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How do intergroup grievances develop in the absence of oppression? Revolutions and

Political Parties in Nineteenth-Century Uruguay

Nicolás M. Somma

Instituto de Sociología

Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile

nsomma@uc.cl

PUBLISHED IN THE JOURNAL OF HISTORICAL SOCIOLOGY

DOI: 10.1111/johs.12046

Political sociologists often assume that widespread grievances require a long legacy of intergroup

oppression. Yet in nineteenth-century Uruguay, supporters of the White and Red political parties

developed intense grievances against each other even though a legacy of oppression was missing.

For explaining this puzzle I present an alternative perspective. It states that grievances first

originate among political elites, which mobilize the masses through selective incentives in order to

impose their will. If elites and masses are bound by close ties, sustained mobilization facilitates

cross-class group identification and allows grievances to “trickle down” from the top to the

bottom of the social structure.

KEYWORDS: grievances, conflict, political parties, nineteenth-century, Uruguay.

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How do intergroup grievances develop in the absence of oppression?

This paper addresses the following question: how do intergroup grievances emerge and

spread across wide sectors of society in the absence of a legacy of intergroup oppression?

Common explanations (reviewed below) assume that intergroup grievances emerge as the result of

an enduring legacy of political, economic, and/or social oppression from one group over another

one. The conflict between the Red party (Partido Colorado) and the White party (Partido Blanco

or Partido Nacional) in nineteenth-century Uruguay, however, challenges this assumption.

Intergroup grievances between Reds and Whites undoubtedly existed and spread over large

segments of the Uruguayan population that supported one or the other group. Yet a legacy of

intergroup oppression was absent.

Drawing on works on collective action and political sociology, as well as historical studies

of nineteenth-century Uruguay, I propose an alternative perspective for solving this puzzle. It

suggests that in national societies lacking a legacy of intergroup oppression, grievances first

originate among political elites and then “trickle down” to the masses of followers. Specifically,

intergroup grievances develop when three conditions combine in the same historical setting. First,

incidental conflicts among political leaders unexpectedly lead to enduring confrontations among

elite groups that foster inter-elite grievances. Second, opposing elites resorting to selective

incentives repeatedly mobilize masses into armed action. Third, if elites and masses are linked by

close ties of loyalty and affection, repeated mobilization generates among the masses an

identification with the political group of their leaders and a counter-identification with the opposite

group, and grievances trickle down. As a result broad, cross-class collective grievances end up

dividing the society even in the absence of a legacy of oppression and exploitation of one group by

the other one. This is just one way in which widespread intergroup grievances may come into

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existence – there may be other ways which I do not address here. Although this perspective was

built inductively with nineteenth-century Uruguay in mind it may have applicability to other cases,

as discussed in the conclusions.

The article is structured as follows. After discussing some common assumptions in the

literature about the development of grievances, I glean from it a “legacy of oppression”

perspective and argue that it cannot account for the existence of grievances between Reds and

Whites in nineteenth-century Uruguay. Then I present an alternative “trickling down” perspective.

Resorting to historical evidence, I use it for understanding the grievances between Reds and

Whites. I close with a summary of the argument and discuss its broader theoretical implications.

The “legacy of oppression” perspective

Social scientists have considered the role of grievances for explaining the occurrence of

wars, protest movements, and political conflicts in general (Buechler 2000 and Rule 1988 for

reviews). Yet little attention has been given to inter-group grievances as an outcome in their own

right. For instance, we know comparatively little about why societies sometimes engender deep

emotional divisions among social groups while sometimes they do not. I conceive intergroup

grievances as specific negative emotions (such as hate, outrage, anger, indignation, or a sense of

injustice) which (i) are shared by individuals that think of themselves as belonging to a common

social group and (ii) are directed toward another specific social group – instead of being just

generalized discontent (Gamson 1992; Goodwin, Jasper, and Polletta 2000; Jasper 1998;

Summers-Effler 2002).

Despite the scant explicit treatments of this topic, one can glean from important works in

political sociology and social movements some insights about when intergroup grievances should

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arise. Marx, for instance, posited that the systematic and extreme economic oppression of the

capitalist class over the working class should lead in the long run to an oppositional proletariat (a

“class for itself”) that would fuel insurgency across the world. Additionally, in his writings about

nineteenth-century France, Marx noted that the brutal repression of organized workers by state

police forces – the armed delegates of the capitalists – intensified the feelings of injustice and

discontent among the former (Tucker 1978). Additionally, relative deprivation approaches

suggested that grievances emerge when the members of a group perceive that the members of

another group, which are similar to each other in some aspects, are nonetheless benefiting

disproportionately from existing social and political arrangements (Gurr 1970; Davies 1962).

Resource mobilization and political process theories focus on mobilization and political

opportunities rather than on the generation of grievances. However, strongly influenced by the

American Civil Rights movement as they are, they also assume that grievances originate from

long-standing social and economic inequalities. These inequalities are in turn reinforced by daily

violence and discrimination from one group (e.g. whites) over another one (e.g. blacks) in settings

such as voting places, buses, and dining rooms (McAdam 1999). Morris, for instance, refers to a

“tripartite system of [racial] domination” (1984:1) comprising economic, political, and personal

dimensions.

In a more macro-structural vein, some scholars suggest that grievances are more likely to

arise in heterogeneous and unequal societies in which divisions do not cross-cut but rather overlap

(Blau 1977:238-40). Similarly, others claim that grievances arise in communities whose structural

features lend credibility to certain collective action frames (McVeigh 2004), or when dominant

groups feel that their privileges are being threatened by competing groups (Olzak 1992). Finally,

recent research on Third World revolutions suggests that group grievances emerge when political

authorities repress communities in arbitrary and indiscriminate ways (Goodwin 2001).

