Venezuela: Strategic Negotiation as an Ancestral Indigenous Response

Examining Venezuela’s current situation through the lens of ancestral indigenous anti-colonial resistance, including armed conflict, migration and negotiations with imperial powers.

In the context of the hybrid warfare we are currently facing, the present situation bears a historical resemblance to others we have already experienced—situations whose critical reflection we want to bring to public and popular debate.

During the so-called ‘European conquest’ of our ancestral territory by the Spanish and the Welsers, our indigenous ancestors chose to resist the enormous military asymmetry between the imperialist invaders and themselves through at least three different responses. The first was direct armed confrontation with the invaders, the second was ‘flight’ or migration towards areas that were unknown and inaccessible to the Europeans, and the third was strategic negotiation with the imperialists. Here, we will outline the implications of these actions at the time and consider the questions they might raise in the current Venezuelan context.

Regarding the first response, those who have investigated these processes have pointed out that indigenous armed resistance occurred in several phases (1499–1527, 1528–1548 and 1549–1600) in various locations across our ancestral territory (Rosas, 2015). While some historians locate the armed clashes of the Jirajaras (gayones and ayamanes) against the Spanish in the central-western zone (Sierra de Coro) from 1498 and those of the Caquetíos in 1499 at Chichiriviche, others identify the confrontations of the Caribs (and other allied peoples) in the central-eastern zone (from the Gulf of Paria and the Unare region to the Caracas valley) from 1530.

Despite the bloody and fierce indigenous struggle against the invaders, which involved the active participation of more than ten thousand warriors (seven thousand combat troops and four thousand archers) from various peoples who set aside their differences to collaborate under a common purpose of resisting the Europeans as a united front (Tapia, 2014), the invaders prevailed. The indigenous leaders Guaicaipuro, Tiuna, Paramaconi, Urimare and Paramacay engaged the invaders in relentless combat for more than fifty years and preferred to resist until exterminated. However, the indigenous combatants did not anticipate “the perversity of the conquerors”, and ultimately, “the supremacy of Spanish arms prevailed over the steadfast courage of the indigenous” (Sánchez, 2012a). Nevertheless, by 1680, the Spanish were forced to accept the indigenous terms, but only after 150 years of relentless struggle (Tapia, 2014).

When we compare this historical course with our present situation, we should ask ourselves some critical questions: do we currently have the necessary ‘unified command’ (civic, popular, military and police) to successfully confront an adversary in the face of the military asymmetry that has already been proven on the ground? Is there a male or female leader who has the absolute and unconditional trust of the majority of the population, whose unquestionable legitimacy would enable them to call upon us and lead us unerringly towards an accepted, liberating collective ‘martyrdom’, even if it means our annihilation? What would happen if that leadership were to be completely ‘beheaded’ in the course of such a process of frontal confrontation (as almost happened in Iran this year)? Do we have enough credible, amalgamated forms of leadership to replace it successively should such a circumstance arise?

In accordance with the preceding historical description, can we achieve immediate military success if that were the case? Do we have the political and organizational capacity, or the popular will, for a prolonged resistance that could span many decades, as in the case of the 150-year resistance? In any case, those who call on the Venezuelan people as a whole to engage in this collective ‘martyrdom’ must be willing to publicly take responsibility not only for their own potential annihilation, but also for the extermination of an unknown number of people, including non-combatants. In this regard, it is worth recalling that the population was reduced by 25–50 percent during the War of Independence.

With this reflection, we in no way intend to pre-emptively justify any form of ‘surrender’, but rather to consider ‘with a cool head’ (as Hugo Chávez and Nicolás Maduro urged us) the real probability of achieving a tactical victory in a just struggle. It is worth recalling an idea here, and then a concrete practice. I once heard a revolutionary say the following: ‘To cheerfully point out the objectives of the struggle (the goal) without pointing out the concrete ways of carrying it out (the methods) is an enormous act of historical irresponsibility’ (my dialectical comrades would say it is important to ensure that the “material and objective conditions” are in place).

Regarding ‘surrender’, Commander Hugo Chávez himself applied the practice on two occasions: as an alternative to ‘self-immolation’ (or ‘martyrdom’) on February 4, 1992, and on April 11, 2002 when he surrendered to avoid unnecessary deaths (including soldiers in combat). No one could ever accuse the Commander of acting out of “cowardice”. On the contrary, subsequent events proved that he had a clear understanding of the critical nature of those situations, enormous strategic vision and unquestionable trust in his people, both civilian and military.

