The United States and the Caribbean: Revised Edition [Rev. ed. Reprint 2014] 9780674424203, 9780674424197

Citation preview

West Palm 8each Bahama < ί Ai >

Eieut!

1

Nass? ca—.

da

cn Bonaire V (Neth.) Tortuga

Margarita (Trinida i (Br.)

'Cartagena Maracaibo

BR1TI

The United States and the Caribbean

T H E AMERICAN FOREIGN POLICY LIBRARY CRANE BRINTON, EDITOR

The United States and Britain Revised edition. The United States and the Caribbean Revised edition. The United States and South America The Northern Republics The United States and China New edition—completely revised and enlarged. The United States and Scandinavia The United States and Japan Third edition. The United States and France The United States and Mexico Revised edition, enlarged. The United States and India and Pakistan Revised and enlarged. The United States and Italy The United States and Argentina The Balkans in Our Time The United States and the Southwest Pacific The United States and Israel The United States and North Africa Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia The United States and the Arab World

Crane Brinton Dexter Perkins

Arthur P. Whitaker John King Fairbank

Franklin D. Scott Edwin O. Reischauer Donald C. McKay Howard F. Cline

W . Norman Brown H. Stuart Hughes Arthur P. Whitaker Robert Lee Wolff C. Hartley Grattan Nadav Safran Charles F. Gallagher William R. Polk

THE U N I T E D STATES A N D THE

Caribbean

Dexter Perkins

Revised

Edition

HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS Cambridge,

Massachusetts 19 66

© Copyright 1947, 1966, by the President and Fellows of Harvard College All rights reserved Distributed in Great Britain by Oxford University Press, London Maps prepared under the cartographic direction of Arthur H. Robinson Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 66—12532 Printed in the United States of America

Note on the Revised Edition

The American Foreign Policy Library is designed to serve the needs of individuals and groups desiring accurate, up-to-date information about specific countries or regions with which the United States has significant relations. Even more important, the Library is designed to provide judicious appraisals of the meaning of such information. To fulfill these purposes, the volumes in the series must have periodic revisions. Professor Dexter Perkins' The United States and the Caribbean was originally written nearly two decades ago. In few quarters of the globe have greater changes come about in those decades than in the Caribbean. The Cuban revolution alone, establishing as it did a Communist state within ninety miles of our borders, would have made a revision of this book necessary. But the changes in Cuba are merely the most striking and most important of the many changes that have come to this region in the years since the publication of Professor Perkins' excellent study, which has been for some time out of print. Professor Perkins has fortunately been able to go over the whole text, altering and adding wherever events have made such alterations and additions necessary. The result is a substantially new book, one which will make available again the wide personal experience its author has had of the Caribbean and its peoples as well as the great fund of historical knowledge he has built up in a lifetime of study of our relations with Latin America. This revision was no easy task. For the conflicting emotions roused in us all by recent events in Cuba and in the Dominican Republic, not to speak of other countries,

vi

Note on the Revised

Edition

have made scholarly objectivity difficult. Professor Perkins has kept his scholar's detachment (which definitely is not indifference) admirably in the face of these difficulties. He does not lose his temper even with those whose actions he disapproves. It is a pleasure to welcome his book back to the Library. Crane Brinton Cambridge, Massachusetts February 1966

Preface to the Revised Edition

The introduction written for this book by Sumner Welles, I have let stand. His services to the public, and his services in connection with the editorship of this series, are known to every student of American foreign relations. They need no further acknowledgment. As I view my preface to the first edition, I am aware of how much the atmosphere has changed since 1947. Written as it was when the "good-neighbor" policy was at its height and amid the euphoria generated by victory in war and by the creation of the United Nations, it seems to me today somewhat outdated. W e ought still to desire good relations with Latin America. But the difficulties in the way of maintaining such relations seem far greater than they did nineteen years ago. The immense economic difference between this enormously rich country and its "southern neighbors," as Monroe called them, the ideological threat of Communism, and the involvement of the United States in Europe and Asia have given a new color to our relations with the peoples of the Caribbean. The picture is by no means all gloomy; indeed the reader will find much that is cheerful in the pages that follow. But the problems are not the same. I have sought to analyze them in a dispassionate but not unsympathetic spirit. The last two chapters of the first edition I find less relevant today than they were in 1947. The United Nations will probably not have much to do with our relations with the states herein studied. While much of what I wrote on the psychological background of our relations remains true, the generalizations I then

viii

Preface to the Revised

Edition

set down have been sufficiently assimilated by students of Latin American affairs to justify their omission. The personal acknowledgments, which I set down at the end of my earlier preface, to Richard C. Wade, now a professor at the University of Chicago, for his cheerful and helpful labors, to Douglas Parks, who has been most helpful in bringing my book up to date, and to Marjorie Christopher (nee Gilles), my longtime friend and former secretary, deserve repetition. Dexter Perkins Rochester, N e w York February 1966

Contents

Introduction to the First Edition by Sumner Welles

xi

1.

The Countries and Their Peoples

ι

2.

The Economic Background

26

3.

The Politics of the Caribbean

46

4.

The Social Structure

74

5.

American Diplomacy in the Caribbean to 1939

89

6.

American Diplomacy in the Caribbean Since 1939

126

7.

The United States and the Caribbean Economy

157

Appendix I. Some Essential Statistics on the Caribbean Countries

182

Appendix II. Suggested Reading

184

Index

189 MAP

Between the Americas

86

Introduction to the First Edition

The independent nations of the Caribbean area are among those of the American Republics with which the people of the United States are least familiar. It is true that tourists swarm to Havana every winter, that the cities of Colon and of Panama are well known to the voyagers who pass through the Panama Canal, and that air travel has enabled many Americans to obtain a superficial acquaintance with the capitals of Central America, the Dominican Republic, and Haiti. With the gradual extension of the PanAmerican Highway, as it links Mexico, the Central American Republics, and Panama, a better means of knowing their neighbors of the Caribbean will be presented to many thousands of Americans. But to most of us the national problems, the political life, the manner of being, the culture and the economy of these nine smaller republics of the Western Hemisphere are still a closed book. It is for that reason that Dexter Perkins' penetrating and comprehensive analysis of the Caribbean Republics of the Americas has been written at a peculiarly opportune moment. The importance to the people of this country of hemispheric solidarity is at last beginning to be appreciated at its true value. In the development of any strong regional system of the Americas, the Republics of the Caribbean must always play an outstanding part. From the standpoint of hemispheric defense they occupy a strategic position which is of vital significance. Without their collaboration any adequate protection of the Panama Canal would be impossible, and the air and naval bases

xii

Introduction to the First Edition

established by the United States during the Second World War as a result of the destroyers-bases agreement reached with Great Britain would be of scant value. The loyal and unwavering support rendered by all of these republics to the United States after the Japanese attack upon Pearl Harbor was of prime importance in enabling the United States to defend itself as well as in making it possible for its armed forces to move effectively in helping to defend the other Americas. From the economic viewpoint the potential resources of all these nations, as Professor Perkins makes it abundantly clear, are almost unlimited. We think of them all too often as countries which can raise only such tropical products as sugar, bananas, and coffee. Yet because of their mineral wealth, because of the fertility of their soil, and because of the great diversity in their regional climatic conditions, increased capital investment and up-to-date economic planning would enable them to supply United States markets with a vast number of essential commodities that we now import from remote regions of the earth. Any such enlargement and diversification of the trade between the United States and these neighbor republics would prove to be of immediate benefit to the economy of this country by rapidly raising living standards throughout the Caribbean area, and thereby correspondingly increasing the capacity of all the citizens of these countries to buy goods exported from the United States. By no means the least valuable aspect of Professor Perkins' book is the opportunity it affords to the average reader here to familiarize himself with political conditions in these other American states. It is within this area, of course, that former administrations in Washington so often resorted to constant interference and even to armed intervention. No aspect of our earlier inter-American policy has done more harm than this to the welfare of the entire hemisphere. The intervention policy not only aroused the suspicion that the United States was bent upon a course of continental imperialism, but has provoked resentments and antagonisms that are still latent now, many years after the adoption of the Good-Neighbor Policy. It has done equal harm by re-

Introduction to the first Edition

xiii

tarding the political self-reliance of many of the peoples of these republics. It has all too often checked the growth of a national democracy, forged to meet the individual needs of each people. Yet even so, no more advanced democracy is to be found in the Americas today than that created in the Republic of Costa Rica. And the liberal political institutions which are gradually becoming established in a majority of these states are helping to expedite the consolidation of democracy throughout the Western Hemisphere. Democracy will never be firmly established in any part of the Americas as a result of alien interference or coercion. It will continue to grow stronger as industrialization increases, as living standards are correspondingly raised, as freedom of information and of expression become more secure, and the solidarity of all of the American Republics becomes more firmly crystallized. I have spent many years in the Republics described in this book. There is nowhere to be found a greater popular devotion to the cause of individual liberty. There is nowhere to be found greater kindliness nor a more genuine spirit of hospitality. And surely there are few parts of the world which can rival these countries in their natural beauty or in the charm and graciousness of their natural culture. Professor Perkins has written with exceptional knowledge and experience. He is intimately familiar with the countries which he describes. I hope that this book will persuade many citizens of the United States to visit, and thus to know for themselves, these close neighbors presented in it. Sumner Welles

The United States and the Caribbean

1. The Countries and Their Peoples

The area of the Caribbean is not difficult to define. It is fixed in the most definite way by the islands and by the Continental mass that encircle and make of this body of water, in the broadest sense of the word, an inland sea. On the north, for example, if we wish to trace its periphery, we may begin with Cuba, by far the largest island of the region, stretching some seven hundred and thirty miles from east to west, and at its western end not far removed from the mainland of Florida. A narrow passage separates this important state from the island of Santo Domingo, far smaller and, from the historian's point of view, far less significant. Here have grown up, however, two of the most picturesque independent republics of the N e w World, on the western side the black state of Haiti, and on the east, occupying about two thirds of the surface of the island, the Dominican Republic. Taken together, these two communities extend the boundary of the Caribbean nearly four hundred miles farther to the east. Separated by a narrow passage from the next important land mass still farther east, the so-called Mona Passage, Haiti and the Dominican Republic are neighbors to the American territory of Puerto Rico, about one hundred miles long at its widest point; still farther on are the American-owned Virgin Islands, which are, of course, still smaller. Thence in a broad arc, over 500 miles in extent, there stretches the chain of the Antilles, mostly British, but with Guadeloupe and Martinique in the hands of France, and beyond this and off the coast of

2

The United States and the Caribbean

Venezuela, Trinidad and Tobago (a member of the British Commonwealth), as well as the Dutch Islands of Curasao and Aruba. From this point we may follow the coast of South America westward, first Venezuela, then Colombia, then Panama, and from the Canal northward along the eastern shore of Central America, with Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras, and Guatemala all bounding the inland sea, and with the gap finally almost closed by the Mexican peninsula of Yucatan. From the tip of Yucatan it is again only a fairly narrow passage that brings us back to Cuba. It is possible, then, to speak of the Caribbean region as a distinct geographical unit. But for the purposes of this particular study the term must be somewhat more limited. It is obvious, for example, that in matters of foreign policy our interest must lie almost wholly with the independent Latin American republics of the area. But some of these also lie beyond the range of this study. Colombia and Venezuela form a part of northern South America, and may be more conveniently examined in the volume of this series dealing with that region. Mexico is of such transcendent importance in American diplomacy that it deserves, and has received, a volume to itself. This leaves us, then, nine independent communities on which our analysis must center, the island states of Cuba, Haiti, and Santo Domingo, the republic of Panama, and the communities of Central America, including, perforce, one country that does not front on the Caribbean at all, the little republic of El Salvador. In dealing with this region it is possible to generalize, and also to differentiate, along certain broad lines. And in all of it the United States has special interests which we shall wish to analyze in detail. Let us first look, however, at the fundamentals of the geography of the region. It is needless to say, at the outset, that the region represents one of the great highways of oceanic communication in the world. T o pass from the Atlantic to the Pacific through the Panama Canal one must pass through the Caribbean. The trade of this region is increasing, and will increase. When the Canal was opened in August of 1914, there passed through its locks and through the waters of Lake Gatun

The Countries and Their Peoples

3

for the rest of that year and 1915 no less than 4,888,000 tons of shipping; by 1920 the figure was 9,372,000 tons; by 1940 it was 27,299,000 tons; by 1962 it was 62,247,000 tons. Nor is the volume of traffic likely to decline. Indeed, as we shall see in some detail later, the question of providing for this increased volume is likely to become more pressing as time goes on. The second fundamental generalization with regard to the geography of the region of the Caribbean is that the whole area is within the tropics and is beset by the problems that have particularly to do with tropical conditions. But it is very easy to misunderstand what these problems are. There are many persons who assume, for example, that when we speak of the tropics we speak of a region of intolerable heat, of a drenching rainy season deleterious to health, of pathless jungle, and of human beings constantly enervated by the conditions confronting them and incapable of any such advance as occurs in the temperate zones. Such a picture would have elements of truth, but it would by no means represent the whole truth. There are, of course, parts of the region that are decidedly difficult from the viewpoint of the white man. The east coast of Central America, for example, is likely to be pretty torrid for a good part of the year. But the climate of Cuba, to take one example, is really one of the most delightful in the world. And one of the things that is not to be forgotten about tropical lands is that the temperature naturally varies with the elevation, so that a country whose coastal plain may not be very attractive from the climatic point of view may be fine in its upland areas. This, indeed, is precisely the case with regard to a large part of the Caribbean zone. Cuba, it is true, is, except at its eastern end, fairly level, and its comfort derives from the winds that blow across its relatively narrow width rather than from its mountains. But the two republics of Haiti and the Dominican Republic are by no means fiat, and some relief from the heat can be found in their mountainous areas. Still more is this the case with Central America. The republics of this region, indeed, are traversed by what is virtually an extension of the Andean chain. It is precisely in the highlands thus formed that a large

4

The Umted States and the Caribbean

part of the life of these little states is centered. And here the temperatures are very agreeable. San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica, for example, has a mean temperature that stays at about seventy degrees all the year round. Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras, is described by an eminent American geographer as having one of the most pleasing climates in the world. Guatemala City, the capital of the state of the same name, is also peculiarly favored, and the mountainous part of the country is certainly not oppressively hot; indeed, it can be uncomfortably cold. It is, therefore, wholly wrong to think of these regions as if they were without exception areas of oppressive temperature, enervating to those who dwell in them. It is necessary, also, to say a word or two about the alternation of the seasons in the tropics. That there is a dry season, and a wet season, is a fact generally known. But it is not so commonly realized that the wet season, in many parts of the area, is one in which it rains only a few hours a day. One cannot generalize in this regard, for a very wide variety of conditions exists in the nine republics that are included in this study. But very often, as, for example, in the mountainous regions of Central America, there is a tremendous downpour during a short part of the day, and then the sun comes out again. In other words, the rainy season is a very different thing from what the words suggest. And the number of hours of sunshine in such a period may far exceed the hours of sunshine in some parts of the United States at any time of year. There is another question touching the geography of tropical lands which deserves a word of comment. Is it the case, as is so often alleged, that tropical heat naturally predisposes to indolence, and that tropical countries cannot be expected to undergo the same vigorous development that takes place in temperate ones? This is a common view, and it is in a measure endorsed by very distinguished authority. The eminent geographer, Ellsworth Huntington, for example, maintained that where the means of subsistence are easily found (and this is likely, of course, to be the case in the tropics), the energy of the producing groups is likely to be diminished. But it is easily

The Countries and Their Peoples

5

arguable that other factors explain the relatively slow tempo of development in the hotter parts of the globe. There are some very warm regions where a vigorous development is taking place, just as there are some cold ones where progress is slow. Preston James, another distinguished student of Latin America, has suggested that the real difficulty lies not in the climate itself but in the diseases to which a hot climate gives rise, and which can be combated by proper public health measures. Malaria, hookworm, and other such diseases are likely to be endemic in warm countries. But no one of these diseases is without its cure, and, given a vigorous effort to deal with them, a substantial amount could be done to raise the economic level of the states of the Caribbean. W e shall, indeed, return to this matter later. Enough has been said to cast reasonable doubt upon the thesis that the tropics are necessarily incapable of the kind of economic development that has taken place in more favored parts of the world. And, certainly, even if one assigned a measure of validity to such a thesis, it would still be difficult to maintain, in view of the progress made in many of these communities during the last fifty years, that an end to that progress had been reached and that nothing more could be expected. But what of the peoples that inhabit these various countries? What is to be said of them? Who and what are they? And precisely what is to be expected of them? There are several groups to be considered in answering this question. There are, first of all, the Negroes; secondly, there are the Indians; thirdly, there are the mestizos, or mixed bloods, a fusion of Spanish and Indian types; and, fourthly, there are the whites. The Negro elements are most numerous in the islands of the Caribbean. Haiti, for example, with a population of around 4,300,000, is a Negro state. It came into being at the beginning of the nineteenth century through the revolt of the slaves, who formed the major part of its people, against the French planters who represented the governing class of the island. The war of extermination that then took place resulted in the virtual extinction of those of white blood. Of course, before these events took place, there had been some admixture of race; and in the evolu-

6

The United States and the Caribbean

tion of the Haitian state a distinction has grown up between the pure blacks and those with some trace of European ancestry. There is, therefore, a small mulatto group which has played an important part in government and is the repository, to a striking degree, of Haitian culture. But the mass of the people are blacks, and the situation is not likely to change. The other islands of the Caribbean also contain a numerous Negro population. In the colonial period most of these islands imported large numbers of slaves, and the descendants of these slaves remain there today. The island of Jamaica, for example, Great Britain's most important possession in the area, is overwhelmingly black; so, too, are such French possessions as Martinique and Guadeloupe; so, too, are such smaller colonies as Barbados, or the Lesser Antilles, and also the American-owned Virgin Islands. Indeed, there are only a few exceptions to the general rule. The Dominican Republic, which occupies the eastern end of the island of Santo Domingo, is a state with mixed populations; the island of Trinidad contains a number of racial groups; Cuba has only a minority of blacks; and Puerto Rico still fewer. Let us look, especially, at the Dominican Republic and Cuba. The first of these states owes its origin to Spanish settlers who, though slaveholders, never kept such large numbers of Negroes as did the French at the other end of the island. It began its history with a white population, which was not very large but which survived the days of the servile war in Haiti and has continuously played a part in the affairs of the republic. But in the early 1820's the country was overrun by the Haitian leader, Boyer, and it remained under Haitian rule for more than twenty years. Inevitably, in such a period, a great deal of fusion took place, and a large Negro population now exists within the confines of the state. It is, of course, most numerous along what is now the Haitian-Dominican border, and in the south rather than in the north; but it is not the dominating element, and Dominicans as a whole may certainly be said to have no desire to see it increased. There seems to be little racial prejudice as such,

The Countries and Their Peoples

η

but there is a widespread determination not to permit submergence by the republic that is its neighbor. As for Cuba, the Negro population of this republic is, of course, as elsewhere, descended from the slaves of the colonial epoch. It was once much more numerous in proportion to the total number of inhabitants than it is today. Cuba is one of the countries of the New World that in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries received a very substantial white immigration, and the percentage of blacks has shrunk from over fifty in 1840 to something like twenty-seven today. It is difficult to speak with precision in such matters; no doubt there are not a few Cuban mulattoes who have been accepted as white; but the number of blacks does not seem to be increasing in relation to the total number of Cubans. The Negro population is concentrated to a substantial extent in the eastern province of Oriente, where, some fifty years ago, there was a Negro revolt under a leader named Estenoz. It is highly unlikely, however, that any such event will ever occur again. The position of the black man has never been what it has been in the most backward of our southern states; there has not been, and there is not, any legal discrimination; the road to advancement is open; the schools and universities erect no barriers to Negro progress. The Castro regime, whatever its deficiencies from the American point of view, is on this question not subject to criticism. In addition to the Negro population of the islands, there are some Negroes on the east coast of Central America and in Panama. Here the great fruit companies have preferred Negro labor to any other and have encouraged a substantial immigration. The percentage of Negroes has been recently estimated as 13 in Panama, 9 in Nicaragua, 2 in Honduras, and 1.9 in Costa Rica. The Central American Negro, of course, does not object to fusion with other groups, but in the main, in Honduras, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica he has not been accepted by the dominant racial elements. Indeed, at one time some of the Central American states imposed restrictions on Negro immigration. These

8

The United. States and the Caribbean

restrictions have now been removed; but nothing in current circumstances suggests a substantial Negro immigration into the continental states. The Indian population of the states of the Caribbean is to be found almost entirely upon the Continent. In the islands the native Indian stock was practically exterminated by the Spaniards. But on the mainland, apart from motives of humanity and selfinterest, the conquerors could hardly have wiped out the numerous population that existed there. They did not even try to do so; and there are sections of Central America today in which there still exist a pre-Columbian culture and many relics of the days before the white man came to the N e w World. B y far the most important Indian group is that in Guatemala, where it forms certainly no less than 55 per cent of the total population. The Guatemalan Indians are the descendants of the Mayas, and the representatives, therefore, of one of the most ancient civilizations on the American continent. Almost as early as the dawn of the Christian era, the Mayas had already given evidence of substantial cultural progress. They had a calendar which was more accurate than the calendar of the Romans; they had a mathematical system which included the abstract conception of zero, at that time unknown to the West; they built roads and temples on a substantial scale, and pyramids which have no rival outside Egypt; they developed an intensive agriculture; and they possessed a settled political order. Some of the fundamental inventions, it is true, they missed, most notably the use of the wheel or the domestication of any draft animal. But the total achievement was considerable and forms today a fascinating object of study to archaeologists. The Maya culture extended from the Mexican province of Yucatan to what is now Northern Honduras. Its earliest seats were in the south, and the visitor to Guatemala can well afford, on his way to the capital from Puerto Barrios, to stop off and see the ruins of Quirigua, which date from about the seventh century. The majestic steles of this site, with their elaborate carvings and their individualized figures, are an amazing example of the development of Mayan art. Further south, across the

The Countries and Their Peoples

9

border in Honduras, at Copan, are elaborate temple structures, even more impressive, and the product of a very considerable degree of civilization. Later the Mayas enjoyed an era of great prosperity further north, in the region of Chichen; the total period of their development, with an interruption of some centuries, extends over not less than thirteen or fourteen hundred years. Even today, in Guatemala, the Indians of Momostenango gather on a given day, known as the Guaxachip Bats, and there celebrate ancient rites which go back long before the Conquest. T h e y are aware of this date without any written calendar, handing down the memory of time by oral tradition. T h e y still worship, in private, and sometimes in public, the ancient gods; at the church in Chichicastenango the holiest place is not the high altar but the site on which there once stood a temple of the antique religion. And on the hillsides outside the town one finds altars erected, not to some Christian saint, but to the deities of the pre-Columbian world. T h e Maya Indians of today appear to have none of the vigorous dynamism that enabled their ancestors to build so remarkable a culture. T h e y are sturdy, on the whole peaceable, capable of great endurance, and reasonably industrious. T h e y live in villages of their own and enjoy a very considerable measure of selfgovernment. T h e y are, of course, usually illiterate and very much attached to their ancient ways. And what, perhaps, is of more importance than any of this, they are still at that stage of development where the acquisitive instincts are far from keen. It is said of the Guatemalan Indian that he will walk for miles to carry the product of his handicraft to a market, and that when he arrives he will sell the product for precisely the same sum that he would charge if he were in his native village. His conception of life is simple, even primitive; and the alteration of his mores is a task that will take many years, one may be sure. It will naturally occur to the reader to inquire whether in a state where the Indian forms so large a part of the population there is likely to occur a movement such as that which distinguishes the history of Mexico. In that country there has been,

ίο

The United States and the Caribbean

as is well known, a harking back to and a glorification of the ancient Indian culture, and this movement has affected to some degree the texture of Mexican politics. Will the same thing take place in Guatemala? The answer to this question cannot be a completely unqualified one. The situation in the Central American republic is not similar to that of its northern neighbor. In Mexico there was a land problem, and a great one. In Guatemala, which is still sparsely settled, there is no such question. One of the main sources of discontent in the one country is therefore absent in the other. Until population increase has continued on a considerable scale, this situation is not likely to change. But, on the other hand, there has been, in the last decade or two, a perceptible alteration in the attitude of the governing classes toward the Indian. For almost all of the first century of Guatemalan history, the attitude of most administrations was indifferent or contemptuous. The Indian was expected to be exploited, and the central question was what was the most convenient way to exploit him. Even Barrios, the most liberal of Guatemalan presidents, appears to have taken this point of view. Occasionally there would be flickerings of a reform movement; but they were no more than flickerings. In the course of the last few decades, however, there has been a distinct change. The shameless advantage taken of the Indian through a sytem of debt slavery aroused indignation within the country and criticism outside. President Ubico, who came to the presidency in 1931 and was in office until 1944, was genuinely interested in the Indians. His frequent presidential addresses were often concerned with the redress of Indian grievances. He made the Indians more conscious of the place of government in their lives than they had ever been before, and he sought to remedy the worst abuses of the economic system under which they often remained in debt peonage for years at a time. His immediate successor, Arevalo, went further. The suffrage was extended to illiterate males (that is, to Indians hitherto not recognized as voters); the municipios or local governments, were given more freedom in conducting their affairs; various cultural measures were instituted; and the harsh laws against vagrancy, which meant in practice an ap-

The Countries and Their Peoples

n

proach to involuntary servitude, were repealed. With the overthrow of the Left-wing government of President Arbenz in 1954 there was something of a reaction, but the ground gained was reasonably well held. Further progress will doubtless depend upon the increasing political self-consciousness of the Indian himself. The Guatemalan Indian, however, still lives upon a very low level of economic wants and aspirations. In most cases he is quite content to cultivate his little garden, to enjoy his simple pleasures, and to go on in the way his fathers went on before him. There is nothing peculiar about Indian human nature that precludes the gradual development of the desire for a higher standard of living. But the process is bound to be slow, and this fact will powerfully affect the growth of the country as a whole. In no other country of Central America, however, is there an Indian question similar to that of Guatemala. In El Salvador there is an Indian population whose precise number it is difficult to estimate (possibly 5 per cent), but which maintains its racial identity. The Indians are often industrious and efficient; indeed they are often preferred as laborers to the mixed bloods of the same social groups; but their economic status is not at all similar to that of their Maya cousins. In many cases they have little farms of their own, and they are undeniably more advanced in their economic desires than the Guatemalan Indians. There are signs of interest in them on the part of the governing classes; in December the whole country celebrates the "Day of the Indian," and children and young people, dressed in authentic Indian costume, walk in procession to honor their patroness, the Virgin of Guadalupe. They play a modest part in politics, but they are not a special force to be reckoned with, as matters stand today. In the case of the other states of Central America, the Indian population is less important. It is smallest in Costa Rica, where it amounts to only 4 per cent of the total population. It is hardly larger in Nicaragua and is, in general, concentrated in the east. The Nicaraguan Indians are perhaps most worth mentioning because of their picturesque name of the Mosquitos and because

i2

The United States and the Caribbean

of the part they played in Anglo-American rivalry in Central America in the 1850's. But in Panama the case is different. In this little country there are several Indian groups which are individual enough to deserve special mention. There are, for example, the San Bias, among the most interesting tribal groups in any part of Latin America. They live on the east coast of the republic, to the east of the Canal, in an area that extends almost to the Colombian border, and are among the most colorful, the most self-sufficient, and the most orderly of any of the groups. They are short and square-shouldered, and have the high flat cheekbones, narrow slanting eyes, and straight dark hair of some Asiatic strains. They live a life similar to that of the South Sea Islanders, making long voyages in their dugout canoes, fishing with spears and bows and arrows, and maintaining plantations along the inland rivers, where they bury their dead, gather fruit, and carry on some little cultivation. They live, however, on the islands of the coast, in huts with steeply pitched palm-thatched roofs, and in villages the streets of which are of sand. They are highly independent in spirit, but periodically their chiefs visit the capital and renew their allegiance to the republic. They still are governed by their own tribal laws, however, and can be visited only under careful regulations. Even today, white men rarely remain within their residential areas after sunset. While not numerous, and lacking in any such picturesque past as characterized the Mayas, they are certainly one of the most interesting groups in any part of the Caribbean. On the Isthmus of Darien, where Balboa first sighted the Pacific in 1513, live Indians very different from the San Bias, tall and straight, and resembling some of the tribes of South America. They paint their bodies in geometric patterns with highly colored dyes, and wear a profusion of silver jewelry. They occupy a region that is still very difficult to penetrate, and the adventurous visit them only by arrangement with the national tourist commission. Finally, there is still a third group, the Indians that inhabit the country west of the Canal and extending to the Costa Rican bor-

The Countries and Their Peoples

13

der. These people have had much more contact with Western civilization than the San Bias or the Indians of Darien, but they are still sufficiently distinctive, and they represent an attractive expression of the Indian spirit. Taken all together, it must be remembered, these various groups make up only a small minority of the population of the republic; but they give to Panama an element of color and variety that is certainly worth noting, and underline the fact, too often forgotten, that far nearer to us than any part of Europe there are bits of country that the ubiquitous American traveler has rarely troubled to see or understand. So much for the Indian population of the Caribbean. W e must next turn to the very numerous mestizo element and attempt to appraise its importance. And as an introduction to the subject it is necessary to say that in their conquest of the Central American zone the Spaniards pursued a very different policy from the one the British were to adopt further north a hundred years later. They did not aim at the extermination of the Indian or even at thrusting him back from a frontier line of their own; they aimed rather at incorporating him in their own polity. The reasons for this were partly mercenary and partly more disinterested; there was a desire to exploit the native population, but there was also a desire to Christianize them. In the Caribbean islands, despite this general conception of policy, the actual results were the virtual disappearance of the native stock; but on the Continent there took place a fusion of races that is one of the salient facts in the history of the region. The mestizo, the mixture of Spaniard and Indian, is by far the most characteristic type in several of the Central American republics, and he is a type of substantial importance in all but one of them. In Guatemala mixed blood is in the neighborhood of 40 per cent. The census indeed recognizes only Ladinos, as they are called, and Indians, and it is possible that among the Ladinos may be a small number of persons of purely white blood; but of these there can hardly be many. In Honduras the mestizo group is estimated at 87 per cent, in El Salvador at 80 per cent, in Nicaragua at 69 per cent, in Panama at 65 per cent, and in Costa Rica possibly at 17 per

i4

The United States and the Caribbean

cent. Putting the matter another way, the mestizo group forms a substantial majority of the population in all but one of these states.* W h a t significance does this fact have in the life of the republics concerned? There are at least two generalizations that ought to be set down in answer to such a question. The first of these is that many, probably most, of these people, whatever the mixture of bloods, regard themselves as the heirs of the Spanish tradition. W e shall have more to say of what that tradition implies when we come to discuss the pure white European stock in the Caribbean; but we should say here that the mass of these people speak Spanish as their mother tongue, that they share in the psychological outlook which is characteristic of Spanish peoples, and that they feel some sense of solidarity as the result of this community of origin. T h e second generalization is this: the term "mestizo" not only carries no connotation of an unpleasant kind in Central America, but it ought not to do so. Sometimes North Americans have curious views as to the mixture of bloods, though they of all people ought to understand how such mixtures occur. There is little reason to believe that the mixture of Spaniard and Indian has produced an inferior stock, that it is the controlling factor in the development, or in the retardation of the development, of these little states; or that it is a factor which militates against their progress in the future. There are other far more important elements as we shall see which explain the comparative backwardness of some of the Central American republics; to blame conditions on the racial mixture would be entirely and unreservedly unscientific. In the figures that we have just noted, it will be observed that in Costa Rica the percentage of mixed stock is only 17, and that brings us to the last element in the population of the Caribbean, the white stock. Costa Rica is the state in which this stock is most numerous; indeed it forms a most interesting example of a * Many of the statistics in this book must be taken as approximations not finalities. Since there will be many statistical observations in what follows, it is just as well to insert this warning here. Many Americans attach almost mystical significance to what can be stated numerically; the possibilities of human fallibility are present in statistical inquiry, as elsewhere.

The Countries and Their Peoples

15

preponderantly white community in the midst of populations of another type. The Indian population of this part of Central America appears never to have been very numerous; and the region was settled by Spaniards, largely from Galicia, who formed a most sturdy, industrious, and hard-working element. Their descendants are there today and form the principal elements in this interesting republic. In Cuba something more than a majority of the people are of European blood, and, as has already been said, the proportion tended to increase, at least up to the depression years that followed the crash of 1929. With the exception of these two states the white stock is nowhere more than a small minority in the area we are considering; nonexistent in Haiti; too small for separate enumeration in Guatemala and El Salvador; a mere handful in Honduras; under 20 per cent in Nicaragua and Panama, possibly somewhat larger than this in the Dominican Republic. Despite their comparatively small numbers, however, it ought to be clearly understood that in their influence, and indeed in the fixing of the national temperament and culture, the whites of the Caribbean area are more important than some observers are apt to assume. There are parts of the region in which native populations are living in a relatively primitive state which suggests only the thinnest veneer of European culture, if any such culture at all, such districts as those of rural Haiti, of Indian Guatemala, of the more remote provinces of Panama. But for the most part the white stock has fixed the cultural mold in the Caribbean; it has contributed its language; it has contributed its religion, so that everywhere the Catholic Church plays a part, though a variable one, in the national life; it has contributed its political and its social ideals. It is impossible to understand these peoples if one does not bear this constantly in mind. It is impossible to treat of them sympathetically unless one ungrudgingly recognizes that they are, and that they regard themselves as, the heirs of a great civilization and a renowned culture. We shall see in a later chapter that there is much to justify such a view; but it is as well in this opening chapter to issue a caveat against the supercilious sense of superiority which sometimes characterizes

16

The United States and the Caribbean

the judgment of citizens of the United States toward their southern brethren. Having analyzed the various elements that make up the population of the Caribbean, the next question that naturally suggests itself is the degree in which these populations are likely to change in the future. Will the racial stocks be profoundly modified? Will the pattern we have traced be fundamentally altered with time? In such a state as Haiti one sees little reason to suppose that circumstances will be much different two or three decades from now from what they are today. The white strain that exists in the Haitian upper classes can hardly be expected to become stronger, for there is virtually no intermarriage with Europeans or North Americans; but the disappearance of the men of color is also a very remote possibility. In the islands of the Caribbean also the black stocks will no doubt maintain themselves, and, looking at the matter in the light of secular tendencies, there is a diminution of the small white element in such regions as Jamaica and Barbados. In the Dominican Republic and in the states of Central America, the process of fusion of bloods that has taken place in so large a measure already is likely to be continued; the sense of racial discrimination is so weak that the preservation of a really white class is pretty difficult; yet it is remarkable that after four hundred years important elements in these little states should still regard themselves as white. In Cuba the hostility to the immigration of blacks offers some reason to believe that the pure Negro population will slowly decrease; and until the advent of Fidel Castro, it seemed possible that the whites would increase by the addition of an increment from abroad. On the question of immigration, indeed, a special word should be said. Despite the keen desire for the encouragement of European immigration which has been expressed in many of the republics of the Caribbean, their efforts to add to their white elements in this way have not, in the main, been crowned with success. A small number of Germans, attracted by the prospects of the coffee culture, are to be found in Guatemala; a small colony of European Jews has settled in the Dominican Republic;

The Countries and Their Peoples

17

and there are sprinklings of European elements elsewhere; but nowhere has there been a truly important movement. Even under the favorable circumstances of the early years of the twentieth century, when governments commonly voiced little opposition to the departure of some of their citizens to another land, there was no great enthusiasm for the Caribbean states; and in the much more difficult and complex conditions of the present day the chances of recruiting large numbers of immigrants are still less. We may safely assume, therefore, so far as we can see ahead, that the populations of the Caribbean will grow by natural increase rather than by accretion from abroad; that they will maintain their somewhat mixed character in most of the states concerned; and that they will continue to reflect much the same cultural influences that have helped to form them in the past. There is, however, one fundamental question that has to be discussed in connection with Caribbean populations, a question fundamental to society in general, and that is the relationship of the inhabitants of these various states to the areas they inhabit. The density of population in a given country bears always a significant, though by no means a constant, relationship to the possibilities of economic progress. It is obvious that a highly industrialized area can support more persons than a purely agricultural one; it is obvious that an area fortunately situated with regard to the routes of trade and in easy communication with the rest of the world is better situated than one extremely remote; it is obvious that a country in which the habit of industry and the desire of economic self-improvement are keen can make a better go of its economic life than a country in which large numbers of the inhabitants are devoid of any very profound urge to action and are content with a relatively low standard of living. There is not, and cannot be, therefore, any rule of thumb by which to establish in a given case whether this or that region is underpopulated or overpopulated; yet underpopulation and overpopulation nonetheless bear a fundamental relationship to the whole question of economic growth. This matter, indeed, often receives in American thought less attention than it deserves; and for that reason we ought to consider it with care.

18

The United States and the Caribbean

But, first of all, a word more on the side of generalization. It is clear, for example, that in a given area there may dwell a number of people utterly inadequate to the exploitation of the natural resources of that area; and in such a case there cannot be rapid economic growth. More important, however, there may be in a given area a population larger than that area can comfortably support, and which is growing at a rate that makes economic progress difficult. In a poor country with a high birth rate, the increase in numbers may be greater than the increase in the means of subsistence; and as a result of such a process the masses may be condemned to something very like permanent poverty. This is by no means merely a theoretical possibility; it is, in all probability, the situation that actually exists in some important countries. Departing for a moment from the Caribbean scene, it is clear that both China and India face a most serious problem in this regard. The extrapolation of population figures is a hazardous matter, but as to China, one of the most careful and thoughtful analysts of that country has expressed the opinion that even with improvements in the technique of agriculture, there may well be a question of redundant population that only the most drastic measures can solve. In the case of India, it seems that at the present time the rate of natural increase is greater than the increase in the available means of subsistence; and, while the situation may change, current conditions certainly induce no extravagant optimism. It is necessary, moreover, in connection with this question of possible overpopulation, to face one other unpleasant, but inescapable, fact; the fact that our modern health measures, in circumstances such as those just depicted, may operate to complicate rather than alleviate the economic problems of such areas as we have been describing. Decreases in infant mortality and improvement in the physical well-being of adults can have only a good effect in countries that are in the process of development, and in which the numbers of the people bear some reasonable relation to the resources to be developed; but in countries having the problem of restricted area and redundant

The Countries and Their Peoples

19

population, medical advances can have a very different effect. It is important to decide—in connection with any part of the world —whether the general tendencies with regard to population are such as to encourage hope for the future, or such as to lead to a justifiable pessimism. Let us look, then, at the republics of the Caribbean from this point of view. It may be well to point out at the outset the danger that lies in much loose generalization with regard to Latin America. We are constantly told that the population problem presents in this part of the world a deadly peril for the future. But when we study the matter in terms of the individual states, we get a different picture. For all but one of the states of Central America, for example, there is no immediate problem. It is true that both the gross and the net birth rates (meaning in the latter case the excess of births over deaths) are extraordinary. In Panama the gross rate is 41.3 per 1000; in Nicaragua, 45.3; in Honduras, 45.8; in Guatemala, 46.8; and in Costa Rica, 50.5. For the net rates per 1000 the figures are as follows: for Honduras, 20; for Guatemala, 29; for Nicaragua, 32; for Panama, 33; and for Costa Rica, 42. These may be compared with the gross and net rates for the United States, which are 17 and 6.1, respectively. But when we restate the matter in terms of population density, we get a somewhat different view of the problem. In Guatemala there are 94 persons to the square mile; in Costa Rica, 63.7; in Honduras, 42.3; in Nicaragua, 22; and in Panama, under 20. In interpreting these figures allowance must be made for the substantial amount of non-cultivable area in many of these states—the jungles of Panama or the barren wastes of northern Guatemala, to cite only two examples. But even making the necessary allowances, it seems fairly clear that the opportunities for further land development are considerable, and that it will be some time before any acute population problem arises. What is true of Central America is true, in a measure, of the island states of Cuba and the Dominican Republic. In neither of these states does the density of population suggest that they are reaching the saturation point; and while, as in the case of the

20

The United States and the Caribbean

Central American republics, both the gross and the net birth rates are high, they do not threaten to bring about a really dangerous situation for some time to come. The most disquieting situations arise with regard to El Salvador and Haiti. The whole area of El Salvador is only about 10,000 square miles, approximately the size of Vermont. As compared with Vermont, with a population of something like 330,000, this little Caribbean state supports something like 2,718,000 persons. The population density is not so high as that of many industrial countries, and it is not so high as many of the islands of the West Indies; but it is two and one-half times as great as that of any other of the Central American republics. In considering this figure, of course, we must take account of the general character of the area, and in particular we must ask ourselves the question as to whether there is any likelihood of a steadily increasing measure of industrialization. In the case of El Salvador, the country must be regarded as mountainous, and a very large extent of the area that can be cleared for cultivation has already been so developed. There are few signs of any industrial resources of an important character, and, therefore, very little chance that industrial development will take place on a considerable scale. In addition to these facts, the birth rate in this little republic is high. All these facts taken together do not mean that at the present moment the situation is a desperate one, or that the absolute limit of healthy population growth has been attained. W e must always make allowances, moreover, for improved methods of cultivation, for the change in agricultural habits from an export crop, in this case coffee, to products that can be domestically consumed, and for declining rates of population increase as the pressure becomes more severe. One of the most distinguished students of Latin American geography, in considering the future of El Salvador, is not disposed to take too pessimistic a view. Nonetheless, it would not be realistic to fail to recognize that there is here a developing problem, and that the coming years may increase the economic difficulties of what is today one of the most attractive and energetic communities of the Caribbean area.