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Leaving aside their obvious differences, these works suggest what I shall call the “legacy

of oppression” perspective. As an ideal type it is based on five tenets. First, grievances arise when

social groups are considerably unequal in their command of social, political, and economic

resources. Second, given these inequalities, the more powerful group takes advantage of it and

oppresses or exploits the deprived group. Third, recurrent exploitation and oppression across time

increases intra-group cohesion and generates inter-group grievances. Fourth, grievances deepen

when the stronger group uses violence and other ruthless means of control against the weaker one,

and especially when such actions are perceived as indiscriminate. Finally, groups differ in

“visible” attributes such as class, race, religion, or language among others. Of course, I do not

claim that this perspective represents the entire collective action literature. Based on micro-level

research, framing (Snow et al. 1986) and identity theorists (Polletta and Jasper 2001) have shown

that grievances depend on negotiated meanings and interpretations of the social world as much as

on a legacy of oppression. This perspective, however, captures much of the accepted wisdom in

political sociology and social movements research.

Is this perspective useful for explaining the existence of grievances in nineteenth-century

Uruguay? Before addressing this question, let me show how the grievances that divided Reds and

Whites in Uruguay looked like in the last quarter of the nineteenth century.

Red and White grievances in nineteenth-century Uruguay

The Eastern Republic of Uruguay is a small territory - of about the size of Oklahoma –

located to the South of Brazil and East of Argentina. Obtaining its independence in the late 1820s,

it gathered a mostly white and nominally Catholic population, which went from 74,000 in 1830 to

about 1,000,000 in 1900. During the nineteenth century Uruguay was predominantly rural and

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based on a pre-capitalist cattle economy, which was raised in extremely fertile prairies and

exploited with primitive techniques.

The Red Party and the White Party (hereafter “Reds” and “Whites”) emerged in the mid-

1830s and remained as the two main political parties until the 1990s1. They spent the rest of the

nineteenth century tirelessly competing in elections and staging insurgencies against each other.

Throughout the paper I will focus on many aspects of this conflict, but for now just consider the

outcome I will try to explain: by the last three decades of the nineteenth century, the appeals of

Reds and Whites had penetrated deep into the hearts and minds of Uruguayans.

Consider Zum Felde’s (1963:186-7) vivid description of the Red-White antagonism during

the 1870s in Montevideo, Uruguay’s capital, the home of about about one-third of the country’s

population (Caetano and Alfaro 1995:19):

“The urban families (…) feel the enmity from one or the other band. Epithets like

“barbarians”, “mangy”, “thieves”, “throat-cutters”, or “pedestrians” appear in the daily

conversations, the confidential letters and the visits. The girls wear light blue [representing

the White party] or red ribbons [representing the Red party]. The whitish girls in the

villages sing “the quail sings in the forest, and the goldfinch in the ravine, go the light blue

ribbon, die the red one” or vice-versa. The children parade in the streets, signing songs that

end with “I would like to see a whitish in the top of my dagger” (...) People use in their

clocks and clasp-pins the effigy of Rivera, Oribe, César Diaz, Flores, or Leandro Gómez

[White or Red heroes]. All Montevidean families have a male member in the army; and in

many of these families, a member was killed by the Whites or the Reds. All have deaths to

avenge. The pain, blood, and hate are deep. From one street to the other, from the doors

and balconies, the families of opposing bands look with mistrust and rebuff to each other

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(...) When there is an uprising and the news arrive at Montevideo, the families of the rebel

band do not feel secure. When it gets dark, nobody stays in the streets and the doors are

locked. All men are in guard in one or the other side. Often, brave mothers have to take the

guns and defend their homes”.

While Zum Felde’s description encompasses urban people from all walks of life, the

following lines written in 1901 by dramatist Florencio Sánchez - who served in the armies of the

White revolutionary leader Aparicio Saravia in 1897 – illustrates ironically how the educated

classes were also swept by the Red-White divide:

“It is rare that we Orientals [Uruguayans] are not born surrounded by the coo of a mutiny;

immediately, at the same time we are asked to say “daddy” and “mommy”, our father

teaches us to say the name of his preferred party leader. In elementary school we learn

White or Red geometry and grammar as well as to break our heads with blowing stones on

behalf of leaders of one or the other color. In the university pulpits we read Voltaire, Kant,

Rousseau, and Hegel from our Red or White lenses. And when we receive our college

diploma we rush and take the symbol of our officially certified wisdom to the political

community of our parents, godfathers, teachers, professors, and the chieftain that

channeled our youth fervors” (quoted in Rama 1972:98).

But it was in rural Uruguay where the Red and White colors probably became more

relevant in defining people’s identities. As Chasteen (1995:135-6) points out, “the oil-cloth

coverings on the ranch dining tables typically showed the family’s political color. Aparicio

[Saravia, the White leader] (…) would not tolerate red garments in his presence. This color coding

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was enthusiastically reciprocated by those on the opposite side”. And in a country with

comparatively little religious fervor, women choose to honor the saints dressed in red or white

according to their political preferences (Chasteen 1995:136).

How would the “legacy of oppression” perspective explain the grievances between Reds

and Whites? Probably, it would suggest that long time ago, one group was able to acquire a

disproportionate share of political and economic resources, which were then used to exploit,

oppress, and discriminate against the other group. The exploited group surely resisted, although

unsuccessfully due to its weakness. This led the dominant group to despise and repress it

ruthlessly, hence triggering a spiral of reciprocal hate that deepened across time.

Such explanation does not work. First, Reds and Whites were novel groups – they emerged

as such only in the mid-1830s. Consequently, there was not a long legacy of domination or

oppression of one over the other. Indeed, there was not even a short legacy of it: in a new and poor

country, none of these groups were able to hoard significantly more political and economic

resources than the other one. This obstructed any attempt of hierarchical intergroup submission.

