The Bolivian Crisis: Quarantine and the Birth of an Anti-Imperialist Proletarian Public (2/5)

The Bolivian Crisis: Quarantine and the Birth of an Anti-Imperialist Proletarian Public

September 1930-March 1931: Limited Quasi-Legal Quarantine ​

Circular of the Atlantic Mutual Insurance Company
BOLIVIAN TRAFFIC: SPECIAL RISK NOTICE

(Issued December 2, 1930; circulated to member firms in New York, Boston, Baltimore, New Orleans)

Effective immediately, underwriters are advised that all cargoes reasonably judged to be destined for Bolivian interior consignees—whether shipped under direct bill, “in transit,” or by subsequent rail conveyance—shall be treated as Extraordinary Risk under Standard Maritime Clause IV (“Contraband and Quarantine”).

This designation applies in particular to shipments routed via Arica, Antofagasta, Mollendo, Callao, and any other Pacific ports commonly utilized as gateways for Bolivian mineral and commissary traffic. Be aware of the following:

1. Need for Inspection Certificates.
Any insured vessel carrying cargo that may be interpreted by inspection authorities as intended for Bolivian consignees must obtain an Inspection Certificate of Destination at its last Atlantic port of departure. Certificates are subject to review; underwriters assume no responsibility for delay, seizure, or refusal.

2. Rise in Premium Adjustments.
Premiums for voyages with suspected Bolivian transit are increased by 150–300% depending upon tonnage, flag, and route. Cargoes including machine parts, rail components, medical supplies in bulk, radio equipment, arms, fuel, and preserved foods may be refused insurance coverage outright.

3. Note on Blacklisted Firms and “Shadow Consignees.”
Member firms are advised that a list of intermediary houses (including certain cooperative and “relief” committees) has been circulated by multiple commercial boards. Cargo insured through or trafficked in association with blacklisted houses will not be honored.

This notice is issued in the interest of commercial prudence. The present circumstances are not recognized as a state of war**,** yet the practical hazards to shipping following the most recent executive orders resemble those attendant upon warlike interdiction.

— Secretary, Atlantic Mutual Insurance Company

The Bolivian Revolution: An International Proletarian History: Chapter 2, September 1930-March 1931 (1978)

…In September 1930, the revolutionary government in La Paz possessed real authority over a thin corridor running from La Paz through Potosi. Over the following weeks, formal recognition from miners’ councils and indigenous assemblies greatly increased the area at least nominally acknowledging the legitimacy of the new government, but the situation in Bolivia’s vast eastern hinterlands was still unclear. Reports proliferated of landlords raising militias, and the situation in much of the country still resembled civil war.

American President Herbert Hoover, in both his temperament and politics a cautious man, hoped to starve out the revolution without resorting to diplomatic fanfare or vast displays of naval prowess. The old Bolivian regime collapsed from the tin trade; surely, American diplomats reasoned, drawing a cordon around the new socialist state would be sufficient for its internal legitimacy to collapse. Purposely avoiding the publicity of congressional action, Hoover leaned on the precedent Root already set, issuing a series of executive actions which, without placing an explicit embargo on Bolivia, made trade with it increasingly costly. Insurance costs shot up, and within a month, American trade with Bolivia had begun collapsing. Dependent on American insurers and investment, a number of North Andean states - Peru, Ecuador, Colombia - quietly began shuttering their trade with the fledgling republic.

Neither Argentina nor Chile recognized the new government in Bolivia, fearful of a negative American response and uncertain of Europe’s commitment. Both, however, rebuffed early demands for an inspection regime and quietly established diplomatic links as they ploddingly attempted to establish their own position. Each government continued to trade with Bolivia, and they naturally became the site of socialist aid to the new republic. Over this period, this trickle of assistance slowly grew as individual party committees, unions, and cooperative shipping firms collected aid. The Soviet Union was the first government to act effectively at a national level to deliver aid, offering incentives to individual managers in key industries to set aside a portion of the surplus toward it. The South American Council of IntRevMar, now based in Buenos Aires, coordinated transshipment through the southern cone countries into Bolivia and also used its earmarked funds to subsidize shipping costs.

This was aid the Bolivian government desperately needed. Bolivia’s dependence on exports meant that it was anything but an autarkic country, and the social revolution that attended the political one temporarily disorganized both production and distribution. Flour, machine parts, medical equipment and fuel were all in short supply. The ballooning worker and peasant’s revolutionary army had systemic shortages of working rifles, uniforms, and ammunition. All of these began to arrive in force by January, though they were still insufficient to fully make up the shortfalls. Civil war in the countryside raged on.

