There are two truths about cultural sovereignty. First, it is measured by the ability of a people to preserve their own identity in the face of external influences. Secondly, in today's globalized world, this ability is becoming an increasingly rare commodity. When we compare Paraguay, a landlocked continental country sandwiched between Argentina, Brazil and Bolivia, and the Bahamas, a paradisiacal archipelago in the Atlantic, where millions of tourists arrive every year, it seems that they have nothing in common.

But there is one fundamental difference that determines their cultural destiny. In Paraguay, 63.9% of the population speaks two languages: Spanish and Guarani. Moreover, 30% use Guarani as their main language of communication. This is the only country in Latin America where the indigenous language has not only survived, but is flourishing, and its speakers are not only Indians, but also all strata of society — from the president to the peasants. English is spoken in the Bahamas. All. The end of the story. But is it really that simple?

Is language the only criterion of cultural sovereignty? Or are there deeper forms of cultural identity that do not disappear along with the ancestral language? And most importantly: can we consider a culturally sovereign nation that has turned its own identity into a commodity for the tourism industry?

Language as the Soul of the people: Guarani vs. Bahamian dialect

Paraguay is a unique phenomenon in world history. This is the only country in America where the indigenous language has not been pushed to the periphery, has not become a museum exhibit, but has remained a living instrument of everyday communication for all segments of the population. The Paraguayan Guarani is not just a symbolic gesture of respect for Native American heritage, it is the language of parliament, schools, streets, love poetry, football commentary, and political debate.

According to the 2024 household survey, 38.7% of Paraguayans over the age of five speak both Guarani and Spanish at home, 30% communicate primarily in Guarani, and only 28.5% use Spanish exclusively. Another 2.4% use other languages — English, Portuguese, German, Japanese, Korean or Arabic. This is not a dead statistic — it is a living picture of a society where two cultures have merged into one without destroying each other.

Moreover, Guarani has been the official language of Paraguay since 1992, along with Spanish. In 2010, it became the second official language in the Brazilian city of Tacuru, in 2004 — in the Argentine province of Corrientes. It is one of the three official languages of the Mercosur trading bloc, along with Spanish and Portuguese. Paraguayan Guarani has been taught in schools since 1987, and children receive bilingual education from the first grade.

Why did this happen? Historically, Paraguayan society was shaped through the mass mixing of Spanish colonists, Guarani men and women. In the middle of the 16th century, the Spaniards established settlements in the area of Asuncion, and many of them took wives from the Guarani tribe. Their children grew up bilingual, marking the beginning of a long tradition of European-Indian marriages. Later, the Jesuit missions in the 17th and 18th centuries actively used Guarani for evangelization, creating a unique model of cultural synthesis instead of cultural suppression.

But the key moment came later. During the War of the Triple Alliance (1864-1870), when Paraguay fought simultaneously against Argentina, Brazil and Uruguay, most of the men died. Women passed Guarani to their children as a sign of resistance to the invaders, as a way to distinguish themselves from the enemies. The language has become a symbol of national identity, survival and stubbornness.

Even during the dictatorship of Alfredo Stroessner (1954-1989), when Guarani was considered "uncultured" and socially unacceptable, he continued to live in houses, being passed down from generation to generation behind closed doors. After the fall of the dictatorship, he triumphantly returned to the public space.

Today, Paraguay is the only truly bilingual country in Latin America. Former U.S. Ambassador to Paraguay James Cason stated: “Paraguay is the only bilingual country in Latin America. Everyone speaks Guarani. This is the soul of the country. Guarani is Paraguay.”

In the Bahamas, the situation is diametrically opposite. The official language is English, a legacy of the British colonial past. The indigenous languages of the Arawaks, who inhabited the islands before the arrival of Europeans, have disappeared completely, leaving almost no trace. After the destruction or removal of the indigenous population, the islands were settled by African slaves and British colonists.

Today, most Bahamians speak Bahamian (Bahamianese), which linguists classify as a post-Creole continuum between the English dialect and the English creole. It is a mixture of standard English with the influence of West African languages brought by slaves. It retains some African words and expressions: "yinna" (you, plural) from Yoruba, "jumbay" (ghost) from Congo, "nyam" (is) from various African languages.