Second, the structural cleavages that according to the literature often fuel inter-group

conflict (e. g. Lipset and Rokkan 1967) were very weak. In this tiny and homogeneous society – at

least by Latin American standards - Reds and Whites did not belong to distinctive classes,

geographic regions, or racial, ethnic, linguistic, or religious groups. Both parties included similar

combinations of military leaders, urban professionals, and landowners. And during most of the

nineteenth century, they did not embody substantially different political ideologies or philosophic

worldviews.2 This partially explains why the Red-White conflict does not easily fit within the

classic Liberal-Conservative divide that pervaded most Latin American republics during the

nineteenth century. Other factors that discouraged the saliency of such divide were the weakness

of the Catholic Church, the virtual absence of an aristocratic class, the consensus regarding the

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need of establishing a representative republican government instead of a monarchy (as happened

for instance in Mexico and Colombia), and the impracticality of building a federal government in

such a small territory. Accordingly, party grievances had little to do with substantive social-

structural or ideological divergences. Rather, they revolved around emotional attachments to

mythical leaders, codes of honor, and family revenges.

Given the absence of a legacy of oppression, how did Reds and Whites come to hate each

other as much as suggested by Zum Felde, Sánchez, and Chasteen? In what follows I present an

alternative perspective for explaining the emergence and spread of inter-group grievances that

does not assume such a legacy. Then I use it for analyzing the grievances between Reds and

Whites.

An alternative: the “trickling down” perspective

Assume a society in which one can differentiate between “elites” and “masses”, no

significant grievances exist among groups, and a legacy of inter-group exploitation and oppression

is absent. As table 1 shows, in a context like this one society-wide grievances will take place if

three conditions combine: 1) grievances among elite groups emerge, 2) elites persistently mobilize

the masses in armed action, and 3) elites and masses are closely tied to each other. My assumption

that grievances start among elites and then trickle down to the masses is consistent with

realignment theories in political science, which claim that new issues are brought by politicians

and then permeate to the electorate through the action of party organizations (MacDonald and

Rabinowitz 1987).

TABLE 1 ABOUT HERE

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Condition 1. Inter-elite grievances

The first condition refers to the development of a split within elites that lead to inter-elite

grievances. If inter-elite grievances do not emerge other situations may ensue (e. g. an iron-

handed, absolute monarchy if sustained mobilization is also not in place; see table 1). However,

history shows that quite often national elite groups feel aggrieved against each other. Such

grievances may arise from enduring divisions across dynastic, tribal, regional, or religious lines to

name a few (Blau 1977; Lipset and Rokkan 1967). But where do inter-elite grievances come from

in “new” societies such as the recently emancipated Latin American republics? Because Spaniards

had traditionally monopolized authority positions during colonial times, the antagonisms and

identities among creole elites were underdeveloped. Also, during years of warfare they had been

united by the common and overwhelming concern of gaining freedom (Halperín-Donghi 1993;

Williamson 1992). How, in this context, do domestic elites develop grievances against each other?

While many answers are possible, I advance the notion of “locking alliances” - which can

be understood as a “mechanism” of contentious action in the sense proposed by McAdam, Tarrow

and Tilly (2001). In weakly structured contexts like these, future alliances among elites are

difficult to predict: virtually anyone could ally with any other at some point. However, often for

pragmatic or trivial reasons, weaker elites – those who control less economic, military, or political

resources – enter in alliances with more powerful elites. These vertical alliances, which may span

from the local to the national or even international level, give rise to enduring commitments and

reciprocal expectations.

The choice of allies at this critical juncture (Collier and Collier 2002) may have important

consequences for future alignments – consequences hard to imagine at the moment of deciding

who to side with (Clemens 2007; Mahoney 2001; Pierson 2000). While less powerful elites may

initially profit from being protected by more powerful ones, they may not be fully aware that as

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the conflict advances the cost of exiting from these alliances increases. Once the conflict pits blocs

of elites rather than single elites, the smaller partners who dare to abandon the coalition become

exposed to attacks of the opposing bloc as well as reprisals from their more powerful former

partners. The smaller partners become “locked” in these alliances and their autonomy is

undermined. Moreover, the original reasons that led smaller partners to fight against each other

may fade away, yet commitments to their respective larger allies may prevent them from reaching

peace and ultimately “drag” them to continue the fight. Before this process there was a weakly

structured conflict setting. Now there are clearly defined blocs of elites competing against each

other.

Even in the absence of social-structural divisions, persistent conflict fueled by locking

alliances may create or reinforce within each side a “we” collective identity. This is defined as a

“cognitive, moral, and emotional connection with a broader community” (Polletta and Jasper

2001:285). Conflict may also favor a “them” identity that labels the other group as “the enemy”

(Gamson 1992). When opportunities for harming and being harmed by members of the other

group abound, oppositional identities easily lead to inter-elite grievances. Hence, rather than the

usual account in which preexisting grievances trigger conflict (e.g. Gurr 1970), conflict arising

from locking alliances may create or at least reinforce grievances among elites. And while the

broader conflict with the more powerful partners may eventually come to an end and locking

alliances recede, new sources of grievances (such as the political exclusion of the adversary from

authority positions through illegal means) may emerge to keep the animosity up.

The crystallization of grievances among elites does not mean that these will necessarily

“trickle down” to non-elite groups and result in deep societal divisions, as happened in Uruguay

with Reds and Whites. According to table 1, two additional conditions should take place if this is

to happen.