The American State Department and Hoover himself were hesitant to confront the caudillismo governments too directly. Although rhetorically anti-American, they had shown a willingness in the past to cooperate. Neither had been pulled into the socialist bloc, and Hoover hoped to find a relatively non-coercive method to convince them it was in their interest to cease acting as a lifeline for the Bolivian Republic.

At this point, rather than target the governments directly, Hoover chose to enlist the British. Equally fearful of any expansion of socialism though somewhat reticent of enabling an American maritime policing regime, the liberal-conservative government reluctantly agreed to place pressure on City of London interests to cease insuring shipments bound to Bolivia. The City still had important commercial interests in the southern cone of South America, and had the power to make much of the socialist cargo uninsurable. This would directly target trade between Britain, Germany, the Netherlands and the Southern Cone - much of which relied upon either the British merchant marine or British shipping. Simultaneously, the American government expanded blacklists of firms that had transited aid and quietly attached legislation formalizing the measures to a larger spending bill.

At first, these maneuvers appeared to be successful; for over two weeks, the supply situation in Bolivia grew increasingly dire and the government was unable to guarantee the rations it had promised. Socialist governments in Europe, alarmed by these more draconian measures to snuff out the socialist republic, now took more drastic steps. Private shipping cooperatives were placed under commissariat control, large funds were set aside to purchase shipping, and shell companies associated with socialist governments were created to offer insurance. Germany and Russia agreed to pool financial resources in this effort, bringing a new level of coordination. Most importantly, perhaps, the coverage of the Bolivian crisis now began to reach the major newspapers of the socialist bloc and increasingly became a topic of daily conversation.

April-October 1931: The Leaking Blockade and the Mobilization of Socialist Society ​

Extract: Resolution of the Emergency Assembly of the Seamen’s Cooperative and Dock Councils of Hamburg
(Passed 11 May 1931; circulated in port canteens and union halls; reprinted in several socialist newspapers)

The blockade is not a law of nature. It is a decision made by men.

We answer with a different decision.

1. A Bolivia Relief and Defense Fund is constituted immediately. Each affiliated cooperative shall remit one day’s surplus per week to the Fund until further notice. Individual collections are authorized at the gangway and at the factory gate.

2. The Cooperative’s legal committee is instructed to establish rotating charter arrangements and substitute manifests so that relief cargo may travel without presenting a single neck to the same noose twice.

3. Volunteers are requested—fitters, radio-men, mechanics, nurses—for assignment through the South American committees. The revolution there is not a symbol; it is a body that must be fed and armed.

We do not claim to act alone. We act first. Let the ministries follow if they wish; let them restrain us if they dare.

Signed: Delegates of the Dock Gangs; Seamen’s Cooperative Council; Women’s Food Cooperative League (Port District); Youth Technical Circle (Ward IV)

Transcript: Milan Radio Collective — Late-Evening Broadcast
(Recorded in Milan; rebroadcast by local stations across Italy; June 12th, 1931)

ANNOUNCER (calm, clipped): Comrades. This is the Milan Radio Collective.

Some say Bolivia is “too far” to matter. They said the same of the first strike in the first workshop, long before it became a storm.

What is happening now is a blockade made of paper: tariffs written like curses, rules written like snares, and “neutrality” used as a leash. Ships that touch the southern ports are threatened with penalties. Cargo is made “suspicious” by rumor alone. They do not need cannons if they can make bread and bolts of cloth vanish.

So we will answer in the only language that can cross an ocean without permission: collective action.

From tomorrow at dawn, every Camera, every cooperative shop, every tram depot, every workshop council is to open a Bolivia Table: a jar for coins, a ledger for names, a crate for supplies. Give one hour’s wage. Give a day’s surplus. Give spare radio parts, dried foods, cloth, boots, medical supplies. If you can give only your hands, give those—pack, load, repair.

ANNOUNCER: If you are a mechanic, a nurse, a wireless operator: register through your Camera’s technical circle.

Resolution of the Leningrad Society of Women Machinists
(Adopted in Leningrad at an open meeting of shop delegates and cooperative representatives; June 24th,1931)

We, the women machinists of Leningrad, who know the weight of metal and the meaning of empty shelves, address this resolution to the organs of the Soviet Republic and to the unions, cooperatives, and councils of the socialist world.

The blockade of Bolivia is not a “dispute.” It is hunger employed as an instrument of rule. It is the old method by which imperial power tries to govern distant peoples without marching an army: deny bread, deny fuel, deny medicine, and call the starving “disordered” when they refuse to kneel.

