Revolutionaries, Rebels and Robbers

The Golden Age of Banditry in Mexico, Latin America and the Chicano American Southwest, 1850-1950

Pascale Baker

• Publisher: University of Wales Press
• Year: 2015
• ISBN:
  9781783163458
• Edition: 1
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Latin American & Caribbean History
• Index: History

This volume delivers a comprehensive study of banditry in Latin America and of its cultural representation. In its scope across the continent, looking closely at nations where bandit culture has manifested itself forcefully ? Mexico (the subject of the case study), the Hispanic south-west of the United States, Argentina, Brazil, Venezuela and Cuba ? it imagines a 'Golden Age' of banditry in Latin America from the mid-nineteenth century to the 1940s when so-called 'social bandits', an idea first proposed by Eric Hobsbawm and further developed here, flourished. In its content, this work offers the most detailed and wide-ranging study of its kind currently available.

Chapter 1

The Figure of the Bandit in History, Culture and Social Theory

Eric Hobsbawm still dominates the literature on bandit theory. His theories are developed in the companion works Primitive Rebels (1959) and Bandits (1969). These texts categorise the different types and subtypes of banditry throughout the world. The core theory that the Marxist Hobsbawm outlines in Primitive Rebels is that banditry, far from being simply a criminal activity involving robbery, outlawry and terror, is in fact a form of ‘primitive social rebellion’ (Hobsbawm, 1959: v). He stresses ‘the peculiar symbiosis between social banditry and primitive revolutionary (millenarian) movements’ (1959: vii, Preface to the Third Edition). Banditry alone, however, is not capable of effecting social change and the ‘bandits tend to regard themselves as subordinate to the wider [revolutionary] movement or aspiration’ to which they are aligned (1959: vii).

As Juan Pablo Dabove says, Hobsbawm’s concentration is on ‘epidemic banditry’ rather than ‘endemic banditry’ (2007b: 14). By this he means banditry that occurs in rural societies during times of extreme ‘social transformation’ as opposed to banditry that exists as a permanent feature of those societies (14). Within this bracket of epidemic banditry, Hobsbawm’s main interest is in ‘social’ banditry, an odd, seemingly inappropriate description of such an apparently unsocial and marginal activity. Social banditry, based on his thesis, flourishes in ‘pre-political’ peasant societies. These societies are based on ‘kinship’ or blood ties and revolve around a traditional feudal structure. In such societies, banditry gains potency, Hobsbawm believes, under certain conditions, such as ‘in times of pauperization and economic crisis’ (1972: 22) and when society is threatened by ‘the impact of new economic, social and political forces’ (1959: x). In the context of this study, the bandits in question were operating in periods that were indeed characterised by social and political upheaval. Pancho Villa and the fictional creation, Demetrio Macías, were active during the Mexican Revolution of 1910–20. So according to Hobsbawm, during periods of ‘basic social transformation, such as the transition to a capitalist economy’ (1959: ix–x), social banditry markedly increases as pre-political peasants react to ‘the operation of economic forces which they do not understand and over which they have no control’ (1959: 3).

The arguments of Primitive Rebels and Bandits inject new force into the term ‘social banditry’. The term is developed as ‘an endemic peasant protest against oppression or poverty: a cry for vengeance on the rich and the oppressors, a vague dream of some curb upon them, a righting of individual wrongs’ (1959: 5). Social bandits themselves are robbers who are ‘not regarded as simple criminals by public opinion’, even if they are by the state. These bandits are ‘peasant outlaws […] who remain within peasant society, and are considered by their people as heroes, as champions, avengers, fighters for justice, perhaps even leaders of liberation, and in any case men to be admired, helped and supported’ (1969: 13). In Bandits, Hobsbawm expands upon his earlier definition of social banditry, claiming it to be a primarily rural phenomenon that exists whenever the peasantry is ‘oppressed and exploited by someone else – lords, towns, governments, lawyers or even banks’ (1972: 20).

But even Hobsbawm acknowledges the divergence between myth and fact inherent in the concept of social banditry, claiming that ‘in real life most Robin Hoods were far from noble’. However, such was and ‘is the need for heroes and champions, that if there are no real ones, unsuitable candidates are pressed into service’ (1972: 41). Hobsbawm here assumes that social bandits satisfied the peasant craving for representative heroes in harsh times, and, it will be argued in this study that they continue to sate the twenty-first century popular thirst for hero figures.