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Condition 2. Sustained instrumental mobilization

The second condition deals with the issue of whether aggrieved elites mobilize the masses

for armed action or not. According to pluralism (Dahl 1961), in modern liberal democracies

aggrieved elites process political conflict through peaceful electoral contests. Elites will not

mobilize the masses for armed action not only because it goes against the “democratic creed”, but

also because in such contexts the state is strong enough to dissuade it (see table 1). Of course, the

pluralist model does not always apply: especially when state infrastructure is weak, aggrieved

elites may mobilize the masses for armed action against each other - as was frequently the case in

nineteenth-century Latin America.

How can elites drive the masses to risk their lives in conflicts originated at the top rather

than at the mass level? Olson’s (1965) notion of selective incentives provides a classic answer.

Rational actors will not pay the cost of contributing to a public good (which by definition is

provided to both contributors and non-contributors) unless they get “selective incentives” – or

benefits that are received only by those who contribute. Selective incentives can be positive or

negative, as well as economic, social, or psychological. By “instrumental mobilization” I simply

refer to mass engagement in collective action which is driven by selective incentives rather than by

a direct interest in the cause (such as obtaining a public good for the mass group or pursuing

retaliation).

While rarely referring to Olson, the anthropological literature on patron-client ties in pre-

capitalist societies illustrates how instrumental mobilization may flourish in certain situations

(Eisenstadt and Roniger 1984; Powell 1970; Weingrod 1968). In rural settings such as ranches or

plantations, patron-client ties may allow landowning elites to mobilize their workers through

selective incentives. Due to their superior power and resources, elites supply nearby people with

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goods, employment, and protection. The clients reciprocate in many ways such as working for

them, defending their property and, central for my argument, joining armies when asked to do so.

In contexts signed by material insecurity and weak state protection against internal or external

threats, clients have good reasons for accepting these incentives in exchange of joining an army

(Lichbach 1994). Such incentives are selective because elites provide them only to those who

contribute to collective action. This assures opposing elites a constant pool of recruits for

launching armed action against each other.

Armed confrontations lead mass members to personally pay some of the costs of the

conflict (e. g. dying in the battlefield, being injured, or having loved ones in these situations).

However, even in such cases, instrumental mobilization by itself may not be enough for elite

grievances to trickle down. Elites may resort to selective incentives (such as wages or plunder) and

hire mercenary armies. Mercenaries may engage in sustained mobilization without sharing even a

bit of the grievances that propel conflict at the top. If the masses are to make theirs the grievances

originated at the top, as happened in Uruguay, instrumental mobilization must become emotionally

loaded. Condition 3 suggests one way in which this may happen.

Condition 3: close ties between elites and followers

Condition 3 refers to the characteristics of the ties linking elites and masses. Such ties may

vary across a number of dimensions. They may be ephemeral or take place repeatedly across long

spans of time. They may be affectively neutral or entail deep affections (Lawler 2006). They may

involve a specific area of people’s daily activities or may spread over a wide array of areas such as

work, leisure, and co-residence (“diffuseness” according to Parsons [1951]). Additionally, while

elites have historically attempted to translate their superior power and wealth into exclusive

lifestyles (Veblen 2001), it is possible that elites and followers share similar cultural backgrounds

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and carry out their daily activities in similar ways. I use the shortcut “close ties” for referring to

ties between elite and mass members which are enduring, affectively loaded, diffuse, and take

place against a background of cultural similarities. “Distant ties” have the opposite characteristics.3

When masses and elites are linked by close ties, sustained armed confrontation against the

enemy favors the development of cross-class group identities. Close ties means that members of

both groups share experiences in and around the battlefield, partake in rituals celebrating victories

or mourning defeats, and contribute to the creation of collective myths and heroes. Through these

processes mass members become identified with the “imagined political community” (Anderson

1983) of the elite they are fighting for. They also develop oppositional identities against the enemy

(Gamson 1992). As this dual identity permeates from the top to the bottom of the social structure,

mass members feel as theirs the grievances that initially were an elite affair – in other words,

grievances trickle down (see table 1).

But when elites and masses are linked by distant ties, identification becomes less likely and

grievances do not trickle down even in the presence of sustained mobilization. The prototypical

mercenary, who has never seen the face nor heard the voice of the prince he is fighting for, will

rarely experience the grievances held by such prince against the competing royal house. He is only

moved by selective incentives. The clash of mercenary armies is a byproduct of their respective

ties to opposing elite members rather than a direct struggle between them. Conflict is still fueled

by grievances at the top.

According to condition 2, economic dependence allows elites to provide selective

incentives to mass members for engaging in collective action. Yet economic dependence may also

contribute to the creation of close ties (condition 3). This should be the case when such

dependence takes place in physical settings that are shared by elites and masses, and when

members of both groups engage in common daily activities. This suggests that the distinction

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between selective incentives and close ties is analytical – both phenomena may be inextricably

related in reality, as was the case in nineteenth-century Uruguay and many other places (see

Eisenstadt and Roniger 1984).

In the next section I use this perspective for understanding how the grievances between

Reds and Whites emerged and ended up permeating nineteenth-century Uruguayan society. This

perspective does not specify a chronological sequence for the three conditions – it just considers

their combination. However, some parts of the historical narrative that follows will go from past to

future to give a better sense of the unfolding of events.

Using the “trickling down” perspective for understanding Red and White grievances

Condition 1. Inter-elite grievances

Given the absence of a legacy of oppression how, at some point during the 1830s or 1840s,

did some sectors of the Uruguayan political elite come to feel that they were proud members of a

political collectivity called the White (or Red) party, and that they hated another group called the

Red (or White) party? The notion of “locking alliances” helps answering this question.

