FOUR

ARTISAN REPUBLICANISM

THE MOBILIZATION EFFORTS BEGUN BY ARTISANS IN THE 1840s reached their zenith in the Sociedad Unión de Artesanos (Union Society of Artisans), which articulated a forceful ideology of artisan republicanism that countered the dominant liberalism of the age. The experiences that shaped artisan republicanism can be illustrated by the use of the word desengañar as it related to craftsmen in the early reform period. Taken as a verb, desengañar means to disillusion or to disappoint; used as noun, it implies disillusionment, disappointment, or blighted hope. An 1848 broadside to “the Artisans of Bogotá” warned craftsmen not to support José Hilario López in the blind hope that he would prohibit the importation of foreign goods, raise tariffs, or offer artisans positions in his administration. The author of the tract cautioned that López’s supporters had “opinions entirely opposite” to those held by craftsmen of the Society of Artisans and that “Time would disillusion you.”¹ By 1851, Ambrosio López urged that the Society sever its relations with gólgotas who pursued reform objectives alien to those of craftsmen, in his proclamation entitled El desengaño . . . (The disillusioned). In it he claimed that artisans had been led astray from their original intentions and had to reassert their authority over the body.² Later in 1851, Cruz Ballesteros critically examined the “theory and the reality” of Liberal policies and Liberal attitudes toward artisans.³ When Nepomuceno Palacios was executed for the murder of cachaco Antonio París two years later, Miguel León released a stinging denunciation of the system of “justice” that would so quickly reach a verdict on an artisan accused of a crime, but allow a cachaco accused of the same act to walk the streets in freedom. “His fate is our own,” León asserted:

You have already seen the contempt with which we have been treated, our petitions [to congress] are not given any merit, nor are we seen as competent of public behavior; because these [characteristics] are visible only in our self esteem: because of this we are not paid what we are owed, we are not protected by work that should be given us; because the principal contracts for clothes are brought from the exterior and not made in this country. . . . [D]o you want more desengaños? Prepare yourselves to recover the optimal fruits of your patriotism, of your honor and your suffering, in the reward of the gallows, or if not as dogs in the middle of the street.⁴

Over a five-year span, artisans had internalized their disillusionment to the extent that many craftsmen joined in the 1854 Melo revolt to restore the country to the principles and institutions that they thought served it best. Ten years later, after further reforms and a major civil war, disillusioned craftsmen expressed their thoughts in the pages of La Alianza.

Contrary to the widely held belief that peace would bring back the economic prosperity that Bogotá had enjoyed before the war, all accounts agree that the city suffered tremendous depression during the 1860s.⁵ Miguel Samper, in “La miseria en Bogotá,” described a city mired in economic decay, with high levels of unemployment and a stagnant society. Samper, a dedicated Liberal, blamed the situation on the war, on the government’s failure to fully implement economic liberalization, and upon a myriad of social defects, foremost being parasitism upon public coffers. His generous and detailed analysis spared neither Conservatives nor Liberals, though he singled out artisans as the leading example of public reliance upon governmental support. Craftsmen had, according to Samper, hidden behind protective tariffs and had refused to commit themselves to the arduous task of becoming economically competitive. He suggested that craftsmen, rather than begging for economic protection, should improve their work habits, abstain from political activity, and improve their arts.⁶

José Leocadio Camacho, the most vocal artisan leader in the last decades of the century, rebutted Samper’s allegations.⁷ The thirty-four year old carpenter agreed that artisans, as the first victims of the poverty Samper had described, deserved a central position in the analysis, but not as the cause of the malaise. Camacho asserted that before 1849 the working classes had been dedicated to their labors and had come together only for mutual protection. In that year they had been drawn into the political fray, to the detriment of their arts, just as their tariff protection had been lost. Camacho agreed that part of the solution lay in putting aside political passions for the sake of general well-being, but suggested that other social groups do the same, including elites. The tendency of the well-to-do sectors of the capital to show favoritism to artisans of their own political persuasion, despite the quality of the craftsmen’s work, typified the intrusion of politics into daily lives. These political relationships, in Camacho’s eyes, permeated sources of credit, social relations, and friendship, to the detriment of honesty, skill, or domestic virtue.⁸

Camacho staunchly defended the integrity, social worth, and political capabilities of the capital’s craft sector. Artisans’ practices, Camacho claimed, helped support those craftsmen suffering deprivation and hardship. Whereas Samper had argued against the acceptance of new apprentices, Camacho claimed that it was the social duty of the craftsmen to teach new skills and, more important, proper modes of conduct, lessons that outweighed simple economic well-being. Camacho called upon the nation to intervene in favor of the people’s economic and social welfare, emphasizing that social reality should take precedence over theories of political economy.⁹