Bandits surmises that social banditry is a phenomenon that can be applied universally throughout history, up until the mid-twentieth century. In Hobsbawm’s analysis, ‘modern agrarian systems, both capitalist and post-capitalist, are no longer those of traditional peasant society and cease to produce social bandits’ (1972: 19). The Argentine historian Hugo Chumbita, though otherwise supportive of Hobsbawm, disputes this point and its relevance to Latin America. He claims that ‘La atracción del bandolerismo social no está agotada; en particular, si se trata de una sociedad que ha incorporado la tradición de los bandoleros a la cultura popular’ (the attraction to social banditry [in Latin America] is far from exhausted, especially as we are talking about societies that have incorporated the tradition of noble bandits into popular culture) (2000: 259).¹ In addition, Chumbita problematises the notion that the conversion to capitalism that Hobsbawm notes as being decisive in killing the social bandit phenomenon worldwide, has not actually occurred in the same way and to the same extent in Latin America as in Europe. He believes that ‘Los principales logros de las naciones industriales no se han consolidado en los países latinoamericanos, y no es sorprendente que el bandolerismo social encontrara terreno propicio en los tiempos recientes de la Argentina’ (the major achievements of the industrial world have not yet filtered down to Latin America and therefore it is not surprising that social banditry has had such an impact in Argentina in recent times) (2000: 259). However, Chumbita is in agreement with most of Hobsbawm’s other points, including that regarding Hobsbawm’s subcategorisation of the social bandit into three subtypes: ‘the noble robber or Robin Hood, the primitive resistance fighter or guerrilla unit of what I shall call the haiduks, and possibly the terror-bringing avenger’ (1972: 15).² It should be noted, however, that Hobsbawm has somewhat updated this strand of his argument in later editions of Bandits. For example, in the revised 2000 edition he acknowledges that ‘banditry can thrive in late capitalism, such as the contemporary banditry associated with the demise of nation-states, Afghanistan, countries that comprised the former Yugoslavia, and Chechnya all being examples’ (Hobsbawm, 2000 cited in Dabove 2007b: 16).

Finally, in Bandits Hobsbawm makes clear the distinction between social bandits and other categories of bandit, such as the ‘bandit gentry’, ‘gangs drawn from the professional underworld’, ‘mere freebooters (common robbers)’ or ‘raiders’ (1972: 17–18). Also part of the bandit bloc are the legitimised bandidos, tough men recruited into being ‘state’s bandits’ and comprising ‘retainers, policemen and mercenary soldiers’, as well as ‘landlords’ bandits’ acting as bodyguards or enforcers and ‘protected by the local rural boss or cacique’ (1959: 13). For Hobsbawm, the key difference between these other classes of bandit and the social bandit is their supposed lack of solidarity with the peasant class, who are as likely to be prey to these ‘non-social’ bandits as anyone else (1972: 17). The ‘mob’, comprised of the ‘urban poor’ is, according to Hobsbawm, ‘the urban equivalent of social banditry’ (1969 edition: 6–7).

However, as becomes apparent from research into Latin American banditry, Hobsbawm states that ‘one sort of bandit can easily turn into another’ (1959: 13). A supposedly social bandit, allied with and supported by the peasant class, can also at one time or another become a state’s bandit, landlord’s bandit, or a revolutionary or political insurgent. Demetrio Macías, in the novel Los de abajo (1915), is an example of the way a bandit can morph from one type into another. Macías begins the novel as a people’s bandit or social bandit. He is an ordinary peasant who takes on the local landowner, Don Mónico. This makes him a hero to fellow peasants, who assist Macías during his guerrilla campaign against President Victoriano Huerta’s forces during the Mexican Revolution. After Huerta is defeated and the constitutionalists for whom he is fighting take power, Demetrio then evolves into a soldier or state´s bandit. Additionally, he is also a caudillo’s (regional strongman’s) bandit, as he is fighting under the overall leadership of General Pancho Villa. As Demetrio demonstrates, the social bandit’s activities may exist concurrently with his other roles or be entirely independent of them and his position as a social bandit may not necessarily be threatened by his other ‘jobs’. However, though a bandit may maintain his status as a peasant hero, regardless of other activities, on his own territory, if he strays into ‘foreign’ territory he may well be regarded as a menace. In Hobsbawm’s succinct terms, ‘a man may be a social bandit in his native mountains, a mere robber on the plains’ (1972: 18).