Uruguay’s political parties emerged as such in the mid-1830s as a result of the competition

between Fructuoso Rivera and Manuel Oribe, two of the most powerful former independence

leaders. During the first years after independence they cooperated with each other: Oribe

supported Rivera’s first presidential term (1830-35) and the latter designated the former as his

successor for the 1835-40 period. Yet once in power Oribe curtailed Rivera’s formal power and

accused him of corruption. Rivera rebelled. In an 1836 battle their armies used for the first time

the Red (Rivera) and White (Oribe) badges that symbolized the nascent political groups.

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In the late 1830s this domestic conflict became intertwined with international ones. In his

struggle against Oribe, Rivera obtained military help from the Brazilian Empire, the Argentinean

Unitarians, France, and Great Britain. And to defend his government from Rivera, Oribe resorted

to Juan Manuel de Rosas, the powerful governor of Buenos Aires. On their part, the Argentinean

Unitarians, Brazil, France, and Great Britain all had their own specific reasons for opposing Rosas.

So by siding with Rosas, Oribe automatically became their enemy. And by siding with Rosas’s

enemies, Rivera automatically became an enemy of Rosas (Reyes Abadie and Vázquez Romero

1998:238 ff. vol.4; Maiztegui 2005:241 ff. vol.1; Acevedo 1933:90 vol.3).

These two heterogeneous international blocs staged the “Big War”, which lasted from 1839

to 1851. While most of the action during the first years took place in Argentina, in 1843 Oribe –

who had been overthrown by Rivera in 1838 - invaded Uruguay from Argentina and put

Montevideo under a siege that lasted until 1851. During these years the country was territorially

split in two governments. The Reds controlled Montevideo, with their rule being called the

“Defense government”. Oribe and his White supporters controlled the rest of the territory from the

“Little hill” government.

Although the Uruguayan leaders happily received crucial military and economic support

from their international allies during the conflict, this very support made them increasingly

dependent on their partners and enormously raised the costs of an eventual exit from their

respective alliances (Barrán 1977:29; Reyes Abadie and Vázquez Romero 1998:201, 226 vol.4;

Pivel Devoto and Ranieri de Devoto 1953:11 and 86). It was clear that the international

ramifications of the conflict could threaten Uruguay’s survival as an independent nation. However,

neither Rivera nor Oribe had given up their ambitions of gaining and keeping the national

government, and they knew they would need external assistance for it (Reyes Abadie and Vázquez

Romero 1998:209 vol.4; Pivel Devoto and Ranieri de Devoto 1953:93; Pivel Devoto 1994:129

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vol.1). Rivera and Oribe also believed that the foreign powers could punish them if they dare to

exit. The gates of the alliances were already locked, with Reds and Whites inside them.

Meanwhile, important processes were taking place at the elite level inside each domestic

band. The shared experience of living in one or the other side of the line and facing the same

enemy for almost a decade strengthened Red and White group identities. Both elites faced several

challenges: being permanently prepared for an attack, keeping up the morale of a segregated

population, dealing with material shortages, and maintaining military discipline under uncertain

conditions (Acevedo 1933:105, 125-9, vol.3). Perhaps more important for their sense of common

fate, elites in both sides recreated legislative and executive bodies and proclaimed themselves as

the only legitimate national governments (Maiztegui 2005 vol.1). As Zum Felde (1963:180)

asserts referring to the notables that composed both parties, “after the Big War, the traditional

bands were more defined (...) than ever before. The nine years of division of the national society in

two groups, the Little Hill and the Montevideo [Defense] governments, deepened collective

feelings, unifying all of those who belonged to one of the bands”.

After the war, which ended in 1851, members of both parties frankly attempted to forget

past hates and consolidate national unity. This resulted, during the 1850s, in national

administrations in principle palatable to both parties. But the old identities resurfaced when they

had to deal with issues linked to the war – such as war treaties with Brazil or the honoring of

figures with controversial roles during the conflict. As the Red leader Pacheco y Obes wrote in a

letter to Rivera in 1853, “Reds and Whites can perfectly be under the same ceiling, without this

meaning at all that the grievances that divided them for so long will disappear” (Pivel Devoto

1994:205-9 vol.1; see also Maiztegui 2005:256 ff. vol.1).

Political exclusion became an additional source of inter-party grievances after 1865 – the

year in which the Red leader Venancio Flores overthrew the White president Bernardo Berro. In

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the following decades the Red administrations resorted to manifold ways of electoral manipulation

and intervention to exclude Whites from Congress and local governments. An informal power-

distribution agreement in 1872 brought peace for some years. Yet Whites felt deeply resented for

having so little formal power given their assumption that they represented half of the country’s

population (Diez de Medina 1994; Mena Segarra 2004).

While by the 1850s grievances had already crystallized at the elite level, there are

indications that they had not permeated – or did it weakly – at the mass level. Because the siege

during the Big War split friendship and family networks that spread across Montevideo and other

southern areas of the country (Acevedo 1933:196-7 vol.3; Pivel Devoto and Ranieri de Devoto

1953:124-5), animosity feelings against the other side did not arise (Reyes Abadie and Vázquez

Romero 1998:289 vol.4; Barrán and Nahum 1967:13 vol.1; Acevedo 1933:361-3 vol.3). When the

siege was lifted people from both sides run to meet their loved ones, and the peace celebrations

that ensued were incredibly calm (Pivel Devoto 1942:188 vol.1). Also, because the siege involved

little warfare, there were few opportunities for clashes among mass members from both bands

(Maiztegui 2005:252 vol.1; Acevedo 1933:111 vol.3; Acevedo 1933:197 vol.3). Finally, because

only elites could vote and participate in the creation of separate governments during the war, the

masses were excluded from identity-building political rituals.