While Samper and Camacho debated ideological grounds for improving the city’s condition, some craftsmen took practical steps to relieve the misery of the capital’s working classes. Juan Malo organized a “commissary of national products” to serve as a clearinghouse for craftsmen’s works. Artisans would bring their finished products to the clearinghouse, where consumers could purchase ready-made goods—as they could with foreign items—instead of waiting for a product to be ordered and fabricated. At the same time, the commissary would supply artisans with raw materials, paid for by commissions from products sold in the establishment.¹⁰ The proposal, which resembles the producers’ cooperatives proposed by the Farmer’s Alliance in the United States in the late 1880s, while innovative, never fulfilled its founder’s aspirations.¹¹

Craftsmen, with the help of leading citizens, established a “Colegio de Artesanos” in 1865 to fill the void created by the anticlerical reforms of the early 1860s. The disamortized San Francisco convent became the site for a variety of instruction in areas ranging from reading, writing, and languages to morals, religion, political economy, and constitutional law. President Manuel Murillo Toro offered his services to the school, as did Archbishop Antonio Herrán, Lorenzo María Lleras, Teodoro Valenzuela, and José María Vergara y Vergara, evidence of the non-partisan character of the school. Students also enjoyed instruction in trades such as woodworking, tailoring, or shoemaking. While some artisans questioned the utility of geometry for students whose needs were in the area of practical education, the school was generally well received. Unfortunately it was poorly funded and was promptly closed.¹²

The school’s collapse demonstrated that viable systems of education demanded government assistance. Its organizers requested that legislators consider supporting the school, or creating a government school of arts and trades to help educate working-class children.¹³ Typically, nothing came of the request until artisan political support was needed, in this case when Mosquera and the congress were at loggerheads. A proposal from Francisco de P. Mateus supporting the project was approved in 1867, then set aside in the wake of the conflict between the executive and the congress.¹⁴ This program gained sporadic support until it finally was implemented in the 1890s.

Political competition also evoked strong sentiments from the city’s craftsmen. Former melistas took part in the various campaigns of 1863, mostly in favor of Governor Gutierrez Vergara.¹⁵ However, the artisan Agapito Cabrera warned craftsmen that they again stood in danger of manipulation by political magnates. Cabrera urged artisans to reject political mobilization and unite, for “when the powerful fight, the humble succumb.”¹⁶ An October 1863 parade involving large numbers of craftsmen demonstrated the support for Cabrera’s position. The march’s organizers proclaimed that after three years of war that involved artisans as soldiers, the time had come to speak as men of work—not partisans. Craftsmen, they claimed, faced catastrophic economic conditions brought about by the war and by an influx of foreign merchandise.¹⁷ Tariff protection, it was said, was the fundamental means to resolve the crisis. Anticipating the timeworn response that such legislation infringed on the liberty of merchants, the craftsmen alleged that legislation was properly “governed by morality.” And, since public authority was intended to protect and foment industrial activity, tariff protection, which forestalled negative social developments and sponsored positive economic effects, was the proper goal of that authority. The artisans announced their intention to seek congressional assistance, but asked that merchants restrict imports voluntarily in the meantime.¹⁸

Camacho emerged in the midst of these discussions as both a voice and symbol of the renewed struggle of craftsmen for self-expression and action. Camacho’s newspaper, El Obrero, published first in August 1864, declared that it would promote the “cause of the workers” demanding independence from political bosses who sought to manipulate them. Camacho wrote that antipathy toward craftsmen was not confined to a specific party, but was characteristic of the upper classes, leading him to conclude that craftsmen should be unified by their material conditions and should work together, since they could expect help from no other social sector. Ex-Democrat Emeterio Heredia challenged Camacho’s early passive approach toward this goal, leading the editor to recommend two tradesmen for Cundinamarca’s assembly election and to assume a more forceful stance in his editorials. In the proposed candidacy, Camacho noted that while artisans should not necessarily rule politically, their voices ought to be heard.¹⁹

El Obrero was hardly typical of artisan publications in the capital, which, although many had unusually high standards, seldom addressed the issues of the day in so learned a fashion. Camacho was a highly literate man, who certainly did not use the vocabulary of the people. However, he did speak the language of his class,²⁰ which undoubtedly accounts for his leadership role. Camacho argued that the government’s refusal to adopt higher tariff rates was central to the miserable economic conditions of the workers, as was its failure to support the arts. The carpenter noted, furthermore, that the upper class did not honor work, as they neither knew how to work nor appreciated its value. Improved conditions, therefore, required appropriate governmental policies and changed attitudes toward Colombia’s artisans.²¹ The issues raised in El Obrero and within the context of 1860s Bogotá—the rejection of partisan manipulation, the advocacy of artisan pride and self-help, and the support of independent political action—served as the ideological foundation for the Union Society of Artisans, the culmination of two decades of political activity by bogotano craftsmen.

