There is much to recommend about Jaime E. Rodríguez O.’s new book. An emeritus professor who throughout his career published mostly in Spanish, the author intends with this book to reach an English-speaking audience less familiar with his work. We are all the better for it, not only because he tackles important misconceptions about Spain and its colonies during this period, but also because the Atlantic framework he employs and his obvious command of the subject make for an intriguing read that both period experts and generalists will gain something from.
Rodríguez O.’s main argument can be divided into three. First, the key event that explains Spanish America's path to independence and subsequent political developments is Napoleon's overthrow of Ferdinand VII in 1808, not the insurgencies that some national historiographies are built around. Placing the narrative's turning point then, and not later, allows one to see clearly why some places in Spanish America remained relatively peaceful while others fell into civil war. Emphasizing this date is not an original insight, but it is central to his subsequent and more intriguing claims.
Second, the inspiration for the emancipation of the Spanish colonies came directly from Hispanic thought, not foreign influence. In fact, it was political jurists from the School of Salamanca like “Vázquez de Menchaca who influenced well known theorists such as … Thomas Hobbes, John Locke and others. [What the more familiar] Enlightenment thinkers advanced were essentially refined versions of previous works” (5). This is important, the author argues, because to miss this is to fundamentally misunderstand the nature of the Spanish Empire—one that had a complex and evolving form of representation that reached its culmination with “the Constitution of 1812, the most radical charter of the Nineteenth century” (9). Rodríguez O. suggests that this confusion spills into the role the United States Constitution played as a framework for the newly independent Latin American nations. The “leaders of the various regions of Spanish America discussed the utility of the US [and other] models. However, they overwhelmingly preferred Hispanic traditions and practices” (155). Indeed, a content analysis of these discussions shows that they thought the United States framework “was not an appropriate model for Spanish America” (155).
Third, caudillos as an analytical concept does not accurately explain what was happening either during the breakdown of the Spanish Empire or in its immediate aftermath. As Rodríguez O. explains, men like Antonio López de Santa Anna appeared not because of Spanish America's underlying authoritarianism, but rather because “the circumstances of the time and broad political forces shaped their public trajectories” (186). The fact that this has taken hold in the historiography at all is actually a reflection of the fact that this period has been understudied, with much left to uncover.
The book is not without flaws. Rodríguez O.’s emphasis on the Quito Revolution, while it is certain to interest specialists in the period, feels somewhat disjointed. It is not clear in terms of his argument or even as a matter of narrative why he affords it so much prominence. One is left wondering how this process played out in places like the Southern Cone, the Central American isthmus, or even greater Colombia. And while the caudillo and the historiography discussion— the last two book sections—are also compelling reads, they detract from the overall coherence of the work, especially the last chapter which seems only tangential to the argument. It is particularly unfortunate that the author did not develop the caudillo chapter further. The claim is both convincing and provocative, and that part of the book reads as woefully incomplete given both how much Latin American historiography has employed the concept and the explanatory power that some historians have imbued these individuals with. These, though, are more quibbles than major defects.