So how did the conflict that aroused between Rivera and Oribe in the 1830s evolved, by

the last decades of the century, into “two particular and distinctive ways of being Uruguayan, (...)

two truly fraternities with their own national myths, heroes and martyrs, ideals and passions”

(Reyes Abadie and Vázquez Romero 1998:152 vol.4)? In short, how did grievances trickle down?

Conditions 2 and 3 provide an answer.

19

Condition 2. Sustained instrumental mobilization

Whites and Reds engaged in sustained armed mobilization, as reflected in the

approximately one dozen national-scale confrontations that took place since independence until

1904 - when the last civil war was fought. Table 2 presents estimations of the proportion of

soldiers in the Uruguayan male population between 15 and 50 (the age range of most recruits)

during the most important armed conflicts between both parties across the century. The table

suggests that an impressive proportion of the adult male population in Uruguay participated in one

or the other side. For instance, in 1836 and 1838 Rivera and Oribe together mobilized around one

fourth of the adult male population. And the conflict that pitted the Red President Batlle y Ordóñez

against the White leader Aparicio Saravia in 1904 almost mobilized one fifth of it.

TABLE 2 ABOUT HERE

How could parties mobilize so many men? To a large extent this was the result of the

capacity of ranchers linked to each party to provide selective incentives to their workers. While

urbanites did partake in armed actions, party soldiers were mostly recruited among stable peons

working in ranches (estancias) devoted to raising cattle and, to a lesser extent, agriculture. The

owners of these ranches, especially medium-sized ones, lived with their families and relatives in

their lands. For the diverse tasks involved in exploiting cattle they hired peons, who received a

modicum salary and protection from external threats. Peons might also receive a few cattle and a

plot of land where they could build a humble house with mud and straw and settle with their

families (Chasteen 1995:29).

In exchange peons raised cattle, protected the ranch from vagabonds and thieves, and their

spouses (if any) could engage in domestic service. In a context in which official authorities were

20

extremely weak and bands of criminals were pervasive, each ranch developed its own small army

composed by its peons and led by the landowner. These small militias could be easily appended to

rebel armies if the landowner felt sympathetic to the rebel party (see an example in Reyes Abadie

and Vazquez Romero 1998:402). Peons were useful as rebel soldiers because their skills at work

were easily transferable to war settings. They were dexterous horsemen and brave for the tasks

involved in profiting from cattle. And their working tools - knifes, lassos, whips, spears – were the

tools with which war was made for most of the nineteenth century (Chasteen 1995:35, 92-3).

Why would peons accept such a risky thing as joining an army? Peons not willing to

follow the landowner’s suggestion could risk their material reproduction (and that of their

families) and be left at the mercy of bandits. Of course, the costs of becoming a soldier were high,

so one should not assume that all peons acted based on this premise. But many did so, especially

those having their families in the ranch (Chasteen 1995:29). Ranchers, in turn, were stratified in a

pyramidal fashion. The weakest ones were often informally tied to, and used to cooperate with,

larger ones, thus allowing their respective parties to launch national-scope campaigns (Zum Felde

1963:166).

Condition 3: close ties between elites and followers

Conditions 1 and 2 by themselves are not enough for understanding why grievances ended

up permeating wide sectors of the Uruguayan society. Mercenary armies are also mobilized by

selective incentives yet, quite likely, grievances do not trickle down (see table 1). However,

because in Uruguay conditions 1 and 2 were accompanied by close ties between ranchers and rural

workers, the outcome was different.

To start with, close ties were favored by the relative absence of distant status ranks. Since

the territory that became Uruguay lacked precious metals, the Spanish crown did not send there

21

nobility members. Instead of Marquises and Counts, the pioneers in Uruguayan colonization were

artisans, peasants, and military men of humble origins. Thus, Uruguay never had the “Creole

aristocracy” that developed in colonial centers such as Perú or México (Real de Azúa 1961:13).

Close ties were also favored by coexistence in a common physical space. Many rural

workers lived in huts close to the rancher’s home and shared with him religious rituals and leisure

time. Such opportunities were very valuable for the rural masses because they were almost

inexistent in the unpopulated prairies surrounding the ranches. This made the ranch a powerful

social magnet for dispossessed families and lonely men willing to settle down (Pivel Devoto

1957:17).

A shared cultural background also favored close ties. The food that ranchers ate, the

clothes they wore, the way they spoke, and the activities in which they spent their time were

similar to those of their workers (Barrán y Nahúm 1972:79). Evidence is impressionistic but

suggestive. Consider the following description of the greatest independence leader, José Artigas,

provided by an English businessman who visited his camp in 1815:

“[Artigas was] seat in a cow skull, close to a bonfire arranged in the mud floor, eating meat

from a roasting jack and drinking gin from a horn. He was surrounded by a dozen of

officers badly dressed, in similar positions and doing the same as their boss. All were

smoking and chatting noisily (…) He did not behave as a superior, nor there were any signs

of differentiation or subordination among his followers. All were laughing, joking with

each other, shouting, and fused in an experience of perfect familiarity, calling themselves

by their first name without using “captain” or “mister”. Only when talking to Artigas they

used the affectionate and intimate expression of “my general” (quoted in Maiztegui

2005:128-9 vol.1).

22

If this was the case for the most powerful man of his times, it is quite likely that it was also

the case for less powerful leaders.

Why such closeness? In Thorstein Veblen’s (2001) classic account of the leisured class,

upper classes differentiate from lower ones by performing exclusive and exotic activities. In rural

Uruguay, however, the skills and qualities through which some men became leaders consisted of

doing better what any rural man used to do. The description of Rivera by Manuel Herrera y Obes -

a prominent Red notable - suggests this point:

“Go and ask from Canelones [Southern Uruguay] to Tacuarembó [Northern Uruguay] who

is the best rider of the Republic, who knows best the terrain, who has the coldest blood in

the fight, who is the most generous, who is, ultimately, the best patriot (…), and everybody

will reply: general Rivera” (quoted in Maiztegui 2005:223 vol.1).