Returning to our initial point, the second response to our ancestral indigenous resistance was ‘flight’ or migration. Bartolomé de las Casas noted in 1552 that, once the imperialist invasion of our lands began in 1498, migration occurred because “all the people who could flee shut themselves in the mountains and climbed to the highlands, fleeing from men so inhuman, so without pity, and so ferocious, like wild beasts, extirpators and capital enemies of the human race” (Sánchez, 2012b).

As a strategy of resistance and self-preservation, the Caribs, who were the original inhabitants of the islands and coasts, were forced to move into safer, more inaccessible areas to escape the invaders (Sánchez, 2012a). Some indigenous peoples, such as those commanded by Cacique Manaure, migrated southwards into the Llanos. The Chaima and Cuaca peoples did the same in the 1680s (Rosas, 2015; TIPA, 2008). These places became new ‘hubs of resistance’, where military alliances were rekindled with renewed strength.

In this matter of ‘flight’, it is also worth recalling that, 134 years after the last migration following the military defeat in the Second Battle of La Puerta, the so-called ’emigration to the East’ occurred. This was a mass mobilization of nearly 20,000 inhabitants (approximately half of Caracas’s population at the time, and 2.5 percent of the national total), ordered by General Simón Bolívar in an attempt to save the civilian population and regroup the patriot forces. It is worth mentioning that 60 percent of the migrants died on the journey eastward. When considering migration, the collective history of the Afro-Venezuelan cumbes, cimarroneras, palenques and quilombos, and their role in effectively resisting imperialism, should not be overlooked.

Returning to the argument set out earlier, no one could ever claim that The Liberator acted out of “cowardice”; quite the contrary, he acted in the supreme interest of the Patria. In the “Manifesto of Carúpano” (1814), Bolívar explains his reasons: “Your cities are the theatre of war; your fields are barren; your properties are destroyed. But you live, and life is everything. The Patria is preserved through the existence of its children.”

Drawing a comparison with our current situation, we ask the following critical questions: our indigenous peoples migrated to inaccessible areas of our territory in the past, but where would our population flee in the event of a massive, exterminating attack by our invaders today? Are we strengthened today — politically, institutionally and socially — and sufficiently prepared (materially and psychologically) to assume the consequences of such a mass exodus? Do inaccessible territories exist in relation to new war technologies? If so, could conditions be created in those places to support prolonged “centers of resistance”? Is there currently a “question-free” leadership that could prevent, control or at least minimize the possible chaotic situation that a mass emigration could generate? Would the population subjected to such a ‘humanitarian catastrophe’ be willing to ‘fight decisively’ in favour of our cause, however just it may be? Do we currently have this high level of political consciousness, popular strength and strategic unity?

The purpose of these questions is to initiate a discussion about the conditions necessary for preserving the Patria and the revolutionary process in the context of multiform warfare, which has grown exponentially since January 3. This obliges us to adopt a dialectical, complex and multilateral mode of thought that considers all angles and does not stop at the superficial bourgeois questioning of the actions of the state/government, without considering the structures, processes and relationships involved, particularly at the geopolitical level. It is also important to identify the true enemy without any confusion and to consider the tactical relevance and timeliness of necessary criticism.

Returning to our starting point, the third response of our ancestral peoples was the strategic “negotiation” with the imperial invader. Historiography tells us that, in certain cases, when faced with the inability of either side to achieve a decisive victory in a military confrontation, they were compelled to enter into negotiations. Indeed, one response that various indigenous peoples gave to the advance of imperialist forces was to “accept them amicably,” a tactic used by many caciques—such as the aforementioned Manaure—who concluded that “the lesser of evils was to ally with the invading force,” as this was preferable to continuing to resist or flee, which would have resulted in incalculable human and material losses (Rosas, 2015).

Relatively peaceful relations of cooperation were established between 1498 and 1530, specifically with the conquerors, whose priority was the material exploitation of “natural resources” (Tapia, 2008) and who had no interest in governing the natives at that time. It is worth noting here—without making any comparisons—that many indigenous peoples or “nations” (Wayúu, Añú, Chaima, Kumanagoto, Waikerí, Píritu, Karíña and Akawaio) not only survived the genocide of indigenous peoples by establishing non-belligerent relations with the invaders, but have also remained in the areas they formerly inhabited (or in their vicinity) to this day.

