La revolución perdida

by Ernesto Cardenal

Book is in SPANISH This is the Second Edition. This is the story of Cardenal was one of several key Central and South American priests who attempted to integrate their religious and political views into a new ideology that became known as "liberation theology." The focus of this movement was to join political with spiritual forces, and to preach liberation for all oppressed peoples. Advocates varied in the degree to which they strayed from traditional Roman church law. Some used it as a forum to call for the ordination of married men and women to the priesthood. Some were less radical in that regard, but courted political ideologies in equal standing with their religious function.

666 pages, paperback

First published October 1, 2003

About the author

Reverend Father Ernesto Cardenal Martínez was a Nicaraguan Catholic priest, poet, and politician. He was a liberation theologian and the founder of the primitivist art community in the Solentiname Islands, where he lived for more than ten years (1965–1977). A former member of the Nicaraguan Sandinistas (he left the party in the early 1990s), he was Nicaragua's minister of culture from 1979 to 1987.

His earlier poems focused on life and love. However, some works, such as "Zero Hour," had a direct correlation to his Marxist political ideas, being tied to the assassination of guerrilla leader Augusto César Sandino. Cardenal's poetry also was heavily influenced by his unique Catholic ideology, mainly liberation theology. Some of his later works were heavily influenced by his understanding of science and evolution, though still in dialogue with his earlier Marxist and Catholic material.--excerpted from Wikipedia

Reviews

[Randall Wood · Rating 2 out of 5]

So intricately is Ernesto Cardenal linked to the story of the Sandinista revolution and its subsequent government in 1980s Nicaragua that it’s no small task to distinguish between an analysis of the Revolution and Sandinista government itself from an analysis of Cardenal’s memoir relating the history. In fact, there are better chronicles of the triumph of the Sandinistas over Anastasio Somoza and the ensuing Sandinista Revolutionary government: Stephen Kinzer’s Blood of Brothers is perhaps the most accessible, but there would have been no revolution without the insight and inspiration of Ernesto Cardenal, at once the international face of the Revolution as he played ambassador to Europe and the Maghreb and the Minister of Culture in his iconic beret and blue jeans. From that point of view, Revolución Perdida is the story of a remarkable moment in history Cardenal describes breathlessly through the lens of one who saw in Nicaragua more clearly than anyone, a socio-economic experiment in which the poor were empowered, in which the creative arts, literacy, poetry, and painting were extolled, and in which a repressed people finally found its creative and cultural voice.

Cardenal is a distinguished poet, so it’s disappointing that his prose in this book is plodding, and he relates the story of Somoza’s overthrow in a voice that manages to sound both banal and somewhat pedestrian. At least one anecdote is related in two different places, and it’s clear no editor had the guts to tell this revered patriarch to cut to the chase. It’s not until the Revolution has put down roots that his story begins to sparkle, 400 pages in. It’s from that point as well that he begins to notice his precious Revolution beginning to come undone. He takes some surprisingly sharp jabs at Rosario, wife of now- and then-president Daniel Ortega, who he describes as a diabolical and power-hungry Yoko Ono loyal only to herself and bound to no sense of either ethics or morality (The same charges are leveled against her by younger critics today). He also excoriates the United States’ intervention in Nicaragua, accusing it of wanting to destroy the Revolution itself, when the Reagan government was only engaged in a proxy battle against the Soviet Union. In the end, both superpowers lost, and Nicaragua and its Revolution unraveled of exhaustion, economic failure, and hypocrisy.

Cardenal runs out of energy at the same time the Revolution does, so we catch only glimpses of his disappointment or even a coherent statement of why he believes the Revolution collapsed. Furthermore, he makes no inquiry of the Revolution’s inner weaknesses, glosses over its more egregious hypocrisies (like the piñata and worse), and remains remarkably uncurious about the usurpation of the Sandinista party by the avaricious and covetous Ortega. In that aspect, Cardenal’s memoirs are more the lament of an old, disappointed man than a true look at the Sandinista Revolution, its unattained potential, and the rotting carcass that is the modern Sandinista party.

Cardenal has been mercilessly persecuted by Ortega in the 21st century, and the gains achieved by Nicaraguans during the 1980s are all but gone: illiteracy is on the rise, agricultural production is dropping, and Nicaraguans are now poorer than they ever were under their merciless dictator. For these phenomena, Cardenal has no answers, but neither has he any questions.

[Ismael Argüello · Rating 2 out of 5]

Cardenal ofrece el lamento poético de un idealista que vio su revolución transformarse en aquello contra lo que luchaba. Sugiere con cierta ingenuidad que todo pudo haber salido bien si tan solo los líderes hubieran sido más "virtuosos" (jajaja) como si la historia de América Latina no estuviera plagada de revoluciones que terminan en intentos fallidos.

Me dejó preguntándome si la revolución se perdió por traición o como suele suceder, estaba condenada desde el principio a ser otra comedia del poder.

No lo recomiendo.