The Countries and Their Peoples

21

When we come to Haiti, however, we are confronted by a very different situation. Here, in fact, is the most densely populated independent state of the New World. Within an area of about 10,000 square miles, an area hardly more than the state of Vermont (to choose once again the illustration suggested for El Salvador), is concentrated a population of something like 4,300,000 or over 400 persons to the square mile. This is a striking example of overpopulation, and its only parallels occur in some of the other islands of the Caribbean. Professor Leyburn graphically described the problem in his interesting work on the black republic.* "To grasp the import of Haiti's problem of overpopulation," he wrote, "one should imagine the number of Vermonters sextupled, working with hand tools and using methods which their great-grandfathers would have considered antiquated; imagine the state with only a hundred miles of paved road, with no harnessed water power, no substantial fortunes, no middle class; imagine the farms gullied and worn out; ninety-five per cent of the people illiterate and undernourished; the state having no industry and practically no goods imported from New York, Massachusetts, or any other part of the United States. Under such conditions the low standard of living would be understandable. "Haiti might also be compared with Mississippi. Less than a quarter the size of that American state, it nevertheless has a larger population. Both Haiti and Mississippi are agricultural, with few towns, although no part of Haiti now has land as richly fertile as that of the Yazoo Delta. The low standard of living of the Mississippi share-cropper, whether Negro or white, is notorious— yet he has access to a few of the perquisites of civilization, whether these be elementary schools or moving pictures; the Haitian peasant lacks even these. In America the undercurrent of feeling is that something should be, probably eventually will be, done to improve the lot of the share-cropper. Certainly there is wealth enough in the country at large to alleviate conditions where they are deemed to be socially unhealthy. Not so in * James G . Leyburn, The Haitian People (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1941), pp. 269, 270.

22

The United States and the Caribbean

Haiti; the land is poorer, the numbers even greater, the area much smaller; and there is no wealth in the country, nor enough social vision among the upper classes to deal with the relentless increase of numbers." The picture, depressing as it is, can hardly be said to be much overdrawn; and the worst of the matter is that it is difficult to devise a remedy for conditions every humane person must recognize as appalling. The easy answer, for many Americans, to a situation of this kind would be birth control; but in reality such measures are entirely impracticable. The population of the republic has not yet reached that point of culture where it can readily accept or apply artificial restraints to the process of reproduction; a great campaign of education can hardly be waged in a country where the standard of literacy is pitifully low; and in agricultural countries (and Haiti is overwhelmingly agricultural) large families are regarded with more favor than in highly industrialized communities. The plain fact of the matter is that in Haiti, as in other countries where the problem of redundant population is most acute, there is the least chance of any effective measures being taken to meet the problem head on. If there is any hope at all of dealing with it, it most certainly does not lie in the direction we have been discussing. Another answer that seems in theory a little more reasonable is migration. Haitians are not averse to attempting to improve their economic status by such means. Many of them indeed have actually tried to do so. But they have met with all kinds of obstacles. In the early thirties, for example, there took place a very substantial emigration of Haitians to the island of Cuba, where they found employment in the sugar fields. But it was not long before Cuban opinion reacted against this influx of foreign labor, and the Batista regime took prompt, vigorous, and indeed ruthless measures to compel the immigrants to return to their own country. And this in the face of the fact that we have already noted, that there is a considerable black population in Cuba, and there is probably less racial prejudice there than in any part of the Caribbean area.

The Countries and Their Peoples

23

Haitians have also made attempts to seep over the border into the much more thinly populated Dominican Republic. Here, too, however, despite the presence of a very substantial population of Negro blood, they have not been welcome. Indeed, in connection with this movement of migration, there occurred in 1937 one of the great tragedies of the Caribbean area. There were at that time an estimated 60,000 Haitians living across the border. At governmental instigation, there suddenly broke out a movement of mass murder of these innocent people. At least 5000 were either butchered or drowned, and it is likely that three or four times this number actually met their death. The episode, indeed, caused a little international crisis in the island of Santo Domingo. The government of President Trujillo was roundly accused by the authorities at Port-au-Prince of complicity in this outrage. A committee of the United States, Mexico, and Cuba investigated, and awarded Haiti damages of $750,000, a third of which was paid at once, and the rest promised in installments. But pecuniary compensation could not, after all, restore life, nor does it alter the fact that the Dominican Republic is resolved to prevent any very considerable movement of population from its neighbor state into its own area. A third expedient for dealing with the evils of a redundant population is, of course, industrialization. The word may well be used in this connection in its widest sense, to include, that is, a highly organized agriculture, as well as manufacturing. But here again the prospects for the Negro republic do not look particularly bright. For one thing, Haiti lacks the material basis for the development of an industrial economy. It has no coal, no iron, and no oil. Small deposits of bauxite have been discovered, and these may prove to be increasingly important, but they cannot, of course, serve as the basis of anything more than a single small industry. Perhaps the greatest possibility of improvement lies in the development of better agricultural techniques with regard to subsistence crops, which enter directly into the Haitian's standard of living. But even here progress must be slow, and must, of course, be dependent upon the diffusion of knowledge among

24

The United States and the Caribbean

the masses, a slow and laborious process in such a country as we are considering, and one that, unfortunately, is not regarded with much enthusiasm by the small governing class. When, therefore, one takes all the facts into consideration, it is not easy to be cheerful about the future of the black republic. The British, too, have had to face this problem of expanding population in the Negro islands to the south of Haiti and Puerto Rico. Barbados, for example, is one of the most densely populated places in any part of the world. Jamaica is another. And the population question undoubtedly helps to explain in no small degree the unrest that took place in Britain's colonial possessions in the Caribbean in the years just preceding the outbreak of World War II. Matters reached a very serious pass by the year 1938, and a British Royal Commission was appointed to investigate the situation and to make a report. This report dealt more lightly than the facts justified with the problem of increasing population pressure, but its recommendations were nonetheless directly related to the necessity of developing the subsistence industries and raising the colonial standard of living. There is a third region in the Caribbean that ought to be mentioned in connection with the population problem, but where vigorous and intelligent action has altered the situation of thirty years ago. In the decade of the thirties writers on the subject of Puerto Rico were likely to comment on the danger that human fecundity would permanently depress the economic situation of the people of the island. It would not be at all possible to pass so mournful a judgment today. By the encouragement given to American capital, by the development of industry on a substantial scale, and by the encouragement of family limitation (in some cases, with the connivance, if not with the actual approval, of the priesthood), and as a result of government expenditure during and after the war, the Puerto Rican economy has attained a remarkable advance, and the Puerto Rican people today have one of the highest living standards in the Caribbean area. While the success story of Puerto Rico probably defies repetition, we have here an interesting example of how things can change under intelligent direction.

The Countries and Their Peoples

25

W e have now analyzed in some detail the population problems of the area of the Caribbean. What general conclusions can we draw at the close of this chapter? Shall the judgment be a pessimistic or an optimistic one? It will be neither. It will be a balanced one. Where redundant population exists, it is impossible to be overly hopeful, though even here improved agricultural methods, and perhaps the very pressure of the birth rate itself, may operate to relieve the situation. W e shall have to recognize, on the less cheerful side, that there are in some of the states substantial populations that are in that primitive stage of economic development where their desire for self-improvement is very limited and their wants very few. Such, of course, is the situation of the Haitian peasant, of the Guatemalan Indian, and of other groups who have been given mention. But, in the main, there are large areas that may undergo a measure of healthy growth. Cuba, under wise leadership, has substantial possibilities. Much of Central America possesses very positive assets and ought to go forward to a far greater degree of prosperity than it presently enjoys. The Dominican Republic is capable of much improvement. The peoples of these various states are by no means lifeless and inert, or without that urge to positive accomplishment which is the best guarantee of accomplishment itself. There are problems, on the economic, as on the human side. W e must examine them as we proceed. But we do not need, we ought not, to begin this study in any atmosphere of pessimism. W e can, with the reservations already made and with clear understanding of others in the economic sphere that must be made, legitimately hope for an expanding economy in much of the area of the Caribbean, and the progressive amelioration of the social conditions that exist there.

2. The Economic Background

Before we survey the economic status of the states of the Caribbean in detail, it may be well to say a general word about the scale of their economies. It is not easy to realize in the America of today the immense distance that separates the lush prosperity of the United States from the struggling economies in other parts of the world. If we do not take account of this fact, the statistics presented in this chapter will seem to suggest something like perpetual poverty for the region we are about to study. Such a conclusion would not be justified, certainly not with regard to most of the states. W e must, having analyzed the current situation, assess in each case the prospects of further growth, and our conclusions in this regard will relieve in some respects the painful impression left by the economic disparity between the United States and the Caribbean states. But it is nonetheless wise to emphasize at the outset that the gulf is a wide one. The simplest way to illustrate this disparity is to compare the per capita gross national product in the United States with the per capita gross national product of the republics of the Caribbean. In 1963, measured in terms of i960 dollars, the figure for this country was $2830. Here are the figures for the Caribbean, with the omission of Cuba, for which accurate figures are not accessible: Panama, $447; Costa Rica, $402; El Salvador, $294; Guatemala, $275; Nicaragua, $272; the Dominican Republic, $206; Honduras, $184; Haiti, $77. In other words, the richest of these states has a per capita gross national product between a sixth

The Economic Background

27

and a seventh of that of the United States; Costa Rica about a seventh; El Salvador, Guatemala, and Nicaragua about a tenth; the Dominican Republic and Honduras less than a twelfth; and Haiti about a thirty-ninth. These awesome figures suggest one of the great unanswered questions of our time. Are the rich nations getting richer proportionately to the underdeveloped ones? W e shall not attempt to answer this question; but again we suggest that we must view the economic problems of the Caribbean in a different context than the economic problems of the United States. With these facts in mind, let us begin our analysis. The underlying realities in the situation are ( 1 ) that the Caribbean states are agricultural and will for a long time remain preponderantly agricultural; (2) that they have been to an unfortunate degree developed on a monocultural basis, of dependence on one, or at most two or three, great staples; (3) that capital accumulation does not take place in most of them on a scale sufficient to ensure their rapid growth and that the rate of capital imports is not large; (4) that they depend to a substantial degree on exports for the funds necessary to promote internal progress; (5) that they are, because of all these facts, very dependent upon the working of the world economy as a whole and likely to undergo favorable or unfavorable conditions precisely as the great centers of economic life enjoy them; (6) that the fixing of a sound relationship between the great capital-exporting nations and these communities is one of the most critical problems of the future. Of these generalizations the last may be properly expanded when we come to discuss the relations of the United States with the Caribbean states; but the others deserve to be considered here. The contrast between the agricultural and the industrial order in the modern world is one that goes deep to the roots of organized society. Everywhere, where the standard of living is highest, there has been a significant development of manufactures and of industry; indeed, the industrial process has been in a large part of the world the distinctive process by which a higher standard of living has been attained. Industrialization, moreover, stimulates and is accompanied by the spirit of social

28

The United States and the Caribbean

change; and industrial states, whether conservative Americans like it or not, are inevitably moving, where they have attained the greatest strength, toward wider and wider measures of control by government. In saying this, it is not to be thought that the same tendencies have not occurred in agricultural communities; but it is true, on the other hand, that states where the mass of the people are still close to the soil are far less likely to undergo radical transformation in their economic order and far less likely than their industrial rivals to succeed in attaining the same measure of internal prosperity. Not only the degree of economic progress but the context in which it takes place is to some degree determined by the balance of agricultural and industrial life. In Great Britain, for example, the fact that the economy is overwhelmingly industrial has not only led to the growth of a party based upon the organization of labor, but it has made possible the widespread acceptance of measures of social control; in the United States, on the other hand, the presence of large rural elements, and their great importance in the scheme of politics, makes the growth of a Labor party, in the literal sense, more difficult, and also creates a different attitude with regard to regimentation. These generalizations are of great importance for our subject. For the republics whose economic life we are analyzing have been predominantly rural in character. This is not to say that the balance that tips so heavily in favor of agriculture today will not in the future be somewhat less heavily inclined on that side; but it is to say that by far the greater part of the population of the nine republics we are to examine will, for a long time to come, continue to make their living from the soil. The reasons for this are not far to seek. Industrialization, in the full sense of the word, depends upon the presence in a given country of the key raw materials which make the wheels of industry hum. These are coal, iron, and oil. There are very limited sources of these raw materials in the Caribbean area. In the Central American republics, for example, there is no iron, no oil, and no coal on a scale worth considering. The same is true of Haiti and the Dominican Republic. Cuba is not in precisely

The Economic

Background

29

the same position. Of the iron resources of Latin America, Cuba possesses a substantial amount, but actual production is relatively small. And she does not possess important quantities of either of the staple fuels and must depend, therefore, upon hydroelectric energy to carry out any policy of expansion on a grand scale. Of course, in attempting to generalize about the Caribbean economies and in stressing their lack of raw materials on which intensive industrial growth depends, we must not exaggerate. There are genuine possibilities for the development of light industry in some of these states, in such lines of growth as the production of textiles, in the milling of wheat, and in brewing, to cite only a few examples. There is also a certain amount of mining. Cuba, as we have suggested, has an iron-mining industry and substantial possibilities in the field of manganese. In the Central American countries there is a certain amount of the precious metals. Nicaragua has important gold resources. In Honduras the El Rosario mines, which have been worked for years, still produce a significant amount of silver. Small quantities of other minerals, chromium and antimony in Guatemala, and manganese in Costa Rica, have been produced. But all these developments taken together do not alter the fundamental fact to which we have already alluded; the countries of the Caribbean are and will remain agricultural. T o say, however, that a given state is preponderantly agricultural in its nature, without going a step further, is hardly an adequate description of its economic organization. It is important to know how the agricultural life of the state is organized, whether on the basis of numerous small freeholdings or on the basis of great estates; and whether there is a tendency toward the growth of one or the other of these two types of rural economy. Obviously, the existence of great concentrations of land in the hands of a few suggests a pattern in some degree derived from the past; critical people would describe it as feudal; and under the conditions and in the social atmosphere existing in the world today, the question would naturally arise whether such concentrations could continue to exist, or whether there

3ο

The United States and the

Caribbean

would not be an increasing popular resentment against them. What are the facts from this point of view with regard to the area of the Caribbean? In some parts of the region we are examining, there can hardly be said to be any organization at all. The Haitian peasant, for example, has simply squatted on the land; he may have, indeed does have, some primitive sense of ownership; but he certainly does not have any idea of what constitutes a title; he is not likely to change. In the same way, in the parts of Guatemala most populated by Indians, there has not been and is not likely to be any system of landholding; the easiest thing to do with the heirs of the Mayas is to let them go their own way and not try to force them into a mold that is alien to their thoughts and traditions. What happens among the San Bias Indians or the inhabitants of the Isthmus of Darien is equally irrelevant to the general question that we are here considering. Leaving these people aside, it is next to be observed that in at least one of the states in which we are interested the small farmer is the typical figure. That state is Costa Rica. In this remarkable little country of 1,402,000 people, three quarters of the heads of families are landowners. Costa Rica, however, stands alone. In no other Caribbean country is there anything like so wide a diffusion of landownership. Let us turn for a moment to Guatemala. There our statistical information is not so accurate or satisfactory. But it would appear that large landholders held in 1950 about 50 per cent of the cultivated land of the country. In other words, there was a heavy concentration of property in the hands of a relatively small group. The total situation led distinctly to the conclusion that the great estate rather than the small farm was the typical form of landed property held in full title. It is not perhaps necessary, and from the statistical point of view it might be impossible, to analyze the situation in all the other states. There are some small landholders in all of them, no doubt. In the Dominican Republic, for example, there is a considerable number of these people in the region known as the Cibao. There is a substantial proportion of relatively small holders

The Economic Background

31

in such states as Salvador and Honduras. In Nicaragua the situation is less favorable, but we cannot say that no little proprietors exist. It is, however, safe to say that there is today, broadly speaking, no such agrarian problem in any part of the Caribbean as there was in Mexico. Great landed estates can cause serious social troubles; the whole tendency of the times is toward their breakup, as can be readily seen from the history of Eastern Europe; but the intensity with which this need is felt will vary with the character of the people and also with the pressure of population growth. The latter factor, we have already seen, while it applies to some of the islands, does not apply, at least in the same degree, to the mainland states we have been studying, with the possible exception of El Salvador; and the state of political consciousness among the masses is not yet such in any one of them as to lead us to believe that agrarian unrest will appear on an important scale in the immediate future, or at any rate that it will attain such proportions as it did in Mexico after the Revolution of 1910. There is, however, one factor that is of great importance and that will undoubtedly influence the character of the problem in the future. In many of the republics the great concentrations of land of which we have been speaking have been in the hands of foreigners. This was the case in Cuba, where the great sugar properties (of which more anon) were largely in the hands of Americans until the Castro revolution. It was also the case in Guatemala, where, until World War II, Germans held large amounts of land devoted to coffee culture. American interests, especially in the coastal regions, are still of great significance. In such states as Costa Rica and Honduras large areas have been taken up by the great fruit companies. It hardly needs to be said that in these days of intense national feeling the absorption of a large part of the resources of the state by aliens creates a delicate and difficult situation, all the more so since some of the lands that are held are not in actual use for the growing of crops. The hostility with which such developments are viewed may be mitigated by various factors, such as the absence of

32

The United States and the Caribbean

intense population pressure; but that it should always be latent, and that it should sometimes be expressed, is not strange, and suggests that there is a difficult problem of international relations ahead. Indeed, we are in more danger of underestimating than overestimating the force of this factor in the evolution of policy. It has undoubtedly played a central part in the Castro revolution in Cuba. But the distribution of the agricultural land calls attention to another aspect of the general economic situation in the Caribbean which is of very profound importance. As we have already said, the distinctive feature of Caribbean agriculture is dependence upon a few great staples, of which the most important have been sugar, coffee, and bananas. It is true that in some respects this generalization is misleading; in all of these states there is a large amount of subsistence agriculture. In Guatemala, for example, the corn crop far exceeds the coffee crop. There is also, of course, a certain amount of economic activity within the country which contributes to national well-being. But if we have regard to exports (and exports are of transcendent importance in the Caribbean economy), the situation is not entirely a happy one. Let us analyze the situation state by state. The dependence of Cuba upon sugar is a well-known fact. Indeed, the Castro regime, after a confused effort to increase the emphasis on industralization, has been forced to admit that this dependence is a fact of nature and not a manifestation of the malevolence of the United States. Sugar also involved in 1965 about 41 per cent of the Dominican exports. Two states, Honduras and Panama, lay particular emphasis upon bananas. The ratio of banana exports to total exports was 42 per cent for Honduras and 72 per cent for Panama in 1961. The other states are chiefly concerned with coffee. The ratio of coffee exports to total exports is 63 per cent for Guatemala, 59 per cent for El Salvador, 53 per cent for Costa Rica, 42 per cent for Haiti, and 28 per cent for Nicaragua. These concentrations are less impressive than they were when the first edition of this book was published, but they are of great significance nonetheless. Moreover, if we calculate the

The Economic Background

33

figure for two of the three commodities just mentioned, two crops accounted for nearly 80 per cent of the total export in two states, for 73 per cent in a third, and for more than half in the rest. Nor is this all. In considering the situation in the Caribbean states, we must take account of several other facts. In the first place, it ought to be pointed out that these states are by no means the only sources of the raw materials that we have just mentioned. As is well known, for example, coffee is produced on a very large scale in Brazil, to mention only the greatest of numerous competitors. Sugar is produced in many other areas, and in addition there is an important beet-sugar industry which has to be taken into consideration. As for bananas, the West Indian Islands come into competition with the independent republics of the region, and there is no reason why the production of bananas should not be carried on on an increasing scale in many other tropical regions. It is also of some significance that to a substantial degree the Caribbean republics are closely tied to the United States in the export field. Cuba, of course, has repudiated the connection, and its major crop is no longer marketed in this country. El Salvador markets much of its coffee elsewhere. The course of trade for Nicaragua has been changing. But six of the nine countries we have been analyzing send more than half of their products to this country, and in some cases, notably Panama, the figure is very high, 93 per cent. There is another aspect of the commodity problem that ought to be made clear. The existence of a monocultural, or at least of a largely monocultural economy, the dependence upon foreign markets for the sale of the product, and the obvious impossibility of these small states controlling the general trend of the world economy means that they are subjected to serious price oscillations with regard to their principal staples. The most dramatic illustration of how very serious the situation may become is afforded by the experience of the Cuban sugar industry during the years immediately following World War I. During the war years the United States persuaded the Cuban government to

34

The United States and the Caribbean

accept a fixed price for its sugar, 4.60 cents in 1917 and 5.50 in 1918. These prices were sufficiently high to augment production considerably and to lead to the development of new mills. With the end of the conflict the controls were ended, and there ensued a period of wild speculation, to the extent that in the spring of 1920 sugar had gone to the fantastic price of 22.5 cents. Then came the inevitable reaction. From May 19, 1920, the price of sugar began to slip, first slowly, then more and more rapidly, and by the 13 th of December it had reached the ruinous low of 3.75 cents. Many Cuban sugar planters were ruined; many Cuban sugar estates passed into the hands of New York banks; and even now Cubans still speak mournfully of the experience of 1920 as "the dance of the millions." The history of the subsequent years illustrates in the same way the dangers and difficulties involved in the price structure of a staple. During the twenties, after the initial upset, sugar prices began to improve. Sugar-beet areas in Europe had not been restored to their former yields, and world consumption was increasing. B y 1923 sugar had reached a price of 6 cents a pound. Once again expansion took place, and once again the price began to fall, going as low as 2 cents by 1925. A temporary improvement then took place, and by 1927 the price was 4 cents. But this relative prosperity did not last long. A new descent began, and by 1929 the situation was already serious. Then came the Great Depression. Sugar plummeted downward to virtually unprecedented levels. It was never above 2 cents in the depression years, and at the worst, in 1932, it had reached sixty hundredths of a cent a pound. W e do not need, for the purposes of this study, to trace the course of sugar prices for the full period since 1929. But it will throw further light upon the problem of stability to cite the experience since 1951. At that time the Korean War sent the price of sugar up to 8 cents a pound. By 1953 it had plummeted to 3 cents. For several years it remained fairly stable and did not vary outrageously until the end of the decade. But since the beginning of the sixties, it has oscillated extraordinarily. In 1962 it was between 2 and 4.5 cents; in 1963 it rose to nearly

The Economic Background

35

12 cents; in 1964 it fell to 4 cents; in 1965 it went still lower. There have been many attempts to exercise some form of control over sugar prices. In the twenties the Cuban government tried unilateral measures. For example, when prices began to fall in the period after 1920, the Cuban sugar planters urged upon Congress and secured the adoption of a law aimed at a 10 per cent reduction of the crop. The next year this law was strengthened, and control was quite effectively exercised. In 1928 the same experiment was tried again. But reduction of acreage in a single country could hardly be expected to produce any useful results. Indeed, this first experiment in control of a crop that was marketed largely in a competitive export market has been well described by one authority as "futile, and almost naive." In 1928 the experiment was abandoned. International control was substituted for national control in the early thirties. After long negotiations, in which the Cuban government was none too considerately treated by the Oriental sugar producers, a convention was signed in 1931, fixing quotas for some of the principal sugarproducing regions. But once again difficulties of a serious nature arose. The plan proved far from easy to enforce; and the Brussels agreement, as it was called, only covered areas producing about 70 per cent of the sugar entering into international trade. Since 1953 there have been two attempts at international control, one in 1953 and one in 1958. As regards the latter, for a time matters went reasonably well; but in 1961 attempts to renew the agreement of 1958 completely broke down. One of the leading authorities on international agreements for the control of the prices of raw materials has recently declared that the chances for a new agreement are "not encouraging." Since the United States has today very little interest, to put it mildly, in the economic success of the Cuban regime of Fidel Castro, and since the oscillations of the sugar market increase the difficulties of that regime (and since, still further, American sugar-growing interests have profited from the suspension of Cuban imports), it might be possible to view the total situation with equanimity. But it is to be remembered that the Dominican Republic is also a sugar-growing country, and its future development is therefore

36

The United, States and the Caribbean

intimately connected with the course of sugar prices. There is a problem here that we may not be able to avoid. But let us turn to a crop much more generally grown in the Caribbean republics, that is, coffee. Here again a brief historical review will be of value. In 1914 coffee sold at about 614 cents a pound. By June of 1919 it had reached 25 cents a pound. It then began a rapid descent, to 14 cents by July of 1920 and to 5 cents by March of 1921. After this, recovery set in and reasonably good prices were obtained by the growers in the middle twenties. But the Great Depression produced another catastrophic decline. Between July 1929 and June 1930, the price fell from 16% to 7 y4 cents. From this collapse the staple never recovered in the thirties, never getting up to as much as 9 cents, and hitting in 1939 an all-time low of 4% cents a pound. The essential explanation of this disorganized situation in the industry lay, of course, in overproduction. In the thirties Brazil, the greatest of producers, in a desperate effort to deal with the situation, resorted to the destruction of enormous supplies, the figure rising as high as 180,000,000 pounds in 1938-39. During World War II, an attempt was made to stabilize prices by an Inter-American Coffee Agreement. The agreement was signed by fourteen coffee-producing countries and the United States. Under its terms quotas were established governing both the export and import of the product; there can be little doubt that this action prevented a runaway market. There was, however, a good deal of grumbling on both sides. Coffee doubled in price under the agreement, not wholly to the satisfaction of the American consumer, while the Latin Americans complained of inadequate profits. The agreement itself broke down in 1948 after the war, but a period of rising prices followed. By 1954 the cost to the consumer in the United States was well over a dollar. There was a price drop in 1954 and another in 1956. Toward the end of 1957, seven of the Latin American countries, four of them in Central America, entered into an agreement to control marketing by withholding a stipulated percentage of supplies from export. The African countries, not members of the agreement, raised their exports, and prices fell again. A new

The Economic Background

37

agreement in 1958 failed to arrest the decline. Finally, in mid1959 a n e w International Coffee Agreement was signed, which included not only fifteen Latin American producers, but much of Africa. This provided for fixed quotas, with each country allowed to export 90 per cent of its production based on the highest figure for the previous ten years. This agreement was followed by another which came into effect in 1962. Broadly speaking, it may be said that these efforts at agreement have worked reasonably well. But they undoubtedly raise prices to the consumer beyond the level of the free market, and thus might, some time in the future, produce political repercussions. They also have the implication of limiting production as long as they are in effect, and may compel a coffee-producing country to destroy a part of its output which it cannot market at home. What has been true of sugar and coffee has also been true of bananas. Prices have fluctuated within wide limits. And up to date there has been no successful effort to control the market by international agreement. Looking at the banana industry from a broader point of view, however, it is possible to view the situation with a qualified optimism. Banana culture has been a risky business in the past, not only as concerns price oscillations, but from the point of view of the danger of disease. Both the deadly Panama disease and the hardly less deadly sigatoka have meant heavy losses for growers. But of recent years, the GrosMichel, the standard growth, has been supplanted by a new variety, the Valery, which is much sturdier. Improvements in marketing methods have also come about. Thus, the highly conservative judgment expressed by Stacy May and Galo Plaza in their authoritative work on the United Fruit Company in 1955 may well be modified by events. Nonetheless, it will hardly be denied that the Caribbean states would profit from diversification and a lessening dependence on the staples we have been discussing. Diversification, of course, can come about in two ways. It can come about, in the first place, by finding some other crop which can be profitably grown. This, fortunately, is what is actually happening to some degree. In Guatemala and Nicaragua cotton is being exported in

38

The United States and the Caribbean

increasing amounts. It is too early in the course of this development to say precisely where it will lead. But if cotton growing should increase, it will, presumably, face many of the problems connected with agricultural prices that have influenced the situation in the case of the great staples already analyzed, that is, strong competition and fluctuating prices. A second possibility is the development of industrial capacity. Progress in this area, however, is modest. T h e meager industrial life of most of the Caribbean states (Cuba excepted) becomes starkly clear when one examines the most recent statistics. Most of the establishments are small; the amount paid out in salaries and wages is amazingly so. W e have no accurate statistics f o r Haiti (which is not strange) or f o r the Dominican Republic. But in Costa Rica the annual payroll of 5784 establishments amounted in 1963 to less than $10,000,000; in E l Salvador 2385 establishments paid out less than $9,000,000; in Nicaragua, 1575 establishments paid out less than $352,000; in Guatemala the comparable figures were 1032 and $678,000; in Honduras, 616 and $6,540,000; in Panama, 169 and $6,051,000· These figures were compiled b y the Pan American Union and are not actually current; but they give a general picture of the situation. It is entirely possible that industrial growth in the field of light industry will take place in Central America in the years ahead; but it is also obvious that only a fraction of the population is likely to be so employed. T h e employment figures in the publication w e have just cited are worth noting: in E l Salvador, 36,533; in Costa Rica, 20,237; Guatemala, 15,454; in Nicaragua, 15,267; in Honduras, 13,255; in Panama, 7089. W e need to reflect more deeply than we usually do on the implications of these figures. A f t e r all, as w e have already said, it is through the growth of industry that nations acquire immense wealth. Such growth is denied to many of the nations of Latin America, as it is indeed denied to many nations in other parts of the world. In connection with the general problems of internal development something should most certainly be said of the growth of the Central American Common Market. T h e idea of such a market goes back at least as far as 1950. But important progress in

The Economic Background

39

realizing it has come about chiefly since 1958. The five countries of Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, El Salvador, and Costa Rica have eliminated almost all tariff and trade barriers among themselves, and have for the most part adopted identical rates on goods coming from the outside. N o r is this all that has been done. In recent years important progress has been made in the direction of economic growth. In 1954 a Central American Institute of Public Administration was set up at San Jose, Costa Rica, and in 1956 a Central American Institute for Industrial Research and Technology was established in Guatemala City. A Central American Bank has been established, and a Central American Clearing House set up. A regional program of roads has been approved, to be completed in 1969. Plans are afoot for a unified currency. It is too early to appraise with exactitude the success of these institutions. But it can surely be said that they offer hope of a substantial development in the future. In the words of a report on Central America prepared for and by the Committee on Economic Development: " W e believe that the Common Market holds out great hope for improving the efficiency of Central American production and for generating new enterprises that can have a multiplied effect upon the economic growth of the region." There is, however, one aspect of the problem of economic expansion and self-improvement that is of very great importance. There can be no adequate exploitation of the natural resources of any country where there do not exist adequate means of communication. T h e questions of railroads, of roads, and of air traffic are current matters of very real significance in the republics of the Caribbean. N o doubt the state best situated from this point of view is Cuba. Cuba has over 3300 miles of railway operated for public purposes, besides a great network of private lines. It possesses, too, a great Central Highway extending virtually from one end of the island to the other, and with a considerable number of spurs. An ambitious program of road construction in relatively recent years has resulted in nearly 10,000 miles of roads, half of them paved.

4o

The United States and the Caribbean

The two republics of the island of Santo Domingo have benefited, so far as road building is concerned, from the period of the American occupation. Haiti was virtually roadless when the marines went in in 1915. In 1934 it had a reasonably good system of paved roads, making it possible to travel to any part of the republic. But the roads have much deteriorated since that time. As for the Dominican Republic, the road system there has undergone a great development since the American occupation. An important program was carried through during the period of control but succeeding governments have pressed forward, and President Trujillo interested himself to an important degree in the extension of the highway system. In 1963 the republic had 6000 miles of road, much of it built since 1929. The area along the northeast coast is now the only part of the country that cannot be reached by road, and this without regard to weather conditions. There is much work still to be done in opening up the mountain sections, but it is certainly safe to say that few other Caribbean states have made more progress in this field of activity than the Dominican Republic. In the states of Central America the situation varies rather widely. The state that is most meagerly equipped with means of communication is Honduras. Despite the fact that it is almost six times as large as Haiti, it had in 1961 a smaller road mileage, 2240 miles in all, and of this less than a third was paved. There is a well-built and often celebrated road that connects the capital, Tegucigalpa, with the west coast, and a more recent one going north to Pedro de Sula, but much more construction is needed. In Panama, taking the country as a whole, the situation is a little better. There is, of course, a network of roads and railroads near the Canal. But only a small part of the republic is served with highways, and large sections are not even mapped. The total road mileage is about 2000, with about half the roads either paved or gravel. In the other states of Central America the situation is as follows. Nicaragua has less than 1000 miles of paved or gravel roads, but the deficiency is made up to some extent by the 474 miles of railway that tap the richest and most prosperous part of the

The Economic Background

41

republic. El Salvador has over 5000 miles of road, but only a small fraction of these are either paved or gravel. Guatemala had already made immense progress under President Ubico and by 1964 had over 7500 miles of road, nearly half of which are improved. Its central highways are a pleasure to the tourist, as well as a boon to the man of business. And they are supplemented by a railway line which extends across the country from Puerto Barrios to the Pacific port of San Jose, a branch of which runs from the junction of Zacapa to the capital of El Salvador. Though the Guatemalans complain of the discrimination practiced by the railroad line (an affiliate of the United Fruit Company) with regard to the east coast ports, it would be hard to deny that International Railways, as it is called, has played a substantial part in the development of the country. Finally, Costa Rica shares with Guatemala the distinction of being the best provided with communications of any of the Central American states. In this little republic there are about 1800 miles of roads, and on the central plateau all the principal centers are linked by all-weather highways. In addition, there is a railway line from coast to coast, the first that was built in any part of the Isthmus, and one that has served the Costa Rican economy well for many years. But one of the most striking accomplishments in the field of communication has been the construction of the Pan-American Highway, by the joint efforts of the Central American states and the United States. This grandiose idea, which looks to the completion of a paved road that will extend from the southern boundary of the United States to the west coast of South America, and even beyond, has a long history. Construction of it was started as many as thirty-six years ago and was much accelerated by World War II. It now extends from the Mexican border to the Canal. While this is not yet a luxury means of communication, it is bound to have an increasing importance. It is not too optimistic to believe that it will in the long run open up a substantial tourist traffic. It will, to add a purely American consideration, contribute directly to the defense of the Canal. And it will quicken the spirit of cooperation between the states of Central America themselves.

42

The United States and the Caribbean

Before leaving the subject of roads, there is one other aspect of the problem that is worth noting. With roads, of course, must go vehicles to run upon them. The indices of motor travel for the Caribbean are well worth passing mention. Current statistics for Cuba are not available. W e know only that they are far lower than they were before Castro came to power. But for the other eight countries which are the objects of this study, the figures for 1963 are as follows: at the bottom of the list stands Haiti, with 8300 motor vehicles (cars and trucks combined); at the top is Guatemala, by far the most populous of the Central American states, with 47,800; in between, in descending order, are Panama with 37,000, Costa Rica with 34,900, El Salvador with 32,100, the Dominican Republic with 29,000, and Nicaragua and Honduras with about 9000 each. In the same year there were over eight million automotive vehicles registered in the United States! Making all allowance for differences in population, the contrast is striking. There is one important form of transport that we have so far omitted to mention in our survey. That is, of course, the airplane. In most of the Caribbean area the construction of highways is no light task. There are formidable topographical difficulties in many parts of Central America, where, as has been well observed, mountain, plain, valley, and jungle are all in close juxtaposition. The airborne carrier meets under these conditions a special need and it has been advancing to a more and more important place in the development of the whole region. In fact, the airplane has come to play at least as significant a role as the railroad. The expansion of air transport in the Caribbean suggests to the average American the highly publicized and immensely powerful PanAmerican Airways. There can be no doubt about the significance of this company's achievement. But less well known, and very important, is the company known as Taca, Transportes A6reos Centro-Americanos, which has not only connected the capitals of the Isthmus but has also penetrated deep into the jungles, and which carries an immense amount of freight. Perhaps the most dramatic form of its activity is the getting of chicle out of the jungle, where there are no roads, and where the white man can hardly penetrate in any other fashion than by air.

The Economic

Background

43

But neither roads, nor planes, nor railways, nor all put together, significant as each of them is, can guarantee the forward movement of the Caribbean states. Behind any of these there lies the need of capital, and of capital on a substantial scale. And the factors in this central problem must be analyzed here. In the first place, as we have already seen, almost all of these states are poor. It is obvious that the situation, from the angle of "saving," is very, very different from that which exists in the United States. There is another central difficulty in the problem of capital formation in the Caribbean. Latin Americans are likely to be lavish spenders in good times; they are also likely, if they put money aside, to invest it in land rather than in productive enterprise. Both of these characteristic forms of activity naturally hinder the accumulation of liquid capital; both make more difficult the process of economic growth. This is a fact of substantial importance; and since it has to do with deep-seated national habit, it seems hardly likely that it will rapidly change. Wholly apart from these proclivities, however, we must understand that in the Caribbean "saving" does not play, and will not play for a long time to come, the decisive role in the formation of capital that it does in the United States or in some other advanced countries. Most economists agree that in the great industrialized states it is precisely this "saving" that determines to a substantial degree, perhaps to a decisive degree, the general course of the economy and the ups and downs of the business cycle. But in such countries as those we have been examining, prosperity or adversity is more closely geared to the export trade. In the most favorable years large credits can, of course, be accumulated; some of these credits could be, and are, used for purposes of further expansion; but they may be spent abroad in providing some of the luxuries of life; and they afford, in any case, a very insecure basis for the necessary expansion of the economy. Of course, there is another way to create capital besides saving or export balances. This way is borrowing. In our own day, in advanced states, there is increasing support for this method of securing funds, especially in periods of depression. But in the

44 The United, States and the Caribbean Caribbean, historically speaking, there have been many difficulties in the way. Because of the small national income, the rate of interest in all Latin American countries has been, from the viewpoint of an American or an Englishman, extremely high; and governments, when they borrow abroad, have often had to borrow on what we would be likely to think of as extremely onerous terms. The history of many of these states, moreover, has not inspired among foreign investors an unlimited confidence in their ability to repay their loans. On the other hand, if recourse is had to the banks within the country some unpleasant consequences are likely to ensue. For as new money is created prices rise and the rate of interest increases. The rate at which this rise takes place is likely to be faster than it is in more highly industrialized countries where deficit financing, in times of distress, may put unemployed resources to work. The resulting inflation may bring acute distress, both political and social. On the basis of the generalizations just made, we may say that the problem of capital formation in the Caribbean will not be easy in any circumstances; and it is important to stress the fact that it can hardly take place without assistance from outside. This may, and often does, prove distasteful to the Latin American, but he must, if he be candid, admit the elementary fact. The terms of this borrowing, whether it shall be public or private, how it shall be regulated and controlled, and many other cognate questions, will have to be discussed in later chapters when we turn to analyze the relations of the United States to the states of the Caribbean; but the broad general fact is one that must be stated here. The reader of these pages may have conceived, on the whole, a rather gloomy picture of the Caribbean republics. Certainly, for the United States the vista is not enlivening. But there is a much more optimistic side to the picture, and it should be stated here. The growth in the national income in these states has been substantial. In the United States, between 1953 and 1963, the gain was 56 per cent. Only in Panama was this gain exceeded, with a figure of 70 per cent. But in no state, except poor Haiti, was it less than 38 per cent, and in three states it was over 40 per cent.

The Economic Background

45

Furthermore, if the rate of growth be considered, it was higher in Honduras, Nicaragua, Guatemala, and Panama than it was in our own country. It would be a grievous error to picture the Caribbean area as stagnant; on the contrary, there are genuine possibilities for substantial growth. There is another fact to which we have not yet alluded. The states of the Caribbean, unlike some of the greater and more powerful countries of Latin America, have pursued policies of financial stability. When one considers the riotous inflation that has taken place in Brazil, to cite only one example, and when one takes account of the suffering that inflation causes in the impoverishment of the less fortunate and in the dislocation of the social order, one is the more impressed at the record of Central America. N o t only is this meritorious in itself, but it points to a substantial degree of technical competence in the management of government and to an intelligent understanding of economic problems by the political leaders. W e have already mentioned the Central American Common Market. Here, too, to repeat, is a fact of large promise. Finally, at least finally for this chapter, we should call attention to the increasing political stability of the Isthmian countries, when considered in a broad historical perspective. The picture is not all rosy, and it does not mean—emphatically—that the Caribbean countries are to become little copies of the United States. But all this is a matter for another chapter.