Cultural similarities persisted at the turn of the century despite the economic modernization

that took place from the 1870s onwards. Consider Mena Segarra’s (2004:75) description of the

White landowner and revolutionary leader Aparicio Saravia during the 1904 insurgency:

“[Aparicio Saravia] used to cut himself the enclosing wires to allow their militias to

advance, baited the ox to remove a stuck cart, and immersed in mud to push the wheels.

During the night he walked around the lines of sentinels, appeared in the bonfires to share

mate [vernacular tea] and beef, chatting during long hours with his men”.

23

As a result, the rural masses probably experienced the relationships with their leaders as

more horizontal than what should be expected considering their disparity in wealth and power. For

instance, according to Reyes Abadie and Vázquez Romero (1998:368 vol. 4), Venancio Flores, the

Red leader who ruled the country in three opportunities during the 1850s and 1860s, “incarnated

the feelings of the masses, whose plain yearnings he expressed (...) Paisanos [locals] from both

parties called him just “don Venancio”, an expression that evidences the respectability he had

achieved in the country”.

To the cultural similarities and relative horizontality of the ties between rancher-leaders we

should add their endurance. The rural population was legally free and could in principle abandon

the ranch at any moment – in fact, throughout the century it always existed a sizable population of

more or less nomad gauchos. But many workers decided to stay in the ranch for years or decades

with their families, and these ties could even reproduce across generations. The life of rural

workers was not easy and many of them surely had personal grievances against their bosses

(Barrán and Nahum 1972). Nonetheless, this did not hinder the building of loyalty and affection

ties between both parts (Barrán 1990:209). It was not strange that workers honor the ranchers by

naming their offspring after them, or asking them to be godfathers. This experience of personal

closeness does not mean, however, that the leading ranchers were just like “everybody else”. In

part they played an influential role over the rural masses because they acted as social bridges

uniting otherwise unconnected social worlds (Zum Felde 1963:168).

In a context of sustained mobilization, it should not surprise that the rural masses feel

identified with the political colors of their leaders (while not necessarily with their political ideas).

As Zum Felde (1963:166) puts it, “The gauchaje pass on him [the rancher] their political trust;

they tacitly delegate their sovereignty to him; they know that the leader represent their cause. If he

moves, they follow him. Many are not clear about why they fight for; but they are with their

24

caudillo, thus they know this is where they have to be”. Likewise Pivel Devoto (1957:17),

emphasizing the military component of the reciprocity bond, claims that when the rural workers

(peones) join the army of the rancher-leader they do so “with the boss’s motto as the only motto,

and with their hate shaped by the landowner’s hate – being the landowner their master and

protector at the same time” (Pivel Devoto 1957:17). Rural men could fight today for the

government, tomorrow against it, but this did not matter much as long as they were with their

leaders. It should not surprise that grievances trickled down in this situation.

Inter-party grievances at the mass level were also shaped by other factors. From the mid-

1870s onwards Red governments harassed the rural masses in an attempt to discipline the

countryside and enforce private property. Backed by rural interest groups they wanted to

consolidate the state, often by ruthless means. Disgruntled rural men, especially those who already

sympathized with the White party, reacted by joining the armies of the White leader Aparicio

Saravia in the 1897 and 1904 insurgencies (Barrán and Nahum 1972; Acevedo 1933 vol.5).

Conclusions

For societies lacking a legacy of intergroup oppression, the “trickling down” perspective

suggests that the combination of three conditions allow intergroup grievances to emerge and

spread across society. First, grievances emerge among political elites. Of course, there are multiple

ways in which this may happen. I stress how alliances with more powerful partners “lock”

competing elites into courses of action that unexpectedly favor the crystallization of grievances

against each other (condition 1). The other conditions specify how grievances “trickle down” to

non-elite groups. According to condition 2 (instrumental mobilization), elites resort to selective

incentives to repeatedly mobilize the masses in armed conflicts originated at the top. Additionally,

25

if elites and masses are bounded by close ties (condition 3), repeated mobilization increases the

chances that the masses become identified with the political collectivity of their respective elites

and develop an oppositional identity towards the other group, thus favoring the trickling down of

grievances.

This perspective emerged inductively, after realizing that the conventional “legacy of

oppression” framework was insufficient for explaining the grievances between Reds and Whites in

nineteenth-century Uruguay. However, it may explain conflict and grievances in other cases. For

instance, the combination of instrumental mobilization and close ties in nineteenth-century

Colombia may help to understand the spread of grievances at the mass level in the conflict

between the Liberal and the Conservative parties. And the notion of “locking alliances” may help

to explain why traditionally non-belligerent, small nations aligned with great powers end up

becoming involved in major wars.

Beyond that, the article suggests four general conclusions. First, society-wide grievances

may arise and spread in the absence of a legacy of intergroup oppression – as much of the

literature assumes. In Uruguay such legacy did not exist yet the existence of grievances between

Reds and Whites was undeniable. Therefore, the “trickling down” perspective aims at expanding

our knowledge of the conditions under which inter-group grievances arise and develop. This top-

bottom perspective is consistent with theories focused on how public issues, originated among

elites, spread to the mass electorate and result in structural realignments (e. g. MacDonald and

Rabinowitz 1987). It is also consistent with the literature on political cleavages that posits that

masses will engage in violent conflict when elites do not cooperate with each other, but will be

pacific when elites are cooperative (Zuckerman 1975:243).

