Abstract
This is a remarkable book not only because of the events and materials it covers, but also because of the historian's decisions about how to structure and present them. At its core is the nearly 20 years of litigation initiated by the inhabitants of El Cobre to regain the freedom they lost in 1779 after the Spanish Crown privatized the mines they used to work, thereby enslaving them once more and ending the collective life they had been able to build by taking advantage of one of the legal lacunas in Spanish legislation (more about this later). As María Elena Díaz shows, the case was unprecedented because its participants – ‘commoners among the lowest commoners in the empire given their race and slave origin’ (135) – had their members acting as direct representatives in the highest courts of the Spanish Empire (318) and were probably not influenced by thinkers of the Enlightenment. Their ideas of freedom came from the ground up. In the process of fighting for their freedom, which the cobreros won in 1880, they achieved something implausible: the creation of an expansive network of communication and support that went from El Cobre to Santiago, Havana and Madrid, and back. But if the fact that justice was accomplished gives us a sense of relief, Díaz's chapters make sure we are aware of the decisive factors that tipped the balance in the cobreros’ favour, the price they paid for it and the ambiguous aftermath of their victory (in a great final chapter).
In 1779, under pressure to obtain the copper needed for war and to produce sugar (cauldrons), the Crown privatized the mines that it had previously seized from Juan de Eguiluz in 1640 for breach of contract. The inhabitants of El Cobre were the descendants of the people who, having been Eguiluz's slaves, had become royal slaves in the mid seventeenth century, but who with time had become something more ambiguous. It is not clear what happened to the cobreros between 1640 and 1779. Be that as it may, by the latter date, the cobreros were not working any mines – copper production had become artisanal and only women oversaw it – and were instead farmers and peasants who had ‘acquired the attributes of an informal pueblo’ (40). Even though they served the Crown (sometimes in defence, sometimes performing rotational labour) and legally were the King's slaves, they were de facto free (the legal lacuna alluded to above). They had no owners and had lived for years in their own homes, tending to their own affairs. The collusion of the greed of Eguiluz's heirs with the Crown's interests changed things. The new proprietors of the mines were not even interested in or technically prepared to extract copper; their objective was the wealth to be gained from the sale of the 800 slaves they suddenly possessed. Since the large estates in Cuba had between 100 and 183 slaves, 800 was an astronomical number, especially when divided among only three people (the heirs; 37).
Against them, two former slaves, Gregorio Cosme Osorio and Justo Cruzata, led the legal campaign, the first in Madrid, the second closer to home. That the plight of the cobreros became an issue of concern is proven by the surveillance reports on Cosme and the activities of El Cobre's inhabitants. Cosme was literally leaving his entire life behind and jeopardizing his health for the fight for the freedom of his pueblo (the reports described him as utterly impoverished). And this is what makes the case even more interesting: the dedication of the leaders and the fact that the cobreros argued for their freedom in the name of the political rights they had as native members of El Cobre. Their possible miscegenation with indigenous communities is secondary to this claim. They talked, for example, about the love for their patria, of ‘having been despoiled’ of the pueblo they had earned by their labours (157) – this included their right to the land and to work for their benefit and that of the pueblo.
Historians of the colonial period are used to collective belonging and collective bargaining pertaining exclusively to indigenous subjects – repúblicas de indios, repúblicas de españoles – not to slaves or free Black people, who were not granted a common political belonging from which to speak. Regardless of their race, the cobreros demanded the right to be a community, to land and to freedom by claiming being native to a place – a simple but daring gesture that threw a wrench into colonial Spanish legislation. These are some of the radical claims Díaz finds in the cobreros’ ideas (26) – a series of apparently innocent requests constituting a defamiliarization of the status quo that at least discursively dismantled the foundations of racial colonial regimes by alleging that they had been treated with violence (Was it not a prerogative of slave owners to do as they pleased with their property?) and forced to leave the pueblo they loved to relocate to Havana (as if this were not the common fate of Black people).
Of the nine chapters of the book, six are dedicated to the legal case. When we arrive at Chapters 7 and 8 (which are especially interesting, along with Chapters 2, 4 and 9), we might therefore be rather surprised to discover that some cobreros in the locality were willing to resort to violence in order to achieve their freedom. The threat of the cobreros’ violence and marronage was very real. And this is where external historical events take centre stage. Saint-Domingue featured prominently in the minds of the members of the special junta that was created to solve the prolonged legal case of El Cobre, as did the British. In its 1799 decision, the junta referred once more to copper (a ruse, just like previously, because Spain did not have the technical capacity to continue extracting copper from the mines, as Díaz reminds us) and to security – the possibility of the cobreros fleeing or, worse, being enlisted as guides or spies for the enemy forces. After years of fighting near and far, legally and otherwise, the cobreros were granted their freedom and, equally importantly, communal land.
This decision is also intriguing because even though the junta denied that the cobreros constituted a native town (they did not take this argument into consideration), their ruling de facto treated them as one: an association of free people who were granted communal land and subjected to rotational labour drafts, just as indigenous communities were. And here once more, like at the beginning of the cobreros’ story, is another ambiguous area in Spanish legislation.
Given the importance that the junta gave to security concerns, it would be tempting to believe that marronage and violence in and of themselves were alternative paths to freedom. Díaz considers that, in the case of El Cobre, extra-legal actions were intertwined with judicial efforts. The junta's final decision was the result of both (318). In fact, after analysing examples of fugitivity from El Cobre, she concludes that ‘marronage represents an unsettled and precarious state … rather than an ideal form of freedom’ – a ‘negative’ that requires a positive assertion (233). Her final chapter, on the other hand, reminds us not only of the precarious nature of political gains, but also of the continuity of struggles against oppression. If the cobreros had finally been granted positive freedom, soon afterwards, and this time with the necessary technology, the British arrived to take over the mines, bringing with them other, new slaves. Slavery was not abolished in Cuba until 1886. After the British and under other labour regimes, the United States took over with its campaigns against the Spanish Empire, which included photographs of the cobreros identifying them as indigenous, ‘a persecuted race’ (306).
The story of the cobreros is illuminating for all, yet Díaz's careful attention to legal documents, reports and letters, along with her analyses, belongs to the town and the people she has studied. This is a book that ought to be translated soon and given back to the community of El Cobre. The complicity of religious and civic authorities with either the heirs or the cobreros is well documented, as are the ideas of previous thinkers who rejected slavery on radical grounds (Francisco José de Jaca, Epifanio de Moirans). This book's dialogues with many other recent texts on similar subjects are enriching, especially in the first chapters. At the same time, it is commendable that Díaz has followed her materials closely and written about them without many distractions. And it is equally laudable that she has delved into this history, giving space to paradoxes, such as the fact that some Black inhabitants of El Cobre had their own personal slaves. Her closing with the work of Francia Márquez in Colombia is a reminder of the imperial and economic cycles that will continue to be challenged.