3. The Politics of the Caribbean

When, during World War II, British and American forces invaded North Africa, the resistance of the French was much diminished as the result of a deal between Admiral Darlan, the second in command of the Vichy government, and the American commander. The arrangement came in for sharp criticism both in the United States and in Great Britain. In the House of Commons, Winston Churchill defended the action on the reasonable grounds that French army circles were organized on a hierarchical basis, and that dealing with Darlan was a recognition of this fact and an important element in reducing the danger of resistance. "I entreat the members of this House," he said, "to remember that God in his infinite wisdom has not fashioned Frenchmen in the image of Englishmen." This pithy observation has an immense relevance in many situations, and it is particularly relevant in studying the politics of the Caribbean. We must begin our analysis by pointing out that the historical factors that have shaped the life of most of the Caribbean states, and indeed of Latin America in general, are wholly different from those that have shaped the development of the United States, and that their present status differs widely from that of our own country. Let us look at the record. In the first place, the Latin American republics in general did not start their careers as independent states with that experience in self-government which was so striking a feature of the colonial development of Britain's American colonies. In the English-

The Politics of the Caribbean

47

speaking colonies the growth of representative institutions seemed to come about by an almost spontaneous process at a very early stage of their development. Virginia had a House of Burgesses as early as 1619, twelve years after the landing at Jamestown; and Massachusetts Bay, founded in 1630, was even more prompt in establishing representative assemblies. In all the colonies, indeed, the creation of a popular Assembly was soon taken for granted. No such institutions existed in the dominions of Spain. In municipal government there were the rudiments of a representative system. But, in general, control of political life was in the hands of appointed authorities, who retained a very large measure of authority up to the very end of the colonial period. The habit of discussion, of local control, of popular participation in the affairs of the colony, was not formed. True, as soon as the colonies attained their independence they quickly set up institutions in the fashion of the times, with elective legislatures intended to embody the will of the people. But the soil in which such institutions began to grow was essentially shallow; and from the very outset actual control of affairs came into the hands of a few men rather than into the hands of the mass, who were, for that matter, hardly qualified to deal with them. In addition we must remember that the republics of the Caribbean started their careers as self-governing states on a very low level of economic development. None of them was capable of that remarkable and dynamic evolution which is the striking feature of American economic life in the nineteenth century. All of them had—and have—a long way to go to attain the full development of their resources. All of them lacked, in other words, the economic basis for the development of democratic institutions. It is a historical fact, to which due attention has not always been paid, that there is a connection between the wide distribution of property and the evolution of popular government. Looking at the matter from this point of view, it is not strange that it has taken time (and indeed will continue to take time) for genuine democratic government to come about in the Caribbean. As a result of these political and economic factors, the tendency

48

The United States and the Caribbean

in the Caribbean states was toward concentration of power in the hands of an oligarchy, at best, and in the hands of a military leader, at worst. The primary condition for the development of any society is order. Order was purchased in the states of the Caribbean again and again by a too easy acceptance of the principle of personal rule. The very excesses of the Latin American temperament, which is often impatient of control and swayed by strong emotional and idealistic impulses, produced their natural reaction in the sway of the caudillo—the personal leader. Constitutional forms were often perverted and distorted to serve the ambition of this or that particular leader. On paper, the political organization of the new states looked like an impressive recognition of the democratic principle. But, in actual fact, ways were found to circumvent the forms of law and to prolong and consolidate dictatorial power. Habits were set up which militated against the growth of genuine self-government and arrested the growth of popular experience in the operation of truly popular forms. The great principle of consent, which lies at the very root of democracy, was all too often put aside in favor of the principle of military domination. Yet it would not be right to think of the Caribbean states as indifferent to the democratic ideal. In dealing with these republics in fact, we face one of those contradictions of which history is full. There is a theoretical devotion to democracy. Read one after another the fundamental laws of the republics of the Caribbean, and you might form the conviction that these communities were devoted to democratic principles. The language of state pronunciamientos, and the declarations to which these states subscribe in international conferences, are shot through with appeals to the principles of popular rule. Elections, while they may not be free from violence and while official candidates sometimes have a great advantage, are not precisely the cut-and-dried affairs that they are in the Soviet Union, for example. In some states genuine political parties exist, with specific programs, and though (as sometimes happens elsewhere) the element of personal loyalty plays on the whole a larger part than principle, there are

The Politics of the Caribbean

49

still differences of viewpoint expressed. In most states (presentday Haiti is certainly an exception) press comment is to some extent, often to a large extent, free. The political leaders are likely to observe the forms of popular rule. Some years ago, to cite an amusing incident, a traveler to Guatemala was carrying into that country Chester Lloyd Jones' excellent study of the region, a chapter of which was headed, "If I were Dictator." His book was confiscated by the customs authorities because it suggested that Guatemala was not a constitutional republic. The then President Ubico, though he wielded immense power, always referred to himself as "constitutional President," and he was extremely sensitive to any charge of absolutism. The incident may appear trivial but is not. If hypocrisy is the tribute that vice pays to virtue, then deference to popular forms is the tribute paid to democracy by those who, even when violating its principles, admit its fundamental validity and basic appeal to the interests of those they serve. Nor should we assume, on the basis of the well-encrusted legend, that turbulence is the regular order of the day in the Caribbean. There are some troubling examples which confirm the legend, but the tendency of Caribbean governments has been, with some important reservations (vide Cuba!), along lines of increasing stability and respect for public order. The international wars that were so striking a feature of Central American politics in the nineteenth century and in the first decade of the twentieth have disappeared. Internal wars, civil wars, have become for the most part outmoded. On the other hand, we should not deceive ourselves and imagine that democracy, as we know it in the United States, exists in the states we are about to consider. Government is still powerfully influenced by the military. Military coups still occur. The absence of a strong middle class, which has a special stake in civil rule and which wishes order and stability as the basis of its own prosperity, has an influence—and a deleterious one— on the governmental process. And the tradition of the caudillo has by no means been completely eliminated.

50

The Umted States and the

Caribbean

The points just made will become clearer if we analyze the history of the republics one by one, reserving a special place for Cuba at the end. One of the nine states we are considering conforms in a substantial measure to the American standard, in that it has a remarkable record of political stability. This state is Costa Rica. In its earliest period as an independent republic, Costa Rica rivaled in turbulence and in arbitrary government the other states of Central America. Under Juan Rafael Mora, president from 1849 to 1859, and Tomas Guardia, 1870 to 1882, conditions were certainly more tranquil than in the previous period, but they can hardly be described as otherwise than those of dictatorship, while the years intervening between the dominance of these two strong men were years of oligarchy. The birth of democracy in Costa Rica may be said to date from the latter part of the 1880's. The election of 1889 was notable for the popular interest it aroused, for the genuine discussion of important public questions, and for the good temper with which the result was received by the defeated party. From that time to this, only twice have the normal constitutional procedures broken down. In 1917 there occurred a coup d'etat engineered by the Minister of War against President Flores. The new regime was never recognized by the United States and enjoyed only a brief career. In September 1919 constitutional government was restored, and a regular election took place in 1920. Much more significant are the events of the late forties and early fifties, for something more was involved in this period than a personal struggle for power. During these years Costa Rica passed through a period that might reasonably be described as the Costa Rican New Deal, a period in which important changes were made in the socio-economic order. That these changes came about with so slight a deviation from the normal constitutional order is evidence of the toughness of democratic institutions in Costa Rica. The story deserves to be told. Beginning with the administration of President Calderon Guardia in 1940, important social legislation was enacted—a labor code, a social security system,

The Politics of the Caribbean

51

workmen's compensation, and an income tax. These steps were taken with the cooperation of a Communist group which operated under the name of the Vanguardia Popular. The coalition which carried through these reforms was successful once more in 1944. But by 1948 a reaction had set in against it. Former President Guardia was again a candidate and pledged himself to accept the decision of an independent, three-man electoral tribunal with regard to the outcome. The pledge was violated when the voters turned to the opposition candidate, Otilio Ulate. Congress annulled the result. For a brief period civil war broke out in which the leading figure of the rebels was Jose Figueres. Within a little more than a month the struggle was over and the country was ruled by a junta headed by Figueres. This junta, however, after ruling for about a year and a half, turned over the power to Ulate, the successful candidate in the 1948 election. In 1953 Figueres himself became president. New steps were taken in the way of social reform, and a highly advantageous contract was entered into with the United Fruit Company with regard to the banana industry. In 1958 in an election which, at Figueres' own suggestion, was carried on with a team of external observers to guarantee fairness, the plurality of the votes went to a relatively conservative candidate, Mario Echandi. The voters' choice was accepted by all the candidates, and Echandi served out his full term. In the election of 1962 the tide ran slightly to the Left again, and Francisco Jos6 Orlich became president. What is remarkable about this period is not the disturbance of the constitutional order but the brevity of the nonconstitutional regime and the maturity of the electorate over the long pull. There are few states in Latin America—and none in the Caribbean—that can boast as good a record, from the point of view of democratic institutions, as Costa Rica. Of course there are flaws in the record. Like most states, Costa Rica has seen some degree of political corruption. Not all governmental policies have proved to be wise. It is possible to offer fair criticism of the operation of government in this little state; but we should have little reason to take a gloomy view of the future if every country had made as good a record in popular

ζ2

The United States and the Caribbean

government as Costa Rica has made over a period of well-nigh eighty years. At the other end of the spectrum is Haiti. With the exception of the United States, Haiti is the oldest republic in the New World. In the eighteenth century it was an immensely prosperous sugar colony based upon Negro slavery and a small white governing class. The winds of the French revolution swept over the colony in the seventeen-nineties. In 1791 a massive revolt of the slaves occurred. Years of disorder followed, out of which emerged a powerful leader in the person of Toussaint Louverture. A French attempt at reconquest in 1802 disposed of the Negro leader, but the ravages of yellow fever and the continued resistance of the blacks and mulattoes compelled the French evacuation in 1803. For a time strong rulers appeared among the Haitians—Dessalines, who ruled for two years and had himself crowned emperor, Henri Christophe, the fabulous figure who ruled northern Haiti as a monarchy and built the great fortress of La Ferriere, Alexandre Petion, whose milder rule gave some stability to the south, and Jean Pierre Boyer, who managed to rule over the whole island from 1821 to 1843. But on his death there occurred the first of a series of revolutions that became a chronic feature of Haitian politics for a long time thereafter. For well over three quarters of a century there was hardly a Haitian president who came to power by methods that even remotely smacked of popular rule or orderly constitutional government. Occasionally, there arose an individual who wished to govern by such methods, such as Salnave or Boisrond-Canal. But the first of these two men became a dictator and was overthrown, and the second resigned in disgust after three years in office. Moreover, far from improving, the political situation deteriorated as time went on. The years from 1883 to 1915 were Haiti's worst. Revolution succeeded revolution; the country sank deep into graft and scandal. Again and again presidents died violent deaths while still in office; not one served out the term for which he was elected. A vicious circle developed; ambitious Haitian politicians managed to recruit revolutionary armies in the north, and these mercenary forces would march on Port-au-Prince and

The Politics of the Caribbean

53

install their leader in power, only to find that a new armed force would appear and would march on the capital in its turn. The intervention of the United States in 1915 (a matter to be treated later) brought an end to these conditions and inaugurated a period of tranquillity in the black republic. Even after the American withdrawal in 1934, conditions continued for a while reasonably stable. There was no revolution until 1945, and the military junta which took power at that time sought to encourage constitutional rule. But new revolutions followed in due course, and in the troubled year of 1957 there were no less than six governments in the course of twelve months. At the end of that year Frar^ois Duvalier, "Papa Doc," as the Haitians called him, was elected president. He prolonged his own term in i960, and four years later had himself elected president for life (a procedure with few examples in the history of Latin America). He rules largely by terror, with a private force of his own that supersedes in influence the earlier, American-established constabulary. His regime can be described as one of the worst that Haiti has ever experienced—quarrelsome, corrupt, and despotic. Let us look next at the Dominican Republic. There what we have seen are periods of confusion and periods of personal tyranny. From the assertion of its independence from Haiti in 1844, the republic was wracked by the rivalry of two military leaders, Pedro Santana and Buenaventura Baez. Santana, to consolidate his power, invited in the Spaniards in 1861; Baez was ready to do the same with the Americans a decade later. Neither one can be said to have maintained domestic order very successfully; neither one was a constructive statesman in any broad sense of the term. Baez was finally ousted from power in 1874; there ensued a period of almost continuous civil war; but in 1882 a third dictator appeared in the person of the mulatto Ulises Heureaux. Certainly not a lovable character, contemptuous of opinion as was illustrated by his famous comment that he did not care what history said of him since he would not be there to read it, ruthless, extravagant, lecherous, Heureaux at least gave the republic a period of tranquillity in which some

54

The United States and the Caribbean

economic progress took place. When he was assassinated in 1899, a new period of disorder followed; it was ended by the election of a strong president, Ramon Caceres, and a brief period of constitutional rule. But once again the fatal habit of revolution assailed the Dominicans, and this led to American intervention in 1916. The marines stayed in the republic eight years, and there seemed to be better hopes of constitutional government than ever before when Horacio Vasquez assumed the presidency in 1925. The new president was a sincere and honest man, a friend to orderly process and genuine popular rule; but he fell a victim to the usual temptation of Dominican leaders to prolong their hold on power; and once again revolution took place. In 1930 General Rafael Leonidas Trujillo became chief executive; and in or out of office, he dominated the state until his assassination in 1961. In many respects Trujillo is one of the least attractive figures that has risen to power in the Caribbean at any time. He was ruthless to a degree and often charged by his enemies with the lavish use of the weapon of assassination. He was acquisitive beyond measure, using his public post to promote his private interests. He was inordinately vain and permitted such extremes of sycophancy as have rarely been tolerated even by the most absolute Latin American rulers. He did nothing to encourage and much to destroy the spirit of self-government among the Dominicans. He carried on a feud with Venezuela in his later years that troubled the peace of the Caribbean and antagonized most of the nations of Latin America, as well as the United States. The detestation that he evoked in many quarters has made judgment of him difficult. But as happens in history, very wicked men sometimes accomplish good ends. Trujillo, at the beginning of his term of office, showed great vigor in dealing with the destruction wrought by a hurricane in 1931, and he acted similarly in 1946. He gave the Dominicans a substantial opportunity for material progress under conditions of order. Foreign capital entered the country on a significant scale; a system of roads linked the various parts of the country; schools and hospitals were built; light industries were created; Jewish refugees were welcomed. The situation of his country,

The Politics of the Caribbean

55

on the economic side, was much better at the end of his rule than it had been at the beginning. But what of the Dominican Republic since 1961? An unsettled period followed the fall of the dictator, and at one time in 1961, fearing a Rightist coup, the United States massed twelve warships and two aircraft carriers off the Dominican coast. A general strike took place in November; violence appeared to be endemic. At the turn of the year a Council of State assumed authority, and the way was gradually prepared for regular elections which took place in the fall of the year and resulted in the election to the presidency of Dr. Juan Bosch, a Dominican of liberal persuasion. For a brief period hope of constitutional government was bright, but within the year Bosch was overthrown, and a government of the Right took over in which the most influential figure was Donald Reid Cabral. The charge against Bosch was that he was too lenient in dealing with the radical Left; but whether the charge was true or not, it cannot be said that his brief tenure in power was marked by substantial progress. The new regime was itself overthrown in April of 1965, and at this point the course of Dominican events is so closely connected with American policy toward the Dominican Republic that we had best postpone consideration of the matter until a later chapter. The rule of the strong man, so characteristic of Dominican history, is also to a large degree characteristic of the history of Guatemala. The first years of the new state were troubled, but in 1838 there appeared the first of the four great political leaders in the history of the republic, Rafael Carrera, and though not always president this man wielded the supreme power with little interruption until his death in 1865, and even transmitted it quietly to his successor. In 1871, however, began a revolution which ended in the installation in power of a second dominating personality, Justo Rufino Barrios, perhaps the most important, energetic, and constructive statesman in the annals of the republic. Barrios remained in office until 1885, when he was killed in a war he had imprudently begun for the unification of all Central America. Again, however, the presidential authority was peacefully transferred to his successor, and in 1891 an orderly and

56

The Umted States and the Caribbean

well-conducted election took place. In 1902, however, a military coup occurred which installed in the presidency another of the "strong" chief executives, Estrada Cabrera, and this amazing person retained full authority and ruled without restraint until 1920, when popular discontent compelled his resignation. The tradition of personal rule was broken briefly and a peaceable election took place in 1926. But in 1930 came another coup which elevated Jorge Ubico to the presidency, and this statesman, the fourth of the figures of first-rate importance in Guatemalan politics, continued in office until 1944. Whatever the judgment passed on many of Ubico's acts, it cannot be denied that he was a remarkable man. A soldier by profession, he distinguished himself as a provincial governor by suppressing graft, taking important measures for the promotion of public health, carrying on a vigorous campaign against yellow fever, and enforcing new standards of cleanliness upon the ignorant Indian population. In the presidency, he distinguished himself by all sorts of reforms. He built a road system which the country badly needed for the promotion of its economic life. He made an effort to abolish peonage. He improved and renovated the army. He gave great attention to the finances, enacting the so-called law of probity (by which every government official was compelled to declare his assets on entering and leaving office), balancing the budget, reducing and finally virtually extinguishing the public debt. He enacted a minimum wage law, and personally interested himself in the lot of the Indian, making an annual tour of the republic to investigate conditions in the villages. He was, it is true, completely ruthless, extremely harsh in dealing with those who opposed him, an iron-handed ruler in the strict sense of the term. But few presidents of any Central American state have a greater record of accomplishment. Ubico was overthrown in the spring of 1944. The pattern of the strong man, of the caudillo, in Guatemala has not been characteristic of the years since Ubico's fall. In the years immediately following, a movement toward the Left took place, almost certainly with popular support. A civilian government under the leadership of Juan Arevalo, long an exile in Argentina, took

The Politics of the Caribbean

57

power. This in turn was followed by a regime under Jacopo Arbenz in which the extreme Left, the Communists, played an increasingly influential role. There followed in 1954 a reaction against the existing regime. W e shall examine this reaction in more detail in considering the policies of the United States. But since the overthrow of Arbenz, there has been a succession of presidents, all of them military men, representing the more traditional tendencies in Guatemalan politics. The first of these, Castillo Armas, the leader of the movement against Arbenz, was assassinated in the summer of 1957; in the relatively free election that followed, General Ydigoras was elected to the presidency. He was ousted in 1963 in a military coup, probably because he permitted Arevalo to return from exile and announce himself for the presidency in the next election. His successor, Colonel Enrique Peralta, convoked a Constituent Assembly and paved the way for a return to constitutional government. In the Dominican Republic and in Guatemala there have been particularly long periods of personal rule. The history of Nicaragua is somewhat different, though since 1936 Anastasio Somoza and his sons have pretty well dominated the situation. The early history of the republic was extremely turbulent. But from 1863 to 1893, a period when the Conservative party, as it was called, was in power, there was not a single successful revolution, and power was transmitted from president to president among a small oligarchy which gave reasonably good government and under which the country made substantial progress. In 1893, however, came a revolution, and the other great Nicaraguan faction, the Liberals, came into power, under Jose Santos Zelaya. This remarkable man accomplished some good things, especially in the field of education, but he was nonetheless a brutal and unscrupulous tyrant, who kept a good part of Central America in turmoil, as we shall have occasion to see later. His overthrow in 1909 was shortly followed by American intervention, and from 1912 to 1929 Nicaragua was, except for a brief interval, policed by American marines. Their withdrawal, after a thoroughly honest and well-conducted election, supervised by the United States, ushered in a brief period of normal constitutional

§8

The United States and the Caribbean

government. But in 1936 came a military coup, installing in power the head of the constabulary, Anastasio Somoza, who, in or out of office, controlled Nicaraguan politics until his assassination in 1956. Somoza was undoubtedly a man of high ability. Under his administration roads were built, schools opened, hospitals constructed, and a broad economic plan for the development of the country worked out with the aid of a mission from the International Bank. After Somoza's death the country was ruled by his sons, Luis, who became president, and Anastasio, Jr., who controlled the army. In 1963, however, the Somozas permitted the election of a civilian president, and this man, though undoubtedly the Somoza choice, was conceded at least a little freedom of action. The governmental scene in Nicaragua gives less scope to dictatorial power than has the Dominican Republic or Guatemala in the past. Nicaraguans have long taken a keen interest in politics, and the rivalry of the Conservative and Liberal parties, while often turning on personalities and closely connected with the mutual jealousies of the two cities of Granada and Leon is at least a sign of genuine political vigor. Nicaraguans, more than any other of the Central American peoples, live in towns, and it is not possible to govern an electorate of artisans and other urban types, as it is, shall we say, the ignorant Indians of Guatemala. There is, also, more genuine discussion of political affairs in such a state than in some of its neighbors, and a broader economic base upon which to support democratic institutions. The prognosis for the future therefore need not be wholly a gloomy one. The rule of the strong man is a large one in Central American politics, but is by no means universal. In three other states to be considered, Panama, Honduras, and El Salvador, the story differs substantially from that which we have just related. The early history of the republic of Panama (established in 1903 under circumstances later to be recounted) was relatively tranquil. Such armed forces as existed played no important role; and since by the treaty of 1903 with the United States the American government possessed the right of intervention, there was an incentive to order which did not exist in some of the

The Politics of the Caribbean

59

other republics. The presidential elections, sometimes supervised and sometimes not, passed off without serious incident down to 1928, and though a revolution occurred in 1931, it was a trivial affair and conducted with a minimum of violence. As American policy became less and less disposed to interfere in the domestic affairs of the Caribbean states, the scene changed. There appeared on the scene a sinister individual named Arnulfo Arias, who first sought power in 1941, and who, in his purposes and philosophy, leaned toward Fascism. Arias was removed by the Congress after a brief tenure. Though matters went well enough during World War II, events went less happily after the war was over. In 1949 Arias became president once more and again set a course decidedly antidemocratic. In time, however, he was opposed by the Panamanian Chief of Police, Jose Remon. Arias was deposed in 1951, and in a free election in 1952 Remon became president. Panama's troubles were not over, however. Remon was assassinated in 1955, and charges of complicity in the assassination were brought against the vice-president, Guizado. Guizado was impeached and removed from office. Despite a time of difficulty, an orderly election was held in 1956 and was followed by two more such elections in i960 and 1964. The troubles we have recorded, unhappy as they were, did not, after all, shake the constitutional order. Panama is governed by an oligarchical group, and political mores are far from angelic, but the rule of the caudillo is not characteristic of this thriving state. The story of El Salvador, like that of Panama, is the story of an oligarchy. The history of this country in the nineteenth century was a troubled one; but from 1898 to 1931 there was no successful revolution, and power was transmitted from one administration to another in an orderly manner, with most of the presidents civilians. But as a result of the depression of the early thirties and of a drift to the Left, a revolution occurred and Maximiliano Martinez inaugurated a dictatorship that was to last for nearly thirteen years. This strange and contradictory man, a tyrant and a theosophist, undoubtedly provided honest government, reorganized Salvadoran finances, carried on public works on a modest scale, and did something for education. But he was

6o

The United States and the Caribbean

at the same time ruthless and cruel, and hardly touched—in contrast with his neighbor ruler in Guatemala—with the spirit of liberalism or social progress. In the spring of 1944 he was compelled to put down an abortive revolt, which he did with such violence as only to aggravate and inspirit the opposition against him. In May there took place a general strike of public officials, of school children, and of various other groups. Martinez was compelled to resign. Some years of confusion followed; but in 1948 a military clique seized power and in 1950 installed one of its number, Oscar Osorio, in the presidency. A t the end of Osorio's term in 1954, the country went through a rigged election, in which Osorio's hand-picked candidate, Jose Maria Lemus, was elected to the presidency, with the opposition parties in many cases declining to vote. The Lemus regime lasted until the fall of i960 when it was overthrown by a military coup. A second coup followed in the winter of 1961. But the new government prepared the way for a return to legality, and the election of April 1962 was carried out under conditions of good order. The story of Honduras presents a different picture. In the nineteenth century it was an extremely turbulent little state. It would be difficult to find, until very recently, any substantial period in which this republic was free from internecine strife; in addition it was, until the twentieth century, again and again engaged in the international wars which constitute such a melancholy page in the history of the Isthmus. The presence of powerful foreign interests, moreover, did not always make for peace, and "banana politics" have plagued this little state in the past, along with its other difficulties. N o one figure stands out as having been able to maintain long-term control in Honduras until we come to Tiburcio Carias, who was president from 1931 to 1949. Carias was jockeyed out of the presidency in 1924 and was defeated in 1928. With a restraint rare in Central American politics, he started no revolution on either occasion. In 1932 he was elected, and in due course the Constitution was changed to permit his continuance in office beyond the four-year term previously stipulated. He was, like most of his predecessors, a military figure. He withdrew in 1948, and his favored candidate, Jose Manuel Galvez, succeeded to the presidency. Galvez's regime

The Politics of the Caribbean

61

succumbed to a military coup in 1954, and another coup followed in 1956. However, the new military regime provided for honest elections in 1957. In a particularly tranquil electoral contest Villeda Morales was elected to the presidency. He was removed by a military coup in 1963. The military regime which then came into power later constitutionalized itself in elections which, it would appear, were strictly under its control. The last of the Caribbean states to be considered here is Cuba, the richest and most prosperous. We shall deal here only with the period prior to the advent of Fidel Castro in 1959. The story is a melancholy one. Corruption permeated the body politic from an early period. And although more than a few presidents were civilian—Menocal (1913-1921) and Zayas (1921-1925) for example, and no less than nine others in the thirties and from 1944 to 1952—the army always hovered in the background. Indeed, in 1925 under President Machado, the armed forces took direct control in one of the most brutally repressive regimes in Cuban history. Machado was overthrown in 1933; the role of the officers was discredited; but the power was transferred to a new group under the lead of one of the most remarkable figures in Cuban history, Fulgencio Batista, at the time of the revolution only a sergeant. In the thirties Batista was the power behind the throne, in 1940 he was regularly and perhaps honestly elected, and in 1944, in an act without precedent in the politics of the island, he permitted a fair electoral contest, and the opposition came into power under a civilian president. The results were not happy. The regimes of Grau San Martin and Carlos Prio Socorras were futile, corrupt, and without clear direction. In 1952 Batista again seized the reins of power. This time his authority was challenged, especially after 1955. His regime became increasingly brutal and repressive, alienating the best elements in the island; it was marked by unrest in the army itself and sunk in tyranny and corruption. Here for the moment let us leave the story and turn to some general evaluation of the analyses of the Caribbean governments we have already presented. The point that stands out above all others is that, except for Costa Rica and, during the largest part of its history, Panama, the

62

The United States and the Caribbean

armed forces have played an important and often a dominant role in politics, and still play such a role today. This is so contrary to the tradition in the United States that it is difficult for some Americans to grasp the fact. The tendency, therefore, of the superficial observer of Caribbean politics is to lump together all military figures in one general and sweeping condemnation. Such a judgment neglects some of the central realities of the political scene. There has obviously been a most unsavory side to military participation in politics. On occasion it has led to the personal aggrandizement of a strong leader, and sometimes (all too often) this strong leader has enriched himself at the expense of the community. This is not true of all those mentioned; it was transcendently true of Trujillo in the Dominican Republic; it was equally true, though less offensively so, in the case of Anastasio Somoza. It goes without saying, moreover, that military rule has often been flagrantly contemptuous of the democratic process, that, in a more and more technical age, it is ill-adapted to the actual carrying on of the government, and that it imposes a heavy charge upon the national budgets of the states which fall a victim to it. On the other hand, it must be recognized that while order is not everything, it is the first prerequisite to economic and social progress, and the military people have imposed order. Of course tranquillity is not democracy. But even such a repulsive tyranny as that of Trujillo in the Dominican Republic is better than the anarchy that often characterized some Caribbean states in the nineteenth century, and a more favorable breeding ground for that developing society on which democratic government depends. This statement will, of course, raise the hackles of those who believe that a sweeping social transformation is necessary in the Caribbean. It is impossible to argue with this point of view, and even those who reject it will recognize that the social order in virtually all of the Caribbean states, with the possible exception of Costa Rica, is capable of very substantial improvement. But if one views the situation coolly, then one will recognize that military interposition in politics is not always in defense of the status quo or the inevitable prelude to tyranny.

The Politics of the Caribbean

63

The regime of Remon in Panama may well have been the best that Panama has ever had. After years of corruption, he provided honest government, reorganized the badly shaken finances of the country, stimulated economic development, and, as we shall see again later, secured a more favorable canal treaty with the United States. Batista, in his best periods, advanced education, recognized the growing power of labor, and carried through significant measures of reform. Osorio in El Salvador performed important services to his state. Under his administration much progress was made in the construction of roads, in the improvement of the public health, and in the inauguration of a housing program. More important than any of these, work was begun on a great dam on the Rio Lempa, which immensely improved El Salvador's position from the point of view of hydroelectric energy. Indeed, a broader generalization may be made. Despite the numerous examples of military rule, in virtually every one of the republics (excluding anarchical or tyranny-ridden Haiti and Cuba) the social climate has changed for the better in the last twenty years. The armed forces are less tightly tied to the rural oligarchies than they were in the past. The place of the worker has been increasingly recognized. More technical competence has, in many states, been brought to bear upon the problems of government. The record certainly will not satisfy the searching critic; but in many cases it represents progress. Having reviewed that record, let us now turn to the more hazardous enterprise of attempting some prognosis of the future. Will there be greater progress toward democracy? Will there be more of what has been? Will there be a lurch into Communism? Before attempting to answer the first of these questions, it may be well to reflect for a little upon the democratic process as it has unfolded itself in the history of nations, and upon the positive conditions that have contributed to its success in those countries where popular government has been most solidly based and where it commands the deep allegiance of the great mass of the people. The case for democracy, abstractly considered, is a very powerful one. It is powerful from many points of view.

64

The United States and the Caribbean

Democracy is that form of government which best preserves the social peace, which offers the fullest degree of self-expression to every member of the community. It is that form of government which gives to every economic and social interest the chance to be heard, and to every individual the opportunity to defend his own conception of the political good. It is that form of government which, in the nature of the case, makes the fullest demands on the wisdom, on the restraint, and on the public spirit of the members of the society. It is that form of government which is the most rational, in that it depends upon the settlement of the economic, political, and social issues by the process of compromise and adjustment, which puts the least emphasis on power and the greatest emphasis upon accommodation. But, in this twentieth century, as it seems to me, we must recognize the fact that neither from the viewpoint of the historical process, nor from the viewpoint of the contemporary world, can we assume that the universal triumph of the democratic way is assured or that the political forms that suit the people of the United States will set the pattern for all the peoples of the world. After all, with very few exceptions, it has not been the form of government that has expressed the way of life of the multitudes who have gone before in the long history of the race. It has, in our own day, been confined to something far less than the total population of the globe. Even in those countries where it has been most successful, it has been subjected to severe strain, as in Italy after World War I, and in Germany after the Great Depression. On the basis of experience, it does not appear to be the universal prescription for the problems of society. T o say this is not to fall into a bleak pessimism or to extol that Communist doctrine which is its chief contemporary competitor. It is not to justify a political system which, like that of the Soviet Union, controls the intellectual processes of its citizens from above, poisons the wells of opinion, falsifies the data in the interest of its own survival, and, by the purely empirical test, has advanced the material prosperity of those whom it governs far less successfully than has the democracy of the West. It is not to say that in the battle of ideas in our own age we should

The Politics of the Caribbean

65

tamely surrender the field to the votaries of Marx and Lenin and Mao Tse-tung. It is merely to say that it is highly unlikely that we can make over the world in our own image. It is to say that we should face the facts of life and not nourish ourselves upon illusions. The success of the West in this startling age in which we live is based upon a variety of factors, largely economic. Democratic government, as has been noticed, ever since the days of Aristotle, is closely connected with the wide distribution of property. This, itself, is the product of industrialization in most societies, though one can cite examples of peasant societies that are staunchly democratic. It requires for its successful operation the subordination of the soldier to the civil servant. It finds its spiritual roots in a strong spirit of personal independence, in an unwillingness to be governed from above. It implies an economic order that gives great play to individual initiative while accepting the necessity of social control. It is inseparable from freedom of discussion, and dependent upon an increasing diffusion of knowledge, and of respect for knowledge. It raises inevitably questions of social justice, but recognizes the complexity of the problems involved in the realization of the social good. It is immensely complicated and immensely rewarding. But it is also difficult, immensely difficult. With these things in mind, let us make some analysis of the Caribbean states individually. With regard to Haiti, it is difficult to be otherwise than gloomy. There is so little on which to build. There have been Haitian patriots, of course, and there have been a f e w presidents of genuine stature; but for the most part Haitian politicians and presidents have been chiefly intent on feathering their own nests and have regarded public office as an opportunity for plunder rather than public service. T h e violence of Haitian politics has been endemic, save for the brief years of United States occupation and the few years following that occupation. The economic basis on which improvement might conceivably rest is a shallow one. The cultural basis (and of this, more in Chapter 4) is no less so. It is difficult to conceive a really striking change for the better. Perhaps, however, before we leave our treatment of this un-

66

The United States and the Caribbean

happy Negro republic, we ought to enter a caveat against judging the future of other Negro states in the light of Haitian standards. Our brief perspective on the newborn republics of Africa justifies no such dismal conclusion. And the most ancient of them, Liberia, certainly has a much better record. Let us turn next to the Dominican Republic. Here the answer depends upon the outcome of events with which we will deal in some detail when we come to discuss recent Dominican relations with the United States. It will be sufficient to say here that the chances of stable government have substantially improved. The present government of President Balaguer has made an excellent start. It may be permissible to say that the steps recently taken in the republic could conceivably inaugurate a more hopeful era in a state that has certainly been either a tyranny of a prey to contending military factions during the greater part of its existence. Of Cuba, it is best not to prophesy. At the moment the totalitarian regime of Fidel Castro seems securely installed in power. And such regimes have a substantial life expectancy; they oftentimes exert a very effective control, and they have some room for maneuver in altering their policies in the face of discontent. In the case of Cuba, moreover, there is little doubt that Castro is what we may well describe as a "charismatic personality." Yet this observation suggests a doubt. What would follow on the assassination of the Lider? Would the system stand the shock? Or would Cuba return to a form of government different from, possibly better than, that which it enjoys today? We turn next to Central America. In general the omens are propitious. For one thing, the senseless civil wars that convulsed Central America are, or seem to be, a thing of the past. There have been, and still are, some bitter rivalries between the leaders in one state and the leaders in another, but the folly of armed conflict appears to be pretty generally understood. The economic understanding to which we have alluded in the previous chapter may conceivably pave the way to closer and closer political integration. Moreover, the tone of many of these societies is changing for the better. The rate of economic growth in the Central American republics is a happy augury for the future.

The Politics of the Caribbean

67

The standards of administration in most of them rose substantially after World War II. The growth of industry, limited though it is, is a constructive fact. It may also be stated, I believe, that the acceptance of reactionary military rule becomes more difficult with time. There has always been lip service to the democratic ideal, as we have seen, but the tendency to return to constitutional methods after a military coup seems to have become stronger. Certainly if one compares the current situation with what went before, one can find some reason for hope. On the other hand, we must continue to take account of the fact that military interposition in political affairs has been endemic in Central America. It may become less blatant and less selfish, but to ask that it disappear entirely is to ask a good deal. When we speak of Central America, we exclude Panama. There, in my judgment, civil institutions have a better chance than in any other state, save, of course, Costa Rica. Increasing prosperity is an important factor; if we look at the total record and do not overemphasize the troubled period that turns about the personality of Arnulfo Arias, it is, on the whole, an encouraging one; and the physical presence of the United States in the area tends to discourage tyranny. It is likely that power will remain for some time concentrated in an oligarchy, but it is also probable that the oligarchy will govern through democratic forms. But what of the possibility of Communism? The question is worth discussing, not in any unduly prophetic spirit, but as a matter of political analysis. W e should begin by avoiding the cardinal error of much contemporary thinking—the belief that there is only one choice to be made by the states of the world, the choice between a democratic society modeled on the United States and a Communist society shaped in the orthodox mold. There could be no more absurd prognosis than this one. The whole history of man refutes this simplistic view. N o society is precisely like any other; each is shaped by a variety of forces never in two instances the same. Communism, itself, already shows signs of diversity in the contemporary world. Saying nothing of the bitter feud between the Soviet Union and the Chinese People's Republic, who believes that the organ-

68

The United, States and the Caribbean

ization of Yugoslavia and the organization of Bulgaria amount to the same thing, or that Castro's Cuba is the mere replica of Moscow? Nor does the West exhibit democratic uniformity. Spain and Portugal are still authoritarian states of the Right; there is parliamentary democracy in England, and presidential democracy in the United States. In Latin America, taken as a whole, there exists today an old-fashioned dictatorship in Paraguay, a Communist regime in Cuba, a democratic regime in Costa Rica, and a military guardianship of the democratic process in Brazil. Let us rid our minds of the idea that each of the states of Latin America will either approach the American way or fall into the lap of the radicals of the Left. In pursuing this question further, however, we should be clear what it is we are talking about, and especially we should be clear as to the distinction between the military dictatorships of the past, odious as some of them have been, and the totalitarian states of today. Communism is by no means the same thing as military dictatorship, certainly not the same thing as military dictatorship on the Latin American model. The military dictatorships in the Caribbean are ephemeral; not one of them has been successfully institutionalized. Communism on the other hand looks toward permanence. Once it has secured control, the possibilities of getting rid of it are small. It may evolve, of course, and its rigors may be softened; but its doctrine remains, and its hold on power is tenacious. In the years since Communism first appeared on the horizon, no Communist regime, once securely established in office, has been successfully ousted. There are other respects in which Communism differs from dictatorship. Communism involves total control of the economy; it subjects the total economic process to state authority. Dictatorships of the Right permit the evolution of the economic order; and this evolution, hopefully, may shake the power of the dictatorship itself. Such a possibility, it will be said, exists under Communism; but the very prevalence of a fixed doctrine as to what constitutes a desirable organization of society makes adaptation extremely difficult. In the third place, Communism involves the total suppression

The Politics of the Caribbean

69

of dissent, it involves thought control from the cradle to the grave; its object is to mold the lives of those whom it controls, accustom them to submission, and insulate them from any of the forces that might serve to liberate them. N o Latin American dictatorship, certainly no Caribbean dictatorship, has ever succeeded in accomplishing—perhaps it may be said that none has tried to accomplish—so sweeping a measure of control. But let us look at the record of the past for a moment. T o what extent has the Communist virus appeared in the various states of the Caribbean? The answer to this question in the first instance will be that there is some kind of Communist party, above ground or underground, in all of them. There are, for that matter, Communists in the United States. But this fact ought not to alarm us unduly; indeed it would be extraordinary if it were not so. After all, Communism is a world gospel; and no society can successfully insulate itself in the absolute sense of the word from the Communist evangel. Let us look at the states one by one, beginning with the island states of the Caribbean. It would be difficult to find in Haiti a Communist movement of any substantial influence. Haiti is, after all, an example of a tyranny in which no form of opposition is permitted. Its history, as we have already seen, is a melancholy story of ambitious politicians striving for power, with little regard f o r and little appeal to any doctrine whatsoever. The current regime, cruel and senseless as it is, owes little or nothing to Marxian dogma. T h e question of Communism in the Dominican Republic is not so easy to analyze. The Communist party existed under Trujillo. It was, for the most part, roughly treated. For a brief period, it was permitted to operate in public to suit the dictator's pose of freedom and to exercise a certain nuisance value; but it never was near the actual seizure of power. Since Trujillo's fall, the Communists, sustained by the Castro regime in Cuba, have indubitably played a role behind the scenes. Distrust of the extreme L e f t may well have played a part in the overthrow of the Bosch government in 1963. There were certainly Communist overtones in connection with the revolt of April 1965. Just how near the

7ο

The United States and the Caribbean

Communists were to power on the eve of the American intervention is a moot question on which it is best to abstain from dogmatic judgment. But one cannot arbitrarily rule out the Communist danger as illusory. A state in which a Communist faction played a significant part historically is Costa Rica. There a political group known as the Vanguardia Popular was formed in 1930 under the leadership of Manuel Mora. The Communists infiltrated the labor movement. They participated against the democratic forces in the civil war of 1948. But the program of social progress inaugurated by the Figueres government and continued by its successors appears to have drawn the teeth of the movement and constitutes an impressive support for the often repeated argument that the answer to Communism is social reform. In El Salvador the Communist threat appeared strongest in the early thirties with the election of a reformist president. But it was speedily nipped in the bud, and with the advent of Martinez to the presidency the movement was driven underground. In September 1952 President Osorio uncovered a Communist plot and placed the republic under a thirty-day state of siege. He also sealed the border to Guatemala, whence the agitators appear to have come. In November 1952 Congress passed a law declaring that any person propagating "totalitarian or communist doctrines" was subject to imprisonment. A tense situation continued for some time. But with the downfall of the Arbenz regime, in Guatemala agitation died down and was followed by a peaceful period—much assisted, no doubt, by the social reform measures of the government. With regard to the remaining states, it is possible to be brief. The events of 1954 in Guatemala, as we have seen, have for the time being, at any rate, driven the Communist movement underground. In Panama the tide sometimes runs toward exaggerated nationalism, and it may be taken for granted that on such occassions the Communist element will get on the band wagon. But its influence has been minimal. In Honduras, Communist influences were apparent in the banana strikes of 1954, but it was possible for the government to bring about a settlement between the workers

The Politics of the Caribbean

71

and the fruit companies, and the leading authority on Communism in Latin America concludes that there has been a very small Communist movement in Honduras in recent times. This analysis will not, of course, satisfy those persons who live in perpetual apprehension of the triumph of the Communist movement, and, admittedly, it would be rash to prophesy in categorical fashion with regard to the future. But the question of the future has such significant implications, not only for the Caribbean, but for all of Latin America, that it may be wise to supplement the facts—such as they are—with some theorizing about the whole problem. The gloomy side of the equation has been frequently stated. W e all know that, on the whole, Caribbean societies are societies in which a substantial gulf exists between rich and poor, that there is inadequate attention on the part of the governing classes to social progress, that there are pockets of genuine discontent, that there are serious economic problems, concerned with the very nature of the Caribbean economies, and that there is in Cuba a center of propaganda and subversion which intensifies the Communist effort to overthrow the institutions of the West. The other side of the account has been less frequently stated. Without claiming any prophetic vision, the author believes that it is worthwhile to set it down in some detail. In the first place, there is good reason to believe that the confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union over Cuba in 1962 seriously damaged the Communist movement in Latin America. Of that confrontation we shall speak in more detail in a later chapter. It will be sufficient to say here that the blatant attempt of the Soviet Union, in conjunction with the Castro regime, to establish its physical power in this hemisphere, was viewed with apprehension by Latin Americans in general. Indeed, it underlined the obvious fact that Soviet interest in N e w World states was not disinterested, but precisely the reverse. And it also made clear the fact that close relations with Russia would redound, not to the advantage of the American governments, but chiefly to the advantage of the Kremlin. The alteration of the climate since 1962 has, so far as we can measure it, been substantial.

