thomas, Jack Ray, 16 Tilly, Charles, 204n87 Time magazine, 72 tin: demand for, 40; export of, 18, 52; mining, 37, 41, 51; price of, 190n24 tin industry, 41, 42, 144, 164, 168 Tismaneanu, Vladimir, 24 Toro, David, f11, 116, 123, 124, 129, 139, 149, 156, 157, 204n86, 207n39, 207n50, 211n99, 212n122, 215n21, 215n26; Busch and, 125–­26; change and, 133; coup by, 148; criticism of, 125; economics and, 140–­41; junta of, 213n133; leadership of, 137; military professionalization and, 24; modernization and, 122; nationalization under, 152; ouster of, 116, 125, 142, 143; on patriotism, 142; political ambitions of, 122; Standard Oil and, 141; statist intervention and, 171; strong state and, 153; war and, 160 Torp, Cornelius, 35, 183n28 Torres Gutierrez, Eugenia, 130 Torres Gutierrez, Lino, 130 Torres Gutierrez, Natalio, 130 Torres Gutierrez, Norberta Mamani vda. de, 130, 132 tourism, 98, 98, 203n76 transformation, 37, 59, 169; economic, 13, 83; globalism and, 32–­36; international understanding of, 149–­50; modern, 20; political, 136; social, 71, 132; state, 106 Treaty of 1904, 43 Turner Thesis, 41 Ucureña, 121 Ugarte, Rafael, 95 Ultima Hora (newspaper), 141, 184n31 Uncia Massacre (1922), 179n57 unemployment, 15, 23, 66, 67, 215n23

unions, 3, 125, 150, 156 Universidad Chuquisaca, 145 Universidad de Santa Cruz, 145–­46 urban centers, 20, 40, 119, 120, 151 urbanization, 23, 28, 35, 36, 71 U.S. Civil War, 61, 105, 106–­7, 190n10, 190n11, 204n7, 205n9 U.S. Foreign Service, 99 U.S. Ministry of Commerce, 94 U.S. Sanitary Commission, 106 uss Maine, 198n4 U.S. State Department, 52 U.S. War Department, 86 Vaca Diez, Oswaldo, 148 Valle Closa, Ricardo, 115, 118 Valverde Barbery, Carlos, 170 Vanguardia, 57, 63, 68 Vanguardia (newspaper), 150, 165 van Niekerk, A. E., 118, 177n47 Vazquez M., Humberto, 75 veterans, 23, 25, 39, 116, 121, 158, 163, 168; aims of, 126; factions of, 149; healthcare for, 131; impact of, 120; Indigenous, 80, 101–­2, 133; influence of, 164; issues for, 142; organizations of, 120; politics and, 104, 105, 109; power/influence of, 104, 105–­12; Revolution of 1952 and, 170; Rightist, 125 veterans’ organizations, 123, 136, 137 Vicenti, Gregorio, 130 Vickers, 54 Victoria, Queen, 8 Vietnam War, 71, 72 Villa Montes, 53, 69, 73, 75, 78, 82, 97, 124, 146, 196n92, 200n28; hospital at, 194n68 Villarroel, Gualberto, 163, 170, 212n122; change and, 133; death of, 162, 164; populism and, 164; Radepa and, 165; veterans and, 164 Villazon, Eliodoro, 187n98 Vincenti, Gregorio, 130

index  259

Volksdeutsche, 219n88 Volksgemeinschaft, 195n87 von Benckendorff, Alexander, 110 von Bismarck, Otto, 108 von Hindenburg, Paul, 153 von Selchow, Bogislav, 137 Vörwarts, 149–­50, 218n71 Wagner, Maria Luise, 164 Wagner, Richard, 38–­39 Wantage, Lady, 197n3 Warisata School, 80, 196n98, 196n101; teachers from, f3 War of the Pacific, 1, 14, 39, 73, 97, 173n6, 190n14; Chaco War and, 61; Chile and, 17, 195n89; Indigenous peoples and, 109; Liberals and, 111; reforms following, 28 Watson, Alexander, 3 Wehrmacht, 195n87, 218n75 Weimar Germany, 149, 153 welfare measures, 2, 101, 129, 150 Wellington House, 85 Wells, Sumner, 144 Weltmachtspolitik, 183n17

260 index

Wendler, Ernst, 153 White, Francis, 8 Wilhelm II, Kaiser, 32 Wilson, Woodrow, 188n104 Wirthschafter, Elise, 71 Witte, Sergei, 111 Workers’ Federation of Labor of Oruro, 115, 141 working class, 48, 71, 83, 114, 180n96 World War I, 4, 5, 50, 52, 53, 79, 85, 86, 91, 100, 101, 108, 109, 124, 132, 135, 149, 150; economic contraction and, 36; transformative conflict and, 3 World War II, 81, 83, 100, 150, 164, 168 Yacimientos Petrolíferos Fiscales Bolívianos, 216n44, 218n82 Yacuiba, 112, 146 Yampasi, Basilio, 116 Ynsrfran, Pablo Max, 9 Yungas, 48, 79 Zaionchkovskii, P. A., 110 Zook, David, 9 Zulawski, Ann, 178n51, 194n68