The Sociedad Unión of Artesanos

The Union Society struggled to win an independent artisan political voice in favor of craftsmen’s interests during an extraordinarily turbulent period. The Society’s leadership came from artisans who had been active in both the Sociedad Democrática and from those such as Camacho who emerged in the 1860s, although the latter were somewhat more vocal. A circular to politically active craftsmen, dated September 15, 1866, explained that the proposed society would be dedicated exclusively to autonomous political action and would use a newspaper, La Alianza, as its mouthpiece. (The organization was often also called La Alianza.) Antonio Cárdenas presided over the group’s Board of Directors, with Saturnino González as vice-president, and Felipe Roa Ramírez serving as secretary. Other directors included Calisto Ballesteros, Ambrosio López, Genaro Martín, and Camacho.²²

Approximately three-hundred artisans organized the Union Society in October and November 1866. Unlike the Democratic Society, only persons who practiced an art or manual profession could join the Sociedad Unión, and then only if they were deemed “honorable” by their peers and agreed to work for the guild’s mutual obligations. These obligations included contributions to a mutual aid fund, subscription to La Alianza, preparation for yearly expositions, payment of membership fees, and a vow not to wear or possess foreign-made clothing or shoes. Further, members pledged to enhance educational opportunities—such as the Colegio de Artesanos—that would assist their fellow craftsmen. In the political realm, members were obligated to be independent, to denounce those persons seeking to manipulate the organization, and to vote for “honorable” men irrespective of party affiliations. Camacho was chosen to lead the Union Society toward these goals, to be helped by Vice-President González and Secretary Roa Ramírez.²³

In keeping with the independent political stance of the organization, it proposed a decidedly non-partisan slate for December 1866 municipal council elections. Seven Unionists were included in the twenty-two names offered for members’ consideration, a list that included Conservative Ignacio Gutiérrez Vergara, Liberal Ezequiel Rojas, Liberal Nicolás Leiva, and Conservative Manuel Pombo.²⁴ The Society proclaimed that it intended to press for various legislative initiatives, including the right to free education, decreased tax burdens, protection of the right to practice one’s chosen faith, and tariff protection.²⁵

Unfortunately for the Union Society, its organization coincided with worsening relations between Mosquera and the Radicals. When Mosquera assumed the presidency in May 1866, Radicals challenged several of his proposals, refusing, for example, to authorize a loan from England that the president had negotiated a few years earlier. After the close of the 1866 congressional session, Mosquera ordered the review of manos muertas (properties willed to the church) sales, expropriated additional church properties, and decreed that state militias be reorganized, a move similar to that which drove him into rebellion in 1859. Public opposition to these measures led Mosquera to submit his resignation and call for a plebiscite for a new executive, a move the congress refused to accept.²⁶

The hostility between the executive and the legislature increased with the opening of the 1867 congress. Radicals secured control of both the senate and the chamber by forging an alliance with Conservatives against Mosquera. The congressmen attempted to reverse the president’s expropriation of church buildings and to limit his capacity to intervene in state affairs. Mosquera, incensed at these challenges, thereupon declared his relations with congress broken, a move that was reversed only after strong pressure from his advisors and public opposition. The Pact of March 16 calmed the situation temporarily, but did little to resolve the fundamental differences between the congress and the executive.²⁷

Partisan maneuvering inevitably involved efforts to mobilize the capital’s artisan class. Several disturbances in the congress were blamed on the craftsmen.²⁸ Mosquera reportedly met with a delegation of twenty artisans in an attempt to secure their allegiance. The Radical daily newspaper praised workers for having resisted political manipulation, even though some artisans appear to have been swayed to the president’s side.²⁹ In particular, José Antonio Saavedra, a cobbler who had been active in the Democratic Society and who was still a colonel in the National Guard, had been brought to Mosquera’s attention the previous year as an avid defender of the president’s programs. A confidant informed Mosquera that Saavedra was very influential in “la clase del pueblo” and could be brought to the general’s side “forever” if he were treated in a “convenient manner.”³⁰ The precise nature of the relationship between the two men is unknown, but it certainly grew stronger, as Saavedra helped to organize a Democratic Society to defend the president in early March. The Sociedad Unión condemned this move as contrary to the best interests of craftsmen.³¹

The conflict between the president and the Radicals led to Mosquera’s abortive coup d’état on April 29.³² The Union Society urged its members to stay away from involvement in the coup, in spite of Mosquera’s open appeal to artisans through Saavedra and the Democratic Society. A delegation from the Union’s board of directors met with Mosquera, seeking the release of Conservative newspaper publisher Nicolás Pontón, who had been arrested in the coup. Mosquera refused to release Pontón, referring to him as a threat to public order, but the chief executive promised to respect the liberty of the press for those who conducted themselves “properly.” The Society criticized the forced recruitment of tradesmen into the National Guard, even while La Alianza noted that Saavedra had treated his men well in the Guard. The Society urged that artisans stay in their shops until the presidential adventure was terminated, which the army accomplished in late May.³³