72

The United States and the Caribbean

In the second place, the image of Communism itself has been altered for the worse as time goes by. The magnificent achievements of the Soviet Union in the scientific field did for a time create a profound impression. But the economic achievement of the Russians is something else. Set beside the phenomenal growth of the West it appears very far from overwhelming. Indeed, there are some signs that the rulers of Russia themselves realize that there is something wrong with their system that cries out for remedy, and that it is not fortuitous that the United States and Europe have gone forward in a sensational way, while the Communist states have lagged behind. We must remember, too, that the Latin American economies are geared to the Western world. It cannot be contended, at least with any complete assurance, that new routes of trade could not be opened up by a Communist regime. But the risks are substantial; and the element in Caribbean society that depends upon the development of the export market is not likely to view with enthusiasm any course of action which disturbs that market. There are other reasons why Communism does not seem adapted to the Latin American scene. When we contemplate the dictatorships of the Caribbean, we sometimes forget how much is left free. The total control of the economic order seems inconsistent with the Latin American temperament. It works remarkably well—considering the innate instinct in human beings for liberty—in such a country as Russia. There may be other countries of which the same thing can be said. But there is a strong streak of individualism in the Latin temperament. Precisely the difficulty in some of the larger states today has been unwillingness to apply the measures of economic control that are necessary in a mature society. Regimentation on the Russian model seems far removed from the Latin American way of life. There are also more limited and practical factors which affect the prognosis. One of them lies in the toughness of any society, its strong survival capability. Having lived through two great revolutions, those of us in middle life or old age are perhaps unduly impressed with the revolutionary force of our own era. The drama of change has been a portentous one. But it has not

The Politics

of the Caribbean

73

affected all parts of the world—when one comes to think of it. We often fail to estimate at their real strength the immense forces of inertia that exist in any society, particularly a society in which the economic level is low, education limited, tradition strong, and the dynamic forces limited in scope. In fact it can be argued that it is precisely because the social conditions in many of the Caribbean states are as backward as they are, that the danger of revolution on the Left is slight. There is another factor to be taken into account, and one that is not given anything like the weight it deserves. In every case where a Communist regime has come into power, a fundamental factor has been the breakdown of the military authority. This was true, of course, in the Russia of the tsars. It was true, also, of Eastern Europe at the end of the war. It was true of the regime of Chiang Kai-shek. It was true of Batista in Cuba. From this general principle an important rule of policy is to be deduced. Many American writers on Latin American politics seem to think there is something contaminating about any contact with the military classes. This is not, and ought not to be, the case. With the brutal tyrant, with the acquisitive adventurer, it goes without saying that we should be on our guard. But with those military men who show some understanding of the necessities of social progress or some respect for constitutional order, and perhaps even regard themselves as its guardians, we should adopt a positive view. We should seek to know them better, to make clear to them our own ideal of ordered progress and of adaptation to a changing economic and social climate. The participation of the military classes in politics is a fact of life in many of the Caribbean states. We should judge that participation with regard to the specific facts of each individual situation. Militarism in the Caribbean states has often been a curse. But we must not forget that the subversion of the existing order by the Communists would be a curse also. There are other points to be added. But perhaps it is best to pause and consider in more detail the social organization of the states of the Caribbean.

4. The Social Structure

We have now analyzed the political and economic conditions that exist in the states of the Caribbean. It is necessary to turn to the social life of these republics before we discuss their relations with the United States. And it is, of course, impossible to do this without candidly stating at the outset that there exists in all these countries (as, indeed, elsewhere) a vast amount of remediable misery, and that the improvement of their status is a matter of concern, not only to themselves, but to us as well. Something may be done, as we shall see, through the processes of inter-American cooperation; but not everything can so be done. Much depends, of course, upon the people themselves, and especially upon men of social vision and administrative energy in the various countries we have been examining. The fundamental weakness of most of these states, in respect to social improvement, is the absence of a substantial middle class. In all of them there exists an upper class, often well educated, cultured in many respects, and quite able to give a good account of itself from the point of view of native intelligence and capacity. In all of them there exists a depressed majority, which is existing on a standard of living that would seem positively pitiable to most Americans. What is largely lacking is a social stratum which is neither rich nor poor; which, having itself risen, is on the whole favorably disposed to seeing others rise, which has no preference for oligarchy, because it does not provide the oligarchs, which values education and kindred forms of social

The Social Structure

75

amelioration because it can take advantage of them, and which wishes good order and democratic rule because it will gain from both. Of course, such a generalization must be taken cum grano, and there are obvious exceptions to the general rule. In Costa Rica, as we have already seen, the free farmers form the mass of the population and provide just the outlook that we are talking about. In Cuba the immense wealth of the country gave rise to a substantial middle class which has suffered seriously under Castro. And there are obviously shopkeepers, artisans, and the like in the cities of every one of the republics, and independent farmers in the rural districts. But in the main the above statement holds; a sufficiently large middle group does not exist in most of the societies that we have been examining. Such a situation might be partially remedied if the governing class, in any case small, were fired by an ardent desire to improve the situation of the masses. That this is not always the case is not a matter of too great reproach to the citizens of the Caribbean republics; for selfishness among the well-to-do and the fortunate is certainly not an exclusively Caribbean phenomenon. Yet in some cases the indifference of the elite to the welfare of the great majority is striking. In Haiti, for example, the small governing clique is, on the whole, pitifully indifferent to the condition of the peasantry, and yet it is only from this class that there can be recruited the persons who would by their persistent efforts improve the situation. What is true of Haiti is true in lesser degree of the ruling groups in some other Caribbean countries; they are often pretty much concerned with the maintenance of the status quo. They would not think of themselves, of course, in quite this light; but the sacrifices that would be required of them to provide for a substantial improvement in the condition of the masses would undoubtedly be resisted in many cases. In many cases, but not by any means in all. The Caribbean is like other parts of the world; the spirit of social amelioration which is a part of our age has touched it as it has touched virtually every civilized society; but the satisfaction of that spirit is a slow and laborious matter. In the countries of Western Europe the process of social de-

ηβ

The United States and the Caribbean

velopment has been much influenced by the growth of organized labor. Without maintaining that the views of the workers necessarily reflect the social interest or are inevitably wise, it can reasonably be contended that the growth of the trade unions has introduced a useful counterweight to the powers of a business oligarchy. Is the same thing likely to occur in the countries of the Caribbean? It is true that the position of labor has been much improved since the first edition of this book was published in 1947. At that time there were at least three states, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, and Honduras, where unions were not permitted at all. Today they are legal in every one of the nine states under review. But the quality of union leadership is not such as to induce unbridled optimism. The composition of the unions is in some cases at least partially suspect. The number of organized workers in no one of these states is large, and their ranks are divided. The following figures are for the number of organized workers: El Salvador, 27,000; Costa Rica, 23,000; Honduras, 18,150; Nicaragua, 16,000; Guatemala, 16,000; Panama, 15,000; Haiti, 9517. There is another difficulty in the way of social progress in the states of the Caribbean. Most of these countries, by the comparative standard, are poor. The expenditures of the various governments under their annual budgets are, of course, by no means all of them spent for the amelioration of present conditions; much naturally goes to the army and the administrative machine. But the per capita expenditure of these governments is at least an imperfect measure of the possibilities of the moment. These per capita expenditures (and again we must emphasize the purely approximate character of such calculations) were as follows for the budgetary year 1963: Panama $39.30; Costa Rica, $28.00; Nicaragua, $16.50; the Dominican Republic, $11.30; El Salvador, $10.00; Honduras, $7.00; Guatemala, $4.50; Haiti, $1.12. T o make these figures more meaningful, it is sufficient to remark that the city of Chicago expends on its municipal services about $245.00 per capita a year, and this is exclusive of state and federal funds. With such slender resources, and with such a limited national income on which to draw, and with a less acutely felt need of

The Social Structure

77

reform than exists in such a country as the United States, it is easy to see why the states of the Caribbean are in many respects less advanced than their well-wishers would desire. They also face, and must face for some time, conditions that are far from satisfactory in the fields of public health and education; and though there is little doubt that the tendency is upward rather than downward, there is an immense amount of ground to be won. The importance of education in the life of any progressive community can hardly be overstressed. It is not formal instruction alone that is important; it is the opportunity for self-improvement, and the desire for self-improvement that is stimulated by the process of instruction, that are the most significant things about any educational program. Yet education, in many of the Caribbean republics, is in a far from satisfactory state, and the problems connected with its improvement are enormous. The worst case, no doubt, is that of Haiti. The obstacles in the way of an ambitious program in this community are tremendous. The masses themselves are apathetic; the elite fear the social consequences that may follow on any great spread of enlightenment. The language of the cultivated class is French; the language of the peasantry is Creole; and the teacher, who is struggling upward himself in the social scale, is likely to prefer to speak the language that gives him social distinction rather than the one that is most intelligible to his hearers. The recruiting of the teaching class has been extremely difficult, especially in view of the low salaries paid; the standard of the teachers themselves has been extremely low, many of them indeed being hardly able to teach the 3 R's; the instruction itself is likely to be unrelated to the needs of those for whom it exists. The Americans in their occupation of Haiti attempted to set up agricultural schools, whose programs of instruction would be tied in with Haiti's major industry, and whose students would go out to instruct the peasants; the idea behind this experiment was an excellent one, but the political opposition on the part of the Haitian intelligentsia was extreme. The practical difficulties in the way of carrying out a full-fledged program are immense.

y8

The United States and the Caribbean

Haiti, of course, represents an extreme; at the other pole with regard to education is the little state of Costa Rica. Costa Ricans are deservedly proud of their achievements in this field, and this very pride ensures that the progress that they have already made will be continued. N o small part of their achievement is due to a great personality, Mauro Fernandez, who was the country's educational pioneer and who secured the enactment of a law for free, compulsory secular education as far back as 1886. On the basis of this fundamental statute there has been developed a school system which gives at least the elements of education to every Costa Rican child, which provides for higher education in the principal towns, and which conducts to the state university the most ambitious and competent. Salaries in the Costa Rican schools are low; there is some political influence (often complained of by the teachers themselves); and it is certainly not possible to compare the Costa Rican educational organization with that of the most advanced and opulent of modern states; but considering the resources on which the country has to draw, the results are impressive and offer a splendid example to the rest of Central America. Cuba, like Costa Rica, has been in the vanguard of the Caribbean states in the field of education. The American occupation (18981902) laid the solid foundations of a school system, and progress was constant and significant. The use of the army for purposes of instruction, however criticizable from one point of view, certainly produced results. The crown of the Cuban educational system, the University of Havana, had on its faculty in the preCastro days men of distinction and scholarship. It would be superfluous in this brief study to analyze the various republics one by one. It is fair to say that the educational leaven is working in most of them; even such a dictator as Trujillo, despite the gross selfishness of his regime, showed an interest in the schools of his country. An indication of where matters stand today may best be drawn from the statistics of literacy; we may be pretty sure that these statistics do not exaggerate the extent of ignorance in any of the countries concerned. In Costa Rica 85 per cent of the population is literate; in Panama

The Social Structure

79

78 per cent; in Cuba 60 per cent (1959); in El Salvador 48 per cent; in Honduras 46.9 per cent; in the Dominican Republic 43.9 per cent; in Nicaragua 38.4 per cent; in Guatemala 29.4 per cent; and in Haiti 10.5 per cent. Another measure of the effectiveness of the educational process is to be found in the circulation of newspapers; and here, too, with the necessary reservations, it is worthwhile to state the matter in figures relating them to the population of the country. (We omit Cuba with its controlled press.) The figures for average daily circulation per 1000 inhabitants are as follows: in 1961 for Costa Rica, 97, El Salvador, 42, and Guatemala, 23; in i960 for Nicaragua, 67, and the Dominican Republic, 27; in 1959 for Panama, 103, Honduras, 26, and Haiti, 9. It is a risky business to compare these figures with the figures collected for the first edition of this book. In the case of literacy, they appear to show progress, except in Guatemala and Honduras—substantial progress in the case of El Salvador, modest progress in the others. But the fact remains that in only three states of the nine is half the population literate. We may be sure, moreover, that the criteria for judgment do not err in the direction of hypercriticism. In the case of newspaper reading (always remembering that the figures are to be viewed with circumspection), there is a substantial gain, a gain especially marked in Nicaragua and Guatemala. What this gain means in terms of political or intellectual maturity is, of course, another matter. If the situation with regard to education is not all that it ought to be in the states of the Caribbean, the same thing may be said with regard to public health. Here, indeed, is a problem of the greatest urgency and insistency. For in tropical lands the greatest enemy to progress is not the climate, taken by and of itself; the enemy is the depleting, yet not usually fatal, diseases which are characteristic of such lands and which interpose a constant barrier to economic and social progress. Perhaps the most dreadful of these diseases is malaria, which, in the words of a Guatemalan health authority, "decimates the population, reduces the activity and energy of the workers, depresses the intelligence of the children, and diminishes fecundity." In such a country as the

8o

The United States and the Caribbean

United States, Americans are apt to think of this malady as mildly intermittent; in many of the states below the Rio Grande it has a chronic character. It does kill, and on an important scale; but fully as serious is its effect upon those who suffer from it and continue to live. T o discover it, to deal with it effectively, and in course of time to reduce its ravages, is a tremendous task, and one for which, as we have seen, the resources of the Caribbean states are in many cases far from sufficient. Another disease, dramatized in the United States by the work of the Rockefeller Institute and by the disinterested labors of C. W . Styles after the Spanish-American War, is hookworm. The hookworm parasite enters the body through the soles of the feet and results in a kind of tropical anemia which is very debilitating. According to a study made by the International Labor Office, the productive capacity of a worker suffering from this disease is reduced by about 50 per cent. The remedy for hookworm is clear; since the parasite is discharged in the feces, reasonably good sanitary arrangements and the wearing of shoes will sharply reduce the incidence of the malady; but both the one and the other of these things depend upon an increase in public interest and in public well-being. There is, here again, a great problem, and a central one. The care and treatment of disease in general may occupy us for a moment in this attempt to portray briefly the social conditions in the states of the Caribbean. Conditions are distinctly good in one of the republics we have been examining; in Cuba, for example, there has been for some time a very active interest in medicine. The path to the discovery of yellow fever was illuminated by a great Cuban scholar, Carlos Finlay; and Grau San Martin, a former president of the republic, was a medical man of distinction. In Cuba in i960 there was one doctor to every 900 people; and while this proportion is not, of course, as great as that in the United States, it is impressively large by a less exacting standard. The proportions for the other republics are as follows: Panama, 1 in 3270; Costa Rica, 1 in 3759; Nicaragua, ι in 4723; Dominican Republic, 1 in 4759; Guatemala, 1 in 6568; Honduras, 1 in 7985; El Salvador, 1 in 8722; Haiti, 1 in 11,904.

The Social Structure

81

These figures are, in no case, impressive; but they would probably look even less favorable than they do if account were taken of the tendency of the medical profession to concentrate in the towns. There are parts of the Caribbean area, indeed, such as rural Haiti or the most densely Indian-populated parts of Guatemala, where the treatment of disease is still not far removed from magic; and there is no particular reason to believe that the situation will rapidly change. In the same way there is an immense work to be done in providing facilities for the care of the sick; the hospital facilities available are in most of the states totally inadequate. In the United States there are 10.7 beds for every 1000 persons. This, of course, must be regarded as the very apex of well-being, from the point of view of the care of disease in the New World. No Latin American country comes near it. But for the Caribbean area recent figures are as follows: for Costa Rica, 5.1, for Panama, 3.7, for Guatemala, 2.8, for the Dominican Republic, 2.7, for Cuba, 2.3, for El Salvador, 2, for Honduras, 2, for Nicaragua, 1.8, and for Haiti, 0.07. Of the various states that we have been considering, five come at the very bottom of the Latin American list, being excelled in their misfortune in this regard only by Bolivia. Such figures make it graphically clear how much there is to be done before tolerable conditions exist, let alone the attainment of a standard anything like the standard of the most fortunate Latin American states. What is to be deduced from the figures in this field? There were substantial gains in the number of doctors in Costa Rica, Nicaragua, El Salvador, and Cuba. In Cuba the gain has without doubt been erased by the emigration of thousands of professional men under the Castro dictatorship; in El Salvador, on the other hand, the increase in the number of medicos appears to have been sensational. As to hospital beds, there is a gain in most states. Making the necessary reservations with regard to the gulf that separates medical and hospital service in the towns and medical and hospital service in the countryside, the picture is nonetheless a cheering one. A more striking fact, on the optimistic side of the account,

82

The United States and the Caribbean

as regards social progress is to be found in the attitudes of the governments of the various states with regard to matters within the area of social reform. Cuba, of course, must be judged as a Communist society. Of Haiti there is little to be said. But in the seven other states the signs are clear. In every one of them there is a housing program, extremely modest in Honduras and Guatemala, more ambitious in Costa Rica, Nicaragua, and Panama. In every one of them there are programs for the improvement of community water supplies and sanitation. In each state there is at least an attempt at the improvement of educational facilities; in five of the seven states more than 20 per cent of the expenditures of the central government are in this field. In every one of them there is a social insurance system for the workers. In many of them there are proposals, sometimes modest ones, for land reform and for easier agricultural credit. If the scale of some of these enterprises seems small, it is to be remembered that the resources of these countries are small. It is also to be said that one may hope that these projects will have a multiplying effect. And the very existence of the spirit of social reform is a good augury for the future. Yet there is a caveat that must be added. The rise in population in many of these states imposes a severe strain upon the growth of the social services. Whether the tempo of advance can be quickened to meet this problem is a matter on which it would be risky to express a dogmatic judgment. In the kind of analysis we have been making, there is one factor that is likely to be overlooked. We must not imagine from the figures we have cited that they imply a low state of culture throughout every class in the community. No error is commoner, and none more gross, than that contained in the assumption that there is no cultivated class, and no cultural achievement, in the states of the Caribbean. The exact reverse is true. Almost every one of the republics has produced persons of genuine intellectual distinction in many phases of human activity; and there is every reason to admire the cultural level which has been achieved by important elements in most of these states.

The Social Structure

83

Take, for example, the republic of Cuba. Despite the venality of much of the press, there was in Cuba until Castro at least one great newspaper, the Diario de la Marina, which, in the opinion of a competent judge, "in its coverage of foreign news, its editorials, its special articles, and its literary supplement, ranks far ahead of the majority of papers in the United States." There was in the field of literature such an important figure as Jorge Manach. There was a widespread interest in music, a creditable philharmonic orchestra in Havana, and some important work in the field of composition by such men as Lecuona. There was a school of modern painting, which, while not so impressive as that of Mexico, was yet worth noting. There was in the field of history such a distinguished figure as Carlos Trelles, in the field of international law such an outstanding personality as Bustamante, in the field of medicine such a well-known figure as Grau San Martin. It would be easy to lengthen the list, but enough has been said to make it clear that we do not need to regard the Cuban public as having been devoid of intellectual and artistic distinction. What was true of Cuba, moreover, is true, though perhaps in less striking degree, of most of the other states. Haiti, it is commonly assumed, is the most backward. Yet Haiti has produced a poet of real tenderness and distinction in Oswald Durand and a distinguished historian and student of his own people in M. Jean Price-Mars. Or, again, let us look for a moment at the Dominican Republic. One of the most distinguished students of Latin American literature was the Dominican Pedro Henriques Urena, while the names of such men as Fabio Fiallo and Amerigo Lugo are well known throughout the whole of the southern continent. Or take again the case of Nicaragua. Perhaps the most influential of all Latin American literary men of modern times was Ruben Dario, who was a citizen of this republic, and whose work profoundly affected numberless other important figures in the intellectual history of the Americas. Or take, still again, Costa Rica. The Reportorio Americano, which began its existence at San Jose half a century ago, and was long under the editorship of Joaquin Garcia Monge, was well described as "a

84

The United States and the

Caribbean

tribune of the social and political problems of all Hispanic America." There is not a single one of the Caribbean republics that cannot point to some figure of distinction. Nor should one imagine that it is only in the literary field that there are indications of a vivid culture. In the field of music Cuba, as already indicated, has undoubtedly been a leader; but there is among the educated classes in the Caribbean countries an appreciation of music that is certainly no less widespread and profound than that which exists in the United States. Architecturally, too, the spirit of the Caribbean peoples has expressed itself in more than one distinguished public building, in the magnificent capital at Havana, the modernistic buildings of the Nicaraguan capital, in the private houses of the newest section of Guatemala City. In painting, too, there have been important figures, men like Arrua and Vides in El Salvador, or Pacheco, Amighetti, and Dego (this last a caricaturist) in Costa Rica. It serves no useful purpose to weary the reader with an extended list of such figures; but it ought emphatically to be understood that the aesthetic side of life is by no means neglected. In addition to the work of the more sophisticated, moreover, there exists in many of the Caribbean republics a folk art that has particular value. The Creole songs and stories of the Haitian peasant have a simplicity and charm that give them a distinction of their own. And in the sophisticated society of today, there is, indeed, a special attraction in the sense of beauty displayed by simple and naive people in simple and naive ways. The huipiles, or over-garments, woven by the Indian women of Guatemala are becoming better and better known for the beauty of their coloring and the unique quality of their design. The folk music of the island of Cuba has been winning a special place for itself somewhat akin to that of our own Negro spirituals. W e shall be very wrong if we fail to take note of these developments. There is one final aspect of the life of the people of the Caribbean that we must notice for a moment when we consider the texture of their society. That is the place of religion. And here the range is much greater than one would at first suppose. It is true, of course, that all of these countries are Catholic. But

The Social Structure

85

in most of them the Church struggles against much indifferentism, against vulgar superstition, and against its own poverty in numbers as in resources. In the republic of Haiti, for example, the number of priests is very small, and most of them are foreigners. Nor is it to be said of the Haitian elite that they form, on the whole, a particularly devout class. Indeed, the plain fact of the matter is that the folk religion of Vodun, or Vaudoo, as it is sometimes called, plays fully as great a part in the life of Haiti as does formal Christianity. This amazing cult, which has often been misrepresented by travelers to Haiti, and of which the most gory and exaggerated stories have been told, is in reality a kind of naive polytheism, based on a belief in all sorts of gods and spirits, and upon the belief that these spirits can enter into or "mount" the individual, can effect cures of disease, and can bring good and evil fortune in their train. There seems little doubt that, so far as the masses are concerned, this body of belief is at least as influential as formal Christianity. It is not, as some ignorant travelers have suggested, particularly brutal or bloodthirsty; but it does, of course, reflect a cultural situation that is certainly not that of distinctively Christian states. The situation that exists in Haiti can be paralleled, in a sense, with that which exists among the Indian population of Guatemala. Nominally, of course, these people are Catholic. But their faith is hardly more than a veneer, and since the confiscation of Church property under Barrios it has been difficult to maintain a priesthood at all adequate to provide for their religious needs. Rude idols can easily be seen by the visitor to the tourist city of Chichicastenango, and at Momostenango, not so far away, the people still practice rites that go back to the days before the Conquest and invoke the favor of deities who have been worshiped for centuries. The churches themselves are often unmanned or are in the hands of confradias, or associations of believers, who use them in a manner hardly conformable with Christian orthodoxy. The cases of Haiti and of Guatemala are, perhaps, as extreme as can be found. But the role of the Church in most of the countries of the Caribbean has been a restricted one, largely on

The United States and the Caribbean

The Social Structure

87

account of government policy. Rarely does a Caribbean government contribute effectively to its support. In the Dominican Republic, for example, not so many years ago there were but sixty priests for a population of at least a million and a half. In Costa Rica, the wealthiest of the Central American states, the Church is almost equally poor. The situation is much the same in the other republics, and is, one imagines, likely to remain so. Most observers of the scene in general seem to feel that there has been a distinct decline in religious intensity among the Caribbean peoples, and that the position of religion is less secure than it was fifty or a hundred years ago. And nowhere does the Church occupy that favored position that might enable it to recoup its losses and play a larger part in the life of the community. In so stating the matter, we must beware, however, of seeing the situation in terms of black and white. The consolations of faith, the moral influence of belief, the pure aesthetic satisfactions that flow from the beautiful ritual of Catholic Christianity, all of these can be found in every one of the republics. Everywhere a minority, at least, in the cities perhaps much more than a minority, is sustained and strengthened by religion. And everywhere, today, as it has always been, men and women draw inspiration for the good life from the teachings of the priesthood. The Church is not so powerful as it once was; but its influence cannot be entirely disregarded. Is it possible that there is a place in the Caribbean states today for the gospel of Protestantism? The question is sometimes asked and ought to be candidly answered. And the answer of most of those who know best the temperament of the Caribbean peoples would certainly be in the negative. The Latin nations, for reasons that doubtless lie deep in the national psychologies, have never been attracted to the reforming sects. Nowhere does such a faith seem to make much headway; and, indeed, it is sometimes rather more irritating than helpful, so far as the general intercourse of the United States with the neighbor republics is concerned. It does not provide, at any rate, a major solution of any

88

The United States and the Caribbean

of their problems and can hardly be expected to succeed on any important scale. What is to be said by way of summary with regard to the people of the Caribbean? Certainly there are many problems to be solved. Certainly, there is much to be done in the field of education, in the field of public health, in many other spheres of action. But there is no reason why one should be appalled at the magnitude of the task, or why one should give way to a sterile pessimism. Most of the states of Central America, and of the Caribbean in general, have made a very notable advancement as compared with their situation a hundred years ago. There is no reason why this advance should not continue. Certainly the problems are substantial and are made graver than they would otherwise be by the extraordinary population increases in some of these states. But the picture is not really gloomy. Most of these countries enjoy an increasing prosperity. In most of them the social leaven is working. The historical observer learns to avoid both the hope of Utopia and the dread of the apocalypse. It is probable that in most of these states, in social as well as in economic matters, the future, while not all that the idealist would desire, will be brighter than the past.

5. American Diplomacy in the Caribbean to 1939

The relations of the United States with the states of the Caribbean can be most usefully discussed only in the context of our relations with Latin America as a unit. This is not to say, of course, that there are not specific problems with the individual states. But these become more meaningful if we first examine the broader aspects of our association with the states of the New World. There are those who seek to describe the intercourse of nations in a frame of reference that attributes each choice of policy solely to considerations of power. There are those who seem to think that economic forces determine those choices. In reality, the foreign policy of a democratic state is almost always affected only in part by such factors; it contains a strong ideological element. Men are governed in this world of ours by postulates and assumptions and beliefs that are rarely susceptible of proof. They act on convictions with regard to politics, with regard to economics, with regard to religion, indeed, which they rarely seek to examine, but in which they deeply believe. This is illustrated in our relations with the states of Latin America. The first of these assumptions goes back to the days when the Latin American states were contending for their independence against Spain. In the United States the assumption was widely held that their revolutions were similar to our own struggle. "We are their great example," declared Henry Clay in 1818. "Of us

9o

The United States and the Caribbean

they constantly speak as brothers having a similar origin. They adopt our principles, copy our institutions, and in many instances, employ the language of our revolutionary papers." A similar attitude pervades President Monroe's famous message to Congress on December 2, 1823, in which he solemnly warned the reactionary nations of Europe that "the political system of the allied powers is essentially different from that of America. This difference proceeds from that which exists in their respective governments—nor can anyone believe that our southern brethren, if left to themselves, would adopt it of their own accord." This view, it is true, was not universal. John Quincy Adams, Monroe's able and atrabilious Secretary of State, confided to his diary a far different point of view, asking the question "whether, in short, there is any other feature of identity between their cause and ours, than that they are, as we were, colonies fighting for their independence." But this was not Adams' tone in public, and the notion that the institutions of Latin America bore a similarity to those of the United States has had immense vitality. W e have already seen that there is some reason to doubt this; but we cannot deny that this notion has had a profound effect upon policy, and that American policy has again and again been suffused with the idea that if the Latin Americans are not like us, they ought to be, and ought to be helped to be. This conception has rarely been totally acceptable in the countries of Latin America; but we must take account of its existence as we unravel the threads of our policy in the Caribbean. The concept has been more powerful at some times than at others; but it has played a significant part in the twentieth century, and even in our own times. From the notion that there exists some identity of view and of political habit between the United States and its "southern neighbors," as Monroe called them, there has followed another general belief that there ought to be some close association between them. This idea was slower to take root; and the impetus to association, when it came, was not derived exclusively from ideological considerations; in part these considerations masked a desire for closer economic relations. But the existence of the Pan

American Diplomacy

to 1939

91

American Union and its successor, the Organization of American States, and the language of the pronouncements of these organs, suggest that there is an American political system which ought to be preserved. How useful this association is to the interests of the United States is a matter we shall discuss later, but that it has shown a substantial vitality is entirely clear. There is a third consideration which has played an important part in the relations of this country with Latin America. It is that the national security is deeply involved in the preservation of Latin American independence. This, indeed, is what Monroe stated in his famous message. Addressing himself to the chancelleries of the Old World, Monroe stated: "We owe it to candor, and to the amicable relations existing between the United States and those powers to declare that we should consider any attempt to extend their system to any portion of this hemisphere as dangerous to our peace and safety. With the existing colonies or dependencies of any European power we have not interfered and shall not interfere. But with the governments who have declared their independence and maintained it, and whose independence we have on great consideration and on just principles acknowledged, we could not view any interposition for the purpose of oppressing them, or controlling in any other manner their destiny by any European power in any other light than as the manifestation of an unfriendly disposition towards the United States." And again: "It is impossible that the allied powers should extend their political system to any portion of either continent without endangering our peace and happiness; nor can we believe that our Southern brethren, if left to themselves, would adopt it of their own accord. It is equally impossible, therefore, that we should behold such interposition with indifference." The sweeping nature of this pronouncement has rarely been noticed in the widespread acceptance of the principles that it enunciated. The sceptical historian may be permitted to suggest that the area Monroe banned to European influence extended to regions more removed from the United States than Europe itself, that the safety of the United States was not quite so obvi-

92

The United States and the

Caribbean

ously connected with what occurred in Argentina or Chile as the President assumed, and that, in any case, it is doubtful whether then or now the American government would be wise to attempt by armed force to determine the political destiny of an entire continent. But here again we must not look for mathematical certainty in the field of politics. We must be content to recognize the widespread acceptance of Monroe's thesis and its indisputable influence upon the foreign policy of the American government. These ideological considerations ought not to be understood as all-controlling; nations, like individuals, possess acquisitive instincts; ideal and material considerations are mixed in their minds and confused in their action; and there are certainly evidences of these instincts in the foreign policy of the United States. One illustration of this fact is the American desire for Cuba, which far antedates the Spanish-American War of 1898. As early as 1809, for example, Thomas Jefferson, whose idealism was united with a remarkable acquisitive instinct where the interests of his country were concerned, spoke of Cuba as an interesting addition to our Federal Union. Fourteen years later, at a time when there were many rumors of European intervention in New World affairs, and much suspicion of European purposes, John Quincy Adams, then Secretary of State, wrote a famous dispatch to Erving, our minister in Spain, in which he clearly laid down the principle that the United States could not see with indifference the transfer of the island from Spain to any other power. Such declarations, in diplomatic business, are very likely to conceal a more positive interest on the part of those who deliver them. The Adams declaration, indeed, was frequently reiterated by American Secretaries of State in the course of the next thirty years, never with greater force than by Secretary Edward Everett in 1850. And, in addition to this, the United States on more than one occasion raised the question of the purchase of Cuba at Madrid. It did so, in the first instance, as early as 1848; it did so again eleven years later. And in the intervening period, in 1854, there occurred the famous episode of the Ostend Manifesto, in which three American diplomatic officers, meeting on European soil, enunciated for the benefit of

American

Diplomacy

to 1939

93

their own government the remarkable proposition that Spain was under a moral obligation to sell her choicest possession in the New World, and that if she refused to do so it would be time to consider whether measures ought to be taken to wrest it from her. It is probable that had it not been for the slavery question (for Cuba was slaveholding territory in this period) the territorial longings of the United States might have found even more vigorous expression. It was the strong opposition of the North to the extension of slave territory that did much to render abortive any such project as the one to which we have just alluded. The Cuban question arose again in the 1870's; this time a revolt against the Spaniards evoked substantial sympathy in the United States; but Hamilton Fish, Grant's able Secretary of State, stood firm against intervention, and after eight years of struggle the revolt was put down. Among the problems that must always puzzle the historian is the problem of changes in the national mood. Yet such a thing as the national mood may surely be said to exist. At times a nation may seem to withdraw within itself; at other times it seems to seek a larger role and a wider influence. The period from 1865 to 1895 in American diplomatic history is on the whole a period in which the American people had little interest in foreign affairs and little desire for adventure or expansion; yet in the course of it there can be seen developing new forces and new outlooks which were to produce a kind of American imperialism. On the naval side this new temper was represented by Alfred Thayer Mahan, whose classical treatments of the importance of sea power suggested inevitably a policy of acquisitiveness on the part of the United States; on the political side it was represented by such men as Theodore Roosevelt and Henry Cabot Lodge, who were young enough to have no sentimental aversion to war based on the holocaust of 1861-1865, and whose self-confidence and pride in America were not untouched by a kind of jingoism. Politicians and navalists, however, did not stand alone; there were academicians like John W . Burgess; there were clergymen like Josiah Strong; there were newspapermen like Hearst and Pulitzer. Whether these men evoked or reflected

94

The United, States and the Caribbean

a changing temper it is hard to say; but at any rate the temper was there, and a kind of crusading ardor, mingled with a comprehensible impatience at the incredible incompetence and brutality of Spanish rule in Cuba and crystallized by the famous episode of the Maine, brought the country in 1898 into the briefest, but certainly not the least important, of its wars. The war with Spain ended, as we all know, in what is called the liberation of Cuba; but for many years after that event a curious ambivalence governed American policy with regard to this rich island. In the declaration of war in 1898 had been a statement sponsored by Senator Teller of Colorado, that the war would end with the establishment of Cuban freedom, but in reality before the American forces evacuated Cuba at the end of the struggle, they exacted from a reluctant Cuban government an agreement that substantially limited the independence of the new regime. B y this agreement, the United States acquired valuable rights, of which the most important were the right to establish a base at Guantanamo and the right to intervene in the affairs of the island "for the preservation of Cuban independence, the maintenance of a government adequate for the preservation of life, property and individual liberty, and for discharging its obligations with respect to Cuba." These stipulations were to remain in effect until 1934. Before we examine their actual working, we may well meditate for a moment on the contradiction we have unveiled and that still exists with regard to the Caribbean. Most historians (and the exceptions carry little weight) would say that the war with Spain in 1898 was not a war due to the pressure of financial interests, but a war desired by a substantial part of the American people in the interests of freedom and democracy. But this same democratic faith made it easy, once Cuban freedom had been established, to view with a particular solicitude what went on in the island and to intermeddle or even intervene in its affairs. It is arguable, indeed, that in the decades that followed, the United States got the worst of both worlds. It did not control the situation; but neither could it be indifferent to it. The flow of American capital into the island naturally created a special

American

Diplomacy

to 1939

95

interest of importance; a reciprocal agreement admitting Cuban sugar to the American market on terms of special advantage cemented this interest; and Cuba became, in the eyes of the critic of American foreign policy, an economic province of the United States. And here, as we come to an examination of our policy, a disturbing thought intrudes itself, unacceptable no doubt to many who will read these pages. We got out of Cuba. We remained in control of the Philippines until 1946 and set up a government in Puerto Rico which was under the control of Washington. Were not both of these regions better governed and more stable than Cuba? In our present perspective, are they not better off today? The answer to this question should at least induce reflection even though we admit, as a practical fact, that the tide runs implacably away from what is called "imperialism" and toward the realization of national independence in all parts of the globe. But let us look at the actual record of our relations with Cuba down to the abrogation of the Piatt Amendment in 1934. In these days, when imperialism is out of fashion and some sinister interpretation is apt to be given to the control of one nation by another, it is perhaps worth saying that there are few more honorable chapters in American diplomatic history than the story of our administration of Cuba between 1899 and 1902. The Cuban army was disbanded, paid off by the Americans, and a host of reforms set in motion. "The cleaning of streets and sewers, the establishment of systematic sanitation under Major Gorgas," begins Leland Jenks in his judicious and too little noticed book, Our Cuban Colony, published in 1928, "the repair of public buildings, more public works than had been undertaken in a generation of Spanish rule, the modernizing of Havana with the Prado and the Malecon, the inauguration of a school system under the auspices of Alexis Frye and Matthew Hanna, the suppression of yellow fever as the result of experiments made by Reed, Lazear, Carroll and Agramonte in verification of the theory of the Cuban, Dr. Carlos Finlay, the honest collection of taxes and administration of justice, the reorganization of the University, the separation of church and state, prison reform, the in-

96

The United States and the Caribbean

traduction of the writ of habeas corpus, the mercantile register, reorganization of the judiciary, the provision for railway regulation, and the organization of municipal self-government—these events of the Wood administration make up a striking record of solid accomplishment." And so indeed they did. When the last American troops withdrew from Cuba, they left a strong foundation on which to build. The government set up in Cuba under Estrada Palma was a reasonably honest one. But in the elections of 1905 a critical situation arose; the re-election of Palma was contested by dissentient elements; a short time after his reinauguration revolt broke out, and though the American commissioners sent to Cuba made a sincere effort to settle in a spirit of compromise the difficult problems that had arisen they were unable to do so. With the deliberate intention of bringing about intervention, the president and the vice-president resigned; Cuba was literally left without a government. In these circumstances the United States felt obliged to intervene. It did so reluctantly. "I am so angry with that infernal little Cuban republic that I would like to wipe its people off the face of the earth," wrote Theodore Roosevelt at that time. "All that we wanted from them was that they behave themselves and be prosperous and happy so that we would not interfere. And now, lo and behold, they have started an utterly pointless and unjustifiable revolution, and got things in such a snarl that we have no alternative save to intervene." This intervention, however, much to the surprise of cynical Europeans, only lasted until 1909; once more the United States withdrew. Since that time physical occupation of the island has never been attempted. The degree of interference with the Cubans, in a narrower sense, varied with the administration in power. The T a f t administration, for example, was free with gratuitous advice on a whole range of matters, advice that was not always taken and was usually resented. The Wilson administration was somewhat more circumspect and did not arrogate to itself so remarkable a concern for the virtue of the Cuban people. When in 1916 President Menocal was re-elected in a campaign conspicuous

American

Diplomacy

to 1939

97

for the truly tremendous scale on which electoral corruption was practiced, and when an insurrection broke out in consequence, the United States gave no encouragement to the insurgents and acted on the principle that it would not go behind the returns. In 1920 it acted somewhat differently, sending observers to the island who watched over the presidential election of that year, and following up this action by dispatching General Crowther to Havana to settle the electoral disputes that arose in the wake of the campaign and to arrange for new elections in about a fifth of the voting districts. But these steps were, at least on the face of things, requested by the Cubans themselves and cannot be regarded as an officious interference in the affairs of the republic. Far different was the situation under President Harding. The economic situation in the island at the end of World War I became serious. The end of the year 1920 had seen the collapse of sugar prices and a state of virtual economic prostration. The budget was badly unbalanced, and the government was compelled to default on the bonded debt. The regime of President Zayas was in a desperate situation, from which it could only extricate itself by a new loan in New York. Taking advantage of these circumstances, the American government, through General Crowther, exerted a very sharp pressure on the Cubans to make what it regarded as the necessary reforms. Indeed, for a brief period, the American envoy became the virtual dictator of policy. But his rule did not last long. No sooner was the loan obtained by Zayas than the measures that had been adopted were whittled down or set aside, the so-called "Honest Cabinet," whose composition Crowther had dictated, was dismissed from office, and the normal course of Cuban political life resumed. Perhaps the disillusionment caused in Washington by the promptitude with which the reforms of the Crowther era were put aside explains the policy of indifference that followed. There could hardly have been a worse government in Cuba than that which succeeded General Zayas. Gerardo Machado is one of the most sinister figures in Cuban history. He began not unpromisingly, but as time went on he suppressed all opposition, con-

98

The United States and the Caribbean

solidated the various political parties behind him by terrorism and corruption, and established the only truly dictatorial regime in Cuban history up to that time. The United States under Coolidge and Hoover abstained from all interference with, and all condemnation of, this odious government. When in 1931 an abortive revolt broke out, the neutrality laws of the United States were strictly enforced against the insurgents. The principle of noninterference was carried to its fullest extent, and to the critic of the Washington government it seemed as if the United States were prepared to tolerate any regime so long as it was not hostile to American interests. Yet the same administration that observed the establishment of tyranny in Cuba with complacency dealt perhaps the heaviest blow that has ever been dealt to the prosperity of the island. In a period of depression, when in any case the fall in the price of world commodities would have affected Cuba most unfavorably, the administration encouraged the enactment of the HawleySmoot Tariff, which raised the duty on Cuban sugar to a new high. The depth of the depression in Cuba in 1931 and 1932 is by no means unrelated to American policy. W e acted, indeed, in these years, with a callous disregard of the interests of our neighbor state and of the United States itself. There is not a more glaring example of the unhappy indirect consequences of protectionism on a friendly state than the tariff to which we have just alluded. Policies such as this can do damage little less, perhaps even greater, than any resort to physical coercion. It is difficult, as will have been made clear from what has just been written, to summarize our Cuban policy in the period we are examining. It was certainly not extraordinarily harsh or domineering; but it was often futile in its interferences and very rarely constructive in any broad sense of the term. Under Knox, Cuban political morality came in for our severe strictures; under Hoover a situation far more serious was tolerated without the slightest difficulty. It would be hard to find a coherent principle which would serve as a key to the American attitude in the twenty-four years from the exit of the first Roosevelt from office to the advent of the second.