However, the Bahamian dialect is not an official language. It is not taught in schools. It is not used in government, parliament, or business. Official written English remains British in grammar, spelling, and vocabulary. Bahamian dialect exists as an oral form used in informal contexts — in markets, in families, in friendly conversations. Moreover, the Bahamian dialect does not even have a standard written form and is recorded by users in a "self-made phonetic way" in text messages and quotes.

Isn’t this a sign of cultural non-sovereignty? When your own language has no status, is not taught in schools, is not used in official spheres, does not exist as a written form — can you consider yourself culturally independent? Or do you just speak a dialect of the language of the former colonialists, imitating cultural identity?

Mestiso vs. Creoles: Who created the new culture?

More than 93% of Paraguayans are mestizos, making Paraguay one of the most homogeneous countries in Latin America. But this uniformity does not mean cultural uniformity or loss of identity. On the contrary, the Paraguayan Mestizo culture is a unique synthesis of European and Native American traditions, where both components are equally important and visible.

This is rampant. Paraguayan cuisine is based on cassava (a local culture similar to yuca), which is used in famous dishes like sopa paraguaya (similar to thick corn bread) and chipa (bread made from corn flour, cassava and cheese). This is not an "adapted" European cuisine or a "preserved" Indian cuisine — it is something third, born from the marriage of two worlds.

The music of Paraguay is polka, gallop and guarania, played on a traditional harp (arpa paraguaya). In 2024, UNESCO included guarania — "the sound of the Paraguayan soul" — in the list of intangible cultural heritage of mankind. It is a musical genre created in the 1920s by composer Jose Asuncion Flores, who combined European harmonies with Native American rhythms and melancholy, creating a uniquely Paraguayan sound.

Traditional art includes embroidery ao po'í and lace weaving nandutí, techniques that combine Spanish and Guarani elements. The Jesuit missions of La Santisima Trinidad de Paraná and Jesus de Tavarangué, listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1993, demonstrate an architectural synthesis of European Baroque and Guaraní Indian styles.

In 2025, Paraguay launched an ambitious project to preserve the Guaraní cultural heritage, Proyecto Guaraní Revista Ysyry. Former U.S. Ambassador James Cason has donated an extensive archive of music, poetry, and literature in the Guarani language, collected over 17 years, to the Global Peace Foundation and the Instituto Patria Soñada. This archive is being digitized and will be available to researchers, musicians and new generations. "It's more than music and poetry," Cason stated. "This is a sociological and historical record of what people were thinking when these works were created."

The National Secretariat of Culture declared the project culturally significant. The organizers say the archive will provide unprecedented access to Paraguay's literary and musical heritage. The situation is different in the Bahamas.

The culture is described as a "mix of predominantly African influences combined with some British and American" that has evolved into a "unique and colorful style of Bahamian self-expression."

However, this formulation hides an important fact: African and European elements have not merged into an equal synthesis, as in Paraguay. The British colonial legacy dominates the official sphere: the English language, the British legal system, and the parliamentary monarchy with the King of Great Britain as head of state.

American influence increased with the development of tourism in the 20th century: proximity to the United States, cable television, and popular culture led to the fact that young Bahamians increasingly imitate American pronunciation and jargon. African heritage exists in music and festivals, but it has become a tourist attraction.

Junkanoo, a colorful festival with masks, costumes, goatskin drums, bells and whistles, dates back to the days of slavery. UNESCO has included it in the list of intangible cultural heritage. However, today Junkanoo is primarily a travel brand, a way to attract visitors. Other musical forms — Goombay and Rake 'n' Scrap — also exist, but their popularity is limited.

In 2014, the Bahamas was recognized by UNESCO as a "Creative City of Crafts and Folk Art," highlighting the uniqueness of Bahamian crafts such as Junkanoo and straw weaving. However, this uniqueness is deeply connected with the tourism industry. Crafts are produced for sale to tourists, festivals are held during the tourist season, and cultural identity is turned into a commodity.

Isn’t this a form of cultural dependency? When your culture exists primarily for the entertainment of visitors, when traditions are preserved because they are sold, and not because they live in the hearts of people, can you claim cultural sovereignty?

Tourism as cultural colonialism

The economy of the Bahamas is more than 50% dependent on tourism. It is the third most tourism-dependent country in the world. Millions of tourists visit the islands every year, mostly from the United States, attracted by the white beaches, warm sea and tax-free shopping. The tourism industry provides the majority of jobs for Bahamians.