The Colombian historian Indalecio Liévano Aguirre claimed that artisans supported the 29 de abril coup with the same enthusiasm as they had had in backing the revolt of Melo thirteen years earlier. Liévano cited the behavior of Saavedra as evidence of this allegation, but did little else to prove his claim.³⁴ Although Saavedra was extremely active in the coup, and continued to agitate craftsmen in support of Mosquera,³⁵ the actions of this single cobbler and those artisans who may have joined him compares poorly to the widespread support for Melo in 1854. By contrast, abundant evidence indicates that artisans refused to participate in the threat to public order.³⁶ The Union Society attested that if Liberal artisans had joined the coup as they had thirteen years earlier, then it would have been very difficult to restore constitutional order. That they did not was, the Society claimed, “in large part due to the Society of ‘La Alianza.’”³⁷

However beneficial to the cause of peace La Alianza might have been, the coup attempt shattered the unity of the organization. Immediately after Mosquera’s fall, a rumor circulated through Bogotá that “notable” citizens were collecting funds to ship artisans en masse to the llanos (eastern grasslands) in order to still their voices. The Union Society and the government denied the truth of the rumor, at the same time downplaying allegations that secret meetings of discontented tradesmen were taking place.³⁸ In late June, artisans from both parties represented in the Society, including Emeterio Heredia, Cruz Sánchez, Calisto Ballesteros, Ambrosio López, Genaro Martín, and Tomás Rodríguez, declared that they would not be agitated by those trying to disturb the peace and promised to do all in their power to maintain peaceful conditions.³⁹

The Union Society struggled for survival. La Alianza ceased publication from June 14 until August 1867, and then from early September until late November. The Society elected a cabinet of unity on July 20 and when publication of the paper resumed in August, the struggle to restore the alliance of workers “against the league of lazy exploiters of the people” emerged as its dominant theme. Doctor J. Peregrino Sanmiguel noted that partisan politics had taken root in the Union Society, leaving it with only a handful of members, which, in his view, forced the organization to reform itself in order to broaden its appeal. One proposed measure was the establishment of a school of arts and trades to train craftsmen; another was to extend the Union Society throughout the nation; and the last was to admit foreign craftsmen and non-artisan supporters such as Sanmiguel to the Society.⁴⁰

The electioneering surrounding the selection of a constituent assembly for the State of Cundinamarca contributed to the Society’s problems. The political machine created by Ramón Gómez after 1861, condemned by Camacho as corrupt and self-serving, had been temporarily overthrown along with Mosquera, allowing the opportunity for an important political change.⁴¹ The Society proclaimed the elections to be a splendid opportunity to effect desperately needed reforms and urged that its members select progressive young men as representatives who could end sapista domination of the state.⁴² (The clients of Gómez—“el sapo,” the toad—were called sapistas.) Electoral slates formed by both Conservatives and Liberals included only one name in common, José Leocadio Camacho, evidence of either his political importance, or the parties’ recognition of the need for artisan votes—or both.⁴³ The Conservative slate won the contest, polling about two-thirds of the 1,400 votes cast statewide; Camacho’s vote total was second highest of the candidates.⁴⁴ In the constituent assembly, which rewrote the state’s constitution, the artisan leader sat on the election committee. Elections were held later in the year for other state and national offices, including the governorship, which was won by Conservative Ignacio Gutiérrez Vergara, delaying Gómez’s return to power. Numerous artisans were forwarded by two Conservative factions and the single Liberal slate, and Camacho was elected as an alternate to the national congress.⁴⁵

Cruz Sánchez initiated steps to reorganize the Union Society in November. A gathering on November 18 redesigned the group’s charter to reflect the proposals of August; membership was opened to non-artisans and emphasis on educational aspects of the group was increased. A general membership meeting on December 5, said to have been attended by over four-hundred artisans and their supporters, marked the formal reintegration of the Society.⁴⁶ Eight-hundred people approved the new charter in January 1868, when Saturnino González was chosen as the Society’s president and Antonio Cárdenas as its vice-president.⁴⁷

Both the Union Society and its paper presented a more aggressive character after its reincorporation. Camacho continued as one of the paper’s editors, but he was now joined by Venezuelan-born printer Manuel de Jesús Barrera, whose editorial style added a new dimension to the paper. Moreover, outside writers, notably Manuel María Madiedo, now contributed to La Alianza on a regular basis. The Society’s goals, a 10 percent tariff increase on competitive foreign goods, a reduction of state taxes on books used for public education, free schools for children of both sexes, and an end to the active political role of clerics, were proclaimed as it renewed its activity.⁴⁸ The worsening economic situation of the capital city was indiscriminately blamed on the expensive governmental apparatus, usurious capitalists, a lack of coinage, frequent wars, monopolist control of the capital’s food supply, and floods of foreign imports.⁴⁹