The second conclusion is that social ties matter for understanding grievances. Social ties

have received extensive attention in the protest literature, mostly due to their relevance in

26

recruiting activists (McAdam 1986; Diani 2004; Snow et al. 1980) and to a lesser extent in

maintaining commitment (Klandermans 1997). This paper contributes to this literature by showing

that social ties may also shape grievances in two ways. First, the ties that Red and White elites

built with international allies during the 1840s reduced their chances of cooperation during the Big

War and promoted strong oppositional feelings (condition 1). Second, close ties between

Uruguayan elites and masses favored the trickling down of grievances (condition 3). More

generally, the ties that individual or collective actors build with each other for purposes as diverse

as getting personal protection or sociability opportunities, increasing or defending their property,

or competing against rival groups, generate commitments and reciprocal expectations.

Inadvertently, these commitments and expectations affect their chances of feeling aggrieved. In

other words, people do not fully “control” the grievances they feel against other groups (see also

Gould 1996).

Third, the notion of “locking alliances” (condition 1) suggests that alliances made by actors

during critical junctures – such as early post-independence times - may force them to follow

enduring courses of action that go beyond their original intentions. This notion fits well within

recent scholarship in historical institutionalism and comparative politics that emphasizes concepts

such as path dependence, leadership choices, and critical junctures (Collier and Collier 2002;

Clemens 2007; Mahoney 2001; Pierson 2000). My analysis of the Uruguayan case adds to this

literature by suggesting that leaders’ choices during critical junctures may affect not only

institutional outcomes (such as regime types), but also the very emotions that actors feel about

each other (with intergroup grievances being an example of such emotions). By examining how

locking alliances strengthened the grievances between Reds and Whites, this analysis bridges

historical institutionalism and the sociology of emotions (Stets 2007) – two fields that usually

remain apart from each other.

27

Fourth, this article challenges a traditional assumption of resource mobilization scholars –

that grievances are ubiquitous and constant (Jenkins and Perrow 1977; Tilly 1978; McCarthy and

Zald 1977). The evolution of the Red-White conflict suggests that grievances vary across social

groups and across time, and that they are much more complex than once assumed. How grievances

originate and spread across the social structure are important research problems within the larger

scholarly concern about collective action. This is especially the case for contexts like nineteenth-

century Uruguay - or, for that part, much of Latin America. Because Latin American challengers

often mobilized resources comparable to those mobilized by state authorities, which were very

weak (Centeno 2002), it was relatively easy to translate grievances into collective action. This

conclusion points to the risks of generalizing collective action theories which were built having in

mind modern capitalistic societies. In pre-capitalist, predominantly rural societies things may work

differently.

Future research could challenge and improve this paper in many ways. Because this

perspective was built with nineteenth-century Uruguay in mind, it may not be useful for other

contexts. Grievances may trickle down without the need of mobilizing the masses for armed

struggle (condition 2). Pacific electoral competition and an incisive press may do the trick, as often

happens in contemporary democracies with well developed states that cannot be challenged by

force. Moreover, grievances may originate and spread in a bottom-up fashion instead of trickling

down. Thus, these are not necessary and/or sufficient conditions. Additionally, although I use a

quite general notion of “close ties”, it is necessary to explore whether all dimensions of social ties

matter equally for the spread of grievances. The combination of in-depth case studies, comparative

research, and theoretical thinking should help us pushing forward these and other related

questions.

28

Endnotes

1 Until the early twentieth century, Reds and Whites were not political parties in the modern sense

of the term. They were more similar to Duveger’s (1963) bourgeois parties composed by notables.

2 This claim has been supported not only by modern historical research (e.g. Barrán 2007:6;

López-Alves 1993, 2000) but also by the views of many contemporaries (see the quotations in

Castellanos and Perez Anton 1981:22 vol.1). Nonetheless, there were some differences between

the supporters of both parties at certain times (see e.g. Reyes Abadie and Vázquez Romero

1998:249 vol.4; Zum Felde 1963:173 ff.; Castellanos and Pérez 1981:242 vol.2). For instance, by

the 1900s, Whites were probably more popular in the East of the country and among the rural

masses, while Reds became entrenched in Montevideo and among the urban classes. This qualifies

but does not invalidate my claim about the relative structural similarities of both groups during

much of the nineteenth century. Pivel Devoto (1994) provides the classic (and so far unsurpassed)

account of the history of the Red and White parties during the nineteenth century.

3 Granovetter’s (1973) influential notion of ‘strong ties’ is similar to my notion of “close ties”. I

avoid it, though, because “strong ties” typically refers to horizontal friendship and family ties.

They do not imply the differences of wealth and power that exist between elites and masses.

29

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35

Table 1. Three conditions for the “trickling-down” of grievances

Condition 1. Inter-elite grievances

Yes No

Condition 2. Sustained instrumental mobilization

Yes No Yes No

Condition

3.

Close ties

Yes Grievances

trickle down

(Uruguay)

E. g.

“pluralist”,

peaceful

competition

Unlikely situations Absolute

monarchies?

No E. g. mercenary

clashes

36

Table 2. Soldiers participating in selected Red vs. White conflicts in nineteenth-century Uruguay

Year of the

conflict

% soldiers (both sides)

in male population 15-50 years old

1833 10,3

1836 26,3

1838 23,1

1864 17,4

1871 15,2

1897 12,0

1904 18,2

Data on number of soldiers come from Reyes Abadie and Vázquez Romero (1998:104 and 206

vol.4); Acevedo (1933:475 vol. 2); Devoto and Ranieri de Devoto (1953:258, 289, 323 and 471);

and Barrán and Nahum (1972:49 and 63). Data for calculating population figures come from

Caetano and Alfaro (1995:20) and Uruguay’s National Institute of Statistics

(http://www.ine.gub.uy/).