Darwin and the Dictator

While Charles Darwin’s voyage aboard the Beagle is most remembered for the naturalist’s observations of wildlife, which later informed the theory of evolution, perhaps fewer are aware of the political backdrop of the voyage.  One of Darwin’s more unlikely encounters occurred in 1833, when the young 24-year-old scientist met Juan Manuel de Rosas, a prominent political figure in Argentina.  On the face of it, the episode would seem to encapsulate two opposing and clashing forces: on the one hand, human progress and modernity; and on the other, backwardness and sheer barbarism.

Or did it?  I’ve come to Argentina to meet with historians, paleontologists and anthropologists to discuss the significance of Darwin’s historic meeting.  In 1829, several years prior to the Beagle’s departure, Rosas had become governor of Buenos Aires province and established a dictatorship instilled by state terror.  At the time, Rosas was the most powerful landowner in Buenos Aires.  In late 1832, Rosas’ term ended and he departed for the south.  There, he took up the role of army chief, prosecuting the bloody Desert Campaign against indigenous peoples.

When it suited him, Rosas employed scientists: the politician brought hydrographers, meteorologists, surveyors and even an astronomer along with him during his military campaign.  Rosas also maintained amicable relations with British diplomats, who received permission to excavate fossils.  On the other hand, paleontologist Agustín Martinelli of the “Bernardino Rivadavia” Argentine Museum of Natural Sciences told me Rosas may have simply regarded fossils as trophies or a way to show off.  On the whole, the dictator sidelined science while supporting traditional and patriarchal values.  Rosas, who detested liberalism and secularism, even made religious education compulsory while pursuing a highly politicized mode of Catholicism, in which the politician’s portrait was placed atop altars.

In August 1833, the Beagle dropped Darwin in Patagonia, and the naturalist traveled to Rosas’ encampment.  During his fieldwork in Argentina, Darwin would uncover the bones of ancient megafauna which had long since disappeared.  However, the naturalist was still a neophyte and would not publish Origin of Species until 1859.  Rolando González-José, a biologist specializing in physical anthropology in the Patagonian town of Puerto Madryn, says the meeting provided a striking contrast: “Darwin was a young man in his early twenties sitting down with one of the most important leaders and military figures, probably in all of Latin America at that time.”

On the one hand, Darwin was repulsed by Rosas’ forces, remarking “I believe such villainous Banditti-like army was never before collected together.”  The naturalist adds that Rosas exercised “despotic powers,” but then seems to fall under the aura of the charismatic and handsome general, an “obliging” man of “extraordinary character,” who enjoys “unbounded popularity,” a “perfect gaucho,” known for his “civility” and “feats of horsemanship.”  Commenting on the historic meeting, Martinelli said Darwin may have been a little naïve or taken in.

“I was altogether pleased with my interview with the terrible General,” the naturalist continued, adding “he [Rosas] is worth seeing, as being decidedly the most prominent character in S. America.”  Rosas went out of his way to expedite Darwin’s scientific work, providing a passport to “El Naturalista Don Carlos.”  “In conversation he is enthusiastic [and] sensible,” the scientist noted.  Darwin personally traveled to one of the politician’s estancias or ranches, where he was “treated very hospitably.”  “The enthusiasm for Rosas,” Darwin gushed, “was universal.”  Nearby, the scientist uncovered fossils belonging to Megatherium, an ancient giant sloth.

Was the young scientist blinded by his own assumptions?  Darwin himself was a patriotic booster during his voyage aboard the Beagle.  Rosas, meanwhile, favored British business interests, and some 4,000 influential merchants had flourished in Buenos Aires.  Perhaps, Rosas and the British were on the same page: Noemí Goldman, a historian at the University of Buenos Aires, says local elites were interested in developing cattle ranching and exporting to Britain.  Julio Djenderedjian, a fellow historian, chimed in that conversely the British wanted to maintain the conservative business order.