The Society petitioned the congress on March 14, 1868, for higher tariff rates. The request sought an increase of duties on competitive foreign merchandise and lowered tariffs on raw materials used in the production of national goods. Some 250 names were included on the petition, which supposedly represented 3,000 more in the Society’s offices.⁵⁰ The Chamber of Representatives rejected the petition on April 3, 1868. The Society’s paper related bitterly that three of its commissioners had presented their case with decorum and humility, in stark contrast to the disruption that had marked the submissions of previous petitions. It was clear to Camacho and Barrera, however, that the representatives had the same amount of respect for moderate behavior as they had for turbulence. As elections for new representatives were approaching, the Society reminded its members that only those people who had supported their appeal deserved artisan votes.⁵¹

Political activity stirred the city in anticipation of the May 1868 election for state legislators. The Society’s board of directors presented a slate of Alianza candidates, which included both artisans and their supporters.⁵² The Union Society faced organized competition for the artisan vote however, for in late March a group of about 150 men had reorganized the Democratic Society with Saavedra as president, mosquerista Eliseo Payán as vice-president, and Joaquín Calvo Mendivil as secretary.⁵³ The May 3, 1868, election revealed broad support for the mosqueristas, but the Conservative list did well also. Saavedra was elected to represent the barrio of Catedral, while Conservative printer Nicolás Pontón was chosen to represent the town of Mosquera. “El Sapo,” Ramón Gómez, also returned to the state assembly. Camacho, who was listed in both Alianza and Conservative slates, drew sufficient votes to serve as an alternate. No other artisans were so honored and the independent Alianza slate drew only 114 votes.⁵⁴

The fragile unity the Union Society had achieved in the months after its December reorganization collapsed in the wake of this electoral contest. Numerous members of the Society’s board of directors, led by Rafael Tapias and Francisco Olaya, resigned in protest, alleging that the Society had abandoned its independent character to form an open political alignment with our “worst enemies.” (The enemies were not named.) The protesters promised to return to the organization when it returned to its original path.⁵⁵ The establishment of a Popular Society in the Egipto barrio in June revealed the full depth of political divisions within the artisan class.⁵⁶ As expected, the Society strongly denounced the dissidents, claiming that it had always been politically oriented and, if it had changed, it was to become even more representative of the tradesmen’s interests by ridding itself of influences such as that of Tapias, whom Calisto Ballesteros called a slave of “those who wanted to keep workers in obscurity.”⁵⁷ The Society accused the men, especially Tapias, of having violated both the letter and the spirit of the organization and expelled them on May 21, 1868.⁵⁸

Following these rifts is not an easy task, but they illustrate the difficulties of maintaining artisan solidarity in the face of partisan electoral pressures. The Democratic Society, with Saavedra and Payán as solid supporters of Mosquera, represented the political ambitions of the caucano general. The Popular Society, much less influential that the Democratic Society, did not include the names of artisan supporters, making its relationship to the craftsmen’s political spectrum impossible to determine. The Union Society, if it had a political inclination, favored more independent members of the Conservative party. While a core of the Union Society’s members remained true to their original non-partisan objectives, the organization itself underwent noticeable changes. These in part reflect the influences of Barrera and Madiedo, which suggests that Tapias’s protest may have been at least partially valid insofar as Madiedo had used the pages of La Alianza to engage in several polemics.⁵⁹ Tradesmen’s contributions were significantly more aggressive after the December reorganization as well however; Madiedo was not solely responsible for its more militant character. It is likely that the Union Society’s experience, combined with the worsening economic situation, contributed to the new political stance. In short, the multiple currents that the Union Society sought to avoid engulfed it after May 1868. Many artisans continued their efforts to unify their class, but others seemed to think that their goals could only be reached by more direct support for Mosquera or the Conservatives. The only political faction that artisans did not support were the Radicals, the gólgota heirs who would dominate the nation’s political machinery until the 1880s.

