The Grandchildren of Solano López: Frontier and Nation in Paraguay, 1904–1936

By Bridget María Chesterton

Paraguay’s Chaco frontier, one of the least known areas in one of the least known countries in South America, became the unexpected scene of the bloodiest international war in the Americas, the Chaco War between Paraguay and Bolivia (1932–35).

A picture postcard from the Chaco War era shows a large heart, emblazoned with the word “Paraguayo,” pumping its way through the flat dusty wilderness of the Chaco and leaving a zigzag trail of smashed Bolivian forts and soldiers along the way. This visual propaganda shows why the Paraguayans were sure they would win the war: they were brave, passionate soldiers. They considered themselves invincible descendants of the great hero of the War of the Triple Alliance (1864–70), Marshal Francisco Solano López (El Mariscal).

But Solano López was not universally revered. A controversial figure, he was widely believed to have led Paraguay into economic, social, and cultural ruin. The debate over López’s actions shaped the country’s culture and politics for over a century after the War of the Triple Alliance. Bridget María Chesterton’s in-depth examination of Paraguay’s unique nationalism and the role of the frontier in its formation places the debate over López in the context of larger themes of Latin American history, including racial and ethnic identity, authoritarian regimes, and militarism.

• Language: English
• Publisher: University of New Mexico Press
• Release date: Oct 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9780826353498

Bridget María Chesterton

Bridget María Chesterton’s in-depth examination of Paraguay’s unique nationalism and the role of the frontier in its formation places the debate over López in the context of larger themes of Latin American history, including racial and ethnic identity, authoritarian regimes, and militarism.

Book preview

THE GRANDCHILDREN OF SOLANO LÓPEZ

Map of Paraguay. Design by Paula Montenegro.

THE GRANDCHILDREN

of SOLANO LÓPEZ

Frontier and Nation in Paraguay, 1904–1936

BRIDGET MARÍA CHESTERTON

© 2013 by the University of New Mexico Press

All rights reserved. Published 2013

Printed in the United States of America

18 17 16 15 14 13        1 2 3 4 5 6

The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows:

Chesterton, Bridget María, 1973–

The grandchildren of Solano López : frontier and nation in Paraguay,

1904–1936 / Bridget María Chesterton.

pages cm

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-0-8263-5348-1 (cloth : alk. paper) —

ISBN 978-0-8263-5349-8 (electronic)

1.  Paraguay—History—1870–1938. 2.  Chaco War, 1932–1935.

3.  Chaco Boreal (Paraguay and Bolivia)—History—20th century.

4.  Nationalism—Paraguay—History—20th century.

5.  Boundaries—Paraguay—History—20th century.

I. Title.

F2688.C44 2013

989.2’06—dc23

2013012723

Cover art postcard: Top: Those who you see here will echo in the great plains of the Chaco the legacy of our grand epic. Bottom: Taking their memorable charge and their ‘invincible bravery’ they defeated the No. 41 Bolivian Regiment—February 7, 1933. Image used with permission of the Alfredo M. Seiferheld collection at the Museo Andrés Barbero, Asunción.

CONTENTS

Illustrations

Acknowledgments

CHAPTER ONE

Introducing the Chaco Frontier

CHAPTER TWO

Forgetting Solano López: Debating the Paraguayan Foundational Narrative

CHAPTER THREE

Managing Rojas Silva: Rhetoric and Inaction

CHAPTER FOUR

Comparing Eastern and Western Paraguay: Scientific Nationalism

CHAPTER FIVE

Civilizing the Chaco: The Religious Arrive

CHAPTER SIX

Becoming Guaraní: Soldiers, Agriculturalists, and Poets

CHAPTER SEVEN

Remembering Solano López: The Rise of Febrerismo

CHAPTER EIGHT

Reconsidering the Frontier: The Decades Following the War

Notes

Bibliography

Index

ILLUSTRATIONS

Map 1: Map of Paraguay

Figure 1: Postcard: Where can this heart not go?