In such asymmetric “negotiations,” concessions were undoubtedly made on both sides, resulting in immeasurable losses of various kinds (e.g. degree of autonomy, territoriality, language, culture, spirituality, health). However, physical continuity and the “collective soul” were preserved. The cost of these negotiations was different for each of these peoples and is surely kept in their ancestral memory. However, in the face of such asymmetry and an imposed context, choosing between genocide and ethnocide was always definitively unjust and cruel, yet each people decided what would guarantee their existence until today.

Returning to the comparison with our present situation, we must ask ourselves critically: is the tactic of physical and ‘symbolic’ preservation pertinent and effective today? Is it preferable to preserve the existence of the population, including potential combatants, rather than turn them into “heroic memories of legendary deeds” of physically extinct peoples? From every point of view, is it admissible to yield tactically in key aspects without sacrificing the structural foundations and very essence of a sociopolitical process? If so, where are the limits of the tactical and the strategic? Who can legitimately define them and who cannot? Who possesses all the information necessary to make simple decisions in the face of the complex, dynamic and ambiguous nature of multi-pronged wars? What can be “sacrificed” to preserve the structural foundations of a process? And, in any case, who has the “gift of infallibility” when it comes to speaking and acting?

In closing, we must acknowledge that we do not believe definitive answers exist to the questions posed here. Rather, we believe that legitimate answers can only be found through popular debate and open communication among the Venezuelan people, who are suffering, resisting, innovating and rising up amid this critical historical juncture. Nevertheless, upon verifying the current vitality of the indigenous peoples, who despite ceaseless aggression, bloody invasion and prolonged war, still mostly exist in their ancestral territories, we take a hopeful position.

This impels us to call on the entire Venezuelan population to draw on centuries-old experiences and the wisdom of our ancestors, which still endures, as well as oral traditions and literatures, and our collective historical memory. This will enable us to find reliable, valid and reproducible answers and contradict this asymmetric warlike context, which is similar to those historically experienced by our ancestral peoples. It should also be noted that our Afro-Venezuelan ancestral communities have much to contribute in this regard. The premise that “only the people can save the people” is even more valid when grounded in our liberating roots and ancestralities.

Drawing inspiration from our history of emancipation and critically reviewing the previous course of negotiations with imperialist entities, it is true that in 1812 the Spanish breached the “capitulation” they had signed with our leaders at the time. This allowed the arrest of Generalissimo Francisco de Miranda and undermined the conditions necessary for the continuity of our newly proclaimed independent republic. However, the Spanish showed respect in 1820 by honouring the “Treaty of Armistice,” which not only led to the Spanish Empire recognizing the authority of the Great Colombian Republic, but also created the conditions that made it possible to achieve independence through battle. This was the result of our prolonged resistance to their aggression.

In order to guarantee the creation of similar conditions today, we would like to conclude with the following open questions: who has the wisdom to answer how and what we should do to overcome the current critical situation, if not the people themselves, mobilized with a historical consciousness and a deep strategy? In this sense, “Rondón has not yet spoken.”

*The phrase “Rondón has not yet spoken” (or “Rondón has not yet fought”) refers to the Battle of Pantano de Vargas (July 25, 1819), when the patriot colonel Juan José Rondón replied to the Liberator Simón Bolívar, who was anxious about an imminent defeat, that his llanero lancers had not yet entered combat. Bolívar answered: “Colonel Rondón, save the Patria!” This phrase is popularly used in Venezuela to symbolize that a person or group has not yet demonstrated all their strength and capabilities. It is a way of expressing that victory is still possible.

• Sources:
• Bolívar, Simón (1814) Manifiesto de Carúpano.
• Rosas, Otilia (2015) La población indígena en la provincia de Venezuela. 
• Sánchez, Simón; Torres, Génesis; Bolívar, Eileen (2012a) Venezuela Indígena. Centro Nacional de Historia.
• Sánchez, Simón; Torres, Génesis; Bolívar, Eileen (2012b) Invasión europea y resistencia ante el sistema colonial. Centro Nacional de Historia.
• Tiapa, Francisco (2008) Resistencia indígena e identidades fronterizas en la colonización del Oriente de Venezuela, siglos XVI-XVIII.
• Tapia, Francisco (2014) Del Caribe al Orinoco. Alianzas y redes indígenas como respuesta al capitalismo colonial.

Source: fcim.over-blog.com

Translation to English by The Assembly Media team.