Hundreds of duels were fought in Uruguay in the century after independence. An insult in the press or a pointed comment during a debate could spark a duel and lead, in surprisingly rare cases, to the death of a rival. As David S. Parker argues, the duel offered a “utilitarian solution to deep but essentially practical problems of political conflict in a young republic” (5). Despite its many opponents, Uruguay's elites regarded dueling as a necessary evil to ensure civility in the public sphere during a time when fragile legal systems and libel laws lacked teeth.
The book is divided into four chronological chapters that trace the rise and fall of the duel from the late nineteenth century to 1992 when the practice was outlawed. For most of its history, dueling functioned as a parallel legal system that mediated the tensions between the code of honor, or gentlemanly law, and jurisprudence. For political elites, “true gentlemen didn't appeal to courts when honor was at stake” (21). Journalists and politicians trained in fencing and marksmanship with the expectation that at some point they would be compelled to defend their honor with saber or pistol. The first two chapters detail the many motives and the complex choreography that could lead to a duel, highlighting how dueling opened fundamental debates about the norms of public discourse and the limits of Uruguay's young democracy.
Chapter 3 looks at the decriminalization of dueling in 1920 with the passage of the Ley de Duelos. Parker reconstructs the debates surrounding the law and notes that legalization came close to failing and would have done so had it not been for the deadly duel fought between Uruguay's formidable two-time president José Batlle y Ordóñez and Washington Beltrán, who was killed by a fatal shot to the chest. For supporters of the duel, legalization represented a triumph of the rule of law and proof of Uruguay's democratic bonafides by formally codifying elements of gentlemanly law into legal codes. For opponents of the duel, who ranged from members of the Catholic Church to leaders of the Socialist party, the duel epitomized the barbaric and classist customs that hindered Uruguay's progress and incorporation into the ranks of modern nations.
The final chapter concentrates on the decades following the 1920 legalization. During this period dueling steadily declined, save for a brief spike in the late 1950s. By then, however, the compulsion to duel had lost its force, as the rise of mass literacy and mass politics changed the contours of Uruguay's public sphere. In 1971, when Uruguay's last duel was fought, “the community of duelists . . . was tiny, shrinking and aging” (144). Following years of military dictatorship, dueling was finally outlawed in 1992, rejected by the overwhelming majority of Uruguayans as a violent anachronism.
The book makes a convincing case for the importance of the duel in the context of elite partisan conflicts and state-building. Throughout, Parker emphasizes his choice to shift focus from the duel as “a marker of some epochal transformation of attitudes toward violence or in class or gender relations” (4). Though the book does not brush aside the role of honor and masculinity, a closer look at changing concepts of honor and manhood could have enriched the analysis, especially regarding the decline of the duel in the second half of the twentieth century as traditional gender roles radically shifted.
Drawing on the press, case law, legal theory, and the transcripts of dozens of duels, the study concludes with a helpful appendix on methodology and sources, which outlines Parker's examination of 150 dueling incidents. Detailed and written in an engaging style, the book will hold appeal for legal historians and for scholars of the press and state-building in Latin America.