Figure 2: Paraguayan postage stamps, 1924

Figure 3: Cartoon of Balance of Justice, 1928

Figure 4: Solid structure in the Chaco, 1929

Figure 5: Solid building in the Chaco with technology, 1929

Figure 6: Bolivian huts in the Chaco, 1929

Figure 7: Bolivian mail service in the Chaco, 1929

Figure 8: Map of Paraguay from Héctor Decoud, 1901

Figure 9: Map of Paraguay from Manuel Domínguez, 1927

Figure 10: Medical map of Paraguay by Luis Migone, 1929

Figure 11: Photo of Tomás (Tomasito) on the day of his baptism

Figure 12: Photo of Juanita, the good Indian, at her loom, 1928

Figure 13: Bishop Bogarín and Father Sosa Gaona, 1928

Figure 14: Photo of Emiliano R. Fernández on the cover of Ocara poty cue-mí

Figure 15: Max Schmidt in the Chaco with Chaco Indians, c. 1935

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

AS I TELL MY STUDENTS every semester, the writing of history does not happen without a community who supports, encourages, teaches, inspires, and evaluates. This book is no exception. An international array of family, colleagues, and friends contributed their expertise and assistance to this project. The network of contributors spans the globe: from Asunción, Paraguay, to Long Island, New York; from Athens, Georgia, to Cologne, Germany; and from Toronto, Canada, to Córdoba, Argentina.

Most acknowledgements begin with professional recognitions. Mine, however, must start with my parents, María Chesterton and Alan Chesterton. This project started when they sent me on a vacation with my grandparents, Carlos and María Gaido, from Córdoba, Argentina, to Asunción, Paraguay, in 1989, just weeks after the fall of Alfredo Stroessner. Little could they have imagined that that sojourn would so profoundly shape my professional and academic life. During my two-day stay in Paraguay, I learned about that nation’s disastrous defeat in the War of the Triple Alliance and its successes in the Chaco. I was mesmerized. For the first time in my life, I felt history come alive everywhere I turned. I also made a personal connection with Aldo Albertini, a close friend of my uncle and aunt, Hugo Gaido and Matilde (Coca) Gamond de Gaido, and Aldo’s then very young family—my first connection in Asunción. For that bus ticket, support (emotional and financial), encouragement, and love I am profoundly grateful. I also need to thank my sister, Rita Chesterton, for her love, support, and endless patience as she listened to all my ideas about the Chaco as I thought aloud. Thanks Mom, Dad, and Rita.

My years at Stony Brook University left me indebted to many, including first and foremost Paul Gootenberg, Brooke Larson, and Thomas Klubock. Their careful readings, assessments, and insights are immensely appreciated. Special thanks to Thomas Whigham at the University of Georgia for supporting this budding Paraguayanist. His knowledge of Paraguayan history is without comparison and his ideas have profoundly influenced my work. Thanks to Jerry Cooney for his insightful and significant contributions to this project. In Paraguay, I am grateful to Adelina Pusineri, Raquel Zalazar, and the entire staff at the Museo Andrés Barbero. Their generosity, friendship, and support are unmatched. Others who contributed in various ways to this project in Paraguay include Roberto Cespedes, Guido Rodríguez Alcalá, Martín Romano Garcia, Mario Rubén Álvarez, Diego Abente, Margarita Prieto Yergos, Margarita Duran, Ricardo Scavone Yegros, Osvaldo Masi, Father Carlos Heyn, Miguel Fritz, Gundolf Niebuhr, Ramón Sosa, Heinrich Ratzlaff, María Elena González Aguilar, Ana Barreto Valinotti, Ana Silke Vera de Schmidt, and Bishop Lucio Alfert. I also warmly thank those who opened their family archives to me, including the late Alicia Medin de Trujillo, her son, Félix Trujillo, and her grandson, Manuel Trujillo. Ramon Sosa Azuaga also shared some family correspondence with me and I am profoundly grateful for the generosity.

I give special thanks to Aldo, Doris, Bettina, Franco, and Fabbrizio Albertini. The latter three were just children when I met them in 1989; what fun has it been to watch them grow and flourish! Without the assistance of the entire Albertini family I do not know how I would have found my way around Asunción or navigated the challenges of that city. I do know, however, that my weekends would have been lonely without them. Gracias. Tío y Tía, gracias por la conexción; it continues to be invaluable. My stays in Asunción were also made comfortable and easy because of Iván Vera Jochem’s priceless friendship, superior intellect, and selfless generosity. Danka schön, Iván.