We have learned in our own history what hunger is meant to do. Hunger is not only suffering. Hunger is a political lesson imposed by force: obey, or you will not eat. To accept this as a normal tool of international order would be to confess that the revolution has forgotten itself.

Therefore, we resolve:

1. That the Soviet Union shall direct grain, flour, and preserved foods to Bolivia as a matter of proletarian solidarity and anti-imperialist duty, and that these shipments shall not be treated as optional charity, but as necessary defense against a policy of organized starvation.

2. That crucial supplies shall accompany food—medical goods, fuel, tools, machine parts, and radio equipment—so that the Bolivian workers and peasants are not forced to choose between fighting and eating.

3. That this assistance must be sufficient, regular, and publicly declared. If the enemies of the revolution intend hunger to be silent, we intend bread to be loud. Let the world see who starves and who feeds.

4. That the People’s Commissariats and cooperative organs shall create a dedicated Bolivia Provisioning Plan, with fixed monthly quotas, a transparent ledger, and a mechanism for workplace participation—so that factories, unions, and women’s cooperatives may contribute, track, and sustain the effort.

5. That the blockade must be named for what it is: imperial war by other means. The seizure of ships, the intimidation of neutrals, and the harassment of relief cargo are acts of violence; they must be answered with unity, ingenuity, and the refusal to be frightened back into isolation.

We do not speak from sentiment but from memory. In every revolution, there comes a moment when the enemy’s chosen weapon is not the bullet but the empty bowl. When they reach for that weapon in Bolivia, they are also reaching for it against all who would dare to govern themselves.

Bolivia is far away. Hunger is not.

Adopted unanimously.
Signed: Delegates of the Leningrad Society of Women Machinists; Representatives of the Women’s Food Cooperatives; Technical Circle of Apprentices.

The Bolivian Revolution: An International Proletarian History: Chapter 3, April 1931-October 1931 (1978)

…The governments of Chile and Argentina were hardly pleased with American efforts to strangle third party shipping. On April 6th, both states coordinated formal, public diplomatic protests to the U.S. legations, objecting to a “regime of commercial coercion” “engineered by Washington, in concert with Britain, in an undeclared and illegal manner.” In response, American diplomats pointed out that each state had been trading with an unrecognized government—the Socialist Worker and Peasant’s Republic of Bolivia—rather than the lawful Bolivian state (now reconstituted as an American rump in the eastern fringes of the country). Argentina and Chile were urged to “cease acting as commercial conduits for a rogue government sponsored by subversive actors in Europe.” Conduct did not change, though both briefly considered recognizing the nascent socialist republic before concluding that diplomatic escalation was unwise.

Such prudence also dictated the outlook and actions of leaders in Moscow, Rome, and Berlin. Alongside genuine sympathy for the Bolivian revolutionary project sat a standing nervousness about provoking a confrontation that could not be won. The socialist bloc could not project naval power far into the Atlantic, and fears persisted of a “Second Great War” that would dwarf the first. The overwhelming assumption was that their publics would not tolerate one.

What was ignored until too late was that the living example of Bolivia had already accomplished what nearly a decade of anti-imperialist propaganda could not. Workers, peasants, and soldiers in the new proletarian republics saw in the Bolivian experiment a microcosm of their own revolution in 1919—only placed in infinitely harsher conditions. After years of uneasy coexistence with the capitalist states, Bolivia promised a continuation of the original revolutionary project.

Certain socialist party leaders later claimed that the mobilization of a mass proletarian anti-imperialist public was itself stimulated by existing governments and parties. by existing governments and parties. There is some truth to this, insofar as the repressed position of colonial subjects had long been a theme of propaganda. The Indian war of independence was a favorite subject of German, Italian, and Soviet films, and capitalist nations were regularly assailed for a “crass and unscientific racialism intended to divide the global proletariat against itself.”

But before Bolivia, independent initiative on behalf of colonized peoples at the periphery of global capitalism was largely confined to the most educated and radical workers. It was Kronstadt sailors, Saxon machinists, and Genoese dockworkers who spoke the language of anti-imperialism. After Bolivia, it increasingly appeared to be the entire proletariat of Europe. Perhaps no better evidence of the spontaneous, self-organizing character of this mobilization exists than the fact that a portion of workers in the Sozialstaaten of Denmark and Sweden joined the anti-imperialist effort despite the official neutrality of their governments.

In Berlin, Rome, and Moscow the first instinct was to discipline the ports—to fold the “Bolivia tables” into official channels and dampen the language of confrontation. It failed. The more ministries cautioned against “adventurism,” the more collections swelled. By August, officials quietly changed tactics: they stopped arguing with the impulse and began building a system under it—shipping pools, cover firms, standardized manifests, quotas. What began as civic initiative became state capacity, not by decree but by capture.