American

Diplomacy

to 1939

99

We should not terminate our study of this period without a word on the American dilemma. When we tolerate a tyrannical and reactionary regime we are accused of indifference to the democratic ideal; when we take action against it we are charged with meddlesome intervention in the affairs of an independent state. It is not easy to pursue a course satisfactory to the perpetual critics. But let us turn to another aspect of the period, the increasing concern of the United States with the Caribbean as part of the link between the Atlantic and the Pacific. Here the ideological considerations we mentioned at the beginning of this chapter play no leading role; the question is one of trade and international intercourse, and of American control of an international waterway. The idea of the construction of an interoceanic canal either across the Isthmus of Panama or further north, across the territory of Nicaragua, was almost as old as the discovery of the Continent itself. But it was not until the 1830's and the 1840's that it began to be seriously considered and to form the subject of inevitable diplomatic discussions on the part of the United States. Thus, in the year 1846, the American government signed with the government of New Granada, then in possession of the Isthmus of Panama, a so-called treaty of guarantee, by which it assumed an obligation to maintain uninterrupted transit across the Isthmus. In the same period, it began to reveal for the first time an interest in Central America, in which the British were carrying on what to Washington appeared to be unseemly diplomatic activities. And out of the diplomatic wrangling which ensued there finally came the Clayton-Bulwer Treaty of 1850, by which the British and American governments agreed to share in the responsibilities incident to the construction of an interoceanic canal. The Clayton-Bulwer Treaty was followed by more discussion and a decade of constant controversy, but we can say with some assurance that by the time of the Civil War American interest in the idea of transisthmian communication had been vigorously manifested and registered in a solemn international compact. With the growing power of the United States, concern for an

ioo

The United States and the Caribbean

exclusively American canal was bound to arise, and it was much stimulated when in the 1870's the French engineer, De Lesseps, the builder of the Suez Canal, was commissioned by a French company to construct a canal across the Isthmus of Panama. This activity stimulated President Hayes, acting in the context of the Monroe Doctrine, to declare in his message of March 8, 1880, that "the policy of this government is a canal under American control. The United States cannot consent to the surrender of this control to any European power or to any combination of European powers. The capital invested by corporations or citizens of other countries in such an enterprise must in a great degree look for protection to one or more of the great powers of the world. No European power can intervene for such protection without adopting measures on this continent which the United States would deem totally inadmissible." He added: "Our merely commercial interest in it [the canal] is greater than that of all other countries, while its relation to our power and prosperity as a nation, to our means of defense, our unity, peace and safety, are of paramount concern to the people of the United States." No stronger message has ever been penned by an American president, and one wonders what would have been its practical consequences had the French venture succeeded. But for a time no major problem arose, and the canal question became acute only with the turn of the century, and with the Spanish-American War. That war, very obviously, stimulated among American naval men a new interest in the area; it stimulated also the growth of the navy itself; and in the next decade and a half considerations that had seemed relatively unimportant in the nineteenth century began to bulk large in the minds of many Americans interested in the problems of sea power. Moreover, the war tremendously increased interest in the canal problem, and within a few years it was followed by decisive developments from this point of view. The long voyage of the Oregon around Cape Horn to join Admiral Sampson's squadron before Santiago dramatized to the mass of Americans the significance of a short route between the two oceans; and American diplomacy lost no time in preparing the

American Diplomacy

to 1939

ιοί

way for the consummation of a long-cherished idea. It was not difficult to persuade Great Britain, isolated in Europe and farsightedly pursuing a policy of rapprochement with the United States, to consent to the abrogation of the Clayton-Bulwer Treaty, and even to agree, albeit reluctantly, to American fortification of the projected canal; and on the heels of this success the administration of Theodore Roosevelt sought an understanding with Colombia for construction across the Isthmus of Panama of the necessary waterway. There followed an episode which is not the most satisfying to Americans who wish to see their country observe the highest standards of international conduct. When the Colombian Senate rejected the agreement that had been negotiated at Washington the Roosevelt administration adopted a course of action that was to expose it to severe criticism. It did not, as has sometimes been charged, instigate revolution on the Isthmus, but when a revolutionary movement broke out there, it sent naval vessels to Colon, landed troops which barred the way to Colombian forces that might conceivably have suppressed, or attempted to suppress, the revolution, recognized with a haste that many persons thought indecent the new government that was formed at Panama, and speedily negotiated with it a treaty that provided for construction of the canal. The building of the Panama Canal undoubtedly increased the interest of the United States in the area of the Caribbean. So, too, did the appearance of American capital in this part of the world. Large importations of such capital flowed into the republic of Cuba. The banana companies began to take an interest in Central America before the end of the century. It is therefore not surprising that important developments took place in the field of foreign policy, developments that have an economic and strategic foundation but are also connected with the general climate of the time and with the impulse of many Americans to promote fuller realization of the democratic ideal among the peoples of the Caribbean. One of these developments is the new interpretation given to the Monroe Doctrine. In the years immediately following Monroe's pronouncement, the doctrine was little noticed. It was re-

io2

The United States and the Caribbean

vived by President Polk in 1845, but it remained for a time thereafter a partisan rather than a national statement of principle. It was only after the Civil War that its place in the American mind became fixed, and that what had been intended as a declaration directed toward a specific apprehended danger, became a kind of shibboleth for the American people. As the century reached its end, there was an explosion of American nationalism, of which only one expression was the war with Spain. Moreover, the interest in construction of a canal which that war stimulated was bound to affect the American viewpoint with regard to the Monroe Doctrine; there developed increasing sensitiveness to the situation in the Caribbean, together with increasing stress on the noninterference of European powers in the area. Thus there was quite a flurry in 1900 when rumors arose of the intention of Germany to acquire the Danish West Indies; solemn warning came from Elihu Root, then Secretary of War, against any such project; and two years later our government negotiated a treaty with Denmark for the acquisition of the islands, a treaty, which, unfortunately, failed of ratification at Copenhagen. Other events stimulated new interest in Monroeism. In 1902 Great Britain and Germany attempted a punitive blockade of Venezuela; up to this time the United States had never maintained that such action was objectionable; indeed in this specific case it had, in response to a request from the powers, explicitly declared that it had no reason to oppose such a step; but when the blockade was actually established, a terrific pother arose in the United States, especially in Congress, and the significance of this agitation was not lost upon the astute and vigorous politician who was at the moment President of the United States. Thus there took place the striking evolution in the Monroe Doctrine that is known as the Roosevelt corollary. The essence of the matter was this. If the United States were unwilling to allow European powers to chastise the states of Latin America when they misconducted themselves, was it not reasonable to assume that some obligation to do so rested upon the American government itself? Suggestions to this effect had been made by the British government as early as 1895, and they had been renewed

American Diplomacy

to 1939

103

shortly after the blockade of 1902. In the State Department itself the same reasoning seems to have developed. The question was pointed up by the financial problems into which the Dominican Republic had fallen in the first years of the century, and by the fear that complications might arise with European powers whose citizens held part of the Dominican indebtedness and who might raise the question of control of the customs. On May 20, 1904, at a banquet in N e w York, Elihu Root read a statement from President Theodore Roosevelt which put the matter squarely before the public opinion of the world. Declaring that the sole desire of the United States was "to see all neighboring countries stable, orderly and prosperous," the President went on to say, "if a nation shows that it knows how to act with decency in industrial and political matters, if it keeps order and pays its obligations, then it need fear no interference from the United States. Brutal wrongdoing, or an impotence which results in a general loosening of the ties of civilized society, may finally require intervention by some civilized state, and in the Western Hemisphere the United States cannot ignore this duty." These sentiments were reiterated in the message to Congress in December 1905. Action soon followed which, on the surface at least, involved not actual intervention but collaboration with the Dominican government. In the winter of 1905, the American government signed a protocol with the government of Santo Domingo by which it assumed responsibility for collection of the Dominican customs, for satisfaction of legitimate claims of creditors, and for delivery to the native government of the remainder of the revenues. The consummation of this agreement presents some interesting problems in the field of politics. The suggestion of such a compact was raised by Dominican President Morales as early as January 1904; and the agreement itself was ratified without difficulty by the Dominican Congress. But it has been suggested by one student of the question that Morales was encouraged to such action by the Americans, and that his rise to power came about with the covert assistance of the American navy. It is also true that American warships remained in the region

io4

The United States and the Caribbean

till the treaty was ratified and may well have exercised a persuasive influence upon the deliberations. Furthermore, when the treaty failed of ratification in the Senate in the winter of 1905, President Roosevelt proceeded to carry it out by an executive agreement, accompanied by the following note to the Secretary of the Navy: "As to the Santo Domingo matter, tell Admiral Bradford to stop any revolution. I intend to keep the island in status quo until the Senate has had time to act upon the treaty, and I shall treat any revolutionary movement as an effort to upset the modus vivendi. That this is essentially right, I am dead sure, though there may be some technical or red-tape difficulty." The Dominican agreement of 1905 was, in point of time, the first example of an increasing tendency on the part of the American government to take positive steps toward the control of Latin American regimes. It must be conceded that the step was a rather mild one; but the instinct to regulate the affairs of others was strong with the Rough Rider, and the treaty we have been examining was followed by action in another sphere, which, like the assumption of customs control, was a breach with the past norms of American foreign policy in the Caribbean. The interest of the United States in Central America was partly commercial, partly strategic, partly moral—if you will. As we have already indicated, the great fruit companies had developed extensive holdings in this area by the first decade of the twentieth century; there was always the question of the protection of the Canal; and there was also the desire to maintain order as a good thing in itself. The first two of these elements no doubt were paramount with the administration; but the support of public opinion for measures of control must be traced to the third. The little states of the Isthmus did not always live in conditions of neighborliness with one another. In 1906 war was avoided between Guatemala and El Salvador only by the joint intervention of the presidents of the United States and of Mexico. This was followed by a treaty signed by Costa Rica, Honduras, El Salvador, and Guatemala by which the two presidents were agreed upon as umpires in any future international disputes between the signatory nations. This treaty was not acceptable to

American Diplomacy

to 1939

105

Nicaragua, whose president, Zelaya, may well be described as the "bad boy" of the Caribbean. Stirring up trouble with his neighbor states, Zelaya in 1907 brought Central America to the verge of war. Once again exerting its moral influence, the Amerrican government promoted a conference which met at Washington in November of 1907, and from which issued a group of treaties intended to provide the blessings of peace for this troubled area. The essence of these treaties consisted in a provision that recognition should be withheld from any government that came into power by revolutionary means. Contemporaneously an International Court of Justice was established at Cartago, Costa Rica, and the state of Honduras, the battleground of many previous conflicts, was neutralized. It was also agreed that the contracting parties should not allow political leaders from a neighboring state to live near the borders of the country whose peace they might disturb, and that they should arrest and bring to trial any person who should attempt to stir up insurrection against another state. It is worthwhile to pause in our narrative for a moment to evaluate these agreements. The agreement not to recognize any government that came into power by revolutionary means was a striking departure from the traditional policy of the United States. Hitherto, it had been virtually the uniform policy of the American government, in the words of President Monroe, "to recognize any de facto government as the legitimate government for us." The question of moral origins did not enter into the account. N o w a new criterion was introduced, and the years since 1907 have seen, not only in Central America, but elsewhere, an ideological element introduced into what had previously been a matter to be determined on rigidly practical grounds. The new rule, if rule it was, was consistent with the spirit of the epoch and with the growing disposition of the United States to regulate the conduct of others and to bring nations to the practice of democracy by the exertion of moral influence. What was the practical result of the treaties of 1907? With regard to the nonrecognition formula, they cannot be said to have been brilliantly effective in discouraging the revolutionary

io6

The United States and the Caribbean

habit. Only a little while after their signing, revolution broke out in Nicaragua. In 1911 there was a revolution in Honduras. In 1917 there was a golpe de cuartel in Costa Rica. In 1921 the constitutional government of Guatemala was overthrown. In only one of these cases was the non-recognition principle successfully applied. With regard to the Central American Court of Justice, introduced with such high hopes, the United States itself contributed to its early demise. In 1914 the American government negotiated with Nicaragua a treaty providing for the construction of an interoceanic canal through the territory of that state. T w o other Latin American states contested this arrangement on the ground that their own sovereign rights were affected—Costa Rica claimed such rights in the San Juan River, and El Salvador in the Gulf of Fonseca, at the Pacific end of the projected waterway. The Central American Court of Justice returned a verdict in their favor. Nicaragua declined to recognize the validity of the judgment, with the encouragement of the United States, and this action proved to be a damaging blow to the prestige of the Court. The nonrecognition principle embodied in the pacts of 1907 was, however, reincorporated in the Central American treaties of 1923. Once again, the new doctrine proved ineffective in practice. When a coup d'etat occurred in Nicaragua in 1925, the refusal of the United States to recognize its beneficiary, General Chamorro, did not produce any useful result; it was followed, on the contrary, first by revolution and then by American intervention. In 1931 President Martinez of El Salvador came into power in violation of the treaties of 1923. Far from rallying to the support of those treaties, the Central American governments showed a distinct distaste for any such course. Costa Rica officially denounced the compact in 1932. The treaties lapsed into innocuous desuetude. Our policy raises some fundamental and interesting questions as to the relations of small states and great ones. Let us then go back for a little to discover its origins and to see how it came about that in the years from 1912 to 1934 American marines were encamped upon the soil of three independent states, and

American Diplomacy

to 1939

107

the United States involved in a policy that had significant consequences in the field of international relations. Marxist writers on American foreign affairs have no difficulty in this, as in other matters, in finding a simple explanation of what actually occurred. T o them the occupation of Nicaragua, of the Dominican Republic, and of Haiti was a simple example of financial imperialism. The United States intervened in the affairs of all these states for the protection of the always sinister interests of American capital; it acted, as countries of satiated capitalism always act, for the promotion and extension of its own economic interests. Such an interpretation, of course, has the virtue of simplicity; but, like most simple explanations of human events, it is by no means adequate or accurate, and it does not correspond with the facts. It would be nearer the truth to say that the initiative for such a policy came, not from private interests bent on gain, but from government officials who were more concerned with strategic and political than economic facts; and that American finance in cooperation with these officials was, of course, led on by the hope of gain, but by a hope infinitely less potent and intense than led it to other kinds of adventure and to other activities outside the United States. W e have already noted that in the administration of Theodore Roosevelt there developed an increasing sensitiveness with regard to the area of the Caribbean; that this sensitiveness translated itself into a new policy, the so-called Roosevelt corollary to the Monroe Doctrine; and that the assertion of the necessity for the United States to exercise an international police power was based upon the fear (whether justified or not) that European states might take advantage of domestic disorder and financial irresponsibility in the Caribbean to establish themselves upon American soil. In the Roosevelt administration the Caribbean was in the process of becoming what it is in effect today, an American lake, and it was government, not private enterprise, that was primarily interested in this process. When the Roosevelt administration went out of office in 1909 and was succeeded by that of William Howard Taft, Philander C. Knox became Secretary of State, and he attempted, as he him-

io8

The United States and the Caribbean

self would have declared, to carry further the policies of the previous administration. He envisioned American action to restore the finances of some of the republics of the Caribbean; he thought that the transfer of their indebtedness from European (mostly English) to American hands would reduce the dangers of foreign intermeddling; and he recognized that in order to carry out such a policy, and in order to induce American bankers to participate in such a program, it was necessary to assure them of the safety of their operations by reserving to the United States the right of intervention in the affairs of the republics whose fiscal affairs were to be reorganized. He argued, no doubt, that control of Dominican customs by the United States under the agreements of 1905 and 1907 had been a distinguished success (and so indeed it looked at the time); and that the extension of such a system could work nothing but good both to the beneficent guardian and to the wards of that guardian. Unhappily, the methods by which Knox sought to carry out his policy were heavy-handed in the extreme, as is best illustrated in the case of Nicaragua. In 1909 Zelaya had not endeared himself to American interests in the republic, or indeed to any of those who wished to see tranquillity in Central America. A revolution broke out against him in which the hand of certain American business concerns was clearly to be discerned. The dictator resigned, and in his place a member of his own Liberal party was chosen president. But Knox was led to continue his support of the insurrectionists even after Zelaya's withdrawal; American vessels were sent to Greytown, on the east coast of Nicaragua; and the upshot of the matter was that, as a result of American partiality, the Conservatives came into power. With the regime thus established Knox proceeded to negotiate a treaty calling for control of the customs and conceding a right of intervention; and without waiting for ratification of this treaty by the Senate of the United States he persuaded certain New York bankers to make loans to the new government. This hasty and ill-advised action won him no friends on Capitol Hill, and the convention with Nicaragua could not be pried out of the Foreign Relations Committee for some time. In the meantime one

American

Diplomacy

to 1939

109

difficulty after another assailed the new administration in Nicaragua; it was threatened with revolt, not unnaturally, since in all probability it had never commanded the allegiance of the majority of the people; and in 1912 American marines were landed to keep in power an unpopular regime. Apart from any other consideration the administration felt obliged to protect the interests of the bankers whom it had induced to lend their money to the Nicaraguan government. The marines were to remain there until 1925. In that year an attempt was made to put an end to the Nicaraguan affair, but the attempt was unsuccessful. Hardly were the marines withdrawn than a revolution took place, and a government under General Chamorro was elected to power. This new regime was, in due course, forced out of office by the attitude of the American government; but President Diaz, who was chosen as Chamorro's successor, soon found himself confronted with civil war. A violent struggle began in which Diaz's opponents seem to have received some assistance from Mexico. Secretary of State Kellogg's excited imagination soon found in the events in Nicaragua a danger of Bolshevism, and in due course marines were landed, ostensibly for the protection of American interests. The occupation thus effected was followed by the snuffing out of resistance and by an American mission which laid plans for a fair election in 1928. This election took place as scheduled, and the marines were again withdrawn in January 1933. Just as Knox was responsible for the intervention in Nicaragua, so, too, he laid the foundations for intervention in Haiti. There he was unable to proceed so far, or to embroil matters so thoroughly, but in persuading the National City Bank of New York to take a part of the stock of the Haitian Bank he again put the State Department in the position where it was bound to feel obligated to support an American financial interest. At the moment nothing very significant occurred; but Haiti sank into a condition of chronic disorder in the succeeding years, which naturally jeopardized the position of the Bank, and which constituted an a priori argument for intervention. In the meantime other developments were taking place which looked in the same

no

The United States and the Caribbean

direction. In the State Department, among those influential but little known subordinate officials who sometimes have so much to do with the formation of policy, the idea appears to have developed that it would be useful to establish a far-reaching measure of control over the island republics of Haiti and the Dominican Republic, measures that would include customs administration, creation of a native constabulary officered by American marines, and perhaps complete supervision of the internal finances of these two governments. The disorder which existed in both of the countries concerned was, at this time, indeed extreme and offered some excuse for action, and for the gratification of the American propensity to "tidy things up," as imperialist Americans often put it; and in addition to this, in the case of Haiti, the administration was no doubt made a bit nervous by French and German proposals in the summer of 1914 for joint control and administration of the customs. But the successive presidents of Haiti, who followed one another rapidly in this period, showed a natural reluctance to subject their country to external control; and attempts to persuade them to accept voluntarily the well-meant ideas of the State Department were unsuccessful. In the summer of 1915 a particularly outrageous situation provided justification for action. In the course of the revolutionary disturbances that convulsed the republic a Haitian president had 167 political prisoners killed. Many were members of the first families of Port-au-Prince. After this event he took refuge in the French embassy. An enraged mob dragged him out, dismembered him, and paraded his mutilated body through the streets of the capital. On hearing of the massacre, but before learning of the macabre scene in the streets of the city, the Wilson administration ordered the landing of the marines. In the case of the Dominican Republic the course of events was as follows. The first few years of the agreement of 1907 were thoroughly satisfactory. But, after the death of President Caceres in 1911, the country began to sink into graver and graver disorder. The State Department, once again under the influence of a theory of action that was never publicly discussed and that had no deep roots in American opinion, attempted to persuade

American

Diplomacy

to 1939

HI

the Dominican government of President Jimenez to accept proposals similar to those that had been pressed upon Haiti; the president could not see his way to do so; and, finally, faced with foreign pressure and with the threat of domestic revolt, he resigned. The country was left temporarily without a government, and in this emergency the American marines appeared. They landed at Santo Domingo City in the summer of 1916. Thus came a third intervention. These three intrusions on the territory of independent states, it should next be noted, though similar in some respects, did not, as a practical matter, run precisely the same course. In Nicaragua, for example, the government in power was left to administer affairs, and the American marines performed the function of making a return of the Liberal party to power difficult, if not impossible. But elections were held at the intervals stipulated by the Nicaraguan constitution, and interference with the existing regime was limited to measures of a financial character. Thus the customs administration was put under American control; when the American bankers required further security for the loans they had made, the state railway of Nicaragua was placed in their hands; there was a certain amount of supervision over internal expenditures; but with these significant exceptions, and always remembering that the presence of the marines very distinctly cramped the style of the political opposition, the government of the country was still in native hands. In Haiti, to take our second case of intervention, another type of machinery was set up; the national legislature was dissolved, but the national executive remained, and so, too, did an appointive body which participated in the legislative process and was known as the Council of State. In the case of the black republic the measures of supervision were far more sweeping; the creation of a constabulary, which came, in the case of Nicaragua, only after the second intervention in 1927, was in this case undertaken from the first; extensive measures were set on foot for improvement of the public health; a road-building program was inaugurated; the financial administration was almost entirely in American hands. In the third instance, that of the Dominican Republic,

ii2

The United States and the Caribbean

matters went even further. The native government was entirely suppressed, and a military government set up under the Navy Department in Washington; besides the constabulary, as in Haiti, and the road-building program, there was also an ambitious scheme of public education; all these, of course, in addition to the inevitable financial control. In all three interventions, of course, the United States called the tune, and in all three cases it maintained its troops on foreign soil against substantial opposition on the part of the inhabitants of the countries concerned. In assessing the results of these interventions, it would be useless to deny that in every one of these instances some very substantial achievements have to be set down to the credit of the Americans. In each case, for example, reorganization of the finances of the republics concerned was carried through on an efficient basis; not only was the way prepared for the service of the public debt, but proper measures were taken for the adjudication and, inevitably, the scaling down of the foreign claims against the governments. It no doubt meant more to foreign investors than it did to the Haitian peasant, or the Nicaraguan coffee-worker, or the laborer on the sugar plantations of the Dominican Republic, that during the interventions the public debt was, with only minor exceptions, regularly paid. But that financial good order has its values, especially as opposed to riotous inflation, and that some good to the Haitians resulted from American control is undeniable. In Haiti and the Dominican Republic important road-building programs were undertaken during the occupations. Better communications, as we have already seen, must inevitably play a substantial part in the improvement of economic life; and in both of the instances cited the change under American rule was important. In 1915 Haiti had virtually no roads passable for motor traffic. By 1934 it had a network which effectively served every part of the republic. Its neighbor state was slightly better off at the outset of the occupation. But the improvement of the years 1916-1924 was substantial; indeed one may say fundamental. As to education, in the Dominican Republic the school system

American

Diplomacy

to 1939

113

was completely reorganized with the aid of a commission of prominent Dominicans, and the number of children enrolled was increased from 18,000 to nearly 100,000 with a great improvement in the daily attendance. In Haiti a Central School of Agriculture was established near Port-au-Prince to assist in a program for the improvement of agricultural conditions and to provide teachers for the rural schools. Here the success was certainly far less spectacular than at the other end of the island. The recruiting of teachers was very difficult from the beginning; the peasant class itself was too backward to provide personnel; and the members of the elite who were persuaded to participate in the program were often indifferent to the problems of agriculture, and by no means free from prejudice or snobbery in their dealings with the masses. But it may reasonably be assumed that the effort was not entirely wasted, and it was, indeed, continued in the period following the American withdrawal. In Haiti important steps were taken to deal with the problems of public health. American naval doctors set to work energetically to deal with the endemic diseases of the island, and they set up free clinics in many parts of the republic. Effective work was carried on in the Haitian towns by the institution of streetcleaning services, establishment of good water systems, and the control of the mosquito. Hospitals were built, and medical inspection of school children developed. A parallel program, though hardly an ambitious one, was carried through in the Dominican Republic. And in both cases it may fairly be said that the results achieved carried over into the period of restored independence. But what is perhaps more important than any of these things is the undeniable fact that the interventions were a failure so far as the inculcation of democratic habits was concerned. The constabularies created in the Dominican Republic and in Nicaragua were beyond all question useful agencies for the maintenance of public order; the cycle of revolutionary violence was broken, and a period of tranquillity ensued. But in both of these states the end result was the installation of the commander of the constabulary in the presidential chair, and in neither the one

ii4

The United, States and the Caribbean

state nor the other can the result be considered as heralding a halcyon period of popular rule. In Haiti the course of events was not precisely the same; but no one who has the slightest knowledge of the government of Francois Duvalier will be likely to maintain that popular government flourishes among the inhabitants of the black republic. One can go further than this. The interventions were deeply resented by the peoples concerned. In Nicaragua, during the early period, the country was quiet. But at the time of the second occupation the United States was not so fortunate. A guerrilla leader, Sandino by name, refused to accept the agreement by which the Nicaraguan factions, under American leadership, prepared the way for an honest and orderly election in 1929. Retiring to the north of the country Sandino engaged in raids that were always annoying and sometimes tragic, and in July of 1929 he wiped out an American garrison and a Nicaraguan guard unit at a place called Ocotal. It cannot be said that he secured widespread support, even from the Nicaraguans themselves. But his resistance was embarrassing, and it was naturally made the basis for constant agitation abroad against the imperialist United States. Far more significant were the difficulties met with in the Dominican Republic and in Haiti. In the first of these two countries there was a good deal of resistance to the occupation, and though it was easy to describe those who engaged in it as "bandits," to the naive Dominicans they often appeared in the guise of patriots. The military government was compelled to carry on fairly extensive operations in 1917 and 1918, especially in Seibo and Macoris provinces; and in addition to this it was led into acts of repression which had repercussions far beyond the island of Santo Domingo. In particular, its trial of the Dominican poet, Fabio Fiallo, for some not very incendiary remarks about the occupation, resounded throughout Latin America and did little to increase the prestige of the United States. Inevitably, too, under circumstances of guerrilla warfare, some acts of violence were committed by American marines which had no justification by any military code; and these acts, exaggerated and

American

Diplomacy

to 1939

115

inflated by the opponents of the intervention, naturally put the American government in an unenviable light in the forum of Latin American opinion. What was true in the Dominican Republic was true, a fortiori, in Haiti. There an attempt to revive the institution of the corvee, or forced labor, was the greatest factor in producing what can hardly be otherwise described than as an armed revolt against American rule. The disaffected among the Haitian politicians naturally did all that they could to foment the uprising, and the Haitians found a leader of some capacity in one Charlemagne Peralte. They were, of course, no match for the American marines in open combat. But they carried on a guerrilla warfare which took two years of military operations to suppress, and which resulted in the killing of something in the neighborhood of 1500 Haitians. And, as in the other end of the island, the circumstances of the conflict inevitably led to individual acts of brutality which were given an exaggerated importance in the critical press, and which could hardly fail to provoke widespread resentment. Naturally enough, neither the Haitians nor the Dominicans seemed to enjoy unreservedly being civilized from the outside; and this strange preference of theirs for conducting their own affairs in their own way was a circumstance of which, in the long run, the American people were bound to take note. There are other aspects of the interventions that need to be stressed. The arrangements of 1905 were carried through with relatively little criticism. But there was much opposition to the Knox treaties of 1911 with Nicaragua and Honduras, and perhaps the failure of these treaties indicates that there was no enthusiastic body of opinion behind the policy of financial tutelage. The interventions of 1915 and 1916 were not much attacked at the time; the course of events in Europe operated to distract attention from the Caribbean, while apprehension of a German victory may also have played a part in damping down criticism. But as soon as the war was over and a presidential campaign set afoot, an issue was once more made of our Caribbean policy; Senator Warren Harding, in the electoral contest of 1920, found himself much concerned, at least from the angle of partisan

116

The United States and the Caribbean

oratory, with the sad plight of the Dominicans and the Haitians. His views were well received in many quarters; and when the Republican candidate became President, they were implemented in action, under the distinguished leadership of Secretary of State Hughes. In the case of the Dominican Republic, indeed, this withdrawal was completed before the next election. Sumner Welles was sent to the island to negotiate the terms of the evacuation, and after months of patient and delicate negotiation the way was found, first to set up a provisional government, and then to provide for an election and the choice by the Dominicans of a permanent regime. B y the summer of 1924 the American marines had been withdrawn, and the Dominicans embarked once more upon the dangerous but inspiring course of national independence. One mark of tutelage, and one mark only, remained; the customs of the island were left under American administration, and the customs system set up under the American occupation was, so it was stipulated, not to be changed in essential respects. The Harding-Coolidge administration not only liquidated the Dominican intervention but also attempted to bring the occupation of Nicaragua to a close; and a few months after President Coolidge began his elective term the marines withdrew from Managua. But in this case events did not follow so smooth a course, and within two years the United States had intervened again. There was certainly much criticism of this second intervention; the justification that was offered of it, that there was a danger of Bolshevist influence in Central America, seemed to many persons to border on the absurd; and the Democrats in Congress attempted to make partisan capital out of the attitude of the administration. As a matter of fact, the Coolidge administration in this matter was distinctively on the defensive, and it soon recognized the fact. Henry L. Stimson was sent to Nicaragua to prepare the way for an honest election and the installation of a regime honestly chosen to assume power. B y 1933 the marines were withdrawn. These withdrawals suggest the reluctance of the American people to undertake the regimentation of others. The point

American Diplomacy

to 1939

117

ought not to be exaggerated; there is ambivalence in the American character, as in all national characters, but on the whole the American predisposition is away from the domination of other states by direct physical control. The reaction against interventionism was undeniably influenced by the attitude of the Latin American states themselves. The Pan American Union had been created in 1889. For many years the Pan American conferences that followed at intervals only rarely discussed purely political issues, but when the fifth of these conferences met in Santiago de Chile in 1923, there were distinct signs of resentment on the part of many of the Latin states at the interference of Washington in their affairs. A commission of jurists appointed by this conference adopted by acclamation a declaration branding intervention as illegal; and at the Sixth Pan American Conference at Havana it needed all the skill of Charles Evans Hughes, brought from retirement to defend American policy, to prevent the adoption of a resolution supporting the above-mentioned declaration. As it was, thirteen of the twenty-one states represented made strong pronouncements in support of it, and eight states, led by Argentina, took an even stronger position. So intense was the feeling that the secret discussions of the subcommittee were inevitably supplemented by debate at the plenary session, and, temporarily stilled in the morning, the controversy continued in the afternoon. There could, after all this, be little doubt of the trend of sentiment. The American delegation left Havana with a clear understanding of the depth of the opposition to the policies of the United States. The stage was being cleared for a new era in Latin American relations, for what was to be known as the "goodneighbor" policy. The "good-neighbor" policy is popularly connected with the name of Franklin D. Roosevelt. But a truer view will lay some emphasis on the initial measures which date from 1928. In that year Under Secretary of State Reuben J. Clark, at the request of Secretary of State Kellogg, drew up a remarkable memorandum on the Monroe Doctrine. The memorandum was not published at that time, and indeed it never became an oiEcial pronounce-

118

The United States and the Caribbean

ment—in the fullest sense. But in it occur the following words, with regard to the Roosevelt corollary: "It is not believed that this corollary is justified by the terms of the Monroe Doctrine, however much it may be justified by the application of the doctrine of self-preservation." This was not, it is clear, a disavowal of all interference in the affairs of other American states, but it showed which way the wind was blowing. So, too, did the action of the Senate when it ratified the Kellogg-Briand Pact in 1929. This treaty, which called for the renunciation of war as an instrument of national policy by its signatories, was not amended in any way by the Senate of the United States. But to it was added a sort of gloss, part of which dealt with the Roosevelt corollary. After analyzing the Doctrine in detail, the following words were written. The Doctrine "called no new rights into being; therefore, when it over-steps the principle of self-defense, reasonably interpreted, the right disappears, and the policy is questionable." The spirit behind this declaration guided the administration of Herbert Hoover. Both the President and his Secretary of State, Henry L. Stimson, were intent upon improving our relations with Latin America. The American marines were withdrawn from Nicaragua; and negotiations were undertaken, though not carried to conclusion, calling for the evacuation of Haiti. The Clark memorandum was widely circulated, and though no actual repudiation of the corollary was made and the right of intervention was not explicitly renounced, it began to become clear that the United States was altering the terms of its policy toward the states of the New World, and, specifically, toward the states of the Caribbean. It was, however, under President Franklin D. Roosevelt that the attitude toward the states of Latin America was clearly and precisely defined, and became known, in due course, as the policy of the good neighbor. The phrase had been used by the President in his inaugural address, and at the time had no restricted application, but was merely an expression of a general point of view. But it was repeated by Roosevelt in a speech which he made on Pan-American Day in 1933, and before long it came to be associated with American policy toward the states

American Diplomacy

to 1939

119

of the New World. It expressed in a nutshell what was the aspiration of the United States; but it needed years of laborious effort to translate it into a living reality, and the necessity for constant reaffirmation of its spirit will last, one might almost say, as long as the republic itself. The first opportunity for the Roosevelt administration to demonstrate its attitude came in connection with the affairs of Cuba. There, in the summer of 1933, the government of President Machado was becoming more and more inured to the methods of dictatorship. The economic situation was almost unrelievedly bad. Popular discontent had for some time been showing itself in acts of individual violence against the members of the Machado regime. The Hoover administration had stood by supinely, while conditions went from bad to worse. The succeeding administration took the view that the time had come to attempt to assist the Cuban people in some constitutional and orderly solution of their growing difficulties, and in the spring of 1933 Sumner Welles, who had already had wide experience in dealing with Latin American peoples, and who, it will be remembered, had presided over the elaborate negotiations which preceded American withdrawal from the soil of the Dominican Republic, was sent to Havana. It was the purpose of Welles to bring about by negotiation between the president and the opposition groups the withdrawal of the president from power. The administration and the opposition proved willing to accept his mediation. But before positive results were secured, a mutiny of the Cuban army took place, and Machado was forced to flee. A provisional regime under Dr. Carlos Manuel de Cespedes followed. The government that was formed in August 1933 was not, however, of long duration. At the beginning of September there occurred another mutiny in the army, under the leadership of Fulgencio Batista, who later became president of Cuba. Political leadership, in the confused conditions that then arose, came into the hands of Dr. Ramon Grau San Martin. The new government acted as, and indeed was, very much a government of the Left. If purely material considerations had controlled American policy,

i2o

The United States and the Caribbean

in the conditions that existed in the fall of 1933, it would have been extremely easy, under the Piatt Amendment, to have found justification for intervention. The situation was very serious. Sporadic rebellions broke out in various parts of the republic, and a condition of virtual anarchy existed. An administration less farsighted, or more subservient to the pressure of special interests, would probably have yielded to the temptation to restore order by forcible means. Not so the administration of President Roosevelt. In an extremely trying situation it held its hand, with what results will shortly appear. The administration of Grau San Martin was not recognized by the American government. This fact has, on occasion, been made a matter of reproach by American critics. It has been contended that while there was no physical intervention there was exerted a moral pressure which was hardly less objectionable and which derogated from the right of the Cuban people to determine their own destiny. But there is most certainly another side of the case, and it has been stated by Welles: "None of the established political parties, none of the commercial or business interests, no responsible labor organization, and only a few of the members of the professional classes supported the government." "I have always felt," he was to write at a later date, "that in view of the existence at that time of the Treaty of 1901, which granted this government the right of intervention in Cuba, and only because of that fact, the United States would have been derelict in its obligations to the Cuban people themselves had it given official support to a de facto regime which, in its considered judgment, was not approved by the great majority of the Cuban people, and which had shown itself so disastrously incompetent in every branch of public administration." For as long as the treaty containing the so-called "Piatt Amendment" continued in force, the Cuban people were persuaded that recognition of a government by the United States was tantamount to official American support for that government. Whether this view be fully accepted or not, it is certain that the Grau San Martin regime proved extremely shortlived and was overthrown by the Cuban people themselves. In January of

American Diplomacy

to 1939

121

1934 a new turn of the political wheel occurred. Grau San Martin, amidst a howling throng of his partisans, embarked for Mexico, and a well-known and highly respected Cuban, Carlos Mendieta, succeeded to the presidency. The new government was speedily recognized by Washington; and what was more important negotiations were soon entered into which resulted in the abrogation of the Piatt Amendment and the voluntary renunciation by the United States of its right to intervene in Cuba. But before the abrogation of the Piatt Amendment, events had occurred on a wider stage which accentuated and gave a more general character to the policy of the good neighbor. W e have already seen that throughout Latin America there was increasing dislike of the policy of intervention that had been practiced by the United States. The matter had been discussed at Havana; but there, largely owing to the position assumed by the American representative, no action had been taken. There was, by now, no doubt of either the theory or the desire of the other American republics; what they desired, and what they had made clear that they desired at Havana, was a definite incorporation of the principle of nonintervention into a convention, which should, to all intents and purposes, be declaratory of the American law of nations. And the opportunity for attaining this objective came with the Pan American conference which met at Montevideo in the fall of 1933. There the United States, under the leadership of Cordell Hull, was to make a vital contribution to the cause of international understanding and to carry forward in the most striking fashion the policy of the good neighbor. The proposal that came before the conference was phrased in extremely broad terms. It was a part of a projected convention on the Rights and Duties of States. It read as follows: "No state has a right to intervene in the internal or external affairs of another." This represented an immensely significant decision. It is not strange that the American delegation viewed so sweeping a statement of the law with some misgiving, and that in accepting it Hull stated that the United States reserved its rights as by "the law of nations generally recognized." But accept it he did, nonetheless.

i22

The United States and the Caribbean

The convention signed at Montevideo was ratified by the Senate of the United States without a single dissenting vote. Such action was impressive evidence of the manner in which American public opinion reacted to the doctrine of nonintervention. It furthermore underlined the fact that the policy of the good neighbor was not a partisan policy of a Democratic administration, but a national policy to which all elements in the country were committed. The direction of American diplomacy had been set; it remained to follow steadfastly along the course. In the year 1934, as we have already seen, the United States, of its own free will, gave up the Piatt Amendment. In the same year it withdrew its forces from the soil of Haiti, though it retained a measure of control over the customs. And in the same year it began negotiations with the republic of Panama that culminated in the treaty of 1936. By this important compact, which was finally concluded only after months of patient negotiation, Panama agreed, as partner of the United States, to take whatever measures might be necessary for the protection and defense of the Canal, and for its efficient maintenance and operation. The right of intervention in Panama, conceded by the treaty of 1903, was renounced. A large number of outstanding problems, which had long needed to be liquidated, were settled by supplementary agreements, which did justice to the views of the Panamanian state and improved its economic situation. The "good-neighbor" policy was thus being most effectively applied in practice in negotiations with individual states. Toward the end of the year 1936 another important step was taken. At the suggestion of the President of the United States the Argentine government called a conference to meet at Buenos Aires to consider the best ways of maintaining the peace of the Western Hemisphere and safeguarding its future security. At this conference the bases of the good-neighbor policy were affirmed and extended. On the one hand, the principle of nonintervention, accepted by the Conference of Montevideo, was reasserted in terms even more specific than those of three years before. It was furthermore provided that if any question arose as to the interpretation of the article in which the principle of

American Diplomacy

to 1939

123

nonintervention was laid down, resort should be had to the procedure of conciliation or arbitration or judicial settlement for the solution of the matter. This time the United States made no reservation whatever to the convention; and thus it again accepted, and this time accepted unequivocally, the most farreaching restraint on its own physical power and dedicated itself to the peaceful solution of controversies with other states of the New World. By 1936, then, the principle of nonintervention had been incorporated into the public law of the American states. Before we turn to the question of positive collaboration between these states, however, we must take note of the further engagement that was made in 1948. The protocols of 1933 and 1936 banned interference by any state in the affairs of another; but they left untouched the question of collective intervention. It remained for the Conference of Bogota, convened in 1948, to exclude this latter possibility. "No state or group of states," reads the language of the protocol, "has the right to intervene, directly or indirectly, for any reason whatever, in the internal or external affairs of any other state. The foregoing principle prohibits not only armed force but also any other form of interference or attempted threat against the personality of the state or against its political, economic and cultural elements." A more sweeping provision could hardly be imagined; it was, undoubtedly, accepted reluctantly by the United States, but, in theory at any rate, it stood and stands today as a signal example of Latin American sensitiveness to outside interference. In reviewing the engagements to which the United States has subscribed binding it to nonintervention in the affairs of the states of the New World, the question arises whether the American government completely surrendered its freedom of action. At first blush it might seem to have done so. And certainly the breadth and scope of the undertakings assumed suggests that the United States should hesitate, except in the most extreme circumstances, to act in contravention of the general principle it has accepted. But there are certain circumstances, as it seems to me, in which the safety of the nation must be regarded as

i24

The United States and the Caribbean

transcending the commitments we have been examining. They cannot be, and perhaps ought not to be, precisely defined. But when we come to discuss the events revolving around the Castro regime in Cuba and the problem of the Dominican Republic, we shall have an example of what is here meant, and we shall also discover that the Latin American states themselves are not disposed to apply in a completely rigid and doctrinaire manner the commitments taken at Montevideo, at Buenos Aires, and at Bogota. The era of the Roosevelt administration not only saw a new cordiality in the field of Pan-American relations, but it also saw the development of the principle of collective action against a possible threat from across the seas. It is indeed remarkable, and much to the credit of the Roosevelt administration, that as early as 1936, while the threats from German National Socialism and its egregious leader were still far from clear to many Americans, the President raised the question of measures of mutual defense to be taken by the nations of the New World. At the Conference of Buenos Aires, which he attended in person, he was able to secure the acceptance by the states of Latin America of the principle of consultation in the event that the peace of the American republics was threatened by a non-American power. And what is particularly interesting with regard to this agreement is that it was supported with the greatest warmth by some of the states of the Caribbean. Indeed, the Central American delegations wished to go further and to declare that all of the American nations should "consider as an attack upon themselves individually an attack which may be made by any nation upon the rights of another." It was not possible, it is true, to secure the acceptance of this proposition in the form in which it was put forward, but on the other hand, the Declaration actually accepted at Buenos Aires stated that "each act susceptible of disturbing the peace of the Americas affects each and every one of them, and justifies the initiation of the procedure of consultation." B y the good-neighbor policy the United States was drawing together the states of the N e w World in common antagonism to the threat that was developing across the Atlantic. A new step in the process was taken at Lima at the end of

American Diplomacy

to 1939

125

1938. The Convention of Buenos Aires, while providing for consultation, had not established any machinery by which such consultation might be initiated. This omission was remedied by the Conference at Lima, and it was provided that the meetings of the foreign ministers of the various states might take place on the call of any one of them. And at Lima, as at Buenos Aires, in the carrying out of its program the United States met with very effective support from the states of the Caribbean. Indeed, it is fair to say that no Latin American republic responded more cordially to the efforts of the United States to attain hemispheric solidarity than did those with which we are specially concerned in this study.