Since my arrival in Buffalo in 2007, I have been surrounded by a community of academics extending from Binghamton to Toronto. Thanks to the numerous members of the New York State Latin American Workshop, especially Anne Macpherson and Nancy Appelbaum, who have made me feel welcome in the far reaches of New York State. In Toronto, I wish to thank the Latin American Research Group who thoughtfully gave insight into what became chapter 3. In particular, I must thank Frederic Vallvé, Gillian McGillivray, Anne Rubenstein, Alan Durston, and the other Paraguayanist in the group, Dot Tuer. Toronto is lucky to have such accomplished scholars and cooks! Buffalo State College has welcomed me with open arms. They took a big chance in hiring a Paraguayanist! Special thanks go to Andrew Nicholls, David Carson, and Gary Marotta for their advice, direction, and warmth as I settled into my new wintry home.

Others have contributed to this project in informal but still significant ways, such as with conversations about Paraguayan history over coffee in Asunción or at the biennial Paraguayan History Conference in Montevideo, Uruguay, or other Paraguayan-themed events. Included in this group are Carlos Gómez Florentín, Michael Huner, René Harder Horst, Juan Manuel Casal, Ignacio Telesca, Jennifer French, Luc Capdevila, and Liliana Brezzo. Their dedication to the study of Paraguay has encouraged and inspired me. Furthermore, there are those who contributed in less academic ways but are nonetheless contributors, including Steve Patnode, Melixa Abad-Izquierdo, Andrea DiBenardo, Diane Creagh (one fantastic note taker!), Sarah Marchesano, Misty Rodeheaver, and Deirdra Bishop. ¡Muchisimas gracias, amigos!

Various institutions, committees, and grants have provided generous financial support to this project, including the Fulbright Association, the Burghardt Turner Fellowship at Stony Brook, the Research Foundation at Buffalo State Summer Travel Grant, the Illinois-Chicago Consortium on Latin American Study for Summer Visiting Scholars Research Grant, and the United University Professions Dr. Nuala McGann Drescher Diversity Leave Program. I am grateful to all.

Although my husband, Jim Fitzsimmons, is a relatively new contributor to this project, he shared office space with me as I finalized the manuscript and held my hand as I anxiously awaited word from the reviewers and editor. He now knows that the Chaco is hot and dry! Thanks for your love, patience, and tidiness, Jim.

Finally, but certainly not least, I wish to thank the two dogs who have sat at my feet: the late Chipa Guazú and the very much alive Yerba Mate. Because of their need to be walked I have had to get up from my documents, books, and computer and clear my head, and that, as all writers can tell you, is a necessity.

Of course, all errors and missteps are entirely my own.

In the end I am grateful to all who made this book possible. Danka. Gracias. Aguyje. Woof. Thanks.

Grand Island, New York

Figure 1: Picture postcard from the period of the Chaco War. Where can this heart not go? Image used with permission of the Alfredo M. Seiferheld collection at the Museo Andrés Barbero, Asunción.

CHAPTER ONE

INTRODUCING THE CHACO FRONTIER

A PICTURE POSTCARD from the Chaco War era (1932–1935) shows a large heart, emblazoned with the word Paraguayo, pumping its way through the flat dusty wilderness of the Chaco. The only people drawn were tiny Bolivian soldiers crushed by the organ. The heart, carefully illustrated to appear roughly in the shape of the nation, visually demonstrated the two parts of Paraguay: the eastern section and the Chaco, held together by a large vessel representing the Paraguay River. The heart left a zigzagging trail of smashed Bolivian forts, including Arce and Boquerón. This visual propaganda stood as a reminder as to why the Paraguayans believed themselves destined to win the war: they were brave, passionate soldiers. They believed themselves descendants of the great hero of the War of the Triple Alliance (1864–1870), Marshal Francisco Solano López (el Mariscal). By adhering to this belief, no nation, and certainly none as insignificant as Bolivia, could ever defeat them. Their nationalism motivated a generation of men to fight for, and in, a vast frontier with few, if any, cultural ties to eastern Paraguay and a region essentially barren of natural resources and economic potential.

