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Reviewed by:
  • Blackness in the White Nation: A History of Afro-Uruguay
  • Paulina Alberto
Blackness in the White Nation: A History of Afro-Uruguay. By George Reid Andrews. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2010. Pp. xiii, 241. Illustrations. Tables. Glossary. Notes. Bibliography. Index.

In this thoroughly engaging book, George Reid Andrews traces the processes by which candombe (an African-creole musical form) became central to Uruguayan popular culture and identity. This is a story usually told of countries with large or majority nonwhite populations, such as Brazil or Cuba. Andrews turns instead to the country once touted as the Switzerland of Latin America, a place deeply identified with white immigrants and European cultural values, yet where black music has emerged as a defining national icon. Along the way, Andrews poses a question that lies at the heart of the study of culture and politics in Afro-American societies: does the nationalization of an African cultural form like candombe reflect and contribute to the erasure of historical racial hierarchies—or does it help to reinforce and reproduce them?

As someone admittedly captivated by candombe’s rhythms and cultural history, Andrews regrets to conclude that at least that particular form of African-inflected culture has not helped to undo racial inequality in Uruguay, and is unlikely ever to do so. This is a carefully considered conclusion, one that takes into account the power as well as the limitations of cultural politics. Andrews does not dismiss the rise of candombe as mere white co-optation or window-dressing, but rather shows how candombe was central to Afro-Uruguayan culture, society, and politics for centuries. To do so, the author artfully interweaves chapters on Afro-Uruguayans’ evolving struggles for advancement with chapters on related developments in the worlds of candombe, carnival, and national culture. Throughout, Andrews makes sure we know why candombe is so alluring to so many Uruguayans: it’s fun, cheeky, meaningful, and deeply transporting. His narrative voice matches these traits, as appropriate. An easygoing and at times humorous tone, and sparkling (rhyming!) translations of candombe lyrics, among other things, make the book a fabulous read—and convince the reader that candombe must indeed be irresistible.

Yet candombe’s far-reaching appeal, argues Andrews, is precisely what renders it unsuitable as a vehicle for black activism. Over the course of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, a wide range of people claimed candombe: African slaves and their descendants, an aspiring black middle class, displaced European immigrants, leftist youths, and different stripes of black activists and artists, each with distinct political agendas. Its meanings and content were reworked many times over, resulting in a composite cultural form that is no longer solely Afro-Uruguayan but rather “an expression of the Uruguayan nation and its beliefs in racial difference.” These beliefs are inscribed in lyrics and stock characters that ultimately convey a “message of racial inequality—of basic, essential differences between whites and blacks, centering on the ‘natural,’ ‘primitive’ domains of sex and rhythm” (p. 171). [End Page 440]

The “essential differences” candombe encodes reflect broader attitudes that have kept Afro-Uruguayans from achieving full citizenship, equal standing, and respect in their society. Andrews demonstrates that despite the centrality of candombe and despite their nation’s deep traditions of social democracy, Afro-Uruguayans have remained in a social position comparable to their counterparts in Brazil—a country with infamously high rates of class and racial inequality, and with a shakier democratic tradition. Indeed, he shows that Afro-Brazilians have fared relatively better than their Uruguayan counterparts in the past decade, following the implementation of race-based affirmative action policies in Brazil. Andrews brings this conclusion to bear on the affirmative action debates currently raging in Brazil and elsewhere, arguing that broad-based “universalist” policies alone (like those implemented historically in Uruguay) will not go far enough to redress racial inequality—and may inadvertently make it worse.

The comparison to Brazil is certainly effective, and sobering. Yet reading this book (as this reviewer did) with the Argentine case in mind as well, one might expect a slightly (though only slightly) more optimistic conclusion. If Andrews’s earlier study of Argentina (The Afro-Argentines of...

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