6. American Diplomacy in the Caribbean Since 1939

The close association of the Caribbean states with the United States was only strengthened by the events of the first years of World War II. W e may pass lightly over the Conference of Panama, which, occurring in the fall of 1939, was held under circumstances that still made it possible to believe that the N e w World would not be directly endangered by the war in Europe. But we can hardly deal so briefly with the course of events in 1940. The German conquest of France in the spring of that year created an entirely new situation and raised in direct form the question of the defense of the American hemisphere. The famous agreement by which the United States transferred to the British fifty over-age destroyers, in exchange for the right to establish bases on the British islands of the Caribbean, was the product of this period. But from the viewpoint of the good-neighbor policy the outstanding fact is the Conference of Havana. There the epochal declaration was made that "any attempt on the part of a non-American state against the integrity or inviolability of the territory, the sovereignty or the political independence of an American state shall be considered as an act of aggression against the States which sign this declaration." And, in addition to this, the machinery was provided whereby, if there appeared to be any danger that European possessions in the Caribbean might fall into the hands of Germany, the American nations might step in and set up a regime of provisional administration, conceived on

American

Diplomacy

Since 1939

127

broad lines, and thoroughly regardful of the rights of the inhabitants of these territories. It is a matter of significance that these agreements were signed in the capital of Cuba. The success of any conference can be much affected by the diplomatic atmosphere in which it takes place. And the achievements of the Conference of Havana bore a direct relationship to the strong feeling of the Caribbean states that in this international crisis they should cooperate to the full with the United States. The policy of the "good neighbor," in its relation to the Caribbean, was again affirmed when in December 1941 the Japanese launched their attack upon Pearl Harbor. Almost immediately, and in advance of a general Pan American Conference held at Rio de Janeiro, the states of Central America and the republics of the Caribbean declared war on the Axis. The very countries that had been the "victims" of American intervention, or that had observed that intervention at close range, now spontaneously and instantly aligned themselves with the United States. The period of the war itself was, in general, one of close cooperation between the Latin American states and the United States. It is true that the Argentine government pursued an independent policy until 1945, and that Chile only slowly came to collaboration, but in the Caribbean area things went extremely smoothly. For example, as early as June 1942 the Cuban government permitted the United States to establish on Cuban territory an operating base for the detection of German submarines. T w o additional agreements were later negotiated, permitting a still wider measure of cooperation. In the case of Panama a similar accord was reached which permitted the wider use of Panamanian territory; 138 installations had been constructed and put in operation before the end of the war. Costa Rica, El Salvador, Guatemala, and Nicaragua all agreed to facilitate American operations in one way or another. The truth of the matter is that the Pan-American spirit had never risen so high, and an excellent illustration of this fact was afforded by the events in San Francisco in the spring of 1945. In the deliberations on the Charter of the United Nations one of the principal points of debate was the right of the regional

128

The United States and the Caribbean

organization of the American states to act in its own sphere for the maintenance of peace. The Soviet delegation wished to forbid such action. Its proposal was unanimously and strongly rejected by the United States and by the nations of Latin America, and Article 51 of the Charter reserved to individual nations the inherent right of individual or collective defense, unless the Security Council had taken "measures necessary to maintain international peace and security." Moreover, and fully as important, the Latin American nations moved in the direction of a far-reaching collective security agreement with the United States. W e may pass over the Act of Chapultepec, which has a purely temporary significance, but we must note with great attention the Act of Rio of September 2, 1947. By this engagement the states of the N e w World declared that an attack against an American state was to be considered as an attack against all, and they agreed to undertake measures of assistance to the aggressed nation in ways to be determined by a conference of foreign ministers of the American states. Among the suggested measures were the recall of ambassadors, the breaking of diplomatic relations, economic coercion, and armed force. In a step without precedent, the Rio protocol declares that any of these steps (except recourse to armed force) shall be taken by all the states whenever agreed upon by two thirds of the signatories to the treaty. Thus the machinery for collective action was carried further than ever before. That the spirit of common action bloomed so vigorously in the Americas from the early thirties up to and beyond the end of the war is not, perhaps, remarkable. The policy of the United States sedulously avoided the creation of friction; the Latin Americans were finding, as we have indicated, substantial markets in the United States; American investors were beginning to think more highly of Latin America. The war opened up a new avenue of trade. Nor must we omit from consideration the ideological elements of the problem. There may have been Latin Americans who saw something to admire in the totalitarianism of Hitler and of Mussolini. But there were certainly others to whom it was repugnant. Nor was the prospect agreeable of

American Diplomacy Since 1939

129

seeing the Fuehrer and his lieutenants establish themselves on this side of the Atlantic. The sentiment of national independence reinforced the democratic ideal. As the war came to an end, both North and South Americans might feel with reason that they had exorcised a terrible danger, and that bright days lay ahead. The years from 1947 to 1965 belie the bright view of the future that was widely held in 1947. For the United States, wherever it has looked, has faced new problems. The same has been true for Latin America. At the root of the matter lie the tensions that exist in the social order of many states in both the Old World and the New, and the competition of two systems of political, economic, and social organization for the favor of mankind. As we now look back on the period of the war, it is amazing how many mature persons (the author included) looked forward to some kind of accommodation between the United States and the Soviet Union. Such a happy event, in our present perspective, seems most decidedly too much to hope for. All alliances exhibit centrifugal tendencies in the moment of victory. The appearance of these tendencies after 1945 was foreordained when one considers the widely differing dreams of the future cherished on the one hand by the rulers in the Kremlin and on the other by the great body of the American people! It was certain that in Europe, in Asia, and in America there should develop new tensions and new problems. It is perhaps relevant to the study of the events of the period that the United States faced a serious challenge, first in Europe and then in Asia, and that Latin American affairs were by comparison neglected. Though it is hard to realize the fact today, Europe faced economic demoralization at the end of the war. In addition it did not seem fantastic to assume that the immense armed power of the Soviet Union might be used to extend the Russian domination far beyond its own borders. Confronted by this situation, the American government riposted, first with the Marshall plan, which played a key role in restoring Western Europe to economic health, and second by the forging of the North Atlantic Treaty, which, departing from the precedents

130

The United States and the Caribbean

of more than a hundred and fifty years, committed the United States to the defense of its associates by the full use of its military power. But this was not all. Scarcely had the European scene been stabilized than trouble broke out in the Far East. In the defense of the Charter of the United Nations, the United States found itself involved in Korea, and a war of substantial proportions engaged its energies in that part of the world until an armistice was negotiated with the Chinese Communists in 1953. Events so portentous and so far-reaching left little room for deep consideration of the problems of Latin America; and it is not strange that by comparison this area was neglected. This neglect became even more striking in the secretariat of John Foster Dulles and during the Eisenhower administration. While vast sums were being expended in Europe and Asia, the American government contented itself in the main with homilies on democracy and capitalism, and with adjurations to the states of the New World to emulate the excellent example of the United States. The Latin Americans, on their part, were naturally affected by that postwar nationalism which is likely to come at the end of any war. They were inclined to find themselves aggrieved. At the same time the weaknesses of the economic order in many of these states provided a natural field for the growth of revolutionary agitation. Moreover, the economic situation deteriorated as time went on. The terms of trade between the Latin American states and the United States tended to become worse—that is, American prices for things bought by Latin America rose while prices of things sold by Latin America remained unchanged—and this kind of economic discomfiture did little to improve the climate of international relations. In a sense these facts had much to do with the general trend of American policy in the Caribbean. At the outset of the twelve year period, 1953-1965, our Latin American neighbors showed a massive indifference to movements that the American government associated with Communism; they stood firmly on the principle of nonintervention. It was only as time went on, however, that the scene changed, and in the course of the last few years the possibility of common action against the machinations of the

American

Diplomacy

Since

1939

131

Communists appears to have become somewhat greater. But these generalizations will become clearer if we examine the three major threats to the American order: the Communist movement in Guatemala in 1953-54, the Castro coup in Cuba in 1959, and the events in the Dominican Republic in 1965. Let us look first at the situation in Guatemala. W e have already called attention to the overthrow of President Ubico in 1944 and the establishment of a Left-oriented regime under President Arevalo. This regime, Leftist but certainly not Communist, was succeeded in 1950 by one under Colonel Jacopo Arbenz, clearly under Communist influence. B y the end of 1953, the Communists controlled the trade-union movement; they had done quite a bit to organize the agrarian workers; and they had representatives both in the Congress and in the government. Moreover, the course of Guatemalan politics affected materially the economic interests of the United States. The ambitious land-reform program set in motion under Arevalo resulted in the summer of 1953 in the expropriation of a large part of the lands held by the United Fruit Company (234,000 of some 332,000 acres), with very meager provision for eventual compensation in the form of nonnegotiable bonds in the amount of $600,000. There were other facts that were bound to cause concern in Washington. Guatemalan delegations began to travel more and more frequently to Moscow; on the death of Stalin in March 1953 the Guatemalan House of Representatives observed a moment of silent tribute. It was not likely that the trend would be accepted without demur by the Eisenhower administration. T h e first important step was to bring the situation before the Tenth Pan American Conference which met in Caracas in March 1954. What the American delegation, headed by Secretary Dulles, desired was a strong resolution condemning the state of affairs in Guatemala and pledging the members of the American community to appropriate action. But the results were not all that could have been hoped. The general atmosphere of the meeting was very far from that of cordial cooperation with the United States. What seemed important to many of the statesmen assembled at the capital of Venezuela was that the sovereign principle

132

The United States and the Caribbean

of nonintervention set forth in the protocols of Montevideo and Buenos Aires should not be violated, and that no opportunity should be given the United States to embark again upon the policy of intervention that had been so roundly condemned twenty years before. Indeed, one of the most democratic nations in Latin America, Costa Rica, had refused to come to the conference, suspecting that the American delegation would press for action that it could not approve. On the other hand, the representatives of the Latin American states did not wish to affront the United States directly. The result was a resolution that went part of the way. The conference went on record to the effect that "any threat to the sovereignty and political independence of the American states" would "endanger the peace of the Americas." But instead of outlining a mode of action, the resolution merely declared that in case such a threat existed a meeting of consultation would be called. Furthermore, the warm reception given to the Guatemalan delegate when he opposed the resolution indicated only too well that the sympathies of many of the delegates were with the little republic. The Uruguayan delegate was probably not far wrong when he remarked that the resolution was adopted "without enthusiasm, without joy, and without the feeling that we were contributing to the adoption of a constructive measure." Before we discuss the events that followed, we should pause to reflect for a moment upon the significance of the position taken by our "southern neighbors." To many Americans it might seem a matter for resentment; but let the reader not indulge in any such emotion. Let him recognize the strength of national feeling and the historical distrust of American power; let him also wait for the conclusion of this chapter, which will give him a broader and a truer picture of the relationship of Latin America to the United States. On the heels of the Caracas Conference there followed important events that were to lead eventually to the fall of the Arbenz regime. In May a strike of banana workers in the neighboring republic of Honduras, a strike undoubtedly fomented from Guatemala, increased the atmosphere of tension. In the same

American

Diplomacy

Since 1939

133

month news came out that a cargo of 2000 tons of armaments had arrived in Guatemala from Czechoslovakia. On June 18 a counterrevolutionary force headed by one Castillo Armas, a Guatemalan of some repute, having gathered forces in Honduras, crossed the frontier, and began a march toward the capital. There followed some exciting days. Guatemala appealed to the Security Council of the United Nations to take action; the United States opposed such action with vigor. This time the United States position was supported, and on the suggestion of Brazil and Argentina the question was referred to the Organization of American States. Thus the danger of Soviet intermeddling was averted. On June 21 an Inter-American Peace Committee was set up; on the 25th the Senate of the United States passed by a unanimous vote, 69 members voting, a resolution endorsing the position of the administration on the jurisdictional issue and favoring support of the Organization of American States "in taking appropriate action to prevent any interference by the international Communist movement in the affairs of the Western hemisphere." On June 27 President Arbenz resigned, turning over his authority to a provisional government. A period of some confusion followed. But this came to an end with the assumption of presidential power by Castillo Armas on July 8. The Communist danger had been exorcised. The intriguing question with regard to the overthrow of the Arbenz regime and the subsequent events is what was the role of the United States. Before answering that question, it is necessary to emphasize the fact that fundamentally the ousting of the Communists came from within. It was the refusal of the army to march against the insurgents that cooked Arbenz's goose. Discontent with the drift of the Arbenz regime had existed for some time before the events just described; on at least three occasions the military leaders had called on the president to express their disquietude and to interrogate him; on all of these occasions they received no satisfaction. In turning against him, they determined the fate of the regime. In doing so, they were no doubt influenced by a general dislike of Communism; but they must, one would think, have been still more disturbed when the presi-

i34

The United States and the Caribbean

dent raised the question of arming the workers and the peasantry in defense of his regime. T o these fundamental facts one other must be added. The counterrevolution of June 1954 was accompanied by no important disturbances among the beneficiaries of the revolution, or in any important element of the population. Without being entirely categorical on the subject, this seems to suggest that the Arbenz government was not so much responding to a deep-seated popular discontent, as that it had been captured by a revolutionary group which was serving objects of its own. The overthrow of the government, it must be repeated, was due not to the strength of the movement directed against it but to its own inherent weakness in terms of power. T o say this, however, is not to say that the United States had no part in the events we have just narrated. John E. Peurifoy, our ambassador in Guatemala City at the time, was a diplomat of high ability and much vigor. It is likely that he was playing a role behind the scenes before the outbreak of the revolution. On the day of the resignation of President Arbenz, Peurifoy had conferred with the Army Chief of Staff, Colonel Diaz, endorsed the movement to get rid of the president, and offered some strong advice as to the desirability of excluding the Communists from any government that might be formed. In the next two days, he appears to have intervened decisively in Guatemalan politics. He distrusted Diaz; he had a part first in replacing him with a more reliable anti-Communist, Colonel Monζόη, and then in participating in conferences held between Monζόη and Castillo Armas in the city of El Salvador in the course of the next few days. It was probably due to his influence that on July 8 Μοηζόη accepted Castillo as the head of the Guatemalan state. It is sometimes stated that the American government supplied the forces of Castillo with the arms and ammunition necessary to the launching of the revolution. This charge has not been proved. Indeed, the equipment that the Guatemalan rebels possessed was hardly such as would have come from the American arsenal. But the American government did send arms to Hon-

American

Diplomacy

Since 1939

135

duras and to Nicaragua as an answer to the Czechoslovakian shipment to Arbenz, and it is to be taken f o r granted that some encouragement was given to the Honduran government, and probably some direct encouragement to Castillo Armas himself. On the other side of the Atlantic, the cynical view of the matter was widely prevalent. What was the difference, people sometimes asked, between American support of an anti-Communist element in Guatemala and Chinese support of Communists in Vietnam? A pithy answer to this question was given by Richard P. Stebbins in The United States in World Affairs for 1954: " T h e difference in reality was nothing less than the difference between Communism and anti-Communism—between a movement that recognized no laws except those f o r its own advancement, and a resistance that sought to uphold the fundamental legal and ethical principles of Western civilization." "Events in Guatemala," Mr. Stebbins continued, "may not have conformed very exactly to the doctrine of non-intervention, and may not have set an altogether wholesome precedent in inter-American relations. Their justification must be sought in the extraordinary challenge which was being directed at the basis of the interAmerican system. What the United States did was to intervene, against foreign intervention, in order to restore Guatemala's national sovereignty." Of the course of Guatemalan politics since 1954 w e have had occasion to speak earlier in this volume. Certainly the events of the last decade operate to f o r t i f y the conviction that the Communist movement in Guatemala had no deep roots in the social and economic conditions in the republic. It was, as Communism is apt to be, the manipulation of the forces to reform to its own ends. T h e Guatemalan revolution that followed the ousting of Ubico began as a genuinely liberal movement. It was not altogether effective, but it was worthy of some respect. But it was perverted and captured by the doctrinaires. As late as 1949 it was thought that the successor to the Arevalo regime would be one Colonel Arana, who was decidedly anti-Communist. His assassination paved the w a y f o r Arbenz, and Arbenz, either through simplicity or weakness, opened the door to the extreme Left. It

136

The United States and the Caribbean

would, therefore, be a cardinal error to assume that in Guatemala, or for that matter elsewhere, Communism is the inevitable answer to the social and economic problems that appear in the life of Central America. Let us turn to Cuba. In this case, even more than in the case of Guatemala, the explanation of what occurred is not to be found in a fundamentally unhealthy economic and social situation. Cuba was one of the two or three most prosperous Latin American states. The average per capita income was one of the highest in the Latin American world. There was a strong labor movement that was, in fact, coddled by the Batista regime, and the average level of wages was high. In the countryside there was much unemployment, largely because Cuba's chief crop, sugar, was a seasonal industry. But there was no widespread evidence of social unrest, except possibly in the mountains of Oriente, in eastern Cuba. There was, however, much discontent with the Batista regime. Its dictatorical character was evident. Its corruption was notorious. Its repressive measures became more and more brutal. The substantial middle class in Cuba was strongly opposed to the government. Their hope lay, not in a sweeping revolution, but in a revolt that would install a democratic government in power, purge Cuba of corruption, and embark upon a course of moderate and intelligent social reform. Of Fidel Castro it is difficult to speak with assurance. Was he from the beginning a Communist or did he become one? It is not possible to answer this question. He first struck at the Batista government in 1953, when he attacked the garrison at Santiago. Defeated and jailed, he was amnestied in 1955, and in 1956 he appeared in the province of Oriente. There he attracted first the discontented peasants and, only slowly, won the favor of the middle classes. As early as July 1957 he made a bid for their support by giving an "absolute guarantee" that he would respect the individual and political rights of Cubans and prepare the way for general elections when he came to power. He made a similar statement in December of the same year. Uniting with other anti-Batista groups in the summer of 1958, he reiterated

American Diplomacy

Since 1939

137

his pledge for a third time. It was under false pretenses, therefore, as the event was to prove, that he won ever-widening support. This support was not confined to the island of Cuba. In the United States there was a strong movement in his favor. The New York Times, perhaps the most influential of American newspapers, through its experienced correspondent, Herbert L. Matthews, took a highly favorable view of the Castro movement, picturing it as a movement of redemption from a brutal and corrupt tyranny. The position of the State Department was less committed, as was natural. It disliked the Batista regime; it was, in general, favorable to movements that promised democratic government and evidenced some social concern for the masses; but it was hampered by the tradition that had been pretty generally observed during the long period since 1933, the tradition of nonintervention in the affairs of the states of the New World. Yet it took one step that may well have contributed to the collapse of Batista. Under the terms of an agreement negotiated in 1954, the United States had been supplying the Batista government with materials of war; by the terms of the agreement, these materials were to be used for external defense and not for the suppression of internal discontent. This agreement President Batista violated; and in March of 1958 the Washington administration suspended a shipment of war materials to the island. How deeply this affected the situation it is not possible to state with exactitude; our then-ambassador at Havana, Earl B. Smith, has stated that it had an important effect in undermining the morale of the Cuban army. Certain it is that the army morale did decline, and the Batista government became progressively unable to maintain order. At the turn of the year the government collapsed, and Fidel Castro, the leader of the revolutionists, entered the Cuban capital in triumph, while Batista sought shelter abroad. There is one aspect of these events that deserves emphasis before we proceed with the story, even though what is involved is repetition of a point already made. The victory of the Left in Cuba followed the course that has been followed in most Communist revolutions. It is common to trace such revolutions to popular and social discontent, but something more is needed

138

The United States and the Caribbean

to ensure success, and that something is the collapse of the public authority as represented in the armed forces. In 1917 and 1918 Lenin and Trotsky took advantage of the disintegration of the Russian armies to install themselves in power; the rise of Mao Tse-tung in China was prefaced by the demoralization of the forces of Chiang Kai-shek; the installation of Communist governments in Eastern Europe followed on the dissolution of the old regimes and was supported by the bayonets of the Soviet Union. In appraising the Communist threat, we must take account of this important generalization; and while this should in no way diminish our sympathy with the process of social progress in other parts of the world, it should serve as a reminder that not all social discontent flowers in revolution, and that social orders, even rather unattractive ones, have very often a remarkably durable existence. As to Castro's intentions in the winter of 1959, it is best, as we have already said, not to speak with too much confidence. He came to the United States in April and even this early seems to have declined the helping hand extended to him by the Americans. This does not necessarily mean that he was a Communist; dislike of the Americans can easily be explained on other grounds. Indeed, we cannot understand the course of events in Cuba without taking account of the fact that American "imperialism," as it was called, was frequently and widely detested by many Latin Americans. The role of American capitalism was depreciated, and the domination of American business was regarded with distrust and aversion. In 1959 American capital controlled about 40 per cent of Cuban sugar production, about 80 per cent of the iron industry, about 90 per cent of the cattle industry and the mining industry. So powerful an external influence was bound to awaken antagonism. One aspect of the Cuban revolution was nationalism, a nationalism which was not only illustrated in Cuba, but which found expression in 1958 in the hostile reception that Vice-President Nixon met in Lima and in Caracas on the occasion of his tour of the nations of the South. Yet the facts as to the happenings of the months following the revolution are undoubted. The Castro regime moved toward the

American

Diplomacy

Since 1939

139

Left, displacing and driving into exile the many moderate men who had supported the movement in good faith, imprisoning many others, declining to set a date for the promised elections, extending a more and more complete control over the press, paying more and more heed to those elements that were Communist or pro-Communist, and permitting and encouraging the capture of the Cuban labor movement by the Communist elements. As more and more Cubans fled to the United States and there began political activities directed against the government in Havana, the wrath of Castro knew no bounds. He denounced the failure of the American government to control the refugees, and on at least one occasion he rigged an incident involving the flight of planes over Cuba in order to dramatize to his own people the hostility of Washington. In the spring of 1959 the Cuban government enacted an agrarian reform law, which did indeed provide for some compensation for expropriated properties, but which provided this compensation in the form of long-term nonconvertible bonds (which, as a matter of fact, were never issued). What was worse, from Havana there went forth expeditions intended to revolutionize other Caribbean states, and though none of these expeditions was successful, they naturally awakened much resentment in Washington. An acid exchange took place between the Cuban and American governments in October. As the year advanced, the moderate elements in the Castro regime were gradually eliminated. The first president of the republic under Castro, Urrutia, was ousted in July and replaced by Osvaldo Dorticos, a Communist lawyer. In November, Felipe Pazos was dismissed as president of the National Bank, and Ernesto Guevara, an Argentine Communist who was close to Castro, succeeded him. The Cuban Labor Federation came into Communist hands, and confiscations of American property began in earnest. The president began to whip up Cuban feeling by predicting, quite gratuitously, that the country might have to defend itself against the United States "with weapons at hand." In i960 events moved more rapidly. In February the Soviet Vice-Premier, Anastas Mikoyan, made a visit to Havana and

140

The United States and the Caribbean

signed an agreement with the Cuban premier to buy a million tons of sugar in each of the next five years, promising Cuba a credit of $100,000,000. In May diplomatic relations were reestablished with the Soviet Union, and this step was followed with similar action as to Poland and Czechoslovakia. In June the Cuban government demanded that the Esso and Texaco refineries in Cuba refine Soviet oil, and when this demand was refused, the refineries were seized. In July a nationalization law was passed, authorizing the expropriation of American properties, with inadequate provision for compensation. Statement followed statement in Moscow and Havana proclaiming the close friendship of Cuba and the Soviet Union. On July 9, Nikita Khrushchev declared that in case of necessity Soviet artillerymen would support the Cuban people with rocket fire, and a few days later he declared that the Monroe Doctrine was dead. "It should be borne in mind," said the Soviet premier, "that the United States is not now at such an unattainable distance from the Soviet Union. Figuratively speaking, if need be Soviet artillery can support the Cuban people with their rocket fire should the aggressive forces in the Pentagon dare to start intervention against Cuba." Such language was naturally not received with pleasure in Washington, and two days later President Eisenhower declared that the United States would not be deterred from its responsibilities by any threats or permit the establishment of a regime dominated by international Communism in this hemisphere. This only stirred the Russian premier to a new reply, and Washington to a new counterreply. On July 12, speaking sarcastically of the President's warning, Khrushchev declared that the Monroe Doctrine has "outlived its time" and "should be buried as every dead body is." He was answered by a reaffirmation of the Doctrine from the State Department. In the same period, Ernesto Guevara warned that Cuba was defended by the Soviet Union, the greatest military power in history, and the head of the armed forces, Raul Castro, publicly expressed gratitude for the "moral and political support of the Soviet Union." The list of challenges might be multiplied, but enough has been said to understand the natural resentment arising in Washington.

American

Diplomacy

Since 1939

141

In the meantime public sentiment against Castro was gathering in the United States. In Congress there was rising criticism of the administration for its forbearance. A weapon of retaliation lay at hand. Cuba, as we have already noted, enjoyed special privileges with regard to the importation of sugar into the United States. In March the President raised the question of cutting off this privilege. The row over the oil refineries seems to have sparked action. In June a bill was reported in the House of Representatives authorizing the President to reallocate the sugar quota. On July 5 the measure had passed both Houses and been signed by President Eisenhower, and all imports of Cuban sugar were virtually cut off for the rest of the year. Such a step was decisive. It could have been predicted that it would sooner or later be followed by a breach of relations. This breach came, however, only in January of 1961. The occasion for it was an insulting demand by Castro that the American Embassy staff at Havana be reduced from 300 to 11 men within forty-eight hours, and that the rest of the American personnel leave the island. Before it surrendered power to the new President in January, moreover, the Eisenhower administration had begun an enterprise that was to have far-reaching implications and subject the United States to a humiliating defeat. It seems likely that as early as March i960 plans were laid for the encouragement of the Cuban exiles in the invasion of Cuba. These plans were under the direction of the Central Intelligence Agency, which proceeded to provide funds and weapons of war. Cuban training centers were set up in Nicaragua and Guatemala; attempts were made to unite the various Cuban factions; and high hopes were entertained of the imminent overthrow of the Castro regime. There was no thought of direct American intervention; but the Chiefs of Staff gave their approval to a Cuban-directed effort to effect a landing on the island, which, it was too confidently expected, would result in a general uprising. It was this scheme that the new President was called upon to approve within a few months of his entry into office. The decision was taken in the first days of April at a meeting of the National Security Council. It was taken by the highest

142

The United States and the Caribbean

officers of the government. The Secretary of State, the Secretary of Defense, the head of the CIA and the Assistant Secretary of State for Latin American Affairs were all involved. The only dissenting voice was that of Senator Fulbright, the chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, who doubted the whole enterprise and argued that if the invasion should fail, it might easily lead to direct intervention and the hostility of most of Latin America. With such an array of governmental authority on the other side, it is not strange that the President gave his consent to the enterprise. Yet what was to follow illustrates an important principle with regard to the conduct of foreign policy. In domestic affairs, the wise course is usually the reconciliation of diverse interests, in other words, the course of compromise. In foreign affairs, on the other hand, one must often make a clear-cut decision for or against a positive course of action. The middle of the road is often the path of frustration. So it was to be in this case. The choice, as it appears in retrospect, lay between resolute support of the anti-Castro forces or complete abstention from their enterprise. The landing of the Cuban exiles, which has become popularly known as the episode of the Bay of Pigs, was, from the beginning, one long chapter of mistakes. The invasion was clearly indicated in advance by the activities of the press; forewarning was given of the landing on the 17th by an air raid on Havana on the 15th; there was no effective contact with the Cuban underground; the air cover provided was inferior to that possessed by Castro, and, in accordance with predetermined policy, no assistance was given to the landing force by the American naval vessels which had convoyed the invasion force to Cuban territorial waters. An astute student of the episode has described it as one of those rare events in history—a perfect failure. It is perhaps worthwhile to pause a moment before continuing with the story of American-Cuban relations. There can be no moral objection to many of the clandestine activities of the kind carried on by the CIA; every government indulges in them, and only the unsophisticated are likely to be shocked by them. But

American

Diplomacy

Since 1939

143

of American activities of this kind two things can be said: they are made more difficult than they are for other governments by the zeal of the American press; and it seems dubious policy to combine the carrying on of such activities with the virtual right to make the crucial decisions. In the Bay of Pigs fiasco the other agencies of the government permitted the CIA to carry out a project without really analyzing it, and the result was disastrous. Yet the fiasco led to other events with regard to Cuba the issue of which was highly favorable to the United States and brought the question of Cuban-American relations into the sphere of world politics. W e speak of the great confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union which took place in the fall of 1962. Before we do so, however, we should say something of the attitude of the Latin American states, and in particular of the Caribbean states, to the Cuban problem. There was, of course, in the Caribbean region itself an increasing antagonism to the Castro regime. After all, Castro had sought to stir up revolution in Panama and Guatemala, and had boasted of a still larger purpose, the communization of the Continent. If the vote had been left to the states concerned in this study, the judgment by 1961 would have been plain. But the greater states took a different view. In many of them there existed substantial sympathy with the Cuban revolution and a disposition to believe that, whatever its methods, its objectives were such as might be approved by those who desired a reformation of the social order. Moreover, as we have seen, the principle of nonintervention is dear to the Latin American mind, only to be abandoned in very extraordinary circumstances. It thus fell out that at the Conference of the InterAmerican Economic and Social Council in Punta del Este in Uruguay in the summer of 1961, it proved possible to secure only the passage of a rather anemic resolution, which laid stress on the devotion of the Americas to democratic principles but avoided any direct reference to Cuba. Matters went better in the second Punta del Este Conference of January 1962. Again, it was the larger and more influential states that were most reluctant to commit themselves. But this time

i44

The United States and the Caribbean

the pressure for action, especially by the Caribbean states, was more vigorous. The key resolution of the conference declared that the Castro regime had excluded itself from participation in the inter-American system by embracing Marxist Leninism. The vote was 14 in the affirmative, with 6 countries abstaining. Cuba, still represented, voted "no," and its delegate, President Dorticos, left the conference. The Caribbean states all voted in the affirmative, though it is only right to say that the government of F r a n c i s Duvalier was only persuaded to such action by an American promise to resume the program of economic aid to Haiti which had been suspended some time before. Having thus expressed itself on the fundamental issue, the conference went further. By a vote of 20 to 1, Cuba was specifically excluded from the Inter-American Defense Board; by 16 affirmative votes the trade in arms with Cuba was suspended, and the Council was asked to study an embargo on other articles of commerce; a resolution was adopted warning the peoples of the hemisphere of Communist subversion and directing the creation of a Special Consultative Committee on Security. When Castro appealed from these measures to the Security Council of the United Nations, a warm debate took place there which resulted in the defeat of a Czechoslovakian resolution calling for a peaceful settlement of the Cuban-American dispute, with the Latin American states supporting the Washington administration. By 1962, to put the matter generally, the tide had begun to run in favor of the United States. W e now turn to the decision of the Kremlin to place nuclear weapons in Cuba. There had been a period of blandishment in Russo-American relations in 1959; Premier Khrushchev had visited President Eisenhower in Camp David in an atmosphere of relative cordiality; and the way had been prepared for a conference in Paris from which the congenital optimists might hope an improvement in the world situation would come. But in the spring of i960 an American plane engaged in espionage had been shot down over the Soviet Union; the Russian leader had come to Paris only to engage in a violent tantrum and to demand an apology on the part of the United States; and

American

Diplomacy

Since 1939

145

the conference itself had broken up. In the fall both Khrushchev and Castro had appeared at the meeting of the United Nations Assembly in New York and had with abandon insulted the American government, embraced each other with enthusiasm, and presented a spectacle that was certainly not of happy augury for the future. When the new administration came into power, the Russian premier was obviously in a truculent mood. Moreover, he desired perhaps to test the nerve of the new Chief Executive; and the episode of the Bay of Pigs could hardly have been said to have presented to him a picture of steely American resolution. When he met with President Kennedy in Vienna in June, he apparently did not take seriously the warnings of his adversary. "I have taught that young man what fear is," he is reputed to have said. And it is entirely possible that he was confirmed in a low opinion of the courage of the American government when the East Germans were permitted to build a wall shutting off West Berlin from East Berlin and closing the door to the flood of refugees that had been a constant demonstration of the unpopularity of the Communist regime of East Germany. At any rate, some time in the course of 1962 the decision was taken to implant missile weapons in Cuba, weapons which could bring under their fire a large part of the United States and northern South America. In the execution of this manoeuver the Soviet Union operated clandestinely; it insisted that the only measures it was taking to assist Cuba from the military view were purely defensive, and Khrushchev even declared that Russia's own nuclear weapons were so powerful that there was no need of installing weapons in the New World. Gromyko, the Russian foreign minister, professed Russia's pacific purpose to President Kennedy at a meeting in October. The administration acted cautiously and deliberately, but with a clear sense of direction. As early as September 7, the President asked for authority to recall reservists to the number of 250,000. On the 13th, he stated explicitly that if the security of the United States were threatened, everything necessary would be done to protect the people of the United States and

The United States and the Caribbean their allies. On the 26th, in support of the President, Congress passed without debate a joint resolution declaring that the United States was determined "to prevent by whatever means necessary, including the use of arms, the Marxist-Leninist regime in Cuba from extending by force or the use of force its aggressive or subversive activities to any part of this hemisphere; to prevent in Cuba the creation or use of an externally supported capability endangering the security of the United States; and to work with the Organization of American States and with freedom-loving Cubans to support the aspirations of the Cuban people for self-determination." October 2, acting on American initiative, the Organization of American States sounded the alarm. It was only on the 14th, however, that decisive evidence of the Russian purpose was in the hands of the administration. Even then there were delays and consultations. But on the 22nd the President electrified the nation in a televised address. He declared that "this secret, sudden, clandestine decision to station strategic weapons for the first time outside the Soviet soil—is a deliberately provocative and unjustified change in the status quo which cannot be accepted by this country if our courage and our commitments are ever to be trusted again by either friend or foe." He followed this up by proclaiming a strict quarantine of all offensive military equipment under shipment to Cuba, and directing the navy to enforce this quarantine. "Should these offensive military preparations continue," he went on, "further action will be justified. I have directed the armed forces to be prepared for all eventualities." In another pithy sentence he declared: "It shall be the policy of this nation to regard any nuclear missile launched from Cuba against any nation in the Western Hemisphere as an attack by the Soviet Union on the United States requiring a full retaliatory response upon the Soviet Union." Finally, he demanded removal of the Russian missiles and bombers in Cuba under international inspection. Five hectic days followed. The Organization of American States on October 23 endorsed the position of the President. On the same day, in a powerful speech, Adlai Stevenson, the American representative in the Security Council of the United Nations,

American

Diplomacy

Since 1939

147

indicted the Russian government. On the 25th, at a second meeting, he directly challenged the Russian member of the Council to affirm or deny the presence of missiles in Cuba. "You can answer 'Yes* or ' N o , ' " he declared. "Don't wait for the translation. You have denied that they exist—and I want to know whether I have understood you correctly. I am prepared to wait for my answer until hell freezes over if that is your decision. I am also prepared to present the evidence in this room." The Russian shuffled and evaded. On October 28 Khrushchev yielded. He agreed to remove the weapons of which the United States complained and the substantial number of Russian bombers that had been placed in Cuba. The events that we have been describing are of the first importance. The international inspection which the United States had demanded in the President's speech of October 22 never came about. Fidel Castro firmly refused to permit any such inspection on his own territory. There was also a substantial time lag in the removal of the bombers. But the removal of the missiles was verified by inspection of the vessels that carried them back to the Soviet Union, and the security of the United States was fully protected by the aerial reconnaissance carried on over Cuba. The reconstitution of the sites would be quite impossible to conceal. The major danger had been averted. The portentous nature of the crisis is best illustrated by the fact that in another five days the weapons might have been completely installed and have become operational. We shall not expatiate here upon the broad international results of the crisis of 1962. It was followed by a diminution of tension in the field of Russo-American relations that, however, temporary it might prove to be, was a matter of gratification to most Americans. But the questions that concern us more closely are whether further action should have been taken and what effect the incident had on the prestige of Castro himself. The second question is answered more easily than the first. Castro had begun his presidency with the good will of a large part of Latin America. His professions of social reform were widely believed; his baiting of the United States aroused no