Few places on earth remain as remote as the Paraguayan Chaco. Today, only one road (Route 9—the Trans-Chaco Highway) bisects the region for 770 kilometers from Asunción to the Bolivian border and only about 3 percent of Paraguay’s seven million inhabitants reside in that wilderness. The green hell—as travelers called it in the nineteenth century—is unbearably hot and dusty most of the year, prone to dry spells that linger for months, followed by torrential rains that transform the region into a mud pit until the rains abruptly end, once again returning the region to a hot, dusty wilderness.¹ Guaraní peoples of the upper Rio de la Plata feared this unforgiving land because of its marauding tribes. Spanish conquistadors rarely visited there. It was almost entirely forgotten by the Paraguayans during the nineteenth century as large tracts of its land were eventually sold to foreign investors in an attempt to secure revenue after the nation’s devastating defeat in the 1864–1870 war. As Paraguay entered into the twentieth century, however, Paraguayans realized that the Bolivian government was eagerly eyeing the region as a possible outlet to the Atlantic Ocean for the newly landlocked nation; Bolivia had recently lost its access to the Pacific coast to Chile as a result of the War of the Pacific (1879–1884). With the Bolivians encroaching in the Chaco, Paraguayans came to believe that their country did not end on the banks of the Paraguay River, but instead extended west across this inhospitable land. Consequently, interest in the region flourished among Paraguayans. This book treats the discovery of the region as an important component of Paraguayan nationhood at the beginning of the twentieth century and shows how events in the region altered concepts of Paraguayan nationalism.

The Gran Chaco comprises approximately 250,000 square miles of land extending west to east from the foothills of the Andes to the banks of the Paraguay River and north to south from Mato Grosso do Sul in Brazil to Formosa and El Chaco in northern Argentina. Within this larger expanse is a smaller (though still enormous) area, the Paraguayan Chaco. This region is defined as the area between the Pilcomayo River on the south, forming a natural boundary with Argentina, and the Paraguay River on the east and north, forming another natural boundary with Brazil and separating western Paraguay from eastern Paraguay. As this project reveals, the western boundary at the dawn of the twentieth century remained undefined and contested with Bolivia. This competing claim to the region led to the Chaco War in which approximately ninety-two thousand Bolivians and Paraguayans lost their lives—the bloodiest international war in the Western Hemisphere during the twentieth century.²

Like many wars, the causes of the Chaco War are complex, but I speculate that the most important cause of the war was nationalism.³ In fact, a great deal of interest in and speculation about the peculiar nature of Paraguayan nationalism has emerged in recent years. Of particular interest is a brief footnote in Benedict Anderson’s work in which he places the origins of Paraguayan nationalism in the hands of the benevolent dictatorship established there by the Jesuits early in the seventeenth century, and posits that the indigenes were better treated than elsewhere in Spanish America and [the] Guaraní [language] achieved the status of print language.⁴ Anderson was repeating a popular nineteenth-century Paraguayan myth. While Mexico and Peru both famously experienced a full military assault from Spanish conquistadors, the Paraguayan experience of conquest involved far less violence. Explaining the conquest period, the anthropologist Branislava Susnik maintains that during the early period of conquest in Paraguay a Hispano-Guaraní ‘friendship’ prevailed between Spanish who entered into the territories from the south, and the Guaraní who found in the newcomers a powerful ally against their ‘Guaycurú’ enemies.⁵ While Susnik notes that the colonial friendship did not last for many Paraguayans (and foreigners such as Anderson), the myth of the Hispano-Guaraní concord has proven resilient.

While Susnik wrote only parenthetically of a Hispano-Guaraní friendship, for Paraguayan nationalists it was an undeniable truth. Paraguay’s foundational narrative maintains that because so few women accompanied the Spanish conquistadors who traveled to the upper Rio de la Plata, the Guaraní, in a sign of friendship and cooperation, willingly shared their women with the new arrivals; their coupling brought a mestizo population to the territory.⁶ These new individuals, or Paraguayans, were said to be superior to either parent as they were stronger and smarter. Spanish men and Guaraní women, this myth holds, founded a peaceful and loving state. In reality, the Cario-Guaraní (the Guaraní people who lived in the vicinity of what is today Asunción) revolted in opposition to Spanish oppression in 1545–1546. The Spanish responded swiftly and violently to the insurrection. In the end, Cario women were enslaved and exploited as indigenous labour.⁷ The Guaraní continued to revolt intermittently against Spanish colonial rule until at least 1609.⁸ The conquest of Paraguay in fact had little that was peaceful about it. And the Native women certainly did not always give themselves willingly to Spanish men. Nonetheless, the myth persists as one of the clearest forms of Paraguayan nationalism. The myth gained strength in the early decades of the twentieth century and was held to be unique in Latin America. Significantly, this myth promoting a shared identity proved effective when fighting the multiethnic Bolivians during the Chaco War.

