Today's title is a book, not a song. 'I The Supreme' is the Paraguayan novelist Augusta Roa Bastos' masterpiece. Not well known in the English speaking world he is, to my mind, the equal of more famous Latin American novelists such as Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Mario Vargas Llosa. 'I The Supreme' was written when Roa Bastos was living in exile in the 1970s and whilst ostensibly about Gaspar Rodriquez de Francia, the first dictator of Paraguay, few doubt it is really aimed at Alfredo Stroessner who ruled the country with an iron fist from 1954 until 1989, making him one of the longest serving dictators in Latin America. But more about the book later. First a bit of history.

Paraguay declared its independence from Spain in 1813, one of the first countries in the continent to do so. in 1814 Gaspar Rodriquez de Francis (the 'El Supremo' of Roa Bastos' novel) established a dictatorship that lasted until 1840. One of his first acts was to isolate Paraguay from the outside rule - establishing a pattern that persisted in some form or another for much of the next 150 years. His rule was characterised by a strange mixture of populism, moving against the Spanish elites and the church (marriage between people of purely Spanish descent was forbidden for example) and ruthless suppression of any opposition, leading to comparisons with Robespierre, whom he undoubtedly admired. On his death (becoming 'El Difunto'. - the Dead One') he was succeeded by Carlos Antonio Lopez. Ruling in much the same vein as Francia he lasted until 1862 when he was succeeded by his son, Francisco Solanao Lopez. His main claim to fame is that he launched a war against Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay - all at the same time. The 'War of the Triple Alliance' must go down as one of the most disastrous in history. It resulted in the death of over 60% of the Paraguayan population, including 90% of its male population. At the end of the war in 1870 Lopez's army largely consisted of child soldiers. As his consort he had an Irish prostitute called Eliza Lynch subject of a good novel, The Pleasure of Eliza Lynch, by Anne Enright.

Between 1870 and 1954 Paraguay had 44 rulers, no less that 24 of them were ousted by military coups, earning the country a well-deserved reputation as the epitome of a banana republic.

In 1954 another strong man came to power - General Alfredo Stroessner. He, at least restored a degree of stability in that he ruled for 35 years. Soon after taking office, Stroessner suspended civil liberties, allowing the government to arrest and detain anyone indefinitely without trial, as well as forbidding public meetings and demonstrations. The use of torture against political opponents was routine and corruption became not just rampant but an established state of government. This state of affairs lasted pretty much until he was ousted in 1989. (Needless to say Stroessner enjoyed the active support of the United States for most of his time in power.)

Since 1989 Paraguay has functioned as democracy, albeit not an entirely untroubled one. As I mentioned in a previous blog the current president, Horacio Cartes, is a billionaire businessman who, it is claimed, treats his office much like a private business. In one area it appears Paraguay is leading the world although, as far as I'm aware, Donald Trump is yet to acknowledge him as a role model.

Walking around Asuncion it is clear that Paraguay has a rather ambivalent relationship with its turbulent past. There are plenty of statues to past dictators, streets and districts are named after them. There is plenty of evidence that, certainly, Francia and Lopez father and son are seen by many people as patriots. Even Stroessner is regarded with some ambivalence it seems. Today's picture is of a statue made by crushing a large one of him and encasing it in concrete so that only his face and hands emerge - literally recasting history to represent the oppression of his regime. Yet just 100 metres down the road another statue of him remains, praising his exploits in the defence of the country.

Which brings me back to Roa Bastos's novel which, as I said, is generally regarded as taking aim at Stroessner. But it is much more than that. It is about power and language and the relation between the two. 'El Supremo' believes himself to be above all power and history: "I don't write history. I make it. I can remake it as I please, adjusting, stressing, enriching its meaning and truth." Yet this assertion is constantly challenged by the very fact that while he achieves power by means of writing and dictating, these very same methods can be used by others to dispute his authority. The novel opens with a notice nailed to the door of the cathedral purporting to be written by El Supremo himself and ordering that on his death his body should be decapitated and all his civil and military servants put to death. Language can never be fully controlled, not even by an absolute ruler, and can just as easily be used as an instrument of resistance as an instrument of coercion.

If that makes the novel sound dry and academic it is anything but. It is full of stories, asides, historical anecdotes and linguistic invention. It is not, it is true, an easy read but it repays the effort of reading it. It is available in an excellent English translation and I urge you to read it.

And this brings me to the end of our stay in Paraguay. It may not be the most attractive tourist destination in South America but it has been fascinating to spend some time here and learn more about its fractious history. Far from being the dangerous place it is often portrayed we have found it a safe and friendly place. The Paraguayan people have not, in my estimation, deserved the rulers they have had imposed on them but like people in many parts of the world they just get on with trying to live their daily lives. Hopefully they have a brighter future in front of them.