148

The United States and the Caribbean

widespread indignation. But it was an entirely different thing to conspire with a faraway power to terrorize the nations of the N e w World. It is not by chance that by the end of 1964 only one Latin American nation still maintained diplomatic relations with the Cuban leader, and that the Organization of American States had passed unanimously a resolution calling for the suspension of trade with Cuba and the eventual diplomatic boycott of Havana. As to the policies of the United States, it is rarely very useful to dogmatize as to what might have been done that was not done. There was a certain body of opinion that believed that advantage ought to have been taken of the obvious discomfiture of the Kremlin to press Castro harder and harder, perhaps to blockade Cuba, even to intervene. W e know indeed that in the consultations President Kennedy held with his principal advisers in those hectic days of October, there were those who favored the drastic course of bombing the missile sites. W e also know that influential voices were raised on the other side, the voice of Attorney General Robert Kennedy and that of Secretary of Defense McNamara. The final decision, of course, rested with the President himself. He well knew the violent opposition in the rest of Latin America that intervention would arouse, and he had no disposition to undertake the reorganization of the distracted island, to engage in what might well be prolonged and expensive military operations (operations expensive in lives as well as in money), to set the past upon its throne, or to undertake a new tutelage. His policy was to cut off trade with Cuba as far as this could be done by legislative and diplomatic means; to hope that the Kremlin would find its little venture in the N e w World both expensive and frustrating; and to wait for time to solve the problem of Cuba's future. That this policy was entirely satisfactory no one would be likely to argue; in particular the economic boycott of Cuba was difficult to maintain in the face of the desire of some of our allies to trade, but there were those, nonetheless, who agreed with Senator Fulbright that by 1964 Cuba had ceased to be a menace and was more in the nature of a nuisance. The most recent events in the Caribbean that touch on the

American

Diplomacy

Since 1939

149

Communist menace have taken place in the Dominican Republic, and they may well have an important influence on the conduct of our relations with the Latin American states in general. Essentially, the facts are these. On April 24, 1965, we have already noted, a revolt broke out against the existing government. A chaotic situation threatened in Santo Domingo City; whether or not the number of Communists involved in the disorders was large or small, there seems little doubt that a blood bath impended. In these circumstances, acting at the request of the American ambassador, President Johnson ordered the landing of American troops, the first landing of our forces on the territory of a Caribbean state in many, many years. It seems evident that in the strict sense of the term this action was in contradiction to the engagements taken at Montevideo and at Buenos Aires. Yet from the beginning, the administration made it clear that it did not seek to re-enact the history of the interventions of the second decade of the century; it promoted a meeting of the Organization of American States, and the Organization, by the necessary two-thirds vote, approved the American action, and some of the states represented sent small contingents to assist in the restoration of order in the troubled republic. The forces of occupation remained there for more than a year. In the course of that time the way was prepared for free elections; these elections took place in June 1966; and a highly regarded Dominican, Joaquin Balaguer, became President of the Republic. By the end of the year the intervening forces had been withdrawn. The events we have just outlined suggest an interesting question. Will the Castro episode be the preface to a change of heart upon the part of the Latin American states with regard to intervention, at least with regard to intervention of a collective character? On this question we can not dogmatize, but there are some signs of a gradual erosion of the extreme noninterventionist doctrine. As far back as 1961 they were clamoring for some kind of action against Trujillo; a severance of relations with his government took place before the fall of his regime, and other sanctions were directed against him. It is a fair question, therefore, whether Latin American sentiment has not been gradually coming

150

The United States and the Caribbean

to the view that certain governments are not entitled to tolerance, and that in particular, when they insist upon stirring up trouble abroad (as Trujillo did in Venezuela), it is not perfectly proper to take action against them. W e may, however, go further. Reluctantly at the outset, but nonetheless resolutely at the outcome, the states of Latin America supported the position of the United States in the great confrontation of 1962. As a legal matter, it would have been possible to maintain that the policy of the Kennedy administration constituted an interference with the freedom of action of the Cuban government; in practice, the Organization of American States found no difficulty in accepting the blockade of Cuba and associating itself with the action of the American government. What is interesting about the intervention in the Dominican Republic is that a two-thirds majority could be found in the Organization of American States endorsing (however reluctantly) the action of the United States, and what is equally interesting is that the states that opposed such action were, with one exception, not states of the Caribbean. Nor must we forget that at least two Caribbean states cooperated by sending troops into the Dominican Republic. It is far too early to venture a prediction as to the future. But what appears to be established is that a substantial body of Latin American opinion is ready to follow the United States in positive action where the danger of a Communist movement appears on the horizon. W e do not need to appraise that danger in the case of the Dominican Republic. It may have been slight or it may have been substantial; there is now no way of knowing. But we can say that it appeared sufficient to justify a departure from the commitments of 1933 and 1936. It would undoubtedly serve as a precedent were any movement of the Left to take place in the area of the Panama Canal, in Central America as well as on the Isthmus itself. Fortunately, in neither of these instances does the present strength of the Communist movement suggest that such action is likely to be necessary. The events we have analyzed are the most important elements in our political relations with the Caribbean states since the

American

Diplomacy

Since 1939

151

end of World War II, but something must also be said about our relations with Panama. Here the question is not that of Communism. It may be taken for granted that whatever commitments have been made, the United States would act promptly if a Communist-associated regime installed itself on the Isthmus. But not infrequently, and perhaps more often in recent than in earlier years, there have been moments of disquietude in our relations with the Panamanian Republic. These all concern our interest in the Canal. We certainly did not deal generously with Panama by the treaty of 1903. A down payment of ten million dollars was something, but an annual rental of $250,000 was ridiculous. From the beginning, moreover, problems arose. The Americans in the Canal Zone were often supercilious in their attitude toward the native Panamanians, reflecting what might be called the colonial mentality. They enjoyed many privileges denied to the citizens of the republic, buying in Company stores, being paid at a higher rate (after 1933, in American currency) and importing goods without paying Panamanian duties. The Canal had been opened in 1912; not until 1936 did the United States consider revision of the terms of the 1903 agreement. In that year the annual rental was raised from $250,000 to $430,000 to take account of the change in the gold content of the dollar. After the war new troubles arose. The United States had been permitted to occupy and construct bases on Panamanian territory. In November 1945 the Panamanian government demanded their return by September 1, 1946. A long period of negotiation followed, punctuated by student protests and other demonstrations in Panama. It ended in a treaty agreed to by the President of Panama, behind the back of his foreign minister. More protests followed, and the treaty was rejected. In dudgeon the United States evacuated all the bases, while Panamanian businessmen and American citizens in the Zone rent the air with complaints. The grievances of the Panamanians again became the subject of negotiation under President Remon and resulted in the treaty of 1955. By this compact the annual rental was raised from $430,000 to $1,930,000; Panama made available a substantial area for training and military purposes in the region of Rio Hato, particularly

152

The United States and the Caribbean

desired by the United States; the United States accepted one basic wage scale for Panamanian and American employees of the Zone government; importation privileges were restricted; Panamanian citizens, not employees, were forbidden to trade in the Zone, to the advantage of the Panamanian merchants; the United States agreed to build a suspension bridge over the Canal at Balboa. The agreement seemed a great advance, and though President Remon did not live to see it ratified, or even signed, it was largely his work. One might have thought that a period of peace would have ensued. But the Panamanians enjoy ebullitions of nationalism as much as the rest of us. As the sense of grievance continued, the late fifties became a period of rising hostility to the United States. T o allay this feeling, President Eisenhower in 1959 gave orders that both the Panamanian and American flags were to be flown within the Zone; and for a time matters went peaceably. But in the elections of 1963, trouble again occurred. Some American youngsters in the Zone very injudiciously sought to raise the American flag at their school without the Panamanian ensign. A riot started, and the weak administration of President Chiari permitted the Panamanian National Guard to fire into the Zone, despite the repeated protests of the Zone authority. With the passing of the election, excitement subsided. The episode illustrates, however, how near the surface in the Caribbean area is hostility to the United States. N o doubt it is possible to exaggerate that hostility—as a matter of fact in the early sixties our ambassador in Panama was one of the most popular men ever sent there—but it is well for Americans to remember, nonetheless, that they are not inevitably and universally regarded as angels of light in a dark world. We ought not to end discussion of our relations with Panama without considering the importance of the Canal to our security in the past, and the problem of the Canal in the future. There is no question of the significance of the area from the historical point of view. The question of interoceanic communication played an important part in the development of the Monroe Doctrine at the close of the nineteenth century and in the first decades of the

American

Diplomacy

Since 1939

153

twentieth. In the days of W o r l d W a r II the Canal served to give mobility to our naval operations. But since then much has happened. A n interesting article in Foreign Affairs f o r April 1959 sets forth the situation. " T h e military value of the Canal," say its authors, "has been reduced both b y technological developments and b y new strategic developments. Although it still facilitates the efficient disposition of the navy, there n o w exists a two-ocean fleet, with aircraft carriers whose beam and canted decks are too great f o r the Gaillard narrows. Without lessening the convenience and economy of the Canal's facilities f o r bulk cargo, the growth of continental means of transportation on land and in the air has provided a more adequate alternative to meet the needs of a swift wartime modernization. High speed highways and jetpropelled military and civilian air-transports link the east and west coast with rapid services. Continental pipe lines transporting oil at a cost comparable to that of tankers have cut into the value of inter-coastal trade carried b y the Canal. Moreover, the industrial development of the west coast has diverted petroleum products to local consumption. Despite apparent obstacles, it is not impossible that the Arctic Ocean m a y in time provide an alternative strategic route which will cut nearly 5000 miles f r o m the 11,200 miles separating the ports of T o k y o and London." N o r is this b y any means the whole of the story. T h e protection of the Canal is an entirely different matter than it was during W o r l d W a r II. One could indeed wonder whether any measures taken would insure its safety. There are eminent military analysts who believe that it could not be defended at all in a total war, and that it would be more difficult to defend than ever before even in a limited war. However, it seems unlikely that the Canal would be one of the prime targets in a nuclear encounter. There would be many more attractive objects to command the attention of the enemy. There are other ways of inflicting damage on this country f a r more important than the interruption of its interoceanic traffic. If w e come to a largescale struggle in the future, it is likely that the first objective would be our own missile sites, and that the second would be the great industrial complexes of the country.

i54

The United States and the Caribbean

There is another question which has already arisen and which must be considered in the future. The Canal is not only less important than it was from the military point of view; it is also inadequate for the growing traffic. Recently, therefore, we have begun to hear of a new canal, and even of the abandonment of the present one. Matters have, at the moment, not advanced so far that any judgment on a future project is possible. But several considerations can be mentioned. There are several routes for such a canal, and not all of them run through Panama. We have, therefore, a certain leverage on the Panamanian government. It would probably be too optimistic to assume that disturbances of the kind that have occurred in the recent past will never occur again. But the last effort on the part of nationalistic local elements was a pale affair compared with the troubles of 1963. On the other hand, if a new canal is built we can hardly expect either from Panama or from its neighbors on the north and south the kind of bargain that we got in 1903, or any arrangement that permits so irritating an imperium in imperio as that which exists in Panama today. The temper of the time is against it, and, as we have seen, the military arguments for control are not as strong as they once were. It is possible that an internationalized waterway will be the answer to the question. But it will be some time before any project comes to fruition; the technical problems are great, and the costs are likely to be large. Before we turn from the political to the economic relations of the United States with the states of the Caribbean, there is a general question of policy with which we ought to concern ourselves, that of the direct relationship between the military elements in the Latin American states and the United States. Since the end of World War II this relationship has been more intimate than at any previous period. For example, there has existed since that time an Inter-American Defense Board charged with developing a plan for common action in case of external aggression. In addition, a certain amount of direct military aid has been given to twelve Latin American states. Finally, military missions from all the Latin American states have been sent to

American

Diplomacy

Since 1939

155

the United States, and conversely, American military missions have been sent to many of the Latin American states. What is to be thought of such a program? The defense program that we have just outlined has frequently come under attack. It has been stated, with some reason, that any direct attack on Latin America is highly unlikely. "The mission system," said Professor Lieuwen, in his Arms and Politics in Latin America, "has no genuine military objective. The Latin American officers are being taught the elements of modern tactics and methods, both by the missions and at the United States schools. But it is difficult to see where and when they will ever put them to military use, except perhaps in their own countries in dealing with purely internal situations." Nor does this critic think highly of the weapons supply program, which, he states, "is not geared to the prospect of Latin America's having to engage in modern warfare." These statements deserve consideration, but they do not cover all the essential facts. The contact with military figures in the states to the South may have desirable political consequences. It may serve to make more of these people aware of the political ideals of the United States, and more inclined to defend them in their own countries. For those who see a Latin American soldier as a pariah this argument will have little appeal. But since the cold fact is that the army plays an important part in the political life of many of the New World states, it seems reasonable to maintain that contact with it may be to the interest of the United States. It is also true that some gain accrues to the United States from understandings that relate to the establishment of submarine or air bases or tracking stations. Finally, the supply of war materials may on occasion serve a directly useful purpose. In the Guatemalan crises of 1954 it appears that military assistance to Honduras permitted the Honduran government to give to Castillo Armas planes which played a part in his victory over the Arbenz regime. Behind the debate on military programs there lies a larger question, the question of preventing the spread of Communism in the Western Hemisphere. As the program of military as-

156

The United States and the

Caribbean

sistance has been extended in time, it has been more and more frankly stated that its aims are political. For those of us who believe that revolutions of the extreme Left would profit no one and would ill serve the interests of either the United States or its sister states, the case for the current program (which, incidentally, is very modest in cost) seems stronger than the case against it.

7. The United States and the Caribbean Economy

One of the principal problems of the age in which we live is the development of the less advanced nations of the world. No doubt there are many elements in this process of development that depend upon the people of the country itself. Much will depend upon the habit of saving and investment within the community, the existence of a vigorous entrepreneurial class, and the level of education, for no modern society can function at high speed without a large reservoir of technicians. Much will depend upon the capacity of the government to guide the industrial process, to understand the elements of public finance, to maintain reasonable standards of public order and of public integrity. It is, indeed, the harsh truth that no nation can grow without these requisites, and it should also be added that the extent of development will also depend, to a crucial degree, upon the natural resources with which the country is endowed. But it is also true, of course, that the process can be assisted from the outside. The growth of this immensely prosperous country of ours was aided by large importations of foreign capital in the nineteenth century; the growth of many other countries has been so assisted. Indeed, down to World War II, this was the characteristic method by which one country after another made substantial economic progress. It is still a matter of great importance today.

158

The United States and the Caribbean

Private investment is not the only means by which growth can take place. W e live in an age in which public aid plays a substantial part, but we do not need in approving this to ignore the more traditional technique, and particularly we must avoid the ridiculous idea, put forward by the Marxist philosophy, that there is something inherently immoral in the activities of foreign capitalists. Let us first look at the record, balancing the role of achievement against the allegations of the critics. And let us begin with Cuba. That a substantial amount of American capital had gone to the island before 1898 we have already said. But this amount was naturally much increased in the years after the SpanishAmerican War. The opportunities in Cuba were numerous; the country was rich and had already undergone substantial development. Moreover, the existence of the Piatt Amendment seemed to offer a guarantee to American business interests that they would not be troubled by the internal political strife common to so many Latin American states. It is not strange, therefore, that a remarkable economic advance took place in the island. In the case of sugar, the growth of the industry was much aided by the reciprocity agreement between Cuba and the United States which was ratified in December 1903. By this agreement Cuban sugar secured a tariff preference in the American market. The largest crop ever grown in the island was harvested in 1905. But by 1914 the output had doubled. Cuban enterpreneurs participated with American entrepreneurs in the boom; indeed, only about 35 per cent of the crop was harvested for the American mills in 1905. But it was not only sugar in which American energy made itself felt. Investments took place in many other fields, in railroads, electric transportation (principally in Havana), the tobacco industry, mining, fruit, and in steamship lines. The legendary figure in this development was Frank Steinhart, the quartermaster sergeant who came to Cuba with the army in 1898, served as private secretary to General Brooks and General Wood, and became consul-general in 1903. His first great venture was with the streetcar company in Havana. But

The Caribbean Economy

159

gradually he extended his activities until he became one of the most powerful businessmen in Cuba. The years between the war and the Great Depression brought further enormous advances in the American investment in Cuba. In 1914 this investment was in the neighborhood of $200,000,000. By 1927 it was over a billion. Not only had there been a big boom during the war itself, but the collapse of sugar prices at the end of the struggle had overwhelmed many Cuban firms and brought a larger part of the sugar industry than ever before under the control of American bankers. In 1927, 62 per cent of the sugar produced was produced in American mills, and the role that sugar played in Cuban export trade had increased portentously. In 1914 it had constituted only 54 per cent of that trade; in 1927 it made up 88 per cent. One can understand in such circumstances the hostility that began to be felt on the Left with regard to the American economic domination of Cuba. As Theodore Draper has well observed, the possession of land is a sensitive matter, and the immense holdings of the sugar barons were bound to awaken hostility. Moreover, next to land, public utilities have always been a sensitive point in the view of the radicals, and here again the American holdings were substantial. There was, therefore, at least in some quarters, a growing malaise at the influence of the United States at the end of the twenties and the beginning of the thirties. As we have seen, the American government attempted to counter this feeling by the abrogation of the Piatt Amendment in 1934; and on the economic side the Jones-Costigan Act of that year gave Cuba a privileged position in the American sugar market. But as time went on, the position of the United States in the Cuban economy began to decline; it was shaken by the depression; American assets in Cuba shrank to $559 million in 1944; and more and more properties in the island passed from American into Cuban hands. By 1958 the percentage of American investments in Cuban sugar had fallen to thirty-five; American companies employed in Cuba only about 70,000 workers out of a total labor force of about 2,000,000; American assets, though they had again

i6o

The United States and the Caribbean

increased greatly (to a figure of around a billion), represented, according to one estimate, about 5 per cent of the total investment in the Cuban economy. Yet both the legend and the fact still gave sustenance to the anti-Americanism that played so large a part in the thinking of the Castro regime. Looking back over the record, it is clear that the picture of American business as Satan as presented by the radicals has very little reality. It has been charged that the United States fastened upon Cuba a monocultural economy. In reality, Cuba never was a monocultural economy. It was a mono-exporting economy, but not a monocultural one. It was, as a matter of fact, a very rich and diversified economy, the most diversified and the richest in the Caribbean. Sugar, to illustrate the point, produced in 1954 only about 25 per cent of the national income, employed only about 20 per cent of the labor force and produced only about 16 per cent of the national income. Despite the propaganda about monoculture, Cuba, in fact, was a middleclass and urbanized country when Castro came into power in 1959. But there is another irony here. It was in the period of American dominance, especially under Machado, that the greatest effort was made to diversify; it is under Castro, after a ghastly and magnificently muddled attempt at industrialization, that the Cuban government has decided to put its money on monoculture, and is attempting, by forced labor, to raise sugar production to heights never reached before. Whether, in an oscillating market, this course of procedure will redound to the advantage of the economy is a matter for the future; but the omens are not reassuring. There is more to be said on this subject. "The sugar mills and the other United States plants," says Theodore Draper, the most penetrating analyst of contemporary Cuba, "were the most modern and efficient in Cuba. They paid the highest wages and made the best agreements with the Cuban labor unions. The largest part of the U.S. investment in Cuba could easily have been bought back with Cuban investments outside the country." In other words, American entrepreneurial genius performed a real service to the Cuban economy.

The Caribbean Economy

161

The quotation just cited answers the criticism often made as to the resistance of the American entrepreneur to social reforms. Cuba had an advanced industrial code and strong labor organizations; its economy was perhaps as progressive in these regards as any in Latin America. There is one other point to be touched upon. It has been claimed that American businessmen exercised a corrupt influence upon the Cuban government. The charge has substance. The author remembers only too well that a former ambassador once told him that when a certain piece of legislation was before the Cuban Congress, there was only a handful of legislators who did not have to have their palms greased before it was passed. But one would not need to cite a specific case. The corruption of Cuban politics has been notorious. Such corruption could only have taken place if there were corruptibles, as well as corrupters. It is a nice question where the major responsibility lies in cases of this kind. Perhaps it is best to suspend judgment. Until 1959 the American investment in Cuba was the largest American investment in the Caribbean, far more than in all the other countries combined. But let us turn now to the second great area, that of Central America, and the activities of the banana companies there. It was Minor C. Keith who, in 1884, secured a very favorable contract for the construction or rather for the completion of a railway across the little republic of Costa Rica, and who secured, as one of the conditions of the grant, vast areas to be used in the cultivation of the banana. Thus began a development which was to have an immense extension in the next two decades. Not only in Costa Rica, but in Guatemala and in Honduras the banana plantations rapidly spread, and by the end of the nineteenth century about twenty companies were engaged in the business. At the same time the tendency toward consolidation made itself felt, and in 1899 the United Fruit Company was organized and speedily set out upon an ambitious policy of economic aggrandizement in the Caribbean. While it never actually secured a complete monopoly of the banana traffic, it

102

The United States and the Caribbean

did, of course, often dominate the market, and exercised an immense power over the little states in which its expanding operations were carried on. The early history of the banana business is not particularly edifying. On the not wholly unreasonable plea that generous profits were necessary to balance the extraordinary risks involved in the enterprise, contracts were undoubtedly granted on terms that, to the modern eye, would appear exorbitantly generous. The relations between the governments of Central America and the companies were not likely to be models of virginal purity. The American enterprisers earned for themselves a bad name, not only within but outside Central America, which it has taken time to modify and of which hostile critics still take advantage. It would be futile to narrate in detail the history of the industry. The episode that has been given the most publicity, and which is most widely known, is the Honduran episode of 19io, connected with the name of the greatest of banana enterpreneurs, Samuel Zemurray. Zemurray, a Bessarabian immigrant, began his career by marketing ripe bananas in New Orleans. In 1905 he went to Honduras and bought land there along the Cuyamel River. He naturally desired a favorable contract with the Honduran government. At this time Secretary of State Knox had signed a loan agreement with Miguel Davila, president of Honduras. This agreement was not particularly popular in the country, since it hypothecated the customs revenues. Taking advantage of the prevailing political discontent, Zemurray assisted a revolution. General Manuel Bonilla, an Honduran exile in the United States, got in touch with him; Zemurray provided him with a yacht, a case of rifles, and a machine gun. Despite the efforts of the U.S. Secret Service to balk the intended invasion, Bonilla sailed from New Orleans, Zemurray waving him Godspeed. It was a simple matter to oust Davila, and Bonilla assumed the presidency. Naturally Zemurray got the contract he desired. Another episode that offered fuel for criticism was the rivalry between Zemurray and the United Fruit Company. The border warfare between Honduras and Guatemala in 1909 has fre-

The Caribbean Economy

163

quently been attributed to the rivalry of the two fruit companies. There are other examples that might be cited. In the period between 1907 and 1911, for example, the numerous outbreaks that occurred in Honduras were undoubtedly due to the machinations of foreign interests, and the same was true of the Nicaraguan revolution of 1909. These events are far behind us, but the legend of American "economic imperialism" remains. It is perhaps not strange that it does. As we have already said, there is something particularly touchy about foreign landownership, and the areas possessed by the fruit companies, though not as large as hostile critics assume, are substantial. The very size of the companies, moreover, has invited hostility. Every people has a healthy and natural distrust of the concentration of economic power in the hands of a few. The existence of such concentration is bound to be felt as a grievance in and of itself. The corruption that accompanied earlier activities is still remembered. The close tie-up between the great banana interests on the one hand, and the rail interests on the other (especially in Guatemala), has been exceedingly distasteful. While today the existence of the trade union is widely recognized, the past resistance of the companies is remembered also. And beyond and above all this is the noxious legend, on which we touched at the beginning of this chapter, that there is something inherently sinful in foreign capital. The philosophic question involved is worth examining in some detail. The legend runs counter to the fundamental realities of economic life; yet it must be conceded that it exists and does have an influence, not to be measured precisely but important nonetheless, in our relations with the less advanced states of the world. What is the reasonable point of view with regard to capital export, specifically in the area of the Caribbean? On the credit side of the account it must be stated that the countries of the Caribbean area, with the exception of Cuba, were simply not in a position to undertake the large-scale investments that are involved in such industries as sugar and bananas. As we have already seen, there is, in most of the

164

The United States and the

Caribbean

states with which we are concerned, a distinct shortage of capital funds. T o suppose that these funds could have been found on the scale necessary for the development of forms of enterprise which require very significant basic outlays is go to far beyond the facts. It is sometimes said that these great investments are no doubt an advantage to American investors, but they are worse than useless from the viewpoint of the inhabitants of the state in which they are made. The profits, so it is argued, are exported; the country itself gains almost nothing. It merely submits to a kind of foreign exploitation in which it has not the remotest interest. It is the innocent victim of a grasping foreign imperialism. Such a viewpoint derives from a generous sympathy with the less fortunate and deserves some consideration. It is held by those many persons who today are thoroughly sick and tired of the "trickle-down" theory of economic enterprise, the theory that capitalism is by necessity and by nature thoroughly beneficent, and that all we need to do is to stand still and watch it do its perfect work. But because we accept the thesis that the capitalistic system inevitably involves questions of distributive justice, and that it is desirable that the benefits of that system should not be enjoyed only by the few, it by no means follows that no good results can follow from its activities, or that there is no validity whatsoever in the thesis that the benefits of free enterprise are, in some measure, automatically conferred upon the community in general. Without taking that standpat position which arouses so much antagonism in so many different quarters, it is possible to demonstrate that the presence of the great American corporations in the republics of Central America or in the islands of the Caribbean does confer certain advantages upon the communities within which such corporations carry on their work. Before discussing the positive benefits that the community enjoys from the activities of the fruit companies, it may be well to comment on the frequent allegation that they engross the best lands in the country and create for themselves a sort

The Caribbean Economy

165

of private empire. The facts are otherwise. The lands used for bananas are for the most part lands that would not otherwise be used at all, and the extent of the holdings is much exaggerated. In Costa Rica and Panama they comprised in 1958 about 7 per cent of the total crop lands; in Honduras, 4 per cent; in Guatemala, 1 per cent. These lands, moreover, while devoted principally to banana culture, are also devoted to experimentation with other crops. While here the results are not sensational, they nonetheless indicate a positive attitude toward the economy of the capital-receiving state and look to that diversification which is a desired objective. But there is much more than this to be said. In the first place, substantial sums are paid out in wages. And it may be asserted without fear of contradiction that the rate of wages fixed by the great fruit companies is higher than the rate in most forms of economic activity. These high wage rates are advantageous not only to the workers employed, but indirectly to the community as a whole, since they increase buying power and help to activate the whole economy. Nor is the wage bill the only gain to the economy. There are taxes and duties to be paid, and local purchases to be made on the company account. And with regard to the first of these items, it must be emphasized that it rests with the host state to fix the rate of payment. It must not, of course, kill the goose that lays the golden eggs, but the power of taxation is in its hands. In The United Fruit Company and Latin America, the admirable work of Stacy May and Galo Plaza on the banana industry, the matter we have been discussing is stated in concrete terms for the year 1955. No doubt the figures would vary from year to year, but the statistics they cite are at least suggestive. In Panama, of the receipts of the United Fruit Company, about two thirds were locally expended; in Honduras and Guatemala more was expended than received; in Costa Rica four fifths of the receipts remained in the country. There are other points to emphasize. In Central America the United Fruit Company has carried on health programs with impressive results, most notably, perhaps, in the elimination of

166

The United States and the

Caribbean

malaria. It has established at Zamorano, Honduras, the PanAmerican Agricultural School, which trains, free of all charges, a selected group of students over a period of three years in all aspects of farming and farm management. It also maintains an experiment station at Lancetilla, Honduras, which carries on agricultural research. None of these activities are undertaken from pure philanthropy, of course, but this does not alter the fact that they provide an important social gain to the community. There is an indirect gain, also, in the building of communications which tend to increase the flow of commerce in general and to make the people of the Caribbean more accessible to the rest of the world. The establishment of steamship lines, for example, helps to provide markets for all export products and to facilitate the growth of imports. The building of railroads opens up new areas and makes possible other forms of economic growth than those directly connected with the foreign industries. The development of transport provides new forms of employment, and thus activates the economic life of the community as a whole. But beyond and above these considerations, there is something more. It is not by any means true that an industry that exports the greater part of its product is engaged in the impoverishment of the economic body. For one thing, such an industry does not stand still, but under normal conditions often reinvests a part of its capital in the region where it is operating. It is not possible, on the basis of information available, to state statistically the precise extent to which this is true. But of the existence of the phenomenon itself there can be no doubt. Moreover, the foreign dominated industry is engaged in an export trade which provides the means for paying for imports, for necessary imports. Unless one is to undertake to support the extreme view that a purely autarchic development is the best possible form of development, it is impossible to denounce the export of raw materials as an unmitigated evil. It may be true that a healthy state is one in which there exists, within the borders of the country, capital and enterprise adequate for its

The Caribbean Economy

167

development. But no one of the Caribbean countries is today in a position where it can possibly attain this desirable objective. Until and unless the situation drastically changes, the role of the foreign corporation within the country cannot be regarded as a purely destructive one. Finally, at least in theory, the foreign corporation provides a useful source of revenue. There is no reason why, from the abstract point of view, it should not contribute and contribute generously to the advancement of the general welfare through taxation. Indeed, every consideration of social justice suggests that it should do just this. And as the political maturity of the Caribbean states becomes more manifest, and their political strength and stability better founded, this is precisely what is likely to result. These observations ought to make it clear that blind hostility to foreign corporations in the Caribbean states is a counterproductive activity. But what should be the attitude of the Caribbean governments? Looking at the matter broadly, from the angle of the republics themselves, we must begin by saying that policies which tend to scare away private capital would react in the long run to the detriment of the republics we are considering. The temptation to exploit a very natural public hostility against "big business" is always there; but to give it free rein would be extremely unwise. It is necessary for the states of the area frankly to face the fact that they cannot live to themselves alone, or at any rate cannot develop by themselves alone; and that the importation of private funds is an essential part of any program of economic advancement. But this does not mean, and cannot mean, that they must permit foreign corporations to dominate the political life of the Caribbean. It does not mean that legislation looking to the amelioration and improvement of the lot of the masses should be held up at the dictates of foreign interests, or that programs of social reform should be indefinitely deferred because they are distasteful to this or that business magnate. In the whole problem of social advance, a nice balance has to be maintained between

168

The United States and the Caribbean

what is practicable and can be accepted, and policies so radical that they dry up the springs of enterprise and check economic expansion. But the question of what is proper and desirable is also a question for our own government to consider. And here again there are two extreme points of view that have to be avoided. At one end of the spectrum is the viewpoint that American interests abroad deserve and should receive almost unqualified protection, that the State Department should make itself the aggressive defender of American interests. At the other end is the equally untenable thesis that foreign states should be free to act with regard to foreign interests without interference from their powerful neighbor. The wise course of action lies, of course, between these two extremes. One cannot, under present circumstances and in the present state of judicial administration in the Caribbean, take the attitude that there are no occasions whatsoever on which diplomatic representations by the American government in behalf of American interests are improper. Nor is it by any means certain, in existing circumstances and under the contemporary conditions, that American citizens will not from time to time be harshly treated by the public authorities, possibly unjustly imprisoned, or subjected to other restraints which call for some kind of protest, in one or another of the republics. The same thing, indeed, might happen in many other parts of the world, and might in these, too, call for similar action. A completely indifferent attitude on the part of those in authority at Washington would not be just to our own nationals, nor in the true interests of the states that are our neighbors. But it is an entirely different thing for the United States to make itself the champion of American business interests against legislation which is well within the competence of any civilized state. And, if the good-neighbor policy is carried out in the future as it has been in the past, this most emphatically will not be the case. On the contrary, it will be recognized that just as our own country undertook important social reforms in the days of the New Deal, so it will be desirable that the

The Caribbean Economy

169

Caribbean republics undertake reforms. And it will not be considered within the bounds of sound policy, from an international point of view, to interfere with the progress of the independent republics that are our neighbors. It will be recognized that they have a right to form and to carry out programs of their own; that these programs may adversely affect corporate interests; but that, except in cases of obvious and flagrant injustice, these programs constitute no justification whatsoever for the diplomatic intervention of the United States. This was, indeed, the point of view of the Roosevelt administration; it watched with sympathy the enactment of important reforms in the case of Cuba; it went to the extreme limits of tolerance when the Mexican government expropriated the oil companies; it adopted a similar attitude in somewhat similar circumstances in Bolivia. Such a policy is bound to have its critics; the exact balance that ought to be maintained is a nice one; but at least it can be said that a substantial effort should be made to judge in a tolerant and understanding manner the process of social change outside our borders. As a matter of fact (always excepting the course of events in Guatemala and in Cuba), for some time matters have gone well between American interests and the Caribbean governments There has been no proscriptive movement against American capital. There have been, and will continue to be, social reforms. But drastic change, or a hostility to outside capital so deep as to amount to driving it away, hardly seems likely. Nor need the Caribbean states on their part fear intervention on the part of the United States. The time has long since passed when President Coolidge enunciated the doctrine that it was the duty of the United States to protect the property of its citizens, if necessary by intervention. The American government takes no such point of view today. It is to be remembered that the United States has ratified two protocols which bind it to abstain from intervention in the affairs of the New World states. The cynic may, at this point, bring up the question of the 1965 intervention in the Dominican Republic, which we have already examined. But the answer is that this intervention was in no

170

The United States and the Caribbean

way undertaken as a result of danger to American economic interests, and that it was carried out with the approval of the majority of the Latin American states to meet the danger of anarchy or possibly Communist power. There is by now a long tradition of nonintervention so far as American economic interests are concerned, and the policy of the government is specifically and concretely directed, not toward inter-meddling, but toward an almost contrary policy. One of the most interesting aspects of governmental policy of the current period lies in the guarantee program which has been in existence for some time, but which is now operated under the Foreign Assistance Act of 1961. B y this program a guarantee contract is written only after the prospective investor has negotiated with the government of the host state the approval of the enterprise in question. When given, it offers assurance of compensation in the event of loss through expropriation, or through deterioration of the currency. All the states of the Caribbean are covered by this program, and a number of agreements have been made under it. Yet another expedient has been tried by the State Department under the statute just mentioned. The United States will pay 50 per cent of the cost of a survey program designed to open the way for further specific investment opportunities. A survey of this type may include such considerations as the potential market, the location of plant, the availability of raw materials, the available supply of labor, the profitability of the enterprise, and the potential contribution of the investment to the country's economy. Every one of the Caribbean states is within the operation of the law. And a number of surveys have already been put in motion. Nonetheless, it must be recognized that the prospects of American private investment in the Caribbean cannot be regarded as brilliant. The Cuban market has been lost to the United States for an indefinite period. This market, by the most conservative calculation, represented more than 50 per cent of our investment in the area in 1959. The island is, of course, now tightly tied to the Communist economy, and one can hardly expect the situation to change. Contemporary conditions do not suggest the

The Caribbean Economy

171

collapse of the Castro regime. The ghastly conditions that exist in Haiti give little hope for the future. In the Dominican Republic the road to political and economic stability may be a hard one. One difficulty in particular lies in the way of any outstanding advance. The United States itself represents an immense capital market, Canada represents another, and Europe, more than ever before, represents a third. Capital, after all, goes where it can get the highest returns. In the present day there is a powerful argument for investment, not in the developing nations, but in the nations already experiencing the benefits of advanced technology and fiscal enterprise. It would be foolish to ignore this fact. On the other hand, the development of American capital in Panama is proceeding on a substantial scale. Investments more than doubled between 1957 and 1961. There has been substantial progress in Costa Rica and Honduras. In Guatemala the situation is less promising, but at least not recessive. As to El Salvador no statistics appear to be available. Before we turn from private investment to public investment, it is necessary to say a word about the other source of funds for the developing countries in the period before World War II. This, of course, was loans from banks. The activity of the American bankers in the Caribbean dates almost entirely from the beginning of the twentieth century. In the case of Cuba the government from the outset looked to Wall Street when it was in need of funds. Panama did the same. The arrangements for the control of the customs in Nicaragua made by the T a f t administration involved a loan to the Nicaraguan government. The occupation of Haiti and the Dominican Republic naturally led to the refunding in this country of the obligations of these two states. With the exception of the Cuban loans, however, it should be noted that there was little enthusiasm in investment circles for the advances that were made. Though Marxist-slanted historians have attempted to give an economic interpretation to the interventions, the fact of the matter is that the bankers acted at the insistence of the government and were not themselves the proponents of interventionist policies.

172

The United States and the Caribbean

The twenties were years of enlarged activity on the part of the bankers so far as Latin America was concerned. Most of the important advances were made to states in South America. But modest loans were floated by Costa Rica and El Salvador in the same period. What has been the history of these loans? Before Castro came to power, the Cuban government had, on the whole, a reasonably good record with regard to its engagements. The states under American occupation had every incentive to retire their indebtedness—Haiti and the Dominican Republic did so in 1947. The other three states, Costa Rica, Panama, and El Salvador, were less fortunate. Faced with the problems of the world depression, shrinking revenues, and a precarious political situation, it is not perhaps surprising that they chose to default in their engagements rather than curtail the public services at home. Each of these states in due course made compromise settlements with the bondholders, and none is in default today. It must be stated, however, that the contemporary prospects of floating bankers' loans in the United States, so far as the Caribbean republics are concerned, cannot be described as bright. During the period of the New Deal and under the goodneighbor policy, it was not the custom of the United States to constitute itself the defender of the American bondholder who found himself in difficulties. It was argued with some cogency that the investor must take the risks and receive the rewards incident to his activity; and while the Roosevelt administration mildly encouraged the creation of a Foreign Bondholders Protective Council to deal with defaulted issues, it never put itself squarely behind this organization or gave it much positive support. Since the Second World War the prevailing mode has been for public rather than private agencies to advance credit. There is, indeed, on general grounds, an impressive case for the public loan. In the past, Latin American loans were often floated under the most unhappy circumstances. The representatives of the borrowers were often inexperienced and sometimes venal; they were conscious of being at a disadvantage

The Caribbean Economy

173

from the point of view of bargaining power and were obliged on occasion to submit to very unfavorable terms. Furthermore, the syndicates that floated these loans often took far too narrow a view of their function; they were too exclusively interested in the opportunities for profit which such loans presented; they were not sufficiently informed as to the possibilities of repayment, and they were unable to judge the advances which they promoted from the standpoint of the improvement of the economy as a whole. Obviously, the same kind of error can be made by the administrators of a public corporation; but since the motive of gain is less important in this case than in the former, there is at least reason to believe that the problem will be approached from a more objective point of view. The actual record has been so remarkable that it tends to reinforce the argument that has just been presented. There is a second consideration that enters into the account and gives to public loans a special place in the promotion of the well-being of the weaker states. In effect, what a public loan means is that, to a very substantial extent, the republic to which a loan is extended profits from the borrowing capacity of the United States and pays a far lower rate of interest than it could secure in the open market. In the earlier days, the rates on loans to the Latin American states were little short of usurious; they have been less exacting in recent times; but, to only give one example, the little state of El Salvador was obliged to pay no less than 7 per cent for the funds which it sought in this country in 1922. When it is remembered that our own government could then borrow at less than a third of that rate, the significance of public lending becomes apparent. In the third place, it may be said for the public as distinguished from the private loan that the former more widely distributes the risk. It is desirable, and no one will question the fact, that loans should be extended only under circumstances where repayment is to be confidently looked forward to. But there is, of course, in such financial transactions no such thing as absolute certainty; and it is better for the loss from a bad

i74

The United States and the Caribbean

commercial transaction to be taken by the whole body of society than it is for it to be borne by a small number of innocent investors. The earliest public agency to concern itself with foreign lending was the Export-Import Bank established in 1934. Its activities were in theory limited by statute, and its authority to make loans was confined to credits that advanced American trade. In the early period of its existence, down to and through World War II, almost no loans were made to any of the Caribbean states. The principal exception (and not a gratifying one) was the loan made to the Haitian government for the irrigation of the Artibonite Valley. There was a strong theoretical case for such a loan. But in practice, the money was frittered away, with very little to show for it. It is not surprising that the Bank has turned a cold and fishy eye on Haiti of recent years. The activities of the Bank, in so far as the Caribbean is concerned, have been accelerated with time. The statement of the Bank in July 1965 indicated commitments of around $189,000,000. By far the largest sums were lent in connection with the construction of the Pan-American Highway, and the second largest items were loans to central banks. Of the nine countries under consideration in this study, all but Cuba and the Dominican Republic have participated. Another lending agency in which the United States has a part came into being at the end of World War II. This is the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development, originally established with a capital of $9 billion, but whose resources have been increased with the passage of time. As in the case of the Export-Import Bank, attention to the states of the Caribbean came late in the day. The first advances to any Caribbean state were made to El Salvador in 1949. In due course loans were made to Guatemala, Haiti, Honduras, and Panama. It is noteworthy that many of these loans, in fact the major part of them, were made for road building and public works. The most interesting, perhaps, is the loan to El Salvador for the construction of the dam on the Rio Lempa, which amounted to $34 million by 1964. The total disbursed to all the Caribbean

The Caribbean Economy

175

states was, at the close of business on March 31, 1965, $154,420,000. The International Bank not only makes loans at appropriate interest rates, but through the International Development Association and the International Finance Corporation supplies funds on which no interest is charged, and the amortization of which is provided for over a substantial period of years. Here, too, the Caribbean states have benefited, but only to a small degree. The total advanced was only $23 million, a third of which went to El Salvador. But the Latin American states were never entirely satisfied with the attention paid to their financial needs by the institutions whose activities we have briefly analyzed. It needed the Castro revolution in Cuba to stimulate more ambitious plans for the economic advancement of Latin America. Thus came about the movement known as the Alianza para el Progreso, one concomitant of which was the creation of the Inter-American Development Bank, of which the United States provided half the capital. In the course of the last few years this bank has proved very useful, and its advances to the Caribbean states have amounted to the sum of $94,917,000. While, for the most part, interest rates followed the pattern for other international lending agencies, a fund for special operations was created, with a lending rate of 4 per cent, and a special social progress fund instituted, with borrowing rates varying from 1.25 to 2.75 per cent and with loans generally repayable in the currency of the borrowing nation. The many social improvements noted in Chapter 4 have come for the most part out of this special progress fund. Only Haiti and Cuba have not benefited from the fund. The three lending agencies we have mentioned account, all in all, for the sum of $400 million dollars. But we have not yet reached the end of the story. The United States makes direct grants and loans to the states of Latin America through the Agency for International Development, which disburses the funds appropriated directly by Congress for foreign aid. These, all in all, amounted at the end of 1964 to another $177 million. T o sum up, there has been advanced to the Caribbean

176

The United. States and the Caribbean

states over half a billion dollars. How shall we appraise this contribution in broad terms of policy? What must be remembered in the first place is that a large proportion of this money, in fact the greater part of it, is loaned not given, and that much of it is loaned at regular commercial rates. W e shall, therefore, be confusing rather than clarifying the problem if we think of these advances as outright gifts. The question is not whether we are giving away our shirts, as the critics of all forms of foreign aid like to put it, but whether the advances we are making on a loan basis are likely to produce far-reaching effects and are in general justified by sound notions of public policy. On the latter point there can be little room for difference of opinion. W e have already mentioned the impetus to social improvement in the Caribbean. But there is a second effect that needs to be emphasized. In almost every one of the Caribbean countries, as a result of these new programs, fiscal practices have been improved, taxation has been reviewed and made, socially at least, a bit more equitable, and the responsibility of the state to advance the general interest by wise capital investment stimulated. While the administration of the advances made it not always beyond cavil, there is little doubt that in most cases the community reaps the benefit of the projects that have been initiated. Is the loan program adequate to work the desirable changes in Caribbean society? This is not a question one can answer easily, all the more since the answer depends on one's view of the stability of the societies in which the programs operate. Sensational results are not to be expected. But if one relates the program to the administrative realities, and if one considers that all such projects have a multiplying effect upon the economy, then one may view the future with a reasonable optimism. Certainly, the Caribbean economies, with the exception of Haiti, are more likely to advance in the future than the economies of many of the new states that have come into being in Africa in recent years. And certainly, the sense of social responsibility involved is stronger than in many other communities that might be mentioned.