Other fundamental questions about Paraguayan history need to be addressed as well. Why, for example, did the country repeatedly go to war with its larger and more powerful neighbors? What is clear is that while Paraguayans have resisted their government’s calls to engage in aggressive military assaults, they have nonetheless bravely defended their land against foreign aggressors. Argentine military leader Manuel Belgrano found that the Paraguayans bravely resisted invasion, quickly amassing armies in defense of their country. Belgrano, acting on flawed information about the potential size of Paraguayan resistance, invaded the province in 1811, hoping to compel the Paraguayans to submit to the rule of Buenos Aires. Belgrano met a relatively large, even if poorly armed, Paraguayan militia willing to sacrifice themselves in preservation of Paraguayan independence from the rule of the porteños (as the residents of Buenos Aires were known).⁹ The battles of Paraguaí and Tacuarí proved devastating for Belgrano’s forces. Fifty years later, during the War of the Triple Alliance, when el Mariscal became convinced of a growing Brazilian threat because of its intervention in Uruguay, Paraguayan troops brazenly attacked the Brazilian fort of Novo Coimbra. As the war continued, the Brazilians, Argentines, and Uruguayans were consistently baffled at how el Mariscal managed to field thousands of men. The heroism of the Paraguayan recruit never failed to earn the respect of his adversaries. In the end, the Paraguayans sacrificed half their population to the cause.¹⁰ However, Paraguayans returned from Buenos Aires after defending the city from English invaders in 1806 with the deeply rooted desire to never serve in military service outside of Paraguay.¹¹ Furthermore, during the early months of the War of the Triple Alliance the Paraguayan forces looked relatively ineffective during their forays outside the country, only to become much more formidable during the defensive phase that followed. What, then, explains how, during the Chaco War, men went off to serve in one of the most hostile environments in the world to fight what many at the time considered a better prepared and more rigorously trained Bolivian military?¹² As The Grandchildren of Solano López will demonstrate, rural Paraguayans always considered themselves at heart to be soldiers prepared to defend the land that they diligently worked.¹³ When others, such as the Bolivians, invaded what were perceived to be Paraguayan lands, the Guaraní-speaking rural peoples of Paraguay bravely resisted.

During the War of the Triple Alliance, as the allies approached Paraguay, they were met with fierce nationalism. As explanation, Michael Huner notes that the Paraguayan priests, speaking in Guaraní, declared the nation divinely ordained and used the Guaraní term ñane retã (our soil) to describe a special relationship between God and the Paraguayan state.¹⁴ In the case of the Chaco, nationalist ideas were solidified with the death of Lieutenant Adolfo Rojas Silva in the Chaco. The Paraguayan rural classes turned a possible deserter into a saint and concluded it was necessary to defend Paraguayan territory from invading forces. With the death of this Paraguayan soldier, the land was interpreted as Paraguayan. Rojas Silva’s death demonstrated that Bolivian aggression would meet a strong Paraguayan defense. This book will also consider how, prior to the Chaco War, the collective memory of the Paraguayan rural classes in the campaña (countryside) was largely excluded from the master narratives and politics in Asunción. When Paraguay’s rural classes found themselves in the far reaches of the Chaco frontier, desertion became impossible. Far from the Liberal elites and congregated together for the first time since the end of the War of the Triple Alliance, a strong, clear, and ultimately defining view of Paraguayan society arose. Ultimately, they defined themselves as the grandchildren of Solano López, prepared to defend lo Paraguayo, which then included the land of Rojas Silva’s death. Paraguayan soldiers tapped into an oral Guaraní-language memory and reconstructed their own vision of the nation.

In many ways this investigation parallels the work of Wolfgang Schivelbusch in his book The Culture of Defeat, in which he examines how nationalism is affected by military defeat at the hands of another state or states. According to Schivelbusch’s model, Paraguay reflected a similar trajectory as occurred in the American South after the U.S. Civil War, France after the Franco-Prussian War, and Germany after the First World War. All four nations passed through a period of mourning and recovery as they struggled to redefine themselves after defeat. More important for this study, Schivelbusch’s text explores how victory in a succeeding