The Society’s board of directors attempted reunification in July.⁶⁰ The directors officially protested preparations for war that were being undertaken in Cundinamarca and vowed that the Society would do all that it could to avoid civil conflict.⁶¹ Unfortunately, the Society’s fragmentation had not ended, for in early August, Cruz Sánchez criticized the same preparations for war as president of the Supreme Directive Body of the newly founded Union Society of Artisans. Sánchez apparently began this group in order to return to the non-partisan alignment professed by the original Union Society.⁶² Initially, La Alianza praised the goals of what they referred to as the Supreme Society, observing that they were the same as its own. Soon, however, La Alianza informed its subscribers that correspondence was being sent to the wrong society because of the confusion between the names. The matter came to a head when, on August 24, 1868, Sánchez was expelled from the Union Society for not returning Society property, for violation of its constitution, and for founding an antagonistic group with the Society’s second name.⁶³

Signals of the approaching conflict in Cundinamarca led the Union Society to circulate a petition in which the tradesmen pledged their solidarity to prevent war and their unwillingness to serve as cannon fodder unless upper-class citizens were also called to service.⁶⁴ At the same time, Liberal artisans actively supported their party in anticipation of looming conflict.⁶⁵ The Union Society warned that principles were not being disputed, only “men, salaries, and power.” The last issue of La Alianza, dated November 7, 1868, noted that it would resume publication when the crisis had passed. Three days later the Conservative state administration was overthrown by the Liberal federal authorities. There is no evidence of the Union Society’s operations after that date.⁶⁶

Artisan Republicanism

Gareth Stedman Jones notes in his discussion of Chartism that “it was not consciousness (or ideology) that produced politics [in England], but politics that produced consciousness.”⁶⁷ Colombian politics in the era of liberal reform produced artisan republicanism, a non-elite consciousness rarely documented in nineteenth-century Latin America. The phrase artisan republicanism comes from Sean Wilentz, who documents its changing character in New York City in the generations after the United States’ independence. Wilentz comments that artisan republicanism “helped mold [craftsmen] as a social group and offered some real basis of solidarity between masters, small masters, and journeymen.” Changing patterns of production, seen in the increasingly divided labor force, coupled with “the artisans’ fight against political subordination,” transformed the original character of that ideology by mid-century, leading, in his assessment, to a working class ideology.⁶⁸ Economic, political, and social experiences produced artisan consciousness that sustained their ideology.

The ideology articulated by bogotano artisans in the late 1860s drew deeply from experiences in the years since independence. Craftsmen perceived that their shared values and common interests emanated from their function as skilled and often independent laborers. Many artisans expressed the opinion that although the rich of society did not appreciate the artisans’ social role, craftsmen felt a pride de ser artesano (in being artisans) and strove to protect their social positions. However, the path of economic development chosen by government leaders since the 1840s had allowed foreign products to undermine the once-protected niche of the craftsmen, a threat that stimulated their political mobilizations. Political involvement during the reform period had produced the widely held sentiment that partisan politics were exploitive and not in the best interests of craftsmen. Political strife, especially the recent civil war, had evoked deep hostilities against the senseless sacrifices that artisans and others had been forced to make. Together, these factors created an artisan class with a clearly formulated ideology. The ideology is visible in most documents presented by craftsmen to the public or to political functionaries during the reform period, although it is most clearly articulated in the pages of La Alianza. Numerous artisans contributed to the elaboration of this ideology, which was both idealist—with clear notions of the proper function of society and government—and critical of current practices.⁶⁹

The concept of an ideal republic—the nation—constituted the heart of artisan republicanism. The ideal republic, for José Leocadio Camacho, consisted of a collective social organism in which symbiotic elements acted together for the good of the whole. Thomist conceptions of a universalist, corporatist state clearly shape this notion, although it lacks the cohesive role of the church.⁷⁰ Instead, social elements and citizens served to keep the nation in balance. A nation contained no distinctions of nobility or inferiority, because all persons shared equal virtue at birth. After birth, stratifications developed in response to positive social contributions—such as virtuous work—or negative manipulations—such as force of arms or bossism (gamonalismo).⁷¹

Craftsmen developed the concept of the nation from their own vision of a just society, which was composed of congruous social elements, foremost being the producers and consumers. The artisan position within the nation came from the work that was central to any society. Luciano Rivera alleged that craftsmen constituted the industrial and artistic core of society. A harmonious nation, however, could be tainted. While artisans, according to Rivera, were dedicated to honest work, the fruit of their labor was enjoyed by “self-centered” and “inhumane” wealthy persons.⁷² Work and production were positive social contributions; those who consumed without producing drained society and violated the curse God laid upon Adam. The Union Society’s editors did not limit their definition of producers to manual laborers, however; they also included merchants, lawyers, and farmers, all of whom contributed to the productive process. Camacho illustrated the “proper” function of property in his allegation that workers produced by their labor and skills, while consumers caused capital to circulate. Camacho claimed that the poor worker had the obligation to work and produce, while the rich should consume and stimulate the arts. Together, when property’s social function was fulfilled, neither the rich nor the poor abused their role; a balance then existed between producers and consumers. (Camacho lamented that such was not the case in Colombia.)⁷³ La Alianza, as a union of producers, was for Ramón Jiménez the route to the creation of this ideal republic.⁷⁴