The Caribbean Economy

177

W e have left untouched until the end of this chapter certain questions that have played, or can play, a fundamental part in the economic relations of the United States with the countries of the Caribbean. The first of these, the tariff, has chiefly an historical significance. Most of the Caribbean countries import into the United States products that pay no duty in entering this country. Sugar, however, the principal product of Cuba and the Dominican Republic, usually has not been duty-free. And the manipulation of the sugar tariff to satisfy domestic political or economic interests has played a part, and an unfortunate one, in the development of the Cuban economy. The duty imposed on sugar by the tariff of 1893, the so-called Wilson Bill, by closing the American market to Cuban imports, had something—perhaps much—to do with the insurrection that broke out in Cuba in 1895. The reciprocity treaty of 1903, as we have already pointed out, was the great stimulus to the growth of the sugar industry in Cuba in the first decade of the twentieth century. The Hawley-Smoot Tariff of 1929 dealt a disastrous blow to Cuban sugar interests and was related to the troubled economic conditions that existed immediately thereafter. The Jones-Costigan Act (not a tariff act, but a kind of bounty) did something to restore Cuban prosperity. Finally, the suspension of the privileges of the act by the Eisenhower administration afforded Castro an excellent opportunity for his diplomatic and economic offensive against the United States. This statement does not imply that Castro would have been a "good boy" under different circumstances. It merely calls attention to the relationship of economic policies and the larger questions of diplomacy. Today the only independent sugar-producing country in the Caribbean that has important relations with the United States is the Dominican Republic. At present it has a small quota, 90,000 tons. And there would be powerful interests that would oppose raising this quota. The second question at which we hinted in a preceding paragraph is of transcendent importance. It is the question of what the economists term the "terms of trade." Nothing matters

178

The United States and the Caribbean

more to the peoples of the Caribbean, so far as their international position is concerned, than the relationship between the prices of the things they sell and the prices of the things they buy. It is their standing complaint (as it is of many other countries) that they buy in a high-priced market and sell in a low-priced one. The complaint has force. In practical terms, it means that a stable price level in the United States is of the utmost importance to them. Were this country to become involved in an inflationary spiral, the results, for our Caribbean friends, would be very serious. There is much to be said for stable prices from a purely domestic point of view. But from the standpoint of foreign trade, stability is of even greater significance. Indeed, if technological advances resulted in a lowering of prices (instead of higher wages and larger profits), the results from an international point of view would be entirely gratifying. It also follows from what we have said that the cooperation of the United States in international efforts to stabilize prices has much to commend it. For a long time Congress took a dim view of the problem. It is only relatively recently that legislation has been passed requiring importers to produce certificates of origin—thus enabling the coffee-producing countries to keep track of their agreements. It is alleged with some reason that the coffee agreement raises prices to the American consumer. But a nation that subsidized its own agriculture can only, at the risk of churlishness, refuse to cooperate in some degree with others who do the same. The question of economic relations with the Caribbean can be stated in terms that have a much wider application. Americans ought to be aware of the colossal wealth of their own country, with a per capita income that is fantastically high by any comparative standard and is still growing. Their problem is to assist in bringing other countries, not up to their standard, which is impossible, but to some standard of improvement. A world in which the great producing nations of the West grow richer while the rest grow poorer will not be a very pleasant world in which to live. The problem is a massive one. It is not so much a matter of good will (though it is that) as it is a

The Caribbean Economy

179

matter of intelligence. It cannot be solved (we must recognize the fact) by a diffuse philanthropy. It can only be solved by cooperative effort, in which others must carry their full load of responsibility. It cannot be solved without internal stability, without great advances in education, without competence on a high scale in the less advanced communities. But it cannot even be attempted unless there exists a more and more insightful consideration of the problem, and the development of a common purpose in solving it. To such ends American foreign policy may be dedicated in the second half of the twentieth century.

Appendixes Index

The United States and Caribbean

i82

APPENDIX I. SOME ESSENTIAL STATISTICS ON Country Costa Rica Dominican Republic El Salvador Guatemala Haiti Honduras Nicaragua Panama

Area (sq. miles)

Population (1964)

19,653 18,703 8,260 42,040 10,714

1,402,000 3,440,000 2,716,000 4,300,000 4,478,000 2,150,000 1,590,000 1,200,000

43,277 57^50 29,200

Rural population density (per 1000 acres in crops and pasturage—1964) 915

1,465 (estimate) 1,328 1,389 —

403 510 4J3

Statistics on the Caribbean Countries

183

THE CARIBBEAN COUNTRIES* Gross National Central government Product (GNP) taxes per capita (per cent of GNP) (1963-in 1960 dollars) 402 216 294

17.1

275

6.1 7-1

77 (estimate)

184 272

10.2 9.2

8.3 10.3

National budget Expenditures for (per capita, education (percent in dollars) of national budget) 46.08

24.1

55 33

22.1

13.9

26.58 6.56 26.74

16.9 10.5 22.6

64.16

H-5

447 * Source: Fourth Annual Report of the Inter-American (1964).

Development

Bank

Appendix IL Suggested Readings

The books suggested below are, of course, only a small part of the literature in the field. They constitute, however, a list that will effectively supplement this volume, and provide a sufficient body of material for a more intensive study of the subject. In particular, they include the most important and most recent works. Preston James' Latin America, 3rd ed. (New York, 1959), is a key work on the geography of the area. For political and international relations, two of the best books are A. A. Berle's Latin America: Diplomacy and Reality (New York, 1962), especially valuable for its economic realism, and Frank Tannenbaum's Ten Keys to Latin America (New York, 1962). One might also consult the present author's brief study, The United States and Latin America (Baton Rouge, 1961). One of the most important contemporary works, with a somewhat dramatic title, is Evolution or Chaos; Dynamics of Latin American Government and Politics (New York, 1963) by D. D. Burks and Karl M. Schmitt. There are valuable statistical aids for the study of Latin America; see especially the following publications: Yearbook of International Trade Statistics (issued annually, 1950 to date) and Yearbook of National Accounts Statistics (issued annually, 1957 to date), both published by the Statistical Office of the United Nations: the Annual Report of the Inter-American Development Bank, Social Progress Trust Fund; America en cifras (issued by the Pan American Union), especially for the years 1962 and 1963. For special subjects, the key work on Communism is

Suggested Reading

185

Robert J. Alexander's Communism in Latin America (New Brunswick, N.J., 1957); on the role of the military in Central America, the most important work is E. Lieuwen's Arms and Politics in Latin America (New York, 1961); for the Alliance for Progress by far the best work is Lincoln Gordon's A New Deal for Latin America: The Alliance for Progress (Cambridge, Mass., 1963), but see also the penetrating study by Nino Maritano and Antonio H. Obaid, An Alliance for Progress (Minneapolis, 1963). For the Caribbean in general, the papers read at the annual conferences on the Caribbean held at the University of Florida published by the University (1950-1957) and edited by A. Curtis Wilgus, contain much useful material. For the individual states, the following will be useful: On Haiti there is no good, up-todate study, but James G. Leyburn's The Haitian People (New Haven, 1941), though written many years ago, is still interesting, as is Melville Herskovitz's Life in a Haitian Valley (New York, 1937). For a more contemporary view see Seiden Rodman, Haiti: The Black Republic (New York, 1954). For the Dominican Republic, there is no modern critical study; historically, Sumner Welles' Naboth's Vineyard; The Dominican Republic, 1844-1924 (New York, 1928) is valuable. An admirable work, superseding previous studies, is N . L. Whetten's Guatemala: The Land and the People (New Haven, 1961). For Honduras, see W . S. Stokes, Honduras: An Area Study in Government (Madison, Wis., 1950), and for El Salvador, see L. de Jongh Osborne, Four Keys to El Salvador (New York, 1956). There is no good analysis of Nicaragua, but a report of the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development, The Economic Development of Nicaragua (Baltimore, 1953), is useful. An old but valuable book on Costa Rica is C. L. Jones, Costa Rica and Civilization in the Caribbean (Madison, Wis., 1935). J . and M. Biesanz's Costa Rican Life (San Jose, Costa Rica, 1944) is a kind of Costa Rican Middletown, but without the genius that distinguishes the Lynds; it is, however, distinctly worthwhile. See also Stacy May, Costa Rica, A Study in Economic Development (New York, 1952). For Panama, see J. and M. Biesanz, The People of Panama (New York, 1955). For Central America in general, there are two key

186

The

United

States and the

Caribbean

works: J. D. Martz, Central America: The Crisis and the Challenge (Chapel Hill, N.C., 1959) deals only with the recent period, but is very useful; a careful and illuminating study is that of Franklin Parker, The Central American Republics (London, 1964). For diplomatic relations with the United States, for the period it covers, S. F. Bemis' The Latin-American Policy of the United States (New York, 1913) is a classic. For the United States' interventions in the Caribbean, the most recent and scholarly work is Dana G. Munro's Intervention and Dollar Diplomacy in the Caribbean 1900-1921 (Princeton, N.J., 1964), but it covers only a brief period. Other books, roughly contemporary with the interventions themselves, are, for the Dominican Republic, Sumner Welles' Naboth's Vineyard and Μ. M. Knight's The Americans in Santo Domingo (New York, 1928). For Haiti see A. C. Millspaugh, Haiti under American Control (Boston, 1931). For our earlier relations with Cuba, see the admirably, if not totally, unbiased work of Leland H. Jenks, Our Cuban Colony (New York, 1928), and Russell Fitzgibbon's Cuba and the United States, 1900-1935 (Menasha, Wis., 1935). Still worth reading is Problems of the New Cuba (New York, 1935), the report of the commission on Cuban affairs prepared at the request of President Mendieta under the direction of Raymond Leslie Buell. For the confrontation of 1962 there are classic accounts in A. M. Schlesinger^ A Thousand Days (Boston, 1965) and Theodore C. Sorenson's Kennedy (New York, 1965). For highly biased works which are revealing of the attitude of the sympathizers with Castro, see C. Wright Mills, Listen, Yankee; The Revolution in Cuba (New York, i960), and W . A. Williams, The United States, Cuba, and Castro (New York, 1962). Many of the readers of this book will be familiar with the publications of the Foreign Policy Association, located in N e w York City. Those who are not will find its weekly bulletins, its reports, and its booklets an invaluable assistance in the current study of international affairs. There are, of course, general sources that ought not to be neglected. Obviously, in the newspaper press, no other paper carries the amount of news on international relations that is to

Suggested Reading

187

be found in the columns of the New York Times. The magazine, Foreign Affairs (New York Council on Foreign Relations, 1922 to date), is an invaluable aid to every student of American foreign policy; a quarterly of wide reputation, it stands in a place by itself for penetrating and impartial treatment of foreign policies and questions related to them. The International Year Book (New York, 1908 to date) and the Britannica Year Book (New York, 1936 to date) provide interesting summaries on an annual basis.

Index

Adams, John Q u i n c y , 90, 92 A f r i c a , 176; in relation to coffee, 36A g e n c y f o r International D e v e l o p ment, 175 Agriculture, 27-28, 29, 37-38; education and research in, 77, 113, 166. See also Bananas; C o f f e e ; Cotton; Landownership; Sugar Airlines, 42 Alliance f o r Progress (Alianza para Progreso), 175 Antilles, 1: Lesser Antilles, 6 A n t i m o n y , 29 Arafia, Colonel, Guatemala, 135 A r b e n z , Jacopo, 11, 57, 131, 133136 passim Architecture, 84 A r c t i c Ocean, 153 Arevalo, Juan, 10, 56-57, 131, 135 Argentina, 117, 127 Arias, A r n u l f o , 59, 67 Armas, Castillo, 57, 133, 134, 135, 155 Aruba, 2 Baez, Buenaventura, 53 Balaguer, Joaquin, 66, 149 Bananas, 32, 33, 37, 51, 101, 161-165 passim; Gros-Michel variety supplanted b y the V a l e r y , 37 Bank loans, 171-172. See also Investments

Barbados, 6, 16, 24 Barrios, Justo Rufino, 10, 55 Batista, Fulgencio, 22, 61, 63, 136'37 Bauxite, 23 Bay of Pigs, 141-143, passim, 145 Birth control, 22 Bogota, Conference at (1948), 12, V4 Boisrond-Canal, Haitian president, 5? . Bolivia, 81, 169 Bonilla, Manuel, 162 Bosch, Juan, 55, 69 Boyer, Jean Pierre, 6, 52 Brazil, 33, 36, 45 Brussels agreement, on sugar quotas, 35 Buenos Aires, Convention of (1936), 122-123, I24> I 2 5i i3 2 - '49 Burgess, John W . , 93 Bustamante, A n t o n i o Sanchez de, 83 Cabral, Donald Reid, 55 Cabrera, Estrada, 56 Caceres, Ramon, 54, n o Canada, 171 Canal Zone, see Panama Canal Zone Capital, 27, 43, 101, 107, 138, 164. See also Investments Caracas, Conference at (1954), 13113* Carrera, Rafael, 55

190

Index

Carias, Tiburcio, 60 Caribbean area, early political and economic background, 46-49 Caribbean Sea, 2-3, 99 Castro, Fidel, 7, 66, 136-145 passim, 147, 160, 177 Castro, Raul, 140 Catholic Church, 15, 84-87 Cattle industry, 138 Caudillo, 48, 49, 59 Central America, 2, 3-4, 28-29, 38; early political history, 13, 46-50 passim; Pan-American Highway, 41, 174; treaties of 1907 and 1923, 105-106 Central American Bank, 39 Central American Clearing House, 39

Central American Common Market, 38-39. 45 Central American Court of Justice, 106 Central American Institute for Industrial Research and Technology, 39 Central American Institute of Public Administration, 39 Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), 141-143 passim Cespedes, Carlos Manuel de, 119 Chamorro, General, of Nicaragua, 106, 109 Chapultepec, Act of, 128 Chiari, President (of Panama), 152 Chichen, Mayas in, 9 Chichicastenango, Guatemala, 9, 85 Chicle, transported by airplane, 42 Chile, 127 China, population density, 18 Chinese People's Republic, 67-68 Christophe, Henri, 52 Chromium, 29 Churchill, Sir Winston, 46 Clark, Reuben J.: and memorandum on the Monroe Doctrine, 117-118 Clay, Henry, 89-90 Clayton-Bulwer Treaty, 99, 101 Climate, of Caribbean region, 3-5 Coal, 28

Coffee, 32-33, 36-37,178 Columbia, 2 101 Committee on Economic Development, 39 Common Market, 38-39, 45 Communications, 39-42, 112, 166 Communism: Costa Rica, 51, 70; Cuba, 136-148 passim; Dominican Republic, 69-70, 149-150 passim, 169-170; Guatemala, 57, 70, 1 3 1 136, 155; Haiti, 69; Honduras, 7071, 132-135 passim, 155; Latin America, 68-73 passim, 130-131, 150; military dictatorship and, 6769 passim, 73, 137-138; Panama, 70; Salvador, 70 Confradias, 85 Coolidge, Calvin, 98, 116, 169 Copan, Honduras, Indian ruins, 9 Corporations, foreign, see Investments, private Corvee, forced labor in Haiti, 115 Costa Rica, 2, 4; agriculture (bananas and coffee) and landownership, 3°. 31. 32> 33. 161-163 passim, 165; Common Market, 38-39; communication facilities, 41, 42; communism, 51, 70; culture, 83-84; data on doctors and hospital facilities, 80, 81; education and literacy, 78; income and expenditures, 26-27, 76; investments and loans, 161-167 passim, 171, 172; organized labor, 76; middle class, 75; newspapers and circulation of, 79, 83-84; payroll and employment data, 38, 165; political history, 50-52, 66-70, 104105, 106, 127, 132; population characteristics, 7, 11, 13-17 passim, 19; social reforms, 82; religion, 87; natural resources, 28-29 Cotton, 37-38 Crowther, Enoch H., 97 Cuba, i, 2, 3; agriculture (sugar) and landownership, 31, 32, 33-35, 139, 160, 177; Castro and communism, 66, 136-148 passim; communication facilities, 39, 42; culture, 83-84; data on doctors and hospital facil-

Index ities, 80, 81; education and literacy, 78, 79, 95; emigration of Haitians to, 22; income and expenditures, 26, 136, 160; investments and loans, 158-161, 170, 171, 172, 174; organized labor and wages, 136, 139; work in medicine, 80, 83, 95; middle class, 75, 136; newspapers, 79, 83; early political history, 61; population characteristics, 6, 7, 15-16, 17, 19-20; social reforms, 95-96; natural resources, 28-29; U.S. relations with, 78, 92-98, 119121, 127 Cuban Labor Federation, 139 Curajao, 2 Czechoslovakia, 133, 135, 140 Danish West Indies, 102 Darien, Isthmus of, Indians of, 12 Dario, Ruben, 83 Davila, Miguel, 162 "Day of the Indian," 11 Democracy, 48-49, 63-65 passim, 113-114 Denmark, 102 Dessalines, Jean Jacques, 52 Diario de la Marina, Havana, 83 Diaz, Adolfo, 109 Diaz, Colonel (Guatemala), 134 Dictatorship, military: distinction between communism and, 68-69. See also Militarism Diversification, need for, 37-38 Doctors, data on, 80-81 Dominican Republic, 1, 3; agriculture (sugar) and landownership, 30, 32, 33, 35-36, 177; communication facilities, 40, 42, 112; communism, 69-70, 149-150 passim, 169-170; culture, 83; data on doctors and hospital facilities, 80, 81; education and literacy, 79; 112113; against emigration of Haitians, 23; public health, 113; political history, 53-55, 66; income and expenditures, 26-27, 76; investments and loans, 103-104, 171, 172, 174; organized labor, 76;

191

newspaper circulation, 79; population characteristics, 6-7, 15, 16-17, 19-20; religion, 87; natural resources, 28-29; relations with U.S., 103-104, 107, 108, 110-116 passim, 169-170 Dorticos, Oswaldo, 139, 144 Draper, Theodore, 159 Dulles, John Foster, 130 Durand, Oswald, 83 Duvalier, Frangois ("Papa Doc"), 53» 114. 144 Echandi, Mario, 51 Economic development, Caribbean area, 47; need for capital, 27, 4344, 167; affected by climate, 4-5; affected by population characteristics, 14, 17-25 passim; aided by Common Market, 38-39; needs communication facilities, 39-43 passim; and balance of industry and agriculture, 27-28; lack of natural resources, 23, 28-29, 39· See also Monocultural economy Education, 77-79, 82, 95, 112-113 Eisenhower, Dwight D., administration of, 130, 138-141 passim, 144, !5 2 . '77 Employment data, 38 Estenoz, Cuban Negro leader, 7 Europe, 16-17, 171 Everett, Edward, 92 Export-Import Bank, 174 Fernandez, Mauro, 78 Fiallo, Fabio, 83, 114 Figueres, Jose, 51, 70 Financial stability, a policy of, 45 Finlay, Carlos, 80, 95 Fish, Hamilton, 93 Flores, President (Costa Rica), 50 Folk art, 84 Fonseca, Gulf of, 106 Foreign Affairs (April 1959), on military value of Panama Canal, 153 Foreign Assistance Act (1961), 170

192

Index

Foreign Bondholders Protective Council, 172 France, 52, 100, 110 Fruit companies, 7, 31. See also Bananas; United Fruit Company Frye, Alexis, 95 Fulbright, William, 142, 148 Galvez, Jose Manuel, 60-61 Gatun, Lake, 2-3 Geography of Caribbean region, 2-4 Germany, 102, 110, 126; Germans in Guatemala, 16, 31; East German wall, 145 Gold, Nicaragua, 29 Good-neighbor policy, 1 1 7 - 1 2 7 pass i m , 168-169, 172

Government: wider measure of control in industrial states, 27-28; nonrecognition formula, 105-106; data on expenditures of, 76 Grau San Martin, Ramon, 61, 80, 83, 119, 120-121

Great Britain, 24, 28, 102, 126; Clayton-Bulwer Treaty, 99, 101 Gromyko, Andrei, 145 Guadeloupe (French), 1, 6 Guantanamo, Cuba, 94 Guarantee program, 170 Guardia, Calderon, 50-ji Guardia, Tomas, jo Guatemala, 2, 4, 141; agriculture (coffee and cotton) and landownership, 30, 31, 32, 33, 37-38, 131, 161-163 passim, 165; Common Market, 38-39, communication facilities, 41-42; communism, 57, 70, 131-136, 155; data on doctors and hospital facilities, 80, 81; political history, 49, 55-57, 104, 106, 127; weaving of huipiles, 84; income and expenditures, 26-27, 44~45i 76; political position of the Indian in, 10-11; investments and loans, 161-167 passim, 171, 174; organized labor, 76, 131; literacy, 79; payroll and employment data, 38, 165; population characteristics, 8-11, 13, 15, 16-17, '9; social reforms, 82;

religion, 85; natural resources, 2829 Guatemala City, 4, 39 Guaxachip Bats, Indian rites, 9 Guevara, Ernesto, 139, 140 Guizado, Vice President (Panama), 59 Haiti, i, 3; agriculture (coffee) and landownership, 30, 32, 33, 77, 113; communication facilities, 40, 42, H2; communism, 69; culture, 83, 84; data on doctors and hospital facilities, 80, 81, 113; education and literacy, 77, 79, 113; indifference of governing clique, 75; public health, 113; political history, 49, 52-53; 65-66, 75; income and expenditures, 21, 26-27, 44> 76; investments and loans, 144, 171, 172, 174, 176; organized labor, 76; newspapers and circulations, 49, 79; population characteristics, 56, 15, 16-17, 2 1 - 2 4 ; religion, 84-85; natural resources, 23, 28-29; relations with U. S., 77, 107, 109-115 passim, 118, 122; Vodun (Voodooism), 85 Hanna, Matthew, 95 Harding, Warren G., 97, 115-116 Havana, 95; Conferences of 1928 and and

1940, 117, 121, 126-127;

Uni-

versity of, 78, 95 Hawley-Smoot Tariff, 98, 177 Hayes, Rutherford B., 100 Hearst, William Randolph, 93 Heureaux, Ulises, 53-54 Honduras, 2, 3; agriculture (bananas) and landownership, 30-31, 32, 33, 161-163 passim 165, 166; Common Market, 38-39; communication facilities, 40, 42; communism, 70-71, 132-135 passim, 155; Copan Indian ruins, 9; data on doctors and hospital facilities, 80, 81; income and expenditures, 2-27, 4445, 76; investments and loans, 161167 passim, 171, 174; organized labor, 76; literacy, 79; newspaper

Index circulation, 79; payroll and employment data, 38, 165; political history, 60-61, 104-105, 106, 115, 163; population characteristics, 7, 13, 15, 16-17, 19; social reforms, 82; natural resources, 28-29 Hookworm, 5, 80 Hoover, Herbert, 98, 118, 119 Hospital facilities, 81, 113 Hughes, Charles Evans, 116, 117 Huipiles, 84 Hull, Cordell, 121 Huntington, Ellsworth, 4 Immigration, lack of, in Caribbean region, 16-17 Imperialism, American, 92-95 passim; economic, 107, 138, 163-171 passim Income, national, data on, 44-45 India, 18 Indians, in Caribbean region, 8-13; Ubico and, 56 Industry, 27-29; need to develop industrial capacity, 38-39 Inter-American Coffee Agreement, 36 Inter-American Defense Board, 154 Inter-American Development Bank, 175 Inter-American Economic and Social Council, 143-144 Inter-American Peace Committee, '33 International Bank for Reconstruction and Development, 175 International Coffee Agreement (i959). 37 International Court of Justice, 105 International Development Association, 175 International Finance Corporation, 175 International Railways, affiliate of United Fruit Company, 41 Intervention, 169; in Cuba (pre-Castro), 94-98 passim; in Nicaragua, Dominican Republic and Haiti, 107-117 passim, 169-170. See also

τ

93

Cuba, Castro and communism; Guatemala, communism; Nonintervention, principle of Investments, 43-44, bankers' loans, 171-172; private, 158-171 passim, public, 172-176 passim iron, 28, 29, 138 Jamaica, 6, 16, 24 James, Preston, 5 Jefferson, Thomas, 92 Jenks, Leland, Our Cuban Colony, 95 Jews, in Dominican Republic, 16 Jimenez, President (Dominican Republic), III Johnson, Lyndon B., 149 Jones, Chester Lloyd, 49 Jones-Costigan Act, 159 Keith, Minor C., 161 Kellogg, Frank B., 109, 117 Kellogg-Briand Pact, 118 Kennedy John F., 141-142, 145-148 passim, 150 Kennedy, Robert, 148 Khrushchev, Nikita, 140, 144-148 passim Knox, Philander C., 98, 107-110 passim, 115, 162 Labor, organized, 75-76 Ladinos, 13 Landownership, 29-32, 159; expropriation of land, 138, 140, 159; of fruit companies, 131, 163, 164-165; land reforms, 82, 131, 139 Latin America, 19, 29, 45, 46-49 passim; bankers' loans to, 171-172; military dictatorship and communism in, 68-73 passim, 130-131, 150; relations with U.S., 114-115, 127-131 passim, 138, 143-144, 149150, 154-156 passim Lecuona, Ernesto, 83 Lemus, Jose Maria, 60 Lesseps, Ferdinand Marie, vicomte de, 100 Leyburn, James G., 21

194

Index

Liberia, 66 Lieuwen, Edwin; Arms and Politics in Latin America, ι55 Lima, Conference at, 124-125 Literacy, data on, 78-79 Literature, people of Caribbean states in, 83-84 Loans, see Investments Lodge, Henry Cabot, 93 Louverture, Toussaint, 52 Lugo, Amerigo, 83 Machado, Gerardo, 61, 97-98, 119, 160 McNamara, Robert, 148 Mahan, Alfred Thayer, 93 Malaria, 5, 79-80, 166 Manach, Jorge, 83 Manganese, 29 Marshall Plan, 129 Martinque, 1, 6 Martinez, Maximiliano, 59-60, 70, 106 Massachusetts Bay Colony, 47 Matthews, Herbert L., 137 Maya Indians, 8-9 Mendieta, Carlos, 121 Menocal, Mario G., 61, 96-97 Mestizos, 13-14 Metals, precious, 29 Mexico, 2, 9-10, 31, 109, 169 Middle class, absence of, 49, 74-75, 136 Mikoyan, Anastas, 139-140 Militarism, 48, 49, 62-63 passim; communism and military dictatorship, 67-69 passim, 73, 137-138; relationship between U.S. and military elements, 154-156 passim Mining, 29, 138 Missile crisis (1962), 143, 144-148 passim, 150 Mississippi, Haiti compared to, 21 Momostenango, Guatemala, 9, 85 Mona Passage, 1 Monge, Joaquim Garcia, 83 Monocultural economy, 27, 32-33, 160 Monroe Doctrine, 89-92 passim, 100,

101, 105, 152-153; Clark memorandum on, 117-118; Khrushchev on, 140; Roosevelt corollary, 102-104 passim, 107, 118 Montevideo, Conference at (1933), 121-122, 124, 132, 149 Μοηζόη, Colonel, Guatemala, 134 Mora, Juan Rafael, 50 Mora, Manuel, 70 Morales, Dominican Republic president, 103 Morales, Villeda, 61 Mosquitos, Nicaraguan Indians, 1 1 12 Music, 83, 84 National City Bank of New York, 109 National Security Council, 141 Natural resources, 23, 28-29, 39 Negroes, 5-8, 16, 21-24 passim New Grenada, government of, 99 New York Times, on Castro movement, 137 Newspapers: data on, 79; Diario de la Marina, 83; Reportorio Americano, 83-84 Nicaragua, 2, 99; agriculture (coffee and cotton) and landownership, 30-31, 32, 33, 37-38; Common Market, 38-39; communication facilities, 40-41, 42; culture, 83-84; data on doctors and hospital facilities, 80, 81; education and literacy, 57-58 passim, 79; political history, 57-58, 104-105, 106, 163; income and expenditures, 26-27, 44-45, 76; investments and loans, 108, 171; organized labor, 76; newspaper circulation, 79; payroll and employment data, 38; population characteristics, 7, 1 1 - 1 2 , 13, 15, 1617, 19; social reforms, 82; natural resources, 28-29; relations with U.S., 106, 107-118 passim, 127, 134'35> !4i Nixon, Richard M., 138 Nonintervention: policy of Hoover and Coolidge, 98; principle of,

Index 121-124, 130-132 passim, 149, 170. Nonrecognition principle, 105-106 North Atlantic Treaty, 129-130 Oil, 28; Esso and Texaco refineries, 140; companies in Mexico, 169 Oregon, U.SS., 100 Organization of American States, 91, 133» '46, 148. ' 5 ° Orlich, Francisco Jose, 51 Osorio, Oscar, 60, 63, 70 Ostend Manifesto, 92-93 Overpopulation, problem of, 19-25 passim, 82 Painting: men of ability in, 84; Cuban school of, 83 Palma, Estrada, 96 Panama, 2; agriculture (bananas) and landownership, 29, 32-33, 165; communication facilities, 40, 42; communism, 70; Conference at (1939), 126; data on doctors and hospital facilities, 80, 81; political history, 58-59, 63, 67, 127; income and expenditures, 26, 44-45, 76; investments and loans, 165, 171, 172, 174; organized labor, 76; literacy, 78-79; newspaper circulation, 79; payroll and employment figures, 38, 165; population characteristics, 7, 12-13, 15, 16-17, 19; social reforms, 82; natural resources, 28-29 Panama Canal, 2-3, 99-101, 102, 106, 122, 151-153 passim; Clayton-Bulwer Treaty, 99, 101; Foreign Affairs (April 1959) on military value of, 153 Panama Canal Zone, 151-152 Pan-American Agricultural School, Honduras, 166 Pan-American Airways, 42 Pan-American Conferences: 5th Santiago (1923), 117; 6th Havana (1928), 117, 121; 7th Montevideo 1933), 121-122, 124, 132, 149; 8th Lima (1938), 124-125; 9th Bogota (1948), 123, 124; 10th Caracas

195

(1954), 131-132. Special meetings: Buenos Aires (1936), 122, 124, 125, 132, 149; Panama (1939), 126; Havana (1940), 126-127; de Janeiro (1942), 127 Pan-American Highway, 41, 174 Pan-American Union, 38, 90-91, 117 Payroll, data on annual, 38 Pazos, Felipe, 139 Peralta, Enrique, 57 Peralte, Charlemagne, 115 Petion, Alexandre, 52 Peurifoy, John E., 134 Philippine Islands, 95 Piatt Amendment, 95, 120, 122, 158, 159 Plaza, Galo & Stacy May, on United Fruit Company, 37, 165 Poland, 140 Polk, James K., 102 Population: elements making up, 717 passim; density of, 17-25 passim, 82 Price-Mars, M. Jean, 83 Prices, instability of, 33-38; terms of trade, 177-179 Protestantism, 87-88 Public health, 77, 79-81, 113; work of United Fruit, 165-166. See also Reforms, social Public utilities, 158-159 Puerto Rico, 1, 6, 24, 95 Pulitzer, Joseph, 93 Punta del Este Conference, 1961, 143; 1962,143-144 Quirigua, Guatemala Indian ruins, 8 Racial discrimination, 6-8 passim, 16, 10-11 Railways, 39, 40, 41, 163, 166 Reforms, social, 82; by Caribbean leaders, 51-52, 54, 56, 58, 59, 63, 131; U.S.-aided, 95-96, 112-113 passim Religion: Catholic Church, 15, 8487 passim, Protestantism, 87-88; Vodun (Voodooism), 85. See also Indians

196

Index

Remon, Jose, 59, 63, IJI, 152 Reportorio Americano, San Jose, Costa Rica, 83-84 Rio, Act of (1947), 128 Rio de Janeiro, Conference at (1942), 127 Rio Lempa, 63 Roads, 39-42 passim, 112; improved by Caribbean leaders, 54, 56, 58; Pan-American Highway, 41, 174 Rockefeller Institute, 80 Roosevelt, Franklin Delano, 124; good-neighbor policy, 117-127 passim, 168-169, 172 Roosevelt, Theodore, 93, 96; administration of, 101; Roosevelt corollary, 102-104 passim, 107, 118 Root, Elihu, 102,103 Salnave, Sylvain, 52 Salvador (El Salvador), 2; agriculture (coffee) and landownership, 30-31, 32, 33; Common Market, 38-39; communication facilities, 41, 42; communism, 70; culture, 84; data on doctors and hospital facilities, 80, 81; political history, 59-60, 104, 106, 127; income and expenditures, 26-27, 76; investments and loans, 171, 172, 173, 174; organized labor, 76; literacy, 79; newspaper circulation, 79; payroll and employment data, 38; population characteristics, 11, 13, 15, 16-17, 2 0 ; reforms under Osorio, 63; natural resources, 28-29 San Bias Indians, 12 San Francisco Conference (1945), 127-128 San Jose, Costa Rica, 4, 39, 83 San Juan River, Nicaragua, 106 Sandino, Augusto Cesar, 114 Santana, Pedro, 53 Santiago (Chile), Conference at (1923), 117 Santo Domingo, 1 Seasons, dry and wet in Caribbean region, 4 Silver, Honduras, 29

Smith, Earl B., 137 Social progress, 74-82 passim Socorras, Carlow Prio, 61 Somoza, Anastasio, 57, j8, 62; his sons, 58 South America, see Latin America Soviet Union, 64, 67, 72; and Cuba (pre-missile crisis), 139-140; and U.S. confrontation over missiles, 71, 143, 144-148 passim; at San Francisco (1945), 128, 129, 133 Spain, 13, 15, 47, 92-94; Ostend Manifesto, 92-93 Spanish-American War, 94, 100 Special Consultative Committee on Security, 144 Stebbins, Richard P., The United States in World Affairs, 135 Steinhart, Frank, 158-159 Stevenson, Adlai E., 146-147 Stimson, Henry L., 116, 118 Strong, Josiah, 93 Styles, C. W., 80 Sugar, 32-36 passim, 138, 159-160; Brussels agreement, 35; HawleySmoot Tariff, 98, 177; Jones-Costigan Act, 159, 177; Soviet Cuban agreement on, 140; Cuban reciprocity treaty (1903) with U.S., 95. H 1 » '58. '77 Survey programs, 170 Taca, Transportes Aeros CentroAmericanos, 42 Taft, William Howard, administration of, 96, 107, 171 Tariff, 98, 177; Common Market, 3839 Tegucigalpa, Honduras, 4 "Terms of trade," 177-178 Tobago, 2 Trelles, Carlos, 83 Trinidad, 2, 6 Tropics, 3-5, 79-80 Trujillo, Rafael Leonidas, 23, 40, 5455, 62, 69, 78, 149 Ubico, Jorge, 10, 41, 49, 56 Ulate, Otilio, 51

Index

197

Unions, see Labor, organized United Fruit Company, 37, 41, 51, 131, 161-166 passim; The United Fruit Company and Latin America, 16 j United Nations Charter, 127-128, 130 United Nations Security Council, appeals to, 133, 144 Urefia, Pedro Henriques, 83 Urrutia, President (Cuba), 139

Virginia, House of Burgesses, 47 Vodun (Voodooism), 85 Welles, Sumner, xi-xiii, 116, 119, 120 White stock, in Caribbean region, 14-16 Wilson, Woodrow, administration of, 96-97, no Wilson Bill (1894), on tariffs, 177 Wood, Leonard, administration in Cuba, 95-96 World War II, 126-129 passim

Vanguardia Popular, JI Vasquez, Horacio,5 4 Vehicles, registered, data on, 42 Venezuela, 2, 54, 102 Vermont, Salvador and Haiti compared to, 20, 21 Virgin Islands of the United States, i, 6; purchase of, 102

Ydigoras, General, Guatemalan president, 57 Yellow fever, 56, 80, 95 Yucatan, 2 Zayas, Alfredo, 61,97 Zelaya, Jose Santos, 57, IOJ, 108 Zemurray, Samuel, 162-163

Tampa

West Palm Beach Bahama Miami

\ i Aba co Eleuthera Nassau

\

Key West W.Andros

Havana

Merida

an Chichen

Isle of Pines

J

/^cozumel

Campeche,

Gr. C a y m a n (Br.) JAMAICA

(BR.)

ρ Turneffe

BR. HONDURAS

Guatemala Tegucigalpa '

\

0

Mosquito C a y s

/

•·)

M h

r

Salvador^^-^^s GULF

or (J

FONSECA"

^ C s

MANAGUA

una1' ^— Managua*' Grenada

I

Nicaragua jSreytowri

Limon

A C f i F Z C

ISTHMUS

" X DAiREN

OF

THE CARIBBEAN AREA

Scale of Miles

Acklins >

*Caicos

iGr. Inagua

Guantanalno

fHA1T1S DOMINICAN ZVV

J-*

VIRGIN IS. (U.b ο " Thomas

REPUBLIC

ο *ort-au- V "~ J Pnnr-evi

Ctucfad Trujilio

Barbuda PUERTO (U.S.)

St. Croix

Antigua (Br.) Guadeloupe J f v (Fr.) Dominica > (Br.) v\Martiniqu ^ (Fr.)