Even before its partial canalization by the state, workers’ self-activity began to show real results. In early May, a Baltic-flagged freighter carrying “agricultural implements” for Valparaíso arrived with its holds packed in flour, radio parts, and uniform cloth—and below them, rifles and grenades. The papers were immaculate; the destination, technically neutral. Sympathetic Chilean dockworkers ensured that the weapons were quietly moved inland. Within a fortnight, sacks of supplies arrived in La Paz, and the quarantine’s aura of inevitability cracked. Over time, smuggling networks and forged manifests became routinized practices. The Bolivian Army swelled and dealt a crushing defeat to the forces of the rump government in June, despite the precarious food supply in the cities.

The Americans seethed, and for the first time sent a contingent of cruisers and destroyers into the South Atlantic. Several ships were interdicted—among them vessels owned by Argentine firms. This was still symbolic rather than systemic, but the message was clear: America was prepared to employ military force to defend its hemispheric prerogative.

In response to this act of “naked hostility,” Argentina and Chile formally recognized the Socialist Republic in La Paz as Bolivia’s de facto government. By doing so, they hoped to make clear that any further targeting of their shipping would drive them into the socialist bloc. Yet both states misjudged the character of their adversary. While Hoover himself favored de-escalation with the southern cone dictatorships, his advisers—now fearful of further socialist penetration in the New World—advocated a punitive suite of tariffs aimed directly at Argentina and Chile, intended to cripple their economies and force them to the table.

A compromise was eventually reached. No formal tariffs would be imposed, but the U.S. military was granted broader jurisdiction to intercept shipping bound for Argentine and Chilean ports. Several dozen ships and firms associated with the two nations were temporarily blacklisted from American destinations.

Meanwhile, civic mobilization proceeded across the socialist world. Andean relief weeks were announced by councils, unions, cooperatives, and even churches. Workplace assemblies voted not only on output quotas but on solidarity quotas: tonnage pledges were made by shipbuilding cooperatives. Entire communities displayed their contributions publicly, but “this district’s contribution” was pledged not toward an individual nation, as in wartime bond drives, but “toward the liberation of oppressed peoples.” The South American Council struggled to covertly transport waves of volunteers. Some would fight, but most would build rail spurs, staff clinics, teach literacy, train radio operators, and run warehouses. Volunteers were celebrated less as martial heroes than as envoys of the revolution’s conscience. Young men and women drifting toward cynicism about the revolution found a new outlet for their ambitions. The world revolution might not have been finished in 1919, but work could still be done to keep the Bolivian effort alive.

Media outlets increasingly adopted a more confrontational tone than governments would have liked, pushed by their own workers. Nightly “Bolivia dispatches” were read in the same cadence as the old war communiqués—only now the heroes were not generals and soldiers dying for the fatherland, but miners, peasants, organizers, and translators. Newsreels from Bolivia, showing both tragedy and endurance, raised the moral temperature. Montages displayed hands and bodies of different nations and races working together; labour was cast as a luminous, unifying, regenerative force. Newspaper editorials shifted from dry reporting on disputes over administration and distribution to the moral poetry of revolution. A wave of Spanish-language learning programs swept the socialist world as people demanded that the new revolution be made intelligible to them. Anti-colonial struggle became the place where proletarian publics could witness themselves as a transformative collective actor, not merely as administrators and distributors.

The activity of workers was not aimed only at aiding a revolution a continent away; it was implicitly directed at their own governments. The Hamburg declaration challenged ministries to “follow them if they wish.” Everywhere the suggestion was made that workers’ governments were lagging behind, and everywhere the demand was made that revolutionary assistance be formalized, coordinated, and publicly declared. Sitting on the other side of the Atlantic, the Americans watched the rising din of proletarian mobilization with barely concealed trepidation.

The blockade was initially conceived as a quiet instrument—paper, premiums, and “prudence” applied until a distant revolution collapsed from deprivation. By the autumn of 1931, it had become something else: an ongoing contest of organization in which proletarian society began moving faster than ministries, and ministries learned—at times reluctantly—to build capacity under the pressure of their own publics. In the process, “Bolivia” ceased to be a peripheral crisis and became a common word, a nightly dispatch, a revolutionary test by which the socialist world measured itself—and by which the Americans began to measure the dangers of inflaming the solidarities of a new mass public. The quarantine had not ended, but it had started to fail, and failure was teaching both blocs what the next step would require.