[from Octavio Paz's The Labyrinth of Solitude, tr. Lysander Kemp, Grove, 1961]
Spanish American Independence, like the whole history of our peoples, is difficult to interpret because, once again, ideas disguise reality instead of clarifying or expressing it. The groups and classes that brought about Independence in South America belonged to the native feudal aristocracy. They were descendants of the Spanish colonists, in a situation of inferiority to peninsula Spaniards. The metropolis, carrying out a protectionist policy, hindered the free commerce of the colonies and restricted their economic and social development with administrative and political checks. At the same time, it closed the way to the criollos [i.e., natives or Creoles] who desired, justly enough, to enter into higher offices and the direction of the state. Thus the struggle for Independence tended to free the criollos from the mummified bureaucracy of the peninsula [i.e., Spain], though actually there was no proposal to change the social structure of the colonies. It is true that the programs and language of the Independence leaders resembled those of the revolutionaries of the epoch, and no doubt they were sincere. That language was "modern," an echo of the French Revolution and, above all, of the ideas behind the North American War of Independence. But in North America those ideas were expressed by groups who proposed a basic transformation of the country in accordance with a new political philosophy. What is more, they did not intend to exchange one state of affairs with another, but instead -- and the difference is radical -- to create a new nation. In effect, the United States is a novelty in the history of the nineteenth century, a society that grew and expanded naturally. Among ourselves, on the other hand, the ruling classes consolidated themselves, once Independence was achieved, as heirs of the old Spanish order. They broke with Spain but they proved incapable of creating a modern society. It could not have been otherwise, because the groups that headed the Independence movement did not represent new social forces, merely a prolongation of the feudal system. The newness of the new Spanish American nations is deceptive: in reality they were decadent or static societies, fragments and survivals of a shattered whole.
The division of the Spanish Empire into a multitude of republics was carried out by native oligarchies, which favored and even speeded up the process of disintegration. We should also remember the determining influence of many of the revolutionary leaders. Some of them -- more fortunate in this than the conquistadors, their historical counterparts -- succeeded in taking over the state as if it were medieval booty. The image of the "Spanish American dictator" appeared, in embryo, in that of the "liberator." Thus the new republics were created by the political and military necessities of the moment, not as an expression of a real historical need. "National traits" were formed later, and in many cases they were simply the result of the nationalist preachments of the various governments. Even now, a century and a half later, no one can explain satisfactorily the "national" differences between Argentinians and Uruguayans, Peruvians and Ecuadorians, Guatemalans and Mexicans. And nothing except the persistence of local oligarchies, supported by North American imperialism, can explain the existence of nine republics in Central America and the Antilles.
Nor is this all. Every one of the new nations, on the day after Independence, had a more or less -- almost always less rather than more -- liberal and democratic constitution. In Europe and the United States these principles corresponded to historical reality, for they were an expression of the rise of the bourgeoisie, a consequence of the Industrial Revolution and the destruction of the old regime. In Spanish America they merely served as modern trappings for the survivals of the colonial system. This liberal, democratic ideology, far from expressing our concrete historical situation, disguised it, and the political lie established itself almost constitutionally. The moral damage it has caused is incalculable; it has affected profound areas of our existence. We move about in this lie with complete naturalness. For over a hundred years we have suffered from regimes that have been at the service of feudal oligarchies but have utilized the language of freedom. The situation has continued to our day [i.e., the 1960s]. Hence the struggle against the official, constitutional lie must be the first step in any serious attempt at reform. This seems to be the import of current Latin-American movements whose common objective is to realize at last the ideals of Independence; that is, to transform our countries into truly modern societies, not mere façades for demagogues and tourists. In this struggle the people must confront not only their old Spanish heritage -- the Church, the army and the oligarchy -- but also the dictator, the boss, with his mouth full of legal and patriotic formulas, and allied now with a power very different from Spanish imperialism: the vast interests of foreign capitalism.