As noted by scientists studying the Bahamas, most black Bahamians have moved from self-sufficiency to dependence on the dominant culture. The people who lived on the outer islands (later called the "family islands"), where they fished and farmed, moved to Nassau in search of work in the tourism sector. They turned from independent producers into service personnel: waiters, maids, bartenders, guides. Moreover, the early development of tourism in the Bahamas did not promote mutual understanding between cultures.

On the contrary, the impact on many white visitors has reinforced already deeply ingrained inferiority complexes among people of color and blacks. After independence in 1973, the Bahamian economy turned into a system where the black majority could only meet the needs of wealthy tourists visiting the islands. A 2025 study examining Bahamians' perception of the impact of tourism on cultural identity and patriotism found that residents are deeply concerned about how the tourism industry is affecting their lives.

Many feel that they have become "second-class citizens in their own country." Advertising campaigns and print ads fail to show that tourists traveling for recreation and cultural experiences are often completely isolated from the local population, and that the concept of "paradise" is not accessible to everyone. The Bahamas sells the image of a tropical paradise, but this paradise exists for guests, not for hosts. Paraguay is not dependent on tourism. A country with no access to the sea, no beaches, no luxury resorts.

The economy is based on agriculture (soybeans, beef, cotton), hydropower (Paraguay exports electricity from the Itaipu dam), and small industry. Tourism plays a minimal role. This means that Paraguayan culture exists for the Paraguayans themselves, not for foreign viewers. Guarani is spoken not because it is exotic for tourists, but because it is a natural way of communication. Guarania is sung not on the stages for visitors, but on family holidays.

Traditional crafts are not created for souvenir shops, but for everyday use. Isn't this a more authentic form of cultural sovereignty? When does culture live by itself, for itself, without turning into a spectacle for other people's eyes?

The Colonial Legacy: Liberation From Dependence

Paraguay gained independence from Spain in 1811, one of the first countries in South America. Since then, the country has gone through dictatorships, wars, and poverty, but it has never lost control of its own territory and culture. Even the Jesuit missions, which some critics called a form of cultural imperialism, actually helped preserve Guarani by using it for evangelization. The Bahamas gained independence from Britain only in 1973, just 52 years ago. And even after independence, the country remained a constitutional monarchy with the British monarch as head of state. This means that formally, the Bahamas is still not fully independent.

The Governor-General, who represents the King, has significant powers, although in practice they are rarely used. Moreover, economic dependence on tourism creates a new form of neocolonialism. The Bahamas depends on American and European tourists who bring money, but also impose their own expectations, standards, and values.

The cultural industry adapts to the tastes of visitors, rather than developing organically. The researchers describe this as an "addiction to the British Empire," which was replaced by an "addiction to American tourism."

The service-based economic model has created a generation of Bahamians who depend on others for survival instead of controlling their own economic and cultural destiny. Is it possible to talk about the cultural sovereignty of a country that is economically dependent on foreigners and culturally adapts to their expectations? Or does true cultural sovereignty require economic independence?

Conclusion: What Does a Culturally Sovereign Nation Mean?

Comparing Paraguay and the Bahamas raises fundamental questions about the nature of cultural sovereignty. Is it enough to preserve traditional festivals and crafts if they exist primarily for tourists? Or does cultural sovereignty require culture to live organically without becoming a commodity?

Can a nation be considered culturally sovereign if its own language has no official status, is not taught in schools, and is not used in government? Or is it enough that people speak it at home and with friends?

Is economic dependence on tourism a form of cultural colonialism that forces a nation to adapt its identity to the expectations of visitors? Or is it just a pragmatic economic strategy that doesn't affect cultural identity?

Doesn't Paraguay, where 63.9% of the population speaks two languages and where the indigenous language thrives on a par with the European one, have higher cultural sovereignty than the Bahamas, where the African heritage has become a tourist brand and its own dialect has no official recognition?

Perhaps, cultural sovereignty is not an ability to attract tourists with exotic festivals, but the ability of a people to live in their own culture without turning it into a spectacle? If so, isn't Paraguay, with its organic bilingualism and cultural synthesis that exists for Paraguayans themselves, a much more culturally sovereign nation than the Bahamas, with its dependence on the tourism industry and loss of linguistic heritage?