Though Darwin was struck by Rosas’ supposed social egalitarianism, writing “I never saw anything like the enthusiasm for Rosas,” perhaps the naturalist should have been circumspect.  The Argentine politician is sometimes referred to as an early populist, but Goldman added that Rosas conceived society as hierarchical and not particularly egalitarian; structured by merit, property and social distinction.  Rosas identified culturally with gauchos, though in reality his forces worked as servants: outlaws or peons compelled to serve as ranch hands on his estancias, a “sort of asylum for murderers.”  Needless to say, Rosas rose to the top through violence, concentrated land in the hands of a few, and enlarged his own properties and those of his relatives “who waxed wealthy with land, stock raising and exports.”

Darwin might have agreed with Argentine liberals, who regarded Rosas as the epitome of backwardness.  The naturalist wrote that Rosas’ war was “carried out with the most shocking barbarity,” though oddly enough Darwin also seems to have viewed Rosas as a modernizer.  The politician knew how to turn his ranches into productive capitalistic enterprises, leading Darwin to write that Rosas’ estates were “admirably managed.”  Over time, the charismatic autocrat would hopefully exert influence over Argentina by encouraging “prosperity and advancement.”

How could one lead a barbarous campaign, yet still be a defender of civilization?  Darwin is contradictory, writing “this war of extermination…will certainly produce great benefits; it will at once throw open four or 500 miles in length of fine country for the produce of cattle.”  The war had made the country “tolerably safe from Indians,” and if the conflict was “successful, that is if all the Indians are butchered, a grand extent of country will be gained” for livestock.

As Darwin continued his voyage, Rosas returned as Governor of Buenos Aires in 1835, now ruling with dictatorial powers while brutally repressing opposition.  Fearing execution and assassination at the hands of “Caligula of the River Plate,” many fled the country, arguing Rosas was an obstacle to civilization and science.  Meanwhile,  Rosas’ relations with European powers deteriorated due to friction over free trade and treaty rights, leading to an Anglo-French blockade of Buenos Aires in 1845.  Now that Britain was at odds with the Argentine leader, Darwin belatedly changed his tune: in the third edition of his Journal, which later became Voyage of the Beagle, the naturalist amended his passage dealing with Rosas’ “extraordinary character” and prospects for future prosperity in Argentina, inserting a footnote reading “this prophecy has turned out entirely and miserably wrong.”

In 1852, facing an internal revolt, Rosas boarded a British warship and traveled to England.  Ten years later, Darwin may have met the aging 69-year-old Argentine in Southampton.  It’s unclear what the two discussed, though it must have seemed quite the reversal of fortune, with the father of evolution now at the height of fame, and Rosas forced into ignominious exile.  Though many loathe Rosas as a brutal throwback, throughout the years his name has been invoked by both right-wing nationalists and anti-imperialist leftists.  In 1989, Rosas’s bones were repatriated to Argentina, which was celebrated by gauchos in a village where the dictator had defeated an Anglo-French effort to land troops.  Héctor Palma, a Darwin scholar and professor at the National University of San Martín in Buenos Aires, told me Rosas’ memory is still polarizing, with some reviling him as a tyrant and others viewing him as a nationalist.

It goes without saying Darwin’s legacy is more progressive than the Argentine dictator, though lingering questions remain.  In the second half of the nineteenth century, liberal elites sought to foster economic development and the sciences played a key role in helping to consolidate the nation.  Such liberals embraced Darwinian ideas which were tied to progress and civilization.  However, Darwinism was also linked to the notion of extinction and “elimination of inferior individuals.”

As part of their civilizing nation-building program, liberals encouraged European immigration while backing expansion into indigenous lands.  It would seem scientific and secular-based society was hardly less barbarous than Rosas: during the 1870s-1880s “Conquest of the Desert,” explorers and collectors took part in military operations, while naturalists placed skulls, skeletal remains and even live indigenous peoples in museum exhibits to justify scientific racism.

It would be a mistake to assign blame for these developments to Darwin himself, who wasn’t involved in the interpretations of his theories.  And yet, some of the naturalist’s original observations from the Rosas era about progress on the frontier make for uncomfortable reading.  Moreover, the naturalist believed in a hierarchy of races, not just in terms of social complexity and technological prowess, but also as far as mental capabilities were concerned.  “I’m not interested in judging Darwin morally,” Palma said, let alone evaluating the naturalist by the standards of contemporary society.  “Darwin was contradictory,” the historian remarks, adding “he’s emblematic of the nineteenth century, but at the same time he is well intentioned and believed in the idea of societal improvement.”