The bandit’s mutability, enabling him (Hobsbawm’s bandits are overwhelmingly male) to merge from one incarnation into another, or to combine more than one role, complicates his status as an outlaw and often confuses the hero/villain and myth/reality dichotomies that are applicable to banditry. This flexible though ill-defined role, on the margins of society, also makes the bandit a malleable figure for writers and artists to manipulate in print, on canvas and on celluloid, reflecting their own ideological predispositions. In Latin America, where independent nations were being established in the nineteenth century, the bandit, in his various incarnations, was often adopted by novelists and poets to represent either a heroic or villainous facet of nationhood. Nineteenth-century Argentine literature illustrates this point. The character of the gaucho turned bandit Martín Fierro, in the eponymous 1872 epic poem by José Hernández, is heroicised as a noble outlaw. Fierro is forced to become a fugitive by punitive laws and wars that threaten his very existence on the pampa, even though he is innocent of many of the crimes attributed to him. Don Segundo Sombra, the gaucho character in Ricardo Güiraldes’ 1926 novel, is even further romanticised, as the last of a dying breed of noble horsemen uniquely attuned to the life of the pampa. Meanwhile, the gaucho Juan Moreira, in Eduardo Gutiérrez´s folletín (first published in serial form from 1879 to 1880), is an example of a ‘bad gaucho’, or nationhood gone wrong. Moreira is more of a villain than the previous gauchos, but yet again his villainy is a consequence of the corrupt authorities under Juan Manuel de Rosas and subsequent presidents, which have deprived the gaucho of any avenue other than criminality. As a villain, Juan Moreira becomes ever more violent and dies a horrific death. Don Segundo Sombra and Martín Fierro in contrast survive, even though the age of the gaucho is drawing to a close. However, they remain very much manipulated by the narratorial perspective. In Don Segundo Sombra the narrator is Fabio, a member of the upper middle-class landowning elite and, in part at least, a mouthpiece for the author, Güiraldes. Ricardo Güiraldes yearned to protect the landlord’s status and traditional way of life, in what were changing times on the pampa, and therefore sentimentalised and muted the more malevolent aspects of gauchesque life. Martín Fierro meanwhile, in the poem’s second part, becomes a mouthpiece for the revisionist views of the author, José Hernández. In line with this, Fierro repents of the excesses of his former existence and counsels his sons to obey the law.

The bandit figure has also functioned as a representative symbol in the ‘civilisation versus barbarism’ debate so prominent in Latin America in the post-independence era (Benítez-Rojo, 1996: 473). The bandit could embody a patriot or an underdog outlaw fighting for the rights of the oppressed, thus offering an alternative vision for a society newly liberated from Spanish or Portuguese dominion. One such figure was Antônio Conselheiro. He led a millenarian religious movement that ‘mobilised the poor’ of the remote Brazilian northeastern sertão in the late nineteenth century (González Echevarría, 1990: 127). Conselheiro and many of his followers were regarded as bandits by the authorities, who sent troops to suppress the supposedly renegade group at Canudos. However, they underestimated the resistance of the band and its loyalty to its leader and were routed, events that were memorably recorded in Euclides da Cunha’s novel Os Sertões (1902) (Rebellion in the Backlands). The Peruvian novelist, Mario Vargas Llosa, reworked the story in a blend of fact and fiction in the novel La guerra del fin del mundo (1981) (The War of the End of the World). Here Vargas Llosa attempts to penetrate the consciousness of the messianic Conselheiro, and to recreate the otherworldly atmosphere of the Brazilian backlands (Higgins, 1987: 234).

As a threat to civilised society, the bandit unsettled notions of nationhood in nineteenth-century Latin America, where independence had only recently been won. Bandits could therefore be represented as treacherous enemies of the state, or barbarian criminals motivated by greed and self-interest, to be suppressed or eliminated. An obvious example of this would be Facundo Quiroga, a bandit gaucho who rose to the level of ‘a provincial caudillo’ (González Echevarría, 1990: 97) and on whom Domingo Faustino Sarmiento based his work Facundo. Civilización y barbarie en las pampas argentinas (1845) (Facundo, Civilisation and Barbarism on the Argentine Pampas). This genre-defying text has been described as a ‘political pamphlet’ (González Echevarría, 1990: 97). It examines, among its themes, the negative impact of the gaucho on Argentine civilisation, with his propensity towards barbarism, banditry and support of dictatorial leaders, such as Juan Manuel de Rosas. It was Rosas who terrorised Argentina during his reign in power between 1835 and 1852.