Republican social well-being required a moral foundation. Moral restraint bridled the passion of absolute liberty, contributing to self-control and virtuous behavior. Human shortcomings necessitated religious guidance, but republican society required freedom of intellectual expression unbound by a moralizing church. A good republican society, according to La Alianza, balanced moral and intellectual forces, curbing moral fanatics who denied others’ rights while avoiding the vain scientificism of unrestrained rationalist expressions.⁷⁵ Together, love of God and love of humanity produced sociabilidad, the proper basis of society.⁷⁶

The family and educational institutions diffused these principles through society. Children learned morality and traditions, as well as the craft by which they contributed to society, in the family. One craftsman related that the father instructed children in proper morals and the knowledge of traditions, and also made sure that they learned a craft, so as to ensure their independence.⁷⁷ Camacho added that teaching proper social conduct was the responsibility of the mother.⁷⁸ Education assisted the family in teaching citizens to distinguish between crime and virtue and in fostering an awareness of their rights.⁷⁹ Various craftsmen wrote that good citizens needed both moral and intellectual training, although the former was absent under the present system of government. Mariano González alleged that the current system of education served only to perpetuate the position of the wealthy and to prepare them for the political struggle.⁸⁰

The interests of the nation could only be served by a republican form of government. In order for the social contract to function in a republic, government should be properly elected, be representative, and alternate the parties in power. Ambrosio López, a veteran of twenty years of political activities on the behalf of craftsmen, wrote that the people were obligated to delegate much of their individual liberty to the government so that it might govern for the nation; they should support the government by taxes, labor, and, if necessary, blood. In return, citizens should expect peace and order, and a government that respected law, safeguarded property, provided instruction, and protected the nation. Civic instruction, in López’s mind, fostered the republican spirit and protection extended to industry. For López, the social contract was complete when both nation and government fulfilled their respective obligations.⁸¹

Artisans judged that several changes in governmental policy were essential for the desired republic to become a reality. Free, popular education was needed to sustain both freedom and “popular sovereignty”; technical training would support the improvement of arts and social independence.⁸² While republicanism, for the craftsmen, demanded that citizens pay taxes so that the government could forward the interests of the nation, Camacho wrote that the existing tax structure of the federal, state, and district governments demanded a heavy tax burden, but none of the government bodies looked after the nation’s interests. Taxes upon sales, shops, and production helped to decimate industry, which Camacho saw as the backbone of the nation. For him, and for Felipe Roa Ramírez, several changes would improve the situation: sponsorship of immigration of skilled craftsmen, government-protected industries and training programs, expositions to honor native arts, rigorous suppression of contraband, and the removal of direct taxes upon the consumer. And, fundamentally, free trade, the “crude and open war against workers of the country,” had to be abandoned in favor of industrial protection.⁸³

Leaders of the Sociedad Unión found the never-ending struggle between the Conservative and Liberal parties to be the government’s most grievous shortcoming. The Union Society’s desire to avoid the multiple ramifications of partisan manipulations was a logical sentiment for men who had come to political maturity within the context of the Democratic and Popular Societies. According to the Union’s ideology, parties should represent the various interests of the nation in its fullest collective extension. However, both parties fought for power and control of the government’s treasury so as to enrich themselves at the public’s expense. Political bosses sought the support of the people only at election time or their arms in times of conflict. These manipulations led one writer to refer to parties as a “social gangrene” that permeated the judicial and legislative process, thus obstructing justice and good laws. The alternative to these incessant struggles was genuine bipartisanism, a system whereby the parties regularly alternated in power, a solution proposed by Felipe S. Ojuela and others that antedated the twentieth-century’s national front by ninety years.⁸⁴

The newly created federalist structure of the national government attracted the criticism of various authors. Agustín Novoa argued that Bogotá suffered from the burden of three governments—district, state, and federal—and yet had gained no profits from decentralization. He thought that a return to centralism would end regional conflict and would create a government that worked for the nation. The federal congressmen, Ambrosio López observed, met yearly, collected their salaries, and did nothing positive. Camacho proposed that if a federal structure were to be maintained, congress should meet once every six years, see to the needs of the government (including electing a president who would also serve for six years), and then retire.⁸⁵

Partisan struggles caused, in the opinion of the editors of La Alianza, the civil strife for which craftsmen and the poor had paid so dearly. Artisan republicanism accepted the obligation of citizens to defend the country, but not to sacrifice their lives or property in partisan struggles. Craftsmen made up a disproportionate percentage of the Army and the Guard, services that were supposed to be voluntary. However, the authors claimed that artisans and the poor were forcibly recruited, while the rich could pay to avoid service. Camacho, nevertheless, reminded his readers that all social sectors suffered from war; the poor and workers died in battle or lost their jobs, while the wealthy lost their capital to forced loans, in addition to their crops, businesses, credit, equipment, and animals.⁸⁶

Craftsmen in the Union Society of Artisans were not only exceptional critics of the liberal reform governments, they anticipated many of the changes undertaken by the Regeneration governments of the 1880s and 1890s. Laissez-faire individual conduct or government policies were, according to the ideology of artisan republicanism, socially irresponsible. Insofar as nations were conceptualized as social entities, a government that cared for a nation’s well-being required attention to the needs of its component parts, a system of education that nurtured the whole (with religious influences), and a centralized political organism. Craftsmen understandably emphasized their own industrial concerns, which, for them, were justified at the national level because of the central role of producers to society. Many of these same ideas are visible in the Regeneration’s restoration of the church as the foundation to Colombian society, the return to centralism, and the government’s support for economic development, though clearly not from the same ideological orientation as that of the artisans.

It is important to consider how the artisan republicanism of 1860s Bogotá compares to the ideologies of other Latin American craftsmen in the same period. Numerous students of labor history posit that productive function is a determining factor in the definition of ideology, a hypothesis that can be tested by the examination of comparable producers in different settings. Or, as others would maintain, do distinct social, economic, and political environments create distinct ideologies? Put in the language of a recent scholarly exchange, does structure or experience serve as the dominant molder of the history of artisans?⁸⁷ Unfortunately, the resolution of these questions is hindered by a lack of scholarly inquiry more than by the absence/presence of other artisan ideologies.⁸⁸ Whereas labor historians have delved deeply into the thought and behavior of twentieth-century workers, sustained examination of nineteenth-century craftsmen is limited. Still, the questions cannot be begged.

Artisans in other areas of Latin America reacted forcefully against many of the liberal reforms. In Peru, artisans rallied in the late 1840s against the liberalization of tariff laws and then took full advantage of political liberalism to become an electoral force in the 1850s. Both tendencies were blunted however, driving craftsmen to direct action against imported goods in late 1858, by which time political doors had been shut as well. In Peru, as in Colombia, concerted action against economic liberalism resulted in economic defeat and a narrowed range of political expression.⁸⁹ Similarly, Chilean artisans protested economic liberalization, while, at the same time, they found themselves being used as political puppets by elite parties.⁹⁰ In these and other countries, evidence suggests that alternate ideologies sought to counter the dominant liberal mode.

Conclusion

The political activity of artisans in the 1860s shared many features with that of earlier years, but it also had several significant differences. The most important similarity was the continued appeal to and use of tradesmen by political parties in their pursuit of power. This was clear after the defeat of Melo, when gólgotas quickly forgot their differences with melistas and draconianos in order to rebuild the Liberal party to counter Conservative strengths. Artisans, by their positions as losers in the Melo coup, were unable to assert their objectives autonomously within the reunited Liberal party, but their potential power was evidenced by the tenacity with which gólgotas pursued them. Orthodox Conservatives, the obvious beneficiaries from universal manhood suffrage, saw less need to pursue the artisan vote, and made fewer appeals to tradesmen. The civil war of 1859–62 had momentous consequences for bogotano artisans. The war reinforced a feeling of political exploitation among craftsmen, as once again they were used as cannon fodder, only to be forgotten when the battles ended. Moreover, anti-clerical decrees alienated many tradesmen, who felt that the church’s capacity to fulfill its social responsibilities were crippled by Mosquera and his followers, and that their ability to live a good Catholic life was threatened.

The postwar economic depression compounded the negative effects of the war. Artisans suffered not only from economic disruption because of the war, but also because the earlier reforms were affecting the bogotano marketplace in a much more significant fashion than in the 1850s. Lowered transportation costs, along with reduced tariffs, caused economic dislocation in many trades. These factors, combined with the effects of war, resulted in economic misery at all social levels, but perhaps was worst in the artisan sector. The impact of economic dislocation upon artisan mobilization in the 1860s had its parallel in the 1840s. Just as the credit crisis after the War of the Supremes and plans for reduced tariff rates acted as the stimulus for the founding of the Society of Artisans, so too did economic crisis spur organizational efforts in the 1860s.

In the face of economic misery, wartime abuses, and political disillusionment, artisan political activity underwent a major change. The Sociedad Unión represented a far more independent and mature political movement than had any previous artisan organization. Earlier groups had shared many of its aspirations, but none synthesized artisan interests into a clearly expressed ideology. The Union Society sought to reject the system that used tradesmen as both political and economic tools, and tried instead to assert both the value and potential power of united artisans within the political process. Its eventual failure does not belie the importance of the sentiments expressed within the Union Society. The socioeconomic system that had isolated craft production was now on the wane; artisans fought with increasing desperation as the political economy of liberalism gained potency. In the years that followed the disintegration of the Society, the decreased need of the parties to mobilize artisan voters and the fragmentation of the artisan class combined to create a very different environment in which tradesmen expressed their interests.