Juan Pablo Dabove’s illuminating and original study of banditry, as represented in nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Latin American literature, engages with this debate. In Nightmares of the Lettered City (2007), Dabove positions the bandit as the demon or ‘adversarial force’ haunting the educated Latin American elites (2007b: 3). The book looks at the intersection between the letrado or elite state and the bandit ‘other’ to explore how the outlaw consistently frustrates the letrados’ vision of nationhood. It concentrates on the ‘elite discourse’ of the Latin American novel and other ‘bandit narratives’ including ‘short stories, criminological treatises, essays, poems and film’ to analyse this phenomenon (2007b: 2 and 34). In this study, bandit narratives are divided into three sections. Part One covers those texts that present the bandit as the ‘demon of national modernising projects’ who has to be suppressed, and includes works such as Facundo (2007b: 39). Part Two looks at texts that mobilise the bandit to criticise state- sponsored national projects, and includes works such as Juan Moreira and Martín Fierro, as well as nineteenth-century Mexican novels, Astucia (1865) by Luis Inclán and Los bandidos de Río Frío (The Cold River Bandits) (1891) by Manuel Payno. Part Three examines texts, such as Os sertões (1902), Doña Bárbara (1929), and Los de abajo (1915), the novel to be discussed in Chapter 4. These works, Dabove argues, take banditry to be ‘the suppressed origin of the national community’ (2007b: 40). The idea of the bandit as a link to originary barbarity is one that has also been developed by Roberto González Echeverría (1990), in relation to Os Sertões and Facundo and will also be analysed later in this study, in relation to Los de abajo and later novels of the land.

The pro-anti- Hobsbawm polemic

To return to Hobsbawm, his provocative texts have inspired a whole body of critical literature both opposing and supporting his arguments. Anton Blok accuses Hobsbawm of generalisation by universally applying his ‘banditry as a form of social protest’ argument, without taking into consideration local and regional distinctions (Blok, 1972: 495). Blok’s other main point of contention is that Hobsbawm’s argument relies too heavily on class conflict, with the bandit as romantic peasant hero ranged against the official state apparatus and landlords. Hobsbawm’s argument, Blok believes, ‘obscures the links which the bandits maintain with established power-holders’ (1972: 502).

Richard W. Slatta, also seeking to revise Hobsbawm’s arguments, finds fault with his over-reliance on ‘popular and folk sources’ which ‘led him to conclusions different from those of other researchers working with documents from police and other judicial archives’ (1987: 3). Many of the authors in Slatta’s edited volume on Latin American banditry, while not directly referring to Hobsbawm, apply historical and anthropological analyses rather than Hobsbawm’s purportedly more folkloric and literary approach. They generally conclude that the varieties of Latin American banditry were economically and not socially motivated criminal activities that have since been skewed by popular culture into manifestations of heroism and peasant rebellion.

Hobsbawm has his champions, however, including Hugo Chumbita in Jinetes Rebeldes (2000) (Rebel Horsemen), who finds that Hobsbawm’s model of the romantic social bandit existed in myth and fact on the Argentine pampa in the nineteenth and early twentieth century. Chumbita believes it imperative to recover the gaucho bandits from the annals of ‘official’ history, by looking at folkloric records and oral testimony. Otherwise, he believes that bandit figures remain shrouded, ‘relegadas a los comentarios marginales de la historiografía académica’ (relegated to the margins of academic historiography) (2000:11). Contrastively, ‘esas figuras relumbran en cambio en las proyecciones folklóricas’ (these figures feature prominently in folkloric representations) (11).

Gilbert M.Joseph actually seeks to revise the Hobsbawm revisionists. He finds that ‘“official” police and judicial records are freighted with bias and present problems of their own’ (1990: 15), namely that they solely represent the state and dominant classes of the era from which they derive. Peasant consciousness and attitudes are therefore not adequately represented by such sources. It was after all the state, Joseph contends, drawing on the research of Indian social historian Ranajit Guha, that defined what was and was not ‘deviant’ and what did and what did not constitute banditry or outlaw activity. Banditry as a term was therefore ‘used by the state to “mark” certain types of violent or potentially violent behaviour’. And by Joseph’s reckoning, the state ‘consistently expanded or transformed the notion of banditry to meet specific political needs or challenges’ (1990: 22). Joseph diverges from Hobsbawm, however, by questioning the sole use of ‘popular’ and literary sources, such as ballads and novels. He believes that they have some value in examining banditry, especially ‘the social, political and cultural contexts which shape such discourses of power’ (1990: 15), but that they are limited. His solution is to blend so called ‘official’ and ‘peasant’ sources and to engage in ‘substantial cross-checking to mitigate the limitations of both’ (1990: 15). Joseph concludes that there is a need to move beyond Hobsbawm’s thesis, ‘to expand existing analytical frameworks for studying Latin American bandit phenomena’, and to understand that ‘peasant resistance’ may assume many forms aside from banditry, from subtle defiance towards landowners and th...